ISSUE #11 (August 2021)
Written by Jake Hawkins |
EASTPOINTE RECREATION CENTER
DAKOTA CITY News crews flock to the front of the newly reopened rec center, rushing to get a glimpse at whoever was the next to arrive. A reporter took her cue from her producer and checked her background quickly before going on air. “Thank you, Megan. We are outside the Eastpointe center that has been completely rebuilt after the damages suffered during the riots late last fall.” The unmistakable custom Mercedes of Edwin Alva arrived next, and everyone in the vicinity’s focus fell on him. Reporters, bloggers, podcasters, and local affiliates for world news outlets converged on the CEO of Alva Industries the moment his personal bodyguard, Pierre, opened his door. “As you can see, Edwin Alva, who helped expedite the repairs with his generous donation, is here to support his friend Lieutenant Jefferson’s mayoral campaign.” Alva ignored almost everyone clamouring for his attention, instead of giving the polite, sincere facade he’d had well-practiced as he entered the building led by Pierre. Not too much later, Edwin Alva found himself in front of a microphone in the middle of the center’s gym. The crowd had given raucous applause for their homegrown millionaire and appreciated he had taken the time to not only attend the Lieutenant’s fundraiser but speak as well. “Last year this city faced turmoil unlike any we could have imagined. And it was during that time, heroes were forged. I’m not talking about the capes and masks you see on your televisions every night,” Alva’s gravelly voice boomed in the state-of-the-art gym as he continued his introduction, “But heroes like the man whose guidance and tenacity helped us through the Big Bang and the aftermath of it.” On the side of the stage stood Lieutenant Roderick Jefferson, watching Alva put him over to every city official, politician, and local business owner attending. He smoothed his hands down his dark blue suit and straightened his tie just as Alva finished up. His wife gripped his hand tightly and he gave her a warm smile before stepping onto the stage. “Ladies and Gentleman of Dakota, I proudly present to you my dear friend, a hero you all have placed your faith in for years, and the next mayor of this great city: Roderick Jefferson!” Alva stepped aside and helped lead the crowd in raucous applause. Jefferson crosses the stage to the podium and gives Alva a firm handshake. They lock eyes for the briefest of moments, and a message is shared between the two of them without a word needed. Alva leaves the stage quickly to the left. He notices the rather grim demeanour that Pierre is wearing as an expression once he reaches him. As Jefferson begins to address the crowd, Pierre leads his boss out of the gymnasium and into the much quieter hallway. Alva peers around to make sure they are alone before his entire demeanour shifts from the one the public knows to the man he is behind closed doors. “Sank enough money into this crap as it is. Jefferson’s got to have this thing handled at this point.” Alva loosened then pulled off his own tie before shoving it into Pierre’s rather massive arms and walking down the hallway. “He’s running away in the polls right now, boss.” Pierre assured Mr. Alva as he hurried to keep up with his pace. “With a week left before the election, it’s his to lose at this point right?” Alva ignores him as they continue down the hallway. He checks his watch and turns back to Pierre. “The drop-off go smooth? You heard from anyone yet?” Pierre once again grimaces, struggling with how to answer his boss’s question. Alva does his best to stifle his annoyance at his trusted chief of security as he halts on the spot and turns to face him. He raises an eyebrow at Pierre, who finally meets his stern gaze with great reluctance. “Apparently there was a...issue or two.” Pierre uttered under his breath, and his eyes immediately dropped from Alva’s face as his boss barely contained the budding anger in him. ALVA INDUSTRIES TWENTY MINUTES LATER Edwin Alva walked through the Shipping port of his upper east side production facility, and he still couldn’t believe what was in front of him. Police and EMTs rushed in and out of the building, doing their best to help those wounded in whatever catastrophe occurred there. Alva watched as his security team were either wheeled out on stretchers barely conscious or in body bags. He saw Pierre in discussion with a pair of officers on the scene, behind them what was left of a semi’s trailer. Half of the thick metal plating seemed to have been incinerated clear off. “Excuse me, Mr. Alva?” The CEO turned around and faced the young women approaching him. She turned around briskly, giving succinct orders to the patrol officer with her before he departed. She offered her hand, and though it almost disgusted Alva internally to touch someone he knew wasn’t worth a quarter what he was, he put on his usual personable guise as he shook it. “I’m Detective Chase, I was hoping you could answer a few questions that might help give us the right foot to start off on whatever-” She gestures around at the carnage left, her focus lingering on what remained of an Alva sign that had been cleaved clean in two. The scorch marks on its letters are similar to the ones on the semi-trailer. “Well, whatever tore through here tonight.” “I’m glad to be of any sort of service I can, detective. Though I’m not sure I can do better than whatever our cameras must have caught.” Alva answered. Detective Chase could tell Alva wasn’t interested in talking with her, but she went ahead anyway. She had a job to do and was more interested in catching whoever was responsible than waiting on a man who had everything. Still, she considered, whoever was bold enough to storm one of Alva’s facilities needed to be off the streets sooner than later. “According to your people. all security footage in this wing of the building has been wiped clean and transmitted to an outside server. Our people are having a hell of a time trying to trace it back as we speak.” The news delivered by Detective Chase made Alva’s face lose all color. He managed to compose himself before responding. “I’m not sure who you spoke to on my staff here but there is no way anyone could hack our servers let alone our security-” “Uh, Mr. Alva sir.” Edwin is cut off by Pierre calling him over. He turns back to Detective Chase and excuses himself with a curt nod. “If you’ll give me just a moment.” He asks her, before briskly walking towards Pierre. They head towards the shipping manager’s office, and Alva whispers tersely to his chief of security, “What in the blue hell is she talking about? Why don’t we have security footage of any of this?” Alva is barely containing his anger as they step into the office. He paces back and forth, running his hands through his hair. Pierre quickly logs into the computer at the desk in the room and pulls open an email. Alva stops pacing when he realizes Pierre is clearly trying to show him something. Alva peers over his shoulder at the e-mail, noticing the subject line above the video clip reads “Something you wish you were here for”. “This was sent to your private email.” Pierre informed him, and a shudder ran down Alva’s spine. There were a very select few who had access to that address, and none would want to cause him the kind of hell that he’d been caused tonight. Pierre played the video clip, which was time-stamped audio and video footage of the building just an hour and a half ago. THE PRIVATE LAB OF CURTIS METCALF THREE HOURS AGO The elevator doors slid open, and the moment Curtis stepped out every light in the lab came to life. He quickly headed over to his central workstation, where all four monitors he used for his computer were awaiting his commands. He moved his hands across the keyboard until a map tracking a moving vehicle came upon the second monitor. At the bottom of the screen, it showed the vehicle’s ETA as forty-five minutes. Curtis took a seat in his hand-crafted leather computer chair and cracked his neck before his fingers flew across the keyboard. His eyes darted to his fourth monitor, where a diagnostic reading was being performed on his Forge machine. The one-of-a-kind instrument that Curtis had just placed the very last touches on the previous week. Once the reading completed, Curtis nodded and swiped the window off the screen, bringing another to the forefront on that monitor. In this window was a list of items that were currently being checked for efficiency. As the computer ran down the list, once the check was complete on an item its status was changed to “Optimum”. Curtis spun around in his chair and turned the face of his $800,000 dollar watch counter-clockwise. Behind him a wall full of the very weapons the computer was currently checking came down from the ceiling. “Computer, prepare casing shell. And get the Skylark ready for takeoff in no less than ten minutes.” One of the monitors behind him brought up another ETA graphic alongside a chart detailing where the Skylark’s current systems and engines were running at. Curtis turned his attention to the forge, the doors to the machine having swung open as if extending an invitation. Curtis pulled off his suit coat and unbuttoned his Gucci dress shirt as he approached the doors to the forge. He took a deep breath, but before he could step in, a chirping ring coming from his main computer broke his attention away from the task at hand. He turned to see the second monitor alerting him to a call from Barraki Young, his former co-worker and only friend in the world. With a click of a button on the side of his watch picked up the call. The monitor emitted a projection of the video call, and Barraki appeared in the middle of her workstation, her lab coat still on her shoulders. She took off her reading glasses once she realized he had answered the call. Once Barraki saw Curtis was in his lab, she quickly looked around to be sure she was alone in her office before speaking. “Didn’t think you’d be working on a Friday. What’s got you changing up your routine?” Barraki wondered. Curtis kept himself busy while he spoke with her and headed back to his computer. “I wouldn’t exactly call this working.” He answered honestly, something Barraki wasn’t expecting. This amused him as he pressed a series of keys and turned back to her. Behind him “VERSION 0.5 UPLOADED. SKYLARK READY FOR TAKEOFF” appeared briefly as the program ran. “I just wanted to know if we were still meeting with those school board members tomorrow night. As important as said meeting is to the launch, I was hoping you would try to be on time.” Barraki gave him a shifty grin that she knew would get a rise out of him. “I’ve got a few different packages for them to go over, as well as a look at how we plan to handle rollout.” “You know I appreciate you, right?” Curtis told her as he leaned back in his chair lazily. “No, I’m not sure you do. But you will.” Barraki teased. She placed her glasses in the front pocket of her lab coat and leaned back in her chair as well. “I’ve been putting some more thought into what we discussed…” Curtis raised both eyebrows, very surprised she decided to bring up this subject. “You have? And?” “And I think it's something we should discuss in person. How much longer you going to be there?” Barakki wondered. Curtis glanced behind him at the monitor tracking the vehicle. The estimated time of arrival had dwindled to thirty minutes. “I shouldn’t be too much longer. If I’m not there, Gaston knows to let you up.” “Alright. Try not to leave me waiting.” Barraki told him, knowing full well he would more than likely do the opposite. “I’ll do my best.” Curtis almost gave her a smile. Almost, but instead he ended the call and bounced out of his chair. He bounded across the room quickly and stepped into the forge. The doors sealed shut behind him once he entered, and the machine initiated. Inside the Shell Forge, a metal alloy was stretched over his skin, and before the bottom of the machine slid away it did its job by sealing the polymer over Curtis skin tight. He dropped down a chute the width of a bathroom stall as pieces of armor molded themselves around him. Once his arms, legs, chests and back are protected the doors to the forge open. Curtis stepped out of the forge, now encased in the HARDWARE armor on a completely new floor of the building. Sitting next to the forge is the helmet that completed the armor, which he snatched up as he approached the Skylark. The aircraft hummed quietly, its powerful engines waiting anxiously to be kicked into gear. Curtis placed the helmet on and the door to the pilot seat rose outward butterfly style, and he stepped into the vehicle. Moment’s later the Skylark roared out of the garage and into the skies of Dakota City. ALVA INDUSTRIES SHIPPING DOCKS A semi pulled into the dock facility, workers guided it into place. A couple of armed men got out of the truck and greeted the shipping workers. They say nothing, and the shipping workers merely nod before heading to the truck’s trailer. The trailer’s door is raised up, and inside are large black cases. One of the workers quickly cracked open one of the cases and inspected the contents for himself. He pulled out a large assault blaster of alien origin and looked it up and down, aiming it for a moment before setting it back in the case. “Let’s get these in storage.” The shipping manager instructed everyone as he came out of his office. Before they could get started, the emergency lockdown signal wailed across the shipping dock and the entire facility. The manager closed the door to his office, his expression becoming ever more befuddled as he watched the building’s lockdown sequence begin. Reinforced steel shutters slammed down on the loading dock. Armed guards with Alva industries prototype rifles panicked as they couldn’t decipher how the lockdown was initiated in the first place, let alone why. “Seal a perimeter around the cargo. Anything happens to that shit and we’re dog food by tomorrow morning.” The shipping manager ordered one of the armed guards, and she quickly guided her men into formation. The manager ducked back into his office and snatched up the phone on his desk. He frantically tried to dial any of the other departments, but the line was dead. His face lost all color, with only one thought running through his mind: Who the hell could do all this to a building owned by Edwin Alva? The answer to the manager’s question hovered high above the facility, sitting in the Skylark. The one-of-a-kind vessel created by Hardware allowed him to breach and take control of Alva Industries network, and this brought an almost mischievous smile to his face. He was eager to cause as much havoc as possible. “Obie? Gimme a layout of what we’re working with.” Hardware commanded the control system that operated both the Skylark and the HARDWARE armor that covered his shell. The main screen that sat in the middle of the dashboard split into four camera images around the docking area. Obie marked every armed individual on each screen, and Hardware dipped the Skylark downward towards the building. The moment the Skylark breaks through the clouds, the hatch of the roof slides back. “Roof defense systems are under my thumb. Obie, give me something to pierce the rooftop.” Hardware ordered before he shot directly into the sky out of the ship. Inside the cockpit, the screen showed the Skylark’s targeting system locked onto the roof. A silver shell shot from beneath the Skylark with unparalleled speed, blasting away a massive chunk of the roof and sending the reinforced components crumbling inside. The vehicle rose back out of sight above the city skyline, and Hardware shot down from the skies. He adjusted the power output of his jetpack and used his HUD to adjust his own aim before firing a blast from his omni-cannon. Inside the shell smacked against the concrete and exploded on impact, the resulting sonic blast sent everyone in the vicinity clutching for their ears or dropping to their knees in pain. Hardware landed right where the shell crashed, and Obie gave his HUD a quick readout of the most important order of actions in front of him. Hardware raised his Omni-Cannon and aimed it at the trailer, but a burst of gunfire from behind him stopped him from unloading another shell. He turned with unexpected quickness in the direction of the guard who had fired, and in the same motion pulled his plasma whip from the holster on his thigh. He pressed the ignition switch on its handle and plasma energy coursed through the whip, just as it wrapped around the neck of the guard. The plasma energy sent a nasty charge through the guard, stopping his heart. Hardware snatched back on the whip and sent the lifeless body hurtling towards him. He turned on the dime as more men opened fire, this time tossing the guard’s lifeless body at the shooters. Hardware didn’t waste the sliver of a window he’d given himself and fired a blast from his laser at the trailer, blasting away a massive chunk of it, sending deadly flaming pieces across the room. The shipping manager ducked back inside the office and closed the door, his heart racing. He watched from through his bulletproof glass window as Hardware tore through every defense they had available. A colder realization came over the manager at that very moment, and his gaze turned to the flaming wreckage of the trailer. The shipment was gone, everything else this terrorist was doing didn’t matter. He quickly scrambled for the emergency radio stashed in his desk anyway, determined to see whoever was behind this attack dead at the very least. Maybe then Alva would forgive such a major loss of goods. “We need the onslaught units in shipping. Now!” He barked into the radio. His looked as if they may pop out of his head when he saw Hardware locked eyes on his office. A voice on the other end chirped back. “How many do you need? What’s your status? We’ve been unable to reach anyone!” The manager nearly turns purple with a mix of fear and outright rage. “JUST GET THEM TO DOCK 24 NOW!” He screamed before realizing the sound of gunfire and violence had suddenly ceased. Hardware stood in the middle of the shipping dock, amidst a plethora of broken, battered, and bloodied bodies. He checks both his HUD then the monitor on his gauntlet for a quick progress report of the virus OBIE was feeding Alva’s security system. “All files on their server have been copied and uploaded to your base data drive.” Obie gave Hardware the update, and he almost smiled. Almost. “And their copies of the files?” Hardware asked, moments before the reinforced doors to the dock were bent inward by a loud SLAM. Another impact just like it blew both titanium plated doors off their hinges. A pair of Alva designed battle tanks, commanded by more security personnel, stomped into the docks. Hardware however, not only didn’t fear their presence, but barely acknowledged it. “Corrupted beyond any conceivable recovery.” Obie chimed back. Hardware smiled, finally turning towards the tanks who were raising their main guns in his direction. Before they could fire, thick gray smoke poured into the room from every vent and air duct, obscuring the men piloting the tank’s vision. They fire anyway, in every direction possible. Their bullets hit nothing meaningful, as Hardware was already soaring into the clouds above Dakota, where the Skylark awaited. He slid back into the cockpit and took over the controls from Obie. “An excellent night of work.” Hardware remarked, and the Skylark cloaked itself before tearing through the skies. THE NEXT MORNING CURTIS METCALF’S HIGHRISE APARTMENT Curtis stood in his kitchen, Project Rock dry fit on him head to toe. On his stove, he finished making his omelet, fresh ground coffee streamed into his favourite mug. On the television in his living room, Daily Planet World News ran a report about the attack on one of Edwin Alva’s shipping facilities. Curtis smiled as he half-listened to Cat Grant discuss Alva’s refusal to talk to the media about the incident. Curtis places one of his AirPods in his ear. “Obie, give me the juiciest morsels we got from last night.” The order is taken care of right away, and a stream of information recovered from the Alva files projected from Curtis personal tablet. Sitting in its placeholder on the kitchen counter, Curtis swiped his hand across the tablet and rifled through more of the contents recovered by his hack into Alva’s personal servers. “Hard to believe it. Matter of fact, I don’t think I do yet. But it appears Edwin Alva is just a very small tip of an iceberg I’m just starting to get the scope of.” Curtis mumbled under his breath, marvelling at what he discovered. “What’s the target for this evening, sir?” Obie chimed, but before Curtis could answer the sound of door to his apartment opening interrupted the conversation. “Discreet mode.” The holograms disappeared and the tablet went black just as Barraki rounded the corner into the kitchen. She was dressed for brunch in a beautiful violet dress, and she cast a curious glance at Curtis while putting her diamond earrings in. “Why aren’t you dressed? And why did you make yourself breakfast when we’re going out?” Curtis gave her a wide smile as he was just happy to see her. “I’m just meal prepping for tomorrow. Give me five minutes and we’re out the door.” Curtis placed the food in containers and snatched the tablet off the holster. TRISHA’S AVENURE BREAKFAST BAR SOUTH DAKOTA CITY Curtis stood alongside Barraki in the establishment’s party room, in front of the entire district school board. Their guests finished their meals and turned their attention towards the couple, who had just finished passing around tablet devices not too unlike the one Curtis owned personally. “Metcalf Ideas and Appliances is offering to personally outfit each and every classroom with our latest tablet and laptop devices. Every grade level, across the entire district. For half the price any of our competitors can.” Barraki boasted. She watched the board members examine and play with the devices, and Curtis stepped forward, taking over from there. “While we’re offering lower costs, by no means are we providing inferior product. The processing speed of our computers and laptops are twice that of not only Alva, but Queen consolidated and Wayne Tech as well.” Curtis informed them, doing his best to not seem to impressed with his own work. Across the room, in the far back stood Pierre, watching the presentation. He raised a phone to his ear and spoke into it. “Its going rather well Mr. Alva, they seem to be pleased. Inside of a limousine parked downtown somewhere, Alva listened to Pierre, his fists clenched tight. “Well its good to hear Curtis has done well for himself. This isn’t the time to put him on his heels, I have more pressed concerns.” Alva said as he motioned for hid driver to pull off. “I want the word out before news of the data leak spreads to unfortunate places. This Hardware dies, ten million to whoever brings me what is left of him.” TO BE CONTINUED?! |