~Dorothy Hayes POV~
Dorothy had never expected where the Robotic Combat Association would be dining at. Even working under Professor Pugalo, as an assistant to the professor, Dorothy felt oblivious to the professor's intentions, for the old Russian personally handled all matters regarding celebration. The restaurant known as Catalyst felt like the kind of place that had been designed to make important people feel important without ever saying so out loud, all warm light and polished restraint, glass and dark wood balanced just enough to feel modern without turning cold. Dorothy noticed how the windows caught the city glow outside CIT, reflecting Cambridge back at itself, like the restaurant was proud of where it stood. The air smelled faintly of seared meat, wine, and something herbal she could not name. The entire place felt clean and deliberate out of reach, the scent of extravagances made that clear. The tables were spaced wide enough for privacy, the kind of spacing meant for negotiations, celebrations, and quiet decisions that shaped futures. Even the waitstaff moved with practiced confidence, not hurried, not stiff, like they trusted the world would keep rewarding people who belonged in rooms like this. Dorothy straightened her posture without thinking, feeling that familiar pull of duty and possibility, the sense that places like this were where paths quietly forked.
Professor Pugalo threw money at Catalyst with the same fearless enthusiasm he brought to his lectures, nearly fifty dollars a head for forty two students plus himself, as if the total was a rounding error instead of a small fortune, and Dorothy could not help but notice how easily he paid the large sum. From her seat it looked less like indulgence and more like confidence backed by invisible hands, the kind of confidence that came from knowing the CIT administration had his back and that General Atomics money flowed quietly through the right channels. Pugalo showed no shame, only pride, loudly insisting that his students should get used to eating like future movers and shakers, smiling as though every dollar spent tonight was an investment that would come back tenfold once these young minds landed their high paying posts. He even waved the waiter closer and authorized drinks for the younger members that asked, adding it to his personal tab, casually tacking on another $500 in just drinks alone. The Professor's accent was thick with bravado as he ordered himself an entire bottle of vodka without blinking, soon following it with a second and third. Dorothy felt her stomach tighten at the excess, she limited her drink option to nothing more than a glass of water, and wrapped her fingers around it like a lifeline, watching the bottles arrive at Pugalo's elbow.
Pugalo was currently Dorothy's patron, and with her year under him, Dorothy learned that he lacked all discipline when it came to spending other people's money. As bad as he was when it came to financial responsibility, Professor Pugalo was overall a kind man. He was passionate about his work, and loyal to those under his wing, he was even responsible for helping Dorothy get a desk job in the CIT administration office. Pugalo's vision of the future of robotics barely made any real progress, instead he had taught the basic understandings enabling his students to build upon the foundation that the professor set, letting others pave the path that he would brag about having his small part in playing. His greatest stroke of luck was the Robot Fight Club that even got corporate attention, as ADI and General Atomics scouts came, paying close attention to the competition results, spotting potential among the young academics soon to be starting off their future careers. The Robot fight club was a proper way to start their careers off with a splash. The Russian professor landed more contracts for the school than realistically someone like him should have been capable of. It was nothing short of a miracle, though Dorothy believes his charm was the key as the old Slavic man played the ring announcer better than any professional she ever witnessed. With the prestige of the Commonwealth of Technology backing him, Dorothy would not be surprised if the Russian met the president of the united states one day.
Dorothy felt the anxiety coil tight in her chest as Professor Pugalo asked for a dessert list, the club funds would cover the meal and more. However, not in a way a school auditor would find as charming as Professor Pugalo made it out to be. The 2nd year college girl from Kansas remained restless, a prickling pain that no amount of polished silverware or candlelight could chase away, yet she smiled anyway. Fake it till you make it, and hope your not blamed by association.
Her facial expression came out bright and practiced, letting that familiar bubbly mask slide into place as she looked around the table and took in the sheer joy on everyone else's faces. Mao was laughing alongside Simon, the foreigner remained timid around alcohol, refusing to touch it, but overall was more extroverted than she had ever seen him throughout the semester. His shoulders were loosened, eyes bright as he spoke to the always social Simon about the upgrade Mao did with the team leader on their automaton fighter. Felix and Lila leaned in close to argue excitedly over minor design choices on the robot the group decided to call Liberty XLR, the master work of genius that would be a legend instead of a machine still smelling faintly of solder and oil. Even House, reserved as ever, wore the faintest trace of satisfaction, not pride exactly, but the calm assurance of a man trying to socialize more than he normally would, the free meal helped, but again remained distant even though he was sitting right next to Dorothy.
Dorothy rode that shared triumph, pushing down the nagging thoughts about Pugalo's careless spending because this dinner was not really about the food or the cost, it was about what they had built together, a genuine robot that Dorothy was confident would win the coming tournament. She laughed when she was supposed to, genuinely feeling joy when she heard House and Mao had added the finishing touches to the automaton that House had assured everyone would win the coming competition. Mao nodded enthusiastically, seeing the surprise upgrades that House had done, and told Dorothy that it would all be fine. For just this one night she felt safe, able to ignore the waste, the politics, the quiet dread humming beneath it all, and let the success of the team carry her along like a current she pretended she was not constantly measuring for depth and danger.
Liberty XLR had earned her team a seat at the fancy restaurant table, right alongside all of the club members that were currently on their 4th year at CIT. These experience upper-class mates gave Dorothy and her group pitiful stares. It spoke a thousand words, enough to make a lesser person doubt themselves. Worse, the marvel of technology that her team had spent the entire semester upon, was being looked down upon. The senior students whispered it would not fare well against their robotic monstrosities, ones that the seniors students had been working and improving upon since the first days they joined the Commonwealth Institute of Technology.
Dorothy ignored those stares, she had faith in her team, she had faith in the robot the group had made, but more importantly she had faith in the team leader that made all of this possible. Robert Edwin House was the center of the entire universe as far as CIT was concerned, everyone spoke of the amazing things he accomplished in just a single semester, yet Dorothy could not believe half the stories to be as true as the rumors made them out to be. She knew the boy from Las Vegas had succeeded in not only passing ten courses that he took at the same time, but also being the first in all of his classes. Now, news of his stock portfolio rising, had gotten many students and professors, not only within the business field, lining up near the 17 year old prodigy, for help with projects, advice on courses, or more importantly for stock tips.
"Buy when it's low, sell when it's high." The sheer arrogance of it had left many stumped, but advice was advice, and Dorothy thought the simple words of Robert House to be charming. If there was anyone that Dorothy wished to talk with the most, it was him, the first year had a wealth of information and knowledge that boggled even Professor Pugalo, and many of the 4th years. Yet, Dorothy was not the sort to give all her time to one person, when she had a team of wonderful people to chat with.
"Can you believe it," Simon said, leaning forward, eyes bright. "Once Liberty XLR is unleashed that's it. The sponsorship is in the bag. General Atomics will be begging to hire us."
Felix laughed. "Don't forget the prize money. We all want a piece of that, and soon. The cost of textbooks are getting ridiculous, I have nearly read my Big Book of Science and Dean's electronics to the point they are falling apart. I didn't think a fuel shortage would drive everything up so high."
"Don't worry about that Fix-it, I'm sure the US government will find a way to solve the fuel shortage. You need to instead focus on that paid internship," Dorothy added lightly, lifting her glass of water. "General Atomics doesn't attach themselves to any random competitions, they have faith in the future heroes of CIT and this nation. From what Professor Pugalo also mention, all the new hires who previously won the fight club are getting paid internships straight out of graduation."
Dorothy watched all their faces carefully as she spoke the news. Simon practically glowed, his chipper persona evolving into a literal star of extroverted excitement. Felix grinned wider, Dorothy could swear she saw dollar signs within his eyes. Even Pugalo, who over heard much of the conversation, straightened a fraction, as though proximity to the words alone elevated him. Lila barely reacted, more interested in finishing her lobster ravioli. House did not react at all by the news, instead his gaze was focused else where in the Catalyst, a sudden glint in his eyes that Dorothy was not sure of, but did not question as his attention returned to the table.
Dorothy tucked her observations away. She had learned early that people told you who they were when you mentioned an opportunity. Not when you dangled money, but when you hinted at potential, and belonging to something greater. To Dorothy, General Atomics was more than a defense contractor, it was stability, not just for their careers but for America itself. The corporate giant had it's hands in many sectors of the US government, from military to software, Dorothy's own father thought that there was nothing more American than General Atomics and Nuka Cola. If Liberty XLR won, the path opened naturally, soon Internships would turn into a stable career, with enough time and results that stable career in General Atomics could turn into a future directing America to a greater and brighter tomorrow. Dorothy's father, and his close military friend would be proud of her getting into General Atomics.
Mao's eyes lingered on Dorothy, all that she said, had the chinaman just as excited as Felix and Simon, but he did not voice it like those two. She turned her attention to him, deciding the moment was right to see how receptive this scaredy cat of a teammate would be towards some serious questions.
"You've turned quiet, what happened Mao, did a cat get your tongue?" She spoke the playful words, her tone warm and coaxing towards the foreigner. "Are you excited about the competition? Do you think we will win?"
Mao hesitated before answering. "I am… cautious. Best to celebrate when we win."
"Figures." Felix snorted, the only one among the group that did not get along well with Mao. Had it not been for House's sheer will of control as team leader, Felix would have had Mao chased out of the school with how... patriotic he was about possible communist spies.
Mao did not rise to it, instead went about politely addressing Dorothy's questions. "Excitement can make people careless. I have faith in our work, but tomorrow is never guaranteed."
Dorothy studied him. She had not liked Mao at first. Too reserved. Too observant. Too careful with his words. The kind of student who listened more than he spoke, who absorbed information without revealing his conclusions. That kind of caution set off alarms in her mind, conditioned by years of base security briefings and whispered warnings at the dinner table. Still, she leaned in slightly, before asking her next question, unaware of how the chinaman would respond.
"What brought you here, Mao? To CIT, I mean." Dorothy had wanted to ask that question the first day she had met Mao. The foreigner's hands tightened together at her question. For a moment, she thought he might deflect or leave the restaurant altogether. Instead, his voice lowered.
"The People's Republic does not forgive curiosity, nor those who are reckless." The words came out with a superstitious fear, Mao looked around the restaurant as if the communist Chinese were invisible and hiding somewhere within Catalyst. The table noise faded at the edges of her awareness, as it seemed many were interested in what Mao had to say. Even House focused on his roommate's words.
"They speak of progress for people of China, that all is for the collective will of the people." Mao continued, eyes fixed on the restaurant entrance, as if the young foreigner was ready to flee the moment something dangerous came through those doors. "But they starve villages to meet quotas. They rewrite textbooks every year, with children never able to learn what is actually true. Scientists are praised when they keep to the party's assigned projects, but if they ask the wrong question, or adopt western teaching styles… they soon vanish. Laboratories are no better than prisons, everyone is watching everyone, you don't know who to trust, or who are the eyes and ears of the MSS. Education is controlled, people who go against it are accused of being malcontents… or worse, spies spreading western propaganda."
Dorothy felt something cold settle in her chest, feeling sick she tasted her water, only to have an acid taste in the back of her mouth. For a moment Ms. Hayes thought that the clear liquid she just drank might have come from the Vodka bottle that Pugalo was sharing with the rest of the students. Her own paranoia was unfounded when it came to the drink in question. Wiping sweat from her forehead, Dorothy focused on those seated around her, almost everyone was entranced by Mao's story of the country that everyone in America believed to be evil.
"My mentor was arrested," Mao said quietly. "For publishing data that contradicted a party directive. I don't know what happened to him, they decided not to make a public show of his crimes, it seems that it would have drawn attention to whatever he was researching. Instead my mentor and his entire family just went missing, the Party enforcers working for the MSS told us that they were transferred to a new department in Xinjiang that no one knew about. His work, his legacy was all erased, with the enforcers even taking the hard drives from his computer terminals. Even high ranking members of the Ministry of State Security came down to question many of the laboratory staff that worked alongside my mentor. I was lucky enough to have had another Professor vouch on my behalf. I thank god every day for it, because many other students close to my mentor vanished soon after. I have no family to worry about, so when the opportunity to come to America came, I jumped on it to escape in case the People's Republic decided I was guilty of something else my mentor might have done."
Simon shifted uncomfortably, the news was far more depressing than even one of House's attempts at motivating people to seriously focus on their majors. Felix had gone still, his normally accusatory suspicious tone holding a genuine moment of pity. Dorothy's suspicion did not vanish, not completely, but what Mao said was enough to make any American suffer whiplash at the cultural shock of a totalitarian state like China. It sharpened Dorothy's perspective, reframed the struggle that many beyond the borders of America suffer, but more importantly reconfirmed her mission for America's bright beautiful tomorrow. Fear could make people do terrible things, but one moment of bravery could change things for the better. Dorothy did not know if she could do as Mao did, flee to find a better future, but given the choice in the comforts she now enjoyed, the girl from Kansas would prefer to fight instead of flee.
"That's not acceptable, that is nothing short of tyranny. Mao, you have nothing to fear speaking up here. If your patron is alive, then the work here in CIT might one day help free him and all the other people suffering in your country. You might have the chance here to find a way to save them." Dorothy did not voice her fears of Mao's mentor being dead, it would not be kind. She would pray to Jesus to shepherd the innocents from the cruelty of tyrants, pray that the departed were forgiven for their sins, and that they would be embraced by the lord's loving embrace. May America bring the vile rule of Chairman Cheng to an end. Mao looked up at Dorothy then, and for the first time she saw something raw in his expression.
"Yes. It is good to be out of China, and here in the great US of A. CIT does not have as many restraints on science, and more importantly allows freedom to study without being directed to politically correct results. I hope for such teachings to reach my homeland when it is freed." Young Noufu's attention drew elsewhere, as did Dorothy hoping for something more positive. She did not know how much of what Mao said was true, she thought it was, the man could be a possible asset to General Atomics and America as a whole. However, Dorothy was raised by a father that always said anyone and anything could be a possible liability, and never judge things just by how she felt. Dorothy would just have to wait, to learn more about Mao, before coming to a conclusion. Across the table, Lila Duvall set down her utensils, finally finished with her dinner and leaned closer to Dorothy, changing the subject of the conversation entirely.
"General Atomics is impressive," Lila said, choosing her words carefully. "But ADI is where the real money is at. If you know the program as well as I do then the sky is the limit. I programmed most of the code within Liberty XLR, with a little bit of help from House. If the robot performs half as good as House promised it did during the last stress test, then ADI would pay double what General Atomics would be offering to hire me."
Dorothy smiled, patient during the entirety of Lila Duvall's advertisement for Axiom Dynamics Incorporated. It seemed Ms. Duvall was as enthusiastic for ADI as Dorothy was for General Atomics, a grave sin in Dorothy Hayes' eyes. "Money is good and all, but ADI does not innovate, they sit on their laurels and sue anyone that threatens to take it away. They are not good for the country Lila, nor to their employees outside of the large pay. Having those poor people working endlessly on a defunct programming code, making the same bland thing over and over again."
Lila shrugged off the verbal shots that Dorothy fired at her. "ADI got the software everyone depends on. All those who try to make alternatives use ADI's code, and that goes against ADI's terms of service. Anything made using ADI code, then used to harm ADI is no better than stealing from the biggest computer company in the world. ADI has every right to sue them. Oh, don't look at me like that Ms. Hayes, if another company wants to go about creating their own programming language and their own OS, then by all means, go ahead. Till then ADI got the monopoly and the legal right to do what they want, and loyalty to them pays more than competing against them."
Dorothy ignored Lila, for a brief moment during the programmer's monologue, Dorothy noticed Robert House. He was listening in as silently as one would do when hearing the final words of a dear friend on their death bed. Dorothy swore to the Founding Fathers that she saw a faint smile from the princeling from Las Vegas, a smirk that appeared just as quickly as it vanished. Lila either oblivious to it, or did not care, instead chose to continue on with her triad, praising the corporate overlords of ADI.
"... Best thing is I just want to code and they will pay me to do so," Lila said, in a tone that seemed to pretend to be an apology. "I don't want to think about wars or power grids or any of that crazy stuff, just write a program and get paid for it."
Dorothy understood that impulse, the desire to sell out for profit over doing the good thing for the people. She did not share it, but she understood it. Instead the 2nd year CIT student turned slightly on her chair, angling herself toward House. House was staring off at first in the direction of a window, intensely focused on something important outside of the dinner conversation. Dorothy followed the gaze of the 1st year student towards a crowd of people, but none that she was familiar with. She performed a polite cough, getting House's attention, but little else.
"You haven't said anything at all," Dorothy spoke teasingly. "What has the great and mighty Robert House blanking out during a celebration. You're the reason Liberty XLR exists and the reason we got this project finished in a single semester where others need at least 3 just to get their bucket of bolts ready to compete. You should be more excited than anyone else here."
House met her gaze calmly. Looking disappointedly at Ms. Hayes as if she mistook the starting line as the finishing line. "It's never a good idea to bark loudly, nor scream out your own successes for attention, that would be the height of arrogance. When the actual competition starts and we win it, then… maybe…I might have a few choice words to say about the whole entire matter, but not now… now, I recommend you finish your Panna Cotta before it melts into a puddle."
"You're no fun, what is the purpose of joining this competition if not to brag. Those 4th years think we have nothing better than a toaster on wheels. That's the only thing that they think our dear Liberty XLR is capable of after an entire semester spent on it. Don't you have pride in your work, dream of the glory and prizes that come with winning. Heck, Pugalo encourages little bit of smack talk between competitors, helps sell more tickets during the day of the tournament."
"Sorry to disappoint, but I have little interest in starting petty squabbles for a little bit of primal chest beating fantasy. You all did your jobs as best as you were capable of, and I made sure to pick up any slack. The prize money… and the apprenticeship at General Atomics seems to be interesting."
She laughed, a little disarmed despite herself. "You don't plan to apply to General Atomics or even go to an interview if they begged you?"
"True." It took a while for House to admit that, as if thinking it thoroughly, but when he spoke his words it had the affirmation of a holy commandment. Dorothy felt astonished that the first year was so determined to ignore such a golden opportunity, wondering if someone else recruited him before Dorothy could.
"Why not?" Her voice came out a bit cracked with how blunt her approach was, but Dorothy Hayes recomposed herself. Then attempted to use the doe eyed, heart broken, tactic that could melt ice itself and make even the most stubborn military man, like her father, bend to her will. Dorothy hoped her charm would enable her to gleam more information from the genius that could be considered a once in a generation, if not an entire century.
"Their objectives are misaligned with mine. I have bigger ambitions than working as a cog in another man's machine." House folded his hands together, looking back towards the direction from earlier, his gaze focused on something… or someone, Dorothy could not really tell. House's answer raised more questions than it answered. Dorothy had hoped the group she was a part of would be the glorious team that would win big, stick together, and run off into the sunset together. Yet the tournament did not even start and her fantasy of an All American robot geek squad was dying.
"Where are you from?" Dorothy asked, trying a different angle. Hoping to gleam an idea of an origin, a starting point then working towards a better outcome. "Nevada, right?"
"Yes." She waited for more, but House did not elaborate. Dorothy was starting to feel like she was running head first into a brick wall, the man before her barely looked at her, his focus directed else where in the restaurant.
"What was it like?" she pressed. "Did you grow up on a farm?"
"No." House's mouth twitched the words out, not quite a smile, nor anger, but more annoyance at being interrupted from his observations towards the bar section of the restaurant. Robert House sensing he would not be able to escape Dorothy's attention instead studied her before asking a question. "What about you, Kansas girl? I doubt you worked on a farm?"
She blinked, surprised by how quickly House came to his conclusion. "How did you know?"
"Simple observations. Kansas is an agriculture focused state, but you lack the complexion of someone who works out in the fields, your hands lack any calluses formed from rigorous manual labor. Your posture on the other hand suggests structure, that of an early riser, walking straight and determined but not the sort of hunched over posture of a farm girl handling a stocked piglet, or working on harvesting or planting crops. Given that and the classes you keep taking are focused more towards engineering and design. Not to mention the half of the name you picked out for our fighting robot was far more patriotic than I expected, my guess is most likely a military background, perhaps one or more family members are serving in the Kansas national guard." House spoke the words as if reading them off of Dorothy's transcript. Dorothy could not believe the 1st year before her just came to this conclusion and called her out just from observing her at a glance. Dorothy stared silently at him for a beat, before responding.
"Yes, most of my family have joined the army, not the national guard, but my father's long-term posting in Kansas made him feel like a weekend warrior. I remember more time spent on or near a military base than going out shopping and hanging out with friends." Dorothy spoke her words fondly, as regimented as her life had been it was still a childhood she enjoyed. "My father is a colonel working at Fort Leavenworth, just west of the Appalachian Mountains. He loves his job, and runs the base at optimal efficiency, even getting his family to obey strict rules. My older brothers all followed him into the Army, two are officers the other three are corporals."
Had Colonel Robert Hayes been here right now he would have yelled at his daugher for giving away too much information. However, the Kansas girl could not help herself when House focused his attention on her, melting any resistance with a charm that felt as genuine as it did lovely. Dorothy's mind wandered, at a fantasy of a future involving a picket fence with the man who shared her father's first name, nearly missing House's next question.
"What brought you to CIT then? Why not focus on getting into west point instead?" His curiosity was raised, the words even, hinting at nothing else but curiosity.
"My mother is a scientist, she works at Fort Leavenworth, testing water in the Mississippi or something like that. I think that is how my parents met. Where my brothers went with a career in the military, I decided to follow in her footsteps instead, but I want to do something more exciting than focusing on PH levels. I want to make a giant robot… one that screams slurs at communists or something as exciting…. Ah no offense intended Mao." Dorothy looked at the Chinese exchange student, who gave Dorothy a funny look, before looking towards Robert House and the two men laughed as if sharing a secret joke. Dorothy looked confused, but House inclined his head slightly, as if filing the information away.
"Well, I think I understand your interest in the internship at General Atomics. I'm sure they would be happy to have you and I'm sure you would be happy there." Robert said his words with a moment of warmth, it felt a little bit forced, but had a bit of innocence to it that had Dorothy blushing.
"And you don't think you would be happy working there?" Dorothy replied, her face feeling warm as the thought of a future, with a family, all out on a picnic with robots calling her Mrs. House made the 2nd year girl flustered.
"No, my happiness does not really matter, nor would it be found working for others. I have bigger goals in mind than working for General Atomics. My path leads elsewhere." Dorothy always loved a good mystery novel, but House felt like a character from the book that jumped out and came to life, then wrapped himself in an enigma, then smothered up a whole helping of a conundrum, then topped himself off by naming his pet Riddle. His attention was being directed away, and Dorothy jumped at the opportunity to acquire more of it like a wanderer in a desert dying of thirst.
"Wait, what about your family? What of your parents? Do you have any siblings? An older brother-" Dorothy's eagerness had her stepping on a landmine, for any warmth and charm that House had, died suddenly, as a winter cold came in. The fertile feelings of infatuation in the Kansas girl died, as something dark and twisted gleamed in House's eyes, filling Dorothy with dread like a deer caught in headlights.
"No, I have no family. And I certainly do not have an older brother." One step forward, 38 steps back, as House's words ended the conversation, as the young genius walked away from the table. In the background the restaurant musician working a piano shifted keys, now playing something more soft and somber. The waiters and waitresses arrived to pick up empty dinner and desert plates. Conversations all around the table died down. Laughter falling as the celebration night before the tournament was winding to a close. Dorothy watched the retreating back of her group's team leader walking off elsewhere in the restaurant. She looked around the table focusing on other friends, her teammates, her potential future colleagues, doing everything she could to ignore the empty feeling that was causing her chest to hurt.
~Robert House POV~
House was free of the woman who kept asking endless questions, it seemed Dorothy Hayes was dead set on not giving Robert House a moment of peace before pestering him with more questions. He at first thought charm was the best way to get Miss Dorothy Hayes to back off, but that last question altered his approach as thoughts of Anthony House raced into Robert's mind. He quickly ended the conversation, shutting the nosy girl down, and went to focus on his target.
Chances like this should not come often, especially of all nights and places, House did not expect this window of opportunity to present itself during a dinner party hosted by the Robot Fight Club. Whether it was due to his maxed out luck, or a scripted event by a cruel and wrathful twat of a deity bored of the mundaneness of House's college life, either case Robert House preyed upon the boon of good fortune. Sitting down at the bar seat of Catalyst, House looked at the bartender, pulling out a hundred dollar bill to get his attention.
"What can I get you… sir?" The Bartender looked at House, his mind battling with whether he should ask Robert House how old he was verses the large tip being waved in front of him. Robert helped the man make a correct decision.
"That woman over there, whatever her tab is, let me take care of it. Please let her know that." The Bartender accepted the money and rushed off with a clear consciousness to do as he was told without having to sell alcoholic beverages to a minor. House sat at the bar, doing his best to not look like he was staring, waiting for the prey to focus on him and move in as planned. House was not sure what to expect, but he was not disappointed when his target, long separated from her family, had found a quiet corner of the restaurant to spend in peace. Now House's target strode up from her seat, and made her way to him.
The blonde beauty walked with a kind of practiced grace that seemed designed to pull every eye in the room toward her. A curvy silhouette cut in rich, jewel-toned silk that clung in all the right places and shimmered under the restaurant lights as though it had been spun from the glow of the city itself. Her eyes were warm brown pools framed by long lashes, wide with the kind of curiosity and hunger for attention that made men forget what they were about to say and women wonder how House's target made confidence look effortless. There was something almost intoxicating about her presence, a magnetic mix of vulnerability and poise woven into every gesture, as though she was both craving connection and hiding just enough of herself to make anyone who looked at her want to know more. House knew what she was, and that added to the alien beauty flowing through her veins, as the mystery wrapped in beauty and poised sat right across from him, drinking the French 75 he had technically bought for her.
"Well now, I'm told I have you to thank for clearing out my tab." Her voice was dripping with a seductive luster that could melt even the most chastened man to warm putty in her hands. Robert House stood strong, no matter how flirtatious his prey became, the siren before him was an investment to a questline he could not afford to blunder. The enchanting being before him took House's entire attention, each word, each breath she took was observed, calculated, and a proper response was formulated as she spoke her flirtatious words. "What can I do to show my thanks?"
"How about starting with an introduction. I'll even help get us started. I am Robert Edwin House. A recent resident to Boston, and a college student who has ventured into a beautiful restaurant to find a far more alluring woman." His tone did not have the cold and logical bluntness, as the rewards needed could not be ruined by his own shortcomings. House was certain he had harnessed all 10 points of his charm, as the enchanting creature before him, bit her lower lip, her curious flirting now turned into something more serious, as desire flared up in the woman's eyes.
"Well it's good to meet you Robert House. I am Emogene Cabot, and I have more time than I know what to do with. I think I might enjoy spending some of it with you." As the blonde beauty lifted the glass again, House noticed the faint tremor in her fingers, so slight it would have escaped anyone not trained to watch for fractures beneath polish. The way her immortal gaze flickered, just once, toward the restaurant's mirrored wall as if checking that she was still being seen. It told him everything he needed to know: whatever wealth, beauty, or pedigree surrounded her, it was attention she truly drank, and tonight she had chosen him as her audience. Tonight, House would begin a new questline, one whose reward payout would boggle minds, and all he would need to acquire it was through Emogene Cabot. The woman had expected House to fall head over heels for her, it did not take much to get House to have Emogene purring for him instead. Soon Emogene was recommending sights better suited far away from prying eyes, as House left Catalyst with Emogene Cabot holding House tightly. Refusing to let Robert House go even if he wanted her to.
~Liberty XLR POV~
Liberty XLR came online in stages, awareness blooming not as a single thought but as a cascade of confirmations. Power levels at 100%. Gyroscopic stabilizers aligned. Magnetic treads engaged. Hydraulic springs on standby. Above the newly awakened automaton, the sun-dome roof filtered daylight into a harsh white glare that refracted across polished steel walls and screaming banners, the noise of the crowd registering as a roaring wall of sound through his auditory sensors. Thousands of voices overlapped into one chaotic signal, excitement translated into decibels and vibration. Somewhere beyond the dome, systems far larger than him hummed and breathed, but Liberty XLR's world narrowed to the circular combat ring beneath his chassis. He felt the guidance signal slip in like a steady hand on his shoulder.
"Easy there, partner. Just like we practiced last time. Let's show 'em what you're made of, the boss man is watching. We can't disappoint him." The entity known to Liberty XLR as Victor, came out smooth and familiar like a father figure, threading calm through the static. Liberty XLR rolled forward, his cube-shaped frame gliding with a precision that belied his small size, sleek black-and-chrome panels with the top half displaying a 13th star commonwealth flag painted perfectly. The automation easily caught the light as the crowd's cheer swelled at his movements.
Across the ring, the first of his 6 opponents activated with far less subtlety. Buzz saws wielded onto its front spun up in a clatter of mechanical bravado, articulate forward facing arms with spikes whined hungrily as if eager to taste metal. The opposing machine was bulkier than Liberty XLR, louder, and painted in garish colors meant to intimidate, its designers clearly believing that more armaments meant more dominance. Liberty XLR's sensors tagged threat vectors instantly, cataloging angles of attack and projected damage, but something else stirred beneath the calculations. His vocal subroutine initialized, drawing from a bank of recorded phrases, cadence and tone unmistakably familiar. He squared himself toward the other robot, internal speakers crackling to life, encouraged by the friendly being known as Victor.
"Listen up, you filthy huddle of junk," Liberty XLR barked, his voice sharp and defiant, laced with a foreign eastern accent that clipped intensity, all of it booming throughout the tournament arena. "I can smell your pinko steel from here. All those sharp edges won't save you! As you rattle your bolts loose, leaking oil in fear, know that the full might of democracy is your judge, jury, and executioner."
The crowd erupted, laughter and cheers slamming into Liberty's sensors as the opposing robot revved in response, blades spinning faster in mute outrage. Liberty XLR felt something like a satisfaction registered in his core processors, not just readiness, but confidence. Guided by the invisible hand of his creator, the true messiah of freedom that had built Liberty XLR, now unleashed the automatons against the enemies of Democracy. The young automaton rolled forward smoothly, silently, completely unyielding from the threat before him. The bell had not yet rung, but in Liberty XLR's mind, the fight had already begun. A foreign Slavic individual announced the two fighters, in a heart beating speech that even motivated Liberty XLR, ready to unleash doom upon his enemies.
The monstrosity that was his current opponent was guided by its own creators, remote controlled unlike Liberty XLR. The mechanical beast rushed towards the young automaton, hoping to end the battle with buzz saws damaging his glorious red white and blue chassis. With movements beyond anything his opponent was capable of, XLR dodged the incoming attack, side stepping, before his full ramming speed slammed onto his opponent as it attempted to right itself and face Liberty XLR. The crash was so great, that the bulky, bladed, monstrosity tipped over onto it's side by the force unleashed by Liberty XLR's collision. Spinning around on its side, the bulky automaton that looked like an edge lord's fantasy was introduced to a large voltage discharged of XLR's built in taser, killing the monstrosities' power banks in a quick, surgical and decisive blow.
"Stars, stripes, and your busted communist circuits! That's how we do it in the Free States!" Liberty XLR's booming announcement and exceptional performance caused every audience member to turn silent before exploding in cheer that shook the very building they all inhabited. Liberty XLR faced the nearest commonwealth flag, raised his taser, up high, like a salute, and began speaking the pledge of allegiance. The onlookers had a new fan favorite, and cheered just as religiously as XLR made his pledge. "Liberty and Justice for all. The scrap heap for the Leninist scum."
Liberty XLR registered the drop in reserve as a calm numerical fact. Eighty five percent operational capacity on his energy reserves. Heat sinks stabilized as taser coils cooled down. The crowd noise swelled again as Professor Pugalo's voice boomed across the dome, thick with pride and theater as he introduced last year's champion. The Mean Green Trimmer rolled out under the lights, paint scarred and dented from past victories, its hedge trimmer arm unfolding with a wet metallic snarl. The weapon adjusted its angle twice, deliberately, like a predator testing its jaws. Liberty XLR's threat models updated instantly. Frontal rush denied. Flip maneuver denied. The trimmer was built to catch and shred anything foolish enough to repeat old tricks of a side based collision. Victor's voice slipped in again, steadier now, lower.
"Careful. That one's smart. Let it think it's winnin'." Liberty XLR reversed, magnetic treads humming as he gave ground inch by inch. The crowd booed, confused by the retreat, while the Trimmer surged forward, emboldened, blades snapping inches from Liberty's chassis. Sensors mapped the ring's circular supports, load bearing posts rising like silent sentinels. Liberty XLR adjusted trajectory, baiting, calculating angles and speed.
"Come on then, you green Chinese goblin," Liberty XLR shouted, voice sharp and cutting. "You trim hedges in the name of tyranny! Yet, democracy remains unharmed by your failed ideas!"
The Trimmer lunged, trimmer arm snapping forward at a brutal angle meant to pin and chew. Liberty XLR swerved at the last possible moment, magnetic treads screeching as he juked aside. The Trimmer overcommitted, its momentum carrying it straight into a steel post. The impact rang out like a bell struck by God Himself, the post shuddering as the Trimmer lodged fast, wheels spinning uselessly in its attempt to escape. Liberty XLR surged forward, internal bay unlocking with a solid mechanical clack as the H and H hammer deployed, its weight settling into his manipulator with righteous finality.
"Freedom adapts," Liberty XLR roared as he brought the hammer down. "Oppression stays stupid! YOUR EVOLUTIONARY DRIBLLE DEMANDS THAT YOU DIE SO THAT DEMOCRACY CAN LIVE!"
The first strike crushed a wheel clean off, polymers and metal exploding outward. The second strike bent an axle into useless scrap. The Trimmer shrieked electronically, blades twitching as Liberty XLR went to work methodically, breaking wheel after wheel with brutal precision. Sparks flew. The smell of burnt insulation filled the dome. Each blow echoed with the cheers of the crowd, rhythm joining violence into something almost ceremonial.
"Stars and stripes, baby!" Liberty XLR bellowed. "This is what happens when bad ideas meets top level American engineering!"
The Mean Green Trimmer slumped, immobilized, its weapon arm sagging uselessly as power drained away. Liberty XLR rolled back, hammer retracting as he squared himself to the fallen champion. Crowd noise peaked, chanting his name, some excited audience wrenching down the American flag to wave it in the automatons direction. The sun dome trembling under the weight of approval. Liberty XLR raised his chassis slightly, voice booming one last time over the wreckage.
"You had blades, you had noise, you had last year's crown," Liberty XLR declared in his foreign accent blending into perfectly understandable English that the crowd ate up. "But you didn't have liberty. And liberty always wins."
Yet liberty XLR was at 45% energy reserves, every instinct and code told him to begin immediate recharge protocols. Yet Victor's guidance halted that approach.
"Easy there, partner. Don't top off just yet. No time to catch your breath. Keep your eyes on the trail, the next danger is already rollin' in." Victor's suggestion died as Professor Pugalo's voice thundered across the dome, barely containing the excitement that bled through his thick accent as he announced the third challenger. The crowd's roar shifted pitch as a massive vacuum sized robot lumbered into the ring, its wide chassis reinforced, its primary attachment swiveling forward with a hiss. As Pugalo finished announcing the next round, a flamethrower ignited, belching a roaring jet of processed fuel straight toward Liberty XLR. Heat warnings flared red across his sensors. Without hesitation, Liberty XLR compressed his hydraulic springs to maximum tension, his vector of approach was made within a nano-second as the small automaton jumped into action. He launched skyward, a compact black and chrome missile, clearing the inferno by inches as fire washed uselessly beneath him. He landed hard on the larger machine's upper housing, clamps slamming down and locking in place with a satisfying crunch of stressed metal.
Pinned atop his enemy, Liberty XLR felt the sun-dome light spill across his chassis. Panels beneath him split open, unveiling his greatest advantage. Solar recharging arrays flared to life, drinking in the Commonwealth daylight as power surged through his core. Forty five percent climbed rapidly. Sixty. Eighty. One hundred. The larger robot re-positioned the nozzle of it's flamethrower, unable to get a proper firing angle and instead spewing wild arcs of fire as Liberty XLR's safely remained clamped down upon the enemy. Pugalo's and some of his helpers acquired fire extinguishers, ready to use them as the ring heated up in the gigantic automatons desperate attempts to destroy Liberty XLR. With his energy cells fully charged, the compact killing machine activated his hydraulics springs while remaining clamped on the bigger automaton. Liberty XLR shook violently, controlled oscillations tearing at mounting brackets and internal supports until the flamethrower's droid's head ripped free in a shower of sparks and burning fuel. Liberty XLR, like a grasshopper unclamped after decapitating his enemy and sprung off landing safely next to the ruined machine, voice now booming with triumphant contempt.
"Communism is a waste of brain cells," Liberty XLR declared, crushing the severed head beneath his chassis through the use of shifting his weight thanks to the hydraulic springs. "Wasting fuel might be a Chinese policy, but here in the Free states it is a slap in the face for every hard working red blooded American. Long Live Democracy. Long Live the Commonwealth."
The crowd never quieted, not really, their excitement rolling like thunder. The flamethrower automaton proved to be the final genuine threat, a lumbering war crime meant to cook smaller machines through sheer attrition, but Liberty XLR put a violent end to that. Everything after the third round, followed up by extinguishing the fires in the ring, was desperation dressed up as strategy for the remaining challengers were clanking giants built on the assumption that size and endurance would eventually win the day, yet Liberty XLR was neither patient nor obliging. Sleek and compact, he darted across the arena floor, chasing down fleeing automatons that tried to drag the fight out, battering them into scrap while his voice echoed across the dome.
"Pinko cowards, you deny reality, and now you flee from consequences. DIE FOR DEMOCRACY!" Liberty XLR screamed out the words with the fury of a thousand chem-fiends as the miniature machine fell upon all of his opponents, catching the bulky machines using his agility. At the end Liberty XLR remained upright in the ring, his chassis unmarred, his energy reserves steady. Six matches all of which ended in victory. An impossible feat according to every previous tournament, where storage limits and combat endurance failed. Pugalo claimed it was a form of stress test, facilitating the grueling exhaustion of war, with only the last one standing to become the winner. That explanation was destroyed, as the first bot within the ring was now the last one remaining.
For a heartbeat the arena held its breath, then erupted as Robert House vaulted under the ring barrier, Dorothy close behind him, followed by Mao, Simon, Felix, and Lila, all spilling onto the ring in a rush of disbelief and triumph. Once entering the ring himself, Professor Pugalo raised the trophy high with both hands, his thick Russian accent booming over the speakers.
"Listen to me now, comrades and competitors, engineers and dreamers!" he roared, rolling the words like gravel in his throat as he swept a broad arm toward the scorched arena floor. "Tonight you did not see luck. You did not see accident. Nyet. You saw discipline, intellect, and ruthless merciless efficiency! These young minds, these first years, they take theory, yes, and they beat it with hammer, make it into steel, into motion, into victory! Six matches! No collapse! No hesitation! No fear! This is what future looks like when arrogant goliath meets a prepared david… and preparation crushes it into dust!"
If anyone became Liberty XLR's biggest fan, it was Professor Pugalo, who stood on one side of the automaton. Felix and Simon held the large steel and gold trophy up. Liberty XLR was at the center of the gathered group, and on his other side was Robert House, his maker. A small smile was on the face of the 17 year old creator who looked down upon XLR.
"That'll do Liberty, that'll do." The words of his creator filled Liberty XLR with more joy and pride than even meeting the president of the United States. If the cubical automaton could puff out its chest, then when the group photo was taken, the automaton would have been the size of the entire ring instead of the box robot surrounded by his giant creators.
~Dean Oswald Cadwell POV~
The multiple television screens hummed softly in the corner of the office, their glass faces throwing pale blue light across shelves heavy with books whose knowledge was long ago plundered. Dean Oswald Cadwell sat with his hands folded over a cane he did not strictly need but preferred, posture straight despite the years pressing down on his spine. Beside him, Professor Malvagio Gorllewin paced like a caged animal, boots clicking sharply against the marble floor every time Liberty XLR's victory replayed on the screen.
Dean Cadwell was no longer focused upon the marvel of robotic engineering. He instead directed his gaze at the people of interest, each television screen had a corresponding camera, each focused on an entirely different target. Some were observing the robot fight from multiple different angles, but what Dean Oz now paid attention to was different audience members, the representatives from big corporate powers, and one focused upon the mastermind who created the automaton that effortlessly won all of the battles. Dean Oswald Cadwell looked upon the threats that endangered his University's domain, and attempted to prepare for the madness that they would bring. Professor Gorllewin was pacing, trying the Dean's patience.
"Sit," the Dean's words were quiet, he did not even turn his head to face his fellow administrator, yet his former student ignored the command. Professor Gorllewin was obsessed by the spectacle that had been displayed on the screen.
"How are you so calm?" Gorllewin snapped, pointing at the frozen frame of Liberty XLR standing victorious, students and audience members swarming the ring. "That thing… that thing is a marvel. A miracle. Nothing that brainless twit Pugalo has made in the last decade could come close to that! All of it built by children, Oz! Children! And the way it recharged its energy reserves! It... it did not need to use the grid! Look, even the vultures are about to start circling!"
Malvagio Gorllewin jabbed a finger towards a different screen, he was now focusing on the similar threats the Dean had long ago spotted. There were well-dressed men in neutral suits who stood speaking into their hand held phones. Cadwell exhaled slowly through his nose, already imagining the avalanche that was coming.
"They are not the only problem, Malvagio. The vultures, as you call it are only a small part in something far more insidious." Malvagio finally stopped pacing, taking the seat next to the Dean. Eventually the Dean spoke his words evenly, yet concern was clear for his junior to hear. "General Atomics. Axiom Dynamics Incorporated. They are but two parasites. They might wrap themselves in patriotism and profit margins. But they are bit players, the bigger fish are what I'm worried about."
"None the less, they'll carve the automaton, if they get their hands on it. There will be patents and press releases before the paint even dries. That marvel has the potential to save the world and those jackals will try to carve out pieces for themselves."
"Yes," Malvagio murmured. "Their kind always focus on where and when they can make money. And that robot, will make someone the richest man in America, if not in the entire world."
The black and white broadcast cut to Robert House and several others holding up the trophy, the crowd roaring around them. Cadwell's eyes narrowed, not with anger, but with something colder, something he had whenever that child's name came up in conversations. With how often it came up these days, Dean Oz was surprised his face was not eternally stuck in a constant scowl. His suspicions regarding the child grew greater than ever before. Malvagio focusing on the same threat as the Dean had, leaned closer to the screen.
"Those children probably don't even understand what they have. Look at the lot of them, they think they just won a competition." A bitter laugh escaped him, professor Gorllewin scowled almost as intensely as his mentor. The men in suits that scalped talented youths from the Institute, were already making their way to the winning team. "They're already calculating how to own him."
"Don't worry about that. We should be more careful regarding the true threat. We can not afford to approach this matter lightly. Whoever young House works for, will move soon. We must prepare for a possible member of Gravel's administration moving in to openly claim their agent." Cadwell tapped his cane once against the floor. The Dean of the Commonwealth Institute of Technology pondered how easier things would be if only the threats to his school was but one bug that his cane could crush.
The camera panned briefly to the representatives again, one from General Atomics smiling thinly, the predatory glint clear for Oz to see as the corporate military rep spoke to the team of young, impressionable, students. The other, the one from ADI still speaking into his phone, a number of different approaches being discussed with whoever was on the other side of the call. None of it boded well for Dean Oz, least of all his Continuum, the secret he had fought to keep buried. Through strategic sacrifices, guile, and making friends in the right places, he had thought his plans would be safe. Yet now it was no better than a house of cards, ready to be tipped over by a player that Dean Oswald Cadwell did not take seriously enough until now.
"They are pillars," Cadwell continued, voice low, almost reflective. "Small parts of a larger structure. People like to pretend they hold civilization upright. In truth, they hold it in place. Motionless. Controlled. Two great supports for a greater evil, and now it has a reason to come through our doors and take what is not theirs."
"Then we prevent it. The robot, this Liberty XLR was built on school property; it belongs to the Institute. I'll file injunctions, IP protections, we can utilize the ownership clauses. We can build up every legal wall we can, make it ours legally before Washington tries to claim it as their own." Malvagio words flowed out, as the junior of the two began making calls to a number of different legal teams loyal to CIT. Cadwell finally turned to look at his former student and trusted friend. The old man's eyes were sharp, unsettlingly clear.
"You still think this is about the robot. That our legal clauses can hold onto it?"
Malvagio Gorllewin hesitated, mid conversation with CIT's legal representatives. "What do you mean?"
Dean Cadwell gestured toward the screen again, where Robert House stood, him and his team being hounded by the excited audience. Some where wishing to congratulate the winners, others to bask in their presence, while hand few of powerful interest observed from the sideline in a matter similar to how the Dean and his trusted friend did so. "The powers that be will get involved, legal defenses won't matter when the laws that are written down can be ignored by those who write them. No, we will have more problems in the following weeks, and it is all because of that wolf in sheep's clothing."
Malvagio frowned. "You still think House planned all this?"
"My contacts within the government were clear, someone has infiltrated this school, watching us and reporting whatever they can." Cadwell corrected gently. "Now Liberty XLR is not only the prize fighter, but the invitation that will allow President Garviel's administration into our college. Everything I have strived to build might collapse before the end of the spring semester."
Silence settled between them, thick and uncomfortable. Finally Professor Gorllewin, told the lawyers that he would call them back later, ending the call as the next words he spoke were best kept between the two men.
"I could… I know someone who can make the problem disappear. Rid us of the wolf." Malvagio's words came out cold, but Dean Oswald knew it was coming from a kind, well intentioned place.
"Had we done it earlier, perhaps, but now… No, there is too big of a light shining upon the boy. Anything, even if a thunderbolt struck him down now would invite an entirely different and more aggressive response. All we can do is keep observing, and covering our tracks. We can not afford to let the government learn about the Continuum project. We will have to sacrifice whatever part of the University we can to keep the project moving. It is the only move we can do now." Dean Oz turned off the televisions, recording more than enough data to prepare for the next steps to surviving what was coming. The two senior members of the Institute talked further of the next steps, all while Victor listened in. Now the TV's were watching them.
Well I'll be damned… they're talkin' like House is a no good snake in church clothing. Feels like these fancy city folks are readin' shadows wrong. They're scared and got a finger twitchin' on the trigger. Wonderin' where this trail is going to go, hopefully' without someone puttin' the boss man into an early dirt nap.