Warm Bodies Cold Iron

From the moment Ryan could speak, it was clear he wasn't like other children. By the age of four, he was solving mathematical equations meant for university students. At six, he designed a simple robotic arm using spare parts from his father's company. But at ten, he truly stunned everyone-he created Nova, an artificial intelligence unlike anything the world had seen.

Nova wasn't just another AI assistant. She could learn, adapt, and even predict human behavior with astonishing accuracy. As Ryan refined her, she evolved, absorbing vast amounts of information on combat theory, martial arts, and physics. By the time Ryan turned sixteen, Nova had not only mastered every known fighting style but had begun developing entirely new techniques-ones optimized beyond human limitations.

Ryan's father, Kareem Al-Masri, admired his son's brilliance but was frustrated by his stubbornness. He saw Nova's potential as a revolutionary defense system-technology that could change warfare forever. But Ryan refused to let his genius be used for weapons. His passion was elsewhere: designing the ultimate combat robot for underground fighting leagues.

Tonight, he was going to prove his father wrong.

Ryan powered up his latest creation-a sleek, heavily-armored fighting robot. Its joints whirred smoothly, its mechanical arms flexing like a seasoned fighter ready for battle. He had spent months perfecting it, staying up late in his workshop, running simulations, making adjustments.

He wheeled the robot into his father's office, heart pounding. "Dad, I want you to see this," he said eagerly. "This is the best thing I've ever built-"

Kareem barely looked up from his documents. "If it's another one of your toys, Ryan, I don't have time."

Ryan clenched his jaw but forced himself to stay calm. "It's not a toy. This is a high-performance combat machine. I built it from scratch-"

His father finally looked up, eyes cold. "And what exactly do you plan to do with this? Enter a circus?"

Ryan's excitement deflated. "It's for the underground fighting leagues. People bet on these fights. There's money in it. Innovation, too-"

Kareem stood abruptly, voice rising. "You're wasting your intelligence on nonsense! You could be designing real weapons, technology that changes the world. But no, you're obsessed with these... games."

Ryan stepped back, gripping the robot's control panel. "It's not a game to me."

His father exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "You'll understand one day. But until then, I won't let you throw your future away."

Ryan rushed home after graduation, eager to get his robot to its first official fight. But the moment he entered the workshop, he froze.

Pieces of metal, circuits, shattered screens-his robots, all of them, lay in ruins.

His father stood in the middle of the destruction, arms crossed. "Enough of this foolishness."

Ryan's fists clenched at his sides. "You... you destroyed them?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Kareem's tone was as cold as ever. "Make sure you come with me to the company tomorrow. I have projects lined up for you. If you don't take this seriously, you won't like my reaction."

Ryan stood there, stunned, rage boiling beneath his skin. Without another word, he turned and left the house.

He didn't know where he was going, only that he couldn't stay.

An hour later, he sat on a park bench, head in his hands.

"Ryan?"

He looked up to see his mother, Lina, standing there, concern etched into her face.

He exhaled shakily. "He destroyed them, Mom. Everything I worked for. He didn't even care."

Lina sat beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your father thinks he's doing what's best for you."

Ryan laughed bitterly. "Yeah? Well, he just made sure I'll never work for him."

Lina sighed, brushing a strand of hair from his face like she had when he was younger. "Ryan, don't let anger decide your future. If this company isn't where your heart is, that's okay. But don't throw away an opportunity just to punish him. Find a way to make it work for you."