Author's Note: I am aware Billie is married in the movie, but I still wanted to make this story happen so I am changing that, so that guy she's married to in the movie is not her husband in the story, nor does he exist. It's an alternate universe, and that's the only change. I think the movie would have done fine without him anyway. At least I didn't kill him off. Also, not only do I theorize that Billie is adopted, but I am making up her maiden name, she took Art and Franny's last name when she was adopted: Rana.
Chapter one
Apprenticing
Black. All black. He could not see a thing, and yet he knew he was a living thing. He tried thinking of whom, where, and maybe even what he was. But nothing came to him. His mind could find nothing to tell him whom, where, or even what he was. Then, light intruded on the darkness. At first it was just white against the blackness, nothing more. Soon, however, the whiteness started to become less and less obscure, and he could see that a word was what the white truly was.
"Initializing…" was the word. Initializing what? Soon, more white came upon the blackness, and that too formed words.
"Life force…online" "Thought process…online" "Memory…online"
Memory. Maybe now that it was "online" he could find out who he was, where he was, or what he was. But no, even as still more white came on the black, and became clear to him that other systems were online, he knew nothing of himself. But soon the jumble of black and white was gone. A flash, and now, he was looking at what his brain told him was the ceiling, and something was against his entire back side, meaning he was on his back. Whatever it was, it was soft, so it must have been a bed or a couch. He sat up, and looked around. The walls and ceiling of this room were painted eggnog yellow, with cheap metal chairs against the walls.
The sound of a deadbolt turning startled him, and soon the black door was swung open, and there stood a man with a clipboard. He was rather heavyset, with thinning brown hair, and wore a white lab coat, with black slacks and equally black shoes. The man with no memory and the man with the clipboard locked eyes, and soon, the man looked at said clipboard and noted something with a white ballpoint pen.
"Do you remember your name?" asked the man with the clipboard. No memory man shook his head. "Good," said the clipboard man, jotting down more things. "Now how about your age, height, and weight? Any of those ring a bell?" again, the man without a memory shook his head. After a few more questions and pen scratches, the man said one word. "Excellent." No memory man tilted his head,
"How is that excellent?" his voice was a little lighter than he thought it would be. His question was met with a grin,
"It means you are truly ours. Now if you'll follow me." Clipboard man left and it seemed he wanted Mr. No memory to follow him. So he got off the bed and followed the man.
The hallway they were walking through was also colored eggnog yellow, and was narrow. Not so narrow that people would bump elbows if they walked through opposite ways, but narrow nonetheless. Soon the two men reached a door that said CEO. Next to the door, there was a tan box on the wall with a button and a screen on it. The doctor, no memory man figured he was with the white lab coat, hit the button, and an image popped up on the screen. It was a man, a man with a bald head, a grey beard, and a black suit. He was also heavyset, so our man wondered if all the men here could have skipped a few desserts.
"Sir," said the man in the coat, "our newest model is ready."
"Good," said the old man with a beaming smile, "send him in." The scientist looked at Mr. No memory and gestured to the door.
"Go in," he said, "Mr. Goodman is expecting you." Our man grabbed the doorknob. Apparently he didn't know his own strength, as the doorknob was crushed between his fingers like it was tissue paper.
"What am I?" he asked to no one in particular, as he managed to get the door open regardless. When the fat man in the suit saw what had happened to the doorknob, he simply laughed and said, "Don't worry about it. We are very wealthy; I think we can afford a new doorknob here and there. Now please, have a seat." He gestured with his hand at one of the chairs in front of his desk. Our man was very gentle in sitting down, lest the chair fall to pieces beneath his rump. The old man laughed again.
"Don't worry," he said, "You will soon get to control your strength. Now let me explain," the man's face turned serious, "you were not always this way. Your name is David Sinclair. You, David, were a war hero. But after an unfortunate incident, you lost your ability to walk. You craved the ability to walk again, and then you learned about us,"
As Mr. Goodman continued to tell the story; David began to have visions of the events being described to him. Trying to protect a group of innocent people from attackers, only to be shot in the tailbone and losing the ability to walk. Sadly, he was honorably discharged due to his injury. Mr. Goodman resumed, "Anyway, you learned about us from a friend. You found that we give medicine that helps our patients recover from injuries similar to your own, but what makes that medicine work is your own human desire to heal. There was, however, a catch. That medicine is not cheap, and we needed to get our money back to heal others. So you were basically turned into an android." At this statement, alarm rushed through David.
Goodman laughed and said, "oh no, let me rephrase that. You are still human, and have all of a man's abilities. You can even get a woman pregnant, and she will birth a normal baby, so you're not a robot. It's just that these abilities you have are going to outmatch any other normal man or woman. Your bones were replaced with a special kind of metal, called Extremetal, which is one thousand times stronger than Super Steel, but still able to act as normal bone. Also, your brain is basically a computer, making you smarter than those around you by tenfold. Your muscles, while they appear to be human, are actually a combination of your original muscles, but with added Extremetal to make you as strong as, oh shall we say, Superman.
"This means you are invulnerable to all sorts of damage. You are our soldier, no, our Super Soldier, the first of your kind. You've been turned into our first ever Super Assassin."
"Wait?" said David, bewildered at what he had heard, "so I'm a hired murderer now?"
"Exactly," said Goodman, "not the way I would phrase it, but a very good way to put it." David stood,
"No," he said, enraged, "I will not be a murderer, you can't make me." The fat old man sighed.
"Actually," he said, in a serious tone, "we can." A man came up from behind David and stuck a needle into his neck. David felt something, like a suggestion was being placed in his brain: to obey Goodman, and kill as he was told. He still wanted to refuse, so the suggestion was snake oil. But something told him that refusing would not be a good idea. So when the needle was removed from his neck, he sat back down.
"I'm sorry," David said, "I'll do as I am told."
"Good," said his new boss, "now then, would you like to know why you are what you are, rather than a normal android?" David nodded, pretending to be interested. "Well, it's like this: The others were too dumb." That caught David's attention so he leaned forward with genuine interest at what more needed to be said.
"You see, we design these android to be able to slip into society undetected. Our androids must be able to blend into society. But the old model we made had killing foremost on its mind; it only knew how to kill, and that was that.
"They had nothing else, like common sense. If an android needed to cross the street, it would start walking across. If a car hit that android, a huge dent would be made. The driver may be killed, and the car totaled, but not a scratch on the android. They might even lash out and destroy the car, so that model had to be scrapped.
"Your type is not only designed to kill, but also retain the thoughts and such of the person it was based off of. While you are Super Android mark one to us, you are still David Sinclair to everyone else.
"But you are not the first intelligent android; you are the second. Our top agent, Android model number four thousand forty two, or Maria was one of these dumb androids, but she gained her intelligence by her own means. She is just as smart as you are, without being designed to be." Suddenly, the door opened, and David turned in his chair to see who had come in.
It was a woman, with long hair as black as a raven and skin as fair and white as cream. She was reasonably tall, skinny as a rail, but not in an unhealthy way, and she carried with her an air of confidence, but also, preparedness. She wore a red jacket with a white T Shirt, with a grey skirt and black boots with heels that ran to her knees. Red lipstick and perfect teeth completed the image of the most beautiful woman David had ever seen. At least, that he could remember.
"So," she said, with an accent that David couldn't quite place, "this is our…Superman?" She raised her hands and put air quotes around Superman.
"Yes," Said Mr. Goodman, "this is he."
"Shall we call him Clark?" she said, then chuckled at her joke. David smiled; good to see that the top agent had a sense of humor.
"Well, what is your name?" she asked him.
"David Sinclair." said David, extending his hand. Maria shook his outstretched hand.
"You should get some sleep," she said to him, "tomorrow, bright and early, you will begin your career, and learn of your target." David looked at the clock on Mr. Goodman's desk, it was roughly nine o'clock at night.
"There is a bedroom for you," said Mr. Goodman, "take the elevator up to the top floor, and look for room One Hundred Fifty nine."
…
Finding the room was no picnic, and David walked around the area that was basically a maze. After what seemed like a year of walking, he found the room. On the door, there was a red circle, and David recognized it as a retina scanner. Placing his blue eyeball in front of the scanner, he heard a click. He walked into the room, and took a bit of time to admire it. The room was fairly large, with a bathroom, a kitchen, a king sized bed, and a TV, with a video game system of some sort hooked up to it. David lay down on the bed.
"This has got to be the best bed I have ever slept on," said David, and was asleep as soon as his eyes were shut.
…
Meanwhile, in a house several miles away, there sat a woman at a large table, surrounded by her family. She wore a sky blue dress, with black gloves and boots that didn't match the dress, but she didn't care. She had curly brown hair, and wore a conductor's hat. She was Billie, a member of the Robinson family, Franny and Art's adopted sister. Before her on the table was a cake. A multi-layer cake, cleverly designed as a train, it even had a white chocolate smoke stack at the top. There were a few candles on it, lit as her kin sang that famous song.
"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Billie, Happy Birthday to you." Billie blew out the candles, and her kin applauded her.
Suddenly, the front door was thrown open, and a boy ran in. He had black hair with a spike woven in by genetics. He wore a dark blue shirt with a lightning bolt, blue jeans, and black shoes. Sweat poured down his face as he nearly sprinted to the table where his aunt sat. Clenched in his hand was a white envelope, with some sort of insignia on it. He handed the envelope to his aunt, before plopping down into a chair due to sheer exhaustion.
Curious, Billie opened the envelope and read the letter inside.
"Dear Ms. Rana,
We were referred to you by your nephew Wilbur. The kind lad entered your name in the Train Expo sweepstakes, and we are glad to announce that you were picked. Your trip to New York for any train lover's paradise has all been paid for. We cover food, hotels, travel, and other expenses, so all you have to do is show up. Please arrive at your local airport at six o'clock tomorrow morning, and get ready to have the time of your train loving life.
Regards,
Trains Inc."
When Billie finished the letter, she went to her nephew and hugged him tightly,
"Thank you so much, Wilbur," she said, "this is the nicest thing you have ever done for me." Cornelius put a hand on his son's shoulder.
"You done good son." He said. The party passed very quickly, and Billie soon lay down her head to sleep, as tomorrow, she would be on her way to the best time of her life. Thankfully, CARL had volunteered to pack for her, so all she had to do was grab the suit case and go.
First chapter done. Tell me what you think at some point, guys, and sorry if this sounds a lot like the Terminator.