"It’s not this one. Where... is it?"
Albert had been rummaging through Bernard’s mound of forgotten inventions for several minutes now. He was buried in the pile, digging through layers of abandoned tech in search of the old helt he was looking for.
Riley, anwhile, stood quietly, waiting. But after the third minute passed, he began to slowly wander around the barn, his eyes scanning the scattered remnants of his father’s discarded genius. This barn had been filled even when he was younger, but now it was just... overflowing, almost suffocating... it beca worse.
"Oh?"
Sothing buried caught Riley’s eye. It was jutting out of one of the piles. He reached for it, gave it a few tugs, and finally yanked it free. The mound threatened to collapse, but a quick wave of Riley’s hand pushed the surrounding objects back into place.
He examined the item in his hand for a mont, then casually slipped it into his pocket without another word.
"Aha!" And finally, after a few more seconds of waiting, Albert finally erged from the pile, holding a white motorcycle helt triumphantly in both hands.
"This was one of your father’s early prototypes—his third helt, I believe. He only used it for two days before deciding to build a custom one from scratch," Albert said, spinning the helt lightly above his palm. "He retrofitted this when he was just a few years older than you. Despite the bulky look, it’s actually quite comfortable."
"I would prefer it in black, Mr. AI," Riley shook his head. "I do not want to be easily seen at night."
"Oh?" Albert humd, "You’re going out at night, Riley? You truly are growing up. Wait here, I will make so modifications to it, and I assu you also want to remove the tracking?"
"Yes, please."
"Very well. You may wait near the entrance. I should be done in a few minutes."
Riley nodded, glanced once more at the collar nearby, then stepped out of the barn to wait. True to his word, Albert returned a few minutes later, carrying a large briefcase.
"Everything you need is inside," Albert said, bowing slightly as he handed it over.
"Okay."
Riley took the briefcase and turned to leave, but as he stood waiting for the elevator, he looked back at Albert.
"Please do not tell Father I was here, okay?"
"What are you talking about? You were never here," Albert raised both his thumbs up, "You don’t have to worry—Bernard might have made when he was only four years old, but he also requested to protect you and Hannah when you ca into his life—your orders are as important as his, Riley. He made you and your sister my priority number 1."
Riley blinked a couple of tis, then gently set down the briefcase—and, unexpectedly, jumped and hugged the robot.
"Riley..." Albert did not move at first, but it slowly wrapped its arm around Riley, "...You still rember my request?"
"Of course, Mr. AI," Riley said as he stepped back. "You said being hugged was your favorite reward. I believe it is only appropriate after helping ."
"Hmm," Albert nodded, his synthetic voice carrying a rare softness. "Thank you, Riley... and please visit more often."
***
A few minutes later, Riley opened the briefcase back in his room. Inside was a helt so impossibly black it looked as though his pale hands were being swallowed by it. The surface didn’t reflect a single dot of light—it was as if it absorbed everything around it.
Riley nodded as he carefully placed the helt on his bed. He was about to close the briefcase, but then noticed that the helt wasn’t the only thing there—he almost didn’t see it as it was the sa black as the helt.
A full-body suit and a pair of boots. He pulled them out carefully, laying them next to the helt. Against the stark white sheets, the ensemble looked like the silhouette of a person-shaped void. If he jumped on it, it felt like he might disappear into an endless abyss.
"Thank you, Mr. AI," Riley once again nodded. And with a glance at the window, he started wearing the suit.
The suit was extrely loose, making it easy to wear—but as soon as Riley zipped it closed, it imdiately tightened and snuggled to sowhat contour Riley’s body. But even with it clinging to his skin, it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.
It was the sa with the boots—it was incredibly loose, only shrinking as Riley wore it.
He walked over to the mirror in his closet. The reflection staring back at him looked like a disembodied head hovering in the dark—the suit so black it erased the shape of his body. He raised his arm, and the helt floated from the bed and gently descended onto his head.
It fit perfectly. No pressure, no squeeze. Just weightless comfort.
And there he was.
A shadow in human form. A presence that didn’t quite exist in the sa reality as the room around him.
The perfect suit for Riley Ross.
And not only that—
[Greetings, Riley.]
"...Mr. AI?"
A voice whispered inside the helt, Albert’s voice. Well... not quite.
[I detect a mobile phone within five ters. Please place it in front of the helt to proceed with copying its functionality.]
"Okay," and even without questioning why Alberto was there, Riley just shrugged and stepped out of the closet, grabbing his phone that was on the bed, holding it right in front of him.
[Done. You may now use your phone wirelessly via a special HUD personalized just for you.]
Augnted reality interfaces blood across his vision. But... Riley imdiately dismissed them all with a flick.
"Please, only show the map."
And with those words, everything vanished—except for a single map, tucked neatly into the corner of his view.
"Thank you, Mr. AI," Riley whispered to himself again as he made his way to the window and climbed over it—his silhouette disappearing into the night and swallowing the lively New York lights.
And then, without even as much as a sigh, he took to the sky.
The city shrank beneath him—his first ti truly flying up high. For most, it would be a mont of wonder or exhilaration, maybe even euphoria. But for Riley, it was simply a mode of travel. A straight line from where he was to where he needed to be.
He barely even glanced down or looked around; he just made his way toward the clouds so that he would at least be hidden, just in case soone else was flying in the sky.
He glanced at the map at the corner of his visor, and it adjusted the path as soon as it detected that Riley was flying—it also showed his speed.
Eighty miles per hour, and climbing.
The clouds parted like a wedge ahead of him as he soared faster.
New York faded.
And then—a boom.
But not from him.
A sonic tremor cracked the air, stopping him cold. Because the source of the sound wasn’t behind him... but directly in front.
Floating in the sky, wrapped in white, gold, and red—
gawoman.
Why?
The worst possible person he could have t in the sky.
"You are supposed to be retired, gawoman."
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