Chapter One: Go Code
The coffee house was not bustling with its normal activity, but as the morning sun struck Manhattan, setting light to the shimmering skyscrapers and the desolate 'dead cells' that died in their shadows, becoming like Swiss cheese – their windows all shattered – customers entered and exited the coffee house, grabbing their cold mochas and their espressos as they hurried off to work. A Monday…those were terrible.
In the shadow of the World Trade Center buildings, which remained in reconstruction, the coffee house sat subtle and quiet, a customer moving to a small table in the center of the room, a laptop sitting on it's counter. Computer and coffee had become an unbelievably popular phenomenon throughout the United States and much of England, and only the popular chains like Starbucks and Panera Bread held up, for they were of the few corporations with the money needed for such an unnatural supply of computers.
"Good morning!" and enthusiastic woman cried from behind the main service counter, to the customer as he passively gestured back with a subtle wave, and then took his seat. There was a backpack slung over his shoulder, it's stitching an odd red on a leather body. He glanced around for a moment, surveying the room, and then set the backpack at his feet as he looked up to the dim-screened laptop, his hands reaching for the keyboard, hungrily.
"Good morning, sir," a waitress greeted him – order tablet in hand. He turned his head, noticing first, the torturing length of her jean shorts that were cut rigidly inches below her waistline, exposing the top strings of her bright green underwear. His eyes slowly lifted past her noticeably pierced belly button and her tank top that was cut, hanging just slightly over her breast. Her hair was wavy, falling to her shoulders in a glimmering blond bangle, and he grinned slightly, his eyes focused on her chest.
"Why, good morning," he finally replied in a wide smile.
"What would you like this morning? Or do you need a few moments?" He pondered this, and even though he knew exactly what he wanted, he nodded his head only slightly, smiling still. "Could you give me just a minute?" he asked, and she smiled in return, nodded her head, and then turned swiftly to the service counter, her walk a tantalizingly seductive dance. He peered after her, a longing in his heart and between his legs, but he shrugged it off for a moment, a slight smirk still imprinted on his face as he turned back to the laptop.
He was young, the customer, and appeared no older than 25. His hair was fairly long, cut not too far down the neck, and just shaggy enough – but not too shaggy – to attract a great deal of women. His skin was tanned, accenting his brown (blond tipped) hair with a certain wild sensation. His hands were smooth, his arms firmly built, and his taste in clothes: very nice. He wore a short-sleeved shirt, its colors faded, that cut up halfway up the kink in his arm, showing off his muscle, and his pants were khakis – not too dressy, but not too crowded with those giant pockets. As he turned back to the laptop, what he didn't know was that the waitress's eyes were staring at him, just as his had stared at her.
He worked his way through a few windows, using the touch-pad mouse – which he seemed a master of – to move through them, until he turned to his pack and began to unzip the smallest compartment: a pouch that was accessible on the front of the pack. Scavenging through it with his right hand, he pulled forth a thin CD case, concealing it in his lap as the waitress returned to take his order. "Ready?" she asked, and he turned, examining her great body again before answering with a slick tone.
"Yea," he replied. "Could I have a Grande Mocha and a…hmm…Turkey Breast on sourdough?" He seemed to pronounce 'breast' with emphasis, and the waitress seemed too taken with his looks to write the order down, only nodding once before going off again, adding an extra bounce to her step…just for him. He grinned, noticing the extra bounce, and then returned to his computer, slipping the CD case from his lap and opening it on the table.
Over the CD sat a slip of paper, folded once. He pulled it forward, reading it to himself as he moved through a few more windows before a notice popped onto the screen. It read:
"C: Drive is locked to customers. If you are staff, enter the Lock Code to Unlock the CD-ROM"
The man smiled a quick smile, and looked at the paper once more, entering the numbers on it, into the computer with his free hand. When he had concluded, he slid his fingers over the touch-pad and pressed down, lightly, as the cursor hovered over "OK."
Suddenly, there was a lurching in the depth of the computer as it thought out loud, its voice implying that his request had been accepted and was slowly being processed. He waited impatiently, his hands tapping his thighs, playing a soft rhythm to himself. Quickly, that tune ceased. 'You gotta stay quiet,' he thought. 'Fit in, and it'll all go as planned.'
Then, he heard growing footsteps behind him…they stopped, hovering over him like death. Slowly, he turned, seeing the waitress behind him, a tray held in the palm of her hand. On it sat a mug and saucer, along with a plate decorated with a colorful sandwich, lettuce and tomatoes slipping out on either side of the bread. The man looked up at her and set his index finger steadily over his lips, and hissed, "Shh."
He held out his hand, stroking her leg lightly, and se quickly retreated a step, her nerves shattered. "Thank you," the man said, trying to make the scene a little less awkward, and at his smile, she could do nothing but smile, setting the tray on the counter and unloading his order beside the laptop. She quickly straightened, her eyes playing with his heart before she turned and hurried off to the service counter. 'She wont talk,' he thought, and he quickly returned to his laptop, cuddling his Mocha in his hands, taking a sip, setting it back on the saucer, and plucking the CD from its case as the CD-ROM slid out, revealing a single CD: the one responsible for running the Drive Lock software that had previously sat in his way.
He removed the Drive Lock CD, and inserted his own, lightly pushing on the side of the platform, watching it hurry back into the laptop. Then, it thought, and he took that moment to return his CD case to his pack and take a few bites of his sandwich, along with a few gulps of his Grande Mocha before it promptly loaded, a new window appearing on the screen. The window was one narrow line of text, and a simple "OK" button sat at its right. Quickly, the man slid the cursor to the "OK" and pressed lightly, windows popping up in the background seamlessly loading files into the computer as he worked.
There was a moment of subtleness. The man ate his sandwich, the waitress gazed at him, and the computer loaded…slowly. The sounds of cars zooming past on the street easily visible from the glass wall of the coffee house were commonplace in Manhattan. Everywhere anyone went, there was noise. Whether it was oddly peaceful in the center of a flourishing, colorful park – trees placed randomly through the expanse of grass – or in the very center of a junkyard, cars falling around you as workers yelled wild obscenities to enhance the 'brute work' feel. However one looked at it…there was noise everywhere.
"Software Loaded," a mall window appeared, clarifying the success of his action. He looked at it, pleased, and set down his sandwich, moving his chair closer to the table as he put his hands to the keyboard. He clicked that window off the screen, and another appeared, "Open Program 'Go Code'?". There was a small gray button beneath the message, and as he moved the cursor to it the waiter's beautiful, sexy voice returned, echoing in his ear, and turning him away from the computer in an instant.
"Is everything good?" She asked, an uneasy but returning seductive gaze in her eyes. The man pondered his answer, and while it was an obvious 'Yes' he didn't think that would get him any closer to this magnificent woman. 'What to say…' he pondered, 'what to say…'
"You are gorgeous," he blurted, coolly. She smiled at his reply, twiddling her pen in her fingers, and shifting her wait to her left leg, and slipping her thumb into the top of her jeans, sliding them down an inch to reveal more of her skin and those bright green underwear.
"I kinda meant your order," she returned.
"That doesn't change my answer," he said. "You wanna," he began, looking around the room again to reassure himself of the numbers, "go into the bathroom?" She looked around too, analyzing the slim population of the coffee house, and then looked back, nodding… 'Damn!' he thought. 'Even her nod was sexy!' The man smiled and then lifted his index finger once more, signaling a need for just another moment to himself. "Let me take care of this real quick, and then we can have a little fun," he said, and she smiled, quickly turning to the service counter, and strutted back, her step still bouncy. She was willing to give him his minute, but when they were in the bathroom, he was all hers.
Returning to his laptop, he analyzed the notice. "Open Program 'Go Code'?" it said. 'Hmm…' he pondered momentarily, slowly moving the cursor toward the "OK" button beneath the message. Click!
Suddenly, a chat room window popped up on the screen, and the man watched as another user signed in, going by the screen name: XcolonelX. The man smiled, slightly, and began to type to the other user.
"Is everyone in place?" he typed, and waited for the other user to reply.
"Yes sir. Police have been notified of the 'biological scare'…when our men move, all of Manhattan will be quarantined." The user returned.
"Good. Are the choppers on their way?"
"Yea, but…sir, what is this for?" There was a silence as the man at the laptop contemplated his answer.
"Colonel, you are in charge of military affairs. You do your part, I'll do mine."
"That's not good enough, sir."
"Of course it is."
"You order the Go Code without telling me, and this mission goes nowhere."
Silence. "We know where the Patriot is hiding. We're going to lock him inside, too."
"And you don't think he has a counter-offensive ready for you?"
"That's exactly it, Colonel. Once he acts, we'll follow. And then we'll find exactly what we want," the man typed. "Colonel, I am sending the Go Code now. Keep me updated." He turned to the woman at the service counter and smiled. "I have some business of my own."
"Yes sir. Thank you."
"No, no…thank you." The man scrolled over to the bottom of the chat window and found a small button entitled 'Go Code'. His cursor sat there for a moment, and the other user signed off. "Be ready for a bam, Manhattan…" he whispered, and lightly pushed upon the touch-pad.
"'Go Code' initiated."
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This chapter is an…epilogue. Or you could say…prologue. Look out, because a sequel is coming your way. (Sorry Otaku, I couldn't hold myself back () Please R&R. I know you don't know much, but tell me if you like what you do know. Thanks.
The coffee house was not bustling with its normal activity, but as the morning sun struck Manhattan, setting light to the shimmering skyscrapers and the desolate 'dead cells' that died in their shadows, becoming like Swiss cheese – their windows all shattered – customers entered and exited the coffee house, grabbing their cold mochas and their espressos as they hurried off to work. A Monday…those were terrible.
In the shadow of the World Trade Center buildings, which remained in reconstruction, the coffee house sat subtle and quiet, a customer moving to a small table in the center of the room, a laptop sitting on it's counter. Computer and coffee had become an unbelievably popular phenomenon throughout the United States and much of England, and only the popular chains like Starbucks and Panera Bread held up, for they were of the few corporations with the money needed for such an unnatural supply of computers.
"Good morning!" and enthusiastic woman cried from behind the main service counter, to the customer as he passively gestured back with a subtle wave, and then took his seat. There was a backpack slung over his shoulder, it's stitching an odd red on a leather body. He glanced around for a moment, surveying the room, and then set the backpack at his feet as he looked up to the dim-screened laptop, his hands reaching for the keyboard, hungrily.
"Good morning, sir," a waitress greeted him – order tablet in hand. He turned his head, noticing first, the torturing length of her jean shorts that were cut rigidly inches below her waistline, exposing the top strings of her bright green underwear. His eyes slowly lifted past her noticeably pierced belly button and her tank top that was cut, hanging just slightly over her breast. Her hair was wavy, falling to her shoulders in a glimmering blond bangle, and he grinned slightly, his eyes focused on her chest.
"Why, good morning," he finally replied in a wide smile.
"What would you like this morning? Or do you need a few moments?" He pondered this, and even though he knew exactly what he wanted, he nodded his head only slightly, smiling still. "Could you give me just a minute?" he asked, and she smiled in return, nodded her head, and then turned swiftly to the service counter, her walk a tantalizingly seductive dance. He peered after her, a longing in his heart and between his legs, but he shrugged it off for a moment, a slight smirk still imprinted on his face as he turned back to the laptop.
He was young, the customer, and appeared no older than 25. His hair was fairly long, cut not too far down the neck, and just shaggy enough – but not too shaggy – to attract a great deal of women. His skin was tanned, accenting his brown (blond tipped) hair with a certain wild sensation. His hands were smooth, his arms firmly built, and his taste in clothes: very nice. He wore a short-sleeved shirt, its colors faded, that cut up halfway up the kink in his arm, showing off his muscle, and his pants were khakis – not too dressy, but not too crowded with those giant pockets. As he turned back to the laptop, what he didn't know was that the waitress's eyes were staring at him, just as his had stared at her.
He worked his way through a few windows, using the touch-pad mouse – which he seemed a master of – to move through them, until he turned to his pack and began to unzip the smallest compartment: a pouch that was accessible on the front of the pack. Scavenging through it with his right hand, he pulled forth a thin CD case, concealing it in his lap as the waitress returned to take his order. "Ready?" she asked, and he turned, examining her great body again before answering with a slick tone.
"Yea," he replied. "Could I have a Grande Mocha and a…hmm…Turkey Breast on sourdough?" He seemed to pronounce 'breast' with emphasis, and the waitress seemed too taken with his looks to write the order down, only nodding once before going off again, adding an extra bounce to her step…just for him. He grinned, noticing the extra bounce, and then returned to his computer, slipping the CD case from his lap and opening it on the table.
Over the CD sat a slip of paper, folded once. He pulled it forward, reading it to himself as he moved through a few more windows before a notice popped onto the screen. It read:
"C: Drive is locked to customers. If you are staff, enter the Lock Code to Unlock the CD-ROM"
The man smiled a quick smile, and looked at the paper once more, entering the numbers on it, into the computer with his free hand. When he had concluded, he slid his fingers over the touch-pad and pressed down, lightly, as the cursor hovered over "OK."
Suddenly, there was a lurching in the depth of the computer as it thought out loud, its voice implying that his request had been accepted and was slowly being processed. He waited impatiently, his hands tapping his thighs, playing a soft rhythm to himself. Quickly, that tune ceased. 'You gotta stay quiet,' he thought. 'Fit in, and it'll all go as planned.'
Then, he heard growing footsteps behind him…they stopped, hovering over him like death. Slowly, he turned, seeing the waitress behind him, a tray held in the palm of her hand. On it sat a mug and saucer, along with a plate decorated with a colorful sandwich, lettuce and tomatoes slipping out on either side of the bread. The man looked up at her and set his index finger steadily over his lips, and hissed, "Shh."
He held out his hand, stroking her leg lightly, and se quickly retreated a step, her nerves shattered. "Thank you," the man said, trying to make the scene a little less awkward, and at his smile, she could do nothing but smile, setting the tray on the counter and unloading his order beside the laptop. She quickly straightened, her eyes playing with his heart before she turned and hurried off to the service counter. 'She wont talk,' he thought, and he quickly returned to his laptop, cuddling his Mocha in his hands, taking a sip, setting it back on the saucer, and plucking the CD from its case as the CD-ROM slid out, revealing a single CD: the one responsible for running the Drive Lock software that had previously sat in his way.
He removed the Drive Lock CD, and inserted his own, lightly pushing on the side of the platform, watching it hurry back into the laptop. Then, it thought, and he took that moment to return his CD case to his pack and take a few bites of his sandwich, along with a few gulps of his Grande Mocha before it promptly loaded, a new window appearing on the screen. The window was one narrow line of text, and a simple "OK" button sat at its right. Quickly, the man slid the cursor to the "OK" and pressed lightly, windows popping up in the background seamlessly loading files into the computer as he worked.
There was a moment of subtleness. The man ate his sandwich, the waitress gazed at him, and the computer loaded…slowly. The sounds of cars zooming past on the street easily visible from the glass wall of the coffee house were commonplace in Manhattan. Everywhere anyone went, there was noise. Whether it was oddly peaceful in the center of a flourishing, colorful park – trees placed randomly through the expanse of grass – or in the very center of a junkyard, cars falling around you as workers yelled wild obscenities to enhance the 'brute work' feel. However one looked at it…there was noise everywhere.
"Software Loaded," a mall window appeared, clarifying the success of his action. He looked at it, pleased, and set down his sandwich, moving his chair closer to the table as he put his hands to the keyboard. He clicked that window off the screen, and another appeared, "Open Program 'Go Code'?". There was a small gray button beneath the message, and as he moved the cursor to it the waiter's beautiful, sexy voice returned, echoing in his ear, and turning him away from the computer in an instant.
"Is everything good?" She asked, an uneasy but returning seductive gaze in her eyes. The man pondered his answer, and while it was an obvious 'Yes' he didn't think that would get him any closer to this magnificent woman. 'What to say…' he pondered, 'what to say…'
"You are gorgeous," he blurted, coolly. She smiled at his reply, twiddling her pen in her fingers, and shifting her wait to her left leg, and slipping her thumb into the top of her jeans, sliding them down an inch to reveal more of her skin and those bright green underwear.
"I kinda meant your order," she returned.
"That doesn't change my answer," he said. "You wanna," he began, looking around the room again to reassure himself of the numbers, "go into the bathroom?" She looked around too, analyzing the slim population of the coffee house, and then looked back, nodding… 'Damn!' he thought. 'Even her nod was sexy!' The man smiled and then lifted his index finger once more, signaling a need for just another moment to himself. "Let me take care of this real quick, and then we can have a little fun," he said, and she smiled, quickly turning to the service counter, and strutted back, her step still bouncy. She was willing to give him his minute, but when they were in the bathroom, he was all hers.
Returning to his laptop, he analyzed the notice. "Open Program 'Go Code'?" it said. 'Hmm…' he pondered momentarily, slowly moving the cursor toward the "OK" button beneath the message. Click!
Suddenly, a chat room window popped up on the screen, and the man watched as another user signed in, going by the screen name: XcolonelX. The man smiled, slightly, and began to type to the other user.
"Is everyone in place?" he typed, and waited for the other user to reply.
"Yes sir. Police have been notified of the 'biological scare'…when our men move, all of Manhattan will be quarantined." The user returned.
"Good. Are the choppers on their way?"
"Yea, but…sir, what is this for?" There was a silence as the man at the laptop contemplated his answer.
"Colonel, you are in charge of military affairs. You do your part, I'll do mine."
"That's not good enough, sir."
"Of course it is."
"You order the Go Code without telling me, and this mission goes nowhere."
Silence. "We know where the Patriot is hiding. We're going to lock him inside, too."
"And you don't think he has a counter-offensive ready for you?"
"That's exactly it, Colonel. Once he acts, we'll follow. And then we'll find exactly what we want," the man typed. "Colonel, I am sending the Go Code now. Keep me updated." He turned to the woman at the service counter and smiled. "I have some business of my own."
"Yes sir. Thank you."
"No, no…thank you." The man scrolled over to the bottom of the chat window and found a small button entitled 'Go Code'. His cursor sat there for a moment, and the other user signed off. "Be ready for a bam, Manhattan…" he whispered, and lightly pushed upon the touch-pad.
"'Go Code' initiated."
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This chapter is an…epilogue. Or you could say…prologue. Look out, because a sequel is coming your way. (Sorry Otaku, I couldn't hold myself back () Please R&R. I know you don't know much, but tell me if you like what you do know. Thanks.