Chapter 435 - My SI Stash #35 - The Wonderful Life of Mister Schnee by Fantastic Tales (RWBY)

-Yikess, this kind of start is a literal definition of a bruh moment/

Synopsis: What would you do with all the riches in the world? Party? Relax? Good works? Well, a man from Earth is about to find his answer to a similar question when he wakes up as one Mr. Schnee. He'd better find an answer quick, though; his daughter just kissed a Faunus on live television!

Rated: ???

Words: 160K

Posted on: forums.spacebattles.com/threads/rwby-the-wonderful-life-of-mister-schnee.688183/ (Fantastic Tales)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics/originals mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sharp eyes snapped open, as if having forgotten the patterned lethargy which overcame them every morning.

Instinctively, his hand reached for where he knew there was nothing and tapped the scroll that lie there, abruptly silencing the annoyingly pleasant ring of the alarm.

Before his still groggy mind could process the incongruity, his body acted, pushing his arms back and raising his body up. From his new vantage point, he could make out the soft bumps his legs formed under the fluffy, white cover that blanketed his gargantuan bed. Around him was a clean and well designed, if sparsely decorated, bedroom; covering the floor, if he'd taken the effort to lean himself over the distant edge of his mattress, he would have seen the warm, red carpet which decorated the space and was itself decorated with a large compass.

He wasn't paying attention to any of that, however. He was too busy tumbling out of bed and hopping about on each foot, screaming.

"HAhh, HAhh, HAhh," he yelled quietly, taking strange strides on unfamiliar legs. His teeth didn't fit, his fingers were in the wrong place, his mouth tasted weird, nothing was right.

It didn't hurt, or even feel bad, per-se; it was just disorienting, like looking at those moving-illusion pictures, except the moving illusion was his entire body, bones and all.

It was the little things that set off this reaction, the minute twitches and strangely calibrated movements, along with a quickly fading vertigo that overtook his senses. This reaction was why he was half walking and half running towards the large, personal mirror that stood opposite his bed. And soon, he was leaning over the cabinet that supported the mirror, staring into the deep, blue eyes and hardened face of Mr. Schnee, the wealthiest individual on Remnant. Those were his eyes, however. That was his face in the mirror.

Moving his hand to gingerly touch at his cheek, he watched, entranced, as the reflection moved to do the same.

This couldn't be a dream, he accepted: Dreams consisted of things you knew, and he'd never known the impossible feeling of being in another person's body. Curiously, he took in his new figure, his gaze shifting across the reflection before a flash of blue and white caught his interest. Slowly, his new, and somewhat sensitive, eyes were drawn upwards to gaze at the words which hung above him.

"eenhcS?" he read in confusion, turning swiftly afterwards to look at the space above his bed.

"Schnee" the finely embroidered and snowflake-themed crest read. 'Am I in Germany?' the man thought, 'In the future?' his thought pattern continued, observing the paper-thin scroll that glowed softly on the mattress.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three light, chipper, knocks resounded across the heavy oak of the bedroom door, startling him as they echoed throughout the cavernous room around him to become an ominous rumble.

'Geeze, who sleeps in a place like this, Dracula?' He cringed slightly as the sound slammed against his eardrums.

His thoughts cut short as a feminine voice called, "Mr. Schnee? Are you ok?"

The muffling effect of the heavy door did nothing to conceal the urgency and worry lilting the voice.

"I'm ok," he rushed to respond, feeling strange as unfamiliar lips mouthed the words.

"Are you sure? I heard some bangs, and some yelling," the woman continued.

"I'm perfectly ok," he said, more forcefully.

'Perfectly ok?' he lip synced with a confused expression, 'since when do I say that?'

"I just, uh, knocked something over," he continued, searching for something to distract the woman with.

"Oh! Do you want me to call-"

"By the way," he interrupted, "how is my schedule for today?"

Yeah, schedules. This Mister Schnee fellow looked like a man with schedules. Schedules for days, even. He smiled at his quick thinking.

"Well, you're relatively clear for today, sir! You just have to host the Grand Opening Gala for the Messerschmitts. The staff finished preparing the ballroom this morning and the first guests should arrive at eight," The woman answered in a chipper tone, seemingly having forgotten her anxiety. "Oh," she continued, as if remembering something, "You've also got five voicemails, none of them seem critical, however."

"Understood, leave me while I prepare. I'll meet with you in about an hour or so," he said, absentmindedly accepting her adieus while entranced with the new, strange manner of speech that seemed to have overtaken him.

Stepping closer to the door, he listened with restrained lungs as her footsteps receded further down the hallway he imagined lay just beyond the door. Once the muffled footfalls disappeared, at last, into the distance, Mr. S retraced his steps until he found himself standing, once more, between the foot of the bed and the cabinet mirror.

Still, after an aching moment, impatient jitters ran up and down his body and he slowly turned his head. The room seemed endless in its possibilities despite its size, and a paralysis of choice seemed to choke him. He had an entire world waiting out there! What would he do? What could he do?

Looking back to every morning he'd woken up to thus far for inspiration, he decided to start by cleaning up; hopping in and out of the shower as quickly as he could, he brushed down his hair and mustache into the naturally smooth lines they seemed to fall into shortly before donning the neatly folded suit that lay on his bed-side desk. Following this, he...again failed to think of a plan of action and took a rest, sitting down before the cabinet and staring at the intimidating selection of colognes that lined one of the drawers.

As he thought over the situation, he looked down through the paper-thin scroll he spun around in between his palms. In any other scenario, he knew he would have been overjoyed to study such a technical marvel, but he couldn't be bothered to do much more than coldly analyze the touch screen and look over the basic functionalities of the...phone...computer...device of sorts. The feeling of general anxiety that overtook him with the knowledge that he was in another person's body was pervasive and wearing. From what he'd gathered, he was in the body of a "Mister Schnee" in future…well, Montana or Alaska going by the accents and the arctic conditions outside his bedroom window. He worked in a company and might be rich. Actually, he was probably loaded considering he had servants and was "hosting" parties.

Of course, the right thing to do would be to reveal himself before he inadvertently got this guy fired...buuuut there was nothing wrong with testing the waters before taking such drastic action. Who knows, maybe "body snatchers" like him were common in the future and immediately put to death once discovered. The fact that today was "party day" gave him more reason to keep up the act; after all, he had, as of right now, at least one day where he could relax and learn more about this future without distraction. This gave him a chance to act on his own terms, at least to some extent, in any case. And, as a bonus, he didn't have to worry about messing up anything important. Sure, these fancy parties or galas or whatever had a lot of rules and procedure, but he was sure his servants would take care of that. Besides, a gaff at a party makes the Saturday news if it's big enough; a mistake on the job could cost lives and livelihoods... He shuddered at the thought, a lingering sense of dread developing in his gut as old news reports of exploding chemical plants ran through his memory. Seriously, unless this guy's job had something to do with Chemical or Aerospace engineering, he was gonna get fired on day one.

He absentmindedly grabbed a purple cologne in a clear glass, applying the concoction before placing it back into the drawer and heading to the west wall of the room. The "west wall", as he'd termed it, was actually a large bookcase, packed to the brim with a blue wall of velvet-bound books. He whistled in appreciation as he craned his head to see the top shelf of the collection, noticing a switch at the side which would presumably conveyor-belt the books to his level. The book he was looking for, however, was within arms reach, worn with the touch of many readings.

He frowned as he pulled the book out and looked at the full title.

"History…" It read, "...of Remnant."

He opened to the first page of the book.

"Man, born from dust, yadda, yadda, yadda, darkness, blah, blah, blah, Creatures of Grimm?" He frowned at the book, flipping to a random page decorated with an anatomically accurate drawing of a, "Nevermore, how original." He rolled his eyes at the name, looking at the massive raven which graced the page alongside a scale drawing of a human.

He placed the book back into its place. He was here to read about the history of the world, not to learn about the long winded backstory to a long winded fantasy novel.

He skimmed through the titles on the bookshelf, reading...

"Technology...of Remnant," He mumbled, placed the book back into its place with a bit more force.

"Countries...of Remnant" He was starting to get mad.

"An analysis of Dust Vein decomposition patterns...In F.U.C.K.I.N.G REMNANT!"

Seriously, he thought it was annoying in his time, when every franchise just HAD to release twelve "world building" books of bullshit. The trend only seemed to have gotten worse since then, however. No matter, he would just find an actual history book, even if he had to go to the library instead of scrounging through someone's fantasy book collection. It was just as the thought of looking things up on his new phone hit him that he heard three, resounding knocks from his door once more.

"Sir, the first guests are arriving," the woman politely reported from the other side of the door.

'Already?' he thought, turning to look at the morning sun shining through the window. 'Wait, did she mean Eight AM? How long is this party gonna last?' he pocketed his scroll and hurriedly moved towards the door.

He was approaching the exit when a terrifying thought hit him: he didn't know the woman's name. If he was right about her being his secretary, then getting her name would be the key to getting everyone else's. But he'd have to call her something in the meantime! '

What am going to I call her?' He thought, frantically cycling through the options.

'"Sweetie?"...No,' -- he shook his head -- 'too personal.'

'Or maybe "Hun?"...Nope.'

He closed in on the door with sweaty palms, desperately searched for an appropriate nickname as he, cringing in anticipation, slowly opened the door, looked through, and immediately thought:

'Oh, thank the greatest good of goodnesses, she has a name tag!' He rejoiced.

The light blue tag hung over her right b.r.e.a.s.t reading, "Schwarz."

'Schwarz, huh? Strange name, but it's the future or whatever.' he dismissed the peculiarity and lifted his gaze from the tag. A pale face stared back up at him with gleaming dark eyes and softly curving strands of coal-dark hair running down on either side.

"Good morning, Schwarz," he tested, hoping that there wasn't a secret handshake he'd just forgotten to do.

"And a Good Morning to you too, mister Schnee!" she replied with a chipper tone, rising up onto her toes in a short hop at the greeting, her fur-trimmed skirt twirling heavily at her knees as she did so.

The richly textured, black of the hem of her skirt was gleaming when compared against the almost uniform darkness of the rest of her outfit, the dark fabric only being broken up by the sable, fur hem running along every edge of her velvet jacket and the white cloth that covered her chest, just underneath the light-yellow, short collar that walled around her neck. All of this was tied together with a grey belt adorned with two white, rectangular attachments that hung down on either side like earrings, reaching down to her knees with their length and swinging silently with her every movement.

His heart lightened at her expression, and at the confirmation that he'd apparently greeted her correctly. A wave of confidence filled him as he closed the door behind him and walked down the hall, Schwarz following behind with a large notepad.

'Yeah, I've got this. It's just a party. I'd have to be, like, an advanced level idiot to mess this up.' our new Mr. Schnee thought with a smirk.

"Oh, and, it seems there is another matter for you to attend to," Schwarz tentatively probed.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Your daughter, Weiss, has sent a message. She says she'd like to accept your invitation to appear at the Gala today after all, but on the condition that she be allowed to bring guests," Schwarz said with an even, calming tone. "Mr. Schnee", for his part, didn't pay much mind to her hesitation; it sounded, to him, more like a formality if his own daughter had to "accept an invitation" to a party.

"Of course," he said, rearranging his cuff-links "invite her. How many guests is she bringing anyways?"

"Really?" Schwarz exclaimed, wide eyed. "I mean, of course, sir. She's bringing three guests, though I feel you should know that one of them is coming as a date, a girl by the name of," she looked down at her tablet, "Blake Belladonna."

"You say that like I'd mind," he said absentmindedly, nodding at his surroundings. 'Yeah, I'm definitely lost.'

"It's not that sir. It's just that there are some... discrepancies with Ms. Belladonna's guest sheet," Schwarz said, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

"Look, Schwarz," he said, looking around at his surroundings and trying not to seem as lost as he was, "If she's human, than let her through." He chuckled at his own joke.

"That's just the thing, sir," Schwarz said with the gravest tone imaginable. "Her guest sheet," she paused, "It doesn't SAY whether she's a human."

He paused for a moment, processing the statement. Then his face brightened, "HAHAHAHA," he laughed immediately as the statement clicked. 'Holy crap, who knew Schwarz was so funny! She even had me going with that whole serious business persona!'

He interrupted Schwarz's uncomfortable chuckle as he wiped a tear from his eye. "Look, Schwarz, remind me to give you a raise sometime," he said, patting her shoulder and causing her eyes to glow once more as she looked up at him.

"Just invite them over and focus on the rest of your duties," he finished.

"Yes, sir," Schwarz replied, expertly hiding her worries. Mr. Schnee could take care of such things. After all, he'd been navigating the swirling politics of the Atlas corporate head for longer than she'd been alive. She was sure she was just being paranoid if he thought nothing untoward could happen.

'Yeah, things are going great,' he smiled, 'looks like nothing would come to foil this party day after all, considering how dedicated a crew I have.'

"By the way," he asked, looking back at Schwarz as she followed him.

"Yes, sir?" Schwarz answered.

"Where are we going?"

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Weiss read and reread the message as if pinned to her scroll, scanning over the words as if another glace could make them any more believable. She'd only "accepted" the invitation as a joke. She'd never imagined he'd actually go through with it, considering he knew well enough how she thought of him.

Well, no matter. His loss was her gain!

Of course, she didn't lie on the guest sheets, that would've been a felony after her father and his friends in politics got through with her. But, she did omit the fact that Blake was a Faunus, and when the time came...she'd reveal the truth to a shocked audience!

'The daughter of "Mister Schnee", dating a Faunus!' Weiss smiled at the potential headlines as well as the look on his face when he found out at a party of all his colleagues.

It wouldn't ruin him by any means, she admitted not too gladly. She didn't have the means or the stomach to seriously damage the company so many good people relied upon for work and dust, even if was being led by him. No, it would simply mean he would have to disassociate from her completely, like she'd wished for all along. Furthermore, the press, heckling and rumors would ensure that this year would be the most tiring, work filled experience of his entire life! But, most importantly of all, It would shatter that facade of a "happy family" he hid behind. That self aggrandizing lie of a healthy home he worked to ensure the world saw when they looked at the Schnees. All of this while never showing her...his own family, a fraction of the attention and care he devoted to his own image!

She took a shuddering breath as she calmed herself. No need to ruin her day thinking of such things.

Fluttering her eyes open with practiced grace, she forced a smile and a confident look; that was supposed to make you even a little happier by itself, wasn't it? Turning back to her scroll, she continued to scheme, all the while calling for Blake, saying "Get the girls, and put on your dress Bow on!...Yes, the one that comes off easily!"

This was going to be the worst party ever, and Weiss was going to love it!

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"I'm honored, thank you," he smiled, adding some half thought out declaration to each new face that greeted him with a smile.

"Mr Schnee" greeted guest after guest after guest after guest until his hand ached. The novelty of having a line of people waiting at the entrance to shake his hand wore away as quickly as his patience and soon became as meaningless as his fake smile. He sighed when he saw the several dozen or so people left standing before him, observing the impressively dressed a.d.u.l.ts that formed the line and forced along their blank faced children with every step forward. The "guests", it turned out, were the VIP's who'd be treated to a tour of his palace, and yes, it was a palace, until the party began as, apparently, the party proper wouldn't actually start until eight o'clock at night. Sneaking a look at his watch, he saw that it was nine o'clock in the morning when he finished greeting the last of the guests, so he would have about eleven hours to himself before the start of the party proper he calculated, double checking his math for lack of anything else to do as he shook hands.

Schwarz stood waiting when he entered back into the palace, the guests being corralled together by a cheerful tour guide behind him.

"Long line?" she asked with a familiar smirk.

"Of course," he said, with a tired stance.

"Well, we've got to go oversee the processing systems floor next," she said looking down at her tablet as she swiped through some files and time tables.

"I thought you said I had an empty day?" he asked.

"Hahaha," Schwarz laughed a light laugh, "and we both know that means just your usual mountain-load of work," she responded with familiar tradition. "But don't worry," she continued, "I've recently made some adjustments to your regular schedule. If you don't have any special obligations, you should be able to finish by seven o'clock if you get to your office by eight!" she said with a sincere smile, flipping the tablet around and presenting the multicolored time chart as if it were a finger painting she was especially proud of.

"Mr Schnee" internally screamed as he pondered the idea of eleven hour work days.

"Of course," he swallowed, "but put a pin on that time table for now and walk me to the floor. I'd like to talk with you."

"What about, sir?" Schwarz looked up at him.

"Huhhh," he breathed a deep and dramatic sigh he'd been planning for hours. "Tell me, Schwarz," he continued with a heavy tone, "What did I hire you to do?"

"Uhm, to schedule your affairs, filter your communications and head your security, sir," she replied mechanically, as if reading from a list.

'Wow, she does all that?' He thought.

"And how long have you been working in this position," he asked, as if they both already knew the answer.

"Two years, six months, sir" she replied in that same tone.

"Yes, of course," he drifted off with a thoughtful tone, having run out of questions to ask.

"Is… is there any particular reason you wanted to talk about this?" Schwarz asked, failing to hide the deep worry that colored her voice.

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about," he assured. "I've just been thinking about something," he lied cryptically. "Would you mind sending me a file with the essentials of my work. I want to look over my things. Include the family history too, actually. With pictures."

"Uh, yes sir," Schwarz didn't ask any of the myriad questions which came to mind.

The rest of the time passed quickly for "Mister Schnee", consisting mostly of an adrenaline flooded series of decisions about company essentials, everything from what regions new sites should be placed at to which markets they should target most heavily in the next quarter. It was during this time of the day, when he sat at the head of a table surrounded by an assortment of fancy suits, that it fully sunk in just how big of a deal he was now, as well as how big of a deal his mistakes would become.

He finished the work day off just before he was due to arrive at the party, still reeling from his momentous realization. Still, today's decisions were mostly multiple choice, and any mistakes were, probably, easily fixable. He would just attend this party, have Schwarz clear his week, cram about history all night, and make a decision by next Monday: even if that decision won him a nice, new straight Jacket.

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"Weiss would have to sit to his right, definitely," she muttered. "But then, I'd have to move the Messerschmitts eldest down to sit by…ugh, no, she just got married to..."

Schwarz almost frowned as she wracked her brain, looking with frustration at the seating chart layed out in front of her while occasionally glancing towards the mess of papers scattered out to the side. The papers showed tabled information on all the guests, along with lines of relationsh.i.p.s literally drawn between the names with bold marker strokes. She wouldn't dream of getting mad at Mr. Schnee, but it was hard not to feel frustrated after his last minute change to the guest list. Beyond the fact that his daughter was unpredictable at times and that her guests were unknowns, Schwarz would only have several hours to rearrange the seating chart!

Schwarz bit into her sandwich as she played with the names projected on her tablet, sliding them around the scale model of the main dining table. There were many tables at this party, but this table was key. This table would hold the most influential and powerful families in Atlas, who could, and often would, forge the greatest dynasties at simple "parties" such as this one.

And these families, like many other powerful families with long histories, were quite thin skinned.

A single misplaced seat, putting together marrying age children of the wrong couple, unbalancing the hierarchy of seating orders, putting this person or that too far from the edge without proper reason… would bring fire and fury upon the "lowly secretary" who was playing like a god with the place and movement of these old and powerful names; and, in the course of their movement, all of them orbited the name of Mister Schnee, the most rich and the most powerful among the rich and powerful of Remnant.

Schwarz sighed as she rushed to complete the seating chart before her lunch break was up. Mister schnee had entrusted her to complete this, and she wouldn't disappoint!

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He stared up in amazement at the seemingly endless height of the room, his spirits lifting with the expanding space as he left behind a tense workday and stepped into the comforting warmth of the ball room. The arched ceiling seeming to hang weightlessly above despite its size, supporting a gargantuan chandelier in is center that radiated a warm, yellow-white light which seemed to color the atmosphere as it glittered against the tiling. He knew he was rich, but he'd never appreciated that fact until he stepped into this twelve story art piece, with intricate stonework etched away in every corner and richly colored tapestries draping the walls and support structures.

The architectural inspiration, along with many other curiosities of the future, worked to convince him that Germany got at least a partial victory out of World War III.

A gloriously blue banner hung down from the ceiling, reaching from one end of the room to the other with bold letters spelling out the word "SCHNEE."

He tried not to seem too amazed at the technological wonders which surrounded him, though it was hard not to get excited at seeing an actual, real life, robot.

He soon focused his attention back onto the rest of the party and moved away from the massive doorway that enframed him. Stepping down the wide, marble staircase, he soon arrived down at the main floor, mingling into the crowd as he released Schwarz to enjoy the party, practically having to force her away from her duties of following him around and working. He noticed she never seemed to stray too far away from him, though, casually talking to other party goers as she discreetly glanced over at him once and again, as if asking "are you SURE you don't need anything?" It was the best he could hope for, he guessed, shrugging.

"Hello there, Jacquez," a confident voice came from his side, interrupting his reverie and revealing a beautiful woman with flowing blonde hair and the reddest lipstick he'd ever seen.

"Hello," he greeted calmly, "who are you, again?" he asked in a casual fashion, too late to stop himself from saying something revealing.

"Oh, straight to the insults, Jacquez?" she sneered in that still calm tone as she glared up and down at him. "Usually, we wait until after the backhanded compliments for those."

He wasn't sure who she was or who exactly she thought she was, but the way she said "Jacquez", with an annoying stressing of the syllables, irked him greatly.

"Is there any reason I should know you?" he responded, less concerned with insulting her now than he had been prior.

"I feel like your time at the top has softened you if you can't remember even my little old name," she said, poison on her tongue.

"You weren't on the VIP list, you see. I don't recognize shaking your hand this morning," he said, trying to maintain civility even as her mannerisms drove him further and further from that goal.

She paused with a cold silence, looking at him with a dangerous glare as if he'd just kicked her dead mother.

"Huhhh," she took a calming breath, her wine glass shaking as if she were working to keep the liquid from splashing onto his face.

'I...probably shouldn't have said that,' he thought just before she spoke again.

"Perhaps, I was wrong about your softness," she said, chuckling. "It seems you've gone fully senile if you think you can get away with comparing me to those heel-licking, title purchasing, wannabe robber barons that you hand out those little vip stickers of yours to."

"Uh-"

"Know this, Schnee," she barreled on. "You can hide if from your pet secretary over there," she looked over his shoulder to Schwarz, "and you can even hide it from the press and your friends on the up, but don't think for a second you've managed to hide it from me. I, and many of the people here, know you're crumbling, and I'll be the first to dance on the ashes of whatever burnt out relic of a legacy you manage to leave behind when you do," she finished, smiling meanly. She whirled about dramatically, her red dress swirling, and walked away with clicking heels as soon as she finished her tirade.

With the slight exception of a weird coffee addict in a green suit, the rest of the party went relatively normally; he spent most of it going about between various groups, asking how the party was going, exchanging pleasantries, and moving on to other guests to ask after them. He got similar reactions of delight and surprise whenever he dropped in, except for when visiting one person, a person who left enough of an impression on him that he'd remember his name after the night was over...Jon Braun.

Jon initially caught our new Mister Schnee's attention, who we will call "Mr. S" from now on, by the extreme shock he showed at his presence. Mr. S was used to the surprise he got from people at this point, but this was no ordinary surprise. This was an eyes wide open, "can I believe my eyes?" kind of experience. Of course, they soon hit it off...

...

"So you work on rockets for the military?" Mr. S asked.

"Yes," Jon answered. "Well, I used to anyway. The team's being disbanded, I'm getting moved over to engine design." Jon replied with a regretful tone.

"They're disbanding the entire rocket team?" Mr. S was incredulous. He'd worked on rockets in the past and unless something incredible happened, he wasn't imagining their obsolescence. "Surely the military isn't so short sighted. They'd at least want to keep the experts for missile design, wouldn't they?" Mr. S asked.

"Oh, of course," Jon replied, "I'm apologize for having mislead you," he quickly amended, "you see, I was actually talking about...well...rockets to get into space," he cringed internally as he waited for the raucous laughter he'd gotten so used to hearing after that statement.

"Well, of course," Mr S. replied. "It's long past due for serious investment in the exploitation of space."

"R-really?" If it were possible, Jon looked even more surprised than previously, as if he'd just seen a unicorn and that unicorn was also richest-man-on-remnant Mr. Schnee.

"Yes, what exactly were you working on?" Mr. S leaned in with intense interest, dying to hear how rocket technology evolved into the future.

"Well, I can't really go into the details of it, just the stuff the public already knows about," Jon said apologetically, though still with that look of incredulous surprise that bordered on fear.

"Tell me anyways," Mr. S insisted.

"Well, we were trying to develop rocket systems," he said. Adding after a short pause, "trying to bypass the dust barrier."

Of course, having worked as Mr. Schnee himself for one day, he'd doubtless been exposed to "dust." Nobody went over the basics of it with him, but apparently it had a crazy-high energy density and came in different varieties which were named after the elements for some reason, probably a marketing gimmick.

"Any troubles with the engines?"

"Oh, no, the engines were basically modified Atlas thrusters, we didn't have any trouble with the design..." Jon replied, putting emphasis on "design."

Mr. S was surprised to see the Atlas family of rockets still holding out this far into the future, but he was curious nonetheless.

"What problems did you experience, then?" Mr. S asked.

"Well, I don't have to tell this to you of all people, of course, but dust doesn't work in the upper atmospheres. We weren't able to get around that." Jon said simply.

"You couldn't get enough speed in the lower atmospheres? What eccentricities did you try?"

"Unrealistic eccentricities," Jon replied dryly, his eyes opening in surprise, now fully wondering if this man actually was Mr. Schnee. Was he on one of those hidden camera shows? Was this some hazing ritual they pulled on the new guys? Was he dreaming?

"Did you try carrying your own air as propellant?" Mr. S asked, feeling silly as soon as he'd asked.

"We tried. We think it might be the altitude itself which affects the dust rather than the air density," he whispered intensely as he spoke. He'd never thought being chosen to represent the Atlas Military at a ball would lead to such engrossing conversations. Even the hint that Mr. Schnee had heard of rockets would have been enough to tickle that hopeful part of him, but this...

Mr. Schnee was about to ask why they didn't just use a chemical rocket for the second stage when Jon asked, "I don't mean to be rude, but you seem very knowledgeable about the subject."

"I've been researching-" Mr. S replied just as a heavy bell rung through the ball room, quieting the guests and signaling the start of the dinner.

"I am extremely sorry," Schwarz said with intense worry as she took Mr. S and lead him to his seat at the other end of the dining hall, staying stone silent as she led him the rest of the way.

'Stupid, Stupid, Stupid' she chastised herself in her thoughts. 'Of course he only allowed Weiss and her friends to attend so that the Messerschmitts would be moved down four seats. This would move the Frau's down as well due to the recent marriage, and that would've opened a seat for the Atlas military advisory to sit next to Mr. Schnee without there being a scene! It was all so obvious!'

Schwarz resisted the urge to facepalm in polite company.

'Thanks to my slowness, Mr. Schnee had to spend half the night talking to some no-name military advisor when he should have been talking to the heads! And His daughter is still here! No wonder he didn't want me around!" she gripped onto her napkin nervously as they approached the head of the dining table.

'Ok, calm yourself, Schwarz.' Schwarz took a deep breath 'He still managed to spare some time for everyone, even if he was a bit curt. He'll handle the rest at dinner and you can apologize later.' Finally, she escorted Mr. Schnee to the head of the table, with his daughter and her friends lined up on his right and another family sitting to his left.

She passed by Weiss and company on her way down the table to her own seat, and noted the bright, though relatively respectable clothing they wore. 'At least she bothered not to make a scene out of them,' she thought, knowing exactly how hunters and huntresses in training could get at parties. 'Perhaps this could end simply," she thought, her heart pounding more than it usually did during these events.

…..

"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice boomed across the silent ballroom as he stood at his seat, "it is with the greatest honor that I host this party during such a significant date in our.."

Mr S. started reading off the teleprompter and giving a small toast about a new business opening or something; he wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. No, he was more focused on the camera's dotting the room. Not security cameras, mind you. Full blown, HD news cameras. Some of them clung to the walls and columns, hidden from the casual glance as if they were a part of the architecture. Others were attached to drones, circling high above like vultures and almost touching the ceiling in their lazy flight.

'Oh, so this is one of those parties,' he noted, taking a breath. Nothing to be worried about, he'd finish the toast and they'd probably edit the rest of the night out considering it would consist of people eating and chattering to each other for an hour, he assured himself.

Mr. S sat down to light applause after finishing his speech and dug in. The party had quite a nice spread, he noted, sinking his teeth into some steak soup with a fancy, some might call pretentious, side of Risotto. He kept a sly eye on his table companions, making sure he mimicked their actions and didn't use the wrong fork or something. Thankfully, the people at this table just dug in; it seemed the complicated myriad of rules he expected didn't apply during dinner. Seriously, some guy in the corner was practically inhaling alcohol.

"Weiss," he said, turning to his daughter, well, "daughter." At the same time, she turned back to look at him with a decidedly neutral expression.

"Yes, father?" she replied.

"How have you enjoyed the ball?" He continued evenly, deciding to overlook the fact that she spoke like she was raised in the forties.

"It was an adequate gathering," she replied, looking straight ahead and making it clear that she didn't want to talk.

Mr. S Shrugged, he'd figure out what teenage drama or petty squabble was causing this later.

"Well, how are your friends enjoying the party?" he looked to the three girls sitting beside her, who together formed a spectrum of emotion which he swore had to be planned.

"It was good. I mean, great! Mr. Schnee," a soft spoken and nervously chuckling girl said, adding a quick, "sir," after a short pause. He smiled at the girl as she tried turning her grey eyes away from his. The grey eyed girl was sitting furthest from Weiss, and next to her sat a busty blonde in a yellow dress who didn't bother hiding the glare she directed at him. Moving on quickly, he looked at the next person in line, who he guessed this was "Blake" considering her black dress and that she sat directly next to Weiss.

Blake's look was some combination of "Ahh!" and "I will rip your heart out and eat it!", all of this mixed with resting bitch face. Now, he wasn't one to meddle in a strangers dating life, but he wondered if Weiss had chosen the best people to call friends.

"And why are you asking?" Weiss said forcefully.

"I just wanted to know how your friends were doing," he replied, with probably the most honest thing he'd said since he woke up this morning.

Alas, Weiss, despite all her riches, was not buying it.

"Really? You want to know more about my friends, now?"

Weiss's voice echoed across the ballroom. Mr. S noticed the sudden quiet and turned to see the nervously smiling faces of the guests as most everyone seemed to be occupied with sipping their empty cups while staring discreetly at the scene. Weiss herself noticed the now silent room, the buzzing drone of the cameras now audible as she worked up the courage to take the next step.

"Well fine-" she said, standing up "-I'll tell you about them!"

"Ruby!" she pointed at the grey eyed girl with black hair, "is the most talented huntress I've ever met, without whose leadership Beacon would surely have fallen." Weiss proclaimed with a not-too-subtle jab at the Atlas nobility's unpopular decision to hold back dust sales to a besieged Beacon when the white fang attacked. They reversed this decision of course, but it was still a sore point for many heads at the table.

"Ruby," as he now knew her to be called, waved at him with a nervous smile as Weiss lauded her achievements.

Mr. S wanted to give Ruby his congratulations on helping to win their D&D campaign, but Weiss was not done.

"Yang!" she pointed now to the scowling blonde.

'Oh, she's doing all of them,' Mr. S thought, looking at the scene with a neutral expression.

"Who is the most KIND HEARTED and BRAVE person I know!" Weiss said, putting particular emphasis on "KIND HEARTED" and "BRAVE" as another kick in the gut to the Atlas nobles who wanted to stay out of the fight for beacon. The same atlas Nobles who nearly let the white fang destroy one of the CCT towers.

Many guests in the ballroom were heavily gulping down wine from their flasks, Schwarz was considering downing a bottle.

'The yellow haired one looks like she'd main an orc,' Mr. S, thought, now understanding why Weiss had to be invited to this party. 'No matter, she can't make anymore of a scene,' Mr. S thought, wondering what kind words Weiss would have for Blake.

"And Blake!," Weiss's voice rang out like a crystal through the now stone silent Ball room. Her eyes glancing lovingly down towards Blake for a split second before she braced herself and let Blake grip her hand.

"My girlfriend!" she announced, helping Blake up from her chair with a tug of her arm, removing her bow with a flick of the wrist before bending Blake backwards and kissing her deeply in front of the watching crowd.

Yang smiled deliciously, barely managing to keep her promise not to make any more of a scene.

Ruby clapped lightly in the corner with a nervous smirk, "Yay! they're girlfriends!" she whispered.

If possible, the silence in the room got colder, followed by a loud, unanimous, gasp which spread out in a wave before falling silent; the acts of yelling, crying ladies, and loud phone calls only held back by the common courtesy everyone showed in allowing Mr. Schnee to be the first among them to do those things.

All eyes were on him, as some brows sweated and some, like the lady in red, smiled with a devilish smirk at the shitshow that would surely follow.

Now, if you, dear reader, expected Mr. S to be so completely ignorant of Faunus kind that he would make the wrong move at this turn, you'd be wrong. No, for Mr. S had learned about Faunus just prior to his party.

Well...he hadn't LEARNED about them...or read anything about them...or even heard the word "faunus" before in his life...Ok, he'd seen a picture of some people with animal ears on the cover of a magazine in one of the waiting rooms: A crime-watch magazine. But! He had managed to deduce much from a simple picture.

For example, it was obvious that gene therapy had advanced to the point where people could selectively add animal characteristics to their biology.

From this, he gathered three more important pieces of information.

First. Obviously, only rich people would have access to this technology at first, a hypothesis somewhat confirmed by his daughter dating someone with said augmentations. So make sure to treat people with animal characteristics accordingly.

Second. People in specialized industries would probably get them if their work could be improved by it, which is why those prison guards on the magazine cover had extra ears, to help keep a lookout.

And third, and most importantly, don't make a scene if you see people with animal ears; you'll make a fool of yourself otherwise.

So of course, Mr. S was now extremely glad that he'd seen that magazine. Otherwise, he might have freaked out at the sight of Blake's ears. PHEW! Of course, it was apparently a big deal that his daughter had made a scene and kissed someone, so he'd better say something to ease the tension. All of this flashed through his adrenaline addled mind in a quick second.

Looking smoothly over to the anticipating rows of diners in front, and his daughter and her friends to the side, he cleared his throat.

"You know, Weiss," he said. "I didn't know much about Blake when you first introduced her, but I can see now why you chose to date her."

Weiss rolled her eyes, 'Of course he's going to mention he didn't "know about" Blake. Trying to distance himself from this "Travesty"' she thought hotly.

Weiss didn't bother to hide her disgust at the coming speech about her "rebelliousness," the "bad influences at Beacon" and her "traumatized little soul after surviving through the attack by the White Fang."

Despite all of this, however. Weiss responded.

"And why do you think I chose to date her, father?" Weiss said, with a tone as sweet as ever.

"Why, because she's obviously an excellent listener!" he said loudly, making sure everyone in the room heard the clever joke he'd just come up with.

'Yeah, I'm awesome,' he thought, chuckling at his own joke.

'It works on so many levels!' he thought to himself, glad that he was able to come up with something under pressure like that as he stuffed down a hearty spoonful of the, quite delicious, Risotto, still chuckling. Yeah, he deserved this. Slowly, he got less and less glad as his own laughter echoed back towards him.

No one else was laughing. Like, not even a little. Not even those fake laughs people give when rich people tell bad jokes, or even those half-heated pity-laughs people give when poor people tell bad jokes! He looked over from Weiss to the horrified faces that stood out on every person he saw, except for the red-lipstick lady, who's smile stood out like Christmas was coming early.

He looked back towards Weiss, who looked like her eyes were going to fall out of her head as her expression switched between wrathful, shocked and exasperation.

Thankfully, he didn't have to think of anything else to say. The rest of the ball did that for him.

"What the fuc-" a man near the middle of the table yelled, standing up. The rest of that sentence wasn't heard, drowned out in the wave of shouts that arose from every table and corner of the room.

While the panic spread, the cameras still circled slowly above, capturing the scene in all its HD glory.