#1 : Jack Wakes Up

     That house, that man in the house, and that man’s gun. Never separable, always together. Jack couldn’t find a reason to holster his snub. The gun loosely hanging off his belt, ready to become dislodged from a mighty swipe of his hand. The beat always seemed blue of shade, breaking his day up into smaller pieces. He’d wake in the morning, sweat just covering his glossed pale skin. His beard unkempt, shrouding his face like a thicket of bushes. His clay brown eyes just stare lifelessly against the nothingness. His transition from ‘home’ to the streets almost grayed out his afternoon. The sun doesn’t shine here, so thoughts of a brighter tomorrow seem eons away. Years, years it has been like this. Jack doesn’t mind though, so long as the day ends with him getting blessed with the sharp end of a needle. Nirvana pulsing through his veins, the only way he knows how. Otherwise, he would melt into a lump of nothing. It kept him sedated, enthralled in his own manipulated sunshine. Junkees, rapists, filth of the city flowed through his streets, and taking them down just seemed like a silly endeavor. No one would notice that he killed these leeches of society, and it wouldn’t be long before other leeches latched on to the corpse that is this crowded sardine can. Smeared in oil, sweat, blood, and fear. At such point, Jack would lay his head down on his pillow, hoping to slip away into the ocean.

A few houses away, and down a dark alley way you would meet a girl who only goes by the handle Johann. Her face fair, her height challenged. It was like having all of the skin color crayons just melt together to form a brand new skin color. Johann wasn’t alone either, walking side by side with a rather taller man in a long brown trench coat, one where the collar flipped up to break the line of sight with his facial features. His curly brown hair stuffed out of his hat, like trying force a hat to catch a hairy mess, and getting some overflow. As the two walked through the back alley, they happened upon a broken window that belonged to an old type shop. Bottles of printing ink were strewn across the floor, like an enlarged speckled dusting. Old printers were still on display, showing off the archaic technology that was replaced by screens that emit light, demanding your full attention, all eyes on the glass. Johann pulled out a small, thin device with a single digit of light. It flashed multiple times as she waved it over several of the printer cartridges as if the device was a wand.

No reason to spend any more time with your mind somewhere else. He grabbed his black faded leather coat, throwing it on over his cotton vest. Jack dressed as if he was expecting an environmental disaster. He also tended to carry a bag full of clothes to wear in case his current gettup was spoiled, blood being unsightly and all. He had just polished his gun last night, so maintenance would most likely not be required. His house sat between a row of small duplexes that ran the course of the street. He threw his slacks on, and fastened his belt tightly around his waist. His snub stuck out neatly from his belt. He stared out of the front window of his door out onto the poisonous city outside that door. The constant night made his duty even more difficult. Years on this beat, this dead, graveyard of a shift. Not many could do what he could though, not since the collapse.

Jack left his apartment complex, shutting the door behind him. He twisted the lock mechanism until he heard the ‘clink’. His job is simple. Anyone that isn’t sleeping in their beds is a suspect, and they are to be treated as such. He strode down the sidewalk from his apartment, taking the path to the right. He immediately turned down the alley by the back side of his apartment complex. This is where ’Night Owl’s would perch, waiting for trespassers to break the ordinances. As he walked into the alley, the moonlight seemed to shimmer. Those shadows consumed everything in the alley until all that was left was the glint of street light shining into the vacant space in front of him. To the right, the ladder to a fire escape hung down in reach. He climbed the fire escape with ease, making it to the top of the escape where a rusty old lawn chair laid open on the grate floor. Jack sat in the rusty old lawn chair, watching the dead silence of the street work its way into obscurity below him.

Ten years ago, something genetic changed dramatically within the general populace. The night owl lifestyle seemed to fade against choice. Now, the human mind, shuts off like a light switch after midnight. Scientists tried to study the event to find out why, or how this change occurred. Some say the natural rhythms within our mind backfired, and rewired to only operate during the day. There were theories about the solar patterns, and how the human mind wrapped around those patterns in an almost self-defense to our life style of defying natural human order. Curiously enough, drugs that alter the brain chemistry called stims, were being used in an attempt to curb the effects. The drugs were highly unstable, and dangerous for consumption. Those afflicted were victims, or made others victims in violence. It was only a matter of time until the world's governments got together to take matters in their own hands. So in light of this new demand to the human condition, new breed of human were created to defend the inhabitants of this world from those who were afflicted by . The term ‘Night Owl’s was coined by one Alfred Dimewise. A method and technique of an experimental surgery procedure was performed on select men and women. The procedure would change the wrinkles on the surface of the brain, and rewrite the circadian rhythm to usher out a need of sleep. It was like constantly feeling the effects of caffeine without any crash. Always awake, always alert without any negative physical or mental side effects. The human mind wasn’t made to be exploited like ‘so’. Many of those men and women who now had this extra time on their hands, changed forever, now and ever. A world without sleep looks like a child had a temper tantrum with an etch a sketch. Lines scribbled like the tall building that used to be the obelisks of praise for the capitalist world. It was a world that ceased to exist after the event. How could an economy with no working force even survive? Quick answer, it doesn’t. The powers that rose, sprung from the ashes of the old world with tremendous force, nothing that could be argued with.

Night Owl’s, a fearsome breed of methodical humans. Everything is now initiated by their own minds, so autonomous behavior is no longer valid. They control their breathing, their heart beats, their muscles every contraction, the tiny little hairs standing on their necks. It is all felt, all controlled. Imagine having control of every single cell within your body, pulsating and pounding its way into your skull.

Jack was a very efficient night owl albeit stubborn, with the purpose of dispatching night dwellers. Those who prey on the world that can no longer stay with the darkness. Soaring with a sense of sensibility, and pride that cannot be faded. He moves from job to job without question. Given an operation, his only concern is to finish his assignment. He broke the promises that were made to his family, those sacred promises that were there to be exposed by those who wouldn’t care a bit, but he would always feel the sting. He was supposed to make something honest of himself, but this wasn’t the truth he seeked, it wasn’t the honesty he wanted to feel. His body ached constantly now, without any forgiveness. This was a common attribute of night owls. They were unable to stop the constant shaking of their tired muscles. Forever to be wired and rattled.

Jack was no different, his gun was an extension of who he was. Most men don’t need a reason to be faithful to their own dignity, but Jack had been on the precipice of doubt for an extremely long time, He was scared to continue forward without some loaded metal on his side, insuring that he would be able to shoot first without too much competition. Like all the other night owls, his iron felt like it needed to be on his hip for himself just as much as others.

The world adjusted at its own pace, and internet media had a resurgence, a reinvention. Night Net was developed to satiate the needs of the many while all slumbered forcefully. It’s an electrical highjack of the sleeping mind. The consciousness is tapped into, and made the user control interface for the internet. There were many obstacles to make this process fully work however. The first obstacle was to make the consciousness fully aware without being awake, and maintain the consciousness through use. The second obstacle was ensuring that the body didn’t exhaust through the period of use, which was done by injecting chemical inhibitors into the user’s neck whilst using the Night Net. The third obstacle was making the user interface completely multi-functional.

Johann sifted through the rest of the printers, then eureka. A red flash emanated from the device, beacon of attention flashing repeatedly. The gentleman walked upside Johann with a closed tightened fist, his other hand loosely fingering his pocket.

“Is that it?” The Gentleman said, sounding exhausted by the night's activities.

“Indeed, Reginald” Johann replied placing the wand device back into her coat.

“We best be on our way Johann, before any more Night Owls meet their eyes on us…”

“Is that fear I hear in your voice, Reginald?”

“Absolutely, M’lady. We don’t want to push lady luck.”

“That’s… Okay, Reginald. I guess we can always come back to scout the area later. Other remnants could be hiding out in this little shade”

The two figures packed up their belongings, grabbed the printer they were examining and placed it into a large tote.

Jack hustled his way down the dank corridors of the broken down shanty shade of a town. The Great Fall, or economic crisis of 2023 had spelt the death for the major operating firms that functioned inside the closed community of York Town. Made sufficient by a local community of labourers, once the major firms and practices closed their doors, the distribution centers nearby up rooted, and replanted themselves with other industrial conflict areas. These areas were breeding grounds for corporate espionage and warfare. Such was the direction of the business world. Capitalism, they used to say, gave way to this violent phenomena, but honestly, it was only a matter of time until companies would view their properties as actual battlegrounds. After a unified group of rule makers had broken down the riots of 2024, we were left with this dilapidated shit hole.

Hearing the rustle of feet down the way, Jack began to move with more of a vindictive speed. The clocks had clearly all ran out, he shouldn’t be able to hear anyone at this time of night doing anything other than sleeping. As he turned the corner, groping his way down the alley, grabbing onto the bricks that were barely hanging from their mortar. The light shined from the moon into his eyes, as he saw a female figure slowly turn, silver threaded hair floating weightlessly without effort to the side as she turned her head towards Jack. She stood there, in front of what looked like an old typewriter emporium. Another thing that hipsters brought back after The Great Fall.

“Reginald, it’s time now” She said, keeping her eyes on Jack. Reginald walked calmly out of the storefront, disappearing into the alley to the side. Jack knew he had to act quick.

“By ordinance of the New York City curfew, you will have to come with me” Jack said, authoritatively while fighting the flood of moonlight in his eyes.

“Sorry, sir. I can’t do that.” Johann said, taking a slight step back towards the storefront.

“Are you resisting?” Jack said, holding a hand over his forehead, trying to block the light out.

Reginald quickly flashed in front of Johann on a motorbike, it was nice, something that was definitely wasn’t street legal, extremely quiet. Johann lifted her right leg over the bike, settling herself on the back seat.

“No, I just really have to be somewhere else right now” Johann said with a curled lip.

Jack snapped his snub nose out, out stretching his arm, drawing the hammer back.

They were gone in a cloud of dust just before the hammer came slamming down.

Jack was left standing with his snub pulled, arm stretched outwards in true wonder.

The rest of the night went as expected, little interruption. Earlier events were still bugging him to no end, he spent the next couple hours trying to understand why they were up and about. They didn’t look tainted, or broken for that matter. Most people can’t keep their ducks in a row after a few days of overexposure. He searched local databases, and contacted the Council. Nothing, nada, zilch. He cross referenced the name she spoke with the databases of known Night Owls. Still, nothing came back. After his shift was over, he walked all the way back to his run down shanty. He climbed the stairs, opening the door with a minor pulse of aggression. He was looking for the nearest chair to sit and forget.

He put his nightcap on, to keep the sun out of his eyes. It distracted him, made him remember everything that came before he had opted into this program. Jack had a modest life before he was a Night Owl. He was a printer salesman at Kinkos. No, it wasn’t glamorous, but it didn’t include the possibility of being shot at, drugged, knocked unconscious, stabbed, mutilated, restless leg syndrome all day (not all of the procedures went as planned). This was the price to pay though, not a bad one either. He was given new purpose, and an escape from the monotonous life he was caged into. Women were never really a concern of his, and this wasn’t to do with a lack of sexual interest. He had become quite comfortable being a hermit. He wasn’t overly attractive, so unwanted attention (yeah, right) would never be a problem for him. Anyways, with his new lifestyle, the only eyes he’d draw would be from lovely junkie's and gang bangers that are too doped out of their minds to make rational thoughts.

The internet was busy. His inquiries had peaked the interest of several parties. They all had jammed his inbox full of responses. He felt wind come over him. The front door was opened. He quickly threw his night cap off and adjusted his eyes to the light. Five sharply dressed, fit men surrounded his chair. Their faces were almost one in the same. The same short fade haircut, the same annoying, old, slavic eastern bloc man smell just oozed of their skin. He shook his head.

“You all smell terrible.” Jack said wiping his nose away from the stench.

“Jack, Jack Dimewise ?” A voice asked from out of view. Jack shook his head, evaluating the room, where the exits were, and whether or not he could accidentally apply too much pressure to one of the slavic eastern bloc man’s wrist, then wrap his other arm around the man’s neck and throw him through the wall. He gave it a decent thought then decided against it. He was out numbered. What ever this was, he felt the need to be patient… for just a while longer.

Out of the five, one man stood out from the rest. This was the one that had spoke first to Jack. His suit was slightly altered from the rest, with a smooth red silk scarf nestled just atop of his shoulders. His face looked slightly less for the wear and tear his other men displayed. He wore a pair of blindingly shined shoes that reflected the prospects of the surrounding room. He was like a beacon of hope in the middle of a tacky dressed ocean of bad tastes.

“Take him in”

Jack felt a needle plunge into his neck, and watched his world go black.

As Jack awoke, he found himself lying in a gurney, with all of the horribly dressed men, with their horrible smells operating these machines that looked oddly familiar. He felt cold, and the metal substructure he was surrounded by suggested that he had been taken somewhere underground.

“I appreciate your behavior, or lack of violent behavior to be exact. It’s refreshing to say the least.”

“I’d rather not pay for damages, Night Owls don’t make that much anymore.” Jack said with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

“A sense of humor, that will help this whole thing from being too boring. A like that.”

“Alright, cut the small talk. You bust into my home, you wake me up, what is it you want?”

“I can also appreciate the forwardness, excellent. You recently made inquires about a strange couple. A girl, small… and a man, large. Burly, even.”

“Yeah!? Your point? I run into people all the time, it kind of comes with the job.”

“Yes, well… These ‘people’... well they’re not ‘run of the mill’. They’re unregistered Night Owls… and my corporation is hunting them for stolen technology.”

“Night Owls… No they’re not! Are you kidding me? I mean, they definitely are up to something, but they’re not Night Owls. My tech would have captured their tags anyways. Night Owls get Optic implants, we’d be able to see each other's tags if that’s the case.”

“I said I liked you, but you’re not being very bright. I said… Unregistered...They have no record.”

“You know… Only two corporation make Night Owls anymore… Dimewise Corp, and Broken Corp. Only two…”

“I’m a representative of Titan Applications… We are a military funded organization that has ties with over ten countries, and defense contracts that would make Dimewise and Broken seem like jokes.”

“Never heard of ya.”

“And you never will. We operate on a different level. The point, Titan Apps is looking to recover this stolen tech from those two you ran into earlier tonight. They have been sabotaging Titan warehouses in New York for the better half of a month now. Our investors are not enjoying this behavior, so I was sent to correct it. On that note… I am formally offering you a job.”

“See, we’ve heard of you, Jack… The son of the great Alfred Dimewise. You denied your inheritance, became a test subject in the most dangerous project known to man… and you were commonly known as the Beast during the the Brooklyn Riots… You single handedly tore down the city's biggest drug supply rings and kingpins… Don’t play coy…”

Jack looked around the room, eyes darting for a little piece of clarity, maybe an oppurtunity to escape. He didn’t enjoy talking about what he had done, and the things he had done just in the name of the greed filth full corporation's controlling his actions down to the people he had to eradicate. As he looked around the room, he started recognizing the tech that was running on the computers, they were all Dimewise operating systems.

“You’re lying.” Jack said with conviction.

“...” The sharp dressed man was filled with silence, then started grimacing, upset by his ruse that was already foiled.

“You’re right. My name is Cameron. I work for an organization, on the down low… or how many of you refer to the underground.”

Jack sat in silence, waiting to hear the explanation.

Footsteps could be heard outside of the room coming from behind a set of double doors. They swung open to reveal Johann and the burly bodyguard walking through.

“M’kay, that is enough Cameron. Just hang your head in shame already, I told you that he would catch on quick enough.”

“ Alright, boss. You were right.” Cameron walked away letting out a huge sigh.

Jack laid upon the gurney with a look of pure shock on his face.