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.)
More Birthdays!
Neon Katt (June 31st, 1991)
Flynt Coal (September 15th, 1990)
Marrow Amin (April 12th, 1987)
Toni Ho (July 7th, 2004)
Obadiah Stane (January 22nd, 1951)
Jacques Schnee (April 1st, 1953)
James Rhodes (November 15th, 1962)
James Ironwood (March 5th, 1958)
The Invincible Whitley Schnee
Chapter 10: Under the Surface (Part 2/2)
Mantle, August 10th, 2008
Beneath Toni Stark-Schnee's Former Apartment
39 Downey Avenue
4:12 AM
"V, for the last time, my grandma was not a godsdamn vampire!"
"She was totes a vampire, man! How else do you explain these secret stairs... and your admittedly deathly pale skin?"
As they descended down the spiraling staircase, with their only source of light being the dimly lit fluorescent bulbs lining the walls, the AI and genius argued over the exact nature of this hidden entrance. Somehow, V.I.C. got it into his virtual head that the late Toni Stark-Schnee had been a vampire; a day walker, to be more precise. He based this hypothesis on the facts that she lived alone, her children and grandchildren had pale skin, and the supposed underground lair beneath her apartment. Whitley, for his part, honestly can't believe that he was even debating this with his creation.
His grandmother worked as a researcher for the SDC, she wasn't a blood-sucking creature of the night. And those "facts" he tried to peddle can easily be explained by what was actually factual. She lived alone because she was a widow and her children were either dead or lived elsewhere. They lived in Solitas, which barely got any sunlight during the day, so of course they would have pale skin. Not to mention the fact that Vampires do NOT exist. These were undeniable facts. No supernatural hocus-pocus here, just empirically proven facts.
But the underground lair, however, was a definite possibility.
But having one under her home does not make her a vampire! The young vigilante seethed.
"It's the only explanation. For all we know, your dear ole granny's not dead, just hibernating down there in a coffin. We need to get out and find ourselves a stake, dude!" V.I.C. carried on, hoping to convince his creator of the danger that possibly waited for them below.
Whitley irritably asked, "And where exactly are we going to find a wooden stick in Mantle?"
"Dude, there's a freakin' bookcase upstairs! Let's just take one of the shelves, break it, and sharpen what's left!"
"V.I.C., we aren't making a stake! Plus, we have the armor! Repulsor rays beat wooden sticks every time!" Whitley argued, his patience now running thin.
"WE CAN'T TAKE THAT CHANCE, WHITLEY! For all we know she might be the head vampire, meaning she's possibly the strongest there is! Now, follow me back up the stairs, grab a board, and-" The AI countered, his paranoia now in overdrive.
It was here that Whitley decided he had enough. If this went on any further, he was going to explode in rage. He took a deep breath, turned to his creation, and calmly said, "You know what, V? I've decided we're going to play a little game for the rest of our downward descent into darkness. It's called the Quiet Game. The rules are so simple that even a toddler can follow them. Basically, whoever keeps quiet the longest will get a special prize."
"What's the prize?" The AI asked, despite the dread in his coding.
"The prize is that I don't get to rewrite your speech patterns to make you sound like a helium-addicted mouse for however long I damn please." The boy told him.
A pregnant pause settled between the two. The silence ceased when the AI spoke up in fear.
"Message received. I'd very much like to play the Quiet Game now... not that I didn't have a choice to begin with."
"That's a good program." Whitley remarked with a smirk.
They resumed their descent in silence. Step by step, the young man and his creation followed the path laid before them. As they descended further and further down, Whitley took to speculating the purpose of this hidden stairwell. He wondered just how it was that his grandmother had kept it a secret from everyone. Even from her family. Just what had possessed her to build this secret passageway? What kind of circumstances would compel her to do so? So many questions rattling around in his mind, yet he can't seem to find any answers?
The most blaring question on his mind was one that he dreaded the most. He was frightened by the implications this question posed, as well as the possible answers to it.
That question being, had he had really known his grandmother?
He didn't want to consider the horrifying possibility that his beloved grandmother, who had been the one positive influence in his childhood, was not as good a person as he thought she was. He didn't want to believe that the woman who had tucked him in at night, nurtured his interest in machinery, and cared for him as his parents should have, could be a criminal. He didn't know what to think.
What he did know was that the answers will be found wherever these stairs are leading him. He didn't know how many floors they've cleared already, and he knew for certain that it'll be a while before they reach the bottom, but he will get answers. They go further down, completely silent, the only audible sounds being the low hum of the lights and their footsteps. Then, at about 15 stories below ground, they beheld a metallic door. Whitley and V.I.C. quickly approached it, finally completing their descent.
Standing before the metal door, Whitley saw that it had an electronic lock. Upon its keypad were 10 buttons in total, numbered from zero to nine. He started pressing the "0" key repeatedly. The number appeared 6 times on the small screen. Unsurprisingly, the test code he had entered was instantly recognized as incorrect. That was 10 numbers for a code with six of them. Whitley quickly calculated and found that there were a total possible 1,000,000 combinations.
He remembered the code he tested out and thought. Well, 999,999 now.
But what code to use? He wondered.
Out of 999,999 possible codes to use and only one can open the door. He knew he didn't have the time or patience to try out all of them. Of course, there was also the possibility that he'd get locked out after using a few codes. He may be a genius, but he wasn't a computer. Thankfully, he had a mostly sentient one in a metallic suit right behind him. He turned and addressed said computer, "Okay, V, you won the quiet game; congrats, you won't be speaking like a mouse."
The AI fist pumped with the suit's right arm and exuberantly declared, "Boo-yah!"
"Don't get too excited now. You still have some work to do." Whitley told him.
The AI hung his temporary head low and moaned unenthusiastically, "Boo-yah..."
"Oh, don't be like that. It's not like I'm asking you to hack all of Atlas or anything. I just need you to find the passcode for this lock." The young man clarified as he motioned to said lock.
"I know I'm programmed to follow your every order. But can you maybe take back that one? I barely know this system! Who knows what kind of viruses are floating around in its code! I might catch something if I'm not careful!" V.I.C. protested as he approached the lock, his programming keeping him from disobeying his creator.
The genius blandly replied, "V.I.C., it's just an electronic lock."
"IS IT!? IS IT, REALLY!?" The AI cried out in panic. He then used the suit's hand to pry the casing off of the, despite his own verbal protests. He continued ranting as he tapped into the lock's digital memory. "SURE, IT MAY LOOK LIKE A HARMLESS LITTLE KEYPAD TO YOU, BUT FOR ALL WE KNOW IT MIGHT BE SOME KIND OF BOOBY TRAP! YOUR GRANNY MIGHT NOT'VE BEEN A VAMPIRE, BUT SHE WAS STILL DOING SOME SHADY-ASS SHIT IN THIS NEIGBORHOOD! THERE COULD BE ANYHTING BEHIND THIS DOOR, AND IT MIGHT BE- Oh, hey, I found the code."
The AI then calmly removed his hands away from the lock. The lock flashed a green light. The Metal door promptly slid back, albeit shaking off some dust from its surface. Once the door had fully disappeared into the entry way, Whitley and V.I.C. looked through the doorway and beheld nothing but darkness. They felt a slight breeze billowing out through the doorway, but could not locate the source. Whatever room they were looking into was completely enveloped in darkness.
Whitley turned to his creation and asked, "V, turn on the suit's night vision and go in. See if you can find a light switch."
The AI gave a quick salute and immediately marched through the open doorway, the helmet's bright blue optics now a dimly lit green. Whitley immediately pulled out his scroll and pressed the clock app, activating its timer function. He turned his gaze away from the small device and back to his suit, which immediately disappeared into darkness. While he can no longer see the suit, he can hear its loud metallic footsteps. Minutes passed as he waited, with the footsteps growing fainter as the time passed. When the time had passed the two minute mark, he received a phone call from the AI.
He answered the call and spoke, "Did you find a light switch, V?"
"Dude, you won't believe what I've found in here!" The computer excitedly replied, "And yes. I did find one; pressing it now!"
"Wait, V.I.C, no, not yet!" The young man shouted in protest.
He looked to the opening and was immediately assaulted by a bright flash. He shielded his eyes with his right hand, the gaps between his fingers granting him a glimpse of the blinding light. Slowly, his eyes adjusted themselves to the light, and started seeing the outlines of various objects. Curious, he stepped through the opening the opening, entering a room that was now visible to him.
Once his eyes had fully adjusted, he lowered his hand to take in whatever sights that awaited. What he saw left him at a loss for words, save for an awestruck, "Whoa..."
This was no room. What he saw resembled more a hangar, and a very big one at that. He looked up and beheld lighting fixtures that were nearly as bright as the sun. The ceiling they were attached to stood roughly, by his best estimates, a good 30 feet above him! As for the actual width of this area he hadn't the slightest clue. What he did know was that it was filled with objects and machinery of varying design and purpose. He saw that he stood in what must have the lounging area, if the furniture and television was anything to go by. Located in this area was an impressive computer array with various monitors, connected to three servers that were each as large as a refrigerator. Before this supercomputer was a single swiveling chair, with a wooden table that laid adjacent to it.
He approached the computer and sat in the chair. He took off his gloves and set them aside, glad to have his fingers free of the irritating and restrictive rubber coverings. He looked down upon the table and saw a rather odd sight. Upon its wooden surface was a dusty ball of red yarn, with a single thread leading to an unfinished scarf. A single tread Situated a few inches away were a pair of equally dusty red wool scarves. He looked closer at the scarves and saw that they had names stitched onto their ends, outlined in white thread. The names upon these scarves were his sister's.
He gazed back at the unfinished scarf and carefully flipped it over. Lo and behold, he saw his own name in finely stitched lettering.
"Oh, grandma..." Whitley bemoaned, tears welling up in his eyes.
These were the scarves that his grandmother had promised to make for them for the Winter Solstice. She had made one for their grandfather after they got married, and they wanted their own. They wanted something that could connect them to him. From
She never got to finish his. He held in his hands the very last thing his grandmother had ever worked on. It wasn't any impressive technology or a groundbreaking formula. It was just a simple scarf for her grandson. There was nothing world changing about a dusty, ratty piece of woven red wool, but it had meant the world to Toni Schnee.
He pulled his hands away from the scarf. After wiping away the tears with his sleeve, he turned his attention to the supercomputer. He beheld the centermost monitor, its screen covered in five years' worth of dust. As he wondered as to what he should use to wipe the dust away, he heard the sound of metal feet stamping near him. He turned his head and saw the armor standing, its helmet staring at him.
"What are you doing, Whitley?" The computer asked in curiosity.
"Nothing, V.I.C.," He replied. He asked his creation, "So, you still think my grandma was a vampire?"
"I'm, like, 98% convinced that she wasn't a vampire now."
"Why ninety eight?" He asked with a raised brow.
"I hate odd numbers." The computer admitted. "But in all seriousness, that doesn't mean she can't be guilty of something. While you were checking out those ratty old rags, I took a look around."
"And what did you find?" He asked, curious about what the AI had discovered.
"This entire place is packed with a lot of tech. I saw a lot of old prototypes your granny was working on. I've seen things like an electric car prototype and a rocket from the abandoned space program. But that doesn't even compare to the tunnel."
While he was interested in the machines, Whitley was more curious about the tunnel the AI had discovered. It would explain the slight breeze he felt in this underground facility. He ordered his creation to show him the tunnel. The AI motioned him to follow as he walked away from the computer terminal. The young man followed the possessed armor, walking past the entire length of a wall before turning a corner. What he saw once he turned that corner left him slack jawed and buggy eyed.
Just as V.I.C. had told him, there was indeed a vast tunnel, with two lines of railroad tracks running through it, leading away from the complex. But it wasn't the fact that the tunnel existed that startled him. No, what left him at a loss for words was the size of the tunnel. The mouth of the tunnel was wide and tall, big enough for two trains. Whitley needed to know where this tunnel led to and just how long it was.
He turned to V.I.C. and asked him, "V, I want you to fly into that tunnel. Don't stop until you reach the end of it."
The AI nodded his temporary head and said, "Got it, Boss!"
The AI activated the thrusters in the armor's boots and flew off into the tunnel. Whitley listened as the roar of the thrusters became a distant echo before disappearing altogether. Seconds passed as he waited for a response from his creation. Wherever this tunnel led to, he knew that it must have been quite a distance, if the railroad tracks were of any indication. He can't help but wonder just what kind of project would require these tracks to be used.
The kind that required some heavy lifting, it appears. The young man mused.
Seconds became minutes as he waited for a message from the AI. By that point, the young genius had taken to sitting on the ledge of the rail platform, his legs dangling over the edge. His hands tapped against the concrete floor, the rhythmic tapping somewhat keeping him calm. But he would be lying if he said that his patience wasn't running thin. He pulled up his scroll to check the time.
It was now 4:25 AM.
He had only five minutes left before he had to leave. Rhodey was due to wake up in about an hour. If he wasn't back at the apartment by then, the man will no doubt notice his absence and call the police to search for him. He'd rather not be interrogated by the police. Just one brush with the law and his father will drag him all the way back to Atlas, preventing him from seeking the truth of his abduction and whatever secrets his grandmother had hidden. That was unfortunately the best case scenario.
The worst case scenario was him being imprisoned for his small bout of vigilantism, his armor taken from him and handed over to either the army or the SDC. He'd rather destroy his armor then let his father exploit it for profit, or for Ironwood to twist it into another weapon of war. He will not let more of his inventions be used to destroy lives. He already had enough blood on his hands as it is.
Suddenly, his scroll vibrated.
He answered the call and asked. "What is it, V.I.C.?"
"I'm done exploring the tunnel. You're not going to believe where it led me."
"And where did it lead to?"
"The tunnel goes to the outskirts of the Atlas Mining Pit."
Whitley's eyes nearly grew to the size of saucers at this revelation. This tunnel led to the outer reaches of the Atlas mining pit. That's when he realized just what this tunnel was. It had once been used for the Atlas Rising Project. This chasm was no doubt one of many in a subterranean network of tunnels that were used to dig out the bedrock of the floating island before its ascension. He knew that most of them had been sealed off after Atlas rose, to prevent a possible entryway for the Grimm. The rest were incorporated into Mantle's metro system. Somehow, his grandmother had found one of the abandoned tunnels, and its station platform, and converted it into her own personal workshop. If that was the case, then it begged a very important question.
What possessed his grandmother to do this? The buildings were unsettling enough, but just what compelled the old woman to rework an abandoned rail platform into a lab? He came here looking for answers, but instead he found only more questions. It was moments like this that made him hate how needlessly complicated his life has become. Of course, he didn't have a simple life either.
"All right, V, it's time to go." He told the AI.
"Copy that, boss. I'm on my way back now."
Whitley ended the call and deposited his scroll back into his pocket. As he waited for the AI's return, he took a moment to observe the vast workshop his late grandmother had built. Was this underground facility his inheritance, or did it lay somewhere within it? He didn't rightfully know. However, this discovery proved to be quite fortuitous for him. This workshop would make a good base of operations for his little endeavor. It was well hidden, off the books, and completely off the grid. He can keep the armor here. He may not have found answers, but at least he found a solution for one of his problems. He can take some pride in that. He can only hope V.I.C. was as receptive to the plan as he was.
He heard the roar of the suit's thrusters in the distance. He rose to his feet and prepared himself for the flight back to Rhodey's apartment. Although a small part of him was not looking forward to navigating the sewers again. That's not to mention how uncomfortable it was wearing the rubber gloves and boots inside the armor.
Then again, it's not like I'm going to walk in dirty water again. He realized with some joy.
His decision made, he promptly took off the boots, the only thing protecting his feet being his miraculously dry grey wool socks. Luckily he didn't have to wear soggy and filthy socks. He tossed the boots aside and stood silently waiting for the armor. A second later, the once distant roar of thundering thrusters became deafening as the metal suit shot straight out of the mouth of the tunnel. Quickly deaccelerating, V.I.C. maneuvered the armor into an upright stance as it hovered in the air.
The AI bellowed out through the suit's speakers, "All aboard; next stop, James Rhodes' Apartment, one way trip!"
"Cut the drama club theatrics, V, and just let me back in the armor." The boy ordered of his creation.
The armor opened up and the boy promptly jumped in. The exoskeletal frame quickly wrapped around his body, followed by the armor plating connecting folding back together, once more forming the protective shell that was Iron Man's body. From within, the young vigilante checked over the status of the armor and plotted his course back toward his new home. Once finished, he addressed his AI partner. "Alright, V.I.C., let's get going."
"Righty-o, Boss; anything else you need to do before we leave?" The AI inquired.
"Nope, I say I've done all I can for now. We'll come back and check everything else later." He replied. He then added with a grin, "And you can forget hiding in the sewer. From now on, this will be where we'll keep the armor."
"Oh, thank your gods, I thought I was gonna go kill-all-humans if I stayed in those sewers any longer!" The AI cried in relief.
"Well, no need to worry any more. Now that we have a proper base of operations, we can finally move on to the next phase of the plan." The boy told his creation, "And that is information gathering. V, once you return to this, uh... wait, what should we call this place? V.I.C., do you have any suggestions?"
"Hey, it's your place, not mine. You've got to name it."
The young Schnee scrunched his face in deep thought. Through the suit's HUD, he looked over the vast underground hangar. He looked over all the strewn machinery, the long-abandoned projects, and the stacks of crates filed into rows. That's when he saw a rather unusual sight. Tucked away in a corner, covered by a tarp was an old blacksmith's anvil. He thought it odd that his grandmother would have such an antiquated tool in this place, especially with all the advanced and experimental technology stored here. Maybe it was meant to remind her of just how far technology has come and the many breakthroughs that have yet to come. To always keep moving forward, using technology in forging a better tomorrow for all of Remnant's people.
"For now, let's just call it the Forge." The boy spoke.
"Yeah, we can workshop it later; anything else we need to do before we go, Whit?"
"No, we're good. Okay, as I was trying to say before. Once you bring the armor back to the Forge, we're going to start gathering information; information on A.I.M., Savin, and whoever ordered the hit on my father. Hopefully, we can bring them to justice for all the lives they destroyed." The young Schnee explained.
The AI jubilantly cried, "Alrighty, then! Now let's blow this popsicle stand!"
The young vigilante nodded and activated the suit's thrusters, and propelled himself back toward the entrance. The door shut behind him as he ascended the hidden stairwell, before entering the living room of his late grandmother's home. He watched as the secret passage closed, with the bookshelf sliding back into place. Thankfully, he had retrieved the key before using the stairs. He promptly exited the apartment and returned to the sewers, his return to Rhodey's going unnoticed by all.
James Rhodes Apartment
5:45 AM
When he was younger, James Rhodes was not much of a morning person. But serving in the military, managing a business, and raising his niece had forced him to become one. Despite his changed opinions on the morning, there was one thing he did always love about the morning, regardless of his stance. The one thing that he always loved about the morning was the shower that came with it. No matter how many years have passed and how much he had grew as a person, the one thing that hasn't changed was his appreciation of a nice, relaxing 12 minute shower. In his opinion, there was nothing more soothing than the feeling of one's skin being caressed by little droplets of heated water, washing all the burdens and problems away from his mind and into the drain. In short, he really, really loved taking a shower.
But the one thing he loved more than a shower was nice, long bath. As he had taken the morning off to help Whitley become accustomed to his new home, the retired military man thought it prudent to take a bath. That and the fact he was expecting guests today. And so Rhodey woke up, shot straight out of the bed, donned his favorite bathrobe, and was now sauntering over to the second story bathroom. As far as he knew, his godson would not wake up for another thirty minutes, giving him ample time to take a long drawn out bath. With each meticulous step, he began to smile in anticipation at the imminent relaxation he was going to feel.
But as he neared the bathroom, his excitement became befuddlement when he saw light peeking through the closed door. As he got closer, he heard the sound of water spraying through the shower head. Just before he could knock on the door, he heard the bathroom's current occupant shut the water off. Finally, Rhodey knocked on the door three times.
"Is that you, Rhodey?" He heard Whitley ask from behind the closed door.
"Uh, yeah, Whitley, it's me." He answered, "Why are you up so early?"
"Oh, well, you know, moving luggage really wore me out. But it also really made me work up a sweat. You know how it goes." The boy answered back.
"Right, yeah..." Rhodey said unsurely, "Well, there's an extra bathrobe in the bathroom closet."
"Don't worry; I've got it on now. Also, I put my dirty clothes in the hamper already." The boy replied.
Suddenly, the door knob turned, followed by the opening of the bathroom door. A quick blast of hot air escaped the opening. Standing in the doorway was Whitley Schnee, dressed in a red bathrobe with a white towel wrapped around his hair. The boy smiled and said, "All yours, Rhodey. Don't worry I didn't take long, so there's still hot water. See you later!"
With that said the boy walked past his appointed guardian and made a beeline for his room. The man watched the boy as he walked quickly to his room, closing the door behind while waving at him. Despite his initial surprise, the man got over it quickly and entered the bathroom. Still, he wondered how the Schnee was able to take a shower with that thing on his chest. The Schnee had informed of the device that was keeping his heart from being shredded by shrapnel, but he didn't know that it was waterproof. He can only hope it doesn't rust or else the boy might get tetanus.
"Ugh, just take your bath, Rhodey. Relax, and then worry." The man told himself.
It was still early in the morning and he had enough time for a relaxing bath. He had a feeling that today was going to be... interesting.
Mantle
Mantle International Aerodrome, Landing pad 12
12:30 PM
The Bullhead touched down on the platform without a hitch. The side doors slid back, exposing the occupants within to the outside world. The first person to disembark was a dark-skinned teenager with shortly cut black hair, who wore clothes that were both stylish and functional. He was dressed in a stylish black jacket with cyan lines running down the arms, under which he wore an opened black vest worn over a white dress shirt. His blue pants were secured around his waist by a black belt, his feet protected by a pair of black and silver sneakers. A gym bag, containing other clothes, was slung over his right shoulder, and in his left he held a trumpet case. He stood confidently, his posture straight, and he oozed an aura of cool that few can ever hope to match. In fact, one might say that he was coolness personified.
"Hey, Flynt, I think you forgot this!" He heard a girl's voice exclaim.
He turned on his heel and took hold of a black fedora that was tossed to him. He secured the fedora upon his head, completing his look. He smiled and addressed the one who had tossed him his beloved headwear. "Thanks, Neon. I can't believe I almost left my lucky hat behind."
The next person to exit the flying vehicle was a smiling teenaged girl whose clothes were designed with more of an emphasis on style rather than functionality. Her orange hair, usually done up in two pig tails, was mostly bunched into a bob atop her head, save for her bangs, which lacked her trademark dyed highlights. Around her neck was a white choker with a bell attached to it. Her upper body was covered by a reversible white and pink winter jacket, over which she wore a white sweater. Tucked away within her jacket was a pair of nunchaku. She wore black thermal leggings, over which she wore a pair of light blue jeans with some tears in them.
The pants had a hole that allowed her cat tail to poke through, showing her Faunus status proudly to the world. Her look was completed by a pair of white canvas sneakers with pink cats drawn upon them. Like her partner, she too had a gym bag filled with clothes, but she also had a pair of roller skates too. Unlike her partner, she chose to carry herself with a bit of levity, with a more relaxed posture, and projecting an aura of sunshine and rainbows.
Neon looked over the city from the landing platform and whistled appreciatively. She happily remarked, "There's no place like home."
Flynt smiled, "Yeah. After everything that's happened, I think we were due for a change in scenery."
And then he frowned, "Even though we're only here to babysit some snooty, privileged rich kid."
She was well aware of her friend's disdain toward the Schnee Family. Especially since the family's company drove his father's Dust shop out of business.
"Is it babysitting if he's around our age?" Neon asked, hoping some levity will brighten the mood.
Flynt did not lose his sour disposition as he answered, "Dunno. Look, our job is to protect the guy... it doesn't mean I have to like him."
Neon tried to speak only to be cut off by another voice. "You don't have to like it, Mr. Coal, but a job's a job. When you're a fully-fledged Huntsman, you're going to be working for and with a lot of people you'll dislike."
The two teenaged hunters-in-training turned to face the bullhead. Stepping out of the vehicle was a taller dark-skinned man, who was a few years older than the two. His long greenish-black hair was tied back into a short bun. His clothing style favored functionality over style, befitting a military man, as he was dressed in a buttoned-up grey wool coat, under which he wore a white tactical turtleneck. He is legs were protected by a pair of black trousers, with nary a wrinkle on them, through with his gray and bushy dog tail poked through. The shined leather boots completed the ensemble.
Strapped to his back, with straps secured around his shoulders and waist was a camping bag, filled with clothes, Dust, and his trusty boomerang-rifle. He stood proudly on the platform, his chest puffed out in pride, his fists pressed against his sides, and sporting a confident yet eager smile on his face. With his stance, he attempted to exhume a professional and respectable air about him, a kind of demeanor that told people he was all business but very approachable.
The two teenagers, however, thought it made him look like a huge dork. Especially since the man's bushy dog tail was wagging erratically behind him, showing his excitement and ruining the confident image he was trying to project.
The man standing before them was Marrow Amin, the newest member of the elite Ace Operatives, and their supervisor for this mission. The General had assigned him that task as his first mission, a sort of test to see if he was truly Ace-Ops material; the logic behind this assignment being that if Marrow can't handle watching two teenagers, then he can't handle the high-stakes missions that the team are usually given. Of course, he took the whole thing in stride, seeing it as another challenge to conquer.
He approached the two teenagers and crossed his arms, addressing them in a tone one usually heard from a teacher. "Now, we have some transportation waiting for us outside of the terminal, along with our guide. The driver will be waving a sign with the word "Acorn" written on it."
Flynt blinked and asked, "Acorn; why Acorn?"
"That is the name that has been assigned to our little cadre." Marrow Explained. "From here on, we will be known as Team ACN or Acorn... well, we will be, until such a time when the other two students assigned to this mission are ready."
"Yeah, but why Acorn, though?" Flynt asked, unsure about the name. "Because I'm not gonna tell people I'm a proud member of Team Acorn. I respect myself too much to say that."
Somewhat deflated, the specialist tried to reason. "Well, because it has our initials in the name; A for Amin, C for Coal, and N for Neon."
"But how did we get Acorn if there's no R? Wouldn't it just be Achin'? Is the R silent? Ooh, or do we have another teammate we don't know about? How do you explain that, Mr. Amin? Can you explain it...?" Neon asked as she began hurling question after question at the specialist.
Marrow did his best to follow the girl's every word, but found himself losing her around every other word. He wondered just how it was possible for one person to speak for so long without taking a breath. Not once in the young woman's questioning did she pause or even hesitate when speaking her mind. Her inquisitive barrage ceased when her partner cried out, "Neon!"
Upon hearing her name, the girl's face flushed from embarrassment, "I am so, so very sorry! There's no filter between my mouth and my brain, and when I get really excited or nervous I start rambling, even when I don't want to... See, there I go, rambling again!"
She chuckled nervously, worried that she made a bad impression on the specialist. Marrow simply waved it off, chalking it up to pre-mission nervousness. He had those back when he first started at the academy. He still does, sometimes, but that's irrelevant. He's got an image to uphold in front of the kids.
As the Faunus girl laughed, her teammate observed her behavior with an appraising eye. On one hand, it was relieving to see her acting like this after what had happened to their team. But he knew she still felt shaken up by what happened, and that she felt guilty for what had happened to their team. Even he felt guilty, knowing that Ivori and Kobalt, two boys whom they barely knew, stood up for her when he called for caution. He had failed his best friend and his teammates already and he wasn't going to let it happen again. This mission was their chance to prove they were worthy to be hunters, and he will see that he and Neon are recognized as such; even if that recognition had to come from guarding some stuck-up, snotty, privileged Schnee.
Of course, they had to get started on that mission first.
He looked to his compatriots and said, "Look, we're getting a little off track here, so why don't we go meet our driver? We can't exactly start this mission by keeping him waiting."
Marrow clapped the young man's back and grinned, "An excellent idea, Mr. Coal! Oh, and Ms. Katt, there's no need to be so nervous, it's good to have a teammate who's not afraid to speak their mind. The rest of our luggage will be carried in by the ground crew. Now, let us be off, to our mission!"
The older specialist walked away, his right arm upward and a single finger pointing the way to adventure. The two teenagers watched the man as he walked away, noting his overenthusiasm, and came to the ultimate conclusion.
"He is such a dork." Flynt said with an amused smile.
"Yeah, but he seems like a nice guy." Neon added with a giggle, "He's like that adorkable older brother trying too hard at being a cool adult."
"Speaking of brothers, I heard Char and his husband adopted a baby." Flynt spoke as he walked away, starting a conversation with his best friend and partner. "When we're not busy guarding the trust fund kid, I'd like to spend my free time meeting my new niece."
"Oh, really, good for them," Neon remarked as she joined him, only to remember, "Oh, shoot, I forgot to text Tommy we're back... and I have to call my Dad, too! No, wait, I think he's at work right now."
Flynt laughed and told his oldest friend, "Don't worry about it. Just make it a surprise. In fact, I think my sister is watching your brother right now. Why not make it a surprise party?"
And so the two friends walked off to join their supervisor, discussing their plans for the next week, planning their days carefully so as to spend time with their families and their old friends in Mantle. While they knew the last few weeks have been tough on them, they were glad that things were finally turning in their favor.
They did wonder, though, what their means of transportation would be.
Outside of the airport, the two teens stared slack jawed and buggy eyed at what would be their ride through the city. So shocked they were that Neon's tail was as still as a post and Flynt's sunglasses were close to falling off of his face. Of course, one wouldn't blame them for their surprise. The object of their curiosity was parked on the curb of the street, in front of the entrance; it's sleek and newly polished stretched black exterior glinting under the sun. It was a limousine. They were expecting their driver to transport them in a modest little car, not the luxurious machine in front of them. As their driver and Marrow discussed their route, the two hunters-in-training conversed between themselves.
"Okay, I know I said I like doing things in style, but this is too much, even for me." Flynt remarked as he observed the stretched car.
"This is insane! I mean, I've always wanted to be inside a limo, but not when I'm working!" Neon exclaimed, "It's almost like they want people to know who we're working for... But then again, it's a limo!"
"But Neon, the general told us to keep a low profile while we're here. You know, being subtle? A limo's about as subtle as a, uhm... a pink rabbit doing the cha-cha on a busy highway in broad daylight." Flynt argued, albeit cursing himself for his poor choice in words.
His strange analogy did not go unnoticed, as Neon gave him a weird look, "That's a really weird analogy, Flynt."
"Yeah, realized it as soon as I said it, but I'm not wrong. I mean, how are we gonna keep a low profile riding around the city in something like this?" He reasoned before leaning into the passenger window, his reflection staring back at him.
Suddenly, the window rolled down, revealing the limo had a passenger. The stranger in question was a pale man, middle-aged and very bald, dressed in a finely pressed blue business suit. The two teenagers stared at the stranger, bewildered by his sudden appearance. They had been informed that they would be traveling with someone to their destination, but they didn't think their guide would show up in a limousine.
The stranger smiled and waved at the two, "Hello there. I'm the one General Ironwood sent to meet you. Please, put your things in the trunk and come inside, you're gonna catch a cold standing out there."
Despite themselves, the two hunters-in-training took the man's suggestion and moved to the back of the limo. The vehicle's trunk opened, and much to their surprise, found that the rest of their luggage from the bullhead had already been loaded into the large compartment. Then again, it felt like an eternity getting through the ATA, as the group's record-setting incompetence presented itself once more. It had taken close to twenty minutes to convince the people running the metal detector that the infernal machine was busted. Twenty minutes being the exact amount of time needed to move their belongings to this vehicle. The two teens placed their bags within the trunk and then closed it.
They walked to the passenger doors and opened them, entering their temporary means of transport. Planting their behinds on the soft cushiony seats, they saw that they were facing the back of the vehicle, which granted them a view of the vehicle's other occupants. They saw the baldhead man staring at them with a smile, showing that he meant no ill will to them. Sitting next to him was a pretty blonde girl with grey eyes, dressed comfortably for the weather, her attention focused entirely on the book in her hands. Sitting separately from them, in a wheelchair that was strapped down to the floor, was a blonde haired boy, also prepared for the chilly weather, his eyes centered solely on the Scroll he held in his hands. Nobody said anything as they sat there waiting for the final passenger.
The silenced ceased when the older man spoke up, "Well, I don't know about you all, but I've had about enough of this silence. I'm afraid I've neglected to introduce myself."
He held his hand out, "I'm Obadiah Stane, CFO of the Schnee Dust Company."
Of the two hunters, it was only Flynt who recognized the name. The man sitting before was none other than Jacques Schnee's right hand man. For a brief moment, a spike of anger surged through him, before being subdued by the calm and collected professionality that had been drilled into him by his training. Without betraying any emotion, he took the offered hand and shook it, "Flynt Coal, Team FNKI... and another team."
He refused to say 'Team Acorn'.
"Oh, I'm well aware, James made sure to give me your names before our meeting." Stane told the young man.
Flynt was surprised to hear that the man was on a first name basis with the general. The businessman then looked at his partner and said, "Which means you must be Neon Katt."
The orange-haired girl grinned, "Yep! Neon Katt, Partyer extraordinaire and certified badass, ready to take names, kick ass, and looking great while doing it."
Stane chuckled, "Oh-ho, my, that's quite the claim! I guess we have nothing to worry about with someone like you around."
Flynt, on the other hand, was not as amused by his friend's boasting, and the rather carefree tone she used in saying it. Especially since she was striking up conversation with the right-hand of the man he hated most in the world. Then again, it was nice seeing her being so confident after what happened. It showed she was getting better.
Stane motioned to the girl next to him, "Now, this young lady is my daughter, Whitney. Say hello to our guests, dear, you don't want to be rude."
The girl raised her eyes from her book and beheld her fellow teens. To Neon, she gave a short but nervous wave, which the Faunus returned with disproportionate enthusiasm. When her grey eyes moved to Flynt, they nearly widened. She promptly returned them to her book, with a barely noticeable blush dusting her cheeks. Flynt didn't catch the blush, but Neon did.
The girl smiled and mischievously thought. Ah, somebody has a cruuush⁓
The man then pointed to the teenager in the wheelchair, "And this is my son, Ezekiel, Zeke for short, one of the smartest people in the world, in my humble opinion!"
Zeke, unlike his sister, did not even register the presence of the two hunters-in-training. No, his attention was fully on the Scroll in his hands, his eyes centered solely on the small screen with curiosity.
His father called to him, "Uh, Zeke?"
Now aware that his father wanted his attention, the teenager looked up from his scroll, finally taking notice of the limo's new occupants. The young man let out a nervous chuckle and introduced himself, "Sorry. As my dad said, the name's Zeke. I'm sorry for not saying hello when you both came in, I was just fascinated by this video I've been sent."
Interested, Neon leaned forward and inquired, "What kind of video?"
"Oh, just something that was posted on the eighth. Got millions of views, but most think it a hoax." He said to her. "An old college buddy sent the link to me, asked me for my opinion on the subject of the video."
"Can I see the video?" She asked.
"I don't see why not. You were probably going to see it eventually. Here, take my scroll." The young Stane handed the device to the girl.
Neon held the device in her hands and looked down on the screen. She saw that on the timestamp that it was a short video, close to two minutes long. The video had been paused at around 40 seconds. She pressed the rewind button, restarting the video. It was in black and white, and somewhat lacking quality, but it was clear to her the footage was from a security camera at a convenience store. Specifically, it was footage of a convenience store robbery. She nudged Flynt to watch the video with her, to which he silently agreed.
The two teenagers watched as the elderly woman, obviously the shopkeeper, pressed herself against the wall, the robber aiming a gun at her chest. They watched in fear as the man turned his attention on an equally old man, presumably her husband, no doubt threatening him to oblige his demands. It was after the old man moved to the back door that the robber's aggression worsened, his posture becoming rigid and firm as he pressed the weapon against the side of the terrified woman's face. Both Neon and Flynt felt their blood boil at the act, wanting nothing more than to tear the criminal in half.
But then something happened. The robber turned on his heel and froze in shock. Slowly, a fourth figure entered through the front entrance and began walking between two aisles toward the criminal. The teens anger quickly dissipated, replaced by shock and awe as they stared at the new arrival. The newcomer was tall, at about six feet, and showed no fear as he approached the frightened robber. But what really struck them was the fact that the figure was wholly metallic in appearance, his body glinting under the glow of cheap fluorescent lighting. The robber's panic finally overcame as he fired his pistol at the metal man. To the teen's wonder, short sparks lit up across the metal figure's chest, and items on the aisles started exploding, no doubt from deflected bullets.
The robber's gun soon ran out of ammo, prompting him to reload. Before he even had the chance, the metal man snatched the weapon and snapped it in half without any effort. They watched the robber stand there, dumbfounded by the display, before his brain finally caught up to him. He tried to move to the left, only to receive a fierce uppercut from the metal man. The teen's jaws dropped when they saw that the punch packed enough force to send the robber flying right into the ceiling, leaving him stuck there, as his dangling legs were all that were visible to the camera. The metal man promptly turned toward the now uncovered store owners and promptly exited the store.
The video ended just as the robber's body fell to the floor, covered in plaster. The two hunters-in-training were silent for a scant few seconds, before Neon returned the scroll to its owner. Zeke looked at his fellow teens and asked, "So, what are your thoughts?"
Flynt spoke first, "Was that faked? I mean, that had to be staged, right?"
Neon piped in, "I don't know, Flynt. It looked real enough, and it could have been some guy in a costume. A really detailed one, though. Mad props to whoever made it, it really looked like a robot."
"Well, actually, it was real. That robber is at the hospital, getting his jaw wired shut." Zeke explained, causing the teens to wince at that info.
Flynt said, "Damn. I saw it, still trying to believe it, but this metal guy sounds like a tank."
"Yeah, but his form was terrible. His legs were too close to one another, and he didn't even assume a defensive stance. Whoever this guy is, I can tell they're not a fighter." Neon spoke, surprising everyone with her analysis. When she noticed their stares, she clarified, "My dad's a boxing fan."
Obadiah smiled, "A man of culture, it seems. Anyway, we've gotten a little off-track here. Now, since we all know each other's names, let me give you the finer details of your assignment. I know the general gave you a briefing, but there certain details that you both must be privy to... As well as Mr. Amin, once he's finished debating with the driver."
Suddenly, the right side door opened, with Marrow entering the vehicle soon after. The specialist took a seat next to Flynt. He then addressed the bald businessman, "Mr. Stane, our route has been secured. Now, let us discuss the finer det-"
The specialist ceased speaking when he noticed the man's children. He found his voice again and asked, "Uh, Mr. Stane, would you care to share mission details with us at a time when only those with the proper clearance are present?"
Stane replied, "Oh, of course, Mr. Amin. I apologize, my children are friends of young Whitley and they just wanted to see how he was holding up. You can't fault them for that, can you?"
Marrow promptly apologized, "I meant no disrespect, sir. It's just that this is a very delicate operation, and we have to be careful regarding security. You know how it is."
"Trust me, young man, I do. When one has been in business for as long as I have, you tend to get drawn up in these sorts of things."
Marrow nodded and dropped the conversation. He looked over at his two subordinates and asked, "So, have you two been behaving while I was gone?"
"It's been only five minutes." Flynt remarked, "What exactly could we have done in that time?"
"But we did watch a MeTube video." Neon innocently reminded her friend.
Flynt sighed and said, "Not the point, Neon."
Marrow's eyebrows rose in interest as he asked, "Oh, really, a video? Which one? Wait, don't tell me, was it the one with the cat and the exercise video?"
"Uh, no, it was the one about, uh..." Flynt tried to explain, only to remember he hadn't caught the title of the video.
"A video titled, The Invincible Iron Man." Zeke said, filling in the needed information.
"Iron Man," Marrow tested the name out. "What, is it a movie or something? I don't really stay caught up in pop culture these days."
"I believe he's a vigilante, Mr. Amin." Stane spoke, "Another real-life superhero, like that Spider-Guy from Vale."
"Spider-Man, dad," A blushing Whitney corrected her father as she continued reading her book, all while stealthily sneaking glances toward an unknowing Flynt.
"Wait, so Atlas has its very own superhero now?" Marrow said incredulously, "Great, as if the Maggia, Tong, and Fang weren't bad enough; now we got some vigilante who thinks he's above the law."
The limo began to move, prompting everyone inside to buckle their seatbelts. As the vehicle merged into traffic, the conversation began once more.
"Still, whoever he is, you have to admit he's got some amazing." Zeke opined, "If what the video showed was any indicator, this technology has got to be years, maybe decades, ahead of what most companies are developing. Even the SDC hasn't built anything like this."
"What about Hammer?" Neon asked.
Zeke parroted with a scowl, "What about Hammer?"
Both teens took that as a sign that the young man was not a fan of Justin Hammer. Not that they can blame him. Still they couldn't help but wonder. If this Iron Man was real, and not some elaborate hoax, then what was he really? Was he some kind of robot or a man in a highly advanced suit of armor? They can't begin to imagine who would have built such a fine piece of technology. The builder had to be some kind of genius.
Rhodey's Apartment
1:45 PM
"I'm telling you, Rhodey, this is a work of genius!"
Rhodey said nothing as he sat in his living room, but he wondered just what his godson was talking about. After giving the Schnee the items he had requested from the store, the young man promptly retreated upstairs. It had been two hours since then, and the boy has yet to return. Of course, given what the boy was using, he knew it would take some time before he returned. The boy's recent exclamation indicated he was finished. The man's speculation was answered when he heard footsteps upstairs, before descending down the stairs. He looked to the open entrance of his living room.
Standing there, in that open space, with a proud smile on his face, was Whitley Schnee. The boy had changed into clothing more suited for the weather, wearing a black polo neck sweater with khaki pants. On his feet, he wore white sneakers, trimmed in red. But it was not the boy's change in attire that was the most drastic and shocking. His once neatly combed snow white hair was now a messy, wavy mop of black hair, as though he ran his hands through his hair. His eyes, once a light and icy arctic blue, were now a deep and warm ocean blue.
For the briefest moment, Rhodey swore he didn't see Whitley, but rather the boy's late uncle Will, who looked remarkably similar at that age. That was until his eyes recognized the boy's facial features and the shape of his eyes, traits he mostly inherited from his mother. At a distance, the boy could pass for a totally different person. Thank the gods for hair dye and contact lenses.
"Well, how do I look?" Whitley asked with a grin.
"Different," Rhodey dryly replied, "Are you sure you want to go through with this, Whit, It'll be a hassle washing that stuff out of your hair when you need to. Can't you just wear a hat?"
"No, can't take the risk of a hat getting blown away by a strong wind." Whitley said, "Besides, I'll just dye my hair again every few weeks after a haircut. Trust me; this disguise is the only way that I can walk through Mantle safely. You know, without an angry mob on my heels?"
"Oh, come on, nobody hates your family that much. At least, I don't think they hate you enough to do that." Rhodey argued, hoping to talk some sense into the boy.
His plea fell on deaf ears, as Whitley quickly replied, "Rhodey, more than half of the people in this entire city, in some way, have been screwed over by my family's company. I can count, on one hand, the number of people who don't hate my father, and they're not exactly good people either. Humans and Faunus, from nearly all walks of life, with every conceivable job imaginable, has some reason to hate my family... And I can't even blame them."
"Should I include you in that long list?" Rhodey asked in concern, "Because you seem really fixated on all the worst parts about your family. Or are you really just projecting your own self-loathing onto your family?"
With crossed arms, Whitley narrowed his eyes and curtly spoke, "I came here to get away from everything, Rhodey, not to play armchair psychologist with you."
"Trust me, kid, I'm no psychologist, but I don't need a degree to see you have issues. You have to understand that I'm just concerned about you." Rhodey told the young man. "Look, take it from a man who spent years grappling with his own inner demons; Running away from the problem always makes things worse."
"I'm not running away from anything!" Whitley snapped in rage. When he realized he had lost his cool, he quickly recomposed himself. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap like that. I guess I didn't get enough sleep last night."
"It's all right." Rhodey said, but not without noting the boy's behavior.
There may come a time when he'll have to get the boy professional help. He knew Whitley might hate him for doing so, but the teen's parents had more or less entrusted him with his wellbeing. Well, he was doing this mostly for Willow. Jacques, on the other hand, can go to hell for he cared. It was a sentiment that the man's son seemed to share with him. He had learned earlier that the mere mention of his father was enough to make the boy angry.
And given what his father had arranged, I think Whitley's opinion of the man is gonna dip even lower. Rhodey realized as he recalled what Jacques had recently done for the boy.
"Anyway, why don't you take a seat? We're expecting company."
The boy blinked and asked, "Company? But I have somewhere to be. I need to check in on Happy and Pepper, see how Toni's adjusting to everything."
Rhodey smiled upon hearing that. He had met with the couple a few times over the past few weeks, and they were already looking like proud parents. He had even met the little girl and while she still had some lingering trauma, she was absolutely ecstatic about having a family again. Of course, Pepper had written the mayor of Gulmira to send her any photos of the girl's birth family, so that she won't forget them. Said photos were now proudly displayed on the walls of their new Mantle home. He supposed that Whitley should know that at least, but recent developments have put his plans for a visit on hold.
"And you will. Just not today; we have some important people coming over." He told his young charge.
Before Whitley can inquire further, the doorbell rang. Rhodey rose from the couch and said, "That's probably them now. Take a seat, Whitley."
"Rhodey, seriously, what's going on here?" Asked a confused Whitley, "And who's at the door?"
"Some people you know, and others that you're gonna get to know." The man cryptically replied. "Just sit right there on the couch while I let them in... and please, mind your manners."
The young man, knowing there was no negotiation with his guardian, sighed and obeyed. He walked into the living room and planted himself on the couch, wondering just who was visiting right now. They had to be pretty important for Rhodey to keep him here. The sound of the front door opening drew his attention to the open entrance way. He heard the muffled stomps of shoes upon carpeting before he saw the shadows.
"'Sup, Whit... Wait, who are you?"
After wheeling himself into the living room, Zeke Stane saw the young Schnee sitting on the couch, yet the wheelchair-bound youth did not recognize him. The different colored hair and eyes threw him off. The boy's sister followed soon after and noticed the disguised Schnee and much like her brother, a look of suspicion and unfamiliarity marred her face. It was only when she saw the features of the boy's face did she recognize him.
She spoke in unsure recognition, "Whitley?"
The boy smiled and waved at the siblings, "Hey, guys, how do you like my new look?
Zeke, now aware of who he was speaking to, said, "We knew you'd look different, but, wow, we weren't expecting this. Still, gotta say, it's a good look for you."
He then noticed something else, "Also, have you been hitting the gym, because you're looking fitter than the last time I saw you."
"Well, what can I say; I thought I was due for a change." Whitley replied with a shrug. He smiled and said, "It's good to see you both again, though. Zeke, nice to see you finally got a haircut; Whitney, you've grown your hair, and you're out and about, that's nice."
The Stane siblings were surprised by their friend's chipper attitude. After what had happened to him, they assumed the boy would have been more somber and quiet. Zeke and Whitney, having suffered and still recovering from their own personal trauma, had fully expected that kind of behavior from their friend. Instead, the boy was all smiles and seemed to more laidback than he was months ago. In their opinion, such behavior, after such a traumatic event, was more worrying than relieving.
That was when their Father appeared, who grinned at the young Schnee. "Hello there, Whitley; Wow, Rhodey told me you had a new look, but I wasn't expecting something this drastic."
Whitley looked at the bald businessman and greeted him, "Hello, Mr. Stane. What brings you out here today?"
"Oh, just doing some important work, the kind that warranted a visit. Again, that's a great look. It might help you in the long run, considering who we've brought along." Stane remarked, puzzling Whitley with those last words.
Before the Schnee could ask what the man meant by that statement, Rhodey returned. But his guardian was not alone. Following behind were three people he didn't know, nor had he ever seen before. The first stranger was a green-haired Faunus man, his trait being a long bushy dog tail, who seemed to carry himself with an overenthusiastically professional attitude. It felt as though the man was trying too hard at presenting himself as a serious and stern individual. The fact that he was smiling nervously didn't help his image either.
The second stranger was a bespectacled boy around his age, who regarded him with a gaze that was mostly neutral, yet carried an undercurrent of disdain. Whitley surmised that he must not be a fan of his family. He had a feeling that this boy was not a fan of his family. But he did have style, as he had great taste in clothing. The boy just gave off the vibe that he didn't think himself cool, but that he knew he was.
Whitley also really liked the guy's hat.
The third stranger was a girl, who was quite pretty in his opinion, with orange hair bunched into a bun atop her head, who unlike her male companions regarded him with a friendly smile. Like the green-haired man, she too was a Faunus, her trait being a long pink cat tail. He suspected that the pink was actually hair dye. She seemed like a nice person.
Despite their different appearances, Whitley couldn't shake the feeling that these three must share something in common. Admittedly, they were all very attractive people, which briefly led him to assume they were models. Of course, he discarded that theory once he realized how silly it sounded. But for some reason, he can't help but feel that these three strangers were not what they seem. The only way to know their intentions was to talk to them.
"Uh, hello," The boy greeted nervously, "I admit the hair and eyes are misleading, but I am most definitely Whitley Schnee. And who might you three be?"
The green-haired Faunus calmly spoke, "A pleasure, Mr. Schnee. I am Corporal Marrow Amin, Specialist in the Atlas Military. The young man is Flynt Coal and the young lady is Neon Katt, students from Atlas Academy."
They're all hunters? Why would hunters be here? Whitley wondered to himself.
"We are your new security team." Marrow told the Schnee.
Whitley blinked and confusedly asked, "Come again?"
"We're your new bodyguards, Mr. Schnee." Marrow said, wondering why the boy would be so confused.
Having heard the boy's reply, Stane turned to Rhodey and inquired, "You did tell him that they were coming too, right?"
Rhodey replied, "I only told him that people were coming. I didn't say how many or who they were. He would have been quite... open with his feelings regarding the decision."
Obadiah nodded at that, knowing full well the boy's feelings regarding hunters. They tuned back into the conversation between Whitley and his new protection detail.
The Schnee rose up and complained, "No-no-no-nope! I don't recall hiring any more bodyguards... and I don't need any more, thank you very much. I'm quite pleased with the one that I already have."
Marrow quickly replied, "Ah, yes, Mr. Hogan. I had actually spoken with him yesterday, and he agreed to this. He may be a trained boxer, but he agreed that there are a lot of threats that require Aura and a semblance."
The very stubborn Whitley replied, "Yeah, well... Who says I'm not safe now? I'm hidden away from the public eye, living with a trusted family friend with military training, and I... uh... look, this isn't really necessary, you're just wasting your time."
Flynt snorted and muttered under his breath, "He's not wrong about that last part..."
Neon promptly slapped her hand against his arm for that comment. She knew that he was better than saying such petty things. Besides, riling people up was her thing.
The Schnee continued on, "Look, I'm sorry that you came all the way out here, I really am, but the fact is that I don't need a security team. So, whoever sent you, tell them I appreciate the concern, but they're-"
"Your father sent for us." Marrow told the boy, which caused him to halt in his speech.
Seconds passed as the Schnee stood there silently, as though his mind had suddenly short-circuited. Everyone within the room were concerned that the boy had become catatonic, even Flynt. The Schnee found his voice again as he stuttered, "F-F-Father s-sent you..."
The boy, in denial, started to shake and thought aloud, "No way, there is no way he was the one who hired you. I mean, why would he show any concern after everything that's happened? Unless, of course..." His trailed off before his face contorted in barely controlled anger.
"Unless this is his way of keeping tabs on me," Whitley grounded out, "Oh, I get it now! No, this is just classic Jacques Schnee right here! Hey, son, I'm gonna give you all the space you need, but I'm gonna send a bunch of strangers to keep an eye on you! Ugh, this is just another one of his mind games, isn't it? Well, you three can just ship off to Atlas and tell the old man that he can rightfully go FU-"
"Whitley Schnee, enough of this!" Rhodey snapped, disappointed by the boy's tantrum, "Everyone agreed to this, you don't need to like it, but these people are here to protect you!"
Whitley clicked his tongue and retorted, "Whatever! I don't need this right now! I thought today was going to be a great day, but then this happened!"
The boy promptly stormed his way past everyone, outraged and a little betrayed. As he stomped up the stairs, Rhodey called out, "And where do you think you're going, young man!"
"I'm going to my room!" Whitley shouted in rage, "You want these people protecting something? Tell them to guard my door!"
The sound of heavy footsteps was heard as the boy stomped his way through the second floor hallway. The stomping was soon followed by audible slamming of a bedroom door. The seven people remaining in the living room were silent as they recovered from the tense scene. An awkward silence settled which only heightened the discomfort among those within the room. No one said anything.
The silence was broken by Marrow, who asked, "I, uh, take it that I pressed one of his buttons, didn't I?"
Rhodey told the Faunus, "Yeah. His father is a bit of a touchy subject for him; specifically, his father meddling in his life."
"Isn't that what all parents do?" Neon asked, somewhat confused by the statement.
"Ms. Katt, trust me when I say this, but it's a lot more complicated than that." Rhodey answered.
"So he hates his dad?" Flynt rhetorically asked, "I don't blame him."
"Flynt..." Neon groaned at the boy for his insensitive comment.
The young man retorted, "What? We all know the guy's a jerk!"
The huntsman-in-training looked to the bald businessman and said, "No offense."
"I'm not disagreeing with you there, son. So, none taken," The man shrugged before he turned to his children, "Whitney, go check on Whitley. I've got important things to discuss with our new friends and Mr. Rhodes."
"Yes, father." His daughter acquiesced with a nod. She promptly made her way up the stairs, toward Whitley's room.
Zeke, unable to ascend the stairs, simply shrugged and said, "Eh, I'll just get a drink from the kitchen."
The young man wheeled his chair away from the group, heading down the hallway to his destination. Once he was out of sight, Rhodey addressed his guests, "Alright, now let's take this discussion to my office. We'll find some privacy in there."
With that said, the Shopkeeper led the billionaire and the hunters led away from the living room. As he led the tour, he couldn't help but worry about Whitley. He can only hope the boy's nerves will settle after some time in his room.
As he sat on his bed, the young genius let out a deep breath. His little display in the living room was quite possibly the best performance of his life. Of course, he was positively livid at what his father had done. He had come to Mantle to get out from under Father's thumb in Atlas, but apparently the man saw fit to press it further down into Mantle. He supposed he was a little naïve to think his father would leave him alone.
Still, he never imagined that he'd sent a team of hunters to protect, given his particular distaste for the profession. Though Whitley doubted the man knew that said team had two Faunus in their ranks. Jacques Schnee would never have allowed such a thing, placing his son under the protection of two members of the race he held in contempt. But Whitley was not his father. He was not going to let his father's prejudices influence his life, never again.
As for these Hunters, Whitley can honestly say that his feelings were ambivalent. He didn't know them, and they didn't know him. But he knew what they thought of him. In their eyes, he was just another privileged punk who thinks he's entitled to everything. But he can admit that he was like that once, until recent circumstances forced him to reevaluate his life. He can only hope that they'll eventually see him for who he truly was. He will be civil with them, but he had no intentions of becoming friends with them.
Knock-Knock!
The rapping against his door broke him from his train of thought. He turned to the door and said, "It's unlocked."
The door slowly swung inward, allowing Whitney Stane entrance into the boy's room. The blonde stepped into the room, her grey eyes observing the décor. Once finished with her appraisal, she looked to her old friend and told him, "It's a small room."
"Yeah, it's, uh, it's not what I'm used to, but I like it." The Schnee replied, "I was thinking of putting a TV on top of that dresser over there."
"It could work. Still, you could put more your personal touch into this room. It feels like I'm standing in a stranger's room." She remarked as she took a seat on a swiveling chair.
Whitley sighed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "That's an accurate assessment. Sometimes, I feel like a stranger to myself, after everything."
He then said, "I'm sorry for blowing up like that. It's just, well..."
"Whitley, it's all right. Even I think this is a pretty low blow, even for your father. You came here to heal, not to be surveilled like some mental patient." She said, clasping her hands together.
"But still, you shouldn't antagonize the hunters downstairs. They didn't ask to be here, and I'm pretty sure they don't even want to be here. They're here on a job, and you can't blame them for that."
"I know, I know... it's just... look, it's complicated, okay."
Silence settled between the two friends. Whitley had no idea what to say to the girl without revealing even a quarter of his secret. He didn't know how she'd react if she learned he had just started moonlighting as an armored vigilante. Of course, he was more wary of the hunters discovering his secret. He may have to trust them with his life, but not with his secret. For all he knew, if they found out he was Iron Man, they'd just turn him over to Ironwood.
He looked at the girl sitting before him. She was sitting there quietly, minding her own business, just waiting for him to say something. He thought of possible subjects to discuss with her. He considered asking for opinion on his new bodyguards, but decided against it. He was more than aware of the girl's uneasiness around Faunus, which he hoped she'll grow out of. He then entertained the idea of discussing her plans for the rest of the year, but he knew she planned on attending public school in the fall. Finally, he settled on asking about her family's vacation to Anima. He asked her, "So, how was your vacation?"
The girl's face lit up as she smiled. She told him, "We stayed at my grandfather's villa in Big Wind."
"How is Luchino, anyway?" He asked, wanting to know how he was holding up.
She smiled softly and spoke, "He's been getting better. After Mom died, he sort of shut down, but he's starting to open up. He even helped me with my recovery."
Recovery... That's something I wouldn't mind doing. The boy solemnly thought.
For a moment, he considered asking her of things would ever get easier when dealing with trauma. He decided against it. He'd rather listen to her talk about her vacation than unload all of his issues to her.
"So, you basically want us to monitor his mental health too?" An incredulous Marrow asked.
"Nothing like that, I just need you to keep the boy from doing anything impulsive. One can never predict the behavior of traumatized youth." Stane explained as he stood next to the bookcase.
Rhodey sat at his desk, his hands clasped together as he discussed plans regarding Whitley's security detail. As the boy's guardian, he had just as much a part to play in his protection. But as the adults conversed amongst themselves, Neon and Flynt sat on a couch adjacent to the bookcase, observing the discussion. They had nothing to contribute to the planning, as this was their first bodyguard assignment.
And since they had nothing to say, they were bored. Being teenagers, they've yet to mature to the point where they can sit in silence for minutes on end without succumbing to boredom. Neon was tapping her right foot vigorously, something she only did when she started losing her patience. Flynt had his arms crossed, the fingers of his right hand tapping his left elbow. He leaned next to his friend and whispered, "If they're not gonna let us join in, then why did they make us come in here?"
Neon shrugged, "Dunno. But I'm going stir-crazy sitting here. We we're in that limo for nearly an hour, Flynt, I gotta stretch my legs."
"I hear you. But won't it be a little rude to just leave the room?" He asked.
"Not if we can come up with a good enough reason." She answered.
That was when Flynt got an idea. They needed a reason to get out of this room. So why not make up one that pertained to the mission? He smirked and cleared his throat. He looked to Neon and winked. The girl, realizing what her partner was planning, gave a toothy grin and an encouraging nod. That was all the encouragement he needed
He rose from where he sat and coughed into his fist, gaining the attention of all three adults. He then spoke, "With your permission, Corporal Amin, my partner and I would like to tour the apartment. As we are no doubt going to spend much of our time here, it would be wise to familiarize ourselves with the building."
Marrow pursed his lips in and scrunched his brow in deep thought. After a brief moment, he told the teens, "Good idea. You have my permission."
"Thank you, sir." Flynt replied with a salute, with Neon joining in.
The students calmly strolled to the door and exited the office. Now standing in the living room, the two teens took a collective deep breath and relaxed their postures. Neon said to her friend, "Oh, It feels so good to be up and about again."
"Tell me about it." He replied as he stretched his arms. "Still, we do need know more about this place. It might help us in the long run."
"And I know what room we should start with... the kitchen!" Neon excitedly decreed. "Let's go see what Zeke found in the fridge. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."
Flynt nodded in agreement, sharing the sentiment. Their minds made up, the two teenaged hunters-in-training set off for the kitchen. As they recalled, it was further down the first floor hallway. They entered the hallway, but just as they were about to turn a corner, they saw Whitney and their new client descending down the stairs. The four teens stopped dead in their tracks and gazed at each other.
Whitney, feeling that her friend could use some time getting to know his new bodyguards, spoke up, "I'm gonna head on down to the kitchen. Plus, I got to make sure Zeke didn't eat any of Mr. Rhode's desserts. I'll see you three there."
She quickly made her way down the stairs, walking past the two hunters. Neither noticed the faint blush on her cheeks after she walked past Flynt, nor the very small smile on her face. The three stragglers stared at one another, wondering who should speak first. Ultimately, it would be Whitley who found his voice, when he addressed the two, "So, first off, I want to apologize for exploding like that."
Flynt said nothing as he eyed the boy with a skeptical gaze. Whitley noticed this and bluntly asked, "You don't like me, do you?"
"Not really, no." Flynt replied, keeping his response short.
The genius sighed and said, "Well, at you're honest about it."
He turned his attention onto the Orangette and asked, "And what about you?"
Neon shrugged and replied, "Don't know you, so I don't have a problem... unless you give me one."
Whitley responded with a relenting tone, "That's fair."
He then told the two, "Look, I know neither of you asked to be here. In fact, I'm not too thrilled at the prospect of sharing my space with a bunch of hunters. But Whitney convinced me to give you two a chance, so let's start over. Hello, my name is Whitley Schnee."
He leaned over the railing and lowered his hand to his fellow teens for a handshake. Flynt eyed the hand for a moment, before shrugging it off with a scoff. He then walked away, leaving his partner and the Schnee with each other. Whitley frowned as he watched Flynt's retreating form, only to be surprised when he felt the girl grasp his hand with her own. He looked at hear and saw that she had a wide smile on her face.
She then said to him, "Neon Katt, pleased to meetcha!"
She shook his hand, and then promptly strolled toward the bathroom with a skip in her step. Whitley blinked a few times as she stared at her in bewilderment. With a smile, he thought aloud, "Strange girl... But she seems nice."
And so Whitley Schnee finished his descent down the stairs and began his walk toward the kitchen. He wondered about the two teens that would be protecting him. He can understand why Mr. Amin was sent, but why, of all people, did the General send assign these two?
Within the span of one day, Whitley Schnee had had been given far too many conundrums to even solve. What had his grandmother been hiding? What was his father planning with this little bodyguard scheme? And what, pray tell, was he going to do to keep his new acquaintances from finding out his own secret?
He hadn't the slightest idea. He can only hope that nothing else came up to worsen his already confusing day.
A soft vibration in his pants pocket stopped him in his tracks. Reaching inside, he pulled out his scroll. Someone was trying to call him. He pressed his thumb on the screen, unlocking the device. When he saw the caller's identification, his breath hitched and his eyes widened.
"Winter..." He breathed.
As the Scroll vibrated, his thumb hovered over the screen, sliding between the green and red circles. If he pressed green, the call will go through. If he pressed red, the call will end. He took a deep breath, considered his options, and made his decision.
He pressed the red button. He then turned his scroll off and returned it to his pocket.
While he may be willing to associate with his new bodyguards, his sister was a whole other story. What exactly can he say to her that doesn't involve him shoving years of resentment and anger into his words? Nothing, he convinced himself, there was nothing that he can say to her. No, he had nothing to say to her. If she was so concerned about him, then she should have traveled to Rhodey's and say whatever it she needed to say to his face. In fact, why did she even bother calling him now, after spending close to six years ignoring him?
I don't need her fake sympathy! He mentally seethed in rage.
With his mood now worse than ever, he paced and calmed himself. He breathed in and out, counted to ten, and imagined his happy place. He had far more pressing matters to attend, such as making sure Zeke didn't hog any of Rhodey's home-made sweets for himself.
Now once more in a calm state of mind, the young Schnee continued on his way to the kitchen.
But as he walked, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that his life going to get even more complicated.
FINALLY! AFTER LONG LAST, THE OTHER TWO MAIN CHARACTERS HAVE MADE THEIR APPEARANCE!
It's been a long time coming, but they've finally showed up. I hope I was able to write their characters well, and I can't wait to see how they grow as well. I plan on having some chapters that are dedicated solely to them and the other main characters. The other two main characters, Penny and Ceil, will soon make their appearance. Oh, and we'll also get to know their families. Now, don't start hating on Flynt. He was just as dismissive of Weiss in the original show, until she proved herself to him. Unlike her, however, it's going to take a lot longer with Whitley. As for Neon, well, she's already made a good impression on Whitley. Their relationship can only grow from there.
I will be hard at work on the next chapter, but I'm still looking for a job.
Next time, on the Invincible Whitley Schnee:
Chapter 11: Off the Rails!
Thank you all for reading. I send nothing but love to all of you, and please stay safe and healthy.