PROFIT

MARGIN

…

OF TERROR!

A Tale of The Monsterpocalypse

Fiction by A.G.M.

7
THE WIZARD OF _01

Keith and Ballantyne took a chance to sleep a couple of hours while they waited for their captors to figure out how best to dispose of them. The reclining position of their chairs was ideal for that purpose as well as keeping them restrained, but did not provided relief for such necessities as going to the bathroom, which Ballantyne shrilly demanded for half an hour before two Women In White arrived to escort her to the toilet facilities adjoining the interview room.   When she was escorted back, she had figured her escorts were androids and would not notice her tensing up as she was strapped back in. relaxing gave her slack, but she had to be careful when wriggling free because previous struggles had shown her  the bonds would tighten if the couch sensors detected any force being exerted against the straps.   Good thing she had learned yoga techniques during her time in Indonesia.

As she loosened her arms, Dr. _01 showed up in his rolling desk from behind the same smiling wall.   If Keith didn’t know better, he could have sworn the Good Doctor had been sitting there the whole time.
“I trust you spent a restful early morning!   A meal will be served up shortly after which you can tell me of your decisions.”

They were released from the couches by an automatic mechanism, and trays with breakfast were wheeled in by Men in Black.   Dr. _01 smilingly informed them that having himself partaken of an early meal, would not be joining them.   Then, he informed them that the food contained nanites that would disassemble their personal microtransmitters, since they were no longer UberCorp employees, and could not maintain access to company property for legal reasons. Neither Ballantyne nor Keith believed him and, being famished, ate their meal.

“And now, to the business at hand,” said the doctor brightly. “During your… enquiries here, you may have come into contact with certain -Ahh- elements within our family of employees who are not satisfied with their arrangement with UberCorp, and thus might be conspiring to renege on their contracts with us. We know of the existence of these… Malcontents through anonymous letters of complaint and minor acts of obstructionism bordering on sabotage. We would like you to identify these Malcontents for us as an act of contrition and goodwill towards your rehabilitation as our newest assets!”

“You have a Resistance movement?” asked Ballantyne in disbelief.

“Malcontents.” Smiled Dr. _01.

“Even if we’d had the time, establishing contact with any resistance cell requires contacts and time, neither of which we had in this town. And the work that entails would have taken us off our main goal,” said Keith reasonably.

“Perhaps, but these Malcontents might have contacted you unknowingly. A dissatisfied comment, a bitter critique… all those could come from actual or potential Malcontents! Besides, you could be underestimating Ms. Ballantyne’s talent for locating and persuading people, as her filmwork suggests. Whatever the circumstances, knowingly or unknowingly… these do not matter at present. What we want from you is simply cooperation. Humor Us. This could lead even to your release from further trouble! What do you say?”

Keith shrugged nonchalantly, “I am game.”

“And You, Ms. Ballantyne?”

“What would that cooperation entail?” she asked.

“Just show you some pictures of employees, and you tell us if they interacted with you recently.”

Ballantyne nodded reluctantly.

The Doctor clapped his gloved hands enthusiastically. “Splendid! Let’s begin then!”

The rest of the day was spent poring over employee files as they came up on a wall screen, with Ballantyne and Keith being asked to point out if they had been approached by any of those.   When the four that had asked them for asylum came up on the screen, Keith quickly pointed them out, while Ballantyne had to suppress the urge to nudge him in the ribs.   If she didn’t know better, she could swear Keith wasn’t just pretending.

There was a break for lunch, and as dinnertime approached, Dr. _01 excused himself, saying he had to supervise the Malcontents as they were brought in, and to enjoy dinner. Due to their cooperation, they would not be restrained, but would be limited to this room.

It was all Ballantyne could do not to strangle Keith, who studiously ignored her as he ate dinner.   No conversation could be held between the two captives under the assumption any incriminating talk would reveal them to their captors, even if Ballantyne felt she would go insane from doubt of Keith’s loyalties.   She wondered for the billionth time if the Crew would effect a rescue, or whether they had been abandoned to the mercy of the Mega-Corp. ‘No’ she decided. ‘Gordon wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t! Not after all we’ve been through! Keith seems confident enough. But then… taking on a whole company from the Fortune’s 500 seems a foolish risk to take just for me and an alleged friend! Maybe Keith has already figured that out and is covering himself in case the crew has abandoned us!’

As she tormented herself with these and other doubts, another thought occurred to Ballantyne that maybe THIS waiting game was part of the interrogation, creating anxiety and doubt in the suspects… making them careless enough that   confessions and information unwittingly slipped out.   If that was the case, it was working on her.

Couple of hours after dinner, Dr. _01 showed in the same fashion, immensely pleased to inform them that their help had been very useful and six suspected Malcontents with their families and known associates were being brought in for questioning.

Ballantyne resisted the powerful impulse to jump on Keith and throttle him.

“Now that we have an understanding,” said the Doctor, “We can begin working on your integration into Our Company! But first, let us get something out of the way before getting down to business. A minor detail concerning Ms. Ballantyne’s known affiliation with the Green Fury Organization-“

At that very moment, the whole building shook as if under the force of an earthquake.   The lights flickered off as the room shook, and the violent upheaval seemed to stun momentarily Dr. _01, who slumped over his desk.

The temblor was so violent, Keith and Ballantyne fell off their seats while dust and concrete flakes peppered them from above.   A few tense moments passed as emergency lights went on and the muted sounds of alarms resounded through the walls.   Both captives recovered, carefully looking around wide-eyed until their gazes locked.

“What the hell were you playing at?!” she asked.

“Just buying us some time!”

“And did you have to sell out my friends for that?”

“No. I needed them All in one safe place when Cletus showed up and in case he released the Specimen! The security block’s underground and has very thick, very strong walls!”

“What if the Crew doesn’t show up? Those people would’ve gone to jail, or worse!”

“What? Craghill leave behind his hot date? Please!” scoffed Keith. “You think that quake was just coincidence?”

“Fine! Now all those people have to worry about is being buried alive alongside us!”

“There’s no pleasing you!”

Unexpectedly, the lights came back on and the Doctor revived:   “Aah! Good. Still here! Then you won’t miss the show!”

The whole opposite wall, in front of Dr _01, behind Keith and Ballantyne  lit up with a number of TV screens on what at first glance had appeared to be a blank concrete wall.   “Those are images from Our surveillance cameras from all over town. As you can see, a number of explosions have detonated on a section of the security perimeter. I take it those are your friends come to pay us a visit!”

As they watched, one of the views enlarged to catch as herds of saurian beasts poured through the gap in the minefield blasted by the initial explosions.   “I believe those are called ‘Carnidons’. Someone has also taken over one of the guard stations and put some strange music in its loudspeakers. Can you tell me what song is this, Mr. De Rose?”

“I think that’s ‘Undercover’ by the Stones.”

For the first time, the Doctor looked concerned. “Most grave! That’s on the prohibited list! Your allies were most clever, infiltrating some saboteurs by somehow faking our ID system long enough to put a series of blast charges and setting off the simultaneously all mines in that section! I believe that’s the original quake. Uncanny, the nerve of whomever dreamed up this attack.”

As they watched, the enraged herds of Carnidons clashed with security vehicles, both from Mercs and Syndicate as flocks of Pteradactix flew unchallenged overhead.

“Amazing! I believe the music carries some sort of signal that enrages the Terrasaurs. I wonder when your friends will show up?” The Doctor appeared to be enjoying the spectacle as he commented on the unfolding disaster on the screens, but the play-by-play narrative was grinding on Ballantyne’s nerves as she both dreaded and hoped for the Crew’s four, massive trucks to lumber in any minute now.

“The main players ride in to the rescue. Observe!” pointed the Doctor, as a camera zoomed in to a distance of some thirty meters on four gigantic trucks, roaring through the torn-up minefield.  A few laser beams flashed the monster vehicles ineffectually. “Hum. Apparently the wattage is too low in that section to power the beams up.” Observed the Doctor.

Ballantyne’s heart did a somersault when she spied the Fox JAW blaze away with its rocket launchers at some unseen target.   In the wake of the trucks followed the rest of the Green Fury vehicles, like mice in the tracks of four, huge, angry boars, all firing their cannons and machine guns at anything that moved and wasn’t a Terrasaur.   A minute later, they felt in the room the tremors of the detonations from Fox JAW’s rockets.

“Very impressive, but ultimately pointless. As you can see, evacuations are proceeding nicely.” Dr _01 enlarged another view, showing the top of the luxury buildings, where helicopters were landing and taking off continuously.

“You’re evacuating only that building,” observed Ballantyne with a smirk.

“Upper Management actually. Nonessential personnel come next,” clarified the Doctor.

“You mean, everybody else. What about us?” asked Keith.

“In due time. We have to prioritize first.”

“How are scientists and technicians ‘Nonessential’ compared to Ivy League executives?” asked Ballantyne.

“We measure Our personnel by their degree of proven loyalty to The Company. We at UberCorp value that commodity above all others. Executive personnel are promoted according to their proven loyalty. Highly educated and specialized personnel think of themselves as above The Company and therefore are considered… unreliable assets at best, and easily replaced. They are also difficult to manage, so why spent time and money on such fickle resources? But Loyalty? You can’t put a price on that!”

“Aren’t your bosses worried you might also be crushed down here?” she asked.

“They understand I am loyal enough to trust them with my safety. But if it comes to giving my life for this Company, I am perfectly willing and able to do so!” said Dr. _01, smiling beatifically.

Keith’s apparent pretense at collaborating was quickly vanishing. “That’s insane! You’re throwing your life away over a salary and some benefits you MIGHT get?!”

The ground shook again as cracks began to appear on the ceiling. ‘Gordon’s really pounding the Hell out of this place. I hope he quits on time,’ thought Ballantyne worriedly.

The Doctor frowned for the first time. “Everything I am I owe to this Company!”

A larger tremor shook the room as chunks of masonry came off the ceiling. “You’re nuts and this company SUCKS!” Cried Keith ducking a piece of concrete.

“I am disappointed in you, Mr. De Rose, specially in this moment of truth! Behold! Cyber-Khan!” said the Doctor with a flourish. One of the screens enlarged to show a large section of ground on a field north of Waurika slide aside to reveal the steel-lining of a vertical tunnel. Strobe lights flashed and horns blared as something gradually came up via elevators. First came a head with glowing, yellow lights for eyes and skin painted a blazing, pearly white, warning red lights spun off the top of its sloping, reptilian skull, and its face was elongated into a reptilian muzzle with metallic teeth, topped with a glowing horn of yellow glass.   This was followed by a gross neck made of black, spiked segments, mounted on a colossal set of shoulders of the same Pearly material.   Two titanic cannons were mounted on these shoulders, which were attached to two thick arms ending in paws with missile-tipped claws.   The arms flanked a barrel chest set in its center with a round, glowing lens, and flaring into an abdomen so vast it barely squeezed past the tunnel exit.   The only way its gargantuan legs could be fitted into the robot’s enormous mass with just enough room to fit its thick, buzz saw-tipped tail.

As soon as the elevator stopped, flush to the ground, Cyber-Khan’s lights blazed even brighter, and a screeching siren/ roar announced its activation and as a warning to all ground units and bystanders.   Immediately, booster rockets on clawed feet and flanks lit up burning to a crisp hundreds of square meters around the machine as it vaulted into the air, knocking down or destroying dozens of friendly units along with some hostiles.   As soon as the monster was airborne, dozens of Pteradactix set upon it with frenzied gusto, obscuring its sensors and disrupting its flight pattern.   The robot soon lost its balance in mid-flight due to the clouds of fluttering reptiles, and crash-landed while plowing a huge furrow down main street.   Its plow ended by ramming into two buildings, which collapsed under the impact.

Ballantyne could clearly see the people-filled windows as the buildings quickly shattered into clouds of debris and dust.   “Oh my God! That stupid piece of junk!”

“Junk?! I resent that label!” said the doctor offended.   “It is the culmination of UberCorp Defensive Engineering.”

“Yeah. It protected them from getting killed by a Terrasaur by killing them first!” snapped Keith.   “And what’s the big deal with making it look like a cartoon Terra Khan? It makes it look dumb!”

“The robot is programmed according to behavior patterns observed in Terra Khan.   And its protein computer uses Terra Khan’s DNA.   Its simplistic, instinctual behavior was ideal in designing its combat programs, and engineers said it would respond better if its morphology closely approximated that of Terra Khan’s.”

In its flight, Cyber Khan had blazed ahead of all its support and allied units, and the Radicals and The Crew were taking advantage of that momentary separation to cut it off from any help, with vehicles peppering it with rockets, grenades and cannon fire from the ruin.

Having fallen face-down and being half-buried in dirt and rubble, it took Cyber Khan a long time to recover.   Time which Crew and Radicals took to bombard the hell out of it as it laboriously incorporated.   By the time it was up, a dozen small fires blazed from as many breaches and holes in its chassis and its left shoulder-cannon had fallen off, as its left arm hung uselessly.   The scene was being recorded from far up main street, and details were getting harder to see from a combination of a faulty feed and from increasing clouds of dust and smoke.

Cyber Kahn blasted up once more with its thrusters, but this time it was a short burst which caused it to lift up half its body height (some 30m) only to crash back down on the ground with Mountain-Rending force.   The resulting shock wave stunned many Pteradactix out of the sky and blowing off the wheels and feet off most Green Fury vans and Terrasaur beasts.   Even those in cover of the rubble.   This attack is followed by the Cyber Khan firing its remaining shoulder-cannon and opening its mouth to release a sonic blast that knocks over more buildings concealing Units of Radicals and revealing the Crew’s four trucks.

The Crew apparently was expecting this move, despite having taken heavy damage from the attack, and opened up with all its weapons in a spectacular pyrotechnics display, which ended with the Rolling Ranch ramming one of its legs and sending Cyber Kahn tumbling back into another building.   The giant robot loosed its balance backing off into a building, crashing into it and vanishing into a debris cloud.   The frightening tremors were felt by Keith and Ballantyne despite the fact that this battle was taking place more than a mile away.   Now, the lights were flickering constantly and the video feed was irregular, fading on and off into bursts of static.

“I think they took it down,” said Keith.

“No. It must still be up because they are still firing at it! We just can’t see behind the clouds!”

“The lady is correct!” exulted Dr. _01. “Its power plant must have shut down for a minute to allow the auxiliary to kick in for more power! In an instant its output will more than double and then you will see true Destruction!”

Just as the doctor finished speaking, the robot, despite massive damage and unrelenting punishment, surged up from the rubble and dust cloud to stomp at the Crew’s trucks as these beat a hasty retreat, but not before Cyber Khan reached the gear Jammer and punted it through a building with a single kick.

“No! NO! Pavel! Hannah!” screamed Keith as he saw the vehicle vanish behind clouds of dust and showers of rubble, just before the screen went blank.

“I take it you knew those people?” smiled Dr. _01 benignly.

“You SONOVAB-!!” Keith leapt over the desk with desperate agility to pummel at the still-smiling doctor.

Ballantyne was about to join him when a movement in one of the smaller screens caught her eye.

As Cyber Khan stomped after the rest of the Crew, another Titanic, reptilian figure charged through the smoke clouds and fire at full speed. Its massive, frilled head crowned with Jade spikes lowered and its claws poised.   The Specimen was up and about again, god knew how.   She had only seen it in its dormant state and never fully active.   How it went from that compressed, wrinkled, spiky form to this ninety-meter juggernaut avalanche of fury and death was a mystery no one fully understood.

But there it was, goring Cyber Khan from behind, lifting its chassis overhead. Shaking the robot savagely to bits as its claws ripped at its hull with jade claws before tossing the whole pile of metal a full mile in the air.

Something must have caused Cyber Khan’s reactors to overload or reach critical during that punishing deadlift, because as it sailed through the air, Cyber Khan broke apart into several pieces which exploded into a spectacular rain of flames.   Bigger than the Challenger explosion, the whole flaming wreck fell on the complex of Company offices, and Power Plants like an avalanche of Doom.

“This is going to hurt,” whined Ballantyne. “KEITH! DUCK!!” she shrieked trying to dive beneath Dr. _01′s desk before the world exploded around them and went black.

—

PROFIT

MARGIN

…

OF TERROR!

A Tale of The Monsterpocalypse

Fiction by A.G.M.

6
FROM HERE TO WAURIKA

Keith and Ballantyne took a chance to sleep a couple of hours while they waited for their captors to figure out how best to dispose of them. The reclining position of their chairs was ideal for that purpose as well as keeping them restrained, but did not provided relief for such necessities as going to the bathroom, which Ballantyne shrilly demanded for half an hour before two Women In White arrived to escort her to the toilet facilities adjoining the interview room.   When she was escorted back, she had figured her escorts were androids and would not notice her tensing up as she was strapped back in. relaxing gave her slack, but she had to be careful when wriggling free because previous struggles had shown her  the bonds would tighten if the couch sensors detected any force being exerted against the straps.   Good thing she had learned yoga techniques during her time in Indonesia.

As she loosened her arms, Dr. _01 showed up in his rolling desk from behind the same smiling wall.   If Keith didn’t know better, he could have sworn the Good Doctor had been sitting there the whole time.
“I trust you spent a restful early morning!   A meal will be served up shortly after which you can tell me of your decisions.”

They were released from the couches by an automatic mechanism, and trays with breakfast were wheeled in by Men in Black.   Dr. _01 smilingly informed them that having himself partaken of an early meal, would not be joining them.   Then, he informed them that the food contained nanites that would disassemble their personal microtransmitters, since they were no longer UberCorp employees, and could not maintain access to company property for legal reasons. Neither Ballantyne nor Keith believed him and, being famished, ate their meal.

“And now, to the business at hand,” said the doctor brightly. “During your… enquiries here, you may have come into contact with certain -Ahh- elements within our family of employees who are not satisfied with their arrangement with UberCorp, and thus might be conspiring to renege on their contracts with us. We know of the existence of these… Malcontents through anonymous letters of complaint and minor acts of obstructionism bordering on sabotage. We would like you to identify these Malcontents for us as an act of contrition and goodwill towards your rehabilitation as our newest assets!”

“You have a Resistance movement?” asked Ballantyne in disbelief.

“Malcontents.” Smiled Dr. _01.

“Even if we’d had the time, establishing contact with any resistance cell requires contacts and time, neither of which we had in this town. And the work that entails would have taken us off our main goal,” said Keith reasonably.

“Perhaps, but these Malcontents might have contacted you unknowingly. A dissatisfied comment, a bitter critique… all those could come from actual or potential Malcontents! Besides, you could be underestimating Ms. Ballantyne’s talent for locating and persuading people, as her filmwork suggests. Whatever the circumstances, knowingly or unknowingly… these do not matter at present. What we want from you is simply cooperation. Humor Us. This could lead even to your release from further trouble! What do you say?”

Keith shrugged nonchalantly, “I am game.”

“And You, Ms. Ballantyne?”

“What would that cooperation entail?” she asked.

“Just show you some pictures of employees, and you tell us if they interacted with you recently.”

Ballantyne nodded reluctantly.

The Doctor clapped his gloved hands enthusiastically. “Splendid! Let’s begin then!”

The rest of the day was spent poring over employee files as they came up on a wall screen, with Ballantyne and Keith being asked to point out if they had been approached by any of those.   When the four that had asked them for asylum came up on the screen, Keith quickly pointed them out, while Ballantyne had to suppress the urge to nudge him in the ribs.   If she didn’t know better, she could swear Keith wasn’t just pretending.

There was a break for lunch, and as dinnertime approached, Dr. _01 excused himself, saying he had to supervise the Malcontents as they were brought in, and to enjoy dinner. Due to their cooperation, they would not be restrained, but would be limited to this room.

It was all Ballantyne could do not to strangle Keith, who studiously ignored her as he ate dinner.   No conversation could be held between the two captives under the assumption any incriminating talk would reveal them to their captors, even if Ballantyne felt she would go insane from doubt of Keith’s loyalties.   She wondered for the billionth time if the Crew would effect a rescue, or whether they had been abandoned to the mercy of the Mega-Corp. ‘No’ she decided. ‘Gordon wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t! Not after all we’ve been through! Keith seems confident enough. But then… taking on a whole company from the Fortune’s 500 seems a foolish risk to take just for me and an alleged friend! Maybe Keith has already figured that out and is covering himself in case the crew has abandoned us!’

As she tormented herself with these and other doubts, another thought occurred to Ballantyne that maybe THIS waiting game was part of the interrogation, creating anxiety and doubt in the suspects… making them careless enough that   confessions and information unwittingly slipped out.   If that was the case, it was working on her.

Couple of hours after dinner, Dr. _01 showed in the same fashion, immensely pleased to inform them that their help had been very useful and six suspected Malcontents with their families and known associates were being brought in for questioning.

Ballantyne resisted the powerful impulse to jump on Keith and throttle him.

“Now that we have an understanding,” said the Doctor, “We can begin working on your integration into Our Company! But first, let us get something out of the way before getting down to business. A minor detail concerning Ms. Ballantyne’s known affiliation with the Green Fury Organization-“

At that very moment, the whole building shook as if under the force of an earthquake.   The lights flickered off as the room shook, and the violent upheaval seemed to stun momentarily Dr. _01, who slumped over his desk.

The temblor was so violent, Keith and Ballantyne fell off their seats while dust and concrete flakes peppered them from above.   A few tense moments passed as emergency lights went on and the muted sounds of alarms resounded through the walls.   Both captives recovered, carefully looking around wide-eyed until their gazes locked.

“What the hell were you playing at?!” she asked.

“Just buying us some time!”

“And did you have to sell out my friends for that?”

“No. I needed them All in one safe place when Cletus showed up and in case he released the Specimen! The security block’s underground and has very thick, very strong walls!”

“What if the Crew doesn’t show up? Those people would’ve gone to jail, or worse!”

“What? Craghill leave behind his hot date? Please!” scoffed Keith. “You think that quake was just coincidence?”

“Fine! Now all those people have to worry about is being buried alive alongside us!”

“There’s no pleasing you!”

Unexpectedly, the lights came back on and the Doctor revived:   “Aah! Good. Still here! Then you won’t miss the show!”

The whole opposite wall, in front of Dr _01, behind Keith and Ballantyne  lit up with a number of TV screens on what at first glance had appeared to be a blank concrete wall.   “Those are images from Our surveillance cameras from all over town. As you can see, a number of explosions have detonated on a section of the security perimeter. I take it those are your friends come to pay us a visit!”

As they watched, one of the views enlarged to catch as herds of saurian beasts poured through the gap in the minefield blasted by the initial explosions.   “I believe those are called ‘Carnidons’. Someone has also taken over one of the guard stations and put some strange music in its loudspeakers. Can you tell me what song is this, Mr. De Rose?”

“I think that’s ‘Undercover’ by the Stones.”

For the first time, the Doctor looked concerned. “Most grave! That’s on the prohibited list! Your allies were most clever, infiltrating some saboteurs by somehow faking our ID system long enough to put a series of blast charges and setting off the simultaneously all mines in that section! I believe that’s the original quake. Uncanny, the nerve of whomever dreamed up this attack.”

As they watched, the enraged herds of Carnidons clashed with security vehicles, both from Mercs and Syndicate as flocks of Pteradactix flew unchallenged overhead.

“Amazing! I believe the music carries some sort of signal that enrages the Terrasaurs. I wonder when your friends will show up?” The Doctor appeared to be enjoying the spectacle as he commented on the unfolding disaster on the screens, but the play-by-play narrative was grinding on Ballantyne’s nerves as she both dreaded and hoped for the Crew’s four, massive trucks to lumber in any minute now.

“The main players ride in to the rescue. Observe!” pointed the Doctor, as a camera zoomed in to a distance of some thirty meters on four gigantic trucks, roaring through the torn-up minefield.  A few laser beams flashed the monster vehicles ineffectually. “Hum. Apparently the wattage is too low in that section to power the beams up.” Observed the Doctor.

Ballantyne’s heart did a somersault when she spied the Fox JAW blaze away with its rocket launchers at some unseen target.   In the wake of the trucks followed the rest of the Green Fury vehicles, like mice in the tracks of four, huge, angry boars, all firing their cannons and machine guns at anything that moved and wasn’t a Terrasaur.   A minute later, they felt in the room the tremors of the detonations from Fox JAW’s rockets.

“Very impressive, but ultimately pointless. As you can see, evacuations are proceeding nicely.” Dr _01 enlarged another view, showing the top of the luxury buildings, where helicopters were landing and taking off continuously.

“You’re evacuating only that building,” observed Ballantyne with a smirk.

“Upper Management actually. Nonessential personnel come next,” clarified the Doctor.

“You mean, everybody else. What about us?” asked Keith.

“In due time. We have to prioritize first.”

“How are scientists and technicians ‘Nonessential’ compared to Ivy League executives?” asked Ballantyne.

“We measure Our personnel by their degree of proven loyalty to The Company. We at UberCorp value that commodity above all others. Executive personnel are promoted according to their proven loyalty. Highly educated and specialized personnel think of themselves as above The Company and therefore are considered… unreliable assets at best, and easily replaced. They are also difficult to manage, so why spent time and money on such fickle resources? But Loyalty? You can’t put a price on that!”

“Aren’t your bosses worried you might also be crushed down here?” she asked.

“They understand I am loyal enough to trust them with my safety. But if it comes to giving my life for this Company, I am perfectly willing and able to do so!” said Dr. _01, smiling beatifically.

Keith’s apparent pretense at collaborating was quickly vanishing. “That’s insane! You’re throwing your life away over a salary and some benefits you MIGHT get?!”

The ground shook again as cracks began to appear on the ceiling. ‘Gordon’s really pounding the Hell out of this place. I hope he quits on time,’ thought Ballantyne worriedly.

The Doctor frowned for the first time. “Everything I am I owe to this Company!”

A larger tremor shook the room as chunks of masonry came off the ceiling. “You’re nuts and this company SUCKS!” Cried Keith ducking a piece of concrete.

“I am disappointed in you, Mr. De Rose, specially in this moment of truth! Behold! Cyber-Khan!” said the Doctor with a flourish. One of the screens enlarged to show a large section of ground on a field north of Waurika slide aside to reveal the steel-lining of a vertical tunnel. Strobe lights flashed and horns blared as something gradually came up via elevators. First came a head with glowing, yellow lights for eyes and skin painted a blazing, pearly white, warning red lights spun off the top of its sloping, reptilian skull, and its face was elongated into a reptilian muzzle with metallic teeth, topped with a glowing horn of yellow glass.   This was followed by a gross neck made of black, spiked segments, mounted on a colossal set of shoulders of the same Pearly material.   Two titanic cannons were mounted on these shoulders, which were attached to two thick arms ending in paws with missile-tipped claws.   The arms flanked a barrel chest set in its center with a round, glowing lens, and flaring into an abdomen so vast it barely squeezed past the tunnel exit.   The only way its gargantuan legs could be fitted into the robot’s enormous mass with just enough room to fit its thick, buzz saw-tipped tail.

As soon as the elevator stopped, flush to the ground, Cyber-Khan’s lights blazed even brighter, and a screeching siren/ roar announced its activation and as a warning to all ground units and bystanders.   Immediately, booster rockets on clawed feet and flanks lit up burning to a crisp hundreds of square meters around the machine as it vaulted into the air, knocking down or destroying dozens of friendly units along with some hostiles.   As soon as the monster was airborne, dozens of Pteradactix set upon it with frenzied gusto, obscuring its sensors and disrupting its flight pattern.   The robot soon lost its balance in mid-flight due to the clouds of fluttering reptiles, and crash-landed while plowing a huge furrow down main street.   Its plow ended by ramming into two buildings, which collapsed under the impact.

Ballantyne could clearly see the people-filled windows as the buildings quickly shattered into clouds of debris and dust.   “Oh my God! That stupid piece of junk!”

“Junk?! I resent that label!” said the doctor offended.   “It is the culmination of UberCorp Defensive Engineering.”

“Yeah. It protected them from getting killed by a Terrasaur by killing them first!” snapped Keith.   “And what’s the big deal with making it look like a cartoon Terra Khan? It makes it look dumb!”

“The robot is programmed according to behavior patterns observed in Terra Khan.   And its protein computer uses Terra Khan’s DNA.   Its simplistic, instinctual behavior was ideal in designing its combat programs, and engineers said it would respond better if its morphology closely approximated that of Terra Khan’s.”

In its flight, Cyber Khan had blazed ahead of all its support and allied units, and the Radicals and The Crew were taking advantage of that momentary separation to cut it off from any help, with vehicles peppering it with rockets, grenades and cannon fire from the ruin.

Having fallen face-down and being half-buried in dirt and rubble, it took Cyber Khan a long time to recover.   Time which Crew and Radicals took to bombard the hell out of it as it laboriously incorporated.   By the time it was up, a dozen small fires blazed from as many breaches and holes in its chassis and its left shoulder-cannon had fallen off, as its left arm hung uselessly.   The scene was being recorded from far up main street, and details were getting harder to see from a combination of a faulty feed and from increasing clouds of dust and smoke.

Cyber Kahn blasted up once more with its thrusters, but this time it was a short burst which caused it to lift up half its body height (some 30m) only to crash back down on the ground with Mountain-Rending force.   The resulting shock wave stunned many Pteradactix out of the sky and blowing off the wheels and feet off most Green Fury vans and Terrasaur beasts.   Even those in cover of the rubble.   This attack is followed by the Cyber Khan firing its remaining shoulder-cannon and opening its mouth to release a sonic blast that knocks over more buildings concealing Units of Radicals and revealing the Crew’s four trucks.

The Crew apparently was expecting this move, despite having taken heavy damage from the attack, and opened up with all its weapons in a spectacular pyrotechnics display, which ended with the Rolling Ranch ramming one of its legs and sending Cyber Kahn tumbling back into another building.   The giant robot loosed its balance backing off into a building, crashing into it and vanishing into a debris cloud.   The frightening tremors were felt by Keith and Ballantyne despite the fact that this battle was taking place more than a mile away.   Now, the lights were flickering constantly and the video feed was irregular, fading on and off into bursts of static.

“I think they took it down,” said Keith.

“No. It must still be up because they are still firing at it! We just can’t see behind the clouds!”

“The lady is correct!” exulted Dr. _01. “Its power plant must have shut down for a minute to allow the auxiliary to kick in for more power! In an instant its output will more than double and then you will see true Destruction!”

Just as the doctor finished speaking, the robot, despite massive damage and unrelenting punishment, surged up from the rubble and dust cloud to stomp at the Crew’s trucks as these beat a hasty retreat, but not before Cyber Khan reached the gear Jammer and punted it through a building with a single kick.

“No! NO! Pavel! Hannah!” screamed Keith as he saw the vehicle vanish behind clouds of dust and showers of rubble, just before the screen went blank.

“I take it you knew those people?” smiled Dr. _01 benignly.

“You SONOVAB-!!” Keith leapt over the desk with desperate agility to pummel at the still-smiling doctor.

Ballantyne was about to join him when a movement in one of the smaller screens caught her eye.

As Cyber Khan stomped after the rest of the Crew, another Titanic, reptilian figure charged through the smoke clouds and fire at full speed. Its massive, frilled head crowned with Jade spikes lowered and its claws poised.   The Specimen was up and about again, god knew how.   She had only seen it in its dormant state and never fully active.   How it went from that compressed, wrinkled, spiky form to this ninety-meter juggernaut avalanche of fury and death was a mystery no one fully understood.

But there it was, goring Cyber Khan from behind, lifting its chassis overhead. Shaking the robot savagely to bits as its claws ripped at its hull with jade claws before tossing the whole pile of metal a full mile in the air.

Something must have caused Cyber Khan’s reactors to overload or reach critical during that punishing deadlift, because as it sailed through the air, Cyber Khan broke apart into several pieces which exploded into a spectacular rain of flames.   Bigger than the Challenger explosion, the whole flaming wreck fell on the complex of Company offices, and Power Plants like an avalanche of Doom.

“This is going to hurt,” whined Ballantyne. “KEITH! DUCK!!” she shrieked trying to dive beneath Dr. _01′s desk before the world exploded around them and went black.

—

Next week: part 7 “THE WIZARD OF _01“

PROFIT

MARGIN

…

OF TERROR!

A Tale of The Monsterpocalypse

Fiction by A.G.M.

5
THE WORLD IS (KIND OF) NOT ENOUGH

Craghill had been asleep in the Fox JAW’s cab when Yarur and Morgan came knocking.   Bleary-eyed and yawning he climbed down the narrow ladder leading down the two-story height of the truck.   “Man! It’s still dark and you wake me up?” he complained.

“We received a message from Keith and Coco.” Said Yarur.

“Oh, good. Where do we pick them up?”

“That’s it. They didn’t say. Looks like they might be staying beyond the accorded time.”

“That might be a problem. Did they say anything else?”

“A lot, but the bandwidth of the satellite feed he was using was very narrow, so much of the data was lost. Hannah here saved what she could in the Jammer’s computer. The message came through while I was sleeping.”

“They have one of those giant robots shaped like monsters. Brought over this very week! And they are involved in some sort of land grab,” explained ‘Doc’ Morgan. “They offer a town to rebuild its infrastructure and supply them with electricity, then move in and before long, everyone’s indebted to UberCorp.”

Craghill was still groggy from sleep, but got most of it. “Yeah. That’s bad all right. We have to tell this to the Old Man. How many towns have they taken over doing this?”

“Two in the last few months. By this time next year, they could be controlling the whole region!” Said Yarur.

“Including Lawton!” added Morgan.

Cletus was understandably crankier than usual about being woken up with, but listened to the news anyway.   By then, anyone who had not been on watch joined them to listen.

When Yarur finished his summation, the arguing began in earnest, which Cletus had to shout down to be head.   “Thing is, what do we want to do about it?” he asked the whole gathering.

Another wave of babbling voices arose as everyone struggled to be heard, with Cletus having to shout the mob down once more with his potent voice. “Enough Jawin’ from all of you! Talk one at a time! Let’s start with the Trucks and then go down to the Van Folks! Amy! You were saying?”

“We need to stop ‘em of course!” said Sterling with passion. “Keith has told all of us what the Syndicate and UberCorp did back East! We don’t want that!”

“All I know is I was lousy at punching from nine to five! But what really worries me is what could have happened to Keith and Coco in that city!” fretted Olivia.

“I am also concerned about them!” Said Yarur. “That transmission was incomplete and they failed to call for pick up time and place.” Said Yarur. “Besides, all of Green Fury’s dealings with that Company have been hostile. What will they do to us when they get to Lawton? By definition we are all Outlaws and squatters, so the Authorities will automatically side with any publicly traded, legitimate Business in any dispute that might arise!”

“I’d rather take my chances with the Swarm or the Martians than let those guys take over!” Said Avonelle Wing with passion.

“Companies like that foreclosed on my Home and forced my family into the street when The Tritons came from The Gulf! We were Homeless when the city flooded and that’s how I lost them! Had they been in one of the shelters with the rest, instead of wandering the city, they might have made it! I say payback’s a Bitch!” shouted Zimmer in his best preacher voice.

“I think you all have good reasons to hate these Corporations,” said Morgan, “But UberCorp is not just a Bureaucratic Creation. It’s a living, thinking entity. Vaster, stronger and with more powers than any single Monster can muster. I know ’cause I was raised in a Company Conglomerate. I can’t say I had bad experiences while growing up there, but I never quite fit in. Not until I met you guys! I could never go back to that life, that is even if I didn’t have to go to jail first!”

“Hell. I am Native American. The principle alone is more than enough reason to thrash that place!” said Matanzas shrugging. Almaira Plata only nodded in agreement.

“So we are agreed then? Even if means risking the Specimen?” said Cletus heavily.   Then they all looked expectantly at Craghill, who oddly enough hadn’t said a word. He leaned casually against one of the vans, surrounded by Sapient Apes, including Le Sauvage.

“You must be sick, Gordon. Haven’t heard a pip from you the whole while. What do you think?” asked Cletus.

“We already went over this last night.” Craghill said dismissively. “But I can add to that. This already happened once in the past, when Robber Barons clashed with free-ranging ranchers over Water and Land Rights. The Ranchers had the right to the land, having been there first, but that did not stop the Land-Grab from fencing-in the whole of the Old West. Those that dared resist were shot or worse, so I am not going to sugarcoat it or you guys. If we resist, it’s all-out War. And we can’t afford losing. Whatever we do next, we have to commit in full! No half-assing! We have to risk using our Pet, and sacrifice all we have to shrink their Profit Margin to nothing! Only when their finances suffer will they pull out from this Land-grab!” Then, he indicated the Apes at his side. “The gentle sirs here suggested that strategy. These Corporate Monsters are motivated only by profit. By removing that profit with an attrition campaign, they are halting profiteering ventures into their Homes in Africa, and they say they can teach Us how.”

Cletus nodded and sighed, then looked with longing at the spiky, ovoid shadow of the Specimen, framed in the early morning, lightening sky.   “So what you’re All saying is we attack this Town and destroy it.”

“We are talking mostly collateral and infrastructure, but yeah… that’s pretty much what this will take.” Explained Craghill.

The Crew looked down, Grim-faced.

“We’ve never done anything like going into a place that wasn’t being attacked by some Beastie. If we were in trouble before, this will turn us into full-blown terrorists!” Clarified Cletus loudly. “I just want you All to understand the stakes here! We do this, we are for all time Bad Guys!”

Reluctant nods from all around assented.

But Yarur could never just go along with the group without playing devil’s advocate. “Well, if we are all agreed, the message from our… recon team says also Waurika has formidable defenses, and not just the giant robot.   A minefield surrounds the place with a defense perimeter of laser battery emplacements, plus the town has a contingent of syndicate cyber-ninjas and vehicles, backed by a trained, Mercenary force using additional robotic defenses. Plus half the town is inhabited by technical and scientific geniuses who will see us as a threat and not as liberators! This will be one hell of a fight!”

“Don’t worry!” drawled Craghill. “Our friends from the Empire have been fighting these corporations longer than we have, and have developed some tricks to facilitate a full scale attack! Plus… I have a Plan!”

Everyone in the Crew groaned and/ or rolled their eyes.

“C’mon! It’s a great plan! You’ll love! We even have access codes! I just need a couple of hours to rig up some sort of transmitter!”

The Crew became very attentive after that.

—

Next week: part 6 “FROM HERE TO WAURIKA”

PROFIT

MARGIN

…

OF TERROR!

A Tale of The Monsterpocalypse

Fiction by A.G.M.

4
DOCTOR _01

When Ballantyne came around, the first thing she noticed was the chair she was strapped to.   Sort of like a dentist’s chair, with all the sinister ramifications that implied.   The second thing she noticed was Keith strapped to a similar chair to her left.   He was awake with a dismayed face.

The third detail she noticed was the smiling, oriental man sitting behind a desk in front of them.   “Ah! Good of you to join us, Ms. … Guillory? I was worried your resistance to coming here might have caused some damage, despite our Physicians’ reassurances.”

“What the hell?!” she started struggling again.

“Please Ms. Guillory! Those bonds are quite unbreakable. You will only succeed in harming yourself!” soothed the man in the desk.   When he saw Ballantyne still struggling, he said “Perhaps you fail to respond to the name you gave at the employment office, is that so Ms. Ballantyne?”

That got her attention. “What are you talking about?”

The desk man chuckled indulgently. “Proper introductions are in order here, Ms. Ballantyne, as I seem to have you and your friend at a disadvantage. Unfortunately I only have a designation to provide as my identity. I am Doctor-Designate _01 and will be conducting this interview. Are there any questions you would like to make?”

Ballantyne looked again at Keith, who in turn did a shrug.   Nothing would be forthcoming from them.

“No?” the smile and amiable expression never wavered on Dr. _01′s face. He crossed his hands in front of him and leaned back. Keith noted he was wearing gloves. “Good. Let me begin by first congratulating you on your resourcefulness. The forged documents and false ID’s were of excellent quality, as was your skill in accessing our database to imprint your false personas. I believe Mr. De Rose used his old back doors from when he worked in CaliCo and GamePlan. He must have assumed — correctly I might add- that when we uploaded all the databases from those companies that the back doors would also be uploaded without being checked, as they were years old, using old passwords no one bothered to correct. Very clever, unfortunately for you, there were alarms in place when you did the down load, and the passwords corresponded with your old employee number.  Imagine when we went to physically check your cubicle, and matched your likeness to the ex-employees’ files. Out of curiosity, we decided to check on all new employees hired in the dates coinciding with your entry into this company. Imagine my surprise when we uncovered eco-activist and minor celebrity, Coco Ballantyne laboring as a lowly data-entry clerk!”

Ballantyne could not resist the bait. “ ‘Celebrity.’ Isn’t that kind of a stretch?”

“Your short documentaries on spouse slavery in the Mideast, as well your documentation of human rights abuses by First World Interests on Third World Countries are all over the Net!”

“What net? That went the way of global economy when the beasties started their party!” said Keith skeptically.

“Yes. But inter-company Net service is still on. One of the many benefits of laboring under a corporate Banner!”

Keith knew they were done for unless they stalled somehow for time. “So you know everything and have us in custody, how much longer is this James Bond crap going to take?” he said, ignoring Ballantyne’s glare.

“Not much, I assure you. The manager just wanted me to ask you a few more questions before taking the appropriate actions.”

“Shoot.” Grinned Keith as Ballantyne rolled her eyes in despair.

“Ha Ha! I like you, Mr. De Rose! You could still turn this around in time to become an asset to this company.”

“Really? How do we do that?” he asked eagerly.

“In time Mr. De Rose. In time. The main purpose of this interview is to asses your willingness to cooperate!”

“How am I doing?”

“Admirably. What about you, Ms. Ballantyne? I know you have been a lifelong foe of the Corporate Agenda, but we at UberCorp believe that in time, everyone has a capacity for Improvement. The Power of Change is in all of us! Take me for example. Would you believe I am over seventy? Twenty five years ago, I was a cancerous diabetic with three divorces, arthritic legs and enough mortgages to pay off the National Debt. UberCorp saw my potential and well… Here we are, looking at seventy more productive years!”

“So they paid for your surgery. How much do you owe Management now?” asked Ballantyne.

“Not much. But who’s counting? This company does not put that much emphasis on a Profit Margin as it does in Usefulness. What’s Useful? What’s Productive? That’s Our real stock and trade, taking something broken or discarded and turning it into a Productive Asset! Take some of Our most famous products: We took the images and strategies of the very Forces destroying The World and made them into symbols of Hope and Salvation! Now people look at Our Cyber Khan and feel safe! That’s the kind of opportunity We hope to give you two fellows!”

“Wow! Never thought selling your soul would be as easy as paying off the mortgage!” scoffed Ballantyne.

“What else are you Guys offering?” asked Keith eagerly.

“We have an Executive Compensation Package that’s very generous. Complete with access to our Luxury Arcology in the East Coast. Health plan including Dental for the Whole family, your choice of project assignments with executive staff and comprehensive retirement plan… but honestly, why think retirement when the exciting life of an UberCorp Executive awaits you?”

“What do you need then? Where do I sign on?”

“Soon. Very Soon Mr. De Rose! I also have to asses the sincerity of your intent! But I believe we could have a very satisfying collaboration ahead of us! So could Ms. Ballantyne, if she has a chance to think it over! I will let you discuss it amongst yourselves while I attend to other matters.” Said Dr. _01.   A wall opened up behind the Doctor as smiling man and his desk smoothly slid backwards out of the room.

The wall closed up in front of the Doctor, leaving Ballantyne and Keith still strapped to their chairs.   She shot him one of her trademark, venomous glances.   “What?” he asked.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Hell No! I know what these guys are capable of, and I plan on delaying that as long as possible.”

She shook her head.   She began testing her bonds.

“You know they are still watching, don’t you?”

“Better than collaborating!”

“As soon as you get free they will just march in and tie you right back up.”

“I don’t care!”

“You know this is part of a test. They just want to see which way we will jump. Just relax!”

“You do that Keith. Some help you turned out to be!”

“Look, we got caught, OK? Best we can do is make deals while they’re in the mood to talk! All they wanna know is what I did with the accounts, then they will turn us over to the authorities! Then we can do some sort of plea bargain for reduced sentences on fraud and embezzlement.”

Ballantyne stopped struggling, ‘What the Hell is he talking about?’ she thought.   Looking at Keith, he was the bland image of innocence.    It finally dawned on her what he was playing at.   What bothered her was that it took her, the alleged people watcher, so long to figure him out.   “F-K you!” she said, keeping what she hoped was a flawless pretense.

“Potty mouth!” grinned Keith.   Ballantyne had to grudgingly admit that the supposed geek was a player.   She only hoped this play would get them out of this Slaver Compound and into the hands of the cops.   At least it would delay any questions about the Crew waiting for them out in the Prairies, or who else was involved in this…

—

Next week: part 5 “THE WORLD IS (KIND OF) NOT ENOUGH”

PROFIT

MARGIN

…

OF TERROR!

A Tale of The Monsterpocalypse

Fiction by A.G.M.

3
THE MALTESE CYBERFALCON

Ballantyne met with the Malcontents at a closed-down shop a well past midnight. Keith had missed out on his nightly report to Craghill but figured since they would be gone by early morning, it would not matter.

He checked the four people who wanted out.   All were Japanese nationals or of oriental ascendancy, and their spokesperson was an attractive half-oriental woman in dark glasses by the name Kanuka Spengler, Doctor Kanuka Spengler.   Ballantyne opened up by clarifying the state of things. “First of all Doctor, I don’t represent any competing, corporate concern or national interest. We are activists involved in a reclamation project in a nearby territory, which we feel could conflict with this company’s interests, which have proven hostile to us in the past. With that out of the way, what o you want from us?”

“We want out,” said Doctor Spengler unequivocally, lighting a cigarette for herself and offering one each to Keith and Ballantyne.   “Me and a minority of professionals laboring for this company feel we have been exploited long enough and would like any form of release from our contracts, even if it means an Outlaw’s life.”

Ballantyne accepted a cigarette and the light, while Keith declined.   “Forgive me for asking, but don’t you think that’s a little extreme? You’re trained professionals. Experts in your fields commanding six-figure salaries, with medical insurance and pension plans. Why would you risk losing all that?”

“Because a six figure salary is no good when you have a seven-figure debt, and your Insurance and Pension are debited to that debt. We could never payoff what the company says we owe. Not in our lifetimes nor those of our children! And if you don’t measure up to the Company’s standards… well… some people have vanished overnight along with their families.”

Ballantyne puffed worriedly at her cigarette, glancing briefly at Keith.   “Well, my organization can’t offer you much compared to a Mega-Corporation. In fact about the one thing we can give you if safe passage through the Prairie Lands to our city. But running out on your Company would mean forfeiting your contracts. You could be on the run for a long time, if not forever. At least until you found a court sympathetic to your cause and ruled in your favor. We are not headhunters here, but activists.”

“As long as we get out of the city in one piece to a safe place, we are prepared to offer our expertise and share what we know with your people for as long as we have sanctuary.”

Now Keith took the lead in this conversation.   “I don’t think Ms. Ballantyne stressed enough what you could be loosing by throwing in with Us…”

But Dr. only shook her head sadly, “How long have you two been in this Town, Keith?”

“One week too many.”

“Then you must surely have an idea of how things work here. Is your place any worse?”

“How many people are we talking about?” asked Ballantyne abruptly.

“Besides us? Eight more people, plus their families. Total is about twenty five or twenty seven at most.”

“That’s too many to move today. We were planning on sneaking out earlier in the evening.”

“And how did you plan on crossing the perimeter sensors?”

“Huh? What sensors?” asked Keith fumbling with his laptop.

Dr. Spengler chuckled at this. “You don’t know about the perimeter! I think you might need us a little early.”

“Maybe you could tell us then.” Offered Ballantyne.

“Its an experiment we designed to protect large population centers from incursions by T-morph related entities. Everyone emits a signal recognized by all the Center’s defense mechanisms. Whatever does not register this signal activates an alarm and suppression systems.”

“What emits the signal?” asked Keith already dreading the answer.

“Small transmitter inside the body, powered by corporal heat. Everyone here gets one.”

“We got no implants when we came here!” said Ballantyne.

“Nanites ingested in the food assemble the transmitter inside our bodies. About the size of a pinhead, it can only be picked by UberCorp systems.”

“But if the transmitters are only to identify intruders, what does it matter if we leave Town?” asked Keith.

“The Town defenses activate against moving objects without a signal within town limits, but also against objects emitting a signal outside town limits.  The Perimeter is armed with mines, and antipersonnel lasers.”

“I better tell Craghill.” Said Keith, busying himself with the laptop’s keys.

“How wide is this Perimeter’s killzone?” asked Ballantyne.

“It starts at about a hundred meters from Town limits, and is about another hundred wide.”

“Wait, how do They prevent the defenses from activating when helicopters and planes approach?” asked Keith sensing a flaw in the system as his fingers flowed over the keys.

“All outgoing air and land traffic is given an electronic key which temporarily nullifies, -not shuts down- the defense response.”

“How long’s the window?”

“A minute or five. Long enough for transports to leave safely. By land’s a little longer given the relative slowness of ground transport.”

“Do you have access to that key?”

“One of the vanished scientists managed to make one before he was gone.”

“Can we change the signal for Incoming transports?”

Dr. Spengler was a little confused.   “Y-yes, but after five minutes all defenses activate, and you’d still be in the city, so its pointless-“

Keith waved her off. “Can you give me the program?”

Hours later, Keith and Ballantyne were hurrying to the rendezvous point at the edge of Town where their new friends would meet them for the getaway.

“I can’t believe those Bastards! Putting machines inside our bodies without our consent or knowledge!” cried an outraged Ballantyne.

“This place is worse than I thought. The sooner we’re out of here, the better,” said Keith with sincerity.

“What was all that tapping back there about?”

“If Cletus is going to raid the Town, he is going to need that electronic key. I just hope Gordon figures out how to rig it, or they will be blown up if they reach that Perimeter!”

“And you have been sending reports to Gordon all this time… without telling me.”

“The guy’s hung up on making sure you’re OK. That’s really why he insisted I come along. What can I say?”

“I say I will have a long talk with Gordon when we get back!”

“About what?”

“That I don’t need a baby sitter among other things. Ellie figured I could do the job, since I survived Afghanistan and Kosovo while still barely out of my teens!”

“Well, you weren’t up against Mega-Corporations using space-age, alien retro-engineered tech! And back then the Monsterpocalypse wasn’t in full swing.”

“Oh?! And how does the Mighty Craghill figure he can while I can’t?”

“I have no Effing idea! But if something I’ve learned about the guy is that he always figures a way out.”

“You mean besides blowing stuff up?”

“That’s just the end result of a process – “ Keith was cut off in mid-sentence by a plastic body bag being slipped and zipped over his whole body and being hoisted high up in the air.

Ballantyne managed duck the first silvery giant who tried to slip the plastic body bag over her, but as she ran a second tripped her up and a third stuffed her into another bag.   She felt a yank and then her feet lost contact with the ground.   She struggled to tear at the bag enclosing her, but it seemed to shrink tighter and tighter the more she struggled.   Trying to cut her way loose with a pocket knife was no good either, as the blade only stretched the polymer without breaking it.   By the time she stopped struggling, the plastic had wound up so tight she began to asphyxiate.   After a few seconds of claustrophobic panic, she passed out, unable to even scream in outrage.

—

Next week: part 4 “DOCTOR _01″

PROFIT

MARGIN

…

OF TERROR!

A Tale of The Monsterpocalypse

Fiction by A.G.M.

2
THE DIRTY CREW

There were four of the vehicles.   Four Trucks, each two stories high, capable of occupying four lanes on an average street. Each of their titanic wheels was taller than a man and could crush an SUV underfoot like nothing.   They were the kind of haulers used in mining to transport ore for processing, but at forty tons each, had been heavily modified for additional engine power, speed and carrying capacity.   Each of the monster trucks had similar features: a spiked plow in front of their grills for high-speed, punishing collisions; four swivel-mounted M60′s controlled remotely by the drivers, in case someone tried to board the vehicles; a hood-mounted flame thrower for those persistent hitchhikers and a massive, turret-mounted weapon’s system at the back of the hauler area of three of the vehicles and reinforced armor with bulletproof glass.   One had a rack of rocket launchers and had Fox JAW -FTE stenciled on the side.   The second truck had fuel tanks and four gigantic spray nozzles capable of spewing fiery, liquid death several hundred meters away and had ‘Gypsy Sunbeam’ written in flowery, psychedelic letters.   The third had what could be only described as a massive ray cannon like those shown in old science fiction movies with Gear Jammer-BTO written on its side.   All these were 16-wheelers while the last truck had 18-wheels and no turret-mounted weapons.   It carried the deadliest weapon of All in the form of what initially appeared to be a massive Egg, secured to its back by crane and huge braces.   It was Cletus Abramson’s Rolling Ranch, the head vehicle of the fleet.

Escorting them were a series of smaller vehicles, the largest being a six-wheeled APC Dragoon Riot-Control police vehicle, similarly modified as its larger cousins for increased armor, speed and weight, and it acted as the Crew’s scout and support vehicle.

The other vehicles were variants of a model of van, modified for increased armor and armed with a top-mounted 30mm cannon.   These acted as escorts for the larger trucks and a semi truck trailer forming a train with two containers in tow.   This last was the column’s baggage train, and carried spare parts and fuel for the vans and trucks.

At the moment, the column was halted 12-hour’s drive from Waurika, formed into a protective circle around the gigantic egg and Baggage Trailer.   Around the circle milled herds of Terrasaur reptiles, placidly grazing on prairie tallgrass.

Within the circle vehicles, in an open space around the colossal ‘egg’, the nine caravan leaders argued amongst themselves.   The one everyone seemed to defer most to was an elderly man best described as an aging country music star, clad in a red cloth bandana on his head, abundant white beard covering his ample belly and sunglasses covering his eyes.   This was the Crew’s leader, Cletus Abramson, formerly owner of the world’s first Dinosaur Ranch before part of Florida became immersed in the Gulf of Mexico during a Triton attack.   At his side is what can only be described as a bronzed, blonde, curvy supermodel, wearing cutoffs, boots and tank top with the traditional Crew thinking cap holding down her glorious tresses.   The bronze arms crossed against her full chest were cut like a body builder’s and all who knew of Cletus’ Niece, Amy Sterling, understood that iron musculature rippled beneath her smooth curves.   And she had to be in order to handle a 40-ton rig like the Gypsy Sunbeam.   At her side was a slim girl in camo pants, boots and sleeveless sweat shirt.   She had an elfin face, lovely chestnut hair and crystal, almost-white, glittering eyes and was the Sunbeam’s newest co-driver, Olivia Ballantyne and sister to the Ballantyne in Waurika.

A devilishly handsome, brown-skinned, whip-thin man in jeans and white shirt plus the usual cap   was the only man in the crew to hold a Ph.D., Professor Pavel Ancha Yarur, master of the Gear Jammer with his temporary co-driver and permanent  lover, the Crew’s paramedic Hannah Morgan.   She was a pretty redhead affecting a perpetual smile and an archaic Goth style of dress, complete with tattoos, black nail paint, spiked necklace and tons of buckles and leather.   The Gear Jammer’s regular co-driver, Keith De Rose was also currently playing amateur spy and novice saboteur in Waurika.

And finally, there was the Master of the Fox JAW, Gordon Craghill, a man who in spite of his resemblance to a huge, long-haired, lumberjack spoke in the cultured tones of a well-read, college professor.   Anachronistic in a man wearing steel-shod, knee-guarded biker boots, sleeveless red, square shirt with huge-kevlar-lined gloves covering his massive hands.    At his side, a 900-lb sapient ape in goggles, pocket bandolier, and gloved hands and feet called by the Crew Le Sauvage.    That was Craghill’s co-driver and chief of the Ape Commandos who now rode with the Crew as protection to the drivers.

Rounding up the cast were a cool, raven-haired beauty with haunted, green eyes who rode the scout vehicle called Avonelle ‘Avie’ Wing and the Crew’s chief mechanic, a powerful, African American in yellow jumpsuit and blue coveralls by the name Carl Zimmer.   Zimmer was currently acting Co-driver in the Rolling Ranch, but usually rode in the scout with his lover, Wing.

Standing on the periphery of the of the arguing Crew members were the Baggage Rig’s driver, a Native American in jeans ad square shirt, but affecting traditional warpaint, turquoise and silver belt and feathers from the Chiricahua Apache called by his Christian name, Gerardo Matanzas.   The other was a solid, wild-haired Latin American woman and Green Fury activist, Almaira Plata.   She was the nominal leader of the combat vans.   Carefully neutral, they watched as the Crew battled out their differences, unaware that that was how the Crew usually ironed out their plans.

It was the first time anyone had ever seen Cletus angry at Craghill, though.   The Old Man just could not get over and idea proposed by Craghill.   “Leave it?! Leave all the way out here?! You’re a smart boy Gordon, and I usually go along your harebrained schemes, but this one is just plain daft!”

Craghill in turn was having a hard time getting through The Old Man.   “We have to. We can’t just drag it into combat. Its just too heavy, and we could damage it in the fight!”

“Then we don’t fight! Simple as that!”

Craghill sighed theatrically. “We’ve already been through this. We can’t afford any big Company setting up shop near the city.”

“You mean Ellie can’t afford it. I could just pack tomorrow and let her deal with it along with Nature’s Champs over there!” He said pointing at Matanzas and Plata, who in turn only grinned at the Old Man’s outburst.   This only infuriated Cletus even more.

Craghill tried another tract. “Nothing’s going to happen to the specimen anyway. With all the critters out here, no one will dare approach. Besides, we will be minutes away if anything goes wrong. It would take four cargo choppers just to lift off the ground, or a specially modified like Rolling Ranch to move, and as far as we know we might have the only functioning models in whole country that can handle such a payload! Besides, the trigger might not even work. For all we know, what happened was only a fluke and what we have there is not a viable animal, but a burnt out nugget!”

At this, Yarur leapt into the fray. “No! It’s not dead! I personally supervised the studies. The Creature is in some sort of dormant state!”

“Yeah,” countered Craghill, “But you have never explained adequately how it went from a twenty-ton, fifteen-meter egg to a 90-meter, 80,000-ton beast in the blink of an eye and back again into… THIS!” he gestured grandly at the ovoid, wrinkled, shape spiked with bits of emerald crystal. “We don’t even know if it can turn back into the Big Guy again!”

“Evidence suggests it has plastic properties we do not yet understand, and that the proper environmental factors will stimulate it into an active state again!”

“Well-ll-ll,” said Craghill uncertainly, “there you have it. Its play dough, so everything will… work out! Maybe. I guess. I hope.”

“Oh knock it off, Gordon! You’re just pissed off ’cause your girl friend went Mata-Hari for Pezuto and you haven’t gotten laid!”

“Hey! Watch it Mister! That’s my sister out there!” cried Ballantyne’s sister, Olivia.

“And that’s my Co-Driver with her! At Gordon’s request no less!” shot back Yarur.

“Guess who’s pissed at that!” smirked Gordon maliciously.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” demanded Yarur angrily.

“Figure it out, smart guy!” grinned Craghill, happy at getting a rise from the Professor.

“Not helping guys,” Said Sterling.   She had seen these fights between the two get out of hand before, with neither man speaking to the other for weeks.   “Let’s get back to the specimen. Uncle maybe if we left it further away and hid it…?”

“No good. Without stimuli of prey, movement, light and sound, it would soon wander off, and we might loose it for good. We have to quicken it just at Town’s edge.”   Said the Old Man heavily.   If Cletus knew anything, it was Terrasaur behavior.

“Or it could just revert to a vegetative state!” offered Yarur.

“Out here we’d loose it anyway and that’d mean loosing our trump card! The main reason we are needed back in Lawton would wander off and get lost in a cave or a ditch after reverting. Already lost family running errands for Ellie, and I don’t intend loosing my winning hand as well! We will wait to pick up Keith and Coco, then we head back to Lawton and see what happens.”   Cletus turned and headed back to the campfires where dinner was being prepared.

When the old man was out of ear shot, Craghill nudged Yarur. “Nice going, dick wad!”

Yarur reacted astonished.   “What? Me? You’re the one who questions the validity of my research! All the data…!”

“Means squat to the Old Man! He is holding on to the damn Specimen like Grim Death, and your babble about ‘activating’ it only makes him think he will loose the last thing besides Amy he has left. Peter and Paul’s deaths did a number on the Old Man, and now it’s no longer a game to Him!”

“This has not been a game for any of us since it started,” snapped Yarur, “except maybe for you!”

“Stop it you two!” intervened Morgan, dragging Yarur by the arm. “C’mon Pavel, I need to take a look at the Specimen.”

Sterling and Olivia did the same for Craghill, asking him to take a look at Sunbeam’s fuel line.   When things were calmer, and Craghill was happily tinkering away at the truck’s fuel line, the two women finally could get a word in.   “That could have gone better,” sighed Olivia in a most distracting way.

“Yeah,” said Craghill noncommittally, “Old Man’s just being cautious.

“Anyway, thanks for worrying about my sister. She’s always taking these risks…”

“I know. That’s why we get along so great. Kind of worried about her, though.” He said, finishing reattaching the fuel line.

“Keith will watch her back,” assured Sterling.

Craghill checked his watch.   “It’s not that. I’d been in contact online with Keith for the last week. He’d send me at a preset hour a report on how things were going and what they’d learned, but when today’s report didn’t come in, I tried to get the Old Man to mobilize!”

Olivia was the first to react. “Why didn’t you say so from the beginning? Coco could be in trouble!”

“Or Keith!” added Sterling.

“Or both. Or maybe they both bailed early and are on their way to the Pick-Up Point. Can’t really tell until tomorrow, but I would have liked to get things moving earlier, but thanks to Pavel’s squawkings the Old Man went Cautious on us and we won’t get anything done.”

Olivia was afraid to ask, but knew it was all on their minds; “What if they don’t come at all?”

Craghill closed the hatch with a slam and began putting away his tools, “Then, with or without the Old Man’s support I am going in to get my lady and my friend.”

Olivia shook her head in amazement.   “You alone are going against a Corporate stronghold, protected by an army of killer robots, trained mercenaries, computer controlled drones and android assassins?!” He only smiled at her before walking away to stop and sign-language with some Sapient Apes.

“You don’t know Gordon, do you? He never bluffs, and he always has a plan.” Smirked Amy Sterling knowingly.

Again Olivia shook her head.   “I can see what Coco sees in him. No other guy she’s ever been with would even think about risking his neck for her like that.”

Sterling threw a well-muscled, bronze arm around Olivia’s supple shoulders. “Then we have to make sure he doesn’t do it alone!”

—

Next week: part 3 “THE MALTESE CYBERFALCON”

PROFIT

MARGIN

…

OF TERROR!

A Tale of The Monsterpocalypse

Fiction by A.G.M.

‘… and so, continuing our gazetteer of Devastation USA, we come across the quiet, quaint little town of Waurika.’

‘An oddity to this region, Waurika’s streets have never been riddled with craters nor its buildings been razed to the ground. Its citizens do not suffer from the starvation and cannibalism prevalent in other towns, nor are they armed to teeth, waylaying travelers.

‘In fact, as a town owned solely by a corporate entity, Waurika seems to enjoy a normalcy predating the Monsterpocalypse. Her streets are kept meticulously clean, her mail arrives via helicopter on time, her houses are all lit and well-tended.

‘Only the citizens of Waurika themselves bear haunted looks of
quiet desperation…’

1

SPIES LIKE THEM

“There are five minutes left to the fifteen-minute break!”  announced the harsh female monotone over the office PA system, causing Keith De Rose to almost cough his coffee through his nose. ‘What the Hell?’ he thought.

People began milling back to their cubicles, lattes in hand as last night’s TV episodes of whatever was fashionable to watch were discussed.   Keith caught Ballantyne’s eye as she sank into her own cubicle.   The attractive brunette’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she shook her head imperceptibly ‘No’.

Keith looked down, and ducked into his own cubicle to sort through another two hours of pointless busywork.   The terminal he was assigned to had such limited functions for the job he was supposed to do he felt at times like crying.   It was like in his other life, about ten thousand years ago when he had designed software for CaliCo back West.   The same fifteen-minute breaks followed by two interrupted hours of pointless meetings, memo after memo and the phone ringing continuously to make sure no work got done… ever.   He had managed to escape that hell by literally doing the corporate equivalent of a prison break, sending out surreptitiously his resume via illegal e-mail to a contact in another company, calling in sick to take a plane under a false ID from California to Portland for the interview and signing a contract with a date that would coincide with the one when he resigned at CaliCo.    He ended designing software at an electronics firm specializing in gaming consoles.   A job he had loved, as it was as creative and varied as any job in Hollywood: there were writers, directors, actors… even actresses, and the money was better, without all that hacking and gouging CaliCo did to reduce its employees’ paychecks to a slave-wage,

Then the Monsterpocalypse had happened. Between Shadow Sun and UberCorp, they had carved all of the East Coast into their own, little Corporate fiefdoms.   Amongst the companies absorbed by the Mega-Corporations had been CaliCo and Keith’s own Gaming Software firm.   What laboral model the Mega-Corps ended up following?   Certainly not GamePlan’s  laid-back, t-shirts and sandals liberal model, but CaliCo’s oppressive, glass-ceilinged, rat-raced, exploitative, dehumanizing model instead.

He would have preferred the hordes of slavering monsters that were terrorizing the East and Midwest to the smiling, quiet, politically correct bureaucrats who destroyed people’s lives with red tape and credit fees and penalty interest as effectively any slavering, towering Monster ever could.

And now he was back in, and worse, he had gone back in voluntarily.   Gordon Craghill was so going to owe him after this was done…

At six O’clock sharp, the ten minute warning to prepare for the end of a laboral day sounded… ten minutes to six (?).   Keith had five minutes to deactivate the tamper seal alarm on his terminal, connect the timer, battery and transceiver and seal the whole thing before his supervisor came to advise him he had five minute left to be packed and ready to go home.

Sure enough, Ms. Collette showed wishing him sweetly a good afternoon and a hope of seeing him tomorrow.   As she did so, she glanced at his desk to see if it was all tidy and the monitor was switched off, no paper was out of place, his In Box was clear and his portfolio was neatly packed.   Keith was confident they would be as he had not done any work for the day, for a week now.   He smiled thanks, wishing her well and hoping to see her tomorrow.   It was a sickening ritual that had to be carried out daily, or security would detain him at the entrance.

Once outside the main building, at exactly six O’clock sharp (but actually an hour later after the whole process began) his official eight hours leisure began, but which in reality were six hours, as two hours of that time were spent in similar processes before and after work, lunch did not count, so one less hour was taken out of ‘official’ leisure time.   Then there were company after-hour activities, meetings and gatherings, as well as the obligatory, daily errands required by law to live Waurika, plus the time necessary for commuting to all of the above.   The net result being an ‘official’ time of leisure of usually no more than one hour a day, or less if one was a high-paying executive.   If one worked in that pay-grade, one could expect work to intrude even into the ‘Official’ Rest time.   Not that it did not happen to the rest of the salary-grunts as well.

It was during that hour-and-a-half of ‘Official’ Leisure that Keith had a chance to meet with his coworker.   They met at the only side walk Cafe in town.   It was located along a tree-lined boulevard in the worker’s, low-rent residential block.   A complex of eight apartment buildings, complete with a community center and church.   Lining both sides of the boulevard were boutiques, a market, Movie House, fast foods and bookstore/video/ coffee house.   East of the complex was a four-lane Main street, separating the Residential Area from the a complex of 20+ story-high office buildings where line workers labored at a Communications Network Network, Town Hall, Courthouse, Justice Department and Hospital.   Main street ran northward, forming a bridge over a small river dividing Waurika into two neat halves.   Northwest were the elite apartment complexes for Upper Management, which included a Sports Complex (complete with track field, tennis courts, spa, Golf Course and Country Club), and directly opposite at northeast were the Manufacturing complex, Power plant and warehouses where the Credit-Slave Professionals labored for the Corporation.

Unlike Wage-Slaves like himself, the Credit-Slaves were mostly scientists and engineers.   They had a better living standard than Wage-Slaves, getting better apartments, access to the Executive Spas, Boutiques and vacation packages, but it was all on credit.   Professionals initially fell into debt with banks and Credit Companies and UberCorp bought their contracts cheaply, so the Pros ended owing their debt to UberCorp, which they supposedly could work off in time by working for the Corporation.   To this debt of course were added medical insurance, rent, plus taxes owed, diet, transportation and vacation time which meant that with compounded interest, penalties and financing fees a scientist, engineer or technician could repay their debt in the next 5,000 years.   That meant that their children inherited the debt upon the death of their parents, and eventually had to work for UberCorp.   That meant training in College for a high-paying job at the Company, which added the costs of said College to the debt owed by that family.

Wage Slaves on the other hand had a little easier in the fact that after insurance, taxes, hidden fees, Social Security, and sky-high living costs they got paid almost nothing and could be fired at any moment without risk of losing any revenue.   Unfortunately, getting fired during these apocalyptic times could mean a death sentence.

As Keith brooded on such cheery thoughts, he crossed the street to the Café, minding the cop alertly watching over pedestrian traffic.   The damn things still creeped him out, as cops were made to resemble perfect mannequins, forever appearing to be smiling in still, friendly postures.   They only changed positions when sensors indicated no one was watching.   All had bland and attractive features designed to inspire confidence, but gave every corner in Waurika a haunted feeling as these figures stood on watch day after day on every corner.   The mannequins noted every infraction, recorded any vaguely subversive conversation and were alert to any erratic behavior patterns in individuals on the street.   Later in the day, the person would find her bank account slashed by fines or a notification to report to the nearest police booth for detention.   The person failing to answer an arrest notification simply vanished.   The next day, her apartment was empty of any trace that anyone had ever lived there, and at work her cubicle appeared cleared and ready to receive a new employee.

Suppressing a shudder at the uniformed mannequins, he took his seat at the Café, ordering an overpriced drink thinking his coworker was late.

After a few minutes of fretting and wondering if she had been picked up, his partner arrived in a gym leotard all flushed and sweaty.   A young woman with raven-black hair cut short, elfin features, slender but athletic build that still managed to have wide, generous hips. He could see why his friend and leader had chosen her.   Coco Ballantyne was a sexy minx, and knew how to use her looks to get people to tell her stuff.

Ballantyne sat at his table, somewhat out of breath and sweaty.   “Hey!” she said happily, “Thanks for picking the smoking spot!” she lit one immediately.

The cigarette smoke would help mask many of the chemical sensors, while Keith surreptitiously placed what appeared to be a pager on the table while simultaneously setting up his laptop.   The little pager would hopefully scramble all electronic surveillance, while their spot had the advantage of being an acoustic trap which distorted sound.   To even a trained observed, the couple looked like friends getting together for drinks.   “Honestly Coco, I still can’t see how Gordon hooked up with you.” Said Keith puzzled.

Ballantyne got that that impish, mean look of hers as she asked smiling: “What? Jealous or something?”

“Maybe just a little. But that’s not the point. I mean, you guys could not be more different people, and that’s not even counting the age difference.” He began working on his laptop.

Ballantyne raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Oh? I sense some resentment. What do you mean by ‘different’?”

“For starters, Gordon doesn’t even smoke, no drugs, he isn’t exactly the sensitive type; while you are a vegan and do weed.“

“Let’s stop the list right there, and let me clarify that I am trying to curve my recreational substance habits, I now only smoke when stressed-out and I haven’t been vegan since you guys started having me over for Dino Bar-B-Que. I also would not be doing this kind of work if I had stayed a pacifist.” She pointed out emphatically.   “As for us being so different, I think I deserved a break from the Boy-Band types and went for a real man.”

“Which brings us to why we are in this corporate purgatory. Pezuto gave this job to you! I am only along because Gordon was worried and sent me along to watch out for you.”

Instead of lashing out as she once would have done, Ballantyne tempered her response with some leadership tricks she had learned form Gordon Craghil’s dealings within the Crew.   “I am sorry we put you in this spot Keith, and I know you did this as a favor to Gordon, if not for Ms. Pezuto. But we are both here for the same reason, we share affection for the same person, even if we do so in different ways.” She said looking at Keith straight in the eye.   “As a matter fact, I am the one who is jealous. Sometimes I think Gordon might care more about you guys than he ever will about me! I am just a hot lay he got lucky with!”

It worked.   Keith paused working on his laptop, looking crestfallen.   “Well, that’s not fair to you either Coco. Gordon tore apart half a city trying to rescue you from those cultists. And that was back when you guys weren’t even an item.”

“He would do the same for any of you and more.”

“Of course! But then, the Crew’s family! You weren’t even on the roster when he did that. He will go out of his way to save a stranger, but not to the lengths he went for you, and a few in the Crew were wondering if we would have to include you in the family, even if you work for Pezuto.”

“I guess I will have to be patient, and hope I am not just a man’s passing fancy. I don’t expect to be accepted just because I sleep with Craghill. I just hope you will at least give me a shot.”

“I guess we will have to wait and see.”

“In the meantime, that doesn’t change we are stuck here and might as well get the job done, what are you doing there?”

“I am fed up with this place. I inserted a search program to locate the grid’s main data base and upload the relevant data to my laptop.  We should have all we need by midnight and can then skip town!” said Keith with some fierce satisfaction.

“Isn’t that kind of risky?”

Keith only shrugged, “It will trigger some alarms, but by the time they locate the source coming from my terminal, we will long be gone.”

“Good, because I heard something at aerobics class. I found they have just moved a Cyber Khan into the underground silo at the Plant. They have been sending security teams to nearby towns to ‘search for survivors’ but mostly to raid and scavenge. The Robot’s for Lawton, given the fact there was reported T-Morph activity.”

“When is the raid scheduled?”

“Dunno. Maybe a schedule will turn up in the download, but it should be soon, as they have flown in a Shinobi Team as well.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Not yet. I have to meet with some people after midnight.”

“That’s after curfew! We’ll be picked up! I say vamoose after the download.”

“We can’t. These people I am meeting have scientists and executives who want to get off Cred-Slavery.   They will have more data than any download!”

“That’s cutting it kind of close.”

“You said we would have plenty of time before they found out!”

“I wanted a margin of safety, and we only get it if we leave before midnight!”

“Well, I have to stay. Besides, Gordon would have wanted me to try and rescue as many people as possible and frankly, if these folks still have the guts to stand up to a Monster like UberCorp, we might need them on our side!”

“I don’t know… we need to talk to Gordon about this. They’ve been camped at the Prairie all this time and – “

“Then call him while we talk with the people!”

“But what if the Crew mobilizes? I have to be at the Gear Jammer!”

“I am sure Pavel will be all right handling it with Hannah’s help. Besides, don’t you guys now have teams of Sapients helping you now?”

“You mean those monkeys?”

“Correct term is Sapient Apes.”

“They are not great with electronics…”

“Don’t worry, we will be out in time! Let’s go.”

As the couple left, they failed to notice one of the mannequin guards follow them with its glassy eyes.

—

Next week: part 2 “THE DIRTY CREW”

Sorry for the lack of updates. (We didn’t even advertise Kaisen here we were so busy!)

But having survived our seventh Kaisen we will try and keep the blog (more or less) updated.

M.

Karibukai Animation Film Festival

Karibukai Animation Festival will be celebrated Friday May 28, 2010 from 7:00PM to 11:00PM, Saturday May 29, 2010 from 2:00PM to 10:00PM and Sunday May 30, 2010  from 2:00PM to 9:00PM.

The festival will be on the two theatres of the Puerto Rico National Filmotheque, which is on the Cuartel Ballajá, near the San Felipe del Morro Castle on Old San Juan.

The cost for an all day  pass to Karibukai is $6, including taxes. Seating will be limited to the capacity of each theater.

For more details: http://karibukai.paquines.com

Be there! Or be elsewhere.

So, as an experiment, here are four Spawn figures from McFarlane Toys which are available for local pick-up.

Classic Series Twenty – Spawn VI

Classic Series Twenty – Violator III

Spawn Reborn – Curse of the Spawn 2

The Art of Spawn, Series 26 – Tremor 3

Email us at: el.ultimo.bunker@gmail.com and make us an offer.