This is a work of fan fiction, created for entertainment purposes only and with no claim to the characters depicted. Ownership of RWBY characters and concepts belongs to Rooster Teeth. Ownership of Iron Man characters an concepts belongs to Disney.

AN: As much as I hate author's notes before a chapter, I feel it's necessary here because I need to make something clear before one reads the opening here. You see, the reason it's taken me so long to update Arc Reaction is in part because Volume 4 dropped and its opening is almost exactly like the opening to this chapter. I want to make clear that Arc Reaction isn't really bound by Volume 4 in any way. I may use a few characters (but never Tyrion—I hate the giggling madman/Joker ripoff archetype) and ideas, but Arc Reaction and it's sequel were conceptualized before it came out and I don't plan to change anything major. So please don't take the opening as anything more than a coincidence and the fact that I totally called the Grimm spawn from pools, and please don't ask when elements of Vol 4 will be added because they probably won't.

Except Whitley. He's just the right kind of terrible little snot I've been hoping for in the Schnee clan.

Now, without further ado:

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Chapter 37: Divergence

It was storming, but Cinder knew that the sea below them as Mercury piloted their Bullhead toward their destination was always turbulent.

And not made of water.

Long ago, before mankind abandoned the western continent, the place have been called the Shallow Sea and had been shunned even then. The liquid was toxic to humans and even if it wasn't, going near the place was tantamount to suicide.

Cinder looked down as they approached the coastline whee tide pools of black viscous liquid surged and heaved violently. As she watched, those surges became more violent until a series of white bone-like spines and plates broke the surface. First a single Beowolf emerged, then an entire pack. The creatures instinctively looked up, not at the approaching Bullhead, but rather toward the three sources of negative emotion within it. They snarled and began loping along the coast trying to keep up with the craft. Some of them that came too close to the sea were immediately seized by grasping claws or colossal tentacles and dragged shrieking back into the ichorous mire.

A gasp from the adjoining seat reminded her that she wasn't alone looking out at the blasted hellscape surrounding the Shallow Sea. She sneered.

"Don't be afraid, Emerald." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dark-skinned woman start to relax. "Fear attracts them. Makes them more savage. Remember?"

Emerald shivered. Mission accomplished.

"Besides," Cinder continued lackadaisically, "No Grimm would ever approach Salem's sanctum without being summoned there." With a sweeping hand motion, she directed her lackey's gaze toward the cockpit and through the windscreen toward a towering man made earthwork rising nearly two hundred feet from the rocky beach and jutting out over the water.

A structure crouched at the top of it like a sated jungle cat dozing after a kill. The main building was hexagonal in shape with flying buttresses holding aloft a stately if now moss-riddled marble dome. Lesser stone outbuildings trailed back down the earthwork, connected to the main body by roofed walkways that once had glass walls to look out over the grounds, now shattered. A smaller dome—this one of unbroken glass or perhaps Freeze Dust—extended out of the front of the main building, hanging out into space. And on the read of the main building, elevated from the ground, was a landing pad, enigmatically marked with a long-faded capital letter 'H'.

Mercury landed the Bullhead dead center and flipped off the ignition. "Monster Island," he declared, pulling off his headset. "End of the line."

"It really could be if Salem hears you talking about her place like that," Emerald snapped, putting all her nervous energy into her favorite stress relief pastime: sniping at Mercury.

"Behave children." Cinder sauntered to the rear of the craft where the ramp controls were located and let down the cargo ramp. Warm rain blew in from the storm raging overhead, something she refused to flinch at or even react to at all. "Let's go hear what our Mistress has to say. No doubt she's pleased at the last report I delivered concerning the imminent culmination of our plans."

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"Explain to me how this will not end in failure or another multi-year 'modification' like all the other times you've informed me that the endgame is nigh."

Salem stood tall and proud atop a dais at the end of a great hall within her sanctum. Whatever it had been used for in times past, Salem had turned it into a combination laboratory and museum long before any of her three young visitors had been born.

Brass and steel vats with viewing windows built into their sides revealed terrifying creatures or at least what had once been creatures. Some of them were visibly recognizable as Grimm: a the left side of a Beowolf Alpha, cleanly bisected and showing off the swirling shadows and frothing black liquid that made up its insides, a juvenile Deathstalker with its claw flensed of its carapace to reveal a gelatinous mass covered with thousands of tiny white 'hairs' that might have been minuscule bone plates, and a Boarbatusk with all its bone plates ripped off and floating in the transparent gel around it.

Others were something more terrible. Here a large mastiff was caught in mad-stride, its hindquarters matted with the black liquid of the Shallow Sea, tiny tendrils emerging from the surface, its back leg swollen and grotesque; what may have been a warren's worth of rats doused in the same substance, locked eternally in attacking one another; a horse with its face consumed, its jaw distended and showing knifelike teeth.

Worse of all we re the humans—or what had been humans. Their bodies were so twisted by the black ichor that even Cinder refused to look. She especially avoided the ones nearest Salem's 'workspace', the ones who had developed bone plates and red eyes the ones that looked terrifyingly normal, just cloaked in black with an extra set of red eyes on their foreheads. It wasn't because of their appearance, but because she knew those at least were still alive.

The Mistress of Grimm herself was tall, slightly built, but imposing for the bone-white skin and black-red pulsing veins that crisscrossed her body. Her clothing—really part of her unique flesh—clung and flowed in all the right places, making everything about her appearance seem effortless.

Proving her mettle, Cinder met Salem's eyes evenly even though she kept her tone measured and respectful. "This time is different. There are no more 'ifs', no more timing. The pieces have fallen into place. To be quite honest, I could be executing the final steps as we speak if I hadn't been summoned here."

Salem rolled her eyes, turning away to tend to the strange plants that occupied the dais around her. They were twice as tall as she was with white stems, black leaves and blood red flowers that shaded to black at the center. Beneath their leaves, dark pulsating pods squirmed and writhed. It was these that Salem poked and prodded with detached curiosity.

"How many times have I heard this. I recall a decade ago when you had a venture in the works with the criminal mastermind of Vale until you found your new 'project' in the Arc child. At the time you only had his legendary name and a few schematics and you promised that if I was patient for a few short years, our victory would be ten times more complete than the idea of attacking the Vytal Festival.

"Then he built something new—something that annihilates my Grimm with the efficiency of a hundred Hunters I will add and you told me that you could build him up into such a great hope that his engineered downfall would generate enough despair to raise a dozen of my lost Wyverns."

Glancing over her shoulder, Salem narrowed her eyes at her subordinate. "Then just one year ago you stood in this spot and said that there was a deal in place with Atlas that would mean we could topple both Atlas and Vale in a mere twenty-four hours. And finally, you came to me mere months ago begging for ancient knowledge of the Star Dragon to accelerate your machinations. So forgive me for not expecting yet another delay."

At this, she turned away from the plants to face Cinder again. "Know this Cinder Fall: You are not my only agent in the world and though I am now eternal, my patience is not. Especially when you try to conceal very real complications from me."

Cinder blinked. "What complications? Arc's new toy? His new allies? They're hardly a threat because I've already planned for them."

"I have seen your 'plans' as well. And their failures."

"Not failures at all," Cinder waved the notion away. "Ozpin's eye has fallen onto Arc. He expects stories and prophecy coming true; for us to try for the Maidens again."

"And you don't consider that a complication." Salem said dully, clearly not believing her.

Cinder laughed lightly. "Not at all, because I'm giving him prophecy and fairy tales to chase. Something to send Arc, his friends and Ozpin's entire organization to focus on in this hand," She held one fist out to her left, "While this hand," She held out her other hand out to the right, "Is delivering the coupe de grace to Humanity."

Salem's lips formed a tight, thin line. "And how can you be so sure this will work."

A slick smile split Cinder's face. "Because when I visited the Star Dragon's chamber, I left a wake-up call for him. And for another? In two days, the Board of directors is scheduled to deliver a vote of no confidence against Jaune Arc, and install me as CEO—putting all of the weapons, all of the resources and most importantly all of the access Arc Industries has under my and therefore your control."

She sketched a low bow, long hair brushing the floor. "Oh yes, Mistress: this is happening."

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There was no rain on the cliffs a few miles east of Beacon Academy (conveniently screened from the view of SHIELD's invisible tower by the mountains), but the wind what whipping Pyrrha's hair into a flowing red wave out to her side. It was bad enough that Jaune had placed himself on her other side to avoid being constantly flogged by it. He loved his girlfriend's long hair, but preferred it under standard lab conditions.

For the first time since the press conference, he was dressed for business—at least to the value of it that he usually achieved. His sport coat was buttoned against the wind, he lacked a tie, and he had on the same brand of shades he'd worn at the Vacuo test.

"He's officially half an hour late." Pyrrha announced, checking her scroll. "Considering his past, I'm starting to believe he took your money and ran. The purchase was off the record after all."

Jaune shook his head. "Nah. Torchwick might be a bunch of things: a liar, a thief, probably a murderer was some point, a really snappy dresser—wait. I just got off track. Anyway, he's not exactly a good person, but he's the kind of criminal that keeps his word whether it's the give you what you paid for or break your legs for not paying. He'll be here."

At this point, he paused, squinting up at the sky before looking around. The wind was blowing incredibly hard, but not across the entire grassy meadow atop the cliff. He rolled his eyes. "Actually, you know what Roman Torchwick almost certainly is? The kind of asshole that would show up early and concealed just so he could spy on us to see what the plane's for."

There was no reply to that, only a raised eyebrow from Pyrrha. Jaune groaned, pinched his brow, and looked skyward again. "I know we're standing in your jet wash, you know?"

Still nothing.

He sighed. "And also I will give you one thousand lien if you stop playing along with this, Neo."

Nothing.

"Alright. Ten thousand."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth that the sky seemed to shatter. The cloudy sky exploded as if someone had smashed a plate glass window, shards falling a few yards before shimmering out of existence. Suddenly the sun was blotted out by two shapes: one a sleek Atlas-style light cruiser with an elongated forward bridge and a bulkier rear housing its Dust reactor, the other Torchwick's signature aircraft: a very subtle gold-painted luxury model Bullhead with Torchwick's personal crest stamped on the side.

Immediately after, Jaune's Scroll vibrated. He checked even though the text message it had received was exactly what he expected: 'Pay Up ~ Neo.'

Both ships descended shortly after appearing, setting down lightly on the grass. While the Bullhead lowered its ramp, the side doors of the cruiser opened to allow Neo, parasol in hand, to saunter out. Her free hand was extended, demanding payment in person.

"I'll send the money to your account." Jaune huffed.

"You know, I'm not sure who to be more upset with: you for being a party pooper or or her for being a traitor." Torchwick came down the ramp of the Bullhead, his cane resting on his shoulder. But tell you what: All will be forgiven if you tell me exactly what you want with my top of the line."

Pyrrha straightened her back. She'd never had the odd camaraderie Jaune shared with the man and had always been uneasy with knowing that his 'alleged' criminal past had not only gone unpunished but rewarded with fortune and legitimization. "That would be none of your business Mr. Torchwick. Now that the product has been delivered, our business has been concluded."

Torchwick snickered. "Oh don't be like that. We're all fr—" he cut himself off because Pyrrha was shaking her head, "Acquaintances?" She shook her head again. "We tolerate each other without violence at least, and to me that means something." He shifted his attention to Jaune. "Come on Jaune my boy, you understand how it might make one curious when you ask for the fastest, most agile and longest ranged model my company offers delivered to an undisclosed location."

Before Jaune could say anything, Torchwick planted his cane's tip on the ground, leaning heavily on it. "Or at least I was curious. That is until a little bird—well a little... I think she's a squirrel or something...or a deer. Whatever—an informant of mine told me all about a big brouhaha in the Emerald Forest the other night. Said Taurus was mighty pissed at a man in powered armor and his team that included a psycho redhead that wielded a hammer and threw lightning. Story sort of reminded me of the shindig last week when ol' Juggs attacked and the—ahem-other psycho redhead you know started throwing lightning."

That earned him a glare from Pyrrha. "What? I meant the girl with the scythe."

Jaune stepped between Torchwick and Pyrrha before the latter decided to deal with the former at javelin-point. "Whatever you're implying, Torchwick—and I'm not admitting to anything—let's cut to the chase: how much do you want to keep quiet."

Torchwick's face split into a grin. "My goodness, the boy can be taught! We'll make a 'totally legitimate businessman' out of you yet."

"Get on with it!" Jaune shouted, exasperated.

"Heh. Very well. Without admitting to anything myself; from time to time from this point on, you may on occasion receive a Scroll message alleging one party or another of a crime. These allegations will always be one hundred percent legitimate and—"

"No deal," Jaune cut him off. "I'm not going to turn the other way."

Torchwick laughed again. "Who said I wanted that? Of course I want you to do everything in your power to deal with those nefarious lawbreakers. In fact, I insist—get me?"

Jaune blinked, not getting it for a moment before. "Oh. Yeah, I get it. Not all bad guys are on the same team. Fine. You have a deal—but you can't tell me who not to go after, got it?"

Stepping forward, Torchwick extended his hand, which Jaune shook. "Excellent. And if there's anything else you or our friends might need, I'll even give you the friends and family discount." He winked at Pyrrha. "Sorry; friends and family and people onto whom we don't wish any specific harm. Which now that I think if it, are all completely different things: if your family's anything like mine, that last part's furthest from the truth."

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Screaming. Agonized, animalistic screaming filled the hive of concrete tunnels. It had gone on for hours, echoing endlessly.

The room from which they emerged was a fortified cylinder teen feet across. At its center was hexagonal cage made of Freeze Dust that could be raised or lowered by hydraulic lifts. The only other furniture in the room were a wooden chair and a small side table.

In the chair sat Wilhelm Schnee, leaning forward, back hunched, eyes intent. The focus of that close attention was inside the cage: a woman who, If standing would have been well over six feet tall with hair as black as a Nevermore's innards, skin sun-kissed a soft caramel brown but marred by unnatural black spidery veins stretched out across it and her eyes which glowed with the hideous red of a Grimm's. Her body was powerfully built but lithe as a jungle cat's.

She screamed, she thrashed, she raged, slamming her fists into the six walls surrounding her with a strength that made the whole room vibrate. One blow in particular made the Dust panes rattle and Wilhelm to shift in his seat.

"Focus!" He ordered in a loud, firm voice. "A Grimm Essence is like any Semblance: you can master it just as you mastered your Semblance. Focus. Take control."

His words seemed to calm the furious woman slightly. She backed away from the wall facing him and clutched at her head. "I..." speaking revealed elongated canines and sharp teeth. "It hurts," she moaned at length. "Oh Dust, it hurts."

Wilhelm remained unmoved. "Pain is the mother of change. And change is precisely what you must do. Focus on that. Use that pain."

Breathing ragged, the woman put out one hand to lean against the wall. Her other hand was pressed against her temple. "You don't... I... my body is burning. A-and I can feel... I feel things. Pain. Hate. Anger. Oh Dust, it tas—it feels good. Please make it... make it..." she cut off in another shriek of rage, slamming a fist into the wall.

In an instant, Wilhelm Schnee was on his feet, rushing the wall and punching it himself in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. "You will not fail me. Failing me is defying me! Tell me: do these emotions: this hate, this disdain, this disgust at your pitiful weakness taste good?" He smacked the wall with an open palm, meeting the gaze of the strange woman with one of his own. "You think you're strong enough to sunder this cage and perhaps you are, but are you really strong enough now to question me when you've never been before?!"

Something in the question seemed to strike the woman like a physical blow. She recoiled from him in horror, her body wracked by convulsions until she collapsed, screaming once more. Her form contorted, shrinking in both stature and bulk. Brown skin faded to pink, then paled even further. Black hair fell out, rapidly replaced by white.

Weiss Schnee dropped to her hands and knees on the cold floor inside the cell. Her eyes were wide open, unblinking. But she was alive and appeared to have control over her new Grimm essence.

Staring down at the young woman before him, Wilhelm Schnee saw not a daughter or a victim of his quest for power, but a key; a key to everything he'd ever wanted since coming to understand what was really going on in the world of Remnant.

A rare and genuine smile came to his face. "That's my girl." he said quietly, then left the cell.

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AN: And there you have it. Sorry you had to wait so long for a set-up chapter, but we did have a few reveals including Weiss's new super mode.

Were down to two Arcs in Arc Reaction before the end game, so hold on to your butts. Starting next chapter, we'll be going into alternating arcs: one involving Jaune, Pyrrha and the Patch Sisters at the Arc family estate and the rest of the team back at the compound getting to know each other and defending against a new foe and an old friend coming courting.

Also taking all comers who want to guess what the stuff and the sanctum means. It's probably not what you think.

Finally, I'm thinking of offering some paid commissions via P/atreon. I'm not entirely sure of this, but I'm in pretty desperate need of money right now and writing is what I do so... Maybe at the very least I can offer to prioritize chapters of my fics ahead of my other writing for some cash (as in, guarantee I'll put out a chapter of one of them that same week). PM me if you want to speak your peace on that matter.

Anyway, next chapter, Jaune and Pyrrha head down to the Arc farm and we get to meet more of the fam. Next chapter: Family Matters.