Hello, and welcome to the story. I would just like to put here a standard Disclaimer, I obviously do not own RWBY. Next I would like to credit College Fool and Couer Al'Alran for the idea behind this story. It comes from College Fool's "The Writer Games" Chapter 59. I do have permission from Couer Al'Alran to use it.

When he had first left home for Beacon, he had thought he would stay in a nice, safe, comfy hotel. Sleep on a nice soft bed, and have decent food. And he had. For the first few nights. But then came the 'admittance fee' for the school, and suddenly he couldn't afford his room. There was little money left for food, and only if he got the cheapest of the cheap.

And so here he was, the would be hero, two days from Beacon and sleeping in a dirty alley.

Still, he could do this. He would do this. He would sleep out here, on the could, dirty, alley floor. He would eat what meager food he could afford. And he would do it all with a smile, or at least a positive attitude, because this was just a single step in his journey. Everyone's story had start somewhere, and his started in this dirty alley behind a sandwich shop near the docs.

He checked his scroll for the time, idly noting it was half-way dead, and fought back a wince. It was a quarter till midnight. A friendly homeless woman, a dog Faunus, had told him earlier that it wasn't really safe to let your guard down till one in the morning. That's when the criminal element of the city tended to quiet down. She had apparently learned it the hard way.

He shifted the straps of the backpack he kept all his possessions in. Well, everything he had on him. He hadn't been able to bring everything when he left, not if he didn't want his parents to catch wind of his departure. Jaune didn't have much on him at the moment, but what he did have were thing's that he couldn't afford to lose. Not because they were valuable, though a few certainly were worth a good bit a lien, but because of what they meant to him.

He pulled the blanket he had borrowed from the hotel he had stayed at closer. It wasn't stealing, he fully intended to return it before catching the flight to Beacon. The thick fabric offered a comforting warmth against the cool night air. Jaune shuffled a little, Crocea Mors digging into his side. He didn't dare remove the blade from his side, to afraid of accidentally losing the blade. And then where would he be?

Stuck in the middle of Vale, defenseless, with nowhere to go. Not to mention the humiliation he would face at Beacon. Who shows up to the world's greatest hunting school with no weapon?

A gunshot rang through the night, the sound coming from further down the alley. He was up in an instant, tripping over the blankets as he did so. Was it stupid to run towards a gunshot? Yes. Was it likely to result in him being harmed? Most likely. But someone could be hurt, and he couldn't, as an Arc and a future hero, stand by and do nothing. So he ran down the alley. He didn't know what he might be able to do to help, but he knew he had to do something.

What he found wasn't a pretty picture, but more or less what he expected. A man in a white suite and black hat laid against a wall, left hand clutching a bleeding wound over his heart. Honestly, he was surprised the man was still alive. Near the man's feet, lying in a pool of its owners blood, was a white cane.

"Oh my god," He whispered, eyes wide, before rushing towards the fallen man. "Mister, are you alright?" He kneeled by the man. Inwardly he winced, that had to be the stupidest thing he had ever said, ever.

"That," the man wheezed out, turning his head to look at him, "has got to be one of the stupidest things I have ever heard. No, I am not alright." He wheezed out, words filled with contempt. "I'm dying." There was heat behind those words, even as he whispered them, almost as though he couldn't believe them.

He felt his face flush. "I'm sorry, it's just… look, is there any way I can…" He finally got a good look at the man's face. Orange hair, one visible dark green eye traced with eyeliner. "You're Roman Torchwick!" He gasped. He knew who Roman was, who didn't? He was the most well known thief in all of Remnant, having committed a major theft in every major city in the world, and escaping each time. Police all over the world had tried and failed to bring the man in, even some of the most well known and respected Hunters had failed to catch the crook. And here he was, lying in an alley, dying.

Roman laughed sarcastically, tipping his hat with his free hand. "In the flesh." The crook slumped further into the wall, "Though not for much longer." He mused darkly, eye drifting away for a moment. "I suppose you'll be leaving me to my fate now?" He sounded, resigned, as though the answer was obvious. And he supposed, in a way, it was. Most people would probably leave Roman to his fate, claiming the career criminal deserved it. And a tiny bit of him agreed.

And he hated that.

"No," Jaune shook his head viciously. The one eye he could see widened. "I'm going to be a hero, a Huntsmen, and that means helping everyone." He sighed, "Even criminals like you." He held a hand out towards the man, "Maybe I can get you to a hospital. There could still be time."

The dying criminal let out a pained laugh, waving away his offered hand, "A little late for that, kiddo. There's nothing you, or any other so-called hero, could do to save me." He snorted, "I never thought the ride would end, if I'm being honest." He snorted, a smirk flashing across his face. "Me, honest." He laughed. "I've lied to more people than you've probably ever met, I've come close to death a hundred times, and always escaped. Somehow I always thought I'd live forever, and now that I'm dying…" He trailed off, a resigned look upon his face. "Well, lets just say I don't think I'll be enjoying myself where I'm going."

It left a bitter taste in his mouth to stand by and literally watch the man die. But what else could he do? The only thing he could do was be there with him. Nobody, no matter how awful they were in life, deserved to die alone.

Roman gasped, and clutched his wound tighter. He could have sworn there was a bit of a flash over the spot. "Won't be long now, my aura's starting to run out."

"Aura?" What the hell was that? And why was he looking at him as though he had grown a second head? "What?"

Roman stared at him for a moment, "You really don't know, do you?" He let out a bitter laugh. "And you want to be a Huntsmen? You won't last ten minutes! Even that brat in red has aura, and here you are." He laughed a bit. "A wanna be hero kneeling next to dieing crook. One loosing aura fast, and the other without a clue as to what it is. There's irony in there somewhere, but for the life of me," He chuckled as he said it, "I can't find it."

The white clad criminal mastermind seemed to drift into thought for a moment, before gesturing Jaune towards him. "Come here, I need to touch you if this is going to work."

"If what's going to work?" Jaune asked hesitantly.

The crook rolled his eyes, "Now you choose to be cautious." He sighed, "I'm going to unlock your Aura, you'll need it if you want to be a Hunter." He said the word like it was a curse, and maybe to him it was. "Maybe by doing this I can grease the hand of whatever god is out there. Stack the deck in my favor with one final good deed."

Jaune was still a bit hesitant, but moved closer to Roman. What could it hurt? The man was dying, honestly should probably already be dead, and just wanted to have a final shot at redemption. Or at least fake it. And honestly, if Aura was as important as he was making it out to be, this was for the best. He didn't want to draw attention to himself and his less than credible transcripts if he could help it.

Roman placed one hand on Jaunes shoulder, closed his eyes and focused. "For it is in our notoriety that we achieve immortality, through this we climb above all others to claim our place in history. Infinite in potential and unbound by laws, I release your soul, and by my hand, set thee free."

Jaune stood fully as his body shone brightly in the night as his soul was released. He stared at himself, turning his hands to get a better look. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. A new strength flooded through his body, filling him with a sense of self he had never known before. Everything was clearer, sharper, more real than it had been a moment before.

"This is, this is amazing!" He turned back to Roman, "This..." He choked as he gazed at the crook.

Romans body lied still, chest unmoving, and arm laid out where it fell. Roman Torchwick, master criminal, was dead.

"Well, well, well, this is unexpected." Romans smug voice echoed in Jaunes head.