Butter Bot

Jude turned his attention back to his own situation. With $10,000 in hand, he finally had a little confidence in getting things done. Extortion was bad, sure, but he felt no psychological burden extorting a bad guy.

But this was Gotham, a city where people's hearts had completely rotted away. Bob Dylan had likely only yielded on the surface and would trip him up behind the scenes. Tonight probably would not be peaceful, so he needed to prepare early.

He hired a car and headed to a junkyard in the outskirts. To others, it was full of discarded trash, but to Jude, it was practically a treasure trove.

After negotiating a price with the owner, he paid $1,000 for the freedom to pick whatever he wanted.

"An old electronic clock. Not bad, take it."

"A damaged computer tower. Strip out the motherboard and take it."

"Two twenty-year-old Nokia Bricks. Just right."

"A broken X-ray Machine. This is good stuff. Who the hell threw this away?"

"OMG! I've struck it rich! A whole sack of smoke detectors. I bet some company employee stole and sold these on the side."

After working for half the day, Jude felt like he was playing Fallout. He was getting addicted to scavenging, and this place was simply perfect for someone like him who was still in the startup phase.

Jude was not a rich second-generation heir. Unlike Tony Stark, Bruce Wayne, or Oliver Queen, he could not inherit a massive family fortune.

Nor was he like scientists such as Mister Fantastic, Doctor Octopus, or Atom. He did not have a laboratory where he could tinker to his heart's content, and $10,000 could only go so far. Scavenging was actually the better option.

Since he had taken so long, he gave the workers another $500 before they agreed to haul a truckload of junk back to his apartment for him, including carrying it upstairs.

Once all that junk entered the room, the already cramped apartment became even narrower. There was only enough space left for one person to pass through, plus a small patch beside the table.

Materials alone were not enough. Proper tools were also essential. The crude blowtorch he had made himself was far too dangerous and had a significant chance of exploding. The liquefied gas was not pure enough either, and its flame did not burn hot enough. If he wanted to make more refined gadgets, he needed more suitable tools.

But tools in America were not cheap. Basic tools, cutting tools, welding tools, and the rest cost him more than $3,000 altogether, instantly cutting his net worth in half.

He then bought two classic revolvers and five boxes of 5.6mm small-caliber bullets at Walmart before finally returning to his apartment.

The first thing he did was dismantle everything. In less than half an hour, 80 percent of the scavenged items had been cleared away, leaving only the valuable components such as chips.

Jude put on the Optical Sight and adjusted it to the proper magnification. Then he used pliers to snip the wires one by one before reconnecting them.

He removed a camera lens to serve as eyes, used the treads from a toy tank as wheels, cut a quarter of a set-top box for the base, and embedded batteries inside it for power.

"Good. The movement system is complete."

He then installed metal tubes as arms, covered them with casings, used a computer motherboard as the core, and entered movement commands. A thirty-centimeter-tall robot was complete.

Looking at the little thing's simple design, Jude smiled in satisfaction.

"Very good. I hereby name you Butter Bot Mark One. You will become the progenitor of your kind."

Completing the robot was only the first step. Next came equipping it with weapons. That was right—the revolvers were not for Jude. They were for Butter Bot.

He first disassembled the revolver and removed the cylinder separately. He used tools to modify its rotation speed, then grafted it onto the robot's arm. Next, he embedded the bullets into Butter Bot's back, connected everything to the motherboard, and entered attack commands. An assault robot capable of firing twenty bullets per second was complete.

There was no need to test it. Jude had absolute confidence in his creation. No one would take this harmless-looking little thing seriously, making it perfect for catching people off guard.

Unlike the one in the cartoon, this Butter Bot was an upgraded version. Connected to Jude's phone, it could be remotely controlled.

When he opened the control panel, Butter Bot's eyes immediately lit up.

"Hello. I am pleased to serve you. What do you need me to do?"

"Bring me the butter... no, bring me the Phillips Screwdriver."

Butter Bot spun around rapidly, rolled over to the toolbox, opened it, took out the Phillips Screwdriver, and handed it to Jude.

After doing so, Butter Bot spoke in its mechanical voice. "What else do you need me to do?"

"Hmm... go get me a beer from the fridge."

Butter Bot turned and rolled to the refrigerator. The beer was sitting in the door shelf of the upper compartment, but at only thirty centimeters tall, it was destined to be unable to reach it. Jude watched from the side, curious to see what the little thing would do.

Unexpectedly, a red light flashed in the robot's eyes. It suddenly raised its arm and aimed at the connection point of the upper refrigerator door. Bang! Bang! Two shots rang out, and the bullets instantly shattered the door latch. With a loud clang, the refrigerator door fell to the floor.

The red light in Butter Bot's eyes turned blue. It squeaked and creaked its way over, grabbed a can of beer, and brought it before Jude.

Jude was not angry about Butter Bot's violence. After merging with Grandpa Rick, seeing a scene like this only stirred the rebellious, violent DNA in his body. He actually felt a little excited.

Jude clicked his tongue in amazement. "The original version developed self-awareness in less than twenty-four hours. Looks like you're not bad either, buddy."

"Now bring me the smoke detectors. I need some more intimidating toys."

Never underestimate smoke detectors. Though they were civilian products, they contained radioactive material—Americium-241, an alpha radiation source. It could undergo nuclear fission if bombarded with neutrons, making it a raw material for nuclear weapons.

Of course, if he wanted to make major weapons like nuclear bombs, Tritium Bombs, or Neutron Bombs, it would be best to use materials such as uranium, cobalt, and plutonium. Americium was not enough.

But without a suitable laboratory, even with Grandpa Rick's talent, Jude could not build nuclear weapons. Grandpa could make spaceships in his garage in the cartoon only because his garage was the most advanced laboratory in the world.

For now, he could only make do. By mixing Americium-241 with a certain amount of Hexamethylene Triperoxide Diamine, he could make a few miniature Dirty Bombs. They would be enough to scare people at a critical moment.

He used the remaining materials to make several cameras as well, installing them in locations facing his room's door, the apartment building entrance, street intersections, and other places.

When he opened his phone, the entire area was now under his surveillance. If any enemy invaded, nothing would escape Jude's eyes.

"Good. Now all that remains is to wait. If Bob Dylan chooses retaliation, tonight will be the best opportunity. Grandpa Rick, Grandpa Rick—you not only gave me intelligence, but also awakened the violent factor within me. What will happen tonight? I'm really starting to look forward to it."

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