A girl stood outside of the achromic base, crouching over a couple of small pots she had just set out. Inside of them, she placed a couple of small objects, the likes of which were average things you would find outside. A rock, the bark of a tree, etc. The girl stood, her multihued hair blown into her eyes by the wind. She brushed it away with a quick flick of her wrist, starting back towards the base. The gravel and dirt crunched under her feet. The agile girl entered the building, slightly acknowledging the first guard. Another man rushed in and handed the teenager a scroll, which she opened up to read. The messenger climbed into a cubby in the wall, sitting down to take his place as the second guard. He realized his mistake and bolted up, snatching the classified documents from the girl's hand and beginning his scolding.
"You shouldn't read things that aren't for you, especially important documents like this!"
The man waved the paper in the air, and before he could continue the girl retorted.
"Maybe I wouldn't read them if I wasn't handed them!"
The man turned red, realizing he was clearly the one at wrong here. The girl continued on, pulling her cyan jacket tighter around her in the cold of the base. In the hallway outside of the entrance room she was stopped again, this time by a young boy about her age. He rested his hands on her shoulders, looking at her with worried eyes.
"Dad's not going to like it when he finds out about this."
The young lady nodded in reply, and the other teenager removed his hands from her shoulders. She moved on into the next room. Inside was a group of around ten people, sitting in fold up metal chairs around a large blue mat, about ten feet square. The men and woman were laughing and smiling, their attention on the baby stumbling around on the mat. Stuck on the toddler's head was a kind of helmet, mostly white, with some chrome coloring too, and completely unremovable. On the top of the sphere was a rectangular outline from which an object could protrude that made these things deadly. The front of the object persisted of a large circular plate of one way glass, functioning as a visor. The magenta eyed young woman walked onto the mat, explaining on her way how the helmet worked.
"When the autopilot is turned on, the helmet gets control of the baby."
Her sneakers squished on the mat as she reached the toddler, and she waved her hand over the top of the helmet. An autonomous, robotic female voice confirmed her actions with a usual "autopilot engaged".
"It can move it's body and do any computer things it wants."
The men and womb watched curiously at this recent technology, the baby no longer stumbling but standing and walking. The girl knew it had to happen now. She was dreading it, but she must. She stood. She could do this.
She was a wild fighter. She was Rainbow Dash.
