The following is a non-profit, fan-made work of fiction. RWBY and Iron Man are the respective trademarked properties of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC and Marvel Entertainment, LLC. Please support their respective franchises and releases. This means I own jack, so don't sue me, it's all for fun. (And practice, I just wanna be a better writer.)

The Invincible Whitley Schnee

Chapter 11: Off the Rails!

Mantle, August 12th, 2008 KC

Unknown Location

There were only two people present within the vast atrium at this time. No living soul, save for these two, were present, not even behind the intricate columns which held the ceiling in place. Their meeting did not warrant the presence of others within their organization. This was strictly a one-on-one meeting, no more, no less.

But it would have been clear to any outside observer that the two were not equals. The first individual, an imposing figure clad in black ornate armor older than him and his forefathers, sat silently upon an impressive looking golden throne. His armored fingers were clasped together, his forearms upon his legs, and his helmeted head rested upon his metal digits. Around his right middle finger was an equally ornate purple ring far older than anything on Remnant.

In a deeply metallic and threateningly commanding deep voice, he inquired, "Has everything been put in place?"

The second individual, an admittedly generic-looking warrior garbed in black robes and mask with little armor, knelt down and reported, "Yes, my lord. All the necessary steps have been taken and your plan shall be executed at the planned time."

The armored despot smirked behind his faceplate and spoke, "Excellent. By the day's end, Hammer will have paid for his transgressions against me."

He addressed his servant and gave him dismissive wave, "Leave. Do not return until you have news of the plan's completion."

The servant bowed his head and promptly rose up and retreated, melding into the darkness as he was trained to. The armored man relaxed his posture and nestled himself further into his throne, satisfied with himself. A small part of him lamented the loss of innocent life required for his plan's fruition, but such was the cost of war. Hammer had wronged and stolen from him, and as such insulted his honor. Such a slight demanded restitution and it shall be paid with blood and Hammer's reputation. It was the honorable thing to do, naturally.

That and he immensely loathed the arrogant businessman, even more so than the young man's late father. To see Hammer's bloated ego take a hit was well worth all of the corpses in that train.

He had a feeling when he woke up that it was going to be a beautiful morning.

West Mantle

Coal Family Residence

Flossy Street

7:35 AM

Now that he was back in his home, Flynt was free to indulge himself with a breakfast of his choosing this beautiful morning.

The food in the Academy's cafeteria, in his opinion and in the kindest words he can use, was not in good quality. It was his belief that a good breakfast was the key to a good day, and so he sought to give himself the best, considering the day. The weather forecasts had reported that today was one of those very rare days in Solitas where the temperature was warm enough to walk outside without heavy clothing. From what he heard, the warmest temperature today will be 72 degrees.

Standing in the kitchen, Flynt yawned as he poured the milk into his Pumpkin Pete's cereal. He watched the nutrient-enriched liquid cascaded down into the small ceramic bowl, with the little marshmallow-cinnamon flakes quickly rising to the surface like sugary life preservers. Once the bowl was full, he returned the milk jug to the refrigerator, and turned his attention to the toaster. After a few seconds, two pieces of freshly toasted bread popped out, which he promptly grabbed and buttered before laying them upon a plate. Finally, he took a small mug from one of the pantry cabinets and filled it with freshly brewed coffee, adding two sugar cubes to enhance the taste.

His breakfast prepared, the young man took his food and sat down at the dining table. He enjoyed sitting there, at that moment, as the table was usually crowded around dinner time. He took his plastic spoon and dipped it into his cereal, catching a few flakes within the utensil. He promptly raised the spoon to his mouth and ate the flakes, sipping the milk for good measure. As he ate his breakfast, he failed to notice the short figure slowly approaching him. The new presence crept upon the unsuspecting boy, their steps slow and methodical. It wasn't until their small fingers latched onto the table's edge that Flynt registered their presence.

Paying the newcomer no mind, the young huntsman-in-training continued eating. Slowly, a head rose above the table, their amber eyes observing the boy with suspicion. In the periphery of his vision, Flynt noticed that the newcomer had tied their black hair into two buns. But he said nothing as he continued eating.

Now standing at full height, revealing their pink flower-coated pajamas, the figure cried out in a shrill voice, "MOM, COME QUICK, THERE'S SOME WIERDO EATING IN OUR KITCHEN!"

Flynt, still eating, looked at his little sister and let out a sarcastic laugh, "Ha-ha. I'm not even gone a month and I'm already a stranger?"

Gyttja Coal pouted and gave her brother an accusatory glare. The middle-schooler told him off, "Yeah, well, I know for a fact that my brother never eats Pumpkin Pete's! And he never wakes up at this hour! So you have to be a fake!"

She turned and yelled out again, "MOM! HURRY UP; WE GOTTA GET THIS INTRUDER OUT BEFORE HE EATS ALL MY CEREAL!"

Flynt rolled his eyes at his sister's display and resumed eating the cereal. While he most certainly was not a fan of the cereal brand, he needed to save time in making breakfast. He had to be at Mr. Rhode's apartment by 9 AM, so that he may start his shift guarding the rich kid. After he was finished eating, he was going to take a quick shower, gather his supplies, and inspect his weapon, Argent Blare, before he leaves. He had hoped to enjoy a nice, quick, and peaceful breakfast before doing all of that. Unfortunately, he did not account for his little sister.

If only her summer vacation ended sooner, Flynt thought with a frown. He then thought enviously, oh, who am I kidding? I would kill for a three month vacation. Seriously, why do only hunters-in-training get one month off for the summer... oh, yeah, because we need more time to train!

Sometimes, he wondered if he made the right career choice. Not that it mattered now since he was fully committed to becoming a huntsman.

He took a sip of his coffee, the caffeine energizing him, as the sound of bare feet stamping upon wooden flooring echoed in the distance. The syncopated stamping increased in volume, until finally, a middle-aged dark-skinned woman entered the kitchen, dressed in a purple nightgown and bathrobe, her long brown hair a mess and her tired black eyes gazing upon the two teenagers. This was Ashley Coal, Flynt and Gyttja's mother, who had recently returned from an orchestral tour in Sanus.

Their mother yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, before saying, "Gi, that's just your brother... And why are you yelling? Your father's still in bed."

Her daughter crossed her arms and incredulously retorted, "I've never seen him before in my life. I yelled because I was trying to warn you and dad about him."

The middle-schooler then groused in a hushed voice, "Just when I was getting used to being an only child around here..."

Flynt, having heard his sister, smirked and told her, "Now you know how Char felt before the rest of us arrived."

Ashley rolled her eyes at her children's antics and joined them at the table. Sitting adjacent to her fourth oldest baby, she asked him. "How are you doing, my little huntsman?"

"Just fine, mom," Flynt replied after swallowing some cereal, "Just getting ready for the day."

"Ah, yes." She realized with a smile. She asked him, "So, are you gonna tell us why you're back home? I mean, there's gotta be a reason you're staying here instead of the academy."

Flynt replied, "Can't tell you; classified. Need to know only."

Gyttja snorted and rhetorically asked, "What, is it one of those 'If I told you, I'd have to kill you' type of things?"

"Are you willing to find out?" Flynt jested, sending a rather mischievous smile at his little sister.

"Ah, did you see that, Mom, he just threatened me!" She cried, missing the humor. "Guess we gotta throw him out now, to protect the family!"

"Gy, please, behave! And be nice to your brother, he just got home!" Ashley snapped at her, the girl immediately shutting up.

Flynt gave his sister a smug smirk as she cowed under their mother's authority. There was a pecking order in the Coal Household, one that their parents had drilled into them from birth. Their home was a castle and Ashley Coal was the queen, and her word was law. Their father, when she wasn't around, had as much authority as she does. No one dared question their rule as long as they stayed under her roof. Unfortunately for their youngest son, he had forgotten that particular fact, for his mother had noticed his smirk and frowned.

"And Flynt, be nice to your sister!" She warned him.

Flynt dropped the smirk and nodded his head vigorously, showing his mother that the message was received loud and clear. Ashley smiled sweetly at her son, glad that she through to him. She then asked him, "So, tell me, how long will you be staying with us?"

He quickly replied, "Until the end of September, when Neon and I leave for the Vytal Festival."

"How is Neon, anyway?" She asked, concerned for the girl. "Your father told me what happened while I was away; absolutely horrible and disgusting what happened. But how is she holding up?"

"She's doing... fine," Flynt said with some doubt in his voice. "Honestly, I don't know how she's dealing with it. She may not have said it, but I can tell she blames herself for what happened."

"What happened to Nene?" Gyttja asked in worry, using her nickname for the Faunus girl. She cared for Neon like a sister, a sentiment shared by her actual sister, Petra. If something had happened to the girl, then she needed to know.

Flynt looked to his sister and glumly answered, "Trust me, sis, you're better off not knowing."

The tone of his voice was enough to tell the girl that it was better to drop the subject. The middle schooler frowned and chose to sit quietly at the table. Their mother saw the look on her son's face and frowned. She hated seeing any of her babies upset. She knew that the topic was still a sore subject for her son, and so decided to ask him something else; something that might lighten the mood. Putting on her best smile, she leaned forward and unashamedly asked, "So... Did you meet any cute girls at the academy?"

Flynt nearly choked on his cereal, causing him hack up the flakes he swallowed. His cheeks lit up faster than fireworks as he stared at his smiling mother. His little sister's laughter, which audibly resembled a woodpecker pecking on wood, only caused his blush to brighten further. He clamped his mouth shut and sucked in his lower lip, preventing himself from stuttering out a response. He sent an accusing glare at his mother, who took the look in stride with her still-present smile.

Embarrassed, Flynt stammered out, "N-No... Well, I mean, yes, I've met a few girls, but none that caught my eye... not that they're attractive! They're huntresses, so having fit, healthy bodies goes without saying... It's just that, well..." He trailed off, trying to find the right words to say.

His mother and sister watched him with an amused glint in their eyes, waiting expectantly for him to finish his sentence. Ashley always loved teasing her kids, especially when it involved any possible romances. She planned to do the same with her new granddaughter. Her daughter however, was enjoying her brother's torment, considering it payback for her cereal. Eventually, the flustered young huntsman composed himself and finally gave a complete and honest answer to his mother's question.

Flynt cleared his throat and spoke calmly, "Look, mom, yeah, I met a lot of pretty girls up in Atlas. But I'm not interested in dating right now. I just want to spend the next four years focusing on becoming a huntsman, without any distractions. Until then, I'm swearing off romance."

"Heh," He chuckled and said, "'Sides, none of the girls up there are my type."

Ashley felt a strange mix of pride and disappointment swell within her heart at her son's answer. Pride that he was so dedicated to becoming a protector of Remnant's people, and disappointment that she won't be getting more grandbabies any time soon. She was pushing fifty and she needed more than one grandchild to spoil. Still, she was happy all the same. Her youngest son's dedication showed that her little boy was growing up. She always knew he was going to be a fine man when he grew up.

Still, it begged the question of who would catch his eye. She smiled impishly and inquired, "So, what exactly is your type, Flynt?"

After taking another sip from his coffee, he looked his mother in the eye and told her, "Mom, I have to leave in the hour. I just want to finish my breakfast and get ready for the day. I promise I'll spend the whole evening talking to you."

Ashley pouted and dramatically whined, much to her daughter's enjoyment, "You're no fun! What happened to the sweet little boy who'd run up to me to talk about his day?"

Flynt shook his head at his mother's antics as he continued eating his breakfast. While he hated the fact he had to guard a Schnee, he can at least be thankful that he'll be able to spend more time with his family. He can appreciate that, despite the circumstances of his stay.

Home was where the heart is, after all.

South Mantle

A block away from the Katt Residence

8:35 AM

Neon's heart raced as she skated away from home. Dressed in bleached white shorts and a purple shirt, over which she wore a hot pink crop top, she was dressed comfortably for the weather. Her weapon, supplies, and shoes were secured within her backpack. It was such a beautiful day that she had to enjoy it before she started her shift guarding the Schnee. Her dad had given her the okay, considering that he had taken the day off. Tommy was a little upset that his sister had to leave early, but changed his tune when he learned their dad was off. She left with a smile on her face and a promise to spend time with them when she got back.

After plugging her headphones into her scroll, she played her skate mix and began her trek toward the station, fully intent on skating the whole way. The next train was scheduled to leave at 9, and she was fully intent on skating to the platform. She can make it there in close to ten minutes. Flynt would meet her at the train's second stop, where they will travel together to their destination.

Her roller blades carried her through the congested sidewalks, weaving in and out of clusters of people with ease as she skated. She didn't realize until now how much she missed doing this; just skating through the city, enjoying the sights. She didn't have much opportunity to do so up in Atlas, on account of the academy's strict rules. Not to mention the various city ordinances that prevented her from skating through the capitol's streets.

Even so, she probably wouldn't have skated either, on account of the people in Atlas. In Mantle, when she passed people while roller blading, she'd usually receive a variety of reactions. Many walked on and ignored her, too wrapped up in their own business. Some simply offered a pleasant smile and waved, which she returned with equal gusto. A few simply stared in awe at her talent with the skates, her grace and agility turning many a head. It was these looks of praise that made her feel pride in her talents.

And then there were those that regarded her with nothing but virulent hate. Every so often, there would be a few humans who'd sneer at her, mutter hateful words and slurs, or simply spit in her general direction. She was long used to those looks. When she was younger, she lived in fear of those looks, as they made her feel inferior, that she had no value in this world. If she had used roller skates in Atlas, those would have been the only looks she'd get from people, or worse. Her mom had taught her that life for Faunus will never be easy on Remnant, especially so in Solitas. When asked how she coped with such prejudice growing up, her mom told her, "Just grin and bear it. After all, nobody likes a girl who wears a silly frown."

And so she did. Every day, she'd wake up and greet the day with a smile. So long as she had her smile, the bigots will always lose. It didn't mean she had trouble keeping that smile up. It started when her mom died, which broke her dad and made him an overworked mess out of grief. With each passing year, her little brother was starting to remember less and less of their mom. The White Fang traded the picket lines for battle lines, and she and every Faunus have suffered for it. And then there were those rumors about a serial killer targeting Faunus in Mantle. And last but not least, there was the incident which led to the break-up of her team and her current predicament. Such tragedy eroded her spirit, but she soldiered on and kept on smiling.

Despite wanting nothing more than to scream and cry her heart about the cruel unfairness of the world.

She didn't want her brother and dad to worry about her. It took all of her willpower to keep herself from breaking down after everything. She knew it was unhealthy, bottling up her emotions like that. She knew that ignoring her problems was a recipe for disaster.

But she just kept smiling, even when she didn't want to.

After a few more minutes of skating, she found herself in front of the entrance to the train station. She promptly took off her skates and put her shoes on, placing her means of transportation in her pack. She then placed her headphones around her neck, so that she may be able to hear what was happening around her. She stepped forward and the automatic doors slid open for her. She entered the main lobby and frowned when she saw all of the people packed into the vast space. She strolled through the lobby, trying to find the line leading to her ride. It was at gate nine that she finally found it.

She looked up and beheld the electronic monitor above the gate. Upon a black, in green digital lettering, she read the information posted. Gate #9, Outbound Train, Destination: 53 East Street, Departure Time 9:15 AM. Total cost: 30 Lien.

She looked up the time on her Scroll. She had close to fifteen minutes before departure time.

She looked ahead and beheld a packed yet organized line of humans and Faunus, waiting for their turns to purchase tickets for the train. She took her place at the end of the line. Minutes ticked by as she advanced further down the line, with several people taking their own places behind her, lengthening the already long line. When it came time for her to buy a ticket, she approached the ticket booth and smiled.

"Hello, one ticket for train 9!" She asked with a smile.

The clerk, a young man with dead fish eyes, regarded her with an apathetic gaze, a look that was quite rare for her. It wasn't often that she found a person who loathed their job so immensely that they treat every customer indifferently. It was a slight improvement over a hateful look, in her opinion.

He asked for her name, the required amount of lien, and printed out the boarding ticket. She took her ticket, which informed her she was taking the last passenger car. She thanked him, and ascended up the stairway to the platform, where the train sat waiting.

She beheld the train and with an apprising eye. The engine was quite sleek, almost resembling an airship, and it was painted a lime green, newly polished, with a single horizontal stipe sliding along the length of the engine. The train cars themselves were equally aerodynamic, and shared the same colorization. It was a mechanical work of art. However, the name emblazoned upon the sliding doors gave her pause. Painted on the doors, in bold black lettering, was the name of company which built the vehicles.

It read, 'Hammer Railways, A subsidiary of Hammer Industries.'

Oh, no... Neon thought in worry.

She wasn't much of a gearhead, but even she was well aware of Hammer industries notoriously lackluster product quality. She recalled how her father had once bought a new car designed by the company, which broke down after six months of use. She remembered when Aunt Ashley had bought a Hammertech scroll, only for the device to short out after a few unneeded updates. These products represented the company as a whole: Unreliable, untrustworthy, and unnecessarily expensive-looking yet cheap. But Hammer Industries was the only company who's headquartered in Mantle.

Supporting said company, despite their terrible services, was one big middle finger to Atlas, a way to curb the SDC's influence in the city. Plus their products and services were cheaper than whatever the SDC released. It was Mantle's guilty pleasure.

A pleasure she'd have to indulge until she reached her destination. Despite her reluctance, Neon Katt decided to board the passenger car assigned to her. The doors slid open, granting her access to the small container.

Just as she was about to enter, she heard a woman ask from behind her, "Excuse me, dear, but could you help on?"

She turned and found the owner of the voice. It was an elderly woman, who looked to be nearing her seventies, with faded green hair that was slowly turning to grey, through which two slightly drooping dog ears protruded. Her attire, a purple blouse and black jeans, reminded her somewhat of how her grandmother used to dress. She was also hefting a rather large purse.

She smiled and took the woman's hand, "Of course, ma'am."

She helped the woman aboard and escorted her to her seat. The senior thanked her for kindness, to which Neon gave a respectful nod. Helping people like this woman was part of the reason she became a Huntress, besides honoring her mother's memory.

She looked around and saw that the car was packed with people, human and Faunus, meaning that there was little space for her to move about and that there was no other seat available to her. She took a few steps forward and took hold of the safety bars on the ceiling and promptly put her headphones, turning the volume up to its limit. If she was going to be stuck in a train car packed with people, she can at least listen to her music and not their idle chatter.

The doors closed and the Train began to move. Neon, and many of the passengers, assumed that this would be another routine ride. They thought it would be boring and completely uneventful.

If only they knew what was to come.

East Mantle

Crescent Hollow Park

9:15 AM

Whitley's heart pounded against the Arc reactor as he jogged through the park, his black-dyed hair sticking to his sweaty brow and his feet burning in his sneakers. He was also running out of breath. Today was one of those rare days in Solitas where the temperature was tolerable enough to be outside without any heavy clothing. Wanting to appreciate the somewhat warm weather, the boy dressed himself in a light blue shirt and grey shorts, his feet within a pair of white sneakers. Of course, he wore a black sweatshirt under the shirt, to hide the Arc reactor. He didn't want to frighten people with the glowing circle on his chest. Completing this ensemble were a pair of gray rimmed glasses with fake lenses, to further conceal his identity. It had been a recent addition to his wardrobe, one he felt would help.

Plus, they made him look smarter.

As for where he had decided to take his jog, he chose to stroll through Crescent Hollow, one of the few outdoor parks in Mantle. The park was roughly two miles in length and width, with freshly cut green grass and a manmade lake. And trees, which were a surprise. Apparently he can find wood in Mantle, contrary to his initial assumptions. But he was still unconvinced that vampires exist. That idea in of itself was ludicrous, even for V.I.C.

He hadn't the slightest clue how long he has been jogging. Nor did he know the time as he switched his scroll off so that he can be free to enjoy the sounds of nature.

He loved machines, but he can appreciate the untamed beauty and splendor of nature.

What he didn't appreciate was his new exercise 'buddy', Marrow, who had insisted on coming with him, as it was his mission to protect him wherever he goes. Rather than enjoying a nice, brisk jog, his new bodyguard had decided to make it a marathon. The boy knew his body was the fittest it has ever been, but as he watched the specialist running ahead of him, barely breaking a sweat, it became clear to him that Marrow was leagues above him in physicality. It wasn't surprising, given the man's occupation. But the fact that the man was running a few feet ahead of him, all while keeping a brisk pace without breaking a sweat, did inflict considerable damage to the boy's ego.

Not that he'd tell the man, considering he was also his ride back to Rhodey's.

It was only when they had reached the small dog park did the two finally stop to take a break. Marrow, whose skin had a very thin sheet of perspiration, stretched and promptly sat down on a nearby bench, all while sporting a very satisfied smile. The man loved a good workout.

Whitley, on the other hand, slouched as he stood next to the bench, hands on his knees, panting and sweating like a pig. It baffled the young man that he was even feeling this exhausted. When he had wandered the Atreides desert, he had been able to walk an entire day before the moon was even over the horizon. There had to be a reason why he was feeling so exhausted. He'll have to run some tests later at the Forge.

"Are you alright, Mr. Schnee?" He heard Marrow ask him.

He raised his head to look at his bodyguard and replied, "Yeah, I'm just fine, it's not like my heart is trying to kill me."

Whitley did not miss the irony in his words. Marrow, oblivious to the boy's condition, did not and laughed, "Heh-heh-heh, don't worry, Sir, you'll get used to it. Consider this lesson one on living an active life: No pain, no gain."

I learned that lesson months ago. With all the pain I've gone through, I'm surprised I'm not godsdamned Wonder Man. Whitley sardonically thought, fighting the urge to glare at the specialist for his unknowingly insensitive words.

Marrow chuckled and joked, "Ha-ha, of course, if you're in pain, then I'm not doing my job right. Why don't you sit down, have some water and just relax. We don't get weather like this often, so why not enjoy while it lasts?"

The specialist reached into his fanny pack and pulled out a bottle of water, measuring at 330 milliliters. He held the bottle out to his young charge, who greedily eyed the bottle like it was a piece of meat. Whitley took the offered bottle and sat down on the bench. He opened the bottle and promptly drank from it, downing the water in one go. After swallowing the last of it, the boy exhaled and exclaimed, "Ahh... now that hit the spot."

Marrow quirked an eyebrow at the boy's action and asked, "Not exactly used to this sort of thing, are you?

"Hey, I've only started exercising months ago. Even then, I'm used to running shorter distances, not a marathon." Whitley retorted, leaving out the part that he usually jogged in place. "Speaking of, if I didn't know you were a huntsman, I would've thought you were some sportlympic track star. We ran like 3 laps around this entire park, and you barely broke a sweat; what's your secret?"

Marrow puffed his chest out, and in a jokingly serious tone, replied, "Discipline, mental fortitude, and years of physical conditioning... not to mention my own personal water supply."

From his fanny pack, the specialist pulled out a metal flask, considerably bigger than Whitley's water bottle, and took a quick swig from it. Whitley gave the man an insulted frown, wondering why he got the itty-bitty bottle rather than the flask. Marrow noticed the frown and innocently asked the boy, "What?"

"You give me this little bottle... and you get a flask?" Whitley questioned him with an accusing tone.

Shooting the boy an offended stare, the specialist quickly replied, "Hey, this isn't just a flask. I'll have you know this was my Great-Grandfather's lucky flask, passed through the Amin line for generations!"

The young man raised a skeptical eyebrow and commented, "A metal container as a good luck charm? Sorry, but I don't believe in such nonsense."

Marrow simply replied with a confident smirk and said, "Oh, yeah? Well, do you see this little dent here?"

He pointed to the dent in question, which was barely the size of a thumb. Whitley stared at it and asked, "What's so special about a dent?"

"This dent was made by a bullet that was fired at my great-grandpa, back when he was a foot soldier during the Great War. It was aimed right at his heart, and this flask protected him." The specialist explained with pride. "Plus, he had it with him when he proposed to great-grandma Agnes."

Whitley blinked in surprise, "Huh. Okay, I admit, that is an impressive story. But I still don't believe in luck... I do however believe I've been cheated. Seriously, your fanny pack has enough room for two 1 liter bottles, and you brought a flask and this tiny bottle?"

Marrow chuckled, "Heh-heh, and in comes lesson number two, Schnee, on how to live an active life: Always bring your own water."

At the comment, Whitley groaned. Of the three bodyguards to escort him at this moment, he just had to be stuck with this dork. Marrow was nice and all, and made for pleasant company, but the man was such a colossal dork that it was hard to imagine him as a specialist. And said dork thought he was hilarious.

With a huff, the boy rose from the bench and tossed the empty plastic bottle into a nearby recycling bin. He may be irritated, but he wasn't going to take his frustration out on the planet. He looked to his jogging partner and said, "We still have one more lap to finish. Are you going to sit there, or am I going to jog alone?"

Marrow deposited his flask back into his fanny pack. He then replied, "Wouldn't be doing my job right if I'd let you."

The specialist rose and stretched, ready to finish the lap. He broke into a rush, calling out as he ran past the young Schnee, "Try to keep up, rich boy."

Not one to leave a challenge unanswered, Whitley ran as well, making sure to keep his pace to match his bodyguard.

Greenfield Train Station

9:35 AM

Flynt stood patiently on the platform as he waited for the train. He was dressed in neatly pressed blue jeans and a grey buttoned-up shirt, with his feet in black sneakers trimmed with silver. His trademark glasses and fedora completed the ensemble. Resting next to his feet was an instrument case containing his weapon. Though the people standing next to him assumed he was some musician, all under the impression that he was heading somewhere to perform. Some had tried to ask him to play a little tune before the train arrived, but he denied their requests. When they proved persistent, he flashed them his Atlas Academy student ID, which silenced any further requests.

He looked to his right, past the growing sea of people around him, toward the elevated railroad tracks that stretched through the city. The train was due to arrive any moment now. Neon had no doubt already boarded the train. He knew she can be slightly energetic and ditzy, but she's never let him down as a partner.

The same can't be said for me. The young man thought in shame. No, focus, Flynt! The mission comes first! Stew in your self-misery on your own time!

The sound of metal wheels rolling on metal tracks roused him from his thoughts. He looked over and saw the train engine approaching, pulling along a line of cars attached to one another. He picked up his briefcase and waited for the train to come to a complete stop. He heard as the station attendant's voice warned over the intercom to stay behind the yellow line. He obeyed and stood quietly as the train slowed, its wheels loudly grinding on the rails. He waited as the outgoing passengers disembarked onto the adjacent platform, followed by the doors on his side sliding open. He entered the car along with a dozen other people and took a seat next to a window, his case sitting right next to him.

He looked around the cabin, but found no trace of his partner. He surmised that she was in another car. He'll meet her at their destination, which was a twenty-five minute ride away. He leaned back into his chair, turned on his scroll, and texted her. It was through their conversation that he learned they were on the same train, just as planned. Satisfied, he placed his scroll into his pocket.

The train started moving again, sending a violent jolt though him and the other passengers as it started up. Knowing there was nothing better to do, Flynt decided to take a nap. It was probably the most peace and quiet he was going to get today. The minutes passed by as the train moved along, with the young man trying to enjoy the ride for as long as he was able. When he was alerted by the alarm on his scroll, he knew it was nearing time to disembark. He straightened his back, sat upright, and gazed at the window. Through the glass, he saw his stop in the distance, steadily growing larger as the train got closer. In anticipation, he gripped the handle on his case and prepared to exit the train.

To his surprise, it was not to happen, as the train sped right past the station, not even slowing down as it rolled through the platform. Through the window, he caught glimpses of frightened and panicking people as they jumped back away from the tracks.

The sudden vibration in his pocket shook him from his shock. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his scroll. On the screen, he saw a text from Neon, which perfectly summed up his their current predicament.

[Neon: WTF JUST HAPPENED!]

As if the universe was listening, a frightened passenger gave the answer to her question, crying out in terror, "RUNAWAY TRAIN!"

The sudden declaration sent the other passengers into a panicked frenzy, as the full gravity of the situation crashed in on them. Some fainted, others screamed and cried, and others began calling loved ones to say goodbye. Flynt, despite his fear, kept a calm demeanor as chaos reigned in the cabin. He dialed a number on his scroll and raised the device to his ear.

The call went through as an operator replied, "Mantle PD emergency hotline. Please state your emergency."

Flynt breathed and reported the situation to her. When he was finished, the responder thanked him for his call, reassured him that all would be well, and proceeded to end the call, promising to call the proper authorities immediately. He should feel relieved, but in truth, he didn't. He hoped calling in the emergency will save his life and those of his fellow endangered passengers. But in the likelihood it won't...

He dialed his mother's number. He had more calls to make.

More goodbyes to say.

9:37 AM

Whitley was surprised to find out that there was a concession stand in the park, near one of the entrances, one that served water. He was quick in snatching up a bottle, his thirst so severe that he actually told the clerk to keep the change from his offered lien. The boy downed the contents of the plastic container in one gulp, a feat that only his mother had any chance of replicating, as loathe as he was to admit it. Marrow was just wondering just how the young man was able to drink all that water like that.

"Okay, I knew you needed water, but I didn't know you needed it that badly." The Faunus specialist remarked, somewhat disturbed by his charge's greedy consumption of the liquid.

Whitley tossed the empty bottle into a recycling bin and exhaled. He looked to Marrow and said, "Yeah, well, not all of us have a magic flask with us."

Marrow scrunched his eyebrows and indignantly replied, "Lucky flask. Not magic, lucky."

The young genius shrugged, "Whatever. It's your thing, not mine."

The specialist rolled his eyes and spoke, "Yeah, yeah, yeah- Anyway, let's get going. Ms. Katt and Mr. Coal are probably at Mr. Rhode's apartment by now. Can't keep them waiting for too long, you know?"

"Agreed," The boy acknowledged and then asked, "Why do you keep referring to them as 'Miss' and 'Mister', anyway? Wouldn't it be easier just to call them by their first names?"

The older man blinked in confusion and said, "What's wrong with how I address them? I was told that teenagers respect you more if your do the same for them and treat them like adults."

"Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but we don't." Whitley told the man, "To be honest, we do appreciate the gesture, but the way you're doing it kind of comes across as... condescending, for lack of a better word. I thought you'd know this, since you're not that older than us."

Marrow balked at the suggestion, "Condescending? Just how exactly am I coming across as condescending towards my subordinates?"

The Schnee explained at length, "Well, you just called them subordinates, not partners, so there's the first indicator. Secondly, whenever they made a suggestion, you'd shot it down, stating and I quote, 'I know this city better than you', despite being from said city too. Thirdly, you admonish them for their choices in clothing, when I've seen you walk around the apartment in adult-sized footie pajamas."

"Hey, those pajamas are practical and easy to remove!" Marrow squawked in offense. There was nothing wrong with his pajamas. Plus, they were a gift from his grandma. He immediately went on the defense and countered the boy's accusations, "And how I lead my team is none of your concern. We're on the general's payroll, not yours or your father's, so you don't have any say in how we protect you. They're only kids, and they need an adult like me to guide them."

The boy raised an eyebrow and skeptically asked, "An adult who still wears footie pajamas?"

The specialist irritably snapped, "Not the point!"

"No, I got the point. I'm wondering if you do."

The two stared at one another in tense silence. For a good long minute, neither budged from where they stood as they engaged in a silent argument. Whitley was convinced that Marrow should lay off his teammates, despite the fact that he knew next to nothing about them. Marrow was under the belief that his young charge was questioning his authority as his bodyguard, as well as undermining his efforts at leading his younger teammates. They were so wrapped up in their contest of willpower that they failed to notice the people walking around them, with some taking a moment to stare at the strange boys staring intensely at each other.

That was until one very brave child tugged at Marrow's shorts, which drew his attention away from the Schnee. The specialist looked down and regarded the child, "Is there a problem, kid?"

The child immediately replied, "You're holding up the line."

The older man blinked and looked behind. True to what the child said, a very sizeable line of people had formed behind him and Whitley. These people happened to be sending him and the boy very pointed and hateful glares, as their collective patience was doubtlessly wearing thin. It was then that he realized that they hadn't moved away from the concession stand. The stand's vendor was giving them a rather heated look as well, no doubt cursing the two for holding up the line and costing him precious money.

"Heh-heh-heh-Oooh..." Marrow chuckled nervously. He addressed the crowd, "Sorry for holding up the line. We're leaving now."

He promptly walked away, with a smirking Whitley following close behind. As the two acquaintances moved further away from the irate park goers, the young genius thought it prudent to say. "I win."

Marrow asked, "Won what? We weren't even arguing or anything."

Still wanting to get the last word in, the specialist said, "Also, going back to the topic of apparel, at least I'm not wearing fake glasses. What, you think they make you look smarter than you already think you are?"

Before Whitley could give a retort, they heard a shrill scream from behind them, right at the concession stand. They promptly turned tail and ran back toward the stand to investigate. When they arrived, they noticed that all the customers have crowded around the stand, pushing and shoving around each other to get a better glimpse of something. From the few glimpses he could get, the object of interest was a small portable television, which was showing a news program.

He approached one of the viewers and asked, "What's going on?"

"The news just reported there's a runaway train!" They cried out in alarm.

Before he can inquire further, Marrow felt his scroll vibrate in his pocket. He pulled his scroll out and answered the call, "Hello, who- Mr. Coal? Wait, where are you? Why do I hear people screaming? Wait, you're where? Oh, gods, looks, just stay calm and try to help whoever you can. I'm sure there are people working to save you all, just be pat- Mr. Coal! Mr. Coal, are you still there? Flynt, give me an answer!"

The line went out. The Faunus pocketed his scroll, and scrunched his face in worry. Coal was on the runaway train and if his suspicions were correct, so was Katt. The thought of his two young underclassmen being trapped on that train sent a spike of fear through his spine. He knew they have aura, but he doubted it can fully protect them when they're trapped in what is essentially a convoy of a thousand pound metal death traps on wheels. Even if they did survive, they'd no doubt be scarred or disabled for the rest of their lives, all while trying to cope with the trauma of witnessing the deaths of so many people.

That, unfortunately, was the best case scenario, as loathe as he was to admit it. The very worst case was that the amount of negative emotions being generated by this crisis will draw the Grimm into the city. Even if Coal and Katt survived, he doubted whatever was left of their Auras would be enough to protect themselves or any other survivors from the monsters.

He can't imagine how things can get any worse.

His scroll buzzed again, which jolted him from his anxiety-driven train of thought. He answered the call and spoke, "Hello."

"Marrow, it's me, its gran."

He blinked in surprise, why would his grandmother be calling him at a time like this. He replied, "Gran, if you're asking me to visit, well, it's kinda of a bad time to-"

"I'm on the train, baby. I'm on the runaway train..." Marrow's blood ran cold as he listened to his grandmother's weeping. The grip on his scroll loosened as he fought to keep himself from breaking down. He kept the scroll to his ear with a shaking grip and said with anguished tears, "Gran, I-I-I want you to know everything's g-g-going to be a-alright. The police, the military, the hunters are g-g-g-gonna save you and everyone on that train..."

He choked on his words as he tried to fight back the tears. His grandmother heard his cries and spoke soothingly, "It's going to be fine, baby. Everything's going to be fine. I don't know how much time I've got left before, you know... So, please, listen to your gran when's speaking to you."

"Yes...?" He asked hesitantly, still desperately trying to hold back the tears.

"Marrow, promise me that you'll stay who you are. Please, always be that brave little boy trying to help people... and, please, please, make peace with your little brother. Promise me you'll talk to him again. You're all he's gonna have left in the world."

"I..." He hesitated. Wiping away some tears, he spoke in a clear and resolute tone, "I promise. I promise I'll look after Hyde... I love you, Gran."

"I love you, too, my little pup. I love you so much!"

The call ended, leaving the specialist alone with his thoughts. His grandmother was on that train. His elderly, aura-less grandmother, who was literally the only family he had left who still cared about him, was going to die with who knows how many people on a train doomed to crash. He didn't know what to do. For the first time in his career, he hadn't the slightest idea what to do. Right now, he wasn't Marrow Amin, badass Ace-Ops Specialist; he was just a frightened young man fearing for his grandmother's life.

He turned on his heel, numb from the pain of imminent loss. That grief immediately mixed with confusion when he noticed something odd. Whitley Schnee, who had been standing inches away from him, was nowhere to be seen. He looked to his left and then his right, searching in vain for the Schnee, but found no trace of the boy.

Marrow panicked and immediately ran off to search for the young man.

But unbeknownst to him, the Schnee was closer than he believed.

The instant he heard about the runaway train, Whitley knew exactly what he needed to do. While Marrow was distracted by the crowd of worried people, he ran straight through the park entrance and across the street into a nearby alleyway. As he jogged through the trash-filled and grime infested alley, he pulled out his scroll, switched it on, and dialed a secure number.

As soon as the call went through, he asked over the phone, "V.I.C.?"

The AI immediately replied in an uncharacteristically serious tone, "Boss, if this is about the runaway train; just send the word and I'll be there to get you."

"Send the armor now! I'm looking for a place to suit up right now, so trace my scroll to find me!" The young man ordered as he quickly turned a corner.

The AI acknowledged the command and ended the call. For the next minute, he sought out a location bereft of witnesses and security equipment, so that he can don the armor without any issue. After crisscrossing different alley corners, he found himself next to an abandoned apartment building with nary a camera or witness to be found. He stood silently as he waited for the armor's arrival. Soon, he heard the roar of repulsor technology thundering in the distance.

The armor landed before him, the metallic heels of its armored boots grinding on the pavement as it did. The metal plating peeled back, revealing the skeletal frame within, which firmly locked into place around the boy's body as he entered the armor. The boy shivered as the cold metal braces pressed against his exposed skin. He really shouldn't have been wearing his exercise clothes for this. Finally, the metal plating slid back into place, interlocking together into the outer shell protecting its wearer. Cerulean-hued optics flared to life, the armor now fully active.

From within the armor, Whitley quickly asked, "Display Arc Reactor power readings."

The armor's operating system did a quick analysis and declared in its mechanized voice, "Arc Reactor output at 30%. Warning: Should recommended limits be exceeded, armor will cease all non-essential functions to conserve energy, save for flight capabilities."

"Well, that doesn't sound good. Oh, wait, I know it's not good." V.I.C. remarked as the OS finished its report.

"So I'll try not to do anything unnecessary." Whitley told his creation.

Without another word, the vigilante straightened his posture and clicked his heels together, his palms facing downward. He fired up the repulsors and lifted himself up from the ground, hovering over it by only a foot. Now in the air, he turned up the power on the boots and gauntlets, and shot upward like a missile, rising high above the city. He corrected his course and flew off in the direction of the runaway train.

Iron Man had taken flight.

She eyed the scroll in her hands with a regretful gaze. Upon the screen was a small text box containing the last words she'll ever give her little brother. She dreaded what life held in store for him, should she meet her maker. It had been rough after their mom died, and it was likely going to get tougher after she's gone. But he was a tough kid; she knew he'll pull through.

Her dad, on the other hand, was another story. He near worked himself to death after losing his wife. She can't imagine what losing his oldest child will do to him. He wasn't prepared to bury his own children.

But she was more than ready to face death. When she decided she wanted to be a Huntress, like her mom, she knew that it was going to be a short life. Spending her life fighting the creatures of Grimm did not guarantee she'd live past the age of thirty (A statistic that she had found out was the average in Vacuo). But she made peace with the fact that she won't live a long life. The thought of imminent death did not scare her in the slightest.

It was unnerving, in Neon's opinion, just how quickly her fellow passengers had accepted the reality of their situation. When it had become clear that not only was the train not going to stop, but also speeding up, they immediately drove themselves into a panic, crying out in terror, praying for their safety, and calling their loved ones to say goodbye. It was only when they realized their their negative emotions were going to doom said loved ones did they calm themselves, coming to terms with their imminent deaths. They may be doomed to die, but they were not going to let their emotions doom those they loved to a Grimm incursion. It was their sacrifice to make.

A sacrifice that she can't take part in, not that she'd wanted to. But she had Aura, and they didn't. But even then that probably wouldn't be enough should there be an attack by the Grimm. She was doomed anyway.

The girl slowly walked through the metal cabin, bypassing people, railing, and seats toward the glass panels that served as the train car's windows. She needed to know where exactly in the city they were, so that she can call the proper authorities to prepare for the inevitable. But just as she reached a nearby window pane, she noticed the elderly woman from before sitting right next to it, sniffling and wiping her tears away with a handkerchief. The comparison brought out a small pang of sympathy in her soul.

She knelt beside the woman and asked, "Is there something wrong, Ma'am... I mean, aside from the obvious?"

The woman looked at her with tear stained eyes and said, "I just finished talking to my youngest grandbaby. I'm sorry if my sobbing's bothering you."

She snorted, "It's a shame, really. I've lived long enough. I shouldn't be scared of dying, but here I am, bawling my eyes out like a babe."

"Did he say something that upset you?" Neon asked.

"I only told him to make peace with his brother." She answered. She then frowned, "Apparently, not even his dying granny can make him do that. He said 'I'll try"... We both know he won't."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Neon told her. She can't imagine living her whole life hating her little brother.

The woman continued sobbing, which broke Neon's heart. This woman reminded her so much of her grandmother that it hurt. Chloe Katt died surrounded by her closest friends and family, but this poor woman was going to die alone on a runaway train, her grandchildren miles away from her.

No, she won't be alone. She thought, knowing just what she had to do.

She promptly rested her behind on the bench, sitting next to the old woman, who was surprised by the sudden action. Neon looked at her and asked, "If you'd like, I can stay here with you. If we're gonna die, at least we won't be alone."

The woman smiled, "Thank you, dear. My name's Celia."

Neon gave the woman her name.

And so Neon Katt decided to spend what little time she had left on this world comforting a lonely old woman. As she consoled the weeping woman, she took a glance at the window, watching as building after building passed by her at an ever increasing speed. It appeared that train had entered an overpass bridge. Honestly, she never imagined that this would be the very last thing she'd ever see.

Suddenly and without warning, something shiny and bright zipped past the window, surprising the girl. She knew it wasn't a Manta or a bullhead, as the unidentified object was far smaller than those. Whatever it was that she saw, it didn't move with the scenery, but against it. And it was fast, maybe even faster than the train.

Flying faster than he had thought possible for the armor, Iron Man flew beside the speeding train, his optics scanning each and every train car to determine the number of passengers within each. Imagine his surprise, when he passed the third to last car and found that Neon Katt was among the imperiled passengers. He flew on and eventually caught up to the car behind the engine. He gazed inside and saw the passengers within. Among the passengers was Flynt Coal. Both of his bodyguards were in danger and he, the one they're guarding, was trying to save their lives. What a cruel irony.

"V, get me the blueprints for this train model, as well as today's train schedule." He asked the AI.

The usually chatty AI complied immediately and scoured across every known database on the web. More than a second later, the screen was littered with the desired files, which the hero promptly perused. After setting the suit into flight control, he began speed reading through the files.

Okay, let's see. Hammer Railways SUX-D84. Hammertech, huh, that explains it; Released for public use three months ago, with no reported problems since; High safety ratings. Okay, maybe Hammer's not a total hack after all. He thought as he analyzed the blueprints.

Suddenly, the screen flashed a red warning light. He ordered the blueprints to be minimized, so that he can see what the armor's sensors were warning him about. His eyes shot wide open when he saw the obstruction in his way.

He was fast approaching a pedestrian overpass!

The pedestrians on the bridge saw the armored vigilante hurtling right toward them and promptly ran for their lives. Iron Man, with little time to spare, steered his body downward to avoid the bridge.

SSSHHHRRRK!

He wasn't quick enough, as he flew under the bridge, right into a gap between two support beams. They were barely wide enough away from each other to allow him safe passage. He winced as the armor scraped against the beams, the scraping sounding like a Beowolves' claws scratching a chalkboard. But he maintained his course and flew right out, rising back to prior altitude.

The Armor's OS reported in its clinically calm voice, "Armor Integrity at 95%."

The same can't be said for my ears. The vigilante irritably thought as the scraping was still fresh in his mind.

Now aware he can't read while flying, the young man called up his AI. "V.I.C., take over, I need find a way to save the people this train!"

"Got it, Boss," The AI cried out as he took control of the armor's flight systems.

With the AI now behind the proverbial wheel, Iron Man brought up the schematics once more.

Okay, there has to be something I can use. Think-think-think! He thought, struggling to think of a plan.

He checked the schematics again, looking for any kind of design feature that might aid him in saving the people onboard. His mind went through various scenarios, trying to find the optimal solution. He knew the train had an emergency brake, as most do, but it obviously hadn't work, considering the train's current situation. And he knew that stopping the train was a no-go, as the armor lacked the sufficient energy to force it to stop. There was also the chance that the armor wasn't strong enough to withstand the force of a speeding train, and he preferred not being a metallic and bloody pancake on the tracks. There was also the extremely high likelihood such a sudden stop would derail the train, killing everyone in the cars and anybody unlucky enough to be walking under the overpass. He had to think outside of the box.

But he needed more time to think outside of it.

Maybe I can make some! He realized.

"V, pull up the schedule!" He ordered the AI.

Within a fraction of a second, the AI displayed the schedule as ordered. The young man's eyes quickly roamed over the superimposed image, going over every train line and their scheduled times of arrival and departure. When he got to the line that this particular train belonged to, he noticed something odd. At some point after 10:05 AM, the train was to be delayed for about thirty minutes. He ordered the AI to retrieve information on the line's route for today.

The AI complied and displayed the requested information. The vigilante quickly assessed the route. When he found what he was looking for, he was surprised to say the least. One of the stops was at Hammer Industries, which had a station platform used by the company. It also happened to be the stop which prompted the delay.

Now isn't that something; A runaway Hammertech train on the exact same line that leads to Hammer Industries? He wondered curiously. Okay, this is suspicious.

"V, has there been any recent announcements by Hammer Industries regarding the Metro line?" He inquired of his creation.

The AI quickly answered, "Actually, yes. They announced two days ago that they were transporting an experimental Dust container to a research facility on the other side of the city. They're using a company train to transport it."

"Runaway Hammer train, heading toward the Company's headquarters, where they're sending out an experimental container possibly filled with volatile Dust?" The vigilante thought aloud. And then realization dawned on him, "This is no random incident! Someone deliberately sabotaged the train's controls, turning it into a missile aimed right at Hammer's container! The resulting collision will cause a chain reaction that will see hundreds of people killed, and Hammer will be held responsible, as his company manufactured the 'malfunctioning' train."

"You got all that from just a few pieces of information?" V.I.C. asked.

Despite the tense situation, his creator unsurely replied, "It's really more of a theory. But that doesn't erase the fact that people are in danger!"

"That's right!" The AI cried, "So, do you have a plan yet?"

Iron Man had not known that. Out of all the things he built into this state-of-the-art armor, he had neglected to include a clock. There hadn't been room for one, unfortunately.

"Not yet," Iron Man replied, "But I think I know how to get us more time!"

Before he could ask, The AI was cut off by his creator, "The trains nearing a junction, one that has a switch. We're gonna fly up ahead of the train and pull the switch, which should make the train switch tracks."

The AI cried out in joy, "Better than nothing! Just give the word and I'll hand flight controls back to you!"

"Do it now."

With just those three words, full control of the armor was returned to its wearer. Not wanting to waste any more time, he sped up, his thrusters carrying him further ahead of the speeding train.

"Wait... Where the hell is the he going?!" Flynt heard one of the other passengers ask in worry.

The frightened passenger was not alone in expressing his panicked confusion, as the others expressed their thoughts loudly with desperate cries for help and pleas for him to return. Some outright chose to curse the mysterious metal man's name, in spite of the fact they didn't know if he actually had one. Flynt shared in their frustration, but he was far more subdued with his emotions, opting to send a rather heated glare at the flying man speeding ahead of them. But still, a small part of him was amazed.

The Iron Man was real. That video wasn't some elaborate hoax, it was all real. The newest vigilante to appear was real, and he can fly too, apparently.

And he was flying away from them, the people who needed help. So much for him being a hero.

After several seconds of searching, Iron Man had finally found what he was looking for. He landed next to the lever that served as the switch control. He flexed his armored arms and grabbed hold of the lever with a tight and fierce grip. With barely any effort, he pulled the lever from its original position. His efforts were rewarded with the satisfying sounds of clanking gears and scraping metal. The track was switching over. Never has he been more thankful for Mantle's mostly antiquated infrastructure.

He looked to his side to see the switched track; only to freeze in shock at what he saw.

The track's switch blade was stuck! It had barely moved a few inches before it stopped!

Damn you, antiquated infrastructure! The vigilante cursed mentally.

That's when he picked up the vibrations on the tracks. He looked to his left and beheld the runaway train barreling right toward him. If the switch blade didn't fully move, the train was definitely going to derail!

The vigilante frantically cried out, "Armor, display Arc Reactor readings!"

The OS promptly displayed the requested data. The armored teenager let out a hushed, "Shit!"

24% power output! He seethed in rage. This really wasn't his day.

He knew what had to be done. He knew that the armor's operating system had advised against such actions, but the lives of everybody on board that train hinged on what he was about to do. He jumped to the other side of the track and knelt beside the blade switch, gripping the closure rail with both of his hands. Using all of his enhanced strength, the vigilante pushed the blade. The rail began to move, slowly but surely, to its desired destination. He pushed on, despite the waning power in the reactor, and soon the desired outcome came about.

The track had fully switched!

He jumped to his feet, pumped his arms, and gleefully shouted, "Hell yeah!"

And then the train engine hit him.

Neon felt a sudden jolt in the metal cabin, one that was noticed by everyone within. She looked to the window and saw that the train was moving away from its original route. Someone had switched the rails. But she couldn't help but shake the feeling that the short rocking of the car wasn't caused by the switch.

Just what could have caused it?

"Oooowwww..." Iron Man groaned in pain.

He knew what had happened to him. Right as he was cheering the successful track switch, the train engine slammed right into him. Now here he was, his armored body pressed into the train like a handprint in cement. On one hand, he was glad that he survived. But on the other, he had one hell of a headache. He tried to move, only to wince as jolt of pain shot through his right leg. It felt like someone had stuck a knife into his leg.

Fearing the worst, he ordered the armor's onboard computer to give him a read out on the armor.

A computerized voice reported, "Armor integrity now at 67%. Arc Reactor Output now at 20%"

He let out a relived grunt upon hearing that.

"Warning: Ruptured plating in the right leg; detecting shard bent inward, possibly cut right knee; twisted ankle, probable."

Okay, so the armor was mostly still in one piece. And just his luck, a piece of it had cut his knee, and he probably had a sprained ankle, meaning he now likely had a limp in his right leg. It made him wonder what was happening to his body, as the Arc Reactor's energy was supposed to have made his body more durable. He did find solace in the fact that his little feat of strength hadn't wasted much of the reactor's energy. He was going to need it to save everyone. He bit down on his cheeks as he peeled himself from the metal body of the engine, pain shooting up his right leg as he did so. Despite the pain, he soldiered on, before he finally freed himself from the imprint he had made in the train engine's nose. He fired his thrusters and shot upward, away from the train. He corrected his stance, hovering high in the air, and observed the train as it moved along its new route.

"V, where does this track lead to?" He asked the AI.

The AI quickly and urgently responded, "Nowhere!"

"What?"

"It's an unfinished track. It leads to nowhere and in about ten minutes, that train is gonna dive right into a busy street!"

The vigilante cursed his rotten luck, "Shit!"

He fired up the thrusters and propelled himself forward, shooting off like a bullet. His armor slightly damaged, the armored genius heard the wind whistle as it passed through the small openings in the armor. He'll have to patch them up later. But the train took precedence over everything. As he flew beside the speeding train, he gazed through the windows and saw the frightened looks of the people within. These people were going to die if he didn't do something. As he passed the last passenger car in the line, he took notice of the gangway connector which allowed passage between each car.

Below the connector was a magnetic clamp, one that joined with an adjacent one to connect the cars together. That's when it him. He didn't need to stop the train; he only needed to disconnect the cars. He remembered from the schematics that V.I.C. had obtained that the magnetic clamps had a built-in safety feature. Should the clamps come undone, the car will be automatically released and initiate its own individual emergency brake. But these clamps were tightly locked together, meaning that he had no but to fire a concentrated repulsor blast at them!

He quickly ordered with a steeled resolve, "Concentrate repulsor ray output to 100%! Magnify lenses for precision blast!"

The whirring of focusing lenses on his palms showed that the request went through. Stabilizing his flight, he aimed his repulsor at the magnetic clamp connecting the cars. The passengers saw this and immediately panicked, thinking the metal man was going to blow them up. He knew their fear was warranted, he would've felt the same in their position. Their fear wasn't going to last long, though.

He flexed his armored fingers and thrusted his palm outward, aiming right at the clamps. He fired a thin but powerful beam of repulsor energy. His aim proved true as the blue pulsating bolt shot right through circuit board of one of the magnetic clamps, drilling its way in and out, leaving a searing hot hole. The circuitry controlling the clamps sparked and fizzled, before finally dying with a sputter, causing the magnets to lose their power. The clamps detached from one another, which was soon followed by the gangway connector detaching from the adjacent car. The car pulled away from the rest of the train, steadily slowing down before it came to an abrupt halt.

Iron Man grinned behind his mask; One down, 8 more to go.

He vowed that once he stopped the engine, he will return and check on the passengers within the car, as well as the rest. He continued on toward the next car, and repeated his previous action. Like clockwork, Iron Man flew beside each car, blasting the clamps and making sure the metal cabins stopped. After close to two minutes of repetitive blasting, he finally reached the first passenger. He looked inside and saw the people within, among whose numbers included Flynt Coal. Now aware that the armored vigilante was there to save them, the passengers regarded the flying metal man not with fear and terror, but with hope and adulation. They were all packed together against the left side of the car, with some pressing their faces against the glass window panes and others shoving their scrolls against them.

The vigilante gave them a quick salute before speeding up. He corrected his posture and maintained his speed, settling into a position that gave him the best view of the metal clamps. He fired a blast, getting the same desired result as before. The car's clamp detached itself from the engine, freeing the passenger car, which steadily grinded to a halt. Iron Man smiled, glad that he had been able to save everyone.

"All right, passengers are safe... Now it's time to take care of the engine!" He flew after the still speeding engine, its speed having accelerated without the passenger's car weighing it down.

The armored vigilante steered himself toward the front of the runaway vehicle, to get a glimpse of the train driver's cab. He focused the helmet's camera in on the cab, and looked through the glass windshield to get a look at its interior. Inside, he could see the control panel, which the driver should be manning. While that was cause for concern, he saw something jutting the out of the console. Initially, he assumed it was a lever of some kind, until he made out the sharp serrated edges of a blade. It seemed that the saboteur has left a calling card. He moved his eyes away from the console to find the lever that served as the dead man's switch, only to find that it had been ripped from its spot. The saboteur had been quite thorough.

But then he found the driver. To his horror, he saw that the man had been bound to his chair. An extension cord, likely taken from the emergency repair kit, was wrapped around his waist, restraining him to his chair. He had been blindfolded and his mouth was stuffed with what seemed to be a dirty rag. Iron Man seethed in rage, as memories of Vryolak's prisoners burning in their cells flashed through his mind.

Not again... He thought resolutely. This time... EVERYBODY lives!

The vigilante, using the enhanced strength granted by the suit, gripped the starboard side of the engine, the metal paneling crumpling like tissue paper in his grip. He looked to his right and saw the train engine's door, which had two bright red elongated safety bars lining the doorway. His destination in sight, he climbed along the side of the engine in order to reach it.

As he edged closer to the door, he asked the armor's OS, "Arc Reactor readings now!"

The computerized voice replied, "Output at 16%."

"Boss, you've gotta stop!" V.I.C. pleaded his creator, "You're gonna get yourself killed!"

The young man ignored the AI and continued on his way toward the door. Upon reaching it, he dug his left hand into the train's metal body, anchoring him to the runaway locomotive. To his relief, he saw that the door had a metal handle rather than some kind of electronic lock. Left without any options, the armored youth extended his right arm out and gripped the safety bar next to him. He pulled on the metal bar, which let out a screeching whine, trying to pry it off of the metal siding. The bar was soon ripped off and immediately discarded to the streets below. He made sure that it did not hit any cars or pedestrians below.

Without the safety bar impeding him, he was now free to slide toward the door. He gripped the door handle and pulled. He knew it was locked, but that meant nothing when one had a strength-enhancing power suit. Like with the safety bar, he pulled with all of his might. Within seconds, the door was pried open, granting him entrance into the cab. He freed his left hand from its position, and gripped the open doorway with his right way. He pulled himself inside, landing on the floor in a kneeling position. He winced from the pain that shot up his right leg, but he pushed through it.

He rose and looked to the open doorway. The fierce winds forced themselves into the opened cab, blowing through the small space with an audible shriek. So fierce was this gale that it blew the hat off of the driver, which flew out the open doorway. Iron Man promptly pulled the door back in, ending the wind's fierce assault. He was lucky the door hadn't been blown off. He approached the incapacitated driver.

The man had heard his entrance and was now a panicking mess, no doubt thinking that he was a Grimm that had somehow forced its way in. The armored vigilante pinched the cloth gagging the man's mouth and pulled it down. The driver let out a relieved gasp, now aware that the presence was a person and not a Grimm. Those creatures wouldn't have bothered to remove the cloth.

Iron Man did not remove the man's blindfold, opting to keep his eyes hidden, so as to protect his identity. This man was frightened, and the last thing he needed to see was a metal man staring at him with glowing viridian optics. The young man was also aware that his modulated voice might send the man into a panic. He ordered the face plate to retract, which it immediately did, once more revealing the face of a disguised Whitley Schnee to the world.

Whitley asked the man, "What happened here?"

The inconsolable man let out a series of incoherent babbling as he tried to calm himself.

The Schnee was undeterred and tried to assure the man he was not in danger, saying, "Just calm down, you're safe now. Can you tell me your name?"

The man nodded, "I-It's Dennis."

"Dennis," The vigilante began with a firm voice, "I need to know what happened here. Do you remember what happened?"

"Yeah, I do," The driver named Dennis replied, "I was sitting here at my station when this guy walked in, wearing a co-driver's uniform. Real plain looking guy, too; said he was my new co-driver. He had the papers and everything. But when we arrived at the platform on 83rd Street, he knocked me out. When I came to, I was tied up, blind, with a damn rag around my mouth!"

"That man sabotaged the train; disabled the engine's emergency brakes and destroyed the control console. He even broke the dead man's switch off." Whitley told him. Before the man could panic, the young man added, "Don't worry, the passengers are safe. Their cars have been disconnected. I'm going to get you out of here."

Dennis cried in alarm, "And how are you going to do that?! How are going to get out of a runaway train?!"

"Don't worry about that that. I'll get you out of here, you can count on it." The Schnee replied. "Just wait a few more seconds, there's something I need to do."

The driver inquired, "What are you doing?"

The armored youth replied, "Gathering evidence."

His faceplate slid back into place as he stood up. He stepped up to the control console and looked at the knife stabbed into its lacquered wooden panel. He leaned in closer for a closer look, so as to examine the weapon. The handle of the blade was garbed in thin black leather, held in place by golden ringlets that encircled it, no doubt intended to decrease friction against the hand. The blade itself was plunged deep into the wooden panel, making it near impossible to see the blade and identifying the knife's type. Whoever held this blade was strong, and knew that the blade was strong enough to pierce through. But then he saw that the knife had a pommel at the end of the hilt, with a small inscription carved that was carved onto both sides. The inscription was that of the mythical Animan dragon, its elongated serpentine body coiling in on itself, with the interlocked loops resembling rings, of which there were ten in total.

"V, activate the camera function and take photos of this knife for future analysis." He ordered the AI.

The AI silently obeyed and asked his creator to move his head around the knife, so as to get shots of it from different angles. Iron Man promptly did so, his helmet's optics flashing as the camera took snapshots of the knife in many different angles. He can't temper with the crime scene, as the authorities needed the physical evidence, but he can at least take photos. With the crime scene photos saved to the armor's memory drives, the young vigilante turned to the still-frightened driver.

Before he can stop the train, he had to save this man first. He moved toward the door and forced it open once more, the winds just as strong as before. He cut through the cord holding the man down, freeing him from the chair. He kept the blindfold on the driver, as what he had planned would only frighten the already terrified man.

He addressed the man with his modulated voice, "Wrap your arms around me and hang on tight!"

"Wait, what happened to you voi-AAAAHHHH!"

Iron Man rocketed out of the cab, bringing a screaming Dennis along with him, whose arms clung tightly around the vigilante's chest. The armored teenager stopped mid-flight and hovered several feet in the air. Looking down, he saw a very busy street. There were packs of pedestrians clumped together on the sidewalks, looking at him with awestruck wonder. Traffic had stopped, as people had ventured outside of their vehicles to gaze upon him. He saw that many had already taken out their scrolls to record the kingdom's newest superhero.

If stopping a robbery didn't put me on the council's radar, this definitely will. The young man despondently frowned.

He descended downward, firing short bursts of repulsor blasts to control his descent. As he descended, he used his free arm to wave the gawking passengers away to give him some space to land. The people took the hint and stepped back, creating a wide enough hole for the vigilante. In seconds, Iron Man landed safely on the sidewalk, with the train's driver still clinging onto him for dear life. The armored youth, not wanting to waste precious time, pried himself from the man's grip as gently as he can.

Once he was free, he turned to the gathered spectators and addressed them, "I need someone to call an ambulance. This man might need medical treatment."

Having said his piece, the vigilante rocketed upward into the air, promptly shooting off after the runway train. Despite their awe at witnessing a real-life superhero in action, many of the spectators approached the blindfolded driver. One of them removed his blindfold, finally returning his vision to him. The driver flinched when he saw that he was no longer on a speeding metal death trap, but a congested city street. He can't believe he was even standing there.

One of the pedestrians asked, "Uh, sir, are you alright?"

After all of the things he'd been through today, coupled with the strange circumstance behind his rescue, Dennis the train driver reacted the only way any rational person would.

He fainted.

"V, how long do we have until we run out of track?" The teenaged vigilante frantically asked his creation.

The AI quickly responded, "How the hell should I know, boss! This thing has no clock!"

"And how much juice does the reactor have left?"

The suit's OS replied, "14% and dropping."

The boy frowned, Fourteen, huh...

What exactly can he do with that much energy? He had a plan, but he didn't know if he had enough energy to see that plan through. He knew the onboard computer warned him not to 'exceed recommended limits', but the situation called for going beyond the armor's known limits. The runaway train had already stirred up a panic in Mantle, making an incursion by the Grimm imminent. Hundreds of people would be killed by the Grimm if the Train wasn't stopped and right now, he was the only person who can stop it. But this also meant that he'd be putting his own life on the line. Ultimately, he made his decision based on simple mathematics. For what was the life of one boy compared to the hundreds if not possibly thousands of lives at stake?

He exhaled and requested with a steeled tone, "Re-route power from all non-essential systems to flight control and repulsor rays, and override strength limiters."

"Warning: Exceeding recommended limits could result in loss of li-"

"I SAID OVERRIDE!" The vigilante practically snarled.

After a second that felt like an eternity, the suit's computer monotonously replied, "Acknowledged."

Now free to use the armor without any of its safeguards holding him back, the young man fired his thrusters to their max speed, flying at a velocity equal to that of the runaway train engine. Soon he found himself passing by the engine, flying right ahead of it. He looked behind and saw the front of the locomotive. He saw the crater he had left on its nose, an imprint of his armor sprawled across its entirety. Seeing it, he realized something he had missed.

The metal plating at the front of the train was weak. It was the only explanation as to why his armor had not been damaged so severely. With this realization, a plan started to form in his brilliant mind. If he pressed himself against the crater, right where the dented metal was at its weakest, he would have the perfect position to fire two separate repulsors blast through it, which can kill the motor. All he needed to do after that was fire his boots to their maximum thrust, he can force the engine to slow down and come to a stop.

Or alternatively, I run out of our track and fall to the street below, smashed to bits by over a thousand pounds of metal. The young man thought. But it's the only plan I got.

With his mind made, the vigilante enacted his plan. He thrusted his legs forward, causing him to flip and reverse his course, and flew up to the engine. Metal scraped against metal as he took hold of the small metal ridges surrounding the crater. Quickly, he pressed his open palms against the center of impact zone and fired two short but powerful blasts, which seared through the plating, metlting metal, burning wires, and disabling the train's motor. With the engine now dead, he pushed his legs away from the engine and straightened his posture. His repulsor boots lit up with a roar, blasting streams of blue energy forward, at full throttle. Metal wheels grinded against metal tracks, letting out a sharp and piercing whine as the train lost speed. Iron Man was not deterred and did not waver from his course.

Unbeknownst to him, however, they have nearly reached the end of the tracks.

Tapping his fingers against the dashboard of his car, the taxi driver waited for the light to turn green. His patience was running thin though, as traffic had stopped completely minutes ago. He knew people wanted to the rare summer breeze flowing through the city, but he hadn't thought they use their cars. With nothing else to do, he took the time to observe his surroundings. To his right, he saw an ugly green car, its teenaged driver texting on his scroll. What was it with kids these days and their smart scrolls?

In his day, scrolls were larger, blockier, and had small antennas, with keypads instead of a screen to dial a number. Sure, those old scrolls did give a few people brain cancer, but at least they didn't distract people from what they were supposed to be doing!

He turned to his left and through the passenger window saw a rather pristine-looking van, a logo on the side door showing that it belonged to a cleaning company. He saw the driver, a woman nearing her fifties, who was just as bored as he was. At least there were some people who still obeyed the rules of the road!

He looked ahead and saw lines of cars stretching far into the horizon, surrounded by buildings and people freely walking down the sidewalks. Those pedestrians were lucky bastards in his opinion. Finally, he gazed at the metal arch rising from the concrete, right in the middle of the intersection. Surrounding the arch, construction workers worked around the clock, manning trucks hefting steel girders, and one crane that lifted said girders to the unfinished train bridge above. They were mean to serve as support beams for the bridge. He looked up and saw the unfinished track, which ended right where he was at. He wondered when they were going to finish this track.

As he wondered about the particular question, he noticed something strange. The tracks were shaking, as though a strong wind was rupturing it. It was then that he looked forward and saw an unsettling sight. The construction workers had ceased their work, dropped everything, and started running away from the support arch, as though the Grimm were right on their heels! That's when he felt something slam against his door. He looked over and saw that the teen driver had pushed his door open, trying to climb his way out of the driver's seat, dropping his scroll as well.

Just what had spooked the lad, he couldn't help but wonder. That was when he saw a shadow in the periphery of his vision, one that was steadily creeping up the hood of his car. Soon, the shadow was over him, blocking all light from his car. He shot his head up toward the unfinished track and felt his jaw drop as he saw the source of the shadow. Dangling halfway over the edge of the unfinished train bridge was train engine!

But then he saw something that defied all logic. Floating right above him, holding the train back and floating on two beams of blue luminescent beams, was a metal man! He watched as the flying metal man slowly pushed the locomotive back, the undercarriage disappearing behind the elevated tracks. Soon, the train was safely resting on the tracks, unmoving and slightly damaged.

The driver watched the metal man floating above him in awe, wishing he had a smart scroll now just so he can take a photo.

As he hovered beside the train engine, Iron Man looked below at the people of Mantle. All of them were silent, gazing upon him with expressions of awe and shock. Most had already taken their scrolls out and started recording him. But just as their silence was starting to unnerve the vigilante, they erupted into cheers, praising him and thanking him for saving them. Their collective cheering was so loud that many people could hear them for miles.

From behind his mask, Whitley Schnee can only stare in surprise at the cheering people. They were actually cheering for him. These weren't the hollow platitudes of his father's brown-nosing toadies; these were roars of genuine and heartfelt appreciation for something he had done. Even with his incredible inventions, he never once received such adulation. He wanted nothing more than to stay there and soak in their praise.

But he had an important to finish. He gave the roaring crowds a short but respectful salute and promptly flew off. As he soared away, he thought about all the praise heaped upon him. But it was then that he started to feel something. He felt drained, as though all the energy in his body was leaving him. He also felt slightly woozy, as though he were slowly succumbing to a case of vertigo. But then he felt a sharp, piercing irritation in his chest, right where the reactor was situated.

He urgently demanded, "Computer, reactor readings now!"

The inflectionless voice of the computer replied, "Reactor Output at 4%."

"Boss, you have to let me take over!" V.I.C. cried in alarm.

"But the passengers..." The boy tried to speak, only to run out of breath.

The AI responded, "Will be fine! Rescue crews are coming to get them, they're safe. You're not, so let me take over, just give the command!"

Whitley considered his creation's words. The passengers were safe and were now in the process of being rescued. The train engine was not moving anywhere any time soon, and he pushed the Arc reactor, and his own body, beyond their limits. If he continued like this, he'll lose energy and will most assuredly die. With much hesitance, the genius addressed the AI.

"Switch to auxiliary power. Disconnect Arc Reactor from suit. V, take over flight control." He ordered the AI and the suit's computer.

Following the commands issued to it, the suits computer promptly disconnected the armor from the Arc Reactor, switching over to the auxiliary power unit. V.I.C. promptly took control of the suit's flight controls, navigating the vast cityscape in place of his creator.

"Yes, boss." V.I.C. replied, grateful that the young man took his advice. He then asked, "Do you have any destination in mind?"

Just as the AI had asked that question, the young man's vision was starting to blur. As he started drifting off, he told his digital partner, "Take me... Rhodey... apartment... backyard... no witnesses..."

Whitley closed his eyes as his mind slipped into unconsciousness. Before he fully succumbed, he said, "Call Rhode-"

V.I.C. cried, "WHITLEY!"

And there it is! The public is fully aware of Iron Man and Whitley overextended himself, all to save people, including his new bodyguards. We also got to learn more about their families, as well as Marrows. Anyway, I wanted to type more, but it was getting late when I finished. I would have published it earlier, but I had finally started a part-time job (FINALLY!), one that requires a lot of heavy lifting.

Also, I cancelled the MHA X Batman story I had planned. I couldn't get a good idea to stick with. So, I can tell you who Batman would've been, and I chose Toya Todoroki (Meaning Dabi would not exist). Midoriya would have become his sidekick, but under the name Nightwing. I'm also rewriting my RWBY X Arkham Asylum story as I didn't like how I wrote it originally. Finally, I got permission from Trestwho, author of Hunters of Justice, to write an original story inspired by that story. No, it is not set in the universe of their story. Also, I highly recommend Hunters of Justice.

Also, be sure to check out Marvelous Vignettes, a new collection of shorts set in the universe Of Iron-Schnee and Spider-Arc.

Next chapter will come up sometime in the middle of next month.

It will be titled: Cause and Effect.

Untli then, stay safe, everybody!