Mr. Schnee had had enough. He had had it up to HERE.

If his children were going to act like little bitches, then they needed to be properly punished. No one forgets his birthday.

"James, I can't let them defy me like this!" Mr. Schnee exclaimed, stroking his mustache.

General Ironwood didn't really know what to tell his boss-who-isn't-technically-his-boss-but-the-show-makes-it-feel-like-it-at-times. He just stroked his newly acquired stubble and said, "I dunno, Mr. Schnee."

Mr. Schnee stood up from his imposing dictator desk and slammed his fist into his palm. "I'll tell you what I'm gonna do, James. I'm gonna give them what they deserve."

"Mr. Schnee, don't you think you might be overreacting a little bit?" General Ironwood said, a moment of clarity waking him from the influence of the Mr. Schnee's mustache.

Mr. Schnee's eyes flashed. With a roar, he punched Ironwood in the face.

But what Mr. Schnee did not intend was for the good General's face to cave in and crumple. The General fell to the ground, dead.

"Oh." Mr. Schnee scratched his mustache. "Fuck it. If I'm going to jail, I'm gonna earn it."

His mustache started flapping its wings and carried Mr. Schnee off the ground. Just a foot off the ground, he sailed down the halls of his mansion.

Arriving at Whitley's room, Mr. Schnee opened the door. Whitley, whom had been sitting in a chair staring at the wall for three-point-seven hours now, gasped.

From beneath Mr. Schnee's nose, the mustache grew. It's tendrils of hair navigated their way to Whitley and choked the kid out.

And just like that, Whitley was dead like his potential for character.

"I must be off!" Mr. Schnee cried. "Or my name isn't Mr. Schnee!"

Through the window he bounded! His mustache adapted, using its tendrils and Mr. Schnee's legs to gallop across the cold snowscape of Atlas.

When he arrived at the military academy thing that Atlas called a school, Mr. Schnee burst through the door. Men and women cowered as the demigod of a man prowled through the hallways looking for his prey.

"WINTER!" screamed Mr. Schnee, finally setting his sights on his target.

Winter turned around and her eyes widened. "Oh fuck," she muttered.

"THIS IS FOR NOT GIVING ME A BIRTHDAY PRESENT!" roared Mr. Schnee. Performing a perfect handspring, Mr. Schnee launched himself and landed atop his daughter. With his hands, he ripped the disobedient bitch to pieces.

He grumbled, "No one forgets Mr. Schnee's birthday."

That left him but one target: Weiss.

Okay, his wife would normally be a target but she hasn't been in the show yet so

"TO VALE," came his terrific screech.

Stepping into a plot hole, Mr. Schnee traveled to Vale.

Specifically, to Beacon.

Weiss and Ruby were just chillin' in the cafeteria when Mr. Schnee appeared.

"Mr. Schnee!" gasped Weiss.

Ruby frowned. "You call your dad Mr. Schnee?"

Weiss smacked Ruby on the head. "His first name is Mr. Full name, Mr. Schnee."

"Ah," Ruby nodded as she watched Mr. Schnee smash a table over Weiss' head, crushing her skull.

In fire and fury, Mr. Schnee laughed, his vengeance pact fulfilled. At long last, the people of Remnant would know that he just wanted his birthday presents.

The door to the cafeteria burst open. Many people streamed in, but one stood in the front before all the others.

One who had a rather mustached quality to him.

Professor Port.

He cackled, and said, "Mr. Schnee, you old dog, you!"

Author Notes: As some of you may have guessed, this is the successor fic to my other story: The Night Port Went Crazy. There will be at least one more chapter, but it all just depends on how much you all enjoy this story.

Also, still not sorry.