Chapter 2: Batman Begins
This story is a work of fanfiction based on the RWBY series. I do not own the copyright to the original series mentioned. This work of fiction has been created in order to explore the vast possibilities of the imagination and, above all, to provide entertainment. I hope you find pleasure in reading it,...I do not own batman either...that's obvious.
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On a freezing night in Mantle, the ancient kingdom of which Atlas was a part, a figure glided over the rooftops and buildings, shrouded in darkness. The night was cold and dark, and this figure moved with the grace of a shadow, swift and unstoppable. Its movements were precise, calculated, as if it knew every corner and terrace of Mantle.
He didn't just move in the darkness; he was the darkness. He was Mantle.
Behind this shadow, his tireless pursuers...
Men trained in the most formidable army in the world, the only one in fact. A group of specialists under the command of General Ironwood, the Ace-Ops. These elite soldiers had, on numerous occasions, attempted to capture this elusive shadow. For them, this mission was more than just a task; its capture represented a test of their worth and skills.
Despite their efforts, the shadow always managed to escape. Each attempt to locate it ended in failure, leaving the Ace-Ops frustrated but more determined than ever. The shadow moved with supernatural agility, slipping between the shadows of buildings, leaving its pursuers in the wake of its mystery.
The night in Mantle was a dance between light and dark, between shadow and its hunters. The Ace-Ops, with their tense faces and determined gazes, moved with military precision, every step calculated, every movement synchronized. But the shadow, with its intimate knowledge of the city, was always one step ahead, fading into the night like a whisper on the wind.
—"Harriet, how's everything up there?" asked Clover Ebi, the leader of the Ace-Ops, as she ran through the streets, her eyes fixed on the figure that seemed to fade away with each passing second. Her voice, though firm, carried a hint of urgency.
—"I've got him in sight!" Harriet Bree replied, her fierce, defiant grin lighting up her face. To her, this prey would not get away again. Her eyes shone with unwavering determination as she followed the shadow with almost superhuman precision.
—"Keep an eye on him," Elm Ederne ordered, running ten meters to his right. His voice was a low whisper, thick with concentration. Ten meters behind him, another member of the team, Marrow Amin, held his position, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a fierce intensity.
—"Use your Semblance, reach him in an instant," Marrow urged, his voice sharp and precise. Five meters behind Harriet, to the right, he too was ready to act at any moment.
Vine Zeki, the fifth member of the team, kept up the rear, his silence a testament to his absolute concentration. Every muscle in his body was tense, prepared for any eventuality. His mind was racing, calculating every possible move.
—"If this guy is as good as everyone says, then I might as well conserve my energy," Harriet murmured, her smile growing even wider. The thrill of the hunt filled her with an almost palpable energy. —"He won't get away from us again."
She had it in her sights, that shadow running ahead of them, its back to them. The figure moved with a grace and agility that defied logic, but Harriet wasn't going to let that stop her. However, when the shadow of a larger building covered it for an instant, the darkness seemed to swallow the figure, and in the blink of an eye, it was gone.
Harriet blinked, as did all the Ace-Ops, as they reached the spot where that shadow should be. The terrace was empty.
—"It disappeared," Marrow said in amazement. Though, truth be told, he shouldn't be surprised; this had happened to his group many times before. Every time they felt like they were near him, that shadow simply vanished.
—"Again?!" Clover looked frustrated and annoyed,— "Get down, let's regroup."
They all obeyed their leader, descending the building with the mastery worthy of a hunter. They considered themselves the best of the best, but were always mocked by this shadow, treated as mere novices.
Despite everything, they knew that catching their target would not be easy. It was not for nothing that he was a legend in Atlas, in Mantle, in Vacuo and in Vale. The entire Remnant knew the legend of the Dark Knight.
This enigmatic being instilled terror among the most dangerous criminals, whether they were common, ex-hunters, hunters, organizations or any other kind of scum. Every time a criminal heard his name, he would flee in terror, fearing that night would come and that he would appear with it.
Harriet frowned as she stared out at the horizon. Frustration was palpable in the air, but so was determination. They couldn't let this shadow continue to taunt them. The hunt must continue, and they wouldn't rest until the shadow was captured.
—"We can't give up now," Elm said, his voice firm and determined. —"This is just one more obstacle."
Marrow nodded, his gaze fixed on the spot where the shadow had disappeared. —"Next time, it won't get away from us."
Vine watched silently from the rear, his mind racing with possible strategies. He knew they would need more than brute force to capture this shadow. They would need cunning, patience, and above all, unity.
—"But I thought you had it, Harriet," Elm said, his voice thick with frustration.
—"Don't blame me for this, Elm! You were watching it too. It just disappeared, it was like the darkness swallowed it up," Harriet replied, her tone defiant but with a hint of disbelief.
—"This is the fifth time this has happened to us. I don't think the General will be very happy," said Clover, their leader, with a sigh of exasperation.
—"Don't even mention it. We've failed this mission so many times that it's honestly a miracle we're not cleaning the toilets as punishment," Vine Zeki commented calmly, though he was also relieved at the luck they'd had lately.
—"Well, let's report in," Clover said, lowering her head in resignation. Everyone followed, disappointed, their footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night.
The headlights illuminated the streets, and the moon, beautiful and bright, seemed to mock her failure, making her mood fall even further. But then, Clover, looking down at the ground, found something disturbing.
He raised his hand and immediately his team stood still.
—"He's following us," she said in a tense voice.
—"Great, how ironic, the hunters being hunted," Harriet said, immediately going on alert, her eyes scanning the darkness intently.
Clover, looking at the ground, felt a chill run down her spine. It was said that when this man followed you, it would most likely not end well for you. You would rather die than face him.
His reasons for fear were enough, for what he was seeing below him was the silhouette of his target. The shadow grew larger, and soon the Ace-Ops found themselves swallowed by the darkness produced by that silhouette. The moon shone behind him, giving him an imposing and terrifying touch.
—"h-how cool," Clover stammered, cursing himself for his reaction, but he couldn't help it. That entrance was completely impressive.
The figure, shrouded in shadow, stood before them, its presence dominating the surroundings. The Ace-Ops, despite their training and skills, couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and fear. The hunt had taken an unexpected turn, and now, the hunters found themselves in the position of prey.
Harriet, fists clenched, braced herself for any eventuality. Elm and Marrow exchanged glances, ready to act at a moment's notice. Vine, from the rear, held her ground, her mind racing to find a way out of this situation.
The silhouette leapt and immediately spread its wings, revealing the unmistakable shape of a bat. Its target gracefully descended to the ground, as if it weighed nothing, and stared them straight in the face with an eerie calm.
—"By orders of the Kingdom of Atlas and General Ironwood, you, Batman, are under arrest for the crimes of vigilantism, obstruction of law enforcement, damage to military and civilian property, and, most importantly, wanton assault," Clover declared, listing off a small portion of the long list of crimes Batman was accused of.
He expected some response, but only received silence.
—"Wow, he doesn't talk much," Marrow commented, breaking the tense silence with a sarcastic tone.
—"If you resist, we will be forced to use lethal force against you," Clover warned, but again, she only received silence as a response.
Clover looked at her companions, who readied their weapons. They knew this would be an inevitable fight. There was no other option.
In an instant, they lunged at Batman...
But let's recap.
—{}—
He had never felt so excited in his life. He had watched hunters fight in the Amity Tournament, he had experienced the opulence of the rich's life because he was a part of it, and he had paid for the best things, both exciting and mundane. But never in his life had he felt so motivated, so excited, so looking forward to tomorrow.
For ten days, he did not allow anyone to enter his room. He hardly left the room, which worried his personal maid greatly. However, he reassured her that he was working on something of utmost importance. "What would someone his age be working on?" she wondered, although she knew she didn't need to know. Meanwhile, he became more and more immersed in his project, with a determination she had never felt before.
This comic, Batman, had an incredibly rich mythology. He had never felt more of an identity. He and Batman, in a way, were alike: they were both rich... and nothing more. He didn't have dead parents, but he did have irresponsible ones, and he felt that if they died, it wouldn't affect him as much as it should. — "What kind of son am I?" Every page of the comic seemed to speak directly to him, as if it were showing him a path he should follow.
After making sure that this comic did not exist anywhere in the Remnant, he became even more intrigued. He searched online, visited several comic book stores, and even asked geeky specialists in these subjects, but no one seemed to know about it. —"It's like it fell from the sky," he thought, as he flipped through the pages with a mixture of wonder and admiration. Every illustration, every dialogue, seemed to have a hidden purpose, a message that only he could decipher.
In any case, how that comic book ended up in his room was a complete mystery. Call it coincidence, it didn't matter; it was welcome. Call it fate, so he was willing to fulfill it. "If this is a sign, I won't ignore it," he muttered to himself, determined to discover the purpose behind this enigmatic find. He felt like he was on the threshold of something big, something that would change his life forever.
The first step to this was to be independent, to distance himself from his family at best, and to fake his death at worst. But he would only use the worst case scenario when the best case scenario didn't work. —"I can't keep living under his shadow," he thought, as he laid out his plan with meticulous precision.
And that was why he was here. Sitting across from his father. In his father's office, damn, he was feeling nervous. This idea of his wasn't guaranteed to work; in fact, if it did work, it would be more due to sheer luck and fortune than because the idea was any good. —"But I have to try," he told himself, trying to calm his nerves.
—"You called an audience with me, Whitley," his father, Jacques Schnee, did not even deign to look at his son. He was simply reading some documents; in fact, on his desk he had a pile of sheets and sheets of paper. —"Please be brief, I don't have much time, as you can see I'm busy."
—"Understood," it was now or never. Whitley was sure that fortune was on his side, or at least that's what he wanted to believe, and that's what he believed by simply choosing to believe it. —"I want to start a company."
Jacques Schnee stopped reading, put the document on the stack of papers on his desk, and turned his attention to his son. —"You have five minutes to explain yourself, and if I like the way you start, I'll give you twenty minutes to explain to me how you plan to make this company." Jacques said in a serious voice, not showing any emotion.
Whitley calmed his nerves. In a way, this was also partly true; the words that would come out of his mouth were something that would practically happen in the future. —"After the kidnapping incident, I've realized that everything has come a little too easily for me. I don't blame you for spoiling me or anything, I just appreciate that my whims are fulfilled." Jacques narrowed his eyes, looking like he was starting to tire of Whitley's words, as if his youngest son's words reminded him of the words of his eldest daughter, Winter.
Whitley could sense that his father was a bit detached from his words, seeming to dislike the start of their conversation.— "But in the future, I will be delegated to a mere ornament of the family, more like a symbol of representation. My sister Winter will be the one to inherit the company, and Weiss…, you surely already have something planned for her, a musical interest… but for me, I'm not sure what you have. That's why I would like to have the chance to start something of my own, to prove myself."
Jacques, with an initially indifferent expression, narrowed his eyes in mild interest. It seemed that his son's words were now beginning to catch his attention.— "Interesting, very interesting, and you're not wrong. The truth is that I don't have anything planned for you." Whitley would never admit it, but those words hurt him deeply. —"That's admirable, very admirable. You didn't wait for me to see a path for you, but you plan to forge your own opportunity. Very well, I suppose you have a plan. You have 20 minutes to convince me."
Jacques' smile was predatory, but Whitley wasn't intimidated. He didn't have a plan per se, but he had a general idea, and that was enough for his father to listen.— "Thank you, Father. This will take less than 20 minutes."
Whitley took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that threatened to betray him. —"I've been researching the market and I think there's an opportunity in the green technology sector. With growing concerns about climate change, we could invest in renewable energy and sustainable technologies. This would not only diversify our investments, but would also improve the company's image."
Jacques raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. —"Green technology? What do you know about that, Whitley?"
Whitley smiled, feeling a spark of confidence. —"I've been studying trends and talking to experts in the field. Plus, I think we could collaborate with innovative startups that are already making significant inroads. We could be pioneers in this sector and make a real difference."
Jacques leaned back in his chair, assessing his son with a calculating gaze. —"You have my attention, Whitley. But this is just the beginning. You'll need more than words to convince me. I want to see a detailed plan and concrete numbers. You have one week."
Whitley nodded, feeling a mix of relief and determination. —"I won't let you down, Father. Thank you for giving me this opportunity."
His father obviously didn't believe in him in the slightest, but grave mistake, he just gave him the key to becoming the most dangerous man in the world.
—{}—
Whitley had just left his father's office. If all went well, within a week he would have the necessary funding to start his own small company, far removed from his family name.
In Remnant, talking about green energy is almost an understatement. Maybe in Batman's world, green energy is a highly lucrative market, but here no one has bothered to investigate it in depth. Even things like oil don't exist in this world. No one has bothered to look for it because a cesspool in the middle of the forest sounds a lot like a Grimm well, and it's not very sensible to go near one of those lakes.
—"Who in their right mind would want to go near a Grimm pit?" Whitley thought out loud, laughing at his own quip.
However, considering that dust itself is a clean energy, causing no carbon emissions and used both as a means of defense and as a source of energy in different aspects, it is very versatile. It is the perfect clean energy. The only pollution problem it causes is when mining it.
—"It's like nature is giving us a gift wrapped in a challenge," Whitley mused as he walked down the hall. Luckily, there was a lot more than comics in his room, and his mind was filled with innovative ideas.
Part 1 of the plan was almost complete. The hardest part of this journey would be finding specialists to teach him. If he wanted to be someone like Batman, he would have to specialize in every branch possible, especially combat.
—"I need a martial arts master, an engineer, and maybe a magician," he muttered, imagining a team of experts as varied as his needs.
—"Where will I find someone who can teach me how to be a hero?" Whitley asked himself, his mind already beginning to plot the next step in his ambitious plan. He paced back and forth in his room, his thoughts racing a mile a minute.
—"Well, I've taken the first step. Being Batman takes a lot of time and will cost a fortune. Luckily, I have both," he told himself with a satisfied smile. He sat down at his desk and started making a list of everything he would need.
—"First, someone to teach me computer science," Whitley muttered, remembering someone who could teach him that. If you wanted the best in science and technology, you had to go to the kingdom of Atlas. Among the great exponents of knowledge were Dr. Pietro Polendina and Dr. Arthur Watts.
—"Too bad Arthur died in a train accident years ago," Whitley thought, "the only one left alive is Dr. Polendina."
—"Well, how do I get this guy to teach me?" Whitley thought and thought, drumming his fingers on the table. —"I hope he likes the idea of solar panels, or hydroelectric plants, or a nuclear power plant. Or the method of seeding clouds to make it rain... that would be very useful back in Vacuo," he mused aloud, imagining the possibilities.
He stood up from his chair and began pacing the room, his mind racing.— "Yeah, we'll start there," he finally decided. Whitley had a plan. The only problem with that plan was that— —"God, even if I'm the son of one of the richest men in the world, I wouldn't be allowed to enter the military base of the kingdom of Atlas just like that."
Unless...
Whitley made a call. The ringtone echoed through the room until finally a voice was heard on the other end.
—"Whitley, do you need something?" Jacques' voice came from the parchment.
—"Father, have you ever been interested in getting into the arms trade?" Whitley asked with a sly smile on his face. He knew his father wouldn't be able to resist such a lucrative business opportunity.
—"What do you have in mind, son?" Jacques replied, intrigued.
—"Let's say I have an idea that could revolutionize the defense market and, in the process, open doors for us in the Atlas military," Whitley said, enjoying the power his wealth gave him.— "Have you heard of gunpowder?"
—"How I love being wealthy,"
—{}—
The search for a computer master to teach him technology will be put on hold for a moment, until his father signs a contract with the Atlas military. This contract goes beyond simply providing dust for their defenses.
Now, how will Jacques Schnee enter the arms field? How will he collaborate with the Atlas army? The answer is much simpler than you think.
Financing
Although the Atlas Army already has a commercial contract with Jacques, where he provides powder for various weapons uses, funding weapons development projects is another matter. The Atlas Army takes care of this field, but extra funding never hurts. Even they would not carelessly spend taxpayers' money on projects that may have a lot of potential, but ultimately come to nothing.
Jacques, with his usual shrewdness, met with the high command of the Atlas army. —"Gentlemen, we know that innovation is key to maintaining our superiority. I am willing to finance projects that can revolutionize our arsenal," Jacques said, with a calculated smile.
General Ironwood, ever the pragmatist, replied, —"We appreciate your offer, Schnee. But what do you gain from this?"
Jacques, without losing his composure, replied, —"A simple matter of business, General. A better-equipped army is a more frequent customer. Furthermore, the reputation of the Schnee Dust Company would be strengthened."
Meanwhile, Whitley, watching from the corner, was thinking about how this alliance could open up new opportunities for him. —"Perhaps I can learn something from this collaboration," he muttered to himself.
General Ironwood, after a brief pause, nodded. —"Very well, Schnee. Let us proceed with the details."
Jacques, satisfied, stood up and extended his hand.— "A pleasure doing business with you, General."
He remembered that day, the door was opening.
Whitley would take advantage of that small window of opportunity to move freely in the Atlas army under the pretext of accompanying his father on business. He would proclaim to the four winds his false fanaticism and his desire to meet the great doctor Polendina.
—"Oh, Dr. Polendina! I've always dreamed of meeting him," Whitley would say with a charming smile, although in his mind he was already planning how to convince the doctor to be his teacher. He knew that this would be his only chance and he wouldn't waste it.
At the moment, Whitley was reading a book. The book talked about solar panels, their construction, what they are made of, the materials. This was one of the many gifts that appeared in his room out of nowhere. This idea, which came from who knows where, would be his and he would use it to become rich, amass his fortune and fulfill his destiny.
—"Solar panels... interesting," Whitley muttered as he flipped through the pages. To be honest, he had a long journey ahead of him. He had never done a report before; in fact, he had zero knowledge of all the economic aspects, statistics, analysis, production, balance sheet, profit margin, everything that goes into a business plan.
—"What did they expect? Only you, seven years old," Whitley thought with a mix of frustration and determination. He barely understood this whole solar panel thing. His education might be first class, but he still had a lot to learn.
In any case, he was grateful to heaven that his father had hired someone to watch over him and attend to his needs from day to night.
Emma was much more than a competent servant, she learned that much now.— "Well, young master, according to everything we've analyzed and with the idea of the solar panels, our business niche would be the border towns of the kingdoms," Emma said with her usual efficiency.
Emma, in a professional voice, explained everything Whitley needed to know about this plan that was, in a way, his, but that Emma had made highly enlightening.— "The dust in that section is very difficult to get, more so because of the type of transportation that makes the dust become more expensive, unlike the big kingdoms."
—"Why is that?" Whitley asked, very curious.
—"Although the villages on the borders of the great kingdoms enjoy the protection of those kingdoms, they do not have the same laws. Each one is independent, even in the penal code. But that is not the point. The more abundant a product is, the cheaper it is. However, logistics, the cost of extraction, transportation, all of that influences the price of a product," Emma explained patiently.
Whitley had never been more focused on his life. Now he saw Emma in a different light. This woman, who only made his bed, cleaned his room, served his food, and ironed his clothes, was more than he ever imagined. He cursed himself for being so blind and not seeing the capabilities of his own personal maid. He decided he would ask for a raise for her.
—"Emma, you're amazing. I never realized how much you know," Whitley said, impressed.
Emma smiled slightly.— "Thank you, young master. I'm just doing my job."
The Schnee Company is the largest Dust extractor in Remnant. While there are other competitors who also extract Dust, they cannot keep up with the demand, not like her father's company. —"Her father's company accounts for almost 60% of the Dust in the world, if not more. Because of that, the major kingdoms choose to purchase Dust from her father's company," Emma explained.
Whitley, eyes wide, exclaimed, —"You are incredibly good at this! Excuse me, just asking, do you have a degree in economics or finance?"
Emma smiled wistfully. —"Yes, I actually have a PhD. I studied at the Military University in Atlas and I even have training as a Hunter, but… I dropped out."
Intrigued, Whitley asked,— "May I ask why you became a family servant?" A doctor of finance and former Hunter... heh, what else does Whitley not know about those around him?
Emma's eyes grew sad and melancholy. —"I... things happened. I just wanted a light job and a stable one too. Despite your family's reputation, the truth is that your staff earns very well," Emma said, as if she had sucked a lemon. It seemed like she was lying, not about her life, but about the treatment of her family's staff. Whitley noticed this and wondered if the pay was bad or if the treatment was the problem. If anything, he would correct it.
Emma shook her head and continued, —"Well, let's not digress. What I'm trying to say is that all of that makes dust a bit expensive, and it's much worse for border towns. Dust is specifically saved for the hunters who are in charge of protecting the walls of those towns".
Whitley, still curious, commented,— "I've seen that the price of dust in Atlas and Vale is practically the same."
—"That's because of the subsidies," Emma replied with a smile.
Whitley had no idea what subsidies were, and Emma seemed to know. She simply laughed. —"I'll explain later, young master. But for now, I must tell you that this solar panel thing is an excellent idea. I have no idea how you came up with it, but the border towns will marvel at this. Having a source of electric light to light their homes when they're dust-free will be a balm for them."
Whitley looked at his maid seriously. Emma felt a little uncomfortable; being looked at so seriously by the son of the person who pays her checks sometimes meant many things. Was he displeased with her? Had she done something wrong? Or would he ask for something that she frankly wasn't willing to do?
—"Emma," Whitley spoke calmly, in a tone of voice that indicated he was not upset and there was no need to be alarmed,— "I will be leaving this mansion very soon."
Emma opened her eyes in surprise. This was new. Where did this come from? Why was Whitley leaving the mansion? Even though Whitley was from the Schnee family and she was a faunus, and there was usually some sort of enmity between that family and her kind, she didn't wish anything bad on this boy. To be honest, at some point she could almost say she enjoyed being with him.
—"Everything I'm doing in regards to the report you're writing for me is so I can disassociate myself from my family, so I can be independent. Frankly, I don't have many friends or anyone I can trust. You've been taking care of me for many years, I think for as long as I can remember, and I've now realized that you're much more capable than I ever gave you credit for. Someone with your abilities doesn't have to be serving my meals, making my bed, ironing my clothes, and catering to my every whim. Someone with your abilities needs to be somewhere where you're actually needed," Whitley said sincerely.
Emma never expected those words to come out of someone in the Schnee family. Whitley seemed to have matured in a very short time. She didn't know how or why, but Whitley had changed overnight. He seemed different, more focused and more willing to broaden his horizons, unlike his entire family. Well, he and his older sister were different.
—"I want you to come with me," Whitley gripped Emma's hands tightly and with conviction. That was what Emma could see in this boy's eyes: determination beyond anyone she'd ever met. —"Come with me, and you'll choose the terms, everything. You'll choose the how and the why, how much and for what, and most of all, you'll choose to no longer bow your head to anyone because you'll no longer be under anyone's command. You'll give the orders."
Emma felt touched, she really wanted to cry. —"Wow," she said, in her short life she had never been treated like this. Those words were truly needed. She ran a hand down her cheek, wiping away a small, treacherous tear that escaped. —"Hehe, but I would still be taking orders from you, young master."
—"No, you wouldn't take orders from me. You'd take my help and I'd take yours," Whitley replied firmly.
Whitley stood up straight, coughing a little to look more professional, and his maid Emma did exactly the same.
—"Is it a deal, Miss Emma?" Whitley extended his hand, waiting for a confirmation which, frankly, just by looking at Emma's smile, he knew what the answer was.
Emma extended her hand and shook Whitley's. —"It'll be a pleasure working with you, Mr. Whitley Schnee."
—{}—
And this is Argus, a small town, or rather, a large town that lies on the borders of the kingdom of Mistral and just one sea away from Mantle and Atlas.
Whitley managed to convince his father. Everything went exactly as he planned. He now had the budget to start his company. He had to be meticulous, and his father, frankly, looked very impressed. —"I expected nothing less from you, Whitley," Jacques said with a smile he rarely showed.
In fact, it didn't take long for him to get the funding. Jacques can be anything: a jerk, an idiot, a discriminator, a bad father, a lousy husband, but the jerk had a very good eye for business. —"Don't waste this opportunity, son," Jacques added, as he signed the check. It seemed that he, too, saw what Whitley saw in solar panels: money and an untapped niche in the market.
—"We're going to change the world, one solar cell at a time," he muttered to himself.
The excitement in the air was palpable. Whitley knew this was just the beginning, and he was ready to face any challenge that came his way.
He decided to set up his company in Argus. This place was perfect: not too far from Atlas, and not too close. Being away from his father and family didn't bother him; he didn't hate them, but he didn't have a very close relationship with them either. His mother was so distant that anyone would think a board would have more life. With his sister Weiss, the relationship was complicated; she seemed to hate him a little, and he didn't fully understand why. Although, if he was honest, he was partly to blame too, since he had never tried to get along with her. —" I'm a complete wretch," he thought bitterly.
With his sister Winter, the story was a little more bearable. She was simply his older sister, a little strict, but always there. —"I could do a better job as a sister," Whitley mused, —"but we're talking about the Schnee family; it's the best I can get." Despite everything, there was a certain mutual respect between them.
Furthermore, his maid Emma's family lived in Argus. He didn't think twice and decided to set up his company there. He wanted Emma to feel comfortable in every way. She seemed like a woman who valued her family very much, and if he could help her be close to them, even if it seemed insignificant, he would do it without hesitation.
—" The sacrifice isn't that big," Whitley thought as he looked around his new home.
For now, she was concentrating on the place she was going to live in, and it was exactly as she had asked: a normal house, not a flashy mansion. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, office spaces, and basic utilities. It was modest, but functional.
If he was honest with himself, he would miss the silk blankets, his huge room, his king-sized bed, and the best quality food, with the freshest and most expensive products that money could buy. But he knew that he had to get out of his comfort zone to achieve his goals. "It's a small price to pay for independence," he told himself.
—"This place is perfect, Emma," Whitley said as she admired her new home. This would be the place she would live in for a long time. —"It even has a garden! I love it. What are you doing there?" he asked, pointing towards her neighbors. It was the first time she had neighbors, and it felt strange but fascinating.
—"Well, they're having a barbecue," replied Emma, who, despite what Whitley had said, was still wearing her family maid's outfit. I guess it was only a matter of time before she realized that she was no longer working for him, but with him. —"Young master, you have enough money to buy a mansion in this place. Why choose an ordinary house?"
—"I won't waste money on something I simply don't need. In time I will have a mansion, but I will pay for it myself, with my money, with which I will earn," Whitley said with a smile. His confidence was so palpable that even Emma couldn't help but be impressed. This young man had so much life in his eyes, so much dedication, it was almost unheard of.
—"That will take a long time, young master," Emma said wisely. And it was true; amassing a fortune such as Whitley expected would take a great deal of time and effort.
—"I know, but everything will come in time. One step at a time, Emma. Well, I understand that your family is here. Go visit them, I'll take care of exploring the city," Whitley replied, with a determination that left no room for doubt.
Emma looked unsure at those words. Would Whitley Schnee walk around the city without protection? His father had insisted that he have bodyguards, but he had flatly refused. He didn't quite understand this young man.
—"Is that sensible, young master?" Emma asked, with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
—"What could possibly be wrong? After all, who would recognize me?" Whitley said mockingly, raising his hands and showing mischief in his eyes. Whitley, known for his white hair, blue eyes, and pale skin, was now a boy with pale skin, black hair, and blue eyes. Where he once wore expensive clothes that screamed opulence, he now simply wore a white shirt, black pants, and shoes that were on sale.
Emma couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation. —"Very well, young master. But please be careful," she said, as she headed off to visit her family.
—"We're starting work tomorrow, though. We need to get moving quickly, build up the merchandise, and promote it," Whitley said, walking slowly, as if he were marking the rhythm of a song. —"Enjoy yourself with your family. You told me you haven't seen your mother in person for a while, say hi to her for me. By the way, don't forget, don't call me Whitley."
This town was interesting, more lively than Atlas used to be. There were street vendors and shops where the region's fruit was displayed for people walking through the streets. Whitley stopped at a fruit stand and picked up an apple. —"How much is it?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
—"For you, young man, just a lien," replied the seller with a smile.
Whitley paid and continued on his way, biting into the apple.— "This is so much better than the imported apples from Atlas," he thought, enjoying the fresh, natural taste.
Obviously, this place wasn't as technologically developed as Atlas, but it was better than the slums of Mantle. However, Whitley was sure that this place had its dark side as well.— "Every city has its shadow," he muttered to himself, remembering his father's lessons about business and life.
As he walked, he came across a group of young boys playing in the street. One of them, carrying a ball, ran up to him and bumped into him. —"I'm sorry, kid!" said the young man, his eyes wide.
—"Don't worry, sir," Whitley said.
—"Sorry about what happened," the young man replied before running back to his friends.
Whitley smiled and continued on his way. He knew this was just the beginning of his new life, and he was ready to face any challenges that came his way. —"One step at a time," he reminded himself, as he walked deeper into the city, ready to discover all that Argus had to offer.
It wasn't long before Whitley had to face the darkness on Argus.
People seemed to be ignoring the small squabble that was happening in an alley. A group of young adults surrounded a small old woman, with white hair and strange glasses that seemed to glow blue.
—"Hey, old lady, please let us help you with those groceries," said one of the thugs with a crooked smile.
—"Yes, yes, give us your belongings," another added in a threatening tone.
Little by little, that alley, slightly darkened by the evening sky, filled with malicious laughter from the seven guys who intended to rob the old lady. The world must be so bad for that to happen, and Whitley wasn't going to let that happen, not in front of him. What was he going to do? Well, it was too late to call the authorities, which he had already done a second ago, but he was also going to try to distract them and make the old lady run away.
He was not going to fight these fellows directly; that was impossible. He could never defeat them. However, just as he was about to act, the old woman, who at one point he thought was helpless, struck a thug's ankle with her cane. Whitley winced at the cry of pain the poor fellow let out. It couldn't be, could it? It was just a little blow from an old woman's cane.
—"Damn witch, you're going to die!" Immediately, another malefactor attacked the old woman, but surprisingly, this adorable woman dodged him with such mastery that was impossible for her age. Then she jumped that was also impossible for someone her age. Whitley should have been more than surprised, but there was more. The old woman kicked the attacker's cheek. Whitley had to flinch because there was a crunching sound, like when you break a cookie.
The thug fell to the ground, unconscious from a single blow. Whitley couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Immediately, all the remaining members of that gang attacked the old woman, who didn't even seem scared or afraid. She dodged blow after blow with surprising agility, as if she knew exactly where those guys were going to attack. Her movements were fluid and precise, leaving Whitley completely stunned.
All of this was happening in front of Whitley, who simply stood frozen in shock. The scene was so unbelievable that he had to blink several times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. The old woman grabbed the arm of one of the poor fellows and twisted it at a 45-degree angle, an angle at which such an arm should not be bent. The thug's scream of pain echoed through the alley, echoing off the walls.
—"Hahahahaha!" the old woman laughed in a voice that mixed amusement and contempt.
—"Wow, young people, in my time they put up more of a fight. Ah, today's society, they don't make them like they used to," said the old woman, clearly enjoying the suffering she was inflicting.
Whitley watched with a mixture of wonder and admiration. The old woman was not only skilled, but also defiant and confident. The thugs, now more cautious, tried to attack her from different angles, but she dodged them with an ease that seemed almost supernatural.
—"Is that all you've got? Come on, show me what you're made of!" the old woman teased, a mischievous smile on her face.
Soon, they all grabbed their companions as best they could and ran out of the alley in terror. The echo of their footsteps resonated off the walls as they walked away.
—"What... just happened?" one of them asked, panting.
—"I suppose you're The Leftover, my boy," the old woman said with a smile, looking at Whitley. Had she always known he was there? In any case, it didn't matter. —"You're too young to be with that bunch of fools." Did that old woman imply that he was with them? No, by God, of course not.
—"Actually... I was intending to help you... but," Whitley was either nervous or just so shocked that he couldn't get the words out right. —"That was amazing, miss, I have to put it this way, that was spectacular."
—"Miss, hehe, it's been a while since I've been called that. I like you, boy," the old lady seemed amused and now acted like a sweet old lady should,— "Society has gotten a lot worse, it wasn't like this in my time," she murmured tiredly, her eyes shining with distant memories.
—"Or maybe the world has always been this dark, you're just beginning to notice it now," Whitley said, suggesting that perhaps this time isn't so bad, or that perhaps both times were equally cruel, but the old woman hadn't realized it before.
The old woman began to laugh, a laugh that rang like ancient bells. —"You're absolutely right, the world hasn't really changed, I have. Idiots exist in every age," the old woman stared at Whitley through her strange glasses, her eyes filled with a wisdom that only the years can bestow.
—"And what is a young man like you doing in a place like this?" the old woman asked, her tone now more curious than accusatory.
—"Looking for answers, I guess," Whitley replied with a shrug. "And maybe a little adventure."
—"Ah, youth and its eternal quest for adventure," the old woman smiled wistfully. —"Just be careful, boy. The world can be a dangerous place, but it's also full of wonders if you know where to look."
—"But let's not get sidetracked by mundane details, I don't want to talk about that. I'm glad you're okay, honestly for a moment I thought the worst was happening. Would you like me to walk you home, Miss...?" Whitley left the question hanging, as he didn't know that detail.
—"Maria Calavera, and there's no need for that. Don't worry, kid. Although I'm glad you suggested it, there aren't any guys like you now. Keep it up and you'll go far; single mothers like a polite guy."
Whitley didn't know what the old woman was trying to imply with that, but what did it matter. He was processing everything that passed before his eyes: all those movements, all that way of fighting, that strength. Something in his mind sensed and told him that he was in front of someone exceptional, someone with years of experience, that was obvious. But someone who stands out above the rest. The hunters themselves were special, but this old woman had to have an adjective superior to that word.
He had done it, had he perhaps found a master to teach him combat? Whitley could have hired any experienced hunter to teach him how to fight, but they were just hunters. They were good, yes, but he wanted to be taught by someone who stood out among them all. His instincts told him that this woman was one of those people.
He wasn't going to waste this opportunity. Before the old woman could turn around, he stopped her with a determined gesture.
—"Miss Maria Calavera, I know it sounds inconsiderate to mention it since you've just been mugged," the old woman laughed and snorted derisively. If those guys were muggers, she was a dancer. —"But I'd like you to teach me how to fight."
—"No," the answer was quick and sharp, he didn't even think about it. The old woman simply rejected him without further ado. But Whitley was anything but someone who gave up at the first opportunity.
Luckily, he had the most powerful weapon in the world at his disposal. If you say that this weapon does not open the door to a better life for you, then you are not satisfied. —"I will pay you 50,000 lien a month."
The old woman raised an eyebrow, surprised by the offer. —"My disciple, we will meet at the central park at dawn. Prepare yourself because I will be very hard on you." Wow, convincing her was easier than he thought.
The old woman turned to continue on her way, but stopped and asked him something before leaving. —"By the way, what's your name, boy?"
What is his name? He left his name behind. Beneath this guise lies the figure of someone who will become the defender of justice and the terror of evil, born of darkness to serve the light, a knight and a protector. His name is Whitley Schnee while he is working, while he is amassing a fortune. But by the time he is training, when he becomes a better person, when he pushes his physical and mental capabilities to the limit, he is
—"Pardon my lack of manners. Allow me to introduce myself, miss. My name is Bruce Wayne."
—{}—
Hello! First of all, I want to express my sincere thanks for taking the time to dive into the pages of this chapter.
This chapter is also more comfortable, another introductory chapter, before Whitley transforms into the Dark Knight, it will be like three more chapters or so I hope.
While this story is a fanfic of the RWBY series, it won't be 100% faithful to the original canon, so there will be some inconsistencies. I hope this won't be a bother to fans.
To clarify, Whitley is only a year younger than Weiss, or just a few months younger.
I hope this is well received.