AN: At times, my mind gets ahead of myself, and I have a hard time keeping patient, so I let off some steam by writing down the stuff that I planned ahead. I decided to call them Sneak Peeks, since they're sneak peeks of where the story will be headed. These are just for the future. This one is an end to the Atlas Arc, where Whitley finally leaves Atlas to travel Remnant. When I get around to the actual chapter, I'll put the whole chapter again, but for now, for those interested, enjoy!
Whitley was, in all honesty, rather terrified. At only 14 years old, he had to give a speech to dozens of violent extremists on the verge of joining the terrorists that hated his family name. Nevertheless, he had to do this, for his new power base in Atlas, and Amo's sake if nothing else. The burly faunus came out to meet him.
"Whitley, I've got the boys out there. They're waiting for you."
"Thank you, Amos."
Amos shook his head. "Don't thank me just yet. I feel like I've underestimated the youngsters here, both human and Faunus. They're rather….angry."
Whitley shook his head. Of course they would be. Whatever pain and tragedy he had gone through, the faunus had suffered it hundreds of times worse. The humans, for all the pain they had gone through as well, would not matter to them. It was up to him to get the faunus and humans to listen to him. As Hadrian had put it best, A Sith must develop a power base. Whitley had the opportunity handed to him on a silver platter. And yet, what Whitley felt for these faunus and humans were more than just satisfaction at building power. He wanted to help them. He had broken his chains, and he wanted them to break theirs, without losing everything. He took a deep breath, and then strode out to meet the group in the room.
The faunus and humans, shouting at each other with fervent hatred, quieted down when they saw the black robed man walking in front of them. Thank the Brothers for the Mask, Whitley thought once again. Hadrian was right, the Mask was turning out to be the most useful tool in his arsenal so far. He tapped on the microphone a few times.
"I'd like to get everyone's attention." The crowd quieted down. Whitley cleared his throat.
"I assume many of you have heard of me, yes? Starkiller, Atlas's rather unpopular vigilante?" At this, the crowd either cheered for Starkiller, or booed, yelling obscenities about the council and Jacques Schnee.
Whitley chuckled. "Before I say anything, I'll get one thing out of the way. I've never been one for long, eloquent speeches. I've always fashioned myself as a man of action, speaking through what I do, rather than what I say..." At this, Whitley paused. "...but I figured, since you all are here, it would be a disservice if I didn't say something."
Whitley continued onwards. "You began with nothing when I found you. When we found you. Now, you stand amidst the base you have created. Our group here, our alliance, grows every day. You have all come here, to build, to create, to fight, and I appreciate each and every one of you You all have done well…"
Whitley paused, taking a breath "…but we have much yet to accomplish. The Atlesian Council remains a threat to everything we have built. The White Fang continue to kill not only humans, but their own kind, further dragging down the progress of Faunus Rights, and that man over there..." Whitley pointed at the SDC Headquarters. "...will not hesitate until you are all labor, working in his death machine to fuel his shareholder's profits!" At this, the crowd roared, their hatred almost disorienting the young Sith. Despite this, he pushed on.
"We are surrounded by enemies, but not all hope is yet lost. We set out to fight the same battle our ancestors have fought in the past, but the outcome WILL be different, because WE are different. Like the most powerful of predators, we have grown, evolved, learned! You are not the same Faunus that Atlas has fought in the past! You are not the same humans whose revolts were crushed under Atlas's Military! No longer will we throw away the strength of the faunus! No longer will we ignore the wisdom of humans! The Free People of Atlas have held themselves back before, but no longer! Now, they will face the true strength of Atlas! Now, they will face YOU!" He roared into the microphone, a sudden energy grabbing him.
The crowd, once ready to tear at each other's throats, began to cheer themselves hoarse. Whitley shook his head in disbelief. He had done it. He had unified the divisive elements of his new power base. Amos came up, a proud smile adorned on his face.
"You did it, Whitley. You really fuckin did it. Fuckin hell. I haven't seen a group this energized in a long time. That speech was...I'm not gonna lie. It was a powerful speech, one all of Remnant should've heard broadcasted."
Whitley took a deep breath. "Glad you seem to think so. I had no idea what I was saying half the time. What do you think is going to happen, Amos?"
Amos shook his head. "No clue. Based on how many of your followers seem to be rushing to get things done and helping each other out, I have a feeling they're gonna get along much better now. Maybe our little movement here really could rival the Fang's, who knows?"
Whitley nodded, before a frown adorned his face. "Are you certain you'll be fine leading in my stead, Amos? I've waited a long time to go on my journey. I could stay back a little bi-"
Amos shook his head. "You've done enough for us already, Whitley. I promise you, we're gonna be fine. If anything bad happens, I'll give you a call. Just make sure to have that little disguise of yours ready. If they find out a Schnee is leading them…. It won't be pretty. I can at least leak out little snippets of data to the youngsters showing that someone close to Jacques Schnee is helping our cause, but it'll still take some time." At this, Amos and Whitley exited the small base. "So, guess this is goodbye, huh kid."
Whitley nodded. "Strange. For so many months now, I've dreamed of leaving this place. And yet, now...I have no wish to leave. It's funny, isn't it?"
Amos chuckled. "That's Atlas for ya, Whitley. Lures everyone in with the promise of opportunity, then shows them the harsh truth of reality. Never lets you go, this cursed Kingdom." Amos turned to Whitley, opening his arms. Whitley followed through, embracing the old man. "Remember, if you don't find out what you're looking for, or if the Free People of Atlas doesn't work out, well, you'll always have a place with me and my family."
Whitley chuckled. "Imagine that, a Schnee in a faunus household. Dear old dad would go mad, wouldn't he?" He let go, brushing away a few tears that had gathered in his eyes. "Goodbye, Amos. We will see each other again, I promise."
"Goodbye, kiddo."
At this, Whitley put on his large hooded robes. It was time. Time to leave Atlas, to begin his true training. Like Samael had done so millenia ago, Whitley would travel Remnant, learning all he could, seeking greater challenge to further his growth. As he walked away from Atlas, Whitley took in a deep breath.
He was finally free.