From Idler to Tech Tycoon: Earth -
Chapter 123 - 122: First Ride
Chapter 123: Chapter 122: First Ride
The black sedan lay silent, save for the rhythmic dripping of sap from a freshly felled tree branch. Inside, Ciano sat rigidly in the driver’s seat, his hands still gripping the wheel, his jaw literally slack. His gaze was fixed on the rearview mirror, where Richard floated just outside the car, surrounded by the prone forms of the armed men. Ciano’s mind wrestled with what he had just witnessed.
He... he just did that, Ciano thought. Fifteen men. In seconds. No gun. Just... power. Like a ghost. He didn’t even touch them. My boss... what is he? I can’t believe my eyes. This isn’t just magic tricks or special forces training. This is... something else entirely. Something... beyond. His professional skepticism, honed over years in high-threat environments, had not just been shattered; it had been atomized. He felt a shiver, not of cold, but of awe, tracing down his spine.
As Ciano processed the impossible, the apprehended armed men began to stir, groaning in anger and confusion. A faint, almost imperceptible hum filled the air, growing steadily. Then, a sleek, dark form descended from the sky, landing with uncanny smoothness and utter silence just behind the sedan. It was Butler Jimmy.
Jack, who had been curled in the passenger seat, oblivious to most of Richard’s display, stirred at the subtle disturbance. He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looked out the rear window. His jaw dropped. "Whoa! Jimmy! You flew here! You actually flew!" he exclaimed, scrambling out of the car, eyes wide with childlike amazement. He’d seen the androids in the underground labs, but this was first-hand action.
Jimmy, the elder-looking android with perfectly coiffed curly blonde hair and a neatly trimmed mustache, dressed impeccably in a butler’s uniform, performed a slight, graceful bow. "Good afternoon, Master Jack. A pleasure to be of service." His voice was a flawless, perfect British posh accent, utterly convincing.
Jack just stared, transfixed. "He even talks like a real butler," he muttered to himself, awestruck. "This is insane! The real butler just flew in!"
Butler Jimmy then turned his attention to Richard, who still hovered calmly outside the car. With another slight, respectful bow, he addressed him. "Sir Richard. I trust my arrival was timely."
Richard lowered himself to the ground, his silver eyes meeting Jimmy’s. "Jimmy, were you spotted flying all the way here?"
"Negative, Sir. Stealth mode was fully engaged," Butler Jimmy replied smoothly, handing Richard a large, sleek blue suitcase. "No visual or energy signature anomalies detected. The route was clear."
Richard placed the suitcase on the ground, and with a soft whirr, placed his thumbprint on a recessed panel. The case didn’t just open; it began to unfold, panels sliding back with intricate precision, revealing the complex, dormant form of the Prometheus Mark 8 armor within. Richard stepped onto the designated foot slots. With a rapid series of metallic clicks and whirs, the armor automatically transformed, engulfing him. Deep blue plates, streaked with vibrant cyan lines, articulated around his form, culminating in the iconic, small horn on the helmet.
Jack watched, utterly spellbound. "Holy cow! Bro, is that...?! That’s the Prometheus?! Last time I saw it, it wasn’t like that before, but now it folds from a briefcase and then transforms? Like a damn Transformer! Dude, I want my Musashi armor to do that! This is way cooler than mine!" His voice was a blend of genuine admiration and envious whine.
Richard, his voice now subtly deepened by the armor’s internal speakers, chuckled. "You’d better hit the gym, bro, and push your Musashi to its limits. Then maybe you’ll earn an upgrade too."
Jack slumped, his excitement momentarily deflated. "Ugh. I’m still losing weight, man. Seriously, Lina’s got me on some ’combat training’ regimen that nearly killed me. Again! No combat testing anytime soon, unless ’combat’ involves me running away really fast." He threw his hands up in mock surrender.
The captured armed men, still groaning in the middle of the road, and Ciano, glued to his seat, stared in complete bewilderment. Their eyes were practically "gouged out" from the spectacle. A man just stepped into a suitcase and it became a robot suit! And a butler flew down from the sky! It was straight out of the sci-fi movies they’d only ever seen on screens. They were utterly overwhelmed by the undeniable proof of Richard’s power, his seemingly infinite wealth, and the mind-boggling advanced technology at his command.
That... that’s from a movie! one NPA Gunman thought, his mind reeling. He just put on a robot suit! And that butler flew from the sky! What in God’s name is happening?! This isn’t just a man. He’s a... a god!
Power. Money. Technology. He has everything. He’s not just a boss, Ciano’s internal monologue echoed, a chilling realization settling in. He’s... untouchable. We are just ants to him.
Richard, a formidable presence in the Prometheus Mark 8 armor, turned to Butler Jimmy. "Jimmy, escort Jack back to the Bytebull HQ. I’ll be right behind you. I have a few things to handle first."
Then, before he departed, Richard extended a hand. The felled trees blocking the road, previously an insurmountable barrier, shuddered. With a groan of splintering wood, they slowly levitated, shifting off the asphalt, clearing the path as if lifted by an invisible, colossal hand.
He turned his glowing silver eyes to the apprehended armed men, who stared back in terror. Richard’s voice, now a calm, resonant command, filled their minds telepathically. "You will forget what happened here today. You will tell everyone nothing. You will forget everything about me. I am only a shadow, a phantom, an apparition, a ghost."
The NPA gunmen’s eyes glazed over, becoming blank, their slurring murmurs echoing the commands. "Shadow... phantom..." Their memories, precisely and effortlessly, reconfigured.
Ciano watched, completely awestruck and bewildered by Richard’s latest display of power. He just... he just made them forget. Like snapping his fingers. The sheer scale of Richard’s abilities, his control over reality itself, was terrifying. My boss has everything. Power, money, technology beyond belief. I’m supposed to protect him? It feels like he’s the one protecting me. My job just got a whole lot more... ceremonial.
"I’m going now, Jimmy. Take care of Jack." Richard’s armored voice resonated.
The Prometheus Mark 8’s AI, David, responded instantly. "Where to now, Sir?"
"Destination: marked location. Engage stealth and flight mode."
With a low thrum that quickly escalated to a powerful roar, the Prometheus Mark 8 lifted off the ground. It streaked upwards, a blur of deep blue and cyan, soaring beyond the trees and into the clouds, disappearing as if it had never been there, leaving no trace behind but a lingering sense of the impossible.
Jack and Ciano stood on the roadside, staring up at the empty sky where Richard had vanished.
Jack’s face was alight with renewed excitement, a wide, genuine grin stretching across it. "Man! He just... disappeared! That’s awesome! He’s gonna show me all the cool stuff next time, I know it!" He bounced on the balls of his feet, like a spoiled child who had just received the most incredible toy. His initial fears, temporarily forgotten in the face of such spectacle.
He pumped his fist, a determined look hardening his features. "Alright, Musashi. You and me. Lina. We’re training. Hard." He imagined his own less-than-super-suit. "I’m getting that upgrade. And someday... someday, I’m fighting with you, Richard. Just wait." His enduring loyalty and childlike enthusiasm were still present, but now tempered by a new, growing maturity and a fierce determination. Jack’s desire to contribute actively to Richard’s world, to fight alongside him rather than just observe, had solidified.
------------
In the air, streaking across the afternoon sky, Richard felt an exhilaration he hadn’t known since childhood. Not the controlled, mechanical ascent of a plane, but true, unbridled flight. The Prometheus Mark 8 hummed around him, an extension of his will. "Woo-hoo!" he couldn’t help but shout, the sound muffled within the suit but echoing in his exhilarated mind.
"Sir, I thought our priority was the designated destination," David, the Prometheus AI, calmly interjected in his commlink.
Richard chuckled, his internal amusement vibrating through the suit. "Shut up, David. Can’t a man at least enjoy this once?" He looked down. The city and houses below rapidly shrank, becoming miniature blocks and scattered specks. He could even discern the Bytebull HQ, a gleaming jewel in the landscape. A broad smile stretched across his face inside the helmet.
His gaze then swept towards Mount Malindang, a majestic, sprawling mass reaching towards the clouds. Curiosity, a powerful driver for Richard, tugged at him. He veered towards up in the sky, then began to ascend, pushing the suit higher, faster.
Through the troposphere, the stratosphere, and then beyond the Karman line, into the mesosphere. He kept climbing, testing the limits, the sheer audacity of being able to go beyond the very atmosphere. He stopped in the thermosphere, the boundary of space, where the blackness of the void began to bleed into the deep blue of Earth.
From his vantage point, the Earth’s curvature was breathtaking, a grand, beautiful marble swirling with blues and whites. He saw the small, glinting International Space Station, a tiny metallic insect against the vast backdrop. "Lina," he asked, a hint of childlike wonder in his voice, "I didn’t even know the suit could breathe in space."
Lina’s calm voice returned through his commlink. "The new Prometheus Mark 8 armor is designed to withstand the vacuum of space, Sir. It currently has thirty minutes of independent life support. I accounted for the high probability that your first impulse upon experiencing true flight would be to attempt atmospheric re-entry or spaceflight."
Richard chuckled. "Of course you did. You always think of everything."
Then, a sudden, inexplicable urge to push further. He aimed for the exosphere, the outermost layer. He surged forward, pushing the armor’s thrusters to their maximum.
Suddenly, a jarring impact. It was as if he had slammed head-first into an invisible, immovable metal wall. The Prometheus Mark 8 groaned, its internal systems flickering. Richard’s eyes widened, his momentary panic a cold splash of water.
Before him, the air shimmered, the invisibility field that had been there moments before now violently disrupted by his collision. A colossal, cloaked solar warden starship materialized out of nowhere, its immense hull scarred where he had impacted. He saw the vastness of its superstructure, the faint outlines of weapon emplacements. Panic seized him. He didn’t think, he reacted, immediately engaging full descent thrusters, plummeting back down towards the atmosphere, a frantic blur of blue and cyan.
Minutes later, deep in the relative safety of the stratosphere, Richard let out a shaky sigh. "Lina," he whispered, his voice still a little breathless, "They didn’t see me, did they?"
"Negative, Sir," Lina replied, her voice unwavering. "You were too small to register on their long-range radars, and your stealth mode remained active, despite the localized energy disruption from the impact."
Onboard the USS Merlion
The bridge of the USS Merlion, a part of the solar warden project, chaos reigned. Captain Anya Petrova slammed a fist on her console. "What was that?!"
"Cloak systems just experienced a critical disruption, Captain!" a frantic Ensign reported, his fingers flying across his console. "We’re showing a localized energy spike, but... nothing! No source! No signature! It’s gone!"
"Gone?!" Captain Petrova roared, her eyes wide with alarm. "Impossible! Get that cloak back online, now! We’re too close to the atmosphere. If we don’t hurry, we’ll be spotted by civilian and military observation satellites any minute! We’ll be compromised!"
The bridge crew worked frantically, sweat beading on their brows, trying to restore the ship’s invisibility. The silence Richard felt in space was shattered for them by the cacophony of alarms and panicked commands, a terrifying near-discovery.
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