Deference For Darkness
Lightning flashed in the sky above.
Whitley's gaze was fixed on the endless black above him, the darkness reconquering the airspace as the bolt quickly faded back into obscurity.
He solemnly watched the yellow tracers of anti-aircraft fire erupting into the sky, before bursting into bright white clouds of shrapnel. The tracers appeared to originate from several different areas of Kuchinashi, the distant buzzing from the rapid rate of fire of the air defense guns easily heard from his position.
Whitley idly remembered that the anti-air guns that Mistral used were mostly domestically produced twenty-three-millimeter guns developed by Zuko Armament Industries. These models were twin-barreled and fired shells so rapidly that they sounded almost like a minigun when in operation. They could be fixed as turrets, placed on buildings, ships, and even on the beds of trucks.
"Most ADTs have taken to calling them Zu Cannons," Whitley recalled as he grimaced behind his visor, the thought dissolving away from his mind.
His attempt to distract himself with random bits of knowledge had failed.
No matter how hard he tried, there was no way he could ignore his emotions. It wouldn't matter what random thoughts or facts he tried to forcefully inject into his head, he knew that there was no point in fighting it.
The rain pattered against the lone trooper's armor, water droplets flowing down his polarized visor like falling tears. His grip on his carbine relaxed as he stared up into the night, the thoughts cycling through his head before evaporating away. The overwhelming dread that he had felt before had burned itself out, leaving him empty.
Now Whitley could only implore the darkened sky, staring up at the abyss as if awaiting a cure from it.
"That trench…those toys…"
The occasional crash of thunder blended with the distant hum of the anti-aircraft guns firing. The sputtering of their shells bursting in mid-air followed seconds after each firing sequence, giving Kuchinashi an ambience that filled Whitley's chest with a hollow melancholy.
"There were supposed to be children in those tents."
He could also hear the plinking of raindrops crashing down on the sidewalk that he stood on, their puddles reflecting the pinks, blues, and oranges of the few buildings that were still able to run their neon lights. Since the storm cell had completely blocked out the stars and Remnant's shattered moon, only these scattered neon lights and the bright tracers of anti-aircraft fire illuminated the Kuchinashi dusk.
"Why do I fail like this?"
Whitley dropped his eyes from the sky and looked down onto the road ahead of him. All he could see were the black silhouettes of vehicles and the small pockets of neon lights that were still functional.
The Schnee let out a sigh and then broke into a run down the sidewalk, promptly flicking the selector switch on the left side of his visor to activate his helmet's night vision.
He watched as the entire landscape in front of him was immediately showered in a sickly bright green through his visor. His improved sight allowed him to better spot the concrete barrier that he was coming up on. He recognized it as being the same type of barrier that he had taken cover behind during his first firefight earlier in the evening.
Hopping over it, Whitley abruptly turned left down the next intersection, keeping a sprinting pace as the onslaught of falling rain pelted his power-armored form.
He held his carbine in one arm with its barrel aimed at the sky as he always did when he bounded, and he now felt the grenades in both of his hip pouches being jostled around thanks to the empty spaces in each pouch from the grenades he had used earlier. He also knew for a fact that if his combat backpack wasn't clipped to the backplate of his Mark II power armor, then it would have flown off of his body by now from all of the running he was doing.
Another flash of lightning briefly lit up the sky and bloomed bright on his night vision before dissipating, forcing him to squint his eyes shut for a second on reflex. Once his eyes recovered, the ADT brought up his built-in map for a moment to ensure that he was heading in the right direction toward the next white circle on his display. The next suspected civilian hotspot was four city blocks north of the park that he had just come from.
The elementary school.
"Please, let there be someone there," he mentally pleaded, his desire to reach any civilians he could strengthened from what he had just seen.
Whitley huffed as he darted past a motorcycle that had crashed into the building to his left. The light from the few working neon signs that belonged to the businesses on this street temporarily blinded him, so he made a point to avert his visor from those signs. He could see multiple abandoned vehicles on the street ahead of him colored in the green tint of his night vision as he continued to move down the sidewalk.
"I couldn't save them."
Even as he weaved his way past scattered debris and destroyed cars, the teen could not keep his mind focused.
"Why can't I save anyone?"
He briefly scanned the windows above him as he ran past each doorway, still aware that he could get shot or ambushed at any moment as he advanced.
But Whitley made these checks due to his training and muscle memory, not because his heart was in it.
"I have already killed nine men tonight. I had no problem doing that."
His combat boots splashed through the puddles of rain that were already forming on uneven divots on the sidewalk as he charged onwards, already able to spot a roadblock at the next intersection through his visor.
"I can kill just fine, but when it comes to saving people, I can't do it?"
When he got closer to the roadblock, he recognized that it was actually a downed Mistrali airship.
Whitley figured that it had been shot down a while ago by anti-aircraft fire, since nothing was burning or smoking. If this airship had been shot down then that either meant that rebels had gotten control of some anti-aircraft weapons, or this was yet another example of Mistrali incompetence and a result of friendly fire.
The Aerial Drop Trooper came to a stop a few yards from the wreckage and began to analyze the remains of the ruined airframe.
His eyes scanned over the broken white sails and the shattered wood that had made up the hull of the airship. He could see hundreds of small holes in both the hull and the sails, made from all of the shrapnel that had punched through them.
Since he couldn't find any bodies, he stopped observing the wreckage and pulled up his visor's map to search for a detour for him to take. He quickly found that if he took a right turn down the intersection, he would be back on track.
After taking a few seconds to catch his breath, Whitley turned to the right and started making his way down the street that his map had relayed to him, determined to reach the elementary school as quickly as possible.
Sprinting past an abandoned machinegun position that was constructed from sandbags and camo netting, he continued to visually sweep the windows of various businesses and homes as he went. Whitley began to formulate a game plan in his head about how he would clear each section and room of the school once he reached it.
"Pieing each room would be better since I'm alone. Going for a dynamic entry is not the best choice without a team to back me up. Clearing rooms in general is better with a minimum of two people, four or more being ideal. But I will need to make do."
Even as Whitley mentally recited another one of Winter's tactical lessons, he knew that trying to bury his emotions by distracting his brain with work would not last. He was distinctly aware that sending the pain below like this was always too emotionally suffocating for him to keep up with for very long.
Dread filled him as he felt his mind steadily drifting back to his earlier thoughts.
To the half-buried hand in the dirt.
Whitley tried to force himself to think about the Fall of Atlas, and how he had helped organize the evacuation of the civilians from Atlas and Mantle. There had to have been thousands of citizens from both cities, lives that he had helped save from his dutiful work on the evacuation plans.
But Atlas and Mantle still fell.
Many thousands of people from those cities had died when the Grimm invaded.
Countless families were destroyed forever, whether from losing loved ones or being wiped out entirely.
Those were lives he had failed to save.
It was not enough.
He was not enough.
"Not enough," he whispered to himself.
Whitley was so absorbed in his own introspection that he didn't even realize that he had subconsciously hurdled over the corpse of a dead rebel with zero break in his stride as he proceeded down the street.
He remembered how he had felt when he had slaughtered those men from the Exterminators militia group. The goals of their organization may have been reprehensible, but they were still people who had their lives snuffed out at Whitley's hands.
He recalled the excitement and rush of adrenaline when he was fighting them.
And then there was the elation that surged through him the second he realized that he had won the engagement and had successfully killed all of them.
"Why does it seem like I am much more skilled at causing ruin and suffering for people?"
As the Schnee approached the next intersection, he heard the distant rumble of a rocket motor from a missile being fired somewhere in Kuchinashi.
"But when I try to help people, I just seem to struggle."
Once he had reached the end of the city block, he wheeled left down the next street as his pre-loaded map had told him to do. Judging from what he could see on the map, he was roughly halfway to the school.
"Am I just talented at inflicting pain on others?"
Whitley listened to the falling raindrops rattle against the outside of his helmet as he pressed forward, the white circle on his heads-up display growing larger as he moved closer to his objective.
"Then again, my entire life has been this way."
"You thought you could keep this from me?! That you could sneak away to Ironwood without me knowing!?"
Whitley leaned back from the ornately designed door and took a few steps further back into the hall. Even though he was no longer eavesdropping through the door, he was still able to hear the muffled shouts of his father and eldest sister.
The ten-year-old put his arms behind his back just as he had been taught by his etiquette instructor and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. He felt a mix of nervous excitement and personal pride in proving to both himself and his father that he had what it took to do what was necessary.
What was necessary to survive the cutthroat environment of corporate Atlas.
What was necessary for the good of the Schnee Dust Company.
What was necessary to protect himself.
The youngest Schnee was finally taking the first step into the world of business and making his debut using a tactic that his father had taught him. All of the courses and lessons that his father had assigned to him would now be bearing fruit.
To show no mercy and exploit the weaknesses of your rivals.
Hopefully, this would be enough.
The brilliant hallway lights coupled with the pristine white walls starkly contrasted against the blackened new moon sky that came from the uncovered windows. It was nearly midnight, which meant that Whitley was fortunate that Jacques had barely caught Winter in time.
His sister was supposed to report for basic training tonight.
Winter's attempt to leave quietly in the middle of the night without alerting her father had failed miserably.
Rather than dealing with the humiliation of being ghosted by his own daughter, Jacques had been given the opportunity to give Winter a piece of his mind. The patriarch of the Schnee family had been handed a chance to convince Winter to give up her silly pursuit with the military and remain the heiress of the SDC. Even if he failed, Jacques would still appreciate the opportunity to drive a verbal dagger as deeply into his eldest child's heart as he possibly could for daring to turn her back on him.
It was an opportunity that Whitley's father would appreciate.
"Besides, he's not the only one who Winter turned her back on," he thought, doing his best to suppress the anger that welled up inside him.
He took another deep breath.
Whitley had to maintain his composure and look presentable for this.
It was then that he heard the steps of his sister entering the hallway to his left.
He gazed down the hall and saw that Weiss was approaching him with a contemplative look on her face. The twelve-year-old girl was dressed in a gray pajama dress that reached down to her knees, the snow-white hair that flowed down her shoulders was completely frazzled from being in bed.
Perfect timing.
Waiting for Weiss to reach him, he continued to listen to the heated exchange between Winter and Jacques through the door.
Their voices were even louder now.
Weiss stopped a few steps away from Whitley, now also staring at the door while able to clearly make out what was happening on the other side.
"I am leaving and there is nothing you can do about that! I already have my official orders!"
"This is disgraceful! Look at yourself, so eager to be cannon fodder for Ironwood! Fleeing away from your responsibilities to the Schnee family name!"
Whitley watched Weiss's face evolve from confusion to her mouth dropping open in shock as she realized what she was listening to.
"Wha-" was all she could get out before she heard the loud crack of a hand against a cheek.
The siblings stared at the door, both knowing that their father had just stuck Winter.
This was good.
It was a strike to Winter's face instead of his.
There was nothing but silence from the other side of the door.
"I-I don't understand. H-How?" Weiss babbled in confusion.
She turned to her brother.
"Is this why you called me here?" she asked, her voice shuddering with dread.
Whitley allowed himself a slight smirk.
"Yes, sister. But there's more," he said ominously, leaning towards her in anticipation.
"What are you talking about? How did-"
Weiss's eyes widened in realization as she glanced at the door, before looking back at Whitley in horror.
"Y-You told him. Y-You-You," Weiss was now shaking, knowing that their father had learned everything.
Whitley leaned back into his previous stance and merely nodded in affirmation.
"I did."
The door burst open, revealing a distressed teenaged Winter hauling her bags behind her as she exited the room. She glanced at each of her younger siblings with hot tears in her eyes and a fresh red mark on her face from a slap. Her expression seemed to be caught between sorrow and barely restrained rage.
"Your status as Heiress is completely and utterly revoked!"
Winter took a second to catch her breath and with her face full of emotion, she briefly gave Weiss a look of understanding before she turned away from them both. The younger siblings could feel the heat of the seething fury resonating off Winter as she passed them, amplified by her aggressive and swift stride down the hallway.
"How dare you leave me here," Whitley mentally scolded her as she passed by, knowing better than to voice his opinion.
Weiss looked back at her older sister with a longing expression, as if she wanted more than anything to go with her.
Whether that longing was born out of fear of their father or love for her sister, Whitley did not care.
As Winter turned away from the doorframe, dragging her wheeled bags behind her, her absence revealed the man inside of the room.
The man was leaning against a desk, dressed in a luxurious white suit with his well-groomed hair smoothly slicked back, and sporting a large mustache under his nose. His face was flushed red with anger, his piercing blue eyes glaring daggers at his eldest daughter as she left.
That was when his eyes locked onto his two younger children.
Weiss's breath hitched as Jacques Schnee stomped out of the room with a purpose, and approached her at a fast walking pace.
He stopped when he was only a step from her, staring down at Weiss with a fierce expression, the rage that she could see in his eyes stunning her in place. He expertly used his height to loom over her, accentuating the intimidation factor.
Whitley watched with his arms behind his back, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible.
"And you…" Jacques whispered venomously, leaning in closer to Weiss and relishing the look of sheer terror on her face.
Weiss's mouth opened but she couldn't find any words to say.
"You knew about this and reported nothing to me. Why?" he whispered, his face now mere inches from hers.
Weiss's eyes darted from left to right, her brain spooling up into overdrive to try and find an adequate answer. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, and the young girl had to do everything in her power to prevent herself from whimpering. She could feel her veins drowning in ice as she struggled to speak.
"I-I"
Jacques just shook his head at her.
"Don't bother. I know. I've seen her train you in the courtyard. You made an agreement with her, didn't you? To keep her leaving a secret from me," Jacques stated with a matter-of-fact tone.
He leaned back away from her, standing at his full height again.
"I received news that the White Fang have sabotaged one of our supply ships this morning. Last week, I watched a barbaric execution video of one of our board members. And now I have this revelation dropped on me? I work very hard for the sake of this family, Weiss," he said, his voice beginning to rise again.
Jacques brought his arm back and backhanded Weiss across the face.
She yelped in pain, the force of the hit causing the twelve-year-old girl to fall to her knees.
"Do you have any idea? Any at all?! Do you think you can disrespect me like this?!"
Weiss brought a trembling hand to her cheek, looking up at her father with tears welling in her eyes.
"And that's what you get for helping her," Whitley internally spat in his head.
He looked up at his father, doing everything he could to contain his nervous excitement, feeling anxious about whether Jacques would approve of what he'd done or not. He was banking on Jacques to appreciate his efforts, rather than the usual looks of scorn he received when he had failed to meet his father's expectations.
Jacques turned to Whitley for a quick moment, giving him a knowing look and a nod.
Relief flooded through the youngest Schnee at this gesture.
Any strike on Weiss was another strike that was not intended for him. If Jacques's anger was directed at his sisters, then it wouldn't be directed at him. Whitley had been hit by his father before and if this was what was necessary to protect himself from that, then he would do it.
"To bed. Both of you. You have etiquette lessons in the morning. Gods know you need it," Jacques ordered while scowling, making it clear that the last statement was specifically directed at Weiss.
As their father walked away, Whitley returned his attention to his older sister.
She was still on her knees, tears streaking down her face as she let out huffs of breath between her sobs. Her face was directed at the hallway floor below them, seemingly unwilling to raise her head.
Weiss's teardrops cascaded onto the blue carpet like falling rain.
Now his victory lap could commence.
"Business fundamentals, sister. Never let the competition discover your secrets," Whitley remarked vindictively.
Weiss raised her face from the floor, her weeping now quiet as she looked at him with betrayal in her eyes.
"W-W-Why?" she shuddered feebly, trying to get the word out between fresh sobs.
Weiss looked miserable in front of him, but instead of showing any concern for his sister, he merely sneered in triumph at her.
She looked so pathetic right now.
He was happy to report their conspiracy to their father and had gone for the throat, just as Jacques had always told him to do. Being relentless and without remorse were just a few lessons that he had been taught. All traits that would be essential for the volatile political minefield that was the Atlesian corporate world.
He had used the pain of both of his sisters as a training session for his own skills in business acumen.
Father would be proud of him.
Impressed that he was able to exploit the weaknesses of his opponents, and to not be afraid to use ruthless tactics.
He looked into the watery eyes of his older sister and found nothing but an exhilarating level of control and accomplishment within himself.
Both Weiss and Winter would be on his father's bad side now, and he would be the loyal son who could be relied on to do what needed to be done.
Finally, the ten-year-old Whitley Schnee had secured a way to be safe from the wrath of Jacques Schnee.
The eighteen-year-old Whitley Schnee felt his stomach churn at the memory.
He felt his chest tighten as he bounded past the bodies of two dead rebels that were huddled near a deployed mortar tube. He cursed at his brain for making him reflect on himself when he had a mission to carry out.
Even though this was certainly not the time, Whitley knew that once his mind started doing this, it was hard to stop.
"That was only the beginning. I continued to embody Father from that point on."
His combat boots splashed into a puddle after he had hopped over a sandbag wall, the night vision showing him that he was reaching the last right turn down the street.
He continued to hear the purring of Kuchinashi's anti-aircraft guns in the distance, only to be broken up by a rumble of thunder or the thud of a far-off explosion.
"I failed my sisters."
As Whitley made the final right turn, the elementary school was revealed to him.
All three of the buildings that were in his current line of sight were single-story, the main building in the center flanked by a slightly larger building to its right and another building to the left. From what the rookie ADT could tell, the center structure appeared to contain the administrative office at the front entrance, as well as being large enough to contain some classrooms.
"My own selfish desire to save myself hurt both of them. Hurt them badly."
The larger building on the right appeared to have a curved roof, which suggested to Whitley that this may have been the school's gym. The structure on the left looked like it just contained classrooms, and he noticed that there were probably a few more buildings behind these initial three that were part of the campus as well.
The green hue of his night vision was able to view all of the buildings cleanly, which let the power-armored teen know that none of the lights were on inside any of them.
Whether that meant there were no survivors inside or that they were keeping the lights off to mask their presence, Whitley knew it didn't matter.
He would be sweeping every single building in this complex regardless.
"It doesn't matter if Father was the one who controlled everything, I took pride in the Schnee Dust Company back then. All the evil that the company committed, I am complicit."
The lone trooper continued down the sidewalk that he was currently on, which bordered the fence that surrounded the campus. If he were to hop the fence from here, that would put him right near the building on the left.
The decision to enter the school by hopping the fence at a random point rather than the front entrance was a tactical one.
Whitley knew that entering through the front office was too risky since any hostile defenders could light him up the second he tried to approach, have a tripwire ready for him once he opened the door, or both. He was aware that his power armor was good, but it would be naïve of him to assume that it would stop everything.
"Someone like me doesn't deserve to be saved."
Once he reached a part of the perimeter that was near the double doors of the classroom building, Whitley gripped the metal fence with his gloved hands and began to climb. Able to lunge his body over the top of the fence, he then let himself drop to the ground, his boots squelching under the wet grass.
He cautiously made his way to the double doors, hoping that there weren't any enemies that had commandeered this school. When he reached the doors, he ran his hands along the edges of each doorframe to feel around for any evidence of a tripwire. Finding none, he gently pulled the door open and was relieved that there wasn't any immediate gunfire from inside.
Silently praying that there wasn't anyone guarding the door, the Schnee entered the main hallway, his suppressed carbine held with a steady c-clamp grip. The bright laser that emitted from his carbine's scope was visible with his helmet's night vision active, allowing him to see exactly where his shots would end up.
Whitley instantly knew that there was no power active inside the building once he stepped into the hallway. There were no lights, no sounds of an air conditioner or heater, and neither his own senses nor his helmet's TRACK system could detect any presence at all.
Nevertheless, he began his work as he approached the first door to his left.
He grabbed the knob and opened the door gently, pushing it away from him while keeping himself concealed behind the wall next to the door, just as he had with the double doors at the entrance.
The ADT waited for the door to open completely before he slowly pied the center of the room, staying out in the hallway while slowly moving from the left of the doorframe over to the right.
"Looks clear from the pie. Going in right," he quietly announced out loud to himself, a habit he had picked up from his training.
Whitley entered the room facing the right side and seeing that it was clear, quickly whipped his head and carbine to the left to clear the rest of the room. It was a risky maneuver to do this, but he had no choice since he had to clear the room by himself.
But there were no enemies or civilians to be found.
He saw desks, chairs, bookshelves, and even motivational posters on the walls, but no people whatsoever.
The Schnee left the classroom and moved to clear the next room across the hall. He decided that he would clear the parallel classroom on the right before continuing down the hallway, methodically repeating this until the entire building was swept for civilians.
Whitley entered and cleared the next classroom exactly as he did the last one. He pied the center of the room while still out in the hallway and entered by clearing one side then swiftly turning himself to clear the rest of the room.
He found the same thing.
No people, just empty desks and chairs.
He repeated this process as he cleared each room, and the result was the same.
The entire building was abandoned.
Looking out of the window of the final classroom that he had just cleared, he could only see the darkened school campus that he still needed to investigate, partially obscured by the raindrops that collected themselves on the glass. The lack of combat adrenaline allowed his calmed mind to ponder as he stood in the center of the classroom.
Whitley thought about the possibility of the entire school being just as devoid of civilians as the refugee camp at the park was earlier.
Another failure.
"I'm no protector, I'm a manipulator."
A visceral wave of disgust surged through him as the image of Weiss's distraught and miserable expression entered his thoughts again.
His eyes were transfixed by the water droplets streaking down the window, the raindrops falling like the tears that slid down Weiss's face.
He remembered how cruelly he had sneered at her in that moment.
Whitley wished more than anything that he could find a way to apologize, to have just one chance to put the tears back in his sister's eyes.
"Weiss has been missing for two years. She could be dead. I might never get the opportunity."
He considered the short period of time before she disappeared, back when he and Weiss were able to mend their relationship a little bit. During that time, they could speak with each other earnestly and even shared a few hugs.
It was nice.
But it didn't feel adequate.
He didn't get a proper chance to make things right.
"Not enough," he whispered again to himself, watching the sky outside flash bright from a distant lightning strike.
"I haven't done enough. Given enough."
With a forlorn sigh, he left the room and exited the building through the hallway.
Now able to better view the rest of the campus behind the three frontal buildings, the rookie ADT was greeted by a large outdoor atrium that acted as the central hub between every building on the campus. He saw what he guessed was a cafeteria building, the school library, the gym, the front office, and even a smaller building for restrooms.
In the atrium itself, lunch tables and several trash cans were covered by two ramadas so that the students could enjoy their lunch outside with at least some protection from the sun. Sidewalks that led to each building snaked from the atrium like tentacles, making the paths clear for the young children that this school was tailored for.
"Still no sign of anyone. I will now sweep each of these buildings for civilians," Whitley said, reporting his next actions to his recording.
His boots sloshed against the wet pavement as he broke into a run once again, hastily moving towards the cafeteria building in the center of the school.
Entering cautiously, he scanned the interior of the cafeteria for any potential threats with his carbine, seeing nothing but a large central room with multiple long tables that accommodated over a dozen chairs each. As Whitley flowed towards the left side of the interior, he saw the kitchen and the buffet line where the students would collect their lunches. He entered the small kitchen, taking only a few seconds to clear it and even making sure to check the food storage room and freezer for any signs of life.
Winter had trained him to be thorough after all.
"Winter…"
But there was no one here either.
This structure was another bust.
He took a second to glance at the far wall of the cafeteria, seeing a large painting of the school's cartoon mascot, which was an Arrow Hat fish apparently. He figured that made sense since that species of fish was common for the local area of Kuchinashi.
"At least things went better with her."
Whitley was glad that he had gotten lucky for once, and was able to spend a lot of time with his eldest sister.
He had his decision to join the Aerial Drop Troopers to thank for that.
Since Winter was the instructor for his infantry tactics course, they had the opportunity to properly speak about their grievances with each other and work things out.
Whitley had apologized profusely to her for all the trouble he had caused, and in turn, his sister expressed her remorse for leaving him and for failing to show the same affection for him that she showed to Weiss. They had over a year to share their insecurities, fears, and to bond with each other during the lulls in the intense combat drills that Winter put her brother through.
They had even reconciled to the point where the youngest Schnee even confided in Winter about his desire to properly redeem himself to Weiss.
She had tried to reassure him that Weiss probably already forgave him in her heart, but his eldest sister's attempt to comfort him seemed hollow to Whitley. His well-educated mind deduced that the probability of Winter being right was decent, but he had no way to be sure.
Weiss was still missing after all.
Whitley frowned in disappointment as he started to make his way to the exit.
He decided to head to the library next since it was the closest to the cafeteria, and then he would head to the gym after that.
The lone trooper opened the door to the cafeteria, exposing himself to the rainy night once again. He wasted no time taking off into another sprint, intent on clearing the rest of the school complex as quickly as possible.
The Schnee decided to use the atrium and its sidewalk veins as a breezeway to get from building to building.
When he breached the doors of the library, he found nothing but the eerie silence of unattended bookshelves and desks. Since this was an elementary school, the library was a lot smaller than the libraries of secondary schools, universities, or Huntsman academies, so he was able to clear out each section and aisle at a rapid pace.
Growing more frustrated that he wasn't finding anyone and his confidence in being able to rescue even a single person waning away, he left the library and made his way to the gym as he had planned.
Reaching the gym, Whitley was greeted by the sight of a large ball court with laminated wood on the floors and bleachers on each side. Since he never really played sports himself, he wasn't really familiar with what games this court was tailored for.
Of all of the buildings in the school, the dead air inside the gym had creeped him out the most. It had reminded him of those urban explorer videos he had occasionally seen online, and Whitley realized that he was now in the same position as those explorers.
The fact that both the cafeteria and the ball court of the gym were empty of people reinforced the rookie ADT's suspicion that the entire school was a waste of time since they were the most likely places where the civilians would congregate.
The notion of Whitley Schnee having far more talent for ruining people's lives rather than helping them was growing more and more true with each empty building.
"I'm no savior, I'm a destroyer."
After checking each of the locker rooms, he considered the gym cleared and left.
All that remained was the main admin building with the front office.
As he advanced to the last structure, he realized that on an emotional level, he had already given up on finding anyone inside this school campus.
"A destroyer…"
In a display of his wavering discipline, instead of checking the entrance for booby traps, Whitley simply tore open the double doors of the admin building and rushed inside.
"The only thing I was ever good for."
Now he was aggressively rushing into each room to clear them rather than taking the time to pie them out. The logical voice in his head told him that this cavalier behavior was not tactically sound, but his melancholic acceptance of his failure had won out.
"That was why I was alone then. And I'm still alone now."
At this point, he just wanted to finish clearing the remaining rooms as quickly as possible, taking less and less precautions with each room.
"I guess nothing has changed."
Stepping out of the principal's office after securing it, Whitley noticed that he was standing in the front office lobby that he had seen earlier from the outside. The large glass walls and front door revealed the service desk to the gloomy Kuchinashi night.
"Perhaps this is my punishment."
Finally, his futile sweep of the admin building was now completed.
It took a few seconds for Whitley to realize that he was hunched over with one hand on his knee and the other driving the stock of his carbine into the floor, completely out of breath and physically drained.
The lone trooper made his way behind the front desk and slipped his backpack down onto the ground next to him, before taking a seat in the receptionist's office chair. He had been on his feet since the refugee camp and now his fatigue from all of the running and tactical movements had caught up with him.
Whitley took off his helmet, wiping the damp sweat from his brow with his gloved hands and trying to take slower breaths to force his heart rate back down. He reached back and retrieved the nozzle for his AquaBak and took this moment to hydrate.
"Winter is going to give me an earful when she watches this part of the recording. Letting my tactical discipline break like that was sloppy of me. I should have handled the rooms in this building more responsibly."
As he reflected on his performance, he watched the darkened buildings and streets outside through the glass barrier. He continued taking sips from his AquaBak and also took this time to remove the sling from his carbine and stowed it in his backpack.
"No matter how I feel…"
Whitley remained in that office chair, deciding that it would be a good idea to keep resting for at least a few more minutes.
He peered out into the night as if he were watching a show, observing the ever-present yellow tracers of anti-aircraft fire and the occasional flashes of lightning. With his helmet off and no longer looking at everything through his night vision, it took his eyes some time to adjust to the darkness.
His attention was drawn to a tall building that was several blocks away from the elementary school. He could have sworn that he had just seen a small flash from a window on one of the higher floors.
The glass barrier shattered.
Whitley reflexively took cover behind the front desk the second he heard the crash of the barrier imploding into hundreds of glass shards.
He frantically slammed his helmet back on and snatched up his carbine, which he had leaning against the desk. The teen went prone behind the counter, awaiting a second incoming shot and cursing his rotten luck.
"This is a bad spot! I have to move now!"
As much as he wanted to deny it, he now had to deal with the one thing that he was especially paranoid about since he had dropped into Kuchinashi.
Whitley Schnee was pinned down by a sniper.
Author's Note:
This was the toughest chapter for me to write so far. I hope I did a decent job on it.
References:
"He solemnly watched the yellow tracers of anti-aircraft fire erupting into the sky…The rain pattered against the lone trooper's armor, water droplets flowing down his polarized visor like falling tears. His grip on his carbine relaxed as he stared up into the night." – The YouTube Video: HALO - [Fan Animation] – Remember by SODAZ
Specifically, I tried to recreate the scene where the ODST stares up into the night. Deference For Darkness also plays during this scene in SODAZ's video by the way.
"Zu Cannons." – Is an IRL reference to the ZU-23 Soviet-made air defense system
"Now Whitley could only implore the darkened sky, staring up at the abyss as if awaiting a cure from it." – The metal song: Implore the Darken Sky by Heaven Shall Burn
"He was distinctly aware that sending the pain below like this was always too emotionally suffocating for him to keep up with for very long." The alternative metal song: Send the Pain Below by Chevelle
"Whitley wished more than anything that he could find a way to apologize, to have just one chance to put the tears back in his sister's eyes." - The metal song: Masterpiece by Motionless In White