Journal Entry #4 (Recap)
I could use Leech right now. He would know what to do. I'm in way over my head! And I am wasting time babbling about my past. Have to focus on the now. What happened over the past couple of days. Go back to three days ago when my life got fucked up.I should have known it was going to be a bad day. I came into the office with three hours of sleep and a 'jack headache. I spent the night 'mining and filtering data from Evo for the Hawkins case. I bit off more than I could chew. I tried to regress, analyse and splunk a 23 tera block without any prep. I should have known better.
Anyway, I dragged myself into the office. Gwen was, as always, all smiles. The minute she saw me, she pulled out a couple of her pills and one of her typical motherly tut-tuts. I gave her the results of my work and went to my desk. Juan was at his desk, looking pensive. Except for a hello, didn't say much. Something was eating at him.
The first thing I found in my inbox was a demand from our landlord. He is on our ass again, trying to squeeze more credits from us. The moron is trying to make us pay for work he had to do to the electrical wiring in our office. Thing is, if he didn't fix the mess, he would have been in violation of several building codes. Does he think he can pull this with a lawyer? Moron!
Anyway, after a couple of hours, Juan asked if he could see me in the conference room. Finally I was going to find out what was up his ass. But my brain damage didn't prep me for what was going to happen.
In a nutshell, Juan suggested I head out and start out my own practice. He feels that my father's “presence” is hurting the practice. He could swoop down at any time and shut us down. Putting an end to what we are trying to do.
This had come up before. He said the same thing when I set up shop here in the Combat Zone. “What is stopping Daddy from screwing us over?” was one of Juan's questions. And I let him know of about the situation.
My father wanted nothing to do with my plans. He thought I was throwing away my career and destroying my life (really his). When he saw I was serious, he said: “Fine. Throw away your life. Crash and burn for all I care. Like everything else you've tried, it is going to be a fucking failure. You’re just like your mother.” And he told me if I walked out of the mansion, he would cut me off. He would disown me. I said fine. But before I left, I did leave a little concoction Leech recommended. I wonder if he will rebuild the arboretum?
When I got downtown, my father was true to his word. My accounts were closed and my access to Ares was shut down. Thing is, he forgot I learnt from the expert. I have three backdoor accounts he knows nothing of. And most of the credits I've earned over the past while are safely squirrelled away in accounts all over Europe. And the Islands. The best was that he had no idea Grandpa Roy had already agreed to help me out.
I remember when I went to Roy and Diana's place to tell them I had finally moved out, Grandpa Roy broke into a massive smile. I had never seen such a smile on his face. “It is time for you to fly, my boy.” He said. “Your wings have been clipped for far too long.” Grandma Diana just tapped my raven medallion and said “Let him guide you.”
So I know Juan has issues about my father. But everything I have done to set up this office was me alone. All the credits were from Grandpa or myself and would be hard to trace. Leech helped take care of that. And he would not fuck me over.
A year ago, after the talk and drinks, I thought Juan was chill with things. Seems I was wrong. Juan wants me out because of the spectre of my father. He is afraid that he will shut us down.
I can see his point. The ‘vids lately have hyped our cases by using my name. I know some of our verdicts have gone our way because of my name. But that is part of the game in law. It isn't about truth but image. Law is now an art of seduction which I am good at.
Maybe now that we are making a mark, making a different my father might step in, in Juan's mind. But I think I know him better. Yes, our practice is starting to take off. But it still can fail. Crash and burn. We have had a couple of high profile verdicts. But that can change. A practice lives on its successes. One public failure can wreak a practice. And my father needs to do nothing. Let the fickle finger of fate fuck us over.
Anyway, Juan isn't one to listen. He even had the audacity to bring up my degrees compared to his. Yeah, it's true that I can walk into any of the corps around & get a job there. But when it comes to the people and the streets, that is where his smarts are. And I know a couple of corps that would grab him in a nano over me.
So Juan wants me to branch out on my own so this practice can continue on without my father's focus. He would take on a new partner and continue our work. Once our practice is solid and defensible, I would come back. And my father would not be able to touch it.
Looking back, there are a few points I should have argued. There are major holes in his argument. But the lack of sleep and pounding in my head dulled my abilities. I just nodded and agreed with him.
It was then he dropped the bombshell. I found out many of our cases came about because of his cousin Lupe, who is in City Hall or whatever. I felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under me. I think my neurons froze at that moment. I thought we were getting cases because of what we were trying to do.
Juan said that his cousin heard of an important conference being held in NYC. Something that would be up my alley. Connections I could use to set up my new practice. Something that might be of benefit to me and, in time, for him. All I did was say yes.
It was only once I got home and had some real sleep that I could start to see what really happened. Business is good. We are making a difference. But my face, my name comes out first. Juan is just a sidebar. Even though I did everything not to grab the spotlight, it was thrust on me. It feels as if Juan is jealous and thinks he can do it on his own. Fine. Fuck it! Something didn't feel right. I was planning to talk to Gwen before heading off to the conference in NYC but didn't get a chance.
I had some time to kill before heading off to NYC. I called the office to organize shit and try to talk to Gwen. But she was “busy”. Her voice and body language spoke volumes. When I suggested we get together for a quick lunch, she shook her head. Maybe when I get back from NYC. So I decided to let things wait because I expected to be back in a couple of days. Boy, was I wrong.
I should have known something was wrong with the conference because the night before I had one of those dreams again. I haven’t not had one in ages. It was like the others. Vague, blurred. Out of focus. I am out some where. I can't say if it is a canyon or plain of rock. There is a spire of rock reaching out to a clear blue sky without clouds. Then my vision becomes blurry. From the corner of my eye, I see a white shadow. I hear what sounds like the rustling of wings. A faint voice says something but I can’t hear it. Then the white shadow flies up into the crystal blue sky and I wake up. In a cold sweat.
The conference. Well it wasn’t a meeting of minds. It was a motley crew of people. I thought it was going to be professionals like lawyers but instead I found myself in a room of people who are the furthest away from the law.
The only suit, except for me, was the person who was conducting the conference. Raymond A. Temple. He summoned us to NYC because there is a drive from some governments to retake control from the corps. Challenge the corps monopoly and bring back the political & economic power back to the hands of the people.
Temple told us that different governments were starting to come together and reinstate the idea of a United Nations. And they needed people to go up against the corps.
As Temple talked about the ideals he believes in (have major questions on this), I sat there fucking stunned. One guy, called Merrick was asking things like if the group would be sanctioned to kill without consequence. What?
I am a lawyer. And a potential hacker according to Leech. I am hearing that this guy, Merrick, blew away some gang-bangers because they blew up his clinic and killed some of his people and patients. Then there is Nikita who is some sort of Russian military guy.
Temple is proposing a team, a tactical squad to go after the corps. To bring about change for the people. Reinstate the power of government which was lost so long ago.
The whole “conference” felt weird to me. Temple talks a good game but I wonder what the real agenda is. Be it corp or country, nationalism still hobbles us. Temple talked about a new United Nations yet the old one was a useless exercise in futility.
But during the “presentation”, I didn’t see where I fit in. Temple wants a tactical squad to do things. Based on questions from Nikita and Merrick, the squad is sanctioned to use whatever force necessary to achieve its goals. And for those guys, it would be killing and blowing things up. Where do I fit in? I can’t even use a gun.
Of course I brought this up. Temple said he was surprised I had shown up. And then he told the group I might be one of the most important people in the group. Because of what I know. Yeah, right! During a fire fight, what I am supposed to do? Bore them to death with the intricacies of the World Court?
But something in me clicked as Temple talked. Even though I was making a difference in Boston, was I really making a difference? The world is fucked up. The corps are only interested in the almighty credit. People cannot get decent medical attention. Corps can pollute areas with gay abandon. They can do whatever they want without consequence or recourse.
So maybe the way to start to take down the stranglehold is a change of tactics. I’ve seen the ruthlessness of the corps through my father and his “friends”. They will do anything to get what they want. Maybe trying to work within the system is not the answer. Work outside the box. Cause chaos, confusion. Be a trickster.
Against my better judgement I agreed to join the group. I did bring up the caveat that my joining the group was dependant on they knowing I was a suit, not a soldier. I would be useless in a fight. I was a bit surprised the general reaction was a shrug.
So the squad ends up being five of us. The two most vocal are Nikita and Merrick or FUBAR. Nikita is Russian. He comes from a long line of naval officers from what I gather. He is a marine technologist and an expert when it comes to bombs. And from what I see just bristling with ‘ware. I feel I can trust him.
Merrick is American. And a doctor. From what I got he was a crash cart operative and chop-shop medic. He set up shop to help the average person but had a run-in with gang-bangers. Who he blew away when they attacked his clinic. He seems to know the third person, Anton.
Anton is Russian. And he had me completely confused, at first. He has no ‘ware from what I can see but it seems he can be anyone he wants to be. His accent can change. His body language shifts and changes. Even his appearance can be a little different. And then it clicked. He is a corp espionage specialist. He is an infiltrator that corps use. My father introduced me to a few in Ares.
The last person of the group is Helmut Leer. He is a vet Saeder-Krup merc. He has worked with Temple before and has had previous groups. And from what I gather, he is the only survivor of them. He was quick to take charge.
After the “conference”, we got together to talk and get to know each other. Which meant drinks. I went straight for the Scotch. Helmut was knocking his drinks fast. And in time, we ended up in Nikita’s room for some home-made vodka.
Anton & FUBAR already seem to know each other. Thing is, FUBAR keeps calling Anton Sam Doug. Why I don’t know. It is pissing Anton off and personally, I am not impressed by that. Right now, I really don’t like the guy.
In the end, I had a little too much to drink. We went off to our respective rooms to sleep. To be awoken today with only a few hours of sleep. There was banging at the door and we were rushed out of the hotel to an awaiting “van” and headed to an airport.
There we were told that we had our first assignment. There is an oil rig, several hundred miles off the coast of Florida, in international and intercorporate waters. Temple has designated this to become our new base of operations.
To do so, we are going to change the lease by taking over the platform and clearing out the current contingent of people. It seems that Macrotech has outsourced the rig and it has gone rogue. And now I am off in a copter, heading down to the oil platform. And most likely my death.
