I don't own RWBY or Call of Cthulhu
3rd POV
Backstage of the Washington theater, Ten minutes after the death on stage.
The view opens up on a wooden door backstage. On it was a star that said director. While the view remained on the door, loud shouting voices can be heard from within. Two foreign voices and one with a cockney accent.
"Calmez-vous Montblanc. Ce n'est pas aussi grave qu'on le pense." A voice in French said trying to calm another.
"Pas mal! Pas mal! Petit, les trois derniers propriétaires ont été tués, horriblement, et maintenant qu'ils sont morts, nous héritons de ce maudit théâtre!" A familiar voice shouted out.
"Oh, give it a rest will you. So what this tragedy happened. We can't just up and leave this theater. You think sales are bad because of this incident. Wait till you leave. You will be starving by the end of the week." The cockney voice reasoned with.
"J'ai refusé de mourir pour le bien de ces Américains! Même si je pars le moins sans le sou, je partirai avec ma vie!" The familiar voice said before bursting open the door revealing the voice belonging to Jacque Montblanc. He was about to storm off when he nearly ran in Mari.
"Um, Mr. Montblanc. Are you alright?" Mari asked.
"No, I'm just peachy, I just watched two people I've known and respected for years just die a gruesome death. How do you think I'm doing? Enfant muet." Jacque said rhetorically.
"Alright, point made. Can you at least explain what you two were arguing about in frog?" Mari said as she crossed her arms.
"Oh, frog huh. Well little Mrs. America, let me put it into words that you can understand." Jacque said before kneeling down to Mari's height. "Fuck you, and your city. I ain't dying for your amusement you filthy peasant."
Before Mari could even have a chance to sock Jacque in the nose, another voice called out. "HEY!"
Jaune had walked over. He had some difficulty climbing the stairs but by the time he arrived he just heard the part Jacque go off on Mari. As he walks over, Jacque rolled his eyes as Jaune approaches. He then remarked sarcastically. "Ah yes, the fake French boy. Here to grace us with his presence."
"I don't know what is going on, but that doesn't excuse you for going off on a child." Jaune remarks in a defending tone.
"Tsk, I don't need your protection. I've heard plenty of Frogs croak before." Mari said rhetorically as she rolled her eyes.
"… Espèce de petit bâtard!" Jacque snapped as he raises his hand to slap the you girl. Before he could even touch her, Jaune quickly grabbed his arm.
"Try it, I guaranty it won't got the way you think it will." Jaune said as he held Jacque's hand with surprising strength. As Jacque struggles to break free, the other foreign man walked over disappointed by his friend's actions. He was dressed in a three-piece suit; however, he had removed the blazer and the vest. His Bowtie hanging around his neck and the suspenders off his shoulders. His brown hair was a mess, requiring him to pull it back multiple times. Other than a pencil mustache there was nothing noticeable about him.
"Jacque, ça suffit. Rentrer chez soi." The other foreign man snapped at him.
"…Bien, mais tenez compte de mes paroles si nous ne partons pas, nous subirons le même sort que ceux d'avant." Jacque said as he rips his arm free of Jaune and storms off. After a few moments the forien man mutters something.
"… (Sigh) J'ai pitié de toi mon ami." He mutters before turning to the two. "I do apologies, Jacque, he's… under a lot of stress."
"No shit." Mari remarks sarcastically.
"Ah, typical American crass." A man in a cockney accent remarks sarcastically as he exits the room. He was wearing a green plaid suit with his blonde hair cut to a with a low fade. "How… Droll."
He approaches the two with hands in pockets. As he walks forward, he can't help but notice something flickering in Jaune's eyes. After a few moments, the man held out his hand to Jaune. "John Hammer Sanchez's, I'm the director of this theater. Sorry about what you had witnessed."
"Jaune, Jaune Arc." Jaune replies as he shakes his hand.
"Huh, the singer? And here I thought it was a stage name." The man in the cockney accent, known as Sanchez remarks sarcastically.
"No, that my actual name." Jaune remarks.
"So your mother named you Yellow?" The other man remarks.
"Yes. Because of my hair." Jaune remarks as he points to his hair.
"Uh huh. (Sigh) Doesn't matter now. What can I do for you Mr. Arc." The man asked sarcastically as he walked back into the room.
"You can tell us what the hell happened out there?" Mari questioned as she walked in. "I never say Romeo and Juliet. But I'm pretty sure they die at the end… and less… brutal."
"Tsk, that's true. Though what had happened lately is the act of infamous of the phantom." Mr. Sanchez remarks sarcastically.
"Phantom?" Jaune asked with a raised brow.
"(Sigh) That's what the news are calling him. The Phantom of Broadway. Nobody caught the assassinat de bâtard and the two on stage are his seventeenth victims." The man said as he leans back in his chair.
"The first owners who bought this place, Benjamin S. Moss was found crudely stuffed like a taxidermy animal, holding the architected Eugene De Rosa severed head on a silver platter. Seven of the construction workers were stuffed and posed in cheering and laughing positions. They were set up in a twisted version of the ending to Hamlet. After that the theater was sold to this Russian. Alexander Lebedev, I think the chaps name was. He managed to put together Julius Caesar, and on opening night the phantom stuck again. The stage curtains open and he was found dead. Stabbed multiple times by his friends. All crudely taxidermy and attached to a strange machine." Sanchez remarks as he shudders at the human puppet show preforming on stage.
"And now it fell into the lap of our latest victimes des arts. The Calhoun's." The man said before leaning forward in the chair and pressing his hands against his head. "Que Dieu ait pitié de leurs âmes."
"… As tragic it is, it now brings us back to now. With them dead the theater goes to new owners. The one's who invested in the purchase of this theater. Monsieur. Jacque Montblanc who you met, and Monsieur. Arnou Petit." Sanchez pointing with his thumb to the man, Monsieur Petit.
"So, odds are the murderer will be coming for you two next?" Jaune asked as he gets a grasp on the severity of the situation.
"Oui, that's the gist. (Sigh) But it seems my friend will not stay in town. He will be leaving, for Providence before taking a boat to Québec. Leaving me to oversee this theater." Petit answers sadly.
"Hmm, smart man. Get out of dodge." Mari remarks.
"So why don't you leave as well?" Jaune asked somewhat curious about that.
"(Sigh) Si seulement c'était facile." Petit said as he leans back with despair in his eyes. "When me and my friend Jacque helped bought this place we did so under a loan. Someone must remain behind to make the weekly payments or else our financial accounts will be closed with all our assets removed as compensation. In short, I leave I'm destitute. If I stay, I'll be in the obituary before the New Year."
"Oh… talk about a catch twenty-two." Jaune said feeling bad.
"Un quoi?" Petit asked.
"Huh?" Jaune asked having no idea what he just said.
"You said a catch twenty-two. I'm asking what does that number have to do with the circumstance I find myself in." Petit asked.
"Oh, it's a saying. Catch twenty-two is when someone finds themselves in a loose, loose situation. Say that you can't go right or left without falling off a cliff. But if you don't move a train will hit you. Either way you lose." Jaune explains.
"Huh, never heard a saying like that before." Sanchez remarks before pulling out a note book and writing down something in it.
"Heh well, it's a new saying." Jaune quickly lied as he scratches the back of his head.
After a few moments of awkward silence Mari speaks up with a simple question. "So, how can we help?"
"I beg your pardon?" Petit asked.
"You have a problem and this idiot can fix it." Mari clarifies as she points to Jaune.
"Wait, what?" Jaune asked completely caught off guard by what Mari is suggesting.
"If this idiot can catch this phantom then can we get the best seats in theater for life?" Mari asked.
"I… I didn't even." Before Jaune could even interject Petit responds.
"Petite fille, if either of you can put an end to this I'll give you the best seats in the house and have Sanchez write a play on your exploits." Petit remarks sarcastically.
"But I didn't even…" Jaune was once again interrupted by Mari who walked over to Petit and spits in her hand.
"Then we have an accord?" Mari asked as she held out her hand.
Slightly disgusted Petit raised his hand and shakes hers. "Very well. You have a deal Little… sorry don't believe I got your name."
"Mari, Mari Meier." Mari said before turning around and grabbing Jaune.
"Come on, we got work to do." Mari said dragging the still dumbfounded Jaune outside.
The view followed them as Mari dragged Jaune outside into the busy street. She seemed to be determined to investigate further. Jaune however was questioning how an eleven-year-old got him wrapped up in a murder mystery. As she begins dragging down the next block and police cars passing by did Jaune stop her.
"Ok, what just happened?!" Jaune questioned as he pulled back his arm out Mari's arm.
"What are you babbling about?" Mari asked in a confused tone.
"How did I, started an evening visiting a theater with a kid, end with that kid dragging me in some murder mystery malarkey?" Jaune clarified in an annoyed tone.
"Well, I didn't want to go to the theater but hey, shit happens. Least my week got interesting." Mari remarks as she rolled her eyes. "Right so how do we solve a murder case?"
"We? I never agreed to this." Jaune argued.
"Then what about that detective wall you have in your apartment? The one filled with pictures of girls and one boy." Mari asked as she crossed her arms, this caused Jaune's left eye to twitch in anger. Before he say's anything he lets out a frustrated sigh before continuing in an undertone voice of annoyance.
"(Inhale… exhale sigh.) First of all, they aren't murders. They are school friends who I'm trying to find. Secondly, how do you know about that?" Jaune asked.
"Uh huh, sure. Also, Trish told me. Last Easter." Mari answers as she rolled her eyes. "Regardless, aren't you going to help?"
"Again, why should I? I never agreed to this." Jaune replies in an annoyed tone. He thought he made his motion very clear. He's sure the police can handle this graphic version of a Saturday morning cartoon mystery easily. However, Mari had one card up her sleeve.
"… Help me or I'll tell Trish about last night." Mari simply threatened.
The two stared at each other for a few moments before Jaune said in an unfazed tone. "… You Monster."
"Tsk, I grew up Hell's kitchen. It chews the weak and spit them out. So, do we have an understanding?" Mari said with a smug look and her hand reached out.
"… (Sigh) Fine. Just… don't tell Trish." Jaune said as he shook her hand. Knowing Trish, she will knock my tooth loose for not telling her. Hell, she will probably do so for not telling her a murder just happened.
"Pleasure doing business. Now what do we do first, Watson?" Mari asked with a smug look on her face.
"(Yawn) Sleep. Monty knows I'm too exhausted for this madness." Jaune Yawned before flagging down a taxi.
"Alright, then what?" Mari asked.
"Well, guess we find out more about this killer. If this isn't his first victim then we can make a profile about his choice. Once we have an understanding, we make a list of suspects. People who could have accesses and a motive that the killer will have. Once that list is established, we interview them individually to figure out who's lying." Jaune made up from the vague memories of a cartoon involving a talking dog he'd watch as a kid. As he explains a cab pulls over for the two. He opens the door and allowed Mari to enter before closing the door. He then paid the driver to take her to corner of W 49th and 9th Avenue. As he does Mari soon remarks.
"Alright, motive, access, and how they did it. Sounds simple enough. Want to meet up at Central park to discuss more?" Mari asked.
"Eh, sure kid." Jaune said with a tired shake of his head.
"Twelve thirty?" Mari asked.
"Uh huh, sure." Jaune remarks before walking away.
"Alright, I'll hold ymg' to yormg aimgr'luh." Mari said in a strange accent. Jaune was unsure if he was hearing her right. Turning around she was gone. In fact, everyone was gone. No cars in the street was moving, no crowed of people. Not even the rodents with wings were flying by. The entire street went dead silent.
"… What in Monty's name?" Jaune mutters to himself as he turns around. As he does he hears a loud crashing noise. Quickly turning around, he can hear the sound of a car horn. Going off as if something was lying on top of it.
Jaune followed the sound, seeing that nobody else was on the street or even opening their window to see what was happening. He had just turned to corner to see a yellow cab had crashed into a light post. He slowly made his way to the cab, finding only one person in the driver's seat. The man was wrapped in a yellow trench coat with a yellow fedora hiding his head that laid on the horn.
"Hey, are you alright?" Jaune asked as he tried to shake the man awake. As he does he seems to be commenting something incoherent. Over and over again.
"Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh?" The man in the cab said over and over again.
"What in the world?" Jaune remarks as he pulls the man off the wheel.
Just as he does, the man shoots up revealing his… twisted face. The shock of such a thing sent Jaune to the ground, with a horrified look on his face. Only staring at the disfigured face for a few moments did Jaune realize that wasn't a face. It was a mask. A pallid, and deformed face that was leaking a sort of black slimy ooze with a rancid smell of decay. The figure slowly leaves the car and stands above Jaune. Continuously asking him, over, and over again.
"Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh?" The man asked multiple times as he approach Jaune with his hand out stretch.
In an act of fear, Jaune quickly gets to his feet and was about to run back down the street when he came across a woman in the same pallid mask walking towards him. Repeating the same line. Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh?"
Jaune quickly walks back but he nearly ran into a dozen of these masked face strangers. Men, women, children of all variant appearances approach him. All wearing that horrible Pallid mask, chanting the same phrase, over and over again. "Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh?"
They start to surround Jaune. With their arms outstretched. Jaune was pushed against the wall as they close in on him. In a panic Jaune used his cane to bash a few with an Aura empowered swings. As he cracked a few over the head and sent one child flying, they did not stop their advances. Eventually, they swarmed Jaune. Dragging him to the ground. He screams out in horror as the mob dragged him down. All that can be seen of the poor boy was his flailing right arm. A right arm that sink down until a pale female hand grabbed it firmly. As a light yellow, nearly white light begins eliminating from her arm. It gets brighter and brighter as Jaune is slowly pulled from pile.
Next day, in Jaune's bedroom.
As the strange light dies down and reveals the setting has changed drastically. No longer in the streets of Broadway, but back in Jaune's apartment bedroom, there on the bed was Jaune. Sleeping crookedly in his evening attire clothes. It's not clear how he made it back to his apartment, or what exactly happened last night. But he was there in bed, still dressed in his Tuxedo. By the way he was shaking and twitching he was having a sort of nightmare. He tossed and turn with cold sweat running down his head. In his head, he can hear the screams of hundreds of thousands of voices. All saying the same exact thing over and over again. This started to have an effect on Jaune as he slept. He was muttering the exact same incoherent thing in his sleep.
"Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh? Ymg' mgepah mgepmgr'luh turor hnahr'luh?" Jaune said on a loop as cold sweat poured from his scalp.
This of course was interrupted entirely when a loud banging on his door interrupted his sleep. The banging on the door caused Jaune to shoot up with eyes open wide in shock. Around his iris was a mixture of Yellow and white glow that looked like they were fighting for control. He blinked a few times before the two colors slowly faded from his eyes. It took him another moment to register the loud knocking at the door. Giving himself a moment, to look around he gets out of bed and walks to the door. As he does, he removes his blazer, bow tie, and undid his suit vest before coming to the door. Looking through the peephole he can see Trish on the other side, in her winter coat holding a file folder in one hand and a newspaper under her arm. Jaune unlocks his door and opens it to greet Trish with a small yawn.
"(Yawn) Hey, Trish. How ar…" Before Jaune could even finish he was socked in the jaw by Trish.
"You dumb son of bitch!?" Trish said in an annoyed growl as she walked into the room. "How in gods good grace, did you think it was a good idea!?"
"Ugh, good morning to you too." Jaune said as he felt blood leaking from his nose. "Wait, what are you talking about?"
"Last night. There was a murder on stage and you didn't even think to tell me?" Trish shouted before tossing the morning newspaper on the ground. Jaune crawled to it before picking it up. He then stands before taking a look at the paper. The paper reading about last night, with the obituary of the two next to it. Headlining reading. 'Phantom strikes again, is this the end of the Washington theater?'
"Oh, I was going to tell you, it's just that I um… sort of tired." Jaune struggled to say. He vaguely remembers last night. Only that he was tackled by a mob of strangers in Pallid Mask, and he was pulled from the mob by an unknown person. He can't quite explain it but the hand felt, familiar.
"Uh huh. Sure. (Sigh) Worst you got Mari involved in this shite." Trish added as she swiped the paper from Jaunes hand and smacks Jaune across the back of his head.
"Wait, what are you talking about?" Jaune asked as he rubs the back of his head.
"She came back from Central park an hour ago holding these." Trish remarks as she pulls a small pocket size note book from her pocket, along with a few single newspapers articals from the folder. Slamming both into Jaune chest as she walked over to the kitchen area. As she looks for anything to temper her anger. As she does, Jaune looked down at the notes. Surprisingly good handwriting for a child. By the looks of it, it was a short list of names. Each one marked.
"Um, what's this?" Jaune asked.
"A list of suspects apparently. Or at least what she managed to find out on her own. I'll give that girl one thing. She is clever in finding small details." Trish said as she found some tea bags in a cabinet. As she started to make some tea Jaune went over a few notes. Apparently, she took Jaune's half ass advice seriously. She wrote down the addresses of a few people, their positions, and motives. Along with that were the news articals. Mentioning the previous killings. Everything was scribbled on, with the major points being underlined. Trish was right. Mari defiantly had a talent for seeing the small things. As Jaune went through the articals Trish walked over with a cup of tea before handing him.
"So, do you mind explaining to me why she had collected these things?" Trish asked.
"Hmm?" Jaune replies as he takes a sip.
"She didn't explain beyond the fact that you asked her to collect them. Said you were going back, something about a catch twenty-two. Can I ask why and what's a catch twenty-two?" Trish rephrased her question.
It then dawned upon Jaune that Mari was setting Jaune up. If he told Trish that he didn't ask Mari to bring her these things. Then she will probably kill him. If he told her that he was solving a murder mystery, she will snap at him for getting her involved. Either way, he will lose. A catch twenty-two.
Back at the theater, an hour later
When Jaune had a choice between becoming the target of an angry Irish women and prolificity serial killer, he can safely say that choosing the serial killer was possible the safer of the two choices. After getting an earful from Trish, Jaune now dressed in his casual clothes, and armed with his poorly disguised sword walking stick. The two had just walked in through the front door of Washing theater. Trish following behind him with an angry growl on her face. Jaune fibbed about how he got involved in the incident and now Trish will be following him around till then, to make sure that he doesn't get into any more trouble. As they walked in Jaune spotted a familiar figure on stage directing actors in a furious manner.
"God damn it Ms. Vernal how hard is it to remember the simple lines. 'Now is the winter of our discounted. Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house in the deep bosom of the ocean buried'. Are you illiterate or are your eyes just so far up you own arse that you can see patties!" Mr. Sanchez's snaps as he tosses his paper to the ground in rage. The women on stage rolled her eyes before walking away. Not want to deal with him she left. Leaving the director to growl in anger. "Oh, you know what fine! Go, I can find someone much better then you! Just you watch!"
"Um, is this a bad time?" Jaune asked catching the director off guard.
"Ah, Mr. Arc. Didn't expect you to be back… and who are you?" Sanchez's asked.
"Trish, Clover." Trish answers with a begrudging tone. Jaune not catching on to Trish's tone of annoyance explained why she was here.
"She's a friend. Heard about the deal and wanted to make sure nothing bad happens." Jaune said nervously, hopefully Sanchez's won't reveal the deal.
"Oh, and she's Irish. Joy another mick." Sanchez's said sarcastically.
"Yeah, I'm not too thrilled either, limey. But kids' an idiot. So, to put it into words you may understand. 'By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes'." Trish quipped causing the directors brow to raise.
"Hmm, Macbeth. Least you ain't as half witted as the others on stage." Sanchez replies before a stage light crashes down, just to illustrate his point. "Case in point. Hold a second."
Sanchez then walks over and shouts with rage upwards. "Oy! That's coming out of your check's you twats! We are on tight budget as it is and if you destroy anymore, we will be bankrupt long before any killer could do us all the favor and slit our throats! Do you understand!" Sanchez's shouted up only for three voices to call down.
"Yes Mr. Sanchez. Sorry!" Two males and one female shouted down.
With that Sanchez turns around before looking down at the two. "Now, Mr. Arc, Ms. Clover. What can I do for you?"
"Well, I was following up on the whole mystery. So, where is Arnou? Is he here?" Jaune asked.
"(Sigh) Sadly no. He's at a local speak easy I wager. Received a message from his killer early this morning." Sanchez said in a disappointed tone.
"He got what?" Trish asked with a crooked look.
"(Sigh) Hold on, Oy Boulton!" Sanchez called out. After a few moments a young blonde woman came running out. She was wearing a red sweater vest with an Ivy league school symbol on the right breast that took the symbol of a shield crest with an open book at the center.
"Yes, Mr. Sanchez?" the girl known as Boulton replies.
"Get the death threat from off of Monsieur. Petit desk if you kindly." Sanchez ordered to which the Boulton gives a nod before leaving.
"(Sigh) Any way's I've been working here since the original owner Benjamin S. Moss had this place constructed by his architected Eugene De Rosa back in nineteen eighteen. The man received this queer and frightening letter. Demanding that we put on a highly controversial play. If we didn't then the killer promised a gruesome end should his threat be ignored. Course, we all know how that ended." Sanchez said as he makes decapitating motion with his hand. As he does Boulton comes racing back with a letter in hand.
"Thank you, Ms. Boulton. Would you kindly get the Dawson's down here? I may require their aid… unfortunately." Sanchez said with an uncaring glance as he inspects the letter. Boulton nods her head before racing up the stairs. Sanchez then hands the letter to Jaune before continuing. "The next owner, received the same letter and he too ignored it. Now it seems Monsieur. Petit received his."
Jaune carefully inspects the letter. Only name on the front was Arnou Petit name written in a five cursive with yellow ink. The letter was sealed in wax that was smudge and torn. Though there seemed to be a symbol that was there. Trish stood by his side as they silently read it.
"Woe unto you
You have been thrust into the lime light
Woe unto you.
You are cursed and soon will die
Woe unto you.
You can either spend your final days in fear.
Woe unto you
Or do as I command. Cease your theatrics and prepare your actors for a new script.
Rejoice unto you.
For you have been selected to show the world the beautiful words
Of Sa Majesté en Jaune.
If failed to do so by New Years hence, then you shall suffer the same fate as your predecessors.
Woe unto you."
"… I don't get it." Trish said after a few moments of silence. "Why would anyone kill someone for a play? Sound a bit dramatic."
"Tsk, course a mick wouldn't understand culture." Sanchez said rudely. Before Trish could retort or sock the man Jaune stepped in.
"Um, I don't know the reason either." Jaune said as he got in the middle of the two. "So, can you explain what's so big with this play the um, Sa… Maj…es-té? n Jaune?"
"… First of all, it's pronounced Sa Majesté en Jaune. I know French isn't your strong suit but it wouldn't kill you to learn how to pronounce a few words correctly. Secondly Sa Majesté en Jaune means His Majesty in yellow." Sanchez said as he pinches his nose in annoyance.
"Alright, guess when I find the time, but what's so special about this play? I never heard about it before." Jaune said as he crosses his arms.
"Well, the English version of the book goes by a different name. One that has caused panic and intrigue in many people. In fact, back in 1895 the French government seized all copies it could get their hands on before disposing of them. Took a full year and the ban is still active to this day." Sanchez explains in detail the controversy of the play.
"Tsk really? Must have been some play if an entire country of artist call for its eradication." Trish said as she crossed her arms.
"But of course, I heard tale of what the second act, of the King in Yellow does to one's mind." Sanchez said. As he goes on to provide examples of cases where someone read it. His voice begins to die down for Jaune as a loud buzzing can be heard in his ears. Those words, the King in Yellow brought forth a terrible vision to his mind. Repressed memories of that terrible city he and his friends found themselves in long time ago. As the memories of that day played out, he begins to remember the library of books. One book standing out beyond all was a small yellow book with those exact words written on them. He remembered opening it up, to the second act, and everything went yellow as Jaune gives a maddening chuckle.
Hello everybody. Wombag1786 here.
So, that little day/nightmare segment was interesting. Who's arm pulled Jaune from the pile? What's up with Jaune? And who could this Phantom be? So many questions. And so little time. Tsk, this is starting to get exciting. Any ways onto the questions and comments.
From Black cross0: Heh, yet to be. Jaune still has some free will. But yeah, bodies will drop. Question is who is dropping the bodies?
Oh, I have a collection of songs. Ranging from classics, folk, fan made, even a few Electric Swing. As for that's life, wait till the Dead Man Stomp arc.
Yeah, not a fan of the points. In my opinion some people look good with short others with long. Jaune looks good with long. Though counter point I hate long hair. Get's everywhere and catches on everything. Really though if the glove fits it works.
Yeah, question is will he get the infamous Death Ray?
Thanks for writing Black cross0
From Carre: 1. No problem
2A. Yeah just googled that. Interesting, wonder if they will do that in Ducktales.
2B. Hmm, interesting.
2C. Really? Reminds me of Gust from Deltora Quest.
3A. Trust me dude. I'm game of thrones-ing it. Care for you favorites while you still can.
3B. Yeah, I will have the end credits be something similar to a theme similar to the story. In this case a news paper.
4. Yeah, I read that comic. Pretty good.
5. Heh, Pyrrha is dead. Weiss, is busy in the southwest though without spoiling much let's just say Jaune will be hitting his low note around Yang. (And no, not in that sense… well maybe that sense but not that kind of sense.)
6. Yeah, well this chapter probably makes things more muddy.
7. Well do hang around my friend. The show is only beginning.
8. Heh, maybe I should go into showmanship? I definitely have the flair for it.
9. No problem. Glad you enjoyed it.
Thanks for writing Carre
From FEV Grim: Many terrible things, but that's not the question you should ask. Question you should ask is, who is the puppet?
Thanks for writing Fev Grim
From Combine117: Heh trust me. The ending will break you.
Thanks for writing Combine117
Well with that done, thank you all for reading this chapter. Seems Jaune will be fighting both his outer and personal Demons on this adventure. Can he remain himself? Or will he finally sub come to the sign of sa majesté en jaune? Find out next time on RWBY Noir. Please fav and fol the story. Leave a comment or question down below. This is Wombag1786 signing off.