COT lives once again! I'm a huge Turbo fanatic and in the past year or two I have started to explore what his world would have been like. So this fic is about a lot of events in the Prime Guardian's life that contributed to the persona that we know in the existing Reboot series (what little we DO know about him; that is the main reason for this fic).
So please enjoy, and I hope that after the completion and character evolution in this story, that most of you will actually feel an attachment to the our mysterious Prime Guardian.
(This Fic will be arranged by chapters instead of "chunks"... but I'll post as I get new tidbits out) ^_^
CHAPTER ONE: A FATHER'S LOVE
Prime Guardian Detra finished washing her hands and grabbed a few paper towels from the ornate dispenser in front of her with a sigh. She didn’t feel ready for the public exposure she was about to face in the next few nanos… not this early in her term. She grimaced down at her left arm; her keytool, Copeland, stared back up at her from a golden wristband. It had only been SECONDS since the keytool had chosen the young sprite, but the Collective Council had insisted that the new Prime Guardian should attend the weapons demonstration in the system called Mason… seeing as how most of the weaponry purchased by the Collective originated and was distributed by the very same system. The Council saw the event as an opportunity for the Net to see its new lead defender in ‘action’. Detra shifted uncomfortably in her high-heels.
‘Give me a sword and ACTUAL CLOTHES… and THEN they’ll see some action…’ Detra thought to herself bitterly. Her attire for the second was a revealing, scarlet gown which cling to her curvy form... leaving nothing to the imagination about the ampleness of her chest. Her peach face flushed red. ‘Four and a half years of training and discipline… all to become the Collective’s personal dress-up doll…’ The Prime Guardian sighed aloud, when she heard the flush of a toilet from a nearby stall.
Having forgotten that the public restroom was co-ed, Detra almost let out an angry yell as a 30-hour-old male emerged from the stall… but she bit her tongue just in time. The Prime Guardian wiped up the wet mess around the marble counter, threw away her drenched paper towel, and set about fixing the dark brown curls piled high on her head. While the Amazonian-like woman primped, the other sprite loudly whistled a tune as he washed his hands. The golden-haired sprite chanced a look at the tall beauty and his whistling ceased. Detra noticed his stare out of the corner of her eye and finally shifted her full attention to him in order to get a polite introductionary dialogue underway and over with.
The blue-green skinned sprite stroked the golden stubble on his square jaw and squinted at the Prime Guardian. A sort of irritated realization dawned on his face and he wiped his hands on his black pants before reaching into a side pocket. He pulled out a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and brushed his shaggy hair out of his face before putting them on. Detra watched in amusement as the sprite’s hazel eyes widened in surprise.
“Well, shoot the sun and the stars…” he marveled, a surprisingly deep voice emanating from the lean sprite. “I reckon you’re the new Prime Guardian.”
The amusement from Detra’s face slowly melted away. Next she would hear the endless questions about her function in relation to InterNetional matters and empty praises pertaining to the Collective’s iron fist when it came to virus-handling. “Yes… that would be me.” the young woman sighed.
The golden-haired surprised Detra with a bemused huff in return. “Well… at least you’re an upgrade from the last one… he wasn’t NEARLY as purty…” There was no disrespect in his tone; just a lightness that reassured the Prime Guardian that the sprite wasn’t going to back her into a corner and pelt her with questions. He nonchalantly reached for a paper towel to dry the remainder of his damp hands. “… and the YOUNGEST to take up the banner, to boot. That’s something mighty impressive, if you ask me.”
Detra shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like all the attention on her… but she didn’t feel ready to exit the bathroom and report to the demonstration arena to face the vast public quite yet. “And what is all this I hear about your boss? This… Mason Truman?” She asked politely. “Is it true he’s the genius everyone claims him to be?”
The golden-haired sprite blinked… and then a warm grin spread across his face. “Naw… he’s just a big tight-ASCII who knows how to pitch his defective shift to clueless investors… no offense to the Collective or anything…” Detra laughed. The sprite’s honesty and laid-back tone was a breath of fresh air. “COMPLETE control nut. He’s got me doing his bidding at every nano and even makes me take the work HOME. And I have a little squirt waiting for me at the end of the second… do you KNOW how much that annoys the tar our of a 5-hour-old boy? At least I THINK he’s still 5… I reckon I don’t even know THAT for certain anymore…”
The Prime Guardian had a wide smile on her face. “And what IS your job, exactly?” She took note of the sprite’s black pants and navy armored tank-top; she assumed he was a maintenance level employee that worked first-hand with the experimental weaponry.
“Oh… I just help with the brainstorming… and the blueprint creation, leading the construction phase, and testing out the new models in front of possible investors.” he answered humbly.
Detra blinked. “In other words… you do Truman’s job FOR him…”
The other sprite chuckled. “I reckon you could say that.”
The Prime Guardian’s face went hot. The one thing she couldn’t stand was a lazy file-format getting rich and acquiring a stellar reputation off of the hard work of another. “Why am I not surprised…” Detra muttered. “I mean, the guy thinks he’s high and mighty enough to have an entire SYSTEM named after himself, for User’s sake! OF COURSE he’s going to be a pompous ASCII…”
“Actually, naming the system after him was the system’s Command.com’s idea.” the other sprite retorted. “But now that you mention it… yeah… it does make him sound like a bit of a pompous ASCII…”
“I just hope I’ll be able to shake his hand without giving him a bloody nose as well when I meet him face to face.” the Prime Guardian sighed. She took once last look in the mirror, scrutinizing her appearance, and then turned to the golden-haired sprite. “Thank you… talking to you has… well… it’s actually calmed me down a bit.”
“Anytime, darl’n.” he grinned, shaking her extended hand.
Detra was about to leave, but she stopped in her tracks and glanced back at him one last time. “I want to make sure that you get the recognition you deserve during this demonstration.” She began.
“Oh, that’s not really-”
“But I INSIST.” Detra cut in. “I don’t believe I have your name, however, Mr….?” She waited for him to finish for her, giving his full name, but the door to the bathroom swung open.
“There you are!” exclaimed a bald, tan sprite in a lab coat. “We’re waiting on you, Mason… are you ready?” The sprite then noticed the tall Amazonian creature standing off to the side; the sprite instantly became a bumbling idiot. “Prime Guardian Detra! What a pleasure it is to… what I mean is… um… it’s an honor for you to meet me… WAIT! Ahhh… Spammit!” The nervous sprite ducked his head out of the bathroom and then disappeared.
Mason Truman chuckled. “Coming, Lock!” he called out. Detra watched in stunned silence as the multi-billionaire looked in the mirror, fruitlessly attempting to push his unruly hair behind his ears. He gave an unsatisfied huff and then walked to the exit, holding the door open for the Prime Guardian. “Shall we? Our adoring fans are waiting…”
The inventor smirked innocently as the Prime Guardian walked past him briskly, her face beet red with embarrassment.
***
“And so, ladies and gentlemen,” Mason continued on with his lecture. “With the new alterations made to the Turbo Eliminator, version 2.0, we can successfully eliminate viral threats without compromising the safety of innocent bystanders nor damage the environment.” he explained, holding up the gun; the Turbo Eliminator model was about as long as his forearm. Spectators leaned up against the railing and protective glass shields in front of their seats to get a better look. The Prime Guardian and a few of her advisors stood on the inside of the small arena, a little distance away from Mason. The inventor addressed the crowd again while prepping the weapon for use. “Because we don’t exactly have viruses VOLUNTEERING for this fatal demonstration…” he began, some members in the audience chuckling. “… my lovely assistant, Lock, will be sporting a pack with a device that emits viral-like coding for the TE2.0 to engage.”
The bald assistant took out a sizable green cube with silver circuitry out of his pack, presented it to the crowd, and the replaced it inside the bag again. While Lock slid his arms through the backpack, Mason motioned to a little binome girl off to the side of the arena licking ice cream.
“Over here, we have little Tiffany, who is also going to participate in our little demonstration.” The Binome child walked over to Mason, more focused on consuming her ice cream than taking directions from the weapons specialist, but she obeyed and took her place to the right of Lock. “And if we could have just one more volunteer…” he said, scanning the arena. Mason’s eyes landed on Detra. “Prime Guardian Detra… would you do me the honor of assisting in this demonstration?” Detra narrowed her eyes at the sprite, but she complied, taking her place at the other side of Lock.
Mason then pressed a button on his armored wristband and a zoom-room box slammed down in the center of the arena, a few yards away from the three volunteers. It disappeared in flash, leaving behind five very large, very functional power generators that belonged to a System’s Core outer-chamber area. Detra raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Surely Truman new the danger of firing at something as powerful as those five generators… right? One shot at those high-powered machines could destabilize them, creating a tear large enough to engulf most of the arena. While Detra knew that she could stabilize any tear easily enough with Copeland, her concern was for the binome child and Lock.
Truman, however, seemed oblivious of her concerns. He whistled as he cocked the gun and fired at Lock; no warning given. Detra flinched as she heard the blast of the weapon and saw blue energy branch off of the main route towards Lock, rushing at her. Surprisingly, impact did not hurt; it seemingly passed through her, like a gentle hand brushing hair away from one’s face… only this gentle sensation was lightly stroking internal coding and then passing on through. Detra turned to check on the generators; they were unaffected as well. Tiffany continued licking her ice cream as if nothing had happened, while Lock unzipped his backpack and showed the crowed that it was empty.
“As you can see, the weapon ONLY targeted the viral coding.” Mason explained, gesturing to Lock’s now limp bag. “Even though all three Netizens were in full range… and not to mention the presence of the generators behind them that could have easily destabilized into a large tear or two…the Turbo Eliminator locked on to the cube alone, leaving everything else untouched. But since you didn’t actually see the encased viral coding disappear, and to PROVE that this isn’t a parlor trick… Little Tiffany, do you see that second cube behind the first generator? Could you bring it over here, darl’n?”
The little binome reluctantly did his bidding and retrieved the cube. It was identical to the first one that had been destroyed.
“Now, just set it down and sit on top, alright?” Mason instructed.
The Tiffany absent-mindedly complied, absorbed with her ice cream. Truman aimed his weapon at the cube under the child and fired. There was a flash of blue, and the cube seemed to be engulfed in surges of blue energy… and then it vanished. The crowd “Oooed” at the spectacle, while little Tiffany fell to the floor, landing on her bitmap… the ice cream falling from her cone and onto the ground. The binome child looked up at Mason with a hurt expression, but the inventor chuckled and scooped her up by the arms to help her up.
“I’ll get you another one later. THREE scoops. Lots of sprinkles.” he whispered to the child, patting her head of luscious brunette locks. Tiffany looked up at him with a huge smile. She then skipped off to her dad who was waiting for her off to the side; a fellow employee at Mason Industries. Mason addressed the crowd once again. “The TE2.0 does not stop until it has eradicated every last bit of its viral target… leaving nothing behind… and then once it’s function is complete, the energy from the single blast simply dissipates.”
“So, if I am to understand you correctly, Mr. Truman,” Detra spoke up, arms crossed. “…The weapon fires living energy, which almost seems to act of its own free accord, until it completes its function? What if multiple viruses inhabit the same system and your target is one specific virus? Does the TE2.0 target one individual viral source… or will it not rest until ALL viral presences have been eliminated?”
“Get rid of ALL viral presences in a system?” Mason chuckled. “Why my dear Prime Guardian… I would never DREAM of taking the Collective’s job away from it…” It was a simple joke, one that had a little bitterness behind it, but the reaction from the audience was awkward silence; all parties present were either members or wealthy supporters of the Collective. Detra did her best to suppress a grin as the inventor scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat nervously. “In any case, that is beyond my capabilities, though I’m still working on it. No, Prime Guardian Detra… single targets only for now. However, in the process of constructing this… well… I’d like to call it a ‘tool’ rather than a weapon… in constructing this tool, my researchers and I have discovered a wide variety of info about the intricacies of viral coding. We hope to open doors that that will usher in a new era of not only more advanced weaponry… but advancement in areas such as medical utilities; imagine doctors, all over the Net, having the ability to remove viral infections without damaging the file-”
“I believe the Collective has that covered already!” Shouted a wealthy round binome from the crowd, others nodding and murmuring in agreement. “Any dimwitted Guardian with a functioning keytool is capable of THAT!”
It was only Detra that noticed how Mason’s hazel eyes became slightly hollow, his knuckles turning pale as he clutched the invention tightly. “Sometimes the Guardians arrive to help when it is already too late…” The inventor then resurfaced from his trance, brows furrowed as he pushed a painful memory to the side. “The Collective cannot be everywhere at once… that’s why I solemnly believe in the distribution of Mason technologies such as the TE2.0 to EVERY system at a very reasonable price.”
There was a wave of disapproving murmurs from the crowd of spectators, all of whom would prefer to charge an arm and a leg for such technology rather than making it an easily obtained commodity among systems. Detra uncrossed her arms. This demonstration was getting out of hand.
The Prime Guardian approached the weapons specialist, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “I believe that our friend Mr. Truman speaks with conviction and passion, with ideals that very much coincide with the Collective’s principles of mending and defending the vast Net.” Detra’s alto voice cut through the chatter of the audience, demanding the attention of every member. “… And as I trust that this new innovation in technology to make the Net a better place… I also will trust in his judgment on marketing strategies to achieve that very same goal.” She turned to Mason, offering her hand. “You have the Collective’s full financial support in future endeavors here at Mason Industries.”
The inventor grinned as he shook her extended hand, chuckling as the crowd reluctantly and politely applauded their leader’s decree. “I thought you were going to squash me like a bug after the stunt I pulled back there in the restroom.” he confided to Detra as the crowd began to disburse.
“Oh, you’ll get what’s coming to you.” The Prime Guardian retorted, smirking at the older sprite. “I’ll let YOU convince the Collective Council… famous for its penny pinching and money grubbing… to sell your EXPENSIVE invention to the public for next to nothing, alright?”
Mason grimaced… but then he heard a small alarm emitting from his wristband. He brought it up to his face for inspection and flinched as he saw the time on his clock counter. “Spammit.” he swore under his breath. “I gotta go…” He swiftly saluted the Prime Guardian and then turned away to leave.
“Another important client, I presume?” Detra asked, a bemused expression on her face.
“Oh, very important, your Prime Guardianshipness…” he called back over his shoulder. “Perhaps even MORE important than YOU, I dare say…” Mason teased with a wink.
*** Ms. Sally stroked the capped head of the young sprite sitting on the stair-stoop next to her. The young boy had his eyes on his dangling legs, kicking them back and forth to stave off boredom. His over-sized book-bag gave the tiny sprite a turtle-like appearance and he clutched a recent drawing in his hand as if his life depended on showing it to a certain someone. The sound of an approaching car caught the little boy’s attention and he raised his hazel, violet flecked eyes to the road. The car that zoomed by was not the one he was hoping for. Disappointed, he rested his chin in the palm of his free hand with a sigh.
“I’m sure your father’s on his way, Elliot.” Ms. Sally finally said, breaking the silence. “Didn’t you say that he had a very important meeting at work? With important people and-”
The little blue-green sprite sighed heavily. “It’s a weapon’s demonstration. So that the Collective will back up daddy’s company on fiscal responsibilities…”
Ms. Sally blinked. She had forgotten that she didn’t have to simplify her dialogue with Elliot Truman NEARLY as much as she had to with other children his age. The boy was the son of a genius, after all. “That’s right.” the teacher continued. “It’s an important day for your father… so the demonstration might have run longer than expected.” She picked off a small ball of fuzz from the boy’s uniform jacket.
Elliot let his head fall to his knees. “It ALWAYS runs over…” he muttered. Ms. Sally patted the top of the boy’s head sympathetically… only to look up to see Mason Truman pull up to the curb of the street on his bike.
“Looks like he brought the bike today…” Ms. Sally murmured to Elliot. The boy’s head reared up to see his father cutting the engine and dismounting from his motorcycle.
“DADDY!” Elliot yelled. He hoped down from the stoop and ran to his father; his over-sized backpack bobbing up and down awkwardly.
“SQUIRT!” Mason yelled back, scooping up his son and tossing him into the air carelessly.
Ms. Sally walked over and joined the two family members, grinning. The two Truman boys may be geniuses, but when the two were put together, they BOTH acted like child playmates. “I’m going to suggest to the school board that YOU start paying for my overtime, Mr. Truman.” the teacher smirked. “Then soon I’LL be the billionaire of this system.”
Mason was holding his son by one leg, upside down. Elliot giggled as all the energy rushed to his head, his cap falling away from his golden hair. “But then the system would have to change its name to ‘Ms. Sally’.” the father retorted. “Who’s going to take a system called ‘Ms. Sally’ seriously, huh? I reckon NOBODY would…”
“Nobody!” Elliot laughed.
“Yeah, you tell ‘er, squirt.” Mason chuckled. He then corrected his son’s posture and perched Elliot on the side of his hip. Without warning, the little sprite impatiently waved the picture in his hand in front of his father’s face. “Whoa… can’t see… back it up… huh. Is that a gun?” He looked up at the teacher in front of him with a grimace. “I suppose the school doesn’t appreciate its students drawing weaponry. You can blame me if-”
“Just ask Elliot what the Gun is shooting out.” Ms. Sally interrupted, grinning.
The inventor squinted at the picture; there were some large pink dots and brown blobs. “Hey squirt, what does this fine gun use for ammunition?”
Elliot gave a toothy smile. “Chocolate energy shakes and bubble gum!” the child announced with pride.
“Bubble gum, huh?” Mason stroked his stubbly, square chin… as if actually contemplating the gun’s construction. “Keep this up and I’ll be out of the job, squirt!”
“Elliot also made a new friend today.” the teacher continued. “Little Adel wanted to borrow a crayon of his… gave him a peck on the cheek soon as he handed it over.”
“Sounds to me like someone’s got a GIRLFRIEND!” Mason teased. Elliot shook his head “no” and buried his little flushing face into his father’s warm neck.
Ms. Sally laughed and then turned to leave. “Wait.” Mason called to her. The amber skinned teacher stopped in her tracks, waiting patiently while he struggled to maneuver his son to his back. The small child giggled and perched on his father’s broad back like a spider monkey. Elliot’s head rested to the side of Mason’s; the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree in their case… aside from the slight difference of eyes and hair styles. “Would you believe me if I told you that the reason why I’m always so late…” Mason began. “… Is so that I could get a good look at one of the most beautiful teachers this system has to offer?”
Ms. Sally pushed her navy blue layered hair behind her ears. “Funny… she must be absent today.” she grinned.
Elliot’s brows furrowed into a frown. He brought his lips close to his father’s ear to be secretive, but he whispered very loudly: “I don’t think Ms. Sally knows that you are talking about HER.”
The teacher had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing. Mason sighed, his smooth talking having been sabotaged by the squirt on his back. “I’m betting she gets the picture NOW-”
“Maybe if you told her how’s… how’s you always ask me if she’s still single.” Elliot whispered even louder. Mason’s cheeks were beginning to flush. Ms. Sally buried her face into both hands, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “And how’s you always ask me what Ms. Sally is wearing… then MAYBE she’ll know-”
“On THAT embarrassing note,” Mason cut-in, swooping down to the ground to pick up Elliot’s hat. “… We shall make our departure…”
Mason let Elliot drop down onto the seat of the bike, handing him a helmet. He then took his place in the front seat, about to slide on his helmet to hide his burning face, but a soft touch to his arm prevented him.
“I’m sure that I don’t have to remind you about the school’s policies…” Ms. Sally reminded the multi-billionaire. “… Especially the one about teachers dating their student’s parents… and how big of a NO-NO that is…” Mason looked down, nodding… but the teacher took his large hand in hers. “…But seeing as how Elliot is about to LEAVE my class as he upgrades to the next level…” She produced a pen, stored behind her ear, and began writing down her decimals on the inventor’s palm. “… I assume giving you this won’t cause TOO much of a commotion.” Her large green eyes sparkled as she smiled up into his.
Mason blinked as he watched the teacher walk away, her hips swaying with each step. “What a woman…”
“Yeah… what a woman…” Elliot mimicked from under his helmet.
The inventor’s eyes innocently browsed Ms. Sally’s backside… down to her bottom. “And that ASCII…”
“Yeah… nice ASCII…” Elliot replied, trying to sound like an adult.
“Yeah…” And then the gravity of his little 5-hour-old son’s words hit Mason upside the head. “Wait a nano… what did you just say, young man?!”
I posted this last time, but these are just some visuals that I made on Soul Caliber II. We have Mason, Ms. Sally, Prime Guardian Detra, and Cadet Turbo (who will not be making an appearance until the end of chapter two or beginning of 3, but it was fun making him!)
As more characters appear, more pictures will. Some old, some new.
And Tel... You're gonna hate me... but I can't find the bits you corrected in my email. I think a spam monster ate them. You wouldn't happen to have backups, would you?
Here's another part of chapter 1. It's alittle darker, because you're meeting THE bad guy. And while I like Diagon's cookyness better, this bad guys is a classic bad guy with easy to follow motives. And I love his name: Anomaly. I almost wanted to save this name for a later bad guy, but no other name came to mind. So... meh!
“Spammit… User spammit!” A long arm constructed of gears and metal swiped across the table surface, flinging a plethora of expensive equipment down to the floor. A dim overhead light swayed back and forth above the small gathering.
The binome messenger who brought the bad tidings to his viral employer gulped. The room was too dark to read exactly how furious his boss was at the nano, but he continued. “W-…we should shut down operations immediately…” The binome’s eyes widened in horror once he realized his suggestion had sounded like a command. “That is,” he amended quickly. “…if you feel we should. It’s… it’s just that the Collective is-”
Two metal arms slammed down on the table to shut the binome up. Even though the menacing gesture had successful results, the virus’s anger did not waver. The two metal hands on the table slowly eased and rested palms-down. The virus than gave a low growl as he dug his sharp fingertips into the table and dragged them off. The binome shook where he stood at the terrible sound of metal against metal.
“It’s just that the Collective is now sticking its bulbous nose where it never did before.” The virus finished for the binome. Now that the metallic figure was out of the light, the poor little binome could not see where his dangerous employer was, though he could pick up the sound of metal slowly pacing against the tiled floor. “…Not since the wonderful new merger was announced earlier this second at Mason Industries.” The binome froze in fear as he felt an icy, sharp grip on one shoulder. Two glowing red eyes slit open at his other side. “And now that our dear old friend Truman is buddy-buddy with the Prime Guardian… there is no doubt that the Collective has already sent swarms of Guardians to investigate any shady business within the system.” The binome felt the virus release him as it stood up to its full height. “After all, the Collective would never associate itself with a crime-infested system. Bad for its righteous image.”
The binome was suddenly flung against the wall in one nano, and the metal table bolted to the floor was pried loose and thrown out a blinded window in the next. Mason’s system lights flooded into the room and exposed the dangerous virus where he stood. His long white coat lashed about his metal, skeleton-like body like a violent flame. His eyes burned bright red.
“I have worked too hard to let everything slip away from me now!” the virus hissed. “I should have killed Mason Truman when I had the chance. And now that little whelp’s business transaction is the end of my entire empire!”
“Anomaly, please calm yourself.” A feminine voice responded from the small group of business associates. They all sat, reclining in comfortable furniture a little distance away. The sprite inhaled deeply on her fat cigar and let the smoke filter out through her nose. “We ALL will suffer. Together… unless we take things underground like I said in the first place…”
At this, some of the shady associates rolled their eyes or murmured their displeasure with this course of topic; a topic that had been visited frequently before. Anomaly stood tall, his sharp thumbs hooked into the sides of his thick studded belt. The virus did not look amused.
“I’m serious, boys. We wouldn’t be having this problem if we had just been more… DESCRET about things.” The woman stood up as she spoke, her dress a few sizes too small but nicely displaying her assets. “I mean, sure… I need girls without a past and no future to help run my… fine and upstanding institution…” at this she turned back to give a wink to the men behind her. They chuckled and tipped their hats with a knowing smile in regards to the “upstanding institution” of which she referred to. “…But just snatching any pretty girl off the street is risky. What if that girl turns out to be the Command.com’s daughter? Then we’re really up a creek without a paddle. And what about Johnny’s sector, huh?” The woman put a hand on a gentlemen sitting nearby. “How’s he supposed to smuggle in imported-”
Before she could finish the question, there was a thunderous crack in the room and the woman’s head jolted with a bullet’s impact. She fell to her knees, and after a moment her body vanished in deletion as she hit the floor. The reclining associates, all wide-eyed, looked at Anomaly and his smoking gun. After a nano, the virus brought the large barrel to his mouth and blew the smoke away. He began loading up the gun with another large bullet.
“What our dearly departed Mrs. Sanders could not grasp was the very creed of my empire. ‘Discreet’ is not in my vocabulary. Is it in anyone else’s here?” the virus asked, nonchalantly waving his gun around. The small group shook their heads vigorously. Anomaly placed his gun back in its holster at his side. “Good. Because ‘discreet’ is not going to get us anywhere in this system. ‘Discreet’ does not inflict fear. ‘Discreet’ will not give us the power to take what we want WHEN we want it. And WHEN we take what we want the whole spam system is going to know it was us and LIVE with it. Or… we will unleash the fury of Dell that Truman KNOWS we’re capable of.” Anomaly picked up a cigar and held it up to his left eye to allow the fiery glow light it ablaze. Some of the associates put out their cigars, disturbed by what they had just seen. “What we need now is a plan. Something to strike at the heart of this system to show it who’s in charge… and that it can’t go and hide behind the Collective’s skirt.” The virus took a puff on his cigar, which was a sight to behold considering that his form resembled a metal skeleton.
Off in the corner of the room, the binome had regained consciousness and was making a bit of a commotion getting up and tripping over debris left by the broken window. Annoyed, and ready to put the small creature out of its misery, Anomaly stormed over to the binome and picked him up by the collar.
“And do YOU have anything to add, you pathetic-” the virus began.
Fearing for his life, the binome racked his processor. “Ah… heart of the system, right… um… the heart of Mason is…” the shinning towers of Mason Industries at the center of the system came to mind immediately. “…is… well… Mason…”
Anomaly had been preparing to hit the binome, but he halted. “Strike at the heart… of Mason. Yes of course.” The virus dropped the binome to the floor. “Whatever would the system do without its favorite beloved son Mason Truman?”
“Ah… actually I mean Mason Indus-” the binome began.
“DELETE Truman?!” an associate asked. “You can’t be serious… the Collective would smear us all over the Net!”
Anomaly thought it over. “Yes… you’re absolutely right. The answer is to drive another wedge between Truman and the Collective once again. Then the Guardians will be gone for good.”
“Another wedge?” another associate asked.
“Hours ago, Truman lost his wife at the error of the Collective. His trust in the Guardians was nearly destroyed, never allowing them near the system… until now.” The virus chuckled, wickedly pleased with the plan formulating in his processor.
“He wouldn’t happen to have another wife we can delete and fault the Guardians with, now does he?” the previous associate asked, half joking.
“No…” Anomaly responded, smirking. “Even better…” He took the cigar from his mouth and extinguished it in his palm. “His own flesh and blood.”
Mason Truman had been dozing peacefully on the couch in his study when an alarm from his wristwatch sounded. The sprite woke up with a snort and quickly wiped his face for any dribble; he was lucky this time. He slowly sat up and stretched his arms out with a groan, while papers and data pads from last second’s late project slid off of him. He suddenly felt very sleepy again and slowly lowered himself back onto the couch.
Before he could fall fast asleep, however, an intercom by the study’s entrance buzzed to life. A clear little voice came through it. “Come on, daddy. Get up.” Mason sat up with a bemused smile. This wasn’t a cheery “Wake up daddy, because I love you”; it was a simple “I know what you’re doing… and you need to get up right now” call.
The billionaire took off his glasses, wiped his face with his hand to stimulate his face, and stood up. He stumbled to the doorway and glanced out the door to see if any hired help would be there to witness him in this undignified state, but something on the ornate hallway bench caught his attention. Mason replaced his glasses on his face and saw that there was a blanket and a stuffed animal on the bench surface.
He picked up the toy with a grimace and sat down. Elliot had wanted to play last second after school, again…but Mason had been so busy that he had to send his son out of the study disappointed…again. Mason looked at the wrinkled blanket and sighed. He thought Rosa the house-keeping binome had broken Elliot of his habit of sleeping outside his father’s study… but the evidence proved otherwise. The father felt like a failure… to have a son who considered “time with daddy” the same as sleeping outside his door. This never would have happened if Samantha had been alive.
The intercom in the hallway pried the widower from his thoughts. “Daddy…” impatience edging the child’s voice.
Mason smiled and got up from the bench to continue his journey to the kitchen, stuffed animal still in tow. Once he reached his destination, he had to halt and take in the image of his son. The little sprite was at the table, joyously kicking his legs which dangled down from the chair. He bit down on another spoonful of sugary cereal, reading the back of the cereal box.
‘User,’ Mason thought to himself. ‘He looks so much like his mother…’
Samantha Truman hadn’t been a particularly beautiful woman, but her intelligence, poise, and warmth drew people to her like moths to a lantern. Of course, EVENTUALLY little Elliot’s neck would thicken and his square jaw would become more prominent… but for now, Sam’s high cheekbones were displayed on that young face along with her thin but characteristic lips. And that hair… both parents had golden hair, but Samantha’s had looked like it was a smooth metal, gracefully molded her head. Mason’s was feathered and blew in the wind… but it looked like Elliot was taking after his mother’s side of the family in that respect. Other than that, the child looked like the copy-image of his father.
Elliot finally looked up from his cereal box and Samantha’s smile spread across his face. “You made it!”
“Sure did, squirt.” Mason responded, walking over to his son and kissing him on the top of his capped head. Elliot was all ready for school; fully dressed, book-bag packed, and eating breakfast on schedule. He was just like his mother in that respect as well; always having his ducks lined up in a row. Sometimes Mason worried that his son was growing up too fast, forgetting to be a kid. “You left this little guy in the hallway.” He said, placing the stuffed tiger in his hand beside Elliot’s cereal bowl.
Elliot blinked, embarrassed that he had forgotten to hide the evidence of last second’s sleeping place and the fact that he still slept with stuffed animals.
“Dad… I’m too old for stuffed animals…” He announced, voice wavering. As soon as it had popped out of his mouth, Elliot looked down at his tiger in guilt and pet the creature while his father had his back turned. Before the sprite turned around with his coffee, the little boy had stashed the toy away in his book-bag.
When Elliot had finished the deed, he looked up to see his father staring at him again. “What?” he asked.
“You look like your mother, is all…” Mason sighed.
Elliot rolled his eyes. “Great. I look like a girl. You’re gonna give me a complex, dad.”
Mason nearly spit out the coffee he had just taken into his mouth. “Complex?” He finally managed. “How do you know what a complex is?”
Elliot spoke very matter-of-factly. “Kenny says that his mother said his dad has a car complex, because he fixes cars all the time instead of taking her out on dates. And you’re always telling me I look like a girl-”
“Technically you mother was a WOMAN, there is a distinction.” Mason managed to say before sipping more of his coffee. “Besides, I’m just saying that you look like your MOTHER. Not like a-”
“And YOU have a Ms. Sally complex.” Elliot retorted, innocently taking in another spoonful of cereal.
“Okay, now I KNOW you don’t know what it means to have a complex, smarty pants.” Mason shot back. “I do not have a-”
“You think about her a lot. You always ask me about her. And you say her name when you’re sleeping.” Elliot responded.
Mason put his coffee down and looked at his son in disbelief. Elliot gazed back, unwavering. The adult sprite’s face slowly began to flush. “I reckon I do have a Ms. Sally complex.”
“See?” Elliot said, triumphantly biting down on another spoonful.
“Well, it’s probably a woman complex…” Mason corrected himself. “I mean, I’m young and fit, and it’s been hours since your mother. And a man has needs, yah know?” He looked at his son, who had stopped crunching the cereal in his mouth and looked at his father with a perplexed expression. “Er… but that’s a conversation for another time… when you’re much, MUCH older…” Mason moved to dump out his coffee just to avoid the inquisitive gaze of the child.
The sprite then gazed down at his hand to see Ms. Sally’s number still on it, though slightly faded. “So I’m thinking about calling your teacher…” he finally said.
“Is she in trouble?” Elliot asked, mildly interested.
“Nope.”
The little boy froze in his seat. “Am… am I in trouble?” He asked slowly.
“No, squirt!” Mason laughed. “I’m going to ask her on a date tonight.” He thought he’d hear a sigh of relief followed by a cheerful response of encouragement, but he glanced over to see his son at the table staring into his bowl. Elliot’s hands were in his lap, one hand still clinching the spoon.
“And… how long will you be away?” the child asked softly.
Mason’s smile faded as he watched his son’s enthusiasm die away. How could he have been so stupid. He hardly had enough time to give to his own boy, and now he wanted to throw dating into the mix. Elliot was afraid he would never see his father. And Mason was afraid that his own son would never know just how much he loved him.
“Hey squirt,” Mason said, plopping down in a chair at the table by his son. “You’re not going to school today.”
Elliot looked up, confused. “Why?”
“Because this second, it is just you and me, son.” The father smiled as the child’s face began to brighten. “We’ll go any place you want to.”
“Really?!” Elliot exclaimed, his face taking on the child-like excitement that Mason loved to see.
“Really.” Mason chuckled. “So where do you feel like going, squirt? Do you want to go to off-system or visit-”
Mason was interrupted by a vid-window. “Mr. Truman, there’s a situation down at Mason Industries.” reported a well-groomed secretary from Mason’s office. Her voice sounded urgent.
“Have Lock handle it.” the billionaire responded, putting on airs to impress his son. “This second, I’m off duty so I can spend some quality time with my son.”
“Sir, I really think YOU should come in.” the secretary retorted, her voice shaking.
“It’s alright Elsa.” Mason assured her. “Whatever it is, Lock can-”
“Sir, Lock IS the situation.” Elsa interrupted. “Anomaly, he…” the secretary’s voice broke and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand.
As soon as she had uttered the virus’s name, Mason’s insides went cold. “I’m on my way.” He turned off the vid-window and turned back to the table, but the little sprite was gone; he had heard everything. Eliott was already at the door, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders and lunch box in hand. He turned to look up at his dad and gave him a weak smile. Mason couldn’t even fake a smile, so he took firm hold of Elliot’s little hand and silently escorted him to school.
I love lil Elliot, such an intelligent lil boy! Mason's quite the character too . Though they may not spend all the time together you can just feel that father and son bond which is very humorus at times But you've got me worried with these recent events! With all this cuteness and that I sorta know what's gonna happen (but not the whole when, why and where that you're filling in) it makes me not want it to happen at all! Kinda like when you know in a scary movie that someone's about to be killed off and you feel like screaming: "No! Don't go in there!" Yeah that's me in a way...when I'm not going awwwwwwwwww XD
I love it Lagger! Keep going ^_^
GO TEAM TURBO!
A Proud Member "....every life in this unboundless Net is important, no matter how small."
I sent an email to you, Lagger, at the address you previously gave me. Though since it's an .edu addy, I've been curious as to whether it still works, now that you've graduated. So, let me know if I need to send it again, and to where.
*looks down and shuffles her feet in guilt* I guess I have been neglecting Cat and Mouse... I need to stop that. I haven't forgotten about it. I just haven't had a whole lot of time for Reboot lately aside from stories dancing around inside my head. Right now I'm working on a 10-minute independent film for a competition with some friends... but once that is over...
“Prime Guardian Detra,” a council member’s voice echoed in the chamber. “…the decision was unanimous amongst the Collective Council. And as I told you before, we didn’t feel any urgency in notifying you of the-”
“You didn’t feel it was necessary to notify me that the Council had decided to send teams of Guardians into Mason, even though I am the active ambassador for the merger recently conducted there?” Detra finished for him, her fury mounting. She had been on this topic with the Council for the better half of a millisecond and her patience and polite demeanor was wearing thin. “As Prime Guardian, I have every right to be privy to such vital decision making. Otherwise, you undermine my authority and-”
“With all due respect, Prime Guardian Detra,” the council member retorted. “…you are new to your office and are not yet used to the protocol that is followed when dealing with system-relations.” the council member retorted curtly. “For future reference, it is protocol to sweep all systems and establishments for any signs of corruption BEFORE the Collective fully invests time or combines finances with them. With time you will understand that what we have done is all for the best, …but we will still process your request to send back-up into Mason to stave off these so called ‘repercussions’ you so adamantly believe we have set into motion.”
“And with all due respects, Council Member Davix, all we have managed to accomplish by INVADING Mason is taking a stick to a hornet’s nest and giving it a few whacks without the common courtesy of telling others around to take cover!” Detra stood up from her seat to address the entire council. “By agreeing to this merger with the Collective, Mason was finally reaching out to us for help, for a better, brighter future for its people… but we cannot lay down the foundation bricks of such a future in a few seconds! It’s going to take time-”
“And ‘time’ is a luxury that we lack, Prime Guardian Detra.” Another council member shot back. “The collective needs the weapons and machinery from Mason Industries NOW.”
“You think you have shut down the infection sources in Mason with a single sweep?” The Prime Guardian thundered. “The corruption in that system runs deep; merely brushing off the surface does not solve the problem… it creates NEW ONES. This is EXACTLY the sort of repercussions Command.com Column and Mr. Truman feared-”
“Prime Guardian Detra…” Council Member Davix called, trying to silence her.
“… And I foolishly assured them that such fears could be laid to rest… that the Collective was in this merger for the benefit of Mason’s citizens; not the weapons…” Detra muttered.
“PRIME GUARDIAN DETRA!” Davix barked, his tone less worse than his intense glare. “I think it would be wise to adjourn for a small recess. In fifteen nanos, we’ll resume this… discussion.” He slammed a data pad that had been in his hand down on the desk and stormed away.
‘No doubt to regroup with the Collective Clique and grumble about how unreasonable I am.’ Detra thought to herself with bitterness. ‘…and how the Collective is always in better shape with a MALE Prime Guardian!’ She had to turn away, for fear of saying something REALLY rash in the height of rage, and exited the conference chamber.
Once she was the in the hallway, she located the nearest women’s restroom. She kicked the door open with her red pump and stalked right up to the bathroom mirror. She loathed her reflection. It was everything the council wanted her to be; feminine and perfect in her scarlet dress… but she felt trapped. It didn’t matter if she had the position and good intentions… she was only an icon to an organization that did as it pleased. Detra closed her eyes. As a cadet she had BELIEVED in the Guardian creed, and she still did, but she had never imagined the selfish politics that dictated the Council’s every movement. She couldn’t process it… nor stomach it… so WHY in the Net was she chosen to be Prime Guardian?
Copland chirped. Detra opened her brown eyes and looked down at the keytool placed on her ornate bracelet… and whether from her own thoughts or those supplied by the aged keytool, she suddenly knew the answer: she was NOT like the members of the Council. That was why she was chosen by Copland… why EVERY Prime Guardian was chosen… in order to maintain balance within the Collective. And Detra was JUST the sprite for the responsibility.
She breathed and smiled down at the keytool. “Thank you, friend.” She took one last look at her reflection and tapped on her icon. The revealing red dress and heels were replaced by a dated, but tasteful, standard-issued Prime Guardian uniform that Copeland had personalized for Detra. The uniform had a high collar and golden armored shoulder guards and arm-bands. The garment had the appearance of an oriental tunic that stopped just short of the ankles and had two very high slits on either side for easy maneuvering. Black shorts and thigh-high combat boots took the place of her tights and pumps, and Detra’s weapon of choice, an ornate rapier, hung from her belt’s side.
She examined her new reflection in approval; NOW she looked and felt the part of a Prime Guardian. Detra drew her sword, but one last thing caught her attention in the mirror; a symbol on the circular face of her belt buckle that simply stated “balance”. Copeland never wanted her to forget that message, and for the rest of her life… Detra wouldn’t.
The Prime Guardian high-kicked at a digit-dryer on the wall, switching it on, and then brought her unblemished sword down upon it as it roared to life; the sparks and severed currents becoming unstable and formed a small tear.
***
Guardian 249, also known as Ed, took one last look in his bathroom mirror and smoothed a lock of red hair back into place. He flashed a smile at his bright turquoise skinned reflection and adjusted his sleek new Guardian uniform. “Showtime.” the sprite breathed, his excitement layered with slight fear and anxiety.
Ed exited the tiny bathroom and made his way through his messy Academy dorm room. By the door he paused and picked up the bouquet of flowers on his desk and took a long whiff. This second was THE second. Ed had studied hard and made it through eight grueling hours of Academy training, earned his Guardianship, was one of the chosen few to be selected by a keytool, and now… he would tell Amy Acer just how long he had been compiling feelings for the gorgeous sprite. He didn’t exactly know where the Collective would station him… but as long as Amy was there, it didn’t matter. In fact, Amy could simply request to be stationed in a system near him… if she wanted… if she even LOVED him back.
Doubt was starting to settle in the pit of Ed’s stomach. Dear User… what if she didn’t even love him back? He would be CRUSHED. And considering how poorly his last attempt at telling her how he felt had fared… she had every reason to laugh in his face. There had been a freshmen party, questionable beverage choices, and then a de-panting attack executed by the jocks of his junior cadet class… it was all still very hazy in Ed’s processor.
Before he could pursue the thought further, his door opened and Prime Guardian Detra stepped through. “Hello, Ed. How are you? Good to hear that. I’m fine.” Detra rattled off, checking the hallway to see if anyone had followed her. She finally closed the door behind her and then turned to him. “Listen, I need your help-”
“No… NO.” Ed protested, flailing his arms. “This is supposed to be my night OFF! I graduate in only a few seconds and I am assignment AND commitment free for the duration of my time here! So the answer is NO. Whatever it is… NO.”
“Please Ed… you’re the only one I trust…” Detra’s pleading was sincere, but the fact that she was releasing a small tear from Copland to create a portal without Ed’s acceptance of the mission first was a little rude in the Guardian-to-be’s opinion.
Frowning, Ed inquired: “Where did you get that? I thought you have to go through the council to obtain tears for authorized portal-making.”
“I found it in the bathroom.” she retorted innocently. “Now listen up, go to Mason, get footage of any viral anomalies, SEND it to me, and help out wherever you can. I’ll be there as soon as I can convince the Council to get its head out of its ASCII… and the footage should help with that.” The Prime Guardian aimed her keytool and stabilized the portal. Ed just looked at the portal, blinking. “Please, Ed… it was a small tear, so the portal won’t hold for long.”
“I haven’t even said YES yet…” He muttered.
Detra grinned. “But I know you will… because you’re a good sprite. And a good friend.”
Ed looked at the portal and sighed. “DeeDee, you owe me… BIG TIME. Tonight was supposed to be a big night for-”
“Haven’t I always told you that you can do better than Amy Acer?” She cut in, taking the flowers from Ed’s grasp. He didn’t know if she was saying that just so that he would go through the portal or if she really meant it.
He stepped up to the portal, but turned back to Detra one last time. “I like the new threads, by the way.”
“GO.” Detra commanded.
Ed stepped through the portal and instantly found himself in what should have been the pleasant and pristine streets of the metropolis known as Mason. Instead, his eyes widened and his throat went dry. “Dear User…” he breathed. “What in the Net Happened here?”
Ms. Sally held onto a student with purple skin and silvery hair as the class huddled together in the dark classroom, listening to the distant thundering of buildings collapsing into rubble. Some of the children sobbed and held onto each other, others watched as plaster began peeling from the ceiling with each boom from outside… all but one child, who stood at a window with his little hands pressed against the glass. Elliot’s frantic hazel eyes searched the system’s skyline.
“Elliot,” Ms. Sally called, trying to sound confident and assuring. “… Elliot, I think you could come away from the window-”
“I… I don’t see it…” the little boy choked.
“See what, Elliot?”
“Daddy’s building…” Elliot turned to his teacher, large tears welling in his eyes. “…it’s gone. It’s…”
Ms. Sally put the child in her arms down on the ground gently and then walked over to Elliot to seize him in and embrace. Her eyes stung as she saw that Mason Industries had been leveled… and more buildings around it were following its lead.
“Ms. Sally!” A round binome came running in from the hallway. “It’s Mr. Truman outside! We saw him from our window!”
As soon as the binome had said that, Elliot tore himself free from his teacher’s grasp and darted out the door. “Wait! Elliot!” Ms. Sally called. She ran down the hallway after him, but the child had too much of a lead on her. The teacher reached the school’s main entrance to see Mason dismounting his bike before it came to a complete stop, running to his son, and picking up the sobbing child in a strong embrace.
Out of breath, Ms. Sally joined them. Mason was rocking Elliot, whispering assurances into his little ear.
“What… what is happening?” she finally asked.
“It’s Anomaly.” Mason answered, jaw tight. Ms. Sally froze; she had only heard about that virus on news vids. “He had a mole in my staff, infiltrated one of my factories, and re-rigged my latest weapon… which is supposed to seek out viral coding and expunge it… to seek out non-viral coding and deconstruct it piece by piece.”
Ms. Sally’s hand shot to her mouth to stifle a gasp of horror. “Dear User… dear User… what do we do?”
“I can stop it.” Mason replied, rubbing Elliot’s back. “Anomaly is counting on that. He wants to strike fear in us… but he still wants to rule this place. It’s his territory. I couldn’t come up with the countering agent at the factory because the deconstructing is rooted there; a colleague of mine was shot by the re-rigged TE2.0 and its radius is getting bigger and bigger. The rate that it’s going at was slow enough for the rest of us to get out, but not enough time to construct a solution. The safest place to relocate to is the Principle office.” He quickly placed Elliot on the ground and look back at Ms. Sally. “And I need you to make sure that everyone in the school gets there. Transports will be by in a few nanos to load everyone up.” He started to walk back to his bike. “Meanwhile, I have to make a few more rounds to make sure that everyone in the system is on their way to the P.O. Anomaly cut communications and power to the-”
“NO DADDY!” Elliot cried. The child grabbed onto his father’s leg. “I’m going with YOU!”
Mason scooped up his son one last time. He breathed in the scent of his child’s hair. “I need you to be brave, son.” He pressed his lips to Elliot’s soft cheek and then put him down. He turned his back on the child and mounted his bike. Elliot tried to run forward, but Ms. Sally stopped him, picking him up and putting him on her hip.
“Take me with you!!!” The child cried out. “Please, daddy!”
The motorcycle roared to life and Mason drove away.
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. Though they may not spend all the time together you can just feel that father and son bond which is very humorus at times 
But you've got me worried with these recent events! With all this cuteness and that I sorta know what's gonna happen (but not the whole when, why and where that you're filling in) it makes me not want it to happen at all! Kinda like when you know in a scary movie that someone's about to be killed off and you feel like screaming: "No! Don't go in there!" Yeah that's me in a way...when I'm not going awwwwwwwwww XD
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<--- Rebel made this, isn't it awesome?