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.)

Dedicated to Chadwick Boseman; Great king, you are now among legends.

The Invincible Whitley Schnee

Chapter 12: Cause and Effect

August 12th, 2008 KC

Mantle, Solitas

76 Barley Street

11:45 AM

The roar of patrolling bullheads in the sky did not deter him. Not even the Grimm would deter him from his task, as Marrow Amin's mind was solely on the personal mission he bestowed upon himself. The specialist, still dressed in his exercise clothes, deftly navigated the shifting and changing maze of people, all while keeping a brisk pace. Weaving in and out and between clumps of rescue workers and rescued passenger, he searched desperately for one specific person.

He knew he had to watch over the young Schnee, but Mr. Rhodes had informed him he had picked up the boy and returned him to the apartment. Now free of his burden, Marrow was free to search for his grandmother with a clean conscience. Minute after agonizing minute, he searched for the old woman, hoping to find her safe and unharmed, and most importantly, alive. Celia Amin was at the age where any sudden shock could send her into cardiac shock, despite her denial of the fact.

The last thing he wanted was to tell his little brother, Hyde, that their grandmother was dead. His relationship with his brother was strained at best, and it was the force of nature that was Celia Amin who kept Hyde from burning all bridges with him. If he had to tell Hyde that their grandmother, the woman who raised them, was dead, it was all but assured that the youngest Amin will obliterate those bridges into oblivion. He quickly picked up in pace, the very thought of losing his only other relative motivating him.

He soon found himself standing before a big, elongated white tent that had been prepared for passengers whose families have yet to collect them. He was aware of another tent in the temporary camp, one that housed the critically injured, of which there were thankfully a scant few. He walked through the opened tent flap and beheld a vast enclosed space filled with various cots, upon which sat many people, some resting and others nursing a few nasty bruises. From the smiles on their faces, and in spite of their injuries, he knew that these people were glad to still be alive. He walked forward, passing aisle after aisle of makeshift beds, his eyes darting around the place, searching for greying green hair and equally aged drooping dog ears. He stopped once he saw a familiar mop of hair, complete with the Faunus trait she was known for. He had found his grandmother!

He cast aside all caution and dashed toward his Grandmother. He cast his training aside, foregoing stealth, as his footsteps increased in volume as he raced toward his oldest living relative. The old woman's dog ears, despite their age, twitched when she heard his approach, prompting her to look in his direction.

Her muddy brown eyes regarded him, "Marrow..."

Losing all composure, Marrow wrapped his arms around his grandmother and wept with joyous relief, crying out, "Oh, thank the brothers!"

His grandmother reciprocated the gesture and reassured her grandson, "It's alright, my little pup; Gran's still here and not going anywhere."

As Marrow held his grandmother in his arms, he thanked whatever deities existed, be they the Brothers, the many pantheons of old, and even the Wakandan panther goddess, Bast. He knew she wasn't long for this world, but he can't imagine his life without Celia Amin in it. She was the only one left in his family willing to talk to him, to still give a damn about him. Hyde wanted nothing more than to burn all bridges with his older brother. Marrow would do everything in his power to keep this one bridge standing.

"Corporal Amin?" He heard a young feminine voice ask from behind him.

Marrow released himself from the embrace to look upon the speaker. To his surprise, it was none other than Neon Katt, dressed reasonably for the day's weather, her orange hair free of any bindings, cascading down her back. Instead of her trademark sunny and cheerful disposition, she had a very somber and subdued aura about her. He noticed that she was carrying two ceramic mugs; coffee, if the aroma wafting into his nostrils were any indicator.

His fellow Faunus looked quizzically at him and asked, "Why are you hugging Celia?"

Upon hearing that name, he blinked confusedly and asked, "How do you know my gran's name?"

"Wait..." Neon looked to the old woman, "He's your grandson?"

"You know my grandma?" Marrow asked in turn.

Celia answered for the girl, "We only just met. She was with me throughout the whole ordeal, bless her heart. Mare, how do you know her?"

"She's a colleague of sorts. She's a student from Atlas Academy." He told his grandmother. He then told the younger Faunus, "Ms. Katt, what happened?"

"I honestly don't know." The girl replied, some energy returning to her voice. "One minute, we were on a smooth and steady ride to the Cheadle street platform, and the next we were going off the rails on a crazy train from hell!"

"And Flynt, well, last I saw him, he was helping some of the other passengers; said he didn't want to, and I quote, 'sit on my ass while there're people who needed help'. He'll be here soon." The huntress-in-training told her superior before handing a mug to his grandmother, whom took it with a thankful nod.

"Still, I honestly can't believe we all made it." Neon said, taking a sip from her own mug. Once finished, she smiled and spoke, "Thank the gods for Iron Man."

In Shock, Marrow sputtered out, "W-wait, the guy from the video? I thought he was a hoax!"

"Well, I'm glad he's not. If it weren't for him, this tent would have been filled with corpses and the streets with Grimm rather than rescue workers." Neon remarked, glad that the scenario in question hadn't come to pass.

After savoring the sweet taste, she smirked mischievously and said, "You know it's not every day a girl like me is saved by a modern day knight in shining armor. I swear if I ever meet the guy behind the mask, I'll have to kiss him⁓"

Marrow didn't share in the mirth and asked in a serious tone, "How do you even know if there's a man behind the mask? Maybe it's a woman? Hell, for all we know Iron Man is just a robot."

Neon shrugged, "No, there's a flesh and blood person inside... As for whether they're a guy or girl, well, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time... oh, and their age might be a factor... Y'know what, never mind, just rambling again; Anyway, I know for a fact it's a person in a suit. I happened to see a few videos of him from after he stopped the train engine."

"Why would these videos be important?" Marrow asked.

Neon pulled up her scroll, intent on pulling the videos. As she did so, she told her superior, "Because some of them showed Iron Man bleeding, in his right leg."

Marrow blinked in shock, surprised by this sudden development. Of course, it made recent events all the more concerning.

The Iron Man was real, and he was flesh and blood underneath all that metal. Just who could be the one under that mask, he couldn't help but wonder. Whoever the pilot was, Marrow surmised, they had to be extremely intelligent to have developed such a suit. And to save all these lives at the risk of losing his own showed that Iron Man had a strong sense of morals and honor.

Either that or he's extremely suicidal. The specialist thought. Y'know, fighting Grimm is starting to sound more preferable to this.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder. If Iron Man could bleed, then it meant he had no Aura. And if he had no Aura, that meant he had no training to speak of. Just what kind of person would use a flying suit of armor without having Aura to protect his own body?

Someone with a death wish, he concluded. And maybe some need for validation; Typical vigilante. Thank the gods I don't know anyone like that.

"Uh, Mr. Amin, Remnant to Marrow Amin, you in there, space cadet?" He heard Neon worriedly inquire.

Now aware that he had been spacing out, Marrow chuckled nervously and replied, "Uh, yeah, still here. Sorry, I was just thinking about how our stay in Mantle just got weirder."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Neon said in agreement. She looked past Marrow at his grandmother, "Celia, just remember what the medics said. Just stay here and rest until you're cleared to go. I can imagine you'd wanna spend some time with your grandson until then?"

"Yes, yes, I remember," Celia spoke, "Thank you, Neon, for everything you've done today. You're welcome in my home any time, and bring this Flynt you told me about, I'd like to meet him. Oh, and please do mind my Grandson, he sometimes bites off more than he chew."

"Grandma..." Marrow whined as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. If there was one thing that Grandma Amin loved, it was embarrassing her grandchildren.

Neon giggled and bade the old woman farewell, allowing her to spend some time with her grandson. As she walked away, the young Faunus could swear she heard Marrow cry in joy. Apparently, he did not want to lose most of his composure in front of her. She finished her coffee and sat the mug aside on a cart. She exited the tent and found herself once more in the chaotic mess that was the relief effort. As she was about to go and look for Flynt, she was stopped by a young and nervous-looking police officer.

"Excuse me, miss." The officer inquired, "I'm interviewing the passengers. Would you mind answering a few questions?"

Tired arctic blue eyes slowly opened, beholding a sight unknown but familiar to them. His vision was all blurry and he could only make out the color. The only color he perceived was white, and he knew he was staring up at somethin that had that color, as he felt his head was pressed into the soft fabric of what was doubtlessly a pillow. He knew in an instant that he was lying in a bed when he registered the covers over his body, as well as the mattress beneath him. His vision soon returned to him, and he saw that he was indeed staring at a white ceiling, one with dried paint strokes resembling colliding ocean waves.

He realized that he was in his room at Rhodey's.

With a groan he rose to sit, slight pain shooting out throughout his body as he forced himself up. He felt his bones crack, microscopic pockets of air popping between the joints as he positioned his body to sit upright. As he sat up, he felt a brief but sharp pain in coming from his right knee, and his head felt like a beowolf had held it in a vice-grip. Now sitting on the bed, he tried to throw the covers off, only to stop when he felt a slight tug on his chest. He looked down and saw the blue light of the Arc Reactor shining through his sweat-stained shirt, the outline of a small cord protruding through the thin fabric. The reactor's charger had been plugged in.

But who could have plugged it in?

"Finally awake, I see?"

The boy froze at the sound of that voice and he felt his very core fill with dread. He knew only one person who could instill that much disappointment into a sentence equally filled with relief. His pivoted right and he found himself staring upon the seated form of Rhodey, still dressed in his blue and grey work uniform, gazing upon him with a look that was equally as relieved yet disappointed as his voice. How one person can combine such contradictory emotions into a single look and sentence was beyond the Schnee's understanding. What the boy did understand was that he was most definitely in a world of trouble.

The boy chuckled nervously, "Hee-hee... Hey, Rhodey, look, regarding how I got here, I don't know what it was you think you saw, but I'm sure there's a logical explanation behind it."

"Oh, there is a logical explanation for what I saw, alright." Rhodey nodded with a frown, "What I want to know is what compelled you to do something so reckless!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The boy said in a defensive tone.

Rhodey's brows furrowed and his tone turned accusatory, "Cut the crap, kid. We both know how you came here, so don't disrespect my intelligence by lying. So, tell me, what compelled you to put on a high tech suit of armor and stop a runaway train, Iron Man?"

"I assure you I have a good reason for this."

Rhodey, for his part, was willing to listen to the boy's side of the story, despite his worry about the whole situation. Of course, he doubted there was a good enough reason as to why a teenaged boy would recklessly endanger himself by stopping a train with a flying, armed, metal prosthesis. He can't wait to hear what the boy had to say about that.

"I don't know."

The officer looked down at his notepad and recorded the response onto paper. Once finished, he returned his gaze to the irate teen sitting on the bench, who had his arms crossed and his face in a rather impatient countenance. The officer did not blame the boy for his anger, for if he had been pulled aside in the midst of helping people, he would have been upset too. But he needed to interview everyone who had been aboard that train, in order to get an understanding of the events that led to their current situation.

The true tragedy was that with the ongoing police strike, he was left with no one to help him interview victims. He was going to be at this for hours.

Thankfully, he was almost finished speaking with the boy. He told the young man, "Alright, before we finish, I need to get your name, for the record."

"My name is Flynt Coal, Jr." Upon hearing that name, the officer's eyes bulged in surprise. He looked at the teenager before him and examined his facial structure, noting the eye color, the shape of his nose, and his cheekbones.

"Wait," The officer spoke, "Aren't you one of Detective Coal's kids?"

Flynt let out an exasperated sigh and shortly, "Yes."

"Sorry, it's just I heard you were supposed to be at Atlas Academy. Nearly everyone at the precinct knows. What are you doing here in Mantle, and not at the school?" The officer questioned.

Flynt simply replied, "Can't tell you. That's classified information, General Ironwood's orders."

The officer held his hands up and took a step back, having received the message loud and clear. He could see that the young man had better things to do than being grilled by a cop. He promptly thanked the young huntsman-in-training for his statement, wished him luck with his studies, and set off to interview another passenger. Flynt watched the man-in-blue with an irritated look in his eyes. He can't blame the man for trying to do his job; but the fact that he dragged that interview on for an hour, all while trying to find the right questions to ask did not warrant grant any sympathy from him. The fact he kept dropping his pen didn't help in the slightest.

Through his father's work, Flynt had come to see many types of officers. The one who had interviewed him still held an optimistic glint in his eyes, no doubt a fresh-faced rookie from the academy. He wagered it'll be a year before the cold, harsh, and unforgiving reality of policing wore down that youthful enthusiasm. He had seen it happen before to his father, after the man took up the job again after losing his shop.

Still, at least they didn't send one like Simpson. He thought with some measure of relief, thinking of one particular officer who represented all the worst parts of the Mantle Police. He can take some comfort in that fact.

He was about to get up when he felt something press against his neck, something cylindrical and freezing cold. That's when he heard a familiar voice ask, "Need a pick me up?"

Flynt relaxed and smiled, and turned his head to see Neon standing behind him, clutching two soda cans in her hand and sporting a smile. He took one of the offered cans, a 9-Up, and opened it. He took a sip of the carbonated beverage and then smacked his lips, savoring the flavor. Neon chuckled at the display and remarked, "Still a bit of a sugar addict, aren't ya?"

"Well, after what happened, I needed it." Flynt replied. "So, how much did you see?"

"Enough to know you were being rude to the guy. He already interviewed me and he didn't once accuse me of sabotaging the train." She said irritably. Her tone got somber when she muttered, "Same can't be said for some people in this place..."

The young huntsman felt a spike of anger jolt through his body and he grounded out, "Who was it?"

Just when he thought that the academy incident was behind them, the ugly face of prejudice just had to turn its head again toward his partner. Unlike last time, however, he was not going to sit idly by and do nothing.

Neon waved it off and said, "Oh, just some bigots who weren't worth my time. They didn't have any bite to go with their bark. Besides, there's only one person who is worth my time."

His anger dissipated as Flynt blinked and asked, "Who?"

"Iron Man." She answered before taking a sip of her drink. She then sat down on the bench next to Flynt, and spoke, "I still can't believe he's real, though. I mean, I thought that he was just another MeTube hoax."

"Yeah, well, most hoaxes don't fly out of a video and save the day." he said. "Honestly, I'm having a hard time believing it too, Neon. I thought we were goners for sure, but then this metal guy comes zipping in and stops the train like he's Wonder Man!"

"A real-life superhero..." She spoke in awe, "Who'd have thought, right?"

"Vigilante, Neon, Vigilante." He reminded her, "I'm grateful and all that he saved us. But as far as we know, Iron Man's just another thrill-seeking nut taking the law into his own hands, like that Spider-Guy in Vale."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever... Sheesh, Flynt, does everything have to be a certain way for you?" She asked her friend.

"Only when it helps people," He remarked, "Still, it does beg the question: If the Iron Man is here to help, then why didn't he become a cop or join the military? Why not become a hunter, even? I mean, it takes a special kind of crazy to put on a flying suit of armor and play superhero."

"Sometimes crazy works," Neon shrugged before taking another sip of her soda. After savoring the taste, she spoke up, "Look, I didn't come here to debate law and order, that isn't really my thing; I came here to check up on my best friend."

"Well, your best friend is doing fine." He replied assuredly. He finished the last of his soda, placing the empty metal can beside him, to be recycled later. As the two friends sat there quietly, amidst the hustle and bustle of the emergency camp, they couldn't help but marvel about how their suspenseful tale turned into an amazing fantasy.

Atlas Academy, Atlas

General Ironwood's Office

The general's eyes were locked onto the holographic image before him. His face was stiff as stone, hiding his sheer and utter bewilderment. He had thought years of fighting the Grimm and the occasional rogue hunter had desensitized him to the unexpected. Yet, here he was, sitting at his office, hands clasped under his chin, observing the blurry silvery figure presented on the projected screen with an astonished wonder that he thought lost long ago.

The so-called "Iron Man", who had once been dismissed as an internet hoax, was real. Not only was he real, but he had also saved the lives of hundreds by stopping that train, which in turn prevented a Grimm incursion, saving thousands in turn. For something like that, he should be considered a hero, and many in the kingdom called him as such if the comments on social media were anything to go by.

But to Ironwood, he was an unknown factor. He hated unknowns. Despite the good he had accomplished with that train-stopping stunt, the fact of the matter is that there was an individual possessing highly advanced and unlicensed technology, flying around Mantle without impunity, taking the law into his own hands. He had heard how Iron Man had shattered a robber's jaw, which had postponed the man's trial by months. One cannot defend themselves in court if their jaw was wired shut, after all.

That single incident was concerning enough, but the General was more worried about the implications behind the vigilante's recent escapade. He knew that he had flown through the city without a flight plan cleared by the ATA, endangering pilots, both civilian and military. Iron Man demonstrated his recklessness when he re-directed the train onto an unfinished track, showing a lack of planning and foresight that rivaled a certain drunken comrade of his. And then there were those blue energy beams, which proved to be destructive in firepower and precise as a scalpel. The strength which he possessed, no doubt augmented by the suit, was beyond that of even the strongest huntsman he knew of.

Such a person seemed to be capable of doing just about anything. That thought alone scared him more than anything. Such a person was capable of doing evil as they can good. For all he knew, Iron Man had sabotaged the train himself, just to engineer an emergency that can make him out to be a hero. Until the investigation had run its course and revealed any evidence to the contrary, he will treat this Iron Man as a potential threat to the security of the Kingdom.

That is, if I can't recruit him into the brotherhood... He mused, his mind racing with thoughts of what Iron Man can do if he worked for him.

If Ozpin wanted to recruit Spider-Man, as he suspected were the case, than he should try and bring Atlas' very own 'superhero' into the fold. He had to, lest Salem got ahold of him. He dared to imagine the horror if that were to come to pass. Not to mention the possibility that a certain one-eyed man had already picked up the vigilante on his radar. The last thing Ironwood wanted was for that man to gain another asset to his organization.

Until such a time when his true nature was revealed, the military will be keeping a close watch on Iron Man. And should he prove to be a treat to the continued safety of the Kingdom, he will be taken down. And he knew just the person for such a task.

He already had boots on the ground in Mantle in the form of Marrow, but the presence of another specialist could work to his advantage. He tapped a button on his desk, activating the intercom. Speaking into the now-present microphone, he asked, "Reggie?"

"Yes, General Ironwood?" He heard his assistant ask.

"I need you to contact Specialist Schnee regarding a new assignment. Also, summon Specialist Amin."

His assistant acknowledged the request and ended the call. The general, for his part, stayed at his desk, intent on watching more videos of the vigilante. If one were to defeat a potential enemy, one had to know the enemy's own potential. That and he needed to be informed well-enough for the emergency council meeting to decide the kingdom's stance on the vigilante.

He found a video and pressed the play button.

Hammer Industries Corporate Headquarters

Justin Hammer's Office

Justin Hammer pressed the pause button and narrowed his eyes at the image of the blurred figure flying out of frame. For the past hour, he had been on a binge watching footage of the mysterious Iron Man. When he had heard that one of his company's newly released trains had gone loose, the young CEO was incensed to say the least. All those innocent people's lives brought to a violent and chaotic end, and he'd have to deal with the subsequent civils suits filed by their families, the ATA, and the Kingdom. Such an accident would have ruined his company and resigned him to a life behind the stockades. But then the Iron Man appeared out of nowhere, flying head-on into danger, saving the lives of all those passengers and Hammer's very reputation.

Understandably, he was quite incredulous to hear that a real-life superhero had stopped the train. A Huntsman or huntress, he would have accepted that. But a flying metal man that shot lasers and had the strength of ten men? That was ridiculous. He promptly fired the messenger for telling him such an outlandish story.

It was only when the videos started popping up on the internet did he realize that he may have jumped the gun in firing that messenger. In less than an hour, all across the World Wide Web, no matter the website, whether it was MeTube, Facespace, Chirper, Bluddit, or even Immediagram, amateur video of the kingdom's new self-appointed protector started appearing. The instant he saw Iron Man zoom right past a camera, Justin found himself enamored by the metal man and his technology.

And so, he perused the web for any video of the vigilante, combing through his browser for every link and file he could find; and what he found was amazing. Each video offered a glimpse into what Iron Man was capable of, and thus far he had seen the metal man fly, shoot lasers, and stopped one of his train engines from falling off an unfinished track. But that paled in comparison to what he had seen in this video.

Just before he had exited the scene, Iron Man took a few seconds to observe the crowd and that brief moment granted Justin a rather peculiar sight. While it may not have noticed by the naked eye, the zoomed-in function on a scroll's camera had caught it. What he referred to was a small metallic gash in Iron Man's knee, which had small flecks of red around the damaged area. He realized in an instant that it was blood. The Iron Man was not a machine, but a mere mortal in a suit of armor.

A beautifully crafted suit, a true masterpiece of engineering... and someone else made it! The young CEO enviously thought.

Such a miraculous piece of machinery and it had been built and used by some wishy-washy fool who wanted to play superhero. This was an injustice of the highest caliber in his opinion, a slight against his intelligence! He didn't know who built the armor, but he knew he wanted it!

This kind of technology had the potential to inspire a new generation of weapons, and maybe even open new markets rife with profit. For too long, the people of Remnant have relied on Hunters and Armies to protect them from the Grimm. But the problem with huntsmen, huntresses, and soldiers was that at the end of the day they were still human; flawed, fallible, greedy, and ultimately ineffectual. Why pay for years of training and combat experience when one can buy a suit that can give them such fighting abilities in seconds? He imagined that there was a very substantial demand for such a thing. Why, if he played his cards, Hammer Industries would not only be the supplier of said suits, but they could be the entire market. If the SDC can have a monopoly on Dust, then Hammer can have one on power armor.

But that was only possible if he got ahold of Iron Man's suit and reverse-engineered it.

But how does one capture a so-called 'superhero'? He couldn't help but wonder.

He looked back to the still image of Iron Man and stared intensely at it. Such was the ferocity of this gaze that it seemed to pierce through the holographic image and the veil of time, hoping to dive right into the armored vigilante's very soul. No such luck there, as all he received was the indifferent gaze of Iron Man's cyan optics, frozen in time. That gaze was indifferent to him, but not to where his eyesight was directed, which was right on the sheeple of Mantle.

Hammer smiled deviously, having found his answer. If his hunch about Iron Man was correct, then he'll come rushing to the rescue if the innocent people of the city were in danger. But what kind of crisis would compel the so-called hero to act? Just what kind of cataclysmic upheaval would warrant a response?

Food for thought... But, for now, I need to know what happened to my train.

Iron Man can wait. His wallet was in danger, and that took priority over all. All he had to was wait and see what the police can dig up. He hoped that the ones he paid off would call him first.

SDC Corporate Headquarters

Executive Board Room

"My friends, something most unprecedented has occurred..."

The board members said nothing as Jacques Schnee spoke, their eyes locked on the head of the company as he stood before the windows. The old businessman had called a meeting only an hour ago, and those who had no prior engagements rushed on their way to headquarters. Many of those in attendance have been with the company for decades, such as Kenshiro Fujikawa, Mordecai Midas, and Edwin Cord. Others were recent additions like Tiberius Stone and Sunset Bain. And then there was the CFO, Obadiah Stane, who had his start at the company and then founded his own, only to be brought back in after it was bought out by Jacques. All had their motivations for being in the company, some with very lofty aspirations, but they were ultimately set aside for the sake of staying on the CEO's good side.

Jacques turned to his gathered executives and spoke, "A sword of unlimited potential has just been presented to us. For decades, this company had subsisted on the Dust trade, and during my tenure we've branched out into weapons manufacturing, transportation, medicine, and even entertainment systems. These new markets have brought us a substantial profit and an elevated position, of those facts I am rightly proud. But today, only an hour ago, I caught a glimpse of this company's future, and it was magnificent."

He approached his chair, situated at the end of the expansive desk, and tapped a button on its surface. The lighting within the room dimmed and the windows were covered by metal shutters. Suddenly, the desk lit up and fired off different beams of light into the air, which soon became holographic monitors. Upon all these monitors were different videos, of varying quality and angles, but the main subject was always in view. Upon each screen was the silvery form of Iron Man.

"Remarkable..." Stone whispered in awe, astounded by the fine craftsmanship of the suit. He turned to his boss and spoke, "I think I know what you have in mind, Jacques... and I already love it!"

Bain carried on that train of thought and spoke, "An entirely new generation of weapons, with this Iron Man as its herald. If we can somehow reverse-engineer Iron Man's technology, we'll be at the forefront of this new age. For all we know, this might solve the problem of the dwindling Dust deposits, if this suit uses some kind of new energy."

"Indeed, but how exactly do we obtain this technology for ourselves?" Jacques asked his subordinates.

The question stumped many at the desk. How exactly can they get Iron Man's technology? As the executives mulled over their responses, two of them found their voices. Of course, they were dissenting ones. The first person grunted audibly, which attracted the attention of his boss. Jacques, for his part, was not pleased to hear this grunt, as he knew exactly who it belonged to.

"Yes, Kenshiro...?" The businessman asked with irritation evident in his tone.

If there was one person that Jacques Schnee despised on the board, it had to be Kenshiro Fujikawa, the head of their legal department, and a complete thorn in his side. The old man had been with the company since his late father-in-law was in charge, and it was his experience that had kept him on the board since he took over. The fact that his continued employment had been one of Nicholas' final requests was also a factor. If it weren't for the fact he didn't want to lose face in front of the entire company, he would've given the Kuchinashian businessman the boot. Thankfully, the old man was only one year away from retirement.

Until then, he'll indulge whatever the man had to say.

Fujikawa spoke up, "Given the fact that this Iron Man is a vigilante, would it seem that we'd be overreaching this company's power by trying to capture him? His technology is impressive, no doubt, but shouldn't his detainment be left to the military or the police? We don't want to be like Hammer, do we?"

"We are nothing like Hammer," Jacques retorted before cheekily adding, "Unlike his company, our Scrolls don't blow up in people's faces."

This remark elicited a few chuckles from some. Fujikawa, however, was not laughing. He frowned, "Jacques, this is serious! We're a multi-billion lien corporation, not the government! We do not have the resources, the influence, or even the authority to obtain Iron Man's technology on our own! That's why we should let Ironwood handle his capture. Once he does, you can negotiate a deal to have our scientists look at him."

Obadiah, who had been quiet throughout most of the meeting, nodded, "An excellent proposal, Kenshiro. Our research division is the most cutting-edge in the world, and we have the facilities capable of studying Iron Man's unique hardware. We simply need to build a good enough case for Ironwood to hand over the vigilante over to us."

The gathered board members talked amongst themselves, discussing the proposed plan put forth by Fujikawa. Knowing they had limited options, they all ultimately agreed upon this course of action. They directed their eyes toward their CEO, who held the final decision on how they would proceed. Jacques stroked his chin in deep thought, thinking the idea over. After a few seconds of silent deliberation, the businessman made his decision known.

"As usual, Misters Fujikawa and Stane are right. We will wait for Ironwood to capture Iron Man. Only then will we request access to this technology. That is my final word on the matter."

"And that is why I can't eat cooked steak without having a cave flashback."

Rhodey stared at the youth in shock, "Wow... that is just... that is a lot to process, son."

Whitley laid his head back on his pillow and sighed, "Yeah... to be honest, I don't know if I'll ever fully reintegrate back into society after an experience like that. The dreams are bad enough, I've lost sleep, and sometimes I question my own sanity. I'm worried that I'll have an episode in public."

Rhodey was at a loss for words. He had seen the very worst in people during the Faunus War, and he had struggled with his own demons, but they all paled in comparison to what the young Schnee experienced; forced servitude, psychological torture, summary executions, and burying bodies of prisoners who had died in captivity. Not to mention the fact that the boy had killed during his escape. It was a genuine miracle that the boy hadn't fully succumbed to this trauma. He had seen too many of his comrades take their own lives when the weight of all they've done and witnessed finally proved too much to carry.

"Well, Rhodey, I gave you the full, unfiltered story of my time spent in shackles. Do you have any other questions?" The boy asked morosely.

Rhodey composed himself and asked, "Well, why exactly did you build that armor?"

"To be honest... I don't really know, Rhodey. I don't think there's a logical explanation for what I did. I gave myself a number of reasons why I built this armor and I still can't understand. What I do know is that if I don't work on that armor... the nightmares come back... and they get worse." Whitley tried to explain. He then told his guardian, "The armor makes me feel... safe."

It was here that Rhodey snapped, "Safe? Whitley, you're no safer in that armor than you are in a car without seatbelts! You almost died! When I got that call from V.I.C. -still trying to wrap my head you have an AI, by the way- and he told me you were hurt, I nearly had a heart attack! I was expecting a broken leg or arm, not my godson in some silver flying armor with his knee nearly cut open, bruises all over his body, and a broken nose... not to mention that thing in your chest that's keeping you alive!"

Whitley winced when the man described his injuries. He had known that something had happened to his knee, but he hadn't been aware he had broken his nose, or that he had a few bruises. While they were certainly not life-threatening, they were bad enough to make Rhodey go hysterical with worry. Though he probably should have told the man about the reactor beforehand; the man was rightly furious he hadn't been told about the electromagnet that was the only thing keeping his young charge alive.

An electromagnet that had nearly run out of power; Whitley realized with dread. That last charge was supposed to last a whole week... how did I lost most of it in three days?

As the young genius thought his conundrum over, Rhodey continued on with his concerned tirade.

"Damn it all, Whitley, do you think this is some kind of game? That you can wear that suit and start playing 'superhero'? No! What you're doing is breaking the law! And you nearly died doing so!"

When he noticed that Whitley had spaced out, the man growled and clapped his hands together roughly, drawing the teen's attention back onto him. The retired military man crossed his arms and resumed speaking, "Whitley, I am being serious. What you did was reckless, stupid, and dangerous. You're not a soldier, a cop, or a huntsman with years of training and combat experience... you're a trust fund kid with a chip on his shoulder and a death wish."

Whitley frowned upon hearing that last part. He muttered, "That's not true..."

"Really...?" Rhodey questioned, "You don't sound so sure. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Whitley said nothing, unable to find the right words to say to justify his actions. Rhodey took a deep breath and rose from his chair. He looked down at Whitley and said, "I'm not saying what you did was bad. You saved a lot of people, Whitley, and that is something to be proud of... But it's going to be the last time."

The Schnee didn't like what he heard. He didn't even have to predict what the man's next words were.

The man uttered those dreaded words, "Starting today, Iron Man is no more."

The masked lieutenants said nothing as they knelt before their leader. The black-garbed warriors had been summoned to the antechamber for an impromptu gathering, one that had been ordered by their lord himself. Seconds had passed since the meeting began and the followers had been silent as they waited for their master's word. The only sound to be heard, other than the hushed and nervous breaths of the terrified men and women, were the steady and methodic tapping of metal fingers upon a stone armrest. The master gazed upon his servants, his helmet concealing his face and whatever expression it held, and spoke.

"I am most... dissatisfied." He spoke in a chillingly calm, metallic voice that sent shivers of fear down through their spines.

"This was to be Hammer's ultimate humiliation, recompense for his slight against me. Weeks of careful planning, thousands of lien were bribing the right officials, orchestrating the chain of events that would have brought about his downfall... all of that time and resources wasted, derailed by... A FREAK DRESSED LIKE A WIND-UP TOY ROBOT!" He roared as he rose from his chair, his thunderous voice echoing through the underground lair.

The warriors shook in fear as their master's anger rolled over them in waves, nearly drowning them in a sea of rage. They knew that to speak out now would be a death sentence and none of them were suicidal. They kept quiet as the tall armored figure continued his furious rant.

"This "Iron Man" has cost us our victory, our honor, and most egregiously, my prize!" He spat, his metallic fists tightly clenched together. He stomped toward the kneeling acolytes, who were now visibly shaking in their boots, and stood before them. "Hammer has no idea that the ring he wears is not some mere trinket, but a vessel of unlimited power, one of many. It'll only be a matter of time before he discovers the truth and will start searching for the other rings. His plans for Mantle will accelerate, and our noble cause will sputter and die an inglorious death. Iron Man, through his foolish actions, has given our enemy more time to uncover the ring's secrets. For this, the metal man will pay dearly."

He approached the warrior closest to him and roared, "Slattery! I want you and your spies close to the ground. Sniff out any secrets you might find about Iron Man."

The warrior nodded and bowed, his forehead pressed against the cold stone floor. The leader strolled toward a man at the tail end of the front row, "Killian, I want you to run a check on our business fronts; see if there's any way we can earn back the lien lost in this fruitless endeavor."

Like his comrade before him, this warrior bowed, acknowledging the request. Satisfied, he turned his glowing yellow eyes onto the rest of his followers and bellowed, "You are all dismissed! Leave now and do not disturb me for the rest of the day!"

His servants bowed and promptly rose up from the floor. They quickly moved away from their master and disappeared into the shadows, just as they were trained. Slattery and Killian left as well, to carry out their master's orders and to give him the peace and quiet he so desired. Once they had all left, the armored man silently stood there for a moment, to see if there were any stragglers. Once he was sure that he was alone, he removed the rings from his right hand. Once the rings left the fingers they had been wrapped around, a ball of bright golden light erupted from their wearer.

When the light died, the armor had disappeared, having returned to the pocket dimension where it was stored. Where there once stood a tall and imposing warrior, clad in black armor reminiscent of the ancient Animan dragon, was a middle-aged and unassuming gentleman, of east Animan descent, in a brown business suit. The only noticeable feature he had was his neatly trimmed goatee, which was as black as his eyes and slicked-back hair.

The finely dressed man moved toward a pillar, where a hidden elevator was located, and waved his hand across the column's stony surface. The hidden doors opened, granting him access to the lift. He entered without a word and pressed a button. The doors closed without any audible creaking or shuddering.

The man shook slightly as the elevator lifted up. Minutes passed as he the lift carried him to his destination. Once it had reached the desired floor, the elevators doors opened up, revealing an office. The room was Spartan in design, with green walls devoid of any decorations save for his framed college degrees, as well as a few ancient tapestries older than even the city of Mistral. He exited the elevator, which closed behind him, and took a seat at his desk.

He tapped his hand on the hard wooden surface of his desk, which opened a panel that slid back under the surface. Within a small compartment was an old TeleScroll, clunky and wired into the desk, free from the technological rubbish that constituted most scrolls these days. This lack of innovation was what made the machine completely undetectable, one of the weaknesses of the digital age. He picked up the receiver and dialed a number.

Holding the device to his ear, the man waited for the call to go through.

Soon, the call went through and a scrambled and deep voice answered, "Yes?"

The man spoke, "Gill, it's Zhang, I have another job for you and your crew."

"Another hit on Hammer's bank holdings?"

"No... It's a different kind of job, in fact." He replied. "One that might set you for life if your pull through."

"What is it?"

Zhang smiled as he spoke, "Tell me, have you heard anything about Iron Man?"

Shin Zhang was not a man to be trifled with. He will not tolerate disrespect in any form, whether it is from his subordinates, his obstinate step-son, his wayward son, or this Iron Man who thought himself a hero. The vigilante was a threat to his ambitions and he will see him eliminated before he becomes aware of his activities. He had spent far too long and sacrificed too much for his order's plan to be upended by some tin-can tit.

The Mandarin will not allow it.

And there we have it!

I know you're all expecting a lengthy author's note, but the truth is I am worn-out. I just started a new shift at work, while still keeping my options open, and it's been a hectic few weeks. All I can say is that the next chapter will drop by Halloween, giving some much needed time to lay back and relax.

Oh, and come on, we all know Whitley's gonna put the armor back on.

Next time, on the Invincible Whitley Schnee: Whitley contemplates his future without the suit, Neon and Flynt come with him on a trip to the Potts-Hogan home, and just before that, He receives an unexpected visit from a visitor he had no intention of seeing!

All capped off by the Appearance of his very first Supervillain.

Also, I will reveal who Whitley's love interest will be at the end of the year!

Here are the next chapter's titles, which will form the next story arc of this story.

Chapter 13: Cold Reception (October 31st)

Chapter 14: Warm Welcome (November TBA)

Chapter 15: Cool Down (December TBA)

See you soon, space cowboy.