The day had come. Bob was at the wheel of the U-Haul truck, with Leo's furniture in the back - along with Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Delta. Pneuma sat in Otto's passenger seat, running down a checklist of items for the departure. Leo remembers looking back at the old house in the rear view mirror, but not for long. His life was ahead of him, literally and figuratively. "Road trip!" announced Otto with gusto, and Leo patted the steering wheel affectionately. "That's right, buddy. Road trip."
He'd said goodbye to his foster parents. They were appropriately shocked when he revealed the robot squad he'd built, hidden away in a cave a half-mile from the high school and its machine shop. They were dazed when those robots dutifully carried Leo's few material possessions out to a truck and loaded them. He didn't think they'd want to keep in touch, but he left a forwarding address anyway. His real family was coming with him.
The drive was long, but the weather was good. Finally free of human observation, Pneuma put her face out of the car window and soaked in the sun. Bob and the other workers took turns driving, with whoever was free taking part in a penny-ante poker game in the back. The cops were the biggest concern, but ultimately none of the few state troopers or city cops the convoy encountered decided to take an interest.
----
He'd rented a series of storage sheds until he could find a house. Acclimating to the rainy climate of the Pacific Northwest, and the culture of a new city, would have to wait as well. The government had made it very clear that his first priority was his father's lab.
ACTION was there, with their high-tech gear and perpetual frowns, when Leo pulled up. They gave him a sandwich and a coffee mug and a minder in black sunglasses, and pointed him inside. He spent days studying the paperwork, the files, the gadgets, the half-assembled components of the Gnome's old lair. He made notes, he explained the technology, he made suppositions. The G-men listened attentively, though it was clear that many of them had no liking for the junior Snow.
He was surprised on his final day's drive back. Otto wasn't going back to the hotel. Instead, he was slowly driving through a series of increasingly upscale neighborhoods. Consulting his map, Leo found the label "Paris Hill". Otto's motive became more obvious as well - every time a "For Sale" sign appeared in front of a house, the car slowed down.
"What are we doing here?" he asked.
"Pneuma wanted you to do some house-hunting," the car rumbled in reply. "She gave me a list of places, so we're drivin' past them. See any you like?"
"We're doing this now? Really?" Leo growled. Back home, "going to New Troy" had sounded so simple. Now work was piling up. After the frustrating time he'd spent at the lab, and the endless round of demands on his attention, he was ready to scream. She could break up with him, insult him, and then try to run his life? It was too much.
"Otto, stop." The car complied, and Leo got out and started walking. It took a minute for Otto to realize that Leo wasn't coming back, and so the car wheeled slowly along behind him. Leo trudged and trudged, stewing in the fragmented feelings of youth, resisting the urge to kick the nearest thing - because that was the bumper of his oldest friend, who'd done nothing wrong. That realization deflated him, and without another word he climbed back into the car. Otto said nothing either, instead driving back to the hotel.
----
Agent Waters paid him a visit the next day. The older man was pleasant, while Leo mumbled his way through the bare minimum of politeness. Waters was invited inside, and took a seat. He set a package out on the hotel room's bare table, and pushed it slowly across to Leo.
"I won't waste too much of your time. I just wanted to say thank you for cooperating. Some of those guys were deliberately trying to get your goat. You kept your cool. You did the job. That, plus a little testimony from yours truly, got the agency to find a custodian for the lab and its materials - well, those that they didn't already box up and ship away. The dangerous stuff."
Leo opened the package warily. Inside were a set of keys and some paperwork. "What's this?"
"The custodianship. The lab is yours. You like building friends. Now you've got a better set of tools with which to do so."
Waters got up, only to pause as Leo raised a hand, a gesture to halt. The agent looked down, patiently, as his young assignment found the words. They came, few in number and simple, but deeply felt. "Th-thank you. This means a lot."
Waters' wrinkled face broke into a broad smile. "I suggest moving that stuff to a secure location, by the way. If the Gnome makes an appearance again, he might go back to his old haunts."
Leo didn't need to be told what it was like to have his old man burst in on the place he called home. "I'll find somewhere good," he promised.
----
The Old Town junkyard was right on the edge of New Troy's industrial area. Leo noted the presence of police tape across several of the doors, but he was most interested in the "For Sale" sign.
With Otto parked, Leo reclined in the driver's seat and made a phone call to the seller. Several minutes of "Yeah... uh-huh... yeah, sounds good" filled his side. He was quoted a number. He accepted. An address was given, a place to come sign the paperwork and receive the keys. That, too, he did.
Only then did he tell Pneuma.
The argument was long, and mostly involved Pneuma chastising him. Leo listened to all of it, too tired to argue back, simply answering questions as they came up. And when she finally subsided, he turned and left to go back to the hotel. An hour later, as he lay in the dark on the bed, the phone rang. He picked it up. "Leo, I'm sorry--" she started to say, but he hung up.
----
Pneuma came out the next night. Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Bob were already hard at work. Leo had rented enough tools and machinery to carry out his plan. The junkyard had enough scrap metal to make it happen. And so she found him, sitting inside the office, flashlight held suspended over a set of blueprints.
"Leo?"
The voice shook him away from his study. He turned, and smiled. "I apologize for hanging up on you. It's been really rough. I just needed something to call my own here. I needed to make a decision that was mine. I promise we'll look at houses soon."
Pneuma nodded. "That's good, but.. well, we were both out of line. I'm sorry too. I came to see what you were working on. And yes, I'll kick your butt if you screw this up." She glowered, but both knew it was a joke. And their mutual laughter rang through the office.
Somehow, that laughter drained every bit of tension out of Leo. He slumped down into his chair, the retreating laughter leaving a smile behind. "I won't screw this up. Mr. Dorsey - one of my foster fathers, before your time, but Otto remembers him - anyway, he ran a junkyard. I learned all about it. That's where Otto came from, you know. But what we're doing right now is building a new workshop underneath it. A base of operations. I'm still going to house-hunt, but I want this to be my work area. Nothing should connect the two sites except me."
Pneuma nodded. "That makes sense. A place to store the Gnome's equipment too?"
"Yes. Like it or not, the old man did some really amazing things. The whole place will have its own electrical supply, life support, the works."
The girl nodded again, peering at the plans. "This looks really extensive. Can you really do it?"
"Bob and the others can," Leo answered with a smile. "They're down there right now, digging. They don't get tired. I've already hooked them up to this new power source. A.. a, 'Casimir fractal' I think he called it. They tell me they feel super-charged. No more downtime for recharging, no more power cables. It's going to be great."
Pneuma smiled proudly. "You promised us a perfect life once. I'm happier with a great one. Thank you." And she squeezed him in a surprise hug.
He'd rented a series of storage sheds until he could find a house. Acclimating to the rainy climate of the Pacific Northwest, and the culture of a new city, would have to wait as well. The government had made it very clear that his first priority was his father's lab.
ACTION was there, with their high-tech gear and perpetual frowns, when Leo pulled up. They gave him a sandwich and a coffee mug and a minder in black sunglasses, and pointed him inside. He spent days studying the paperwork, the files, the gadgets, the half-assembled components of the Gnome's old lair. He made notes, he explained the technology, he made suppositions. The G-men listened attentively, though it was clear that many of them had no liking for the junior Snow.
He was surprised on his final day's drive back. Otto wasn't going back to the hotel. Instead, he was slowly driving through a series of increasingly upscale neighborhoods. Consulting his map, Leo found the label "Paris Hill". Otto's motive became more obvious as well - every time a "For Sale" sign appeared in front of a house, the car slowed down.
"What are we doing here?" he asked.
"Pneuma wanted you to do some house-hunting," the car rumbled in reply. "She gave me a list of places, so we're drivin' past them. See any you like?"
"We're doing this now? Really?" Leo growled. Back home, "going to New Troy" had sounded so simple. Now work was piling up. After the frustrating time he'd spent at the lab, and the endless round of demands on his attention, he was ready to scream. She could break up with him, insult him, and then try to run his life? It was too much.
"Otto, stop." The car complied, and Leo got out and started walking. It took a minute for Otto to realize that Leo wasn't coming back, and so the car wheeled slowly along behind him. Leo trudged and trudged, stewing in the fragmented feelings of youth, resisting the urge to kick the nearest thing - because that was the bumper of his oldest friend, who'd done nothing wrong. That realization deflated him, and without another word he climbed back into the car. Otto said nothing either, instead driving back to the hotel.
----
Agent Waters paid him a visit the next day. The older man was pleasant, while Leo mumbled his way through the bare minimum of politeness. Waters was invited inside, and took a seat. He set a package out on the hotel room's bare table, and pushed it slowly across to Leo.
"I won't waste too much of your time. I just wanted to say thank you for cooperating. Some of those guys were deliberately trying to get your goat. You kept your cool. You did the job. That, plus a little testimony from yours truly, got the agency to find a custodian for the lab and its materials - well, those that they didn't already box up and ship away. The dangerous stuff."
Leo opened the package warily. Inside were a set of keys and some paperwork. "What's this?"
"The custodianship. The lab is yours. You like building friends. Now you've got a better set of tools with which to do so."
Waters got up, only to pause as Leo raised a hand, a gesture to halt. The agent looked down, patiently, as his young assignment found the words. They came, few in number and simple, but deeply felt. "Th-thank you. This means a lot."
Waters' wrinkled face broke into a broad smile. "I suggest moving that stuff to a secure location, by the way. If the Gnome makes an appearance again, he might go back to his old haunts."
Leo didn't need to be told what it was like to have his old man burst in on the place he called home. "I'll find somewhere good," he promised.
----
The Old Town junkyard was right on the edge of New Troy's industrial area. Leo noted the presence of police tape across several of the doors, but he was most interested in the "For Sale" sign.
With Otto parked, Leo reclined in the driver's seat and made a phone call to the seller. Several minutes of "Yeah... uh-huh... yeah, sounds good" filled his side. He was quoted a number. He accepted. An address was given, a place to come sign the paperwork and receive the keys. That, too, he did.
Only then did he tell Pneuma.
The argument was long, and mostly involved Pneuma chastising him. Leo listened to all of it, too tired to argue back, simply answering questions as they came up. And when she finally subsided, he turned and left to go back to the hotel. An hour later, as he lay in the dark on the bed, the phone rang. He picked it up. "Leo, I'm sorry--" she started to say, but he hung up.
----
Pneuma came out the next night. Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Bob were already hard at work. Leo had rented enough tools and machinery to carry out his plan. The junkyard had enough scrap metal to make it happen. And so she found him, sitting inside the office, flashlight held suspended over a set of blueprints.
"Leo?"
The voice shook him away from his study. He turned, and smiled. "I apologize for hanging up on you. It's been really rough. I just needed something to call my own here. I needed to make a decision that was mine. I promise we'll look at houses soon."
Pneuma nodded. "That's good, but.. well, we were both out of line. I'm sorry too. I came to see what you were working on. And yes, I'll kick your butt if you screw this up." She glowered, but both knew it was a joke. And their mutual laughter rang through the office.
Somehow, that laughter drained every bit of tension out of Leo. He slumped down into his chair, the retreating laughter leaving a smile behind. "I won't screw this up. Mr. Dorsey - one of my foster fathers, before your time, but Otto remembers him - anyway, he ran a junkyard. I learned all about it. That's where Otto came from, you know. But what we're doing right now is building a new workshop underneath it. A base of operations. I'm still going to house-hunt, but I want this to be my work area. Nothing should connect the two sites except me."
Pneuma nodded. "That makes sense. A place to store the Gnome's equipment too?"
"Yes. Like it or not, the old man did some really amazing things. The whole place will have its own electrical supply, life support, the works."
The girl nodded again, peering at the plans. "This looks really extensive. Can you really do it?"
"Bob and the others can," Leo answered with a smile. "They're down there right now, digging. They don't get tired. I've already hooked them up to this new power source. A.. a, 'Casimir fractal' I think he called it. They tell me they feel super-charged. No more downtime for recharging, no more power cables. It's going to be great."
Pneuma smiled proudly. "You promised us a perfect life once. I'm happier with a great one. Thank you." And she squeezed him in a surprise hug.
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