Warning! First attempt ever at writing fluff! You have been warned, OOC inbound!

Bolts and Wires

It was late in the evening and the lab was dark and silent, the full-length mirrors showing a serene picture of Brocton Bay by night, the moon shining brightly overhead and being gently reflected in the dark waters down below.

All was quiet and peaceful-

"-of excessive force my ass! With their forms and restrictions and regulations and, really they object to Project CDA6cb-704, just because I want to build a tiny nuclear reactor-"

-until it was suddenly and unceremoniously shattered by the muttered grumbling of a man as he walked through the double automatic doors, barely even waiting until they had fully receded before he marched through them without hesitation or patience.

The man kept muttering to himself and miraculously didn't even bump into one of the myriads of clinically tidy workbenches, desks and tables that were strewn about the lab. He didn't even so much as stub his toe on anything, navigating through the dark with an ease and assuredness that can only come from the overly cocky or the massively overprepared.

A second voice spoke up, this one soft and feminine, despite the fact that no one else had entered the spacious room after the automatic doors had slammed shut on the man's heels.

"You forgot to turn the lights on again Colin." It gently chided him and the superhero came to a halt, slightly inclining his head as a show that he was listening.

"No need Dragon, night vision has been included in the visor for several years now. I thought you knew this-"

"I'm perfectly aware of what your tech is capable of Colin, I have helped you plenty of times in creating it after all." The voice chided him, before on some unseen command lights began to flick on all over the lab, from simple TL-tubes in the ceiling to the soft glows coming from almost artistic looking Tinkertech cubes.

"That being said, you don't have night vision, which means you'll need some light after you've taken the helmet off."

Armsmaster briefly glanced around at his now bright laboratory, not hindered in the slightest by the sudden and drastic shift in lighting conditions thanks to the inbuild auto-luminosity adjuster in his visor. It was a feature he had installed not long after he had taken his new night vision tech for a test run, to his great misfortune.

He was just thankful that nobody had managed to record it, or else to this day PHO would've been using memes and GIFs of him nearly getting blinded after an old lady, disturbed from her sleep due to him trying to spy on her drug-dealing neighbours, peered outside her door and accidentally shone her flashlight directly into his visor.

He had gotten a lot of weird looks from his colleagues (and annoyingly inquisitive ones from Assault) when he had walked around the base the day after, continuously squinting as if he were rigorously preparing himself for a Clint Eastwood-lookalike competition.

"Well yes, obviously I do not possess inherent night vision, but the point is moot with the helmet on, so-"

"The helmet's coming off, Colin." Dragon interrupted him.

"There's no need to-"

"Take the helmet off Colin."

"There's still time-"

"Helmet. Off."

"… fine."

With a sigh he briefly pressed against a slight, receded panel on the right side of his helmet, causing its seals to unlock with a faint hiss as the software in his armour recognized the movement and biometric signals as the correct ones for a safe disengage.

If someone else were to have tried to pry the helmet off, they would've been in for a nasty surprise and if he himself were to take it off under duress, the helmet would simply stay on.

So he felt just the slightest bit betrayed by his armour when it opened up with ease: apparently Dragon's strongarming methods weren't recognized as placing him under duress.

An improvement to keep in mind for the future, certainly.

Taking the helmet off, he felt the cool air briefly flow over his scalp as he turned towards the nearest workbench, placing it gently down on the centre of its smooth, mirror-sheen worksurface.

"Why you insist on me taking off my armour every time I'm in my own lab I will never understand."

"It's the same reason people don't wear winter coats while they're sitting on the couch watching TV: you don't need it in here, Colin."

"That is incorrect: by wearing my armour I am faster at issuing commands at the equipment in the laboratory, increasing my efficiency by-"

"0.087 percent, yes I'm well aware Colin. I can do the math, same as you."

"So you agree then?" Colin asked happily, glad to have finally made his friend see reason.

He was already reaching towards the helmet when her voice flowed through his lab again.

"The helmet stays off Colin."

He didn't pout. Veteran superheroes of the Protectorate didn't pout after all. But he did… frown, mildly.

"But should the base be attacked-"

"Then you'll be sitting in the most fortified room on the most fortified level of the most fortified building in all of Brockton Bay: you'll have plenty of time to suit up before any potential attackers made their way towards your room, if they even managed to get close to the base itself in the first place."

"Fair enough, but if there's a crisis in the city-"

"Then one of your colleagues and friends will go out and deal with it. The ones that are actually on duty? Perhaps you've seen 'em, they're the people in the bright neon costumes that try to make small talk in the elevator, any of that ring a bell?"

"… I do not enjoy small talk. I'm… I'm not very… good at it." Colin eventually admitted after a long pause, conceding the fight as he had so often done in the past whenever Dragon tried to get him to loosen up whenever he was in the base.

With a sigh he walked over towards a thick panel in one of the far walls of the lab, which responded to his approach without prompting, several lights flicking on one by one as sections opened up and mechanical arms smoothly extended from them towards his armour.

As he allowed the supple mechadendrites to remove his armour, he listened as Dragon spoke up again. Earlier, she had been talking through several speakers cleverly hidden away in the walls and ceiling, making it seem as if she were an ethereal presence, everywhere and nowhere all at once. Now, one of the wide-screen monitors on one of his desks light up with a brilliant white light, before Dragon's avatar appeared on it, her "eyes" focused on his still form.

"That's alright Colin. Not everyone is and you don't have to be something that you aren't. If you don't want to have small talk with them, then that's perfectly fine. I just brought it up because you need to realize that the Protectorate is more than just you: there are others here, just as motivated as you and just as deserving of being called a Hero as you, even if they don't act the way you do. There's no shame in taking a break occasionally, or asking someone else to help you out: you are still human and you should be proud of that."

Colin couldn't help but let out an undignified snort as he walked towards her, taking a seat in the nearest chair, though to be honest it looked more like a modern art piece when viewed from the right (or wrong, depending on who you asked) angle. It had been a little side-project that Dragon had pulled him into against his better judgement a few years ago after she had successfully argued that creating the most ergonomically advanced chair in existence would mark a huge improvement to his overall efficiency.

Considering the several seconds a day he just stared in slight befuddlement at the multitude of steel tubing and fake-leather panelling, he had determined that that had been a fabrication on her part.

He still used it daily. Those few seconds of lost production were worth it when he had seen the smile that Dragon had sent him when she saw him sitting on the cursed thing the next day instead of having it thrown out as he declared he would do upon the abomination's creation.

He hadn't yet figured out how a digital avatar was that adept at using the "puppy-dog eyes" technique against him, but he was determined to find out one day, if only so he could eventually find the willpower to not only say "no" to her, but actually find the willpower to stick with it for more than a day.

"What's there to be proud of? Proud of the weaknesses inherent in the human body? Proud that because of them, others need to pick up my slack? What if there was a situation that I was needed for, but they send someone else instead? Sure, Dauntless is getting stronger by the day, but stronger lightning-spears aren't going to be much use in putting out a fire, now would it?" he calmly stated.

Fine, he was grousing, just a tad, but the meeting he had just come from had been grating at his nerves from nearly the moment he had entered and seen a pissed off Director Piggot sitting opposite a smug looking Youth Guard representative. Both had ended up tearing him a new asshole (something along the lines of how "inappropriate" it was to steer "young, innocent minds" towards "highly volatile and dangerous experimentation" with "nuclear forces". Completely ridiculous of course: nuclear power was the safest and most efficient power source currently within humanity's reach, it was only logical to set their Tinkers on improving said technology) and he had been glad, if feeling especially frustrated, when it had finally come to an end.

"No Colin. It's not weakness. I mean, yeah, they are, but that's what makes being in a team so great! You don't have to keep accounting for your own mistakes or shortcomings, but instead you can help someone else with theirs! And someone else will do the same for you and as a group you become all the better for it. It's this sharing of weakness that makes humans- that makes us a species with so much potential. You just need to find the strength to ask. To reach out."

Even over a screen and a set of speakers (of the absolute highest quality that Tinkertech could create, naturally), the passion in Dragon's little speech was almost enough to be physically felt and Colin felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. It always amazed him how the "greatest Tinker in the world" managed to keep such a positive outlook on humanity and life in general, despite the fact that she had seen so much of humanity's talent for evil.

Not to mention that she was one of the few parahumans out there that showed up to every Endbringer fight.

And yet here they were, her comforting him after he'd had a bad day at the office. Perhaps that was why she always managed to convince him to do something inane with her or for her. It wasn't just her skill at logical reasoning, but the fact that she believed, with a full 100%, in the things that she said or did.

So whenever she said that whatever it was that they were doing (their latest little "adventure" had involved trying to make the world's most powerful toaster and had ended up with the Boardwalk smelling like baked goods for three days straight), they were doing it because she thought that it would benefit him, well…

What else could he do but trust her?

"Cooperation is indeed the skill that has allowed humanity to advance so rapidly in comparison to other animals on this planet…" he mused aloud for her benefit (but also a little bit for his, considering the warm glow of satisfaction he felt when he saw her huge grin beaming back at him through his computer screen).

"Told ya! I'm not expecting you to become buddy-buddy with everyone on the base and I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to find it within yourself to allow them to help you, even if you feel like you could or should deal with it by yourself." The avatar said happily, and Colin could almost feel how her joy wrapped around him in a warm hug.

He allowed himself to enjoy the feeling for exactly two and a half seconds, before he roused himself, trying to find a different position on their chair without actually falling off the damned thing.

"I'm not starting on small talk, though. It is unrequired for cooperation and my lack of skill at it prohibits any casual use for it. Training for it would be much too costly in terms of time management, due to it being part of a set of social skills tooled around interaction. I am perfectly capable of conversation: but everybody else always reacts wrong and they don't even have the decency to react wrong in a consistent manner. To create and subsequently implement social interaction routines for every single possible human that can be encountered in the base or on patrol would be beyond even your skills." He stated, gruffness seeping back into his tone of voice as he thought of the vast myriad of people that a Hero could encounter in just a single day.

It was so… tiring at times. He honestly didn't understand how people like Chambers actually enjoyed (or in Chambers' specific case, absolutely revelled in) it, nor was he entirely sure that he even wanted to know.

The minds of such men and women are best left undisturbed, for they hold many dangers. Look long enough into the Abyss, and eventually it will start looking back.

It was Dragon's laugh, its distinct mechanical undertones like a unique fingerprint that always seemed to be able to immediately catch his ear, which rang throughout his lab that shook him from his dark thoughts.

"Oh, would you stop being so hard on yourself for once, Colin? You're not a robot, though sometimes I get this weird feeling that you'd turn yourself into one if you were given the chance. The whole point of small talk is that it's just like regular talk, but small! Just converse with someone, about anything at all and you're good to go! And it doesn't really matter what it's about or how it goes 'cause it's small talk: nobody really cares what you say during that, if they're even really listening at all."

Sitting so close to the screen as he was, resting his elbows on the glossy surface and staring directly into the webcam worked elegantly into the top of the monitor's sleek frame, he made sure that Dragon got a good look at his disbelievingly raised eyebrow. He was successful, judging by yet another delightful laugh ringing through his laboratory (also sometimes called his "lair" or "man cave" by his fellow Tinker).

"It's true! I'm sure you'd do perfectly well at small talk, if only you ever managed to bring up the patience for it for once." She finished encouragingly, sending him a big beaming smile.

"You're perfectly capable of small talk with me after all."

"That doesn't count." He easily dismissed.

There was a brief silence, and Colin gained a brief look of puzzlement as he stared at his apparently frozen screen. Was there a connectivity issue? Was it a problem with his software or hardware? Was it something on her end?

She had been telling him about those supposed "Dragon Slayers", perhaps she was currently distracted because they had targeted one of her suits or factories again?

What if she was currently under attack and needed his help!?

Colin was already half out of his chair, ready to bolt out of his lab, even though he rationally knew that it was of no use. Dragon mostly operated out of Canada, meaning that if she were currently under attack, there was no way he could get there in time to save her unless they had Strider on stand by in their hangar even in the middle of the night.

Of course, when he had proposed that exact thing to Director Piggot just a few months ago, she had just given him a blank look before shaking her head and bowing herself over the documents in front of her again, having apparently dismissed him out of hand.

And now look at where that got them! With him stuck in a different country and unable to go save his closest friend and one of humanity's greatest heroes and one of its last hopes.

As he prepared to bolt out of his lab to do something at least (and he was cursing himself for once again letting Dragon convince him to take his armour off, they would be having words about this once he had gone and saved her, oh yes, but for now he'd just have to go ride his bike to Canada without it, he'd do it in his undies if he had to-), Dragon's voice thankfully came over his speakers again.

"Oh?" was all she said, and something was off about the tone in which she said it, though Colin for the life of him couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was.

Briefly he entertained the notion that she was in fact under attack somehow (active on the internet as she was, it didn't actually have to be a physical attack by the Dragon Slayers after all, a cyber attack was just as dangerous and potentially even more destructive), but he was quick to dismiss it.

If she were under attack there was no doubt in his mind that she'd immediately inform him about it, or reach out to the Guild or Protectorate on her own through the official channels.

So, now that he was calmed down a little (and worried for an entirely different reason), he sat back down on their chair again, giving her avatar an inquisitive glance.

"Of course not." He stated simply, unsure why Dragon didn't understand.

It was obvious wasn't it?

Apparently not, as Dragon continued even though her avatar remained completely static. Usually she would put the effort in to animate it corresponding to her words and moods, so this was definitely a bad sign.

"And why, exactly, do I not count?" she asked and again there was just something off about her tone of voice.

Colin blinked a couple of times, before resigning himself to once again stating the obvious to someone who really should know better (as had been the case with Director Piggot just a few hours ago and his entirely reasonably plan to tear down the empty warehouses in the Docks and replace them with state of the art Tinkertech fission and/or fusion reactors, depending on how much time Dragon could spare to work alongside him).

"Because you're better than them. Than anyone."

This time Dragon's avatar did react, in the form of blinking her eyes a couple of times and looking at him in clear surprise. For some reason, her lack of a grasp on how he saw her compared to those "friends in neon" as she had called them irked him in the extreme. Like a fuel injection that wasn't working as efficiently as he had designed or, well… basically everything in Kid Win's own lab.

This was something that needed to be fixed. To be made better.

"Talking to them is difficult. They always want to discuss either their own lives or something mundane, or something mundane that happened in their life. They seem to lack any and all knowledge about what topics I could meaningfully contribute to. And whenever I think of something that I could converse about, they act like I'm an asshole for bringing the conversation to a point where it benefits both of us." He spoke calmly (for a Hero of the Protectorate ENE does not rant, no sir) as Dragon listened on, her Avatar's eyes glued to his own.

For once he was staring directly at her chosen representation of her face, forgoing his usual method of looking his webcam straight in the "eye" instead.

"But with you… there is never any hesitation with you. I learn so much from you, every single time we converse and I never have to search for the right words or the correct attitude or any of that. With you I can just… talk. You don't judge me. You don't roll your eyes at me or talk about me behind my back. Whenever we speak, it's about something that we both enjoy and we shift from topic to topic with an ease that I find myself longing for every time I'm stuck in an after-action report or meeting. You understand me, even when I can't find the right words myself. I have always enjoyed our conversations even when you convinced me to do something utterly inane and I have not regretted or rethought a single moment I have spent with you."

Taking a deep breath after that rather lengthy declaration (and feeling oddly embarrassed about it for some reason, even though he was merely telling the truth), Colin quickly cleared his throat and folded his arms in front of him as he would normally do when finishing up a presentation (often noting that less than a third of his audience was still paying attention at that point, even less during meetings with the Wards).

"In conclusion, you do not qualify as a measurement for my skills at small talk, as the conversations with you do not fit the established parameters observed in all other attempts at small talk with other subjects." He stated firmly.

There was a silence in his lab after that, and despite himself Colin found himself with a strange anticipatory feeling towards what Dragon was going to say. It was the same feeling you got when looking down from a great height or when you were trying to run a metallic rage-dragon through with your Tinkertech halberd.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait too long, Dragon's voice soft and clear over his speaker systems.

"Oh, Colin." She said in a surprisingly gentle tone of voice.

"And what would you "designate" our little chats as then?" she asked in a slightly louder voice and with a mischievous inflection, a small smirk visible on her digitized face.

Colin leaned back in the hyper-designed ergonomic monstrosity currently enveloping him, giving the question the amount of careful attention and examination that it deserved. It took him quite a bit of time actually, to come up with the perfect descriptor of their companionship and as expected, Dragon had no trouble simply waiting for him to think things through, smiling gently all the time.

Even the silences were nicer with her around.

"Ah, I've got it." Colin eventually said, and despite the fact that she was currently 2D, Colin could still picture Dragon leaning forwards in anticipation.

"Yes?"

"Perfectly balanced and executed coexistence and interdependency." Colin stated firmly and just a tad proudly.

For a couple of moments, Dragon's merely blinked at him in surprise, before she shocked Colin by suddenly chuckling over his speakers, though if he were more socially adept, he would've noticed the barest hints of sad melancholy hidden underneath the peals of laughter.

"Oh Colin, never change."

"I have no intention of doing so. Unless it is to better my performance of course."

"Aaannd he's back folks." Dragon mused good-naturedly.

Before Colin could really think on what she meant with that, she somehow managed to rope him into another one of her zany "mental flexibility, creativity and relaxitivity" (her made-up word, not his) projects and like always he couldn't help himself from becoming completely engrossed in their shared work, the feeling of having her look over his work or coming up with suggestions and innovations of her own almost like having a limb he hadn't even known he'd use to have suddenly returned to him.

This time they were trying to create the world's most powerful broom.

Perhaps there was a use for those miniature nuclear batteries after all….

AN: It has been a looooong time and I realize most people who're going to read this were hoping for an update to 12 Steps instead. So yeah, sorry about that. I am currently working on said chapter though: most of it I've already planned out, the only stage left is fleshing it at all out, which due to its length is going to be a process of several days. I usually try not to make promises about my update schedule as I tend to break them, but I got a really good feeling about this one: 12 Steps update coming in June 2020 people, you heard it here first!

The reason for which is actually the same reason why I wrote this instead of 12 Steps. I recently joined a Discord-server for writers and readers alike called Extalia, and the interactions I had there really motivated me to get back in writing again after the creative null zone that was the past half year locked up on my own in quarantine. This particular piece was written in response to their monthly event, to write a Fluff One-shot. And so here we are, with you guys forced to read some terrible writing and with me back in the writing saddle.

Looking forwards to what's coming next and I want to thank you all for having so much patience with me through these messed up times. I hope you're all staying safe and healthy!