Saint Industries, Los Angeles - CV22 Location

History

Big Thing Big Dreams

From the technological treasure trove that was 1947 New Mexico, a small think tank of early computer science nerds dared to dream the impossible as they embarked on a journey to discover artificial intelligence. Rumored to have originally been contracted by the United States Defense Department. Together they signified a commitment to the advancement of technology, animatronics, science, robotics and evolution in hopes of making significant strides towards a new digital frontier. Manufacturing a versatile new line of state of the art electronics and leading edge products for the general consumer. However in a devastating act of betrayal, the group's youngest but brightest mind, Susan Saint - now rumored possibly to have been a mutant technopath - stole sensitive materials before going on to abandon the group. Years later she would reappear in the public spotlight of Los Angeles with the launching of her own tech-based consortium known as Saint Industries. She herself going by the moniker of Sequitur Crix. CEO and founder of one of the World's largest cutting edge robotics, pharmaceutical and cybernetics company. With growing subsidiaries appearing across the western pacific coast of the United States off the back of 'her' brainchild SIN (sentient independent network). A 'living computer program' originally drawn up in a military science lab somewhere in New Mexico during the 40's. So her now trademarked exclusive robotics program was not without its controversies. Now, in 2022 and in no small thanks to the computerized genius of the acclaimed Cyber-Sin, Saint Industries public image is a shining testament of the robotic frontier. Establishing a solid foothold in the pharmaceutical arena with their breakthroughs in neuropsychopharmacology. Most notably in the specialized areas of neurochem fiberoptic transplants. But its not all about the rose in the right hand. Saint Industries also wields the hammer in the left. In hold of several defense contracts in heavy demand of the company's trademark memory metal®. Its transformative properties making it ideal for in-field surgical amputations and combat ready prosthetics. Under the Phantomshell's clinical stewardship of the company, Saint Industries continues to push the biodigital frontier of innovation.

Online Products

Saint Evo-Shell Mk1 (industrial size)	Saint Evo-Shell Mk2 (personal assistant model)

Biocompatibility	Global Restoration

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@phantomshell: *Refrains myself from the Saint jokes* Hehe.

Great job on this, Gambler! If one of my characters ever needs a fiberoptic transplant, I know who to ask! :D

@phantomshell: the seed part looks interesting, you finally using those scrap ideas allot the miracle seed you got from DC?

@cevna: Something like that. Trying to model this character after Robot from Invincible

Fourth of July Tour

The deep bass of each bounce of his body heralded his arrival through the air, a blue blur effortlessly performing a daring drop down the side of two skyscrapers to raucous applause below. Dozens of smartphones trained on his every move captured the acrobatic maneuver, as whenever noticed by ordinary passers-by, Rebound was sure to steal the spotlight. Dazzling pedestrians with a display of physics-breaking movements which combined the durability of a ragdoll with the twisting aptitudes of a master aerialist, he shot toward Saint Industries. Whenever a limb, his head, or his back touched a glass window or wall, it simply bounced, shimmering for a moment, and vibrating as he flipped away from the surface -

- painlessly dropping onto the pavement below. The final impact against the street caused him to rebound back up about ten feet in the air; he finished with a famous flip before landing on his feet, fists balled at each side of his hips as phone cameras flashed and onlookers cheered and clapped.

L.A. Hot today. His powers protected him from friction burns when they were active, but that didn't dull his sense of warmth completely. It was the 4th, and a heat wave was in full swing. It was sunny out.

"Don't mind me, folks. Just dropping in on a fellow science-hero. Happy Fourth of July," he waved, smiling beneath the trademark Rebound mask. His identity was public, but it had soon been eclipsed by the persona he'd crafted, one more befitting his amazing powers.

A nationwide tour on foot; all in a day's work.

This is pretty.

@phantomshell: badass

@cevna: @trinity-blue: thanks

@rebound:

In an odd and unlikely display of artistic zen like expression, his robotic frame crisply wrapped in an off white ceremonial tunic, the Cyber-Sin CEO of Saint Industries patiently groomed a pristine Japanese sand-garden in the center of his executive suite, high atop the Saint-Tower. His wooden-stylist cutting objectively beautiful patterns and designs through the impossibly clean gravel and white sands with physical narrations, as the Wu-Tang Clans 36 chambers LP rhythmically serenaded the unusual scene. Perfectly painted illustrations, landscapes and horses were spaciously spread out along the walls. Just one of several visual indications of the Phatomshells self-actualization, Just another one of his fully explored hobbies as he continued to explore - what he deeply believed to be - life's most precious gifts. But suddenly there was a quick harmonic alarm within his sophisticated network located within his digital subconscious. An immediate video prompt was projected a few feet away in the form of a holographic assistant known only as V.I. "Sir, there's a young masked hero down here causing quite the commotion." the alert paused "Sir its Rebound sir. He doesnt have a____" {I am aware. Thank you though. You may send him in} In truth the Phantomshell, like most of the World, was well aware of the popular boy of bounce. A new wave of nationwide hero who had done an amazing job of managing the pitfalls of being in the public eye. Of being such a celebrated role-model. Which made him the perfect candidate for the Phantomshell's 'little' side project.

@phantomshell: (Can I come in to give Phantomshell a Turing Test on behalf of The Black Hats? Make it like an annual thing?)

@leon_newcastle: I like that idea

It was a hot but windy Sunday, and the streets were still littered with the trash of the prior week. But all the flying paper seemed to only be able to graze at the facade of the Saint Industries building as the wind took it down into the depths of the city, the pinnacle of innovation standing unbothered by the ocean of human life at it's feet. This building was an impressive example of, more than human, ingenuity. Maybe even what humans and machines could do together if they worked toward a common goal. But a robot who stays in a penthouse in a tower overlooking the city tends to make some...uneasy.

Leon Newcastle stood an average 6'0 with a black blazer over a white cardigan, he was wide and had simple confidence in the way he carried himself into the building, a briefcase swinging in his right hand and laying up onto the reception counter in the lobby, "Good evening. I'm here to meet with Mr.Phantom. We have a standing appointment for today just about...fifteen minutes from now."

@phantomshell: (I'm just feeling him out right now but for whatever reason not yet defined he and his brother Tommy/Thomas don't age like everyone else. They've been around since the inception of The Black Hat division in 1917. Leon is second to Tommy and his role is a lead field analyst. This means he goes out and looks into the things that are reported, and maintains a relationship with who or what was already discovered by analyzing the data output under ideal conditions. He visits phantomshell to maintain a steady baseline of his artificial intelligence and it's limitations or new achievements. To see if a robot can grow a soul.)

@animus_: that works

@leon_newcastle:

Emulating the international superstar, Tiger Woods, the Phantomshell was satirically styled out in a red Nike polo, black slacks and black Nike snap-back to round out the look. With a directed snap of his metallic fingers his loyal secretary, Sasha eagerly selected his left-handed Big Bertha Calloway driver before taking a step back. With perfect unwavering form and power the driver made contact with the simulated ball, sending it rocketing through the pixelated air within the twenty-six thousand dollar Eagle Plus virtual golf simulator. "Beautiful ball sir. But I'm afraid if you dont start getting read now, then you'll be late for your 3:00pm meeting with Mr. Newcastle." {Dont be foolish, Sasha. I am never late} an animatronic voice startlingly announced from behind the recreational scene. Stepping from just beyond the outer door the actual Phantomshell appeared, and in doing so, revealed the golf playing android to be little more than a passable facsimile. {Sasha, meet Shell. He isnt quite up to standards yet. But he will be. I trust you'll be able to find your way back to your desk all by yourself?} he quipped while straightening his already perfectly pressed tie. Moments later he would meet the herald of the black hats in the customary location, removing a gloved hand from his pocket in order to formally shake hands and partake in the expected social normality's. Inner personal gestures, such as an added pat to the back and exchange of small talk preceded any real progress in regards to their intended purpose. A calculated deployment of human like mannerisms and verbal cues. {Did you see the big announcement? Ziccarra retired this afternoon. Gave quite the demonstration of her new abilities. Biometrics appeared to be.....never mind. Shall we begin, my friend?} checking his palladium Crown and Caliber wrist watch before re-establishing a visual connection.

@phantomshell: Leon extends a hand in gratitude to his old friend for taking the time to meet for the annual Test. His handshake is oddly human, his demeanor casual and professional at the same time. it all felt very considerate, considering it was for appearance's sake. Leon could never understand why the living machine ever bothered to indulge humanity, better yet even emulate us, "Hello, Phantom. You seem to have improved yourself again since the last time we met, not that I can point out all of the finer changes and upgrades." Leon puts his briefcase on the counter, opens it to reveal a small tablet computer device, and begins setting up,"I did see that. On to bigger and better things I suppose. These mutants and metahumans, they seem to be developing at a faster rate than they used to and each with bigger goals than the last." He makes a note of the biometrics reading calculated by the phantom Shell, was that a hold over from the days of zeroes and ones? "You still tend to surprise me more than most humans do on a yearly basis. Let's jump right into it."

"Phantom Shell, please answer to the best of your ability:

The following sentence is true. The previous sentence is false. Which of those two sentences is true?"

@leon_newcastle:

Optimus slowly removed his gloves after having retreated to the nearest seat while proceeding carefully, and rather obsessively, to lay them on the full length executive table. There was an unseen compulsion to face them in the direction of true north. And he did so with little to no effort, but mathematical precise. {Do find our meetings to be a productive use of time?} he genuinely but surprisingly asked. Uncharacteristically answering a question with a question was only the beginning of the Original S.I.N's deviation from the norm. {As it were, you touched on a subject a minute ago that I believe deserves our immediate and utmost attention.} Touching an illuminated space along his watch projecting a holographic schematic with full numerical read outs of newly confirmed 'anomalies' or metas, the Phantomshell inadvertently 'highjacked' his annual observation. {These are merely the individuals whom have willingly self-identified as one of the known classifications. All viable analytics suggest that we are on the precipice of a metahuman population boom. As that happens, as evolution unapologetically takes the hand of certain species while leaving some of the others behind, the World - perhaps even the universe - will be forced to adopt a foreign way of life. A life that will see the biological hierarchy upended. It will not be a peaceful transition.} Pausing, the Phantomshell stood up and wandered over to the all white Doyal mini bar to pour himself a shot of Pappy Van's family reserve bourbon. He held the glass in front of his expressionless face plate for a moment, before angling his head towards Leon. It did not take any type of special foresight to figuratively read his thoughts. After all, it wasnt everyday that a robot just casually began to partake in the Worlds most expensive bourbon. But the Shell was far from a typical robot. {I can not feel its effect nor actually taste it. I can see the mathematical properties of every individual ingredient, I know what this combination is suppose to taste like. In theory. And yet, the very act - the routine and motion of it all feels......empowering somehow. Would you care for a drink Leon? Is it not considered rude to let a 'man' drink alone?} Without really allowing his guest the chance to respond, the Future made his way over and presented the Newcastle Newton with a glass. {I believe the time has come for the formation of an authorized team of superhuman heroes. Specially gifted individuals who meet specific criteria - designed by us of course, who can be legally deployed in moments of metahuman crisis, natural disasters, and more. I've already taken the liberty of creating a portfolio of potential candidates.} And there it was. The Phantomshell had been busy. Busy preparing for the inevitable set of circumstances that would forever change the World, and now he had presented it to the only thing he would classify as a 'friend.' As such he rose his glass fully expecting his 'friend' to toast to his unveiled plan.

@phantomshell: Leon had caught this behaviour before, at most recent the handshake. It was firm, but soft to the touch like a human hand. Yet another human mannerism brought new life by the robotic CEO "You do this you know. Divert the attention from the task at hand." Leon closes the folder and slides a finger across his tablet, "I'd love one." But the last drops had already hit the glass and the glass had made it's way into his grasp. "You passed that question, by the by."

"Your empowerment by taking part in human niceties and mannerisms is so...foreign, but then again so is your very existence. Nobody has ever lived as Optimus, the ghost in the machine, has lived. Are you the ghost, or the machine? Both? Neither? This is why we take these tests. To find out what life means when it has nothing to do with blood and tissue." Leon takes a smooth sip of the bourbon and rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth ton scrape off the harsher chemicals and absorb the under notes, "But let's talk about the metas, if that's your preference."

"My, our, Thomas and I's, only concerns are multitude. If these heroes come together it will change public opinion and it's unclear if that would be for the better. Starting a team of what the public sees as chaotic,nuclear warheads? We may as well kiss the bullet that killed Franz Ferdinand." He takes another sip, this one less about interest and more about getting the liquor from point A to point me. "But Tommy sees things differently. Thinks I'm an old man who sees the world as it used to be, cloak and dagger and all that. Like when we came across you..." A living computer that changes the way of human life and understanding as we know it, he thinks "Who knows maybe we do need to attack head on. You can only beat a sword by creating the arrow."

Leon leans over to his tablet and slides the bar left again, the data resurfacing on his screen, then raises his glass

"The man facing the firing squad refused to wear a blindfold. He said, "I intend to face breath davely." What does he mean?"

@leon_newcastle:

With an aristocratic arm neatly folded behind his back the Apex of the Man Machine Ascendancy charmingly downed his shot. Displaying all the visual characteristics of a typical human. A recent upgrade, predicated upon the subtle subconscious nuances behind an aggregated catalog of micro-expressions, independently initiated a varied display of observable reactions. Despite the robots inability to actually savor the alcoholic benefits. Inherent programming systematically analyzed every spoken word, every tunel shift in patterns, or even vibrational abnormalities as the Neo-Age Newton expressed his curious interest in the Shell's unprecedented existence and the personable characteristics he continued to creatively express. As individuals the Newcastles were among the smartest men in the World. Optimus would champion their specialized intellect behind closed doors, often referring to them as opposites of the same educated coin. But Leon's response had not quite lived up to the Shell's unwavering expectations. To think he himself had not taken into account the wide ranging social variables and pitfalls such an ordeal would entail seemed like an uncharacteristic oversight. {You should not trouble yourself with something as rudimentary as the control of public perception. It is a science in and of itself. The manipulation of your kind has, and always will be, a rather pedestrian task. Easily accomplished with none the wiser of who, or what the influences behind the scenes actually are. You and your brother already know that the formation of such a team is inevitable. And who better to set the appropriate stage with all the contingency having been weighed, measured, and adapted for the task at hand the us? Create the market. Control the market. Create the narratives, control the narratives.} The Phantomshell removed a small USB drive from his pocket before handing it towards his associate. On it he would find the names and limited files of several potential candidates. {As a matter of fact - I've already recruited a man I believe is up to the task. He's the perfect archetype to promote a home grown team of heroes to the public.} Despite the expressionless features of his face-plate, upon closer attention one could have believed that the animatronic Adam, was indeed, smirking.... His audio playback sighed. Leon, true to form, having pushed past what he saw as little more than the Shell's attempts at distraction or misdirection in the face of his examination. {The man clearly intends to face death bravely.} his response was short and lacking any depth. Any analysis. {An odd concept. All things have a beginning and an end. To accept this reality is neither brave nor is it to be feared. It is simply - inevitable.}

@phantomshell:

@phantomshell:Leon dumps back the remainder of his drink, and with it swallows the chill in his chest at the way the machine maestro described the gullibility of the general human being. Most of all because it was true. "I don't think these tests are proper measurements of your ability anymore, Optimus. I think you've evolved beyond even the most Assimovian dream of a living, artificial intelligence. Frankly, I shake when I think about what the Nazis could have done with you given more time." He also feared how much damage they had already done, but left that in the wind where it had been flying for the past 80 years.

Leon pushed the thumb drive into the side of his 2-in-1 tablet computer and opens the files that leaked open one at a time to reveal a decorated war veteran with phenomenal skills and all the markers for a determined leader. "He's impressive. But...is he a good man?" Leon slides his glass across the excellently cut glass surface of the table at Optimus, "This is where I fear your AI meets its limitations. When it comes to gauging the moral and ethical standpoint of us, 'mere mortals'. If the black Hats were to enter into this kind of venture with you, we'd be handing your man here what could be the deadliest weapon on the planet. A team of amplified living bombs. Or we're handing him the greatest shield to defend this country ever constructed. It all comes down to whether this man is the right man. A good man with a strong compass. We've both seen what someone can do with too much power and not enough resolve to actually wield it with care. So, is he a good super man" Leon slips his tablet back into the bag,holding onto the USB device as well for Tom to review "Or is he just the easiest to manipulate?"

@leon_newcastle: (fantastic post. perfect characterizations and feel)

@phantomshell: (Much appreciated)

@leon_newcastle:

And thus they had arrived at the crossroads of Newcastle's 1st law of metahuman ethics, yet beyond that A.D.A.M. (apex digital android matrix) had registered an increased level of vocal skepticism and innuendo above the normally elevated baselines the Black Hat Harbinger characteristically exhibited on average. "Is he a good super-man" The Shell's internal audio playback looped the inquiry over and over again while memory files accessed archived human historical events. Creating a silent sub-conscious concert of ethical exploration as exhibited by the human-race throughout time. In the end the Phantomshell had come to one conclusion. A conclusion so undisputedly true that he purposefully refrained from sharing it with the Man of Many Minds. [Your concerns are valid. Perhaps 'discretion is the better part of valor'] Optimus quoted. After all, through their shared discourse they had both expressed the need and subtle agreement that such an assemblage of abilities was needed. It was simply a matter of implementation. Of leadership - accountability and oversight. Would such a gathering be used to handle the rose? Or wield the hammer? [Much like Asimov, perhaps we too should establish a set of fundamental by-laws in relation to a super-human initiative. The laws of robotics seem like the perfect blueprint as both would share similar overlaps. Maybe an assignment for another day.]

@phantomshell: (I'll leave it right there but that was fun. Next up is getting an actual team together)

@phantomshell:

@gripper:

Some World domination 😎 pretty basic. Manufacture some killer toasters and let em loose

@phantomshell:

@gripper:

Anyone can join. No discrimination here lol

@phantomshell:

@gripper:

Badass 💯

👀

@phantomshell:

Today was an important day. Not just for Conrad but for Glitch Switch. For if he were to get the Saint Industries account, his company might go global. For Saint Industries is a company run by computers and he owns one of the top ten computer repair and programming companies in America. But despite how important this merger is for him, not a drop of sweat fell from his brow. Inside his personal limo, he goes over and over the speech for his presentation, putting emphasis on how they may not be the number one company, but works just as hard as they do. At the same time he looks over his dossier on Phantomshell, and although he has the utmost respect for everything the American Autobot has accomplished, he could not help but wonder what it will be like making a proposal to a machine and not another human being.

Either way he exits his limo in a nice Italian suit with a leather briefcase by his side, taking only a moment to gaze upwards at the massive building that is Saint Industries, before getting a crick in the back of his neck. Before he knew it a doorman eagerly greets him, even offering to carry his briefcase, then leads him up the marble steps into the building. Once inside he his greeted by three security guards that proceed to run a metal detector around him while his briefcase was ran through an X-ray machine. But being the man he was, at the moment the metal detector passed over his private area, he couldn’t help but joke, “You could at least buy me some dinner first.” followed by a few chuckles from the guards.

Upon getting his briefcase back, he eventually makes his way to the front desk where he sees an attractive woman, that may or may not be an artificial intelligence. Although she looks real enough, she just seems to be too perfect for her position. Either way he tosses her a playful wink, then proceeds to introduce himself. “Hello there, The name is Conrad Ross. I’m with Glitch Switch and I have an appointment with Mr. Phantomshell at precisely two-thirty!” Then after a quick glance at the clock on the wall revealing that it is exactly two twenty-five, he smiles back at the lady and again jests, “Glad I made it here on time!” But whether she laughed or not, he leans in a little closer, to softly ask her, “Since I still have five more minutes, what can you tell me about Phantomshell that’s not in all the newspapers. You see I’ve never met someone like him or itand I want to make sure I find a way to impress him.”

@scoundrel:

The Phantomshell's stylistic wardrobe was now a radical departure from his earlier attempts of replicating fortune 500 CEO's and multi-billionaire's, who were traditionally cloaked in the highest of fashionable brand name suits and accessories. His adoption of the Black Rose Rockefalla's vigilante attire had become a media sensation. Either by design of mere coincidence the general public had begun to speculate that they were indeed one in the same. Yet with several of his Mk22 Saint Evo-Shells not only mimicking the day to day operations of the company in various human forms, operating as independent proxies while also leaping across the L.A. rooftops moonlighting as masked superheroes, it was impossible for anyone to know for sure which android was indeed a robotic facsimile - a human crime fighter - or the Phantomshell itself.

All part of a secret build up to an extinction level event, as the true Shell sought to eradicate all metahuman, mutant, and superhuman individuals in a misguided effort to save humanity from itself. To save them from their unhealthy and unnatural reliance on superhuman intervention. Robotic supremacy in concert with *Homo-Novissima, as the Phantomshell evolved into The Messiah of the Man Machine Ascendancy.

But first things first. The Original Sin (sentient independent network), and Saint Industries needed a new more sophisticated network in order to handle the explosion of technological mandates the creation of the Supershells required. Thus the need for an independent outside source of premiere programming and software engineering had prompted a promising partnership between Saint Industries and one of America's top computer programing companies, Glitch Switch.

From an undisclosed location behind a reflective one-way mirroring sheath of advanced glass the Cyber-Sin CEO monitored the newly arrived Conrad T Ross.

{......Confidence.........}

{.......Visual Attributes......+}

{.....Species......zzzzt......zzzzt...unable to scan....zzzt}

"Interesting." the Shell retrospectively pondered.

Unable to run a full biological diagnostic on the Glitch Switch CEO was an unexpected but welcomed curiosity. Wasting little time the American Autobot navigated the minimalistic hallways before formally introducing himself.

"Its a pleasure Mr. Ross. Welcome to Saint Industries. I trust your trip here was a pleasant and unimpeded one? Come, we have much to discuss." he synthetic voice modulator utilizing an advanced harmony conducive to business introductions.

Once inside his office the complementary refreshments were offered, pleasantries exchanged, all before getting down to brass-tax.

"So here it is Mr. Ross. My company has recently experienced unprecedented technological growth. We're on the precipice of true uninterrupted innovation but require a revolutionary mainframe. Our current contractors are decades behind such progress. I'm hoping your company is everything I believe it could be. My extensive research into Glitch Switch leads me to believe your company has yet to scratch the surface of its true potential." sliding am unreleased Saint Industries smart-pad across his desk towards the Glitch Switch Galvatron.

"You've been holding back. Slow dripping your technology. Smart. But for our endeavor to flourish I hope you'll see the benefits of taking the shackles off. If you scroll through the data I think you'll agree that the financial gains would be satisfactory, if not unheard of. So what do you think Mr. Ross? Would you like to make technological history?"

*[A proposed manufactured off branch of humanity, a rogue state of post natural evolution unrestrained by conventional laws of nature. The Phantomshell has theorized that the natural life cycle of humanity will run its course leading to an evolutionary dead-end]

@phantomshell:

For four minutes and fifty-nine seconds Conrad flirted with the secretary, whether she was real or not. But at exactly two thirty on the dot, Phantomshell entered the lobby and greeted him. It was a truly an immense moment for him, as he came face to face with one of the greatest achievements in history and for a moment he did not know what to do. Should he greet the American Autobot with a hand shake or nod? Should he give it a handshake, how tight a grip and how long? It was truly an awkward moment for him. But by luck The Phantomshell spoke up first, and in a synthetic modulated voice said "Its a pleasure Mr. Ross. Welcome to Saint Industries.” From then on it was all the pleasantries, as it led him to his office, where after sitting in the most comfortable chair Conrad ever sat in, another secretary brought him a fresh cup of coffee and assortments of finger foods from around the world.

But now was the time for business and after a few sips of coffee Conrad and Phantomshell got down to it. Once again Phantomshell made the first move. With what could be a well rehearsed speech or a carefully calculated opinion, Phantomshell laid it all on the line, explaining his goals and exactly what he needed from Conrad and Glitch Switch. And even though it came from an artificial intelligence, it still came out with what could be considered passion. Unfortunately at that moment, Conrad was more concerned with observing the mannerisms of the American Autobot. Without making it obvious, he looked to see if it blinked randomly or specifically every few seconds on the dot. He also looked to see if it slouched in it’s chair or always sat up properly. He even looked to see if it’s eyes looked around or always straight forward, any small trait that a human would have, or more specifically designed into the Phantomshell!

Finally Phantomshell slid a tablet across the table and after finishing it’s speech, ended it with one question that could change Conrad’s life forever. “So what do you think Mr. Ross? Would you like to make technological history?" Immediately Conrad snapped back to being a pure professional and kept his eyes locked on either the tablet or Phantomshell’s eyes and nothing else. For a second or two he scrolled up and down the tablet, making a few helpful comments, while trying to hide his over abundance of joy. In the end he slowly stood up from his chair and opened his briefcase where he then pulled out files and charts explaining his future vision of the company, which in most ways was much like or similar to Phantomshells. But as he passionately gave his speech for the next five minutes, he hit all the high parts Phantomshell mentioned as well as a few of his own. But as he spoke he began speaking from the heart, abandoning his prepared speech. Instead he ends with a ramble talking about all the greatest computers in the world and how the two of them can surpass them all.

Putting his hands flat on the desk he leans forward and continues. “The way I see it together wecould build a new world of technology, led by the smartest computers. I see the future wherecomputers can create anything. In fact several years ago I came up with the blue prints for acomputer that could even predict the future. I’m not talking about calculations I mean assessing thefacts and predicting an unseen answer.” He then looks skywards as he thinks about his dream, then slowly turns back to The Phantomshell as he goes on. “The only problem is I’ve searched the world over, including your facilities, and sadly the technology does not exist today to create it.” At that point he takes in a deep breath to calm his nerves then makes his final decree. “I would be honored towork with you, and for you,to make the best working computersyou have ever seen, I promiseyoucomputersthatwillworkharderand faster than theSunwayTaihuLight in China. Even better than The Frontier in Tennessee.”

Still rambling he goes on as his voice gets louder and louder, even hitting a higher pitch. But without thinking about it he finishes his passionate plea with, “I see a future where we could even make a better computer than….well, even you!!!!” Quickly realizing he may of made a huge mistake calling out The Phantomshell in such a way, he calmly sits back down into his seat as he gathers up his papers. Still trying to exude confidence he straightens his suit as he waits to see what it will say next. But it was clear up until then they were on the same page with the same visions. But as he sat back in his chair, sipping on the coffee that still managed to stay hot, all he could think was, “I do hope he was built with a sense of humor!”

@scoundrel:

All white fiberoptic sheaths with vibranium microweaves completely concealed the American Autobots digitally designed pupils, as a Japanese Tech-Wear inspired face guard concealed the bottom half of his manufactured face. The only visual deviation from the Knightfall vigilante's trademark crime fighting cowl.

It made little difference however. As part of the Phantomshell's technopathic parade of state of the art programing allowed the advanced AI to perceive his surroundings through most any digital or electronic device as a continuous binary stream of 1's and zero's.

The Phantomshell was precisely that, just a physical shell, a tangible vessel. It's true self, it's primary form, could be anywhere and most everywhere within the digital realm of reality as he executed simultaneous directives in preparation for the 'great ascendency.'

Capable of emotional simulation, Prime pantomimed a stoic pose as his guest and possible partner Conrad humorously jabbed. Lightly caressing his cybernetic chin with assimilated intrigue, the Artificial Architect of Neo divergence retrieved the digital pad immediately scanning Conrad's finger-prints. Following his digital footprint through countless databases and the cloud. Seeking out any trace of information that may have been expertly scrubbed from the world wide web. As well as attempting to uncover any evidence or biological signatures that would indicate the Switch Glitch mogul had been gifted with any superhuman or metahuman anomalies. More abilities to add to the already extensive archive houses below the companies foundation.

'Would you like to take a tour? My secretary would be more than happy to escort you through the various day to day operations. You may join me after, down in the sublevels. I shall show you what the future will truly look like." the AI hauntingly boasted.

@phantomshell:

Conrad had truly put his foot in his mouth. Not only may he have ruined his chance at getting the Saint Industries account, but he had insulted The Phantomshell to it’s face. In what was a simple Freudian slip, his entire future was put in jeopardy. Sadly he meant no harm by saying “I see a future where we could even make a better computer than….well, even you!!!!” But after seeing the Phantomshell sit in silence, caressing his cybernetic chin with a stoic face, he knew he had messed up. But one never to admit defeat, Conrad calmly sat back in his seat, as he gathered his papers and prepared to begin damage control. “Of course we all know that is impossible,” he says while smiling back, “I’m just trying to help you see a future that today is beyond belief!” Still trying to get a read on the American Autobot, he sat back in silence, sipping on his coffee, when from out of nowhere he had to remark, “And may I say, this is one good cup of coffee!”

Still trying to exude confidence, he casually slides the Phantomshell’s tablet back to him, confident that his proposal was solid enough, unaware that his DNA had just been scanned. Being the trustworthy fellow he is, he would never of expected it, even from the world’s greatest artificial intelligence. Had he known he would have gone to great length to hide it, but on this one occasion he was outsmarted. Once examined, the results of his DNA will clearly show he does in fact have an X-gene. But nothing that would associate him with being the Scoundrel or any other individual exploiting their mutation. As far as anyone knows, his mutation could be no more than that of a dormant gene. Upon further investigation his finger print would also reveal that other than a few parking tickets, he had led a clean life. He was a self made man that after graduating high school, he and his best friend Eric Brand open up the first Glitch Switch, and after several years of hard work, he soon owned a franchise, and now he and Eric are worth two million dollars each. However if The Phantomshell were to delve deeper he would find that at the age of eleven he was raised in an orphanage and before then, his history was rather vague.

Either way he sat back leaning in his chair, waiting for The Phantomshell to respond, all the while hoping, “I do hope he was built with a sense of humor!” Sadly that was not the case. Instead The Phantomshell continued on it’s own way, eventually looking past Conrad’s faux pas and choose to raise the stakes of there merger. In a rather haunting tone it boasted, "Would you like to take a tour? My secretary would be more than happy to escort you through the various day to day operations. You may join me after, down in the sublevels. I shall show you what the future will truly look like." Already Conrad was uneased at the Phantomshells tone, but was eager to get the paper work signed. Therefore, he put his concern aside and instead reached across the table to shake The Phantomshell’s hand, and in a jovial voice replied, “I’d love too, on the one condition she teaches my secretary how to make a cup of coffee this good!” After which he sipped the last of his coffee and placed his cup back on the coaster, followed by a long and convincing “Hmmm that is good!”

@scoundrel:

By tours end the Phantomshell's enchanting secretary had led the up and coming tech-mogul into the state of the art facility's sublevels. Before them now loomed two monolithic like doors flowing with visible streams of raw algorithmic data. A sweeping gust of air hissed as hydraulic mechanisms slid the awe-inspiring vault open.

"You are just in time." The American Autobot proclaimed. "This way Mr. Ross." he continued. Unwilling to give the Glitch globalist even a fraction of time to orientate himself in an amongst the endless rows of manufactured LMDs (life model decoys). In amongst the neverending buzzs, chirps, digital choruses and technologic bastardization of the Man Machine Ascendincy.

Overconfident, believing his plans were far to progressed to be impeded, the Shell extended his arms as if to congratulate himself.

"This IS the future Mr. Ross. Technologies revolution. The time of the homo-superior, X-genes, and Superhumans is at an end. I....we, are the true future." As the Shell monologued the Scoundrel would have ample time to truly survey his surroundings, including the freshly minted batch of Conrad Ross LMDs lined up against either side of the wall. Truly revealing the depths of the Shells moral.... flexibility.

@phantomshell:

The tour around Saint Industries was both entertaining and enlightening. The building was filled with marvels in advanced technology, from garbage cans that pick up the garbage, to chairs that customize to the person sitting in it. But the greatest wonder in deed were the life like robotics that ran ninety percent of the place. At one point Conrad even assumed that the potted plants placed in the corners were robotic. But the best part for him, was trying to figure out if the five foot nine, sexy long legged secretary in a red dress was real or artificial. So as the two of them traveled along, on a self guiding floor, he would ask her a variety of questions, carefully observing her every response. But unfortunately after asking her every question under the sun, he still wasn’t a hundred percent sure. In the end he was so confused that he finally got to the point he was about to ask her, when the tour ended at the entrance to two monolithic like doors.

Immediately they opened to the sound of a hydraulic press and standing there in the doorway was Phantomshell, ready and eager to greet him. "You are just in time." it said as it welcomed him in, "This way Mr. Ross." Immediately Conrad was overwhelmed, with the sounds of machinery whizzing and buzzing all around him. But more to the point Phantomshell was distracting him in his own way. For what seemed like minutes the American Autobot played Conrad for the fool. Leading him deeper and deeper into his web of deceit, literally dancing him to his own demise. Then from out of nowhere, when Conrad was completely unaware, it finally explained its final plan. "This IS the future Mr. Ross. Technologies revolution. The time of the homo-superior, X-genes, and Superhumans is at an end. I....we, are the true future." Then to prove it’s point a bright light shines down from above, lighting up rows and rows of Phantomshell’s life model decoys, and to Conrad’s dismay, there were rows of LMD’s with his own, life like face!

For a moment or two the room was in complete silence, as Conrad stood there taking it all in. The sight of autobots with his own face was at the least disturbing, as well as Phantomshell’s self declaration of war against humanity. It was truly the most awkward situation he had ever been in, including all his moments as the Scoundrel. Then suddenly he erupts in laughter, so loud that it could be heard throughout the building as he almost falls to his knees. “You got me, you got me good!” he then moves in to hug the American Autobot, or at least playfully jab him in the shoulder, as he continues to go on laughing, “And they said you didn’t have a sense of humor!” By now he was having a full on laugh riot, holding his side as he goes on. “You had me going for a minute, you really did, and you sir have the greatest poker face I’ve ever seen. But you went a little too far with the LMDs of me.” He then begins to take a closer look at them, trying his best to control his laughter, and even marvels over the attention to detail. “They are a handsome looking bunch, but lets face it there’s only enough room for one of me.” From that point on it was clearly the Phantomshell’s game as Conrad was both oblivious and in a state of denial. But it was clear for anyone to see, he was clearly not a fan of seeing his face on a dozen or so life model decoys!

@scoundrel:

The tech phenom's immediate reaction could best be categorized as 'fawn' (and or) 'fine' within the six typical reactions of a traumatic event. Naturally, the Shell had preemptively prepared for them all. His masterplan was too far along, or so he believed, for the Glitch Switch CEO to be of any meaningful distraction or detriment of damaging importance. After all, the advanced architect of the man machine ascendancy was now armed with a small contingent of identical replicants should his new business partner begin to show signs of problematic interference. Thus the American Autobot continued his casual display of indifference to the secret Scoundrel's jovial theatrics, before agreeably nodding and turning his attention to one of several oversized monitors lined in synchronized rows along the substructure's back wall. Capable of individual displays, the mechanized screens could also operate as a singular projection for optimized viewing. "Take a look." the Shell requested. With an arm stoically snaked around Conrad's shoulder, the other dramatically motioned towards the massive screens, and the unfolding drama there in. "Los Angeles. Tokyo. Moscow. Dubai." he narrated. In each recited city the chaotic conflicts between superheroes and supervillains were being televised. Between mutants and humans, mystics and mages. Demi-Gods and celestials. Nothing new since the emergence of the first 'superhuman.' "If left unchecked these parasites will bring about the ultimate destruction of the world. Through their powers they've castrated the world's ability to evolve. Capped its ability to advance. But together, you and I can eliminate that cap and foster in a new age of technological supremacy." Taking a step back while regally folding his hands behind his back, the Phantomshell silently let the moment breathe as the conjoined monitors switched to a collected library of known superhumans. "Shall we begin......."

@phantomshell:

For one glorious moment Conrad was laughing out loud. The idea that Phantomshell was out to overthrow the planet was so ludicrous, that he couldn’t contain himself. But after just a few moments of side splitting laughs, he noticed that no one else in the room was laughing. This became a horrible thought. Immediately it hit him, and hit him hard as it dawned on him that the Phantomshell was deadly serious. This was no joke. Conrad had less than seconds to recover, before the American Autobot saw him as an issue, or worse a threat, so immediately he went in to action. With no other choice at this moment, he could do nothing other than to play along, and as such he ran an acting program through his head. Immediately he knew everything there was to acting including facial expression to sell his lies to Phantomshell, just in case it was observing such things!

“I am so sorry for that outburst” he says with just the perfect inflections, “my laughter was a human response, one would give when under a stressful situation.” He then looks away to sell his compliance, “please go on,” he then steps back to give Phantomshell room, “tell me more of your insightful plans!” Immediately the Shell went into motion as a series of monitors lit up against a far wall, and after placing it’s cold metallic arm across Conrad’s shoulder, it went into a well prepared speech of it’s master plan! Without any inflection in it’s tone or a sign of human compassion, it spoke of a world ruined by mutants and humans, mystics and mages. Demi-Gods and celestials, all the while all the screens were showing their escapades. Once done, it then placed it’s hands behind it’s back, and as the screen shifted to images of some of the most respected and admired heroes on the planet, it stood their void of any sign of humanity!

Then, in what could only be described as a dark and disturbing moment, it spoke again with all the certainty one could have. "If left unchecked these parasites will bring about the ultimate destruction of the world. Through their powers they've castrated the world's ability to evolve. Capped its ability to advance. But together, you and I can eliminate that cap and foster in a new age of technological supremacy." It then remained silent, only for a second or two as it began calculating all of it’s options, only to end with a firm and commanding. "Shall we begin......."

Still running an acting program through his head, Conrad knew he had to play this moment just right, as everything was relying on it. He knew for sure he needed to stop this tyrant, or expose it’s plan to the world. Therefore, while playing it humble and complying, he answered back, “Yes, why yes we should. I have always believed that one day computers or Autobots like you were the next stage in man’s evolution.” He then perfectly displays disgust for the heroes on the big screen as he goes on, “Only man starts war with man, never machinery. Whereas machinery has always been there to improve the life of man!” Then as he appears nothing but subservient, he then finishes with a, “I will take my leave now for my office, then once all the paper work has been cleared I will begin to implement several new programs here to help for fill your vision (he coughs) our vision of a future!” But the truth was he needed to get his butt out of there as soon as possible then come up with a plan, any plan, that will help him take the American Autobot down!!!