The Orgin of Seth Able v1.06




First time making an orgin story, And didnt know if this was the right place to post i, but please feel free to comment..
Enjoy, or, uh not.

Proprietary information

Project Name: SETH ABLE V1.06
Lead Developer: Ripley Allenton
Co-Developer: N/A
Development team: Pinnitech
Lead coordinator: Ripley Allenton
CDL# 02-086b
Start Date: 12-01-2002
End Date: 07-04-2004
Funding granted: $2,500,000,000
Actual Amount Spent: $2,679,120,836

The Rikti war was a devastating blow to the entire world. Hundreds of thousands lost their lives during this time to the onslaught of alien invaders. The Super Powered “Heroes” hence forth referred to as SPH, of the United States pooled together during this hour of crisis and were able to repel the invasion after a long struggle with a very high mortality rate. The depletion of the US SPH resources during this time has made our country vulnerable to outside threats, urban threats, and alien threats. Due to the high mortality rate among the SPH, it has been agreed upon by high ranking members of the Joint chiefs of staff, the department of defense, and the department of homeland security, that Pinnatech Industries should be granted funding that will be publicly disclosed at $2,500,000,000 for the research, development, and production of the SETH ABLE Robotic Super hero.

While SPH are a great asset to our nation they also require more maintenance cost then any other civil group in existence. The collateral damage that is caused during their skirmishes alone is estimated annually at 600 million Dollars annually. That coupled with SPH state funded healthcare, since a large majority of SPH see their Crime fighting as a primary career choice, are only a few of the numerous cost associated with the prescience of SPH in our nation. The Nation is seeing record numbers in deficit spending, and post war reconstruction cost. The Age of SPH has been an exciting, if not chaotic, one. Astounding new leaps in technology have quickly ushered in a new era, the age of the Super Powered Robotic Hero. No upkeep required due to reconstructive Nano-technology. The SPRH is made entirely of a recently discovered invulnerable material akin to adamant. Near precognitive memory circuits coupled with retractable reinforced blades make the SPRH perfect for melee ranged combat….

The memo, report, what ever it was ends here. The page was ripped in half and a large boot print smudges some of the lettering.. He lets it drift through his fingers down into the green static haze that is the floor. His purpose. He looks down at the two mechanical monstrosities that extend from his shoulders. He can see the blades sheathed in their adamant casing through his robotic forearms. He does not know what happened or how he got here. Memories flash like fireflies and sunspots before his eyes. Smiling faces of children, a beautify woman with curly hair and perfect lips. A stop sign. Then more recent and stronger memories. A bright light and cotton face mask. Blood. Lots of Blood. A voice asking if it could be heard. White light being covered in a cloak of static green.
Before he knows it he is running. On the move. The room he has left resembled an operation room filled with all the parts you would normally find in an automotive shop. The hall way he runs down is unlit besides red emergency sirens at regular intervals. He hurtles over debris that litters and clogs the hall way. Glancing from side to side as he runs he peers into the passing rooms and sees men and women in white coats lying in pools of blood. Light green cross hairs close around each of them as soon as they are in sight but he hardly notices. He comes quickly and quietly to a halt at the end of the hallway and turns right. Though he sees the world through an infinite spectrum of green he knows that the figure before him is wearing a dark grey overcoat. Though he cannot see them he knows that his combat boots are ½ a size too large for him, he is left handed, twenty-four years of age, shaved unnecessarily this morning, and is holding an MP5 HK issue assault rifle with a full clip. Surprised by the overload of information on his cross-haired target he realized that with out his noticed his blades have extended to full length, as if thirsty to pierce the board back of this intruder. He is 2 feet taller then the figure in front of him, and under arms distance away. Smaller orange targets appear and center the base of the skull, pressure points along the neck, nerve endings on the elbows, and two twin larger targets on each blade of the shoulders. He takes his pick and plungers his blades deep into the right shoulder of the lad and is not surprised when he lets out a squeal of pain. He doesn’t doubt his knowledge that his claws managed to miss every vital organ and artery. “What the (censored)” the soldier cries in German, “Arggh”
“Who are you” comes a voice washed in static void of emotion. He nearly turns around before he realizes that the voice is his. Not his voice but alien replications of it, as if he was hearing himself from out side of a Statesman Burger drive through.
“Lieutenant Aaron Kipling, 5th column” he lad says with a shudder.
“What is your pur..” he flashes back to the memo…
Astounding new leaps in technology have quickly ushered in a new era….. The age of the Super Powered Robotic Hero…
“Purpose here…” he finishes.
“Death before betrayal!” Lt. Kipling says as he pushes his weight on the blades piercing his shoulder. Deep ribbons of blood spill down his back. Surprised at the Kipling’s actions he pushes him forward with his other hand as he retracts his claws from his back. Kipling Leaps forward, turns and opens fire as if not fazed by his grievous wound. Bullets plink off of the steel chest plate as the retort from the shots roar down the hall.
Eager to squelch the noise he slashes out at Kipling’s with his claws at full length and amputates the barrel of the rifle. The second strike hits pay dirt in the tender flesh of the front of Kipling’s other shoulder and pins him against the wall. Kipling’s eyes roll back into their sockets as he passes out from the pain. The knowledge that he did no permanent damage leaves him retreating from his first confrontation guiltlessly.
He uses his claws to slash the grating off a vent, even though he could have bent the then aluminum like warm butter in his bear hands. He is glad that this building has an industrial sized air-conditioning unit with ducts large enough to fit a grown man. Soon He reaches the main outside vent in the complex and jumps swiftly into the night air. He expects a sudden chill from the night air to blow over him, he nearly shudders with Goosebumps. But then realizes that he feels nothing. He knows that there is wind, he knows what the temperature is.. but he cannot feel either. He looks down at his arm and realizes that he is no longer capable of goose bumps. He only sees his metal body repairing itself silently. He turns back to the complex he has just escaped from and sees several dark grey hummers filling with ranks of 5th columnist marching out of the building. He needs time... time to think... time to remember. Time to find his purpose.
With an electronic crackle he vanishes into the night..



Bump before it gets buried for good.