~Robert House POV~

  The roar of the crowd still echoed across the stadium as Robert House exited from the victory circle. The oversized trophy was handed off to Felix and Simon like an afterthought, they were far more eager to claim it, immediately waving it around for all in the audience to see. House's attention was on Liberty XLR's performance which needed to be reviewed and if the automaton was suffering any stress it would be handled in the club workshop. The automaton's chassis was still warm from the bout again the robot with a flamethrower, even though it was not directly hit, the fire still had a way of warming everything around it. Liberty XLR solar arrays faintly glowed under the overhead lights, House hoped the Omega protocol was not endanger of activating, the result would not be good especially with such a large crowd gathering nearby, surrounding the group, well within the blast radius. House and the rest of the team; Dorothy, Mao, Felix, Simon, and Lila were already being swarmed by proud audience members and more importantly corporate scouts who had slithered in now that the final round was over.

  General Atomics reps in crisp navy suits were offering the group dinner at Catalyst downtown, promising a proper celebration and a chance to discuss future opportunities. House saw an Axiom Dynamics Incorporated rep had cornered Lila, Robert's high perception picked up the whispering of the scout. Something about a private booth at an upscale lounge in Cambridge with a key decision-maker of ADI who wanted to talk code and contracts. Lila's eyes literally glinting with star struck glee, she even directed a look at House, trying to wave him over to join the talk. Robert tried to ignore it, but was soon approached by all of them, the audience members and scouts seeking the young genius out for his time. House with social grace and civil politeness declined their offers, his measured refusals were blamed on Liberty XLR, claiming the automaton's care took priority, especially since Liberty XLR would be participating in next year's tournament as well.

  "Best not to have a defective candidate for next year's competition. I simply can not attend." House spoke to the ADI rep who looked at House with horror as if Robert had just turned down a meeting with god.

  "Thank you, but I need to review data regarding Liberty XLR." The General Atomic scout raised eyebrows, surprised by Robert's clear refusal. Dorothy grew pale by Roberts response, she had really hoped House would at least hear the representative out. She even went so far as to apologize on House's behalf, trying to assure the scout that Robert would be interested at a later time. House's teammates did not join him, all of them basking in the attention or taking up offers of the corporate scouts. While House, half fleeing, half retreating through the thinnest clusters of admirers toward the exit doors for tournament personal only.

  As Robert was moving through the crowd he even ran into Teddy, or better to say the 3rd year business student ran into House. Teddy has seen the tournament in all of its glory, and attempted to reach House just as the creator of Liberty XLR and his creation was about to enter restricted doors that led to the CIT robotics workshop. Once passed that security door, no one would be allowed entrance unless they were CIT staff, or a tournament participant. Teddy, little out of breath after forcing his way through a mosh pits worth of people to reach House, was grinning like a man who'd just won the lottery twice in one night. He wanted to celebrate with Robert, even offering to buy the first round of drinks at a quiet bar off-campus.

  "Just you and me, Robert. Hell, we can take your little patriot bot with us if you like, I'm sure no one will mess with your magic can opener. We can celebrate your victory at the ring... as well as your victory on the trading market." When House heard how high his stocks from Hubris Comics and Red Racer Co. had gotten, the displaced Vegas genius had the first genuine smile on his face since winning the tournament. Even with the joyful news, House was not in the mood of celebrating. The roar of the crowds, the press of bodies, the odor coming off of the people, everyone wanting to shake hands with him, giving unwanted backslaps, and raising their voices at him was the worst. Each person talking over one another, some going so far as to shout directly at Robert, screaming out their fanatism over a Robot fight House was sure that this was the first time they ever witnessed, yet became die hard fans after seeing Liberty XLR in action. This was not like the Fallout games were the world stops and you had a discussion with one person, no the mass of people were rushing in, and Robert Edwin House was feeling scraped raw, every touch and stare like sandpaper on already abraded nerves. The overwhelming sheer tide of fanatic people, was a weight that was suffocating for Robert, overloading his senses. He needed to leave, and he needed to leave now, leaving poor Teddy behind at the door way, and entering the restricted area that House and liberty XLR was allowed access to.

  The moment House was out of the crowd's sight and in the safe isolated quiet of the workshop, he went straight for the nearest restroom. Liberty XLR following him like a faithful duckling, never leaving House's side. Robert pushed through the doorway with the sleeve of his lab coat, rushing towards the closest sink he could find. There he began scrubbing his hands under scalding hot water as though he could rinse away the residue of coming into contact with so many strangers. The automaton looked up at his creator, its servos humming, like an affection purr, the bot's love for House was just as intense as the crowds beyond the doorways, and that only made the genius want to wash his hand more.

  "Initiate silence protocol, 12 minutes. Please and thank you." Robert liked the number 12 almost as much as he liked the number 38. Yet, right now, at this moment, 12 was his sacred number, for it was an even number, divisible by three, resulting in the number four, another even number. The mathematical focus of every minute being five intervals of 12 seconds, meaning he would enjoy 720 seconds of calm. This had made the simple two digit number relaxing for House, able to wash away the excess thoughts as he lost himself into the holy number. Eventually Robert House stood motionless at the sink for a long moment after the water shut off, his hand red from nearly scraping off a layer of skin, his eyes closed, breath slow and deliberate. He shook the last droplets from his fingers and let the sterile quiet of the empty restroom wash away the lingering clamor, distancing himself from the chaos, until his world felt orderly and stable again. It was clear for House that he did not enjoy the attention of the crowd, much less an entire stadiums worth of people rushing head first towards him.

  Leaving the restroom, with Liberty XLR following closely behind, the automaton's magnetic treads, began a soft, anticipatory whir. The creation restarted purring, and the chassis tilted slightly toward House like a dog lifting its head, faithfully following its beloved maker. Once they reached their section of the workshop for the Robot Fight Club, the personality matrix of Liberty XLR responded instantly as House order the robot onto the repair station.

  "Father of Democracy," it announced in Mao's carefully sampled voice, one of 3 secret modifications that House worked on, this was the only modification that required Mao's aid. House found it amusing to use a former communist to voice the patriotic words of the automaton. Robert had to use some of his charm to get Mao to do the job, promising him that it would win the trust of many Americans, which was not a lie. For example, Felix the one teammate who despised Mao the most and at times was out right hostile to the foreign exchange student did not expect the surprise that had been installed into Liberty XLR. Learning that it was Mao's voice coming out of the little robot the group had spent a semester working on, caused Felix's jaw to nearly drop to the floor. Mao's standing within CIT would improve with every line of propaganda that Liberty XLR spoke, it might even eliminate the shadow of fear that others had over Mao being a communist spy. Yet, for House such a fear still remained and what better than having blackmail on his roommate incase the man truly was a servant of Beijing. Even Chinese spies had to obey the idiotic rules of never insulting the party, or at the very least never being recorded doing it. House had secured two birds with one stone, helped a friend, and prepared against an enemy. If the day ever came that Mao plotted against Robert, then House would hold an ace in the hole that could flip the spy to his cause or be the death sentence that would eliminate a threat using Mao's own people to do the dirty deed.

  With the blackmail logs secured, House moved onto the other 2 secret additions that he worked on, the solar cells of the robotic unit was functioning at full capability, and the Omega protocol had yet to activated which cleared a great deal of concern from House. Finally the creator asked his creation for a full vocal diagnostic, in case the unit had any concerns it wished to share. Embedded during those late-night sessions adding an ironic warmth to its mechanical timbre. "Liberty XLR salutes the architect of freedom. Status report: all systems nominal. Minor hydraulic stress acquired from the final round. Awaiting further inspection by the Father of Democracy."

  Father of Democracy, that was rich, and very untrue. At best I could be considered the Uncle of Capitalism. House noticed a minor strain on the hydraulic spring from the final round, where liberty had leap onto the flamethrower robot's head, and began the most horrifying form of decapitation Liberty XLR was programmed to commit. Now there was a hairline microfracture in the piston seal that could lead to slow pressure bleed if left unaddressed. Robert popped the access panel with a quick twist of the release latch, ran a handheld ultrasonic scanner over the cylinder to confirm the fault, a 2.1% pressure drop per cycle, then he used a precision syringe to extract the contaminated fluid and flush the line with clean hydraulic solvent. The damaged nitrile seal was swapped for a spare graphene-reinforced polymer one from his toolkit, stronger, more heat-resistant, and a perfect fit, seating it with a firm press until the magnetic alignment clicked into place. A 30-second pressure test at 4200 PSI confirmed no leaks, and the spring compressed and extended smoothly again. The entire fix took under two minutes. Upon finishing, Liberty XLR responded with a low, steady thrum from its cooling fans and chassis vibration, the mechanical purr at around 22 Hz, servos syncing in quiet contentment as its optic lenses brightened.

  "Father of Democracy, systems restored. Liberty endures." House put the robot into rest mode, the bait was set, now he would have to wait to see who would bite. Just as House finished up, his ear piece crackled to life with Victor reporting in.

  "Boss, congrats on winning the mechanical tussle, but you reckon it's safe to talk shop right now? Got some mighty interestin' chatter comin' out of the Dean's office. CIT folks are gettin' real curious about your little patriot there. Just say the word if you need a quieter trail." House didn't answer Victor directly. Instead he leaned down toward the now-resting Liberty XLR, resting one hand lightly on the warm chassis as though speaking to a sleeping child.

  "The whole world will have their eyes on you soon, my favorite little robot, best your dreams take you far away from here. Things are only going to get more hectic in the following nights." House said the words quietly, voice calm and with far more genuine tenderness to it. Something about his creations made it easer for Robert to show warmth than it did when speaking to other people. The gentle words, almost wistful, masked House's dialogue with Victor as three security cameras glinted red in the shadows of the workshop. Victor went silent for half a heartbeat, confirmed that others were also watching with a soft knowing chuckle.

  "Well now, I wouldn't mind wranglin' a keepsake of that sweet little father-son moment, but I reckon the Dean's boys already got a snapshot of it. I'll keep ridin' quiet circles round the herd till you're back in the clear. You mosey on to that dorm safe-like now, ya'hear?" House straightened, gave Liberty XLR one last pat on the chassis, then turned and walked out of the workshop without another word, leaving the resting automaton under the unblinking gaze of the cameras.

  Robert House walked through the hallways of CIT's robotics building, avoiding the crowds, walking what he believed to be the quickest path to his dorm. Just as House got outside, free to travel the quad he found two people waiting for him. Dorothy Hayes and Lila Duvall, both still flushed from the tournament high but visibly tense, shoulders squared as though bracing for a negotiation they weren't entirely sure they could win. Again House noted to himself to check his status screen, making sure the 0 was after the 1 in his luck stat and not before it.

  "Robert!" Dorothy called, hurrying forward with that bright, earnest smile she wore like armor. "We need to talk. General Atomics is expecting the whole team, well, at least the core designers, and they specifically asked about the team leader. It would mean a lot if you came. Please?"

  Lila crossed her arms, chin lifted, after hearing the words core designers, the woman silently fumed taking it as an insult. Based on the tone and how Dorothy gave side glances to Lila, House was sure Dorothy intended it as an insult. The woman was as crazy for General Atomics as Lila was for ADI, it reminded Robert the way Xbox fans and PlayStation fans acted, unnecessary fanatism for corporations that did not care about them. House regarded Dorothy with the same calm, unreadable expression he used for just about every interaction he had with other people, he gave the silly girl a simple and clear response.

  "No. I'm not interested." The words hit Dorothy like a truck, something about her quiet heart-broken look made House think there was something more to this meeting that Dorothy was not voicing. Before House could ask about it, Lila interrupted, seizing the opening with practiced confidence, her mood victorious, as if she had just won some sort of argument.

  "So if you won't go with the General Atomics sit down, come with me. ADI's offer is still open. They want to talk Robert. You're almost as talented as me when it comes to the ADI OS and their programing language, I'm sure you had to rewrite entire segments of the logic to get Liberty XLR to say all those crazy shit. Axiom Dynamics Incorporated would pay big bucks to get you to sign up, hell their sign up bonus would be enough to cover your room and board for the rest of your stay at CIT. All you ne-" House stopped Lila, giving her the same cold disinterest glance as he did with Dorothy, if not more so as the arrogance of the woman was far more displeasing than Dorothy's puppy dog eyes.

  "No. I'm not interested." The way things currently stood, ADI would be Robco's biggest competitor, and Robert was sure he would win any future battles against them, given that there was no mention at all regarding Axiom Dynamics Incorporated in the Fallout games. As such Robert had no plans to breathe life into something that would die, and more certainly not for the chump change they were offering. "I have an early lecture tomorrow morning, please excuse me."

  Just as Robert was about to leave, Dorothy's hand caught his, which forced Robert to hold back the repulsion that came from the unwanted contact. He used similar mental strength he had when it came to Emogene Cabot, his first night meeting the immortal woman who clung to Robert like a tick was tough, but he powered through it due to her good looks and the rewards that awaited later down the line. Dorothy on the other hand lacked Emogene's charms, and offered nothing at the end but a desk job working at a dead end company. Maintaining his poker face, Robert easily broke out of the 2nd year student's grip, while his high Perception caught every tell. Dorothy's fingers twisting together behind her back, the slight tremor in her voice that spoke of genuine hope rather than calculation. Lila's squared shoulders and forced nonchalance masking the same underlying insecurity. Neither felt ready to face corporate wolves alone, and both knew deep down that Liberty XLR would never have reached the finals, let alone dominated, without his design leadership, his late-night fixes, his ruthless optimization of every subsystem. Burying the fury that was bubbling at the unwanted contact, Robert attempted a change of tactics. Thinking to himself, What would Victor say. When an answer came, he exhaled once, softly, then spoke with quiet, measured authority, letting the full weight of his Charisma settle over the words like a perfectly tuned frequency.

  "You don't need me there. You both had a hand in building Liberty XLR. Dorothy, you coordinated every deadline and kept the team moving when I was away at classes. Lila, you wrote the core control routines and scripts that let it adapt mid-fight. Felix handled the chassis, Simon the power routing, Mao the key chip design and voice matrix integration. That machine is our, every weld, every line of code, every decision made under pressure, none of it could have been done without the two of you. Walk into those rooms like engineers and programmers who just proved they can out-design the best in the field. Confidence isn't borrowed; it's earned. And you've earned it." Robert Edwin House smiled a kind and almost human like smile, as he lied like a dirty rug to his teammates whose slack he had to make up for in order to get Liberty XLR into the contest. However, he was certain at that moment that Victor would approve of what he said to make his companions feel better. Lila blinked, shoulders easing a fraction; a small, genuine nod followed, the first crack in her aggressive posture dying down into something more relaxed. Dorothy, though, bit her lip, eyes searching his face as though hoping for one last concession.

  "I just… thought it would look stronger with you there," she admitted softly. "They'll want to hear from the team leader."

  "You two can handle your meetings. Go show them what CIT best are capable of." House offered the faintest smile polite, almost kind, but a lie as far as only House needed to know. Dorothy hesitated, then nodded once, reluctant but resigned. Lila gave a quick, grateful half-smile before the two turned back walking towards the meeting that they believed would change their lives for the better. House watched them go, expression unchanging. He had no intention of sitting through dinners with corporate recruiters, men no better than vultures in tailored suits who would smile, flatter, and then try to carve huge profitable chunks of your work only offering crumbs in return.

  House knew their kind too well, the meta-knowledge on the Fallout universe had taught him that the mega companies like ADI and General Atomics needed fuel for the fires of an ever growing profit driven empire. West Tek was a perfect example on how far their recruiters would go, dangling hope or threatening a genius with their dying parent in order to coerce said genius into unethical experiments, all while wearing the false mask of progress. House had no interest in being milked for designs he could monetize himself. RobCo would be the salvation needed to protect humanity against the doom that mankind would level upon itself. When RobCo existed and only then, Robert House would start dealing with corporate recruiters... because he would need a way to harvest talent for his corporate superpower. The best he could do not to end up like the monsters of the pre -war era would be to leave Victor in charge to make sure his recruiters did not cross any ethical lines. Though in all honesty he was not against having his future head-hunters pushing up near said line if it meant getting as much assets in order to save humanity. Ends justifying the means and all that tragic bullshit that goes with it.

  Finally alone, with no one following, Robert made his way through the night air, the last shreds of winter cold against his skin, but spring was around the corner and so too was the means to dominate CIT for all the knowledge it held. Reaching the dorms building in short time, the echo of the tournament fading behind him like a distant memory. As Robert's mind was set on the bait he just had to wait till his prize took a bite from it.

  As House entered his dorm, certain that it was empty as his roommate would be at the corporate meeting, House confirmed it. Seeing no sign of Mao, Robert entered his room and locked the door behind him. Set his Robot fight club lab coat aside, the Nevada genius opened his laptop. Victor was already there, face flickering into place with that familiar neon grin, eyes bright in a way that suggested he had been waiting a while.

  "Well howdy there, boss," Victor drawled, surprise edging his tone like he had just seen a card flip he had not expected. "You sure know how to get folks riled without even showin up."

  "Report." The words came out colder than House intended, Victor had a lot of leeway with Robert, allowing the AI his freedom of personality, yet answers were needed, to understand what exactly he was dealing with and whether his bait would work on someone like the Dean. Victor tipped an imaginary hat and got to it, keeping things lean, just as House preferred. He talked about Dean Oswald Cadwell and Professor Malvagio Gorllewin holed up in a private office, screens watching screens, men watching men. Victor explained that the Dean and the scholarship professor were convinced Robert House was not merely a gifted student, but a plant, someone sent ahead of something larger than ADI or General Atomics.

  "From the way they jawed about it," Victor said, voice lowering, "they figure you're ridin for some outfit big enough to bend laws and mean enough to do it twice. And that Liberty XLR of yours, well, they see it as the dinner bell, the means to get that giant through the door. So I gotta ask, partner. You spyin on the good folks of CIT, or is this just one hell of a case of mistaken cattle?"

  "No." The denial was flat, yet genuine. House looked at his character sheet, staring at the 10 in his Luck, attempting to intimidate the floating status screen in front of him to reveal his true Luck stats, because House was not feeling lucky at this moment. No change occurred with his Luck stat display no matter how angerly he stared at the Special characteristic. Worse said character status display was between House and the laptop screen that display Victor. The AI's normally happy display of a charming cowboy had melted away as the rage filled look of his creator bared down upon him, if AI knew fear Victor was sure he was feeling it right then. As the AI attempted to ponder how he had brought such a death glare from his creator, Robert House exhaled his frightening look falling off as exhaustion took hold. House leaned back, surprise finally catching up to him, mind racing through implications. If Cadwell and Gorllewin wrongly believe I am an agent for something larger than the corporate powers of America, then perhaps they have had the unfortunate experience of glimpsing the same shape in the dark that I've been concerned about.

  "The Enclave." House spoke the shadow government's name, and looked around with superstitious fear, as if speaking the name aloud was enough to get the deep state spooks to appear. Now the tension and constant observation of the CIT administrator made perfect sense, like a missing piece of the puzzle, the Proto-Institute paranoia did not arise from nowhere. Someone was watching the people watching House, or at least his watchers thought so. Someone with possible Enclave ties were embedded within the school and House had the unfortunate fate of being caught in the crosshairs. House's gaze drifted, at first unfocused, before finally landing upon poor Victor, the AI was extremely confused and shivering as if death was one delete button away from ending him. It did not take long for House to realize the target of Victors worries. "I'm okay, your okay, you've done a wonderful job Victor. However, matters now have just gotten far more complicated and dangerous. Before you ask, no, I am not spying on the Commonwealth Institute of Technology for others... I am having you spy on it for my interests alone."

  Victor's digital animated representation nodded, the charm and joy of the cowboy returning, but with a single question that needed answering. "That's good to hear, boss, but what in tarnation is this Enclave and why is it got you jumpin' at shadows like a colt in a thunderstorm?"

  "People that we are not in a position to even have them looking at us, much less fighting. I will have to do some upgrades to help you better defend against cyber intrusions against them, maybe add some cookies to help expand your observational capabilities. Your going to have to keep an eye open on anyone making shady calls to Washington DC, if there is anyone in contact with the group known as the Enclave we need to keep our distance from them. Place that as a priority objective, right up there with keeping me safe and alive." House may have had stats that could be compared to a god, but against an entire country's powerbase, he was not willing to face against something so one-sided, he did not even have the gear yet to survive outside of a single fire-fight. "What else did the Dean say."

  House's gaze drifted, as Victor continued, explaining that the Dean was convinced, utterly so, that House's meteoric success and impossibly clean victories had painted a beacon for greater powers to arrive, and said power would take the school as their true target. Victor spoke his next words with half awed, half wary, "Luck like your's boss, makes folks start countin fingers and wonderin who's cheatin."

  House snorted quietly and, for a moment, actually thought about pulling up his character sheet again. If one could intimidate the Fallout system in revealing the truth House was certain he could. Yet the column where his SPECIAL stats sat, the row that showed Luck, stilled had a perfect 10 in it. The irony lingered, House's timing, his broken skills and abilities had done more harm than good in this situation. He had arrived at CIT when nerves were already frayed, when shadow groups were plotting something through proxies and whispers. Somehow the bird shit found itself on House, and the system tried to delude him into believing he possessed a maxed out luck stat. At least no one is knocking down on my door and taking me into custody at this moment, one good thing was catching this all before it became malignant.

  Victor had hesitated before continuing, then spoke with a little less humor. "Professor Gorllewin danced around some real ugly notions, boss. Talked about making the wolf disappear. But the Dean shut it down hard. Both men are scared, but the one in charge is not stupid. From where I'm sittin, they're both more worried about coverin their tracks than pullin a trigger."

  "So no immediate plans to remove me." That earned House's full attention. It was not a question he'd like to hear a bad answer to. As Victor shook his animated head, Robert sighed in relief.

  "Naw. If anything, they're circlin wagons. Afraid that whatever they think you're tied to is gonna come knockin on their door any day now, rearrange the furniture, tell em how to teach." Silence followed. House stared at the ceiling for while pondering the matter. The passage had closed and the walls were moving in. Robert attempted to distract himself with study and course assignments, the entirety of the rest of the day passing into the night before the future Master of Vegas began smiling. It was a thin and cold smile, one full of calculations that evolved into the perfect plan. From where he sat the math started to look good, and if he timed things properly his trojan horse could secure a better haul than what the Institute had come up with. Where House had planned a surprise to catch the proto-institute with Liberty XLR, he could use said bait to catch a bigger more dangerous fish.

  "Irksome," Robert spoke softly. "But manageable."

  Inwardly, the gears were already turning. Fear opened doors that curiosity could not. Trust could be bought, earned, or fabricated. The proto-Institute was sitting on ideas that mattered, on early dreams of synthetic life and impossible teleportation travel, and now they might be desperate enough to listen if the proper opportunity arose.

  House closed the laptop, already envisioning a future where CIT secrets were his, and where Victor, someday, might walk beside him in a far finer body than steel and treads. But he needed the opportunity, his reputation with CIT was at the accepted level, which House thought would have changed after winning the Robot Fight Club, but either the reputation points were little like working for the NCR, or he was yet to be awarded with any reputation gain. The only quests that could help Robert earn some reputation, involved him waiting out the 4 years and excelling in his classes, and that would not be awarded anytime soon, a problem due to the fact that he required the reputation reward now in order to get a better idea of the mysteries going on between CIT and the Enclave. House sighed, and spoke into his earpiece.

  "Victor look for opportunities to make CIT staff comfortable and friendly towards us. We are going for a hardcore and genuine PR crusade, anything even if it means moving large heavy packages to putting out a lab fire. No matter how small, no matter how great of a situation erupts, let me know about it right away. I think there is something important ahead that requires the CIT administrators to trust me. Figure out any way possible to earn that trust and as quickly as possible. We need to get it to the point until they stop flinching when my name comes up and instead look at me like the person who can solve all their problems." House said nothing else, and Victor simply hummed a western tune as he began looking around through the CIT security systems. Robert took the laptop, and slid it into a hidden compartment behind loose paneling, where his Reno winnings lay, taking extreme care to hide it all from sight. Tracks erased, surfaces clean, literally everything done minus adding a stealth boy to the equation, and if they had existed Robert House.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Soon even the electric door trap would be reinstalled as well, a precaution in case anyone started entering his dorm room. If Professor Gorllewin decided to act without the Dean's blessing, House wanted him alive, stunned, and partially crispy, but alive and open to conversation. Unless of course the scholarship professor planned to kill House, in which case House would have to return the favor in kind. Just as Robert was preparing to change and get some shut eye, Victor chimed in with an alert already.

  "Heads up, boss. We got some movement near Liberty XLR. Two look familiar, one not so much, the later has a sharp suit, and sharper interests. Definitely dealin' with some cattle thieves." House jumped at that, his mind racing, he had expected CIT to eventually bite on the bait, but on the same night as the tournament, that was daring, even for someone as controlling as Professor Gorllewin. Fear filled House at the thought of losing his Trojan horse, or worse, an ambitious engineer cutting up Liberty XLR and accidentally setting off the Omega protocol. Either case was no good, as Liberty XLR would have been prepared to acquire a new mark, House had just made the new plan for it, only for the shadow of the old plan to bite on the bait. If anything happened now it would be a colossal failure, backfiring in the worst way possible that would derail his new plans just less than 12 minutes after coming up with it, and more importantly preventing Robert from getting access into the greater secrets of the proto-institute. House was up and running, out the door of his room, and halfway down the corridor of the dorm building and rushing towards the robotics lab all the while he informed Victor to make sure Liberty XLR does not do anything drastic. With 10 in agility and 10 in endurance, Robert made short work of the distance to the robotics building, rushing into his lab, hopefully to catch Professor Gorllewin or one of his monkeys red handed.

  When Robert entered the workshop lab, the scene explained itself immediately. Liberty XLR sat on his maintenance cradle, panels open, deactivated as Lila stood dissecting the automaton with two individuals hovering over her. Said individuals were unmistakably ADI, the corporate polish so thick it practically left fingerprints. The scout, the one still displaying the badge that granted him entry into the tournament audience stood closest to Lila, his sleeves rolled up, toolkit open, fingers already probing the exposed solar array with the casual entitlement of a man who believed possession was nine-tenths of ownership. Beside him loomed a man whose being could be summed up as an executive officer of some kind. Tall, silver-haired, impeccably tailored in charcoal pinstripe, a smile that had probably closed billion-dollar deals and ruined smaller lives without ever losing its warmth. Said corporate middle-manager turned in House's direction, his eyes focusing in on Robert with an intensity that could rival a T-rex, yet offering a smile that went counter to what his eyes thought of the first year CIT student.

  "Ah, this must be the team leader you told us about Ms. Duvall, well hello there Mr... Home, you declined my invitation, and left me with a burning curiosity to see what sort of genius the Commonwealth is growing." The executive voice was as smooth as aged bourbon, the man shielding his junior and Lila, letting them work on their current objective while the ADI officer attempted to distract House. He even went out of his way extending a hand towards Robert, attempting to buy time, yet House would not suffer any of it. Robert could see past the charm and into the anxious mess that was a grown man being caught with his hands in the cookie jar and still trying to get away with his obvious crimes. "Richard Langford, Senior Vice President of Advanced Systems at Axiom Dynamics Incorporated. I believe you do not realize the opportunity of a lifetime that is before you. My boy Evans really hoped that you would come with him and join the conversation like dear Lila had..."

  House ignored the offered handshake. His gaze flicked from Langford to the scout, his badge displayed the name Evan Kessler. From there Roberts focus fell upon Lila, whose cheeks were flushed with a mix of shock and then slowly transformed into something three houses away from guilt. The solar array panel was already partially disconnected, wiring exposed, diagnostic leads clipped in places they had no business being attached to.

  Langford's smile never wavered. "We were just admiring the ingenuity. Solar recharging under combat conditions, truly remarkable. Lila here was kind enough to walk us through the integration. We'd also love to have your perspective after all, you're the true architect of it. Lila claimed only you handled it's creation and instillation."

  "Step away from the chassis." House's voice came out cold, dangerously so, but more importantly a hint of disappointment as he looked at Lila with an intensity of a winter storm. Thief, traitor, insignificant ant repaying my kindness by stealing greatness. House was ready to unleash thunder down upon these vermin, for the bait he had set up did not attract his target, but something far more disgusting than the shadowy prey Robert was hoping for. Kessler froze midmotion. Lila's hands had stopped in its entirely. Langford chuckled softly, as though House had told a mildly amusing joke.

  "Now, now, no need for alarm. We're all friends here. Axiom Dynamics is simply interested in potential collaboration. Your design could revolutionize portable power systems. In a time of energy crisis like now, it would be ungodly, if not out right unamerican to share the work that you have accomplished with ADI programming." House did not pay attention to the words of the fool, his eyes instead were narrowed on the exposed wiring. The Omega Protocol's trigger node was visible, three thin red cables braided together, currently dormant but one wrong tug could cause a cascading event evolving into a catastrophic overload. The blast radius would extend roughly a dozen meters in all directions. The casualties would be three, acceptable thieving losses, but it would leave Robert with no true way to acquire the prize he was aiming for with his greater hunt.

  "I said step away." He took one measured step forward, voice dropping to something colder than the workshop air. Langford's smile dropped, just a fraction as something less friendly and more ruthless took hold just as fast as irritation flashing across his polished features before he smoothed it into that practiced executive smile.

  "We are just having a productive conversation, Mr. Home. Lila here was kind enough to—"

  House raised one hand, cutting him off mid-lie, as he focused on his former teammate. "CIT guidelines are explicit. Student projects developed under Institute auspices remain Institute property until formal transfer. Unauthorized extraction of hardware or data without administrative approval is theft of intellectual property. You are currently in violation of CIT charter Lila."

  Lila's mouth opened, words tumbling out in a rush. "Robert, it's not like that—ADI has a right to know what their operating system enabled. We used their kernel, their libraries—"

  It was at that moment Professor Malvagio Gorllewin strode in through the lab doors, his face carved from fury, followed by his assistant Gors and two CIT security officers whose hands were already resting on baton grips. Victor's voice chimed softly in House's ear, almost amused. "You're ridin' one hell of a lucky streak, partner. I rang the bell the second you walked in on those no good cattle theives. Admin rushed over as if their prized barn was on fire."

  House, would have a chat later with Victor, his description regarding who was at the lab was far to vague, but like his AI said, an opportunity was available for some good PR. Langford's smile thinned into something colder, far more...corporate, matching the intensity of the scholarship professors own glare. Gorllewin took in the scene in a single heartbeat: exposed ports, unauthorized tools, raised voices, the unmistakable signs of disassembly on an Institute asset. His voice cracked like a whip.

  "Gentlemen. You are currently trespassing in a restricted area and attempting to extract intellectual property belonging to the Commonwealth Institute of Technology. That constitutes industrial espionage under Massachusetts state law and federal statutes governing academic research. Remove your equipment immediately or you will be detained by campus police to await the pending arrival of federal authorities."

  "Man familiar with the law, I can respect that, but you seem to forget the most important case in legal history that has set a powerful precedent. Approved by the Texan courts and federalized after the case between ADI vs Calhoin. Intellectual property built on ADI OS patent is subject to said scope of patent. This fancy little prized robot utilizes ADI code, and is also subject to acquisition by members of the ADI staff. I am simply here to collect company property sir, and I mean to leave with it." Something about a man that never stops smiling sickened House, and seeing it on the ADI executive made Robert double down against the need to show public emotions, even if it was ingenuine. As Gorllewin and his assistant Gors looked peeved by Langford legal jargon House interrupted, seeing his moment to win some brownie points.

  "Academic exemptions apply," House replied, still calm, eyes never leaving Langford. "Your company has licensed the ADI OS under educational use and improvement with the Commonwealth institute of Technology. This forbids you from attempting to reverse-engineer discovered breakthroughs of the university for commercial gain, not without first renegotiating terms with the university for said technology. Your actions here and now are a breach of your established contracts and licensing. Attempting to remove proprietary components from a CIT-owned prototype on Institute grounds is felony-level IP theft even with your paton claim. I suggest you secure excellent legal counsel Mr.Langford, you will need it if you keep pushing this lost cause."

  Fallout pre-war America was a mess of corporate interests and politics, a symptom of the madness to come that will end the world in nuclear fire, yet that same legislation could be used to slay a goliath if a rival goliath knew what legal strings to tug on. Langford's composure cracked, the man looked dumbstruck, Professor Gorllewin looked intensely at Robert House, not saying a word. Langford stuttered for a response, but came short. "I know... of a educational license, but, but given the current need for energy alternatives... the courts are-"

  "Are going to back the scientists that solved the energy crisis first, not the thieves breaking their legally bound promises and attempting to run off with revolutionary technology in the middle of the night." Robert looked down upon his wrist watch noting the time. "Which is 10:44pm, far beyond the visiting hours for a tour. Professor Gorllewin if you are in need of a creditable witness, I am more than willing to testify to the actions taken here by ADI representatives who did declare their origins and position to me. I'm sure the lab security footage can also aid in backing up our claim."

  "Professor, this is a misunderstanding. I simply wanted to—" Lila attempted to get a word in, but the scholarship professor was not going to have any of it.

  "You were not," Gorllewin snapped. "Ms. Duvall you are not authorized to grant access to restricted prototypes, nor give them a tour of our highly restricted areas. You're future employers will leave this facility now."

  The security officers stepped forward. Kessler hastily yanked the last clip free and began packing his kit. Langford lingered a moment longer, eyes locked on House.

  "You'll regret this, young man. ADI can come as your friend with opportunities or with lawsuits, the sort that could be considered biblical, making surviving in the business world impossible." The threat was completely ignored by House, for no matter how much the dinosaur screeched at the meteor, extinction would not be stopped. Langford and his lacky Evans were escorted out by campus police. Professor Gorllewin and his assistant focused their attention upon Lila, who stood like a deer caught by headlights.

  Lila tried to speak, voice trembling. "Professor, I—I thought—"

  Gorllewin rounded on her, eyes blazing. "You thought wrong. Your actions have jeopardized Institute assets and exposed CIT to significant liability. There will be a formal hearing, possible expulsion. Until then, you are suspended from all lab privileges pending review."

  Gors stepped forward, gentle but firm, guiding Lila toward the door. She looked back once at House, eyes wide, pleading, tears already welling as if he could solve the matter. Robert stared back with a cold detached expression not seeing a former teammate but something less than the dirt on his shoes, a thief that attempted to steal what others worked on. That image was ingrained in Lila just as the doors to the lab workshop shut behind her, her quiet sobs echoing briefly in the corridor. Silence settled over the workshop, a tense one, but as Gorllewin exhaled much of the tension evaporated. The professor's shoulders dropping a fraction as the immediate fury receded. He turned to House, expression shifting from wrath to something closer to appraisal.

  "You handled that… well, Mr. House." House gave a small nod, a polite acknowledgement nothing more to the scholarship professor that might one day try to kill him over a misunderstanding. Gorllewin studied him a moment longer, then spoke. "I know of the educational license deal that ADI offers, but I am certain CIT did not acquire said deal. Budget constrains and the sort for a legal contract no better than getting in bed with a criminal mafia. Such a shame that ADI personnel did not remember who they imprison with their legal none-sense."

  "Well then, getting my surname wrong is not the only thing that the Senior Vice President of Axiom Dynamics Incorporated failed to properly remember." The words got a snort of amusement from Professor Gorllewin, little else after that as he turned and left without another word, leaving House alone to repair Liberty XLR. House rested one hand on the chassis, and began the quick process of undoing the desperate work that Lila and the ADI scout did to his creation. Anger simmered beneath the surface of Robert's psyche, but like any resource it was utilized by House, the emotional surge of energy was put into restoring the championship winning robot into proper care, resealing the panels after carefully placing the exposed wiring safely back in the chassis.

  The bait had attracted vermin instead of wolves. They will be back, but I hope to mount a stuffed eagle on my wall before then. Winter was coming to an end, but spring would brining dangers with it, and if House did not raise his reputation, he doubted CIT would shield him from it. With XLR now looking like a fierce Roomba that House had created instead of the scavenged mechanical corpse that ADI had nearly turn him into. House left the fight club lab walking back to the dorm, already calculating the danger and risk of the issue at hand. He looked upon his reputation screen hoping to see any improvement, but his status was still at the accepted stage. Well at least it can't get any worse.

  Just as thought the words his system updated him on a new quest.

  Quest Unlocked: Four Way Standoff-

  Liberty XLR has attracted the attention of multiple factions who have taken an interest in Liberty XLR. Alliances, favors, and deals will be offered for the solar cell technological component that you have crafted. Who you choose may or may not have long term effects on the future, but known the most important matter is the friends we make along the way.

  Factions Identified:

  The Commonwealth Institute of Technology- Perfect choice that makes imperfect men.

  Axiom Dynamics Incorporated- Angry but not against you joining

  General Atomics- Your teammates favorite choice

  The United States Government- your duly elected representees who you trust unquestioningly.

  (Optional)- Activate the Omega program early, deny everyone its bounty and be prepared for the fallout that will come with it.

  REWARDS: Dependents on which group you decide upon.

  A new quest, yet no reputation gain. Without a doubt Robert House was certain that his luck stat was not working.

  __________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  ~POV Secretary of Energy Tim Walters~

  Mr. Walters knew one thing since his father had him placed into the Garviel administration. You are either prey, or the individual that makes others pray, right now with the markets opening up on the first of April, Tim felt like a hunter. His portfolio was booming and he had his father and his good friend Jamie Calvert to thank for the opportunity.

  "Red racer Co. just broke through estimated projections. Blackrock Carbon's is holding steady. At this rate the only thing you would have to worry about Tim is what you plan to spend all of this money on." Jamie spoke the words as warmly as he did it softly, it was the main reason Walters had picked him to fill the position of The head of Alternative transportation methods. Jamie's foresight was well known, his messaging on brand and perfect in this time of uncertainty. The Calvert pup put a nice spin on the growing gas prices, telling everyone about the need of Americans to exercise more, to see the energy crisis not as a problem but a solution that required only a two wheel bicycle instead of depending on the fuel engine that used four wheels. It had bought Tim some breathing room while Blackrock Carbon Solution worked out the method to turn coal into liquid energy, but more importantly it had financially benefited Tim and more importantly his father. And I did not even have to unleash a plague for a longer delay.

  "The president was insane for not picking you as the Special Advisor for Infrastructure, the DC roads are already crumbling. Even if we solve the energy shortage I doubt that concrete maze of madness here in DC wont collapse on us. God I hate these damn roads." Walters had poured himself and Jamie a glass of scotch, setting the drink by his assistant side, on a coaster that would prevent rings on his Canadian oak desk. The young Calvert grabbed the glass and took a sip, while Walters down the entire glass, enjoying the burn and sudden rush of warmth it brought.

  "The president heard rumors that one of my cousins might have his eyes set on the oval office. I'm lucky to even get this position given the way Garviel's been acting around me." Jamie took a longer sip from his glass, all while showing no emotion, unlike the mummified mess that was Garviel. Even now Walters could see the suspicion in the old fox's eyes, the disrespectful way he glared at Tim like Jamie had shat on the president's bed and Walters would pay for it. The old fool would serve the nation better in a retirement home than in the oval office.

  "Speaking of your cousin, does he plan to run in the next election?" Tim could spot a sinking ship a mile away, he was already on one, and it would not hurt to start looking for a political life boat. The Calvert's have been taking the senate and house by storm, and two more were attempting a shot at governorships of Maryland and Delaware respectively. Then there was that one big brain nerd of a Calvert, some sort of professor or scientist that got recognized by scientific groups from CIT to all the way to Big MT. If any members of the Calvert family started making moves towards the presidency... well Tim would not feel so bad when Garviel failed to win the upcoming election, not when a Calvert star was rising. Tim waited for an answer but Jamie remained silent, not saying a word even as Tim stared uncomfortably at him. The most he got was a slight shrug. God damn bastard, if his father did not know my father I'd be making him pray.

  "How are matters regarding Poseidon energy going? Last I heard those hippies are up in arms over the environmental regulations that you bulldozed through." Jamie's smile reminded Tim of a little bastard he knew in middle school. Some smug little twat whose family suffered an a series of financial accidents, left completely penniless. It was probably the best Christmas gift father had ever given me, now if only he could do it again.

  "The president has been handling it. But as soon as the retrofit adjustments are made, those protestors will be happy when their energy bill does not bankrupt their grandchildren. Ungrateful pests, all of them. Oh boo hoo, we don't want nuclear waste killing mother nature, but were all fine when the electricity is cut off and our children are freezing their little butts off." The two men erupted in laughter once Tim finished reenacting a Commiefornia protestor. The thought of the ridiculous priorities followed by the insufferable demands of the general public was enough for Tim Walters to find a small amount of glee if he failed to fix the energy crisis. The thought of his outspoken critics reduced to frostbitten corpses had always made the young politican sleep soundly at night. However, personal slight would always take a backseat when it came to personal gain.

  Tim had his bet on Blackrock Carbon Solutions finding a fix for the energy crisis and Poseidon energy as a good backup. Wherever Tim could, he was easing up as much regulations as possible to get those two companies producing what America desperately needed. Tim did not stop with those two corporations, but also invested into solar companies, wind turbines, synthetic oil developers using algae as a basis for biofuel and even got into helping a deep planetary fracking magnates in the commonwealth. A weirdo family that control a company called Dunwich Borers LLC, something about their patented mining equipment seemed to be out of this world. A Dunwich burrowing device was able to reach down deeper into the planet for resources than any other company had imagined possible. Dunwich Borers LLC was now the main providers of coal for Blackrock Carbon Solutions, Tim made sure to offer as much grants and government support that Dunwich needed in order to get his prize horse all the coal they will ever need in order to crack the formula to turn those rocks into the valuable liquid that America were nearly ready to kill for. The wonders never ceased, and more importantly neither did Tim Walter's stock portfolio, if Repconn got their act together and produced a powerful rocket, and advance terraforming technologies, Tim Walters would be the first off this shit hole of a planet. But no matter what Secretary Waters did no one, not even the president approved of the difficult decision that Tim had to make. Just at that moment, Tim's office phone began ringing, the number soured Walters mood further. Speaking of the Corpse in Chief, he has his favorite little sidepiece calling to pass on his endless complaints.

  "Miss Abigayle, what do I have the honors of speaking with the most beautiful secretary at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue?" Tim Walters lied like a dirty rug, that woman would not even get close to his personal top twenty pick of broads working in the White House. Listening carefully as Miss Abigayle demanded that the Energy Secretary come over for a meeting with the zombie, left Tim feeling drained before even stepping out of his office. Confirming the meeting time, Tim hung up and let out a sigh, one that Jamie knew all to well.

  "Good luck dealing with the Mummy. Hopefully he has something better to say than asking for a status report with Blackrock." Jamie had finished his scotch, placing the glass down on its coaster. As the two men rose up Tim glanced at his only friend he had in this dumpster fire of a job.

  "Knowing my luck he might just be ready to fire my ass today. Damn zombie won't be getting a cent from my father come the next election." Jamie's eyes sparkled at that, Tim knew the sign to look for and was not disappointed when he noticed the spark of ambition. Or better to say the hunger, of one predator to another, and Walters has set the bait, only needed a bite to reel in the big catch, or more importantly a seat on the life boat. Exiting Tim's office the two men went their separate ways.

  Tim Walters strode through the West Wing corridors with the brisk, entitled gait of a man who believed the building existed to serve his schedule, not the other way around. The sudden summons to the Oval Office at this hour felt like an unnecessary slight, another petty reminder from a dying administration that he was still, technically, on someone else's leash. He checked his watch again, lips thinning, Tim had plans later in the evening to prepare for a special dinner date, involving certain corporate big wigs from ADI and possible new technologies to help with the energy agenda. Tim did so much, but got so little respect from the zombie, the president did not care that Blackrock projections were climbing with speculators placing the future stock price of the company any where between $1,000 to $10,000 a share. Then there was the Poseidon retrofits, everything was on track with the energy company to produce functioning nuclear facilities within half a decade. All of that was not good enough for President Garviel, no the corpse in chief wanted a solution pulled out of the air to improve his numbers for next election, and he wanted a solution yesterday. This was no way to treat loyal friends, worse was summoning Tim like an errand boy instead of trusting his Secretary of Energy to handle the long and precarious matters of saving America. It's not like a solution will be discovered over night.

  Reaching the doors of the oval office, Miss Abigayle looked up from her desk as he approached. Plain, mid-thirties, hair pulled back in a severe knot, face as unremarkable as government-issue stationery. She offered the same polite, practiced smile she gave everyone.

  "Secretary Walters. The President is currently in a meeting. If you'll take a seat, he'll be with you shortly."

  Tim gave her the barest nod, already moving past her desk. "My time is valuable, I will not be spending it in a waiting room, Miss Abigayle. I'm sure the President will understand."

  She opened her mouth to protest, but it was too late. Not even the secret service agents by the door would deny Walters entry, not unless they wanted to end up like the previous goon, demoted and left looking for financial fraud cases. Tim pushed through the heavy door without knocking, entering the room were there future of the United States was decided for years to come.

  The Oval Office smelled of old paper, expensive aftershave, and the faint metallic tang of medical equipment. Tim had expected to find the president undergoing one or more of his expensive medical treatments, but what he found sent a chill down his spine. Gregor Horrigan stood near the Resolute Desk like a granite statue in a black suit. The seven-foot-two muscular man had been leaning down whispering into the president's ear, but now the guard dog straightened up staring with murderous intent at the intruder. Horrigan's shoulder could block out sunlight given that it was thicker than the width of most trees. Then there were his greyish brown eyes, almost animal like that missed nothing, seeing into you to know if you are a threat or a nuisance. In the case of threat he would neutralize you the first chance he got to act with his inhuman reflexes. Tim had seen it, and stilled denied how such a large man could move fast enough to dodge bullets, the sight of the freak in action had haunted Walters to this day.

  Two years back some foolish lunatic thought he'd make history by making an attempt on Garviel's life. At that time the president was the vice-president of the US and nearly became more of a corpse than he already was. The mad gunman nearly succeeded with his pump-action shotgun had it not been for Gregor. Tim never knew a man could be beaten to death with only two punches, that was what the autopsy report had said. Problem was, Horrigan did not stop until the twentieth strike, Walter's was not only there that unfortunate day, but was also in the splash zone. A piece of grey matter and a liter of blood had gotten onto his favorite priceless pair of shoes. Nearly impossible to clean out the crimson stains, and even if it could be, Tim refused to wear them again after that day. If Horrigan's eyes saw you as a nuisance then you would only get his silent cold judgement, which Tim approved over the former option. The head of the Secret Service didn't smile, no the human that looked closer to a troll never smiled around Walters, he only remained silent, robotic when the president's Secretary of Energy was around.Tim already regretted coming into the office without permission, every instinct in his body screamed that he should retreat. Tim could feel the unintended shift in his own posture, shoulders squaring, chin dipping slightly, the instinctive deference one offers a predator that has already decided you're not worth killing today. And in the hierarchy of the powerful, Horrigan always made Tim have the urge to start praying. Eventually the head of the secret service dropped his killing intent when he understood it was Tim Walters intruding on his meeting with the president. The large protector of the corpse and chief silently moved to the side, blending in with the decor of the Oval office.

  President Garviel sat behind the desk that ruled over the 13 regional commonwealth districts of the United states. The man was eighty-something and looking every year of it, the scarring on his face from the assassination attempt did not help with his aged look, but it did help him win the last election. The president's skin was like thin parchment stretched over sharp bones, the right-side a ruin of branching scars after the facial reconstructive surgery, his hands liver-spotted and trembling faintly on the blotter. Yet the eyes, were sharp, calculating, still the same eyes that had once stared down a rogue gunman without fear. Chinese negotiators and congressional committee members trembled before those eyes, and now it tracked Tim's entrance with the precision of a man that was half of Garviel's age. The stress of the office had aged him into something almost mummified, but the mind inside was still on par with that of a forty-year-old political veteran, ruthless, quick, and utterly unsentimental. There was only one man that Garviel suffered foolishness from, and right now Tim Walters was on his best behavior.

  Tim Walters swallowed once, then offered the most respectful nod he'd given anyone in years. "Mr. President, I was under the impression that the Head of the Secret Service was still stationed near the Appalachian mountains."

  Horrigan's eyes briefly focused on Walters, Tim tried not to look at the mountain of muscle. Already regretting the slip up, cause the last thing Gregor would want to hear is the charge of misconduct and excessive force that should have kept the monster of a man miles away from the capital. The goliath of a man did not show any hostile actions, not even voicing a word, which made Tim more nervous than ever, finally after the president let Walters stew it out a bit longer, he finally spoke in his decrepit voice.

  "The investigation into the circumstances of my assassination attempt has concluded. All charges have been dropped. Gregor has been found not guilty, and is long over due his medal of valor. Better yet our dear Horrigan brings us news. He has heard from our contact at the Commonwealth Institute of Technology," Garviel said, each word deliberate. "A combat robot has come out victorious in a battle based tournament. It has also secured the attention of corporate interests. ADI and General Atomics lobbyists are already moving in to secure the robot and the young minds who had a hand in building it."

  "I...I see. And what exactly about this automaton required m... your secretary of Energy instead of calling the secretary of defense?" Tim chafed under Gregor's silent glare, that and the confusing words of the president made Walters finally believe the old man had gone senile. The thought of would have made Tim laughed, almost, had Horrigan not returned from his exile.

  Garviel's eyes narrowed, almost as if he could read Walters' mind. "You think I've lost my mind, Tim? I haven't. Blackrock Carbon Solutions has been dragging their feet, unable to break the chemical code for turning coal into oil. Poseidon retrofits have cost me wasted time and more mental energy anyone in my position should go through. The last month alone I have expended myself entirely to dealing with the environmental menaces that want our country turned back to the days of people living in mud huts. Your endless cuts to regulation safeguards have given those animals the fuel they need to get attention onto their ridiculous hippie fantasies. I'm tired of waiting for solutions Tim, and my one and only loyal friend has brought me a good piece of news. In the Commonwealth Institute of technology, there is a combat robot made by first year students, who discovered the technology to make something called a solar cell. A simple battery capable of utilizing solar power to replenish its reserves within minutes. This is exactly the sort of breakthrough the American people have been demanding that I find. Which means you are going to Boston, find me that robot, it's creators, or both. You are to leave by the end of this week. Confirm the truth and bring me the ticket I need to win the next election."

  Tim's mouth opened, then closed. He felt Horrigan's gaze like a blade against his throat. Decline? Argue? The words died unborn. Instead he swallowed, nodded once, crisp and obedient. "Yes, Mr. President. I'll clear my schedule and depart by Thursday."

  President Garviel leaned back, satisfied. Horrigan didn't move, didn't speak just watched, as soundless as death. Tim turned on his heel and walked out, pulse hammering, fury coiling tight in his chest. Inconvenienced. Humiliated. Reduced to an errand boy for a mummy in a suit and a monster that likes imitating a silent statue. He would go to Boston. He would smile, ask questions, take notes. But inside, the anger burned clean and bright. Whoever these children were to ruin my entire schedule, they just made an enemy for life.

  CDC