Chapter 4: Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor.

First thing I did once I reached Wichita was find a motel on the outskirts of the city to call home.

Walking over to the reception, I pulled out a hundred dollar bill.

"I'd like a room for one." I requested.

"Sure. I'll just need some form of ID." The teenager manning the reception asked.

"Yeah about that .... "I said, sliding him the 100, "I don't have any. So How about we turn a blind eye to this, and you get to keep Mr. Benjamin here, all for yourself."

The teen sighed.

"Sure dude. Just don't expect me to help you with the cops or nothing." He replied handing me a set of keys.

"No cops on my trail. But sure." I replied.

"Your name?"  He asked, "Gotta put something in the ledger."

"Hn? Yes, Jay Walker." I answered, before walking over to my room.

Finally, I had some peace of mind.

Peace enough to begin to seriously consider my future here.

Given where I was on the timeline now, sometime the week after, Peter Petrelli would turn into a living nuke as his powers went out of control, wiping out New York from the map. But that was no biggie.

The show was literally named Heroes. No way such would be allowed to happen. Even in the tv show, after a whole slew time travel shenanigans, the bombing was inevitably prevented.

But what interested me more was how their stupid conflict could benefit me.

From what I remembered, the show was an absolute mess of time travel misuse, with at one point a dozen different timelines existing simultaneously. Not to mention the completely retarded way the characters used their powers.

Telekinetics didn't bother flying, hell even flyers didn't bother flying out of danger. They just stood there, like deer int he headlights.

Time travelers used their powers to change the past and future willy nilly causing undue harm to everyone around them, a superpowered serial killer going around collecting powers like an native american warchief, literally scalping his victims and megalomaniac messiah complex asshats that tried to end or dominate the world every season, twice even, sometimes.

That is to say, this world needed a lot of fixing, starting with the nuke incident in New York.

But that was for later. For now, I had some prep work to do.

As they say, put on your oxygen mask first, before you help others.

And I needed a whole bundle of helping.

The biggest threats to my plans right now were two groups of people in particular - Time travelers and precogs.

There were only two time travelers in the show, Hiro Nakamura, the bumbling buffoon I met in the diner and the power copier who got his power this week, Peter Petrelli.

And to that end, I can't afford to kill either, given their plot relevance during the future arcs and the ultimate creation the GMF, the genetic modification formula, a serum that granted powers to those born without.

But even they could do nothing to me without the help of the precogs and clairvoyants.

After all, you can't hunt what you don't know exists.

Which also meant I'd be doing most of the killing with a remote drone, one I'd have to make.

Because a time traveler that sees the drone knows only the drone and not the person behind it, meaning they can't get to me or stop me by traveling to the past and killing me in some twisted grandfather paradox to prevent the future I intend to create.

And so I decided on my first targets. And the tools of their demise.

Getting off my bed, I took a couple dozen hundred dollar bills, before shoving my bag below the bed and leaving.

The first thing I needed to do was build my tools.

2006 was a primitive time compared to the knowledge I got from Rick's dowloaded brain, from the spinning top gizmo I decided to call the Spindle.

So to make his iconic tech, I first needed the tools he used to make his tech.

Entering a radio shack, I walked up and down the aisles, taking everything I needed.

Circuit boards, LEDs, wiring, soldering irons, phones, walkmans, etc.

As I laid it out for the cashier to check out, her eyes almost bulged out of her skull at the sheer amount of stuff.

"Sir, do you have the money for it?" She asked hesitantly.

"Yup." I said, pulling out a fat stack, slamming it on the counter.

"Uh..." She stuttered, at a loss for words.

"I'll need a bag, couple of bags actually. So...get on it!" I smiled.

Ah~ spending money without worrying is the best!

Taking the bags, chock full of components, I returned to the motel before making a couple more trips, for more hardware related parts, and finally a laptop, primitive as it may be, for it was better than nothing.

With that I got to working on the basics of the craft, starting with an ionic decoupler.

By the time the sun rose from the east the next day, I had crude approximations of most of the tools I'd need for the job.

Putting the final touches to the polarity plating spray, I finally collapsed on the bed, exhausted beyond belief.

Looking at the menagerie of tools here, I felt an unexpected sense of pride.

If even just one of these were to be sold on the market, it'd advance human civilization by a couple decades at least, some of the more advanced superscience gizmos might even boost them to the stars!

Shame I wasn't planning on giving them any.

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As sleep took me, I smiled, on a day, or night well spent.

When I woke up next, the sun was already dipping beyond the horizon, as the clock showed quarter to eight.

"Hrmm.." I moaned, stretching, as I looked at the mess on the floor.

All of it was here. Ionic decouplers, Molecular welders, leveling shears, plasmodic solders, and finally the polarity plating spray.

Looking at it I pondered my next move.

There were so many useful inventions to be made, but even with the new tools on hand, I had a limited supply of resources to fuel them. At least without raising suspicions from the government.

So I had to choose wisely. At most I could make two things before the tools ran out of juice.

And so I went over the essentials.

Offense, defense and mobility.

For offense, I had the gun I found on the suitcase. That'd suffice for now.

For mobility, I had my trusty portal gun. Even with the amount of fuel left in it, I could use it to escape a dozen times over before it needed refilling, which was another monumental task that'd need a proper lab to complete.

So that was out of the question.

Which left defense. If I recall correctly, Rick had mobile forcefield generator in his body, didn't he?

I could use that. And while I can't make a subdermal implant, given my lack of tech and medical experience, I can come up with one that was small enough to be carried on the hip.

I looked at the walkman lying on the bedside table, as a smile spread on my face.

I picked it up, and got to work, disassembling it. Change a cog here, add a coil there.

Using gardening and household chemicals, I reconfigured a watch quartz to the desired frequency, fashioning it into an impromptu battery. Connecting it to the repulsor array I made out of a heater and telephone switchboard, I began the soldering.

Putting molecular weld on a projector lens attached to the repulsor circuit, I covered it in polarity plating, before finally, finishing off with the anti radiation coating.

I looked at the final product, a gleaming new, chrome plated, nuclear powered, forcefield generator that fit in the palm of my hand.

A miracle of engineering and superscience!

Rick wasn't in the habit of giving his mediocre inventions names. 

But I am not Rick.

I picked up a marker, scribbling onto the walkman's front board.

"I'll call you the .... Aegis V1."

Noice!

All I needed now was some good old fashioned uranium to charge the battery.

"Well, I guess I'll just raid a nuclear power plant!" I joked when suddenly I remembered a character in the story.

The nuclear man, whose power Peter Petrelli uses to in the bombing incident.

What was his name again?

Something about a bear and austria....

Teddy Sprague. Yes, that's the name.

In the story, he was going to die late next week at the hands of the superpowered serial killer Sylar Gray when he's being transported into federal custody for terrorism charges.

But that hadn't happened before, so he should atill be locked up in some local holding cell in California.

Of course, I had no way of finding him as of now.

But I knew who could.

Matt Parkman, the telepathic LAPD officer who went on to play a major role in the future. A man that came with his own share of risks.

Can I really afford to reveal myself yet?

What if I get caught?

After all, there was the Illuminati of this universe, The Company to worry about. They were power hungry people who deluded themselves, thinking they were saving people by giving them the equivalent of a lobotomy by force just because they happened to be born with a power.

They were the main antagonists of the story, with the overreaching influence and manpower that came along with being the shadow rulers of the world.

And I certainly can't afford to get in a scuffle with them yet.

But even so, I did need the nuclear energy.

And it wasn't as if they wouldn't find me eventually, when I began to off their agents and allies by the dozen.

Eh, whatever. I'll pick this fight early if I have to. At least with this I'll have a forcefield to protect me from the other dangers of this world, namely the telekinetic serial killer I intend to put six feet under, Sylar Grey.

I nodded, certain now in my decision.

With that I pulled out my portal gun, and ported away, to Los Angeles, California.

Let's meet the Nuclear Man!

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