So, here’s something fun. I was browsing old threads I posted on various forums and came across one called “Concrete Dreams – My Novel” posted around the time I would have been 14, and the single chapter contained within certainly reads like it. I have made no edits to the piece, it is presented exactly as it was written nine years ago. Try to enjoy.
Jake Harper smiled sadly to himself. In a way these were his last few moments but he knew that after tonight he would live on in the press. Hologram news recordings would be speaking his name for years to come and stories of him would be passed down to the next generation. Maybe bad stories but he would be famous nonetheless.
Bill Michaels was ready for anything. He was the head bouncer on New Chicago’s Neon Strip and nothing was going to go wrong tonight on his watch. Something big was going on and he knew that if he screwed this up, it would be his ass on the line. Several people in expensive suits showed up in their stretch cars. Bill chuckled softly to himself. Centuries had past and the predicted flying cars still hadn’t been invented. They were still something out of science fiction. He allowed the men to pass without incident. They were all politicians from around the world having a meeting. He didn’t know why they had chosen the Nero Heart nightclub for the meeting location. It wasn’t his job to know. It was his job to make sure the meeting went smoothly.
Jake managed to get past the bouncer with the group of politicians. It was easier than he had expected. The bouncer was probably thinking of his next fat paycheque. Dumbass. Jake cut off from the group and went a different way. There was no way he would be able to get in through the front door into the VIP suite. There had to be a different way in. He fumbled around one of his jacket pockets for a few seconds before finding what he was looking for. It was a small pod that unfolded in a way not unlike an ancient scroll. A holographic readout of the nightclub structure. There was another way in. A small ventilation shaft. It wouldn’t be easy for him. There were many obstacles.
Bill looked around after the group of politicians had entered. The guy who went in with them didn’t look like one. He pulled out his pocket radio, “Alpha one to security control. Keep tabs on the man who just entered. Wearing a leather jacket and trousers. Hair is short and bright white. Aged around mid 30’s.”
“Affirmative alpha one,” came the reply. Bill sighed. He hated the guy who worked in security control. His name was Dennis Phibben and he had a sarcastic tone and believed he was better than anyone else. It was lucky he was higher up in the chain of command than Bill because he would have had Bill’s stony fist in his face years ago.
Jake entered the main room of the nightclub. This would be quite easy. There were lots of people in here; security wouldn’t be able to track him in the middle of this large crowd. He sighted the ventilation shaft past the crowd. Damn. It was being guarded by security. There was only one way to do it. Jake turned around and punched the nearest man in the face. His plan worked. The punch was the catalyst needed to start a riot on the dance floor. Security moved in almost instantaneously leaving the ventilation shaft unguarded. Jake made his way out of the crowd, avoiding several poorly aimed punches at him and delivering a few of his own. With security distracted, he managed to open the shaft without being disturbed. He started his long climb to the VIP lounge.
Martin Harrison ducked another punch. This was ridiculous. There was no way that two security guards could keep the riot under control and keep tabs on the guy in leather. He needed a solution quickly. Looking around, he spotted one of the steel bar stools on the floor. He picked it up and began swinging it around. It connected with a punk’s face and with a sickening crunch and an explosion of blood his nose was broken. Martin had been an idiot to think this would stop the fight. There was only one way to finish it and that was to win. He looked around and saw Hank, the other guard struggling under a pile of people. Fists were flying so fast it was impossible to see whom they belonged to. As Martin looked around he realised the guy in leather was missing. He was either in the fight or, damn. Martin caught sight of a leg disappearing up through the ventilation shaft he was supposed to be guarding. He had to get out of this anarchy and follow the guy. Seeing no alternative, he started making his way towards the shaft. Unfortunately, his way was blocked by dozens of angry people, ready for a piece of him. Martin raised the stool in defiance. The mob was unperturbed by this threat and still they made their way to him like zombies looking for flesh. Then he had an idea. Hank had a belt of tear gas grenades on his body. Martin made his way to Hank and started retching. Hank was dead. The gas grenades were still intact. Lowering his safety goggles, Martin pressed the button on one of the grenades and threw it into the middle of the brawl. It opened and the gas leaked out. Almost immediately, people stopped fighting and raised their hands to protect their eyes. Martin made his way through the sedate crowd to the ventilation shaft.
Jake was close now. He could hear the muffled sound of talking coming from the direction of the VIP lounge. He sat, breathing heavily, taking a well-deserved break from his long trek up the shaft with ears open wide, trying to make out what was being said. Then another sound knocked him from his eavesdropping and almost from his perch with surprise. There was someone coming up the shaft after him. Shit. It had to be one of the security guards. He knew that whoever it was would probably be fitter than him so he decided to sit and wait in the darkness rather than be caught from behind in a pointless rush to the lounge.
Martin scaled the shaft quite easily. He was quite surprised; it had been a long time since he had last done this in training. He was almost near the top. There was definitely someone up there. They were breathing. Smiling to himself, Martin prepared himself for what would hopefully be the final fight of the day. He climbed the last portion of the shaft as quietly as he could in the hope he could get the drop on his prey. Then he remembered the grenades on the belt. He looked down. Shit, they must have fallen off. They were no longer there. This had to be done the old fashioned way; brute force. As he neared the top, he swung his fist up and around into the vent passageway. It connected with something. Then Martin felt a boot smash into his face. He lost his grip and plummeted down the vent, screaming all the way. It all seemed to go in slow motion. It was ironic. He had been hoping for this to be his last fight.
Jake listened intently. The scream faded away but the sounds of the guard’s body slamming against the shaft sides were echoing all around. It all finished with a grand finale; the sickening, unmistakable sound of a neck breaking. Satisfied, Jake began his short journey through the crawlspace. It wasn’t long before he reached his destination. He put the grate through with his foot and jumped down into the room. Jake looked around the room, taking in the confused looks on everyone’s faces. He began to laugh, “Well, well, well. Got you bastards all in one place. MAJESTY has been waiting a long time for this. You and me, we’ll all go down in history.”
With his closing statement, Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rectangular object.
“What’s that?” someone asked.
“This,” replied Jake proudly, “This is the proverbial red button. This is your doom. Now, before I do this, can I ask one question? Why haven’t you started running for the door yet?”
Everybody ran for the door only to find that it was locked.
“Oh yes,” said Jake, a hint of malice creeping into his voice, “The door has been taken care of. It looks like you can’t get out. The windows are unbreakable. We’re locked in here. Just you and me. Oh, and all the bombs strapped to my body.”
Several people gasped and one wet himself, drawing a laugh from Jake. “Oh don’t worry. It will be over soon. You probably won’t feel a thing.
Jake pressed the button in his hand and the timer started counting down. Everybody in the room panicked and tried to unlock the door. One of them even tried jumping through the window. Jake just stood there, in the centre of the confusion. He saw himself as the calm in the eye of the storm. He didn’t fear death. Not any more. Not now that he was tired of life in this fascist world. And he was willing to lay down his life for a free world. The timer counted down the last few seconds of Jake’s life. Then, with a blinding flash and a rush of sound, it was all over.
The bombing of the Nero Heart nightclub and the assassination of every world leader dropped the human race into a time of anarchy and confusion where it was easy for MAJESTY to come in and take control. Soon, the world was under their command. It was a free world for a while, until MAJESTY became the very thing it had been fighting. The six leaders became too greedy. They knew that new groups threatened them everywhere so they withdrew to running the world behind the scenes, appointing puppet politicians to rule every country in different ways. MAJESTY controlled each puppet from behind the scenes. Almost everyone was fooled into thinking that MAJESTY had disappeared. Everyone except one faction that vowed to put an end to MAJESTY’s tyrannical rule for good.
This all does, of course, raise several questions. Why is the vent being guarded? Why are there more guards posted to the vent than on the front door? Why is every politician in the world coming to a Chicago nightclub for a meeting? Even if they did, why is the club open for normal business on such an important night?
Chapter two has thankfully been lost to the mists of time (and to a hard drive that has hopefully been destroyed) so we will likely never know.