Disclaimer: I don't own any of the copyright material property shown in this story. I'm merely writing this for fun! I hope you enjoy.

For What It's Worth

1.7

In the mundane landscape of unending rust that was Mantle, Whitley Schnee felt an urgency like never before. As a child, he was always reliant on Klein and the army of servants to do his bidding. Today however his latest ambition went above robotic suits, it was a vision for something greater. He was about to bring a thing of fantasy into the real world.

At least he hoped it did. The young boy wasn't much of a gambler even in the metaphorical sense.

The concept had danced around the fringes of his mind in the first few days after his trigger. Writing down the idea only to be ignored in favor of his power armor, a decision he wouldn't admit was based on how a child chooses their toys.

The distinct pungent odor of oil permeated the walls of his underground workshop, complemented by the hum of dozens of machinery waiting to be used. Whitley had been finalizing the designs for the first Dragonflight (Dragonhead sounded weird to him) on a holographic interface. Once smooth fingers danced over the smooth surface, manipulating images and schematics until they materialized into a three-dimensional projection before him. He examined every contour, every joint, every panel, every detail until he was satisfied with the preliminary results. It had only been a few hours since he arrived at the factory and yet he had already used up over ten gigabytes worth of blueprints on his holographic interface.

"Weight distribution, check. Balance, check. Joint maneuverability, check. Ammunition storage, check…"

The sound of his voice echoed back to him in the space, accompanied only by the soft whir of the projection. Whitley could feel the rush of calculations, calculations he barely understood, pour through his mind. Forcing his head to keep pace with the tinker fugue he had unleashed, methodically configuring each aspect of his creation.

Right now his focus was on the wings, specifically how he wanted them to look. Seeing how dragons were never a thing in Remnant, his basis on aerodynamics in terms of reptilian wings was severely lacking. Whitley even tried to redo the design to match that of avian birds, dropping the idea when the first drafts made it look like a mechanical Nevermore. Then again since no one had a concrete basis on what an actual dragon should look like he did have some leeway in adjusting the design. Functionality did come first before aesthetics.

Yes, Whitley needed the wings to be beautiful. That was already a given. Above all else however, he needed them to be rugged, able to withstand the harshest of winds while slicing the air like an actual living creature. After coming up with a solution, the design began to take shape. With his imagination filled with the glint of iridescent metal reminiscent of dragonfly wings.

Not like there was someone on Remnant who actually knows what an actual dragon is supposed to look like. And if there was one then chances are they should probably be taking their medication right about now.

Finalizing the skeletal framework, Whitley now had to configure the flight control systems of the aircraft. Yes, the Dragonflight was more than capable of prolonged and intense combat but he wanted the Dragonflight to be more than just a tech of destruction. Whitley wanted them to be a symbol of technological advancement, not even that, but a general symbol of progress. The thing about the current line of bullheads was that the better the model the more complicated the internal systems were. As a result, they were different institutions that solely existed in training individuals in piloting these complex aircraft. Whitley couldn't compromise the external mechanisms, which was obvious given the numerous moving parts of the Dragonflight. He could however compromise the controls for the pilot, making it easy enough that a novice or a veteran could easily grasp how to use it.

With each passing hour, his excitement intensified, fueling his focus even more. With everything on the drawing board complete it was time to move to the next phase, and he was as giddy as ever.

Whitley's first priority was the frame, he needed to build a durable yet flexible skeleton that could support the weight of my modular components without sacrificing mobility. The stainless steel and aluminum he took from the limousine for the power armor made it clear that using any metal wouldn't suffice. Regardless of whatever tinkerize modifications he did to it, poor material was still poor material.

Thanks to the high amount of high-grade titanium composites inside the factory, the quality of his materials was covered.

In terms of physically building the actual aircraft, Whitley could do the entire thing by hand. The problem was that he'd hypothesized the prototype would be finished within three weeks from now. If he went down that path then there are two downsides, the first was that his sleep cycle would be nonexistent. He was looking at four to five hours of sleep every 72 hours of nonstop building. The second, and worse of all, was that he'd be downing the tinker slop at nearly thrice the amount than he did back at his original workshop.

"Eughh, Oum no."

Which brings him back to why he was in the factory. Whitley was going to fully utilize everything the factory had to offer.

Speaking of which, managing multiple robotic arm units was no simple task. Whitley needed them to interpret commands, adapt to changing scenarios, and develop their own rudimentary operational intelligence. A single error in programming could lead to catastrophic failures and expose his designs to unwanted scrutiny once he reveals them to the public.

It took him over an hour to program a central operating system for every robotic unit inside the factory.

Best of all, each of the industrial machinery could be converted into STCs or Standard Template Constructs. The STCs could and would be Whitley's main method of mass production of not just the Dragonflight but anything else that would come out of his mind. Sure it sucked that no workers would end up getting employed and paid but that was a much better outcome than having dozens of fatalities because of his father's overseer's cruel apathy.

Or at least that's what Whitley tells himself.

With that out of the way, Whitley began by creating a reinforced alloy frame from the high-grade titanium composite for strength and resistance against ballistic and energy impacts. Every segment of the frame was carefully planned to maximize structural integrity, paying special attention to weight distribution. The joints had to support a wide range of motion and withstand the torque generated during high-speed maneuvers, so he added a series of lightweight but durable servo motors that allowed for near-human flexibility.

Based on the 3D models generated by his holographic interface, Whitley used one of the many manufacturing arms to fabricate the frame in segments. This allowed him to check for precision in each piece, down to millimeter-level tolerances, before Whitley began assembly. Each joint was tested and calibrated, utilizing a series of spring-tension components within the alloy segments to enable fluid, and rapid movement while minimizing wear. Once he was satisfied with the results he had began inputting instructions in the central operating system to begin production on the individual parts.

Up next, the armor plating!

The outer armor required a material that was both lightweight and resilient, however, Whitley wasn't capable yet of actually building a single metal alloy that powerful. So his solution was to develop a layered composite of pre-existing tinker materials. Each armor plate consisted of three layers, the base was made from the leftover (considering the amount he made it was a joke to call them leftovers.) titanium composites. The second layer consisted of carbon-nanotube mesh made from commercial materials that he had dipped in a tinker solution that made it even stronger. This was to provide structural reinforcement. The third and final layer was a coating of ballistic-resistant polymer, which again was a 50/50 mix of commercial materials and tinkerize modifications.

Whitley chose a matte black finish for the color. He achieved this by applying a special heat-resistant paint designed to reduce glare and provide limited thermal insulation. The plates were fabricated using a precision press to shape each segment individually, after which they were interlocked along the suit's skeletal frame. Whitley engineered the interlocking points to align with the joints, to allow a full range of motion while providing maximum protection.

At the core of Whitley's Mark 1 power armor was his central processing unit that was made from his original scroll. Not really made for anything bigger than a hand held device, it was only logical for his power armor's CPU to fail mid-flight.

That was not the case here in the factory. Using one of the many supercomputers found in the factory Whitley was able to develop a proper cpu for the Dragonflight. Which he would house within the aircraft's motherboard located at the bottom part that somewhat resembled a creature's chest, behind additional armor plating. He used another supercomputer from the factory to create a high-performance computational unit that could directly interface with his current primary server. Which mostly consisted of the workshop back at the manor, something he planned to improve and expand in the foreseeable future. This computational unit allows real-time calculations and control over the suit's advanced systems.

Alongside the processing unit was a compact, high-density power cell made from a fusion of lithium-magnesium components, designed to deliver a steady current while minimizing weight. To avoid overheating, Whitley developed a thermal regulation system utilizing liquid-cooling tubes, which circulated a coolant fluid through microchannels surrounding the power core. The cooling system extended through the circuitry network, allowing heat to dissipate gradually.

There were four wings in total, two for each side. Whitley had assembled them with retractable titanium alloy extensions, reinforced with the same carbon-nanotube mesh used in the armor. Whitley embedded miniaturized, high-capacity thrusters along the wingspan, powered by independent energy cells designed for short-burst propulsion and rapid directional adjustments. The wings could deploy and retract automatically, folding neatly along the back when not in use, using an electromagnetic rail system for smooth transitions.

In terms of flight stability, Whitley took a page out of the bullhead manuals which resorted to him using multiple gyroscopic stabilizers and applying them across the frame. Sensors lined the four wings and their thrusters monitoring wind speed, temperature, and pressure. These sensors constantly fed data to his main processor, enabling automatic adjustments to flight vectors, ensuring stability and maneuverability regardless of the environment.

While the machines were churning out the numerous, large parts of the Dragonflight the lull of heavy machinery gave him a moment's rest. Checking his phone it told him that it had been 24 hours since he arrived at the factory. Whitley was aware that he was hungry and was beginning to feel his body begin to run on fumes. Still, he felt incredibly proud at how fast his progress was with a project a hundred times more complex than what he had created in the manor.

Whitley had no idea what instructions were given to Captain Silverstein, but if his phone was telling the truth then the man hadn't so much as checked in on the boy for over 24 hours. He decided that he liked the captain for that. Despite this, one of the many reasons he was doing this in the first place was to have a healthier working environment and a better working attitude. Whitley was already finished with all the physical components of the Dragonflight, so he reasoned that he could take a rest before the final assembly.

Before taking his much-needed rest however, Whitley at least had to finish the final part of the Dragonflight.

The circuitry posed the most complex challenge, as it had to be efficient and seamlessly integrated throughout the frame. For Dragonflight to function as intended, Whitley needed a high-capacity, superconductive circuitry that could handle immense data throughput without overheating or latency issues.

Whitley began by synthesizing nanowire arrays, incredibly fine and capable of handling data loads far beyond conventional wiring. These nanowires were embedded within the alloy skeleton, running parallel with the armor plates in some areas and branching like veins in others.

To avoid data lag and power losses, Whitley created a lattice-based circuit grid. Each segment of the grid was isolated by micro-conduits to prevent system overloads; if one section was damaged, the rest would remain operational. He embedded microprocessors and power relay points at each joint, enabling rapid data and power transfer across the suit. Finally, Whitley coated each wire with a high-temperature ceramic composite to withstand the internal heat generated by high-energy functions like flight and weapon discharge.

With a flick of a switch, the entire Dragonflight system came alive. Had Whitley been a literary person he would've said his Dragonflight had a soul. Watching the computer boot up gave him an immense sense of satisfaction, a massive grin adorning his face. At this moment he forgot about why he was in the factory in the first place, he had forgotten about his familial issues and instead felt he was destined for something greater in this world.

Checking the time again, his phone had told Whitley that an additional six hours had elapsed regarding the creation of the Dragonflight's circuitry. Thanks to the tinker fugue Whitley could still go for a few more hours or perhaps even an additional day. If he did that then he could begin with the final assembly of the Dragonflight and even take it for a test flight across the mantle. With how advanced the computer systems were Whitley could just push the autopilot button and sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.

But Whitley was better than that now. Or at least he was trying to be better, being awake for 30 hours may be better compared to 48 or 72 hours but it was still egregiously bad when compared to a proper healthy sleep cycle. Besides, he argued to himself that he had done more in a day and a half in this factory than an entire month in the manor.

Whitley deserved a break and that was final.

—-

Whitley gave the Dragonflight's computer a good look, the auto-updating series of numbers never failing to amaze him. Then he proceeded to the elevator, grabbing his coat from the ground only a few feet away from the elevator's doors. Reading the instructions sent to him by the captain upon arrival, he pressed the fourth-floor button of the elevator since the overseer's office was located there. After a short ride, Whitley was greeted with a long windowless corridor. According to his phone, the door that led to the overseer's office was the only door that had a label, and true enough after a walk that led him to the middle of the corridor, Whitley saw the door.

There was no label on the door, instead the whole door was a different color entirely. This door was yellow. Literally every door in the corridor was a drab gray. "The Captain was probably the one who sent me that message."

The door being unlocked pretty much proved it, entering the room Whitley saw what his temporary house looked like. The room retains a subtle sense of its past life as an office, with remnants of its original design barely blending with its current function as a bedroom. The walls were the same drab gray as everything else in the factory, the only difference was that some parts of the wall had paintings hanging from them. The subject of these paintings was a diverse set of scenery that Whitley didn't mind since they brought a bit of life inside an emotionally dead room.

Other than the monotonous vibe of the room the other most immediate aspect he noticed was a small window that was the size of a large picture frame. Judging by the marks across the edges of the window and the discoloration surrounding it, the window was added last minute probably by some workers under Klein's instructions. Looking through the window Whitley was greeted by rows of the same rusty factories like the one he was currently staying in. The only difference was that some of them had smoke coming out of their massive exhausts. Disappointing, but it was expected.

Near the window was the bed. The bed was placed against a wall where a bookshelf or filing cabinet probably once stood. It was smaller than the one back at the manor but it still looked cozy to him. Two pillows, a warm blanket with a comforter, what wasn't there to like? This was a massive upgrade compared to the makeshift hammock. Underneath the bed were different kinds of shoes, the designs were bland, and the lack of any formal footwear aside from the ones he was wearing meant Klein understood his assignment.

On the opposite side of the bed was the kitchen, or at least it tried to look like a kitchen. A line of wall mounted-tables were filled with kitchen appliances such as a microwave, a mini oven, a water heater and an espresso machine. At the end of the tables was a water dispenser, and beside it were blue jugs that contained gallons of water in them. The shelves above contained numerous food packaging namely canned food, huge plastic cups that had pictures of different animals (were those cup noodles?) and a few coffee bags. There was a black parcel on the floor underneath the table and upon closer inspection were a set of garbage bags and an instruction that said 'Leave the trash out the room'.

Apart from the door that led to the room, there was another one inside that was also the same color. Checking it out, it was the bathroom and it was obviously small. There was a sink with a small mirror and some tools for dental hygiene, beside it was a laundry hamper that also had the instructions to leave it out of the room. The toilet was a given, sadly there were no bidets but he would live. The shower was a tight squeeze only separated by a shower divider.

When he had explored all there was to his new temporary home, Whitley concluded that it was ugly. But it was enough to do the job so he was grateful for everything that Klein provided.

Whitley's eyes felt heavy, after ignoring his tinker fugue his mind and body finally felt a lingering exhaustion that threatened to pull him into a deep sleep. Almost two days without sleep had taken its toll, and he could hear the small bed in the corner calling out to him like a siren's song. But first, there were basic needs to attend to.

With limbs beginning to stiffen, Whitley went back to the makeshift kitchen grabbing a bag of white bread and a can of what he assumed was beef pâté. The can had a built-in opener so he didn't need any additional tools to make his meal, well probably a spoon to spread the thing and a plate. With no refrigerator in the room and his laziness to make a small one, Whitley used the whole can of pâté that gave him two whole sandwiches.

Back then this meal would've been disgusting by his standards, but today with an empty stomach and a month of drinking wet cardboard these sandwiches were on par with Klein's gourmet cooking. Being by himself Whitley had thrown away his table manners as he practically exhaled the sandwiches. After barely four minutes he was done with his meal, cleaning after himself.

A shower was next, his tired muscles feeling rejuvenated after hot water made contact with them. Naked under the steaming cascade, he let himself relax, allowing the warmth to wash away the fatigue and stress. The sound of water hitting the tile echoed around him, and he found solace in solitude, the tight fit of the bathroom not even bothering him as he stood motionless for minutes. Tinkering new technological marvels may have been Whitley's current and greatest joy, but the in-between moments of peace such as this moment was a close second.

After he dried off and donned a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Whitley felt more like himself again. He went to the lone window in the room and gazed at the monotonous scenery. Despite his misgivings about Mantle in general, the city was slowly starting to grow on him. Who knows, maybe he might even make this factory his main base in the future all things considered.

He plopped onto the bed and pulled out his phone, connecting to the Dragonflight's systems and checking one last time for any changes in its computations. His body may have been happy with his current situation but his mind was determined to voice its defiance in continuing to tinker. Refusing to give in, Whitley compensated by making plans for when the Dragonflight was officially complete. After one more check on the Dragonflight's systems, Whitley gave a sigh of relief. Happy with his progress, he had given his all from the beginning and he was sure he'd be rewarded in mind and soul in the future.

Now the land of dreams was calling to him and Whitley was more than happy to answer the call.

—-

He'd been here before or at least he vaguely remembers being here before. Standing on the balcony of a massive building Whitley could see a huge obelisk spike in the distance that he guessed was made of steel, but the lack of a huge glint told him otherwise. 'Cement then, or stone.'

On the other side of his vision was a huge manor of sorts. The design reminds him of the classical Atlesian infrastructures he would typically see in the history books he'd study. The striking aspect of this manor from the distance was that it was purely painted white. At least the Schnee manor had a healthy combination of blue and white that gave it some kind of personality.

Whitley continued to half-heartedly analyze the different infrastructure of this strange nation his visors could see, his audio receptors picked up heavy footsteps that based on the sound and pattern were headed straight to him.

Whitley ignored it.

Even with the footsteps stopping directly behind him, he continued to view the landscape from the balcony. It was the tapping of an armored finger on his power armor, a new and different design he hadn't yet thought of, did he finally turned around.

What greeted him was a tall man that equally wore a set of power armor, albeit his was much sleeker compared to the design Whitley was wearing. The color of the man's armor was predominantly orange and had some blue accents in some parts such as the biceps and thighs. The suit's armor consisted primarily of segmented plates that had open lines across the whole body. These lines openly glowed blue, a weird gimmick that Whitley thought had no value other than being eye catchy. There were only two notable features on the man's armor, the first was a white wing motif on the left pectoral armor plate. The other was that the left shoulder plate was designed like a knight's shield of old with three letters engraved in the middle, P.R.T is said. Other than those features the armor's design was admittedly bog standard.

The man's helmet was at his side, the lack of a mouth piece suggest it was only meant to cover the top part of the wearer's head. Apart from the bright orange visor that hid the tall man's eyes, most of the man's head was on display. Short blonde hair that was spiked up gently flowed along the air, a large smile that seemed genuine was on the man's face that was clearly pointed at Whitley.

"Guten tag!" The man says loudly to Whitley.

Whitley on the other hand recognized the phrase said to him as classical Atlesian, a language he knew how to speak but still preferred the Valean standard of Remnant. By the man's awkward pronunciation of the greeting Whitley deduced that classic Atlesian was not the main language of the man and probably the strange new land he was in. 'Probably being nice to the tourist.'

"And a good day to you also," Whitley replied in Valean standard.

The man laughs good-naturedly, the sound coming from the man made Whitley feel somewhat welcomed. He could admit that a feeling of ease emanated from the man, Whitley couldn't help but smile.

"Either my German was that bad or what they say about German humor is true." Said the man as his laugh died down but the smile was still present. "So you're the Machinist huh, the German Tri-Alliance's leading…Knappe?"

"You mean Knappe? You mean Squire?" Answered in a confused tone. Apparently, his ridiculous name in this world was just a ridiculous way to say machine and his deduction about the main language was correct. If there was one thing Whitley picked up from these dreams was that more often than not it was better to play along than to seek out answers from a mountain of questions that would've undeniably risen just by being here. "You are correct, I am the German Tri-Alliance leading Knappe, but please just refer to me in what you're most comfortable with sir…?."

"Geez kid, no need to be so formal here. Just call me Hero and I'll call you Machine AND refer to you as a Ward. So I don't have to butcher your cool language any further, deal?"

"Deal."

"Alrighty then! Welcome to Washington, the capital city of good ol U.S of A! You looked like you were enjoying the scenery but I got to break it to you, we have an orientation at the auditorium with other gifted international Wards in about five minutes or so we gotta go right now. Walk with me?"

"It would be a pleasure, lead the way, Hero."

The walk to the auditorium was expectedly silent, the hallway they were in was just as large as the hallways in Atlas academy. As for the man now known as Hero, he was as jovial as he conveyed greeting everyone they encountered. These encounters were varied with people such as what he presumed were scientists with their cliched lab coats, soldiers in black armor that covered them from head to toe and some sort of backpack-like device on their backs. They even came across other people like themselves wearing a ridiculous get-up of either a colorful spandex suit or overly bright power armor. Funnily enough Hero's arguably bland armor design made him stand out amongst the others.

Speaking of which.

"Hey Machine, I noticed that you don't have any of the Knight-style armor get-up tinkers from Germany usually have. What made you deviate from the norm over there? Your helmet looks great though! Easily my favorite part of your power armor."

'Knights, I should've known just by the title.' Whitley thought.

"The knight schtick back in Germany has been overdone since before I was even born. No offense to my people back home but to me, the knight aesthetic is honestly just boring by my tastes." Whitley answered Hero, but from the man's question rose a curiosity of his own. "What about you Hero? I mean no offense but I've noticed that your armor's design is rather-"

"Bland?" Whitley nods at Hero. Said man does his jovial laugh again at Whitley's statement. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Especially from my teammates. But I do have an answer to that, the truth is I've grown fond of my look. Believe it or not, it's the first design I had on the drawing board when I had triggered."

"Ah," Whitley said, understanding the reasoning Hero had. "I understand, even I tend to forgo better equipment simply because of how attached I've become to the previous one."

Hero chuckles a bit, the man tended to laugh a lot Whitley noticed.

"There is also another reason why I prefer this so-called bland design. You see when the whole country, and by extension the whole world, have their eyes on you need to take into consideration every little aspect the vulture we call the media will look into." As Hero said those words the shift in the air felt immediate, the jovial man who greeted him was replaced by a serious adult who took Whitley's full attention. "Believe me when I say this Machine, in this line of work people will obviously look up to for inspiration, motivation, or some other related word. You can still give a message to the world without speaking or from direct action. The reason why my armor is bland is because it gives the world the subtle message that I am humble."

Hero wears the top part of his helmet before continuing. Their walk had notably gotten slower, but not fully stopping.

"I understand how arrogant that sounds, but do keep in mind people will cling to anything regardless of reason. With villains rising from everywhere and threatening to end the current order, not to mention the Endbringers, we have to give people hope in any way possible. By being bland I give the people the idea that I am humble, by being humble it tells them that I am down to earth. Someone they'd have a good time chatting with like they would a close friend. Even my attitude contributes to this. This isn't to say that I'm a fraud or anything but I do my best to be genuine, and I hope by being genuine I can do my best. Does that make sense?"

"It does." Whitley says, not because he wholly agreed with the man despite seeing his argument but because he was starting to see a pattern. A pattern he didn't like.

The pace going to the auditorium still hasn't sped up and the lack of any encounters with other personnel gave the walk a weight to it.

"Anyway," Hero suddenly says in a loud tone, his jovial manner, the air feeling lighter. "Since you made me spill some beans meant for course work we might as well get down to business!"

"Business? You mean tinker talk?"

"No silly. Business, as in life lessons in being a superhero?"

'Oh, Oum.' "Really? Life lessons here? In the middle of a hallway?"

"Why not!"

"Listen, Hero, I find you really cool and all especially with your insightful view of things just now but can we please not do this here? Life lessons from adults are slowly becoming a thing in my life and I'd rather not have to spend a good chunk of my day dedicated to it."

"That's exactly the point! You're a kid and despite all the cool new powers you have you're still growing up. You need to hear all of it because what you learn today shapes who you become in the future. There is however a benefit to this, when you reach my age you get to give as many life lessons as you want to kids half your age!" Hero chuckles, "Anyway, let's begin."

Whitley let out a verbal groan.

"As a tinker, I bet you're building all new kinds of tech and gizmo right?"

"Yes."

"And I bet when you make new stuff your inner thoughts are going 'I am building new stuff to save lives, creating new clean energy, all sorts of things! I'm doing good!' or something to that extent."

"Yes…?"

"But here's the thing, asking yourself if it's good isn't enough. Are you using your genius as a tool for heroes or gearing it toward your own legacy? There's a fine line between saving lives and seeking accolades, and I... Well, let's just say I've danced on both sides."

"What? Isn't innovation inherently good?"

"Ah, innovation is like a double-edged sword, my gifted Ward." Hero's tone gained a cryptic tone but Whitley could see past it.

"Let me guess, it can cut through the dark, or it can slice your own throat if you're not careful. Or something to that degree?"

"Exactly Machine! I knew you were selected to be here for a reason. When building stuff always remember the old adage; just because you can doesn't mean you should."

Had it not been for his helmet then Hero would've seen Whitley roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah I get it. I've been told this back home." Whitley in fact, hadn't been told this back in Atlas.

"Point is, kid," Hero continued despite Whitley's attitude, his tone shifting to something both gentle and serious, "you have the power to create incredible things. But don't let the tech overshadow the human element. It's not just about saving the world; it's about saving the people in it. Make it personal."

Whitley verbally sighed, Hero meant well and did prove a point but this was getting bothersome. Next time someone lectured him chances are he'd just fly away, assuming he had his power armor on. Still, he could appreciate Hero for being a dedicated mentor to whatever it was that was going on in this dream.

"Thank you, Hero. And I mean it."

"No worries kid!"

Their conversation conveniently ended when they reached the entrance of the auditorium behind two hinged doors.

"Also Machine, sorry for forcing the lecture on you. The reason is I'd be a hypocrite if I was quiet the whole time."

"Why would you be a hypocrite?"

"You're not the first kid I had to fetch, your fellow international Wards lost track of time because of sightseeing. Before you, I had to fetch six other kids like you, although you're the odd man out. You're the only one who didn't immediately ask, pleading really, for so-called important cape lessons from America's very own!"

'America?'

Hero grabbed the handles of the door, before opening it he looked back at Whitley. "And thank you Machine."

"For what?"

"For not asking me about Alexandria."

"Who?"

A massive grin was across Hero's face. "Exactly!"

As Hero opened the doors a bright light blinded Whitley, not able to see past what the doors had to offer him in this strange new land and strange, albeit nice, people.

—-

Whitley opened his eyes and he found himself comfortably tucked in his bed. The feeling of being refreshed was overwhelming, so much so that he might go overboard with the tinkering today. He got up from his bed and stretched his body, looking at the window he noted that he went to bed with the sun setting and now he woke with the sun still setting. 'A literal day sleeping, a result from a day of non-stop building.'

After getting up from bed Whitley went to the bathroom to wash up a bit, he didn't even bother changing his clothes. Then he proceeded to go to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee, the quality wasn't on par with Klein's brew but it did its job. When he had finished slurping his cup of coffee as fast as he could with the hot liquid he placed the mug down at the counter not even bothering to wash it. Whitley also didn't bother making a quick meal for himself as he took a pair of bland sneakers that perfectly fitted him from under the bed.

Without so much as a glance back Whitley left his room and went towards the elevator. The low hum of the machine accompanied him as he mentally made an itinerary of what to do after he finished with the final assembly of the Dragonflight. The thought of a test run alone made Whitley smile as his mood was filled with excitement. Even if the basement had no runaway it was still connected to the garage entrance, which meant he didn't have to create a hole in his new workshop.

As he left the elevator and entered his workshop, Whitley was immediately faced with a problem.

The problem was that the Dragonflight, his new invention that he was sure he left the day before as a series of parts across the room, was completely assembled in front of him.

It was impressive beyond any technical marvel Atlas had come up with. However, the fact that someone, somehow was not only able to enter a secure private property but finish a massive piece of tinkertech that only HE understood immensely confused Whitley.

Walking up to the Dragonflight Whitley immediately began checking each aspect of the aircraft with precision a surgeon would their patients. The armor panels outside were perfectly in since with the joints, the jet engines were nestled in such a manner that it felt comfortable to look at. For crying out loud the entire aircraft was painted! Emerald green paint was perfectly applied across every surface, highlighted with gold paint that complimented each other. Making the Dragonflight look like it had come out of a fairytale.

Whitley hadn't even thought about painting the damn thing yet here it was!

Entering the vehicle, the feeling inside the Dragonflight felt more like being in a brand new sports car instead of the typical bullhead. Sitting in the cockpit Whitley turned the engine on and booted the internal systems, running a diagnostic test on every line of code the computer generated. It was flawless beyond Whitley's understanding.

Still in disbelief, Whitley exited the vehicle. His confusion mounted as the seconds went by. Who could have done this?

"The captain?! Oum no, the man couldn't even be bothered to post proper directions for the bedroom. Klein? He's a medical doctor, not a damn engineer!" Whitley shouted in his workshop, pacing in circles across the Dragonflight.

While Whitley shouted in circles, he had failed to notice that one of the computers mounted on the wall near him had activated by itself. It wasn't until Whitley made a third lap across the Dragonflight did he finally noticed that one of the massive mounted computers had turned on by itself. The momentary lull had made Whitley approach the computer, and surprisingly an image of a woman popped up.

As Whitley stared at the woman he noted that her most defining feature was that there wasn't anything remarkable about her. She had straight shoulder length black hair that wasn't styled in any way or form. Her skin was light but not as light as Whitley's. Her brown, unremarkable eyes stared at him. She was smiling as she did so. She wasn't ugly by a margin but she also wasn't beautiful either. If Whitley would comment on the woman's appearance he'd say she's the perfect description of bland.

Whitley wasn't able to say anything as he stared at the video, not an image, of the woman. The mystery of who finished the Dragonflight was still at the forefront of his mind. Eventually, it was the mystery woman who broke the ice.

"So," She began, grabbing Whitley's attention. "You like what I did with your ride?"

"What!?" Whitley shouted at the computer. He looked back and forth between the woman and the Dragonflight barely connecting the two. "But- You! Uh- How!" His incoherent rambling made the woman smile.

"I hope you don't mind the paint job, the green and gold just felt natural. You get my drift?" She said to him.

"No!" Whitley shouted at her, finally able to form words again, "Who the hell are you?! And what do you mean you chose the paint job!?"

Again, undeterred by the teenager shouting at him, the woman could only smile at Whitley, before she spoke up again, although in answering him.

"Hi! I'm Tess, are you the one who made me?"

"What the Fu-"

AN: Well that took longer than expected. Thank you to everyone who has liked, followed, reviewed or even just read this fic in their free time! It means a lot to me that you clicked on this story, and I hope I was able to entertain you.

I know I said I wanted a weekly update schedule but unfortunately I gotta face facts. The end of the semester demanded my full attention, and I'm leaving it at that. Still this chapter was a bit of an unusual ride for me cuz I had no experience with how to write a believable vehicle without just going "Whitley built an aircraft thru tinker magic!". Because of this the past month I had watched a ton of videos on my free time about how fighter jets and other related vehicles were made in a factory. I hope I didn't bother you so much with the technical jargon that I admit lifted from some of the videos.

With the sem over this means that I can finally give a good amount of my time writing fics. Were nearing the end of the first arc, all that's left are 2 chapters and 1 interlude before we start arc 2. I wan to be optimistic say i might finish the arc before the year ends but we'll see.

Anyway I've rambled enough, hopefully we'll see each other on the next update.