Author Note: Thanks for all the compliments and support!
Just to make things clear:
Day 1, 1300 hours: Jaune is caught with his fake documents.
Day 1, 1900 hours: Jaune 'saved' an old man.
Day 2, 2000 hours: Jaune helped the 'law enforcement guys' to escape.
Day 2, 2200 hours: Jaune confronts the White Fang.
If you think I am rushing, then do tell. I have already planned how the story is going to proceed. But, I would really appreciate it if you give me some pointers here and there.
It was a dust shop—one of those grimy little places tucked away in the dim corners of Vale, where the shelves were always coated in a permanent layer of grime and the dim lighting flickered like they were about to give up entirely. The air smelled of soot, stale air, and faint traces of old metal. The bell above the door gave a rusty jingle as it swung open, and in strode Adam Taurus, the infamous leader of the White Fang. His mask obscured most of his face, but the glowing red mark on it—the symbol of the bull—was unmistakable.
The old woman behind the counter barely stirred at first. She was too used to people like Adam, the ones who came in under cover of night, muttering about dust and making swift exits. She only looked up when Adam stepped directly to the counter and raised his gun, pointing it squarely at her trembling face.
"Hand over all the dust," Adam's voice was as cold and sharp as the blade he carried at his side, his tone more dangerous than the gun.
The poor woman froze, her face going pale as she fumbled with the lock on the shelves. "P-please, I—"
"Now!" Adam's voice cracked like a whip, and the old woman jolted into action, her hands shaking so much that it took her two tries just to get the key into the lock.
Behind him, his crew waited impatiently. Five members of the White Fang, all Faunus, all armed to the teeth and clearly ready for trouble. First, there was Han—the cheetah Faunus—tall, muscled, and as fast as he was eager. A rookie, but determined to prove himself. Then there was Jake—the boar Faunus—dumb as a bag of rocks, but built like a wall of bricks. Next came Henri—the goat Faunus—always twitchy, like a skittish deer, jumping at shadows. And lastly, Fu—the tigress Faunus—the smartest of the lot, her sharp eyes never missing a detail.
The old woman finally managed to unlock the cabinets, her shaking hands pulling out the neatly stacked boxes of dust crystals. Adam didn't say a word, just nodded at his crew, and they moved in.
"Load it up," Adam commanded, his voice low and authoritative, never even glancing at the terrified shopkeeper again.
"Aye, boss," Han grunted as he threw a crate over his shoulder, muscles straining under the weight.
The rest of the crew followed suit, carting out the goods in a well-practiced fashion. The van was parked just outside in the alley, the back doors wide open and ready for their haul. The air outside was cool, a stark contrast to the stuffy heat inside the shop. Their hideout wasn't far—just a few minutes' walk away—but the van was essential for getting all the dust back without drawing too much attention.
Adam stood outside the shop, smirking to himself, his arms crossed as he watched his crew work. This was just the beginning. The beginning of his rise to power. Soon, he'd replace that so-called leader of the White Fang—Sienna Khan was getting soft, and Adam was going to show everyone that he was the one meant to lead the Faunus. He would be—
Crash!
A loud clatter of glass and metal jolted Adam out of his thoughts. His eyes darted toward the van. Jake, the clumsy idiot, had managed to drop one of the crates, sending dust crystals rolling across the grimy alley floor.
"You absolute idiot!" Adam's face twisted with fury. His hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword. "Do you even know what you've just done?!"
Jake's face flushed red behind the mask as he raised his hands defensively. "I-I didn't mean to, boss! It just—"
"You're as dumb as you look, Jake!" Adam spat, taking a step forward, ready to draw his weapon as he heard sirens. But before things could escalate, Fu stepped in, cool and composed.
"Boss, we've still got plenty. Let it go. We need to leave before the authorities show up."
Adam's eyes flared with anger, but after a moment, he relented. He let out a long, slow breath and nodded. "Fine. Leave it. Let's get out of here."
The crew piled into the van, the sound of sirens faintly echoing in the distance. Adam tensed. "Shit! Move, move!" he barked at Henri, who jumped into the driver's seat and hit the gas, speeding away into the night.
As the van sped off, none of them noticed the sirens were coming from an ambulance, not the police. But the White Fang weren't about to stick around long enough to figure that out.
—X~X—
Meanwhile, not far from the dust shop, Jaune Arc was strolling down the street, lost in his own thoughts. His hands were shoved deep into his hoodie pockets as he ambled along the empty roads, heading back to the run-down motel he had been staying at. Tomorrow was the big day—the day he'd head to Beacon Academy. His stomach fluttered at the thought.
"I'll show them I belong there," Jaune muttered under his breath. "Once they see what I can do, they'll have no choice but to let me stay. And who knows? Maybe I'll even end up with a few fans. Yeah... a couple of good deeds wouldn't hurt my case either."
He was so wrapped up in his fantasy that he almost missed the strange shimmer in the street up ahead. Squinting in the dim streetlight, Jaune spotted something odd—a trail of dust crystals glittering faintly on the ground.
"Huh? That's weird." Jaune crouched down, picking up a handful of the dust. It was clearly expensive stuff, the kind that no one would just leave lying around. His mind flicked back to the van he'd seen earlier, loading up crates in a hurry. "They must've dropped it."
Jaune scratched his head. "Well, can't just leave it here." He knelt down, trying to gather as much of the dust as he could, but the box it had fallen out of was shattered, barely holding together.
"Man, this box is toast…" he muttered. Then, with a smirk, he held out his hand, concentrating. A soft glow flickered from his palm, and in seconds, a fresh wooden box materialized, sturdy and clean.
"Ha! Still got it." Jaune carefully packed the dust crystals into the new box. One thkng he noticed about his semblance is that the quality of the woods vary from task to task. He stood up, surveying the empty streets. "Now… where'd those guys go?"
The van had disappeared around the corner not too long ago. Jaune shrugged and started walking in the same direction, the wooden box tucked under his arm. "Guess I'll just return this to 'em. Maybe they'll give me a 'thank you.' Heck, maybe I'll even get a reward!"
Jaune strolled through the streets, passing a few shady-looking bars and darkened alleyways. His mind was racing with thoughts of how this little act of kindness could boost his chances at Beacon.
"Yeah… maybe this'll be one of those things they talk about at orientation. 'Jaune Arc, future hero, already out here doing community service. What a guy!'" He chuckled to himself, completely oblivious to the fact that he was about to stumble into something way over his head.
Finally, after what felt like a long stretch of walking, Jaune spotted a white van parked in a shadowy alley. The same one he'd seen earlier. His eyes lit up. "Aha! Found ya!"
Jaune jogged toward the van, waving the box in the air. "Yo! You dropped your dust—"
BANG!
A gunshot rang out, and Jaune's instincts kicked in. He dove behind a nearby dumpster, heart hammering in his chest.
"W-what the hell?!" he screamed, clutching the box tightly to his chest. "Why are you shooting at me?!"
"Why shouldn't I?!" a gruff voice shouted from the alley. "How do you know about the this place?"
"I'm just trying to give you your stuff back!"
"What stuff?!"
"The dust! You dropped it!"
"I don't buy it!"
"I'm not selling anything!"
"You gotta be…. moron—"
"No! I'm Jaune Arc! Short, sweet, and easy on the tongue. Ladies love it!"
The gunfire ceased. There was a brief pause.
Jaune, feeling that the situation had de-escalated, peeked out from behind the dumpster. Maybe they'd finally realized this was all a big misunderstanding. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped out from cover.
"See? I just wanted to—"
But before he could finish, a tall man stepped forward, his gun pointed straight at Jaune's face. Then he saw a logo on their clothes. White Fang…
The cold barrel hovered just inches from his nose.
Click.
BANG!
Jaune flinched, but at the last second, his semblance activated. A thick, wooden wall erupted from the ground, shielding him from the shot. The bullet thudded harmlessly into the wood.
"The hell is that?!" one of the White Fang members yelled from behind the gunman.
Jaune blinked, staring at the wooden shield in disbelief. "Oh, cool! My semblance!"
"Die!"
Before he could process what was happening, Jaune panicked. He hurled the box of dust toward the gunman, desperate to create some distance. The leader, startled, pulled the trigger again, this time aiming at the flying box.
BOOM.
The explosion rocked the alleyway, the dust igniting in a fiery blast. Flames roared, momentarily swallowing the White Fang members in a blaze of heat and light. Jaune flinched, ducking behind another hastily conjured wooden wall as the sound of the explosion echoed down the street. His ears rang, and he could feel the heat of the blast on his skin. For a moment, everything was chaos—flames, smoke, and the panicked shouts of the White Fang members.
When the smoke cleared, Jaune hesitantly peeked out from behind his wall, his heart still pounding in his chest. What he saw made his blood run cold.
Adam Taurus lay sprawled on the ground, his once imposing figure now a blackened, scorched mess. His signature red blade was flung several feet away, half-melted from the heat. The fiery glow of the explosion still flickered in the air, casting eerie shadows on the walls of the alley.
One of the White Fang members, the tigress Faunus, knelt beside Adam's charred body. She gently pressed her fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. Her face was pale as she looked up at the others.
"He's dead," she whispered, her voice hollow.
For a moment, there was stunned silence.
"You… you killed him," Han stammered, his wide eyes fixed on Jaune in disbelief. His body shook, the adrenaline of the fight replaced by pure shock. "You killed Adam… just like that?!"
"No… I didn't mean to…" Jaune stuttered, backing away, his hands raised defensively. His mind was racing, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. He hadn't intended to kill anyone, let alone Adam Taurus, leader of the White Fang. "It was an accident! I swear!"
But the Faunus weren't listening. The shock quickly turned to anger.
"You bastard!" Jake, the boar Faunus, roared, tears welling in his eyes as he clenched his fists. His whole body shook with fury. "You're dead!"
"Jake, wait—!" The woman called out, but it was too late.
Before Jaune could react, a hail of bullets sprayed toward him. He ducked behind his wooden wall, his heart thundering in his chest as the bullets harmlessly impacted on the wall. His mind raced, searching for a way out, but every time he peeked around the corner, more shots whizzed past his head.
"Please! I didn't mean to—!" Jaune shouted, but his words were drowned out by the deafening roar of gunfire. He gritted his teeth, feeling his semblance react instinctively, creating more wooden shields to protect himself. He could feel the vibration of each bullet slamming into the wood, sending shivers through his body.
"Kill him!" Han screamed, his voice cracking with rage as he reloaded his weapon. "He killed Adam! We can't let him get away with this!"
Jaune scrambled to his feet, panic taking over. He had to get out of there. There was no reasoning with them now—they wanted blood. His mind raced as he ducked and weaved between the walls he'd created, narrowly avoiding a shot to the head as he dashed toward the mouth of the alley.
"Think, Jaune, think!" he muttered to himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You can do this. You're a hero, remember? Heroes don't die in back alleys!"
As he ran, he spotted a fire escape ladder just a few feet away. Desperation surged through him. He had no choice. With a burst of energy, he lunged for the ladder, grabbing the rungs and hauling himself up just as more bullets tore through the air behind him.
"Get him!" one of the Faunus shouted, the sound of boots pounding the pavement as they gave chase.
Jaune scrambled up the fire escape, his hands slick with sweat, his heart hammering in his chest. He climbed as fast as he could, the cold metal biting into his palms. He could hear the White Fang members shouting below him, their voices filled with rage.
"Get to the roof! Don't let him escape!"
Jaune reached the rooftop, panting heavily as he threw himself over the edge and landed in a heap on the concrete. He winced, his knees stinging from the impact, but there was no time to rest. He had to keep moving.
Pushing himself to his feet, Jaune ran across the rooftop, dodging between ventilation units and old AC systems. He glanced over his shoulder, heart skipping a beat as he saw the White Fang climbing up the fire escape after him, their eyes burning with hatred.
"Okay, Jaune, you got this," he muttered under his breath, trying to calm his frayed nerves. "Just keep running. Don't look back. You'll be fine."
As he reached the far side of the roof, Jaune skidded to a halt, staring down at the drop below. His stomach churned. It wasn't that far—how hard could it be? But with the White Fang hot on his heels, it was a lot more daunting.
Before he could make up his mind, a bullet ricocheted off the metal railing beside him, and Jaune made his choice.
"Here goes nothing!" he yelled, leaping from the edge of the roof and plummeting toward the street below.
For a moment, it felt like time slowed. The wind rushed past his ears as he fell, his arms flailing in a desperate attempt to control his descent. His heart leapt into his throat as the ground rushed up to meet him.
At the last possible second, his semblance flared to life. A thick, wooden platform appeared beneath him, softening his fall as he crashed into it with a loud thud.
"Ow…" Jaune groaned, rolling onto his back, his whole body aching from the impact. But he didn't have time to complain. The White Fang were still after him.
He forced himself to his feet, clutching his side as he stumbled down the street. The sound of gunfire echoed in the distance, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Not now.
Jaune's mind raced as he ducked into an alleyway, panting heavily as he leaned against the brick wall. He was out of breath, out of ideas, and completely out of his depth.
"I didn't mean to kill anyone," he whispered to himself, his voice shaky. "I was just trying to return the dust…"
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Jaune's heart skipped a beat as he peered around the corner, his eyes widening in horror as he saw the remaining White Fang members closing in on him.
They weren't going to stop until he was dead.
Forcing himself to move, Jaune stumbled down the alley, his legs trembling with exhaustion. He had no plan, no backup, and no clue what to do next. All he knew was that he had to survive.
As he rounded the corner, Jaune spotted a group of Vale police officers patrolling the street ahead. Relief flooded through him.
"Help! Over here!" Jaune shouted, waving his arms frantically as he ran toward them.
The officers turned, their eyes narrowing as they spotted the disheveled, panicked boy running toward them.
"It's him!" one of the officers barked, raising his hand. "Stop right there!"
Jaune skidded to a halt, panting heavily as he held up his hands. "Please! You have to help me! The White Fang—they're after me!"
The officer's expression hardened. "The White Fang?!,"
Jaune nodded frantically, glancing over his shoulder as the Faunus thugs rounded the corner, their eyes locked on him.
"Right there!" Jaune pointed. "They're trying to kill me!"
The officer's hand went to his radio, barking out orders. "We've got a situation here—White Fang suspects, armed and dangerous! We also have J—"
Jaune couldn't hear the rest, but he wasn't staying here.
Within seconds, the police officers had drawn their weapons, forming a defensive line between Jaune and the advancing Faunus. The White Fang members hesitated, clearly not expecting to run into the police.
One of the officers stepped forward, his voice stern. "Drop your weapons and surrender! You're surrounded!"
For a tense moment, no one moved. The White Fang members exchanged glances, their eyes flicking between Jaune, the police, and the alley they'd just come from.
Then, without warning, Han snarled and raised his gun.
BANG!
The police opened fire, and the alley exploded into chaos once again.
Jaune, utilizing the opportunity, made a run. 'I just wanted to help… I guess I'll go and rest in the motel for now. I want to avoid police stuff. I can't let anyone know that I accidently 'killed' a man. Man, and I was hoping for a reward…'
Gunshots in the background, Jaune went away, completely oblivious to what was about to come.
—X~X—
Blake's ears twitched as the words "Breaking News!" blasted from the bar's TV. She had been nursing her cola, barely paying attention to the dull hum of the news anchor's voice, but something about the tone had changed. The urgency in it caught her off guard. With a lazy glance, she looked up at the screen.
"The local police authorities have had an encounter with the notorious terrorist group, White Fang."
Her breath caught in her throat. 'What?!'
The cola she had been sipping went down the wrong way, and she choked, coughing violently as she stared at the TV.
The screen switched to shaky footage of a dimly lit alley, lined with police tape, flashing red and blue lights casting eerie shadows against the brick walls. The camera zoomed in on a body—a figure covered with a tarp, lying motionless on the cold, dirty pavement. A censored image replaced the body, but it was enough to make her stomach drop.
"They were unable to capture any of the suspects, as they fled the scene before backup arrived. However," the news anchor's voice paused for a moment, as if choosing her next words carefully, "police have discovered a corpse in an alley nearby."
Blake's heart hammered in her chest, her ears pressing flat against her head. There was something off about the anchor's tone—something chilling. And then she saw it.
The camera zoomed in on a weapon lying beside the body. A distinctive, red, serrated blade that Blake knew all too well. The world around her seemed to blur as her eyes locked on that weapon.
'No… it can't be…'
She heard the next words as though from a distance, her vision narrowing in on that crimson blade that sent icy terror crawling up her spine.
"The police suspect that the deceased is none other than the notorious Vale White Fang leader—Adam Taurus."
Blake froze, her fingers trembling against the cold glass of her drink. 'Adam…'
The glass slipped from her hand, falling to the floor with a dull 'thunk', spilling cola across the bar's dirty floor. Her vision swam, tears welling up in her eyes. She hadn't spoken to Adam in… how long? A few months? No… longer. Things had gotten so bad between them. His methods had grown more brutal, more violent. She'd left the White Fang because of him. But this… no, not like this.
The anchor's voice droned on, unaware of the storm building in Blake's chest.
"Police believe that the killer is a young man named Jaune Arc. According to eyewitness reports, Jaune Arc was present at the scene, fleeing from members of the White Fang."
'Jaune Arc?' Blake's mind stumbled over the name. She had heard it before, but where?
Her head snapped back to the screen, the news now showing a grainy image of a blond-haired boy, his face framed by messy locks of gold, standing awkwardly in what seemed like a photo for a school application. He looked out of place, almost too… innocent. 'This boy…?'
The anchor continued, her voice steady, professional, and detached, as if announcing the weather. But Blake could barely process the words, her thoughts whirling.
"Experts have deduced that Jaune Arc may have used the police presence as a distraction to evade the White Fang operatives, who had opened fire on him after an altercation. Before this, he was last seen in the vicinity of Roman Torchwick, who had earlier looted a dust shop this evening. While his current whereabouts are unknown, authorities are actively searching for Jaune Arc. Investigations are ongoing into his potential involvement with known criminals."
Blake's vision blurred, the image of Jaune Arc burning into her mind. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, trembling with a storm of emotions she couldn't name. Confusion. Anger. Sorrow. All mixed together in a churning sea of disbelief.
Adam was gone. Just like that. 'He's dead… and that boy…'
"Murdered him in cold blood," Blake whispered, her voice barely audible even to herself. It didn't make sense. Jaune Arc? That idiot looking boy? He killed Adam? How? And why?
Her fingers curled tighter, the fur on her sleeves bristling. A cold rage began to boil inside her. She and Adam may not have been on speaking terms, but no one deserved this. Not like that. Not after everything.
Blake couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen, even as the image of Jaune Arc's face faded into the background. The anchor kept talking, offering more useless details, but Blake wasn't listening anymore.
Her chest ached, a deep, hollow pit opening up inside of her. But within that hollow pit, something darker stirred. Adam had been ruthless, yes. He had been violent, twisted by his hatred and rage. But he was hers once. Someone who had shaped her life in more ways than she could ever count. And now… now he was gone.
Blake's breath was shaky as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bar. Her mind raced with fragments of memories—Adam's intense eyes, his conviction, the way he had spoken of freedom for their people with such passion it was terrifying. And now he was just… dead.
And for what? A nobody like Jaune Arc?
No. No, that wouldn't stand. Blake felt her jaw clench, her hands balling into fists until her knuckles turned white. She was no longer the naive girl who had once followed Adam blindly, but she wouldn't let this go unanswered. Not after everything they had been through. Not after everything Adam had sacrificed.
Blake stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, but she didn't care. She barely registered the concerned looks from the bar's other patrons, or the bartender asking if she was okay. Her mind was already set, her heart burning with a sense of cold, calculated purpose.
She'd left Adam once. Walked away from his madness, from his cruelty. But this wasn't about his twisted ideals anymore.
This was about revenge.
"I will avenge him," Blake whispered under her breath, her voice as sharp as the blade that had once belonged to Adam.
The news anchor's voice droned on in the background, but Blake was already out the door, the cold night air biting at her skin as she melted into the shadows, her mind focused on one thing and one thing only.
Jaune Arc.
That name would haunt her until justice was served.
—X~X—
Jaune yawned as he rolled over in the squeaky motel bed, rubbing his eyes lazily as the sunlight streamed through the thin, faded curtains. His hair stuck up in random tufts, a tangled mess that perfectly matched the state of his life. He glanced at the cracked ceiling above him, taking a deep breath, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
Last night, in a desperate wish to live, he ran away from those police officers. Reaching his motel room, he had dropped on the bed— exhaustion kicking in. But thinking about it now, he regretted this decision. He should've stayed with the police, he could have shielded himself from the bullets with his woods. What if he gets in trouble? Well, he better confront the authorities quickly before anything goes wrong.
'Today's the day,' he reminded himself. 'Big day, Jaune. Gotta get things moving.'
Dragging himself out of bed, he shuffled toward the bathroom, his feet scuffing the cheap, threadbare carpet. The mirror greeted him with a reflection that wasn't exactly hero material—dark circles under his eyes, hair all over the place, and a face that looked like it had spent too much time pressed against a pillow. He frowned, splashing water on his face to snap himself awake.
"Gotta look sharp for Beacon," he muttered, rubbing his face roughly. "And then the police… ugh, gotta deal with that too."
He brushed his teeth with an old toothbrush that looked like it had seen better days, ran his fingers through his unruly hair, and decided that was about as good as it was going to get.
Today was important. He was going to Beacon Academy one more time. He just needed a chance, something—'anything'—to show he was hero material. But before that, he had to swing by the police station to give his statement— if they asked for it. One part of him hoped that the White Fang were not captured so that he may stay out of police's attention. Another part of him hoped that they were indeed captured, otherwise those terrorists might come after him— trying to kill him because he 'killed' their leader. The police might have had questions about last night. He should clear his file, no stain should be on his file. Despite 'accidentally' killing a man, Jaune wasn't feeling guilty or sad. Well, it wasn't his fault anyway. Perhaps staying in Beacon Academy will ensure his safety. But he was confident he would be in the safe zone. But why is he feeling so confident? Is it because of his newly unlocked aura and semblance? Perhaps.
"Ah well, no big deal. Just gotta clear that up, and then… Beacon. Easy peasy."
With a content sigh, he threw on his hoodie, grabbed his bag, and swung the motel room door open. The hallway was just as dim and dingy as his room, the flickering lights above casting a sickly glow on the peeling wallpaper. Jaune stretched his arms out, stifling another yawn as he headed downstairs to the reception area.
The moment he reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed something odd. The old man behind the desk—the motel manager—was on the phone, his back turned to Jaune. His hand shook as he dialed the numbers, sweat pouring down his wrinkled face like a waterfall. The guy was sweating 'bullets' for some reason.
"Hello, Vale Police speaking." a calm, professional female voice crackled through the phone.
"H-hel—!" The old man's voice wavered as he froze, his eyes locking onto Jaune like a deer caught in headlights. His mouth hung open, his words forgotten.
Jaune, ever the clueless optimist, gave the man a big, bright smile. "Morning, Mister Manager! Am I interrupting something?"
The man's face paled, the blood draining from his cheeks as his eyes darted from Jaune to the phone and back again. His hand trembled, fingers barely gripping the receiver.
"Hello?" the female voice on the line repeated. "Is anyone there?"
Jaune cocked his head, his blue eyes wide with curiosity. "Oh, is that an important call?" His tone was casual, but to the manager, it must've sounded like the grim reaper himself asking if he was ready.
The man's eyes widened even further, if that was possible. He shook his head frantically, like a dog shaking off water. In a panic, he slammed the phone down, hanging up the call so fast it was a miracle the receiver didn't crack.
"Oh?" Jaune raised an eyebrow, still holding that bright, innocent smile. "Well, I guess you can clear me out now, right?"
The old man nodded furiously, his hands trembling as he fumbled through the check-out papers. His fingers stumbled over the documents like he was handling live explosives. Every second felt like it stretched into an eternity as he scribbled his signature, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
Jaune hummed to himself, tapping his foot as he waited. "No rush, no rush. Just gotta head over to the station, then it's off to Beacon! Big day ahead!" He flashed another grin, and the man's face twitched, trying to return the expression, but it came out more like a pained grimace.
Finally, after what felt like ages, the old man handed Jaune the papers with a shaky hand. "T-thank you, Mr. Arc. Y-you're all set."
Jaune waved casually, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Thanks, Mister! Oh, and you might wanna call them back." He pointed at the phone with a shrug, completely unaware of the chaos he had just left in his wake.
The manager let out a nervous chuckle that sounded more like a sob. Jaune blinked, shrugged again, and sauntered out the door like he didn't have a care in the world.
The second the door closed behind Jaune, the manager collapsed, his knees giving out as he dropped to the floor, his back pressed against the counter. His breath came in ragged gasps, eyes wide with terror.
"He… He'll kill me if I call the police…" The old man's voice was barely a whisper as he stared at the phone, still dangling off the edge of the desk. His heart pounded in his chest as he thought of the blond boy who had just walked out of his motel, smiling as if he hadn't a worry in the world.
'Jaune Arc. A name that strikes fear in the hearts of men…'
The manager shuddered, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.
—X~X—
Jaune strolled down the street, humming a carefree tune as the morning sun bathed Vale in a warm, golden glow. His footsteps were light, his spirits high—well, mostly high. Sure, he had a rather unpleasant meeting with the police coming up, but that was future Jaune's problem. Right now, his stomach was growling like an angry Beowolf. He ran a hand through his messy blond hair, squinting down the street. That's when it hit him—the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked pastries. His nose twitched, his eyes scanning the street, drawn like a magnet toward the source.
'Pie.'
His eyes lit up as his gaze landed on a small, unassuming bakery tucked between a hardware store and a florist. The sign above the door proudly proclaimed: 'Best Berry Pie in Vale!' Jaune's stomach growled even louder in agreement. The police station could wait. Surely justice wasn't more important than a slice of delicious pie. Plus, who knows, how long he has to wait in the police station?
"Pie first, justice later," he muttered, smirking to himself as he made his decision. With a bounce in his step, Jaune pushed open the door to the bakery. A cheerful bell jingled above him, signaling his arrival, but oddly, the lively buzz of conversation inside came to an immediate halt.
Forks froze in mid-air, coffee cups paused halfway to lips, and a thick silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket. Every single person turned to stare at him, their eyes wide with… fear? It wasn't the usual kind of awkward attention Jaune was used to. This was something different. Something tense.
Jaune's smile faltered slightly. He blinked, glancing around the room at the shocked, pale faces. "Uh… good morning?" His voice came out louder than he intended, shattering the stillness like a glass window.
Several customers visibly flinched at the sound of his voice. A middle-aged man sitting by the window almost dropped his coffee as he scrambled to gather his things, casting a nervous glance at Jaune before bolting for the door. His sudden departure set off a chain reaction. Other patrons quickly followed, some knocking over chairs in their haste to leave. In less than a minute, the once-busy bakery was nearly empty, save for a few brave souls who hesitated by the exit, casting wary glances over their shoulders.
Jaune scratched the back of his head, chuckling nervously. "Tough crowd, huh?"
He made his way to the counter, trying to ignore the way the remaining customers kept glancing at him like he was about to explode. Behind the counter, the waitress—who looked barely older than Jaune—was staring at him like he was some kind of ghost. Her hands trembled as she reached for a notepad, eyes darting between Jaune and the door as though she was contemplating a quick escape.
Jaune smiled, doing his best to look as non-threatening as possible. "Hey there! Could I get a slice of that famous berry pie?"
The waitress blinked, her movements stiff and mechanical as she nodded. She fumbled with the pie knife, nearly dropping it twice before managing to cut a slice. When she placed it in front of Jaune, her lips twitched in a nervous attempt at a smile, though it looked more like she was trying to keep herself from screaming.
"Thanks!" Jaune said cheerfully, taking the plate and heading to a small table by the window. He slid into the chair, grabbing his fork and taking a big, eager bite of the pie. The taste was… amazing. Sweet, tangy berries and a perfectly flaky crust—it was everything the sign had promised.
But something was off. Really off.
The noise inside the bakery had completely died down, and Jaune noticed that more customers were filing out. One by one, they made excuses, left half-finished meals on their plates, and disappeared through the front door. The last few patrons exited with hurried steps, throwing quick, nervous glances back at him before slipping out. Even the staff had vanished. Jaune frowned, fork paused mid-bite as the realization hit him.
'The waitress left too?'
He glanced around, utterly confused. "Is it really that bad?" he muttered to himself, staring at the half-eaten pie on his plate. But before he could ponder further, the sound of the TV above the counter caught his attention.
On the screen, the news anchor's serious expression filled the small, now-empty bakery with tension.
"We have some concerning news," the anchor said, her voice grave. "Last night, a violent confrontation occurred between local law enforcement and the terrorist organization known as the White Fang. During the altercation, one of the group's leaders, Adam Taurus, was found dead in an alleyway near the docks."
Jaune's fork slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the plate as the room suddenly felt ten degrees colder. He sat up straighter, staring at the TV, his heart pounding.
"A red blade was found at the scene, confirming this theory that it was indeed Adam Taurus." the anchor continued, her tone dropping even lower, "Authorities are now searching for a suspect… Jaune Arc."
Jaune blinked, his mind grinding to a halt. 'What?'
The cheerful atmosphere of the bakery seemed to close in on him, the walls suddenly feeling far too close. His heart skipped a beat, and the berry pie he'd been enjoying moments ago now tasted like dust in his mouth. 'Me?!'
His picture flashed on the screen—an old ID photo, his hair messier than usual, and his wide, goofy grin now seemed unsettling in the current context.
"This seemingly harmless boy was seen running away from the White Fang gang. The rangers confirmed that they were enraged during the gun battle and experts suggest that it might be because Jaune Arc may have killed their leader. The police are yet to—" the woman paused, pressing the earphone on her head before nodding. "It appears that Jaune Arc has been located."
Before he could fully comprehend what he was hearing, there was a loud 'crash' as something shattered through the bakery window. Glass exploded inward, spraying across the floor, and Jaune instinctively ducked. Huh?! He barely had time to react before a purple smoke bomb rolled to a stop near his table, hissing as it filled the room with thick, choking clouds of smoke.
"Wha—?!" Jaune coughed, his eyes watering as the acrid smoke stung his lungs. But before panic could set in, a strange sensation washed over him. A wooden helmet materialized around his head, encasing him in a protective shell. His breathing eased, the helmet filtering the smoke as he struggled to make sense of the situation.
A booming voice echoed from outside, amplified by a megaphone. "Jaune Arc! This is the Vale Police Department! Surrender now!"
Jaune froze, heart thudding in his chest. 'The police? They're after me?!' His mind raced, desperately trying to piece together the series of events. The terrified looks, the weird reactions—'Oh no… they think I'm a criminal!'
He peeked out from behind the counter, squinting through the smoke. Outside, the street was swarming with heavily armed officers, their guns trained on the bakery. The SWAT team was there too, armored vehicles blocking off the street. 'This is bad. Really bad.'
"Okay, Jaune," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his rapidly escalating nerves. "Don't panic. It's just a misunderstanding. Big misunderstanding."
Swallowing hard, Jaune stood up slowly, hands raised above his head as he emerged from the smoke-filled bakery. The moment he stepped outside, dozens of guns immediately locked onto him, their sights trained on his chest. He could feel the tension in the air, like a hundred trigger fingers just waiting for the slightest excuse.
"Uh… hey, guys?" Jaune called out, doing his best to sound calm, though his voice wavered. "I think there's been a little, uh… mix-up."
"Don't move!" one of the officers shouted, his voice trembling slightly as he tightened his grip on his rifle.
Jaune froze, hands still raised. "Look, I'm not a terrorist, okay? I just wanted some pie and maybe to stop by the police station later. You know, standard stuff."
The officers exchanged glances, clearly not convinced.
"I didn't kill Adam," he added. "It was an accident. Plus, I was coming to the police station anyway…"
One of them, a hulking man with a scowl that could crack concrete, stepped forward, cuffs in hand. "Alright, we're bringing you in, nice and easy. No funny business, got it?"
Jaune opened his mouth to protest, but his words died in his throat as his eyes caught something behind the officers. A construction site, just across the street. High above, a crane was shifting a massive bundle of steel rods, except… the chains holding them looked loose. Dangerously loose.
His heart skipped a beat. "Uh… guys?"
The officer with the cuffs narrowed his eyes. "Shut it."
"No, seriously! Look up!" Jaune pointed frantically at the crane. "The rods—they're falling!"
The officer frowned, but it was too late. With a metallic groan, the chains gave way, and the steel rods broke free, plummeting toward the ground. Toward them.
"MOVE!" Jaune shouted, his instincts kicking in.
Without thinking, Jaune's hands shot out in front of him, forming a hand sign.
Wood Style: Mushrom of the Ancient Toad!
Wood erupted from the ground in front of him, growing faster than the eye could track. It twisted and expanded, forming an enormous canopy above the street. A massive wooden umbrella that stretched across the entire block, shielding the officers and nearby civilians as the steel rods crashed onto the wooden surface with a deafening 'thud'.
Jaune stood there, still trembling, staring up at the enormous wooden canopy he had just created. His breath came in shallow gasps, adrenaline coursing through his veins as the full weight of what he had just done started to sink in.
"I... I actually did that," he whispered to himself, almost in disbelief. The wood stretched out above the street like a colossal umbrella, protecting the officers, civilians, and even himself from the falling steel rods.
For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence.
The police officers stared up at the structure with wide eyes, some lowering their weapons in pure shock. Even the civilians, who had scattered in fear moments earlier, stood frozen, gawking at the wooden shield that had materialized seemingly out of nowhere. It had to be at least seventy metre long in diameter. It was about twenty feet above the ground.
Truly, a terrifying creation.
Then, as if someone had flicked a switch, the silence shattered.
"He's attacking us!" an officer screamed, his voice sharp with panic. His rifle snapped back up, aimed squarely at Jaune. "Get him! He's using his Wood Style Semblance to crush us!"
Jaune's eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait, what? No, I'm not—"
"Fire!" another officer shouted, his finger pulling the trigger.
Gunfire erupted all at once. Bullets ricocheted off the wooden canopy, embedding themselves harmlessly in the structure Jaune had created. He yelped, diving behind a nearby car for cover as the barrage continued. His heart raced as he huddled behind the vehicle, trying to make sense of the chaos.
"Wait! Stop shooting!" he shouted over the noise, his voice barely audible above the deafening gunfire. "I was trying to help you guys!"
But no one was listening.
The panic had already set in, and the officers were convinced he was some sort of threat. Bullets continued to rain down, and Jaune winced as they bounced off his wooden shield with loud, splintering cracks.
"Why do things like this keep happening to me?" Jaune groaned, glancing around for an escape route. Running seemed like his only option at this point.
Another bullet whizzed past, shattering the windshield of the car he was hiding behind. Jaune flinched, ducking lower. "Okay, that's it! I'm outta here!"
He glanced over his shoulder, spotting a narrow alleyway between two buildings that might give him enough cover to make a run for it. He couldn't fight these officers, and he certainly wasn't sticking around to explain things while they were busy turning him into swiss cheese.
With a deep breath, Jaune bolted from behind the car, sprinting toward the alley. The moment he moved, the gunfire intensified, bullets zipping past him, barely missing by inches. His heart thundered in his chest as he pushed forward, adrenaline the only thing keeping him from collapsing in pure terror.
Just as he reached the alley, Jaune skidded to a halt, glancing back at the chaos behind him. The police were still firing, still convinced he was some kind of threat.
"This is ridiculous!" Jaune yelled back at them. "I saved you from getting crushed, and this is how you repay me?!"
Another round of gunfire answered him, and Jaune threw up his hands in exasperation. "Alright, fine! I get it! You're all insane!"
With one last frustrated glance at the scene behind him, Jaune turned and bolted down the alleyway, his footsteps echoing off the narrow walls as he disappeared into the maze of streets.
Behind him, the chaos of the police scene continued, but Jaune had one thing on his mind now: finding a way to clear his name before things spiraled even further out of control.
—X~X—
Jaune slumped against the cracked wall of the abandoned building, letting out a deep, exhausted sigh. Dust and grime coated everything in the room, and the faint stench of mildew hung in the air. It was dark, the only light creeping in from the broken windows, casting eerie shadows on the floor. He could hear the distant rumble of cars and the occasional wail of a siren from Vale's streets far away, but here in this desolate part of the city, it was dead quiet.
"Calm down… Just calm down," he muttered to himself, pacing back and forth on the creaky floorboards. His heart was still pounding, and his mind raced with everything that had happened over the past few hours.
What in the world had he gotten himself into?
After a few minutes, Jaune forced himself to stop, breathing deeply, trying to slow his frantic thoughts. He dropped down onto an old crate and fished his scroll out of his pocket, the screen lighting up as he scrolled through the news feed. His fingers were trembling slightly as he skimmed through the endless posts and comments about him.
'Is this for real?!'
The headline made his stomach twist. His eyes scanned over the post, and there it was— a photo of Adam Taurus's mangled body, lying in an alley. Unlike the censored version he'd seen on TV, this was the raw, uncensored horror. His face blanched at the sight. Sixteen thousand reacts.
"Sixteen thousand… yikes," Jaune muttered under his breath, swallowing hard.
"What the hell happened?" He scrolled further, more headlines catching his eye, each one worse than the last.
'This dude helped Roman Torchwick escape. Bro was like a ninja from video games, he was so smooth! He was toying with this pipsqueak. So cold! ;)'
Jaune blinked at the post in disbelief. It had a video clip attached, showing his 'fight' with the girl in the red cape. He cringed at the way the person who posted it hyped him up like some kind of action hero. 'Toying with her?' He hadn't even known what he was doing half the time! The red-caped girl had nearly wiped the floor with him.
"Roman Torchwick…?!" Jaune gasped, feeling his head spin as the reality of it all sunk in. He had helped a notorious criminal, the same guy that had been all over the news for dust robberies. And he didn't even know it at the time!
He continued scrolling, growing more and more anxious with each passing post. The public's perception of him was getting worse by the minute.
'Jaune Arc has been sighted in a bakery at around 10 am. He was so nonchalant about this, no fear at all! Bro casually walked into the place like he wasn't a wanted criminal. Then, the police came and "forced" him to come out of the bakery. Just when everyone thought he was caught, this cunning little shit dropped metallic rods from a crane and we almost were crushed—'
Jaune groaned, pressing his palm to his forehead. "'I didn't drop those rods!'" he exclaimed, frustrated. "I 'saved' you people! Ugh!"
The post went on, describing the scene in exaggerated detail. They made him sound like some kind of criminal mastermind. He skimmed over the part where they speculated on his Semblance, 'Wood Release' or whatever they were calling it now. The way they painted the story, it sounded like he had intentionally set up some elaborate scheme to terrify everyone.
''This guy has a unique Semblance… capable of creating anything made of wood. The umbrella was huge! Bigger than a Bullhead too! That's not all— he escaped thirteen police officers who were firing at zero range! I am so shocked! How overpowered is this guy?! What are his plans? Is he working with Roman Torchwick? Is he an enemy of the White Fang? Or does he work for Salem—''
Jaune quickly turned off his scroll, his mind buzzing. 'Salem?' Now they were linking him to the most dangerous criminal in all of Remnant? This was getting out of hand.
He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "I need to think," he muttered, his voice tight with anxiety. He tried to organize his thoughts, but everything was such a mess.
First of all, the police and apparently everyone else thought he was a murderer. 'A murderer.' Him, Jaune Arc, the guy who couldn't even kill a small Grimm.
Secondly, he couldn't go anywhere without being recognized now. His face was all over the news. Every step he took in public would be under scrutiny, and there was no way to explain all this in a way that wouldn't get him shot.
Thirdly, the White Fang— if they weren't already hunting him— would probably be coming for him soon. He didn't know much about them, but they didn't seem like the forgiving type. And since Adam Taurus was dead… well, things could get ugly fast.
Fourth, and probably the most pressing, Beacon Academy's initiation was in two days. 'Two days!' He needed to figure out how to clear his name before then, or he could kiss his dream of becoming a Huntsman goodbye forever.
"Ugh, gimme a break," Jaune groaned, leaning back against the wall, running his hands through his hair. How had his life gone from normal, everyday problems to this in the span of twelve hours?
He thought about his family. His sisters— one of them, Saphron, worked in a law agency. She might be able to help him. But… he wasn't sure how to approach her with something like this. 'Hey sis, I'm on the run for a murder I didn't commit and the White Fang might want me dead. Ooh, the police are after me too, can you help me out?' Yeah, that would go over well.
Oddly enough, none of the Arc family had tried to contact him yet. He checked his scroll again, but no messages, no missed calls, nothing. It felt… off.
"I need to get a place to stay," Jaune mumbled, looking around the dirty, abandoned building he had taken refuge in. The floors were sticky with grime, and there were cobwebs in every corner. The roof leaked, and the air was thick with a damp, musty smell.
"But if I'm out of choices…" He sighed, dropping his bag onto the floor with a heavy thud. "Then this is it."
It wasn't ideal, but it was safe. At least for now.
He leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the cracked ceiling, and let out a long, slow breath. "This is gonna be a long couple of days…"
Author Note:
If you enjoyed this chapter, stick around—there's more to come!
By the way, many of you Don't know that there is an app called 'Fanfiction', right? Check it out in 'Play Store' or 'App Store'. There is no ad and it's super easy to use. Do use it 'cause the site crashes down from time to time.
Till next time!