RWBY: LUCID

A low snuffling noise resounded, wet and ragged, drifting up from outside.

Jaune blinked, the noise pulling his attention back to the street. Slowly, cautiously, he leaned forward and peeked through a the broken, grime-smeared glass.

There, in the broken street ahead, something moved.

It prowled on two legs with a gait that was uneven yet powerful. Black fur matted with unknown liquid clung to its bulky, hunched frame.

Bone plating wrapped around its arms and shoulders like macabre armor, jagged and partially asymmetrical. Crimson markings, stretched like claw wounds across the pale bone, and half its head—the top half was grafted with a skull-like mask. From beneath the mask, two glowing crimson eyes burned in the dark.

It sniffed at the ground with a twitching snout, then raised its head, the wind catching its nose.

Jaune's breath caught in his throat.

'What... is that?!'

The creature turned slightly, showing more of its terrifying form. Its limbs were long like those of a human.

Perhaps too long even.

Its hands were tipped with sharp claws and it moved with an animalistic fervor that reminded Jaune of a canine... perhaps a wolf.

It was predator made of shadowy fur and bone. Slaver hung from its mouth like foam. It breathed heavily, tasting the air.

Looking for something.

Looking for him.

Jaune stumbled back from the window in silent horror, chest rising and falling rapidly. His fingers trembled as he gripped the edge of the wall for support.

"No. No no no no..."

He turned, trying to creep backward toward the stairs, heart hammering.

If he could just get upstairs—just hide—maybe it would go away.

The house groaned beneath his weight.

His foot caught on a loose floorboard.

Crack.

The sound seemed quiet, but it rang in his ears like a gunshot.

Outside, the creature's head snapped toward the house.

Jaune froze.

A split-second later, a heavy thud hit the porch.

Then another.

Then the door burst inward.

Wood shattered and hinges screamed.

The creature bounded into the ruined house, nose flaring, claws scraping along broken tile as it sniffed hungrily.

Jaune didn't scream.

He couldn't.

Instead, he bolted up the stairs, two at a time, slipping once on the rotten step but caught himself just in time before he could fall.

He didn't dare look back behind him.

The creature prowled into the hallway, sniffing, growling low and guttural.

The door in Jaune's room was still cracked open.

He dove inside, with his heart crashing against his ribs.

He was afraid to shut the door. It would have made noise that could clue the beast to his location.

Instead, he crouched low behind the bed, forcing himself to breathe through his nose, slow and shallow.

Outside the room, the rotten floorboards groaned under its heavy steps.

It was climbing the stairs.

They creaked beneath the creature's weight, one dusty plank at a time. Each footfall sounded like a resounding death knell, each ring counting the seconds to the end of his life.

Jaune kept his crouch low.

His figure, still hidden behind his ruined bed was taut with clenched muscle and shallow breath. Sweat gathered at his temples and rolled down the side of his face. He dared not even attempt to wipe it.

Even that felt too loud.

Another heavy step.

The creaking came closer.

The shadows outside his cracked door shifted — stretched and warped by the red light leaking in from the window. A clawed hand dragged along the wall with a scraping, grating whisper that made Jaune's teeth grit.

It was right outside his room.

He could see it even more clearly now.

The jagged white of its bone plating seemed to ripple like warped ivory. And its mask....its terrible half-skull mask, as the beast turned its head.

For a single breathless second, Jaune thought it had spotted him.

But no.

Its head angled away.

Toward the bathroom at the end of the hall.

The guttural growl faded as the creature stepped past his door.

The beast raised its hand to push open the bathroom door which creaked open slowly and cautiously, like the door was afraid to anger the creature.

Time seemed to slow for Jaune.

His pulse roared in his ears.

He felt like he was suffocating. Or perhaps he really was. He was certain that he was on the verge of a panic attack.

Jaune bit his lip, hard, forcing himself out of his stupor.

'Think. You have to think.'

His eyes darted to the door.

'Could I shut it and lock it?'

His hands twitched.

'No. Too loud, and even if I did, it wouldn't matter. The moment it hears that, it's over. It'll tear through that door like paper.'

His gaze jumped to the window.

Jump?

It wasn't far. Maybe ten feet.

He wasn't able to see the street below him due to the odd substance coating the window but he remembered from his glimpse downstairs.

The street below was littered with broken glass and warped concrete. Rusted debris jutted up like jagged teeth.

'No. I'd hurt myself. Or worse.'

Another snarl echoed faintly from the bathroom. The creature was impatient that it couldn't find the source of the noise

Jaune bit the inside of his cheek.

'Then what?'

His eyes fell to the warped floor.

There — near the baseboard, a broken piece of wood jutted free, long and splintered.

Carefully, barely breathing, he reached out.

Fingers trembling, he curled them around the jagged length of wood and gently worked it free, inch by inch.

The creature moved in the bathroom. Something scraped porcelain. A heavy thump.

Jaune didn't dare look.

He had a weapon now.

If only barely.

And he'd need it.

Jaune stared at the piece of broken wood and grimaced. 

'Who am I kidding? The moment I use this trash as a weapon is the moment it rips my arm off.' 

Suddenly, a plan clicked in his mind.

Not a good one. Not even a sane one.

But maybe... just maybe, it was something.

His grip on the broken plank tightened, splinters digging into his palm.

If I can't outrun it and can't fight it, then my only choice is to out-think it...

Jaune's breath trembled. He looked at the jagged piece of wood in his hand, then toward the door — still cracked just enough for him to see the hall.

The shadows inside the bathroom shifted.

'Now.'

Moving slowly, careful not to let the floor creak, Jaune crept toward his bedroom door. Each inch felt like a mile. The pounding in his chest was deafening, like drums echoing through a tunnel.

Time stretched.

His heartbeat, his breath, even the faint scraping from the bathroom — all of it slowed as adrenaline flooded his veins.

The plan raced through his mind in vivid detail, crystal clear:

The moment I see it — a hand, a leg, anything — I throw the plank at Dad's door. Hard. Make it loud and make it crash. With luck, it's dumb and it'll hear the sound and go straight for it.

'If it charges the door...if it breaks it down like how it did to the front door when it heard me earlier... the noise will cover mine. It will give me a chance to run. Down the stairs. Out the front. I just have to move fast. Before it hears me.'

He knelt beside the door, keeping low.

The hallway was dim, flickering red light casting warping shadows across the walls.

From the bathroom, another soft growl rolled out.

The creature was moving.

Closer to the exit.

Jaune's muscles tensed, every fiber of his being coiled like a spring.

All he needed now... was the right moment.