Location: Tubac Facility

Tubac was less a facility, and more of a small town. Not unlike Springfield, the vast majority of the town was a false front. Underground it was another matter entirely. With a population of just under twelve hundred 'citizens' and an additional four hundred manning the hidden base at any given time, it was not the quiet desert town that its outward appearance suggested. Underground was where the heart of the facility lay. Spotless corridors, hi-tech labs and offices, training rooms and indoor weapons ranges. What more could a clandestine order such as Cobra ask for.

Kyle sat in one of the offices, his feet propped up on the desk. He sighed loudly, the noise quickly becoming a groan. He was tired, having been poring over the files he'd been given for hours, but it was a lot of data to go through, a lot of manpower.

The world would lie to itself. Any reports on Cobra stated that their numbers were in the hundreds, but in truth, it was in the tens of thousands. Mercenaries, criminals, and even average Joes who wished to provide for their futures and those of their families, to exact revenge on their governments or some faceless entity, or just to rebel against the norm. And Kyle was always given the scum at the bottom of the barrel to try and bring round to Cobra minimum standards.

For the most part he succeeded. His brutal training resulted in some of the best that Cobra had to offer. Those who failed washed out, and to wash out in Cobra meant one of two things. The first being death, the second being part of the Cobra Science Division's experiments. Neither was an exceptionally spectacular result. He stood, kicking a stack of folders over. He looked down and balled his hands into fists.

"Verdammt …" he swore. He kneeled down and scraped up the papers. His accent was almost non-existent, but when he was angry or stressed, it would resurface. He'd been born in Berlin, and when he was six his family moved to Arizona in the United States. His family was poor and, growing up, his mind was filled with thoughts of serving his country to better his life and theirs. But he never got the chance. His family was killed when a drunk driver had bowled into their dining room in the early evening and interrupted his family dinner with an SUV. He'd been found pinned beneath the table and the SUV, lying in the blood of his family. With no living relatives to contact he was sent to an orphanage funded by Extensive Enterprises. He'd been marked early on by the Crimson Twins as having potential, and when he turned eleven, he was adopted by a nice family from Springfield-

Kyle looked up, his trip down memory lane ended by a knock at his door.

"Who is it?"

"Delivery from the Baroness." the gruff voice replied. Kyle sat his folders on his desk and stood up. He thumbed his finger against the door pad and it slid open. Two of the Baroness' Vipers shoved him back and a third wheeled in a B.A.T. on a dolly.

"Is that my new toy?" he asked, peeking around the Vipers. None of them answered right away, instead he was handed a clipboard.

"Yes sir, it's your re-purposed B.A.T." The Viper reached forward and tapped the clipboard. "Sign." Kyle shook his head and signed. The clipboard was snatched away and the Vipers promptly turned and left.

"W-wait! How do I turn it on?" he shouted after them, sticking his head into the hallway. He muttered angrily and shut his door when they didn't bother to answer his question. He looked the B.A.T. up and down. There was no obvious on/off switch and there was no included instruction sheet.

"Of course…" he said, rubbing his eyes again. He sat down on in his chair to think about other alternatives and before he had time to think he was asleep.

Kyle jerked awake suddenly, feeling like he was being watched. He looked around his empty office and relaxed slowly. He grunted and arched his back, feeling it pop in several places.

"Ugh, I'm getting too old for this…" he muttered.

"Yes."

Kyle jumped, drawing his boot knife in one swift motion and taking up a fighting stance.

"Who's there?!" he barked. He looked around at his still empty, still small room. He lowered his knife and rubbed his eyes. "I think I'm losing my mind." he chuckled.

"No."

Kyle's head slowly turned towards the corner of his office where the B.A.T. stood, its faceplate fixed in his direction.

"Was that you?" he asked, pointing the knife. The robot nodded its head.

"Yes." Kyle tucked his knife back into his sheath and exhaled slowly. He gestured the B.A.T. to come forward and sat back down. The battle android stepped forward and resumed its stance.

"What is your number?" he asked, pulling out a pen and pad to write it down. The robot remained silent. Kyle turned to look at it. "You do know your number, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Good, then what is your number?" he repeating, turning back to his pad. Again the B.A.T. remained silent. Kyle grunted and turned to face it again throwing his pen down in frustration.

"What's the matter? Can't you tell me?"

"No."

"Why not?!"

The B.A.T. reached out and took the pen from the table and quickly scrawled a note on the pad. Kyle leaned forward and read as it wrote.

"No… programmed… response… What does that mean?" The B.A.T. tapped the pen against what it had just written. "So… what, you're not programmed to speak?" The B.A.T. shook its head. Kyle smiled and chuckled, pressing his fingers into his temple and rubbing it in circles. "That's…. that's kind of funny. You're clever Destro..." he said, standing and walking around the B.A.T. "Okay! So, you can't speak… save for yes and no, correct?"

"Yes."

"But, you understand me clearly, and clearly you can read and write."

"Yes."

"Good. So… you need a name. I simply can't call you B.A.T., or re-purposed B.A.T. Re-purposed battle android trooper… R-B-A-T… R-B… Arby… How about Arby?" he asked.

"No."

"You don't like it?"

"No."

"Well do you have an idea?" After a moment's pause the B.A.T. shook its head.

"Then until you can come up with your own, you'll have to go with Arby." Arby's servo's whined loudly and it turned and marched back to the corner it had been in.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad a name."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Introducing my second OC, Arby. Yes, he will be keeping the name. He's a robot, he has no say in the matter. Additionally, Verdammt means damn or damn it