New fic is new fic. As per new rules, pairing - if any - will not be revealed. This fic will replace IKS and will update on a Sunday. This story is tagged as Adventure/Supernatural, but will obviously include other themes such as drama, angst, horror and more. The story is AU. Certain aspects of RWBY will remain the same while others will change.


Chapter 1 – Awakening


It was three-fifty-five on a Thursday and Jaune was drowning.

Bright light exploded before his eyes in mottled shades of white and grey, with little spots that danced between. There was a dull ringing in his ears, muted as if by a great volume of water that threatened to wash over and suffocate him. An ocean of it, all-encompassing, unending. Apart from the spots, he could see little, vision lost in an abyss that was murkier than it should have been. Deeper than it should have been. The world seemed to spiral down into a single point of infinite darkness below, which it felt like he was being drawn to. Darkness. So much darkness.

His lungs burned, and his eyes closed, mouth opening as a torrent of bubbles poured forth.

So, this was how he died. There was an echo in his head, fitting and yet strange. Echoing. A constant, lethargic dripping sound.

Drip-Drip

And then he was out once more – and the roaring of the distant waves was replaced with laughter. Fingers intertwined with his golden locks as he gasped for breath.

"How's that for you? Clean yet?"

"I don't think he is, Cardin. Maybe he needs a shower."

"Shit, I think you're right."

The tell-tale zip caused Jaune's eyes to widen. He struggled against his captors, hands on either side of the bowl as he pushed back. It achieved nothing other than a foot pressing down on his spine, keeping him locked in place. A moment later he froze, eyes closed, as a warm sensation spread over the back of his scalp. Jaune grit his teeth and tried not to sob as something washed over him, splashing down into the water beneath him. He tried not to think what it was, even as Cardin zipped himself back up. Angry tears stung at his eyes. Anger at himself for being so weak and useless, anger at them for being so cruel. Anger at the world for not caring.

"Ah, that's better. There you go, Jauney. Don't say we never do anything for you."

The foot came higher, resting on the back of his head. It suddenly pushed down. His face was submerged into the water once more, this time sullied and smelling - tasting - of piss. A shadow reached over him and the sound of a chain being pulled echoed in his ears. Jaune's eyes closed before the water struck him. It swirled around and around, soaking his hair and face while yet more splashed back upwards.

When he pulled back up, the four boys had left, their laughter following them as the stall door clattered shut and the toilet one did a moment later.

Jaune turned and fell, splashing water on the floor as he slumped against the toilet seat, one leg out flat and the other brought up, an arm resting on his knee. His hair was soaked and dripping down onto his white shirt. Not that it mattered. The spray from the bowl had turned that near see-through as it was. At least the toilet bowl was clean. The water was sanitary, the additional stuff flushed on his hair pretty much straight from the tap. It wasn't so different to shower water itself, or so he tried to tell himself.

"Who am I kidding?"

His forehead fell onto his knee and he drew a deep, shuddering breath. The only solace was that his bag and books were dry, spared in a rare moment of mercy – and it had to be mercy, that or pity, since normally Cardin and his cronies would have opened it up and held it under a tap. How pathetic was he when even his bullies couldn't bring themselves to go the whole way?

For fuck's sake…

Exhaustion working its way into his bones, Jaune placed a hand on the toilet seat and used it to push himself up. He staggered to the sink, trailing water the whole way, and then pushed his head under the tap and turned it on. Cold, fresh water poured down on him, turning warm as the heaters kicked in. It wasn't much of an improvement, but it made him feel a little cleaner. Turning the tap off he stepped over to the dryer and tried to bend down underneath it. His footing failed him, and he stumbled, eventually giving up and sitting there, back to the wall as the hand-dryer blew hot air down onto his head.

Just another wonderful day at Eastfield High. And to think it was nearly four. He'd almost made it the full day without Cardin getting a hold of him. Just went to show he couldn't catch a break, even when he went out of his way for it.

An angry sob threatened to break free, but he swallowed it. Kids cried. He was seventeen, and really ought to be capable of looking after himself by now. Besides, a reaction like that was just what Cardin and his goon squad wanted. It was a small defiance, holding the pain in, but it let him feel like it was defiance nonetheless. He wouldn't let them win. Not like this.

And then the toilet door opened, revealing a tall woman with a clipboard, black hair and a worried expression. She saw him and let out a long, mournful sigh.

"Oh, Jaune…"

/-/

Despite the poor circumstances, Eastfield High was quite the reputable and well-scoring high school. It was one of the best in the state, and certainly one of the better schools in his area, though even then he had to live in a small apartment rented by his parents. It was worth it because the school had a great rate of sending its students onto the big universities such as Stanford, Harvard or Princeton. Because of that, the school was well-funded and had some of the best teachers around.

When Jaune first got the offer, he and his family had been thrilled. They at the thought of him landing such a prestigious spot, and he at having not only proven himself, but in moving away from his hellish middle school and the clutches of his long-time bully, Cardin Winchester. Life back home hadn't been kind, at least not in school, and many of his friends had been driven or forced away by Cardin, who seemed capable of getting away with just about anything. There were rumours his father was on the board with the school or something, and those rumours felt more and more founded every time his damaged books, vandalised locker and at times bruises were ignored. Eastfield was to be his escape. A salvation.

And then Cardin landed his own spot there, specifically in a scholarship for sports, the guy being built like a brick wall and being just about as intelligent. It had to be with his parents' help - Cardin's academics were never good enough - but however it was done, he was here and the nightmare had begun anew. Except worse because his sisters weren't here to stick up for him. Jaune hated it. It felt like he'd been cheated his chance to escape, to move on and create a new life for himself.

It pissed him off, but what could be done? Cardin was huge and came with his own clique of bastards, all of which enjoyed putting the wimpy little sciences student down in the ground where he belonged. The only language Cardin understood was one delivered on the end of a fist, and Jaune refused to let himself stoop to that level.

Or, well, it might also have had something to do with the fact Cardin would cream him if he tried. He wasn't a fighter.

With a sigh, Jaune pulled the white shirt on over his head, pushing his arms through the sleeves and stepping back out from behind the cupboard door. Miss Farleigh had her back to him, eyes on her desk as she often did.

"I'm done," he said, and she turned with a soft smile. "Thanks. For the spare..." He handed her his soaked shirt nervously, trying not to let the water soak the floor.

Drip-Drip

Miss Rebecca Farleigh wasn't a teacher he had all that often. She taught arts, culture and literature, and his majors were in science and biology. Normally, they might never have crossed paths, but Miss Farleigh had the dubious honour of being one of the few teachers who knew about the bullying and cared enough to try and do something.

She was a young teacher somewhere between twenty and thirty, and almost every guy in Eastfield agreed she was the teacher to lust over. Some called her a milf, but she wasn't old enough for that, Jaune felt. She had long, black hair that fell behind and to the middle of her back, with several wisps that curled before her smooth, almond shaped face. Not five and a half feet tall, she was the same height as many female students, but much more developed, with curves in all the right places and a generous bust that pushed against her tight, white shirt. Not to mention a slim waist that dipped down into a black skirt. She really was beautiful and could have easily made a career as a model, or maybe even an actress or porn star.

It was a vain hope by many. That, and that they could gain her attention with their overtures, posturing and clumsy flirting. For all the lustful gazes and thinly veiled offers she received, Miss Farleigh never encouraged a student to be any more than that. She was always professional; something Jaune respected her for.

It was her face that had always drawn his attention, however, and not necessarily for the same reason it did everyone else's. Miss Farleigh had bright green eyes, a button nose and a kind smile that she wore for every student. Where most of the teachers had been working long enough to lose the spark, she still loved her job and students, and always did her best to help.

It was probably why he spent so much time in her office.

"Oh, Jaune, we need to stop meeting like this. People will talk." When her attempt to inject some humour into the situation failed, she placed his wet shirt down on her desk and stepped around it. Her hand touched his shoulder, fingers trailing across it for a moment until she reached up and plucked something out of his hair, some lint that had blown out of the hand-dryer. She flicked it away and moved back over to her seat. "Was it Mr Winchester and his friends again?"

"You know I can't answer that, Miss Farleigh."

"Rebecca," she corrected. "And I can't help you if you don't tell me who it is."

"It was no one. I fell."

Rebecca sighed at the obvious lie, as did he. They both knew he hadn't but by this point it was almost a ritual for him to deny it. She knew exactly who it was, and he knew that she knew.

"I can't do anything without proof and they're careful to never cause trouble where anyone will see them," he said. "The day's as good as over anyway. At least this won't cause any missed lesson time."

"No, you'll just walk home wet and possibly catch a cold," Rebecca said with a frown. It disappointed her that she couldn't do anything about the bullying, her word alone not being accepted and she not having any lessons with Cardin, either. That she cared enough to try was pretty much the only thing that kept him going nowadays. It was more than he got with any other teacher and a reminder that at least someone cared enough to try and do their job. Her presence was one of the few things he liked about Eastfield, other than his very limited list of friends.

"I won't belabour the point and go through all the things we already know," she said, "But I really would feel better if you'd find some way of ending this. And I know you've tried," she added, when he made to protest. "But it frustrates me to keep finding you like this. Can't your friends video some evidence, or can you not learn some self-defence?"

"Against four people bigger and stronger than me…? I could start carrying a knife, but I think that would just lead to more problems."

Rebecca sighed. "I suppose that's a little much to ask. I just worry about you, Jaune."

He smiled. It was weak, but it was there. "Thanks for doing that much."

"And that annoys me all the more," she said. "Why should you look so happy that someone who should care about you does? Every teacher here should balk at the idea of bullying in our halls."

Every teacher should, but few did. They both knew that. It was all the same as middle school, with the teachers focused on results and funding, already worked to the bone and unable to monitor each student, let alone deal with every problem that came up. Miss Goodwitch, the headmistress, would have Cardin and his lot suspended for sure if he could find evidence – she didn't take any nonsense – but it was finding said evidence that was difficult. Gone were the days when Cardin bruised him in obvious ways. It was subtler now and he always had someone play lookout.

"You know, I wasn't without my own problems when I was your age," she suddenly said. "Would it surprise you to know I, too, was bullied as a child?"

It did, but only for a moment. She was beautiful, and it wasn't just the weak, dumb or ugly that caught flak from those more popular than them. "I guess they were jealous of you," Jaune said.

"Jealous, of me?" Rebecca held a hand over her mouth but there was no hiding her smile. "You really are a charmer, Jaune, but no, they weren't jealous. I was actually quite the introvert when I was younger, and I didn't really take much care of myself." She twisted a finger in her raven hair, which looked as soft as silk. "I had frizzy hair, glasses and wore a baggy jumper with yesterday's curry stained on the front. No, they certainly weren't jealous of what I had."

It was hard to imagine that with her as she was now. Even when he tried to picture the glasses and the jumper, she still managed to make it look good. Maybe that was ageing for you, though. It had to be her personality, too, her very presence. She was just too confident, in an outgoing way that never quite bordered on arrogant. But she was familiar, too, like she was a close friend you could trust. That might have just been him, though, since he had probably spoken more with her in half a year than some sophomores had.

"I was involved with silly stories and had some rather geeky hobbies, too," she went on. "The kind that didn't leave me very popular with the other girls."

Despite his efforts to the contrary, Jaune couldn't quite hide his curiosity. "What kinds of hobbies?"

"Well, things like tabletop games for one, the more magic and fantasy the better. But more than any of that, I was obsessed with the occult. The paranormal and the supernatural."

"Ghosts and stuff? I didn't take you as being superstitious." He realised a second later how that might sound. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

She laughed. "It's fine, Jaune. It's embarrassing to look back on, but I think I went into something of a Goth stage. Started to look out for vampires, werewolves and monsters – and even bought a book or two on witchcraft and tarot reading while I was at it. Once or twice my parents caught me trying to summon things in my bedroom, and my father even thought I was possessed once." The teacher coughed into her fist and her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. "I even told my mother to call me a witch. It was all quite silly. More teenage rebellion than anything, but I was the talk of our sleepy, little christian community and for all the wrong reasons!"

Jaune laughed. That was her plan obviously, getting him to laugh, but there was no denying it was working. "Can you still do tarot reading? I wouldn't mind hearing what's in store for my future."

"Oh, I was never any good at it! I suppose I just wanted to believe in those kinds of things, partly because I wanted to imagine I could have fairies and vampires as friends, but also because a darker part of me wanted to imagine having power over my bullies." Her smile fell, and she let out a heavy sigh. "I remember once wishing I could summon beasts to hurt them, or ghosts to scare them. I would make them pay for what they did to me. Or so I thought. I think I even tried a little ritual one time, hoping to summon up something that would let me get my revenge."

He remained silent, waiting for what had to be the point of the story. After all, there was no chance she was bringing this up, so there was almost certainly a big moral to it.

"But in the end, I was forced to accept that I could not," she said, sighing. "The bullying continued and there were times when I really did want to hurt them. I chose not to, however, and eventually I grew out, grew more confident, and I proved all of them wrong. I didn't give in to their demands, but neither did I try to pretend the bullying never happened. I improved myself and stole from them the chance to ever bully me like they had before."

"And that's what you think I should do?"

"I don't think it would hurt, Jaune. You're a clever boy and rather handsome." She said it with a smile that let him down before he'd even thought to get excited. More statement of fact than anything. "You're certainly not lacking in athleticism, academics or looks, which means Mr Winchester – sorry, whomever is bullying you -" She rolled her eyes, "Is almost certainly doing so because of the reaction he gets from you. Stand up to him," she said, "Or if you cannot do so now then learn how to. I know so many people will tell you that the bullying will stop if you ignore it, but from someone who has been there, I can tell you it will not. Ignoring your problems will never solve them, not at your age or mine."

"Yeah…" Jaune smiled weakly. So, she was basically saying the bullying wasn't going to end unless he did something. That wasn't as comforting a thought as he'd have liked. "Thanks for picking my spirits up."

"My job isn't to pick up your spirits. It's to do something to actually help you."

His cheeks heated up at her warm, beautiful smile and he looked away again. Yeah, it was, and he supposed she was the only person who would care to do so and not just tell him everything would be okay when it clearly wasn't going to be. His parents and sisters would have done the same had they known, but they didn't and the last thing he wanted was for them to panic or over-react. This was his problem and he'd deal with it. Sooner or later, anyway…

The end of day bell signalled there was no more time and Miss Farleigh stood, offering him his jacket back. He hadn't realised how close it was to the end of the day, but she clearly had, and no doubt kept him in her office so he wouldn't have to face the jeers of his classmates when he returned after such an obvious prank. She really was the best.

"Thanks, Miss- Rebecca," he said, wincing a little when she shot him a stern look at the near-mistake. "Thanks for everything. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I hope not, Jaune, or that will mean you've been bullied again. But I know what you mean." She smiled kindly at him. "Go and enjoy your evening."

/-/

Vale was a relatively small city, and somewhat new for the United States, built less than a hundred years ago somewhere between Boston and Pittsfield, Massachusetts. It was small by the standards of a major city like Boston, with only about seventy-five thousand people living in it, but that was still impressive given that it wasn't even a century in the making.

The city was predominantly middle-class with a focus on high-quality living, or so the brochures said. In truth, it was something of a mixed bag. That could apply to anywhere, though, and seeing as he'd lived in Boston before this, Jaune definitely knew about that. Still, Vale tried and that was enough in his eyes. The roads were clean, the walls free from graffiti for the most part, and although there were some areas known for gang activity, they were small, isolated and regularly patrolled by the police.

Really, Eastfield High was the only reason he now lived in Vale. It had gained a reputation quickly, and although his parents weren't thrilled to have their little boy move out, they were relieved to learn he would only be sixty or seventy miles away. As Dad put it, it would be a good experience for him to learn how to live alone, while also being close enough to call for help if he needed any. They could be over in an hour if anything went wrong.

Luckily, he'd not needed that yet, and bar the first few visits to see how he was settling in, he hadn't been a burden on them. The last thing he wanted after his parents sprung to pay for him to have an apartment and allowance was for him to demand more. The Arc family wasn't rich by any means, in fact, given they had eight children, some might have called them downright poor, but that was an exaggeration. Dad's job in the military paid well and mom was a lawyer. It was just that spread between so many kids all wanting to go into college, the costs added up.

His apartment was a small thing on the third floor of a squat apartment block on the corner of Walker Street and Boston Way. Still being rather new, it was nice enough and the retired couple who ran it were alright – never questioning him on rent since his parents paid them directly and a good month in advance each time. They were a little too religious for his tastes, and pushy with some of the other tenants about it, but since he never made a fuss he mostly got to avoid that. He could see how it might be annoying for some, though.

Unlocking the door, Jaune pushed his way into the small apartment, breathing a sigh of relief at finally escaping the stresses of the day. His backpack was tossed off into the open cupboard that sat on the side of the entrance corridor, the small toilet and shower to the right. It wasn't big enough to have a front room and a kitchen, but he did have a kitchen and a bedroom – which had a TV on the wall at the end and a writing desk, functioning as both living space and sleeping area. A large, full-wall window at the back led out onto a small balcony he used to dry his clothes on. The building had a pair of washing machines down on the first floor that was free for the residents. The whole thing wasn't a bad deal, really.

His mobile on the desk was flickering on and off. He'd forgotten to charge it and left it behind as a result. Just his luck and now he had ten messages from his parents, terrified that he'd been abducted or worse. Sitting down, Jaune typed back a quick response.

I'm fine. Forgot mobile. Sorry! Luv u both. Ttyl.

Only a minute or two after sending it did he get a reply, a simple Ok. Luv u. xxx from his mom. They really did worry too much, but then again they'd done the same for all the girls when they moved out. At least it wasn't as bad as when Sapphire moved in with her new boyfriend. Dad's reaction hadn't been the best on that front. That still brought laughter and nervous glances whenever someone brought it up.

Brewing up some coffee, Jaune brought out a mug and a carton of milk, pulling off his borrowed shirt as he did and hooking his schoolbag up with one foot. The shirt came off and fell onto a pile – for the wash later – and the kettle pinged, even as he pulled out his homework for the day and tossed it on his desk. Better to get on with it while he was in the mood. It was all routine by now, one that helped him concentrate but also kept his grades up.

Several cups and about a third of an essay later, Jaune stretched his aching muscles and checked his mobile. It was close to eight, already turning dark out thanks to the onset of fall and the shorter days. He hadn't even had a meal yet. Not sure I can stomach cooking after Cardin's shower. He eyed the microwave and the ready meal he'd laid atop it for tonight. It didn't look nearly as appetising as it had that morning.

"Takeout it is," he decided, standing. He wandered back over to the dresser and tugged out some jeans, a loose tee and jacket. His running shoes came next and he grabbed a waiting bottle of water from the fridge, taking a quick sip as he unlocked the door and let himself out. As he did, he bumped into a familiar figure. Literally. She grunted and took a step back, while he nearly fell over entirely, bouncing off the girl not even his own height with a nervous gasp.

Talk about bad luck. It was possibly the last person he wanted to run into. Well, other than Cardin.

"Oh, uh, hey Blake. How's it going?"

Jaune wished he could take it back. Blake was his neighbour, or one of them, anyway. Her apartment was to the right of his. She wasn't what could be called a friendly person. He'd never seen her without a hoodie on with the hood pulled up, which she wore now in a dark grey, and her face, pretty as it was, was cast in shadow. What always caught his attention was her eyes, which were the oddest shade of amber he'd ever seen, maybe even yellow. They were almost always set in a sharp line, too, her face a scowl, much like it was now. Shit.

"I'm sorry about bumping into you," he said hurriedly. "I was just on my way out for a jog and some food and I wasn't watching where I was going."

Blake sighed once, a sound not akin to someone expressing frustration at the rambling of a small and particularly annoying child. "It's fine," she grunted, brushing past him. Their shoulders touched but there was no warmth to it and she pushed by and towards her door, where she drew out a key from her sleeve and let herself in with a click. The door closed behind her, and then clicked again as she slid the latch in to lock it.

Great work, idiot, Jaune thought uncharitably. When he'd first moved in, he made it a point to knock on the doors of his neighbours and get to know them. Christopher, guy on his left, had been an alright sort, but he'd moved out a while back and the room was empty now. But Blake? Gods, he'd never been so intimidated by a girl in his life – and not in the way of one being pretty and taking his breath away. Blake genuinely put him on edge.

It wasn't that she looked scary so much as the way she acted, like she had a thousand better things to do than stand there and listen to him. She probably did, to be fair, and at least she was polite enough not to tell him to stuff it. She just stood there silently giving one or two-word answers until he caught the hint and excused himself. He didn't know anything about her more than that. She didn't look that much older than him, if at all, but she definitely didn't go to Eastfield, and he'd never seen her in a uniform, either from school or a job. Ultimately, it was none of his business, and whatever hers was, she wasn't about to tell him.

If he was being honest, he thought she looked a little dangerous - the type to be into things he really didn't want to be. He knew better than to make a note of it, and typically vacated his balcony whenever she stepped out for a smoke. Was she old enough to buy cigarettes? Another thing he wouldn't dare ask.

"Not like it's any of my business…" he mumbled, jogging down the steps and waving to some of the friendlier tenants en route. He paused to wave to Mrs Mars, the owner. She smiled and waved back, wandering over to ask what he was up to. "Just a little jog," he said. "Wanted to clear my head and stay in shape."

"Oh, to be young and have your energy once more," she tittered, placing a hand on his arm. "I don't suppose you could do me a little favour, could you? It's just a letter I need delivered. Will you be going past any post boxes?"

"I'm fairly sure I will," he said, doing some mental calculations. "Yeah, I can take it. Is it stamped?"

"All prepaid and ready to go," she said, digging in her handbag. "Thank you so much, Jaune, you're such a sweetie. Next time you bring a young lady over, I'll keep my Rupert distracted so he doesn't realise." She winked at him and his cheeks heated up. It wasn't like he'd ever brought a girl over, but the offer still embarrassed him.

"T-Thanks, Mrs Mars. Have a good evening."

"You too, Jaune. Don't stay out too late."

"I won't, I won't. I've got school in the morning."

He let himself out of the front gate, waved one last time and jogged off, deeper into Vale.

/-/

Jogging was a liberating experience. A catharsis. He wasn't athletic by any means, but he was fit and could keep up a good pace. Most of that came from the habit he'd picked up of jogging late in the evenings to clear his head and, more often than not, forget about whatever crap he'd been through that day. At first it had been just about distracting himself, but after a few weeks of late-night jogging he'd come to generally enjoy it. The aches and pains he felt afterwards fulfilled him, making him feel like he was doing something worthwhile.

Of course, he knew it was all physiological reactions. Exercise increased endorphins and reduced stress, the term being called a runner's high by some in the profession. He knew it well enough since he was studying the sciences to try and become a doctor. Running also helped to stave off depression, and there were times when he wondered if it was the only reason he didn't feel worse than he already did. Well, that might have also had something to do with his friends and family, but even so, he loved that he could burn off the negative feelings of the day with a brisk jog. The fitness was just an added benefit.

Since the nights were coming earlier and getting cooler, it also meant he got to enjoy the sweet spot – that time between Summer and Winter where your sweat didn't either freeze to your body or leave you wishing you were dead thanks to how hot it was. Spring and autumn nights were the best, and Jaune felt his bad mood slip away almost immediately.

Miss Farleigh was right, he thought. I'm not unfit and I could probably even get on the track team if I gave it a shot. Well, if Cardin would even give me the chance. I don't get why he hates me so much.

They'd never had much history in middle school, which was where they'd first met. It wasn't like the two of them had been friends or enemies going in, and Cardin just sort of started picking on him early there. He'd wondered once or twice if it wasn't Cardin getting rejected by one of his sisters, or if this was a twisted attempt to gain their attention, but that theory was dismissed when he moved to Vale, since Cardin continued, and his sisters were nowhere to be seen.

In the end he'd just been forced to accept that Cardin was a bastard. Not a very hard conclusion to come to, but still one that sucked a little, since it meant there probably wasn't any way to fix this.

"A shame I don't have any fairy vampires to help me, or tentacle monsters to send after him," Jaune chuckled, thinking back on what Miss Farleigh's tale. He laughed at the thought, shaking his head. Magic, rituals and the supernatural, huh. It took all sorts. He couldn't really call her out on it since she hadn't really said how young she was at the time, and it wasn't like he hadn't believed in the tooth fairy and Santa once upon a time.

His route ended at what most people called the Docks, but which absolutely wasn't on account of Vale being inland and not having a dock at all. The city was, however, based on the edge of the Quabbin Reservoir, which could sort of look like an ocean at night time. The real name for the area was the Water's Edge Boulevard, but since that was a mouthful, it got renamed the docks by the locals. It was where he liked to end his route, partly because of the view and fresh air, but also because it was one of the nicer areas of Vale.

Placing his hands on the railing, Jaune drew in several deep breaths and waited for his racing heart to slow down. His sweat turned cold on his brow, tingling in a pleasant manner and helping to cool him down. He pulled out a bottle of fresh water from his jacket and greedily drank at what remained, tossing the rest into a recycling bin nearby.

Not bad for a night's work, he considered. The jog itself was only a few klicks as his dad would put it, but he was only seventeen and not exactly a star athlete. It was more than enough to keep him fit, and to burn off the spicy burrito he was totally going to be having on the way home. He'd even found somewhere en route to drop off Mrs Mars' letter.

Rather than take the same route back, Jaune ducked through the park, passing a few other late-night joggers and even a cyclist or two, along with the usual couple, hand in hand, oblivious to the world around them. Vale's park was a well-kept and popular spot, though not quite as much on cold nights like this as it was in the summer or around Christmas. As Jaune went through it, he ducked off the path and down one of the lesser-travelled routes; one that he knew would bring him out back on the main walk and near some of the more popular takeaways.

Trees whistled past as he went, and branches were brushed out of the way or dodged. He hopped over a fallen log and landed in some soft leaves on the other side, moving again, eyes fixed on the worn path he and a couple of other joggers had cut through the park.

A black shape up ahead caught his attention. Jaune slowed to a walk, and eventually came to a halt. There was a backpack in the middle of the path, discarded.

"Huh…"

Lone backpacks weren't given the most respect in the US, but he doubted anyone would bomb a barely used path in a public park, let alone late at night when there was no one around. It looked a sports rucksack, the kind a runner or cyclist would wear. A quick look around showed he was alone. Leave it or take it. The latter sounded bad, but if it had some ID in or on it, he could pass it on to the police. It would be a hassle, but if he'd lost his bag, wouldn't he want someone to pick it up and hand it in?

"Ugh, my bleeding heart," he groaned and knelt. He touched it once and relaxed when it moved, quite light and empty by the feel of it. Not a bomb, then. Turning it over, he looked for an ID stapled to it but found nothing. He zipped it open and glanced inside. There was a wallet inside. "Here we go."

Ignoring the money – and any temptation for it – Jaune flicked through the card binder for an ID, driving license or anything else, and found one between a Starbucks loyalty card with four stamps on it and a credit card with a chipped corner. Pulling it out, he studied the face and the name, recognising neither.

Stanley Waters, Age… something or other. His date of birth was 1976, so that made him… somewhere between thirty and fifty? Sue him, he was tired and unwilling to do the math. It was enough to go on, and the police would probably be able to track down an address or number, so he pushed the ID back in, tucked it into the bag and zipped it up once more.

As he did, an odd shuffling noise echoed from the bushes to the left. It was sudden, but also constant, like someone moving through the undergrowth. Not towards him, though, it was a little too far for that. More like something moving back and forth.

A wild animal? He bit his lip. No, don't be stupid. This park is in the middle of the city. No wolves or bears are going to have found their way out here. And if they had, he was sure the news would have been all over it. More likely, he'd come across Mr Waters, probably doing his name justice and taking a leak off the path – though why he'd chosen to leave his belongings behind, Jaune had no idea.

"Hello?" he called. "Mr Waters…? I found your bag. Are you okay?"

There was no answer, though the shuffling continued.

Jaune stepped further into the brush. "Mr Waters? Hello?"

A sudden smell struck him. It was thick and rank and caused him to choke a little. Wafting a hand before his face, Jaune pushed through some bushes with a hacking cough. He only stopped when he stepped in something wet. It hadn't rained for a day or two. He staggered back and brought his foot up, expecting to find dog shit.

Instead, he found his running shoes covered in blood.

"Oh, fuck!" Jaune fell back and gasped as his hand fell in something warm. Not dog foul, no matter how much he wished it might be. His hand was bloody, and there were bits of meat hanging between his fingers. "Arghh!" he cried, throwing it away.

A snort sounded ahead of him, the sounds pausing suddenly, as if they'd heard him.

Shit, shit, shit, what was he thinking wandering off the path alone? He turned and tried to crawl away – but froze and screamed again, this time at the top of his lungs, as he came face-to-face with another man's face. It was attached to a head, but that head was no longer attached to a body. The man's mouth was open, frozen in horror, but his eyes were half-closed and devoid of any light.

Oh fuck. Holy shit. He'd just found a dead body. Jaune's pulse raced.

The bushes behind him rustled angrily as something stomped through. It was dark out, even darker with the trees above, but he saw its red eyes as clear as day. They seemed to shine. It was black as the night, too. A dog of some kind. Big. No… Not a dog.

His head pounded. The pain ratchetted up to unbelievable levels.

Drip-Drip

The sound. Again. It was like a tap left just on, the tiniest, quietest drop of water, and then a distant splash that echoed in his head. Was it blood? W-Was that a human arm in the beast's mouth? "S-Stay back," Jaune yelled. "Back!" Against animals, it was best to appear loud and startle them. "Rargh!" he tried to roar. "Back! Back, beast!"

It didn't seem to be working. The creature's mouth opened, and the dog dropped the arm. Its teeth were jagged and sharp, and seemed to open further than it should have been possible. No, again, that… that wasn't right. Didn't make sense.

The world blurred.

Drip-Drip

A dog couldn't tear a man apart like that. It didn't have the strength. Not to sever a fucking human head, nor tear an arm off. Jaune's fingers found a rock and he hurled it at the beast. It went high, over its head, but the beast recoiled nonetheless, as if hit. Except he hadn't hit it. The rock should have gone above.

But it bounced off something and fell to the grass.

The pain came back. He felt like he was drowning again. The constant Drip-Drip echoed in his skull. And the dog, the monster, was it taller? Was it bigger? Or was he just imagining it now being six or more feet tall? Was he imagining it growing in front of his very eyes, gaining definition, colour and focus? It didn't look like a dog at all! How had he ever thought it was!?

Poised on its hind legs, front-claws extended, the monster was way bigger than any dog he'd ever seen, even the biggest of them. It was bigger than a lion. Bigger than a gorilla! His brain roiled as it seemed to grow before his eyes, becoming, not different, but whole.

Drip-Drip

Splash

"W-What are you? Monster! Monster! Someone help!"

The monster threw back its head and howled to the moon above. As if a spell was broken, Jaune dashed to his feet and ran. His hand struck the bushes ahead, catching and drawing blood on a thorn as he pushed through. Behind him, he heard the beast fall onto all fours and begin to lope after him.

Oh, God. Oh, God. He was going to be killed.

The path. He had to get to the path. There would be people, people who could help. What people could do against something like this, he didn't know, but one might have a gun, surely? This was Massachusetts; everyone had a fucking gun!

Crashing through the next bush, Jaune collided with a figure he hadn't spotted. Shorter than he, and incredibly thin, his hands clamped down on the shoulders of what looked to be a young girl. He couldn't tell more because she had a red hoodie up covering her hair, and a red scarf pulled up to her nose. All he could see was pale skin, eyes the strangest colour, practically silver, and a shock of dark hair dyed red at the tips.

Shit. He'd wanted a person to help, but not someone younger than him! He glanced back, suddenly aware that not only was the monster close, but that she could probably hear it now.

"Get out of here," he panted. "You have to ru-eh!?"

The girl in front of him vanished. His arms were suddenly holding nothing, being supported by nothing, and he fell forward with an awkward yelp, knocking his knee against a rock and earning a sharp hiss of pain. All around him, red petals seemed to flutter and float in the air, some falling over him, like he'd crashed through a flower patch or something.

"What the hell?"

The beast roared once more. Jaune gasped and turned, desperate to at least see what killed him, and maybe to push a hand in its eye when it did.

To his surprise, the girl stood before him. Tight black jeans leading up to a red hoodie. She had two wires coming from her ears, headphones of some kind. Did she not hear what was happening? And how had she disappeared in front of him and gotten behind?

"Hey! Get out of here. There's this huge fucking monster after me!"

"You can see it." Her voice was soft, lilting. It wasn't accented like most of the people in the area; the common `woostah` accent he was used to hearing from people back home. It was lighter, softer, like someone from one of the big cities. "You can see it," the girl repeated, and this time he had the feeling it was a question. One aimed at him.

"Of course I can see it! Look at the damn thing!"

"That's not good. You should have stayed in the dream. Where it's safe."

"W-What are you talking about!?"

"It doesn't matter." The girl sighed and flicked one hand to the side. Something flashed in the air, shimmering silver as a giant blade of steel appeared before his eyes. It was attached to a metal rod bigger than her, the blade curved wickedly. A scythe. "Stay here," the girl whispered. "I'll deal with you in a moment."

Deal…? Jaune tried to speak but could only choke in horror as the monster finally reached them, barrelling through the buses with an angry roar. It was huge now, stood on its hind legs and easily eight feet tall, covered in rippling muscle and armed with razor-sharp claws. It was impossible to think of it as a dog. Absolutely impossible. He wasn't even sure how he'd thought it was.

This… This was a monster straight out of a nightmare.

This existed.

"Ugh." His hand gripped his head. The burning had come back, like bubbles exploding in his head, a never-ending rush of water, endless like the ocean.

Drip-Drip

And that infernal dripping, louder than ever.

It was a roar of pain that brought him back. Blood splashed onto the grass before him, but as Jaune looked up, he realised it wasn't the girl being killed before his eyes. No. She was on a low-hanging branch, crouched down with her impossibly large weapon held beside her. Though he could see no more past her hood and scarf, her silver eyes were sharp and deadly. She leapt down, scarf fluttering up and above her as she twisted her weapon and brought it down on the spine of the monster, carving through flesh, muscle and bone as gravity dragged her down.

The monster screamed and spun, swinging a mighty claw for her face. The girl flickered back and rolled, a mere flash of red as she dug into her pocket and drew out a black object. One shot, two, and then a third, the sound almost deafening. The beast flinched back with every bullet that tore into it, but the girl treat it like nothing more than a distraction, bringing her scythe back around to cut through the beast's hind-left leg. It fell to one knee with a mighty crash.

This girl, this, this crazy girl, was going to kill it.

And then… and then she was going to deal with him.

/-/

The girl watched the monster crash down with an impassionate gaze. It reached out one final time for her, almost longingly, and yet as she stepped back, the clawed hand dug down, missing her foot by mere inches. The scythe rose and fell, lopping off the creature's head. With another flick, she cleaned the blood from the blade, watching the monster break into motes of dust and float away.

"Another night, another hunt..."

Turning, the girl hooked the scythe back behind her, aware that people would have heard, and that the police were likely on their way. She couldn't stay. They couldn't stay, she realised, remembering that she was not alone. She reached up to her scarf, about to pull it down and speak, when she noticed that there was no one behind her. Just a patch of grass squashed down where a young man had lay not two minutes earlier, and a tiny amount of blood on a rock. He was gone. He'd run.

The girl reached into her pocket and drew forth a phone, an almost ancient mobile by today's standards. Bringing it to her ear, she dialled a number.

"It's me. We have a problem." A pause. The girl's boot idly kicked away a piece of human flesh. "Worse than that. There was a person here, a witness. He saw me."

Curses on the other line."

"He saw it, too."

Silence.

"An Awakened."


So, there we go. Different tone to what I normally do, but I'm a little tired of the canon storyline at this point anyway, so writing this completely AU is fun. Obviously, I am from the UK, so you'll have to forgive some Britishisms that slip in. I'll be trying to catch them but I don't know all that much of US accents and might make mistakes. I've done some research on Mass, of course, but little words might slip through.

Next Chapter: 30th September

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur