The drone hovered there, looking none the worse for the wear. The metal was pristine, with no signs of scratches, dents, or anything else to indicate damage. But then why did it take so long for the drone to arrive?

Perhaps Dylan had made the instructions to avoid scrutiny too harsh. There were certainly ways it could have taken that would avoid nearly anybody, almost completely negating the chance of discovery. He didn’t need it to be that careful. Dylan just wanted to make sure nobody was following it back to his house. Seeing the product of a power floating around somewhere, be it a magic wisp of fire or a formators drone, wasn’t an unusual occurrence. It was similar to seeing a dump truck, or some other uncommonly seen vehicle or sight. You certainly wouldn’t see one every day, but people knew that they existed, and most often they were harmless.

Dylan resolved to give the drone different instructions from now on. He got here later than intended, and the drone came nearly 15 minutes after that. If it was going to be so slow, he might as well have done everything himself.

At least he knew it could follow instructions. It had ended up here without a specific address. Dylan wondered if he could send the drone to places he hadn’t been. Could he describe any location, and as long as he had it in mind, send the drone off, confident it would find it? Or, if he didn’t know a way to get to the desired destination, would it get lost, or refuse to go? Questions for later.

For now, Dylan held onto a microwave, trying to figure out how to load it onto the drone. Setting it down, he pointed.

“Pick that up”.

The drone moved to obey. It settled down over the microwave. With a dull thunk, the old appliance jumped two inches off the ground to latch onto the metal plate attached to the bottom of the drone. It hung there, with nothing visibly keeping it aloft.

“Well, that’s unnerving”. Dylan didn’t think people would like the idea of a heavy object being held up by.. Nothing. Dylan knew he certainly wouldn’t like it. Hell, he didn’t like it. It didn’t feel right. The microwave looked as if it would fall at any moment. A lone drone my not draw suspicion, but one that looked to be a public hazard?

It’s not like he could do anything about it now, though. Modifying something like this on the fly was sure to be a bad idea. Plus, Dylan had no tools. With a weary sigh, he decided that it would just have to manage. If someone had a problem with it, well, hopefully they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

He eyed the drone.

“Take this, return to my house, and drop it behind the shed. On your way back, you should avoid being seen if it won’t take too much time off your journey. Otherwise, I need you back here quickly. Get going.”

At Dylan’s command, the drone lifted off. With the microwave in tow, it wasn’t quite as fast, but it was still able to move quite swiftly. Just how powerful did he make it? It must be at least 10 times stronger than before. The drone probably used to not be able to carry much of anything at all.

It was about 30 minutes before the drone came flying back. The travel time was significantly reduced. Dylan was glad he appended the order. If it had still been operating under the same parameters as last time, he would have been waiting for over an hour.

Dylan pumped his fist up and down. This was so much more efficient than carrying the scrapped electronics back himself. He hadn’t been idle in the half hour the drone had been gone. He had been gathering whatever he could find to supplement his supplies. Dylan had managed to peel out a refrigerator from under a mound of debris (he had absolutely no idea if his drone would be able to carry it back), as well as some other assorted items.

Overall, he was satisfied with his haul. This should be enough to finish a large amount of his exo-skeleton. Now, how was he supposed to get it back? The drone could only take one item at a time. Could he go back home and just leave it to do its thing? It’s not like he really needed to be here, and if he gave it good enough instructions, then everything should be fine?

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Dylan walked over to his drone.

“Keep delivering this stuff to my house, with the same parameters as last mission. If someone tries to intercept you, drop the item and fly away at max speed, and then terminate your mission. If an item is too heavy to carry, just leave it here”.

As the drone moved to obey his orders, Dylan took one last look around, just in case he missed anything. It would be a shame if there was another big find in the junk, just sitting there for the taking, and he missed it because he wasn’t thorough enough. But despite all of his looking, he was unable to find anything. If there was a hidden treasure in the junkyard, then it was, well, hidden.

Satisfied that he had searched as much as was reasonable, Dylan started off towards the hole he had torn in the fence. As he stumbled over the uneven ground, Dylan saw a light at the fence.

Shit.

Had someone discovered the hole he had made? Was it the super from earlier?

Dylan snuck closer, trying to hide behind piles of trash that both obscured him from vision, and wasn’t absolutely disgusting. Moving from pile to pile, he wound his way closer to the source of the light.

It was an overweight man in a faded blue uniform. He was wearing a black belt that looked like it could fly off at any moment. A small pistol sat on his hip.

The man must have been a security guard. Dylan probably shouldn’t have left a body here if he was planning to come back. Of course, they would increase scrutiny. Hopefully not by too much, though. Finding dead hoodlums couldn’t be that uncommon. Or at least, Dylan hoped it wasn’t. If they had launched a manhunt for him, then he was probably done for.

The guard was faced away, with a walkie-talkie to his ear.

“Yeah, Ron, there’s a hole in the fence”.

“No, I don’t know how it got there”.

The guard continued talking, growing more and more exasperated at “Ron”, the man on the other end. Ron obviously wasn’t understanding something, as the overweight guard had escalated to screaming into the device in his hand.

Dylan took the opportunity to sneak through the hole in the fence. The guard had distracted himself, and really, who could ask for a better opportunity than that?

Dylan was about halfway through the hole when his exo-arm scrapped on the edge of the fence, causing it to let out a loud shriek. He winced.

The guard whirled around as fast as he could, which really wasn’t that impressive. How did he even get a job as a security guard in the first place?

Regardless of the man’s relatively unimpressive physical fitness, the fact remained that he had seen Dylan. That wasn’t ideal.

The man had time to let out a muffled “Hey!” before Dylan’s fist rocketed into his face. Gently, of course. He didn’t want to kill the man.

The guard slumped backwards, hitting his head on the ground with a dull thunk. A cut above his eye, where he had been hit, was starting to bleed.

Dylan winced. After the super he had apprehended on the way here, he had forgotten just how fragile normal people were. Whereas the robber had been able to withstand dozens of his full strength attacks without even as much as a cut or a bruise, the guard would likely need weeks to recover.

Dylan supposed that he should just be satisfied with the fact that the man didn’t die. Were he a villain, well, he could have easily taken the man's head off. A civilian couldn’t expect to get through an encounter with a villain unscathed. Dylan had done relatively minimal damage.

He rolled the man onto his side, into the recovery position. Dylan’s dad had made sure he knew how to respond to someone getting injured in a multitude of ways. While his friends in school thought his dad was more concerned than necessary, Dylan thought it was smart. Much could go wrong at the drop of a hat when supers were involved.

Confident that the man wouldn’t end up choking on his own vomit, Dylan, started off back on the path home. Should he tell his drone to call off the material gathering?

He decided against it. It already had instructions to avoid getting caught. Any mundane police were likely going to be unable to catch it, and it probably wasn’t nearly important enough for a hero to go after. Assault was pretty low down on their list of priorities, to be honest, especially with the global crisis going on. They were stretched thin enough that it was unlikely anybody would go after it in time. Plus, a hero would need some very specific powers to be able to even catch it.

Chances were it would be fine, and Dylan needed these materials. He would simply have to bear the risk, minimal as it was.

Dylan would need some sort of face covering. While the chance of someone getting an accurate view of his face so far was low, eventually, if he kept going around unmasked, someone would get a view, or they would have enough witness reports putting it together, or it would get caught by a camera, or another possibility among the near infinite amount that could lead to his identity being revealed. Perhaps his power could help him here?

Dylan’s thoughts were cut short as he arrived home. Stepping in the door, he saw his mother standing there, waiting for him.

“Dylan. I have something to ask you.”