Mark arrived at the Institute around 7:30 am. As he entered, one of the guards at the gate told him that his homeroom teacher, Miss Justus, had asked for him. The young man made a beeline for the faculty office before meeting with his friends. He was expecting to receive the first delivery of his materials.
As he entered the faculty office, he met with Miss Justus in the same room as before. The woman was holding two briefcases. One carried several materials that Mark needed for the system repairs. The other contained a blood-collecting kit. This trade was part of their agreement. Without hesitation, Mark offered his forearm, and the woman collected a few samples.
After the collection was completed, Mark moved to one of the third-floor bathrooms, the ones no one uses. There, he opened the system screen and submitted the materials Miss Justus had given him. Unsurprisingly, the system went offline for an unspecified period. This reboot occurred every time repairs were performed.
He left the briefcase in his locker before walking to his classroom. Inside, he met with Steve, Alex, and Livia. Steve and Livia were talking about a very popular stream they had seen on the way to the Institute, and Alex nodded in agreement. The silent teen also watched the stream.
Mark's curiosity was piqued. However, before he could turn his comm-pad back on, Miss Justus arrived. The classes were about to start, and the students rushed to their assigned seats. Sadly for Mark, Alex's desk had been reactivated. He looked in her direction and smiled when he caught the silent teen glancing at him.
In the virtual world, Mark's designs had taken the Lishean Commonwealth by storm. With just three designs, the young man had achieved in less than a month what mega corporations took decades to achieve. Now aware of the Grease Monkey Workshop products, people scour the comm-grid for one of his machines.
Many companies and creators took note of the S-grade mechs and the high-quality equipment. The fact that his mechs were directed to people with low neuronal capacity enticed even more companies. With a military grant, demanding characteristics like these, small workshops and mega corporations alike rushed to analyze Mark's designs.
Even the L.A.F. and other influential entities showed interest in both the Nova Star and the Gunslinger Outlaw. These machines had qualities they wanted; their attachment ports and low neuronal load made them Ideal for their needs. With the ports, the mechs he made could perform a variety of different functions. A fact that even Mark took advantage of. The low neuronal load broadens the number of people who could pilot the mechs.
It was for these reasons that many of the companies inspecting Mark's designs had less-than-stellar intentions. Having the designs in hand, they could copy the technology and pass it as their own. This behavior was to be expected; given the money offered by a military grant, many people lost their scruples. Greed and lust for knowledge drove them to have ulterior motives. However, Mark's father had anticipated this. The businessman, along with his partner Rowan, spent time and money ensuring that patents protected every part of Mark's creations.
In return, Parker Technologies' executives entered into a legally binding contract with the workshop's owner, Mark. While the legal document they drafted allowed third parties to negotiate production contracts, Mark's technologies were protected from plagiarism.
Barely half a day had passed since Mark initiated the virtual production of the new mechs. Yet, a torrent of companies had already sought production contracts to fabricate the real-world versions of these machines. Companies from across the Commonwealth turn to Parker Technologies, seeking a partnership that would allow them to benefit from Mark's work.
Marcus expected the mechs his son built to succeed; however, he never foresaw this level of success. His secretary was swamped with calls trying to reach the man. Rowan's office appeared to be in the same situation. The sounds of relentless calls echoed throughout the company. The man wondered if setting up a call center was a good idea.
At the Blazing Hand compound, Gin had finished making preparations to abduct Mark's family members. The goons of the Blazing Hand were armed to the teeth. This time, they will attack swiftly. No more surveillance or cautious observations, they will go in guns blazing.
As he sat inside a sky-car, Gin remembered the Boss's warning. They needed the blond woman and the girl with the white hair alive; everyone else was expendable. However, they needed to keep the killing to a minimum. A high body count will attract the wrong people's attention.
It has been a few years since the men of the blazing hand dared to do a move like this. They had to be in and out before the police or even the Conclave had a chance to react. To that end, the plan Gin came up with needed to play out without deviation. The whole affair needed to last less than three minutes, and it would all start with the planned distraction.
Back at the Droid boutique, Rachel and her friends were working to fulfill an order they had received the day before. They were still using materials recycled from the droids on the second floor, plus those Mark had stored in the first basement. The work was coming along great. Over the past few days, the four friends had gotten back into their old work routine. The women joyfully chatted and joked as they worked.
Suddenly, sounds of laser fire and guns came from outside. Rachel's bodyguards entered the workshop and pushed the women into the elevator. As they went up, the four of them witnessed one of the security guards being shot at. Some of the bodyguards stayed behind to fight the attackers, while the last four rode the elevator with Rachel and her friends.
Upstairs, they were met by Melly's tutor. The woman was frightened to the verge of tears, while the golden-eyed girl was confused about the situation. One of the bodyguards disabled the elevator. That way, they could bottleneck the attackers on the stairs while the police arrived.
Without knowing, the bodyguards played right into the attackers' plans. A sky-car hovered near the ledge of the open garden on the third floor, and a group of gang members jumped onto the terrace. They quickly gained access to the house and hurried through the corridors.
The bodyguards realized too late what was going on. The moment they tried to fend off the intruders, it was too late. They fell to the attackers' fire. Melly began to react, frightened by the situation. The girl started to emit a wave of paranoia. However, while this affected the attackers near her, it also affected the other people in the room.
Only Rachel fought the impulse to run away; everybody else dropped everything and ran. Some even trampled over each other while going down the stairs. Rachel hugged Melly, asking her to stop, but the girl was so scared that she could not hear the woman's voice.
Suddenly, a dart flew by. The object embedded itself on Melly's neck, rendering the girl unconscious. Rachel grabbed the girl between her arms, trying to shield her from any harm. The next moment, another dart fell onto her neck, and everything faded to black.
Back at the Institute, Mark was oblivious to the events at his house. At the moment, he and Alex were eating lunch in the cafeteria. As his eyes met her face, Mark noticed that the silent girl was eying his food. He offered her a spoonful of food without thinking twice. "Would you like to try this?"
Alex looked at the spoon, and her face flushed as Mark fed her from his lunch. Her mind went wild when she realized that eating from his spoon was like indirectly kissing him. Feeling embarrassed, the silent girl hid her blushing face behind her jacket.
He chuckled lightly. Mark found the notion of an indirect kiss to be silly. The next moment, the young man found himself fighting the impulse to kiss the girl in front of him. The two of them looked at each other, both of their faces flushing red as their eyes met. Mark started to lean closer to Alex while her lips trembled with anticipation, but before he could taste her lips, a voice called up to him.
Miss Justus entered the cafeteria, and anxiety was clear on her face. The woman closed the distance without noticing what was going on between the two teens. Reaching the table where Mark and Alex sat, she spoke with urgency. "Mark, you need to come quickly; something bad has happened."
Seeing the woman's expression, Mark was taken aback, reminded of his old life. He recalled the day when the teachers pulled him aside and told him of his mother's death. His face went pale. Having taken his mother away from the factory, he thought she was safe.
His dark thoughts were interrupted by the teacher. Miss Justus urged him to follow her. "Mark, we need to go. The director and other people are waiting for you."
The two of them left the cafeteria, and Alex had a worried face as they left. Mark moved through the corridors of the Institute while his mind raced. The young man had imagined over a dozen different scenarios by the time he reached the director's office.
As he entered, his face froze. Inside, the director and the psychologist from the Institute waited to give him the news. The scene played out the same way; Mark relived the event frame by frame as before. Sitting in front of the two, he braced for the news. In his mind, he resolved to find a way to repair the system and wind back time once again.
The director began to relate the bad news. His face looked solemn as he spoke. "Mr. Warren, I'm sorry to inform you that your mother and sister have been kidnapped. As we speak, the police are doing everything in their power to rescue them." The man placed his hand on Mark's shoulder, trying to comfort him. "The only thing we can do now is pray for your family to be rescued... I know it's frustrating, but we can not do anything else."
The director failed to understand Mark's expression. His face was not one of despair; it was one of anger. Mark thought about who might have done this. The first person that came to mind was his grandfather. He tossed a glance at Miss Justus. While he said nothing with his mouth, his body language spoke volumes.
The woman looked back at him, shaking her head. In truth, the Conclave had nothing to do with this. Miss Justus understood Mark's deductions. Given the history between the young man and his grandfather, it was a logical assumption. However, at the moment, two factions from the secret organization had their eyes on him. The man could not make a move without them knowing.
Mark asked to be excused from the Institute; however, the director was reluctant to let him go without adult supervision. In a situation like this, He was considered Mark's legal guardian until a family member came to get the young man. While Mark was over the age of 18, the Institute was legally bound to treat him as a minor.
Mark decided to call his grandfather. As the young man grabbed his comm-pad, he realized the device was off. Ever since this morning, he had turned the thing off to escape the flood of notifications pouring in. Without a second thought, Mark turns his device back on. The torrent of notifications resumed; however, he noticed a message from Rachel's comm-pad.
The young man asked to be left alone. While the director and the psychologist were reluctant to comply, Miss Justus convinced them to give Mark some space. They would be in the next room over. The three of them left the room while Mark sat on the chair with the comm-pad in his hands.
Once alone, he opened the message. Inside, he saw a photo that had been sent by the people who took Rachel and Melly. His mother and little sister lay unconscious in a dark room, bound and gagged. The message below was not directed to Mark, but to Specter, the identity he used when working with the Ravens.
Upon seeing the photo his hart filled with worry, this two meant the world to him. Mark read the short message carefully. "To Specter: Come to the Kramer industrial complex on the south side of town. Come alone if you want to see these pretty girls alive and unharmed."