An Aura of Hope: A RWBY Fan Fiction

Prologue

Thomas looked down at his watch. Half past three AM.
"Where are they?!" he mumbled to himself. He wanted to scream, but he didn't want anyone to call the cops on him at this ungodly hour.
He told his clients to be here half an hour ago. Oh, he was gonna charge extra after this little scheme of theirs. Nobody crosses Thomas Langfield and gets away with it.
A black cat jumped off of the nearby dumpster, nearly giving Thomas a heart attack. Why on Earth was he so jumpy? It's his clients who should be nervous about their upcoming encounter. He would leave now and let them find an empty alleyway, but truth be told, he really needed this. He'd had this Dust for well over a week and it was starting to get dangerous to keep it with him. Black market business ain't easy.
---
About ten minutes later, Thomas heard a faint rustling coming from behind the dumpster. He put out his cigar in the puddle nearest him and stood up, using the dank apartment wall for support. Finally. He looked behind the green hunk of tin. The black cat peered up at him.
"Stupid cat." He jabbed his foot into the creature's gaunt stomach. It hissed at him and bolted into the darkness. Serves it right, Thomas thought.
He turned around to come face-to-....chest....with a huge man. Before he could react, the burly beast had one meaty paw around Thomas's throat.
"What.... The hell?!" he choked out.
"Hello, Tommy," said a voice from behind the man.
That voice... Thomas knew that voice... And that name it had called him? Tommy? He hadn't been called that in years!
The world was growing fuzzy. Where was he again? He was dying and he knew it. Had to hold on to the setting. Dark. Wet. Ladders. Landings. Windows. Big man. Beautiful woman. Dumpster. Cat. Wait, what? Woman?
Suddenly, he was breathing again. The world became sharper with every gasp of sweet, sweat-filled air. He was finally able to focus on the woman who had called him that infernal name. Now that he wasn't having his windpipe crushed, he knew exactly who the beautiful, tall brunette in a red, wide-brimmed picnic hat and white peacoat standing in front of him was. The only person who had ever called him Tommy.
Lucille.
"What the hell is this about, Lucy?!"
"I think you know pretty well, Tommy. I want that crate of Dust you got off of the latest Schnee train raid. Except, the thing is, I don't pay for what I want, Tommy."
"I don't like where this is going. Are you telling me that you're going to force me to hand it over to you?"
"Of course not, silly!" she piped happily. "I'm going to get it myself! And something else, too."
What? What in the name of Ozpin was she talking about? She was going to get it herself without forcing him to do anything?
"W-what do you mean?" asked Thomas unsteadily.
She didn't speak. Instead, she beckoned the mangy cat over to her. The moment it got to her--purring loudly--Thomas found himself with his arms pinned behind his back and was being forced down onto his knees.
"Say hello to my greatest creation, Tommy," said Lucille.
The cat? How was this a creation of hers?
She placed it down in front of Thomas. It stood there for just a few seconds, staring blankly at him. Then, slowly, it brought its paw up onto his thigh, and the world turned every which way. Lucy was far away, then close, then short, then fat, then upside down. He looked down at the thing on his leg. He could swear he saw an energy of some sort leaving his body and entering this creature's.

And that's when everything went black.