Author's Note:
In a way, I feel as though I have reached a milestone or a goal with the creation of this story.
PS. For those interested, after this chapter I will be working on Bahamut Effect: The Voidwalker Fleet; lately, scenes of Aiden Shepard fighting in the arena have been popping up in my head.
XXX
Story Title: Kaleidoscope Adventure (MCU): The Genius of Machines
Plot: RobCo Industries has a new CEO, Leonardo House, dubbed the Universal Genius for his many advanced inventions. His purpose is to advance the human race and, at the same time, have fun and turn a profit in the process. Helping him is his Secret Squad, composed of: 2-B, EVE, and Sandrone. Unfortunately, when he introduces the Atomic Armor to the world and sells it to the US Army, many people react—especially Tony Stark, SHIELD, and HYDRA. Can an Eccentric Genius and his Machines save the world from all the threats to come?
XXX
Story Arc: The CEO of RobCo Industries
Episode 1: I am… Universal Genius!
Chapter 1: Five million dollars for an Atomic Armor
Plot: The US Army sees what RobCo Industries' new toys are capable of. Meanwhile, Leonardo House is thinking about his next moves.
XXX
POV Narrator
RobCo Industries and Stark Industries have clashed like titans in an invisible ring since 1939, the year their ruthless rivalry began.
Robert House and Howard Stark were the two true masters of the twentieth century. Two brilliant, eccentric minds with incalculable wealth, capable of shaping the industrial and military landscape of the United States from the 1940s to the 1990s with the smoke of their factories and the metal of their laboratories.
On one side, RobCo Industries established itself as a colossus of steel and silicon, the undisputed leader in the advanced robotics, computing, and military software sectors, holding the nation's most lucrative government and civilian contracts in its hands. The only human figure capable of standing against the gigantic shadow of Robert House was Howard Stark: the only man endowed with the sharp intellect and bold courage necessary to challenge him openly, tearing away market shares from him a million dollars at a time.
The balance was abruptly shattered in 1991, when Howard Stark and his wife were killed in a mysterious and violent "car accident." With the death of his historic rival, Robert House had a completely clear path to seize an absolute monopoly on the military sector. Obadiah Stane temporarily took the helm of Stark Industries, but his hands lacked the same precision as Howard's. Under his management, the company faltered dangerously on the brink of bankruptcy, barely managing to stay afloat in the storm.
Everything changed when Tony Stark turned 21 and grabbed the reins of the family business. The young Stark triggered an unprecedented economic boom in American history, churning out weapon systems so advanced and devastating that they redefined modern warfare. At the same time, however, the tabloids were flooded with his scandalous photos: his wild playboy lifestyle, nightly excesses, and provocations in front of camera lenses brought as much mud as gold to the Stark name.
Despite the rise of the young prodigy, RobCo Industries did not yield an inch. Robert House remained an unshakeable fortress, forcing Tony never to rest on his laurels and to push his technology ever further to the limit.
In 2008, the generational gap was evident: Robert House was 88 years old and Tony Stark was 38. Exactly half a century's difference. Yet, Mr. House continued to rule his empire from the heights of Las Vegas with an iron fist so ruthless that it gave rise to unsettling legends. Despite his venerable age, the mere mention of him struck terror into boardrooms, and many whispered that he was immortal, or enhanced by some superhuman secret. The more lighthearted commentators and gossip journalists joked about the fact that Mr. House was destined to remain in the saddle for so long that he would one day become the rival of Tony Stark's future and still non-existent son.
The rivalry seemed destined to last forever. Then, the double tragedy struck.
In February 2008, the rocky desert of Kunar Province in Afghanistan swallowed Tony Stark, who was kidnapped during an ambush on his military convoy. A few days later, in Las Vegas, Robert House's heart stopped forever, fading away in his sleep.
The business world was literally turned upside down. The two fundamental pillars upon which the entire American defense and economy rested threatened to collapse at the same time, dragging everything down with them.
Mr. House, the almost century-old titan, was ashes, and no one within RobCo knew who would inherit command of his terminals and his secrets. Tony Stark, the most brilliant genius of his generation, had vanished into thin air, with no wife or children to leave control of his technology to. Financial markets panicked, terrified of an impending global crisis. The reason was simple: the only true difference between these two colossi and any ordinary government agency lay precisely in the super-geniuses sitting at the top.
Then, miraculously, half of the problem solved itself... or at least, in part.
Shortly after Mr. House's passing, the global public was hit by a media earthquake: irrefutable legal proof appeared showing the existence of a direct heir, a biological grandson. His name was Leonardo House.
The publicly released files portrayed him as a living enigma. Twenty-five years old, half-Italian and half-American, Leonardo held dual citizenship. He was born and raised among the hills and Renaissance art of Florence, before moving to Rome, where he had completed an astonishing academic path, earning a dual degree of excellence in Medicine and Engineering. Up to that moment, Leonardo had never set a single foot on American soil. Everything changed when a private jet picked him up from Italy to catapult him first into the heart of New York City and, immediately after, on a connecting flight, into the Nevada desert. Destination: Las Vegas, the place where the reading of Mr. House's official will awaited him.
Before suit-and-tie lawyers and industry barons, the verdict was absolute. Leonardo House inherited every single property of the deceased billionaire, including the legendary and heavily fortified Lucky 38 casino, instantly taking the reins of RobCo Industries. The doubts of the Wall Street Journal and the Pentagon regarding the company's future were sky-high, but the young man's first official press conference, broadcast on all major networks, threw the world into even deeper bewilderment.
In front of a forest of microphones and blinding flashes, Leonardo adjusted his jacket and declared with total nonchalance:
"As if by magic, I have become a multi-billionaire and the head of one of the most important companies in the world. The CEO of the rival company is probably dead in Afghanistan, and I find myself in Las Vegas, in America, the country where only money and guns matter. I have the money, and I have factories that produce weapons. Frankly, I wonder if the law is worth anything to me, and if I could get away with mass murder."
The journalists in the room were frozen, the camera flashes stopping for a second of pure shock. But the continuation of the statement left the entire planet speechless:
"Let's be serious, I will take inspiration from a Chinese movie and try to spend a billion dollars in a month. After that, I will bring Cyberpunk into reality; I will make RobCo Industries a Mega-Corporation more powerful and influential than a global Superpower. I will revolutionize Medicine, I will revolutionize War, I will bring Cyber-Ninjas and Cyber-Samurais, I will create the flying car, virtual worlds, colonize Mars, become the King of Mars, and give life to my own version of the Adeptus Mechanicus! And I will succeed because I am Leonardo House, the Universal Genius, the smartest man ever born in this world! Ave me! Ave the Omnissiah!"
At that exact moment, talk shows and financial analysts around the world agreed on a single diagnosis: Mr. House's grandson had completely lost his mind, suddenly driven mad under the unimaginable weight of that billionaire inheritance that had arrived without warning.
Then, however, the world had to think again.
While in his free time Leonardo funded a crazy project with millions of dollars to create the world's largest pizza (getting photographed with the pizza makers among piles of mozzarella), the laboratories of RobCo Industries, under his scientific direction, began churning out a line of miraculous drugs and chemical compounds that seemed to come from the future: Stimpaks capable of healing wounds in a few seconds, RadAway and Rad-X to treat and prevent radiation, the powerful analgesic Med-X, and the muscle stimulant Buffout.
In a single blow, America had lost the stability of Robert House and the mind of Tony Stark, but it had gained someone who combined both roles: an unparalleled engineering and commercial genius, and at the same time an eccentric and magnetic character who monopolized the front pages of the tabloids.
For three consecutive months, Leonardo House was the absolute master of global TV and newspapers. During a spectacular Keynote in Las Vegas, illuminated by laser projectors, he presented the first four models of the Aerodyne—the magnetic levitation flying cars—to the public:
- The Excalibur: A flying luxury limousine with a sleek and luxurious design, intended exclusively for billionaires, politicians, and the most influential figures on Earth.
- The Atlus: A high-tech ambulance, a white and blue jewel capable of taking off vertically and picking up patients from any rooftop or cliff, fully equipped as a small, mobile surgical clinic.
- The Manticore: A heavy assault armored vehicle, designed for special military operations, equipped with composite armor and aerial maneuverability superior to any four-wheeled land vehicle.
- The Surveyor: The large flying bus intended for the masses, designed to revolutionize urban public transport with highly advanced safety systems, of which a military variant for the rapid landing of troops on the front line was also presented.
Leonardo had kept his word: the flying car was no longer a science fiction dream. While the public wondered, divided between wonder and terror, whether he would also manage to fulfill the rest of his wild promises, the billionaire was spotted and photographed by paparazzi speeding through the brightly lit streets of Las Vegas... riding a live ostrich. The only phrase bouncing across social media was: "He is the next Tony Stark, he will revolutionize the world, but a thousand times more eccentric than anyone else."
Immediately after, it was the turn of Cyberware. RobCo launched the first cutting-edge cybernetic prosthetics on the market, incredibly sold at the price of a high-end computer. RobCo's new Cybernetic Eyes restored sight to countless blind individuals, projecting data directly onto their optic nerve. For those who rejected the idea of amputating a limb to become Cyborgs, Leonardo patented a lightweight civilian exoskeleton—a thin metallic structure to be worn over clothes that allowed thousands of paralyzed people to walk again without the need for surgery.
Meanwhile, in Las Vegas, excavation work began for the construction of the largest and most advanced private hospital in North America. Pending the completion of the facility, Leonardo inaugurated a temporary armed emergency service, currently limited to Sin City: the RobCo Trauma Team.
This life-saving subscription plan, advertised on huge digital billboards, comes at a cost of $500 a month, or $5,550 with the discount for an annual subscription. Extremely expensive, of course, but with the guarantee that, in case of injury, an armored Atlus will intercept the client's vital signal, land on the spot while neutralizing any threats, and transport them to the Trauma Corps Private Clinic in less than seven minutes.
His private life was also radically different from that of the old billionaires. Unlike Tony Stark, who collected and changed women like socks in Malibu clubs, Leonardo House was constantly seen surrounded by three specific women. Although there was no official relationship, the trio accompanied him to every public event, drawing the eyes of all the photographers:
- Shin Jae-eun: A stunning South Korean supermodel, personally chosen by Leonardo as the global face and spokeswoman of RobCo Industries.
- Yui Ishikawa: His lethal personal bodyguard; a beautiful woman with Asian features and an icy gaze, who moved in the shadows wearing an impeccable and austere Man in Black uniform.
- Marinette Guillotin: Leonardo's private secretary. She always walked one step behind him, clutching a corporate tablet, capturing the media's attention with her extravagant and highly detailed Victorian Lolita attire.
When Tony Stark miraculously reappeared on the scene, having escaped captivity in Afghanistan, stock markets held their breath, convinced that the historic military rivalry between House and Stark would explode once again. But Tony, against all odds, shocked the board of directors by permanently shutting down Stark Industries' weapons department.
Leonardo House did not miss the opportunity. He swallowed up the entire market sector left empty, starting production on a new line of smart firearms with heat-seeking bullets and micro-computer-assisted aiming, vastly superior to any conventional weapon on the market.
Finally, the day of the great revelation arrived. Tony Stark stood before journalists and confessed to the entire world: "I am Iron Man."
Leonardo's response was swift. Through RobCo's official channels, the young tycoon replied with a lightning-fast statement and a live video broadcast: "I am the Universal Genius, time to bring the Atomic Armor to the US Army and NATO."
XXX
Exactly one month after Stark's famous words, somewhere in the Texas desert, something nothing short of intense took place.
It was 11:59 AM. The sun was beating down mercilessly from above, casting a blanket of heat over the land so suffocating that an egg could have been cooked directly on the scorching surface of a boulder. In the middle of this desolate expanse stood a temporary military outpost—a miniature fortress composed of shielded modular structures, mobile electrified fences that buzzed in the dry air, noisy power generators coughing up smoke, trenches forcefully dug into the hardened mud, and patrol drones guarding the perimeter. Inside it were two hundred professional soldiers, well-trained men armed to the teeth with typical standard-issue army equipment.
At 12:00 PM sharp, a shadow pierced the sky. It was an Aerodyne, specifically a Manticore, speeding at full throttle high above their heads; RobCo's cloaking systems made it completely invisible to the outpost's advanced radar. Only when the Manticore visually materialized exactly one hundred meters above the center of the camp did the soldiers notice its menacing presence. But it was already too late.
The Manticore's side cargo doors burst open all at once. From that dizzying height, eight intruders leaped into the void, clutching RobCo Industries' latest deadly ballistic creations in their hands. Normally, jumping from a height of one hundred meters without a parachute would mean certain death, instant flattening against the ground. In the case of these individuals, however, the void was merely a small obstacle in their path.
KRAZZZTH!
KRAZZZTH!
KRAZZZTH!
KRAZZZTH!
KRAZZZTH!
KRAZZZTH!
KRAZZZTH!
KRAZZZTH!
Eight tremendous booms shook the desert as eight small craters of dirt and debris formed in the heart of the military camp. The dust rose in large clouds, clearing to reveal imposing and monstrous silhouettes: colossi 220 centimeters tall, nearly twice as wide as a normal man.
Their shoulders were massive and conspicuously rounded, designed with a perfect curvature to deflect the impact of enemy shots—a bulky frame that made the head look recessed directly into the chest, lacking a vulnerable neck that could be targeted. Their mammoth bodies were encased in a matte, clean, and gleaming metal, clearly fresh off RobCo's assembly lines. Thick steel rivets held the heavy ballistic plates together, and at the main joint locations like elbows, knees, and the groin, thick reinforced rubber hoses and greased hydraulic seals could be glimpsed contracting with every movement. The helmet instilled pure, primordial terror: devoid of any human expression, it featured only two slits with glowing, fiery-red tinted lenses, completely hiding the eyes of whoever was inside. Prominent cylindrical air filters stood out on the cheeks of the faceplate, resembling aggressive metallic fangs.
There were two hundred soldiers in the outpost, surrounding a mere eight enemies. In any military strategy manual, this numerical superiority would represent a death sentence for the infiltrators; but with the devastating technology of the Atomic Armor, the odds on the field were totally overturned.
Without a moment's hesitation, the intruders dashed in different directions. They moved at a prodigious speed, completely beyond normal human capabilities, blurring between tents and fences with the swiftness and impact of speeding cars. Terrified soldiers opened fire wildly, unleashing furious volleys of bullets of various calibri. But it was all in vain. Every bullet ricocheted off the atomic armor with a metallic clatter, barely scratching RobCo's fresh paint.
The brute force of the armor turned the perimeter into a slaughterhouse. Extending a single armored hand, the intruders could grab a full-grown soldier by the chest and lift him into the air like a ragdoll. Using both hands, they demonstrated such frightening power that they could easily flip the outpost's heavy four-wheeled vehicles, tossing them aside into the flames of exploding generators.
It was a one-sided fight, an asymmetric demonstration of brutal strength that was broadcast live worldwide by small surveillance drones and internal security cameras, recording every single moment of RobCo's triumph.
XXX
Exactly one kilometer away from the outpost, the atmosphere inside the temporary command center was saturated with tension. Several armored trucks and tactical military vehicles surrounded a series of large camouflage tents hastily set up on the rocks.
Inside the main tent, General Joe Greller—an imposing African-American man with a shiny shaved head and a stern gaze—stood before the main monitors alongside his staff of officers. Everyone watched the big screens broadcasting the drone footage in silence. They had known from the very beginning how this mock clash would end, but the visual brutality of the test was leaving them stunned.
'Eight against two hundred. And they are completely dominating. We are seriously living in strange times,' General Greller thought, clenching his fists behind his back. His jaw tightened as he watched his elite soldiers being hurled into the air across the screen, twisting as if they were fragile ragdolls.
In the middle of that expanse of regulation camouflage and stiff uniforms, a female figure stood completely out of place, looking as though she had just stepped off the stage of an avant-garde theater production or a Parisian high-fashion runway. Her name was Marinette Guillotin, Leonardo House's personal secretary, sent to the site as an official and plenipotentiary representative for this crucial multi-billion dollar deal between the US Army and RobCo Industries.
Marinette was just 158 centimeters tall, with an immaculate, extremely fair complexion that recalled the color of carved ivory or fine porcelain. Her delicate, flawless facial features gave her the appearance of a girl between eighteen and twenty years old. Her build was slender, petite, and extraordinarily thin: narrow shoulders, slender arms, and a minimal ribcage, with precise measurements that the tabloids had already recorded as B78/W55/H82. Her hair, a shade of ash blonde fading into a very light brown, was styled in two low pigtails that fell softly, with neat, symmetrical curls on the sides of her face. Her eyes, a light blue as cold as ice, maintained a perennially detached and indifferent expression.
The girl wore a sumptuous and extravagant white dress enriched by prominent red ruffles. Across her torso, she wore a tight black corset decorated in the center by a conspicuous triquetra—an ancient Celtic symbol adorned with ruby-red gems that sparkled under the field lamps. The collar of the dress, also black with precious gold embroidery, was fastened at the front by a brooch with a pear-cut ruby gem. The long white sleeves of the dress were topped, at the shoulders, by short, dark puffed sleeves. Her pristine fabric gloves closed to form a sharp V-line at her wrists. White stockings covered her legs until they slipped into shiny black heels, while on her head, she wore a matching white, black, and gold bonnet, secured under her chin by red ribbons and ornamented with black bows on the sides.
Between her slender fingers, she clutched a highly advanced technology tablet bearing the RobCo Industries logo, an advanced prototype that had never yet been released to the civilian market.
"So, General Joe Greller, did you like the demonstration?"
The question rang out clearly inside the tent. It was an androgynous, metallic voice coming from the tablet's speakers. There were no images of the speaker on the display, only a completely blue screen, crossed by a light-blue horizontal line that oscillated up and down in rhythm with the speech.
"Everything falls within our calculations," Marinette commented with a visibly bored expression, sighing imperceptibly as if participating in this military test were nothing but a colossal waste of her precious time.
"The results are more than impressive," General Greller honestly admitted. The officer pointed his index finger at the central screen, focusing on a precise spot in the video where the Atomic Armor was resisting the concentrated fire of Pipeline, five assault rifles. "Can you tell me what these Atomic Armors are made of?"
Greller pressed with his gaze, sincerely convinced that any conventional earthly material would have shattered or severely deformed under such a hail of point-blank shots. The General knew well that the best military armor in service, such as ballistic steel or the composite ceramic of plates certified Level IV (NIJ) and above, were designed to stop armor-piercing bullets from assault rifles; but he also knew that even ballistic ceramic tended to degrade rapidly and fail structurally after numerous concentrated impacts on the exact same spot. The heavy chassis of the Atomic Armor, however, did not show the slightest sign of yielding or fatigue.
"A trade secret of RobCo Industries. We can say that we have created a new metal alloy superior to any military armor you possess," Marinette cut him short, lifting her chin and speaking with a marked tone of superiority that brooked no reply.
"Even seeing it with my own eyes, I find it hard to believe. That eight men equipped with Atomic Armor can completely overwhelm two hundred soldiers is unbelievable," General Greller resumed, slightly shaking his shaved head. At that moment, he felt like a nineteenth-century commander stuck in the era of horses and bronze cannons, forced to watch helplessly the sudden arrival of the first tanks and war helicopters on the field.
"They are not Space Marines from an Imperium of Man, but it is a first step in their direction," Leonardo House's voice declared through the blue line on the tablet, speaking with complete nonchalance, as if he had just built a simple, minor toy rather than the definitive equipment that would forever change land warfare and the very concept of infantry.
"But they aren't Iron Man either," one of the staff officers present in the tent commented under his breath, crossing his arms with a skeptical grimace.
The blue line on the tablet's display froze for a second before twitching violently.
"If you like Iron Man, I will withdraw my Atomic Armors and you can go to Tony Stark to convince him to share his life's masterpiece. I am sure you will manage, Mister Officer," Leonardo declared. His androgynous voice was patently offended and loaded with cutting sarcasm.
Instantly, without adding another word, the secretary turned sharply on her black heels and made to walk purposefully toward the tent's exit, clutching the tablet to her chest.
General Greller spun around and cast a fierce glance, heavy with a promise of pure academic violence, at his subordinate. The General's eyes clearly said one thing: 'I'll want you killed once I'm done with you.'
Greller had explained and reiterated it multiple times to all his staff: every single word had to be weighed to the millimeter when Leonardo House was around, because the young billionaire took offense with disarming ease. Initially, in fact, it had been the famous General Thunderbolt Ross who had started the first talks with RobCo Industries to secure exclusive military contracts for the new technologies. The result of that first negotiation had been a diplomatic disaster: Ross had been literally kicked out of RobCo's headquarters in Las Vegas, and Leonardo House had publicly threatened the Pentagon that if he ever saw Ross for business even one more time, he would instantly close the weapons division, move the entire company to Italy, and cut off every economic and technological tie with America.
"Master Leonardo, Miss Guillotin, please do not be hasty. My subordinate is an idiot who does not know what he is saying, and I apologize on his behalf," General Greller quickly intervened, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture and forcing himself to use that pompous noble and academic title specifically to tickle the oversized ego of RobCo's CEO.
"Marinette, stop and turn around," Leonardo's faceless voice commanded from the device's speaker.
The girl dressed in Victorian Lolita attire executed the command. Reluctantly, she halted her step just inches from the tent's canvas flap and turned back toward the officers, maintaining her icy gaze.
"I will show mercy to you, General, and look past the lack of manners of the troglodytes surrounding you," Leonardo said matter-of-factly from the device's small speaker.
"Thank you very much," General Greller replied with a forced smile, compelled to swallow that bitter pill and endure the young man's insolence for the supreme good of his country.
"Marinette, lay out the pricing," Leonardo ordered curtly, delegating the bureaucratic and economic portion to his trusted secretary.
The blue-eyed woman turned the tablet screen toward herself with a fluid movement of her fingers. She closed the stylized call screen with RobCo's CEO and opened a confidential document, dense with financial charts, cost tables, and production estimates.
"Let's make this quick, General Greller, because I want to leave the Texas desert and return to Las Vegas as soon as possible," Marinette cut him short, addressing the highest-ranking officer directly without giving the others present so much as a glance.
"According to our industry studies, a standard Tank in service with the US Army costs an average of 15 million dollars. RobCo Industries is willing to sell every single Atomic Armor for just 5 million dollars. Practically a third of the cost of a tank," Marinette explained, presenting the figures with absolute precision.
"Only 5 million dollars?" General Greller asked, his eyes widening slightly. He had expected an astronomical figure for a prototype of that magnitude.
"Honestly, I am convinced that a single Atomic Armor would be worth between 45 and 90 million dollars on the market," Marinette specified, meeting the General's gaze with her icy eyes. "But Leo wants to give the Army a special price and make it immediately accessible to your military budget."
"How many Atomic Armors does RobCo Industries currently have at its disposal?" General Greller asked, eager to understand how many of those deadly, self-propelled suits of armor were already ready to operate in the field.
"Counting the eight Atomic Armors engaged in the test out here and those currently under lock and key in the fortified warehouses in Las Vegas, there are fifty Atomic Armors in the world in total. For now," Marinette replied. With a tap on the screen, she made a three-dimensional rendering of an immense, automated industrial complex appear on the tablet.
"If the US Army agrees to enter into a formal contract with RobCo Industries, we will be able to supply up to 1,000 Atomic Armors by the end of the current year. At the same time, we will break ground on an automated factory capable of producing 28 Atomic Armors per day, for a total of 10,000 units a year. According to our estimates, construction work will last between 12 and 24 months—a record time for putting a facility of this scale into operation," Marinette Guillotin declared, outlining the monumental expansion plan.
General Greller was left literally speechless, paralyzed by the astonishing logistical speed with which RobCo Industries intended to move. In the defense industry world, where government projects usually take entire decades just to transition from the prototype phase to mass production, such a proposal represented a true industrial and military revolution.
"How are you going to move so fast?" General Greller finally asked, sincerely shaken.
"Leo may well be a childish man trying to spend a billion dollars in a month, a bizarre fellow who wishes to ride every single animal in the zoo capable of supporting his weight, and a man with a fixation for Lolita-style clothes... though that is not a flaw at all," Marinette conceded. A very rare, faint smile illuminated her porcelain face for an instant, betraying her personal predilection for that specific fashion trend. "But he remains, without a shadow of a doubt, a genius among geniuses."
'Is everyone at the top of RobCo Industries this eccentric and out of their minds?' General Greller thought to himself, massaging his shaved head. At that moment, he still didn't know whether to consider himself the luckiest man on Earth or the most unfortunate for having ended up dealing with this club of quirky billionaires.
"If all goes well, you will be the first General in history at the head of the 1st Mechanized Infantry Division of the United States of America," Marinette pressed, driving home the definitive commercial thrust and planting the ambitious idea of eternal glory in the high-ranking officer's mind.
"The Atomic Armors are phenomenal equipment. I wish I could conduct further field tests, but I assure you I will do everything in my power to convince the Pentagon to sign," General Greller promised solemnly, now firmly convinced that this technology represented the absolute future of land warfare.
"I like to hear that, but now the time has come for me to leave," Marinette concluded, retrieving the corporate tablet and adjusting the red ruffles of her dress, knowing she had performed her duty flawlessly.
XXX
A few hours later, high above the Texas sky, the RobCo Executive SST sliced through the air with lethal elegance. This aircraft was no ordinary airliner, but a true corporate supersonic private jet. Utilizing a revolutionary and unique variable-sweep wing design, the jet cruised at a speed of Mach 1.5, boasting a remarkable transcontinental range of 10,000 kilometers. Its ultra-luxurious cabin was designed to accommodate up to twelve VIP passengers in a quiet and lavish environment, normally attended by two flight attendants.
At that moment, however, Marinette Guillotin was the only soul aboard that high-tech masterpiece. There were no other passengers, no stewards, and certainly no pilots inside the cockpit: the entire flight was managed completely automatically by RobCo's computers.
The secretary was inside her private cabin, a spacious and opulent setting furnished down to the smallest detail like an authentic luxury Parisian apartment.
"Finally I can go home, stop pretending to be Marinette Guillotin, and go back to being Sandrone," the secretary said, letting out a long sigh of relief as she stood up from the sumptuous leather seat, whose commercial value alone would have covered the monthly rent of a studio apartment in New York.
The Victorian Lolita-style girl closed her eyes for a brief moment. When her eyelids reopened, the human pretense vanished: her pupils and irises radically changed structure, revealing an artificial nature. The biological tissue gave way to four overlapping concentric layers, perfect micro-mechanisms forming an intricate system of moving metallic gears.
Immediately after, the air behind her vibrated. A small dimensional portal, connected directly to a private pocket dimension, burst open in the void with a soft crackle of energy. From that invisible rift emerged a gigantic, golden wind-up key, characterized by extremely complex filigree engravings and imposing dimensions.
The key floated forward, positioning itself with millimetric precision against the back of the Victorian doll. Marinette emitted a short, weak mechanical moan as the pin slotted into its mount; then, with a sharp click, the golden key began to rotate slowly on its axis, marking time with the rhythmic ticking of the hands of an old grandfather clock.
Marinette Guillotin, RobCo's shy and cold secretary, had officially vanished. In her place was Sandrone, one of the three self-propelled masterpieces created by Doctor Gear—the enigmatic entity that the surface world knew simply by the name of Leonardo House.
With a fluid and lightning-fast movement of her hand, Sandrone reached into her personal pocket dimension once more, drawing a weapon with a bizarre and unmistakable design. The device featured an ergonomic matte-black polymer grip, reminiscent of the clean lines of a classic defense weapon or an industrial workshop tool. The upper section of the gun was dominated by a large transparent cylinder, inside of which floated a highly dense, brilliant blue liquid that served as a pulsing energy core. A small vertical metallic antenna for signal reception was mounted on top of the frame, while the muzzle of the barrel widened abruptly into a polished copper cone, matching a trigger of a vibrant orange hue.
Sandrone walked with measured steps until she positioned herself exactly in the center of a precious circular rug embroidered with silver threads.
"Leo is a genius, but sometimes I wonder what goes through his head," Sandrone declared out loud, raising the singular technological device and pressing its copper muzzle against the side of her own head, in a pose that to anyone else would have looked like a bizarre suicide attempt.
"If I didn't know he was a teetotaler who avoids even coffee and Coca-Cola, I'd say he was drunk or high when he built this thing," the mechanical doll commented ironically.
Without hesitating a moment longer, the girl's index finger pressed the orange trigger all the way down.
VWOORP!
A blinding flash of neon-blue light enveloped the room. When the glow dissolved, Sandrone's entire body had vanished into thin air, leaving the private jet's cabin completely empty as it hurtled high above the clouds.
XXX
In Las Vegas stands the Lucky 38, the majestic property that once belonged to Robert House and that today his legitimate successor, Leonardo House, calls home.
The Lucky 38 is a true ivory tower of steel and concrete that dominates the entire city of New Vegas from above. Officially, the structure is registered as a luxurious private casino, but its real nature goes far beyond simple gambling.
The building develops over multiple hierarchical floors. The ground floor houses the beating heart of the casino—an immense and dazzling hall dotted with mahogany gaming tables and endless rows of retro-futuristic slot machines that emit continuous acoustic signals. The staff tasked with entertaining and serving the wealthy clients is composed of beautiful women dressed in Bunny Girl costumes, and a small group of attractive men wearing impeccable butler uniforms. Both the personnel and the guests of the facility are constantly monitored and protected by internal security agents: an elite squad composed exclusively of deadly women, dressed in strict, custom-tailored black suits in perfect Men In Black style... or rather, Women In Black.
The subsequent floors of the Lucky 38 offer a wide range of ultra-luxury hotel suites reserved for the most influential VIP guests on the planet. Nowadays, however, those princely rooms do not host paying customers, but are the permanent home of only the three women who surround the billionaire: Marinette Guillotin (Sandrone), Yui Ishikawa (?), and Shin Jae-eun (?).
The upper floor, located exactly one level below the Penthouse, houses the refined Cocktail Lounge: a well-stocked panoramic bar surrounded by enormous circular windows that offer a breathtaking, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the blinding lights of the Las Vegas Strip. The penthouse and the luxurious presidential suite, which once constituted Robert House's sancta sanctorum and place of relaxation, now belong entirely to Leonardo House.
These, however, are only the basic pieces of information accessible to the public. The truth is that the Lucky 38 is an impregnable fortress, equipped with a dense network of underground research laboratories and fortified secret chambers. Kept inside them are cutting-edge machinery and scientific blueprints decades, if not centuries, more advanced than any technology existing in the outside world.
It was precisely inside one of these secret, underground chambers that, with a sudden flash of blue light, Sandrone materialized, appearing exactly in the center of the metallic teleportation platform.
"Home sweet home," Sandrone commented under her breath, stepping lightly down the stairs of the silver platform.
Without wasting time, the girl extended her arm and inserted the special gun into a designated wall slot—a high-tech device that served as a charging station for the teleportation weapon's liquid fuel cell. The Victorian Lolita-style maiden walked straight toward the exit, without granting so much as a single glance to the incredible scientific equipment buzzing all around that shielded room. Her sole destination was Leonardo's private office.
XXX
Crossing the long, fortified corridors, protected both by the deadly new security machinery installed by Leonardo and the iconic old Securitron robots inherited from Robert House, Sandrone finally arrived at her destination.
Leonardo House's office, at first glance, looked like the classic presidential office of a CEO at the helm of an extremely successful corporation—one of those figures who openly aim for absolute world domination... or at least, the domination of the world of commerce, industry, and global entertainment. However, a single glance was enough to understand that this room was unique. The entire environment was saturated with highly advanced technologies that seemed to have jumped straight out of a Cyberpunk universe: a majestic robotic wolf rested "asleep" on the fine rug in the center of the room, a professional artisanal ice cream machine stood out in a corner, while the wall shelves were crammed with luxury Action Figures and numerous, highly detailed miniatures of the Adeptus Mechanicus from Warhammer 40k. As if that were not enough, at the back of the room loomed a monumental hydroponic cultivation capsule, inside of which floated a biological backup body that strikingly resembled the Mona Lisa or a youthful version of Leonardo Da Vinci from another reality.
'For someone who constantly promotes the idea of absolute secrecy, he has an office chock-full of compromising things,' Sandrone thought to herself, walking with a purposeful and rhythmic stride straight toward the large imperial desk.
Leonardo House—universally known by the moniker Doctor Gear by the synthetic androids that populated the basements of the Lucky 38—was a young adult with a markedly effeminate appearance. He was twenty-five years old, with a slender, tall, and patently graceful physique: he stood 160 centimeters tall and weighed a mere 40 kilograms, proportions that gave him an incredibly light and supple silhouette. Leonardo possessed extremely fair and radiant skin, free of any imperfections, and his features traced in an almost idealized way the face of the famous Mona Lisa, framed by deep blue eyes and long, wavy brown hair gathered at the back in a precise ponytail. His attire was curated to the millimeter: he wore an immaculate white shirt, an electric-blue bowtie, a short burnt-brown jacket, long blue gloves that reached up to his elbows, very tight blue trousers, and brown leather loafers. Exactly above his heart, pinned to the lapel of his jacket, sparkled a unique brooch: a spherical gem of a magnetic purple, embedded in a refined metallic gold setting.
The more traditionalist and conservative detractors of RobCo Industries often accused him in the media of being too childish, immature, and lacking the necessary grip to lead an industrial colossus, even whispering that he was not a "real man" and that he was potentially gay. An insinuation, the latter, which according to the progressive standards of the new generations was not even remotely considered an insult. On the other hand, his staunch supporters countered that Leonardo's androgynous appearance and his eccentricities in private life did not matter at all; what counted solely were the results in the field, and the impressive wave of international orders for RobCo's stunning new technologies spoke for itself. Furthermore, Leonardo boasted a vast following of female admirers who doted on his aesthetic grace, flanked by a decent number of male fans.
"So, little sister, were you successful in your task?" Leonardo asked without looking up. His voice, androgynous and melodic like a well-orchestrated melody, resonated as his index finger traced the contours of a new design on a large sketchbook.
"Don't call me little sister, Leo," Sandrone commented coldly. She had never tolerated that pet name, though, to be honest, she considered it a thousand times preferable to being called "daughter."
"Does it hurt you that much if I have you call me Big Brother?" Leonardo asked, looking up and visibly pouting like a spoiled child.
"I prefer to avoid stimulating your Siscon fetish," Sandrone replied dryly, confirming herself without a shadow of a doubt as the woman with the sharpest, most razor-like tongue in the entire Lucky 38.
"Six months ago, when I created you, you were such a naive and pure girl... then you became a full-blown Tsundere. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you, Tsu-Tsus have their own indisputable charm, especially if they have long pigtails," Leonardo commented, curling his lips into a bizarre and mischievous smile.
"And then you wonder why I constantly work against you," Sandrone retorted, crossing her arms over her chest and feeling a sudden, powerful urge to slap Leonardo or, alternatively, to brew herself a well-deserved cup of hot tea.
"Why does the world seem to get angry every time I decide to have a little fun?" Leonardo commented. He spun the swivel chair around, stopping his motion exactly in front of the huge transparent cylinder that housed his biological counterpart.
"General Greller will definitely move in favor of the Atomic Armor. If everything goes according to plan, within a few years the United States of America and NATO will have several Mechanized Infantry Divisions at their disposal. And every single one of them will be forced to depend entirely on RobCo Industries for the supply of spare parts," Sandrone explained, well aware of her brother's real commercial strategy: selling the "vehicles" at a bargain price to conquer the market, only to make an incalculable fortune with the exclusive sale of "fuel" and maintenance.
"I knew you would pull it off. You were born to be my right hand... or my legitimate successor, if anything should ever happen to me," Leonardo said, finally turning his gaze away from the capsule's liquid.
"I don't think such an event will happen anytime soon. Anyway, what is that body? Backup body number 40?" Sandrone asked. Over the months, she had seen dozens of biological variants of the scientist parade inside those laboratories; the changes ranged from age to sex, including small facial, cosmetic, and racial modifications, leading up to decidedly wilder experiments. Heck, in the warehouse there were even flesh vessels that faithfully replicated the features of historical characters from Mortal Kombat or Street Fighter.
The official explanation provided by Leonardo in this regard fit his bizarre personality perfectly: "No sane man or woman will ever go to the police to report being beaten and robbed by Chun-Li herself. They would never want to risk ending up locked in a psychiatric center."
"Actually, it's number 35. I'm thinking of upgrading it from top to bottom with specific Cyberware implants for Stealth operations, so as to create a perfect costume as a Cyber-Ninja or a Cyber-Kunoichi," Leonardo replied, his eyes shining with the enthusiasm of the new project.
Sandrone observed the synthetic vessel beyond the glass. "You know, I am a machine. On paper, I should be the one who has no problem transferring her consciousness from one body to another...".
"You do not possess that specific function; only 2-B implements it in her system," Leonardo promptly interrupted her, reminding her how he had designed his three android lieutenants utilizing completely different technology trees and construction philosophies.
XXX
Sandrone deliberately ignored the young man's objection and continued her sentence without losing her composure: "...while you, being an organic being, should theoretically care much more about the sacredness of your skin. Instead, the exact opposite happens. You swap your biological bodies as if they were simple high-fashion clothes, whereas I categorically refuse to replace even a single gear of my mechanism unless it is strictly necessary."
"That is not entirely correct. This one you see now is my body number one, the original vessel with which I first set foot in this country, and I am deeply attached to it," Leonardo explained, giving himself a slight, theatrical pat on his shirt-clad chest. "The point is, I am a soul endowed with the intrinsic ability to transfer between biological mediums with extreme ease, and I possess a mind capable of processing a thousand different upgrade procedures. It would be a true academic shame not to experiment with them all."
"And where did 2-B and EVE end up?" Sandrone asked, changing the subject and preferring to avoid using the term "cousins" to refer to her teammates. Somehow, despite all three being born from the hands of the exact same human creator, the girls considered themselves a sort of blood-cousins of mechanical lineage, having been built on entirely distinct engineering principles.
"2-B went to the simulation room to train with combat protocols, while EVE is out of town under the guise of Shin Jae-eun: she is posing as a model for a new and exclusive line of women's clothing," Leonardo replied, flashing a small, satisfied smile.
"For a synthetic android expressly conceived for heavy combat, she acts far too often like one of those units intended exclusively for entertainment and public relations," Sandrone declared, speaking in her typically authoritative and severe tone.
"EVE has simply developed a much more sociable, extroverted, and sunny personality compared to you or 2-B. Let her be a model; after all, she enjoys it, earns her own funds, and this way her human alter ego will appear even more authentic and unsuspected in the eyes of the media," Leonardo explained, having personally forged and registered their documents, creating a perfect historical past for each of them.
"I still remain the only one who works seriously around here," Sandrone muttered, crossing her arms and slightly puffing out her cheeks with her typical Tsundere attitude.
"If we classify 2-B and EVE as perfect battle models, you are for all intents and purposes a command and scientist model. Consequently, staying active and working hard is simply part of your very manufacturing nature," Leonardo retorted.
"What exactly are you working on right now, Leo?" Sandrone finally asked, knowing full well that every time the CEO held that sketchbook between his fingers, he was about to conceive something extraordinary. She herself, once upon a time, had been nothing but a dense cluster of pencil lines traced during a long flight between New York and Las Vegas.
"I am working on the design of your future little sister, Ineffa. She will be a perfect android maid and will take care of her Big Brother and her adorable Tsundere Big Sister," Leonardo exclaimed, enthusiastically turning the album to show her the drawing brought to life with details.
"I am taking a break. I want a cup of tea," Sandrone cut him short. She turned sharply on the heels of her Lolita dress, determined not to hear another single word regarding little sisters or robotic maids.
"I am coming with you, little sister! After all, it was I who taught you the love and art of good tea," Leonardo exclaimed, springing up from his chair and leaving the desk behind.
"If nothing else, I must admit you have excellent taste in the matter, Leo," Sandrone conceded with a hint of reluctance, forced to acknowledge that her quirky Big Brother possessed unparalleled knowledge when it came to infusions, high fashion, and aesthetic beauty applied to synthetic androids.
To be continued...
XXX
Author's Note:
Those who follow the Kaleidoscope Adventure series might remember that my first attempt at writing a story was about a Demi-Servant Leonardo Da Vinci in Gotham City.
I decided to recycle that piece of the Build for the second time, add the "Robot-Girls" right from the start, and have him begin from a position of industrial power.
XXX
CYOA Interactive build for the MC (■■■, Leonardo "Fikra" House, alias Muramasa, alias Doctor Gear):
**Meta**
You, Someone Else, Shards, what are those Shards you speak of?
**Difficulty**
Standard, Higher (Tier 9)
**Scenario & Setting**
AU Alternate Earth, Story Start, Anime Logic, The Illuminate Invasion (Helldivers 2), The Terminid Invasion (Helldivers 2), Comic Book Pretty, VFX On [It's a Beautiful World We Have], Marvel Cinematic Universe, New York City
**Character**
Drop-In
**Skills**
Ambidextrous, Psychology, Sociology, Economics, Political Science, Lawyer, Business, Politics, Security Expertise, Management, Financial Savvy [Financial Planning]
**Perks**
Blank, Mental Barrier, Trumped the Trump, Legal Identity, Invictus, Well-Adjusted, Cover Story, Double Life, 'Plot' Armor, Manton Protected, Ripple Effect Proof Memory [Ripple Effect Proof Body], Hidden Strength, Accentuate the Positive, Eliminate the Negative, Comic Book Physics, Peaceful Life, World Clean, Serendipitous Luck, Inheritable, Heir to the Throne, I Don't Get It [I Get It Now... But Not Really...?], Foreigner, Continuity Of Existence, Loyalty Insurance
**Drawbacks**
Conscious Geas x 2, Minor Compulsion x 1, Wanted (Global) x 3, Wildbow? Where have I heard that before?, Bound By Blood [Paid In Blood], Slaughterhouse 8, Saintly Purge, Rogues Gallery, Trouble Magnet, Wild Wasteland, Fated Journey, Child of Fate, Plotbound, Stalker x 1, Villain Target, Acclimation, Jet Lag, Snail's Pace, Snails Are Quicker Than You, Acclimated, Arbitrary Limitations (One Power) x 3, Nemesis, Native Awakening, Neutral Evil x 1, Yandere x 1, Weaker than You x 1, High-Tier, Rank 1
**Shard**
Shardless
**Powers**
You're S.P.E.C.I.A.L.! (Fallout), The Swordsman [Nascent Sword Saint], Samurai Spirit, Venomous Phantom Snake (Metal Gear), The Monopoly Man, Preparing the Battlefield, Natural-Born Genius (Type-Moon), Magecraft (Type-Moon) [Escardos], Servant (Type-Moon) [Uomo Universale], Alchemist of Atlas (Type-Moon) [Computationally Backed Magecraft, Photonic Crystal Formation], The Way of the Sword, Golden Rule (Type-Moon) [Monopoly Empire], Magitech, Architecture, Utopian Future, Fifth Corporate War (Cyberpunk) [Night City Legend, Buy n Large (WALL-E)], SCIENCE! (Fallout), Lord of War (Metal Gear), YoRHa (Nier/Nier: Automata), Mother Sphere Engineering (Stellar Blade), Envoy (Altered Carbon), Celestia (Genshin Impact), Relic Technology (Girls Frontline) [The Silica Animus Dilemma (Detroit, NIKKE, "I, Robot", Alita, Vivy, Blade Runner), Great Kanto Desert (Desert Punk)], Item Construction (Type-Moon) [Perfect Workshop], Beloved by the People, Hero Creation - EX (Type-Moon), Territory Creation (Type-Moon), Pioneer of the Stars (Type-Moon)
**Objects of Power**
HF Muramasa (Metal Gear), Ancient Name (Genshin Impact) [Fikra: The Universal Genius], Vision (Genshin Impact), Next Gen Exoskeleton (Metal Gear) [Jetstream Legacy], Big MT (Fallout), The Lucky 38 (Fallout), The Bunker (NieR: Automata) [[E]veryone is here!, [B]ack up within backups], Visor (NieR: Automata) [Combat Link Protocol], Your Own Master Now (Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance), YoRHa Pod (NieR: Automata) [042 & 153]
**Fusions & Upgrades**
Lawbreaker, Divine Protection of Sorcery (Re:Zero), Six Sources' Heir (Type-Moon), Magic Crest (Type-Moon) x 1, Collector (Type-Moon), Nascent Sword God, Praetorian of Terra (Warhammer: 40k) [The Lord of Iron (Warhammer 40K)], Singularity; Notes (Type-Moon), Emergency Backup (Type-Moon), Punishing Virus (Punishing Gray Raven), Gnosis (Genshin Impact), Platinum Chip Upgrade (Fallout), Essential, Infusion, Blueprint (Any) x 1
**Companions**
Character Power Increase x 1, The Long Way x 1, Tess Theresa Richter, 2B (NieR) [to [B]e forever with you], EVE (Stellar Blade), Sandrone (Genshin Impact)
**Point Conversion**
+100 SP -200 CP x 1, +25 SP -50 CP x 1, +15 SP -30 CP x 1
XXX
Code for CYOA:
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