Young Writers Society

Chapter 1 - Purple Business

Stanton city, USA: June 14, 2017

Violet

The warm evening air was comforting after a drearily wet morning of damp concrete and overflowing gutters in Stanton city. The dark umbrellas had been folded and tucked away, and the urban creatures were beginning to stir once more.

Among the disgruntled pigeons perched on the edges of the rooftops sat a slender girl with dull brown hair. She swung her legs as she watched the dots of people moving below her apartment complex. They looked so helpless, so miniscule and insignificant. Raven knew from experience that these humans were nowhere near as invincible as so many people thought they were.

Brushing some unruly strands of hair behind her ear, she scanned the street below once more before jumping back onto the roof, headed for the ladder that led to the alley before. It was time for the evening patrol. She swiped her backpack from beside the door back into the apartment building, fumbling for the zipper along the side.

Swinging out and down the fire-escape ladder, Raven made the final jump to land on the lower building next door. By now she had rummaged through the pack to pull out the lump of violet-colored clothing buried in the bottom. The new building had a large air-conditioning unit around the gravel covering the roof, and she used its cover to her advantage to change from her street clothes into the purple bodysuit and black climbing boots. She threw her hair into a loose ponytail and tucked it under her collar before pulling a dark mask over her eyes, the final touch to her transformation.

Clicking the ever-present Blue-tooth in her ear, Raven murmured, "You there, Jack?"

A slightly robotic male voice replied in an indignant tone, "Really, now, Miss Keely, you know I prefer my full name, Jack-Al*. Or have you forgotten it?"

Raven huffed in annoyance. "I don't think I programmed you to be this sassy."

"You didn't, now?" the artificial intelligence snickered.

"No. Now shut up and check the systems."

Jack mimicked a sighing sound, an impressive feat considering he didn't breathe. Raven laughed as she bent down to tie her boots, then checked her tool-belt, inlaid in her suit.

"You are too dramatic, Jack."

"Jack-Al. And yes, miss. You made me, after all."

"All tools fully functional for evening patrol?" she inquired, ignoring his sarcasm.

There was a whirring sound as Jack proceeded with protocol. "Check."

"Great. Ready for takeoff."

Raven pulled out her grappling hook gun and aimed at the building across the street. She fired and took a deep breath before swinging several stories above ground level to drop onto a side balcony. The summer air felt so sweet, and Raven got distracted in the lovely feeling of faux-flight. Landing off balance, she stumbled and accidentally knocked over a flower pot, causing a crash loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood.

"Nice landing." Jack sniggered. Even the AI heard it.

"Shut up." Raven growled, and jumped over the railing of the balcony, shooting her grappling hook at the last second to slow her descent, landing softly in the dark, dank alley below.

"Looks like a lovely place for crime, right, Jack?" she commented, looking over the filthy dumpsters, soggy cigarettes, and piles of colored paper, obviously left over from drug dealers. The muddy smell of the nearby river and garbage clogged her nose, chasing away all remnants of the peaceful scents of summer she had felt moments ago.

The robot hurumphed. "You just love to taunt me, don't you. No eyes, remember?"

"Oops, silly me. Start the scanner."

"Yessir." Raven could almost hear the eye roll in Jack's tone.

While she waited for the criminals who were sure to show up, she occupied herself by prying open the lid of one of the less disgusting dumpsters, searching for any gadget parts to salvage. This business building beside her sometimes had some great computer components.

~ ~ ~ ~

Timothy Hawkins

The smell of cleaning spray and fresh carpet was everywhere as Timothy Sr., tall, muscular, dressed in business attire, accompanied by Timothy Jr., attired similarly with a red instead of blue tie, and tan instead of black suit coat and pants to match, walked briskly through the newly built Hawkins Industry Headquarters. Together there was no mistake that they were father and son. They both had ebony hair, parted down the middle, chins held high, business-like postures of backs straight, no smile, briefcases tucked under their arms.

Tim, as Timothy Jr. was referred to, enjoyed the smell. It was the smell of new offices, new carpets, newly painted walls. His dad didn't seem to notice. His face was a blank. But that was often the case Tim knew. Either his dad's face was blank, with his lips set in a straight line below a hawkish nose, or his face was livid with rage. There wasn't much in between.

While most teenagers would have been upset to have to dressed this way after coming home from school, Tim, however, enjoyed it. He felt a sense of dignity and respect being the son of the wealthiest man in Stanton City. And if dressing this way was part of the deal, he was glad to take it. After all, not everyone had this chance of a lifetime.

They stepped into an elevator and Timothy pressed the 4 button. There was silence except for the humming of the elevator. Tim and his dad both stood straight, waiting till the door made a dinging sound and opened. They stepped out in unison.

A lobby greeted them, decorated with fake trees in holders, a grey-green carpet design, white walls and dark trim. There was a half-oval desk spanning twenty feet at the center, lined with computers and attendants. A few people walked by, dressed in business attire.

Tim advanced to the desk with his dad. The woman at the desk looked up and said blandly: "Mr. Williams is here. He's waiting by your door." She pointed to the left where a short red-haired man sat on a bench, briefcase tucked between his legs, fidgeted. The door next to him had a gold plaque that read Office of Mr. Hawkins, President.

The pair opened the door and Williams took it as a cue to follow. The office was new like the rest of the building, the walls covered in pictures of former company owners. One rectangular window provided a view out across the city of Stanton. Tim stood behind his dad's large swivel chair as he delved immediately into the business at hand.

Tim listened intently as Williams began. "Mr Hawkins, sir, thank you for taking the time to see me."

Timothy merely nodded. "Proceed."

"Yes sir." The red-headed man squirmed in his chair and licked his lips. "I am here in place of Mister Colton who was suddenly called away out of state. Now," and he pulled out several papers from his briefcase, "here are the maps of the areas which you wish to buy from Colton Company."

Tim looked over his dad's shoulder and surveyed the black-and-white outlines. There seemed to be plenty of room for anything you might want to build. In this case it was a insurance buildings for his ever-growing company. He said nothing. Reacted in no way. Neither did his dad till he finally looked back to Williams.

"I do not see district three-sixty-seven through three-sixty-nine. Now when I spoke with your boss, he told me that the deal would include districts three-sixty-one to three-forty."

Tim internally smiled. This small, nervous man had no idea what a bad mistake that was. The man fidgeted.

"I'm, sorry Mr. Hawkins, but Mr. Colton has decided he wishes to retain possession of those districts."

Tim wasn't sure what it was that drew him away, just as his dad was no doubt about to unleash a tirade of words, but he turned to look out the window, parting the blinds, and saw a flash of purple down below a half-block away. Then it appeared again, straight below the office that he now occupied. It was at the side of the headquarters that nearly touched the river, and was used as the place for dumpers and all those things.

Tim squinted, realizing that it was no flash, but someone dressed in a purple tight-suit, a strange mask on their face, moving quickly. They looked around, then began to rummage through the dumpsters.

Tim said, "Excuse me Dad," and slipped out of the room. A few seconds later he could hear a lot of shouting coming from the office. Tim ignored the stares from those in the lobby, and slipped down the elevator.

He quickly made his way down three hallways, and found himself at a fire exit. He pushed open the door which led to an alleyway. Obviously this was the side of Hawkins Industries that no one ever saw. There were several dumpsters and trashcans, and the walls were covered in graffiti.

Voices from behind caused Tim to spin. coming his was were two guys, dressed in black shirts and pants hanging down well below their waists. They were discussing something and seemed to be getting mad at each other.

Before Tim could react, one of them spotted him. They looked at each other and then the guy flicked a blade from his back pocket. He approached Tim who shied back.

"Hey, kid, Scram."

Tim stood still for a second, not sure what was going on.

"Now!" the guy yelled. Tim jumped, heart beating, and turned to leave, only to stumble into someone clad in purple tights and what looked like a utility belt.

"Don't. Anybody. Move."

As/N: The rating is for the entire story, readers! Yes, this chapter had no violence, but latter chapters will, so we felt it best to rate it as if it were a published book!

*Artificial Intelligence