* June 7, 2006 *
He awoke in pain, partially buried in rubble, and had to dig himself out.
He also knew he'd Triggered. He was unclear as to the how or why until he remembered the details.
He was just a small town boy in a small town in Northern Arizona. In a place hardly anyone talked about called Kachina Village, population last week 2600. Population now: 1.
Because Monday the Slaughterhouse Nine came to Kachina Village.
The first thing he did was track down the whining noise and hold his dog Scraps as the last other living soul slowly died in his arms.
Except as his dog wagged his tail once, images started flitting through his head. Plans. Mechanisms. Technology if he could just...
Mister Wilson's cabin. He was on life support. Had been on life support. If any of the mechanisms or supplies had survived - there was a chance.
Leon Dexter Williamson couldn't do anything. The Tinker Leonidas just might be able to save at least one life and give a giant "fuck you" to the S9 in the process.
* June 7, 2007 *
The robot vehicle trundled up on its treads, depositing the crate of machinery. "Woof!"
"Thanks, Scraps," said Leonidas.
"Woof!" replied the vehicle.
Leonidas checked the tubes he'd constructed, the banks of machines he'd used to make the machines to make his final product.
Soon. Very soon.
He heard a bing and a machine gun spun up.
Sounded like one of his turrets Friend-or-Foe identifaction had found something.
A click of a button on his remote and he watched someone get out of their car and approach the gate, looking over the sign before reaching out to tear it off.
A single bullet slammed into the pavement near their feet.
The guy jumped at that, then started yelling and making gestures. Rude. Well, as long as they left that was fine.
Except he wasn't leaving.
Reluctantly, Leonidas reached out and toggled the speaker. "Leave. Now. Kachina Village is still recovering from the Slaughterhouse Nine attack last year. Outsiders are not welcome."
"You can't decide who comes and goes! I got a right!"
"Unless you can provide a reason for you to be here, this conversation is over. Don't make me have to dispose of your corpse."
The intruder went to cursing at him, and not very imaginitively. Eventually though, the person did get back in their car and drive away.
Idiot.
Considering the bolt cutters in the back seat, the boxes and handcart, this was an attempted looting. Unfortunately it meant he'd likely have other intruders soon or worse - government action.
He'd have to move up the timetable and he truly hated being rushed.
* July 9, 2007 *
* Sheriff Lobo *
"Hello up there," said Sheriff, pushing the button on the gate.
"Hello, Sheriff Elroy P Lobo. What brings you around here?" said the voice of some teenage boy over the intercom.
"We've had a couple reports of someone holing themselves up here, might that be you?" asked Lobo.
"I am Leonidas. Yes, I am. You might want to clear out though, Sheriff. There's been some movement that indicates a local villain group is going to try and acquire either my tech or myself."
Elroy P Lobo considered that, and he was not either of his deputies. "You're a parahuman then? A Tinker if I got the term correct?"
"Yes and yes," said the intercom.
"That would place this within the PRT's ball of wax, wouldn't it?" asked Sheriff Lobo.
"That it would, Sheriff."
"I see," said the Sheriff, thinking it being Someone Else's Problem was probably a good thing.
"I thought you might, I did take a look at your file in the online database. Flagstaff's quite a ways from Georgia, Sheriff. What brings you out here?"
Sheriff Lobo shrugged. "Getting on in years. Wanted something quieter and Atlanta is a bit of mess. Orly County got the S9 going through it at one point. Too many memories to go back there."
"Understood, Sheriff. You might want to get going now. I'm reading movement along several sections of fence and it is going to get quite noisy soon."
* July 21, 2007 *
"Okay, what have we got here?" asked Agent Eden.
"Standard security fence," said Agent Feldon. "Barbed wire, intercom, two cameras."
"Three," pointed out Eden. "That bird up there is another one."
"Nice catch," said Agent Feldon after she scrutinized the bird briefly. "Two machine gun turrets cover the road, automated. They give a warning beep and orient on you as you approach the gate. Other side of the gate is trapped with stop-sticks and I'm guessing land mines from what I could make out from here."
"Very good," said the intercom. "PRT out of Phoenix?"
"Is there an adult to speak with?" asked Agent Feldon.
"No, nobody left after the Slaughterhouse arrived. Just me and my creations."
"You need to come in and register," said Agent Feldon. "We can get you into the Wards where you'll be safe."
"Where was the PRT when the Slaughterhouse Nine came to visit? Where were you when the villain gang Telemarche attacked? Where were you when the Los Tigres gang tried to recruit me by force?"
"If you joined the Wards, you wouldn't have to deal with such things. You need to go to school, Johnny."
"No. And I'm quite aware of the group you have approaching from the hills to the East. If they continue, I will defend myself."
"What group?" asked Agent Feldon.
"They're currently at 300 yards, approaching the perimeter. Six individuals in body armor. Looks like Tinkertech lasers and gas grenades. Oh, you've got those door knockers - shaped charges for breaking into facilities."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," stated Agent Feldon.
"Then you won't mind if the plasma turrets open up on them."
"Murder is still against the law, Johnny. Don't do it."
The intercom sighed. "You are misinformed. I am not a hero. I am certainly not one of YOUR heroes. If you do this, you will push me straight into villain territory."
"Stand down, Johnny."
"They just crossed the 150 yard mark. They have weapons hot."
"Delta team, stand down," ordered Agent Eden into her phone. "RTB."
Agent Feldon glared at the intercom.
Agent Eden waited for the acknowledgement from the team, then addressed the intercom. "Do you really have plasma turrets?"
A ball of green writhing energy shot across the street and turned a tree into a glowing puddle.
"I see," said Agent Eden, her voice showing absolutely no concern. "For our report, do you know your Tinker specialization?"
"Yes," answered Leonidas. "That's why I chose the name Leonidas."
"Would you consider working WITH the Protectorate if it means bringing groups like the Slaughterhouse Nine down?" asked Agent Eden.
"I certainly would consider such a thing," was Leonidas' reply. "Check back in six months."
* January 3, 2009 *
"Console, this is Agent Eden. I am at the gate. Looks like he's upgraded the defenses. There's a guard wearing body armor and carrying an AK-47."
"Eden, is it Leonidas?"
"Negative. Female, mid-20s, caucasian. Blonde, blue eyes. Quite a figure on her too. Leonidas is Leon Dennings, male and age 15 of mixed Latino/Navajo heritage."
"Agreed, it is unlikely then. No evidence of gender dysphoria in online school records."
"Spotted two more guards exiting a new building about 30ft in from the fence. Also female, also mid-20s. One is identical to the gate guard, absolutely identical. The other is a black female, I make this one about 5'7" while the twins are 5'9" or so. Black female has a leaner build."
"No record of anyone approaching compound since our last visit with similar description."
"Gate guard is approaching. Putting you on Mute."
"Agent Eden of the Parahuman Response Team. If you and your guard will accompany me, Leonidas will be ready to speak to you shortly."
"I take it he's busy then," asked Agent Eden as she gestured towards her guard/driver.
"Yes, he is putting together some equipment for potential eventual sale to the PRT in fact," said the guard.
"Might I have your name?" asked Agent Eden.
"My designation is Corporal Freja 12," said the blonde.
Agent Eden narrowed her eyes as she considered the implications of that. "I see."
"Perhaps," admitted Freja 12, leading the way.
Her guard/driver leaned closer. "She's..."
"A cyborg," said Freja-12, not looking back at her. "A self-willed construct. That IS Leonidas' Tinker specialty."
"Cyborgs?" asked the guard/driver, Agent Nelson.
"Terminator units in the parlance of the movies," said Freja-12, still leading them within the compound.
"They're all female, and..." Agent Nelson's voice trailed off as he considered how to put that.
"If you were going to say built like swimsuit models and dressed like professional soldiers, I agree." Agent Eden snorted. "Kid is a sixteen year old boy. Gee, I wonder WHY he would favor such an aesthetic."
Freja-12 looked back over her shoulder once at Agent Eden but otherwise didn't speak.
The building they were being led to had obviously been a home at one point, one of two-story family types that had boasted a two-car garage. Now it had been rebuilt with additions still being added by more of these female constructs.
"Some of these units have obvious artificial parts," noted Agent Eden as they entered the former home converted to a factory. That walls had been knocked down, others reinforced, and several bubbling tanks with metallic skeletons in them was quickly noted.
"Earlier models get upgraded as time and resources allow," said a nearby voice as Leonidas straightened up from one console. "Harrington. You have the comm."
"Sir," said a Mediterranean-looking woman, stepping up to the station Leonidas was walking away from.
A dog came alongside Leonidas as he approached.
"Nice factory you have here," said Agent Eden by way of a greeting.
"Shall we put our cards on the table here, Agent?" asked the teenager. "You have an open line back to your command. Agent Nelson is not only a qualified pilot who was up for a NASA transfer until the Simurgh, and is accounted one of the best shots in the current staff at Phoenix Branch PRT. You yourself are a combat veteran, unlike Agent Feldon who has risen through the ranks in purely civilian agencies. You have three missiles pointed in my direction 'just in case' and tracking your phone."
"You are, after all, a self-admitted villain," pointed out Agent Eden.
"But I play by rules, and am willing to work with authorities when they're not being assholes," stated Leonidas with a shrug.
"Who has barricaded himself in a small town and built a small army of synthetic dolls to play with," countered Agent Eden.
"This does not need to be confrontational or hostile," countered Leonidas. "Are you sure we can't find common ground for a more cooperative relationship?"
"For myself: yes, I would actually prefer that," admitted Agent Eden. "The area was already destroyed by the Slaughterhouse, and there can certainly be a case made for self-defense for previous actions."
"Ah. Orders from above. I see," admitted Leonidas. "Kind of expected that."
"I'm surprised you agreed to this meeting if you knew we were being targeted," stated Agent Eden.
"I'm hardly omniscient," said Leonidas. "I have sources of information, but I'm currently restricted in many ways."
"You seem to have done fairly well for yourself," countered Agent Eden.
"Perhaps," admitted Leonidas. "However, I have recently hit my limits in materials acquisition and with the little trade I've managed to keep open. By some standards, I am definitely a villain. Not by my own, and certainly not by some of the current world standards. So... shall we make a deal?"
* PRT HQ Washington *
* January 5, 2009 *
"So what do we get out of this deal?" asked Rebecca Costa-Brown, cutting straight to the bottom line of the negotiation.
"Testing of seven (7) T-70, basically skeletal terminators - expendable foot soldiers, limited Artificial Intelligence that can obey basic orders and do things like guard a facility," began PRT Director Singh. "We also have three T-800s for testing and use, plus a single T-900 named 'Cameron' to utilize as a heroic cape. We're looking for a spot to put her in the Wards program."
"Ratings?" asked the Chief Director.
"Brute 3 with additional abilities added by equipment as issued," said Director Singh. "Both the T-800s and the T-900 can pass for human to some extent."
"So Leonidas himself. Threat rating?" asked the Chief Director.
"Tinker 7 with the specialization of creating things straight out of the Terminator franchise, including laser rifles and hunter/killer drones," said Director Singh of the Phoenix branch. "Though that might just be a motif on his part and his actual Tinker specialization is robot minions."
"Should we engage the nuclear option?" asked Director Allen of Las Vegas Branch. "Make his location a containment zone. Nobody in or out? Or perhaps an actual nuke?"
"Why don't we see how well these cyborg units work first?" asked Director Singh. "Once they've been fully evaluated, and any dangers involved with them discovered and addressed, then we make an informed decision. Until then, Leonidas is self-contained and shows no interest in going elsewhere with his technology."
"Let the boy play with his dolls? He is literally building an army," grumped Director Allen.
"Both of you have a point," said Chief Director Costa-Brown. "We will do both. Evaluate, learn their capabilities and weaknesses, and prepare everything to wall in his little community should it be necessary. Director Allen, the town in question is under Director Singh's jurisdiction but yours is the physically closest branch office. Figure out what would need to be done to further isolate and contain if that's how we end up going."
"In the meantime that gives Leonidas the chance to further fortify his position," pointed out Director Allen.
"So much the better," stated Director Singh.
"Explain," prompted Chief Director Costa-Brown.
Director Singh smiled. "If he builds the walls himself, that saves us some money."
* January 30, 2009 *
Director Emily Piggot was not particularly fond of capes, personal experience being that parahumans had one particularly bad day that somehow resulted in powers and were lacking in discipline and reliability.
That said, she was more inclined towards some of the capes than others. Some were simply a bit more reliable, had some idea of professional behavior, and could be worked with to some extent.
"Are you certain of this, Tin Soldier?" asked Director Piggot.
"Affirmative, Commander," answered Cameron, whose "cape name" was Tin Soldier. She laid a folder on the desk. "Evidence."
Emily Piggot picked it up and began going through it. "Much more readable than your last report."
"Issues brought up in last review have been addressed," agreed Cameron.
Director Piggot was quite aware of Cameron's true nature. She was aware that Tin Soldier was being tested and watched by those above her in the chain-of-command. She was also aware that Tin Soldier acted like a soldier in some respects and a child in others. A very smart but heavily autistic child in her estimation, but a child with very little world-knowledge and having started out with damn little common sense.
Cameron listened and she learned though, which made her a lot more bearable as time went on.
Director Piggot flipped through the pages of reports. Dates, times, location, identities and locations were mentioned. Sources given. "I see I am going to have a talk with certain people. You understand I will have to corroborate this?"
"Affirmative, Commander," repeated Cameron.
"Very well," said Director Piggot, looking over at the apparently unconcerned young woman. "I am going to suggest more socialization observation and participation. I am reluctant to assign you to the same school as the rest of the Wards though. I'll have to think about that. In the meantime - dismissed."
Watching the scary robot (for all that she LOOKED like a teenage girl) leave the room, Director Emily Piggot wondered again why her branch. Oh, she knew the official reasons - that it was far from that Tinker Leonidas. That the area was an acknowledged pit of crap. That she had put in repeatedly for more capes and here was one to give a tryout to.
Still, she wasn't sure how else to handle someone who was not only not a parahuman but only had a thin veneer of humanity at all.
Now she had to get Armsmaster to check over this data.
* February 5 2009 *
Geoff Pellick spat coffee all over his precious but fortunately waterproofed laptop.
He then spent several minutes just staring at the data crossing the screen and feeling as if his stomach had dropped to floor level. "Mags? Dobrynja? We have a problem."
"What is?" asked Dobrynja as he arrived.
"This," said Geoff as he pointed to some screenshots he'd taken.
"Hyperalloy chassis, cloned human tissue," read off Mags as she'd arrived at the same time. "Synthetic muscles and... a Terminator?!"
"There's a Terminator Tinker," said Geoff.
"How do we not hear before this?" rasped Dobrynja.
"Apparently it's all high-level secrets and Dragon has been kept out of the loop until now," said Saint. "The Director down in Brockton Bay wanted some crap verified and handed it off to her pet Tinker there. That idiot got Dragon to help him go over records and that's when Dragon found out about 'Tin Soldier' - a new cape in Brockton Bay and what she actually was."
"A Terminator," repeated Mags.
"Who is being enrolled in a 'Winslow High School'," noted Dobrynja.
"A Terminator in a high school," continued Mags, seeing this as a complete disaster.
"We have a new target," said Geoffrey.
"We need to upgrade our suits first." Mags shuddered. Hopefully the bloodbath at this school would hold off long enough for that.