Iron Man 2099UG #5 (Volume 3)

It was good to sleep in his own bed, Roy Gladney thought rolling over onto his side in an attempt to get comfortable. It had been one of those stressful crazy weeks that you have once every ten years multiplied by three. He was just glad that it was over and out of New York and back in Spartanburg. He was also glad that Sama hadn't asked to him to stay, like he did Spiller. If Spiller had only listened to him the first time around about the Iron Man project and not just disregard whatever he might have said at those blasted meetings of his.

Roy flipped over again, grumbling quietly to himself how uncomfortable he was. He again quickly flipped over to his back trying to force his mind to shut off. He was tried of thinking of what might become of Spiller, in all honesty Gladney cared as much for Spiller as he did morning breathe.

A flash of light emanated from Gladney's bedside and a voice he had come to know from the past ten years spoke out.

"You have a message." The voice was young and vibrant, resembling that of a woman's.

"Scrap it." Roy shielded his eyes from the light to his left; he hated how the holos would shine. With all this infinite technology at their fingers, they could not reduce the brightness of a simple holo.

"I think it's important."

Roy watched the young looking yellow figure slid on the bed next to him. He had programmed the holo to resemble a young thin female in her early twenties dressed in a short skirt that stopped at mid-thigh and a tight halter top that stopped way above its belly button, topped off with high heels. To Roy, this was his dream woman, beautiful and submissive, but with a draw back. She had no physical mass; she is just light and nothing more. Every time he looked at her he wished he hadn't spent all his time studying and drinking, maybe he would be sharing his bed with something other than focused light.

"I'll play it for you anyway." She said chirpily with a bright smile, Roy almost smiled back but didn't. He hated when it didn't do as it was asked, holos did have some free will that would just pop up out of the blue.

Quickly the image of the young female morphed into a wrinkled old gentleman in a lab coat that stretched far passed his knees. Instantly Roy recognized the man, it was one of his colleagues from his work that he truly hated for always thumbing his nose up at him.

"Roy, when you get this message you better come down to the lab. Looks like Spiller has been pulled out of Spartanburg and a new supervisor will be picked. Doubt they would pass me up for you, but you might want to be there to congratulate me for the promotion. I might look kindly on you later down the road."

The image of the old man slowly melted back into the image of the young woman.

"Pusbag..." Roy muttered to himself in disgust.

"Well..." The holo made a yawning sound as it spoke, its arms out stretched. "I'll let you go back to sleep." It flashed a smile of innocence at Roy before it shut off.

"Damn holos..."

***

Dawn's rays slowly crawled over the peaks of the mountains drowning Spartanburg in a golden sea of light. It was really a beautiful designed modern city, almost all the decay of the old Spartanburg had been swept away in the pass two decades. If it hadn't been for Stark-Fujikawa and the Corp system the city would still be a cesspool and a throw back to the late twencen.

Roy Gladney everyday tried to look for the positive side of the corrupt system he lived in. The biggest positive he could find he found everyday on his drive to work. Every so often he would take his eyes off the sky lanes and admire the skyscrapers. The fingertips of gods reaching to the heavens, is the image that always came to his mind every time he surveyed the city.

So far today, had been a normal day with his normal drive, just earlier. About five shockin hours earlier.

Gladney gently sat the meg-lev down in the parking lot of the sprawling research complex that ran four miles in every direction. The Spartanburg Stark-Fujikawa Research Center was the largest of its kind, the largest under the control of Stark-Fujikawa that is. Gladney worked in the upper levels, away from the hidden labyrinth that was the restricted lower floors that probably stretched further than the above compound. It was a marvel to look at from both afar and near; the geometric glass dome had a lot to do with it that capped the whole building. The dome was there for looks and to be a source of power, its main function to collect solar energy from the sun to power the center.

Gladney secured his meg-lev with a quick tap to his keypad that locked his doors with a muted click. He slid the keypad into his pants pockets and strolled toward the front entrance marked with two gothic pillars. Quickly he reached in his pocket and produced an ID card before the two Watchdogs could get over to him. He hated the security checkpoints outside the center, so much of a hassle. He had been working here for the past six years and was on a first name basses with almost all the Watchdogs on staff.

It had almost become ritual, he almost never second-guessed himself as he went through the motion of showing his ID and waited for the Watchdogs to look him over. He waited at the two giant glass doors to buzz and then unlock to let him enter. It irked him every time he had to wait longer than a few seconds, but Gladney always held it inside he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Gladney entered the main lobby waving, like every morning just earlier today, to the two Watchdogs that sat behind the marble security/information desk in the center. He proceeded pass them, not giving them a second thought, to the deserted bank of elevators that would lead to his floor. Gladney pressed the button to an adjacent elevator and waited for the doors to slide open and the little voice to come on welcoming him back to work.

"Welcome Home." A caring female voice said as the doors slid open.

Gladney snarled some coarse words to himself at the phrase upon entering the elevator. He would rather be home right now drunk off his rear and not here sober as can be.

***

The rays of morning light wrapped themselves around the soaring meg-lev. It cut through the sky like scissors through paper having left the greater city behind almost a half hour ago. Even for something so commonplace in today's world, this meg-lev looked horribly out of place. The strong markings of the Stark/Fujikawa Corporation that lined either side of the flying car and the overall rural setting made it odd.

"Are we there yet?" Edward Hurley sat cross-legged with his arms folded in his formal business attire.

"A few more minutes, sir. We would have been there earlier, but clearance hadn't been approved yet." The driver shot a quick look over his shoulder at Hurley as he replied.

"I just want this blasted assignment over with." Hurley snorted to himself turning his attention to the passing scenery outside his window.

***

Alastair Stark never knew what to make of Kevin Holden, the slick-speaking snake. He had met with him four times in the past week and not once did he ask about his plans or about the Iron Man. They just talked, Holden would bring him the paper and they would discuss current events for an hour or so. A majority of the time they just spoke of the new government and president, not sure what to make of it. To Stark, this common everyday conversation that he could have with almost any regular Jon Doe off the street had to be a cover for something. So far today, the cover seemed airtight.

"Another tax raise. I tell you, Alastair, all these new taxes are going to make me broke. At least Doom cut taxes and made the streets safe for once. I can't even go out at dusk with the new rash of organ leggers roaming around." Kevin Holden took a long drag off his cigarette and slowly let the smoke roll out his mouth. His slender fingers held the cigarette out from him as he used it to gesture with, like he so often did to make his point clear. "If I had a choice between this lady and that metal faced freak, I would take the metal face freak."

Alastair adjusted himself on his cot before he replied to Holden with a small smile. "I think a lot of people would now. They saw he wasn't a bad guy, he did want to help." Alastair shrugged, waving off Holden's offer of a cigarette.

"You're going to have a visitor today." Holden's cigarette returned to his mouth where he took a short drag before he spoke again. "It's someone from Stark/Fujikawa. It seems your pet project has been destroying all things Stark/Fujikawa the last week or so. Mostly complexes they use to store stuff, you got an idea what it's after?" Holden shifted his weight in the metal chair to his right, resting his elbow on the card table.

"It's after me. It needs me to cure it." Alastair leaned back against the gray wall his cot was on.

"Of what? What does a machine need to be cured of? A virus or something?" Holden looked puzzled letting his cigarette rest between his middle and index finger a second longer before placing it back between his lips.

"Something like that, a virus of a sort."

"I guess your egghead calculations didn't cover the possibilities of viruses."

"Not this type, no." Stark paused having a wave of concern washes over him. "Do you have any news events on its attacks on Stark/Fujikawa?"

"Yeah. Why you want to see them?"

"If you could."

"Give me a second, they're back in my office." Holden slowly got up dropping the cigarette to ground and stepping on it.

***

Alastair spread the six articles in front of him on the card table, quickly skimming them all in an attempt to uncover a secret. He reached for the first article that had been published; it was a full-page story on the attack with tons of eyewitness details from inside the complex. Alastair figured what Rhod was doing; he was looking for him or Mach in any places Stark/Fujikawa. With no leads Rhod would never find him, and to Stark Rhod would not be smart enough to take time and investigate. Patience was not Rhod's strong point.

"Fifteen killed..." Stark read aloud. "Seemed weakened after attack..." Alastair put the article down and picked up the next one, smaller than the last.

The second article read much like the first without as many eyewitnesses or much insight to how Rhod was acting. He placed the second article down picking up the third that was longer than the first two previous. This time Rhod had attacked a harbor station that Stark/Fujikawa ran sinking a small tanker, the article added at the end that the 'Iron Man' looked tired and sluggish in movement.

"He isn't charging..." Stark said to himself reaching for the fourth.

To his dismay as he read through the remaining articles a trend seemed to be forming, Rhod was draining his power cells down to unsafe levels. Without the safe house and Mach's equipment, he couldn't recharge and the sun only offered him so much of a source of power. The solar panels that had been built into all the trillions of nanites that inhabit Rhod's body only offer a temporary solution to the problem. He needs a direct current of electricity to pass through him to fill his power cells; Stark had intentionally built that in for longer missions. This enabled the person wearing the armor to go long periods of time without having to use a specific device to recharge.

Not only was Rhod thick headed about that, but also he and Mach had told Rhod that millions of times. If he had gotten himself into trouble like this with failing power he could recharge himself with the nearest outlet. It seemed impossible for Rhod to pick anything up that wasn't dumbed down for him and this angered Stark to no end. He was the one that wanted to join Stark and his crusade for change, but he never listened or rarely did what he was told. Stark did have the failsafe to correct this problem, but then Stark would have folded his hand and his quest would be over. No, he needed Rhod for now. Later there would be change.

Stark leaned back in his chair, even his patience was running thin now. He had to gain access to cyberspace; he had to activate the search protocol. Rhod may fold his hand for Stark if he isn't careful, he has to get him back under some sort of control.

Stark's cell door slowly started to lift from the ground up going into the ceiling with a hiss of hydraulics doing their work. Stark caught a glimpse of the black boots of two guards. Stark's visitor must have arrived.

The two entered dressed in their green jumpsuits, the usually uniform of the prison guards of the facility. One was greatly taller and muscular than the other with a rifle grasped tightly in both hands. The other smaller guard had his weapon slung over his shoulder and resting at his side. Their riot helmets' visors came down to the middle of their faces with a picture of the American flag plastered dead center. The smaller guard approached where Stark sat.

"Your presence has been requested." He spoke softly motioning for Stark to stand and follow them.

Stark complied with a silent nodded and left his cell with the two. They marched the narrow corridor of Stark's cellblock until they came to the main lobby of the prison. The large circular multi-level center of the underground prison lead to virtually every spot in the prison, to get to one sector to another you had to pass through here. It was also heavily guarded with no less than six or seven of the guards with a checkpoint station on each of the three levels the lobby rose. Stark's cell was on the last floor, most of the cells were on the last floor.

Stark was herded toward the bank of lifts on the right side of the lobby. He was pushed into the two-man lift with the larger of the two guards. Neatly Stark ran his fingers through his hair like a comb in an attempt to straighten the wild shape his short black hair had taken. He hadn't been provided a comb, only the basics needed to survive: toothbrush, toothpaste, food, and a bed. If he was lucky they showered once a week, thanks to Doom's EMP devices falling from the sky destroying pipes and water plants the prison had yet to fix their water supply lines. They were running solely off their reserves. In short, besides Stark's hair being in such bad shape he had a distinct odor as well, and not a pleasant odor either.

The lift stopped on the third floor, the top floor, and Stark was ushered out by a bump in the back by the rifle of the guard. He was quickly stirred toward the left and down a corridor lined with nice wooden doors with polished brass doorknobs. Another guard waited in the middle of the hall, this one wasn't the usually prison guard he was a Stark/Fujikawa Watchdog. The brown suit and goofy hat with earflaps was hard to mistake from any other uniform Stark had ever seen.

The Watchdog leaned over and opened the door in the center of the hall letting Stark enter. As soon as Stark had stepped foot in the room the door slammed shut with a loud thud that made him jump, starling him a bit. The room was small, with a nice oak table in the middle lined with four leather chairs on each side and one large leather chair at the head of the table turned around facing the wall. At first Stark thought the room was empty and the person or persons he was to meet were still on their way.

"Your thing is causing my employer a great deal of problems." The chair spun around. Stark didn't even need to see the man to know whom it was, it was Edward Hurley. Hurley was a 'fix-it' guy for mega-corporations. He made problems go away. He was all and all a snake in the grass, but not near as likable as Holden.

"He's looking for me." Stark stepped closer to the other head the table.

"I figured as much, the monster is looking for its creator." Hurley leaned back in his chair crossing his legs and letting his arms lay on the arm rests.

"What do you want from me?" Stark eyed Hurley.

"I want you to give me all your research on it. I want to know how to stop it, for good." Hurley said.

A smile broke a cross Stark's face, his patience had paid off. "Why should I help you, I don't get anything in return but to rot here for the rest of my life."

"Your old friend Sama will have it arranged that your sentence be commuted and you can return to work at Stark/Fujikawa under strict surveillance." Hurley let a little of his weight off the chair, letting it come forward a bit.

Stark stood silent for a moment, mulling his options over in his head. "I need access to cyberspace. All my research is there, I'm the only one that can access it."

"I'm sure we can have that done, but I warn you now, don't do anything stupid."

"What could I possibly do from here?"

***

Roy Gladney rummaged through his top desk drawer; it was the last place he had checked. All his other drawers were empty save his office supplies and a few notepads, typical stuff you would find in any office. He stepped back and rested his hands on his hips, scanning his small office that was tucked away in the furthest corner of their department's level. His eyes retraced where he had searched before, he went through a mental checklist. He thought he still had some left, he was pretty sure but the last time he was here he wasn't in the best state of mind. It had started to look like he was dry, bone dry. Either someone was playing a nasty trick on him, like that self-righteous glitch Helen Poulson, or he was totally out of whiskey.

"Damn, just my shockin' luck." Gladney slammed the top drawer shut in frustration.

The office door cracked open slightly and the person that he most despised in the office stuck her head in.

"Hello Helen." He snarled.

"They are about to announce who got the promotion, unless you want to miss this to get drunk you can be my guest. I'll be sure and shut the door gently in case you are already liquored up for the day." She shrugged with a small smile lining her face. Quickly withdrawing her head from the crack and closing the door quietly.

"Glitch."

The feeling of despise was more than mutual. Helen was into self-help tricks and gossip, two things Gladney couldn't stand at all. Gladney would generally accept if a person was a total arse and move on and if he had a problem with said 'arse' he would tell them straight up. What was the point behind gossiping besides getting nothing accomplished and it bred bad feelings between people, two reasons why he hated it so much.

Roy straightened his lab jacket and made sure his shirt was nice and tucked in. He was going to look his best, if that was possible, in spite of Helen. He would show her that he was more than a drunk that only still had his job because a few of his drinking buddies were higher ups. He would show her in the end that he was the better person and the only reason why he gets 'liquored-up' was to be able to bear her assault of gossip and her load of self-help bull.

Roy exited his office and into the well lit hall walking it with his shoulders back and his chest out. He was doing a pretty decent job of showing that he could do anything he wanted. Hell, almost all of them owe their jobs to this old drunk if it hadn't been for his ideas on how to get the nanites to bond to a subject of any kind. All he wanted was a 'Thanks' or a 'Good job of pulling our rears outta the fire', but he got nothing but more shuns. Especially from Helen, and god how he hated Helen. No body this morning had even came by and said 'good morning' or even waved as he entered the department. Roy clenched his teeth and tried to hid the mounting anger on the inside trying to keep it from spilling out.

"Ingrates." He blurted out upon entering the conference room packed to the walls.

Everyone's attention in the room turned toward the door and Gladney. He smiled a crooked smile not meaning for that to slip out, at least, he thought to himself that wasn't the worse to have come spilling out. Instantly Gladney locked on to Helen and her evil glare of hatred pierced him.

"Not you guys." He said quietly moving further into the room, his shoulders now drooped a bit.

The group waited for the holo emitter in the center of the room that they had all crowded around to kick into life. With a quiet hiss and a bright pulse of light it turned on. The head of Hakriu-Sama, CEO of Stark/Fujikawa, appeared in a yellow tint.

"As you may know, former Director Chad Spiller will no longer be heading any projects here at Spartanburg. Rather than let the bureaucracy in Spartanburg pick your new head, I have done so for them. I expect great things from this department and its new head, Roy Gladney..."

***

Cyberspace, the world within a world, a place that could be a paradise or pure chaos. It could be anything you wanted it to be and not have to bend to the normal parameters of the real world. An escape from the grim world outside, to a place where you meet and trade ideas and information. It was a place to learn and grow and home to many self-aware programs still unknown to the average man.

Stark's icon moved sluggish, it resolution poor and splotchy around the edges. The connection that he had been provided with was not the best and had many restrictions, they had passed Gateway the central point of all cyberspace and ended up on this empty plane of cyberspace. There were four others with him, Edward Hurley, Kevin Holden, and two prison guards that were watching him. Stark shut his digital eyes and pressed his hands together his mind running through all of cyberspace.

"Hurry up." Hurley said from behind, his icon had a better resolution and moved fluidly.

"Patience, so many restricts on my icon I can barely access them." Stark hushed him.

Hurley left the digital grassy field and float in the air looking over his surroundings. "I hate the outdoors." He hissed. "Why did you pick this place to store your files?"

"Shut up, Hurley. Let him do his work." Holden shouted to the floating Hurley.

"Where do you want them?" Stark said, his eyes still shut and his hands still pressed together.

"The Stark/Fujikawa Archive, we gave you temporary access to store a copy of them there." Hurley floated closer to Stark. "Finished?"

"Soon." Stark opened his eyes slowly; he had done more than move files to Stark/Fujikawa possession. Soon, he thought, they would see that they couldn't keep him locked away forever.

One by one, their icons disappeared. First Hurley, then Stark, and finally Holden and the accompanying guards. All of them unaware of their invisible watcher, hidden in the clouds of cyberspace taking notes.

***

Rhod felt a tingle in the back of his head suddenly. He had been resting when it hit and spread from the back of his head down his neck and to the rest of his body. He felt numb, detached from his limbs and the rest of his systems that he had grown somewhat use to in the last few months. A sense of fear rushed over him, had he done something else that damaged his system leaving him open for attack again. Was he finally dying as a side effect to the nanotech armor? Was the nanotech finally taking the human presence out of the loop and running solely by itself?

^ Survival Program: Stark 1-A Activated. ^

Rhod stood, not under his own will. He could hear the nanites talking to each other; power had been directed to his flight protocol. He was about to take off and he didn't know where.

Next Issue-
The Big Break!