Late Night Project
The prominent security camera captured the white van as it careened out of the parking lot. Johnny didn’t notice the camera, or anything else as he pounded his fist against the roof of the van in excitement. Harry, sitting in the front, tossed Johnny a cell phone; it’s attention light blinking as it buzzed mutely.
Johnny flipped the phone open and held it to his ear, his other hand braced against the side panel of the van as it banked onto the street, “Yea, boss man, the job’s done.” As he said these words, he glanced out the darkened windows of the van in time to see orange and yellow flames shatter the windows on the second story of HighNorth`’s secondary data center. Johnny laughed, his giggle ringing in the tinny space of the van. “The place is fried, man, burned and roasted.”
“Well done, my boy, well done,” the voice on the other end of the line sounded pleased, “You’ve struck a great blow against these corporate Big Brothers. I knew you could do it. Thank you.”
Johnny grinned from ear to ear and gave a thumbs-up to his eagerly listening companions. “Thank you, man. We’re just glad to help. Fuck ‘em, y’know?”
The voice chuckled, “Yes, I know. Listen, where are you now? We’d like to arrange a pickup for you and your friends, show our appreciation.”
“Sure, man, sure.” Johnny leaned into the front seats, peering out the windshield, “Uh, we’re crossing Dartmouth now, man, on Patrick heading towards the convention center.”
“Yes, I know exactly where you are,” the voice chuckled again and Johnny thought he heard typing. “Did anyone see you do the job?”
“Well, there were the security guys, but we tagged ‘em with the sprays you gave us and they dropped like sacks of rocks. You sure they’ll be ok? They didn’t move at all after that, not even breathing.” A little worry crept into Johnny’s voice.
“Not to worry, my boy, it’s a very effective sedative. They should be coming around in a few minutes. They’ll have a painful headache, but nothing more. You did drag them away from the fire, right? Don’t want them burned up, do we?”
“Oh yea, boss man, we pulled them clear before we set the charges. But, besides the guards, there were just a few techs in the data center itself. We let ‘em run, like you told us, but we took credit first. Told ‘em who we were and why that place had to burn.”
“Excellent. Good job. We’re all very proud of you. We have some important missions coming up and I think you and your friends would be perfect for it,” the voice said.
“Thanks, man, that’s all we want, y’know? To be part of the mission. Make our mark. Do something about all this, not just let it happen, like our parents, man, y’know?” Johnny was about to slip into a rant when Aaron interrupted him.
“Uh, dude?” Aaron slapped him on the shoulder, pointing out the back window urgently. A police car had just pulled out from a side street; it’s lights turning on and siren beginning to sound. It came up behind them and Johnny could see the faces of the two cops inside, grim faced and serious, far more serious than Johnny had been up until this moment.
“We’ve got the squeeze, boss man. They just tagged us and are on our six.” Johnny had learned the slang from movies and it somehow made him less scared when he said it.
“Well, that was a risk, my boy, but I’m sure you and your friends can handle it.” The voice was calm, very calm. Somehow that didn’t make Johnny feel better.
“But how, man? We’ve never done this before, y’know? Dodged a few rentals at the mall and stuff, but nothing like this.” Johnny hated to admit this, but he wasn’t a seasoned anti-corporate freedom fighter yet.
“There should be right turn coming up, on Archer. Take that and cut through the shopping district a few blocks down. They won’t dare take you there, with all the store security cameras. It’ll give the pigs too much bad press.”
“Right, right, of course.” Johnny relayed the directions to Will, who was behind the wheel. The tires squealed and the van tilted dangerously to the side as it took the corner at high speed.
“Shit, man, it’s a roadblock. We’re fucked!” Johnny stared out the windshield in disbelief at the two police cars pulled across the street blocking their path. The flashing lights cast dance floor strobe effects into the interior of the van, alternating blue and red. Johnny turned and looked out the back window at their pursuers, who had now skidded sideways, blocking any retreat. Two more police cars were coming in behind that, sirens blaring.
Sweat broke out on his palms, pinpricks of fear, as Johnny lifted the phone again to his ear, “What do we do, man? Tell me what to do, boss man.” But the voice had hung up, a single tone ringing over the speaker. Will slammed on the brakes and the van shuddered to a stop. The phone still clamped to his ear, Johnny stared out at the cops braced on the hoods and roofs of the police cars, guns in outstretched hands. A loudspeaker came on, demanding they step out of the car, their hands over their heads and get down on the ground. “What do we do?” Johnny kept repeating softly into the dead phone line, “what do we do?”
Mr. Denson tossed the erased cell phone into his wastebasket and smiled, watching the television news helicopter hover over the scene of the police arresting four young terrorists after a daring but short-lived high-speed chase. The monotone of the news anchor was relating how the terrorists had killed four security guards and destroyed millions of dollars in property. HighNorth’s stock was going to plummet in the morning, and his company was poised to enter some of the lucrative sectors HighNorth used to control. This had been a profitable night.
Johnny flipped the phone open and held it to his ear, his other hand braced against the side panel of the van as it banked onto the street, “Yea, boss man, the job’s done.” As he said these words, he glanced out the darkened windows of the van in time to see orange and yellow flames shatter the windows on the second story of HighNorth`’s secondary data center. Johnny laughed, his giggle ringing in the tinny space of the van. “The place is fried, man, burned and roasted.”
“Well done, my boy, well done,” the voice on the other end of the line sounded pleased, “You’ve struck a great blow against these corporate Big Brothers. I knew you could do it. Thank you.”
Johnny grinned from ear to ear and gave a thumbs-up to his eagerly listening companions. “Thank you, man. We’re just glad to help. Fuck ‘em, y’know?”
The voice chuckled, “Yes, I know. Listen, where are you now? We’d like to arrange a pickup for you and your friends, show our appreciation.”
“Sure, man, sure.” Johnny leaned into the front seats, peering out the windshield, “Uh, we’re crossing Dartmouth now, man, on Patrick heading towards the convention center.”
“Yes, I know exactly where you are,” the voice chuckled again and Johnny thought he heard typing. “Did anyone see you do the job?”
“Well, there were the security guys, but we tagged ‘em with the sprays you gave us and they dropped like sacks of rocks. You sure they’ll be ok? They didn’t move at all after that, not even breathing.” A little worry crept into Johnny’s voice.
“Not to worry, my boy, it’s a very effective sedative. They should be coming around in a few minutes. They’ll have a painful headache, but nothing more. You did drag them away from the fire, right? Don’t want them burned up, do we?”
“Oh yea, boss man, we pulled them clear before we set the charges. But, besides the guards, there were just a few techs in the data center itself. We let ‘em run, like you told us, but we took credit first. Told ‘em who we were and why that place had to burn.”
“Excellent. Good job. We’re all very proud of you. We have some important missions coming up and I think you and your friends would be perfect for it,” the voice said.
“Thanks, man, that’s all we want, y’know? To be part of the mission. Make our mark. Do something about all this, not just let it happen, like our parents, man, y’know?” Johnny was about to slip into a rant when Aaron interrupted him.
“Uh, dude?” Aaron slapped him on the shoulder, pointing out the back window urgently. A police car had just pulled out from a side street; it’s lights turning on and siren beginning to sound. It came up behind them and Johnny could see the faces of the two cops inside, grim faced and serious, far more serious than Johnny had been up until this moment.
“We’ve got the squeeze, boss man. They just tagged us and are on our six.” Johnny had learned the slang from movies and it somehow made him less scared when he said it.
“Well, that was a risk, my boy, but I’m sure you and your friends can handle it.” The voice was calm, very calm. Somehow that didn’t make Johnny feel better.
“But how, man? We’ve never done this before, y’know? Dodged a few rentals at the mall and stuff, but nothing like this.” Johnny hated to admit this, but he wasn’t a seasoned anti-corporate freedom fighter yet.
“There should be right turn coming up, on Archer. Take that and cut through the shopping district a few blocks down. They won’t dare take you there, with all the store security cameras. It’ll give the pigs too much bad press.”
“Right, right, of course.” Johnny relayed the directions to Will, who was behind the wheel. The tires squealed and the van tilted dangerously to the side as it took the corner at high speed.
“Shit, man, it’s a roadblock. We’re fucked!” Johnny stared out the windshield in disbelief at the two police cars pulled across the street blocking their path. The flashing lights cast dance floor strobe effects into the interior of the van, alternating blue and red. Johnny turned and looked out the back window at their pursuers, who had now skidded sideways, blocking any retreat. Two more police cars were coming in behind that, sirens blaring.
Sweat broke out on his palms, pinpricks of fear, as Johnny lifted the phone again to his ear, “What do we do, man? Tell me what to do, boss man.” But the voice had hung up, a single tone ringing over the speaker. Will slammed on the brakes and the van shuddered to a stop. The phone still clamped to his ear, Johnny stared out at the cops braced on the hoods and roofs of the police cars, guns in outstretched hands. A loudspeaker came on, demanding they step out of the car, their hands over their heads and get down on the ground. “What do we do?” Johnny kept repeating softly into the dead phone line, “what do we do?”
Mr. Denson tossed the erased cell phone into his wastebasket and smiled, watching the television news helicopter hover over the scene of the police arresting four young terrorists after a daring but short-lived high-speed chase. The monotone of the news anchor was relating how the terrorists had killed four security guards and destroyed millions of dollars in property. HighNorth’s stock was going to plummet in the morning, and his company was poised to enter some of the lucrative sectors HighNorth used to control. This had been a profitable night.
posted by Ryan at 7:38 AM
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