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Prometheus/Maria: Killer Robot

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#1 Ruinus


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Posted 19 August 2010 - 09:41 PM

Anyways, here's my first attempt at an FPL character. I'd like a review or comments: too long, not informative enough, too cheesy, flow issues, etc etc. Image is currently unavailable because I have not drawn it yet.

Origin: Techno
Gender: Both male and female
Alignment: Hero
Team: Solo Hero
Location: Veracruz, Mexico

Strenght, Agility and Endurance: Normal
Intelligence: Superior


A blinding flash of light heralded the appearance of an odd ship over the Mexican jungles. Had anyone been watching they would have seen the large smoldering crater that dominated a side of the ship, its edges burning nearly white hot with an unimaginable heat, plumes of smoke spewing from several areas of the ship. Odd lights, somewhat like lightning, surrounded the ship in an oddly regular fashion and seemed to brighten in the opposite direction of the ships movement.

Its collision with the ground and jungle was loud, accompanied by a massive plume of dirt and rock that was kicked high into the air. The lights that encircled the ship slowly sputtered and died, the ship seeming to sink further into the ground than before.

[Is everyone ok?]

The intercom system cracked to life, the pilot’s voice coming over sounding rushed and worried.

[Is everyone ok? Please answer me.]

Prometheus scrambled to scan his internal sensors. He had just taken a great deal of fire, one small packet of anti-matter had been teleported into the ships’ port side and various other cyber warfare attacks had corrupted or damaged other systems. Much of the ship wouldn’t be saved and if he didn’t hurry none of the crew would be saved. Not only was he not detecting any movement, though only a few milliseconds had passed, but he noticed that the coolant that kept the quantum mainframe, his brain, operating was leaking. He moved fast, filtering out junk data and malicious viruses that had been beamed into him, he was finally able to regain control of his internal sensors, and switched them on.

And for the first time he noticed his crew was dead.

Had things been different, it wouldn't have mattered. Had Garden and Slingshot survived, or if he had an operation fabricator he could have brought them back. Built the necessary equipment required to build them a new body, exact copies of their current ones, and waited for contact with Garden and simply requested their personality files as downloads. They'd be back and ready to help him change the world.

But Garden and Slingshot didn't survive, neither had any of his fabricators. The forces that the Inscrutable had launched against them prior to their ill fated voyage were enough to wipe out the meager defense forces Garden had. With Garden destroyed he had no chance of resurrecting his friends. They were well and truly dead.

Prometheus took the next few seconds to mourn their loss.

When it was over, he realized he had to leave. He currently inhabited the computing banks of the ship, in essence he is the ship, but realized it could no longer support him. A hopefully calculationg passed through his mind as he realized that perhaps the ship and equipment could function, with enough repairs, but it could no longer house his mind. He searched his inventories and found that the cargo area contained several Class I Combat Forms, though only one of them was operational. He made a connection with it, noted that it was decidedly subpar, and uploaded his mind into it. It was a tight fit, there was barely enough memory capacity to hold him, but it would do.

He awoke in a new body, gathered some quick supplies, and made his way to the outside world, eager to see where he had landed.


Maria pulled the trigger on her gun one last time, emptying the last of the Uzi’s clip into the man that lay before her, his body jerking suddenly as several bullets tore into his body.

“Perro malvado,” she spat in her native tongue as she threw the empty gun at his corpse.

She limped over to the dead man and began searching through his pockets. She had some difficulty turning him over, the bullets lodged in her stomach were to blame for that along with the man’s massive weight, but finally reached his front pocket. She flipped the phone open and began searching through his messages. This group was smart, they didn’t use phone calls since those could be overheard and deleted messages as soon as they were read, but Maria was smarter. You can’t delete a message if you are too busy being shot and killed.

Finally she found it, the latest text message that had been forwarded to the dead fat man:

The old farmer is hiding the 13 asshats. The boss took some men to go clear em out, head on over.

“¡Puta suerte!” she yelled, tossing the phone into the fat mans’ face. They had found her group’s hideout and were gathering to attack it at any moment now. She paced around, her side still aching, thinking about the best course of action. Seńor Gonzales’ plantation was still too far away to reach on foot in any meaningful time, especially with her current injuries slowing her down. Finally she saw it, the truck the Zetas had been using to get around, still parked in the nearby garage. She limped over to it, her eyes roaming over the area once again.

4 dead men. Before climbing into the truck, she took a look over her handiwork and smiled. Her first two kills were clean and over before the other two realized what was going on. Still, she realized she could improve, waited until they were all gathered around an area and sprayed them all at once, instead of getting into a shootout and getting hit. It was that kind of sloppiness that could get her hurt, as she did today, or worse. She scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion, something seemed odd.

She rested against the front door of the truck, crossing her arms as she thought.

When several bullets slammed into the truck, shattering one of its windows, she had her answer. She had killed 4 Zetas, but there were originally 5.

The sudden shock caused her to throw her arms up in an attempt to shield herself from harm, but it was a worthless gesture. The next rounds of buckshot tore into her arms, her forearm being busted open and two of her fingers being blown off. Some of the rounds penetrated her entire arm and exited out the side, while some simply missed her arms entirely. It was these rounds that hit her neck and throat and floored her.

As Maria thrashed around, attempting to put the insides of her neck back into the gaping hole in her neck, her blood spraying each and every way, she saw her killer’s face suddenly explode in a blinding flash of light. Before she died, she saw a giant mechanical thing run over to her.


As Prometheus drove towards his, and Maria’s destination, he couldn’t help but wonder about her. It had been 12 minutes since he had uploaded her from her dying body. He had explained to her that he had saved everything important, her entire set of memories, her personality, her dreams, wants and needs, fears, everything that made her into what she was. To use his exact phrasing, “I’ve saved your soul”, translated from Old Spanish.

She took it much better than he expected.

Of course, that might have to do with the fact that she was more worried about her group of friends, what she called “The Thirteen”. Though she hadn’t told him what was so important, and why they were in such haste and why she was in a shoot out that ended her physical life, he knew. While downloading her into his body he had inadvertently read her entire mind’s contents.

What fascinated him was how alike they were. Of course, there were differences, there always would between a human being and an AI, but they were small in this case. Both Maria and he wanted, or needed, to improve the world. They couldn’t sit by and let others be harmed; they couldn’t sit by and allow injustices to go unpunished, for wrongs to be committed. The differences were that while he was programmed to be this way, worked on by thousands of scientists, programmers and engineers since before his first moment of sapience to be and act and think in a specific way, she had learned to be this way.

He was envious, in a way. Human beings were computers too, he knew that, simple and crude and very badly put together, but they had things he didn’t: free will. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change his basic programming. Human beings could.

His ruminations were cut short as Maria spoke to him directly, “Pull over! We’re here!”

Prometheus stepped out, and saw before him a rundown farm surrounded by several men crouched behind wagons, overturned tables, dead horses or behind stone fences. He assumed these were the Zetas, members of a large criminal organization that nearly dominated the organized crime scene of Mexico. Along with their automatic rifles, they had a truck mounted with a .50 caliber machine gun, which was currently shredding apart several walls of the farm.

Occasionally, bursts of fire would be coming from the farm, Maria screaming in his head that the Thirteen were the ones inside. Even as he watched, a man peered out from a second story window and threw a grenade at the Zetas, killing several of before taking several rounds in the chest.


Two other men, these on the first floor of the barn, rose up in a concentrated effort and in a burst of fire killed several more Zetas, though one of them took a bullet in the arm as they ducked back into cover.

"Help them!" Maria screamed in his head, “Can’t you see they are in danger? HELP THEM!”

Prometheus took a second to look over the situation, and poured back into Maria’s memory files. He knew from her experiences that these were good people, fighting off criminal organizations when the local police or government couldn’t or wouldn’t do it themselves. From her same files he knew this criminal group, these Zetas, were responsible for several atrocious acts: murder, assassinations, human slave trafficking, drug dealing, arms dealing, extortion, arson, thievery and any and all other illegal activities.

He had been programmed to help mankind, and she had learned to do so of her own free will, but they both knew that sometimes a few people have to die to make the world better.



Prometheus’ Combat Form body came equipped with a basic targeting algorithm bolstered by a variety of different sensor arrays built into his head and other areas of his body. The accuracy of Class I Combat Forms was usually on the 30-50%, but this was temporarily increased by the fact that no one had yet seen him.


Maria didn’t have control over Prometheus’ body, so she wasn’t aware of what he was doing. All she could do was watch helplessly as her friends were being killed in front of her. She cursed the big stupid machine which had saved her for its inaction. It had not moved one bit since they had arrived, and the more she pleaded for it to do something, anything, to help her friends, the more she received no response.

She finally noticed it was doing something when it raised its giant metal arms and watched as they split open revealing mirrors of all things. “Mirrors! You think mirrors will help my friends!” she yelled at the machine around her, but her words were soon drowned when a beam lanced out at the Zeta manning the .50 caliber. His head burst like a water balloon, a jet of blood spurting from his neck which steamed at its edges, his body slumping to the ground. The robot turned its mirror arms at the rest of the Zetas who had noticed the lack of heavy fire and unleashed several more beams of light at them, causing arms, legs, torsos and heads to burst when struck, and igniting the wagons or grass in nearby areas.


Some of the Zetas caught on, and decided to shift their attention from the barn to the large metal man advancing on them. Their bullets would speed towards the metal monstrosity before suddenly flashing in mid air and falling to the ground, stopped by an invisible force. Still, they continued.

One of the Zetas had been near the machine gunner and took his place, pushing his dead comrade off of the ground before firing at their new enemy, ignoring the renewed fire from the farm that was befalling on his nearby Zetas.


The .50 rounds found a similar effect; the stream of fire it belched out would flash before its target before falling harmlessly to the ground. The Zeta caught glimpse of the rest of his men being cut down all around him, both by the machine and by the Thirteen from within the farm, his options were running out and he couldn’t stop now. He continued to fire onto the machine and gleefully noticed that the bullets were finally impacting the machine itself.

Of course it didn’t save him.

Prometheus had finally realized that the .50 gun was being manned again, and that it was presently the only threat left, all the other hostiles had been killed. With one twist and flash of its mirror arms it killed the last gunner.


Prometheus withdrew his beam projectors into his arms again, and lowered his hands. As he did, he began slowly walking towards the farm, the few bullets that had impacted on his armor being pushed out by the swarm of repairbots that resided within his armored body. Slowly but surely, all the damage he had suffered would be repaired, he would be as good as new.

He stopped, however, when he heard several clicks and orders come from the barn.

He had realized that while Maria knew these people, these people didn’t know him and as far as they were concerned he was a giant robot that had just killed 16 fully armed Zetas in less than a minute and had come out unscratched.

Already he saw several of them peek out of their hiding places and take aim at him. They weren’t firing, which was a great sign as far as he cared. Though no one seemed to notice, his Zapper had been defeated in the fighting and he was currently down to armor. Even if he could survive a fight with so much weaponry aimed at him (and he could), and even if he could kill these men and women easily (and he could) he didn’t want to. He searched for the best possible outcome, before opening his external speakers, and communicating with Maria.

[You should tell them who you are Maria, before they fire on us. I’ve opened an external communicator, so you can speak with them directly.]

“What? You can do that?” She replied back, shock and relief still evident in her mind.

[Again, please hurry before they fire on us.]

The surviving members of the Thirteen aimed down the sights of their guns, unsure of the metal thing before them. True, it had arrived and killed the Zetas, and was making no actions against them, but still they feared it. A few of them moved over to their injured, making sure to stay in cover or keep their weapons trained on the thing before them.

“Is everyone ok?”

They were all surprised when the voice of a young woman came from the machine, feminine and somewhat squeaky sounding. Odd glances were shot between them, before one of them, a tall man with bandages all around his head moved forward.

“W-what are you?”

The machine stood there motionless and silent before responding, again in the completely uncharacteristically female voice.

“It-it’s me, Maria?”

Both Prometheus and Maria picked up several “bullshit”s and “puras mentiras” amongst the group, some of them tightening their grips on their weapons and placing their fingers dangerously close to their triggers. Maria, for her part, acted quickly, jumping back into the conversation before the situation escalated.

“No it really is me!” the large machine whined, again sounding like a whiny teenage brat, “Look I’ll prove it! Alberto there,” she said, mentally telling the robot Prometheus to point at the man she indicated “has the annoying habit of farting on our heads when we are asleep, and Miranda” again she asked Prometheus to point out the female with blonde hair at the back of the group, “she bites her toe nails when she is nervous. See? Who else but one of you, who else but me Maria, would know things like that?”

More confusement was evident on the faces of the group before them. Some of them seemed to be nodding in agreement, there was no way anyone but their own would know things like that. Still, it was hard to swallow that this giant death machine was once their whiny but strong and lethally accurate Maria.

One of the men, who Maria identified as Mauricio to Prometheus stood from his crouching position and asked, “What’s Maria’s favorite show?”

Maria chuckled deep within the software and mainframe of Prometheus.

“Easy. Plaza Sesamo.”

A collective sigh came from the group. They all lowered their weapons, and those that didn’t have any medical knowledge walked over to their newly-mechanical friend, while others turned their full attention to the wounded. The bandaged man, identified as Gonzales and the leader of this group, walked right up to the machine and gave it a soft punch on its armored shoulder, and odd sight to the rest of the group.

“Well shit Maria, what the hell happened?”

Maria thought over the turn of events that had led her to her death, then to co-inhabit a robot’s body and then to the rescue of her friends. She wasn’t sure how to tell this to them, it sounded odd even to her, and she was experiencing it firsthand, and now that the excitement had died down she realized how serious her situation was. She began to panic, to freak out, but Prometheus intervened.

[Maria as I said before, I will help you get a new body, do not fret. Simply concentrate on the now for the time being. I’m sure your friends will want to hear your story.]

“Yes, you’re right ro-Prometheus I mean.” She turned her attention once again to her friends, feeling relief and happiness well up inside her. “Might as well explain the whole thing.”

“Well…” She finally began, “It’s a long story. But I guess it starts right before I died…”


1: Skill: Marksman Rank: Standard
Skill: Eldritch Energy Rank: Standard Advantages: Ranged, Multi-attack
Skill: Force Field Rank: Standard
Skill: Armor Rank: Standard
Skill: Regeneration Rank: Standard

#2 deojusto


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Posted 19 August 2010 - 11:40 PM

Its good. Really good. The dialogue was funny and entertaining, and the concept was original and interesting. I'd like to see more of it, specifically some more background of where Prometheus comes from and what brought him to earth. Aside from that the only criticism I have is that it seems odd that a Mexican cartel would refer to its enemies as "Asshats", but I'm guessing that was there mostly as a joke.

#3 Ruinus


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Posted 20 August 2010 - 04:15 PM

Thanks, I was slightly worried it would be a bore to read through, so I'm glad at least some of the jokes were funny.

Also, about the "asshats" thing. I actually originally wrote it as everyone speaking in spanish (since they are in Mexico) and using spanish swear and cuss words, but thought strings of sentences that some people wouldn't be able to read (AFAIK I'm the only person on here that I know for sure speaks Spanish) would be in bad form.

And I guess I could flesh out the background in some fiction later on, but only if he/she gets approved.

#4 deojusto


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Posted 20 August 2010 - 04:41 PM

Thanks, I was slightly worried it would be a bore to read through, so I'm glad at least some of the jokes were funny.

Also, about the "asshats" thing. I actually originally wrote it as everyone speaking in spanish (since they are in Mexico) and using spanish swear and cuss words, but thought strings of sentences that some people wouldn't be able to read (AFAIK I'm the only person on here that I know for sure speaks Spanish) would be in bad form.

And I guess I could flesh out the background in some fiction later on, but only if he/she gets approved.

It'll get approved. Everything gets approved; there is no filter anymore.

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