The following is a non-profit, fan-made work of fiction. RWBY and Iron Man are the respective trademarked properties of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC and Marvel Entertainment, LLC. Please support their respective franchises and releases. This means I own jack, so don't sue me, it's all for fun. (And practice, I just wanna be a better writer.)
The Invincible Whitley Schnee
Chapter Eight: Coming Home (Part 2)
The Funeral started an hour after Agent Sitwell had arrived. Out of respect, he postponed Whitley's return to Argus so that the boy may attend. Sitwell, out of courtesy, chose to attend the service as well. He owed it to the man for not being able to save his life, as well as those of the other prisoners. The agent looked over at the young Schnee, who stood still as a statue as the mayor conducted burial rites.
Hyacinth had informed him upon his arrival of the recent development regarding the fate of young Toni Ho, and how the boy was now effectively her legal guardian. The two men agreed to discuss the matter with the boy after the service, along with the girl's current caregiver, Hydrangea.
But for now, he will stand silently and pay his respects.
As for the Schnee, his mind was focused entirely on the service.
He was currently lamenting the fact that not many people had come to the funeral. He had thought there would have been a larger crowd. But with much of the village close to being deserted, only a handful of people came to Yinsen's burial. Still, it was good to know that these people cared enough to momentarily cease their moving to pay respect to the man.
As per tradition, they were dressed in white, the color of mourning in their culture. He himself was dressed in white as well, wearing a white tunic given to him by the mayor, who stood close to the recently-unburied grave belonging to Cho Ho. Little Toni stood next to him, dressed in a white robe, her little hands rubbing the tears from her eyes. Next to her, the woman who had served as her caretaker- whose name is Hydrangea as Whitley learned- tried to soothe the mourning girl, to no avail. The small child's cries were testing the strength of the gathered mourners' ability to stay stoic, her tears nearly bringing them to tears.
They tried to focus on the mayor, who was nearing the end of the burial rites. "From dust, we are born, and it is to dust, we are returned. We do not fear death, for all are reborn from dust."
The teen genius had never been religious, or spiritual for that matter. He oftentimes considered himself an atheist. But as he listened to Hyacinth read Yinsen's last rites, the man's voice carried those words with such confidence that he nearly found himself believing in more than science fact.
"The soul shall ascend, to the plain where all are equal. With these words, we return Ho Yinsen to Mother Remnant. So say we all?" Hyacinth asked as he finished the rite.
"So say we all." The mourners said, Whitley as well, out of respect for his friend.
Hyacinth nodded and turned to Whitley, "Mr. Schnee, would you please place the ring on top of the casket?"
Without uttering a single word, Yinsen walked next to the grave and stretched arm out above the wooden coffin. He opened is fist and dropped the ring. The golden wedding band landed on the hard-wooden surface of the coffin with a small thud.
Whitley smiled sadly, thankful to have fulfilled the dying wish of a good man. While his body may not be buried with his wife and son, the boy was glad he was able to reunite a small part of Yinsen with them.
You can rest now, my friend... and thank you, for everything. He thought as stray tears threatened to fall from his eyes.
Welcome home...
"And may the Gods grant his soul eternity..." Hyacinth prayed, ending the burial.
And like that, the small crowd of mourners began to dissipate. They each took their time in giving Toni their condolences, as well as to thank the young man who had helped give her father a proper burial. Soon, the only people standing at the grave were Hyacinth, Hydrangea, Sitwell, Toni, and Whitley.
Sitwell looked to Hyacinth and asked, "Mr. Mayor, would you please lead me to your home? We have much to discuss."
"Agreed, Agent Sitwell..." The old man spoke, "we still have that matter we need to discuss."
Sitwell nodded his and said, "Of course. Though, I believe we should postpone until everyone involved is ready to talk."
Hyacinth agreed with the younger man's suggestion and promptly motioned him to follow him. The two men walked off, to the mayor's home, so that they may prepare for the coming discussion, as well as to make arrangements for the Doctor's body to be buried in Gulmira, once it had been identified. Until then, they will wait until Whitley was ready to talk.
Hydrangea saw this and understood immediately what they were doing. But she needed to be sure that they were willing to talk about Toni's situation. She looked to the boy and asked him, "I need to speak with the mayor and Agent Sitwell. Could you watch over Toni until I'm back?"
The boy nodded, giving the old woman his answer. She replied with a smile and nodded as well, before walking off to catch up to Sitwell and Hyacinth.
After she walked off, Whitley looked down at the still-sniffling child. He frowned slightly as he watched her try to stop keep herself from crying more. Seeing no choice, he decided on a course of action that might help the girl.
He knelt down and told her, "Your daddy was a brave man, Toni."
It was still weird calling a child by his grandmother's nickname.
Said child looked up at him and asked, "But is it okay I miss him?"
"It's okay. In fact, I miss him too." Whitley told her reassuringly, "And he missed you, too. Your daddy loved you very much, Toni. Please, don't ever forget that."
Toni wiped the tears from her eyes and wiped her nose. She looked up at Whitley and gave him a soft smile, "I won't. Thank you, Wihitwee."
The boy didn't even try and correct her. She was only four years old.
"No problem, kid." He told her with a smile.
That's when Hydrangea approached the two. She picked up Toni and held her in her arms. Whitley rose up and asked the old woman, "Where can I meet them?"
Hydrangea replied, "At the mayor's house. Follow me."
And so it was that the trio left the cemetery, to meet with the two men at the mayor's home. As they walked, Hydrangea took a few moments to analyze the young Schnee. She wanted to see just what kind of person Yinsen had handed the responsibility of raising Toni onto. She had seen photos of the boy on the CCT news bulletins, and she was quite surprised to see that that the slender, scrawny had been able to bulk himself. But it was nothing too dramatic, he was just leaner and had more muscles, and only slightly taller. From what she heard from Doctor Drew, the boy's ego had made him overestimate his physical changes, as typical of most teenagers.
Ah, to be young and foolish again. She wistfully thought, reminiscing to her youth. Then again, that was probably the first time in months he's actually looked at a mirror. The boy probably forgot what he looked like.
As well as the physical, she took note of his behavior. The boy, as far as she can tell, had suffered, mentally wise, and was slowly falling apart at the seams. Every so often, he would sneak a glance at some passing villagers, as though he were expecting them to attack him. His eyes were tired and worn, with heavy bags under them, indicating he had not had a proper nights rest for what seemed like months.
The way he carried himself reminded her of a shell-shocked veteran than a carefree teenager. He looked older, and she did not mean in a good way. No one at that age should have such a defeated look in their eyes.
And now, he had the responsibility of looking after a life younger than his own.
She can only wonder what his reaction will be, when he hears the news.
"With all due respect... Are you out of your damn minds?!"
Hyacinth, Hydrangea, and Sitwell didn't even wince, for they knew that would be the boy's reaction. Surprisingly, his tone was for more restrained than they expected, being more mild annoyance than outright outrage. The choice of profanity was also somewhat more subdued. They were thankful that Toni had decided to take a nap in another room.
Hyacinth said, "No, Mr. Schnee, we are quite perfectly sane. By bequeathing his wedding band, one of his most treasured possessions, Yinsen had named you the legal guardian of Toni, albeit unintentionally."
Sitwell spoke up, "What Mr. Hyacinth said is true, young man. As Gulmira is an unrecognized village, they are not bound by Mistral's laws. As such, they are free to follow their own, and according to their customs, you are now the caretaker of that little girl."
"But I'm only fifteen! I don't know anything about children, let alone raising them! Hell, I'm still technically a child!" Whitley argued, hoping to make the adults see reason.
"No one is arguing that, son. But the fact is that Toni Ho, by the laws of Gulmira, is now your ward." Hyacinth countered.
"But..." Whitley ran his hands through his hair and sighed.
He took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, it's just that this is a lot to take in. I just escaped from captivity-"
"Which you've yet to explain how," Sitwell interjected.
"I know, and I'll get to that soon- But, as I was trying to say, I've just escaped and now I've found that I've been given this huge responsibility that I wasn't even aware of..."
The three adults allowed the young boy to continue.
"I'm not saying that I'm not willing to take Toni in. I owe Yinsen my life, and if the only way to repay him is to make his daughter my ward, then I'm all for it. But the fact is that Toni needs an Adult to raise her, not another child like me. Toni needs a responsible adult in her life, someone who can provide a stable life for her and teach, nurture, and guide her into adulthood. "
The three adults looked on in shock at the young man. It surprised them that a teenager would even give them such a mature explanation. Hydrangea was especially surprised, given her own skepticism about leaving young Toni in the care of a teenager. But the boy's reasoning ultimately proved her fears wrong. Whitley Schnee was definitely the one to help give Toni a better life, far from Mistral. It was better than the other two options, which was for the girl to either stay in the heavily anti-Faunus kingdom or a village that was rapidly becoming a ghost town.
But that didn't mean he was going to raise her himself.
"Then, perhaps we can reach a compromise?" She suggested.
Whitley looked at her in confusion, and her fellow adults looked at her with an inquisitive stare.
"A compromise...?" Whitley asked, wondering what the old caretaker was suggesting.
"Mr. Schnee, I'm going to be honest with you. You are right in that you are too young to raise her, but you are still now responsible for Toni's wellbeing. That doesn't necessarily mean you have to raise her yourself, but that you can find her someone who can provide her a stable and safe life, so long as you check in on her. Do you know anybody who can give her that?"
Whitley rubbed his chin in thought at that. What Hydrangea suggested was ultimately the best solution to this problem. But the question remained as to who'll be Toni's foster parents. It had to be someone he trusts implicitly, with a well-paying and secure means of employment, and can give Toni the childhood that she deserves. He knew someone like that, two of them in fact.
"There are two people I know." He spoke before explaining, "They're a couple, engaged, who've been thinking of starting a family. One is my father's personal assistant, and the other is my bodyguard. They're kind, compassionate, and don't judge people for being born with something out of their control."
Hydrangea asked the boy. "And she'll be loved as though she were their very child?"
"She will be loved, and she'll be happy and safe." He replied. "Though they'll need to be informed first; I've no doubt they'll take her in, it's only a matter of them having time to get things ready. I'll call them once I return to Argus Base."
Hydrangea nodded and said, "Very well. I will go pack up Toni's things. Mr. Sitwell, when do you intend to depart?"
"About two hours, Ma'am." The agent replied.
"Thank you." She told the agent before telling the boy, "And my thanks to you as well, young man. You've no idea how good this is for Toni."
With a final grateful nod, the woman left the room, to pack up the young girl's belongings for the long trip to Argus. As soon as the door closed, Whitley addressed Sitwell and Hyacinth.
"Now that that's been settled; I believe I owe you a story, Agent Sitwell."
The agent said, "Yes. First, I would like to know how you were able to escape a heavily-fortified terrorist camp."
Whitley stared at the agent, wondering what he should say to him. Sitwell did not strike him as a fool, so lying was definitely out of the question. He did not want to tell him the truth either, as he didn't seem like the trustworthy type. After what had happened to him, he didn't know who to trust outside of his admittedly small circle of friends. For all he knew, MSIS, and maybe the Mistral Military, was just as compromised as Atlas or the SDC. But the agent still needed an explanation for his survival.
It was then that Whitley decided to give the man the partial truth, to tell him what he wanted to hear while leaving out a few key details.
Whitley spoke, "There was a man in a metal suit of armor..."
And so Whitley regaled the two men with the tale of his escape, which he had edited for the record, of course. Of the truths he had told them, He informed them of the identities of his captors, and told how Yinsen had sacrificed himself to aid his escape, how he had stumbled upon the executed prisoners, and how he had been able to escape as the terrorists attacked his mysterious metal savior. He related to them his nearly two day trek through the desert, what he neglected to share was that he had been the one in the metal suit, but as far as he was concerned, they didn't need to know that.
Then again, when I was in that armor, it felt like I became a totally different person.
When he had finished telling his story, he was satisfied to see that the two men had bought his story. Well, to him it appeared that Hyacinth believed his story, if his widened eyes and gaping mouth were of any indication. Sitwell, on the other hand, was as stone-faced as a statue, with no visible show of emotion on his face.
His response, however, showed his skepticism, "Alright, so I should put an APB on CyberCop?"
Whitley's opinion of the MSIS agent dipped with that response.
"Agent Sitwell, that was very uncalled for!" Hyacinth reprimanded the bespectacled man.
"I meant no disrespect with that remark. I just find it very hard to believe." Sitwell explained before elaborating, "It sounds impossible. Some stranger in a full suit of armor just waltzes right into a camp full of armed, violent extremists and was somehow able to level the entire place?"
"Look, I'm only telling you what I saw! Excuse me if I didn't take the time to bring back proof, but I was a bit busy trying to escape with my life!" The boy shouted defensively.
If Whitley wanted these men to believe his story, then he really had to sell the part of an emotionally volatile and traumatized boy; it was an easy role, considering that he is indeed an emotionally volatile and traumatized boy. It was method acting at its finest.
"Well, I'm sorry that I can't convince you otherwise, but I know what I saw, and what I saw was a 'stranger in a metal suit'!" Whitley shouted, "I don't know if it was the heat or the adrenaline, but I can't explain what it was I saw!"
Sitwell sighed and said, "Mr. Schnee, I don't doubt that you believe you saw something unexplainable, all I doubt is the true nature of your rescuer."
The boy mentally smirked. It looks like he bought my story... And the award for best acting goes to Whitley Schnee!
"Well, Agent Sitwell, can you explain what the 'true nature' of my savior was?" He asked the government agent.
"Well, it's more than likely that what you saw was possibly a group of bandits. We have reports that the Branwen and Askani tribes have been trying to gain influence in the region, often at each other's throats. What you saw was most likely a raiding party from either of those tribes, and the armored figure was their heavy hitter." Sitwell explained.
Roll with it, Whitley! The boy thought.
"Yes... Yes, you're probably right, Agent Sitwell. That's probably what I actually saw." Whitley said with a resigned tone. "Forgive me, it's just that I'm very tired and I... I just want to go home."
"And you will, son." Hyacinth told the boy with a reassuring tone.
"Indeed, Mr. Schnee." Sitwell said. "And once your ward is ready to leave, we will depart for Argus. For now, just relax."
The agent adjusted his suit and pressed his glasses up.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to inform the world that Whitley Schnee is alive." He said before leaving the room.
It was now just Hyacinth and Whitley. The boy had no idea what the old mayor will say. He may have looked impressed by his story, but it was more probable that the old man was simply astonished by his ability to dupe a highly trained agent. Whitley can admit that if their situations had been reversed he'd be hard-pressed to believe such a story.
"Mr. Schnee" The old man began, "I will be honest with you. I don't know what happened out there in the desert, and I don't doubt you've had quite a struggle, but speak honestly. This armored warrior, whoever they were, did they put an end to Vryolak and Savin?"
"I didn't see what happened to Savin, so I don't know if he's still alive or not. But Vryolak, I can honestly say that he is most assuredly dead. The bastard found himself backed into a corner and chose to take his own life." Whitley told the man.
"I see... Well, I doubt the news of Vryolak's death will convince some of the villagers to stay, but I know they can rest easy knowing that man is dead." Hyacinth said as he rose.
"So what do you intend to tell them?" Whitley asked, still seated in his chair.
"The same thing you told me. As I said, they probably won't stay, but it doesn't matter, Gulmira's finished anyway. As for this armored savior of yours... I don't know who they were or what their true intentions were. They may have been a bandit, or even a hunter, but what I do know is this: To me, and all the villagers, that warrior is a hero."
The old man slowly exited the room, leaving Whitley as the sole occupant. The boy sat there for a while, wondering about what the future may hold for him. He thought of his new ward, his return to Atlas, and what his plans for the future were. But most of all, he thought back to Hyacinths words. After escaping the cave, all he thought about was his failure to save everybody and his disgust at taking life. Not once did he consider the positive impact that his actions created.
Not once did he ever consider the possibility that he might be a hero.
No, that's just crazy talk...
The boy rose from his seat and left the small room.
He had a long ride ahead of him.
When she received word from MSIS that Whitley Schnee had been found alive, Colonel Caroline Cordovin wondered if she had finally gone daffy at her age. She was old, older than most in the Atlesian Military. So when she heard that the boy had been found, months after his escort had been shot down, she had to take a moment to consider if she had finally started succumbing to early onset dementia. When she heard the boy's voice in the message, any doubts she had regarding her mental state.
And now here she stood, out on the runway of her base, accompanied by her personal guards, the Nubuck twins, awaiting the return of Whitley Schnee.
Her eyes looked to the horizon, over to the mountains that the boy's security detail had flown over more than two months ago. To know that the boy would be returning here in a Mistral airship rather than an Atlesian one was another reminder of her failure to protect the boy. Then she saw them, a small group of steadily growing dots rising above the mountains. As they came closer, she began to make out the details of these objects.
They were Bullheads, blue in color, and approaching at incredible speeds.
They flew past the mountains, over the city, and finally slowed down as they made their final approach on the base. The lead airship was the first to make its descent, as its engines shifted downward to allow the craft to hover as it began its landing procedure. The airship landed on the runway with a brief jolt.
The door panel slid back, the passengers slowly exiting the craft. The first individual to exit the aircraft was a crisply-dressed bald, tanned man who carried a professional bearing in his posture. She had no doubt in her mind that this man was Jasper Sitwell, the MSIS agent who had found the missing boy. The agent approached and acknowledged her with a salute.
"Colonel Cordovin, forgive our late arrival. Certain developments had impeded our return for a few hours."
Cordovin raised a brow and asked, "Developments, you say? And what 'developments' would halt the boy's return by a few hours?"
A voice behind Sitwell asked, "Why don't you ask the boy yourself?"
Sitwell stepped to the side to allow the new voice to identify itself. As soon as Cordovin saw the person, she had to keep her mouth from dropping at the sight. Standing before her was Whitley Schnee, but not the boy she had met all those months ago. This Whitley was leaner and fitter than the scrawny, slender boy that stood in her office months ago. While the physical changes were not dramatic, the very fact that the boy had developed any muscles was itself a shock.
But what really shocked her was the presence of a small figure hiding behind the boy's legs. A small child, a little girl probably no older than four years, hid behind his legs, frightened by all the strange, new sights around her. When the girl peeked out from behind the boy, Cordovin saw that she had black hair, atop which stood folded back cat ears. The child was a Faunus!
"Is there a problem, Colonel?" The boy asked with an irritable tone.
Cordovin composed herself and explained, "No, Mr. Schnee, I'm just surprised at your choice of... company."
Whitley narrowed his eyes and indignantly questioned, "Do you have a problem with my ward?"
Cordovin blinked and dumbly asked, "Your ward?"
"She is the daughter of the man who saved my life. In his last moments, he named me her legal guardian. Her remaining family was killed by the same ones who captured me." Whitley explained before adding, "She will be treated with the same respect as I am; if you have any problem with her than you have one with me. Do I make myself clear?"
"Forgive me, Mr. Schnee, I meant no disrespect." Cordovin backpedaled, "Your ward will be given the same respect as you are."
The boy smiled and said, "Thank you, Colonel. I'm glad we were able to come to an understanding. Now, would you please tell me where I can find a scroll? I need to make a call."
Cordovin nodded and spoke, "Of course, sir. While I can't get you a scroll, I can give you access to one of our video terminals."
"Thank you, Colonel. Before we leave, can I have a moment with my ward?"
The Colonel nodded and stepped back, as did her guards. As soon as they were a few inches away, Whitley knelt and calmly told Toni, "I'm going to be gone for a few minutes, Toni. I'm going to talk with some people who'd like to meet you. Mr. Sitwell will watch you until I get back. Is that all right?"
The little girl looked nervously at the bald, mean-looking man and whimpered. She wrapped her arms around Whitley's waist and fearfully pleaded, "Promise you come back, please?"
The boy ruffled the girl's hair and chuckled, "Don't worry. I'll be back, I promise."
Toni gave her new guardian a small smile before walking over to Sitwell. Whitley gave her another reassuring smile before walking off with Cordovin and her guards. As he was led to the terminal, Whitley spent that time thinking back on the words Hyacinth had told him in the man's home, words the boy had been thinking about during the flight back to Argus.
The old man had called him a hero, albeit indirectly. The boy certainly didn't consider himself one, considering what he had done during his escape. Yes, he had accepted that he had killed many people. They were bad people, the worst imaginable, but people just the same. He took no joy or satisfaction in what he had done; he was disgusted and ashamed of himself. But Hyacinth was correct in that by eliminating a couple dozen terrorists, he had saved hundreds more from Vryolak's campaign of terror. In some way, that does technically make him a hero.
Not to mention Savin is still at large...
Despite his disgust with himself, he felt outraged at the fact that Savin had eluded justice. In many ways, the cold-blooded snake man was far more dangerous than his temperamental counterpart. He had betrayed Vryolak and nobody saw it coming, which proved he was cunning and unpredictable. That he had successfully gained knowledge on classified military projects like Dead Whistle showed he was resourceful and had connections. A man like that can cause more damage in a week than Vryolak could in a year.
Maybe... Maybe I can stop him myself?
...
The boy shook his head and derisively thought. What the hell am I thinking? Hunting Savin is a job for the military, not some kid with a score to settle.
Whitley spent the rest of his short walk in silence, following Cordovin to a small terminal booth inside one of the hangars. He thanked the colonel for giving him access to this booth and stepped inside, closing the sliding door behind him. As soon as the door shut, he pressed a button on the console, which activated the terminal. The screen lit up, presenting the following text box.
[ARGUS TERMINAL NETWORK; IS THIS AN OFFICIAL OR PERSONAL CALL?]
"This is a personal call." He said into the small mic jutting out of the console.
After confirming his request, another text box typed itself into existence.
[PLEASE STATE THE NAME AND SCROLL NUMBER OF THE PERSON YOU WISH TO CONTACT]
Whitley spoke into the mic, "Pepper Potts, 1-963-945, speaker only."
The terminal acknowledged the number and began calling.
"VIC, for the last time, you can't add a K to your name!" Pepper irately told the AI over the Scroll.
"But it goes well with the jingle I'm making!" The AI argued childishly.
"Your name is supposed to be an abbreviation of 'Very Intelligent Computer'. What will the K stand for?" She countered, hoping to make sentient computer see sense.
"Uh... the K can stand for Kilobyte?" The AI suggested.
Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned.
She said, "A kilobyte is a unit of computer memory. You're a living computer, you should know this! Gods, it's like explaining particle physics to... well, a particle!"
Just as the AI was about to retort, another call came in. Pepper looked at the caller ID on her screen. The number was identified as coming from Argus. Pepper felt her heart constrict when she read the name. Argus had been the base from where Whitley had flown before his abduction. But who would be calling her from there?
"VIC, I've got another call coming through. I'm going to put you on hold until then, all right?" She told the computer.
"No, it's not all-" She pressed 'Hold'.
She accepted the new call and spoke to the person on the other line.
"Hello, this is Pepper Potts. To whom am I speaking?"
"Hey, Pepper, it's been a while."
Her eyes widened in recognition at the familiar voice. That voice was one she never thought she'd hear again. For two months, she hoped against hope that the owner of this voice was alive, but she never imagined that he would call her himself.
She smiled as hopeful tears fell from her eyes.
"W-Whitley...?"
"Who else would be calling?"
She immediately poured two months of worry into her voice as addressed her godson, "You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice! How are you in Argus? Are you all right? Are you hurt? Are you -?"
"Pepper, I know you have a million questions and I will answer all of them! I don't have much time, but I need to ask something of you, a favor."
Pepper blinked in surprise at the boy's urgent tone. She knew that the boy was likely traumatized from his ordeal, but to hear him ask a favor of her after disappearing for two months put her a little on edge. She can only speculate as to what he will ask her. But after being missing for two months, she'll happily indulge whatever favor her godson asks of her.
"What is it that you need, Whitley?" She asked.
"It's a long story, so I'll keep it short for now. When I was captured, a doctor named Yinsen saved my life. He was a captive like me. He died during my escape trying to buy me time. In his last moments, he made me promise to bury his wedding ring with his family, whom he thought were all dead."
Pepper said nothing as she listened to the boy explain himself.
"However, by giving me his ring, his most cherished possession, he unknowingly invoked an old law from his village. He made me the inheritor of all of his responsibilities, one of which is the care of his four year old daughter, who had survived. I'm essentially this little girl's legal guardian now."
Pepper nearly had a heart attack when she heard that. Her little Godson was now responsible for a little one of his own? Despite herself, she couldn't help but feel angry at this Yinsen for shoving such a huge responsibility onto the boy, especially after said boy went through such a traumatic experience. But from what Whitley had told her, the doctor had assumed his entire family was dead, so she can't entirely fault the man for his unintentional action. Then again, the man had saved Whitley's life, so she is indebted to the late doctor.
"Well, what is this favor, Whitley?" She asked unsurely.
"Pepper, I know what you're thinking right now. You're probably thinking that I'm too young to handle this kind of responsibility. On that, I agree with you. I know next to nothing about raising a kid. Hell, I'm still a minor, and let's face the facts; my father didn't exactly give me the best example to draw from when it comes to parenting."
"That would be an understatement... Wait... Did you just say Jacques is a terrible father?" Pepper asked, wondering if she had actually just heard that.
Whitley replied with a very deadpan, "Yes. Yes, I did. Let's just say my time away from Atlas has given me a new perspective on my life."
He spoke again, "But that's not important right now. Right now, there is a scared little girl who has lost everything. She's scared, hurt, and thinks the whole world has turned on her. I can't give her the safety and security she needs, which is why I'm calling you."
She didn't say anything as Whitley asked, "Pepper, would you adopt Toni? I promised Yinsen that I would help her, but I cannot raise her. She needs someone who can teach her to her own person, who can nurture her, protect her, and give her the kind of love only a parent can give. I know I'm asking too much, but you and Happy are the only people I can trust to raise her. What do you say?"
Pepper took a deep breath and thought about it. Can she and Happy really do what Whitley is asking of them? Can they really adopt a child that they have never met and care for her as though she were their own? She wanted nothing more than to start a family with Happy. She's looking forward to the day when she can hold her own baby in her arms. But then her godson, who'd been missing for two months, called her and asked if she was willing to care for his new ward in his stead. Does she have it in her to be a mother earlier than expected?
She replied, "Yes. Happy and I will take care of her. I'll talk it over with him, but I know he'll say yes too."
"Thank you, Pepper."
"You're welcome, Whit. Now, is there anything else I need to know about little Toni?"
"Well, before we left Gulmira- that's where she was born, by the way- I was given her medical info. I'll give it to you when I get back to Atlas..."
She listened as Whitley began to list off everything she needed to know about the girl who will be her adopted daughter. He related to her the girl's likes, dislikes, dreams, and her fears. He made special note to mention that she was a Faunus, which got her thinking about what life she'd have in Atlas. Pepper was not blind to the problems within the floating city. As far as she knew, there were no Faunus who resided in the city, and the few she did see there were often those who worked menial and degrading jobs. If Toni were to stay in Atlas, she'd be living in a city that would look down on and dehumanize her nearly every day. No child deserves to go through something like that.
Then again, Happy has said that he'd rather live in Mantle than in the 'Flying Shiny Shit Platter'; A sentiment that I wholeheartedly agree with.
She had no love for Atlas. She was Mantlian, born and raised, and proud of it. Mantle had its problems; she knew that, especially with all that's been happening recently. It was a dirty, unsafe, and festering city, but at least its citizens had no pretensions of being superior to the other kingdoms. But most of all, unlike Atlas, Toni Ho can have a chance to be more than she can be.
And she and Happy will be right there with her, every step of the way.
But first, she had a certain specialist to call.
One who has been very worried about her brother.
"All right, thank you, Pepper... Oh, and please don't tell my father anything about this. See you soon."
With those last words, Whitley ended the transmission and exited the booth. The first face he saw, or rather torso, was that of one of Cordovin's guards. The giant of a man stood erect as a pillar with his hands behind his back. He could not see his, as they were obscured by a visor, but he can tell that the man's eyes were on him.
"Mr. Schnee, Colonel Cordovin demands your presence in her office." The man told the boy.
"Can you tell me for what reason?" Whitley asked.
The Guard simply replied, "She has contacted your father."
Whitley suppressed the urge to frown upon hearing that. He didn't think he would speak to his father so soon.
"Lead the way." He told the guard.
The Guard nodded and promptly turned on his heel, his boots clicking on the tiled floor as he marched away. Whitley sighed and just followed, making sure to keep himself a few inches away behind the guard. As he followed his guide to the elevator connected to Cordovin's office, he wondered what he should say to his father. What can he say to the man who had covered up his own son's abduction just to save face?
He honestly didn't know what she should say to the man.
But he definitely knew what he wanted to say.
When he came to Cordovin's office, the first thing Whitley saw was the diminutive colonel standing next to the window. The same one through which he had observed Argus months ago; a lifetime ago. If he looked through that window again, what will he see this time? Will he see the 'fruits of Atlesian labor and progress' or just another crowning example of Atlas covering up the world's ugliness with something pretty?
The boy thought. Wow, that was more cynical than usual, Whitley...
"I'm here, Colonel." He announced.
Cordovin turned to face him and replied, "I've been told by Sitwell that your Father has been informed of your return. He no doubt wants to hear from you right now."
Then why didn't he call? Whitley mentally fumed. The second he heard his son's back and he won't bother calling me himself?!
The young man chose to keep those thoughts to himself. It wouldn't very courteous of him to unpack about two months of outrage in full view of an Atlas colonel.
He kept himself composed and said, "Thank you, Colonel. Would you be kind as to give us some privacy?"
Cordovin nodded in understanding and replied, "Of course, Mr. Schnee. After all, it'd be rather distasteful of me to be present for such a private moment. Press the console on my desk to video-chat with him. I will leave posthaste."
With those final words, the colonel stepped out and entered the elevator. She pressed a button and the doors slid closed. The sound of grinding gears was heard as the lift descended down. Once he was sure that the elevator had stopped, Whitley took a moment to control his breathing, to keep his already turbulent emotions in check. After more than two months in captivity, He will have contact with his family again. Unfortunately, it had to be his father, the man who cared more for his reputation than his own son's welfare.
There were so many things he wanted to say to the man. Most of them were rather... obscene.
But now wasn't the time for him to express his complete and utter loathing for the man.
He walked to the other side of the desk and sat in the colonel's swiveling chair. Surprisingly, the chair was big enough to lay his rear-end upon. He looked down at the console, readied himself, and began typing away. He entered in a single command phrase, causing a wide monitor screen to rise. He entered in the proper name and number and typed in 'contact'.
The screen lit up, pixelated colors flashing to life as an image formed. Within seconds, the screen adjusted itself, focusing the image until it finally formed into a face, one that Whitley recognized well. Staring at him, via a computer camera, was his father. The man, as usual, was immaculately dressed, wearing a crisply pressed white business suit. His face was scrunched up in a worried expression, though the boy can't tell if it was genuine or feigned.
"Hello, Father." He greeted cordially, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Jacques affected a worrying tone and belted out, "Whitley, my boy, you can't imagine how relieved I am to see you! Do you have any idea what torment I've been through, worrying about you?! I thought you were-"
"Playing tennis?" Whitley asked, his irritation finally leaking into his tone.
Jacques blinked and asked, "Excuse me?"
"Or perhaps relaxing by the pool? Reading a book on the beach? Enjoying a fine traditional Animan dish as I lounged about in my five-star hotel room? I mean, according to the news, I'm on a 'Relaxing Vacation'. Tell me, that is what you told the world after I went missing?"
Jacques frowned and spoke, "I admit, it was a miscalculation in releasing that story. I underestimated the collective intelligence of the common masses. But you must understand that I had to uphold the family's reputation. If word got out that one of my children had been captured in my place, our competitors could have used that against the company."
In other words: I care more about the company's image than I do my own children.
That was what Whitley wanted to say.
Instead he chose to ask.
"If it had been Weiss, would you have done the same thing, Father?"
Jacques said nothing as he stared at his son. A silence settled between father and son as they waited for the other to speak.
Finally, Jacques asked. "What do you want, Whitley?"
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Whitley condescendingly asked.
"What do you want from me?" His father demanded.
Whitley thought about that question. What did he want?
What can his father possibly give him to make up for the months of physical, emotional, and psychological torment he had to endure? His heart was broken, figuratively and literally. He had to watch people die, among whom was a man that he came to regard as a friend. The respect and admiration he had felt for his father had long disappeared. In fact, he wanted to be as far away from the bastard as much as possible.
Hmmm, that sounds like an idea...
Whitley sighed and spoke, "I need some time to myself, father."
"You need... time?" Jacques asked in confusion.
Whitley elaborated, "Time to sort things out. I was effectively dead to the world for two months. If you thought my capture was damaging to the company, just imagine what my return would bring. I don't think I can handle that kind of attention, especially after what I've been through. For all I know, I might snap and break a photographer's nose with their own camera!"
"I doubt anything that severe will happen." Jacques scoffed.
"Father, I don't think you understand this, but the truth is that I am this close-" He nearly pressed a finger to his thumb, "to having a complete meltdown! I need help! If you don't want the next major news story to be about your only son having a psychotic break, then you'll let me lay low for a while, so I can get the help I need!"
"Alright, Fine! You need time? I'll give you all the time in the world!" Jacques screamed, "After you get back, there will be a press conference announcing your return. We'll take a photo, we say what the public wants to hear, and then you can go wherever you want, so long as you get help!"
Whitley calmed himself down and said, "Thank you. Don't worry; this won't impede my ability to perform my duties as one of your heirs. I just need to be somewhere else right now, to heal. I was thinking maybe I can stay in Mantle with Mr. Rhodes."
Whitley watched his father clasp his hands together and narrow his eyes in deep thought. The man's mustache bristled as he considered other alternatives to his suggestion. Seconds passed as he mulled it over. Eventually, he sighed and spoke in resignation.
"Very well, Whitley. Upon your return, you will stay with Mr. Rhodes, in Mantle - for reasons I cannot fathom- as you recover from your ordeal. I will allow this, on the condition that you perform your duties as heir when necessary."
"Of course, Father, I wouldn't want to disgrace the family name." Whitley acquiesced with a nod.
I can't disgrace it any more than you've already had.
"Quite. Is there anything else you would like to ask?"
"Yeah, there is one thing. How is Mother?" The boy asked, concerned for his mother.
"Believe it or not, she hasn't drunk herself into a stupor in a while. She still drinks, but then again, some habits are hard to kill." His father offhandedly commented.
That actually surprised the young man. His mother, an unrepentant drunkard, had actually learnt some restraint in her habits? Had she done it because of him?
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a press conference to plan." Jacques said before adding, "And please do try to make yourself presentable."
"Of course, Father." Whitley spoke.
Jacques ended the call. The screen immediately went to desktop.
Whitley lowly growled, "Jackass..."
A Jackass his father may be, but at least the man had some courtesy to give him some time away from the public eye. Not out of any feelings of paternal love, but to spare the family the 'embarrassment' of his traumatized teenage son from causing a scene. The only solace Whitley can take is that now he had the freedom to do whatever the hell he wanted to do.
But what the hell can I do?
He now had all the time he can have in pursuing whatever grabbed his interest. Unfortunately, it had to happen at the most inconvenient time in his life. He may be a recent college graduate, but he doubted anybody would hire him right now given his recent experiences. That doesn't even cover his age. 15 years old, turning 16 next month, and the only work experience he had were a few internships, none of them paid. He also had no intention of working for the SDC at this period, not while his father was still in charge.
Plus, there was the fact that whoever had wanted his father dead was most likely in Atlas, as well. It was likely that his Father, as well as the Council and General Ironwood suspected that to be the case. Given the conflict between the three, he doubted that they had cooperated in looking for any suspects. But maybe, just maybe... He can do something about that?
He survived two months as prisoner in a terrorist camp, escaped from said camp, and had been able to build a suit of armor to protect him during that escape. A suit made from boxes of scrap, at that. If he can do all of that, then perhaps he can find out who wanted his father dead, and maybe uncover other crimes the conspirator had doubtlessly committed. If the people who are supposedly sworn to mete out justice won't do it, then perhaps... Maybe he, Whitley Schnee, can do it?
Whitley shook his head, ridding such thoughts from his head.
What am I thinking? I mean, if I do any of that, I'd be committing vigilantism, something most people are jailed for.
With that sobering realization, Whitley ceased thinking such ridiculous thoughts.
He stared at the monitor and considered using the Internet. Before he returned to Solitas, he had to get caught up on what's been happening in the world during his captivity. Cordovin wouldn't mind, especially after he explained himself. His mind made up, he opened the web browser and quickly clicked on the newsfeed. While scrolling through the different articles and videos on display, he found something that caught his eye.
It was an article from the Daily Bugle, one of Vale's biggest newspapers, and the title was one of the strangest he had read.
'SPIDER-MAN: HERO OR MENACE?'
Spider-Man...
He quickly typed in the word into the search bar. After pressing 'enter', a slew of links appeared, numbering in the thousands. Each link's format was different, being articles, blogs, and even videos, but they all shared the same common factor: Spider-Man. Whitley began looking through the different links, to learn everything that he needed to know about this Spider-Man.
What he saw was nothing short of amazing.
It was honestly awe-inspiring. There was somebody in Vale, who had a spectacular set of abilities, swinging around fighting crime and taking names. All while dressed in a cheap red onesies and torn blue hoodie. The more he read about this vigilante, the more impressed he became. Spider-Man was strong enough to stop a speeding truck with his bare hands, fast enough to dodge bullets with ease, and according to the people he helped, did everything from stopping bank robberies and getting cats out of trees.
If someone like than can be a vigilante, what was stopping him from doing the same.
He had promised Yinsen that he would not waste his second chance at life. Maybe this was a sign of what he should be using that second chance for. If he can build a suit of armor to save his own life, then why not build one that can save other lives? Can he really be a vigilante himself?
Mantle was slowly finding itself embroiled in crime and corruption. Atlas won't lift a finger to help their sister city. As he had seen, there were those who hid in the shadows to prey on those who walk in the light of day. There was also the ever present threat of the Grimm, who have subsisted themselves by feeding on those who live without the Kingdom's protection.
If nobody was willing to do anything about it, then maybe he can.
And just like that, a seed was planted in the fertile soil that was Whitley's mind. A seed that will soon grow and blossom into a flower unlike any other. He exited the browser, shut the computer off, and left for the elevator. As he waited for the doors to close, he thought up a few ideas for this plan that will be his life for the foreseeable future.
But first, he had to settle his affairs. Toni needed to get settled in with Happy and Pepper, he had to indulge his father's desire for improving public opinion, and he had an inheritance to gain. After that, he can fully focus on the path he had decided upon.
He didn't know where this path will lead him, but he knew it'll be worthwhile.
The elevator doors shut.
On July 15th, 2008, Whitley Schnee returned to Atlas.
He retreated from the public eye soon after...
MANTLE, THREE WEEKS LATER...
It had been a long day for Greta and Paul Lint. They were tired of looking at rows upon rows of junk food, cleaning supplies, and magazines. They were tired of working under the flickering and buzzing glow of cheap fluorescent lighting. Most of all, they were sick of having to work in close proximity to the restroom, where a customer had left a rather unwelcome smell.
The couple, now nearing their sixties, spent most of their days cooped up in their convenience store, which they ran from underneath their apartment. All through the day, people would come in, browse their wares, and then make a purchase. Today, they had made very little in profits, with the accumulated money barely passing the 1,000 mark. It was now nearing closing time, and the husband and wife business partners were now in the process of shuttering their store for the night.
Greta was at the register, collecting their Lien to be deposited into their safe. Paul was stocking up soda for tomorrow. Most of their sales had been from the frozen section.
As they performed their final tasks for the day, which had become routine for them, the bell rang. Someone had opened the front door. Hopeful that they had a last-minute customer, the elderly couple looked over to where their newest customer had entered.
Fear settled into them as they beheld a shady-looking and unkempt man in a green trench coat had entered their store. The man's head was covered by what appeared to be a black wool cap. This man, to their growing fear, matched the description of a robber who had been cleaning out small stores like theirs.
The man, who didn't take notice of their fearful stares, walked over to the magazine aisle and started perusing the various publications available for purchase. His left hand combed over the sorted magazines and his right hand was buried within his trench coat. Greta looked to her husband and motioned him to keep stacking drinks up, so as not to arouse the man's suspicion. She returned to counting the lien, all while keeping close to the silent alarm button underneath the counter. If the worst were to happen, then she might have to press it.
The man picked out a magazine, a trashy gossip rag, and calmly approached the counter. He tossed the small magazine onto its hard surface. Greta saw this and picked it up to scan it. After she scanned the item, the price appeared on a tiny screen next to the register.
"Alright, sir, that'll be 4 lien. Is there anything else you need?" She asked, as she did with most customers.
The man looked to his right and left, and then behind him. He then asked with a soft voice, "Yeah, there is one thing you can do... put all your money in a bag."
Greta's eyes widened in fear and she asked, "What?"
"I said put the money in a bag and DON'T FUCK WITH ME!" The man cried out angrily as he pulled his right hand out of his coat.
In his hand was a pistol, locked and loaded, and aimed right at her chest. In fear, she leapt back against the wall. The robber looked to his right and noticed Paul, who had heard the shouting and was now standing there shocked, like a deer caught in headlights.
"Alright, old man, do you have a safe?!" The criminal demanded.
Paul quickly nodded his head.
"I want you to get all the money out of it and put in a bag. You better do it or I'll blow this bitch's brains out!"
Paul raised his hands and slowly made his way to the back of the store, nearing a door leading to their office, where the safe was located. He reached out for the doorknob and twisted it, only to find that it was locked.
"It's l-locked. I-I need the k-key to open it." Paul stammered in fear.
"Well, where is it?!" The robber angrily demanded.
He cocked the pistol and raised it, now aiming at Greta's head. He threateningly shouted, "Kick it open or you're gonna be scraping your wife's brains off the wall, bud! DO IT!"
Paul was now worried for his wife. He had knee surgery just a few days ago and was still healing. He couldn't kick the door open even if he wanted to. He tried to explain his condition to the man, who warned that he'd pull the trigger on the count of three if he didn't do something to the door.
"One..." He pressed the muzzle against the frightened woman's temple.
"Two..." Paul bit his lip as he broke in a cold sweat.
"Thre-"
Ding-Dong!
The sound of heavy, metallic feet drew their attention to their front. What they saw was something that they can only describe as something from out of a sci-fi movie. Standing on the cold, hard-tiled floor of the store was a tall metal man, his body chrome in color and eyes a brilliant and bright cyan. The metal man regarded the robber with his inhuman eyes and slowly approached.
"Drop the gun and surrender." The newcomer calmly said in a commanding yet youthful-sounding robotic voice.
Rather than doing as he was ordered, the robber panicked and started firing his pistol at the approaching metal man. Paul quickly scampered over to his wife and pulled her down with him, taking cover behind the counter as the bullets flew.
They watched on a nearby security monitor as the metal man strolled toward the robber, unimpeded by the bullets flying into his body. Sparks erupted across the surface of their savior's body with each impact, while some items on the shelves took hits from deflected bullets. Finally, the robber ran out of bullets and moved to reload, only for the metal man to snatch the weapon out of his hands.
That was when the gripped both ends of the pistol and snapped it in half like a twig. The robber stood dumfounded for a few seconds, as though he were frozen in fear. Eventually, his brain started working again and he made a move to the left, hoping to outrun the metal man by cutting through another aisle. Their savior saw this and delivered a swift uppercut into the robber's face, which sent him flying right into the ceiling. The robber's head broke through the ceiling, burying shoulder deep into the surprisingly strong plaster. His body went limp as it dangled carelessly, swaying side to side.
Paul and Greta rose from behind their counter and looked upon their savior. The metal man noticed them and told them reassuringly, "Don't worry, he's knocked out. The police are on their way now."
He turned on his heel and walked toward the door. As he walked, he politely told the old couple, "Have a nice night."
Once he was outside, the metal man flexed his arms out and straightened his posture, keeping his feet close together. Then, to the awe of the couple, bright beams of light erupted from the man's hands and feet, propelling him into the air. Suddenly, he flew off at great speed.
The couple stood there in silence, completely baffled by the sudden appearance of this seemingly invincible robotic crime fighter. So awestruck were they that they didn't even notice when the ceiling gave in, causing their would-be robber to fall onto the ground in a heap.
After the robber was taken into custody by the police, they uploaded the security footage onto MeTube. Within hours, the video gained millions of views. Many of their viewers shared the video on their social media, which raised more awareness. By early morning, nearly most of Atlas and Mantle had seen the video. While they didn't know the vigilante's true identity, they did have a name for him, supplied generously by the old couple in the video's title.
The Invincible Iron Man.
Or simply, Iron Man
Here is the first chapter of the month as I promised. Hopefully, I'll have the next one posted by the end of the month.
After more than a year, we finally reached the beginning of Iron Man's legend.
And don't worry; eventually he'll earn the red-and-gold.
Excelsior, True Believers!
P.S. Whitley is not as swol as he believes himself to be.