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.)
Update: More Birthdays!
Edit 10/6/20: Had to change Yang's b-day to match her canonical one.
Willow Schnee (November 16th, 1963)
Ruby Rose (October 31st, 1992)
Yang Xiao-Long (July 28th, 1990)
Pepper Potts (March 8th, 1962)
Harold "Happy" Hogan (April 14th, 1959)
Ezekiel Stane (September 19th, 1990)
Whitney Stane (November 2nd, 1991)
The Invincible Whitley Schnee
Chapter Six: Some Things You Can't Escape (Part 1)
BREAKING NEWS! SCHNEE HEIR KIDNAPPED, FATHER COVERED IT UP!
On the company's official Facespace page, the president of the Schnee Dust Company, Jacques Schnee, released a statement on the whereabouts of his son, Whitley Schnee. After more than two months of speculations, fueled by rumors of potential foul play, the fifty-four year old tycoon finally revealed that his son, rather than spending a relaxing vacation in Anima, has indeed gone missing. While no individuals or organizations have claimed responsibility for the young man's disappearance, many are of the opinion that the radical Faunus group, White Fang, is somehow connected.
In a report released to the public by a joint Atlas-Mistral investigation team, the young Schnee, a recent graduate from the venerated Atlas Technology Institute, was being escorted to the demonstration of a classified weapons system. At some point, the boy's military escort came under attack by an unknown party, as recorded in a black box retrieved at the crash site of a downed military bullhead. Tragically, it has been confirmed that at least eleven of the twenty-five soldiers assigned to the boy's protection detail have been killed, with the rest listed as missing-in-action, possibly taken prisoner.
In the two months since the disappearance, a search-and-rescue operation has been launched, which has yet to yield any success in the boy's retrieval. The search is expected to last until the end of the month. When asked his thoughts regarding the fate of his son, Jacques Schnee stated the following.
"I love my son as much as I do my whole family. My boy is a brilliant young man with a bright and promising future. I will do everything within my power to see that he is returned safely home. To the families of the soldiers killed or taken prisoner, I give my sincerest condolences. No parent deserves to bury their own child."
The rest of the Schnee family could not be reached for comment. Until then, whatever the outcome, the proud and dedicated staff of the Atlas Globe sends their deepest sympathies to the Schnee family and prays that the gods will grant them favor in the form of their son's return. They also extend prayers to the families of the missing soldiers, as well as our condolences to those of the slain.
There will be more on this story as it develops.
(The Mantle Mask Killer strikes again; 11th victim in serial murder spree, see pg. 1)
(Hammer Industries announces final buyout of Mantle Metropolitan Police Department; Business and Law Enforcement ethics groups in uproar, see pg. 3)
(Another bank robbery in Mantle; Witnesses claim suspect shot ice from wrists, see pg. 6)
-Excerpt from an article printed in the Atlas Globe, written by Vera Million, published July 13th, 2008 KC.
In the dining room of the Stane household, the children of the family patriarch sat silently as the long dining table. Whitney was enjoying the breakfast she had prepared for herself, consisting of a nutritious balance of scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice. The blonde was rather pleased with how she had prepared the eggs, considering it had been her first time cooking them scrambled. As she was seventeen, nearly close to adulthood, she had to learn all the skills necessary to be a self-sufficient member of society. Her older brother, Ezekiel, was also expected to learn such skills. She looked over at her brother, wondering what he was eating. To her surprise, Zeke was perusing through scroll, eyes staring intently at the screen.
He narrowed his brows and exclaimed. "Ugh, can you believe this bullshit?"
Surprised by her brother's sudden use of coarse language, Whitney Stane could only ask. "What do you mean, Zeke?"
Ezekiel Stane held his scroll to his sister, showing her the article he had been reading. The young blonde read the title of the article, word for word, only to find that she was perplexed. She then asked her brother with a confused tone. "You're upset about Mr. Schnee worrying about his own son?"
Zeke clicked his tongue and scoffed. He then coldly remarked. "If the man was really that worried about Whitley, he would've done something two months ago."
Whitney frowned as she thought about the past two months. After his graduation from ATI, Zeke had been planning to enjoy a nice, relaxing vacation in northern Anima. Naturally, they had invited the youngest Schnee scion to join them, but he refused, wanting to spend more time in Atlas to learn more about his family's company. As the daughter of one of Atlas' most powerful men, second only to Jacques Schnee in influence, she can understand why her young friend chose to do so. However, she also knew that Whitley wanted to confront his father, wanting to understand why the man had chosen to ignore his own son's graduation.
Given what she knew about the man, it was more than likely that he simply didn't care enough to remember his son was graduating. She knew that he was more focused on Weiss, as she was currently the designated heiress to his position as head of the company. She thought it was, in her opinion; the irony that the father favored the prodigal and rebellious daughter to be the inheritor of his legacy, rather than the dutiful son who had sacrificed his own happiness to please him. She can't even begin to imagine what Jacques Schnee's thought process was like. Her own father had privately stated his own opinion on the matter, one that she wholeheartedly agreed with.
The opinion being that Weiss, while doubtlessly a skilled warrior, would never make it in the business world. She had nothing against the white-haired girl; in fact, she considered her to be one of her closest friends, but even she had to admit that Weiss being in charge of the SDC was a disaster waiting to happen. Not that she'd ever tell the girl.
"And what do you think about all of this?" She asked her brother, curious to hear his thoughts on the matter.
"Just as I said, it's one, huge steaming pile of bullshiiii..." The wheelchair-bound teen held his tongue as his eyes looked past his sister.
Confused by her brother's action, the girl turned in her seat. Standing in the open doorway, arms crossed with a disapproving stare was their father, Obadiah. The bald billionaire raised an eyebrow and told his son. "Oh, don't stop on my account, please continue."
"Shit?" Zeke finished, though he was somewhat fearful. If there was one thing that his father did not tolerate, it was the use of foul language in his own house.
Obadiah smiled and then laughed. "Don't worry, son, this is an open house, no need to keep your opinions to yourself"
Then he added in a serious tone. "But, seriously, if I ever hear you say either the "f" or "c" words, consider yourself grounded for a month, and don't use the excuse that you're old enough to say such things. As long as you're living under my roof, you follow my rules. When you have your own roof, feel free to use whatever words you want. Am I clear?"
Zeke meekly replied. "Crystal. Sorry, Dad"
The Stane patriarch nodded, accepting the apology. He joined his children at the dining table, taking a seat next to Whitney. He noticed the scroll in his daughter's hands. Leaning over, his eyes locked onto the headline presented upon the tiny screen. He sighed as soon as he read the words, asking with a sorrowful tone. "You're both worried about him, aren't you?"
The Stane offspring kept silent, but it was enough of an answer for their father. Obadiah continued speaking. "Look, I know it's been rough. Those two weeks we spent at Akame resort were nerve-wracking. While we were relaxing on the beach, Whitley was kidnapped. I can't begin to imagine what he's going through, but I know he'll pull through."
"How would you know? Whitley's smart, but he's not a fighter like Weiss or Winter," Zeke stated as a matter-of-effect. He knew full well that the Schnee preferred building machines rather than muscles, and that he barely handed pain.
Obadiah smiled at his son and replied. "Yeah, I can admit he's not a fighter, but that doesn't mean he's not tough. Don't forget, he's a Schnee, just like his sisters, and if it's one thing those three have in common, it's that they all have their grandfather's determination..."
But then he frowned, "Still, I don't appreciate what Jacques pulled with that bogus vacation story. Did he honestly expect people to believe it?"
"Didn't the board raise any concerns?" Zeke asked, curious to see what the collective position of his father's colleagues was.
"Well, old Kenjiro was having none of it, but Jacques just ignored him, as he often does. Midas and Cord, being the grade-A kissasses that they are, fully agreed with his decision. Ms. Bain was against it initially, but ultimately came around to it. Unsurprisingly, Stone was all for it."
Zeke sneered at the mention of the last name. "Tiberius Stone. Seriously, what was Jacques thinking hiring that jerkoff as head of R&D? He should've left him at Oscorp where he found him."
Obadiah nodded, agreeing with his son's sentiments. He also had no love for the young scientist, likening him to an upstart. His son's issue with Stone was far more personal. It was no secret that Stone and Zeke hated the other's guts. Zeke thought Stone was an "arrogant, smug snake", who's only redeeming quality was his intelligence and expertise in experimental pharmaceuticals. Stone, on the other hand, considered the Stane progeny a "petulant, ungrateful child" who had spent his life riding on his father's coattails.
Not to mention he always makes those damn cripple jokes around me... Prick. Zeke recalled, cursing the man for his insensitive remarks regarding his condition. The fact Stone knew full well that his comments were offensive further infuriated the young man.
"Changing topic, so that Zeke keeps his cool, I still need to know one thing." Whitney interjected, hoping to steer the discussion away from the scientist.
Obadiah turned his attention to his daughter. She then asked, "Just what was it that forced Mr. Schnee to cancel his trip to Anima?"
"Well, it was hush-hush at the time, but I think you two deserve to know. About a few hours before the ball, Jacques received a call from Harold Meachum."
Zeke blinked in surprise, "The CEO of Rand Enterprises?"
Obadiah nodded and spoke, "The very same. Meachum and Jacques had been negotiating for a few months. Apparently, Rand's profits have been, shall we say, extremely lackluster. So they decided to recoup their losses by selling off their overseas facilities to different companies."
"So he decided to sell off his Solitas holdings to Jacques?" Zeke asked.
Obadiah continued speaking, "Yep. Anyway, hours before Weiss' going-away ball Meachum called. He had agreed to Jacques' offer, saying it was more lucrative than what Hammer was offering. They agreed to meet within a day to finalize the deal."
"So Jacques basically sent his son to Anima because he didn't want to miss out on a deal?" Zeke asked, though his father and sister both heard the indignant tone.
"I think it's apparent by now that Jacques considers himself a businessman first and a father third." His father answered, though his words confused his children.
Whitney asked confusedly. "Wait, third? Don't you mean second?"
"No, He's a businessman first, opportunist second. Do you really think that man wouldn't skip on an opportunity for some lien? He'd sell his own mother for a single coin. He thought it was more important to take advantage of a company that's been in freefall since '96."
"97..."
As his arms pushed his body away from the floor, the young man began to feel the full effects of his strenuous workout. His heart was pounding furiously against his chest, his blood boiling and racing through his veins, and his newly-developed muscles were beginning to strain from the prolonged exercise. Two months ago, he would have been offended at the very thought of him practicing any form of physical exercise. He had always been more of a thinker than an athlete. But for his escape plan to work, he had to push his body to limits he had never once considered passing. He lowered himself, his sweaty face nearly touching the cold, carved stone floor. Then he pushed himself up again.
"98..."
Honestly, he was impressed with himself. After the first few weeks, this routine became as natural for him as breathing air. Every morning, when he woke up, he would stretch and then start his workout. After finishing one exercise, he would move on to the next, and then another. It had been difficult at first, given his prior physical state, but slowly, his muscles grew, as did his strength and endurance. At the beginning, he would have become winded before even pushing 5, but now, he can push past 40 without breaking a sweat. It was around the seventies when the fatigue began to set in, during the final exercise.
"99..."
He wondered how many push-ups his sister, Winter, can work through before fatigue set in. Considering that she was a trained specialist for the Atlesian Army, which had high standards regarding physical health, he imagined that she can do about 150 before breaking a sweat. She had always been strong, even when they were children. There was a time, long ago, when he looked up to her as almost like this superhuman figure. But as he grew older, he learned that his seemingly flawless sister was just as human as anyone else; especially after she decided to become a specialist rather than a normal huntress. That was the moment, he realized, when he began to resent her.
"100!"
As he declared his final push-up for the day, Whitley Schnee sat down on his butt, took a deep breath and checked his pulse. It was racing. As he had hoped, he had been able to work himself up and push himself beyond his limits. It was all thanks to the exercise routine that Yinsen had taught him. It was fairly simple, but yielded outstanding results. Since there was no exercise equipment in the cave, the old doctor had instructed the young man rely on basic calisthenics. The workout plan that the old Faunus planned was as followed: 100 body rows, 100 squats, 100 push-ups, and to jog in place for the equivalent of 10 kilometers. The plan called for him to train every day. It took him a month before he could push 75 without getting exhausted.
I wonder how many days have passed. Whitley couldn't help but think. Then again, I lost count after the first few days.
As he thought about that particular fact, he idly rubbed his fingers against the palms of his hands. He felt all the cuts and calluses he had accumulated in his time here, a record of his time spent in forced service as a mechanic for his captors. He honestly had never imagined that he would have gained such scars in his lifetime, considering he spent most of it directing people with tools or having someone else handle the more dangerous parts of his projects. He had thought such work was beneath him. Not anymore, as he now felt immense pride in being a grease monkey.
"Taking a breather, are we?" He heard Yinsen ask. He looked over at the doctor, who was sitting at a table, working on a circuit board meant for use in their secret project.
Whitley chuckled good-naturedly. "Yeah, I just finished my routine for the day. Just give me a few minutes. After that, I'll take over."
"I don't think so, Mr. Schnee," Yinsen laughed, "First, you need to do something about that tangled mess you call hair."
The young man reached his hand up toward his head and pinched a small lock of his white hair, twisting it. His hair had been getting longer, the result of months without a proper haircut. He had not a single clue as to what it looked like, but Yinsen told him it made him look as though he had a perpetual case of bed hair, being unkempt and sticking out in many directions. Never had he cursed his lack of a mirror than now.
The young genius jokingly remarked, "Well, excuse me, it's not like I can be lucky and lose my hair like you have."
The old doctor chuckled and replied jovially. "Yeah, well, you know what the best part about being bald is? You can save money on shampoo, conditioner, combs, and even barbers."
"Heh, I guess you got me there."
Whitley was honestly surprised at himself, exchanging banter with Yinsen like that. When the doctor had revealed his Faunus status to him, the boy wasn't sure whether they would have worked together as well as they do now. If this had been months ago, he would have discarded the man's help without a care. He had spent his whole life being taught by his father that Faunus weren't to be trusted, and that line of thought nearly won over. But as he got to know the man, as well saw what happened here, he learned a truth that changed his whole perspective on his beliefs.
That truth being that Faunus are human; nothing separated the species other than a specific trait, so what warranted all the bigotry present in the world? They bleed the same blood, they share the same hopes and dreams, and they share 98% of the same DNA. Yet, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, Faunus are treated as less than human in nearly every part of the world. Atlas, the so-called home of progress, was where this mindset was at its worst. Looking back, he realized that he never saw any Faunus in the floating city, nor did any hold a high position in his family's company. Not that he thought about it, there weren't any Faunus in his class at ATI.
"Are you sure you're alright?" He heard Yinsen ask. "You look like you were spacing out there."
"Oh, sorry, I was just remembering certain things I overlooked, certain things I probably should've noticed..."
Yinsen knew the boy what the boy had been thinking about. In the past few months, whenever he wasn't building or working out, his mind would wander into the past, picking apart certain memories that he was now looking at with a new perspective. In some instances, he had done well, performing small acts of kindness that would have made his grandfather proud. But these were few and far in between. For the most part, he found that he had acted quite selfishly, often without conscience or considering the consequences his actions might have on others, which made his father proud.
Such as the time when he was nine; when he screwed over a classmate to get sole credit for a project. Or that time, two semesters ago, when he purposefully gave false data to a class rival during a coding experiment. That doesn't even compare to that time he helped mock a Faunus girl... days after her parents had died in a mining accident. Many would say that he was just a child and that he didn't know any better, but he knew full well what he had done. He was just another bully... like his father. He had acted as the son that his father always wanted. He had to repress the urge to frown when he thought that.
He had a lot to answer for.
"Are you sure you're alright?" the doctor asked again, "Because, frankly, I know the long-sullen silence thing is what all teenagers do, but it's starting to creep me out."
Whitley shook his head and apologized. "Sorry, I guess I'm still a little lightheaded from all that exercise."
The boy looked down at the circuit board and asked. "So, it's finally finished?"
Yinsen smiled, "Yep. With this little board, that little device you thought up will be finished."
With that, Yinsen pulled out a small black box, which he then slid the cover of off. He inserted the circuit board into a slow and then connected a few colored wires to it. He slid the cover back on, which closed with a satisfying click. It was finished.
Whitley smiled as he took the box and inspected it. "Finally, the last part of that survival kit is finished. I still can't believe I was able to miniaturize that Grimm Deterrent device."
Indeed, Whitley Schnee, after building the Arc Reactor and designing a new type of armor, had continued to innovate and build. Whenever one of those Grimm repelling sensors started to malfunction, his captors took him out to repair them. With every impromptu repair session, however, the Schnee took his time in analyzing how the machines functioned. In time, he had fully understood how they worked and reverse-engineered those to create his very own, only smaller. He'll need it for after the escape, for traversing the vast desert in search of rescue. Who knew how many Grimm stalked the sandy dunes of the Atreides desert?
For now, the small device will stay inside a survival kit that'll be strapped to inside of the armor's chest plate.
He placed the small box back on the table. He then told Yinsen. "Now, all we have to do is finish the helmet."
"Yes, and we have enough metal to spare."
Whitley nodded at Yinsen's comment. Though, in his opinion, it was a bit strange that they were able to accumulate such raw material in the first few weeks. Sure, Yinsen was able to coerce some of the Fangs he had helped patch up to sneak stuff in, but the fact that they had all this material was mindboggling. That's not to mention the lack of guards. For the past several weeks, the amount of time they spent under the watchful eyes of nosy extremists had been steadily decreasing right up to point where their shifts ended in the afternoon. This respite from security had given them more time to finish their project.
Honestly, it's like they're begging us to break out of this place. The Schnee thought with an amused snort.
"What was that?" Yinsen asked, having heard the snort.
"Oh, it was nothing, just glad we've been so lucky... Say, are you sure you don't want me to build you your own kit?" Whitley asked the older man, "You're gonna need it if you want to see your family."
"Don't worry, I won't need it. Trust me... I will see my family again after this." The doctor replied with small smile, waving the suggestion off.
Whitley smiled at the doctor. Despite everything, Yinsen kept up a positive outlook. The boy wouldn't admit it, but he was honestly a little jealous of the old man's confidence. Such a defiant attitude in an oppressive environment was really inspiring.
"And you will, my friend, you will. If all goes according to plan, we'll all be out of this cave by tomorrow afternoon." Whitley said to the older man.
"Must you tempt fate like that?" Yinsen asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Okay, first, screw fate. Fate is a defeatist concept. Second, what's the worst they can do? Kill me?"
"I'M GONNA KILL THAT LITTLE BASTARD!"
Savin didn't even flinch at his comrade's boisterous exclamation, choosing to continue drinking his herbal tea. After taking a short sip, he calmly asked the temperamental Bull Faunus, "And what reason must we, this time?"
Vryolak, unamused by his long-time ally's nonchalant attitude, gave his reasons. "He hasn't been meeting his quotas! He was supposed to build guns, bombs, and rockets for us! Instead he makes modifications to our weapons and they're not even good ones! Hell, the ones he did promise us he claimed could be built in weeks, but it's been months!"
"He is but one boy. He is working with the bare minimum, and you're expecting an output greater than what he can generate. Do you honestly expect him to build an entire tank in one month?"
"No, but at the very least, he could've built something that can obliterate a tank!" Vryolak snapped, banging his fists on the table.
"Then what do you propose we do about it?" The snake Faunus asked. He finished his tea and then spoke again. "Our supplies are limited, even with our new partnership with A.I.M., and we barely have enough resources to construct new weapons. In my opinion, Mr. Schnee has been nothing but productive, given what he is working with."
"So it's a matter of resources, huh?" Vryolak dryly replied. "Oh, well, in that case, I guess I'll just drop by the nearest House Depot and ask for everything they have in stock. That should fix everything."
Savin blinked before facetiously asking. "I'm sorry, but was that supposed to be sarcastic?"
"Of course it was. What, did you think I was serious?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
The two men stared at each other, one with an obstinate and challenging glare and the other with an impassive and unemotional glance. Seconds passed before Vryolak spoke again, "You know, the Schnee-spawn's not the only one I've been having doubts about..."
"Whatever do you mean?" Savin asked with an even tone.
"Do you think I haven't noticed your behavior for the past few weeks? You've been spending too much time in your quarters, you're sending people out on more patrols, and there's also the fact you haven't assigned guards to watch over Yinsen and Schnee in a while." Vryolak elaborated, listing off all the peculiarities he had witnessed.
Savin was unmoved as he explained away. "I fail to see how such activities are grounds for suspicion. I've been staying in my quarters because I've been coordinating the outposts outside our camp. I've received reports that bandit tribes have been looking to gain a foothold in our territory, so I sent out more patrols to see if this were true. As for the guards, it's been my experience that people tend to be more productive when they don't have a gun pointed at them."
"Yeah, well, it's just you've been far more lax in our treatment of the boy."
"As I said, it's to make sure Mr. Schnee can work in a safe environment, well, about as safe as he can be in his situation. Besides, I let you have your fun with the other prisoners, isn't it fair that you extend that same courtesy to me?"
Vryolak clenched his teeth as he considered his old friend's words. On the one hand, he brought up many legitimate points. But on the other, he can't help but feel that Savin was undermining him out of spite. He had a feeling that he knew what the reason was. He then turned to the Snake Faunus and asked calmly.
"Are you still mad about Gulmira?"
Savin looked to his friend. Despite his expression not changing, Vryolak was able to detect a hint of disappointment in the man's steely blue eyes. That sentiment was confirmed by the man's next words.
"It served no purpose, what you did in Gulmira." He began before saying with a surprisingly indignant tone, "We had Yinsen, who came of his own volition. But what you did to his family, it was pointless. It was just barbarism for barbarity's sake."
Vryolak chose to defend himself, "It was for the greater good of Faunuskind. Corruption like that had to be culled before it infected our people."
Savin chose not to comment, having heard that sentence more times than he cared to count. No matter how many times they discussed the incident, it became quite apparent that his comrade will never change his mind nor express remorse. It was just another in recently growing string of disagreements between the two men. A string that was beginning to fray, and all it took was one more incident to snap it in half.
The two longtime comrades stared each other down, wondering what the other was thinking. The tense confrontation was cut short by the sudden ringing of a cellular phone, very phone that their mysterious supporter, Mr. X, had given to them for their correspondence. Vryolak pulled out the phone and answered the call, albeit with trepidation.
He spoke into the receiver, "Hello?"
"Good day, Mr. Vryolak. My apologies for the long wait. I had to cover many tracks while securing a release for your young charge. Speaking of whom, I can assume that young Whitley hasn't suffered any harm while under your care?" Mr. X calmly asked.
The Bull Faunus replied, "Yes, sir. The young man is quite well."
"That's pleasant to know. On to business, I am pleased to inform you that I've been able to negotiate a prisoner swap at a neutral location. In return for Whitley Schnee, you will receive three of your imprisoned comrades."
"That's wonderful news, sir. Thank you!" Vryolak praised excitedly.
"I'll text the time and coordinates to you immediately. Have a nice day, Mr. Vryolak."
The call abruptly ended. Seconds later, the phone buzzed as a text received. Vryolak opened the text box, which revealed a set of coordinates as well as the date of the prisoner swap. Vryolak smirked as he walked over to the door. He called over a Passing Fang and ordered him to bring the Schnee to the interrogation room. The Fang gave his commander a crisp salute and left to complete his orders.
Whitley didn't struggle when the extremists placed a bag over his head. He didn't even resist when they dragged him by his arms and marched him through the caverns, for what seemed like the hundredth time. It had become a routine for him. Plus, it let them think that he had finally surrendered to his fate. In their eyes, he was just a broken young man who had had finally succumbed to the hopelessness of his situation. In reality, he was defiant and determined, memorizing the layout of the cave by counting the number of steps and turns they make. He has already mapped out the route leading to the exit, the various barracks, and even where Vryolak and Savin had made their quarters.
But he had yet to learn where they were keeping the other prisoners. In all the times he'd been led through the labyrinthine complex, either to repair something or to endure another drawn-out rant from Vryolak, he had not once been shown where his fellow hostages were held.
After a few minutes of marching, he was forcibly shoved into a chair and the bag was pulled from his head, granting him the ability to see his surroundings. He saw that he was now seated at a table and, rather unsurprisingly, standing opposite of him were Vryolak and Savin. As before, Vryolak regarded him with a gaze that was equal parts disgust and anger. Savin, on the other hand, just looked upon with an expression that held no emotion whatsoever.
"Vryolak, Savin, to what do I owe this unexpected meeting?" Whitley mirthlessly asked.
Vryolak simply growled and looked away, not even bothering to acknowledge the boy's question. Savin, in contrast, kept his cold eyes focused upon the boy and calmly told him. "There has been a development regarding your stay here, Mr. Schnee."
"Let me guess, you're going to move me into the penthouse suite, with a view of the pool?" The boy sarcastically asked.
For the first time since he arrived, Whitley heard Savin chuckle. The snake-faunus' laughter was both restrained and followed a set rhythmic pattern. In the periphery of his vision, he saw that Vryolak was just as surprised as he was. It only scared the boy with how unnaturally detached and clinical the Snake-Faunus' laughter sounded. After his laughter had died down, the man reassumed his unnervingly placid demeanor and spoke. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Schnee. A colleague of ours has informed us that the Atlesian Military have agreed to a prisoner swap. We trade you in for some of our captured subordinates; your life for theirs. A fair trade, wouldn't you say?"
Despite his shock and relief, the youngest Schnee kept himself composed and facetiously remarked. "Oh, yes, I am absolutely ecstatic. Truly, this is the deal of the century."
"You don't sound excited. I'd have thought you'd be leaping in joy at the prospect of your freedom."
"What about the others? The other prisoners you're holding. What happens to them?"
It was Vryolak that chose to respond. "What about them?"
The Bull Faunus approached the table and slammed his palms on it. The man's red eyes glared viciously at him, threatening him with violence if he pressed the issue further. Whitley shook slightly from the unexpected action, but it didn't cow him into submission. If this had been two months ago, he would've buckled under the man's intimidating gaze. But that was the old Whitley Schnee. The Whitley sitting at the table was hardened and desensitized, having witnessed death and cruelty that would've broken others his age.
"What happens to the other prisoners?" He repeated, nonplussed and unafraid of Vryolak.
"What do you care?" Vryolak asked incredulously, "You're the one getting the one-way ticket to freedom. If anything, you should be grateful we're letting you go."
Whitley grit his teeth as his blood began to boil, thinking, Grateful? They psychologically torment me for two months, make me watch as they killed and tortured people if I did something wrong, and they expect me to be GRATEFUL?!
Vryolak saw the boy's frustration and smirked. "Oh, did I touch a nerve? What's wrong, Schnee, you feeling bad leaving all those little people behind?"
The Schnee tightened his fists as the man continued, "Wait-wait-wait hold the scroll! Don't tell me you actually feel sorry for those soldiers and traitors. Has little Shitley grown a conscience?"
"Vryolak, that'll be enough." Savin spoke, but his comrade ignored him.
Savin's words had no effect, as Whitley rose to the bait, shouting, "That's funny coming from you; Where do you get off mocking my morals when you're the one starving and torturing your own people?!"
"My people," Vryolak spat the words with disgust, "Those people are traitors to their own race, corrupting Faunuskind with their filth! They betray our people by cavorting with humans, the very vermin that have sought our extermination throughout known history!"
Savin spoke up again, "Really, we can conduct ourselves civilly if-"
"So your solution is to fight hate with more hate?! Yeah, some humans can be complete bastards, even monsters, but that doesn't mean you should judge the innocent many for the acts of a vile few! Hell, humans have done as much bad to each other, too. My gods, where is your empathy?!"
Vryolak grit his teeth furiously. The boys words sounded a little too much like a certain doctor's, and it grated his nerves. He then roared, "EMPATHY? You, the son of Jacques Schnee, are really going to sit there and lecture me about Empathy! Where was the human's empathy when my ancestors were carted off and sold into slavery in Mistral! Where was it when the Mantlian Fascists sent them to the camps! Where was their vaunted empathy when they lynched my father, or when they raped my sister! What about when the Watchdogs and FOH started executing my people in broad daylight?! Tell me, Schnee, fucking tell me, where were all the good humans when these things happened?!"
Whitley buckled under the virulent rage rolling of the Bull Faunus, unable to even give a retort. He knew the Bull Faunus was temperamental, but never did he imagine he would see him act like this. He was at a loss for words.
Vryolak saw this and drove the final nail in, "Where were those "good" humans? They were off on the sidelines, letting the vile few do whatever they want. But not anymore, so long I draw breath; I will fight for the greater good of Faunus everywhere!"
"Well, I fail to see how brainwashing starving Faunus is for the so-called greater good." Whitley rhetorically asked, having found his courage again.
Vryolak calmly replied, "Some sacrifices have to be made for victory. When the next war comes, and after we win it, history will vindicate us."
Upon hearing that sentence, it suddenly dawned on Schnee what his captor's aims were.
"Oh, my gods," He began, "This isn't about equality or claiming Khan's throne, you're trying to restart the Faunus War."
Vryolak smirked and told him, "Yes. And this time, there'll be a winner."
"Miklos, that's enough! Your temper tantrum ends right now!" Savin scolded harshly with narrowed eyebrows, surprising both his comrade and captive by the sudden emotion.
Vryolak scoffed and left the room, but not before sending the Schnee a nasty glare, which the boy reciprocated with equal intensity. The Muscle-bound Bull Faunus left the room with a violent spring in his step. Whitley turned his gaze back to Savin, who had nursed his features into the same serene and emotionally void face he was known for.
"I apologize on behalf of my colleague. He sometimes gets rather... obstinate, whenever he gets riled up." The Snake-Faunus told the boy, again with the same clinical tone he had long since become associated with.
Whitley suppressed the urge to glare at the man. Obstinate, you say? Try "absolutely off-the-walls livid"! Seriously, it felt he was going to bite my head off!
"But what I said was true, Mr. Schnee. Your kingdom's military has agreed to a prisoner exchange. Regardless of how you feel about the circumstances, you will be taken to a neutral meeting place and you'll be traded for our imprisoned comrades."
The Schnee finally chose to glare at the man, whom paid him no mind.
"You leave within a week." Savin signaled the guards and ordered them, "Please escort Mr. Schnee back to his quarters."
The guards wasted no time in seizing the boy, who didn't even resist. They place a knapsack over his head once more and led him away without trouble. Once they were away, Savin rose from his seat and turned to the Fang standing to his right.
"Inform the others that our time table has accelerated." He said, "We leave at the crack of dawn."
The Fang nodded and went on his way, to inform his compatriots that the moment they have waited for had arrived. As soon as he was alone, Savin did something that he had not done in years. He smirked.
All according to plan, He thought victoriously.
"You're joking."
"I wish I were, but I'm not. I'll be gone in a week."
"Does this change anything?"
"No. It changes nothing." Whitley said before adding, "In fact, this might just be the moment we've been waiting for."
Yinsen stared at the boy as though he had grown a second head. They may have been planning this escape for months, but to give up this one chance at freedom? He asked the Schnee, "Are you sure about that? I mean, this prisoner exchange is probably your best chance at making it out of this cave alive."
Whitley sighed and then replied, "I know. That whole exchange would be less dangerous that what we've been planning. But, it doesn't feel right, you know? Leaving all those people at the mercy of these bastards? I'd rather die now than live knowing I had a chance to save lives and did nothing."
Yinsen smiled at the Schnee's words. If he had been the same boy from two months, He'd probably have leapt with joy and accepted the proposition on the spot. But to hear what he had said and with such resolve showed that Whitley has come far since he arrived. Just when the old man thought the boy couldn't surprise even more.
"So, when do start assembling the armor?" He asked the boy.
"As soon as I finish the final part," Whitley replied before rolling up his sleeves. "I'll start once I finished "repairing" this rifle. Wouldn't want our gracious hosts to get suspicious, do we?"
"No, we wouldn't want that." Yinsen said with a sly grin.
All through the afternoon and well into the evening, the two geniuses labored away at finishing the task assigned to them by their captors. But once the sun outside began to set, and the Guards assigned to them had left, they quickly began the final preparations for their plan. Yinsen pulled out the scattered pieces of the armor, which they had hidden in various spots around the cave, and laid them out on a table. He then set about putting together the endoskeleton that as Whitley worked upon the final piece of the armor, clasping a thick plate of metal with a pair of heat-resistant tongs.
All through the evening, Whitley worked the furnace, tempering the metal piece and hammering away at it. Finally, just as it reached midnight, he took one final appraising look at the piece. To his immense satisfaction, it was complete. He then dunked the still-glowing metal into a pot of cooling water. He pulled it out minutes later and brought it over to Yinsen's table.
The doctor, who had been attaching the circuit board that connected all the various buttons and switches on the armor, looked up from his work to see what Whitley had placed upon the table. Lying upon the desk, with steam still rolling off of it, was a metal facemask. Even on paper, the look of the mask was very haunting. It was as though a metal face was glaring viciously at him, looking at him with promises of pain.
"Alright, let's get to work." Whitley told the man.
The duo went about assembling the armor. All through the early hours of the morning, they worked; welding plates together, screwing in bolts, and lining the various armor pieces with wiring that controlled the various makeshift weapons built into the design. Once the pieces of the armor were fully formed, Whitley donned a set of flame retardant coveralls. Then, with the aid of Yinsen, he wrapped his hands in a thin layer of gauze, to reduce the risk of injury. He then put on a pair of flame retardant gloves, which they fastened onto his wrists using duct tape. This was followed by the young Schnee slipping on a pair of heat resistant boots. With the first layer of the armor completed, they moved on to the second stage of assembly.
The Schnee analyzed endoskeleton and found that it matched the specifications of his blueprints. From the hydraulics to the levers, everything was in tip-top shape. Satisfied, he began the process of securing his body within the metallic skeletal frame. First, he fastened the leg braces, bound together by bolts, wires, and a metal harness.
With the help of Yinsen, he put on the small metal chest harness which wrapped around the young boy's upper body like a shell. The Arc reactor was left exposed on the chest, so that Yinsen would plug the power cord into it to provide energy to the frame. Then there was the insertion of the boy's arms into their respective braces, which connected to the chest plate. This was followed by the donning of metal gauntlets, which were locked into the arm braces. Finally, the doctor connected the power cord into the Arc reactor.
"Alright, give it a try." The doctor told the boy.
Turning on his heel, the boy approached a nearby table. Upon its surface sat a ceramic mug, which he grasped with his right hand. There was a sharp mechanical whine as the boy tightened his grip on the mug, which then shattered under the pressure within several seconds. Satisfied, the boy flexed his fingers before forming a fist.
"Groovy," He said with a smirk, quoting the main character of an action B-movie he once saw. He had always wanted to say that line. He then frowned when he noticed that armored digits were moving too slowly.
"Most impressive, Mr. Schnee," Yinsen praised, honestly impressed by the display. The endoskeleton was indeed impressive. It exceeded even the work of an old friend from Mantle.
"Yeah... but it took about 5% of the reactor's power and there was also a bit of a time delay when it came to movement." Whitley calculated before speaking again, "which won't be a problem once we get the internal motor strapped on."
"You mean the giant fanny backpack?"
Whitley blinked, "I'm sorry, but what?"
"The giant fanny pack, you know the pack that you strap to your back that goes over your fanny?" The doctor explained as he pointed over to a large metal box with straps attached to it.
Whitley frowned, unamused. "It's an internal motor. A motor that's covered by a metal box, which, you know, makes it internal?"
"Well, honestly, it looks like a fanny pack." Yinsen pressed on, "I mean if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, then it's a fanny pack."
"It's a motor," The boy said with finality, "and it's time to put it on."
"Alright, alright, fine. Sheesh, maybe that friend of yours, Zeke, got a point. You really need to learn to take a joke."
Yinsen walked over to the table where the motor sat. He picked it up and then strolled behind the boy. He then slid the motor into place, locking it onto a rack on the back of a belt. It locked with a satisfied click. Whitley took over for the rest, sliding the straps past his arms and onto his shoulders. He secured the straps with two clamps situated on his chest.
"Yinsen, do the thing." Whitley ordered.
Yinsen nodded and pulled a long cord out of compartment on the motor. The doctor then plugged the cord into a small outlet located on the chest harness, which connected to the Arc reactor. As soon as the plug was inserted, a low whir of energy was heard as the motor came to life. Whitley brought his fist and flexed his fingers again. This time he was rewarded with the sight of nearly fluid movement as he wiggled the metal digits. He pulled a victorious fist pump.
"Good. With the motor running, it'll help control the output of energy from the reactor, while also allowing me a greater range of movement and strength without any dramatic expenditure..." Whitley explained with a growing smirk. He then turned to Yinsen and said, "or as my friend Zeke would say, and I'm directly quoting him here: You're gonna be a bad motherfuc-"
Yinsen coughed into his fist, cutting off the excited teenager before he could finish. The teen blushed when he realized what he was about to say. He knew if his grandmother was alive, she'd be laughing her head off right now. Apparently, much like her, he had quite the sailor's mouth.
"Sorry, just got a little excited." He apologized. "Okay, now that the motor is attached. It's time to put the metal plates on. Remember, we have to be extremely careful, considering the ordinance I built into them."
Yinsen nodded as he retrieved a metal boot. Their little project was running better than they had predicted. Once again, he was surprised by the sheer ingenuity of the youngest Schnee. He never thought he lived to see the day that a single teenager designed and built a full set of power armor, especially using nothing but boxes of scrap in a cave. It sounded like something out of those anime that his son watched, or those comics that he used to read when he was a child.
Truly, he was living in a strange time.
"Sir, wake up, something's happened!"
Awakening from slumber, Vryolak rose with an obnoxious yawn. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, before focusing on the scrub that dared rouse him from sleep. He wondered what was so important to wake him up at so early an hour. With an irritated tone, he asked his frantic subordinate. "What is it?"
"Captain Savin has deserted, sir! He took many of our comrades with him, appropriated the Bullheads and just flew off without a word!"
Vryolak's eyes widened from shock as he listened to the man. Savin had betrayed him. His oldest friend and comrade, a man whom he served with since the Faunus war, had just abandoned him. In hindsight, he saw all the signs that Savin was becoming dissatisfied with how he was running their operation. Especially after what happened in Gulmira, after they had captured Yinsen. He also knew the Snake-faunus didn't appreciate how he treated the Schnee, as well.
The man's shock turned to anger as he recalled. Wait, shit, the Schnee!
"Soldier, tell me, did Savin take the Schnee with him?" He urgently asked.
"We don't know, sir. We've sent a few guards to check. We'll know soon enough." The man replied.
Vryolak took a deep breath as he composed himself, which was a miracle in of itself. He thought over the recent developments. What did Savin hope to accomplish, deserting like that? They were all but excommunicated from the White Fang, they were on Atlas and Mistral's top 10 most wanted lists, and he doubted that A.I.M. would continue supporting him once they heard about this. Though, in all honesty, it was Mr. X he was truly afraid of. He remembered what his benefactor had done to that Khan loyalist. Just what would he do to him?
He shuddered in terror at the thought, which he was able to hide from his subordinate.
All in all, things were not looking good for his revolution.
"Alright, once we get word on the Schnee's status, we'll-"
KRA-KOOOOMMM!
The room shook, causing small clumps of dirt to fall from the ceiling. A strange sound echoed in the distance, carrying itself throughout the tunnel, rousing extremists from their rest. Vryolak recognized that sound immediately. It was an explosion from improvised explosive device, the same kind that they had been planting out in the desert to ward off Grimm and other nosy intruders. Coincidentally, it was something that the Schnee had built...
"The little fucker's making his escape! Sound the alarm, I want everyone armed and ready for combat! Do not let the Schnee escape!" he roared at his subordinate, who saluted clumsily before running off to issue the command.
As his soldiers were roused into action, Vryolak cursed the gods above for his sudden turn in luck. Savin had betrayed him, taking many of his troops with him, and now the Schnee had the gall to try and escape, while also blowing his shit up?
"Holy shit, was that a bomb?!" Whitley cried as the dust settled.
"Did you rig the doors?" Yinsen asked as he waved some smoke away.
"Of course I didn't! We're supposed to have the element of surprise on our side!"
Yinsen said nothing as he resuming tightening the bolt on a shoulder plate. It came out of nowhere. One minute, he was securing pieces of metal armor onto the Schnee in silence, when suddenly there was a knock at the door. A voice called out to them, demanding they'd be let in. He and the Schnee kept silent, too shocked by the sudden turn of events. The shock quickly became fear as the Fangs unlocked the door. But just as the door opened, there was an incredible explosion from the outside. A wave of heated air, debris, and smoke rushed over them as they ducked to cover.
Whatever chances they had of surprising their captors was gone, much like the metal doors to their room. Yinsen quickly ran over to the now-opened entrance and saw that two Fangs had been killed in the explosion. No doubt Vryolak would blame this on them.
They picked up the pace in finishing the armor. Once it was done, Yinsen pulled out a small laptop. He then connected the computer to a small slot on the Chest plate, where a small processor was located. This processor served as the control for all the different weapons built into the armor. It was the final step.
"Alright, there should be a small progress bar on the screen. Do you see it?" Whitley's muffled yet metallic voice asked.
"Yes, it's on..." Yinsen looked at the small bar and frowned. "Oh, no, no, no..."
"What is it?"
"It says it'll take ten minutes for the program to download... we don't have enough time." Yinsen said in realization. He turned to face the armored youth and told him, "That explosion probably jolted them. They'll be her in a few minutes..."
The doctor frowned. They had come so close, only for the cruel hand of fate to pluck everything away. Without that control program, the young Schnee had no access to the various weapons built into the armor. There had to be something he can do to speed up the process, or at least to but some time for the download to finish. But what can he do?
The doctor looked over to the blasted entrance. In the distance, he can hear dozens of shuffling footsteps marching through the tunnels. The Fangs were coming. As he went over his available options, the few of which promised nothing but death for both he and his young friend, he caught a glimpse of the dead Fangs lying near the destroyed doors. Next to one of the bodies was an undamaged rifle. That was when a thought occurred to Yinsen, one that ultimately became a plan. After running through a few simulations in his mind, he came to the conclusion that the scenario promised the ultimate survival of the young Schnee, as well as his escape.
His mind made up, he looked over to Whitley with a resolute demeanor. The boy saw this through his mask and wondered what the Faunus doctor was planning.
"You need more time," The doctor began, "I'm gonna get you all the time you need."
"Wait, what do you mean- What are you doing?!" Whitley shouted in alarm as the man sprinted over to the terrorist's corpses.
He watched in horror as the Doctor, a man who lived by the Hippocratic Oath, whom had promised to never do harm, picked up a rifle and cocked it.
"We had a plan, stick to it! Stick to the plan-" Whitley's words were drowned out by the sound of gunfire. The doctor had aimed the gun into air and fired it, before running off to meet the incoming terrorists.
As the doctor ran off, boy desperately yelled out, "YINSEN!"
This did not dissuade the Faunus doctor from his suicidal action. A feeling of foreboding swelled within the Schnee's gut as the sounds of gunfire echoed, followed by the panicked cries of surprised terrorists, echoed in the distance. He looked over at the laptop and observed the progress bar as it filled up. It had only nine minutes to go.
He hoped he can get to the doctor before it was too late.
It was a satisfying feeling, Yinsen admitted to himself. It was immensely gratifying watching these criminals fearfully fleeing from him. To think that those who excelled at dealing death would be scared off by one who saved people from death. As he fired round after round into the air, the bullets either piercing solid or bouncing off them, their fear increased tenfold. While he may be holding a weapon, he was not going to shoot anybody. When he became a doctor, he swore an oath to never do harm and he fully intended to honor it, even if it killed him.
No matter what, he will die as himself. He will die a healer, not a killer. That conviction is what separated him from Faunus like Vryolak, Savin, and even Sienna Khan. That same conviction that won him the love of his wife and what made his children proud to be his. He was so close to seeing them again, of that he was sure of.
It was that same conviction is what compelled him to save young Whitley's life. He knew of the young boy by reputation. He had heard enough rumors and gossip to know that the young man was on the path to becoming another Jacques Schnee. When he had heard that Vryolak and Savin had captured the boy and that he was to operate on him, the Faunus was expecting to find a bigoted and spiteful clone of the SDC chairman. Instead, what he saw on the operating table was just a wounded boy, who seemed no different from his own son. After coming to know the Schnee, he can honestly say that doesn't regret saving his life.
But if he there was one that he deeply regretted, it would have to be the day he chose to help Vryolak and Savin, all those years ago. They were nothing but strangers to him all those years ago, just a pair of veterans of the recently-ended Faunus Revolution. Vryolak had been searching for a doctor to heal Savin, who had lost his right eye in battle. Despite being a newly graduated Doctor, he had built enough of reputation as a skilled surgeon, and they had heard about his groundbreaking research into artificial organs.
As a doctor, he had an obligation to help them, and as a Faunus, he felt compelled to help two men who had suffered fighting for their people's rights. Within a few weeks, he gave Savin an eye, which was a breakthrough in his research, and the two men thanked him and went on their way. Save for that huge breakthrough, he thought nothing much of the incident afterward. He was simply being a Good Samaritan.
That is, until about a week after their encounter, when he was visited by Agents from MSIS. They had asked him if he had seen Vryolak and Savin. Knowing the consequences of lying to kingdom agents, he told them that he had indeed met the two men, but he did not know their whereabouts. When he had asked why they were searching for them, they told him something that shook him to his core.
Vryolak and Savin, as it happened, were wanted by both Atlas and Mistral for war crimes. They were members of the dreaded Orwell Unit, a group of Faunus soldiers that specialized in "Unconventional Suppression Tactics", which was a fancy way of saying that they essentially attacked human settlements, civilians mostly. Suffice to say, the knowledge that he had helped war criminals filled him with shame and disgust. After that, out of fear, he left his well-paying job at the hospital, ceased his research, and moved back to his hometown Gulmira.
Then, years later, right as he was getting ready for another day at the village clinic, his family received visitors. They had gained some years in their appearance, but he recognized them as the two men he had had helped years earlier. They weren't alone either, as there were various masked people with them, whom just so happened to be carrying guns. He doubted they came for a check-up.
Instead, they took from his family. They stole him from his dear Cho, the kindest and most beautiful woman he had ever met, and they took him from their children. His son, Huang, was barely on the cusp of adulthood and His little baby girl, Toni, wasn't even four years old yet. He wanted to be at home, helping Huang with his homework, teaching Toni to read, and sharing another beautiful evening with Cho. Vryolak and Savin took those things from him. Savin even had the nerve to steal something from his home.
Yinsen tightened his hold on the weapon as continued his journey through the tunnels. In the distance, he noticed a bright light. He was nearing the cave entrance. He roared furiously and charged forward. He turned a corner. His courage died when he saw what was waiting for him. Near the large opening of the cave, were several Fangs surrounding his position, their weapons aimed point-blank at them. Vryolak stood front and center, his left hand gripping a pistol.
Vryolak addressed the doctor, "I let you live and this is how you repay me?"
"You call this living?" Yinsen retorted defiantly.
The two stared each other down. Vryolak saw the gun in Yinsen's hands and smirked. He then told the doctor with a dismissive tone, "Drop the gun, Doc. We both know you're not going to shoot me."
Yinsen did not comply. He aimed his weapon at Vryolak. The man frowned when he saw this until he noticed something.
Yinsen's fingers were shaking. Most of all, He didn't even have a finger on the trigger. Vryolak raised his pistol and aimed it at the doctor. He the mockingly said, "Funny, isn't it? With the scalpel, you're firm and steady. But with the trigger of a gun, you're unwilling and shaky."
Yinsen said nothing as he continued to aim his weapon.
"Fortunately for me, I have no such problems." Vryolak remarked.
He then pulled the trigger.
BANG!
Yinsen felt a sharp pain in his stomach, which caused him to lurch over and clutch his stomach, causing him to drop his weapon. He had never felt such pain in his life. It felt like it burned but was also freezing, which is when he felt a viscous liquid stain his hands. It felt like he was suffocating while also drowning, as he was running out of breath while trying to hold back his blood from building up. He started to lose his footing and stumbled about. His strength finally gave in as he collapsed onto a pile of rice bags.
"It's a shame we couldn't resolve this peacefully, Doc. It's really tearing me up inside." Vryolak said with a condescending tone.
He then turned to his troops and barked out, "Alright, I want most of you to head outside and wait for further orders. The rest of you will separate into four-person squads and take positions in the tunnels. Send a scout party ahead to flush out that little prick."
The Fangs nodded and carried out their orders. The bulk of the force pulled back, regrouping in the camp outside of the cave. The few that remained separate into squads, intent on following their general's orders to the letter, filing into the tunnels. But just as the last group was about to enter the tunnels, they were stopped by Vryolak.
"Hold on," He ordered them before speaking again, "I've got an assignment for you all."
All through the tunnels, the sound of marching boots echoed. Squads of fangs scampered through the endless maze, searching for advantageous positions. Another squad, with a mission assigned to them by their general, entered the farthest tunnel. The scouting party pushed forward, heading for the very important prisoner's room, to bring out the son of their most hated enemy.
Within said room, the lights dimmed as the generator began to die out. A single laptop, fully charged, continued to run. On the screen was a single progress bar, which was nearly filled up. Within seconds, the bar was fully filled, ending the programming update it had been running. The lights died as the sound of a motor coming to life roared, followed by the grinding of gears.
In the darkness, a single light shone.
The first thing that the Fangs noticed were the metal doors that were hanging off their hinges, bent and warped beyond hope of repair, the aftereffect of the makeshift bomb that the prisoners had used. Before the destroyed entrance lay the two broken and smoking corpses of the Guards Vryolak had sent. One of the bodies was missing their weapon, which had been appropriated by Yinsen. Fortunately for them, the doctor had been too much of a coward to aim it at anyone.
The second thing they noticed was the prisoner's holding cell. The large and cavernous room was dark, almost pitch-black. They barely made out the outlines of the various tools and stations within. Had the prisoners done something to kill the power? Was this an ambush? Where was the Schnee hiding? All these questions and more raced through the minds of the extremists.
"One of us should scout ahead." A man with antlers suggested.
A woman with lynx ears cautiously asked, "But which one of us?"
"I'll check," Said their tiger-tailed comrade, "You two stay here. If I'm not back in two minutes, get back-up."
Tiger-Tail then held up his rifle and advanced into the darkness, leaving his compatriots in the dimly lit tunnel. They watched as their comrade's form was slowly enveloped by the darkness, before disappearing altogether. Though they can't see him, they can still hear him, as heavy footsteps reverberated through the silent tunnel. He was moving deftly through the room, unimpeded by the various obstacles, thanks to the night vision that all Faunus share.
"Have you found the Schnee?" Lynx-Ears loudly asked.
"No, not yet, All I see are a bunch of tools on the ground and-" They hear his voice cut off before speaking again. "Wait, I see something glowing, over in the corner. I'm gonna go check it out."
They hear his slow and heavy footsteps as they stood their ground, with each step becoming an echo as the man moved farther away from their position. The echoing steps stopped after a few seconds. Then they heard Tiger-Tail report from a considerable distance, "It's just a lit-up computer. No, wait, something's reflecting- AAUGH!"
Antler-Head and Lynx-Ears watched in horror as Tiger-Tail flew through the air, the panicking man firing his rife wildly, the sparks of gunfire giving them the trajectory of his flight. They heard the sound of his body impacting upon the stone floor, more than a few feet away from where he was thrown. Something had tossed him clear to the other side of the room. The two Fangs refrained from firing their weapons into the room, not wanting to risk shooting their comrade.
Lynx-Ears turned to her antlered comrade and frighteningly asked. "What the hell was that?!"
Antler-Head could only shake his head at the question. Suddenly, they heard what sounded like grinding gears and saw a blinding light. Antler-Head caught the full brunt of the light, blinding him and causing him to drop his weapon to cover his eyes. As he screamed in fright, he was forcefully shoved into the stone walls of the tunnel by a powerful metallic arm.
Lynx-Ears, having averted her eyes just in time, locked them on a hulking, shadowy figure and promptly fired her rifle at it. The bullets sparked upon impact, giving her brief glimpses of a metallic grey body. It looked like a giant metal man to her. Her opponent marched up to her, unimpeded by the rapid fire, and punched her in the stomach, hurtling her a few feet away and onto her back. She coughed up blood as she felt a sharp pain in her stomach. The last thing she saw, before the she fell unconscious, were the dark and soulless eyes of a metal face glaring at her.
The metal man rose, checked its surroundings and then strode off. It turned a corner, finding another trio of Fangs. The Faunus stood and stared at the metal behemoth in shock. Shock quickly gave way to fury as they fired their weapons, hoping to bring it down before it brought them down. The figure jumped back, taking cover behind the corner. Dust kicked up and sparks ignited as metal bullets impacted upon solid rock.
Eventually the magazines were spent, forcing the Faunus to charge their opponent's position. One of the extremists ran faster than his comrades, charging with all the speed of a cheetah, despite being a gopher Faunus. But as he rushed the figure's position, a strong, metal arm shot out, which his face collided with. The gopher spun downward onto the ground, his face broken and eating dirt.
His comrades did not slow their charge. Knowing that his recent tactic will not work again, the figure leapt from behind his cover, meeting his newest opponents head-on. He swept his arm out, only for the Fangs to duck beneath the blow. Having used much of their ammunition, they resorted to using their rifles as clubs, which they promptly beat upon their prey. But the metal man stood tall and undeterred, not even budging with each successive hit.
It was then that the metal man reached out and gripped the head of the Fang facing him, the man letting out a muffled scream. He dropped his rifle and started banging his fists on the arm gripping his face. Unimpressed, the metal man lifted the struggling criminal by his face, with the Faunus' legs kicking the air. The fang behind the metal man saw this and panicked, running to his comrade's aid. Capitalizing on this, the metal man slammed the fang in his grasp against the other, knocking both out. He released his grip and the Faunus fell to the ground in a heap, next to his unconscious comrade.
The metal pushed forward, emboldened by his previous victories. He came across a larger group of extremists, who fled in terror, knowing what he had done to their comrades. Some fired their rifles indiscriminately as they fled, hitting the ground and walls of the tunnel, and the metal menace that was slowly encroaching upon them. They eventually reached one of the metal gate doors that separated the tunnels into sections. The Fangs fled through the open gates and proceeded to shut them. However, they noticed too late that one of their comrades lagged behind, with the metal monster hot on his heels. Not risking the chance of letting the armored escapee pass through, they shut the gates on their doomed comrade.
They heard the abandoned Fang cried out, "No, you bastards!"
They heard as he rushed the metal gates and banged his fists upon them. As he did this, he shouted in a fearful and panicking voice. "Let me in, it's coming! IT'S COMING!"
The man's speech quickly became an incoherent mess of hateful curses and desperate pleading as the sound of thunderous footsteps drew nearer. With each step, the man's cries became even more frantic and the banging on the walls more rapid and violent. They imagined that the man's hands were probably bleeding at this point. Suddenly, the footsteps stopped, followed by equally quick silencing of the desperate man's cries and banging fists. An uncomfortable silence fell on the Fangs as they stared at the gates. They raised their rifles, keeping a firm but shaking grip on them as they aimed their sights at the gate.
CLANG!
The sound of fists striking metal had returned. But they did not belong to the doomed Fang on the other side of the gate. No, these new fists were strong, maybe stronger than steel, and struck with all the force of a sledgehammer. They knew this for they had seen a dent appear on the gate's surface, one that was nearly the size of a human fist. The Fangs, despite their fear, stayed at their positions.
CLANG!
A second fist-sized dent appeared. Whatever was on the other side of the gate had enough strength to pierce metal, and it didn't even have Aura. The Fangs shook in their boots as images of what those fists might do to flesh and bone ran through their minds. The grips on their weapons wavered, but they held their position, albeit with shaking legs. This thing might have the strength of Vryolak, but they doubt it had his cruelty. They were stuck between what seemed like uncertain death, while their only escape route led to what they knew to be certain death.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
The banging on the gate was now more rapid and brutal, with various dents pushing outward. Whatever bravery left in these frightened fangs vanished, as some bolted away from the door. The few that remained were too terrified beyond rational thought to even consider running away. This brief lapse in mental capacity proved to be their undoing, as the metal doors flew out, the force of their flight knocking out some of the extremists in their trajectory. The metal man disregarded these unconscious extremists, not even sparing a glance as he marched past them.
At a corner, the metal behemoth heard the sounds of rapidly approaching footsteps, doubtlessly more Fangs rushing to join their comrades at the cave's entrance. The metal man reeled his fist back and hoping to catch the terrorists by surprise, punched the stone wall just as the fangs came within his periphery. The Fangs in the front fell back in surprise, their eyes stung by the dust of crumbled granite. In spite of that, they picked themselves up and continued their retreat, not wanting to risk falling within their attackers grasp. The mob of Faunus quickly vacated the area, save for one.
This one extremist, seeing the metal man in such a vulnerable position, decided that it was the opportune time to finish him off. But most of all, he saw this as his chance to move up the ranks. He reasoned that after killing the metal monster that had killed so many of his fellow Fangs, Vryolak would be so impressed that he'd make him his new number two. The Minotaur was going to need one if the rumors of Savin's desertion were true. The loss of the Schnee-spawn will set them back, but at least they'll be rid of one less human. With a bloodthirsty smile, he pulled his pistol from his holster. He gripped the firearm with both hands and aimed it at the back of the monster's chrome dome of a head. He pulled the firing pin back, savored his moment of genius, and pulled the trigger.
BANG-KRE-SHRIRK!
The bullet bounced off the metal dome and hit the opportunistic Fang in his right shoulder, causing him to fall while grasping his wound. Having felt the vibrations of the rebounding bullet, the metal man turned its head and looked down at the wounded extremist. He tilted his head incredulously, as though sending a confused glare at the crying and terrified man.
With a final tug, metal man pulled its fist out of the hole. Using both of its hands, he pulled the injured Fang to his feet, before shoving him into the granite walls of the tunnels. He then intensified his grip on the man's bleeding wound, causing a jolt of pain to course through the man's body. He then demanded in a metallic and angered growl, "Where are the prisoners?!"
Terrified beyond belief at the emotionless face of his metallic captor, the Fang whimpered despite the pain. "Th-th-they're in the holding cells... The east tunnel, just walk and turn a corner... oh, gods, please don't kill me!"
The metal man turned his head in the direction of the path the Fang told him to take. Satisfied, He returned his gaze back on the man, who flinched. It then lowly intoned, "If I find out you're lying, I'll come back and break the other one."
The Fang blinked and asked, "The other wha- AUGH!"
The metal man kicked his captive's right leg, snapping the man's tibia and fibula. The terrorist fell on his side, hands grasping his broken leg, crying out and cursing out his attacker with every swear known on Remnant. But the metal man paid him no mind, walking up the tunnel and turning a corner as instructed. To his immense satisfaction, the Fang he interrogated had been telling the truth as he found another tunnel. He marched forth, ready to beat down more of the extremists and free the prisoners.
From behind his metal mask, Whitley Schnee smiled. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the looks of fear on the Fangs. After two months of torment, witnessing atrocities committed upon both humans and Faunus by these so-called "Freedom Fighters", he was now exacting righteous justice upon them. Justice not just for him, but for all of the lives these monsters had destroyed.
His resolve steeled, Whitley marched further down into the tunnel. But as he edged closer to the area where the prisoners were being held, a strange and very pungent odor began to assault his senses. It almost smelled like meat cooking over an open fire, meshed together with burning gasoline. He had smelt cooking meat before, back at home when the Kitchen staff prepared dinner. As for the gasoline, he had only smelt it once before in his life, during a lab experiment. But this smell, this horrid combination of odors, he recognized it immediately, for he first came into contact with it during his abduction
It was the smell of death.
Behind his metal mask, the young heir's blood ran cold. He quickly hastened his pace, going from an aggressive march to a desperate sprint. As he neared the end of the tunnel, the smell intensified. He fought the urge to vomit as his nasal passages were attacked by smells fouler than lit gasoline. Finally, he reached the end of the east tunnel, coming into contact with sealed metal door. Using all of his armor-enhanced strength, he kicked the metal door, securing it from its hinges and letting it fall to the ground. A sudden draft of air pushed out, flames nearly licking his armored body and smoke flying overhead.
In spite of the danger, the young man entered the room. What he saw shook him to his core.
Scattered all over the burning holding area, trapped in glowing cells or shackled to stone walls, were burnt, blackened corpses. Most of these bodies had been burnt so horribly beyond recognition that he can't even tell which were human or Faunus. A small part of him hoped that the lack of identifiable Faunus features meant that there were survivors. Those hopes were dashed once he made out antlers and horns on some of the corpses. The harsh reality finally set in for the boy.
Vryolak and Savin had murdered their prisoners. They had burnt every single one of them to death, even if half of them were Faunus.
As the fires lashed the air, another one was lit within the young Schnee. A single spark ignited within him, fueled by the anger he felt toward his captors and kindled by the fury over their many travesties. That single spark soon grew into a controlled flame, one that fueled his defiance against the Fangs. But after seeing this, this utter crime against life, the flame erupted into an inferno, an all-consuming rage.
Whitley escaped the burning room and continued on toward the entrance of the cave. He swore, on his dying breath, that he will not let these people's deaths be in vain.
Having heard the sounds of a pitched battle from within the tunnels, Vryolak wondered what was happening to his troops. It had been close to thirty minutes since he sent them into the tunnels and none have yet to report in. From what he was able to gather from radio chatter, his Fangs had come into contact with a "Metal Monster". At first, he wondered whether the stress of their situation had broken their minds. That doubt was cast aside as the gunfire and screams drew nearer to his position, followed by what sounded like thunder in the distance.
Something was coming, alright, something big and strong. Whatever it was, monster or not, was making mincemeat of his soldiers. The Bull Faunus sat down upon a wooden crate and waited for his mysterious opponent to come. He pulled out his pistol and began to reload.
A sudden gasp of air drew his attention to his left. He remarked with a surprised tone, "Holy Shit. you're still alive, Yinsen?"
Despite the pain, Yinsen spat out blood and grounded out through bloodied teeth. "You sound disappointed."
Vryolak chuckled and replied, "Disappointed? Far from it, I'm actually impressed you've made it this far. You're a tougher bastard than I gave you credit for, doc."
"Pardon me if I don't feel flattered."
"Take it however you want," Vryolak shrugged as he loaded another bullet into the magazine. "It doesn't matter, though. With all the blood you lost, I doubt you're long for this world."
"The same can be said about you."
Vryolak ceased with the reloading and regarded the wounded doctor with an unworried glance. He then asked with an uncaring tone, "What makes you say that?"
Yinsen let out a subdued laugh and replied, "Because he's coming."
"Oh, really, who's coming?"
The doctor replied resolutely, "The Schnee."
It was then that Vryolak let out a hearty laugh. After everything that's happened today, he really needed a pick-me-up. It honestly sounded like a joke to him. He should be scared of Whitley Schnee, a boy with no real combat experience and had all the nerve of a submissive coward? It was a real knee-slapper.
The laughter ceased when he heard the sounds of thunderous footsteps. He also heard what sounded like grinding gears, to his confusion. He looked to the tunnel entrance and saw a bright light in the distance, which was steadily increasing in size. He focused his eyes on the light, only to make out the outline of a tall and stocky figure. Within seconds, the mysterious figure revealed itself.
What he saw was an impressive sight. The newcomer had Gunmetal grey armor, with a stocky build that made them resemble more a metallic gorilla. He noticed that the armor had a few gaps, revealing the wearers working fatigues. The gauntlets were a little oversized, as though they had small compartments. He also noticed what looked like a large metal box secured to the armor's lower back, over which was a firmly-secured leather pack that seemed to be a parachute. But what struck him the most was the figures helmet. It was round and the facemask resembled a glaring face.
He addressed the figure, "Is it you underneath that armor, Schnee?"
The armored figure didn't reply, opting to stay silent as it observed Vryolak. The Bull Faunus clicked his tongue as he loaded the magazine into his pistol. He then said, "Don't bother trying to hide it, I know it's you, brat."
"Why did you do it?" Whitley asked, his voice slightly muffled by the mask, yet sounding quite metallic.
Vryolak blinked innocently, "Did what?"
The young man tightened his armored fists, "Why did you murder all those people?!"
"Oh, you mean the prisoners!" Vryolak declared in realization, "No, no, no, you've got it all wrong. Yes, I gave the order to burn them, but you're the one who murdered them."
Vryolak smirked viciously when he noticed the Schnee shaking in his armor. It seemed as the boy was getting riled up, just as the man wanted. He was in full control of the situation. So what if the kid had a fancy set of armor, he was still the same little weakling he captured months ago and he was going to mess him up. He then raised his pistol and aimed at the armored teen's chest.
He fired a shot, only for the bullet to have no effect on the armor. He could see where it had made contact, having left a small dent in its wake. He then remarked, "Thick armor. That's annoying."
He then holstered his pistol and went into a boxing stance. He held his arms up to his face and arrogantly remarked, "I don't need a gun to finish a little bitch like you off."
Without a warning, Vryolak charged Whitley with a vicious roar, acting much like the animal from which his Faunus characteristics drew from. Surprised by the man's speed, the armored teen failed to act, falling to the ground with the heavier man on top of him. That's when he felt a shifting weight on his chest and he saw Vryolak banging his fists on both sides of his helmet. Whitley winced as a sharp ringing reverberated through his helmet, slightly disorientating him. In anger, he took his right arm, which had been lying prone, and punched the side of Vryolak's stomach.
Vryolak let out a pained grunt as he rolled on to his side, clutching his injury with one of his hands. That punch was far stronger than he thought; it almost felt like he had been jabbed by a brick. He quickly rolled away from the armored Schnee and shot himself to his feet, albeit still clutching his wound. He looked and saw, much to his shock that a small, steadily expanding splotch of red appear through his clothes. He kept his distance as the armored pain-in-his-ass rose to his feet. He was not going let this little bastard beat him like some punk.
Whitley, for his part, observed his opponent. From how he was clutching his bleeding wound and the pained expression he saw on the man's face, he had probably broken a few of the man's ribs. This confirmed two things for the young man. One, that the armor was far stronger than he originally thought and two, Vryolak did not use Aura.
Whitley raised his right arm and pulled up a panel, revealing a hidden yet primitive rocket launcher. He then aimed a rocket at the terrorist, who responded by pulling out his pistol again, which he quickly aimed at the teen's helmet. A tense stand-off ensued as the two opponents kept their eyes and weapons trained on the other, trying to gauge who will fire first.
Whitley spoke to Vryolak in a commanding tone, "Drop the gun. You're outmatched."
"Go to hell, Schnee!"
Whitley's voice became more forced as he ordered, "I said drop the damn gun, you insane bastard!"
Vryolak grit his teeth as he pulled the gun's firing pin back. As he kept the sights of his pistol trained on his armored opponent, he analyzed his situation and evaluated what actions he can take.
He was sure that he had a few broken ribs, and he was definitely sure that one of them had stabbed his lungs, as he found that it was getting harder to breath. He was also bleeding badly, meaning that punch had cut into his skin as well. The brat's armor gave him strength that no doubt far-exceeded his own. That same strength had been used on his soldiers, meaning that not even the advantage of superior numbers can stand in the Schnee's way. That was his situation.
As for his options, they didn't look good. If he fired his pistol, the armor will just deflect it, and the boy will kill him with a rocket. Even if he was able to kill the boy, he'd have Mr. X to contend with, meaning a slow and gruesome death that'll be dragged on for days. He'd rather not share go through something like that.
If not Mr. X, then A.I.M. will surely go after him for having lost so much precious data from the supplies they had given his group. Especially after Savin, whom they usually communicated with, had decided to desert, meaning that he was useless to them.
Lastly, if he dropped his weapon and made a run for it, his soldiers waiting outside will see his broken body and no doubt seize the opportunity and kill him. He knew that his troops hated him and that their fear of his strength was what kept them in line.
In short, it all boiled to either getting killed by the boy, or his former benefactor, or by his own soldiers.
That's when he decided upon another option. One that will let him end things on is terms.
"Fuck it." He spat out.
He pressed the barrel of his pistol underneath his chin.
BANG!
Whitley watched in shock as Vryolak fell back on his feet, with half of his face missing and smoke radiating from the barrel of his pistol. The boy lowered his arm, but found he was unable to move his gaze from his tormentor's corpse. Miklos Vryolak, The infamous Minotaur, a man who had prided himself on his huntsman-like strength and control over the lives of others, and delighted in the torture and deaths of his enemies had killed himself. This man, who hated humanity with a passion, chose to kill himself. He'd rather take his own life than let a filthy human take it.
"A gruesome end for a gruesome person..." Yinsen's weak voice roused him from his stupor.
He saw the doctor lying down on a pile of white rice bags, which had been stained red by his blood. He noticed that the bottom part of the old man's shirt was now a very deep crimson. He had lost too much blood. The boy quickly went over to his dying friend and knelt beside him. Releasing the clasps holding his facemask in place, the boy raised it up, his face visible to the world.
"Come on, get up, old man, I can still get you out of here." The boy told the doctor, desperately clinging to the hope that he can still save the man's life.
"No... Just leave me here. I'm dead, no matter what." The doctor replied, the light fading from his eyes.
"Come on, we had a plan."
"This was always the plan, Schnee."
Shocked by the confessions, Whitley asked the man. "But what about your family, don't you want to see them again?"
Tears fell from Yinsen's eyes as he sadly replied, "My family's dead... These monsters burned them inside our house... But I'm going to see them now, Schnee."
Whitley stared pityingly at the doctor. Yinsen saw this and reassuringly said, "It' okay. I want this... I want this."
He watched as the doctor reached into his shirt's breast pocket. With a shaky hand, the doctor pulled out a small object. He then held his hand over Whitley's and dropped the object into his. It was a ring, a golden ring. He gave the jewelry to Whitley and asked him, "Promise me, when you get out of here, that you'll go to Gulmira and bury my wedding ring with my wife. Will you do that for me?"
Whitley stared at the ring in the palm. Without a second thought, he told the man, "I promise."
"Thank you... my friend."
Whitley smiled sadly, tears welling up in his eyes. He then told his savior, "Thank you for saving my life."
"Don't waste it, then. Don't waste your life, Schnee..."
The light in Yinsen's began to fade as his breathing became slower. Then he looked beyond the teen and smiled, "I see them... I see..."
With those final words, Yinsen drew his last breath. His head fell backward, lying down upon the pile of bloodied rice bags that had served as his death bed. Whitley stared at the prone corpse of his friend. Something in him broke when he saw the light finally fade from the doctor's eyes. For the first time in many years, Whitley Schnee cried. He cried his heart out as he mourned the passing of his friend, a good man who didn't deserve what had happened to him.
Grief quickly became anger when he remembered that there were more soldiers were outside. The thought that the bastards responsible for so much death and misery were still alive filled him with disgust. He was not going to let them harm anyone else.
Depositing Yinsen's ring into a small compartment, the young man rose to his feet once. His anger ignited into full fury as he steeled himself for what was coming. What these monsters did to others, he was going to inflict upon them tenfold. He pulled down the face mask and clamped it tightly onto his helmet.
In that moment, he became more than Whitley Schnee.
He was now an armored avenger.
It was quiet in the camp as the Vryolak Loyalists waited for their commander to Appear. It had been close to an hour since they were ordered to hold position outside of the mine. But as they waited, they heard what sounded like a pitched battle from inside the mine. Minutes later, the sound of a single gunshot echoed through the camp. As they feared disobeying their leader, the Faunus extremists held their positions.
Suddenly, they heard a harsh rumbling erupt from the cave. For some, it sounded like thunder from a coming storm. For others, it resembled more the beating of a war drum. Seconds later, a figure emerged from the dark abyss of the mine. At first, they assumed it was Vryolak.
But once the individual was in full view, they nearly jumped in fright. Standing in full view of the gathered terrorist, was a person in a set of armor. The grey armor shined in the blast of the morning sun as it stood with a defiant stance. Scattered over the armor were dents, scratches, and what seemed to specks of dried blood. The sight of this metal man nearly frightened them.
Eventually, someone worked up the nerve to shout, "Open fire!"
The extremists immediately followed the order, spraying the area where the metal man stood with a volley of bullets. The metal man didn't even budge as he was pelted with bullets, standing his ground without even wavering in his stance. Soon, the extremists spent their ammunition. They stood in shock as the armored man continued to stare at them, freezing them in place as he locked his scowling metal glare upon them.
Just what the hell is this thing? Many of them wondered.
The metal man then growled lowly, "My turn, fuckers."
He then flexed his arms out, flames shooting out. Like the breath of the dragon, the fire shot out quickly and furiously. The front line was immediately engulfed in the flames, the burning terrorists either falling dead or dancing wildly as they burned. Those not caught in the fiery waves retreated, but it did them no good as the fires washed over the crates holding their stolen weapons.
The heat of the fires ignited much of the stored ammunition, starting a chain reaction as explosions of debris and body parts erupted. Many of the Fangs that had sought cover were blown back as their barricades exploded near them. No matter where they went, the extremists could not escape the growing sea of flames. Their metal attacker strolled through the flames without a care, waving his arms about as the flames shot from beneath his wrists.
In the center of the camp, the holographic projector which had hid their camp for so long exploded, revealing the hidden holdout to the world. Whitley saw this and smile as he watched the hologram flicker and fade before disappearing altogether. But that's when he noticed that the fire was starting to get out of control. If he stayed here any longer, he was either gonna burn to death or die from smoke inhalation.
He took this as his moment to cease his assault. With his left hand, he flipped a panel on his right arm over, revealing a red button. Without any hesitation, he pressed the button. Two streams of fire shot out from his feet, propelling him into the air. Just as his feet flew off the earth, a great explosion erupted within the camp, a large plume of flame and smoke reaching high into the sky.
From this cloud, a lone object rocketed out, flying away from the area. It was Whitley Schnee, who grit his as the strong winds and G-forces slammed into this body. He opened his eyes, which he had closed once he launched, and saw the open desert beneath him and the rich blue skies around him. Suddenly, he heard the thrusters sputter before dying. After rising high into the air, he was falling through it. He screamed as his body went into free-fall.
He tugged on a string situated on his waist. He was rewarded with the relieving sound of fabric unfurling as a parachute opened. The Schnee relaxed as he let the desert winds guide the parachute. Shuffling his head to his left, he saw a dark cloud rise from where the extremist camp had been located. He felt immense satisfaction as he watched the smoke reach into sky. Soon, he felt semi-solid ground again as he landed in the desert. The landing was rough as it forced the boy to fall face down into the sand. The parachute followed suit, still blowing in the wind as it rested on the ground.
After pushing himself onto his back, Whitley spent the next few seconds trying to calm his nerves. Once he was fully relaxed, he removed his helmet. His sweaty, dirt-smudged face basked in the warmth of his sun, his matted and wet hair drying from its heat. He looked up at the blue sky, the same sky he had been soaring through only moments before, and savored the feeling of relief and joy that washed over him.
He was finally free.
With an exhausted sigh, The Schnee laid his head upon the warm desert sands.
"Not bad," he remarked as he basked in his newfound freedom
Whoa, this was hard to write. Sorry it took so long to update. I've been busy with essays, assignments, and exams... sooooo many exams...
Oh, and I adopted a dog, which just added more things into my already hectic schedule. The little guy is really energetic and just can't seem to sit still for long. He also barks, a lot. I also have no idea what breed he is, considering he's a mixed breed.
Anyway, I hope you can all forgive how rushed this chapter is. I had a bit of trouble writing the action scenes, considering that this is the first had to write them. If anyone has any advice on how to write better action sequences that are very well-written, fluid, and show a lot of planning behind them, please tell me in the reviews.
I have also reached a compromise with the word count situation. From now on, every chapter will be 7-9,000 words long. While this may separate chapters into different parts, it also means that more content will be publish and in a shorter amount of time.
Finally, I am also collaborating with the Timeless Writer for their story "The Worlds of Arc" (The collaboration in question is the Last Fall of Cybertron Chapter) and I'm beta-reading "RWBY Cinema Action" written by D.N. Works (Whose story will have this chapter as one of the featured stories to be reacted to). I am also hard at work at writing another chapter for "Two Knights at Arkham" and writing three new stories for this site I've been working on for a long time.
As for other stuff I've done: I haven't seen the Joker movie, as it came out when I was doing a lot of school work that I had to devote time to. I did see Terminator: Dark Fate (My opinion of that movie is this: While it is a definite improvement over Genisys and Salvation, it's not going to save the franchise. Then again, the terminator series has been dead to me since they cancelled the awesome Sarah Connor Chronicles.)
Now to address some story details and questions:
I didn't even know that I made a Kim's Convenience reference (If someone would point out what it was, I'd be thankful)
Vryolak is an actual minor comic villain, and he was known as the Minotaur. He didn't have much of a presence, or personality, so I just gave him one and RWBYfied him.
Savin is also character from Marvel Comics. He is better known as Coldblood-7, a cyborg mercenary. A very loose and poorly translated interpretation of the character was portrayed as a secondary antagonist in the third Iron Man movie.
The last chapter's title was a reference to the Audioslave song "Cochise", which was used for the first full trailer for the first Iron Man. It also works almost like the ending song for this character arc, as it describes Whitley's evolution to a tee.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, despite its numerous flaws (Notably misspelled words). Another chapter will be published before the year ends.
Until then, Happy Holidays and remember to read this story's sister fic "The Amazing Jaune Arc" (They're set in the same universe)