The burly humanoid snatched the oblong spheroid and accelerated along the ground. It only made it a few yards before two hundred and fifty pounds of metal smashed into it at twenty miles an hour. The two robots crashed to the ground in a heap of metal.

"All right!" Rick Cantwell cheered, clapping his hands. "This is amazing!"

The blonde sitting next to him wasn't so enthusiastic. "This is brutal, Tom. Didn't you learn your lesson from that MMA neural mesh?"

Tom Swift smiled and leaned forward on the bleachers, dismissing his sister Sandra's concerns with a wave of his hand. "If my 3D-printed football pads are a success, then the game will be safer, not more dangerous."

"But why robots?" Mandy Costner added, running her hands through her long chestnut hair as she scrunched her face in confusion. "Why not test these on humans?"

"We use these crash cyborgs for testing lots of different products," Tom explained. "They're fitted with multiple sensors and accelerometers to give us far more accurate data than a human ever could, without putting anyone in harm's way. Plus, I want to see how these work at the highest levels of the game, and we don't exactly have a lot of NFL players hanging out in Central Hills."

The group sat back and watched as the offense methodically moved the ball down the field, mixing short passes and runs. The defense seemed to be outmatched.

"Woohoo," Rick cheered as the android quarterback laced a perfect spiral to a tight end at the corner of the endzone. "Maybe if we had this guy backing up Brock Purdy, my 49ers could have won the Super Bowl this year."

"Tell me more about the pads," Mandy said.

A sparkle appeared in Tom's eye. He wasn't averse to showing off his inventions, especially to the pretty brunette sitting next to him.

"They're made from an elastomeric polymer that is printed into a lattice structure that absorbs shocks and impacts. The entire suit weighs less than 14 ounces. The helmet attaches to the shoulder pads with a collar that transfers impact away from the skull. I based it on the HANS device they use in NASCAR. If my calculations are correct, it should eliminate both concussions and the risk of chronic traumatic encephalopathy."

Tom happily noted the impressed look that showed up on Mandy's face.

"How did you convince your dad to let you use this many Swift Enterprises resources for a football game?" Rick asked.

Tom hesitated.

Sandra rolled her eyes. "He didn't. Tom is supposed to be developing next-generation body armor for soldiers in urban combat situations."

Tom sighed. "I am. The impact absorption principles of my pads scale. If I printed a denser lattice, the pads would be capable of stopping bullets, but it would make them weigh a lot more. Besides, I don't like war. I like football."

"Defense contracts are how the company stays in business," Sandra pointed out. "I know you don't like it, but that's how it is."

Tom folded his arms across his chest. "I disagree. Football is a billion-dollar industry. We can find private-sector applications for our work that still make money."

Silence descended as they turned their attention back to the game. Tom looked around at the Swift Enterprises complex that occupied over four square miles in the California desert. His gaze flicked between the shining glass and pastel-colored concrete that made up the factory and research buildings. He became aware of the omnipresent electronic hum that his ears usually tuned out. In the distance, prototype drones were buzzing around the testing grounds. He frowned as he lost himself in thought. Was all this only possible because of military contracts?

He was pulled back to reality by Mandy nudging his arm.

"Hey there big brain," she smiled coyly. "What's going on up there that took you away from us."

Tom smiled ruefully. "Nothing important."

He focused back on the game as the other offense started moving the ball down the field.

"You need to learn how to code a defense," Rick pointed out. "Neither one can stop the offense."

"Sorry the game isn't up to your standards," Tom said as he tossed a handful of popcorn at his best friend.

The quarterback dropped back and delivered another perfectly thrown ball. A few seconds later, a hulking brute of a machine drove the quarterback into the grass.

"Late hit!" Rick exclaimed. "Did you program them to play dirty?"

Tom nodded. "Humans break the rules all the time. I want to make sure the players are protected even from cheap shots."

The automaton lineman grabbed the quarterback's helmet and began twisting.

"Did you make a murder algorithm too?" Sandra asked in confusion.

Tom stood up to get a better look. "No, I have no idea what's happening."

Sparks flew as the machine wrenched the quarterback's mechanical skull off its shoulders and hurled it off into the distance. The onlookers gasped as the android continued to eviscerate the fallen machine and fling the parts out of view.

"Make it stop!" Sandra shrieked at Tom.

Tom pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and tried to tap into the game's programming through the Swift Enterprises intranet, but it failed to connect. Mandy gripped Tom's arm as the chaos continued. Tom finally loaded the company network and frantically tapped away at the screen. The marauding android's head swiveled and locked its sights on Tom. It snatched an amputated limb and launched it at the teens. The girls screamed as the steel appendage shot toward them at hundreds of miles an hour!