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Another part has been added to the story. You'll have to wait a little longer for the next part as its close to the exam period. Enjoy.
Chapter 2: Golden ticket
A successful man is one who can lay a firm foundation with the bricks others have thrown at him. David Brinkley
London/ Detroit/ San jose
The alarm to the bedside clock rang. Another day had dawned. He woke up to his flat that had been drenched in light from outside. Silhouettes of objects that cluttered the flat were produced, hiding or obscuring potentially dangerous objects in black and white. It was truly horrible for Branding as it made the environment incredibly sinister almost twisted beauty in its own way.
6 weeks had passed. 6 agonisingly long weeks for branding and still no word or response from Eurocorp. He was irritable and virtually everything he did in those 6 weeks was never enjoyable. The food he ate tasted far worse in those 6 weeks. 6 weeks before the processed foodstuffs tasted just tolerable, now they tasted like plastic and artificial chemicals that imitated flavours appallingly. Even the same brand of coke he drank where the exams were held, tasted more like battery acid rather than sweet nectar from a flower. Either the anticipation of waiting had made him see the world as it was (living in a dump) or that quality of food in executive lives was those of the gods. Either way, things didn’t seem great currently for Branding. He slumped forward in his bed, another day in his job. It was the same routine: Guard duty (come rain or polluted skies) followed by writing reports of events on guard duty, lunch and the whole process happened again like a never ending journey of boredom. Branding groaned, My life is Crap and in some ways Broker was right, part of the reason he took the test was to get away from his mundane life and all the activities and responsibilities that came with the life. But than, who knows? Maybe today might be different, maybe someone might end his suffering or there might be an unguided hunt. With that thought, Branding got out of bed and made his way across the room and prepared for work.
The world was deteriorating special agent Logan Daggart saw it happen all through his life. Before, there was night and day, blue skies could be seen and there was proper UV light to be had and at night Detroit became a place of wonder and intrigue as neon lights from signboards and lampposts produced a fantastic light show. But now, some 50 years old with a receding grey hairline, wrinkles on his face and scars of accidents of yesteryear, the city was just horrible. The Night and day cycle became indistinguishable, as if the sky formed one freakishly drab super entity, with the sky being green at day and black at night. No stars could be seen now and Daggart had gotten sick of the neon nights that he cherished in his childhood. Daggart didn’t know whether he was being cynical because of his age or whether the fact was true.
What happened to the principal of sustainable development? Growth without the cost of the Earth in the future? What happened to that? Was this the so-called “sustainable development”? Progress whilst watching the world deteriorate slower than before? If this was the case, this wasn’t called sustainable development, rather more like painful torture.
Speaking of Sustainable development, things weren’t great for the Syndicate fort in Detroit, Eurocorp demanded another 40% decrease in spending leaving little in the budget to pay for the workers or maintenance of both security and the AI core. Already the security had been downgraded with guards now patrolling the streets and compounds with out dated 20th century Uzi’s when everyone else were using miniguns or pulse rifles. Dammit, these Uzis were virtually carried around by everybody including the working class! The most they could have done to a properly armoured person (or agent) was to shove them and most assassins preferred their fists rather than the Uzis, even if one was lying around. Daggart Grunted, what would happen if someone were to attack the AI compound that contained CHIP identkey storage areas of the city? This place was the weakest defended gateway to the whole UTOPIA network and if anyone were to send anything evil into the AI core of this station (IE a computer virus), the damage to the world would have been incalculable. Like a deadly plague sweeping through the world infecting and killing the world as it passed.
That wasn’t the only problem, CHIP dropouts had increased over the past month from 2 to 30. Whilst he felt that he’s security personnel had coped well with the population who suffered from sudden attacks of Dropout psychosis (as CHIP failure became to be known as), it wouldn’t last long. Those unguided punks could have easily had overwhelmed the compound provided they banded together and attacked. He Prayed that the doing in Detroit wasn’t through complacency, rather, a better world was to come out of it. Yeah right! This world was to see a bright future! Daggart Grinned, pondering if anyone else was having a bad day as he was.
He took it all back, today was the worst day of his life. Branding was wet, sticky, tired and bored. No CHIP dropouts were reported and virtually nothing was there to laugh about. His superiors had shouted at him for being late (or for “accidentally” swearing at him, he couldn’t remember) and most importantly, no word from Eurocorp had came about the exam results. Must he wait another hour, day, week, month, year or century for his results? It seemed like forever to Branding and if the wait wasn’t worth it, he could kiss his butt goodbye and look for a disaster recovery plan to his life. He stared over the concrete fortification walls and looked at the urban landscape of the world. A sea of Men and women holding umbrellas and raincoats moved in large columns back and forth like as I they were a colony of ants with a specific purpose whilst always being careful to avoid sewer manholes spewing hot steam and toxic fumes from their gapping mouths. Light filtered through the rain from lampposts, cars, flashing neon lights bearing labels like “GUNS” and from office windows in the tall skyscrapers. Satellites and beacons winked in the skyline as if trying to signal someone or something to make contact. It was a hive of activity and things seemed productive, but deep down branding knew that every person below him lived a meaningless life one way or another in a fabricated world from their implanted CHIPs. There was very little to smile in their lives too he thought and dying was probably the highpoint of their lives.
Heavy footsteps could be heard behind Branding and he instantly turned only to find a good friend walking towards him. It was the young private officer Jenkins. He produced a grin from his face that seemed plausible. The kid (teenager was the proper term but he seemed like a child to Branding) looked thin and healthy and seemed enthusiastic enough. He wore the same military fatigues and armour that came with any Eurocorp security guard (including branding). Slung over his shoulder was the new Miniguns, each one a work of art. The 20mm plasma based torque stabilised miniguns were lightweight compared to the earlier models as they were made of a foam alloy and not from conventional cold hard steel not only to cut production costs, but also to reduce mass. Allowing most experienced agents and guards to use them one handed if required. Jenkins model had only been released from the Eurocorp’s central armoury months ago and used the newly acquired micro fusion cell batteries to produce its plasma pellet ammunition. Branding himself was carrying a deadly weapon in its own right, a lightweight LR sniper rifle that had been heavily modified for maximum performance capable of high accuracy fast kills at speeds more than enough to kill 10 people standing in a line. But despite the advantages of having one, Branding still felt jealous to the fact that he had to resort to outdated technology. There was something more satisfying using a lot of shots to blow the living crap out of foes instead of a clean, professional, merciful one shot kill.
‘Let me guess Jenkins, you’ve being taking blue funk again’ Branding shouted as he approached
‘Hey, don’t tell the world! Jesus, if someone heard that, we could both be dead!’ Jenkins ran forward quickly.
‘’Sorry, I’m just concerned. You do know the withdrawal symptoms of Blue funk right?’ There was silence and only the patter of rain and traffic could be heard. ‘The blue funk drug will totally mess you up one day. We are only issued the blue funk drug for desperate measures. Not for amusement’
‘I was bored. Seemed like a desperate situation’ Jenkins shrugged. Does this squirt know the implications at all? branding thought. Jenkins took off the Minigun and held it in his hands and stared in the urban landscape of the city. Branding scanned the landscape too, except through his scope to see anything of interesting like a pirate captain eager looking for treasure islands or loot. ‘Anything good happen?’ Jenkins quizzed.
‘If you think seeing people walking around doing their everyday life was exciting, than you’ve come to the right place’ Branding looked at Jenkins and grinned ‘Don’t worry kid, we’ll catch something soon’ There was a crack of thunder. Was that an omen from the gods that he was lying?
‘You say that all the time. Its getting boring now’ Jenkins moaned. Branding looked back in his scope of his gun and continued to scan the horizon.
‘What can I say? This job is the most boring of them all and its highly demeaning for anyone’s standards’ Especially mine Branding didn’t add.
‘ How about a story?’ Jenkins tried to suggest.
‘What, fairy tail or incident type? If you want a fairy tail I’ll give you a depleted uranium bullet at the speed of mach 2.5 up your head so you'll go to Neverland where Mickey Mouse lived and ask him for one’
‘No, how about when your family was on top of the world? Besides, Mickey Mouse lived in Disney land’
‘Yeah? Well he does now’ There was a crack of laughter from both of them.
‘But seriously’ Jenkins replied ‘ from what I’ve heard you’re the grandson of the owner of Eurocorp. You literally made all this!’
‘Made all this? This stinking hellhole of a world we call Earth? You’ve got to be kidding!’
‘Well are you going to tell me or not?’
‘It pretty damn obvious that I wont talk about it. I’m not going to go about my past as a boring old man because it’s...its too degrading ok?
Jenkins was silenced and stared up at the sky and wiped the rain that splashed over his face, he turned and stared at Branding who had returned to scanning the landscape for any problems. Branding suddenly smiled and focussed on the same spot for almost a minute. Jenkins curiosity began to grow. ‘What you’ve seen?’ he said finally
‘I’ve got 2 lovebirds getting it off in some hot office action’
‘Let me see!’ Jenkins begged
‘No way, I’ve been standing here a good 2 hours. To hell I’ll let you. Besides its just finished’ Branding lied. He saw the disappointment on Jenkins face and leaned forward onto the fortifications and stared down. Branding had relished every single moment of the couple being intimate. Who would have thought that some sniper was watching them...
The rain began to cease and the sky became clearer more of the skyline could be seen and the 2 men on the wall considered it a good sign that there might have been a ray of hope that action and adventure was around the corner somewhere. Jenkins dreamed of his first taste of combat against the punks and criminals in the city whilst branding dreamt that his results would come through any minute. Of course, that wasn’t very likely.
Footsteps were heard again, this time not from the boots of Jenkins or the other guards on the compound but distinctively sounded more like those from leather shoes. They turned only to find that his boss was on the perimeter wall wearing his Eurocorp issued suit and holding a sheet of paper. This didn’t look good for both of them was this a letter of resignation? Pay check? Did they know about the blue funk Jenkins used? Or was it for something else maybe? Was Jenkins using Red mist as well? The paranoia drug that heightened detection ability at the cost of total schizophrenia?
‘SGT Branding,’
‘Yes sir?’
‘ This came through to you. It will be in effect as of tomorrow. Clear your locker out. you’re outer here’ with those words the manager left
He read the letter. Branding’s face went pale and began to sweat and rubbed his fact frequently whatever was on that letter must have been big, big enough to shock Branding into needing probably several stiff drinks to calm his nerves. Jenkins could see that the news was probably “Bad” and it probably wasn’t wise for him to ask. Branding looked up and around the installation what was to be his last time and headed to the locker room as if taking the walk of shame in front of the world and to the cameras of Eurocorp. Jenkins stood silently and alone on the wall watching his good friend leave.
“Come in, the doors unlocked”. Said Broker. He peered up and carefully placed his gold plated pen down on the report he was writing. He sat back on his prestige executive black leather chair, which had gold trimmings to the side. The chair squeaked as he leaned back and rocked in his chair waiting for the news he wanted. He knew that this was going to be great and something to celebrate about. Maybe even double his miserable workers salaries. yes sir! This was going to be good news! Who knows? It might even had been an occasion to pop open a bottle of rare wine from the 20th century.
The messenger finally made his way to Brokers office. It was the receptionist, a young, very attractive lady in her 20’s, nice long blonde hair, great body that resembled a sexy lap dancer or a desirable teenage girl at university. Broker flashed a smile and leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table.
‘Go on, Wendy, tell me its the results of the executive examination six weeks before’
‘Yes it is Mr broker’ Wendy said pleasantly.
Brokers smile grew bigger and Wendy smiled back just as hard. Deep down the smile of her intolerable boss resembled a stupid grinning monkey finding a whole tree filled with bananas. ‘Tell, me, who got the job? I want to know as I want to personally want to welcome this person into the fold that is our Company’
‘Yes sir, the job went to a Robert Branding, he’s a security guard in his mid twenties ranked Sargent’
Broker’s smile suddenly disappeared, a face of shock and anger slowly crept into his emotions. He turned his chair away from the receptionist quickly to hide his emotions of defeat and bitterness, it wasn’t good news but very bad news. No, not him, any one but him! How did this happen? Had UTOPIA got it wrong? It must be a mistake surely?-
‘By how many marks?’ Broker demanded Wendy was shocked at the change of tone.
‘ A good 40 marks above the second highest mark. Would you like me to arrange the meeting for this Branding sir?’ Wendy asked nervously
‘No’ Broker replied in an unemotional serious tone. ‘I’ll do it. You are dismissed’
‘Sir, are you all right? Is, is something wrong?’ Wendy asked, even more nervous. It felt like dealing with a bomb. Any wrong words and BOOM she was to get the shouting of her life.
‘I’m fine, thank you’ Broker said unemotionally again
‘Are you-‘ Wendy was interrupted by a more agitated Broker ‘Yes, I’m fine, please leave’. Wendy nodded and hurriedly left the room and closed the door.
:
Damn you Branding, DAMN YOU TO HELL! Broker turned his chair round to his table. He had been insulted and humiliated by Branding. He had looked stupid on that day and Branding would surely use that against him like a trump card if they were to ever clash again. Anger gushed over his body it felt thick and hot and in a fit of rage he swiped the stack of papers on his table to the ground, the prized pen flying across the room like a miniature missile. Wendy heard the toppling of the papers hitting the ground. Wendy sighed and shook her head in disgust, it was going to be another pay cut again...
Chapter 2: Golden ticket
A successful man is one who can lay a firm foundation with the bricks others have thrown at him. David Brinkley
London/ Detroit/ San jose
The alarm to the bedside clock rang. Another day had dawned. He woke up to his flat that had been drenched in light from outside. Silhouettes of objects that cluttered the flat were produced, hiding or obscuring potentially dangerous objects in black and white. It was truly horrible for Branding as it made the environment incredibly sinister almost twisted beauty in its own way.
6 weeks had passed. 6 agonisingly long weeks for branding and still no word or response from Eurocorp. He was irritable and virtually everything he did in those 6 weeks was never enjoyable. The food he ate tasted far worse in those 6 weeks. 6 weeks before the processed foodstuffs tasted just tolerable, now they tasted like plastic and artificial chemicals that imitated flavours appallingly. Even the same brand of coke he drank where the exams were held, tasted more like battery acid rather than sweet nectar from a flower. Either the anticipation of waiting had made him see the world as it was (living in a dump) or that quality of food in executive lives was those of the gods. Either way, things didn’t seem great currently for Branding. He slumped forward in his bed, another day in his job. It was the same routine: Guard duty (come rain or polluted skies) followed by writing reports of events on guard duty, lunch and the whole process happened again like a never ending journey of boredom. Branding groaned, My life is Crap and in some ways Broker was right, part of the reason he took the test was to get away from his mundane life and all the activities and responsibilities that came with the life. But than, who knows? Maybe today might be different, maybe someone might end his suffering or there might be an unguided hunt. With that thought, Branding got out of bed and made his way across the room and prepared for work.
The world was deteriorating special agent Logan Daggart saw it happen all through his life. Before, there was night and day, blue skies could be seen and there was proper UV light to be had and at night Detroit became a place of wonder and intrigue as neon lights from signboards and lampposts produced a fantastic light show. But now, some 50 years old with a receding grey hairline, wrinkles on his face and scars of accidents of yesteryear, the city was just horrible. The Night and day cycle became indistinguishable, as if the sky formed one freakishly drab super entity, with the sky being green at day and black at night. No stars could be seen now and Daggart had gotten sick of the neon nights that he cherished in his childhood. Daggart didn’t know whether he was being cynical because of his age or whether the fact was true.
What happened to the principal of sustainable development? Growth without the cost of the Earth in the future? What happened to that? Was this the so-called “sustainable development”? Progress whilst watching the world deteriorate slower than before? If this was the case, this wasn’t called sustainable development, rather more like painful torture.
Speaking of Sustainable development, things weren’t great for the Syndicate fort in Detroit, Eurocorp demanded another 40% decrease in spending leaving little in the budget to pay for the workers or maintenance of both security and the AI core. Already the security had been downgraded with guards now patrolling the streets and compounds with out dated 20th century Uzi’s when everyone else were using miniguns or pulse rifles. Dammit, these Uzis were virtually carried around by everybody including the working class! The most they could have done to a properly armoured person (or agent) was to shove them and most assassins preferred their fists rather than the Uzis, even if one was lying around. Daggart Grunted, what would happen if someone were to attack the AI compound that contained CHIP identkey storage areas of the city? This place was the weakest defended gateway to the whole UTOPIA network and if anyone were to send anything evil into the AI core of this station (IE a computer virus), the damage to the world would have been incalculable. Like a deadly plague sweeping through the world infecting and killing the world as it passed.
That wasn’t the only problem, CHIP dropouts had increased over the past month from 2 to 30. Whilst he felt that he’s security personnel had coped well with the population who suffered from sudden attacks of Dropout psychosis (as CHIP failure became to be known as), it wouldn’t last long. Those unguided punks could have easily had overwhelmed the compound provided they banded together and attacked. He Prayed that the doing in Detroit wasn’t through complacency, rather, a better world was to come out of it. Yeah right! This world was to see a bright future! Daggart Grinned, pondering if anyone else was having a bad day as he was.
He took it all back, today was the worst day of his life. Branding was wet, sticky, tired and bored. No CHIP dropouts were reported and virtually nothing was there to laugh about. His superiors had shouted at him for being late (or for “accidentally” swearing at him, he couldn’t remember) and most importantly, no word from Eurocorp had came about the exam results. Must he wait another hour, day, week, month, year or century for his results? It seemed like forever to Branding and if the wait wasn’t worth it, he could kiss his butt goodbye and look for a disaster recovery plan to his life. He stared over the concrete fortification walls and looked at the urban landscape of the world. A sea of Men and women holding umbrellas and raincoats moved in large columns back and forth like as I they were a colony of ants with a specific purpose whilst always being careful to avoid sewer manholes spewing hot steam and toxic fumes from their gapping mouths. Light filtered through the rain from lampposts, cars, flashing neon lights bearing labels like “GUNS” and from office windows in the tall skyscrapers. Satellites and beacons winked in the skyline as if trying to signal someone or something to make contact. It was a hive of activity and things seemed productive, but deep down branding knew that every person below him lived a meaningless life one way or another in a fabricated world from their implanted CHIPs. There was very little to smile in their lives too he thought and dying was probably the highpoint of their lives.
Heavy footsteps could be heard behind Branding and he instantly turned only to find a good friend walking towards him. It was the young private officer Jenkins. He produced a grin from his face that seemed plausible. The kid (teenager was the proper term but he seemed like a child to Branding) looked thin and healthy and seemed enthusiastic enough. He wore the same military fatigues and armour that came with any Eurocorp security guard (including branding). Slung over his shoulder was the new Miniguns, each one a work of art. The 20mm plasma based torque stabilised miniguns were lightweight compared to the earlier models as they were made of a foam alloy and not from conventional cold hard steel not only to cut production costs, but also to reduce mass. Allowing most experienced agents and guards to use them one handed if required. Jenkins model had only been released from the Eurocorp’s central armoury months ago and used the newly acquired micro fusion cell batteries to produce its plasma pellet ammunition. Branding himself was carrying a deadly weapon in its own right, a lightweight LR sniper rifle that had been heavily modified for maximum performance capable of high accuracy fast kills at speeds more than enough to kill 10 people standing in a line. But despite the advantages of having one, Branding still felt jealous to the fact that he had to resort to outdated technology. There was something more satisfying using a lot of shots to blow the living crap out of foes instead of a clean, professional, merciful one shot kill.
‘Let me guess Jenkins, you’ve being taking blue funk again’ Branding shouted as he approached
‘Hey, don’t tell the world! Jesus, if someone heard that, we could both be dead!’ Jenkins ran forward quickly.
‘’Sorry, I’m just concerned. You do know the withdrawal symptoms of Blue funk right?’ There was silence and only the patter of rain and traffic could be heard. ‘The blue funk drug will totally mess you up one day. We are only issued the blue funk drug for desperate measures. Not for amusement’
‘I was bored. Seemed like a desperate situation’ Jenkins shrugged. Does this squirt know the implications at all? branding thought. Jenkins took off the Minigun and held it in his hands and stared in the urban landscape of the city. Branding scanned the landscape too, except through his scope to see anything of interesting like a pirate captain eager looking for treasure islands or loot. ‘Anything good happen?’ Jenkins quizzed.
‘If you think seeing people walking around doing their everyday life was exciting, than you’ve come to the right place’ Branding looked at Jenkins and grinned ‘Don’t worry kid, we’ll catch something soon’ There was a crack of thunder. Was that an omen from the gods that he was lying?
‘You say that all the time. Its getting boring now’ Jenkins moaned. Branding looked back in his scope of his gun and continued to scan the horizon.
‘What can I say? This job is the most boring of them all and its highly demeaning for anyone’s standards’ Especially mine Branding didn’t add.
‘ How about a story?’ Jenkins tried to suggest.
‘What, fairy tail or incident type? If you want a fairy tail I’ll give you a depleted uranium bullet at the speed of mach 2.5 up your head so you'll go to Neverland where Mickey Mouse lived and ask him for one’
‘No, how about when your family was on top of the world? Besides, Mickey Mouse lived in Disney land’
‘Yeah? Well he does now’ There was a crack of laughter from both of them.
‘But seriously’ Jenkins replied ‘ from what I’ve heard you’re the grandson of the owner of Eurocorp. You literally made all this!’
‘Made all this? This stinking hellhole of a world we call Earth? You’ve got to be kidding!’
‘Well are you going to tell me or not?’
‘It pretty damn obvious that I wont talk about it. I’m not going to go about my past as a boring old man because it’s...its too degrading ok?
Jenkins was silenced and stared up at the sky and wiped the rain that splashed over his face, he turned and stared at Branding who had returned to scanning the landscape for any problems. Branding suddenly smiled and focussed on the same spot for almost a minute. Jenkins curiosity began to grow. ‘What you’ve seen?’ he said finally
‘I’ve got 2 lovebirds getting it off in some hot office action’
‘Let me see!’ Jenkins begged
‘No way, I’ve been standing here a good 2 hours. To hell I’ll let you. Besides its just finished’ Branding lied. He saw the disappointment on Jenkins face and leaned forward onto the fortifications and stared down. Branding had relished every single moment of the couple being intimate. Who would have thought that some sniper was watching them...
The rain began to cease and the sky became clearer more of the skyline could be seen and the 2 men on the wall considered it a good sign that there might have been a ray of hope that action and adventure was around the corner somewhere. Jenkins dreamed of his first taste of combat against the punks and criminals in the city whilst branding dreamt that his results would come through any minute. Of course, that wasn’t very likely.
Footsteps were heard again, this time not from the boots of Jenkins or the other guards on the compound but distinctively sounded more like those from leather shoes. They turned only to find that his boss was on the perimeter wall wearing his Eurocorp issued suit and holding a sheet of paper. This didn’t look good for both of them was this a letter of resignation? Pay check? Did they know about the blue funk Jenkins used? Or was it for something else maybe? Was Jenkins using Red mist as well? The paranoia drug that heightened detection ability at the cost of total schizophrenia?
‘SGT Branding,’
‘Yes sir?’
‘ This came through to you. It will be in effect as of tomorrow. Clear your locker out. you’re outer here’ with those words the manager left
He read the letter. Branding’s face went pale and began to sweat and rubbed his fact frequently whatever was on that letter must have been big, big enough to shock Branding into needing probably several stiff drinks to calm his nerves. Jenkins could see that the news was probably “Bad” and it probably wasn’t wise for him to ask. Branding looked up and around the installation what was to be his last time and headed to the locker room as if taking the walk of shame in front of the world and to the cameras of Eurocorp. Jenkins stood silently and alone on the wall watching his good friend leave.
“Come in, the doors unlocked”. Said Broker. He peered up and carefully placed his gold plated pen down on the report he was writing. He sat back on his prestige executive black leather chair, which had gold trimmings to the side. The chair squeaked as he leaned back and rocked in his chair waiting for the news he wanted. He knew that this was going to be great and something to celebrate about. Maybe even double his miserable workers salaries. yes sir! This was going to be good news! Who knows? It might even had been an occasion to pop open a bottle of rare wine from the 20th century.
The messenger finally made his way to Brokers office. It was the receptionist, a young, very attractive lady in her 20’s, nice long blonde hair, great body that resembled a sexy lap dancer or a desirable teenage girl at university. Broker flashed a smile and leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table.
‘Go on, Wendy, tell me its the results of the executive examination six weeks before’
‘Yes it is Mr broker’ Wendy said pleasantly.
Brokers smile grew bigger and Wendy smiled back just as hard. Deep down the smile of her intolerable boss resembled a stupid grinning monkey finding a whole tree filled with bananas. ‘Tell, me, who got the job? I want to know as I want to personally want to welcome this person into the fold that is our Company’
‘Yes sir, the job went to a Robert Branding, he’s a security guard in his mid twenties ranked Sargent’
Broker’s smile suddenly disappeared, a face of shock and anger slowly crept into his emotions. He turned his chair away from the receptionist quickly to hide his emotions of defeat and bitterness, it wasn’t good news but very bad news. No, not him, any one but him! How did this happen? Had UTOPIA got it wrong? It must be a mistake surely?-
‘By how many marks?’ Broker demanded Wendy was shocked at the change of tone.
‘ A good 40 marks above the second highest mark. Would you like me to arrange the meeting for this Branding sir?’ Wendy asked nervously
‘No’ Broker replied in an unemotional serious tone. ‘I’ll do it. You are dismissed’
‘Sir, are you all right? Is, is something wrong?’ Wendy asked, even more nervous. It felt like dealing with a bomb. Any wrong words and BOOM she was to get the shouting of her life.
‘I’m fine, thank you’ Broker said unemotionally again
‘Are you-‘ Wendy was interrupted by a more agitated Broker ‘Yes, I’m fine, please leave’. Wendy nodded and hurriedly left the room and closed the door.
:
Damn you Branding, DAMN YOU TO HELL! Broker turned his chair round to his table. He had been insulted and humiliated by Branding. He had looked stupid on that day and Branding would surely use that against him like a trump card if they were to ever clash again. Anger gushed over his body it felt thick and hot and in a fit of rage he swiped the stack of papers on his table to the ground, the prized pen flying across the room like a miniature missile. Wendy heard the toppling of the papers hitting the ground. Wendy sighed and shook her head in disgust, it was going to be another pay cut again...
Page:
Nice. Never read the first one, I'll have to get round to it.
Another part has been added to the story. You'll have to wait a little longer for the next part as its close to the exam period. Enjoy.
Chapter 2: Golden ticket
A successful man is one who can lay a firm foundation with the bricks others have thrown at him. David Brinkley
London/ Detroit/ San jose
The alarm to the bedside clock rang. Another day had dawned. He woke up to his flat that had been drenched in light from outside. Silhouettes of objects that cluttered the flat were produced, hiding or obscuring potentially dangerous objects in black and white. It was truly horrible for Branding as it made the environment incredibly sinister almost twisted beauty in its own way.
6 weeks had passed. 6 agonisingly long weeks for branding and still no word or response from Eurocorp. He was irritable and virtually everything he did in those 6 weeks was never enjoyable. The food he ate tasted far worse in those 6 weeks. 6 weeks before the processed foodstuffs tasted just tolerable, now they tasted like plastic and artificial chemicals that imitated flavours appallingly. Even the same brand of coke he drank where the exams were held, tasted more like battery acid rather than sweet nectar from a flower. Either the anticipation of waiting had made him see the world as it was (living in a dump) or that quality of food in executive lives was those of the gods. Either way, things didn’t seem great currently for Branding. He slumped forward in his bed, another day in his job. It was the same routine: Guard duty (come rain or polluted skies) followed by writing reports of events on guard duty, lunch and the whole process happened again like a never ending journey of boredom. Branding groaned, My life is Crap and in some ways Broker was right, part of the reason he took the test was to get away from his mundane life and all the activities and responsibilities that came with the life. But than, who knows? Maybe today might be different, maybe someone might end his suffering or there might be an unguided hunt. With that thought, Branding got out of bed and made his way across the room and prepared for work.
The world was deteriorating special agent Logan Daggart saw it happen all through his life. Before, there was night and day, blue skies could be seen and there was proper UV light to be had and at night Detroit became a place of wonder and intrigue as neon lights from signboards and lampposts produced a fantastic light show. But now, some 50 years old with a receding grey hairline, wrinkles on his face and scars of accidents of yesteryear, the city was just horrible. The Night and day cycle became indistinguishable, as if the sky formed one freakishly drab super entity, with the sky being green at day and black at night. No stars could be seen now and Daggart had gotten sick of the neon nights that he cherished in his childhood. Daggart didn’t know whether he was being cynical because of his age or whether the fact was true.
What happened to the principal of sustainable development? Growth without the cost of the Earth in the future? What happened to that? Was this the so-called “sustainable development”? Progress whilst watching the world deteriorate slower than before? If this was the case, this wasn’t called sustainable development, rather more like painful torture.
Speaking of Sustainable development, things weren’t great for the Syndicate fort in Detroit, Eurocorp demanded another 40% decrease in spending leaving little in the budget to pay for the workers or maintenance of both security and the AI core. Already the security had been downgraded with guards now patrolling the streets and compounds with out dated 20th century Uzi’s when everyone else were using miniguns or pulse rifles. Dammit, these Uzis were virtually carried around by everybody including the working class! The most they could have done to a properly armoured person (or agent) was to shove them and most assassins preferred their fists rather than the Uzis, even if one was lying around. Daggart Grunted, what would happen if someone were to attack the AI compound that contained CHIP identkey storage areas of the city? This place was the weakest defended gateway to the whole UTOPIA network and if anyone were to send anything evil into the AI core of this station (IE a computer virus), the damage to the world would have been incalculable. Like a deadly plague sweeping through the world infecting and killing the world as it passed.
That wasn’t the only problem, CHIP dropouts had increased over the past month from 2 to 30. Whilst he felt that he’s security personnel had coped well with the population who suffered from sudden attacks of Dropout psychosis (as CHIP failure became to be known as), it wouldn’t last long. Those unguided punks could have easily had overwhelmed the compound provided they banded together and attacked. He Prayed that the doing in Detroit wasn’t through complacency, rather, a better world was to come out of it. Yeah right! This world was to see a bright future! Daggart Grinned, pondering if anyone else was having a bad day as he was.
He took it all back, today was the worst day of his life. Branding was wet, sticky, tired and bored. No CHIP dropouts were reported and virtually nothing was there to laugh about. His superiors had shouted at him for being late (or for “accidentally” swearing at him, he couldn’t remember) and most importantly, no word from Eurocorp had came about the exam results. Must he wait another hour, day, week, month, year or century for his results? It seemed like forever to Branding and if the wait wasn’t worth it, he could kiss his butt goodbye and look for a disaster recovery plan to his life. He stared over the concrete fortification walls and looked at the urban landscape of the world. A sea of Men and women holding umbrellas and raincoats moved in large columns back and forth like as I they were a colony of ants with a specific purpose whilst always being careful to avoid sewer manholes spewing hot steam and toxic fumes from their gapping mouths. Light filtered through the rain from lampposts, cars, flashing neon lights bearing labels like “GUNS” and from office windows in the tall skyscrapers. Satellites and beacons winked in the skyline as if trying to signal someone or something to make contact. It was a hive of activity and things seemed productive, but deep down branding knew that every person below him lived a meaningless life one way or another in a fabricated world from their implanted CHIPs. There was very little to smile in their lives too he thought and dying was probably the highpoint of their lives.
Heavy footsteps could be heard behind Branding and he instantly turned only to find a good friend walking towards him. It was the young private officer Jenkins. He produced a grin from his face that seemed plausible. The kid (teenager was the proper term but he seemed like a child to Branding) looked thin and healthy and seemed enthusiastic enough. He wore the same military fatigues and armour that came with any Eurocorp security guard (including branding). Slung over his shoulder was the new Miniguns, each one a work of art. The 20mm plasma based torque stabilised miniguns were lightweight compared to the earlier models as they were made of a foam alloy and not from conventional cold hard steel not only to cut production costs, but also to reduce mass. Allowing most experienced agents and guards to use them one handed if required. Jenkins model had only been released from the Eurocorp’s central armoury months ago and used the newly acquired micro fusion cell batteries to produce its plasma pellet ammunition. Branding himself was carrying a deadly weapon in its own right, a lightweight LR sniper rifle that had been heavily modified for maximum performance capable of high accuracy fast kills at speeds more than enough to kill 10 people standing in a line. But despite the advantages of having one, Branding still felt jealous to the fact that he had to resort to outdated technology. There was something more satisfying using a lot of shots to blow the living crap out of foes instead of a clean, professional, merciful one shot kill.
‘Let me guess Jenkins, you’ve being taking blue funk again’ Branding shouted as he approached
‘Hey, don’t tell the world! Jesus, if someone heard that, we could both be dead!’ Jenkins ran forward quickly.
‘’Sorry, I’m just concerned. You do know the withdrawal symptoms of Blue funk right?’ There was silence and only the patter of rain and traffic could be heard. ‘The blue funk drug will totally mess you up one day. We are only issued the blue funk drug for desperate measures. Not for amusement’
‘I was bored. Seemed like a desperate situation’ Jenkins shrugged. Does this squirt know the implications at all? branding thought. Jenkins took off the Minigun and held it in his hands and stared in the urban landscape of the city. Branding scanned the landscape too, except through his scope to see anything of interesting like a pirate captain eager looking for treasure islands or loot. ‘Anything good happen?’ Jenkins quizzed.
‘If you think seeing people walking around doing their everyday life was exciting, than you’ve come to the right place’ Branding looked at Jenkins and grinned ‘Don’t worry kid, we’ll catch something soon’ There was a crack of thunder. Was that an omen from the gods that he was lying?
‘You say that all the time. Its getting boring now’ Jenkins moaned. Branding looked back in his scope of his gun and continued to scan the horizon.
‘What can I say? This job is the most boring of them all and its highly demeaning for anyone’s standards’ Especially mine Branding didn’t add.
‘ How about a story?’ Jenkins tried to suggest.
‘What, fairy tail or incident type? If you want a fairy tail I’ll give you a depleted uranium bullet at the speed of mach 2.5 up your head so you'll go to Neverland where Mickey Mouse lived and ask him for one’
‘No, how about when your family was on top of the world? Besides, Mickey Mouse lived in Disney land’
‘Yeah? Well he does now’ There was a crack of laughter from both of them.
‘But seriously’ Jenkins replied ‘ from what I’ve heard you’re the grandson of the owner of Eurocorp. You literally made all this!’
‘Made all this? This stinking hellhole of a world we call Earth? You’ve got to be kidding!’
‘Well are you going to tell me or not?’
‘It pretty damn obvious that I wont talk about it. I’m not going to go about my past as a boring old man because it’s...its too degrading ok?
Jenkins was silenced and stared up at the sky and wiped the rain that splashed over his face, he turned and stared at Branding who had returned to scanning the landscape for any problems. Branding suddenly smiled and focussed on the same spot for almost a minute. Jenkins curiosity began to grow. ‘What you’ve seen?’ he said finally
‘I’ve got 2 lovebirds getting it off in some hot office action’
‘Let me see!’ Jenkins begged
‘No way, I’ve been standing here a good 2 hours. To hell I’ll let you. Besides its just finished’ Branding lied. He saw the disappointment on Jenkins face and leaned forward onto the fortifications and stared down. Branding had relished every single moment of the couple being intimate. Who would have thought that some sniper was watching them...
The rain began to cease and the sky became clearer more of the skyline could be seen and the 2 men on the wall considered it a good sign that there might have been a ray of hope that action and adventure was around the corner somewhere. Jenkins dreamed of his first taste of combat against the punks and criminals in the city whilst branding dreamt that his results would come through any minute. Of course, that wasn’t very likely.
Footsteps were heard again, this time not from the boots of Jenkins or the other guards on the compound but distinctively sounded more like those from leather shoes. They turned only to find that his boss was on the perimeter wall wearing his Eurocorp issued suit and holding a sheet of paper. This didn’t look good for both of them was this a letter of resignation? Pay check? Did they know about the blue funk Jenkins used? Or was it for something else maybe? Was Jenkins using Red mist as well? The paranoia drug that heightened detection ability at the cost of total schizophrenia?
‘SGT Branding,’
‘Yes sir?’
‘ This came through to you. It will be in effect as of tomorrow. Clear your locker out. you’re outer here’ with those words the manager left
He read the letter. Branding’s face went pale and began to sweat and rubbed his fact frequently whatever was on that letter must have been big, big enough to shock Branding into needing probably several stiff drinks to calm his nerves. Jenkins could see that the news was probably “Bad” and it probably wasn’t wise for him to ask. Branding looked up and around the installation what was to be his last time and headed to the locker room as if taking the walk of shame in front of the world and to the cameras of Eurocorp. Jenkins stood silently and alone on the wall watching his good friend leave.
“Come in, the doors unlocked”. Said Broker. He peered up and carefully placed his gold plated pen down on the report he was writing. He sat back on his prestige executive black leather chair, which had gold trimmings to the side. The chair squeaked as he leaned back and rocked in his chair waiting for the news he wanted. He knew that this was going to be great and something to celebrate about. Maybe even double his miserable workers salaries. yes sir! This was going to be good news! Who knows? It might even had been an occasion to pop open a bottle of rare wine from the 20th century.
The messenger finally made his way to Brokers office. It was the receptionist, a young, very attractive lady in her 20’s, nice long blonde hair, great body that resembled a sexy lap dancer or a desirable teenage girl at university. Broker flashed a smile and leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table.
‘Go on, Wendy, tell me its the results of the executive examination six weeks before’
‘Yes it is Mr broker’ Wendy said pleasantly.
Brokers smile grew bigger and Wendy smiled back just as hard. Deep down the smile of her intolerable boss resembled a stupid grinning monkey finding a whole tree filled with bananas. ‘Tell, me, who got the job? I want to know as I want to personally want to welcome this person into the fold that is our Company’
‘Yes sir, the job went to a Robert Branding, he’s a security guard in his mid twenties ranked Sargent’
Broker’s smile suddenly disappeared, a face of shock and anger slowly crept into his emotions. He turned his chair away from the receptionist quickly to hide his emotions of defeat and bitterness, it wasn’t good news but very bad news. No, not him, any one but him! How did this happen? Had UTOPIA got it wrong? It must be a mistake surely?-
‘By how many marks?’ Broker demanded Wendy was shocked at the change of tone.
‘ A good 40 marks above the second highest mark. Would you like me to arrange the meeting for this Branding sir?’ Wendy asked nervously
‘No’ Broker replied in an unemotional serious tone. ‘I’ll do it. You are dismissed’
‘Sir, are you all right? Is, is something wrong?’ Wendy asked, even more nervous. It felt like dealing with a bomb. Any wrong words and BOOM she was to get the shouting of her life.
‘I’m fine, thank you’ Broker said unemotionally again
‘Are you-‘ Wendy was interrupted by a more agitated Broker ‘Yes, I’m fine, please leave’. Wendy nodded and hurriedly left the room and closed the door.
:
Damn you Branding, DAMN YOU TO HELL! Broker turned his chair round to his table. He had been insulted and humiliated by Branding. He had looked stupid on that day and Branding would surely use that against him like a trump card if they were to ever clash again. Anger gushed over his body it felt thick and hot and in a fit of rage he swiped the stack of papers on his table to the ground, the prized pen flying across the room like a miniature missile. Wendy heard the toppling of the papers hitting the ground. Wendy sighed and shook her head in disgust, it was going to be another pay cut again...
Chapter 2: Golden ticket
A successful man is one who can lay a firm foundation with the bricks others have thrown at him. David Brinkley
London/ Detroit/ San jose
The alarm to the bedside clock rang. Another day had dawned. He woke up to his flat that had been drenched in light from outside. Silhouettes of objects that cluttered the flat were produced, hiding or obscuring potentially dangerous objects in black and white. It was truly horrible for Branding as it made the environment incredibly sinister almost twisted beauty in its own way.
6 weeks had passed. 6 agonisingly long weeks for branding and still no word or response from Eurocorp. He was irritable and virtually everything he did in those 6 weeks was never enjoyable. The food he ate tasted far worse in those 6 weeks. 6 weeks before the processed foodstuffs tasted just tolerable, now they tasted like plastic and artificial chemicals that imitated flavours appallingly. Even the same brand of coke he drank where the exams were held, tasted more like battery acid rather than sweet nectar from a flower. Either the anticipation of waiting had made him see the world as it was (living in a dump) or that quality of food in executive lives was those of the gods. Either way, things didn’t seem great currently for Branding. He slumped forward in his bed, another day in his job. It was the same routine: Guard duty (come rain or polluted skies) followed by writing reports of events on guard duty, lunch and the whole process happened again like a never ending journey of boredom. Branding groaned, My life is Crap and in some ways Broker was right, part of the reason he took the test was to get away from his mundane life and all the activities and responsibilities that came with the life. But than, who knows? Maybe today might be different, maybe someone might end his suffering or there might be an unguided hunt. With that thought, Branding got out of bed and made his way across the room and prepared for work.
The world was deteriorating special agent Logan Daggart saw it happen all through his life. Before, there was night and day, blue skies could be seen and there was proper UV light to be had and at night Detroit became a place of wonder and intrigue as neon lights from signboards and lampposts produced a fantastic light show. But now, some 50 years old with a receding grey hairline, wrinkles on his face and scars of accidents of yesteryear, the city was just horrible. The Night and day cycle became indistinguishable, as if the sky formed one freakishly drab super entity, with the sky being green at day and black at night. No stars could be seen now and Daggart had gotten sick of the neon nights that he cherished in his childhood. Daggart didn’t know whether he was being cynical because of his age or whether the fact was true.
What happened to the principal of sustainable development? Growth without the cost of the Earth in the future? What happened to that? Was this the so-called “sustainable development”? Progress whilst watching the world deteriorate slower than before? If this was the case, this wasn’t called sustainable development, rather more like painful torture.
Speaking of Sustainable development, things weren’t great for the Syndicate fort in Detroit, Eurocorp demanded another 40% decrease in spending leaving little in the budget to pay for the workers or maintenance of both security and the AI core. Already the security had been downgraded with guards now patrolling the streets and compounds with out dated 20th century Uzi’s when everyone else were using miniguns or pulse rifles. Dammit, these Uzis were virtually carried around by everybody including the working class! The most they could have done to a properly armoured person (or agent) was to shove them and most assassins preferred their fists rather than the Uzis, even if one was lying around. Daggart Grunted, what would happen if someone were to attack the AI compound that contained CHIP identkey storage areas of the city? This place was the weakest defended gateway to the whole UTOPIA network and if anyone were to send anything evil into the AI core of this station (IE a computer virus), the damage to the world would have been incalculable. Like a deadly plague sweeping through the world infecting and killing the world as it passed.
That wasn’t the only problem, CHIP dropouts had increased over the past month from 2 to 30. Whilst he felt that he’s security personnel had coped well with the population who suffered from sudden attacks of Dropout psychosis (as CHIP failure became to be known as), it wouldn’t last long. Those unguided punks could have easily had overwhelmed the compound provided they banded together and attacked. He Prayed that the doing in Detroit wasn’t through complacency, rather, a better world was to come out of it. Yeah right! This world was to see a bright future! Daggart Grinned, pondering if anyone else was having a bad day as he was.
He took it all back, today was the worst day of his life. Branding was wet, sticky, tired and bored. No CHIP dropouts were reported and virtually nothing was there to laugh about. His superiors had shouted at him for being late (or for “accidentally” swearing at him, he couldn’t remember) and most importantly, no word from Eurocorp had came about the exam results. Must he wait another hour, day, week, month, year or century for his results? It seemed like forever to Branding and if the wait wasn’t worth it, he could kiss his butt goodbye and look for a disaster recovery plan to his life. He stared over the concrete fortification walls and looked at the urban landscape of the world. A sea of Men and women holding umbrellas and raincoats moved in large columns back and forth like as I they were a colony of ants with a specific purpose whilst always being careful to avoid sewer manholes spewing hot steam and toxic fumes from their gapping mouths. Light filtered through the rain from lampposts, cars, flashing neon lights bearing labels like “GUNS” and from office windows in the tall skyscrapers. Satellites and beacons winked in the skyline as if trying to signal someone or something to make contact. It was a hive of activity and things seemed productive, but deep down branding knew that every person below him lived a meaningless life one way or another in a fabricated world from their implanted CHIPs. There was very little to smile in their lives too he thought and dying was probably the highpoint of their lives.
Heavy footsteps could be heard behind Branding and he instantly turned only to find a good friend walking towards him. It was the young private officer Jenkins. He produced a grin from his face that seemed plausible. The kid (teenager was the proper term but he seemed like a child to Branding) looked thin and healthy and seemed enthusiastic enough. He wore the same military fatigues and armour that came with any Eurocorp security guard (including branding). Slung over his shoulder was the new Miniguns, each one a work of art. The 20mm plasma based torque stabilised miniguns were lightweight compared to the earlier models as they were made of a foam alloy and not from conventional cold hard steel not only to cut production costs, but also to reduce mass. Allowing most experienced agents and guards to use them one handed if required. Jenkins model had only been released from the Eurocorp’s central armoury months ago and used the newly acquired micro fusion cell batteries to produce its plasma pellet ammunition. Branding himself was carrying a deadly weapon in its own right, a lightweight LR sniper rifle that had been heavily modified for maximum performance capable of high accuracy fast kills at speeds more than enough to kill 10 people standing in a line. But despite the advantages of having one, Branding still felt jealous to the fact that he had to resort to outdated technology. There was something more satisfying using a lot of shots to blow the living crap out of foes instead of a clean, professional, merciful one shot kill.
‘Let me guess Jenkins, you’ve being taking blue funk again’ Branding shouted as he approached
‘Hey, don’t tell the world! Jesus, if someone heard that, we could both be dead!’ Jenkins ran forward quickly.
‘’Sorry, I’m just concerned. You do know the withdrawal symptoms of Blue funk right?’ There was silence and only the patter of rain and traffic could be heard. ‘The blue funk drug will totally mess you up one day. We are only issued the blue funk drug for desperate measures. Not for amusement’
‘I was bored. Seemed like a desperate situation’ Jenkins shrugged. Does this squirt know the implications at all? branding thought. Jenkins took off the Minigun and held it in his hands and stared in the urban landscape of the city. Branding scanned the landscape too, except through his scope to see anything of interesting like a pirate captain eager looking for treasure islands or loot. ‘Anything good happen?’ Jenkins quizzed.
‘If you think seeing people walking around doing their everyday life was exciting, than you’ve come to the right place’ Branding looked at Jenkins and grinned ‘Don’t worry kid, we’ll catch something soon’ There was a crack of thunder. Was that an omen from the gods that he was lying?
‘You say that all the time. Its getting boring now’ Jenkins moaned. Branding looked back in his scope of his gun and continued to scan the horizon.
‘What can I say? This job is the most boring of them all and its highly demeaning for anyone’s standards’ Especially mine Branding didn’t add.
‘ How about a story?’ Jenkins tried to suggest.
‘What, fairy tail or incident type? If you want a fairy tail I’ll give you a depleted uranium bullet at the speed of mach 2.5 up your head so you'll go to Neverland where Mickey Mouse lived and ask him for one’
‘No, how about when your family was on top of the world? Besides, Mickey Mouse lived in Disney land’
‘Yeah? Well he does now’ There was a crack of laughter from both of them.
‘But seriously’ Jenkins replied ‘ from what I’ve heard you’re the grandson of the owner of Eurocorp. You literally made all this!’
‘Made all this? This stinking hellhole of a world we call Earth? You’ve got to be kidding!’
‘Well are you going to tell me or not?’
‘It pretty damn obvious that I wont talk about it. I’m not going to go about my past as a boring old man because it’s...its too degrading ok?
Jenkins was silenced and stared up at the sky and wiped the rain that splashed over his face, he turned and stared at Branding who had returned to scanning the landscape for any problems. Branding suddenly smiled and focussed on the same spot for almost a minute. Jenkins curiosity began to grow. ‘What you’ve seen?’ he said finally
‘I’ve got 2 lovebirds getting it off in some hot office action’
‘Let me see!’ Jenkins begged
‘No way, I’ve been standing here a good 2 hours. To hell I’ll let you. Besides its just finished’ Branding lied. He saw the disappointment on Jenkins face and leaned forward onto the fortifications and stared down. Branding had relished every single moment of the couple being intimate. Who would have thought that some sniper was watching them...
The rain began to cease and the sky became clearer more of the skyline could be seen and the 2 men on the wall considered it a good sign that there might have been a ray of hope that action and adventure was around the corner somewhere. Jenkins dreamed of his first taste of combat against the punks and criminals in the city whilst branding dreamt that his results would come through any minute. Of course, that wasn’t very likely.
Footsteps were heard again, this time not from the boots of Jenkins or the other guards on the compound but distinctively sounded more like those from leather shoes. They turned only to find that his boss was on the perimeter wall wearing his Eurocorp issued suit and holding a sheet of paper. This didn’t look good for both of them was this a letter of resignation? Pay check? Did they know about the blue funk Jenkins used? Or was it for something else maybe? Was Jenkins using Red mist as well? The paranoia drug that heightened detection ability at the cost of total schizophrenia?
‘SGT Branding,’
‘Yes sir?’
‘ This came through to you. It will be in effect as of tomorrow. Clear your locker out. you’re outer here’ with those words the manager left
He read the letter. Branding’s face went pale and began to sweat and rubbed his fact frequently whatever was on that letter must have been big, big enough to shock Branding into needing probably several stiff drinks to calm his nerves. Jenkins could see that the news was probably “Bad” and it probably wasn’t wise for him to ask. Branding looked up and around the installation what was to be his last time and headed to the locker room as if taking the walk of shame in front of the world and to the cameras of Eurocorp. Jenkins stood silently and alone on the wall watching his good friend leave.
“Come in, the doors unlocked”. Said Broker. He peered up and carefully placed his gold plated pen down on the report he was writing. He sat back on his prestige executive black leather chair, which had gold trimmings to the side. The chair squeaked as he leaned back and rocked in his chair waiting for the news he wanted. He knew that this was going to be great and something to celebrate about. Maybe even double his miserable workers salaries. yes sir! This was going to be good news! Who knows? It might even had been an occasion to pop open a bottle of rare wine from the 20th century.
The messenger finally made his way to Brokers office. It was the receptionist, a young, very attractive lady in her 20’s, nice long blonde hair, great body that resembled a sexy lap dancer or a desirable teenage girl at university. Broker flashed a smile and leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table.
‘Go on, Wendy, tell me its the results of the executive examination six weeks before’
‘Yes it is Mr broker’ Wendy said pleasantly.
Brokers smile grew bigger and Wendy smiled back just as hard. Deep down the smile of her intolerable boss resembled a stupid grinning monkey finding a whole tree filled with bananas. ‘Tell, me, who got the job? I want to know as I want to personally want to welcome this person into the fold that is our Company’
‘Yes sir, the job went to a Robert Branding, he’s a security guard in his mid twenties ranked Sargent’
Broker’s smile suddenly disappeared, a face of shock and anger slowly crept into his emotions. He turned his chair away from the receptionist quickly to hide his emotions of defeat and bitterness, it wasn’t good news but very bad news. No, not him, any one but him! How did this happen? Had UTOPIA got it wrong? It must be a mistake surely?-
‘By how many marks?’ Broker demanded Wendy was shocked at the change of tone.
‘ A good 40 marks above the second highest mark. Would you like me to arrange the meeting for this Branding sir?’ Wendy asked nervously
‘No’ Broker replied in an unemotional serious tone. ‘I’ll do it. You are dismissed’
‘Sir, are you all right? Is, is something wrong?’ Wendy asked, even more nervous. It felt like dealing with a bomb. Any wrong words and BOOM she was to get the shouting of her life.
‘I’m fine, thank you’ Broker said unemotionally again
‘Are you-‘ Wendy was interrupted by a more agitated Broker ‘Yes, I’m fine, please leave’. Wendy nodded and hurriedly left the room and closed the door.
:
Damn you Branding, DAMN YOU TO HELL! Broker turned his chair round to his table. He had been insulted and humiliated by Branding. He had looked stupid on that day and Branding would surely use that against him like a trump card if they were to ever clash again. Anger gushed over his body it felt thick and hot and in a fit of rage he swiped the stack of papers on his table to the ground, the prized pen flying across the room like a miniature missile. Wendy heard the toppling of the papers hitting the ground. Wendy sighed and shook her head in disgust, it was going to be another pay cut again...
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