Chapter 4: Preparations for the Future
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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Chew.
Swallow
To drink
Chew, swallow, drink
Chewing. Swallowing. Drinking. A sequence that, for most, seems elementary. But for Whitley and Emma, who watched Emerald in amazement, it was a chaotic and fascinating choreography.
The young woman devoured her food with a speed and lack of subtlety that left them speechless. Chewing and drinking at the same time, who did that? And what was worse, she did it with obvious satisfaction!
Whitley, with his elegant bearing and impeccable manners, wondered how someone so young could be so completely lacking in refinement when it came to eating. Emma, for her part, simply watched with a mixture of wonder and amusement.
The scene was so surreal that it seemed straight out of a comedy.
At the rectangular table, the three diners provided a striking contrast. Whitley, at one end, looked like a sculptor contemplating his culinary masterpiece, while Emma, more relaxed, enjoyed the spectacle. Emerald, on the other hand, was a hurricane at a banquet.
The dishes that adorned the table were true works of art. Exquisite presentations that invited to be admired before being devoured. However, for Emerald, they were simply an obstacle between her and the satisfaction of her appetite. With each bite, she seemed to say, "Out of my way, dishes!"
Whitley, trying to maintain his composure, forced himself to take a sip of the wine that was actually a mace. The golden liquid sliding down his throat was a balm to his soul, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the ease with which Emerald enjoyed her meal. Was he missing out on something?
Emma, with a mischievous smile, leaned toward Whitley and whispered,— "I've never seen anyone eat with such passion."
Whitley smiled slightly.— "Neither do I," he replied, unable to stop himself from laughing.
Emerald didn't even honor the cutlery with a glance. With a nimble hand, she grabbed a handful of fries and threw them straight into her mouth, as if she were feeding a hungry animal.
Whitley watched the scene with a mixture of wonder and amusement. It was refreshing to see someone enjoying food with such passion, without worrying about the rules of etiquette.
A childhood memory flashed through Whitley's mind. He had been abandoned in a forest, not by witches, but by his teacher during a field trip.
Hunger had consumed him to the point that when he finally caught a rabbit, he devoured it with a ferocity that would have put any wild animal to shame. His father, a man of refined manners, would have fainted if he had seen him behave in such a manner.
Emerald, for her part, seemed to have found her own gastronomic paradise. With each bite, her eyes closed in pleasure and her cheeks colored with a healthy blush. Whitley couldn't help but smile. There was something liberating about her lack of inhibition.
An hour passed, and Emerald finally stopped, though not because of a lack of appetite, but because the table was starting to look suspiciously empty. Her stomach, now rounded and satisfied, emitted a soft rumble that echoed through the room.
—"That was amazing!" She exclaimed, with a smile that revealed several bits of food between his teeth.
Emma, who had been watching the scene with a mixture of fascination and disgust, couldn't help but grimace. —"How elegant," she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.
Whitley, breaking the awkward silence, cleared his throat. —"Well, Emerald, I think you've made it clear that you're a big fan of food."
Emerald looked at her with shining eyes. —"Absolutely," she replied, without the slightest hint of shame.— "Food is the best thing in this world."
At that moment, a naughty piece of lettuce decided to leave the salad and embark on a journey to Emerald's lap. Without missing a beat, she picked it up with an expert hand and placed it in her mouth, as if it were the most anticipated morsel of the night.
—"Okay, now could you tell me why you brought a girl to your hotel room?" ,Emma asked, directing a questioning look at Whitley. The latter smiled a mischievous smile, as if he was hiding a juicy secret.
—"Don't be mad, this is actually a kind of thank you," Whitley explained, pointing at Emerald with a graceful gesture. —"The young lady here saved me. Some rather unsavory guys tried to hurt me in a dark alley, but she, with a bravery worthy of a heroine, put them in their place and rescued me. So I wanted to make it up to her somehow, and what better way than by treating her to a fancy dinner and offering her a small token of my gratitude?"
Whitley's words echoed through the room like a discordant melody. Emerald's eyes widened. The story he was telling was a complete fabrication. She had been the one who had stolen Whitley! But as she looked at Whitley's mocking smile, she instantly understood. It was a sign, an invitation to play along.
Emma, surprised, gave an exaggerated bow to Emerald. —"Thank you very much, Miss, for saving Whitley. I swear on my name that you will be rewarded," she said in a grateful voice.
—"You're welcome," Emerald replied with a shy smile, though inside she felt like a complete impostor.— "It was a pleasure," she added, but his voice sounded hollow, as if words couldn't express the true depth of his feelings.
Emerald felt ashamed, deeply ashamed. She had never experienced such a level of guilt before. Receiving food and hospitality from the man she had wronged caused her deep discomfort. Her mind wandered, trying to find answers to the questions that plagued her. Who was this young man? How could he afford such a luxurious place? Where had he gotten such an elaborate story from? And most of all, how had he managed to defeat these men so easily?
The opulence that surrounded her overwhelmed her. The antique furniture, the soft carpets and the paintings that adorned the walls were a world completely foreign to her own, a world of privilege and excess that she had never imagined. She felt like a fish out of water, an intruder in a place where she did not belong.
Emerald recalled her life on the streets, the daily struggle to survive, the constant feeling of insecurity. This place, with its tranquility and beauty, was an oasis in the middle of the desert, but also a cruel reminder of everything she lives through.
He wondered if he could ever escape his past, if he could ever truly feel safe and at peace.
As she looked at the luxuries around her, Emerald felt a pang of envy. Envy of the life Whitley seemed to have, a life filled with comfort and opportunity. But she also felt a deep sadness for herself, for the choices she had made, and for the consequences she now had to face.
Whitley watched Emerald, deep in thought. He understood perfectly the mix of emotions she must be feeling: shame, guilt, and a deep sadness for her past.
Pity, however, was a feeling he refused to suppress. He had seen in Emerald's eyes a strength and determination that had impressed him deeply.
He had been robbed, Whitley couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. His training had sharpened his senses to such an extent that it was almost impossible to steal from him. Yet this woman had managed it, and it aroused in him an unexpected admiration. How had it been possible? What kind of life had she led to develop such skills?
Whitley knew the world well, the shadows that inhabited it, and the fates that often awaited those born into them. He knew that Emerald had not had the same opportunities as him, that she had been shaped by adversity and necessity. And yet, despite it all, she had survived, she had fought on.
A melancholic smile appeared on Whitley's lips. Beyond the girl who had tried to steal from him, he saw a complex person, marked by her past but with an uncertain future.
A future that, in her hands, could take a different course. Emerald's determination, her indomitable spirit, were qualities that could not be ignored.
Resting his chin on one hand, Whitley wondered which way to go. He could simply ignore the incident, dismiss it as just another anecdote in his life. But there was something about Emerald that drew him in, something that invited him to get to know her beyond the thieving facade. Perhaps, he thought, he could offer her a second chance, a chance to redeem herself and build a better life.
He knew very well where this woman came from, the adversities she had overcome, the difficulties that were possibly lurking in her path. He knew the uncertain fate that the future held for her, and he could not allow such a promising talent to fade away or, worse yet, be misused.
He had had the opportunity to change his own destiny, thanks to his privileged position and the tools his lineage had provided him. Not many could say the same. Despite his family's dysfunctionality, he was grateful to have been born into a golden cradle.
He knew that the world was vast and that many people had the potential to transform the world, even more than he did. However, they lacked the resources necessary to achieve their goals.
Whitley studied Emerald closely. He saw in her immense potential, cut short by the adverse circumstances of her birth. He could not allow a talent like hers to go to waste. If he could contribute, even in a small way, to improving this woman's life, he would do so without hesitation.
—"Why are you staring at me so much?" Emerald asked with a mix of defiance and fear. Whitley's intense gaze made her uncomfortable.
Whitley smiled softly, his eyes shining with warmth.— "Tell me, Emerald, have you considered becoming a hunter?" he suggested, his voice soft and melodious.
Emerald frowned, surprised by the question. The idea of becoming a hunter was something completely new to her. She had spent her entire life fighting to survive, and the idea of a life full of adventure and challenges intrigued her. However, it also scared her.
Whitley, noticing Emerald's hesitation, continued, —"I know this may seem like a crazy idea, but I believe you have the potential to achieve great things. With the right training, you could become one of the greatest hunters in the world."
His words echoed in Emerald's mind. The possibility of escaping her reality and building a new life filled her with hope. But she also knew that the path would be difficult and full of obstacles.
Whitley, seeing the conflict in Emerald's eyes, had to understand her, this proposition was something surreal, which represented an opportunity to change her destiny.
—"If you decide to accept this challenge, I will be here to support you at all times."
-{}-
A year later, the world seemed like a completely different place. Who knew Whitley's life could be so... organized with the things he does!
After meeting Emerald and her bold proposal, she had immersed herself in training alongside Jaune, under the watchful eyes of Maria and Arthur.
And just as she had anticipated, the year of intensive training had come to an end.
Jaune and Emerald were now at the prestigious military academy in Atlas. Whitley couldn't help but feel an immense relief. He knew they would be together, looking out for each other, even if classes kept them apart. After all, if there was anyone as stubborn and determined as him, it was definitely Jaune. He couldn't even imagine the crazy things he would come up with to be close to Emerald! His friend's stubbornness was legendary, almost as overwhelming as his own. And that, come to think of it, was quite worrying.
Whitley recalled with an amused smile the countless hours they had spent together, sweating bullets in the gym, trying to master new combat techniques. Jaune, with his boundless enthusiasm, always found a way to turn any training into an absurd competition. And Emerald, with her characteristic calm, was usually the only one able to put them in their place.
Now, with his friends safely back in Atlas, Whitley felt like a ship sailing through uncharted seas. He knew he would miss them terribly, but he also felt an exciting sense of freedom. The future was his to explore!
And boy was he making the most of every minute. His training had reached new heights. In addition to the combat skills he had acquired under Arthur and Maria, he was now diving into a whole new sea of knowledge. Medicine, criminology, law... Whitley was learning it all! He had even ventured into the fascinating world of Remnant legends, spending hours studying ancient scrolls and exploring ruins forgotten by time.
The idea of magic had always been a fascination for him. He had spent countless hours trying to conjure a simple ray of light, but reality always brought him back down to earth.
There was no magic in Remnant. Sometimes, he felt like a child whose favorite toy had been broken. Disappointment was inevitable, but Whitley was too pragmatic to let it get the better of him.
—"Maybe magic doesn't exist," he told himself as he leafed through an ancient grimoire,— "but we can always create our own magic. Knowledge is power, and I'm accumulating a lot of power."
And there was also the fact that, together with Dr. Polendina, he was involved in a top secret project. Well, top secret to everyone else and, apparently, to himself at first. But Dr. Polendina, with that confidence that characterized them, had told him about it as if it were the most normal thing in the world... Well, that was at their second meeting.
One day, during one of his routine visits to the Atlas military installations, Whitley came across a rather peculiar sight. Dr. Polendina, whom he used to treat with a familiarity that bordered on rudeness, looked more tired than ever. Sunken eyes, pronounced dark circles and a pallor that made a ghost turn pale.
—"Pietro, you look like a zombie," Whitley joked, although deep down he was worried.
—"Whitley, I appreciate your concern, but right now the last thing I need is a social visit," Polendina replied with a sigh that seemed to shake the entire room. Even her wheelchair seemed tired, creaking slightly with each movement.
Whitley walked over to the doctor's cluttered desk and his eyes fell on a pile of papers. They were blueprints, diagrams, and scribbles that looked like they had come from the mind of a mad genius. Among them stood out the design of a humanoid-looking machine, a metal skeleton that promised to bring to life something more than simple circuits. And next to it, a drawing of a human figure, faceless, featureless, but with a name written in one corner: Penny.
—"Looks like you're working on something big, Pietro," Whitley commented, trying to hide his curiosity.
Hearing this, Polendina jumped as if he had been caught stealing candy. He turned his wheelchair so fast that it almost tipped over and pounced on the plans, protecting them like a dragon protects its treasure.
—"This is top secret! If the general finds out about this, he'll put us both in jail," he hissed, her voice shaking.— "And you, what have you seen? What have you read?"
Whitley couldn't help but smile slightly at Pietro's overreaction.— "Project Penny, the defender of Atlas and some things on the blueprint. So, a synthetic robot with feelings, a machine capable of feeling," he said, pointing at the blueprints casually.
Pietro tensed even more. —"It is not a machine, Whitley. It will be a living being, designed to protect Atlas from future threats. A defender, not a destroyer." His voice was firm, almost like a prayer.
Whitley nodded, though his eyes reflected deep doubt. He was tempted to point out the naivety of Pietro's words, but he held back out of respect for his friend's work. However, his mind had already begun to wander down dark paths. A sentient machine, capable of thinking for itself... the idea was terrifying.
Call him a pessimist, but Whitley always expected the worst. What guarantees were there that such a machine wouldn't turn against its creators? What if, instead of protecting humanity, it decided that it itself needed protecting? The possibility of an artificial intelligence developing its own consciousness and deciding that humans were a threat was a scenario that had long haunted him.
He recalled reading stories about robots rebelling against their masters, about artificial intelligences outperforming their creators and enslaving them. Wasn't human history full of fictional examples of technology turning against its creators?
Whitley knew Pietro to be a man of great intelligence and good intentions, but the magnitude of the Penny project filled him with deep concern. It was a bold experiment that pushed the boundaries of what was ethical and possible.
Deep down, Whitley wanted to trust his friend completely. But Pietro's naivety about the potential dangers of creating an artificial intelligence worried him deeply. He couldn't, however, simply tell him to abandon the project. It wasn't just Pietro who was involved, but the entire Atlas military. It was a joint effort, too large to stop overnight. However, he might be able to come up with some countermeasures.
—"I see you're a bit stuck on what kind of processing power is required for a machine that thinks at such speed," Whitley began, trying to sound as objective as possible. —"You'll need an incredibly powerful processor, but do you want something the size of a human brain or more of a chip? You might be looking in the wrong place. Maybe I can help you explore other options. And there's also the matter of the power source. If you want a machine that's self-powered, you'll need more than just Dust."
Pietro sighed, his face reflecting the frustration of facing such a complex problem.— "Yeah, I'm completely stuck. The power and processor issue has me on the ropes. And let's not even talk about the rest. Creating something like this requires years of technological advancement. It seems that even the best scientist in Atlas has his limits."
—"I think I have an idea that might help you," Whitley said, his voice soft but firm. A gentle smile graced his lips, but his eyes held a seriousness that belied the apparent calm of his words. He could not allow this project to go ahead without proper precautions.
Pietro looked at him with a mixture of hope and skepticism.
—"Tell me, Whitley, what's on your mind?"
And so, day by day, Whitley became more and more involved in the Penny project. He worked side by side with Pietro, lending his expertise in various areas and offering innovative solutions to technical problems that arose. While they worked together, Whitley took every opportunity to introduce additional security measures. Discreetly, during the hours when Pietro was away, he would enter security commands and protocols into Penny's system, creating invisible barriers that only he knew about.
Despite his excitement, Whitley couldn't help but feel a growing unease. The further the project progressed, the more he became aware of the risks involved. Creating an artificial intelligence was uncharted and dangerous territory, and any mistake could have catastrophic consequences. However, he also felt a deep responsibility towards Pietro and Atlas. If he could help make the project a success, while ensuring everyone's safety, he would do it.
He felt like an industrial spy infiltrating the competition, and worst of all, he was lying to his friend. Sure, General Ironwood had security measures in place for the Penny project, but Whitley didn't trust the guy one bit.
And then there was the fact that...
—"Mr. Schnee, are you listening to me? Mr. Schnee," a voice brought him out of his reverie.
Whitley blinked several times, as if he had just woken up from a very strange dream. There, in front of him, was a journalist with a smile so bright it could have fed a small town. He was sitting in an uncomfortable chair, with the spotlights pointed at him and the cameras ready to capture his slightest expression.
Ah, yes! The press conference.
—"I'm sorry, Miss Garden, I was rambling for a moment. Could you repeat the question for me?" Whitley said with a formal smile, trying to hide his nervousness.
The journalist, a woman with curly black hair who could have been lifted from a fashion magazine, gave her a friendly smile.
—"I was asking about the recent mega project. Never in the history of Remnant has such an ambitious construction been undertaken. I'd like you to tell us more about this hydroelectric plant," asked Miss Garden, whose name, for some reason, escaped Whitley.
Whitley cleared his throat and settled back into his seat. —"This will be a mega project that I have had in mind for many years. As you say, it is an electric power generator. I plan for this project to supply power to the entire kingdom of Vale," he stated with the confidence of a street vendor promoting the latest magic potion.
The journalist frowned, clearly skeptical. —"The world's first hydroelectric plant, as well as being the largest, why do such a project? What is the need?" ,she asked, crossing her arms.
Whitley took a sip of water, giving himself a moment to think. —"Decrease the reliance on Dust," he finally answered.
The room was filled with a murmur of surprise. Dust was Remnant's most powerful and versatile source of energy. Why would anyone want to replace it?
—"But Dust already works very well on its own. Why waste resources on another source of energy?", the journalist insisted.
Whitley sighed theatrically. It was like trying to explain the theory of relativity to a cat.— "You see, Miss Garden, it's like having all your eggs in one basket. If anything happens to Dust, all of Remnant goes dark. We need to diversify our energy sources to ensure the stability and growth of the Kingdom."
The reporter looked at him with an expression that clearly said, 'I'm not convinced,' and she was right.
For many on Remnant, Dust was more than a source of energy; it was a way of life. Switching to a new energy source was like telling an addict to stop taking their drug of choice.
Whitley knew he had a difficult task ahead of him. But he was determined to prove that his project was not only viable, but necessary for the future of Remnant.
—"Indeed, it seems that my project doesn't make much sense to many people," Whitley admitted with a wry smile. —"But to the cognoscenti and scientists, the benefits are obvious. Did you know, Miss Garden, how exorbitant the cost of electricity generated by Dust generators is? It's armed robbery! ,My project will provide the same amount of power, but at a fraction of the price. Plus, the surplus Dust can be put to much more important uses, such as equipping our brave hunters in the fight against the Grimm. Don't you think our heroes deserve the best?".
The journalist, Garden, blinked in surprise.— "Well, that's one way to look at it. But do you really think it will succeed?"
Whitley sat up straighter, with the confidence of a victorious general.— "I don't think so, Miss Garden. I know I will succeed. This project is the result of years of research and development, both by Dr. Polendina and myself. In fact, more than just an energy project, it's a strategic alliance between our two kingdoms. Don't you think this is a brilliant idea? Atlas and Vale, united by hydroelectric power! Sounds like the beginning of a beautiful friendship!"
Garden, the journalist, raised an eyebrow, intrigued.— "And why did you choose Vale for this project, Mr. Whitley? You could have done it in Mantle, closer to your home kingdom."
Whitley cleared his throat, his tone serious. —"For the women."
Mrs. Garden, not hiding her surprise, tilted her head. —"What?" ,The cameras captured the disbelief in her eyes. The audience at home was no doubt speechless.
Whitley continued, his gaze fixed on Garden.— "I was particularly attracted to the beauty of the women of Vale. I wanted to take this opportunity to…"
Before he could finish his sentence, Emma covered his mouth with a quick, decisive hand.
With one swift movement, he lifted her off the chair as if she were a sack of potatoes. She looked at the cameras with a look of horror, then turned to Garden.
—"The interview is over! Thank you very much for your attention!"
And just like that, as if by magic, Emma and Whitley disappeared from the stage, leaving Garden and the audience with their mouths open.
-{}-
Military installations of the Atlas Army.
—"The progress you've made with Project Penny is, without a doubt, exceptional, Pietro," said James Ironwood, General of the Atlas Army, his voice ringing with satisfaction and authority. His gaze fell on Pietro, radiating palpable pride.
—"I appreciate the compliment, General, but the credit is shared. Whitley has been an invaluable contributor to this project," Pietro replied, his smile subdued. He turned his head to his right, where Whitley was watching the scene with a focused expression, while holding a pan of popcorn.
Before the three of them, a bulletproof glass window offered a panoramic view of an assembly room. Inside, a humanoid figure, more like an articulated puppet than an organic being, lay suspended by countless cables. Its eyes, empty and lifeless, contrasted with the complexity of its structure.
—"It's obvious!" ,Whitley exclaimed, his mouth full of popcorn, as he chewed enthusiastically.
—"How modest of you, Mr. Schnee," James replied with a wry smile, trying to remain serious. At first, the idea of integrating young Schnee into the Penny project had seemed crazy to him, more for reasons of national security than anything else. He didn't trust the boy much, and Pietro's excessive trust in him didn't reassure him at all either. Pietro was the kind of person who would see a ray of sunlight and swear it was an alien message.
Although Whitley and Pietro had collaborated on previous projects, that wasn't enough of a reason to include him in something so delicate. Pietro had had to beg him for a week to even consider the idea. Finally, and only to avoid listening to Pietro's pleas any longer, he had agreed.
I was surprised. I knew the boy was smart, but I didn't expect him to be so... well, so smart.
Throughout the year, the Penny project has shown such significant progress that it has become imperative to inject more funds to ensure its continuity.
Pietro's initial vision of building a sentient machine was certainly bold and promising. However, as with any project of this magnitude, initial questions and doubts were inevitable.
While the idea of a machine capable of thinking and learning for itself offered immense long-term potential, the lack of precedents in this field generated understandable skepticism.
Despite the confidence in the abilities of Pietro, the greatest scientist of our era, the investment of military funds in such a speculative project could not be taken lightly. Creating an artificial intelligence capable of self-sufficiency required an investment of incalculable time and resources, and the possibility of failure was a constant shadow.
The first results of the Penny project were certainly encouraging. Pietro had succeeded in developing a robotic exoskeleton that reproduced human movements in an astonishing way.
However, this achievement, impressive as it was, was only a first step. The machine was still, in essence, a set of complex mechanisms, lacking the spark of true intelligence.
While the notion of a self-sufficient robot contravened the fundamental laws of thermodynamics, Pietro pointed out that rather than being an absolute impossibility, the energy required by a robot would be reduced to negligible levels. However, the creation of a true artificial intelligence, capable of transcending mere simulation, remained the ultimate goal.
Whitley's addition to the project marked a turning point. His mastery of advanced algorithms, specialized programming languages, and above all, his deep understanding of neural networks, introduced a new dimension to the project.
Even Pietro, with his vast experience, was surprised by the sophistication of the techniques employed by Whitley.
The implementation of these innovations allowed a significant step towards the materialization of a genuine artificial intelligence.
It was no longer simply a matter of developing a machine capable of processing information at breakneck speed and generating responses that could be confused with those of a human being.
The goal was to create an entity capable of learning, reasoning and adapting autonomously, exhibiting a level of cognition comparable to that of a human being.
Whitley, with meticulous precision, designed and implemented a series of experiments intended to assess the machine's emerging cognitive capabilities. The increasingly complex tests revealed a steady progression in the AI's performance. The machine demonstrated an increasing ability to solve abstract problems, recognize patterns, and make connections between seemingly disparate concepts.
Pietro and James watched in growing wonder and anticipation as Whitley's creation came to life.
The possibility of having given rise to a new form of intelligence, an artificial intelligence capable of rivaling that of humans, was a prospect as exciting as it was terrifying.
Now, the project was at a crucial phase of the project.
Pietro watched with a mixture of hope and apprehension at the robot standing before them.
—"I hope it works," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. —"If this is successful, Penny will be able to supply herself with energy."
Ironwood, with his usual caution, inquired, —"Do you sense any reluctance, Pietro?"
Pietro nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the machine. —"At first, I felt an overwhelming sensation, like an omen of death. It was not a pleasant experience. However, now I feel calm." He turned his gaze to Whitley, whose face reflected intense concentration as he oversaw the delicate assembly process.— "Whitley's idea of using a fragment of my soul seemed crazy to me at first. But we have succeeded. We have encapsulated a portion of my consciousness in a fragile tube of light, as if we were giving birth to a living being."
Whitley, without taking his eyes off the robot, replied in a soft voice, —"It's a bold step, Pietro. We're exploring the boundaries of science and ethics. But I firmly believe that this experiment could revolutionize our understanding of consciousness and intelligence."
Pietro nodded, though a shadow of doubt crossed his face. —"I hope you're right, Whitley. I hope we haven't created a monster."
Ironwood, watching the interaction between his colleagues, wondered if they were playing gods.
The idea of manipulating the very essence of life was a concept that deeply disturbed him. However, he also recognized the revolutionary potential of this project.
Whitley, with a smile, broke the ice,— "Yeah, we're both collaborating on creating a new life form. We're like a married couple of scientists, don't you think?"
— "I am the father!"
Whitley spoke indignantly,— "Oh come on! I want to be the father! After all, without my algorithms and neural networks, practically the sperm, this would be nothing more than a pile of scrap metal."
Ironwood, watching his colleagues' lively discussion, couldn't help but smile.— "I think we should leave the paternity issues to the lawyers," he interjected, his commanding voice restoring an air of professionalism. —"Pay attention," he added, gesturing toward the robot.
Whitley and Pietro, drawn by his voice, turned their gazes towards the machine. A pair of mechanical tweezers, precise to the millimetre, held a delicate glass vial coated in a faint energetic aura. Inside it, a green light pulsed faintly, like a primordial heart.
With slow, calculated movements, the pincers embedded themselves into the robot's thorax, depositing their contents into its energy core.
An expectant silence fell over the lab as the gears and circuits interlocked, sealing the cavity. And then, as if an electric spark had run through its circuits, the robot's eyes, until then empty and dark, lit up with a soft, bright light.
Pietro and Whitley exchanged a knowing glance, their faces beaming with pride and relief. It had worked. Their creation, their scientist son, had come to life.
James, surveying the scene, turned to Pietro with a meaningful look. The doctor nodded and walked over to a nearby control console. With steady fingers, he typed a sequence of commands into the interface. As lines of code scrolled across the screen, the robot began to respond.
First, he raised his left arm, articulating it with surprising fluidity. Then he repeated the movement with his right arm, each joint perfectly mimicking the human range of motion.
The scientists watched in fascination as their creation awakened, exploring its new capabilities with childlike curiosity.
—"Power levels," Whitley asked, his gaze fixed on the indicators on the console.
Pietro, with a satisfied smile, replied: —"Eighty-seven percent and recharging. It seems our little prodigy is capable of self-sufficiency."
Whitley nodded, his enthusiasm palpable.— "Excellent. Now, a little push to reach your full potential."
With a subtle gesture, he indicated the mechanical clamps holding a tiny crystal, no bigger than a marble. The crystal, which radiated a faint light, was inserted into a specific cavity of the robot. Instantly, the energy indicators jumped to one hundred percent.
—"Impressive," Ironwood muttered, looking at the scene in awe.— "We had calculated that it would take at least ten tennis ball-sized crystals to keep a robot of this size running at its best. And they would consume that energy at an alarming rate."
Whitley nodded, his face lit up with a smile. —"We have made significant progress. However, there is still much work to be done. The integration of artificial intelligence will be a considerable challenge. We will need to carefully synchronize it with Pietro's soul fragment."
Pietro, aware of the complexity of the task, nodded solemnly. —"True. But this is just the beginning. We need to conduct a series of thorough tests to assess the robot's performance under real-world conditions. I suggest a field test to determine its energy efficiency and durability."
Whitley, his eyes alight with excitement, proposed,— "How about a simulated battle against other robots? It would be a demanding test that would put all your capabilities to the test."
Before they could continue their discussion, James Ironwood interrupted, his gaze fixed on the room where Pietro's soul fragment was kept.— "Gentlemen, is it normal for the fragment to be glowing so brightly?"
Pietro, like the others, turned towards the indicated room. And then, they witnessed a terrifying sight. The soul fragment, which until then had remained stable, began to emit a blinding light that pulsed with increasing intensity.
—"No, I shouldn't," Pietro muttered, a feeling of foreboding washing over him.
His words were lost in the roar that followed. The soul fragment detonated, an explosion so violent that it shook the foundations of the laboratory. Fortunately, the reinforced glass of the room contained the blast, but the damage was catastrophic. The robot was reduced to a shapeless mass of molten metal and debris.
A deathly silence fell over the place. Pietro, visibly shaken, was the first to speak.
—"Very well, this is a big setback." He turned his gaze to General Ironwood. —"I think the containment vessel wasn't robust enough."
Ironwood nodded gravely. —"It would seem so. Proceed with the necessary modifications to prevent this from happening again," he ordered in a firm voice.
Whitney nodded determinedly. —"Well, we'll use a tungsten carbon coating. It would be ideal for rebuilding the robot as well," he suggested, looking at Pietro.— "There's no time to waste."
Pietro, however, frowned, visibly confused. —"Carbon? Yes, I know that. But tungsten? Is this one of your jokes or something?", he asked, looking at Whitney with a mix of disbelief and amusement.
Whitley, noticing Pietro's puzzled expression, turned to the general, who also seemed intrigued by the unfamiliar term.
—"General, would you have a periodic table handy?" ,he requested. Pietro, with a mocking smile, pulled out a small plastic board from his desk.
Whitley examined her quickly and his face suddenly lit up, but not with joy. —"It can't be," he exclaimed, his tone dramatic, making the others tense.
The periodic table was... incomplete. Very incomplete. Of the 118 elements that Whitley knew about thanks to the mysterious books that had appeared in his room in The Remnant, only 90 had been discovered here. Ninety!
—"to work".
-{}-
—"And the award for scientific recognition goes to... Whitley Schnne!" ,The announcer's announcement echoed through the room, followed by a deafening ovation.
Camera flashes momentarily blinded Schnne as she made her way to the podium, sporting a smile that looked more like a smirk. With the grace of a stretching cat, she lifted her award statuette.
A female warrior, wielding a spear and shield, adorned the base. A curious choice, Schnne thought, still admiring her reflection in the trophy. What relationship did an Amazon have with scientific research? Frankly, she didn't care.
At that moment, Whitley became the center of attention. The Remnant's brightest scientists, privileged minds who had dedicated their lives to study and innovation, were paying homage to him. However, rather than showing gratitude or humility, Schnne seemed rather uncomfortable with so much attention. He raised his hand in a gesture that was meant to be modest, but seemed more like a sign of victory.
—"Thank you," Whitley snapped, his voice ringing with a rose-thorn-fine arrogance.— "I appreciate this recognition. You see, genius is a divine gift, sort of like having curly hair: you're just born with it."
The room, packed with the brightest minds in science, fell into an awkward silence. The award for scientific merit was the equivalent of climbing Everest without oxygen: a monumental achievement. And there was Whitley, brushing it off as casually as one might comment on the weather.
—"I'm not really impressed," Whitley continued, his smile not reaching his eyes.— "Discovering twenty-eight new things is like finding twenty-eight coins on the street. Lucky me!"
In the audience, some scientists exchanged knowing glances. Whitley, with his false modesty, was testing the limits of human patience. It was like a child showing off his collection of rare trading cards while everyone else was playing chess.
—"Of course, I know many of you have worked very hard on your research," Whitley added, in a condescending tone. —"But what can you do? Some are born with a star and others... well, they are born with a microscope."
The irony was so thick you could almost cut it with a scalpel. Whitley, with his stage fright disguised as arrogance, was turning the ceremony into an unintentional comedy. It was as if he was trying to convince everyone that he was a genius, but only succeeding in proving the opposite.
—"And while we're at it, I must say that besides being deeply impressed with myself, they really need to update this place a bit! The facilities are so outdated that they look like something out of a 1950s sci-fi movie. And the heat! Oh my, the heat! Vacuo is a beautiful place, but this weather... You'd expect the women to take advantage of the opportunity to show off their best outfits, wouldn't you think? But no! They're covered from head to toe. It's like they're in a convent. What a waste! And... mmmhmm."
At that moment, Emma could no longer contain herself. With surprising agility, she lunged at him and covered his mouth with a firm hand.
—"Mr. Schnne is deeply grateful for this recognition! Thank you all!", Emma exclaimed with a nervous smile, as she dragged Whitley off the stage.
The stunned audience fell silent for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Some covered their mouths to keep from laughing too loudly, while others pulled out their phones to record the moment.
It was evident that the ceremony, which had begun with such solemnity, had taken a completely unexpected turn.
-{}-
—"Everything is going great, the only detail is, how the hell am I going to send this into space?"
Whitley muttered to himself, sitting at his desk, staring at the huge computer screen. A mosaic of smaller screens surrounded him, each displaying intricate plans, equations, and simulations.
Whitley's underground base was a high-tech labyrinth, spacious enough to house two football stadiums. A true bunker of genius.
One of the many he did throughout the Remnant.
—"Your coffee, sir," a robotic voice announced. W13, one of Whitley's faithful robots, approached with a silver tray. On it, a steaming cup of coffee and a golden piece of toast.
—"Thanks, W13," Whitley replied, taking the cup. The aroma of coffee enveloped him, an oasis of calm amidst the storm of ideas that was plaguing him.
He took a sip, the sweet nectar soothing his nerves for a moment.
—"And the toast?" Whitley asked with a smile.— "You don't expect me to eat it without butter, do you?"
W13, unfazed, returned in a flash with a small bowl of butter. Whitley spread the toast enthusiastically, enjoying the contrast of flavours.
—"Now this is a breakfast of champions, but it's 2:30 in the morning, does that count as breakfast?", Whitley declared, biting into his toast.— "Although I doubt a champion would have to figure out how to send a giant satellite into space."
Whitley sighed, turning his gaze back to the screens. His eyes landed on the satellite map, a masterpiece of engineering that had him perplexed.
—"Why did you have to be so complicated?" Whitley asked the satellite on the screen.— "You couldn't be any simpler and easier to send into space, could you?"
Whitley had been working on this project for months, investing hours of sleep and gallons of coffee.
Construction and plans were the least of it, their robots were like worker ants, diligent and efficient.
—"They're so good they make me look bad," Whitley muttered with a smile. —"I should fire them for making me feel worthless."
This satellite was just the first of many. Whitley dreamed of a space communications network that would go beyond the outdated CCT towers.
Many, if they knew about his project, would have called him crazy and deluded. But Whitley was not depressed.
The biggest obstacle was the power source. Dust, the substance that powered Whitley and the Remnant's technology, was losing strength as they approached outer space.
—"It's like the universe hates me," Whitley lamented, frustration in his voice. —"Just as I'm about to reach for the stars, an insurmountable obstacle arises."
The problem that plagued him was launching the space satellite. Whitley, an ambitious and visionary businessman, was determined to be the first in the Remnant to place a satellite into orbit. However, he faced the same difficulty as so many others before him: how to send a large object into space.
Discretion was paramount. The project had to remain a top secret, as the satellite represented an unprecedented strategic advantage. Whitley knew this.
This space satellite would provide an unparalleled military advantage. It would allow it to perform espionage, reconnaissance and communications tasks in covert operations. In addition, the satellite would help locate people and vessels in distress in remote areas or during natural disasters.
It would also improve its navigation and surveillance systems.
Whitley imagined himself sitting in his command center, watching screens displaying real-time information.
The satellite would allow it to anticipate its adversaries' movements, thwart their plans and gain a decisive advantage in any conflict.
The mere idea of having an advantage over the communication systems of Atlas, Vale, and the other kingdoms excited Whitley.
—"With this satellite, the Remnant will become my chessboard," Whitley said, a mischievous smile on his lips.
But before his dreams of greatness could become a reality, Whitley had to overcome the challenge of launching. The success of his project depended on it.
Whitley put down his coffee cup on his desk, his mind buzzing with ideas. Suddenly, a spark of brilliance lit up his face.
—"What if I used Dust for the initial boost?", he wondered aloud. —"It's quite possible. Once the Dust's strength and energy are exhausted, I could use liquid propellants. Maybe liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen, or liquid methane and liquid oxygen."
Whitley smiled, excitement bubbling inside him. He had a plan, a way out of this impasse. Sure, many of these concepts, like liquid propellants, were already known, but not studied as much. It wasn't until Whitley came along that he took a keen interest in these elements, in part because many of them were discovered by him... In quotes
—"This satellite will be my greatest weapon," Whitley said to himself, a look of determination in his eyes.
But to power a ship of that size would require a lot of propellant liquids and other things, and getting those materials was too expensive. Plus, there was no market for them.
Whitley needed more capital, more money. His fortune was considerable, but not enough to cover all the expenses that launching the rocket would entail. In addition, this project was a personal and private work that he did not want anyone to know about.
He was siphoning off funds from his company, and Emma would soon notice the holes. Emma was a straight-laced woman and would report him immediately, forcing Whitley to call a meeting with investors, something he did not want.
He needed more money. The more money he had, the more he could divert and fund his personal projects.
Whitley's discovery
Whitley pressed the buttons on his supercomputer, moved the mouse and opened files. In them he could see images, images of cesspools. They were very poor quality images, you could hardly tell they were images, they looked more like very well made pixels, but pixels nonetheless.
—"The reports I've been given speak of these Grimm wells in Menagerie, but they are very rare, as rare as finding a needle in the sea," Whitley muttered, scanning file by file.
—"There are reports of this substance emerging from the desert land, the locals avoid them," Whitley narrowed his eyes, his lips bitten in anticipation. He couldn't blame the locals for being a little wary of these pits, since they could be Grimm pools, frankly he would react the same way too.
—"But what if they aren't Grimm Pits?" Whitley wondered, his mind racing. —"What if they are? The last report of one of these pits was 40 years ago in the Menagerie Desert."
Whitley, his mind full of possibilities, knew that if these wells weren't Grimm pools, they could be something far more valuable.
Whitley spun in his chair, his vision now not on his large, supercomputer.
His vision was now on a platform where many of his robots were assembling metal pieces, welding and shaping a large rocket, a rocket that would be his satellite.
His mission was taking shape, every step leading him towards his destiny, whether self-imposed by the world or by his convictions.
The evil in this world had to be confronted, it had to be subdued, it had to be watched over.
He would be the enemy of evil in the world.
—"I wonder how Jaune and Emerald are doing,"
—{}—
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 than another introductory chapter, before Whitley transforms into the Dark Knight, I think one more chapter would be missing, Whitley is now very involved in what is the construction of his intelligence bases and also making money.
Guess what material Whitley is looking for?
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 .
You are also free to give me some constructive criticism, you know, "this doesn't seem right to me", "I think you got this wrong", I'll be happy to read it.
And you are also free to give any suggestions.
I hope this is well received.
If you find yourself in a moment of leisure and looking for something to delight your imagination, I cordially invite you to explore my other literary creations.
A crossover that weaves the essence of Naruto into the vibrant world of RWBY, "A Hopeful Beginning" is designed to be a beacon of light and possibility. Realistically, though, it doesn't look very hopeful.
"The Jaune Arc Classified Files" follows Team RWBY and JNPR on the adventures of the most self-preservative-deprived man.
These stories may not be the crown jewels of literature, but they are written with the heart and the hope of offering you an escape, a smile, and perhaps, a moment of reflection.
I again invite you to share your impressions of the chapter. And if you liked what you read, don't hesitate to follow me for more adventures. Until next time, dear readers!
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