Warning: Long chapter incoming!! Enjoy.~ ;)

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With all things touched by crime, it seemed as though the prison had never been young or new — could it be that God had reflected the doctrine of predestination in this place, to completely render the very wicked in silence for all eternity? What good would that do for them if they didn't want to change their ways? Nothing but their busy minds can sate them, though one can doubt that would work.

They would think that people behind bars were all crazy, delusional, and downright disgusting. Yet it's disgustingly hypocritical for citizens to think in such a way. Normal individuals such as ourselves couldn't give a reason to care as they were criminals and they themselves were civilians — sinners must repent for their actions. But can you even blame them for when they're forced to painfully accept our own realm of reality instead of theirs? Jail was what separated the air of reality and unreality. Yet that'd be foolish...no?

Oh, of course not! The true nature of sin lies beyond those rustic bars that lock these monsters inside, for them to never return to the general population and rot in their lonely cells. They are to never experience the paradise that allowed humans to freely roam and touch nature with their hands and feet. Some of the convicts were pitiful, but the other half of them weren't fit for this ungodly world as it crawls with their kind.

Especially when there's someone who plays between life and death, who elevates the split between sanity and insanity.

It's true that technology within the four Kingdoms of Remnant is a wave of ultramodern machinery and architecture; however, underneath and in front of the prison is nature's welcoming soil that supported the sable blackness of flowers in this modern life.

The youthful male inside his prison cell was a perfect example of being a black flower in society — a person that questions God's rationality and madness. On opposite sides, he sat on his premade bed and stared at the ugly prison door, waiting and serving his term. He chewed impatiently on his lower lip, his fangs slightly protruding from his upper lip. The man sighed for the days and months to pass by. His capture and imprisonment were only recent, but it already felt like eternity to him.

His neighboring prisoners were all trying to repent for their crimes and sins. Everyday they'd cry and wail about the past, and he was getting sick of them. Although some were genuinely upset with themselves for what they've done, the other half of their population hadn't cared and claimed that they'd do it all over again if they could obtain the object of their desires. The man noted that each and every one of them were all sick to the core.

He knew some prisons allowed two inmates to room with one another, and if that were the case, then he would gladly choke the living life out of them. It's not like they were going to be missed anyway. They were all considered outcasts and going insane with only nature to comfort them.

But this particular character was out of his mind. Even nature hadn't taken pity and didn't offer some of its beauty to the male. It was a waste of time to do so because it was impossible to tame his feral mind. He wasn't a flower that'll serve as a symbol or token of some moral lesson in such a saccharine way; he seemed indifferent rather than sympathetic about his bloody actions. He found relief and entertainment in this dark tale of human frailty and sorrow, only wanting to get deeper into the threshold of this story.

"Would you perhaps be interested in leaving this massive asylum? I'm sure you'd be interested to hear my end of the deal."

The male shot his head up in the direction of the mysterious voice. The room was small and if he were claustrophobic, then he was sure that he'd die of suffocation because of the tight and minor layout. "Who the hell are you? Show yourself!"

He saw something move out of the corner of his eye. It was coming from the mirror! As he detected slight movement of the mirror and saw a range of visible wavelengths inside the reflective surface, an arm shot out of the glass amalgam. The prisoner wasn't sure how to make out the situation, but he knew and had nowhere else to go. For all he knows, this impostor could be hunting him down from his past onslaughts on the White Fang or innocent bystanders.

"Now, now... I didn't come here to fight." The intruder said through the reflector of life. Soon, the other arm came to follow its twin and then a pair of legs trailed after them. The young male was ready for what's to come, yet he wasn't sure who or what the person was to be exactly.

(Picture belongs to amatoy on deviantart!)

Their suit contained blue accents and silver cables all throughout the anterior of their body. Their mask seemed to have a resemblance to that of a cricket and there were two things that stood out to the prisoner — the silver gear that's attached onto their right arm and around their waist along with the blackened deck and its prominent orange insignia. He could sense their aura, which differed from his and everyone else's in this building — this person radiated unimaginable power. A foreign power that could probably overtake everyone here including himself.

"Why are you here? What do you want from me? How–?" He was cut off by them, though they appeared to sound like a male's voice. "You have piqued my interest, and so I've decided that you'll be the one that's fit for this deck." The stranger drew out a sangria-colored deck and held it out for the prisoner. He stares down at it, taking in its fine color and admiring the golden emblem that's situated in the center of a garnet surface.

Like a normal Faunus, simple questions as to why he was chosen, what would happen if he accepted or declined, and so on had spilled into his mind. But why was he worried? He's lost all and every compassion for both races, so why is he experiencing a new birth of emotions now?

'The damage has been done. I can't go back now... And besides, I'm no longer a person.' He pushes his mental clarity back down and returns to reality. The Faunus inmate placed his hand on top of the deck, now experiencing a new surge of power within him. As if he had taken a drug, he begins to feel numb and can't seem to get enough of this fresh possession of control.

"I will keep in touch, Dravern." He surfaced and gasped for air, holding onto his newly acquired power. The male looks around for the strange man, only to find nothing but imaginary dust staining the polished mirror. He was gripped by a feeling of excitement, yet he still had his doubts about this. To dismiss this uncertainty, he gave a hard pinch to his cheek. His nails scored the smooth surface of his skin and a single droplet of blood ran down his face.

As soon as he saw the small drop of the red ocean, he started to chortle at his own blood. Shortly after the suppressed chuckle, his prison cell rang with crazed laughter. The world of criminals is entirely insane, but this inmate is mainly certifiable, raving mad with violence and bloodshed. And the only person you knew of this behavior was a deranged man named Takeshi Asakura, but... he was already dead.

Everything and everyone was on schedule — all correctional guards, officers, and employees were out in the midst of moonlight, whereas the convicts banged against the technological walls of their prison cells, screaming and shouting at the members of the police force. This was considered a normal day for the people in blue and the others in orange, but it's still a prison nonetheless.

As the prison officers took turns in watching over the wicked variants, the artificial lights began flickering until its color of chalky white changed to an angry brick red. Both the convicts and the correctional officers looked around for an answer, but a loud crash caught their attention. All officers on standby were now heading towards the source of sound, but by the time they got there, it was already too late... One of the variants had broken free of its chains.

A few Atlesian Knights are seen getting thrown or kicked away by the walking killer. One of the members was about to ask for his identity, but the armed convict was coming right for them and raced down the halls at full speed. The officers were only able to detect his helmet just before he stabbed through their comrade with his gloved hand, tossing him aside and the advent of sheer wanton destruction had just begun.

Anyone that got in his way had perished under his hand. He proved that by the multitudinous array of blue and orange corpses lying throughout the halls and painting the walls with their blood and biological structures. His eyes were so far from emotional as he threw a woman –who had been guarding the weapon storage areas (WSA)– to the side, taking the only weapon she possessed and blasting the metal projectile through her cranium, instantly killing her. He casts the weapon to her cadaver before proceeding to the private storage.

This new, foreign power was beyond his expectations. He barely lifted a hand, yet everyone plus the other inmates had succumbed to their wounds, slowly bleeding onto the ground while he stepped over them as if he were taking a stroll in the red garden. He used to be a stubborn, foolish man, but now he's the epitome of evil.

Returning to his civilian form, he busted the lockers wide open and retrieved two pistols, Dust grenades, and the salient object that was always in his view — his prominent whip sword. The former member of the White Fang went towards another locker and ripped the metal door, staring directly at his dark clothes and gear that were taken away during his trial before clothing himself in them once again.

Reversing direction, the male sees a Huntsman blocking his only way of exit. The man trembled in fear as he drew a pistol from his black jacket, pointing the barrel of his gun at the death bringer. The escaped convict grinned and briefly responded, "Nice jacket, bud. But I'm gonna be taking that now."

As the Huntsman was about to pull the trigger, he noticed that the weapon was no longer in his hand and a swift kick to his face had occurred to him. The man crashed into the lockers, groaning and coughing with the exertion. Unfortunately, the ordeal didn't stop there — the former prisoner had punched him in the head, putting everything he had into the blow. It was enough to give a decent human being a mild cranial trauma, but the man's brain was still rattling inside his skull from the sudden impact.

"Oh, don't give up! You're not dead, are you? It'd be a shame if you died from a little punch like that... There's so much more for you than a boring death such as that." He says with false promise and quickly takes the black jacket. Before donning the lightweight garment over his shoulders, he rips off the safety pin with his teeth and tosses the grenade to the injured Huntsman. Looking down at the object, his eyes immediately broadened with horror.

The slayer of Humans and Faunus waved his hand at him, closing the doors on the poor human and marching across the hallway. The entire building shuddered with the concussion of the combustible, and the fierce and pistol-like crepitations provided a sweet melody to his ears. This was the only thing that allowed him to be set free. Everyone's idea of their own system of justice was nothing more than child's play — killing was a much more efficient way for someone like him to cope. He was aware of what he did and acknowledged them as his wrongdoings, yet he couldn't stop because the Adversary is now within him.

'I've lost all faith in both Humans and the Faunus. They won't change... They're all the same... They all deserve to just die. Can't they just die already? They'll all rot in the dirt anyways... It's all the same with life and death.'

"Heh." The male returns to the original setting, kicking down the door in front of him and exiting out of the confinement. Flashing before his eyes was the radiant moon, though its white and gray visuals were no longer there, only to be replaced by a new crimson-red film. "Oh-ho. I never knew the blood moon prophecies were going to take place on this very night. How fitting."

He pulls out a Scroll from his pockets and holds the device up to his ears, saying, "I'm out." On the other line, the unknown caller had asked back, "No one left alive, correct?" The escaped jailbird scoffed, swiping away the imaginary dust on his jacket. "Not even a mouse."

"Good. I'll explain later. For now, get a move on and destroy the facility. I'll be in touch." And with that, the caller ends their short call. Still holding the tiny device to his ear, the sinister malefactor turns around and a mad smirk forms on his cheeks as he perceives a certain rattling noise. His eyes moved towards the transparent window, the beast within the other dimension had finally come out to play.

The winged monster flies out of the glass casement and helps with the purge, burning down the entire facility with its mauvish-crimson flames before retreating to the Mirror World. His crazed smile had lengthened with delight. He was finally free from the house of correction!

However, as the wicked variant turns to leave, he spots a triumvirate of three other criminals — two females and the other was a male. The dark-haired individual had greeted him with a smirk, whereas her other two companions were not so welcoming, but it was a welcome nonetheless.

"You must be the infamous killer, Noir Vlad. One that is a threat to life, and an outcast that has been persecuted by the Humans and rejected by the Faunus." The leader of the trio remarked on the male's inflamed past, earning a minor growl from him.

"What's it to you? Who the hell are you guys? Your presence is already vexing to me, and I don't mind having your pretty little heads mounted on the walls of this filthy, disgusting world."

Alas, a new beginning for the new villain has emerged into this volume; and a new, inevitable war is bound to happen once more.

Within a split second, Ruby had found herself in total darkness; she was sure that she had fallen to a deep slumber because of the overwhelming depth of fatigue. Yet, at the next heartbeat, the young-meister blinked and saw that she was trapped in a maze of an entirely different chaos. This wasn't her usual dream of heroes, guns, cookies, and milk — her first steps inside this strange, dark château were proof that she was indeed residing in an evil residence.

The overall structure of this empty estate dates back to the medieval period from the late 15th centuries. Crafted from bulky ridges of white limestone and sandstone, the intramural ornaments of the castle have adapted to a lavish French Baroque style. Every wall was exquisitely decorative with velvet prints of vines and scattered paintings of well-known historical beings (perhaps the bloodline of its former ruler), extravagant furniture and gold carpeting centered on the marbled floors. A pulchritudinous château nonetheless; the fortress didn't seem to be in decay, though the interiors needed some dusting and cleaning in order to showcase its architectural beauty.

Upon arriving at a modest hallway, the little red riding hood had taken in the deluxe interiors of the castle; however, as she continued to walk down the narrow path and infiltrated another relatively large space, the red reaper sets her eyes on the late and much lamented knights or... whatever was left of the paladins.

Luckily there was no one inside, but if it were a rotting corpse or a molded skeleton, then the female was sure that she'd vomit at the sight of them... Even as eternal vampires, everyone had their tolerance and limits to the dead. And the young lass wasn't one to take too well in the relics of a deceased individual. The leader of Team RWBY was looking a little pained and discombobulated, to say the least.

The fallen knights weren't the only artifacts in the room — there were broken, rusted weapons hanged up on the walls, and statues that appeared to take on the forms of several ungodly models. One in particular had caught her silver eye; the armory was coated in white, but its right shoulder and the top of its dragon-like helmet has been painted with garnet-red linings.