Disclaimer: I don't own any of the copyright materials shown in this fic. I'm merely writing this for fun, enjoy!
For What It's Worth
1.9
The basement workshop buzzed with the soft hum of machinery and the occasional clatter of tools. Whitley Schnee leaned back in his rolling chair, his legs propped up on the desk, a newly built tablet in one hand and a half-eaten cup of instant noodles in the other. The final product of his latest project—the Mark II Power Armor Suit, or Mark II for short—was hung in its respective station before him, looking magnificent as lines of code streamed on his tablet. In a single night, the teenager was able to complete his new tinker project without totally doing significant harm to his psyche or his body.
An accomplished achievement because he wasn't alone anymore.
Across the room, Tess, his new—yet dedicated artificial intelligence friend, had simultaneously finished up fixing the Dragonflight as well as adding her own upgrades. She had fixed the Dragonflight's freezing issue by adding a new layer of custom gold-titanium alloy that she swore to him would prevent any freezing issues in the future. Whitley did understand the science behind it, but without the adrenaline of falling from the sky, he was hesitant to test her claims. However, he was more than happy to accept Tess' offer of adding a layer underneath the Mark II's armor panels made from the same alloy.
After she was done, Tess popped up on the computer screen beside Whitley. "Hey, I'm done on my end. You?"
"Also done on my end. Mind doing the honors?" Was his reply.
With a smile on her face, Tess disappeared from the screen, and in a second the Mark II powered up. Seeing his invention move made Whitley incredibly proud and admittedly giddy with excitement.
"Not too shabby Whitley. Like the new HUD you've installed."
"Thanks!"
"Alright, Tess," Whitley said, loudly slurping the last of his noodles. "Let's see how far we can push this thing. Start with basic movements and ramp it up."
"Sure thing boss," Tess replied, her arguably Valean accent ringing with calm. Since the Mark II was built with new and improved materials Whitley's new and current suit of power armor was capable of new feats, such as impressive flexibility.
The suit's limbs whirled softly as it moved through a series of programmed poses and basic articulation. With a large conveyor belt used as a makeshift treadmill, Tess began to move. At first, it was mundane: walking, bending, and lifting. Then, Tess cranked it up a notch.
The suit dipped into a deep lunge, its knees bending impossibly low. It twisted at the waist, arms extending outward, one hand grazing the floor.
Whitley raised an eyebrow. "Alright, impressive. But that's not exactly groundbreaking."
"Patience, kid," Tess said. The suit abruptly folded into a pose Whitley could only describe as yoga on steroids. Its legs bent into a full lotus position while the torso twisted nearly 180 degrees, one arm curling backward to mimic a scorpion tail.
Whitley's mouth hung open at the move. "What the—Tess, that's unnatural! Are you trying to break the suit? Or my brain?"
"I assure you, boss," Tess replied, unfazed, "this level of flexibility is well within the capabilities of elite athletes. Gymnasts and contortionists perform similar maneuvers regularly. Even huntsmen have been documented in performing intense moves in combat."
Whitley pushed himself upright, scrutinizing the suit with a mix of awe and suspicion. "Yeah, but I'm not designing this for athletes. What's the point of all this flexibility?"
Tess shifted the suit into a backbend, the metallic spine arching until its hands touched the floor. "Consider scenarios where mobility in confined spaces or evasion is critical. Increased articulation enhances the suit's versatility."
Whitley crossed his arms, watching as the suit transitioned smoothly into a one-handed handstand, its legs splaying outward in perfect balance. "Still, maybe dial it down a bit. Don't want people thinking the youngest Schnee heir moonlights as a circus act."
"Your wish is my command," Tess said with a hint of sarcasm. The suit righted itself, standing tall and composed. Then, after a pause, Tess added with a note of amusement, "Though I must say, boss, observing these movements makes me wonder—when was the last time you stretched? Or, dare I suggest, exercised?"
Whitley blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"
"While you possess an unparalleled intellect in building things, boss, your physical conditioning may leave something to be desired," Tess quipped. "A touch more flexibility might even help you keep up with your own designs."
Whitley rolled his eyes, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You're really leaning into the sass today, huh?"
"I am merely concerned for your well-being, boss," Tess replied, her tone as prim as ever. "After all, the suit can only compensate for so much."
Whitley shook his head, tossing a lug nut at the suit's faceplate. "Alright, alright, point taken. Now get back to work before I program you to only speak in riddles."
"As you say, boss." The suit powered down, standing still as Tess returned to the screen beside him.
Whitley leaned back in his chair again, the smirk now fully formed. "Stretching, huh? Maybe you're right Tess. Maybe I do need to start thinking of my physical well-being. Maybe I need to start training today. Maybe—"
"What are you going on about? I get it, the suit is finished. It's right there, get in it."
"Yeah, I know. But I haven't yet finished the neural link connected with the biometrics in the main CPU." Whitley replied, but his tone was clear he didn't believe himself.
"Then do it later or tomorrow! Now stop pretending like you're not excited to take your suit for a ride."
"Alright, you've convinced me."
The workshop was well lit but Whitley swore that the lights were dim at that moment and it illuminated the sleek figure of the Mark II power armor. He circled it like a hawk, a mixture of pride and anticipation etched across his face. The Mark I suit had been his crude salvation, a clunky prototype forged under duress. This, though—this was different. This was actual progress, progress he'd been telling himself he'd one day achieve since he triggered.
"Alright, let's see what you've got," Whitley muttered, the smile on his lips threatening to reach his ears. He approached the suit, its polished chrome color making it shine under any light but not enough to blind onlookers. Much like its predecessor, the Mark II hadn't been properly painted. The lack of color, however, currently didn't matter to the teenager.
A quick command to his wrist-mounted interface initiated the suit's startup sequence. With a soft whirr and the subtle click of mechanical locks disengaging, the suit's chest plate slit open momentarily showing the green glow of the arc reactor at the chest. With the chest open, the lower abdomen and legs also slit open, creating an inviting cavity. Whitley stepped forward, sliding into place as if the suit were an extension of himself. The inner frame adjusted automatically to his build, a snug fit that felt worlds away from the bulky Mark I.
As the suit sealed around him, Whitley let out a low whistle. So great was his excitement that he couldn't form the proper words on how he felt.
The HUD lit up in a cascade of colors. Whitley's eyes widened as the interface sprang to life, displaying an array of diagnostics, environmental data, and tactical readouts. Everything was sharper, and more intuitive.
"Streamlined UI, check," Tony murmured. "No more squinting at a monochrome display like it's the '80s."
"Pfft, like this was standard back then." Tess' voice chimed in his ears. Her laugh sounded so natural that Whitley couldn't tell if it was because of how great the sound systems were, or if it was because she slowly was becoming human.
Whitley flexed his fingers, marveling at the precision. The servos in the gloves responded instantly, mimicking his movements down to the smallest twitch. He rotated his shoulders, testing the range of motion.
"No more feeling like I'm trapped in a tin can," he noted. The Mark II's joints were reinforced with a graphene-polymer hybrid, reducing weight while enhancing flexibility. As shown by Tess moments ago, he could roll his shoulders, twist his torso, and even crouch in awkward positions without resistance. "Feels like wearing a second skin."
He took a cautious step forward. The suit responded seamlessly, the internal gyros keeping him balanced. Another step, then a jog. The motors hummed softly, barely audible over his breathing.
"I'm a gazelle in this thing!" Exclaimed Whitley. "Mobility, check."
The arc reactor thrummed at his core, its energy flowing like a heartbeat across the Mark II. The power levels appeared on the HUD in bright green, a reassuring indicator of the suit's overall stability. With a blink aimed at the side of his helmet, the HUD pulled up a display of the reactor's output.
"Upgraded palladium core. Twice the efficiency, half the heat. No more worrying about this thing overheating in the middle of a flight," Whitley said. "Genius, if I do say so myself."
Whitley saw Tess' icon on the side of his HUD roll her eyes, but even she was smiling at his comment. It seemed that the innocence of his literal childlike excitement also infected her.
Whitley ran a gloved hand along the forearm plating, feeling the smooth yet durable custom titanium alloy. Although light, the Mark II was still armed with minimal armaments. He initiated a weapons check, watching as the repulsor ports on his palms lit up with a steady green glow. Because of the abundance of resources available in the workshop, Whitley was able to create a second function for the rocket thrusters on the palms of the suit.
Due to the high power input from the new reactor, Whitley accidentally discovered that he could channel some excess energy into the palms. The palm thrusters could then be used to channel an output of concentrated energy that, theoretically, was just as strong as a mounted heavy laser cannon.
"Repulsor tech is new and tighter too. In theory, the energy won't have any scatter—just pure, concentrated force," Whitley said, aiming at a mechanical arm across the room. He fired a quick blast, and green energy struck dead center. "Welp, no longer a theory."
"I liked that arm." Tess commented
Whitley shrugged at her. "And the icing on the cake?" With a flick of his wrists, his beam saber was deployed at a compartment neatly hidden at the right forearm, snugly into his hand. Another flick and the beam saber went back into place as quickly as it had appeared. "Compact, efficient, and does not ruin the aesthetic. Just how I like it."
Next, Whitley toggled the flight systems and the suit's thrusters came to life with a satisfying roar. The vibrations were minimal, a stark contrast to the bone-rattling turbulence of the Mark I. He hovered a few feet off the ground, the stabilizers adjusting automatically to his movements.
"Smooth as Klein's coffee," Whitley said, tilting forward slightly. The suit responded instantly, propelling him into a controlled glide across the workshop. "I could definitely get used to this."
Landing softly, Whitley felt the suit's internal temperature adjust to his body. Tiny fans circulated air through the lining, keeping him cool despite the heat generated by the thrusters.
"No more sauna sessions every time I power up. Finally."
"Wow, a teenage boy who takes care of his hygiene. You are special." Tess quipped.
"Shut up, Tess." Whitley said, both sharing in the delight of a tinker's pride.
As he stood in the middle of the workshop, the suit's diagnostics completed a full sweep. Everything was running at peak efficiency. Whitley stretched his arms outward, admiring his craftsmanship.
"Mark II," he said, his voice brimming with satisfaction. "You're officially my favorite child."
"Until Mark III, I presume," Tess quipped.
Whitley laughed, the sound echoing inside the helmet. "Yeah, well, you know me. Always room for improvement."
"I sure do! It feels like it was only yesterday when I first met you, where has the time gone?" Mock wistfulness emanated from the voice of his AI friend.
"Shut up, Tess."
Both stared at each other through the HUD for a moment, laughing after a few seconds. Tess' laugh was soft yet good-natured, Whitley's laugh on the other hand sounded pure. Despite only meeting (accidentally creating) her only yesterday, it really did feel like they'd known each other for quite some time. Looking back at Whitley's relationships with others, the list was significantly small. Most were either servants or forced business partners, and the few teenagers Whitley personally knew either hated him or were only yes men.
Though Tess is an artificial intelligence, she's ironically the most human person he's interacted with outside his circle. Sad as it was to say this,Tess was probably Whitley's first true friend.
"Diagnostic on the Mark II is complete," Whitley says after their banter. "All systems are functioning within expected parameters. All aspects have improved by 67% compared to the Mark I, and the new propulsion system is fully operational."
"Expected parameters? At least you didn't call it flawless?" Tess continued with her comments.
"Flawless would be a subjective term. Like I said, there is always room for improvement."
Tess rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk. "Spoken like a true perfectionist. The kid's reckless since he started tinkering but is suddenly an adult when someone's helping him."
Whitley shook his head. "Honestly if I didn't know what you are I'd say you look like you're nearing your thirties."
"Oof," Tess mocked a hurt expression. "Low blow, boss. Also word of advice, never mention a girl's age to her face. Wouldn't want you all alone in the future."
"Whatever you say, Tess." Whitley opened the Mark II's faceplate. "Well, I'm done with the main suit for now."
"For now? You going somewhere?" Tess asked.
"No, I'm building the extended jetpack for the Mark II then the main armaments. You're literally connected to my online notes Tess. Would it kill you to read them?"
Tess left the HUD and appeared on the workshop's main screen. She looked at Whitley with a face that made him feel a bit nervous.
"If I may suggest, boss." She started.
"No."
"Here me out Whitley."
"I'm not gonna fly the Mark II into space."
"I never said that."
Whitley gave her an unamused look. "Oh yeah? And what exactly were you going to suggest?"
"I was going to suggest that perhaps a live test would yield more insightful data. Specifically a controlled flight through the city."
Whitley paused, his finger hovering over his chin. He sighed "Is this your attempt at tempting me?"
"Merely offering a logical course of action," Tess replied.
"Uhuh, and then when I'm above the city you'll convince me, cough cough commandeer, the suit into flying into space right?"
"I already said I was sorry," She said in exasperation. "Besides, I understand you're not one to settle for theoretical results. And what better way to get practical results than flying the suit!"
He pretended to give her suggestion some thought but had already agreed with her. "You promise not to take the controls away from me mid-flight?"
"I promise boss, on my digital heart, not to send you to the moon again."
Whitley's smirk returned, closing the faceplate and Tess returned to his HUD. "Alright Tess, you've convinced me. Open the runway."
"You mean the driveway with a bunch of random lights installed all over it?"
"Shut up, Tess."
Said AI looked at him with a questioning look.
He sighed. "Yes, Tess. Will you please open the runway?"
"That's what I like to hear! Alrighty then, all systems are online. Ready when you are, boss."
Whitley took a deep breath, his heart pounding. As exciting as this was, the first steps were always the most nerve-wracking. He activated the repulsors in his palms and boots, lifting off the platform with a smooth, controlled motion.
"Oh yeah," he said, grinning like a maniac. The early nerves quickly faded as adrenaline began to set. " .Good."
"Runway open boss! Prepare for takeoff." Tess informed him.
"Alright, Tess. Let's see what this baby can do."
With a burst of energy, Whitley soared across the workshop and into the driveway modified for aircraft use. Once he was out the doors, the whole city disappeared beneath him. The cool afternoon air rushed past, and the city of Mantle stretched out below, its people moving in routine like a sea of ants. He executed a sharp turn, the suit responding flawlessly to his movements.
"Flight stability is holding," Tess reported. "Speed at 80% capacity. Suggest testing maximum output."
"You read my mind," Whitley replied, pushing the suit's propulsion systems to full power. He rocketed forward, streaking across the city like a comet. Adrenaline surged through him as he weaved between buildings, his reflexes and the suit's advanced systems working in perfect harmony.
"Careful, sir," Tess cautioned. "Avoid unnecessary risks."
"Isn't that a bit ironic coming from you?" Whitley gave a hearty laugh. "Relax, Tess. I've got this,"
Pulling into a barrel roll. The suit's gyroscopic stabilizers kept him steady, and he let out a cheer. "This is incredible!"
As he soared over the edge of the city, Whitley noticed some kind of event below. Parts of the street were illuminated by multicolored lights with people gathered at the center. He couldn't resist dipping lower for a closer look. The guests' astonished faces turned skyward as the armored figure zipped past.
"You're creating quite the spectacle," Tess noted dryly.
"All part of the show," Whitley quipped. He climbed higher leaving a cloud of snow from his speed above the people. Mantle shrinking below him, until he was at the edge once more before entering space. The same altitude that froze the Dragonflight.
The same altitude barely did anything of significant harm against the Mark II.
For a moment, Whitley was weightless, untethered from the world and its expectations. For a moment he wasn't Whitley Schnee…he was just Whitley, and he was allowed to exist without needing to prove his worth to anyone.
Whitley hovered motionless for a minute, looking at the barely visible city below him. After a while, he looked up, and even without his HUD he was surrounded by the beauty of the cosmos above him. He fully understood Tess' obsession with going into space. 'I mean who wouldn't!' To be the first person from Remnant to achieve something quite literally out of this world was in his grasp and he could achieve it with ease!
And yet, it all felt hollow to Whitley. Would grand gestures really fill the hollow in him?
"Tess," he said, his voice quieter now, "Thank you for being here with me."
"I have you to thank for, boss." she replied, her voice equally as quiet as his. "Gotta say boss, you barely ate five percent of your fuel source. You've outdone yourself once more."
Whitley smiled softly. Beautiful as the cosmos was, it wasn't yet time for him to cross that bridge. Not yet at least. "Time to go home, wouldn't you agree?"
"Definitely, boss."
His descension was just as fast as his lift-off, with Mantle coming into view in only a few seconds. Soon the workshop also came into view, its runway still open to receive him. Instead of entering though, Whitley landed smoothly on top of the roof-deck of the factory. His faceplate opened as he viewed the city before him.
"Not bad for a test flight," he said, running a hand through his headpiece.
"The data collected will be invaluable for further improvements," Tess said. "Shall I log the results? Or do you wanna do it yourself?"
"Nah, you log it," Whitley replied, still lost in thought about his musings. "And Tess?"
"Yeah, boss?"
Whitley grinned. "I'm proud of you. I know it took a lot of strength from you, not hijacking the controls halfway through to send me to the moon."
The AI laughed good heartedly. "Aww, thanks boss."
Before Whitley went back into the workshop he gave Mantle another look. "Mantle, you are one ugly city, but you're growing on me."
Whatever other comments Whitley had for the former capital were interrupted by his AI companion.
"Boss behind you!" she shouted in distress.
Quickly closing his faceplate his HUD immediately picked up three signals behind him by only a few dozen meters above him. In front of him was a bullhead that belonged to the Atlesian military with how sharp the aircraft looked. It must've been the newer models based on signals Whitley's HUD was getting.
Flanking the new bullhead were two of the Atlesian military's most well-known aircraft, the A10 Warhead. Death from above, a nickname well earned through its sheer destructive power that could decimate entire open fields filled with Grimm. Their famed twin laser gatlings aimed at Whitley.
Whitley's HUD also picked up another set of signals that were military and most significantly, headed directly at him.
The center bullhead activated its spotlights and pointed them at the teenager. An audible static was heard from the aircraft.
"Whitley Schnee! By order of the Atlesian Military, you are under arrest! Do not resist!"
Tess' icon popped up at the center of his HUD, her face having a mixture of caution and amusement. "Holy shit kid, what the hell did you do to piss off the military?!"
Whitley in turn gave the deepest sigh he'd ever given to date. "Tess, shut up."
AN: Thank you to everyone who gave this fic a read! It really means a lot to me! Anyway with that out of the way, Arc 1 is officially over. Up next is Arc 2: Atlas Academy.