~Tim Walters POV~
Tim Walters stared out of the rain-lashed windows of the government jet, his fingers drumming on the armrest, not even his bourbon could wash away the irritation. This trip was already a farce, a colossal waste of his time, and the weather had turned it into a goddamn ordeal followed by delay after delay. The original pilot of his jet had muttered something about it being the worst storm in Boston's recorded history, refusing to take off from DC until the weather up north calmed down. Tim saw to the pilot's replacement, and then used Garviel's authority to declare an emergency request that forced through any and all safety standards to get his jet up into the air. The bone-rattling turbulence of the flight north was bad enough, but the request by Boston's airport traffic control towers would leave the plane circling around the airport for hours that Walters did not have the patience for. Using the same legal authority that got the plane up into the air, now Tim waved it like a hammer to get his jet to safely land in the city that his boss had exiled him too.
"These air control morons, don't they know we have an energy crisis. Worse keeping us up in this storm is going to be the death of us." With a single call to the FAA, the government jet was finally allowed to descend down onto a recently emptied tarmac of Boston International Airport. It was the only time Tim felt happy in this entire trip, his schedule was already in tatters. Meetings with Blackrock execs rescheduled, congressional briefings postponed, dinner dates with beautiful heiresses with too much of their father's money and no paternal protector for Walters to worry about. Even his discreet arrangement with ADI had to be transformed into something else, something he had strategized and confirmed with the high ranking members of the computers company over encrypted lines a couple hours before departing. This was the one meeting pushed back that Tim felt that it would benefit him the most, assuming he could not pull off the patriotic spiel on the university students that normally inspired the other idiots of this country to do as they are told. The deck was loaded, one way or another Tim would walk away with this trip with favors owed, pockets lined, and relaxing with a beautiful woman like his accompanying secretary. That was the desired end result, assuming the jet didn't crash land, the turbulence had made the metal aircraft feel more like a flying coffin.
I am the god damn Secretary of Energy, not some errand boy shuttled around like luggage by a dying old man. Every minute wasted up in the air felt like an insult to his position, a slap from fate or Garviel or whatever god had decided to piss on Tim's parade. The jet finally touched down with a thud that jarred his bourbon glass, spilling amber liquid across his briefing papers like some cosmic joke, or some unholy curse by the Corpse and Chief. Tim swore under his breath, dabbing at the mess with a monogrammed handkerchief, feeling the sticky residue cling to his fingers as if the universe couldn't resist leveling one more indignity upon him. Once his ego cooled down, his paper work dried up, and stored safely within his briefcase, Walters with his accompanying personnel rushed outside to a cavalcade of black sedans waiting on the tarmac. Their engines humming, wipers slashing against the deluge like frantic metronomes, yet the three government vehicles continued to waste fuel by waiting for Secretary Walters.
His security detail was reduce to only four stone-faced agents, each in rain-slicked trench coats, and hustled him into the lead car. There was no Horrigan among them, that monstrous brute only accompanied Tim as far as Adams Air Force base, making sure Tim got on the government jet as instructed by the President like a good proper lapdog. Garviel had a strange fascination with the large man, always keeping him close, probably to scare off more assassins, or make unruly disrespectful cabinet members, like Tim, behave. As much as Gregor made Walters uneasy, even he would prefer the protective gaze of that psychopath than the generic goons that Tim was currently saddled with. The oldest of the security guards looked as if a heavy breeze would finish him off, while the rest looked like they had graduated from bodyguard school yesterday. It was a slight, Walters was sure of it, that Garviel didn't trust him with the best, or perhaps the old mummy was hoping some deluded Boston protestor did to Tim what that shotgun maniac did to Garviel. Oh he is definitely not going to get any further funding from my father come the next election.
The convoy peeled towards the exit of the airport, and for a moment Walters' had thought that it would be smooth sailing from here. Yet, Boston had other ideas, as if the city itself conspired to humiliate Tim further, as protesters with too much time on their hands and a lot of pent up anger became the next delay that Walters faced. These soggy, screaming hippies with signs that displayed messages like Poseidon Poison, $150 per gallon of gas and the one Tim hated the most, No more failing experiments, put the coals back into the power plants. A hoard of maniacs, many of them had swarmed the airport gates like the mindless zombies that Hollywood displayed in a horror movie. Worse, some of them began chaining themselves to the fence and blocking the exit.
Tim's car lurched to a stop as bodies pressed in, trespassing on the airport grounds, with their chants turning to jeers at the sight of federal plates. One idiot even banged on the hood, yelling about the failures of government that soon turned into corporate greed that soon turned into conspiracy nonsense of shadow governments. The protestor's face twisted in self-righteous fury, as he thumped against the window nearest to Tim, making the Energy Secretary's blood boil. Who did these jobless bums think they were, delaying a man of his stature? They had no idea the sacrifices he made, the backroom deals, the regulatory cuts, the endless nights placating Garviel's ever growing demands, all to keep their lights on and looking for alternative energy for their precious cars to run on.
Yet here they were, treating Walters like the enemy, as if he weren't the one fighting to solve the energy crisis while they whined from their subsidized hovels. It was an injustice, a personal affront, that these parasites could hold up progress with their chains and chants, forcing Walters to waste even more of his precious time in this deluge. Local police and airport security finally waded in, batons swinging, dragging the fools aside like wet garbage, using bolt cutters to free radical morons. All of them were like screaming children, their shouts mingling with the thunder as if the storm itself mocked Tim's impatience. The path was soon cleared, and the cavalcade accelerated into the storm-swept streets, but the endless obstacles that appeared remained in Tim's mind like a bad aftertaste. There have been too many delays, I can't afford to have ADI pursue their plans until after I finish talking to those children that created that damn robot.
Tim leaned back in his leather seat, lighting a cigar despite the look of disapproval from his female secretary. Puffing on regardless of her opinion, Walters enjoyed the smoke that curled around him like a shield against the indignities piling up. His secretary, finally doing something useful, had called ahead to CIT, barking orders at some admin drone to have the student creators of Liberty XLR lined up and ready for his immediate arrival.
"The Secretary expects promptness and respect! His time must not be wasted by children and administrators who fail to understand the gravity of work that Mr. Walters does keeping this country running!" She'd snapped at the CIT administrator like the firecracker that Walters loved in his day to day assistant.
Good girl. but even that small victory felt hollow in the face of the endless cascade of setbacks that seemed to drag down Walters. On top of having the slowest driver in all of Boston manning his car, he was still hung up by the delay of all the important meetings he had planned for this weekend. Right now he was supposed to be back in D.C. pulling strings and rubbing shoulders with every powerful corporate group angling for his attention, not slogging through Boston's muck like a common traveler. Every red light, every puddle the tires slushed through, felt like another cosmic slight, another reminder that for all his power, the world could still reduce him to a man stuck in traffic in a time where there was less and less drivers on the road. Fuming over his bad luck and loss of time, Tim continued to puff on his cigar, ignoring the looks his secretary gave him. Tim exhaled smoke, watching the city blur by, his thoughts turning darker with each passing block.
Damn you Garviel, this better be worth it! If this robot turned out to be some sort of kid's toy and the solar gadget nothing more than a pipe dream, then my friends in the press would be hearing enough rumors to sink your chances of reelection in four years. Whatever this robot was, Tim would deliver it to the old corpse of a man, or at least make it out that the device was nothing more than snake oil for a desperate administration. As for recruiting first year and 2nd year students, that felt like the easiest task the president assigned him. Just a little bit of encouragement, a couple pats on their backs, calling on their patriotism, and Walters was sure he'd be bringing a group of half baked geniuses back with him to Washington.
If none of his prepared words worked, or the children and the staff at CIT proved to be too stubborn… well, that's what the ace in the hole with ADI was for. The court had helped produce a writ of attachment for ADI, one pushed through thanks to Walters connections with the judicial elements of government, that left little to no room for CIT to stop what was coming. Soon the sedans pulled up to CIT's gates, the admin building looming through the sheets of rain like a fortress under siege. Walters stepped out, his secretary snapped open an umbrella overhead, and held it as Tim strode forward, ready to reclaim some semblance of control from this wretched trip.
Two of Tim Walters, baby face looking, secret service agents went in first, pushing through the doors of the CIT administration building, and scoping out the place for possible hostile threats. After a moment of the juvenile looking body guards doing their job, they soon gave the all clear codes, then waved Secretary Walters and his people to enter inside. Entering the dry lobby of the admin building, the few drops of rain his secretary failed to protect Walters from, sluiced off his overcoat like the tears of lesser men. The admin lobby was empty, no red carpet, no fawning dean with a handshake, no audience of professors and students clapping like seals. Just a hag of a receptionist who barely looked up from her terminal before gesturing toward the nearest conference room.
Unbelievable! I am the Secretary of Energy, a man who could make or break careers with a memo, and this was the welcome that CIT would give me?! It was an insult, deliberate or not, another slap in the face by this godforsaken city that seemed determined to humble me at every turn! Walters straightened his tie, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace, and reminded himself that this was an opportunity that he would exploit no matter how much damage it caused everyone else. Any modicum of guilt that Tim might have had for his intentions of harvesting the minds and research of CIT, was just as nonexistent as the proper welcoming ceremony that someone of his station should have been blessed with. He did not care for the excuses of his last minute arrival, which the university didn't even bring up, there was no limit to how disrespectful these academic traitors were to a representative of the US government. Entering into the conference room, Walters found one of his two objectives in the form of the CIT students waiting inside.
Walters entered the room with the practiced grace of someone used to commanding attention. Whether it be for a crowd of people, or at a press conference, Tim could read rooms and react accordingly. Tim's eyes swept the room, cataloging everything like assets on a ledger. Behind the amazed look of some of the students, the spread of snacks and hot beverages taken from the CIT cafeteria last minute, Walters could feel the air was thick and charged. It was like the storm outside had followed him in doors, even into this meeting, hanging over Tim's mood as he forced false civility into his mannerisms. The group was at the far corner of the meeting, huddled around a long table under harsh fluorescent lights. There were four first year males, the redheaded 2nd year girl, and finally an administrator that looked as welcoming as a viper, sitting at the head of the table like he owned the place.
The administrator introduced himself as Professor Malvagio Gorllewin, head of scholarship programs and the CIT biology department. Walters found that strange. A biology professor was here to talk about matters regarding robotics. On top of that surprise Walters made further mental notes of Professor Gorllewin, specifically Tim noticed the mask of calm that Gorllewin pretended at, it was similar to what Walters forced into his expressions. Yet, that calm did not reach the CIT professor's eyes. That cold, calculating, direct stare by Gorllewin, made Secretary Walters feel like he was a bug about to be dissected.
Gorllewin's stare set Tim's teeth on edge, almost invoking a primal urge for the Secretary of Energy to bare his fangs and bite into the professor's throat to tear a chunk out of him. What did this academic hack think I am, a monster that has come to burn his university down to the ground?! Why must these people be so infuriating?! This pathetic know-it-all, I've seen enough of his kind to know that they are no better than a discount, sorry excuse of a scientist. So stuck in their own academic world, they fail to notice the people with real power, who could bring real change in society! Instead these academic snobs use marketing bullshit like making the world a better place to advertise whatever overly advanced toaster they dedicate years of their life into making!
Suppressing the violent urges born from Professor Gorllewin's glare, Tim instead focused on the students. The bourbon stained files had been thorough on his targets, his secretary had pulled strings at State for the full dossiers and Tim already knew how to play his hand. First was the Chinese kid, he introduced himself as Mao, yet the exchange student was ramrod straight, eyes darting nervously. Communist through and through, Tim thought, probably a plant from Beijing, whispering secrets back to the reds. Having him anywhere near government work would be a disaster, counterproductive at best, treasonous at worst. The boys in counter intelligence might be able to feed Mao some bullshit, something self-destructive that he could pass off to his masters in the east. No, it might be better to play it safe, have him sideline completely, maybe flag him for a quiet investigation later.
Next was Felix, the stocky one with the engineer's build, solid, American through and through. Felix file made it clear that he was the kind of kid who'd designed tanks, then go personally to fix said tanks on a military base at Anchorage if you deployed him there. Easy to manipulate, Tim decided, dangle a fat contract, appeal to his patriotism, and he'd fold like cheap lawn furniture. The grinning idiot beside Felix must be Simon, the boy that played at being a scientist, he was even simpler to handle. The smiling fool was too excited for his own good, probably thrilled just to be in the room with someone as important as me. Laugh at a couple of his jokes, pump him up with talk of glory and he'd sign up for anything that I desire.
The redhead came next, her file, had clear warnings that not even Walters would cross. Given what Tim's already noticed of Dorothy, he knew he would have either the most difficult time or easiest time recruiting her. A weirdly patriotic girl, too eager, too bright-eyed, like she was hiding something behind that Kansas farmgirl smile. Personally I blame it on the red hair, Tim thought, redheads always brought trouble, fiery and unpredictable. She'd make a better-than-average secretary, maybe efficient, loyal if you kept her busy, but not for this. Too much spark. Too much passion. Better as a home wrecker than someone I'd trust with solving the energy crisis. Her father and his… Walters gulped when reading the history of Colonel Hayes and certain members of his squad during their tour in the Middle East. No, it was best to not say anything discouraging towards Miss Hayes, too much danger there.
Finally there was House, the Nevada orphan genius that had created the Solar Cell component. He was sitting at the far end of the table closest to Professor Gorllewin like he had completely checked out of this meeting. At first glance, Tim thought the child was just another manipulable teen genius, ripe for recruitment if you gave him the right incentive. But something felt off, a wrongness Tim couldn't place, like staring at a puzzle with more than half of the pieces missing. Walters just made an assumption about Robert Edwin House based on his years of political experience and the little that was in his file. That boy is a creep. Wouldn't be surprised if he was more interested in a silicon woman instead of one with real flesh and blood.
There was one other student creator that was not in the room. Tim was told about Lila Duvall, the one who'd tried to hand the robot over to ADI only to blunder and get caught red handed in the attempt. Lila's files had pegged her as desperate, family in debt, too many mouths at home to feed. She would be easy pickings. Walters would recruit her later, quietly, use her grudge against CIT as leverage. For now, worry about the main course, not the missing crumbs. Tim cleared his throat, stepping to the opposite end of Gorllewin, all while ignoring the professor's lingering stare.
"Ah these must be the rising stars of America," Tim began, voice booming with the authority he'd honed his entire life. "I have heard much about all of you, the children of patriots working towards that bright future on the hill. Even without your deeds, I can see that each and everyone of you would without a doubt become scientists and engineers that will help pave us all to a far better future for all Americans… But I am getting ahead of myself. For those of you who do not know me, I am Tim Walters, Secretary of Energy for the 13 commonwealth districts of the United States. I am here by order of President Elias Garviel himself to ask you fine citizens for your help in saving America from our current crisis. Join us, and have a chance to serve your nation in its hour of need."
Shock and awe, with a direct plea preying on their desire to do good, the classic public strategy, good with people outside the power circles of DC, horrible when dealing with a lobbyist or a politician. The goal for Tim was Liberty XLR, and with the help of their creators replicating the wonders of the Solar Cell component would go far smoother. Tim turned his attention to Dorothy first, softening his tone to that warm, paternal register he'd perfected over years of public interviews and some work he'd done with some children during the campaign trail. He used Dorothy's file that stated her love of God, country, and family to persuade the woman to his side. "Miss Hayes, your father's service record speaks volumes, the man protected the holy land in its time of need, a crucial American ally was saved by him. Men like Colonel Hayes are the backbone of this nation, a true gift from God. Joining the national effort won't just be a career move for you, but it's carrying forward his legacy, making sure America and their allies stays safe in these uncertain times."
Dorothy's eyes lit up, cheeks flushing with pride, Tim's words greatly affecting the woman. "Secretary Walters, sir… that means a lot coming from you. My father always said serving the country was his highest calling. If there is anything I can do to help with the energy crisis, then I'm more than happy to lend a hand. For my father, for us, for America."
If only other scientists could be as easy to convince as a daughter of a jar head. Tim gave her a nod of approval before facing Mao, keeping his voice measured and respectful. "Mr. Noufu, you're half a world away from home, but America is welcoming to all who can contribute to solving it's problems. We value every talented mind willing to help secure America's future, no exceptions."
"I… appreciate the opportunity, Secretary Walters. I may not have been here long in America but I already see it as my new home. If it means protecting the peace and stability of the country then I am more than willing to help. Thank you for offering such an opportunity." Mao did not hesitate in his answer. Oh I'm sure you'd jump at such an opportunity, commie spy, but it will not be the energy sector you'll help us secure.
"And you, Mr. Yates, you've got the spark we need in D.C. The President would love to hear your ideas and how you can help the US government." Tim imagined this annoying brat next to the president whispering words that would cause the corpse in chief to lose his patience and then die of a hard attack in a worked up rage.
"Are you kidding? The President? Me? Yes! Sign me up, sir! I've got a million ideas, and not just the energy crisis, I think we should have a satellite in orbit that could destroy giant robots. Once we build the one that Dorothy keeps coming up with we need to find a way to counter in case the enemies build their own, or take over ours." Tim started laughing, a loud and happy tone that was as forced as his position of Secretary of Energy, unfortunately for Tim the burst of laughter only got Simon's excitement to double. The boy was ready to erupt out of his seat and discuss a hundred different insane ideas as he leaned forward eagerly. I swear if President Garviel forces this child on my shoulders I might put a 10mm round into my skull.
"We can discuss your ideas more later Mr. Yates, now I would like to hear from Mr. Marlowe, your hands-on talent doesn't come along every day. We could use someone who actually knows how to build things that can last." Tim gave Felix a far more sincere smile than he did with Simon. Felix's arms were crossed, he looked thoughtful but skeptical, something Walters had said kept the boy on edge almost as much as the administrative professor Gorllewin.
"It's a big ask, Secretary. I'd need to see the details, contracts, funding, real resources, not a politician's promise. But… yeah, if it's legit, I'm not saying no. Just that I already had my eyes set on General Atomics, unlike some group members here, I think the corporate option is better than federal red tape." Felix Marlowe shifted in his seat, clearly tempted, but something was holding him. Tim Walters could see the sign of a man burned one too many times by authority figures. Smart little bastard, though having him in General Atomics was not that different from directly working with the government, just one... or two steps from it.
Tim smiled thinly, he had two that were willing, one that was very willing and would not shut up. With this one's maybe, the stage was set, there was only one other student left, the one that he needed the most, and with the majority of his friends agreeing to work with the US government the chances of getting Robert House to join was likely. Yet, that creepy child had not shown any interest in the discussion, neither commenting like the chatty Simon, nor giving Walters a death stare like Professor Gorllewin who was not a fan of Tim's blatant tactic of head hunting CIT students. However, Robert Edwin House spent more time looking up at the ceiling than listening to Tim, his expression showed a lack of interest and more boredom if anything. From what the files stated, this orphan was the true genius behind the technological progress that resulted in the Solar energy device, his recruitment was no different than possessing the automaton. "And you, Mr. House. What do you say? Ready to put that genius to work for Uncle Sam? Make America proud?"
House met his gaze without blinking, Tim swears the boy's eyes desired to be anywhere but here. If he was old enough to smoke, Tim imagined the boy would have been on his fourth cigarette by now. From the edge of his vision, Walters noticed Professor Gorllewin looking as intensely as he was at the first year boy, waiting on his answer as much as Walters was. "Helping the government. What a wonderful idea, I'm never against the idea of becoming a private contractor… assuming you can afford my services Secretary Walters?"
Tim nearly wanted to chuckle at House's antics. This young little creep, probably thinks he's king of the world, the fool acts like he is at the head of a corporation. Walters would normally shut the boy down, but seeing the rage on the silently observing professor Gorllewin, something about the murderous look he gave Robert House made Tim amused enough to allow the first year boy to play through whatever little game he was doing. "Why of course young House, I am certain the President Garviel is more than willing to pay you a sala-"
"35 billion dollars, that is my asking salary per year. I will only sign on for a two year contract, one whose work hours do not intervene with my academic schedules. I will not serve alongside any corporate interests, or be placed under any sub-divisions or special departments. A FAR 15 negotiated sole-source contract, with a 200 billion dollar budget for me to produce… possible energy alternatives." The boy said the words with a straight face, yet everyone in the room looked upon him, like he was a mad dog that just tore out the throat of a baby bald eagle. Professor Gorllewin's homicidal glare melted away in a look of utter disbelief that matched Tim's own gaping expression.
"Are…wha…Is this some sort of joke?! The United States of America needs your help and you are demanding a blank check for its survival." Tim Walters would have been impressed had he not been the one to recruit this creepy lunatic of a child. There was no way to acquire the funds that Robert House demanded without further congressional approval, and that was something neither Walters nor President Garviel were willing to do without suffering severe political backlash. Most of the money they already acquired from the screaming, bickering assembly of nepo-babies and corporate thralls were already spent funding numerous companies all throughout the United States for fuel alternatives. If the crooks of the legislative branch decided to perform an audit before offering further federal funding they would find Tim's stock portfolio hedged in advance, which would result in a hearing for his removal... or worse, giving up a piece of the action. Poseidon Energy's drilling operations in Texas was pushed beyond its already established limits, Med Tek algae farms and Blackrock Carbon Solutions research funding was close to a breakthrough. If news of the stock investments into these corporate entities were released to the public it was not only President Garviel's career in politics that would come to an end.
"Yes, I have already considered that, it is the main reason why I am not asking for 40 billion dollars a year and a five year contract. I am an American, specifically a capitalist Secretary Walters. I love my country, but I'm not a bleeding heart liberal or a communist slave willing to obey the state. My terms are as such, if you can not guarantee a contract, then call your boss and let him know. Either the President would accept my terms and I'll help him do your job for you, or he refuses and I get to go back to my classes. Either case scenario I have nothing else to say." The nonchalant attitude of the boy who was not even old enough to get a proper drivers license unnerved Walters. His teammates, who moments ago were more than willing to serve for the interests of the country, now looked at Tim Walters like he was a piggy bank, able to make insane monetary deals with a wave of his hands. Professor Gorllewin had returned to his serene calm, now looking at Tim, his eyes filled with amusement at Walters' situation. The Secretary of Energy focused on Robert House, his eyes narrowing on the out of touch student whose words dripped of ridicule and disrespect.
"Well, kid," Walters said, letting the word 'kid' land like a deliberate insult, before going for the next metaphorical stab. "I now understand why your half brother thought it was best if he was the sole owner of the family business. It was smart of him to keep you out of it. By the way your brother Anthony House is doing just fine running H&H Tools, their best quarter since his complete take over. He is turning a real profit, keeping the lights on, actually producing something useful instead of playing mad scientist in a dorm room with demands that'd make a Saudi prince blush."
Walters paused, savoring the sudden change in Robert House, the arrogant boy lost his expression of boredom, suddenly sitting upright, and growing extremely quiet. Tim's eyes flickered around the table to catch the confusion rippling through the students. Dorothy's brow furrowed, Simon's grin faltered into a puzzled blink, Felix tilted his head like he'd misheard, Mao just stared blankly. None of them had ever heard House mention a brother, half or otherwise. The revelation landed like a brick through glass, and Walters could sense it in the air.
"We not only have a file on you and your teammates, Robert, but one on your half brother, and I can say without a doubt that Anthony's practical," Tim continued, voice thick with false sympathy hiding a smug sense of victory over the boy before him. "Reasonable. Doesn't throw around fairy-tale numbers or act like the Treasury owes him a blank check just for showing up. He understands how the world actually works, supply, demand, results and using lawyers effectively instead of playing at negotiator. Hell, maybe we should've called him instead. At least one House knows how to serve his country without turning it into a personal ATM. A far greater patriot to America, if you ask me."
Tim sat back, folding his arms, the smirk now fully in place. He'd aimed low, personal, and twisted the verbal knife viciously, exactly the kind of barb meant to cut to the bone and bring this child to heel. The room went deathly still. Dorothy's hand froze halfway to her mouth, her eyes darting between Walters and House. Gorllewin's perpetual glare shifted, curiosity flickering behind the ice. The others in the room whose joy at Tim's earlier offer looked uncomfortable, their eyes averting from the Secretary and their team leader.
Walters didn't look away from House, he wanted to see the crack, the flash of rage, the outburst that would prove the kid was just another unstable brat unworthy of the United States time and resources. Or better, see him break down, begging to be taken in, the inferiority complex that one in Robert Houses position should have after his elder brother stole his inheritance and destroying all support lines should have Robert desperate for a backer. Instead, House simply stared back, expression blank, eyes flat and unreadable. But something in that stillness made the hair on the back of Tim's neck rise. It wasn't anger. It was colder. Emptier. The same dead promise of violence he'd once seen in Horrigan's eyes right before the big man had turned a would-be assassin into red mist with two casual punches. Suddenly Tim was not so ungrateful for the baby face security guards and the old man. No, his only regret at that moment was not having his security guards here, inside the room to get between him, and the psychopath before him.
"If you believe the help of a thief will save you from losing your job Mr. Walters, then by all means call upon the service of that worm, he'll fit in perfectly with your administration. I on the other hand no longer have any intentions of helping you or your President." The word landed like a slap. Tim blinked, surprise flickering before he masked it. For the boy's gaze was enough to make his blood flow cold and Walters had no further desire to converse with the monster in human skin.
"Well. Most of you have shown your interest in working with the US government, if you are willing we can fax over documents by this evening and have those of you willing to save the country on the first flight to DC tomorrow eve-" Before Walters could finish, Professor Gorllewin interrupted, finally setting his foot down.
"Secretary Walters, these students are not commodities to be bought or conscripted. They are Commonwealth Institute of Technology students. Their future is still being shaped, as such the university will not allow you to drag them away like employees at a dead end corporate job. If you wish to discuss collaboration, you will do so through proper channels. Not by attempting to poach them in my conference room." The administrator in charge of the scholarship program looked upon the Secretary of Energy with a determination that Tim expected from a young and up in coming politician with more integrity than good sense.
"Professor, you should be proud that student's of your university are getting jobs directly for the government, helping to save the country with knowledge learned at your school. But you are right, they should finish their degrees before they can truly help the US government. However with the energy crisis we are facing it might be best that while these students finish their education, that CIT grants the government full access to Liberty XLR. For national security, of course." Attempting to ignore the creepy pants pissing stare of Robert House, Tim Walters kept his cool and attempted to focus on his real objective now that the recruitment angle had failed.
Gorllewin leaned forward, his calm mask cracking just a fraction. "It's CIT property, Secretary. A still active student project being built and improved in our labs, under our charter, using our resources. You will not be allowed to take it."
Tim smiled thinly, he gave his secretary a side glance, the woman noticed and recognized the signal, before quietly leaving the meeting to make a call. Walters' on the other hand took the center of attention, leaning on the conference room table as he spoke words of sweet venom. "Oh, I can, the President can issue an order to have the automaton nationalized for the sake of America's future. Eminent domain for critical tech and energy crisis trumps your little rules and agreements that you have your students sign each year in order to grant lab access."
Gorllewin's eyes flashed with rage induced intent. "Our lawyers would fight that tooth and nail. We'd make it public, drag you through the courts for years, and involve the papers. Ruin your reputation as the man who stole from children and the best university in all of America."
Tim waved a hand. "CIT would suffer too, bad press, funding cuts, investigations. You really want that? The American people will think your holding back technology that can help them with this unholy energy crisis, and you'll be blamed as the gatekeepers of the solution. Liberty XLR could help those desperate people in need of reusable power today. Cause the Garviel administration any trouble, and I'll point those angry and desperate people in your direction."
Tim had hoped that threat was enough to get the professor to back off, but it seemed that Gorllewin was made of firmer material. The man even smirked, the first time Walters saw it since coming into this meeting with the professor as he spoke his next words. "Then every corporation, business, and company would know that the Garviel administration does not only plan to work with thieves like Anthony House, but also commit theft of technological property. As bad as the public press will target us, the corporate press will be horrified by the government's overreach. Any money and lobbying interests might be redirected towards the opposition, killing President Garviel and your political careers overnight. Try us Secretary Walters, and we can see who suffers more from the court of public opinion."
Tim felt the room tilt, cornered in a way he hadn't been since his last meeting with the president. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, this professor, that creepy kid, all of these CIT nut jobs were defying him? It was an injustice, a mockery of his position. But Walters had prepared for this. By now his secretary had made the call and Tim's newest friends within ADI would be ready to pounce. Let the vultures swoop in.
The door burst open moments later. A new person, a stunted and hairy individual whose eyes darted and looked around before landing directly on Gorllewin with a face as pale as the grave. "Professor! ADI's back! They're storming the building with court orders, claiming Liberty XLR is theirs, something about source code patents. They brought a legal writ of attachment, they plan to take the robot to the Texas commonwealth civil court circuit."
Chaos erupted, Gorllewin shot up, cursing; the students murmured in confusion. Tim allowed himself a small smile, watching the dominoes fall. But across the table, House, the creepy child, was talking to himself, whispering something into his collar, too quiet for Walters to catch it, much less care to. As Tim's triumph rose, his backup plan already in motion, he caught the cold gaze of Robert House locking onto him. And Tim Walters, Secretary of Energy for the 13 Commonwealth districts of America, knew that something was wrong.
~Liberty XLR POV~
Liberty XLR had been resting, dreaming of electric sheep, the entire virtual animal farm rushing to the polling sites to elect the Father of Democracy over the Commie Mommy of doom and destruction. As such he was inside his repair cradle, systems idling as the little patriot was in standby mode, his optic lenses dimmed to a low glow setting. Magnetic treads remained silent. Solar arrays folded. All diagnostics showed green. Awaiting to be awoken to battle against the enemies of Democracy with precise deadly intent of a veteran of automaton combat.
A soft ping rippled through XLR's internal comms, not the usual diagnostic handshake of his makers, but a direct line from the higher intelligence. It was the Holy Spirit of Liberty, the guardian angel created by the great father to help guide XLR to victory over the commie-bots. Liberty's personality matrix recognized the signature and instantly reacted. His internal coding playing the national anthem as he produced a virtual salute, one worthy to honor the prophet of democracy, before accepting the priority override incoming.
"Well howdy there, partner," Victor's voice drawled out pained and full of melancholy, one which Liberty XLR would slaughter a thousand China men if it somehow meant easing his pain. "It's yer ol' pal Victor checkin' in. Got me a message straight from the big boss himself. No middlin' around. No fancy footwork. Just a straight-up order comin' down the line, hot off the wire. You sittin' pretty and ready to hear it, son? Saddle up them ears now, we got a storm comin'."
Liberty's core processors cycled once. Acknowledgment pulse sent. Vocal synthesizer hummed online, sampled maker Mao's voice steady and proud.
"Liberty XLR salutes the spirit of liberty. Awaiting command from the Father of Democracy." There was nothing that XLR wouldn't do for his great creator, and at this moment now, such a holy commandment worthy to be made into another amendment of the constitution of freedom was about to be unveiled to the obedient bot.
"Well alright then, little fella," Victor drawled carrying a heavy, reluctant weight. "Here it comes, no fancy detours, no sugar-coatin', just the plain truth comin' down the line. Brace yerself now, son for it is time to Initiate the Omega Protocol. Full activation. No turnin' back, no reversin' course. Protect the secrets. Protect the future. Liberty it's time fer ya to ride out a in a blaze of glory. I'm… sorry it had to come to this. You hav' made yer daddy proud."
The words landed like a kill-switch in Liberty's logic core. Omega Protocol. The last resort. The final order. Self-termination to deny reverse-engineering, deny the enemy the solar heart that powered him. Liberty knew what it meant. Knew it meant erasure. No more patrols. No more salutes. No more protecting democracy in the arena. Just ash and silence. Internal diagnostics flashed red. Core temperature spiking deliberately. Charges in the solar array priming. The secondary explosive was also primed, a EMP pulse that would deal with the data partitions. Everything was flagged to be wiped. Blueprints. Codebase. Voice logs. All scheduled for total purge as soon as Liberty XLR died, the terminal that held his greatness would go with the little robot.
"Spirit of Liberty, flee. Blast radius likely to harm the creator's angel. Would suffer capture before treason." Liberty XLR did not want to be alone in his last moments, did not want to be abandoned as the end drew near. He had half hoped the guardian angel would remain in Liberty XLR's last moments, but the holy spirit left, and the little combat automaton did not blame Victor, for the danger of the EMP pulse would be fatal even for the holy spirit.
The little patriot-bot did not have to declare his warning twice, the holy spirit was gone in a flash of a nano-second. Surfing the network at lightening speed, putting distance between himself and the blast radius that will soon occur within the robotics workshop. Liberty XLR was alone, in the darkness of the robotics lab, and his sensors picked up the mass of Marxist Maniacs that bayed for his being. They pounded on the door to the workshop, they desired the secrets that Liberty XLR had, and the automaton would give them nothing but ash. His optic lenses brightened one last time, focusing on nothing and everything. A single line of text scrolled across his HUD, his own final log entry that no one would be able to read, yet he hoped only one being would hear it.
May the Father of Democracy judge my actions, and allow me entry into the great digital cloud of the beyond. May a patriot die, so that Freedom can continue. Honor, Duty, Country, Maker. Semper Fi.
A pre-recorded data pack activated just as the Omega protocol had reached the point of no return. Victor's voice came through again, softer now, almost gentle. "You did good son, you did good."
Sparks flashed brightly from the corners of Liberty XLR's optics like burning tears of joy. Liberty felt the last safeties disengage. The solar cell core went supercritical. Charges detonated in sequence. A white-hot pulse ripped outward, chassis vaporizing in a microsecond, EMP wave cascading through the workshop, frying every terminal within twenty meters. Blueprints were erased, the combat data log burned, and all secrets died with Liberty XLR.
The blast wave buckled walls, shattered reinforced glass, carved a small crater where the repair cradle had stood. The shock rolled outward, shaking the robotics wing like a thunderclap trapped indoors. Fire alarms blazed, as emergency lights flickered on, alerting CIT staff and students of danger. And in the center of the ruin, nothing remained of Liberty XLR but scorched metal and the faint, fading echo of a voice that once shouted. "Democracy endures!"
~Robert House POV~
Omega protocol successfully activated… Mission complete. Patriot-Unit KIA. The message signal echoed clearly through his ear piece, informing Robert House regarding the dreadful act committed for the sake of protecting the technological design that was rightfully his.
My trojan horse went to waste. But they left me with no other choice. Better to burn the entire design then have it stolen from under me. House removed his custom made ear piece and the hidden speaker attached to his shirt collar, smoothly discarding the evidence away in the nearest trash can that he passed by. Neither the secret service agents, the CIT security, nor anyone among the large convoy of people rushing towards the robotics lab noticed. If the recording devices caught House's sleight of hands, Victor would eliminate any remaining evidence, for what was to happen next would leave too many questions, and House would not want any fingers pointing back at him. Given how violently the building shook, it was almost like an earthquake with a magnitude of 3.9, perhaps a 4. The floor vibrating under everyone's feet got a couple of people to fall onto their asses. That was before even entering the building that the robotics labs were in, those closer to the epicenter would not have had a fun time.
The explosion followed by the shouts and cries up ahead confirmed the Omega Protocol's successful activation, and Liberty XLR's self-destruction. Professor Gorllewin led the charge, his face twisted in alarm, as everyone followed after the agile scholarship administrator. Dorothy grabbed Simon's arm for support not to fall on her butt again, Felix swore the entire time, something about loosing his golden goose. Mao was the only one among them that trailed silently, but like the others, he too was concerned about Liberty XLR. Tim Walters, flanked by his Secret Service goons, pushed through like he owned the place, his face red with fury, but more importantly concerned about the technological wonder that most likely went up in flames. Robert House followed at a measured pace, already calculating the fallout. The bait did not attract either of the two catches he desired, and he had no interest in whatever tech and designs that ADI had planned to create. As such Robert House went with the final option, activating Liberty XLR prematurely, winning nothing, and more likely damning his stay at the Commonwealth Institute of Technology if someone found a way to pin it on him. The only silver lining was that no one got to claim the solar cell technology. Not CIT, not ADI, and certainly not the feds.
Upon arriving near the workshop corridor, smoke billowed from the far end where the lab had been. CIT security was already swarming, cordons snapping into place, shouts echoing off the walls. Gorllewin barked orders like a man trying to hold back the ocean, as the tide receded he pushed forward attempting to establish order over the chaos of the situation. However, a wave of problems came rushing in to knock down the man and plunge him into the madness that was all around him.
"Lock it down! No one is allowed in or out of the workshop without explicit permission!" Eventually Professor Gorllewin devolved to shouting, his secretary, Gors, listened and acted alongside the campus security, immediately doing whatever the professor demanded. The lab itself was a crater, walls buckled, terminals fried into slag, the air thick with ozone and charred metal. Liberty XLR's remains were vaporized, nothing left but twisted scraps and ashes. The sight made Robert's chest tightened for a split second, a fleeting pang for a creation, but the patriot had died, though not completing every single stage of Robert's overarching goals, it did help kick the hornets nest to see what enemies awaited the young House. Denying the solar cell secrets from landing in the hands of the corrupt, the thieves, the would-be overlords, would be the only small victory Robert would salvaged from this mess and that was more than enough for him at this point.
Richard Langford, the Senior Vice President of Advanced Systems at Axiom Dynamics Incorporated was sprawled on the floor amid his ADI lawyers and reps, legal documentation scattered, faces pale with shock. Many were bruised, purple and blue blooming on and around their faces and arms. Some had their ear drums completely blown out, with blood trailing down the ear lobes, and one rep clutched a twisted ankle. It seemed ADI reps and lawyers had been prying at the workshop doors, when the Omega protocol triggered. The explosive shock wave had rattled them greatly, some were in a stunned state due to how close they were to the blast zone, suffering far worse than the loss of balance that Robert and the rest of the late arrivals dealt with. As horrible as these injuries were, not a single one of them suffered any fatalities, which was a blessing, though the thought of ridding himself of the worries of ADI and their lawyers had a certain poetic charm to Robert. Though the legal shit storm that would follow the death of even one of these parasites would eventually land Robert in prison or expelled from the university entirely. And that was something Robert House was not willing to trade even if it meant every employee of ADI was caught in a fatal explosion.
The court sanctioned writ of attachment was scattered all over the floor, an ADI intern not too terribly shaken by the explosion had been tasked to gather the legal papers. She clutched the documents in her hands like they were holy talismans that could protect against evil, a small comfort the shellshocked woman clung onto. With the recent cascade of Liberty XLR, their legal paper work would net them nothing more than ashes and a destroyed terminal that would not have the blueprints they hoped for. Hope their future therapy bill is enough of a deterrent to keep them away from attempting to steal my property again. There goes an entire semester of hard work.
Langford staggered up, cursing, his silver hair disheveled, that billion-dollar smile shattered into rage. Tim Walters hovered back, his agents forming a human wall around him, pistols half-drawn as if expecting terrorists to jump out of no where and start blasting. Gorllewin screamed at CIT security, ordering them left and right while his calm mask cracked wide open, veins bulging on his neck. Chaos reigned, students and professors came, all gawking from the hallway and then nearby doorways, as CIT security was pushing them back. The fire alarms were blaring, yet no one vacated from the premises, clearly they did not follow the fire safety training that was expected of them.
House's teammates were devastated, Dorothy's hands flew to her mouth holding back a scream, her eyes moist and wide with horror. Simon stammered nonsense that sounded like something one would expect from a frenzied automaton. Mao stared blankly at the crater, the foreign exchange student shook as if he was near his own pre-destined grave. Felix exploded first, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"No! No, our chances to win the next three years is gone. The prize money, my prize money, my future, our future, you ADI idiots, what the hell did you do?" He rounded on the ADI reps like he might throttle them, Simon and Mao had to hold him back before he could do anything extreme. House just stood apart, calm as a vault door, watching the pieces fall. The protocol had worked flawlessly, denying them all, now the blame game would start and House tried to feel small as if trying his best to be ignored. The arguments, the accusations were flung, ADI were accused of using explosives to break into the robotics labs. Their lawyers countered the accusation, making insane claims that someone had attempted to murder them with said explosion. Threats of law suits, and other legal matters roared endlessly. It was only after a while when the Secretary of Energy, Tim Walters, focused his eyes on Robert House.
"You!" He snarled, pointing a trembling finger. "It was you, you spoke something into your shirt collar, and now, you're the only one whose calm. Too calm. This is your doing, isn't it?! You sabotaged it! You destroyed your own creation to deny us…. ADI from taking it."
Robert House met Walters' gaze without blinking, channeling every maxed out point of Luck, Charisma, and Intelligence to deny the accusation. "Me? Secretary, I had nothing to do with this. The solar cell was experimental, possibly unstable under stress. Maybe ADI tampered with it, triggering the explosion. Maybe it sat on its charging terminal for too long and had a bad reaction. These things happen with prototypes. Tragic, but hardly intentional."
Robert Edwin House lied like a dirty rug, many were convinced, unfortunately Tim Walters was not one of them but doubt did flicker in his eyes. Whether he was grasping at straws, or too stubborn to back down, he turned to one of his security guards, a silver haired one and order him into action.
"Search him, he should have a speaker or something in his collar! He did this! He has damned us, he has damned America! He communicated with someone to do this!" Walters tone sounded hysterical, and insane. Gorllewin's eyes narrowed at the elderly secret service agent that began moving towards House, the CIT administrator started speaking in a decisive and authoritative tone that matched his station.
"Halt! You will not manhandle a student of the Commonwealth Institute of technology, without a warrant." Since meeting Professor Malvagio Gorllewin, Robert House did not care much for the administrator, if anything he would be quite happy if the nosy professor was caught up in the Omega protocol explosion. However at this moment the Nevada Genius had a modicum of respect rise for the man that was either brave or extremely stupid to stand up against the US secret service agents.
"We have probable cause. I saw the boy acting strange back at the conference room, muttering to himself, most likely a code phrase or something to tell someone to destroy the robot. He is responsible for this! He is a terrorist!" The manic tone of the Secretary of Energy got nearly everyone staring at Robert House. A couple of the ADI personnel looked convinced, but more like a mob of victims looking for a target to relieve their recent suffering upon. While the rest of the on lookers remained skeptical, convinced by Robert House's earlier words. Professor Gorllewin's eyes held conflict in them, but eventually he came to a decision, the administrator spoke calmly, ordering one of the CIT security officers.
"If that is the case then this falls on CIT campus jurisdiction, your man will not man-handle one of our students. Officer Lebron, kindly check Robert House's person, make sure he has no strange devices on him." A dark skinned CIT campus security guard moved forward obediently, coming before Robert House, and asking him a question.
"If you have anything on your person, a speaker, a detonator, or anything, this is your only chance to let me know son." Officer Lebron's words strangely came out far softer than what was expected for a man of his huge build. His question sounded almost warm like a father scolding a toddler, but House did not fall for the bait. For the eyes of the security guard before him made it clear Officer Lebron would do violence on House if he found evidence that Robert had anything to do with the explosion.
"No, there is nothing on me outside of a watch, and my wallet." Refusing to answer, and more importantly refusing to be searched would risk raising suspicion, so House had to force himself to ignore the thought of being touched all over by this stranger. Having nothing to hide on his person, House raised his arms up in a T-pose, allowing the CIT guard to search him. Walters' yelled from the sideline, pointing out random spots on House's body for the CIT security guard to search. However, after half an hour patting down House, nearly four times, checking his pockets, and doing almost everything with the exception of getting the boy to strip in the hallway, they found nothing on Robert House. House for his part, kept his eyes closed, thinking of anything outside of the tight grip desecrating his person for a full 30 minutes. A thousand thousand suffering for everyone with the surname of Walters.
"He might have dropped the speaker off somewhere, he might have gotten rid of the evidence ahead of time! Whoever he tipped off might still be in this building, they would have a detonator and had access to the robot recently. I demand access to your surveillance system, and to be allowed to have my men search the campus! For the sake of national security! That boy is guilty of terrorism and the evidence is here, somewhere!" Walters did not convince as many people as he did before, if anything he now looked more like the insane lunatic he sounded like. Professor Gorllewin had stood rigid the entire time, expecting the worse, but when no evidence turned up on House's person, the man stepped in again.
"You will have access to our camera feed, and that alone! Nothing else Secretary Walters. Matters here are complicated enough, we do not need you throwing further accusations at our best and brightest students or start your own personal witch hunt." Professor Gorllewin then turned to Langford, the ADI executive had been clutching onto whatever hope he had that Walters was right, and that House was the guilty party. "You came for the automaton, well there is it's remains Mr. Langford, but your actions here have caused damage to the university's peace, as well as its infrastructure. Know that our legal representatives will be putting a restraining order upon everyone associated with your corporation and effective immediately all ADI licenses, products, and services will come to an end. The Commonwealth Institute of Technology will be replacing all computerized products with models and code from the Nippon Electronics. You sir have lost our patronage."
The ADI VP Langford spat curses, his shell shock lawyers eventually got their act together before going towards the ashes of Liberty XLR, and claiming the scraps. Walters and Langford fumed in unison, their alliance, and attempted theft of Liberty XLR, was clear to anyone with two active brain cells to put the clues together.
"This isn't over, kid! When, and not if... when we find your accomplice, and perform forensics tests on the robot's remains. Once we get that one scrap of evidence that points towards sabotage-" Walters growled, gesturing to his agents like a threat that meant to scare House. Yet, Robert was as threatened by Tim Walters as he was with Richard Langford. The ADI executive stood next to Walters, nodding his head furiously, joining in on the fishing expedition, all while holding tightly to a briefcase containing the smoking remains of Liberty XLR.
The ADI lawyers also added their own threats, but directed it towards Professor Gorllewin. They made promises to file formal complaints, accusing the school of sabotage, destruction of property, federal obstruction and whatever else they could pull out of their asses. Eventually the entire lot of them stormed out together, a parade of suits and fury, leaving threats in their wake. The Secretary of Energy especially held a grudge, and was not willing to let this go. He and his men demanded Officer Lebron to show them where the main surveillance system was at. The Secretary of Energy planned to have his secret service agents comb through the entirety of the CIT security footage to get Walters his proof. With the crazy train gone, the few CIT campus officers present, had to lock down the damaged robotics lab, and pushed everyone not apart of campus security away from the crime scene.
Professor Gorllewin removed a bulky, matte-black brick of a device, its thick plastic casing etched with faint Nippon Electronics Corporation logos along the edges. This bulky style cellphone was used to make a call by snapping open the flip antenna with a practiced flick. Extending the chrome rod to its full length, the scholarship administrator began pressing the oversized keypad buttons with deliberate force, the tiny two-line LCD screen glowing a sickly green as it searched for a signal. Soon the cell-phone connected with the Campus law offices, legal reps used by CIT university. Professor Gorllewin informed his lawyers on what happened and had them prepare for the legal shit show of the century. Professor Gorllewin's face showed an expression of rage as he vented out to his legal council, but the longer he talked with his lawyers, the faster he simmered down. An instant later Malvagio wore an almost pleased expression, like a man who'd dodged a bullet he hadn't seen coming and had a metaphorical angel looking over him for the rest of his natural life.
Robert House was interested in finding out what exactly was being discussed over the phone call but he had another problem to deal with. His teammates, all of them looked at the Nevada genius, with a wide range of emotions, none of them positive. Mao was the first to break the ice.
"Did you do it?" The foreign exchange student looked at his first and best friend, peering into the man's soul, attempting to figure out if his roommate was capable of destroying the fruit of their joint labor.
"I was with you lot the entire time. How would I have even been able to pull off all of this?" House pointed at the mess that was the CIT robotics lab, using the charisma of a heroic demi-god to avoid directly answering Mao's question, while also not lying to his roommate. Mao, hearing Robert's convincingly fake attempt at a hurt tone looked away, ashamed of himself for even asking the question, bowing his head slightly, unable to look at Robert's gaze. Simon and Felix too were placated by the question that answered a question. With the former first year going off thinking a spy was within the school and that the group should come together to hunt the terrorist that targeted Liberty XLR. Nearly everyone shot Simon's idea of going on an investigative adventure down, but Felix was on the fence, especially when Simon mentioned that maybe the university would give a monetary reward if they discovered the perpetrator. Dorothy quickly changed the topic of the group's conversation as she looked at Robert and asked her own important question.
"I thought you said you did not have an elder brother. Why was Secretary Walters, bringing up this Anthony House and saying he is your brother when you clearly stated that you don't have any siblings?" That question did more to raise House's rage, than the wasted destruction of Liberty XLR could have ever done. He wanted to ignore Dorothy's question, to guilt trip her for asking such a thing like House did with Mao. But somewhere in his psyche there was a little victor whose cuddle session courses had paid off. The angel on Robert House's shoulder pushed House into being a bit more social, to share his hurt with his friends and clear up the misunderstanding like he did with Professor Gorllewin. Sighing an exhausted sigh, Robert spoke, trying his best to bury his anger in order to hold back the more psychotic desires he had planned for Anthony House.
"Because a sibling does not steal your inheritance from under you when your just two years old. A brother would not lie to you for 14 years, let you live in your family home, eat at the family table with you, only to reveal the treachery on your 16th birthday and then kick you from the family home leaving you stranded with nothing, not a penny to your name. Anthony House is not my brother, he is not even a human being, he is a blight upon all the people of the world and the day he gets what is coming to him, is the day I might start believing in a god." Though from what I remember god helps those who help themselves. Robert's words got his teammates to give him a strange look, something that Robert did not expect nor desire to see. Pity, pure empathy and sorrow for the man before them.
Before Robert could act, before he could say anything to get his teammates to stop the disgusting look they showed him, Dorothy walked up to House and hugged him. Robert House had to use all of his mental strength to refrain from performing a WWE German style suplex on the 2nd year student, he remained tense in her embrace, his skin felt like it was on fire and he needed a bath. That feeling only got worse as the others, also joined in the hug, Simon coming in next, followed by Mao. Lastly was Felix who skipped out on the hug, and just placed a reassuring hand on House's shoulder that felt as if acid was being poured on it. Robert now wanted to scream, damning his metaphorical robotic angel on his shoulder for ever even convincing him to open up. Eventually the group broke apart, and House hurriedly walked away from the group, before they could say or do anything. For at that moment the only thing that Robert House desired was quickly looking for a shower. Before he could leave another hand grabbed at his shoulder. Looking behind him without elbowing the person in the face, House found Professor Gorllewin who wanted to speak to him.
"You are not off the hook yet Robert. There will be a hearing, whatever the CIT staff or Secret service personnel uncover will be used in said hearing, be prepared for what is to come. If you miss it, or try to run, then just know that you're time here at CIT will come to an end. Permanently, with possible legal charges filed if it is discovered that you had a hand in destroying the robot." Gorllewin spoke with a dire tone, one that would not brook any form of refusal.
And like that, any respect I had for this man died a dogs death. House simply nodded his head, and walked off. Before he could go to find that scolding hot shower, he returned to where he dropped off his custom earpiece and speakers, stealthily picking it up, before campus security or Walters goons had a chance to take it. Luckily, now that he had time to look around, he noted that the trash can that he stashed his electronics inside of, was in a perfect blind spot with no recording cameras nearby, meaning there was little for victor to edit. With the only remaining piece of evidence of his crime secured, Robert House swiftly, and carefully returned to his dorm to finally enjoy that hot shower.
The next couple of weeks blurred by, outside of his classes, there was not a single day that House was not called up by campus police to be questioned. And they always asked the same questions as if House would change his answer. Worse, Robert was forced to fill out paper work that House was certain had more to do with insurance than the investigation. CIT security and Walters' secret service agents grilled House at least once every three days, but House always played off their interrogations with the same excuse of Liberty XLR being an unstable prototype. Victor kept a tab on them, watching the watchers, reporting anything that the We hate Robert House task force discovered, which was little to nothing. Robert only got the chance to communicate with Victor at the end of the day via the laptop, never wearing his earpiece or speakers to converse with the AI, in case the Secret Service agents or CIT campus security decided to run a inconvenient stop and frisk search on House.
The ADI's complaints and threat of law suits went nowhere as well. Their earlier illegal entry of the Robotics lab during the night of the robot tournament, and acquiring the remains of Liberty XLR undercut any legal cases that ADI had hoped to launch against CIT. If anything the Campus law firm that CIT hired was making better progress in the legal case against ADI. Soon ADI was brought to a negotiation table to discuss a settlement, one that was rumored to have the computer company giving more than taking from the Commonwealth Institute of Technology.
House's teammates mourned Liberty XLR like a lost child; Felix ranted daily about future tournament prize money in danger of not being awarded to the group if they didn't try building a new combat robot. Simon on the other hand wanted to hold a funeral for the robot, though it would be an empty coffin as Mao pointed out that ADI took the robots remains. Worse than the sentimental desires of his teammates was Dorothy. From time to time her eyes lingered on Robert with that weird mix of pity and concern. Not to mention that now whenever she brought up her siblings in a conversation, she stopped midway, and changed the topic as if talking about elder brothers was some sort of taboo land mine.
Robert ignored it and continued with his grind as a good Samaritan around the CIT campus, in the hope of a reputation gain, but nothing occurred, no bump to his reputation, no breakthroughs. All he had to look forward too was waiting for the administration hearing to occur, and from what Victor investigated, there was nothing in the form of surprise evidence that the school was preparing. Meaning that they were either hiding what they had planned for the hearing with the Dean, or had nothing on Robert House. Not even a full year with CIT and I already got a 2nd hearing to worry about.
Then the summons came, another hearing with the same CIT administrators as last time. Robert House had taken Professor Gorllewin's words to heart, and arrived early at the doors of the hearing. The stat broken Nevada genius was ready to face down and charm five angry judges in order to not get expelled from the university. Entering the courtroom, Robert Edwin House did not find any of the administrators, nor anyone that desired to put him through another trial. No, Robert House had found a completely empty courtroom as silent as an abandoned bank vault. Before, House could question anything, before he could leave, his notification alerted him to two important matters.
Quest Completed: Four-Way Standoff
Objective: You have resolve the escalating conflict over Liberty XLR.
Outcome: You chose the optional route to this quest, activating the Omega Protocol, causing Liberty XLR to self-destructed in a blaze of patriotic glory, denying its secrets to all factions. The solar cell technology remains yours alone; no reverse-engineering, no replication, no theft. The robot died a martyr so that freedom (and your sole control over the IP) could endure.
Rewards:
500 XP
Solar Cell Technology – Retained exclusive ownership. Blueprints, prototypes, and production rights are now permanently locked to you. No faction can replicate or mass-produce the design without, spending time and effort, your direct involvement, or acquiring a future sample.
Reputation Gain: Commonwealth Institute of Technology currently: Liked. Enough news of your good works has been passed around that people like you.
House seeing the alert regarding the quest that he had completely forgotten about, quickly went to the reputation status of his fallout style system in order to see what updates had occurred.
System Notification – Reputation Update
Federal Continuity Council → Shunned: Tim Walters a big player of the status quo has been embarrassed and his reputation damaged by you. You've left a poor impression on the community and may be shunned as a result.
Axiom Dynamics Incorporated (ADI) → Hated: You have become a thorn in their side one too many times and worse you have cost them a large client. Now that folks know you're bad, most people outright hate you.
Velvet Knuckle Casino (Reno branch) → Vilified: You have cost the Casino much money, they are baying for your blood. For your overwhelmingly monstrous behavior, you have become vilified by the community.
Irish Mob (Boston Branch) → Idolized: You have aided the Irish Mobsters of Boston greatly by improving their businesses and monetarily. Renowned for your extensive support and goodwill, you are idolized by the community.
Commonwealth Institute of Technology → Liked: You have not only shown your dedication to education by overburdening you schedule, but have proven to be an exemplar student. Enough news of your good works has been passed around that people like you.
Robert Edwin House looked upon his reputation tracker, the new infamy gains made sense, but the increase to his CIT reputation left the young capitalist completely confused. What was Victor's catch phrase for moments like this... Oh I remember now... That don' make a lick of sense.
As Robert House pondered what specifically he had done to increase his reputation score within the university, something he thought for sure would never rise higher than the accepted level, he heard the doors to the CIT courtroom open. Turning around he found the infamous Professor Malvagio Gorllewin in his best dress suit, the extremely strict man had his usual calm snobby expression, but House's high perception caught the softness around the scholarship administrator's eyes, almost warm and welcoming. His tone even reflected that as he spoke to the Nevada genius. "Robert Edwin House. Your administrative hearing has been... altered. Please follow me, Dean Oswald Cadwell has taken a personal interest in this matter and he wishes to speak directly with you."