The Invincible Whitley Schnee

by Nacoma23

Whitley Schnee wanted respect, which is why he sought the family fortune. He lived only for himself, and never for others. A fatal trip to Anima changes everything. Trapped on the edge of an endless game, his teenaged life will never be the same. With armor of high-tech ammunition, he will fight the corruption of the world, and learn what it means to be a hero. He is Iron Man.

15. Cold Reception

The following is a non-profit, fan-made work of fiction. RWBY and Iron Man are the respective trademarked properties of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC and Marvel Entertainment, LLC. Please support their respective franchises and releases. This means I own jack, so don't sue me, it's all for fun. (And practice, I just wanna be a better writer.)

The Invincible Whitley Schnee

Chapter 13: Cold Reception

---

August 18th, 2008 KC

Mantle, Solitas

Mantle United Bank

2:40 AM

In Solitas, there is an old saying.

"The warmest days bring the coldest nights."

There were no better words to describe the current situation in Mantle.

Just days ago, the citizens of Mantle had awoken to a dream. For the first time in many months, the clouds had parted and the sun shone unobstructed upon their city, bringing cool temperatures and a cooler breeze. But the thing about dreams was that they were fleeting and always ended, allowing cold and unforgiving reality to return with a vengeance. For the people of Mantle, reality's cruel vengeance had come in the form of the worst blizzard recorded yet this year. The strong Solitan winds blasted through the city, carrying the frozen tears of nature along for the ride. So strong and relentless was this artic assault that the city's climate control system couldn't melt the snow and ice quickly enough. For three days the winds howled and the snow fell, creating a winter nightmare out of the city. So thick was this snow shower that one can barely make out street lights, traffic lights, and lit neon business signs at night.

"Ugh, look at all that snow..."

And for one hapless security guard, the cold and biting weather seemed more like the hot and burning flames of hell. And he had to drive through it after his shift was over. Such driving conditions were terrible enough, but they were a nightmare for someone his age. With the amount of snow building up on the ground, he knew it wouldn't be until late morning, after the snow plows had done their work, when he can finally drive home. Of course, he'd also have to wait for his car to warm up.

The guard shuddered at the thought. If his car didn't warm up, it was more than likely he'll freeze to death behind the wheel.

With that depressing image seared into his mind, the middle-aged guard sighed and resigned himself to the mind-numbing task of patrolling the empty bank. Armed only with his trusty flashlight and handy taser, he walked through empty and foreboding halls, the only sounds to be heard being the fierce winds and his shoes tapping against an aged linoleum floor.

It was honestly nerve-wracking how lifeless these halls became during the night. By day, the bank was alive with the lively chatter and energy of employees and customers brave, discussing matters of business and monetary transactions. Now, these halls were deathly silent and dark as a dungeon, a cold chill in the air that nearly rivaled current conditions outside. With such an oppressive atmosphere, the guard felt like he had stumbled onto the set of a horror film. He knew that if he were a character in such a film, the long and creeping silence was slowly building up to a frightening scene.

SHREE-KIRSCH!

His musings were proven correct as the cackling static of the radio echoed through the air, with the guard jumping at the sudden noise. For a moment, he feared he'd have a heart attack. After that brief scare, the guard composed himself and checked his pulse. Once he was satisfied with his heartrate, he reached for his belt and pulled up the device that gave him such a fright. He brought the walkie to his mouth and pressed the button.

He spoke into the small radio, "What is it, Floyd?"

He had momentarily forgotten that he was not alone in the bank. The other presence within the building was his co-worker manning the security room, a rather obnoxious man by the name of Floyd, who replied via radio with his nasally voice, {Oh, I'm just checkin' in on ya, Potter.}

Taking a deep breath, Potter replied through gritted teeth, "I'm just fine. I'm done checking the second floor east corridor. I'm heading up to the third floor now."

{Alright-y then, I'll just keep watching these black-and-white screens, in my sweet spinning chair, with this nice hot cup of cocoa.} Floyd replied with a smug undertone in his voice.

Potter growled irritably, before he composed himself and calmly said, "Yeah, you do that; over and out."

He ended the transmission and returned the walkie to his belt, which attached with an audible click.

"Prick..." He growled insultingly. He flared his nostrils and spoke in an impression of his colleague, "Ooh, look at me, I can debug a computer, so obviously I have to be the one watching the monitors!"

His mood worse than ever, he stomped further down the hall toward the stairs.

His eyes darted from wall to wall, pausing momentarily to check behind every column as he made his toward the stairs. A minute passed before he found himself before the stairwell that led to the third floor. He took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for the arduous task of searching for nonexistent intruders. He exhaled and saw his warm breath, visible as a hazy wisp before disappearing into the increasingly cold air.

He stopped himself when he realized what he just saw.

That can't be right...

Suddenly, he heard a noise that sounded like chipping glass. That's when he felt the air drop in temperature, causing him to hug himself for warmth. Curious, he looked around, to see if a window had been left open. But that's when he saw something that chilled him to his core. On the window nearest to him, he watched as small ice crystal grew upon the cracking glass, before spreading beyond the frame and onto the wall. He looked at the next window and saw the same thing happening. This wasn't natural.

He pulled up his walkie and croaked out, "Floyd, there's something wrong here. Can you see anything on your end?"

All he received was silence, not even radio static. The frightened guard pressed the button again, "Floyd?"

As he waited for a reply, he realized that his walkie had become cold to the touch. He shined his flashlight onto the device, only for the cylindrical source of light to die. That's when he felt the cold breath of winter nipping at his entire body. Shivering and shaking, he shambled away from the stairs and started running toward the security office. In his haste to check on his co-worker, Potter neglected to check his surroundings. If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed that the ice had spread from the wall and onto the floor. He tried to make a break for it, only for his shoes to slide across the frozen, slippery floor, causing the man to fall with a terrified yelp. He watched in horror as the hallway froze over, becoming a nightmarish cavern of ice.

What the hell is happening! He fearfully thought.

He slowly stood up, careful not to slip again, and steadied himself. He would come to regret that choice.

BOOM!

A blast of debris and cold air knocked him back against the adjacent wall. When he opened his eyes, he saw a large hole in the adjacent wall, big enough for a minivan to pass through. The full force of nature stormed its way into the building, bringing freezing winds and heavy snow. But just when the guard thought things couldn't get weirder, he saw a group of shadowy figure rising from the ground, obscured by a bright white light. Thanks to the heavy snow, he wasn't able to make out any details on these silhouettes, which appeared to be standing on air to his eyes. The figures shuffled about and leapt through the hole and landed on the floor.

Unable to hear anything aside from the ringing in his ears, Potter watched in dumbfounded fear as the silhouetted intruders silently separated into groups, each of them bringing out instruments of varying design. A few of these items he thought resembled firearms, and the rest seemed to be lugging duffle bags. Soon, his hearing returned to him, and the first thing he heard was a rough and gravelly voice saying, "Remember, with all this snow, the pigs won't get here for an hour. The boss wants us out in twenty minutes, so move it or lose it, people!"

Grunts and words of acknowledgment filled the air, followed by the shuffling of feet as the now-identified robbers set out to complete whatever tasks were assigned to them. All Potter can do was watch all of this unfold. He was terrified beyond all reason. This wasn't some random stick-up or a run-of-the-mill gang. These people were trained, professional, and had the resources to infiltrate a bank in such an ostentatious manner. The fact they blew a hole into the second floor showed they had the equipment to do so.

And all he had was a taser. Obviously, the smart thing to do was to stay right where he was and do nothing. Unfortunately for him, doing nothing would cost him his job. And no job meant any money for him, his wife, their grandson, and their old schnauzer. Left with no other choice, Potter stood up on his shaky legs and pulled his taser out of its holster, aiming it at the few remaining robbers near the hole, who had finally taken notice of him. The taser was cold to the touch, but that did not deter him.

With a chittering voice, he called out, "S-s-s-top, I ha-v-v-v-e a t-t-taser and..."

Thanks to a combination of fear and shivering, the poor man's already shaking finger had accidently pulled the trigger. But nothing happened. Thanks to the extreme cold, the circuits and gears inside the small device had frozen, leaving him completely defenseless. Not that he had any chance.

"Oh, come on!" The guard cried, cursing his sudden shift in luck.

He dropped the taser, which shattered on the icy floor, and held his hands up in surrender. The robbers looked to each other unsurely, until they decided to shrug him off and continue on with their preparations. Despite his fear, the guard felt offended at being brushed off so easily like yesterday's dinner scraps. He made a move to confront him, only to notice a large shadow slowly emerge from behind the hole.

Unlike the robbers, this new presence filled him with a dread he never felt before. Only when the figure entered the bank did that dread transform into terror. What he saw was undoubtedly the largest person he had ever seen in his life. The shadowy figure was, by his guess, close to seven feet tall and very bulky, with strong arms and a hunchback. The figure was covered in what appeared to be very heavy-looking winter clothing, most likely a parka fitted to its size. While the figure's imposing figure was terrifying enough, it was the eyes that were truly haunting. They were glowing white orbs, with no visible irises or pupils, yet were somehow able to blink. The figure noticed the guard and raised one of its arms and aimed a colossal fist at him.

Suddenly, a bright light shone from within its sleeve. The last thing Potter heard was a strange whirring sound, followed by the feeling of a powerful force pushing on him, followed by extreme cold.

---

11:25 AM

Lacy Street, East Mantle

{That's right! This song goes out to mantle's new superhero, Iron Man, as requested by one loyal listener. Coming from the billboard top 10 of 2001, here's 'Hero" by PumperNickel! ENJOY!}

The sound of rattling drums was heard before being silenced by the hand of one Marrow Amin as he turned the car radio off. He'd rather drive in peace than listen to a PumperNickel song of all things; and this song that just so happened to be dedicated to a vigilante on public radio; a vigilante who hasn't been seen since the train incident, which was still under investigation.

He had better things to worry about than a so-called hero's popularity, which was growing exponentially. No, he had to stay focused on the road, the very icy and treacherous road that he was currently driving on; a road that was slick, slippery, and covered by an ever-growing blanket of snow. And of course there were the throngs of people walking on the sidewalks, ranging from delivery people to cops still on strike. And he just so happened to be transporting the most volatile, dangerous, and unpredictable cargo on the face of the planet; This cargo was commonly referred to as teenagers.

But most alarmingly of all, he had to ensure that Mr. Rhodes vintage car made it back in one piece. The Faunus huntsman adjusted the rearview mirror, trying to find a better view of the snow-covered road behind him. Within moments, he had the perfect view, granting him a glimpse at the snow, the people, and the dozens of cars stuck in traffic like him. But it also gave him a brief view of his passengers.

Sitting behind him was Flynt Coal. The young trumpeter had headphones in his ears, no doubt listening to some relaxing jazz, his eyes and attention squared solely on the opened book in his hands. The young hunter-in-training nodded his head every now and then, and occasionally turned a page. He was completely calm and ready for the long trip ahead of them.

Sitting behind the passenger seat was Neon Katt. The party girl had cat ear-shaped earphones clamped tightly onto her ears, eyes closed, humming softly to the pop song that was blasting into her ear drums. Her hands were in the air, drumming imaginary drums, all while keeping a steady beat. Her scroll was situated upon her lap, somehow staying in place despite the jerked and brief movements of the car.

Seated between the two was a disguised Whitley Schnee, the boy they had been tasked to protect. The young scion of the Schnee family had no earphones to speak of and like Flynt, had found something to be preoccupied with. Nestled within his hands was his Scroll, his thumbs tapping vigorously on the screen, oblivious to the world beyond his. His bespectacled eyes were wide as dinner plates, his face scrunched in intense concentration, and his mouth slightly fidgeting.

The only thing these teenagers shared was the fact that they were all dressed in appropriate winter clothing, each of their wardrobes coded to their exact tastes. Neon was decked out in a hot pink nylon jacket, with faded blue jeans, and a white beanie resembling a cat's face on her head, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Whitley was dressed modestly with a red hoodie and white jacket, with blue pants and black sneakers, with a tan overcoat over. Flynt was dressed in stylish cotton jacket and pants colored a very sublime grey, with black shoes, and his trademark fedora. Marrow was dressed in a finely pressed white coat, under which he wore a beige sweater and blue jeans. He dared not say he was also wearing his footie pajamas underneath those clothes. The pajamas were warm, snug, and practical, and he was proud of those facts.

But he didn't have time to gloat about that, nor did he to appraise their fashion choices. He returned his eyes to the road, leaving the three teenagers to their devices, literally and figuratively.

Neon opened her eyes and looked through the window. Outside there were cars stuck on this stretch of load like them, their drivers bored out of their minds like them. Beyond the cars, she saw people on the sidewalks. There were adults either walking about or sweeping snow away, and then there were the small children running around, playing in the snow, glad to be free from school. Such a sight brought a nostalgic smile to her face, as her mind flashed to memories of her own childhood. There was one memory in particular, where she was building a snowman with her dad, all while her baby brother napped comfortably in the arms of their watching mother...

The memory faded away, and her smile quickly fell into a frown. It had been a while since she remembered that day.

No, Neon, no, think happy thoughts! Clouds roll away, sunshine every day! She mentally chanted, chasing the depressing mood away.

This was not like the incident from weeks ago. This was the distant past she was remembering. She has moved on from her loss. She needed to focus on something else, something that can take her mind off of such unpleasant thoughts. She decided to instead focus on the falling snow. She watched as millions of snowflakes fell to the earth in an uncoordinated yet graceful dance through the wind, with some clinging to the cold glass of the car window. It was a vision of true beauty, a testament to the wonders of nature...

It was boring. She hated boring. She can't stand this silence any more.

As a social creature, she craved human interaction. It didn't matter what she was doing or whether she was at school, her dorm, or even at a club, so long as she can be part of the party. But who shall be the recipient of her attention? Marrow was driving the car and that struck him out as a potential conversationalist. Plus, he'd probably find some way to turn their talk into a long-winded lecture on the duties of being a hunter, or something of the like.

And so she shifted focus to her fellow teens. From what she saw, Flynt was totally engrossed in his book, paying no mind to anything besides the written text. She knew how much Flynt enjoys reading, to the point that it was an unspoken rule to not interrupt Flynt's reading time. So that struck him out as another candidate. Her eyes then fell on the Schnee, whose eyes were glued to his scroll, and his thumbs tapping wildly on the screen. He also had no earphones and wasn't behind the wheel of a moving vehicle.

Target acquired. She thought with an impish smile.

She leaned her head next to Whitley, her eyes on the ceiling, and a mischievous smile on face. She took a deep breath, dramatically sucking the air into her lungs, and... whispered into his ear, "hey, how you doin'?"

Whitley nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden noise. He lost his grip on his scroll, which he fumbled with, only for it to fall to the floor of the car with an unceremonious thud. He took a breath to calm himself and once he was, he turned his head to look at Neon, who had a wide innocent grin on her face. He asked the huntress-in-training through a strained smile, "Is there something you need, Ms. Katt?"

The skater replied, "Well, first, call me Neon, Ms. Katt sounds like a more respectable person. Second, yes, there is something I need. I need you to talk to me!"

The young man blinked, "So you interrupted important work so you can have some small talk?"

"Yep, that's what I did! Ooh, wait, did I just cut into the middle of important rich guy stuff? Or was it some of crazy science-y thing? Come on, what was it? You can tell me!" She asked with an excitedly curious gleam in her eyes.

"Uh... I was playing Begemmed," He replied, which caused her to deflate a bit. She was honestly expecting something more impressive. Whitley continued, "And I was close to beating my old record, but then you whispered into my ear and made me play hot potato with my scroll."

"Well... who needs a high score, when you just scored the highest honor of all?" She cheerfully spoke, "Which is a talk with yours truly! Aren't you excited?"

With a dull look, he flatly replied, "I'm positively shaking from anticipation."

"Of course you are! Why wouldn't you be?" She happily said, blind to the Schnee's sarcasm, and excitedly asked, "And we know so little about each other, so why don't we use this chance getting to know each other? If I 'm gonna be guarding you, then I gotta know the kind of person I'm protecting! Make me care for you as Whitley the person, not Whitley the mark! Ask me anything!"

Whitley sighed, knowing that he was gonna have a headache by the end of this car ride. Still, he'd rather talk with Neon than either Marrow or Flynt, as the former was currently driving. The latter party would have been more likely to toss in a few subtle insults into his speech, all while giving him a rather scornful attitude. He really wished he knew what Flynt's damage with him. He theorized it had something to do with his father, which wouldn't be surprising.

Left with no other choice, he asked the excitable skater, "Why don't you ask me something? You know, get a little back and forth started?" He suggested.

Inwardly, he thought, Besides, I've a feeling you'll be doing most of the talking.

Neon accepted the suggestion and promptly tapped her chin as she thought of a good question. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers, an indicator that she had found a good one to ask. She turned to the Schnee and asked, "Alright, first question, do you play any instruments?"

He nonchalantly replied, "I've learned to play a few, but I've fallen out of practice. I mostly play the piano now."

Even though I hate those damn things with a passion! He internally fumed.

His father had forced him to learn and his instructor was less than understanding with his mistakes. He still had phantom pains from whenever the ruler would strike his knuckles whenever he ever went off-key.

Neon hummed at that and said, "Piano, huh? A very classy, elegant, and respectful instrument... but not my cup of tea; I'm more of a drum gal myself, I really love making that beat, you know?"

"The drums, huh, you know, I wouldn't have taken you for the type." He replied in genuine surprise. "I'd have thought you were more of a guitar or bass type."

"You wouldn't be the first to say that." She said with a shrug. "Alright, we know a little more about each other, so why don't we keep this ball rolling? Okay, it's your turn to ask a question."

Whitley blinked and tapped a finger against his forehead as thought. He wanted to ask a question that wasn't too personal or too vague; something benign and innocent, rather than mean and offensive. Should he ask about why her tail was pink? No, that was too personal and maybe a little insensitive. Dare he ask why she became a huntress? Again, way too personal, and he felt they weren't on that kind of level yet. Maybe he can inquire as to what she considered to be her best traits? No, this was a casual conversation, not a job interview. Dozens of possible questions passed through his mind, each one more disappointing than the last. He just can't think of a good question to ask.

So consumed he was with his mental quest for questions that he lost passage of time. Neon stared strangely at the boy as he just sat there quietly, his finger tapping his forehead, his brow scrunched in deep thought. After a whole minute had passed, she decided to tap his shoulder, which broke the boy from his thoughts.

"Uh... what are you doing?" She asked, slightly concerned for the young man.

Whitley flushed in embarrassment and said, "I was trying to think of a good question, okay?"

Neon blinked and asked with a serious tone, "You have no idea how to talk to people, don't you?"

"Not out of my immediate circle of friends, no." He answered in shame. "A circle that happens to consist of five adults, two people my age, a little girl, and a very obnoxious lay-about who loves to watch cat videos. As you can imagine, I have very little social experience when it comes to people my own age."

She raised an eyebrow, "Okay, definitely got a lot to unpack there. But let's just focus on the whole social life thing for now, okay? I won't pretend I get what it's like to be a rich kid, but I do know what it feels like to be out of your element."

He was genuinely surprised to hear that, "You being out of your element? In the time I've known you, you've been nothing but forward and confident... loudly, at that."

"Well, I wasn't always the beautiful social butterfly you see before you," She gave him an encouraging smile, "I used to be a shy, little introverted caterpillar too. I was nervous, jittery, and scared of just about everything. But after a while, I made some real friends, and they helped break me out of my cocoon."

"So what, am I like in a cocoon or something?" Whitley asked, trying not to focus on the irony of that statement.

"Definitely, but given time, you're gonna have some beautiful wings and I, and maybe Flynt, will help you get them." She told the young man. "So, while I'll be protecting you, you'll learn everything there is to know about being the true life of the party from me! Marrow will help too! Isn't that right, Marrow?"

The specialist, who had barely been paying attention, offhandedly replied, "Uh, yeah, sure, cocoons and parties, sounds great... Pick a lane, asshole!"

She let out a nervous chuckle, "Heh-heh... Well, I didn't hear him say no. What do you say, Whitley?"

The young Schnee, for the life of him, was stunned by his bodyguard's offer. Nor did he expect such a deep, insightful, and overall speech from her. He took her for a bit of a ditz, one that probably had some form of undiagnosed ADHD. Some people were full of surprises. In the week since they've met, she was actually quite nice to him, in spite of knowing who he was, who his father was, and what his family's company has done to the Faunus community. But Yinsen had taught him not to judge people based on appearances, but by how they treat others. He still had a lot to learn apparently. And this girl was offering to be one of his teachers.

Who was he to refuse?

"I would... like that very much, Ms. Katt." He answered with a small smile.

Neon gave him a catty grin and said, "I knew you would! Also, it's Neon, please! You can't be so formal all the time, just relax a bit."

"Right, sorry, Neon, I'll try and get it right. Anyway, do you want to keep talking? To be honest, I'm kind of getting invested in this conversation. I never had a discussion with someone as lively as you."

"Well, then those talks must have bored you out of your mind." She spoke. "And just so you know, I like to put my all into everything I do, so try not to get overwhelmed, okay?"

"I'll try and keep up." He promised. "We still got a ways to go, so what else do you want to talk about?"

"Well, I want to hear more about small circle of friends you have." She asked, "I imagine they'd have to be incredible to get in the good graces of a Schnee."

"You have no idea. Well, first there's Klein, he's the family butler, but he's more like a fun uncle. Oh, and there's Pepper, my godmother, and you're going to love her."

As Whitley began to tell his new acquaintance about the people closest to him, he started to feel a bit of life return to him. For the past four days, his life had become an exercise in patience and endurance. After Rhodey had forbade him from being Iron Man, he had started to suffer the nightmares again, which affected his sleep. Of course, being denied the right to wear his armor was nothing compared to what he had learned days ago.

While Rhodey was most certainly against the idea of him using the armor again, he did relent in helping him return it to the Forge. Of course, having the armor in his apartment was going to raise a lot of questions should Marrow see it. That and Whitley had to run a very important test on the Arc Reactor. And what he learned was frightening. He can still remember that night as though it were yesterday...

"Right here should be good." Whitley told Rhodey.

The man moved to place the cardboard box, the last of five, onto the floor, careful as to not disturb the contents within. He was not as careful as he hoped, for when he had nearly lowered himself; he lost his grip on the box, which fell to the floor roughly on its side, jostling the contents within. One of these items let out an annoyed, "Hey, I freakin' felt that, ya jerk!"

Rhodey immediately apologized, "Sorry, V.I.C."

Whitley quickly moved over to their position, and shoved the box into its proper place. He then cut through the tape with his spare set of house keys and opened the box, revealing the helmet staring up at him, lying atop the chest plate. The cyan colored optics flared as the AI complained, "I wanted the helmet in that comfy-looking basket, but no, you just had to put it on top of the chest plate. Do you know how annoying it was listening to metal scraping against metal in here? And don't get me started on the darkness... so much darkness..."

"Okay, one, you've spent most of your life inside a computer, so why are you complaining? Second, you could have turned the audio receptors off. Third, you don't feel pain, so why shout at Rhodey?" The boy asked the irritable AI.

The living computer was silent for a moment before it said, "Okay, I just wanted to mess with him. He deserves it in my opinion, making you give up on the armor like that. I mean, we did good out there, boss, so why hide Iron Man away like some kind of dirty little secret?"

Rhodey irritably snapped at the machine, "Because it's dangerous!"

"I think you're confusing dangerous for AWESOME!" V.I.C. retorted.

"V, stop it, Rhodey was kind enough to drive us here. Cut him some slack!" Whitley scolded the computer.

"I don't wanna!" The computer childishly whined.

"I can always mute you, you know?" His creator reminded him.

The helmet's lights dimmed and V.I.C. meekly replied, "I'm good..."

"That's a good program. Now, Rhodey," Whitley looked to the man, "I need to run some tests- of the non-vigilante type- while we're here. I need to know why the reactor is losing energy so quickly."

With helmet in hand and a slight limp in his right leg, the boy made his way over to the table near the computer, where he had placed his laptop. He had yet to restore the more powerful computer. He placed the helmet down next to the laptop, which he booted up. He pulled out an adaptor cord, plugging one end into the computer and the other into the helmet. The helmet's optics flickered as it linked up with the portable computer, only to cease once the connection was made. Immediately, data from the suit's operating system displayed itself on the laptop's monitor, which the young genius began to peruse.

As he began his tests, Rhodey called to him, "You know, you didn't thank me for treating your knee."

"And I'm grateful, Rhodey, I really am... But right now, I have more important things to worry about than my injured knee." He offhandedly replied, his attention solely on his laptop.

He heard his guardian let out an annoyed grumble before walking off, no doubt to inspect his grandmother's underground workshop. Minutes passed by as he combed through piles of data, all in search of a specific set relating to the reactor. Soon, he found what he was looking for: Arc Reactor Energy Output Readings and Diagnostics. He pressed on the link, allowing a chart to appear on the screen, one with a timeline that detailed the times in which the reactor's energy was nearly spent, starting from when he began building the suit.

And so he read off the collected data. For the first week, nothing was out of the ordinary, with the reactor being charged every three days, as was required. The second week, there was a slight increase in how much energy he used, but there was still a three day battery life. Upon the third week, he saw how the reactor was starting to expend energy more quickly with the first use of the suit, which was expected. But then he noticed that the reactor was not charging up as quickly as before, with a two hour charge having become four hours. Finally, he saw the data from his last recharge, which occurred after the train incident, and saw that the reactor had been charging for an hour while he was unconscious. Unfortunately, the reactor had been charged up to twenty percent by the time he woke up.

This was not a good sign.

"Hmmm... just what might be the problem?" The boy asked himself, concerned by the sudden decline in the device's performance.

It could be a number of things. Faulty wiring, a crack in the lens, maybe even defective parts. It wasn't like he had cutting edge technology with him when he built the reactor. He was trapped in a cave, with only a doctor for an assistant, and he had to use inferior materials...

Wait... Inferior materials... The boy had an epiphany.

He had built the Arc Reactor in a cave, with boxes of scrap metal. The device was a prototype, one that wasn't built to last long, let alone function after a few weeks. It was finally starting to wear down from use, and the suit had accelerated its deterioration. He should have realized this sooner. If he had, he could have prevented so many problems. He had to build a new reactor, one that was refined and built with superior materials. But the problem with this new project was that he lacked an assistant to aid in its development. Yinsen had been an integral part of the project, utilizing years of medical experience and his own theories in developing the reactor. But the man was dead now, rest his spirit, and he was alone.

Where can he find someone to help him?

The better question was can he get help?

If he tried to reach out to someone, it might risk exposing him as Iron Man. There have been many people that bore witness to his heroics, and it was likely that a good number of them had recorded him. For all he knew, there were probably dozens of videos featuring his armor, and possibly had a good view of the reactor. All it took was one look at his bare chest and a comparison to Iron Man's and people will connect the dots. And once said dots were connected, he'll be thrown into jail faster than he can say, "Not guilty."

For the first time since he was captured, the youngest Schnee lost all sense of hope. His head lowered in defeat and he buried his face in his hands. If he didn't build a new reactor, he will die. If he built a new reactor, he might be outed and sent to jail. It was a real catch-22.

While grappling with the possibility of dying in prison, he didn't see Rhodey approach him. The man, who had taken notice of the boy's change in demeanor, asked in concern, "Are you alright, Whit?"

"What?" The young man asked unsurely.

"Do I go left or right here?" Marrow asked him.

Whitley looked over the driver's seat and saw that they were now at the intersection of Beech and Grail. He turned to Marrow and said, "Left, we go left."

The car jolted as Marrow made the requested turn. The teenagers felt their bodies shift slightly to the left, but stayed where they were. Flynt merely turned the page, still caught in the fictitious world he was reading about. Whitley retrieved his phone and pocketed it, intent on continuing his talk with Neon. Neon did nothing as she waited for the Schnee to resume speaking.

"So, anyway, I was about to start on... you know what, I don't think I'll tell you about these three." Whitley told the girl, who pouted. "We're going to meet them soon enough."

Neon confusingly asked, "Who?"

---

Pepper Potts looked over the document one last time. For the past few hours, she had been stuck sorting through proposals, memos, and the occasional hate mail for her boss, Jacques Schnee. Usually she would be doing this task in her own office, but the recent blizzard had forced her to perform her duties from home, specifically at the dinner table. Of course, she knew that the terrible weather was part of life in Mantle. She knew what she was signing up for her when she moved back to the city. In fact, she actually preferred living there to Atlas. She'd rather handle a snowstorm than the cloud of hot air that radiated out of most of Atlas' population.

Of course, the fact that she was able to move back into her childhood home played a substantial part in her decision. She was glad she had the foresight not to put the property up for sale after her parents willed it to her upon their deaths. The luxurious and modern penthouse she and Happy had lived in was nice, but it was nothing compared to the modest townhouse where she spent much of her formative years. The halls of this building were filled with many a wonderful memory, from her first steps to the days she did her laundry while in college. It was where she learned to be the woman she was today, and it was the place where she and her friends, Willow and Rhodey, were able to sit back and just be kids. This was home to her.

"Pepper, look at this!" a young child's voice cried exuberantly.

The woman giggled at the excitable exclamation. This was not only a home to her. Now, it was one to her fiancée and the little girl they had adopted. Ever since she came into their lives, the young Faunus had become a welcome addition to their burgeoning family. When she first arrived in Solitas, she was a frightened, nervous, and shy little thing, her young mind still reeling from the trauma of losing her whole family, with the burns on her arms serving as a physical reminder. In three weeks, after some consoling and nurturing from her new caregivers, the little was slowly but surely healing. Since then, Toni has shown herself to be quite the precocious child, being highly curious, intelligent, and eager to learn more about her new home. Pepper swore that even if Whitley had asked her to adopt the girl, she would have done it anyway.

She placed the documents back in her suitcase and rose from her chair. She walked into the living room, to see what the fuss was all about. The instant she entered, she found herself smiling at the sight before her. Toni, dressed in blue pajamas, was sitting on the floor, clapped her hands and giggled as she watched a scene that seemed right out of a fairy tale. Spinning slowly on the floor before the girl was an ethereal white glyph, one that resembled a snowflake bordered by a circle. In the center of this glyph, two figures danced across the surface of the snowflake, their movements fluid and graceful. Kneeling next to the little girl, with her palm thrust forward, was Winter Schnee, her hair done up in its trademark bun, dressed in a white sweater and black jeans. The eldest of the Schnee offspring smiled at Toni's reactions to her semblance.

It was honestly surprising that the young woman had decided to bunk with them during her stay in Mantle. She apparently had been given a classified mission, one that entailed having to spend time in the city. Of course, she had little time to find an apartment to serve as her base of operations, so she asked her godmother if there was an extra room in her home. Pepper welcomed her with open arms, as did Happy, but she can admit to feeling weary having the specialist near her newly adopted daughter.

Her fears proved to be unfounded as Winter had taken a shine to the little girl, going as far to display a softer side to her rather stern and frigid personality. The eldest Schnee, when she had the time, played with the little girl and entertained her with stories and her semblance. Toni, for her part, was starting to the woman as a surrogate aunt or sister figure, even going as far to give her the rather adorable nickname, "Winnie". Pepper could've sworn she saw the specialist practically squee when she heard of it.

Honestly, who would've thought Winter, of all people, can act so maternal? Pepper thought to herself, still in shock about the fact.

The light show faded and an excited Toni cheered, "Again, Winnie, again!"

The ex-heiress smiled and said, "All right, one more time. How about I try an animal this time? It can be whatever you want."

The little girl exclaimed, "Wabbit!"

With a small chuckle, the specialist nodded at the request. She flexed her hand and activated her semblance again. She focused her mind and breathed, the image of an adorable rabbit forming in her mind. Once she had a clear picture in her head, she willed her thought into the glyph, willing it to conjure an adorable, icy critter to entertain the child. From the center of the snowflake, a light shone, followed by a small head with two long and fully erect ears poking its head from a non-existent hole. The spectral rabbit leapt out from its imaginary hole and landed on all fours, sniffling its little button nose and looking up at the two females in curiosity. Toni squealed at the sight and watched in delight as the critter started scampering about the circle.

Pepper was glad she had been pulled away from her work to see this. To see Toni actually smile and have a good time was worth more than all the Dust in the world. And she knew that the girl's mood was going to get even better once she saw who was visiting.

She looked at the clock and thought, which should be any minute now... if the weather let's up, of course.

She turned to her goddaughter and said, "Winter, I need to finish some important work at the table. Can you help Toni get ready for the snow?"

"I'm going outside?" The child asked, excited to be out in the snow for the first time.

Winter smiled, "Of course, Pepper. Come on, Toni; let's get you into some warmer clothes."

"Yippee!" Toni cheered in delight.

The girl immediately shot to her feet and started climbing the stairs, albeit at a slow pace. She had yet to master the art of stair walking.

Pepper nodded thankfully at the eldest Schnee and returned to the dining room. Now alone in the living room, Winter was free to think about her current circumstances. When she had received her newest assignment from the general, she thought it the perfect chance to make up for losing the mission to find the fugitive, Banner. She wondered how that mission was progressing with Blonsky as the commander, but those were questions for later.

Still, she can honestly say she was surprised in the past few days. She didn't imagine she'd be staying with her godmother and her family. In fact, she was prepared to rent out a small apartment for the duration of her stay, as she wanted to keep a low profile. But when she asked Pepper where she can stay, imagine her surprise when the woman told her she can stay in her old room. Since then, she has become a temporary resident of the Potts-Hogan Household.

As well as unofficial babysitter to young Toni Ho when off-duty; not that she minded, though. She honestly liked the little faunus girl, as she reminded her of what Weiss was like at that age. Like her little sister, Toni was a scared and timid little thing, but was also incredibly gifted and full of enthusiasm when she wanted to be. She was also aware that the poor girl had gone through a horrible tragedy that had left plenty of scars on her still developing psyche. While she may have never experienced the loss of her entire family, she knew all too well what it feels like to be completely powerless in a hopeless situation.

She shook in rage as memories of her time with Jacques flashed through her mind. She quickly shook those thought away, not wanting to lose her cool with Toni present. Especially since this was the girl's first experience playing the snow. That thought alone was enough to bring up memories of better times. She remembered the moments when She would take Weiss and Whitley outside to play in the snow, having snowball fights and building snow forts or people. Those moments were a welcome respite from the nightmare that was their home life.

A shame they didn't last long. She thought with a bitter sadness.

After their grandmother had died, she had already been on the path to becoming a specialist, leaving her with little to no time with her siblings. But when Weiss chose to become a huntress, she had her full support and she'd help her train. Whitley, however, had no intentions of becoming a warrior, focusing solely on building his mind. The trio began to drift apart after that. And she didn't like what had happened to her sister and brother.

Weiss, though skilled, has become arrogant and entitled, often flaunting her status as a Schnee to get whatever she wanted; and then there was her disdain for the Faunus, which was nurtured by their father. Whitley became bitter, cynical, and resentful of them, seeing them less as sisters and more as obstacles to obtaining father's favor. And from what Pepper told her, he was close to becoming another Jacques Schnee in the making. Winter was ashamed to know that her negligence played a big part in how they've developed.

She can only hope that spending time at Beacon will force her sister to grow up and forsake their father's beliefs on the Faunus.

But Whitley, on the other hand, was another story altogether. She honestly didn't know what to expect from her brother, especially given what had happened to him. Would his capture had hardened him to becoming more like their father or did it steer him onto another and more dangerous path?

She supposed she'll have her answer the next time she saw him, whenever that will be.

Ding-dong!

Winter blinked upon hearing the doorbell ring. Who would come all the way here in this weather?

"Pepper, someone's at the door!" She called out to the older woman. "I'll go and see who it is."

"Thank you, Winter!"

The Specialist moved toward the front door, her footsteps muffled by the carpet and her socks. As she neared the door, she wondered as to who their guests might be. Pepper had told her they were expecting visitors, but had neglected to share their identities. But as a respectful guest, she too will be welcoming and polite to whoever came to her godmother's doorstep. Now standing before the door, she opened it.

"Hello, welcome to- Corporal Amin...?" She spoke, more in disbelief than in surprise.

Marrow was just as surprised to see his superior. He quickly straightened his posture and saluted, "Major Schnee, Corporal Marrow Amin, reporting for duty!"

She stared blandly at the man and said, "I know who you are, Marrow. I was a year above you at the academy... and will you please stop saluting, people are staring."

She stared past the still-saluting man, who immediately turned his head to where her sight was directed. Standing in the snow on the sidewalk were a few curious pedestrians, who had stopped in their tracks at the man's sudden declaration and watched him with curious eyes. Upon realizing that he caused a scene, Marrow's face burned up in embarrassment, becoming as red as a fire engine.

He quickly lowered his arm and muttered, "Sorry... "

"It's quite alright, Corporal. I didn't expect to see you so soon after our briefing with the general. So pardon my bluntness, but might I ask what're you doing here? Are you not supposed to be guarding my brother?" The woman inquired.

"Well, I'm doing my job. In fact, said job is why I've driven here." He replied. "And I brought a few tagalongs with me."

"And where might they be?"

"Still in the car, waiting for the signal to come out," Marrow turned around and pointed to the silver car parked on the curb.

Winter watched as her underclassman waved at the car, signaling the occupants within to exit the vehicle. The passenger car doors opened and Winter beheld three figures exiting the parked vehicle. The trio moved away from the car and toward the apartment, giving her a better look at them. Of the three, she recognized two as the students the general assigned as her brother's protection detail. But the identity of the third person was unknown to her, as their head was lowered, obstructing their face from her view. Once the three had gathered behind Marrow, the figure's head rose, giving her a look at their face. She noticed that the stranger, whom she identified as undoubtedly male, had facial features that were quite familiar to her. She recognized his cheek bones and the shapes of his eyes as being similar to her mother.

Realization dawned on her and she nearly gaped in shock.

She asked the stranger unsurely, "Whitley?"

The stranger sighed and gave an unenthusiastic wave, "Hi, Winter."

Before Winter could reply, she felt a small weight press against her leg. She looked down and saw little Toni peeking up at the visitors from behind her leg. The child's eyes stared intently at the disguised heir, trying to ascertain his identity. Her scrunched-up face, however, was found to be far too adorable to be taken seriously.

The undercover genius chuckled and greeted the child, "How's it going, short stack?"

The girl's lit up in recognition and she shouted in joy, "Witty!"

Winter raised an eyebrow and thought confusedly, Witty, Short Stack?

Toni ran past her and grasped the sleeve of her brother's jacket. The little girl tugged on the sleeve, trying to get the boy to come into the house. Whitley smiled and stepped through the open doorway past his still shocked older sister, all while his entourage watched the scene unfold in equal befuddlement. A moment passed as they processed the recent display, completely astounded by the fact that Whitley Schnee, of all people, was being kind to a Faunus child.

Winter, for the life of her, was beyond shocked that her little brother, whose beliefs had been influenced by their father, would treat Toni with such kindness. She'd go as far to say that the boy acted like a big brother to the little girl. Marrow had not expected to see his young charge acting so cordial to a young Faunus. He and the youngest Schnee get along for the most part, but he assumed the boy simultaneously tolerated and resented being in his presence, as most high-class Atlesians do, sans Major Schnee.

Flynt, having spent much of the car ride in silence and ignoring the Schnee, was honestly flabbergasted by what he saw. Schnees were supposed to be arrogant, obnoxious, and bigoted toward all Faunus, yet Whitley acted nothing like that toward the child.

He voiced his confusion, "Okay... what was that?"

Neon spoke unsurely, "I don't know..."

Her hushed tone turned loud and gleeful as she cooed, "But it was sooo cuuute!"

The girl immediately entered the house, all while still babbling on and on at the adorable display of pseudo-sibling affection. Flynt looked to Marrow, and he at him, before both shrugged and walked through the open doorway, leaving Winter alone. The specialist, though still confused by her brother's behavior, promptly closed the door behind her, shutting out the icy cold winds of Solitas.

---

"They're here, open 'er up!"

Grinding gears echoed through the warehouse as a garage door lifted up. As the door rose, a blast of arctic air rushed through the building, bringing with it the frozen tears of nature. The people within the structure were prepared, as they had donned heavy parkas and thermal clothing. Eventually, the door had lifted, and waiting on the other side of the opened passage was a white box truck, the back of its trailer facing the opened passageway. Printed on both sides of the trailer was a logo belonging to the Mantle Movers Company.

One of the people inside the warehouse stood behind the van in a position that let the driver see them, and moved their arms to navigate the vehicle inside. The sounds of snow being crunched, ice shattering, and the tires groaning were heard as the van slowly entered the warehouse in reverse. Moving backward, the signaler kept their arms up as they waved their fingers back and forth slowly, keeping the driver of the van from straying off track. Once the entirety of the trailer was inside, the door began to slide down, just as slowly as when it rose.

Soon, the nose of the van was behind the still closing garage door, which nearly came into close contact with the grille. The signaler ceased their movements and shouted, "Clear!"

The van immediately grinded to a halt and the engine shut off. Finally, the garage door closed, shrouding all within the warehouse in darkness. It didn't last long, as the floodlights hanging from the situation quickly switched on, illuminating the building so brightly that it was almost as clear as a Vacuoan day. With the area illuminated, all those within, whom were separated into teams, each one with a different role to play, stood ready to carry out their orders.

Someone shouted, "Alright, people, you know the drill! Standard disappearing act! Move it!"

Having been given the go-ahead, every team scrambled into action. Their movements were practiced, with an efficiency outpacing a well-oiled machine. One team hefting two ladders split into smaller groups, taking positions beside the sides of the trailer. They placed the ladders upon the concrete floor and pressed them against the large side panels of the trailer, allowing two men to climb up to the top of the container. These two men took out electric drills and began unscrewing the bolts on the trailer's frame, all while another pair took care of the bottom half. Little by little, the screws were removed, and the panels eventually loosened and fell to the stone cold floor, revealing hidden titanium-steel armor plating.

Another team took the fallen panels and lifted them away, to be replaced by new ones with different decals, as they had done before. A third team got to work to replacing the tires and hubcaps, all while changing the license plates, the speed of their work rivaling a professional racing crew. The final team, armed with sand blasters and pressurized paint dispensers, got to work repainting the chassis of the cab, its original snow white exterior slowly erased by the sand blasting before being covered under a thin coat of primer, which will in turn be painted over with a new color. All those present have done these tasks more times than they care to admit, and thus far, everything was running right on schedule.

As the clean-up crews worked, the door of the cargo container slid open, followed by an armor plated ramp folding down to the floor. From within the box came out 8 people, each heavily armed and dressed all in tactical black, their feet covered in metal-cleated boots; and they were all lugging heavy duffel bags. Within these bags were stacks of lien, accumulating to up to 800,000 in total; the spoils of a heist gone right. Despite the sounds of heavy machinery flooding the warehouse, the robbers were satisfied to hear the scant sound of plastic currency rattling within the bags.

To these people, there was no sound more enjoyable to hear.

As the last robber walked off of the ramp, he was approached by one of the team leaders, who asked, "Were there any problems?"

The robber took off his mask and smirked, "None at all. Hell, I'd say that was the most lucrative job yet."

"Glad to hear it," The worker said.

"Still... there was one thing that was different about this job." The robber spoke, warranting a questioning gaze from the worker. He continued, "The last few jobs, we were careful when it came to breaking into the banks. But the boss decided that wasn't going to cut it this time; didn't even say anything about it to us; just froze an entire wall and made a big hole, and then lifted us on an ice platform."

"Now, why would Gill do something like that?" Worker asked worriedly, concerned his boss' actions would draw the heat on them.

"Hell, if I know. But that's not even the tip of the iceberg, no pun intended." Robber went on, "Now, the bank had little security to begin with, and the current blizzard made it harder for most of the gaurds to show up. The only guys we found were an old man and an obnoxious dumbass on the cameras. They were hardly a threat... Gill, however, disagreed and did the unthinkable."

The worker's eyes widened in shock, "No... Are you telling me the boss killed the guards?"

"Dunno, didn't ask." Robber replied with a shrug. "Not that I cared in the slightest. Suffice to say, we left that bank taking nearly a million and leaving two human popsicles behind... and a letter for some reason."

Worker blinked, "A letter?"

"Yeah... when I asked Gill about the note, the only answer I got was this... 'It's an invitation'." Robber explained. "And when I asked about freezing the gaurds, well, apparently it was to 'send a message'."

Worker gawked incredulously, "A note? And who was the message for?"

"Now that's where things get really interesting." Robber grinned mischievously. "The letter was addressed to none other than that new 'superhero' everyone's talking about... Iron Man."

"And Gill wants to turn that glorified toaster into an icebox." Robber finished. He gave the worker a nod and walked off, eager to count how much money he'd been able to score.

The worker just stood there silently, in the middle of all that busywork, and wondered if their crew had finally bitten off more than they can chew. He had a feeling that their benefactors in the Tong were involved. But he was just a cleaner; he didn't have the luxury of openly questioning his betters. He promptly resumed his work.

But scrubbing the floor of the container did little to ease his anxieties.

He had a feeling that things were going to go south fast.

---

"And as you can see, we have a cold front moving in from the north, so expect this blizzard to last at least three to four more days; back to you, Cliff!" Whitley heard the meteorologist on screen say.

"Thanks, Ann. This is Cliff Hanner, remind-" The television was switched off.

"So, anyway, what brings you to our humble abode, Whitley?" Pepper asked, curious as to why the boy would visit in the middle of a snow storm.

The two were sitting at the dining room table, which she had cleared of paperwork, and discussing recent events over cups of hot cocoa. The boy took a sip of his cocoa and then spoke.

"Well, I did promise Toni that I would visit her whenever I can. I'm just upset it took me so long to make good on it."

"Well, I'm glad you decided to visit, it really made Toni's day seeing you." She told the young man.

Whitley smiled at that remark, "And it's great seeing her adjusting so well. You know, when you told me you were moving back to Mantle after taking her in, I was worried that it was going make her condition worse... well, never have I been so proud to have been wrong."

"Thanks, Whitley," She replied, "Still, it wasn't easy. We found a therapist easily, but everything else was a challenge. It was especially hard trying to find a good school, especially in a city like this. I had to run background checks on nearly every teacher and research every school's history, just so I wouldn't have to worry about Toni being harassed for being a Faunus."

"And the school you found, tell me, what's it like for?" He asked, albeit with some worry.

"Well, she does get bullied, sadly... but she's made some friends who've helping her, like these two girls in her class. I think their names are Kamala and Cammie." She told the boy, which calmed him down slightly.

He gave her a small smile, "That's good to hear... Anyway, I need to ask, but where's Happy?"

"Down in the basement, clearing some junk away. He's planning to turn it into his own gym." She answered with an amused smile. "You should see him before you leave."

"Oh, I will." He took another sip of his cocoa. "Still, there's one thing that's bugging me."

"And what would it be?" She asked.

"Why is Winter here?" He acidly asked, his voice carrying a suspicious tone.

Pepper knew their conversation was eventually going to lead to this. She was aware that the very idea of Winter staying in the household would be upsetting for him. She didn't even know what Winter's true feelings were on being in so close proximity to her little brother. There was also the fact that she didn't fully know why Winter was staying the city, and why she chose to stay with her godmother's family. This was a conversation between sibling, and the eldest one was currently preoccupied with Toni and their guests. But she was afraid of what would happen should the two siblings actually sit down and try to talk. Left without any better options, Pepper opted to tell the boy what she did know.

"Well, I don't know her reasons, but she'll be in Mantle for a while." She answered truthfully, "She called one day, asked if she can stay in the guest room, and has been here since."

"And you didn't bother to tell me, why?" The boy incredulously asked. "I mean, I can see her not sharing anything with me, but you Pepper, why keep this a secret?"

Because your sister asked me not to tell you, Pepper had wanted to say.

Instead, She replied, "I was afraid you were going to... overreact."

He snorted derisively, "Overreact, me? Pepper, I have been blown out of the sky, held captive by psychotic terrorists, and endured blistering desert heat. Compared to those things, learning about Winter is nothing. It's not even worth an annoyed grunt."

"So, you're not upset about her staying here?" She inquired.

"Oh, no, I am upset." He calmly replied, his anger not even registering on his face.

"It's just I, well... look, I haven't actually spoken to Winter in years. Sure, I saw here and there, but I've never actually talked to her about anything. Besides, she only cares about Weiss." Whitley pettily explained. It was only when he said his other sister's name did he realize what he just said.

He looked over at Pepper, who was watching him with a very concerned look. He immediately back-pedaled on his words and said, "I mean she only cares about Weiss' education! It's only natural that she would want to help our sister since they share the same goals. So, of course Weiss gets the attention, like she always does... I mean, uh..."

His voice trailed off as he tried to think of a good cover for his poorly chosen words. The skeptical look Pepper gave him was not helping matters. He couldn't help but marvel at the fact that each adult in his life (other than his parents) was trying to psychoanalyze him. He had problems, he can admit to that, but he wasn't comfortable discussing the inner machinations of his mind.

He took a deep breath and said, "Pepper, just say what you want to ask."

The redhead asked, "Do you hate your sister?"

The boy tightened the grip on his mug, the heat from the cocoa nearly burning his hand. He gave her his honest answer, "No. I don't hate Winter. I don't think I ever really did. It's just... complicated."

The woman said nothing as she waited for the boy to elucidate on his feelings. He continued, "I just don't think I'm ready to have her in my life, considering she spent so long staying out of it. I just... I'd prefer not to talk about it."

"Well, what do you want to talk about?" They heard a voice ask to their side.

Pepper and Whitley turn their heads to the speaker. Standing a few inches away from the table was Winter Schnee. The young woman gazed nervously at her little brother, whom looked upon her with a look that was equal parts surprised and suspicious. Pepper looked between the two siblings, wondering if she should exit the room, so as to give them some space to talk. She also marveled at the fact that the elder Schnee had approached them without even making a noise. She deduced it must be a Specialist thing.

But then a thought occurred to her, "Winter, who's watching Toni right now?"

"Corporal Amin and the students," The elder Schnee answered.

Pepper accepted the response. She looked between both siblings, whom were staring intently at each other. She knew right then and there that this was going to be a private conversation. She cleared her throat and said, "Well, I'm going to go check on her. Winter, you can have my seat. Whitley, it's great to see you."

She immediately exited the dining room, leaving the brother and sister alone. Winter took a seat adjacent to her brother, who continued to stare at her with a questioning glance. Many awkwardly silent minutes passed, as no words were shared between the two siblings.

They stared at each other, their minds searching for the right words to say. Winter, who had settled into projecting her typical stoic and stern demeanor, was inwardly nervous and afraid of speaking to her little brother. It had been years since she had to engage in prolonged conversation with the boy. Their typical interactions typically consisted of a curt but polite acknowledgment on her part and a polite yet condescending greeting from him, all while throwing in a subtle yet stinging insult at her. But that was the kind of behavior she expected from her brother.

But the person seated before her, she honestly didn't know what to expect. Despite the dyed black hair, contacts lenses, and fake glasses, she can see that he still was her flesh-and-blood brother. But it was more evident than now to her that the boy had changed. Gone was the lanky and thin stick of a boy, replaced by a fit and healthy young man who was still growing. This Whitley didn't carry a patronizing and superior air with him, but a confident and surprisingly mellow breeze. But she can still see that same glint in his eyes that screamed "I'm smarter and you know it". She honestly didn't expect that to change.

But still, the person sitting before may be her brother, but he was for all intents and purposes a stranger to her.

And she had no idea what to say to him. Wave after wave of possible questions crashed into her psyche. Should she ask about his health? Maybe she can inquire as to his plans now that he's safely back in Solitas? Perhaps she'd speak to him regarding his time in captivity? Will he ever forgive her for failing as a sister? There were so many questions, yet too little chances of one being the right one to lead with.

Whitley, on the other hand, had no such internal conflict. "Winter, why are you here?"

She blinked and asked, "I'm sorry, but when you ask that, do you mean to ask, why I am here in Mantle or why am I here in Pepper's home?"

"Well, I'm certainly not asking a deep philosophical question." He quipped, "But in all seriousness, why are you in Mantle, and here, of all places?"

"As to why I'm in Mantle, I'm afraid that's classified." She told him, her tone even and professional-sounding.

"Ah, so it is work related, why am I not surprised?" He rhetorically asked.

"As to why I'm staying with Pepper and Happy... well, I simply asked if they had an extra room and they said yes." She explained, though he was surprised that she referred to his longest serving bodyguard by nickname.

"Though I wasn't expecting a child to be staying with us," She said with a small smile, "But little Toni's precociousness has been a welcome respite from the utter monotony of military life. She's started to liken me to a big sister. It's actually quite adorable. Still, I never imagined Pepper would ever adopt."

"Yes... who'd have imagined." He remarked, wondering if Pepper had told his sister about the true circumstances behind Toni's adoption. Although it did warm his heart to hear that the little girl was starting to mend after her horrible trauma.

"However, I'm quite surprised to see you here, little brother." She began, "I was convinced Rhodey wouldn't let you out of his sight after your experiences."

You don't know the half of it. He mentally groaned, his pride still smarting after the man's decision to end his fledgling superhero career.

He replied, "Well, when you have three bodyguards, it tends put one's mind at ease. I'm more upset that I had to visit during a blizzard."

"Yes, dreadful that." She remarked, genuinely thankful that the storm hadn't posed a threat to him.

Silence settled between the two. Winter was pleased to have engaged in such a civil manner with brother, which calmed her nerves somewhat. But she still had one thing that she needed to say to him. She had held off on saying it to him for far too long, and waiting any longer was sure to strain their relationship further than it already has. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and said the two words she had wanted to speak for so long.

"I'm sorry."

Whitley blinked at those two words and confusedly asked, "Excuse me, what did you say?"

She repeated, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" He pressed further.

"I failed you, Whitley." She said with a sorrowful tone. "I failed as a sister to you, and for that I am truly sorry."

Whitley stared bewildered at his sister. For as far back as he can remember, Winter Schnee had never once admitted to having been in the wrong. Yet, he just heard her admit to failing him as a sibling, with a tone that was equal parts regretful and mournful. For a moment, he was pleased to hear those words. To him, they were the vindication behind everything he ever believed about his sister. She was wrong and he had been right all along. But it was only when she finally processed what she said did he feel a very uncomfortable feeling building up in him. The elation he felt evaporated, as long-buried resentment rose to the surface. This resentment was pumped by years of physical, emotional, and psychological abuse at the hands of their father and tainted by his horrid experiences in captivity, pressed under Vryolak and Savin's iron thumbs. He had experienced literal hell, and all she had to say was "sorry"?

He narrowed his eyes, "Is that all?"

"I'm sorry...?" She repeated, though she was more confused than pleading.

"I mean, what's there to be sorry about?" He said with slight irritation. "More specifically, what do you have to be so sorry about? You've never beaten or insulted me, or try to manipulate me like Father? You didn't spend every day drunk out of your mind and neglected me, like what mother? You never ignored, belittled, or held me in contempt like Weiss did? You were never even there. What exactly do you have to be sorry when you weren't even in my life?"

"That's what I'm apologizing for. I'm sorry I didn't even consider taking the time to be a sister to you." She clarified, a bit put off by the rejection of her apology.

"A little too late for that, don't you think?" He retorted, "After I returned to Atlas, did you even bother to check in on me? No, I had to wade through a sea of soldiers, doctors, reporters, and father. Three weeks passed and not a single peep from you? I mean I expected Weiss to not say anything. Hell, I doubt she even knows what happened. And even if she did, she would've cried crocodile tears just to earn sympathy points with the media. But from you, I heard nothing, nada, zilch... and the sad fact is that I expected better of you. "

"I was under strict orders not to contact you." She replied, getting a bit defensive with her words. "Orders are orders and I have to follow them, no matter how much I disagree with them."

"Spoken like a good little robot." He spoke insultingly. "Always trying to please anyone who presses your buttons. But then again, I wouldn't expect anything less of you."

At that last remark, Winter felt a jolt of anger course through her. "What are you implying?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He patronized, his own anger starting to build up.

Both siblings felt that the air was getting cold. Winter, who had sought to make amends, was now being insulted by her little brother. She honestly didn't know why she was surprised. Whitley, who had come to visit the Potts-Hogan household, was not expecting his oldest sister to be bunking within said domicile. Nor did he expect the sister who had been a non-presence in his life to just suddenly want to bury the hatchet with some apology that he considered to be "half-assed". And he was not going to stop with his insults.

"But if you want a more specific answer, then I'll give you one." He spoke with barely contained malice. "Winter, you're a follower. You don't think for yourself, you just relegate your decisions to someone else. Why, you may ask? Because you're afraid to take responsibility for your own actions."

"That's not true..." She forced out through gritting teeth.

"No, it is!" He argued, raising his voice. "The only decision you ever made that was truly yours was when you left for the academy. Since then, you've relied on other people to make your choices for you. Nobody told you to come back to the manor, so you never did. Not a single person ordered you to check in on us, and you didn't even bother to ask. Well, except Weiss whenever she asked you to help her train. When she called, you always dropped everything and sped on your way to her, and never thought to see your baby brother!"

"Oh, don't act like you're guiltless!" Winter fired back. "You never asked anything of me! You kept to yourself, locked everyone out of your life, and acted like everything was going your way! After that horrible birthday party, you stopped talking to us!"

"Weiss slapped my present right out of my hands!" He snapped. "I spent weeks trying to make it perfect, and it took only seconds to smash it, all because Weiss didn't get her way!"

"She wasn't in the mood! You should have just let her be!"

"I was EIGHT!" He furiously yelled, "Name at least one kid with a fully developed understanding of social behavior at that age! How was I supposed to know that trying to push a present on an inconsolable girl was the wrong thing to do?!"

"She was crying her heart out, Whitley!" She argued.

"And I only wanted to help her!" He countered. "And she slapped that helping hand away, along with that snow globe I made for her! And what did you do, you didn't ask how I felt, you just chased after Weiss and left me to pick up the pieces, literally!"

"I wasn't thinking! If you had been there throughout the whole argument, you'd understand!" She argued.

"I understand plenty!" He shouted, "I understand that my sisters, who were supposed to protect me, abandoned me to the mercy of a cruel, uncaring man!"

Her anger having finally crossed the threshold, Winter viciously snapped, "A cruel, uncaring man that you spent nearly half of your childhood trying to emulate, and from what I've seen thus far, you're turning out to be another Jacques Schnee in the making!"

And just like that, whatever measure of restraint Whitley had on his anger shattered like glass. He shot out of his chair, banged a fist on the table, and pointed an accusatory finger at his sister. With an animalistic sneer, he let out his thoughts.

"I am going to say this once... Don't. You. EVER! COMPARE ME TO HIM!"

Whatever semblance of civility between the siblings vanished as their argument quickly devolved into a full-out shouting match. Hurtful words were said, Insults were hurled, and accusations were made. Their shouting echoed through the townhouse, a cacophony of clashing voices and banging fists. So wrapped up they were in their little verbal spat that they didn't notice the small audience they accrued.

"Whitley, Winter... SETTLE DOWN NOW!" They heard a very stern and upset voice command.

The brother and sister immediately clammed up. They turned their heads to face the open doorway and saw, much to their embarrassment, the gathered crowd of spectators to their sibling squabble. Pepper stood at the forefront, her arms crossed and her eyes filled with disappointment. Happy, who had risen from the basement, looked at the two with a look of complete and utter bafflement. Marrow was frowning, his head shaking in disapproval. Flynt had a very cross and scolding look on his face, no doubt disappointed in the sibling's behavior. Neon was horrified, her hands placed over her mouth to contain the shocked gasp trying to escape from her mouth.

But it was Toni's reaction that truly broke their hearts. The little girl had tears in her eyes, distraught at having witnessed two of her favorite people treating the other so horribly. She then asked in a weak and scared voice, "Do you hate each other?"

Winter was at a loss for words. She honestly had no idea how to respond to that question. Whitley looked at his young ward with regret and guilt, and felt ashamed for how he had acted. He calmed himself and replied, "No, we were just having a... discussion."

"A very loud and hateful one, apparently." Flynt unconsciously remarked, earning a reproachful glance from Marrow and an elbow to the stomach from Neon.

"I can't believe you two would act like this!" Pepper scolded the siblings. "I expect this kind of behavior from children, but from you two? You both should be acting your age. Just what possessed you two to act so childish?"

"We... uh..." Winter tried to speak, only for her mind to draw blanks.

Whitley was no better, "We didn't mean... the thing is... well..."

"I don't want to hear it!" Pepper spoke harshly. "I thought you two could try acting somewhat civilly to each other, but I guess I expected too much. Well, if you both intend to act like children, then we'll treat like children."

She turned to Marrow, "Mr. Amin?"

"Yes, Ma'am." The specialist stood at attention.

"Would you be so kind as to escort Whitley back to Rhodey's?" She asked. "Until he learns to act like an adult, I think it would be best if he stayed there for a while."

"You're grounding me?" Whitley incredulously asked.

"That's right. I'll call Rhodey and tell him about your punishment." She turned her attention to Winter. "And as for you, young lady, you're going to be spending the rest of the week in your room. The only times you'll be out will be when you're doing your duties."

"You can't do that, Pepper! I'm twenty-two!" Winter argued, aghast that she too was being punished. "You can't ground a grown woman!"

"Well, I don't see one right now, so you're going to your room." She retorted before adding. "Of course, you're welcome to find accommodations elsewhere. Now move it!"

Winter stood there like a deer caught in headlights. She tried to muster the right counter to the older woman's argument, but found she couldn't. Left with no other choice, she nodded and went on her way to her room, not even sparing her brother or the others a look from shame. Whitley, not wanting to incur the wrath of Pepper Potts further, chose to obey the woman's demands and slowly made his way toward the living room door. As he trudged, he gave Toni an apologetic look. His guards followed suit, trailing behind him silently.

From what the three hunters can tell, the car ride back to Rhodey's apartment was not going to be an peaceful one.

---

"Hey, let's try and keep the volume low, people, I need to hear the TV!" Rhodey shouted over his customers.

His words went unheard as his customers continued to chat amongst themselves. The fact that he even had customers today was still a shock. He never imagined that there were some people who'd brave the elements just for the chance to sample his wears. But then again, his business had built a stellar reputation for having some of the best coffee in this part of Mantle. The taste of a warm, caffeinated beverage was a welcome respite from cold, bitter winter air. The addition of mouthwatering treats and savory sweets was also enticing.

He had planned on closing the cafe for today, but cancelled that plan when it became clear that people wanted to eat there. Of course, he wasn't going to let these people freeze outside either. When he founded Rocky Rhodes, he made a promise to be as accommodating as possible to his customers. And so he opened his doors to anyone who dared travel to his shop in such treacherous weather. He won't even charge them for the coffee and cocoa. He just didn't have it in him to take their money after what they had to experience.

It was a poor business plan, but he didn't care. He can make up for his lost profits next week. Still, he wished he wasn't doing this alone.

"Hey, can someone turn up the volume on the TV! Something's happening on the news!" One of his customers shouted.

Rhodey acknowledged the demand and moved to the flat screen TV on the wall. He reached out with his hand and held down on the volume control button. In an instant, the volume rose and the voice of the newscaster on air rose above those of his customers. One by one, they all ceased their conversations and looked toward the television, wondering what was being reported. Many of them hoped it would be about the blizzard and whether it will be ending soon.

What they heard next was not what they were expecting.

"Good Afternoon, this is Marty Leeks," The anchorman introduced himself. He resumed speaking, "broadcasting live from the Mantle Central News building. We have just received information that warrants a breaking news bulletin!"

Rhodey, along with his patrons, raised their collective eyebrows. Just what was so important as to make a report about during the afternoon?

"The Mantle United Bank's 9th district branch office was robbed in the dead of night. Bank employees have estimated that more than 800,000 in unmarked liens were taken. Authorities are on site at the scene of the crime, where our very own Nicolette Dimes is reporting live on the scene. Nicolette?" He asked as the screen transitioned to a shot of the building. Standing in heavily falling snow and in front of the camera was the reporter, dressed appropriately for the weather, the mic next to her mouth as spoke.

"Thanks, Marty!" She shouted into the mic, in an attempt to speak over the gnashing winds. "Right behind me is the building in question! Authorities have secured a perimeter around the bank, but we're close enough to get a good look at the crime scene. As reported, it is confirmed that the building was robbed at some point between 2 and 3 AM, in the midst of some of the worst weather brought upon by this blizzard. While the brazen nature of this heist is strange enough, it was what the police found that has seen this case take a turn for the truly bizarre." She looked to the cameraman and motioned him to zoom in on a certain part of the bank. The cameraman acquiesced and zoomed in on the bank, the lens refocusing itself as an unbelieve sight came into view.

Rhodey and his customers were left flabbergasted by what they saw. The Reporter continued on, "As all of you at home can see, there is a large hole on the side of the building, located on the second floor. If one looks closely, it can be seen that the hole was not created using explosive materials, and that the edges of it are completely frozen! Not only this, but next to it, you can see what appears to be some kind of makeshift stairway, two floors high, that's made entirely of ice!"

Everyone within the café gasped at the sight seen on screen. Many of them were shocked beyond all belief, unable to voice their utter bewilderment at the strange scene. Rhodey, on the other hand, spoke the exact word that accurately represented their befuddlement.

"Wut?"

---

"No, seriously, what in the actual hell was all that about?" Marrow grilled the young Schnee.

"I don't want to talk about it." Whitley forcefully spoke, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"No, we need to talk about it!" Neon loudly interjected, taking Marrow's side on the debate.

For the last half-hour, the two hunters have been demanding that the young genius to explain his behavior at the Potts-Hogan home. The young man, despite their vocal protests, had no intention of sharing his feelings with them, or just about anyone. This did not deter them from pressing the issue, as they continually pestered him.

"Was everything you said true?"

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Should we get you a counselor?"

Whitley was close to blowing his top again. Their incessant inquiring, though well-intentioned, was the last thing he wanted right now. Just as he was about to voice his dissention again, he was cut off by Flynt, who had kept silent up until this point.

"Marrow, Neon, that's enough." He sternly told his partners, "If he says he doesn't wanna talk about it; then he doesn't wanna talk about it. Just lay off for a bit until we get back to Mr. Rhode's place."

The young man's words were able to sway their minds. Marrow chose to focus all of his attention on the road, and Neon decided to spend the rest of the trip gazing out the window. Whitley, shocked that the huntsman trainee had defended him, looked to the older boy. Flynt looked at him and gave a short but reassuring nod before bringing his book out, picking up from where left off. Once more enraptured by the fictional world in his hands, he didn't notice Whitley giving him a small, grateful smile.

The genius teen thought. Huh, I guess he isn't such a hard-ass after all...

Now freed from persistent questioning, the boy relaxed and started thinking on his recent actions. He wondered, just where did all rage come from? He had thought he buried all resentment towards his sisters. But the moment he saw Winter, that long buried resentment began to crack through the surface like magma from a volcano. And when she had apologized, that psychological volcano erupted, a thick cloud of anger rising from it, sending chunks of boiling, hot rage onto his already shaken mindscape.

He had thought he was better than that. But no, he lost all control over his emotions, and lashed out like a child. He just couldn't figure out what came over him. He'd been in a foul mood already, what with the thought that might be dying, the lack of sleep, and the mentally distressing nightmares tormenting him nightly. He didn't think he would explode like had at his sister. But he did and now he was nothing but an arrogant brat in the eyes of Pepper, Happy, and his bodyguards. Toni probably hated his guts now.

He palmed his face and thought. Is there anything that can go my way today...

As the boy mentally lambasted himself, Marrow looked at him within the purview of the rearview mirror. The boy looked utterly defeated to him, as though all the life from had been drained. He felt like he should do something, but he didn't know what to do. Not that he could, considering he had the unenviable task of navigating the car through heavy traffic in the middle of a winter storm. But the oppressive atmosphere was starting to dampen his spirits and the kids' no doubt.

Maybe some tunes can lift the mood? He wondered.

He switched the radio on and turned the dial to find a good station.

" ⁓What is love, baby, don't hurt me⁓ "

He turned the dial.

" ⁓Move, get out the way, get out the way⁓ "

Once more, he twisted the dial.

"Again, we are looking at a stairway made of ice reaching up to the second story window."

"Wait, what?" He wondered aloud.

The three teenagers heard their older acquaintance's words and immediately turned their attention onto the radio announcer. Whitley wondered whether this some kind of prank or elaborate hoax, but he continued listening in case it might become more interesting. Along with his fellow teens, he listened as the broadcaster continued.

"Authorities are still investigating how this structure was made, but it has been confirmed that it served as the means by which the robbers entered the bank. This theory has been corroborated by the discovery of small punctures on the second floor carpet, which matches a certain brand of mountain climbing boots, ones with metal cleats."

Okay, my interest is piqued. He thought, intrigued by this news.

"Of course, they also had the statements of two guards, both of whom were on the graveyard shift. Floyd Pink, aged 21 years, and Potter Cotta, aged 58, were found together in the security room. Both guards had been discovered with the lower halves of their bodies frozen. Both men were taken to Western Heights Hospital to be treated for extreme hypothermia and a few minor injuries. Cotta, who had been near the hole which the robbers entered, gave a brief description of them, along with one he assumed to be their leader. Here is the audio of his statement."

The four young people listened as a taped recording played. Despite the quality of the audio, the old guard's words were clear as polished crystal.

"I-I d-d-didn't see a face, but it did have eyes. Two bright and horrifying white orbs devoid of any humanity... It was tall, maybe as large as a Berengal or a Beowolf standing on its hind legs, and it had these big fists, and it shot ice from, like, their wrists... so cold...!"

Whitley was shocked, to say the least. He looked to his fellow teens and saw that they too shared his feelings, but theirs were more controlled and subdued. It was almost like they had heard the same thing before. The radio broadcast returned to the newscaster.

"Mr. Cotta's description of this figure matches those from other bank robberies, of which there had been 8 up to this point. This tall, enigmatic figure, capable of firing powerful blasts of ice, is known to strike banks in the midst of terrible ice storms, which have hampered police responses and benefitted his escapes. This modus operandi has led to social media dubbing this mysterious criminal as quote, 'The Blizzard'."

How original... The genius couldn't help but thought derisively.

"What sets this latest heist by the Blizzard is the timing and manner by which he entered the building. The last few break-ins had happened in the early mornings, and typically far more subtle in how they infiltrated, prompting law enforcement to consider whether this is an escalation of his behavior. However, this sudden change in tactics is miniscule compared to what else was discovered. While robbing the bank blind, the Blizzard had strangely left a calling card behind in the form of a letter."

At this declaration, the young man was intrigued; A letter?

"And this letter was addressed to none other than the city's newest superhero, Iron Man!"

---

"Oh, shit..." Rhodey quietly swore upon hearing that sentence.

Behind, his customers erupted into energetic discussions regarding this sudden turn of events; a purported supervillain leaving a letter to a real-life superhero? It sounded like something that came from straight out of comics. And yet, they had just heard that exact same scenario had been invoked in reality. The creatures of Grimm and Hunters were one thing, but now this? They were understandably intrigued.

All except for Rhodey, who felt nothing but dread in his core.

He dreaded what were to happen if Whitley knew about this. He knew that the boy had not been all that enthused about being denied access to his armor, especially after what they had learned. He shuddered to think how the young man would react if he knew a criminal was essentially calling him out. He listened as the reporter continued,

"Our station has been able to obtain a copy of the letter. Strangely, there were instructions inside the envelope to air the transcript on air. Here is the letter in its entirety."

He watched as the screen switched to a blue screen with black text plastered across it. He listened as the reporter read the letter. "To the Iron Man, the self-appointed 'defender' of Solitas. If you are indeed a force for 'good', then you will do everything within your power to stop me. I have robbed banks and the police have failed to stop me. I have flouted the law and it has failed to stop me. You stopped a train and that's the best you can do? If you think yourself a hero, then why not try and beat this 'villain'. If you do, then follow these instructions.

The screen presented lines of numbers, ranging from ones to zeroes. Many of those watching the broadcast recognize them as binary codes. As to what the actual numbers were, they hadn't the slightest idea. Rhodey knew of only one person who'd go out of their way to decipher these codes. And he feared for their life.

He can't imagine Whitley would try anything after what they discovered days ago...

"Whitley, are you sure you're alright?" He asked the Schnee. "You look like you've just seen death itself."

The boy morosely, "I might as well be soon..."

He frowned and worriedly inquired, "Whitley, what did you see on the computer?"

"The reactor's failing... If I don't make a new one, I'll die." The boy admitted with a faraway look in his eyes.

The former pilot was at a loss for words. He honestly had no idea how to respond to such an emotional bombshell. His godson was dying, and the device the boy had built to save his own life was failing on him.

He cautiously asked, "Well, that's no problem at all, you'll just have to build a new one. I'm sure you can cobble something together-"

"It's not that simple, Rhodey." The genius cut him off. "This reactor was a two-person job. The man who helped me build it was a doctor, with decades of experience. Not only did he help build it, but he was the one who operated on me, and last I checked, you aren't a doctor."

Rhodey let out a deep, exasperated sigh. The boy spoke the truth. He was no doctor. The most medical experience he had was bandaging up his niece whenever she hurt herself. And he doubted that a Band-Aid was enough to fix this problem. And the man who had helped Whitley, whom he suspected this Yinsen the boy told him about, was dead and gone. He hadn't the slightest idea as to where they can find someone like that. If only he had been able to cultivate powerful connections amongst the impressively diverse customers that frequented his shop.

Wait a minute... That's exactly what I did! He remembered. Why he had forgotten that little tidbit he didn't know, but he glad to have recalled it.

"Actually, Whitley... I think I may know someone like that." He told the despondent youth, who looked up at him in surprise. "There's this man who comes to my shop. He's not a regular, but I've seen well enough to build a sort of familiarity with him. He's a brilliant doctor, as well as a renowned engineer. He actually helped once, a few years back."

He saw the boy's face lit up with hope before he asked, "Well, how great is he?"

With a smile, Rhodey bowed slightly and pulled up on his right pant leg. He watched as Whitley looked down and was immediately struck speechless by what he saw. Rhodey was not the least bit offended by the kid's stupefied stare. Contrary to what he had told most people, Rhodey had not escaped the Faunus War completely unscathed.

He had quite the horrific crash-landing that had cost him a leg, which had to be amputated at the knee. For the longest time, he had to rely on an antiquated and barely articulated wooden prosthesis. But then he met this one particular customer, who had generously supplied him a high-tech robotic replacement. The man had given it to him out of gratitude for his service and for the delicious coffee he served. Aside from Pepper, his niece, and most of his employees, he had not shown his prosthetic leg to anyone.

He now had to add Whitley to that list. He looked at the boy as he examined his leg. Oddly, the young man had lost his gloomy disposition the instant he saw the leg. Now, he seemed to be practically preening with excitement. He never had that kind of reaction before.

"Rhodey," Whitley cried out. "do you not what this is?"

"Well, it's attached to me, so I pretty damn well do." He couldn't help but blandly reply.

"No, you don't understand, this isn't some run-of-the-mill prosthesis!" The boy began, only to shout excitedly. "This is a genuine first generation Pietro Polendina creation... wait, you know THE Pietro Polendina! Rhodey, that man's one of my idols! He's the only other person besides my grandma who inspired me to become a scientist! Hell, I enrolled at ATI just because he went there! He's one of the most brilliant minds of our time, a true once-in-a-lifetime genius... and you serve him his coffee and treat it like it's not a big deal?!"

Wow... I didn't expect him to go full fanboy on me. The restaurateur marveled. He's honestly never seen this side to the boy.

"Well, he didn't want to make a big deal out of it." He explained to the excited teen. "Plus, I'd thought you'd be happy at just the prospect of him helping you!"

"Are you kidding me?!" The boy exclaimed, "I would've given my left kidney for just the chance to work with him! But you're telling me you've known him all this time and you never bothered to tell me? And he's charitable enough to help people without any thought of pay?! This is amazing, this is fantastic, this is..."

The boy froze and his words died in his mouth. For an instant, Rhodey thought the boy had suffered some kind of excitement induced aneurysm. His fears were unfounded as the boy slumped back in his chair. Sadly, the boy's glum disposition had returned.

"Too good to be true," He spoke in a resigned tone, "I'm all for him helping me. Trust me, I really am. But, Rhodey, tell me: can he be trusted? I can't just waltz into Dr. Polendina's office and expect him to help, no questions asked. Iron Man's image has been plastered all over the media for the last several hours, so people have probably seen the Arc Reactor. Just one look at my bare chest is enough for people to put two and two together."

"He can be trusted; I can tell you that much." Rhodey told his young charge. "Look, Whitley, you don't have much of a choice here. No matter how you try to spin this, getting Dr. Polendina's help is literally the only chance you have at saving your life. Now tell me, do you want to die right now? Or do you want to live?"
Silence settled between the two as the boy though it over. The fact that Whitley was even weighing his options was a point of concern for Rhodey, who was now more convinced than ever that the boy didn't hold much value in his own life. He can only guess as to what his mental state will be like now that he forbade from using the armor again. But he'd rather have Whitley living a long, peaceful life rather than a short, chaotic one. He has seen far too many Schnees die before their time and he refused to see another name added to the family mausoleum.

Eventually, the boy found his answer. "Alright, Rhodey, I accept. I don't know about Dr. Polendina, but I trust your judgment. If you trust then I can trust him."

The man let out a sigh of relief. "That's all I needed to hear. I'll call and set up an appointment with him. But for now, Let's just go back to the apartment."

"Fine," Whitley acquiesced, "On one condition, though."

"Which is?"

"Can you let me reassemble the armor?" The boy desperately pleaded, much to the man's consternation. "I know you won't let me use it again, but the idea of it being in pieces is just wrong in my opinion. That thing is my greatest work and it deserves to be in one piece. Can you give me that, at least?"

Rhodey stared skeptically at the young man, "How do I know this isn't some kind of trick? For all I know, you might be planning to run away using that suit."

"Where exactly can I go, Rhodey?" Whitley retorted. "Look, I've had a really messed-up day. After everything I just learned, I would appreciate if something went my way for once."

Rhodey was not convinced in the slightest. Seeing this, the teen placed his right hand over the reactor and raised his left, "I swear I will not use the armor to run away."

The boy facetiously asked, "Are you satisfied or do I need to have my promise submitted in writing?"

The older man groaned and rolled his eyes. "Fine, you can put it back together. As for me, I'm gonna get the car started up. I expect you to be there in an hour."

Satisfied, he walked away from the teenager, to leave him to his devices. He exited the large workshop and ascended up the stairs.

He would spend the better part of an hour in the car, waiting for his godson to return.

As he waited, he couldn't help but feel something was off.

Even then, he knew there was something off about Whitley's request. He had a feeling that the boy had a trick up his sleeve, but he reasoned that it was probably just his nerves grating on him. The armor was miles away, unpowered, and the boy had no way of traveling to its resting place. As far as he knew, the reactor was what powered the armor. Without its presence, it was basically a statue.

But he couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was going to happen.

Something that he was not prepared for.

He kept silent as the reporter ended their report.

---

Whitley reclined back in his seat after the news broadcast had finished its transmission. His mind reeled from the bombshell of an announcement that had been dropped on him. A criminal had just called him out on public broadcasting. Correction: this 'Blizzard' had called out Iron Man. Whitley grimaced as he recalled that Rhodey had forbade from donning the armor. But that was only the exterior.

Inwardly, however, he was raring for a fight. And he was more than prepared.

Never had he been so glad as to not tell Rhodey the armor can function without the reactor. This challenge may just be the pick-me-up he needed. As he relished in the joy brought upon by this opportunity, he failed to notice that his grimace had shifted into a smile.

And it was noticed by Neon, "Whitley, why are you smiling?"

The genius blinked, "Oh, I was. Oh, I'm just amazed to hear that a real-life superhero is going to fight a real supervillain. You know, like from the comics."

Nice save, Whitley. He mentally applauded himself.

"Okay... So, are you sure you don't want to talk about what happened back there?" She asked, concerned for the young man, "Are you getting enough sleep? Should we maybe stay at Rhodey's to keep watch over you?"

"To answer all of your questions: No, nope, and definitely not." He rudely replied.

"Hey, you don't have to get so snippy with me; I'm just trying to help." She scolded him, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"I don't need your help!" He snapped at her. "I don't need anyone's help. I've gone close to sixteen years without any, so why start getting any now?"

Neon let out an exasperated sigh, having given up on helping the troubled young man. She turned away from him and stared at the window. Whitley scoffed at her childishly display and rolled his eyes, oh so maturely. He looked to Marrow, who deigned not to give him an acknowledging glance. He looked to Flynt, whose headphones were jammed into his ears and his eyes scanning the text in the book. Now left alone to his thoughts, the young man began formulating a plan to sneak out from under Marrow and Rhodey's notice.

As he did so, he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for having been so mean to Neon.

He reckoned that beating the Blizzard might fix everything up.

At least, he believed so.

---

The thing about a Solitan night was that they were always colder than day. But that did not stop one stubborn teenager from locking himself indoors.

Whitley stood silently atop the roof of Rhodey's apartment, dressed in heavy winter clothes. The weather had not calmed, just as the meteorologists predicted. His tired arctic blue eyes were locked fully on the night sky, searching through the thick pockets of falling snow for the tell-tale blue light of Arc Reactor powered afterburners.

Seconds turned into minutes as he watched the skies. The heavy and thick clouds kept him from watching the stars, robbing him of a much needed distraction as he waited for the armor's arrival. A sudden breeze swept past him, causing the young man to snuggle in on himself for warmth. Despite the heavy fabric coating his body, he felt like he was standing in a freezer.

But he knew what he had signed up for. This Blizzard, whoever they were, had called him out and he was ready and willing to answer. Despite the tiredness he felt, he knew that that the coming confrontation was more important than sleep. He needed to do this. He had to prove to everyone that he was not like his father. Jacques Schnee would have turned tail and run at the first sight of peril, but not him. He was standing his ground, fangs bared and claws out, ready to fight. He was going to fight this criminal no matter what.

It was the only way he can vindicate himself to his sister.

The roar of afterburners was heard, drawing his attention to the sky. On the horizon, he sighted faint twin trails of luminescent light, which were getting steadily closer to his position. He smiled and pulled out a road flare, which he had stealthily snuck from out of Rhodey's car. He popped it open, igniting a bright red light that lit up the area. He waved the flare about, to get the suit's current pilot's attention. The suit veered downward, flying toward him at steady speed.

In seconds, he found himself standing before the armor, which hovered slightly above him. The flare gave him a glimpse of the suit, which was saturated in red light. He looked it over and concluded that despite the damage, the armor was still in working order. The suit's optics fell on him and V.I.C. called out, "You going my way?"

Whitley held a finger to his mouth to shush the AI. The computer complied and landed quietly on the rooftop. The teen quickly discarded his protective outerwear and entered the armor. Once safely secure within the metal shell, he asked the AI. "V, do you have those binary codes from the news broadcasts?"

"Yep, and I've already figured out what they are. They're coordinates and a meeting time." The AI replied. "But I don't think this is a good idea, boss. The temperature is dropping and I don't think it's-"

"Never mind that, V.I.C," an impatient Whitley cut him off. "Just send the coordinates to the nav-computer and let me fly there. I've had a bad day and beating a snowman's face in sounds very therapeutic right now."

Before the AI could voice further concerns, his creator shot up into the sky and flew off.

Iron Man had taken flight.

Minutes passed as the armored hero soared across the night sky, bypassing buildings and braving blistering winds and fierce snowfall. Nothing was going to impede him from meting out justice. He soon found himself flying over the Atlas Pit, where much of the dust mining was located, as well as th slums. He steered himself toward a certain part of the town, right at the destination that the coordinates had directed him. Once he was a few feet away from his location, Iron Man cut the power to his repulsors and landed with a loud metallic thud on the snow-laden ground.

To the armored vigilante's consternation, the heavy snow was practically blinding his optics. The fact that it was so late at night didn't help matters. But he had an idea on how to navigate this treacherous campaign. He ordered the operating system to adjust the optical camera settings to thermal. In an instant, the HUD faded to black and then returned with a new infrared view of his surroundings. Through the darkness, he could see differently shaded hues, from sublime blue to bright yellow, all in blurry and hard-to-discern shapes of varying sizes. But it was the shape before that held his interest, a nearly faded blue structure that almost seemed to blend with the darkness.

He knew in an instant that this was his destination. Slowly, he trudged his way through the snow, the heavy winds blasting at full power into his body, their loud howls being picked up by the suit's audio receptors. As he made his way toward the mysterious location, V.I.C. worriedly chimed in, "I've got a very bad feeling about this..."

"I do too." The hero replied, "But we can't let that stop us. The Blizzard is somewhere inside that building, and I've got to take him in."

"Are you sure you can handle this?" The AI asked in concern. "You narrowly stopped that train, but this is gonna be a full-on fight. You don't even know how to fight. You've only learned a couple moves from MeTube videos, and you've hardly mastered them."

"I have repulsors. Who needs punches and kicks when I can just blast the problem away?" The young man rhetorically asked.

"You're getting cocky! This isn't some machine that follows a preset list of commands, this is a criminal, a person, who can think on their feet and improvise and adapt to the situation!"

Iron Man chose not to respond to that remark, choosing instead to mentally prepare himself for the coming fight. As the AI pleaded with his creator to turn back, the vigilante was edging closer to the large structure before him. Soon, he found himself standing before the proverbial mouth of the beast, an opened sliding gate, and stared straight into the darkness. He entered the building, prepared to face whatever came his way.

SSHHEERRKK!

What he didn't expect was the sound of scraping metal coming from behind him. He turned around and saw that the gate had closed right behind him, trapping him inside and leaving him drowned in darkness. The vigilante found that he couldn't make out anything in the dark. There were no other colors besides the overwhelming darkness. He was for all intents and purposes blind. As expected, this was a trap, and he had no means to find a way out of it.

He cursed himself for not installing a flashlight on one of his gauntlets.

With his optics essentially rendered redundant, he decided that the best way out of this mess was to navigate the area using his audio receptors. He quickly adjusted to their highest settings. In an instant, his ear drums began to pick up the sounds of the wind howling outside, creaking metal, and what sounded like rattling metal chains. He took a step forward, only to stop when he heard the sound of splashing water.

Just as he was about to examine his surrounding, a sudden white light flooded his vision.

He yelped in surprise as he subconsciously covered his faceplate with his hands. He stopped in his tracks and removed his hands, with his optics trying to adjust their cameras to the lighting. But as they focused on the scenery before him, he heard something that sounded like heavy and rapid footsteps, followed by the sight big black mass rushing toward his face. It was at the last second did he finally see the strange object for what it actually was.

A really, really big fist!

Iron Man felt the impact before he even registered the danger. The force of the punch sent hum hurtling onto his back. Water splashed as he slid across the floor. When he finally came to a full stop, he found that he was slightly stunned. His ears were ringing, his vision was blurry, and he felt like a cinder block had been dropped onto his head.

Slowly, he forced himself to his feet, staggering slightly as he tried to find his balance. As the ringing in his ears faded, he began to hear a sound that reminded him of cracking glass. When his vision returned to him, he found the source of the sudden light. Situated upon numerous support beams were large flood lights. So bright were these lights that he doubted he was casting a shadow. He forced his to legs forward, but found that his right leg was unable. He looked down and his blood ran cold at what he saw.

His legs were frozen to the floor!

What he had assumed to be fracturing glass was actually ice building up on his legs, with his feet buried in a thick sheet of ice. It was then he realized why the building was flooded. The water was a booby trap, and he was the boob that got trapped! He clamped his hands around his right leg to break it out of the ice. He felt the stinging cold through the opening in the right knee joint, which further fueled his desperation. As he pulled with all of his might, he was rewarded with the satisfying sound of cracking ice.

Satisfaction was quickly replaced by horror when he heard the sound of heavy metal feet rapidly advancing on him. He turned his head away from his legs to the general direction of the noise. He quickly ducked under a large arm which had been close to clotheslining him. His strength now further enhanced by adrenaline, he broke free from his frozen restraints. He leapt away to get some distance between him and his attacker. Once he was in a more advantageous position, he finally got a good glimpse at his opponent.

His enemy was practically a giant, being nearly seven feet tall, their massive frame garbed in an oversized grey parka coat, which seemed to have been stitched together from smaller ones. The hem of the coat reached to above their feet, which were in heavy, cleated metallic boots. When he observed their upper body, he saw slight obtrusions poking along the coat's sleeves.

Their forearms were nearly the size of watermelons, resembling large cylinders wrapped in grey fabric. Their hands were massive, with bulky white metal fingers clasped tightly into fists. Under their wrists, he saw something resembling fire hose nozzle. The figure had what appeared to be a hunched back, but it was more boxy than organic. As for their face, it was covered by the hood of their parka, and all he could make were two white orbs that represented eyes.

"So you're the so-called 'Invincible Iron Man'?" Blizzard spoke in a mocking and deeply metallic voice, "How underwhelming."

Iron Man quickly retorted, "And you must be the Blizzard. You're shorter than I expected."

"Funny." The criminal retorted, "But that sense of humor isn't going to do you any favors."

"So I can't just ask you to give up and turn yourself in?" The armored vigilante asked. "Oh, who am I kidding, it was never going to be that easy."

"That's life. Get used to it." The criminal quipped. He raised his arm and aimed it at the hero. "Of course, you're not gonna live long enough to do so."

There was a bright light, followed by a concentrated beam of ice.

---

OH, MY GAWD, THAT WAS THE LONGEST CHAPTER I'VE EVER WRITTEN!

Anyway, I didn't want to stretch this chapter into a two-parter, hence the increased word count. Unfortunately, the excess words kind of ruined the second half of this story in my opinion. I feel like that in my attempt at trying to write in more story, I inadvertantly made the story suffer.

Anyway, Whitley is losing sleep again, making him more prone to reckless behavior. Hopefully, his fight with Blizzard will set his head back on straight.

The next chapter will come on the 31st of next month.

Also, I'd like to announce that I may have found the next story I want to write. I won't spoil anything, but I can tell you it is Whitley-centric. Until the, just enjoy this chapter for now.

And if anyone asks what I'd want for the holidays, I honestly would like to see this story on TvTropes. That would honestly make my year... which honestly isn't saying much considering everything that's happened thus far.

Anyway, stay tuned for the next chapter, titled Warm Welcome, when it drops next month.

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Halloween Special: An Animan Fright

In anima, there is an old legend that tells of a swamp monster that haunts the many bogs and swamps on the continent. There have been many encounters over the centuries, especially the last few decades, and many of them end with the poor souls escaping with their lives. However, many are convinced that the beast is nothing but a folk tale meant to frighten unruly children. Naturally, a song is associated with this legend, sung by parents to their children to scare them into behaving better.

Here is the song, in its entirety.

Naughty children who wander from home beware,

Listen to this warning if you dare.

Do not venture far into the swamps,

For you might not know what stomps.

It watches as you sleep,

It listens as you creep.

It comes with the fog,

It comes straight from the bog.

Never let it catch you,

Else you'll become its stew.

The Man-thing is coming,

So start behaving.