Saint Industries, Los Angeles - CV22 Location

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.}

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.]