Warning: Dark themes approaching, blood, violence, swearing, dark references or jokes, drugs, mentions of depression and other stuff. This will be the only warning since I'm way too god damn lazy to put it in every chapter.

Oh yeah, and a hint of racism because Faunuses exist..

Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY or RoosterTeeth, because if I did then maybe volume 4+ wouldn't be as bad. Maybe. Do not quote me on that. Seriously.

000 000 000

A loner who was overshadowed by his eldest brother, a social reject with no friends to call his own, a black sheep who wasn't spared a glance by any of his family members. That was who Ludvik Vallsgarde was, and that was the way he preferred it to be.

Behind the shadows, away from the spotlight and attention, it was where he belonged. He didn't want to bother himself with such ideas when he could do better things, like perhaps read a good novel as he watched the droplets of rain fall from the sky. Or even just lay his head back without a care, how good would that be?

His unambitious, uncaring, and borderline lazy personality was a cause of disappointment for his parents: not like that was new, when weren't they? Even if they didn't compare him to his brother, they couldn't find anything positive about their youngest son.

He didn't have any aspirations, any goals, any dreams. No desire for fame, for wealth, for glory, or some abstract form of love. He didn't want any of it, he wanted nothing to do with those intangible concepts that most humans dreamt of.

So then, what did he want?

It was the sole question that kept him up at night, the sole question that he pondered throughout the days. And yet, no matter what he thought of, he couldn't quite give an answer despite how much he wanted to. It was a question that he would forever be unable to give an answer to.

Of course, life gave him the assurance that the question didn't need to be answered, comforting him with the gentleness of a freight train. During recent development, it was revealed that he had contracted an illness, one that tore through Ludvik's body and mind, haunting him for days to come.

Cancer.

He had cancer. Fucking Cancer.

…

Emptiness, if someone were to ask him what he felt when he heard the news, that single word would be his answer. Absolute emptiness. With apparent news that he would need some of the heaviest doses of Chemo to have a chance of living, his parents didn't quite take it well.

Or, at least not in the way one would expect a parent to.

They hesitated, they simply didn't want to part with such wealth simply due to their child, why should they waste their riches on their disappointment of a son and be in debt? Wasn't it his duty as their son to live up to their expectations? With that logic in their mind, they simply didn't care enough to pay for any type of Chemo.

They had other options to do with their son, but once a doctor brought up any amount of money towards an alternative, it was always shot down without the slightest of hesitations. And he, their youngest son, was helpless to do anything in the situation.

They weren't what'd he call… the greatest of parents.

Even after numerous alternatives, ones that were clearly affordable without entering them into debt, they refused any help or the plans despite the advice from the doctors -who very much grew annoyed at the parents-.

And so, there he laid on his deathbed. Eyes void of any emotion, joy, he once again felt a clawing sensation swelling deep within him. It was a feeling that sapped any former version of strength that he had, the dread of helplessness once appeared like an undying animal that ate inside of him.

But within his emptiness, was acceptance and even relief.

'Maybe this is my dream?'

Was this what he wanted? Isolation? To become one within the concept of death, to be a loner that had no friends and die with such? At the thought, his chest heaved in a sigh as he let out a sharp breath just right after. The more he thought about it, the more he welcomed it.

Death in a way was peacefulness, isolation, it would give him what he wanted so was there any reason for the sadness?

Of course, his only regret was that he wouldn't live long enough to see the ending of his favorite novel, it was quite a pity. It was the only thing that he would miss if he was being honest, and his feeling was rightfully so.

As months passed, none came to visit, not a single family member: be it his parents and sibling or even the extended parts of his family, it seemed like no one cared. And he was fine with that, perfectly fine like always.

He was fine being neglected.

He was fine to have no one during his last moments of life.

He was fine with everything, his cancer, his impending death, his loneliness.

He sat there for a moment in his bed, the emptiness inside of him growing just as the silence permeated throughout the air. He simply stared at the ceiling, as if that would give him sort of emotion.

Of course, he couldn't help but feel like his eventual death was rather sad. Living a life of a loner even until his teenage years, being diagnosed with cancer and having death itself be the only thing he looked forward to, it all sounded rather depressing if he was being honest.

But wasn't it?

Just what was he looking for? Just would get rid of the irritable sensation that ran through his stomach like some unsatisfiable itch? Maybe he'll never know, but the more he thought about it the more he got annoyed.

He was supposed to accept it, feeling relief that he got his wish of living a peaceful life. Okay, it wouldn't be exactly living, but it would be the closest thing that would be granted to him and at this point he had to take it.

So with a breath, he buried the sensation and question deep inside his mind. Whether he acquiesced in his decision or not, that didn't matter, all that mattered now was that he spent what little time he had left in however way he wanted.

It was quite kind of the hospital that although he was taking up space in the hospital and being given free food, that he wasn't being charged. Of course, even if they wanted to, they couldn't exactly be paid back by a corpse.

He found a little humor in that, as dark as it was.

Maybe they could find a way to stick the debt to his family? Who knows, he wasn't quite adept at law like some lawyer, he wasn't even a high school student.

In some weird eccentric way, he found some excitement in his situation. He, like many other humans, was fearful and curious about the unknown. Or more specifically in his case, curious about the events after death.

At the thought, his heart paced in elation. Or perhaps it was something else.

He could feel it, and for the first time in a while a smile crossed his face -albeit, of bitterness and begrudge-, his death was coming. And he could do nothing about it, nothing except gather the strength to move his body in hopes he could feel some warmth and comfort before then.

And then? His brown eyes fluttered, struggling, and sluggishly at that. He had no strength, he had no energy to wrestle his way out of death, and he had no reason to. And so it was with a shaky breath and the dulling sound of frantic beeping, did he, the unwanted son of an average family finally die.

Maybe if it weren't for the mysterious pairs of eyes that lurked under the moonlight, then just maybe all would've ended just like that.

But in truth, his story has finally just begun.

000

Death.

A concept that has plagued reality since the dawn of creation, a concept that haunted every living creature. A concept that forced humanity to form religions, to have faith that after death there was something waiting for them at the end of the road.

When Ludvik closed his eyes as death sundered him, Heaven or some form of an Afterlife was what he expected to be his fate despite his rather atheistic outlook with life. He even believed eternal darkness or sleep was a possible outcome.

But no.

What came after was beyond his wildest of expectations, it surpassed what he could've imagined. He felt it though, he couldn't see, all he saw was blurriness like some swirling gray painting.

But oh, he definitely felt his surroundings.

He was submerged, like his body from head to toe was dipped in some icy substance that caused him to go rigid every passing second. He panicked, the beating of his heart soon became known as it reverbated within his ears, the warmth of his physique leaving him as he grew numb.

It was like a chilling prison, his nerves, his beating heart, they all slowed at this very moment.

This was death?

It ran through his body like a virus, a burning sensation that wasn't quite resembling that of fire, it was pure numbness that burned. It was Hell, true and utter hell. He couldn't scream, he couldn't move, he only felt near insensible pain.

But it was during this moment, that a cold voice resounded within the depths of his mind, penetrating deep into his subconscious. It was so cold, that it made him feel as if everything else compared to it was boiling.

"You wish for freedom, but you can't handle the pain to obtain it. You wish to grasp your own fate, but you aren't willing to sacrifice. How could one hope to accomplish their dream without suffering while doing so?"

It was with those callous words that his head sprang out from the deep chilling water his head was submerged in, deep gasps escaping his trembling body as he stumbled back and sat on his butt.

Eyes wide in shock, he looked to view his quivering hands and the silky cloth that covered his body and forearms. Or more specifically, at what he lacked.

'How…?'

He was clothed and dry. But how was that even possible if he was fully engulfed in the icy liquid? Unless it wasn't liquid at all, but if that was the case then what exactly was it? He narrowed his eyes, he knew too little to be able to answer that question.

With a sharp and cautious sigh he steadily rose and patted himself only to notice that there wasn't a speck of dirt on him,

He looked around, and as he did his eyes opened to a saucer point, shock and disbelief clearly written all over his face. Laid before him was not a normal world, hell, he wouldn't even say it was a world at all.

It was a land of fiction.

Below his feet, across the skies, brushing against his skin. Everything, it was made out of thick layers of cards, resembling that of poker cards that he saw once in a while, mostly from his father and his drinking buddies.

"W-what the hell?"

Out of stupefaction, he took a step back only to jump in fright as a creature of some sort leapt from under his heel: it too was made out of cards, club of hearts from what he could distinctly tell.

In his state of shock, he took steady steps, his astonishment only growing with his pace of movement. Mountains, trees, birds, squirrels, rivers, everything he viewed upon during his steps were solely made out of the plastic materials of cards.

And the single thing they all shared was that each had a variety of designs, spades, clubs, diamonds, and hearts. In a form of interest and curiosity, he made his way to a swaying tree and pressed a single finger against it.

It was cold, grazing, and had a certain smoothness to it: it was unlike any bark of a tree he had ever touched. No, it wasn't bark at all, it was also made out of the cards that covered the whole world.

Just where was he?

As he pondered, his body wandered through the world, taking in the scenery with never diminishing astonishment. Despite having front row seats to the abnormality and bizarreness of the world, his mind couldn't quite wrap around it.

Just how did this world come to be? Is this the afterlife or just some delusion of his? Better yet, was a construct of his that he made after death, could everybody else do the same? And if so, then why was his own construct a world of cards?

His questions were unanswered.

He continued to move on in the world, his feet carrying him to anywhere novel, anywhere he could obtain the answers he desired. But no matter where he went, everything in the land was constant, shrubs of cards, prey and predators of cards, clouds of cards, they all seemed too identical to every other scenery.

He turned his head upward, swiping a brow of sweat as he did so with low pants. A single day had passed, which he could tell by the consistently rotating celestial bodies that represented the sun and moon in the form of cards.

Which is another irregularity he found, even if he concentrated his gaze at the sky, his vision always twisted in a show of rainbow colors. It was a weird experience, it wasn't dark nor bright, it just… was.

He felt like it was something that he would never be able to fathom.

So far, he had discovered numerous anomalies and differences within the world compared to his own. First of all, it was impossible to get injured, no matter what way he tried, be it from a large height or slamming himself against a structure, he always walked away unscathed.

Second of all, he was incapable of leaving. Well, that was a given but attempting to throw himself back into the only matter that wasn't a poker card -that being the lake- didn't quite work out for him when he simply got repulsed back.

In a depressive state, he sighed as stopped and gazed around: attempting to gauge where he would start walking aimlessly until he found something. Yeah, he wasn't the greatest at planning.

Eventually, his exhausted yet glittering eyes were dragged in the direction of the stretching black horizon. He continued to move forward, step by step, up until he finally reached his destination.

There was a particular reason why he walked in this direction, one that pounded at his heart and saturated his palms with coldness.

It was the color of the distance. The abyssal depths that called upon his soul and imprinted itself upon it, because unlike everything else in the world, it was the single darkness that existed and slumbered like a primordial beast.

An ancient haunting sensation gripped at his heart, even as his body tensed to take a single step forward. Originally, the color was but a dot, but even a single blot of ink would be noticeable on a white canvas.

But with each step he took, the little blot of ink expanded and stretched wide, threatening to contaminate the entirety of the canvas. It wasn't discernible at first glance, but when the day shifted into night and back into day, it inspired a gasp out of the male.

At first, he thought it was his eyes pulling a trick on him, or perhaps the exhaustion finally reached his mind: but what lay before him was the truth, it swayed and swirled like an ancient and bottomless dark sea. It was pure darkness, as if someone bit a chunk out of the world, leaving the darkness underneath behind.

He found himself trembling, his heart arching and quaking as he continued to stare at it. Never ending darkness, it was infinite, it represented the poison of the world, it was like a concept that he simply couldn't grasp even as it swayed before him.

His breathing quickened, large breaths exuded. It was a fear he never felt, a fear that spawned

A single step, that was all it would take to be engulfed. His breathing stopped, disbelief coloring his face as he narrowed his vision deep into the darkness. He suppressed his anxiety and narrowed his eyes even further in an attempt to gaze into the distance.

'What's… what's that?'

Off into the distance, far as his eye could probably see, stood a single ivory flower. Thorns prickled the stem of it, descending down in a spiral manner. And the leaves were rosy oval shaped, sharply toothed.

There was no doubt in his mind, that thing was an actual white rose. Not one of cards, an illusion, or some trick on his eyes. It was a real and 'breathing' plant, planted before his very own sight.

His breathing hitched, hope, confusion, they all flashed through his eyes. Involuntarily, he stepped forward, just an edge from the darkness that surrounded the non sentient shrub. Hesitation slowed his stepping, he merely looked in the direction of the rose and exuded a sharp breath.

Was it worth it? To risk it all for a mere flower? The darkness frightened him unlike anything before, it was like a true abyss, a well without an end, a dark room that had no walls, an unmoving black ocean.

And he didn't know if a beast laid within it or not.

With a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and steeled his heart, forbidding himself to be engulfed in the burning agitation that formed in his abdomen. Whether he liked it or not, his fate depended on his next choice.

To move forward or fall behind, letting the chance slip through the cracks of his fingers. He stood in place, nibbling on his lower lip before giving a frustrated sigh.

The agitation that bubbled in his stomach like a stirring pot only boiled even hotter. He suppressed it, like dumping cold water onto a sizzling pot. And so it was with an unclenching and clenching fist that he made his move.

Whether he risked it or not, the outcome would either be death or hope. And if he stayed, it would merely be death so then what was there to lose?

One step, silence, two steps, silence. He breathed, silence. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

No matter what action he did, be it exhaling or inhaling, or even stepping forward with heavy steps, each was silent. It was like the word sound didn't exist in the laws of the new world of darkness, and it made him all the more terrified.

But he marched on, disregarding the haunting atmosphere, his eyes trained on his sole objective. He did his best to ignore the overwhelming darkness, the silence of the world, the ground that didn't exist.

He allowed himself to be engulfed in it, and whether he knew it or not, his eyes weren't the only ones directed on a target. The World of Cards held its breath, every pair of empty sockets from the card formed animals to the supposed non sentient plants faced in the direction of the abyss and simply stared wordlessly..

Waiting in patience, it gave a creepy scenery to any would-be spectator

Step by step, breath by breath, the lanky male walked through the darkness. But it seemed like no matter how much he walked, no matter how many breaths of time had passed, he would never truly reach the rose.

He sprinted.

Feet inaudibly clapping against the darkness of the world and pushing him forward, he drove himself to the limit that his fragile body could give. And he still couldn't get close. It was like the clouds in the sky, only able to view but never truly touch: it infuriated him.

Faster, his legs started to burn and ache at this point, but he simply couldn't stop. Although he never got close to the flower, behind was only darkness, the world of cards all but vanishing from his view. At least it signaled progression, right?

He had no choice but to keep moving forward, and so he did just that.

No matter how his body pained, cursing at him for the agony, or the exhaustion that he felt -and the heavy breathing that came with it- he continued on to his target: the single snow white rose in the darkness.

He ran.

And ran.

All of that, and he never noticed the darkness that was engulfing him, and neither the moon in the world of cards that shimmered. But either way, it wouldn't have made a difference in the outcome.

Because it was too late.

000

Hope.

Hope was a powerful tool that drove the humans to push back against the forces of darkness, it granted them their freedom from their reign, it was their light in which they were guided to prosper. It was like the burning and glorious sun that sat above them, bathing all in its warm sunlight.

But sadly, the light doesn't always reach everyone or everything.

Situated somewhere to the north of the main city of Mistral, was a small run down town that wasn't too far off from the term 'slum' no it would actually perfectly describe what is known as the town named Wind Path.

Poverty riddled the town, crime rate rose and dipped whenever, and merchants didn't dare to cross the roads of the town. Not unless they wanted to be robbed of all their merchandise by one of the bandit groups that lived in the town.

And so this sprung the question, why the hell was he there?!

Under the cover of the humble moonglow, a small figure ran through the streets of the two, panting as he gripped onto the stack of lien in his hand. Ludvik took a glance at his pursuers before proceeding to bolt it, forcing his rather small legs to carry him over the pit riddled pathways of the town.

He didn't know how he ended up in his situation, perhaps he could blame the previous owner of the body for that. He had been somewhat content with chasing after a rose, so he didn't quite appreciate the change of scenery.

"Get back here you fucker!"

Yeah, not one bit.

And it was with his indignant thoughts that he could do nothing but ignore his aching legs and continue to run, the world really wasn't fair. He even started to miss the haunting darkness that enshrouded the previous world, like a grim reaper watching its prey before swinging down their scythe.

Yeah, okay, he didn't miss that. But he did miss not being chased.

His eyes darted to wherever he could have a chance in escaping, whatever the former host had done, it had clearly pissed off a few dangerous people and he didn't exactly want to be caught up in that.

So it was to his delight when he saw a dark alley nearby, maybe he could wait it out in there or lose them altogether? Unfortunately, the freedom of thought was stripped from him as the sound of shouts and distant footsteps became clearer. Gritting his teeth, he made a dash for the narrow passageway.

Darkness engulfed his vision, his eyes narrowed in an attempt to see through it only for him to suddenly collide against something, something hard.

"Oomph."

The sound couldn't help but escape his mouth at the impact, and in doing so there was a pause to the loud marching footsteps before he heard a voice yell out "Hey, he's over here!"

He cursed at himself, turning back wasn't a viable option and the wall was too tall for him to be able to climb. His scalp tingled as the footsteps began to sound close, too close for his comfort.

Without the slightest of hesitations, his hand slapped the bricks of the wall, a poor attempt in attempting to latch onto it. The scathing sensation agitated his fingers but he pushed through it, in a show of slow movement he lifted himself up before using his free hand to go higher.

To his credit, he managed to see the end of the wall before a rough and iron gripping hand wrapped itself around his ankle. He felt his heart drop to the pits of his stomach, and before he could react he was thrown off from the wall and slammed onto the wet ground.

His vision swam and darkened for just a moment as numbing pain stabbed through his spine and into his body, his youthful body couldn't take the force that was inflicted and forced a loud and painful groan out of his mouth. Although his sight blurred, he managed to hold onto it long enough for him to get a good view of his attacker.

With a round and chubby face, a large barb of black facial hair decorated his sides, he hovered over the boy's small frame. Looking over at the boy, he clicked his tongue in annoyance "Tsk, to think it was just a small kid."

The boy could only faintly groan in protest as he attempted to stand, he could already hear the sound of hurried steps, if they grouped up with his attacker then his outcome would deteriorate, and fast.

Slowly but surely, he pushed his body off of the ground, the adrenaline and instinct to survive dulling the sharp pain on his back.

'Push, come on, push!'

His trembling movement didn't go unnoticed by the older male, so with a raise of his heel he proceeded to slam his boot against the head of the boy. A large crack was heard underneath as he removed his foot from Ludvik's head.

"Listen kid, you stole quite a bit of money from some very dangerous people, it's better if you just stay down and pretend you're dead. With a little bit of luck, with their stupidity and drunkenness they won't think anything of you and simply leave."

Ruffling and searching under the folds of his leather jacket, the older man pulled out a single large cigar with a lighter in the same hand. It didn't take long for the overwhelming aroma of smoke to settle in the dark alley.

The beaten white haired boy only weakly groaned at the smell, his consciousness only dipping even further by it. It was useless to struggle, with the large man standing quite literally next to his body, there was no chance for escape. Not to mention that even if he could, he would most likely run into the no doubt large group that was coming.

Even if they weren't, just the man was enough.

He gnashed his teeth and bit his lower lip, forcing his dizziness to dissipate. The male huffed a chuckle, it was an amusing sight to see, so it was with a drag of his cigar and a puff that he continued to watch: occasionally pushing him down with his heel of course, can't exactly let him escape.

It was with a hitched breath and aching muscles did the boy stop, slowing his breath in an attempt to listen. His eyes widened, silence, no that wasn't quite right. There was a sound, walking, but it was only of a single pair rather than the multitude he had heard.

It was with this revelation that a voice came from the entrance of the dark alley, it was a smug yet casual one. "Come on Jay, no need to antagonize the brat, surely you've got better things to do then to gang up on a little kid."

Said voice was accompanied by the sound of clapping footsteps, slowly approaching without a care and a low thud sound with every step; just what was it? Unlike the kid's curious expression to the voice, the now-named adult named Jay began to sweat bullets.

His body staggered in physical shock, the cigar in his mouth slipping and dropping onto the floor with a low hiss on impact. "T-Torchwick!?"

A few more steps was all it took for the owner of the smug voice to come into view for both Jay and the kid to see. With tangerine locks covering his right eye, a cigar burning at the side of his mouth, he held a long and dark, red tipped cane with his onyx gloved right hand.

But what stood out more besides his unique choice of appearance was his outfit, a red lined white suit that was accompanied by a contrasting yet nicely suited long black pants and gray shoes. And to top it all off, an onyx dark bowler hat with a red band sat neatly on top of his smooth hair, and around his neck was a cotton gray scarf that swayed lowly in the wind.

The air grew thick with an uncomfortable tension, a tension that the boy didn't know the source of. Questions appeared in his head, just who was the orange hair guy? Why did the man seem almost afraid of him? And most importantly, why the black eyeliner?

And it was this 'orange hair guy' that spoke up, breaking the agonizingly heavy atmosphere around them. "Oh come on Jay, what'd I say about last name bases? You can just call me Roman."

Jay's eyes lingered behind the man named Roman before shooting a stuttering yet forceful tone "W-what are you doing here Torchwick, where's the rest of the gang?!"

The gang he was referring to was of course of criminal origin, a mob so to speak, a minor one that ran the streets of Wind Path, collecting taxes from their 'protection' and running a few underground casinos.

In fact, that's where the brat had stolen from them, leading him into this whole situation.

Roman sighed, giving an exaggerated pondering look before snapping his fingers in realization "Oh yes, your little 'club members' have all been dutifully handled. So there'll be no need to worry about them anymore."

As if on que with the man's words, the scenery behind him cracked and shattered like a glass pane, shards began to fall like droplets and vanished to leave a bloody scene: pierced corpses stacked on one another in a certain formation, and atop of the aforementioned corpses sat a single small feminine figure that twirled the parasol in her hand with a smil.

Jay gnashed his teeth, unaware of the lifting boy that forced himself on one knee, anger filled Jay as he shouted at the orange haired gentleman, his fear and nervousness gone as he cursed at him "What the hell, Roman?! Why would you…"

As Roman twirled his cane with a smile, it took everything Jay had to not charge at him "Ah there you go, now you're using my first name."

And it was with this cocky and insufferable smile did he continue, almost as if he enjoyed the pained look of Jay "And isn't it obvious? Your little posse has been acting greedy lately, making me suffer some losses. Oh, and the fact you're working secretly with her, that's also a bit of a problem."

Just as he spoke, Roman raised a single eyebrow in both surprise and amusement, the bloodied brat had begun to shakily stand despite his various injuries; the brat was resilient, he'd give him that and so he made no voice to comment, instead focusing on the more dangerous man.

Roman took a few steps closer, his grip tightening on the cane just in case "Your 'employer' is already dead so you have two options laid out before you, so out of the kindness of my heart, I'll allow you to work for me due to your… infamacy. Or accept your fate and die."

Jay scoffed, his bearded mug contorting in disbelief, as if the words spoken to him were in a foreign language. The man who had his employer and his men slaughtered wanted to hire him, was that a joke?

He laughed, it had to be a joke "Why the fuck would I want to work under a man like you? Do you even know what she'll do to you? Especially when she finds out you're back, to Mistral of all places?"

It was this question that made Roman feel a tug on his lips, he obviously knew who Jay referred to but chose to wisely ignore it "Because it's a man like me that just destroyed your entire crew, plus, not dying is a nice bonus if I do say so myself."

Jay sneered at Roman as he hurriedly reached under the folds of his jacket, but before he could grab the lighter, a single swish sound echoed before his now sliced off arm splattered onto the ground near the boy.

The painful scream of the man proceeded to echo through the dark alley, those that happened to pass by merely quickened their steps, in this sort of town, a dead body here and there was merely a common occurrence.

Meanwhile, the area beside the older male named Jay seemingly fractured like glass before revealing the feminine figure that previously sat on the bodies. With heterochromia chocolate brown and strawberry pink eyes, they glimmered in a sadistic like shine.

Ludvik could only watch in pale face horror, the crimson and warm liquid splattering onto his face and white hair, the copper scent assaulting his sense of smell and taste. Taste? Much to his alarm that a few of the droplets had managed to land on his lips.

His gut twisted, he felt wronged, disgusted and most of all, terrified. And whether he noticed it or not, a glance from the sadistic girl named Neo made his body tense in instinctual fear. It was as if he could feel her amusement, her enjoyment, and entertainment at his expression.

The smile she had when she looked at him only made it worse.

Meanwhile, Roman watched Jay clutch his bleeding stump of a limb, a sigh escaped his lips. He felt a bit disappointed, things would've gone a lot smoother if he just accepted his recruitment deal. Oh well. He washed away his pity in a second before ordering Nero "Well, since you won't accept, then that only leaves the other option. Go ahead Neo."

It took less than a single second for a single sharp blade to find its way across Jay's head, a fountain of blood hurling out from where his head was attached. And it was the wind that carried the copper smell from the dark alley, the moonlight that illuminated the depth of the spilled blood on the walls and floor.

And with a thud, he went to his knees before falling, his head rolling to Roman's feet before being kicked away with a frown on his face. Some of the residue from the head had managed to land on his leather shoes, making his frown worsen "Tsk, and I just bought these."

It was with a pitiful sigh did he turn to the boy on the ground, his eyes nostalgic in a way as he questioned the boy "Hey brat, what's your name?"

The boy almosted jumped, as if he had seen a ghost, and the way he glanced at little Neo it seemed as if he had seen one. She always did have that effect on people, adults or not.

Roman held a bored yet amused look on his face as he urged him further, "Come on, I did just save you, you could at least give me your name."

The ivory haired boy took a breath, calming his nerves and very clearly avoiding all eye contact with the girl named Neo, Roman stifled a chuckle at that. But eventually he did get what he wanted.

Even though his voice was raspy from exhaustion and lack of hydration, he still held onto the typical high pitched voice that every kid his age held "Ludvik, Ludvik Vallsgarde."

Roman raised a single confused eyebrow, Ludvik wasn't particularly a common name one could find on the streets. In fact, it was the first name he had seen that didn't present a color in a way. And he had no trouble speaking about this oddity "Huh, quite a weird name you have there kiddo.".

Ludvik tilted his head, although his name wasn't all that ordinary in America -as it was of German descent- it shouldn't have incited that type of befuddled reaction. Or at least, compared to some other names from the country.

Wait, where was he even? Just from the smell alone, and the lack of heavy pollution, he could definitely infer that this wasn't America. And for some odd reason, he felt like this wasn't the Earth he knew.

And most important of all, why was he so small and lanky? Putting that aside for later, did he just witness a genocide with his own eyes? He didn't know what to say, or react with, he wasn't particularly used to the scent of blood engulfing his sense of smell and even his mind with pictures of their punctured and sliced bodies.

While he was busy sorting through his thoughts, he was too busy to notice Roman who had taken several steps forward towards both Neo and the boy. He took a moment to fully observe him, ragged clothes, dried white long locks, chapped lips, humid skin, he was like that of a dry husk.

It was already impressive that he could last as long as he had with a mob chasing after him. Roman huffed, dashing away unwanted memories from his mind before turning, and then motioning Neo to follow him.

"Come on Neo, we've already done what we came here for. The huntsmen should be busy enough with handling the mess later."

Neo frowned, perplexed. Roman usually preferred to have all witnesses eliminated so to speak as to not leave any loose ends, even if it was a small kid, he never reeled in this thought process. So why now?

Roman glanced at her and that was enough to understand her feelings on the matter, he grumbled before giving an order "Oh right, before we go, knock the kid out. Hit him hard enough to just knock him out. Just, okay?"

At his strict warning, she gave a small pout of annoyance before glancing at the boy who stared at her with rapt attention, being shaken out of his stupor quite some time ago, enough to know what was about to happen at least.

So in a single motion, did Hush -Neo's weapon- whack against the poor boy, causing his vision to blur before fading into the darkness. The last ever image that would be ingrained into his mind, being that of the mischievous ice cream sociopath.

A gaze of curiosity being sent his way before walking off into the distance, the two sounds overlapping one another before a distant shatter sound was heard.

000 000 000

AN

I decided to use the RWBY World as my next fic. Some for obvious reasons, such as returning to my roots, others for not so obvious reasons. This chapter was relatively short (compared to my others) but I wanted to get the world set up and have this chapter solely focus on him without getting too involved in the RWBY world, just him on Earth and the mysterious world.

Anyways, I have a lot planned for this specific fic, things to set up and all of that.

A few unknown concepts I want to explore and such, some things I want to experiment with and some other ideas I want to throw around (Some forever locked in my drafts, others not.) Well anyways, I feel like this'll be really fun to write so I look forward to the future.

Anyways, have a good everyone~