While Marco took care of his daughter and her kidnappers, another gang gathered in the ruins of the old city. They did not gather to commit a crime, but to continue the revolution. Their mole had told them that the government had authorized increased military spending for the war effort, pulling money away from domestic programs and social security. The losses those programs would face would be supplemented by a lottery, but the funds generated would be liquid, and given how liquid funds were treated before didn’t inspire much confidence in the rebels, the Torchbearers. They planned to strike an arms factory, the same one the budget increase targeted as their spies in government reported, and burn it to the ground tonight to prevent the production of new weapons. A map of the area was spread out before them, strike points labeled around the perimeter of the facility. The magicians and Ascended Humans among them in the team would strike here and there. Their main players would be the one with superspeed and the one with electrokinesis. As they attacked the factory, they were to evacuate the workers and set up the incendiary device at the main support beam, destroying the factory. Harry would be the one to do it. Their roles known, they grabbed their weapons, rode out to the site, and waited for the signal. They maintained radio silence.

  The signal came and they moved out. However, not all of them moved on the objective for one of them had been taken hostage by Doom’s Highwaymen. The factory guards knew the Torchbearers were coming and had stepped up their patrols. They had no idea when and where the Torchers were going to strike though. A Torchbearer knocked out a guard. Then another guard got taken out. A guardsman caught a Torchbearer before they could incapacitate another guard. Then the bullets started flying. The TB kid caught by the Highwaymen told them about what was going on under duress and got butted in the face with a rifle for their trouble. More weapons, more slaughter. Then the fighting escalated into a battle. A highwayman jumped a guard and a Torchbearer as they fought, stole their weapons and killed them both. A Torcher shot the highwayman who killed their friend and got gunned down by a guard.

  Inside, the alarm blaring, Harry fought his way through the compound, shooting his gun into the air, causing panic, evacuating as many people as he could. He reached the place he needed to set the incendiary device without much trouble, but something felt off as he arrived. It was completely empty. His hair stood on end as he surveyed the desolate space, its silence betraying no secrets to him. He felt that someone was watching him, turning around to face what stalked him. Nothing greeted him. He turned his back again and saw a man standing in his way. The man had an arrogant air about him, his face showing utter contempt for Harry, the man’s eyes showing a hunger for blood. Harry stood frozen for what felt like an eternity. His arms trembled as he raised his gun, and then the man spoke.

  “Do you really think that you’re going to kill me with that pathetic thing?” taunted the man, his voice filled with dry arrogance. The man grinned, “Believe me, others have tried and failed.”

  Harry pulled the trigger and fired at the man, the bullet hitting its target. The man touched his wound, unfazed, regarding the wound as one does an insect. A shadow fell across the man’s face, but his eyes glowed through the darkness, twin yellow orbs of evil . The man stepped closer, his form changing with each step. The man’s face contorted to form a snout, the bones making audible, sickening cracking sounds, his teeth grew sharper and sharper, his hands stretched into paws with razor-like claws at the end, his form became bent but more massive as muscles grew and swelled, skin warping and quaking from the transformation, the hair on his body grew thicker, coarser, and darker, his back hair became grey, the tailbone became its namesake as a short tail formed. What stood before Harry could not be guessed to have been a man had they not witnessed the transformation themselves. The dread realization dawned on Harry, his heart gripped by a cold, pulsating, evil hand. He had only heard rumors of such things. He was fighting a Beast Sapien, a human combined with the DNA of an animal and a shapeshifter! The man’s clothes were in tatters when he reached the trembling Torchbearer, revealing the Beast Sapien to be a honey badger. The man-badger wore a murderous grin and raised his sharp paw and swiped at the despairing Harry.

  Harry barely dodged the badger’s swipe, the claws leaving a gouge in the concrete. The badger-man growled and chased after him. Harry ran to the place he needed to place the incendiary device, dead set on fulfilling his mission. He had no hope of beating the thing that hunted him! A splitting pain in his back broke his desperate sprint and Harry collapsed to the ground. Blood pooled where he lay. He shakily turned his head to face the thing that hit him.

  The badger-man’s eyes glowed in the shadows, his claws dripping with Harry’s blood. Harry mustered what strength he had and crawled away, leaving a smeared ruby trail behind. The badger-man let out a bored sigh and stepped towards his prey. His doom upon him, Harry reached into his jacket and pulled out the device. It was set to a timer, but it also had a function for instant detonation. The badger-man sensed something was amiss but did not quicken or impede his pace. Harry rolled over, and the badger-man stopped in his tracks. The badger-man gasped and jumped away as the Torch kid pushed the detonation button. The explosion’s shockwave hit the badger-man like a truck going above highway speeds. He flew across the room and hit a wall, leaving a badger-man shaped hole with him inside. He eventually freed himself, the fire had spread far and fast in the short time it took. The factory started crumbling about him and the badger-man wasted no time in fleeing. He ran at a dead sprint down hallways teeming with Torchers, Highwaymen, and fleeing factory workers, the badger-man slicing through them all in his mad dash to escape the collapsing factory. He escaped just as the factory fell in on itself. The fighting between the guards, Torchbearers, and Highwaymen raged on despite the collapsing factory. The Beast Sapien may have failed at protecting the factory but there was still work to be done. A highwayman fell at the hands of a Torchbearer, the badger-man stepping towards them with murder in his eyes. The kid panicked at the sight of him, and screamed as the badger-man cut them down. Another Torcher saw what happened and yelled at their friends to retreat from the enemy Beast Sapien.

  The Torchbearers and Highwaymen scrambled up the hills to reach their vehicles, the badger-man chasing them. He caught and killed a few of them before they got away, the dust their cars and motorcycles kicked up getting into the badger-man’s face. He snarled and shook the dust away with murderous irritation. The badger-man’s ears perked when his phone rang. He reached into the pocket of his torn pants and pulled out his phablet and saw that it was his boss. “Talk to me,” he said.

  “Basil, what’s your status?” said the voice on the other end of the line.

  Aw crap, thought Basil. “Well, the terrorists got away, the factory is destroyed, and a few torchies and highwaymen are dead,” answered Basil. Basil’s boss cussed him out, but he did not pay any attention because he could not care less as he pantomimed his boss, his clawed, red stained hand making a yapping gesture. The boss ordered Basil to wait for an escort via helicopter. He morphed back into his regular human self and went to the designated spot for pickup. He sat there, annoyed and bored out of his skull, until the chopper came for him. He became familiar with the backs of his eyelids as he rode the chopper, his stomach growling, thinking of what he would have for dinner, when he arrived at the base. Now comes the debriefing, Basil thought to himself.

  He delayed going to the briefing upon arriving. He passed data miners and wiretappers combing through the citizenry’s everything as they searched for potential deviancy, walked by the genetics labs decrypting the Ascension gene, detoured through the cafeteria and saw nothing appealing, wound his way through the facility and finally arrived at the briefing room. When he opened the door, his handler was there along with her. Basil furrowed his brow in disgust. Emily Juno, director of the National Intelligence Program’s Interrogation Program and Overseer of NeoCity One. Cruelest bitch in the system. If she noticed the look he gave her, Emily did not seem to care.

  “Care to explain yourself,” she asked. Basil told Emily everything that had happened at the factory and his escape from the collapsing building. Emily stirred from her seat at the end of the debriefing. She looked him in the eye, her eyes changed from grey to yellow.

  “Is that all, Basil?” she asked in a voice colder and crueler than arctic snow. Basil drew back in fear. He did not mean to do that. He did not want to do that. Basil’s guts twisted into knots, his pain welling up into a scream that would not come. He doubled over on the floor, his guts still twisting as she stepped forward. “Do you know the sort of damage you’ve allowed to happen?” she asked, her cruel, arctic demeanor now a simmering, barely contained white hot rage. “The timetable for our weapons program has to be adjusted thanks to you and those terrorists and it’s all your fault! Because you got careless!” She drew a whip and flayed him without mercy. As a final gesture, she drew back her foot and viciously kicked the bloodied Basil in the gut.

  Despite the vitriol with which she attacked him, Emily kept her anger in check as she disciplined him. She could not afford to kill him. Basil is an asset, one that had cost the government a pretty penny in gene therapy alone. She finished after a few minutes. “You are getting half rations for your failure.”

  Basil seethed in his cell, cursing that bitch Emily. Just what was that? Could she be a telepathic Ascended? Aren’t those illegal? He paced around his cell, breaking from his contemplation when his cell door hissed open and a cart rolled in. On the cart was a small pile of raw meat. Basil’s stomach growled. After a few minutes, the guards came to clean up his bloody mess. Basil didn’t sleep well that night because the food was awful.

  Emily took her medicine with her coffee in frustration. Using her powers on Basil taxed her body fiercely, a fact not uncommon among psychic Ascendants. Thank goodness for super science. God dammit, Basil. Honestly I should have let you starve tonight. She surveyed the field of monitors, looking for any sign of possible Torchbearer activity. The mole hadn’t told them anything useful as to how the Torchbearers came in contact with him, so the dataminers trawled through the mole’s social media, bank statements, everything for any suspicious activity. He withdrew $100 and spent that money at a superstore, getting lunch, some groceries, and a throwaway phone. Perhaps the data on the throwaway can be used if they could find it. She would have to have the mole’s associates interrogated again.

  The security cameras caught him using the phone, but they didn’t catch the number he entered or what the conversation was about. The mole had then put the phone down to reach into his tote bag for a bag of lunch, a man then grabs the mole’s phone, the mole gives chase, and is then out of sight of the cameras. The man wore a scarf and face mask, negating any facial recognition software from identifying him.

  Emily looked on with indifference and slight concern. Her telepathic flailing of Basil left her with Basil’s callous attitude. The effects of her Ascended abilities should have worn off after taking her medicine but they persisted after 30 minutes. Perhaps she should see her doctor about this. There was also the matter of the Highwaymen to consider as well. The wastelanders had journeyed further into the Neo-City One area than they have in a long while. How did this happen? Why did this happen? She looked at the schedule and decided that they were tomorrow’s problems to mull over.

  Riding John trembled as he stood before Doom. John’s brothers had scoured the wasteland, fighting off horrors that lurked in the dark, finally locating him in a junkyard, scavenging fuel for his motorcycle in a vain attempt at escape. They dragged him at the back of the caravan, forced to walk back to camp. They threw him before Doom’s feet as he sat in his chair in the center of the auditorium. Doom picked him up and drove his fist into Riding John’s face repeatedly.

  Doom the Highwayman rammed his fist into the face of his former raider captain, his full weight behind each punch, drawing blood from Riding John until the last drop was expunged. Finally, Riding John fell to the floor, a dead bloody mess. Doom shook the gore from his arm, a servant boy rushing with towel in hand to clean him. His captain had returned with nothing, and so Doom took his life for his failure. He turned to his followers, the Riders of Doom, with a glare in his eyes. “Why did Riding John die tonight, my brothers?” he asked them, his voice booming through the stadium. He was met with silence. “He died because he was a coward. He proved himself weak like those in the city. He cost us weapons we could have used in conquering Neo-City One!” The crowd of riders stirred. He heard murmurings condemning Riding John.

  “Riding John came to us, thrown out from the city because of what he believed in! He was just like you! He hated his neighbors! He hated how the government coddled the undeserving! The city was a breeding ground for criminals and weakness! There are many like him trapped there, unable to fight for fear of the government crushing them. We found him lost in the wasteland, took him in, and raised him to be our raiding captain.

  “However, Neo-City One never loosed its grip on Riding John, its weakness a wart on this country. So what better way to strike back at the city than to steal its weapons and turn them on the people? To purge the weak! And he failed us, my riders, my brothers. But his failure will not stop us from achieving our dream,” Doom proclaimed. The crowd stirred even more, their energy and rage becoming more palpable. Good. “We will go on! Nothing will stop us! We will take the city one way or the other. Neo-City One will know the wrath of the Highwaymen. They will know the wrath of the people they forgot at their gate!” The crowd roared when Doom finished. The crowd’s energy filled Doom. He dismissed them as he told them where to meet up next. The wastelanders dispersed into the wasteland, Doom journeying alone in his own way. He rode to Neo-City One, slipping through an unfinished, unwatched, section of Wall and plotted his next plan of attack.

  Three days later after the attack on the factory, overcast skies greeted Neo-City One. The data buses sparked to life on kitchen tables with the morning news, the main headline of the day was President Steven Schmidt’s approval of the budget proposal, authorizing an increase in military spending. The talking heads then turned their attention to other matters. There was also a storm warning today, pedestrians were advised to take caution in case the alarm sounded. In other news, the Cubs lost the World Series again, losing out to the Giants for a third year in a row.

  William Atherton, a clerk at First National Bank and an avid fan of the Cubs (despite all the reasons not to be given the current line up), half listened to all of this as he got ready for the grueling, lousy Monday ahead. After preparing his breakfast, a fried egg, cheese, and ham sandwich with jelly, he set off for work and got stuck in the Neo-City One traffic. Horns and tempers flaring in front of him, William looked off to the side and saw the construction equipment and workers near the wasteland, building the Wall as usual. Lessons from his school days came to him unbidden, of how the Great Plains dried out and the dust bowl created havoc with the city in the form of damaging and noxious dust storms and tornadoes. Neo-City One was built on the ruins of the old cities that fell victim to the storms in the early 20XXs.

  As he stared out towards the Wall, he spied a couple of cuties in a coup and whistled at them. They gave him the finger and drove off. He gave them the bird back, but felt his impudence in the gesture. He arrived at the office ten minutes before his shift began and made his way to the break room for a cup of coffee. He chatted with his friends about the usual stuff, plans on getting the new videogame, how their dates went, and cravings for pizza from the shop on First Street. William made his way to his desk and the daily grind ensued.

  The day ran away from him and soon it was late afternoon, the skies had parted the clouds, and business was winding down. The scenery outside of the bank showed signs of dying as well, the ebb and flow of people coming into the bank having all but receded to almost blessed nonexistence. The clerks waited with their heads in their hands waiting for the clock to strike five when a red car pulled up the sidewalk in front of the bank. Two men in ski masks leapt out of the vehicle, one brandishing a rifle and the other holding a pistol and an empty bag. They entered the bank and ordered everyone on their stomachs.

  The clerks hit the floor, William hitting the silent alarm on the way down. One of the robbers, the one with the pistol, saw this and yanked Will from the floor and forced him at gunpoint to fill the bag with as much money as he could. The crony with the rifle was standing by the entrance and shouted to hurry with the money and hostage. The robber with the pistol grabbed Will by the collar, rushed for the car, and threw him into it. The wail of the police sirens came into ear shot. The car peeled out its parking spot, smoke flying from the screeching tires, and the chase was on.

  In one of the police cars, Marco chased the red car alongside his partner in the other car. They sped their way from First Street and Lincoln Avenue, a hail of rifle rounds pelting the cop cars. Marco fired his pistol in an exchange of gunfire and his partner in the other car pulled up to the rear of the vehicle to try to spin them out. The robbers forced his partner to back off with a few well placed rounds and they both wound their way through Neo-City One, entering Roosevelt Street, exiting on Jerry Boulevard, turning on Stanley Way, and so on. Marco’s sense of worry grew as the chase went on, until a shadow passed the hood of his car. Marco smiled and ordered his buddy to back off.

  “What? Why?!” they asked.

  “Something big is coming,” he answered.

  As the cop cars receded, the bank robbers grew perplexed by this curious move from the police, but they couldn’t think long on it as something big crashed into the front of the vehicle, sending it spinning out of control. Car alarms blared and heads swam in dazed confusion as the robbers worked to recollect themselves. They didn’t wait too long to come out of their stupor.

  “Come out with your hands up!” someone shouted, their voice amplified as if by loudspeaker. The robber in the driver’s seat groaned and looked up at the person yelling at them. His eyes widened and his mouth hung agape at what he saw. It was a robot with the number 28 emblazoned in bright red numbers on its right shoulder, colored black and white, like a cop car. The robot stalked towards them.

  The robber in the driver’s seat ordered his partner to take their hostage and money and escape while he dealt with this thing. He grabbed his rifle and fired at the oncoming robot. The robot marched on, undeterred by the shots fired. The robber broke out into an icy sweat and fired again, but the robot marched on, closer, closer, one ponderous footfall after the other. Sweating, heart feverishly drumming in his ears, the robber kept firing, his voice ringing out in shrill horror as the machine lumbered forward. Finally, the robot reached the driver and punched him out through the window.

  Robot 28 moved towards the alleyway the other robber made off with hostage in tow. The robot rounded the corner and halted. The robber had the pistol pointed to William’s head. The robber threatened to shoot William in the head if the robot came any closer. The robot raised its fist and fired a rocket punch to the face. The robber fell, a collapsed heap.

  William stared in a mixture of awe and fear, disbelieving what had happened before him. He had never heard nor seen a robot in Neo-City One or anywhere else for that matter. He was broken from his train of thought when the robot moved towards him. And then it spoke to him.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Citizen, are you injured?” asked the robot.

  “I-I-I’m fine,” stuttered Will as the robot picked up the unconscious robber and the bag of money.

  “Then follow me, citizen, and I shall lead you to safety,” stated the bot.

  Was this thing some sort of superhero? Again history lessons came unbidden to him, as there hadn’t been any new superheroes in a while, their heyday being the early days of the Tear in the Universe. The sound of sirens and the sight of cop cars and news vans greeted the robot and former hostage as they stepped out of the alleyway. The robbers were handed off to police custody and the money was given to Sergeant Cervantes to return to the bank. Then the reporters swamped the robot and William. They asked about what had happened, what was it doing here, where did it come from, why did the robot get involved, and a whole host of similar queries.

  “I am Robot 28,” answered the bot, “I am a police officer in Neo-City One PD. I am here to serve and protect the people of this city.”

  “Who made you?” asked a reporter.

  “I was made by Maria Cervantes to serve this city and Sergeant Marco Cervantes” stated the robot. It pointed to the police officer at the back of the crowd and the reporters swamped him with their questions. Will felt slightly incredulous but was grateful for the lack of attention paid to him.

  “Sir, what does it feel like to control the most advanced crime fighting machine in the force?”

  “Mr. Cervantes, is your daughter working for the military?”

  “Sir, what does this mean for the future of the city?”

  Marco looked upon the crowd and said at the top of his voice, “I will answer all of your questions later. Right now, I need to take these criminals to the station, return the money to the bank and talk with my robot.”

  The crowd dispersed and R28 walked towards Marco. It asked for an evaluation on its performance on the mission as per its programming requirement.

  “Not bad but you could have done better, R. Twenty-Eight,” responded Marco, “Let’s start with how you stopped the robbers. You caused plenty of damage by causing the car to spin out. Next time, try lifting a car up from the ground when you catch it. Also, pull your punches next time. We are trying to minimize damage. While you’re at it, try not to frighten the hostage when you’re rescuing them.”

  “Understood sir,” replied R28. The Learning Method compiled new criteria for its algorithms and parameters to its programming as Marco detailed how the Robot should act next time it encounters a situation like this. The Learning Method recalibrated the robot’s punches to not be as devastating to a regular human. Further changes were made, the robot devising new means of stopping a car chase and compiling data on how to ease a distressed hostage. The information was then written into the robot’s programming, overwriting some of the programming and supplementing the rest. The Learning Method then ended its process, waiting for the signal to reactivate when the time came.

  “My daughter should be getting out of school right about now, go get her and take her to Rebecca’s place, we’ll talk more after that,” Marco told R28. The robot leapt into the air and zipped its way through Neo-City One to Maria’s school, Lincoln University.

  A student was asleep during the entirety of the lesson. This didn’t bother Professor Ryan Castings. However, what surprised him most was Maria Cervantes’s behavior, who was also asleep for his lesson as well. He pinged her desks, startling them awake.

  “Maria, could you explain to me what I was just talking about?” inquired Professor Castings. Maria started from her sleep and looked up at the board. She looked for a few seconds and gave Professor Castings the answer.

  She tripped over her words as she answered, but was more or less right. She normally spoke with more clarity of thought however. The students rose from their desks, class just ending as Maria finished. They filed out of the door, chattering amongst themselves while Professor Castings called Maria to his desk as she made her way to leave the classroom.

  “Maria, is everything alright?” asked Ryan. She had been absent from the previous three days, following her attempted kidnapping. Her face was sullen, mollifying Ryan even more. Maria is a brilliant kid, Ryan thought, answering his questions with confidence and enthusiasm and yet here she was, looking embarrassed when by all rights she shouldn’t be. His old heart went out to her. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” he asked. He knew of several social services that could help her, but he wondered if they were still around to help her. “Do you need more time to--?” he continued.

  “Oh no, no, no, professor!” spouted Maria, shaking her head, “You don’t have to do anything! I’m holding up well!” She tried her best to feign nonchalance but Professor Castings was still unsure.

  “Are you sure? Have you seen a counselor about what you’re going through? I am looking out for your health after all.”

  “I’m fine, professor, but thanks all the same,” she said with a nod, still beaming her smile. His worries were put to rest, if only a little bit. He smiled back. She scampered off to the parking lot to meet with Rebecca. Later that day, he heard the news about Neo-City One’s newest protector and who it belonged to. He wasn’t alone on that.

  Emily Juno had watched the news clip of Robot 28 repeatedly for hours on end. Her secretary had pulled up Marco’s file in the 30 minutes she had given them. How did this happen, under her nose no less? She had Marco’s file splayed out on her desk to review. He stood at six foot two and weighed 200 something pounds. He was exceptionally fit for his age, maxing and surpassing his peers in physical tests consistently ever since he first enlisted. He has gotten in trouble with his station on multiple occasions over failure to perform duty and fighting the other officers. The fights concerned unlawful arrests and searches made on the spot, procedure, and whatnot. Some of it was justified seeing as how some of the other officers were later shown to be connected to some of the mobs in Neo-City One. The other fights with the other officers were less detailed. The officers he confronted would then transfer over to other units in the city. She furrowed her brow in consternation. Can this man be trusted? Perhaps she would find out for herself. She looked at the list of employees on staff now, looking for those technically literate in computers, robots, and AI. She called a few and then settled on George Rivera. He had a bachelor’s in Computer science with a minor in AI development. The small, late twenty something Latino accompanied her to the car silently. She gave the directions to the driver and they made their way to Marco’s house.

  They wound their way through the neon lit, neo art deco lined streets of Neo-City One, eventually arriving at Marco’s house. This neighborhood is in dire need of redevelopment, thought Emily with a frown. She huffed and stepped out of the car onto the cracked sidewalk. She surveyed the area around her and some kids that were playing outside (In this heat?) scrambled out of sight. The garage to Marc’s house was open and she spotted him working under his vehicle. The robot was with him as well. Good.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Cervantes,” she started. He rolled out from under the car and then stood up. The file did not lie about his physical appearance to be sure. If her father were here, he would say that Marco was built like a linebacker. She had to lift her head up to look the man in the eye. They sat in the living room of Cervantes’s hovel and she noticed a break in the wall. She’ll have to ask about that later. She asked her questions about how he came to have this Robot and was told of what had happened in the past few days. Now for the heart of the matter.

  “In our files it shows that you have had conflicts with the other officers in your unit. Would you care to elaborate as to why?” she had asked him. Just what sort of man was Marco that he had fought his fellow officers so many times but wasn’t kicked off or even lost rank but still be punished all the same?

  "Who wants to know?" he asked. Juno pulled out some files from her black leather purse. Marco looked surprised at the thickness of the file.

  She started with Hank Rodgetts. Marco told her the circumstances of what had happened, of how Hank was getting rough with some kids hanging around some corner. Hank had ordered the kids to empty their pockets and Marco, then a deputy, had tried to get them to move along citing a lack of probable cause. Rodgetts insisted on searching the kids' pockets and moved forward on them, but Cervantes stepped in between them. Rodgetts tried to punch Marco but was instead laid out when Marco threw him over the shoulder. The kids were gone when Hank hit the ground. Hank then broke his hand punching Marco out.

  Hank was moved to Wall duty a month after the incident with Marco.

  "Why did you stop Rodgetts from searching those kids?" Emily inquired. In Hank's report he had said the kids looked suspicious and speculated that they may be up to something.

  "They weren't doing anything wrong. They were just minding their own business," answered Marco.

  "What makes you so certain?"

  "I heard about Rodgett's history of wrongful searches yielding nothing and figured history would play out as it did before. The kids were scared of him and I think he was about to go off on them. I stepped in before anything bad happened to them."

  Emily Juno cocked an eyebrow."Why?" she asked with the faintest hint of sterness. Can this man's judgement be trusted? What of his robot? she wondered. Can they be my assets? The military police were called into Neo-City One to deal with the city’s crime problem and had been occupying it for the past 14 years and yet the crime has not gone down despite all that.

  "I joined the MPs to help people and in order to do that we need to be a better police force," answered Marco with all sincerity, “I grew up in these streets. Times are hard on everyone and with R-28 under my control I can make something worthwhile for everyone.”

  "How do you suggest doing that? This is all rather unprecedented," she said.

  "A robot wouldn't be too far out of the question," replied Marco. It would be another tool in the arsenal.

  "That wasn't what I was referring to. What is your idea of making the military police force better?" His answer would make or break the little venture. She had dealt with enough traitor as it is.

  Marco took a deep breath and began, "For starters, me and my robot would work on getting people to trust us. We can do that by getting rid of the bad cops."

  "And who would they be?"

  "Some officers are in the pocket of the mobs. Others don't inspire a lot of trust."

  "Why is trust so important, Sergeant?"

  "If people trust that the officers won't hurt or kill them, they'll be more likely to cooperate. So many lives have been cut short by bad cops."

  Emily’s brow furrowed and she gave a terse hmph. News stories of cops getting rough and killing suspects and the subsequent protests that erupted came to mind. Traitors and protesters were some of the last things she wanted as Overseer. "Your robot looks like it can do serious damage to anyone or anything it hits. Why would that be a problem?"

  "I believe in proportional force. My daughter and I are working on that."

  Now for the robot, Juno thought. But where to start?

  "How do you learn?" interjected George. Thank you, Mr. Riverez, mused Juno with a smirk.

  "I am programmed with textbook knowledge of the law and review each mission for improvements from Sergeant Marco and Maria Cervantes," the robot answered.

  "And how are these reviews conducted?" probed Mr. Riverez.

  "We provide the robot with a review after every mission. We just did one over the bank robbery from today," said Marco.

  "What does that look like?" asked George Riverez, leaning in. Emily listened with great interest. Before Sergeant Cervantes could begin, the door opened and in came Maria.

  “Oyé papa, what’s a limo doing in front of our--oh,” she said. An awkward silence followed as Maria stood by the doorway.

  “Hola Maria, this is Overseer Emily Juno and Mr. Riverez. They're here about your robot," said Marco, breaking the silence, gesturing towards his guests.

  "We were just asking about how your robot learns, would you care to explain it to us?" asked George. She sat next to her dad and began to explain what she knows about the Learning Method and the modifications she made programming the robot.

  "So as far as software and algorithms are concerned, the three of you hash it out between yourselves? And hardware modifications beyond maintenance must be worked on together?" queried Mr. Riverez.

  "That's correct, yes," answered Maria.

  "You have an impressive daughter on your hands, Mr. Cervantes," mused George.

  "Thank you Mr. Riverez. I grew her myself," stated Marco, not the least bit proud. Best to leave off with a joke.

  "You can call me George," said George. He chuckled at the joke Marco had made.

  They could use some work, but they can be my assets. I’ll let this experiment play for as long as it needs to, Emily mused. Marco's sincerity was enough to convince her. She took special interest in Maria. She was ultimately more valuable than Marco and the robot alone.

  "I believe you are a man with lofty ambitions, Sergeant Cervantes," remarked Emily Juno.

  You wouldn't even be here if I didn't have the robot but that is water under the bridge now, he thought. He gave her a smile and shook both her and George’s on the back and watched them leave.

  Maria looked at her dad and said, “They seem nice.”

  “He seemed nice,” answered Marco. Cute even. Oh god that was his ex-wife talking. She would not be wrong on that. Oh hell, what would Miranda think about the robot? His smartphone rang just as soon as he thought of that.

  "Hey Marco," said an all too familiar voice.

  "Hi Miranda," answered Marco. They talked at length about everything that had happened today and the past few days. Miranda was especially livid at the attempted kidnapping. She wanted names but Marco assured her that they wouldn’t be a problem because their boss was found dead in an exploded complex. The police were still investigating the crime scene. She wanted to talk to Maria and Marco obliged her.

  “Hola mama,” said Maria. She was always happy to talk to her. She was too young to remember his and Miranda's painful divorce but no love was lost between mother and daughter.

  Marco hadn't talked Miranda for, what, about a few years now? The old feelings hadn't come back while they talked. Maybe he moved on. Maria and Marco turned toward the house for dinner, the former still gabbing on and on with her mother.

  Emily Juno was not the only one with a vested interest in the Cervantes family. Other eyes were on them during their interview. Robot 28's debut had turned many heads.

  The Torchbearers were still mourning their dead when they heard of the military police's newest member. The leaders called a meeting among themselves immediately.

  "How could this have happened?" one asked.

  "Were we too late in attacking the weapons factory?" asked another.

  "Could this have been where the money has gone?" questioned Fox. "What is that thing capable of?"

  That last question unsettled them all. That thing wrecked the robber's car during their bank heist and came out of it without so much as a scratch. And it shrugged off rifle rounds like they were nothing. The few magic users could probably damage the robot, but there wasn’t a way to compare it to the few Ascended Humans in their ranks without risk of capture.

  "Just who are these people anyway?" asked Hunter.

  "They're good people. I know them," interjected Princess. "We can trust them."

  "Just because you think we can trust doesn't mean we should," retorted Fox.

  "Mr. Cervantes is a good man. He's the cleanest MP in Neo-City One."

  "But-" snapped Fox.

  "Princess is right," interrupted Ghost before Fox could continue. "I've examined everything I can find on him and he seems clean."

  "Why didn't you lead with that sooner? Even if he is as good as you say he is, what do we do if we cross that robot?" asked Fox with as much calm as he could muster. "None of our magic users or ascended humans stand a chance against it."

  "I could make us something to even the odds,” offered Hammer. "It'll take some time, but without any specs, I can't guarantee anything."

  "Maybe we don't have to destroy the robot," said Princess.

  "We aren't taking any chances," replied Fox, arms crossed over his chest. "Get on it, Hammer."

  "Fox, what is it going to take to convince you that they're good people?" said Princess flatly.

  "I would have to see for myself if they can be trusted. Ghost, I want you on this. This meeting is adjourned," admonished Fox. And so, they went their separate ways for the night, returning to their homes in the city.

  Princess did not sleep well that night. She did not want to lose any more of her friends.

  Doom shook with pure, white hot rage as he learned of the new development coming from Neo-City One. There on the screen were Robot 28 and his hated enemy, Sergeant Cervantes. That man alone was responsible for Doom's situation. And that for all the things Cervantes has done, the military decided that he, of all people, should have a robot! The perfect weapon. That thing was being wasted on him! How could this have happened?

  Doom needed to make a speech to his riders. Assure them of his determination to bring the city down and of their rightful place on this earth. He would have needed five minutes if one of his riders hadn't interrupted him from his train of thought.

  "Leader Doom, we've got trouble at the front gates!" shouted a highwayman.

  "Out with it then!" barked Doom as he shoved past his rider and grabbed his shotgun from the rack. His rider trailing behind him, he learned about what was going on. Some man dressed in a lab coat requested an audience with Doom. Their base, an abandoned military bunker, was meant to be hidden from everyone. Again, he asked himself how this could have happened?

  He ripped open the door to the outside, pumping his shotgun and pointing it at the intruder.

  The man in the lab coat before him stood nonchalantly over the writhing bodies of his guards.

  "You have ten seconds to tell me why I shouldn't kill you," glowered Doom.

  "You look like a man who has problems and I am a man who has solutions to them" said Dr. Sean as he stomped on a guard's face and then walked towards Doom.

  "How do you know what my problems are?"

  "You've seen the news, right? That robot's the new hot buzz in the city. If that girl can make it, it stands that she can make more. It's elementary, it's simple," offered the good Dr. Sean. "We kidnap his daughter."

  Doom glared at the man before him, his grip tightening on the grip of his rifle.

  "How?" he asked.

  Dr. Sean smiled and began to explain.