I don't own RWBY or Call of Cthulhu
3rd POV
On stage of the Washington theater.
Jaune was once more in the void seeing nothing but the reflection of blacken stars in the reflection a deep lake. Overlooking it was a massive city with an eclipse of two suns far above it. As Jaune stares on in horror at the memories of this ancient city he can hear a voice calling his name.
"Jaune, Jaune. ymg' ah ahagl? Jaune!" The voice called out till Jaune felt something on his shoulder. Turning to the side he was back in the theater, with Trish looking puzzled.
"W-What?" Jaune asked as he looked around.
Trish gives a sigh before flicking Jaune painfully on the forehead. "I said, are you alright? You went blank for a few moments."
"Hmm, yeah sorry was… just thinking about something." Jaune lied as he return to his senses.
"Hmm, clearly. Well, in case. As I stated before, Monsieur. Petit has heard about devils night of 1895. Even had family who lost their life that night." Sanchez's explains before giving a small sigh. "(Sigh) To which he will most certainly refuse. Even under the threat of death he will adamantly refuse."
The room goes quiet, as there was an uneasy sense of despair in the air. Jaune while not so keen on solving a murder mystery suddenly felt a calling. Similar to his time on Remnant when he had the urge to help people he felt that call to aid here. Though another part of him felt, drawn to this play. He couldn't exactly describe it but if he did. It would be that he was a puppet on strings. Before he could even ask further about these killings a loud cough can be heard behind Sanchez's. Behind him were three sleazy dressed men all holding paper. Seeing them caused Sanchez's to mutter in annoyance under his breath.
"Tsk, blood sucking porkies." Sanchez mutters before straightening his tie. "Sorry, but I need to talk to Monsieur. Petit Lawyers as well as find a new actor for Isabel for this god forsaken play."
With that said, Sanchez leaves. Hissing under his breath as the lawyers suck every penny out of his wallet. Once gone Jaune quickly turned to Trish. Hushing to her, "We need to help. Stop this psycho from killing anyone, or getting someone to put that play up."
"Yeah, I'm sorry but where did you get, we out of this?" Trish hissed back with an angry glair.
"We need someone to keep a look out on the stage." Jaune explains. Pointing out that Sanchez needing a new actress for his latest show. "You are amazing on-stage Trish. When you go on stage to tell joke you are fantastic. What's the difference with that and acting on a stage?"
"One, that's all scripted. Just so happened I remembered all the terrible joke have nothing to do with acting. Secondly why would I help that limey son of a bitch?" Trish said as she cross her arms.
"Please." Jaune begged before giving her puppy eyes. A tactic he learned from traveling with Ruby. Trish looked into his eyes with an unconvinced glance.
"No." Trish said firmly as the view pulls in on her face.
"Not going to happen. Never will. Not in a million years. So quit your attempts, causing it will never happen… ever." As she said these things, the scene moves closer to her till the scene goes dark with a clicking noise.
Literally Five minutes of puppy eye begging later.
The scene opens with a click. On stage was Trish standing opulent and professional before a man walks out holding a sheet of paper. Without even looking at her papers in hand she turned to the man and begin speaking in a professional but woeful tone.
"This way the king will come; this is the way To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower, To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke: Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth Have any resting for her true king's queen. But soft, but see, or rather do not see, My fair rose wither: yet look up, behold, That you in pity may dissolve to dew, And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand, Thou map of honour, thou King Richard's tomb, And not King Richard; thou most beauteous inn, Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodged in thee, When triumph is become an alehouse guest?" Trish said before the man responses in a nervous and sloppy recital.
"Join not with uh… grief, fair ma-WO-woman, do not so, To make my end too um… oh, sudden: learn, good soul, To think my-OUR, uh our former state a happy dream; From which awaked, the truth of what we know… I mean are, are Shows us but this: Yo… I am sworn brother, sweet, To grim Necessity, and I and he, er, He and I, Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to French And cloister thee in some religious house: Our holy lives must win a new world's cap… er crown, Which our profane mome-hours here have stricken up…" Before the man could finish a shoe hits the side of his head.
"Oh for Christ sake Jerry. The hell you call that?" Mr. Sanchez shouts from front roll.
"I'm sorry Mr. Sanchez. It's just I'm use to saying my lines without looking up at my audie…" Before the unknown actor could finish another shoe hits him square in the nose, breaking it.
"YOUR!? Lad, an audience would pay five pounds worth of rubbish just to toss fruit at your cock up twat you call a mouth." Mr. Sanchez snapped as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Now get out, we got better talent in the back you. You miffed the bards work with your presence you twat!"
The man begins to sob before fleeing with tears, snot, and blood falling from his face. Trish nearly felt bad for the man… but seeing he was the third person to addition for King Richard today she had gotten use to seeing a fully grown man run out of the theater crying. Also the fact that Jaune somehow managed to convince her to actually join this train wreck of a show still confound her. It was just those blue eyes. They were like staring into a starving mutt's pup. She just couldn't said no. After a few moments a ginger fellow walked in nervously holding his hat.
"Alright, Mr… Léotard. Please do better then the bog-trotter she Mick or else." Mr. Sanchez said as the janitor Billy brought over a bucket of wrenches.
Not even phased at the sight or the fact that Sanchez would throw a wrench at a poor lad. Trish was more focus on how she was called bog trotter. It took every mount of restraint from choking the Limey bastard then and there. As she takes a deep breath to restrain herself she turned to the nervous boy and was about to recite her line. Before doing she wondered why Jaune wasn't here to watch this farce. He was here not thirty minutes ago talking with some of the workers before up and vanishing on her. Question was, why was he so interested in this theater?
With Jaune, Outside Columbus Library, around the same time.
The view had shifted to outside the Columbus Library. At the door, Jaune had just exited the building. In hand was a few copies of news articals in hand. He had traveled all over Manhattan collecting little things to help him find out who is this killer or at least narrow it down. His first stop was at the New-York Historical society in the upper west side. He had dug into the news articals on previous killings at the Washington Theater, as well as searching for anything to do with this Yellow King. He found a few News articals detailing what had happened, even a few spanning back decades. It was made publicly known in 1885 but a few deaths suggest it was published even earlier. For some odd reason the deaths are dropped like a bad dream. One or two people die horrible and the event is forgotten after a week. After obtaining a few articals he then head out to the Columbus Library to find public records on a few suspects. After talking with a few of the workers he found that the only a few dozen people had access to the raptures above. Conveniently, it wasn't hard to find public records or received access to them.
While making his way through Manhattan he notices a few Billboards and posters of him hanging high above the streets. The Mayor must have acted fast because his role in playing live during new years eve was causing such a commotion. People stopped him on the street to request and autograph with him. One reporter asked for an interview and a photo to which Jaune simply gave him an address for a later interview. As he walked out of the Columbus Library he noticed one more Billboard hanging high above the street. Seeing him smiling in his showman outfit from last Sumer solstice show brought a small smile to his face.
"Heh, guess I know how you feel Pyrrha. Fame is not as what it's cracked up to be." Jaune said musingly as he eyes the red sash around the poster version of himself. He had worn it in remembrance of her, and to be honest he was nervous since that was his first live performance.
After looking at it for a few moments he gave a small sigh before heading down the stairs. One step onto the side walk he was suddenly hit by an unknown stranger. Jaune falls to the ground as the strange man didn't bother to stop or even say sorry, he just kept on running. Before Jaune could even curse at him, a few more tough looking guys came running by. Armed with pipes, bats and other blunt objects. One among them Jaune recalled seeing at the Yankee melody. Some guy who got to handsy with the girls and nearly got into a fight with till Trish knocked him unconscious with a sucker punch. Not knowing why they were chasing that stranger, Jaune pulls himself up and quickly stuff the papers into his leather messengers bag before following close behind. After a few moments he came across them in an alleyway. By the sound of it, these thugs weren't fooling around.
"Should-ah hand over the papers Nickie." Jaune overheard one of the grunt remarked as he and his cronies slowly surrounded the man who was struggling to stand in the icy snow.
"And give that thief the satisfaction of claiming my work? No, not again or ever." The man spat back in an eastern Europe accent as he held onto his bag with a tight grip.
"Tsk, good. I was hoping for you to resist. Makes my job more fun." The man said before he pushes the man down into the snow as he windups up for the swing.
Seeing this brought back memories of Cardin, and how he was bullied around. Unlike his bullies these guys can actually kill the poor man. Shaking the memories off Jaune acted quickly, racing over and with the extension of his cane stopped the pipe from clash with the stranger's head. With his aura he had a much better strength over these thugs.
"Hey, what ever happened to not kicking a man while he's down?" Jaune asked rhetorically as he pushes the metal pipe away with relative ease.
"This doesn't concern you Johnny boy." The man said as he recognizes Jaune. "Why don't you go back to that filthy cat house of yours and play a song. Be a shame if we break that annoying voice of yours."
Jaune rolled his eyes before commenting, "Uh huh, you know a when I was younger, I had this jerk who would pick on me. Funny think is, you guys remind me of him and his cronies."
Suddenly, one of the cronies holding a wrench went to strike Jaune. Only for Jaune to grab it mid-way and head butt the brute with aura infused strike. The force of an Aura infused strike sent the thug to the ground with blood spewing out his nose like a gauzier. On the ground, Jaune used his cane to hold himself as he deliver a devastating kick to the nose with his right foot. This knocked the man out cold to which he turned to the stunned attackers. By the way the looks over their faces they were not expecting a cripple singer to take down a guy so easy. With a smug look he turned to the group and wiped the blood from his shoe with his cane.
"Shame he can't see me now. Guy was so easy to take down if you knew how to dodge. …Well, are we going to stand here all day or are you going to leave him alone?" Jaune asked as he pats his cane firmly against the snow.
Course none of the attacker decided to take either option. Rather they held up their collective mismatch of weapons and charged at Jaune. Giving a small smirk, Jaune easily evaded their strikes. As he dodges the strikes one fellow with a crowbar stuck at Jaune, only for Jaune to parry it with his cane. He went behind before placing his cane over his neck. With a simple swift motion, he tossed the thug over his back and into the crowed of thugs. One who was not part of the crowed came from behind with a knife. Hearing him coming through the crunching of the snow Jaune let the handle slide down his hand before grabbing it by the tip, turning around and lopping the brute under the chin with one quick motion like it was a gulf swing. As the man falls to the ground, he flips the cane around and engaged the thug like it was fencing. The pipe and Jaune's cane contact, before Jaune twirled the pipe out of his hand and into the air. Once the pipe was out of the thugs hand, Jaune quickly strike the man in the jugular. Gaging before being swatted in the back of the leg sending him to the ground before Jaune grabbed him by the back of the head and bashing it into his knee. Knocking him out unconscious.
Jaune gives a small huff as he looked around. He had single handily taken down a half a dozen thugs with ease. They laid on the ground, spewed about, unconscious or groaning in agony as Jaune simply straighten his suit in satisfaction. Once he straightens up, he turned too the man before walking over to him.
"Hey, are you alright?" Jaune asked as he offered the man a hand up. He was shocked by what he just witnesses. Still he managed to pull from it before taking Jaunes offer albeit hesitantly. As he was about to take Jaunes hand his eyes move to the side and went wide.
"Gun!" The man shouted as he points behind Jaune.
Hearing the cocking noise of a revolver Jaune turns around and got into a defensive stance. The lead thug aims what looks like a hand sawed Schofield revolver at Jaune. He fires the first shot and Jaune quickly activate the shielding mechanism of his weapon. The thug fired off all six rounds at Jaune, each one falling to the ground. His shield may seem unconventional when it comes to guns but compared to the time he was strike by Grimm, dust rounds, and one time a missile from a Giant Robot, these things were like bb gun pellets against a concrete wall. As he hears the sound of the clicking of an empty gun, Jaune pulled the sword out from the top of his shield and quickly advanced. Fighting through the pain of his crippled leg he easily cut the revolver in half… again. The stunned lead thug falls onto his back as Jaune held the blade to his neck.
"Hey, we didn't mean nothing by it. Heh, we were just only joking around." The lead thug begged as he held up his hand in defense.
"Uh huh, sure you were." Jaune said before bashing the man with the pen tip of his sword. Knocking the man out cold. Jaune then sheathes his sword back into the top of his shield before returning it to a semi covered cane. Jaune turned back to the man, seeing how dumbfounded he looked Jaune gives a nervous smile as he rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry about that, are you still ok?"
The man didn't pay attention to Jaune's words. He was more focus on his weapon Crocea Mors. He was going to ask if he was ok but the man beat him to the punch… and the blade. He quickly bolted from the ground and swiped Jaunes weapon. He closely inspected it with much glee as Jaune struggled to balance without a cane.
"Remarkable, truly remarkable!" The man said as he inspected Crocea Mors, activating it into shield mode. "A spring lock clock mechanism with that neither decreases or increase the weight while changing it! A simple, yet awe-inspiring designed!"
"Um, thanks." Jaune remarks painfully as he puts his hand on the wall for support. With that comment the man nearly came face to face with the kid as he blared out a few questions in excitement, almost sending Jaune to the ground.
"Didyouinventthis?!Whycarrysuchabroadsword?!AndisyournameJohnathan?!" The man asked with excitement and a dozen questions, before realizing how close he was to Jaune. He quickly pulls back before straightening himself out. After doing so he cleared his throat before handing Crocea Mors back to Jaune. Speaking in a more professional manner "Eh hem, sorry about that. I'm an inventor of sorts and I can't help myself around designs as beautiful as this."
"It's ok. I had this friend who was obsessed with weapons design." Jaune said with a chuckle as he thought back to is first days at school.
How he met his friend Ruby. She would go on a tirade about the complexity of weapons ingenuity and practically drool over weapons like it a Health and Efficiency magazine he find lying about the red light rooms at the Yankee Melody. Kind of terrified him thinking back how she would leave Dust and Bullets magazines. A part of him wishes he didn't know how filthy a book can get. Still, the thought of his friend… private activity with a weapons magazine brought back more good memories at Beacon.
Jaune then remarked in a nostalgic tone. "She too was as energetic with questions as well. Heh. Oum almighty that was a long time ago."
"Hmm, I'm not one for ballistics but I suppose it's a science in onto itself." The man remarked as he scratched his chin. He then seems to remember something and quickly went over to the papers on the ground. As he quickly collects them he then turned to the Jaune. "Do you mind if I take a closer look at your weapon at my workshop? I promise if anything I will either improve it or at least fix any previous problems."
"Um sure. By chance you can make it smaller? People are somewhat questioning why the big cane." Jaune asked with a chuckle, truth be told he is in need of an upgrade. Not many people openly carry weapons and nobody was writing a permit for a sword. So having it better concealed will help him move about the city.
"Sure, I will try." The man said with an enthusiastically nod. He motioned for Jaune to follow and the two head out of the alley, making sure not to step on the unconscious goons. As they walked down the street, the man realized something
"Oh, My name is Nikola. Nikola Tesla." The man said as he held his hand. Jaune turned to him and shook his hand.
"Jaune, Jaune Arc." Jaune said to Nikola. Tesla looked at Jaune with a confused face before realizing something familiar about him.
"The upcoming singer?" Nikola asked as he spots a billboard with Jaune's face on it.
"Heh, yeah." Jaune said as he thought back to the amount of fandom, he had received these past few hours. Or how he was getting multiple calls to star in ads these past two years.
'This is what Pyrrha must have felt like.' Jaune thought to himself again as the two continue on down the road as the view pulls in through a wall.
Back in the Washington Theater, late at night
The view returns to the theater much later in the evening. Everyone had gone home that night. The roles have been selected and the holes made from various blunt objects have been patched up. Now they will spend the next few days practicing for the show. However it seem someone wasn't exactly happy with it. The back door open and a familiar figure walked in through the back. In hand was a can of and a flashlight in the other. He moved about the theater before placing the light down. The figure proceeded to dump the fire onto a bin filled with costumes, set pieces, and script. Just as he finishes the figure pulls out a match and strikes it, revealing it to be the Jerry. With a band aid over his broken nose.
"This will show that limey bastard. I was the best actor there." Jerry said as he was about to toss the match onto an oil trail.
However before he could have a chance the door to the front entrance open and the inburst of the wind burnt out the match in hand. Grumbling he pulls out another match. He struggles to light it, after a few flicks he finally got the thing to light. Once he did, another figure was standing beside him. A hunchback dressed in a Yellow cloak, and a Pallid mask. Before Jerry could even scream, he felt intense pain in his hand. Looking down, his eyes widen in horror as the pain intensely. The strange figure had decapitated his hand with a medieval short sword. Jerry let out a slow scream in agony as he stumbles back, falling down onto the crates and causing his flashlight to spin around. It stopped at the feet of the phantom. And the hand that still gripped the lit match a little to close to the oil spill. Jerry watches as the Phantom impales his decapitated hand like a piece of meat on a spit. Lifting it up to its face before somehow managing to blow out the match.
Seeing this terrifying figure blow out the match caused Jerry's flight or fight response to kick in. Trying to ignore the pain of his lost hand he quickly raced off the stage, but not before picking up his flashlight. He quickly ran to the entrance door only to find them locked tight. He mumbled and begged as he banged on the door. He quickly turned around only to see a sword in the darkness. He quickly divided out of the way as the blade pierced the edge of the door. Breaking it, but also getting the sword stuck in the door. Acting quickly Jerry quickly gets to his feet and using his only hand punches the Phantom in the face. Causing the hood to fly back revealing the phantoms blond hair. Annoyed or hurt the phantom grabs ahold of Jerry by the neck. Strangling him for a few moments as he held him off the floor before throwing him far down the isle towards the stage. He crashed down and got the breath knocked out of him. He struggled to his feet, but in that time the phantom managed to remove his weapon from the door. He proceeded after Jerry with the blade dragging on the carpet.
Jerry had gotten to his feet to see this, and quickly sprinted onto the stage he raced to the side where he noticed stairs leading up into the raptures far above. He quickly begin to ascend, hearing his heart beating with the rhythm of the sword clinking against the winding metal stairs. Jerry managed to make it up the stairs and proceeded to make his way across. At the other end was a boarded up window he could possible use to escape. As he carefully made his way across, he heard nothing but silence. Quickly looking behind him he saw nothing but when he turned around their was the phantom and he had already swing at him. In a panic Jerry falls back, slipping before falling off the side. He let out a scream as he falls for a few moments. Falling that distance to the stage bellow would have been a death sentence if not leaving him cripple. But thankfully there was a second raptor bellow. One which he crashed into. As he groans in pain he looks up to see a figure in the shadow. It looked like a hoarse of sort, though horrible deformed. Wondering he points his light at it to see what exactly that thing is. Only to regret it.
Whatever he saw caused his eyes to grow wide and vomit over the edge. He couldn't bare to stare at it any longer, so he begins to crawl away when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He was pulled back and down. Before long he felt a foot on his neck. The Phantom was on top of him, and holding him down. In a blind panic, Jerry struggles to get out from underneath the robbed figure. Despite how hard he tried the figure didn't budge no matter how hard he beat his fist against the Phantoms foot. The Phantom instead of killing the intruder, decided to do something rather different. It reaches into his cloak and pulled out a white sheath with golden yellow trimmings and a crest moon symbol. Concealing the blade for a moment before suddenly the sides extended down forming an executioner's sword. Realizing what the Phantom was going to do, Jerry struggles to break free. Bashing and thrashing with all his might proved to be futile. He lets out one last scream before the Phantom swings without little effort, liberates Jerry's head from his body. Sending it silently screaming down into the blacken abyss bellow.
Hello everybody Wombag1786 here.
Damn this was a hard chapter to write. Anyone have King Richard the third manuscript on hand? Cause I don't. That or know important buildings in New York city in the 1920's and 30's? I digress, it seems Trish will be playing queen Isabel, the killer will stop anyone from trying to stop the show, and Jaune made a new friend. The one, the only, Nickola Tesla, The Man who invented the 20TH century. Things are starting to look interesting, and next chapter it will get more interesting. Alright now onto the review and questions.
From FEV Grim: Touché. Hopefully you enjoy the chapter. (And that I get the next one done.)
Thanks for writing FEV Grim
From Combine117: Trust me, google the second act of that accursed book. Should give you an idea of what sort of hell he is in. There's no running from this.
Thanks for writing Combine117
From Carre: 1. No problem
2A. Oh that… yeah your going to have to ask FEV Grim about that. Actually give me a tick. *Wombag picks up a telegram. Writes the following. Dear Grim (Stop) When would the React series to RWBY Noir happen (Stop) Carre is interested in the idea (Stop) and you told me once about it (Stop) So I'd figure you should explain it as well. (Stop) Thanks (Stop)
*A year later, Telegram from FEV Grim arrived. Wombag reads the following.
Dear Wombag (Stop) At the rate of both Noir's and the reaction to ROSG (Stop) I would say as soon as I am finished with the ladder (Stop) I figured as much (Stop) I have in deeded (Stop) but you need to keep me in the loop if you want more info boss (Stop) Anyways the reaction to Noir will be cannon to the reaction to ROSG (Stop) Your welcome (Stop)
Hope that answers that Combine.
2B. Same bat time, same bat show. Am I right? Sadly no.
3A. The book was written in 1909 and published the following year. However the musical was written in 1986. So no, it won't inspire however this may become a musical in it's place.
3B. Heh, trust me. He is dodging a bullet. Or a hoarse. Depends on how you look at it.
3C. RWBY Chibi my friend.
3D. … *Gives a nervous whistle
3E. Oh trust me. If it works out for Detective Conan I'm sure it works out for Marie.
3F. Get the cross and the catholic priest. May need to preform an exorcism
3G. Oh yes, it does. And I already have an arc for it. The Dead Man Stomp. (*The Stomp progression or Stomp, is an eight-bar chord progression named for its use in the "stomp" section of the composition "King Porter Stomp" (1923) by Jelly Roll Morton. The composition was later arranged by Fletcher Henderson, adding greater emphasis on the Trio section, containing a highly similar harmonic loop to that found in the Stomp section.) I'm sure we will be seeing them bone's dance right out of that grave.
4. No problem. Will do.
Thanks for writing Carre
From Black cross0: Yeah. His script is everywhere and yet nowhere. (Like Mickle Mc-Doesn't-exist.)
Nope, though it does have it's name the French translation is Le roi en jaune (The king in yellow.) While Sa majesté en jaune (His majesty in yellow) looks much better on paper. Though I suppose if Jaune's experience was written as a play, it be a tragedy.
You were hot with that guess.
Would be hard with that knee.
Can't say that I have. Especially since it just began. (I tend to wait till it's done before watching. I loave Roaster teeth website and my school Wi-Fi makes it even worse.)
Thanks for writing Black cross0
From TheRealCaesar: Damn, been a real long time since I heard from you Gadget. Guess I need to think of a new nickname now. TRC? TRC it is!. Anyways how you like the story so far. This story is going places. I expect it to last 2-4 years. Till then I'd tip my hat to you.
Thanks for writing TheRealCaesar.
Now, I can't help but notice that the Phantom is blonde. And carrying a medieval sword that can transform. Makes me question, is Jaune the Phantom? Maybe a copycat one? This is the king in yellow, big greens half-brother we are talking about. So, it's possible. Let me know your thoughts bellow. Leave it in the a comment or question. Also a Fav or Fol will help out as well.
Well This is Wombag1786 signing off.