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The Back Pages ----------------------------------------- Prologue: 1998. Armed with his aging Betacam, sixteen year old Rob Barion had his eyes set for the stars. As daylight slowly retreated in the western sky, Rob stood bundled against the cold recording an impromptu snowball fight amongst his boyfriend, brother, and friends. Snow crunched beneath boots and snowballs hurdled through the brisk, calm air. Rob watched through his viewfinder and imagined how he was going to cut the shots together for a public service announcement. Swinging the camera around for a different angle, Rob watched his boyfriend CJ grin at him as he threw a snowball. It just barely missed Rob and the camera, the snowball striking the trunk of a big oak tree Rob was standing under. The chocolate brown wolf laughed as the brown and tan wolf-malamute stumbled over a couple roots before regaining his footing. He adjusted the big camera on his shoulder as he continued recording, an amused look on his face. The amused expression belied the immense strain of problems Rob was facing in his teenage life. Rob dreamed of making it big in television production. He loved electronics, he loved shooting video, and editing it. But that goal felt complicated by his personal life troubles; he was a rather shy, bullied, mixed-breed, autistic, and now openly gay teenager. He came out to his family a few months earlier, and found himself now living with his boyfriend after his parents' threw him out. His parents' were now fighting, their long, strained marriage collapsing in on itself. Divorce was looming. It was a dizzying time of many things going wrong, practically at the same time, but at the same time, Rob felt liberated, and determined to press on to reach his dreams. He had the support of his brother, his boyfriend, and his small circle of friends. Hitting pause on his camera zoom grip, Rob ended recording when the low tape warning flashed. He knelt down and stabilized his old Ikegami on his lap, the HL-95B attached to a Sony BVV-1 Betacam deck on the back complete with heavy battery slung underneath. A big foam covered microphone was attached to the top of the carrying handle. Rob hit rewind on the recorder as he powered the camera off. Another snowball came exploding right beside him. "Sorry!" came his brother Jake's voice. Rob laughed. "You guys are bound and determined to hit me with one!" Jake ran up with CJ, his best friend. Jake was Rob's twin brother; he was roughly Rob's height, but had black and white fur. Jake looked more wolf-life in appearance while Rob had more of a malamute's build but with a wolf's thick fur pelt. CJ was a burly chocolate brown wolf with bright green eyes and a thick black goatee on his muzzle. Both of them were football players for the Newark Wildcats. "Whacha think?" Jake asked. "I got the shots I needed, and just in time too because the sun is really getting low, and I was not gonna be able to open the iris up much more after this to compensate." Rob pointed out. "Plus its cold out here!" "You ain't a kidding!" CJ exclaimed. He helped Rob up to get a kiss from him. "It's warmer when you're here~" Rob smiled at him. "I have that effect!" grinned the wolf as he gave Rob another kiss. "STOP THROWING SNOWBALLS AT ME!" "THAT'S FOR THE NURPLE!" "STOP IT! STOP IT NOW!" Rob glanced around his brother at his friend's all fighting and wrestling amongst themselves. The four Tokarev brothers jokingly shoved and threw snow at one another as Kalash, Vlad, Dmitry, and Maverick squabbled. The wolf-hybrid chuckled. "This will never get old~" The four gray furred huskies walked up to Rob, Jake, and CJ. They were all covered in snow. The four brothers largely looked alike; Kalash was the shortest, and Maverick the tallest. Dmitry was chubby, and Vlad was the skinniest, and second tallest after Maverick. Vlad and Dmitry had long, straight, blonde hair that flowed out from beneath their beanies, while Maverick and Kalash had dark brown hair that was nearly black and somewhat wavy. "I don't think anyone could be as loud and obnoxious as you four together~" Jake teased. "It's what we do best!" Dmitry exclaimed. "Oh we know, Dmitry. You didn't have to tell us twice." Rob chuckled. "Did you get good shots?" Vlad asked. "I did~ I'll edit this tonight along with the end of the year message with the superintendant." "Cool." Vlad nodded. "I want a copy!" "Bring me a VHS tape and I'll dub you one." Rob smiled as he ejected the tape from his camera. Grabbing a blue marker from his camera suitcase, Rob labeled the tape and stuffed it back into its plastic sleeve, which he stowed in the case. Rob neatly packed his camera away into the foam cutout and locked it back up. As twilight grew dimmer, everyone said goodbye. The Tokarevs took off in their mom's Ford Explorer, while Jake, Rob, and CJ walked home a few blocks away. Jake walked ahead, with his head slightly slouched down and his paws in his jacket pockets. Rob walked with CJ, holding his paw while wheeling his suitcase behind him. Rob looked happy with his boyfriend. "The long walk back to purgatory..." Jake grumbled. "At least you didn't get kicked out..." Rob quipped sarcastically. "I'd rather! Jesus Christ, listening to Mom is driving me insane. I don't get what her problem is..." Jake said to Rob as he shook his head. "Mom's an absolute wreck between Dad, you coming out. She goes into these fits of hysteria... you'd think something terrible happened to her." "Yeah. I don't get her emotional meltdowns and shutdowns..." Rob shrugged. "This whole thing has been exhausting." "You're better off at CJ's." Jake admitted. "You know you can always crash at my place if you need to be~" "I'll be sleeping in my own bed." Jake laughed. "Hey I wasn't gonna go there." Grinned the wolf. "But you know Mom and Dad are cool with you staying." "I appreciate it. Well, here's my stop..." Jake said, their home in sight. "Have a good night CJ and Rob. Love you, Rob." "Love you too, Jake." Rob said as he got a hug from his brother. "We'll get through this somehow." Jake smiled for his brother. "I know." He turned to walk up the sidewalk to the front porch of their home. "Good night!" Rob called as he and CJ continued on their way home in the neighborhood. ----------------------------------- Tapping his rollerball against his yellow legal pad on the desk, Rob watched the playback of his freshly made edit. The former bedroom of CJ's older brother was now Rob's editing room, which housed his desktop computer and Video Toaster, the latter built around an old Amiga 2000. Rob's eyes were laser focused on the Trinitron that sat in front of him. On the screen was a slightly shaky shot of CJ and Jake dodging snowballs. Rob had muted the audio as it wasn't needed. His Betacam had a warm colorimetry despite the cold, snowy landscape. The evening sky was a brilliant orange and blue, the snow taking on the same tint. The shot ended at the cut mark, and Rob went back to his legal pad to read out the time codes he wrote down. He spun the shuffle controls and fast forwarded through the master tape to find his next shot. He marked the start time and played it through to the end, and marked the end cut off. Rob rewound the tape and hit the dub button. The BVW-40 gave him a pop-click to signal it was recording as Rob watched his shot play back. Rob smiled as he jotted a note down on his pad of paper. Fresh from the shower, CJ stepped inside as he dried his messy mop of hair off with a blue towel. He wore red and white boxers and a black tanktop that clung to his muscular frame. He placed the towel around his shoulders and sat down beside Rob as he saw Rob fiddle around with a yellow floppy disk. He shoved it into the Amiga's second floppy drive and pulled up an audio file to edit in. It was a fast faced, energetic instrumental tune that was requested for the PSA. The wolf looked impressed at his boyfriend's editing prowess. "Here, tell me what you think?" Rob asked as he hit playback from the beginning. The forty-second PSA played back with the music, which fit the cuts perfectly. CJ looked amazed. "Wow, Rob. That looks great." CJ exclaimed. "That's like something I'd see on TV!" "Well that's the goal." Rob grinned. "This is for the health department. Mister Philander asked me to produce it for them." "So that's why we all had to sign that paperwork." "Since we're all minors." Rob shrugged. "All the legalese." "Yeah." CJ chuckled. "All Greek to me." "I just gotta add some text to it, and it'll be done." Rob said. "Take a break! It's getting late." "I will! Just a bit more." "Workaholic you." CJ grinned teasingly. "Isn't that you with the gym too, there, Mister Chris?" Rob teased with a smile. CJ grinned big and flexed his beefy arms. "You betcha!" "Touche." Rob smiled. "Someday Rob, I see you making it big in television. Your name will be everywhere!" "Ha, that'll be the day." Rob laughed. "You laugh now, but I can see it happen!" CJ pointed. "Look at what you've made right there. You turned our silly little snowball fight into something that looks amazing and matches the music perfectly. You did all that just thinking in your head and cutting it together." "It's child's play." "That's 'cause you're a genius, Rob!" "Let's not get carried away. I know enough to get by." "Oh bullshit." CJ laughed. "You should take credit where credit is due!" "Too much pride is arrogance, CJ~" "If you say so." CJ smiled back at Rob. "You're gonna make it big, Rob." "How the hell am I gonna make it big if I got all these problems going on in my life right now? My parents are so pissed at me for being gay, the family is disintegrating in real time, and I'm dealing with all the bullying at school. How am I gonna make it big when everything seems like it's going wrong? How many gay people do you see up in the limelight that isn't involved in entertainment or fashion? I strive to be a cameraman. I want to be successful behind the camera. You'll never see Rob Barion be in the same league as Steve Jobs, Bill Gates..." "Bill Clinton?" grinned the wolf. "And you won't be seeing me get impeached!" Rob pointed with a laugh. CJ chuckled. "I know things are rough right now, handsome, but things will get better. Don't be so hard on yourself. And as for the bullies, fuck 'em. I'll keep beating them up. And if your parents aren't happy about you being gay, well screw 'em too. You can't live forever trying to make them happy. You have to do what's best for yourself. So don't beat yourself up Rob, and don't dismiss being successful. You're smart, you're a quick learner, and you have a better chance than me when it comes to writing, that's for sure!" Rob leaned in and gave CJ a kiss. "You're the best, that's why I love you." "I love you too." CJ smiled as he kissed Rob back. "And I'd love you even more if you came back to my room and watched some TV with me." "Fine." Rob smiled. He reached over to rewind the edited tape and call it a night as he put everything away. Turning the light off behind him, Rob walked across the hall to CJ's bedroom. He closed the door behind him while CJ flipped through the stations on the TV which rested on a dresser. Rob grabbed his diary off the desk and a blue rollerball from the cup and laid down in bed to write. CJ laid beside him and affectionately rubbed his upper back as Rob opened his big leather bound book and wrote about his day on the ivory pages. The wolf-hybrid had neat, rounded cursive that slowly filled up the page. "12/30/98 The penultimate day of 1998. Oh what a year this has been for me. Today was pretty busy despite being on X-mas break; I got up and went to work to drop off some tapes at the station and pick up some fresh tapes that came in for me. In the late afternoon, I shot the NCS end of the year message from Mr. Schultz. Shot downtown at the school administrative building. Vlad, Mav, helped me with recording this. And I ended the day out in the cold, shooting the health PSA about exercise with everyone doing a snowball fight. I think we all had fun. Now it's close to bedtime. It's almost over. Tomorrow is NYE, and me and CJ plan on being with friends to celebrate. Can you believe it? 1999? We're at the cusp of the millennium! Everyone's freaking out about Y2K, the end of the world. The usual mush. 1998 has been a very consequential year for me. A lot of bad luck this year as I end it living with CJ and his family here. I came out of the closet- not willingly, but basically because the school counselor 'was concerned' and let my parents know. So I got kicked out. Me and Dad had a huge fight. Mom had a mental breakdown it seems- she's always having a mental breakdown. I will never understand my mom. There's these huge voids in her life, maybe one day I'll understand or figure it out. Me and Jake are over it. Fighting Dad was like a big pressure value opening. A lot of pent up feelings came out in that. So yeah, they're not happy, but I'm free to be me at least. And screw my bullies. This year I got myself a job, a cameraman job! At our station, WNCS-TV. I got my driver's license! CJ's Dad gave me the Firebird I got. I'm so happy. I got my HL-95B, a real, true broadcast camera, not those crappy SVHS camcorders in class. I even learned from Charles on how to re-tube these old beasts. Hopefully the Plumbicons last a long time- tubes aren't common anymore, nor are they cheap! So not all was a bust in 1998. CJ thinks I'll be successful one day, after seeing me cut together the PSA. He thinks I'll somehow be in the same league as Jobs, Gates, Wexner. I would like a successful career, but to be rich? Famous. Ha! That'll never happen. My Great-grandfather James lucked out hitting oil, and that's how he got his health. How am I gonna get that kind of luck when I already feel like I am subjected to the trials of Job? Lord willing I don't go insane. May 1999 bring better fortunes. Good night." ---------------------------------------------- The Back Pages Twenty-Five Years Later. 2023. "5/20/23 1.5 months ago, the family was dealt the tragic loss of my cousins 'The Deuce', Nathan, their wives, and most of their children. Half the management team of Baritel were killed in that plane crash in Colorado. Now I'm enroute to Texas for their memorial service. Going back home to the origins of the Barion family, the city of Lubbock. I'm also enroute to becoming a billionaire. In this terrible tragedy comes the opportunity to branch the business out, and provide more financial opportunities. I was asked by Uncle Jack to take control of Baritel and merge it into Barev as an autonomous division, much like AAV In Ann Arbor. It would provide another big source of revenue for Barev, and allow us to enter the computer chip industry. R. Walter can't handle the stress of steering a company through such a decapitation of management, so now it falls into my lap to unfuck this shitshow. Hopefully I've learned a lot since the factory bombing in '21 by Dumb and Dumber. It's been a year of growth for the business. The MS medical supply plant is going well, the air cargo divisions are doing great, the PMC is rolling in the DoD $$$. Chicago has calmed down, and I think I've patched things up with the windy city. We now got Satcorp in Flori-duh, Mark Prince's rocket venture and now this. I suppose one never leaves a tragedy unexploited! A billionaire. Never in my wildest dreams would I thought this day would come. But I'm not smiling, or giddy. With wealth comes great responsibility. And I turn on the TV and see all these rich fucks destroying our country, buying off and corrupting politicians to bend their knee to the wealthy. I refuse to be like that. I feel obligated to help and do my part as an American. Fuck the rich and their snobbery." Aching from a headache, a tired looking Rob clicked his black rollerball pen and tossed it back on the table as he closed his diary up. A bit of turbulence rocked the plane as he sat alone in the nose of his narrow Super Constellation propliner. Reaching over for his laptop bag, Rob grabbed his bottle of Tylenol and twisted the cap off. His eyes winced as they looked out the window at the brilliant morning sky. Rob took his two Tylenol with a swig of water from a paper cup as he watched the big radial engines outside drone with their mesmerizing burble. Shimmering propellers tipped in red, white, and blue kept them aloft, their drone filling the entire plane. Rob sat at his seat for a long time in silence, reflecting on things as he flew to Texas with his family. Rob was now middle-aged, at age forty and eyeballing forty-one in a couple of months. His face bore the testament to his rough n' tough life; it was aged prematurely, with an ominous scar running down the left side of his face. The scar and its facial paralysis gave Rob a tough, glaring gaze. He was forty and looked almost sixty, and felt that way too. He ran a paw through his thick brown hair that was wavy and tousled atop his head. He momentarily gazed at his left paw, which looked like an old man's now. Everything that had happened to him in his life aged him badly. From nearly dying from a gay bashing at school as a teenager in 1999, to the slow, long recovery from the physical injuries, the emotional upheaval, the anger and hurt from what had happened, the untimely passing of his parents and the unresolved conflicts between them, the formation of his business and the trials and tribulations over the years. All that rage and hate he carried from all of that destroyed and aged his looks. But now it was time to change the trajectory of his life. Yet Rob felt stuck. On New Years, Rob promised that it would be different, that he would try and find happiness in his life. He made some progress, but the progress had stalled. He felt stuck right in the middle of his grievances with no idea how to move forward. Getting up from the card table, Rob yawned and stretched. The Tylenol was starting to numb his headache as he ventured out through the bulkhead into the center cabin. The middle section of the old propliner was modeled like a conventional airliner, with rows of four seats with a single aisle. There was enough seating for twenty-eight people on the ultramarine blue seats. The Barion family sat in the narrow cabin and conversed with each other over a light breakfast that was being served by Rob's husband, Joey Paulo, and their nephew, Alvin. Joey, a Brazilian Doberman with black and tan fur, served orange juice to Nancy Barion, the ninety-one year old matriarch to the Ohio clan of the Barion family. She was surrounded by her surviving sons and daughter; Sandy, William, and Steve Barion. Marcus Barion, a white and gray Swedish husky, one of the Barion adoptees, sat conversing with Jake Barion, his adopted father. Also accompanying them was Rob's best friend and business partner, Maverick Tokarev, who sat in the back of the cockpit cracking a joke with Tony Alvarez, the husband to Rob's adopted son and fellow Barion adoptee, Felix Barion. Felix was up in the cockpit, commanding the Constellation with his friends Ivo and Jordan. They were enroute to the memorial service of Rob's cousins, who tragically were killed in a plane crash back in late March. James II, his brother Nathan, their wives and most of their kids were traveling with half the company management for a ski outing when they struck the side of a mountain in a snowstorm in Colorado. Through tragedy came opportunity for Rob's business; he was asked by his aging Uncle Jack to take ownership of Baritel, a computer chip fabrication company that he created in the late 1970's. Rob felt conflicted about it, unhappy about the optics of the opportunity in the face of such a loss of life, especially family. He would be there to finalize the merger after the memorial service. If anything, Rob hoped that the merger could bring the two family factions closer together. Such a situation also brought Rob's mind the topic of death. Death waited for no one. It lurked for everyone. The tragedy of the plane crash was a reminder to Rob of his own mortality. He escaped death multiple times. His gay bashing, being shot and wounded multiple times, surviving a couple plane crashes, and being ejected out of an out of control truck at high speed. His body bore the scars of those events. The gay bashing was forever etched on his face with his ominous scar. It was more of a reason for Rob to change things up in his life. But how? "Got you an orange juice and a bagel~" smiled Joey as Rob walked past him. Rob accepted it and gave Joey a rather reserved smile as he went towards the door to the bulkhead that separated the kitchen galley and bathrooms to the tail office area. "I appreciate it, Joey." Rob complimented as he raised his orange juice cup. Tony and Maverick sat laughing by a window seat as Maverick talked about an incident at their former Chicago factory. "I remember one day I went there when Rob was unavailable, and that stupid knucklefuck, Brent, completely fucked up the warehouse again. I was like 'where the hell is everything at?' and Brent's like 'I don't know, buddah, I just put stuff wherever I can find space!'. I looked at him in disbelief and told him he'd forget his own fucking head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders!" "That's like the shit I deal with at the library... Bro, the chucklefucks that come there, especially in the summer and winter..." Tony shook his head with a chuckle. "Mav, when you get a chance, can you accompany me back to my office?" Rob asked as he walked by. "I'll be there soon!" Rob opened the door to the final compartment of his propliner, a small private quarter that served as his office. It had faux wood paneling on the fore and aft bulkhead, and eggshell colored walls. The little space had a bed, an office desk, and two reclining chairs on blue carpet. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. In the far tail, the radial song was muffled some more. Rob glanced at himself in the mirror and saw a tired gaze stare back. He sat down his bagel and orange juice and grabbed his laptop bag to fetch some papers. Soon Maverick stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Everything okay, Rob? You look kind of annoyed." Maverick asked as he sat down on the bed. "I'm getting over a headache." Rob remarked as he pulled out a binder full of paperwork that needed to be signed. "I gotta get this shit signed." "It's a big opportunity to grow the business." Maverick remarked with a nod. "Just a shame that it had to involve your cousin's dying. WHELP NEVER LEAVE A TRAGEDY UNEXPLOITED! D'OH!" Rob chuckled and shook his head. "Too bad Calvin couldn't have been on that plane... instead it was Patrick. That's how it works. Evil never dies~" "Crazy never dies..." Maverick pointed. "Eh, you can kill anything with enough firepower, Mav." Rob morbidly quipped as he ate his bagel. "Remember when we started this whole thing fifteen years ago?" Maverick smiled. "We were literally just making commercials and offering videotape transfer services." "Yeah, and we got that big break when NBC asked us to transfer that whole sitcom from their collection of Type C reels." "Oh man, what a nightmare that was... but that's what opened the doors up for us to succeed." "Blood, sweat, tears, mostly blood." "And lawsuits!" Maverick grinned. Rob wagged a finger in sarcastic agreement. "Then we got the electronics plant, and then the optics plant, photochemical plant, got the federal grants for the post-Covid medical supply facility, and now Satcorp and soon, Baritel." "I'm excited because we got such a diverse portfolio now. We have electronics, aerospace, aviation, defense contractor, and now computer chips! Maybe someday we can be in the same league as AMD and Intel!" "Ha." Rob laughed. "Baritel's last hurrah in high end chip fabrication was helping to build the Am5x86! It's a company that got its start as a second source of Zilog Z80's- it's just another place to build PCB's, IC's, and other electronics tchotchke!" "It's got a nice portfolio." "Yes they do, but let's not get ahead of ourselves." Rob shrugged. "The company is in utter chaos right now. My cousin Rob, err, Walter, has no balls to confront anything, you have that lil' bitch Calvin running amuck, and leaders for everybody and nobody to lead! I'm gonna have to sort through it and do some damage control. I want Walter to run and head the company because I know he has the vision for it, but he's gonna have to grow a pair and tell people no, or let others do the dirty work!" "Well we all know you can say no to people, Rob." Grinned the Russian husky. Rob worked on his paperwork. "You betcha." "So how do you feel about being almost a billionaire?" "The same I felt when I became a millionaire~ I put my pants on the same way as everybody else. Wealth doesn't define me, it just makes paying for stuff easier." "And you don't have to give someone a kidney!" "I'm very much bothered by the wealth accumulation in this nation, at the expense of average, everyday people. You see the rich getting richer, and you see poor people getting poorer. Everything's going up in cost, but wages aren't? Inflation is lingering, but how the fuck can you keep having record profits if inflation is up? It's all greed. Corporate fucks milking every penny in our terminal stages of capitalism." "Silly poor people, money's for rich people!" Maverick laughed sarcastically. "It's really a shame. I feel sorry for my son and his generation. They are fucked." "Everyone's fucked." "Except us!" Maverick quipped sardonically. "GIANT METEOR TWENTY-TWENTY-FOUR!" Rob laughed as he jotted his name down on another page. "That's great." "I'll be here all week~" "I'll keep being me. Billionaire or not." "What, a reclusive, furious, sociopath?" Maverick grinned. Rob simply glanced up from his paperwork and sarcastically glared at Maverick. ---------------------------------------- Arriving into Lubbock by late morning, Rob's entourage hit the ground running almost as soon as the propellers stopped turning. Greeting them on the tarmac was Jack Barion, Rob's aging great-uncle, and his wife, Francis. The President Emeritus of Baritel, Jack was eighty-two, the patriarch of the Barion's Texas clan. He was slightly hunched and dressed in his southern gentlemen outfit of a dark blue sports coat, gray polo, and gray slacks. A brown Stetson rested atop his head, concealing slicked back silvery white hair. A blue banded Medal of Honor proudly hung from his neck from his heroism in Vietnam. Jack warmly greeted everyone off the plane and whisked them into the two company vans to take them to the cathedral for the memorial service. The memorial service lasted for two hours. The family's minister read the eulogies for James "The Deuce", his brother Nathan, their wives Patricia, and Jackie, and their sons and daughters, Patrick, Jeanette, Misty, John, and Fred Barion. A note of remembrance was also read for Baritel's management. Rob sat there and took it all in, with a look of regret on his face as he anxiously adjusted the knot to his dark pink necktie. He glanced over to see his great-uncle and his wife look melancholy at the soft church music play on the organ. Tragedy lurked throughout the Barion history. From the great triumphs and successes came the great tragedies. Even their family origins were birthed in tragedy. James Barion, the family's founder, was found as an abandoned newborn baby in 1902. Uncle Jack's father, John Barion was killed in the Second World War, and Jack himself fought in the horrors of Vietnam as an Army medic, which won him the Medal of Honor like his late father who won the nation's highest honor for heroism on D-Day. Rob's father was badly burned and disfigured in a workplace explosion, and his late mother was a refugee who fled North Korea as a child. The traumas they faced shaped Rob's own life, which was traumatized by his gay bashing as a teenager. Rob thought about all that and felt regretful about not really knowing his Texas side of the family. After the war, his grandfather moved to Ohio to become a school teacher, wanting to avoid living in the shadow of his father's wealth and power as a powerful Texas oil baron. The distance and all the decades only added to the distance. While Jack worked with his grandfather and built his own business empire in the 1980's, Gordo maintained a low profile as a high school history teacher. Following the memorial service and graveside service, Rob and his entourage had an early dinner at Jack's big home just outside of Lubbock. It was a time to relax and let go of the melancholy mood. And finally, as evening approached, Rob traveled with Maverick to see Baritel and finalize the deal. Located a few miles outside of Lubbock in the barren Texas scrubland was the Baritel campus. Neatly landscaped with a network of crisscrossing roads, the campus was composed of several offices, fabrication plants, and a research and development complex. It was the realized vision of Jack Barion's desire to get out of the oil business and get more involved with the emerging computer technology of the 1970's to diversify family assets. Jack founded Baritel in 1978 after scalping engineers from Intel, Hewlett-Packard, and Texas Instruments. Their first claim to fame was being a second source for the Zilog Z80 chip in 1980. Later they build Intel chips under license, created IC's and memory chips, and built printed circuit boards. Rob felt the company had become stagnant after the 1990's; their last major product was assisting AMD in building their Am5x86 in 1995. Now the company was noted for their IC's, PCB's, and memory modules. Rob hoped that he could steer ship back to being more innovative, especially with the geopolitical considerations going on with computer technology. Rob met with his cousin, another Rob Barion. To differentiate the two, he went by his middle name, Walter. He was Jack's youngest son, being three years younger than Rob at thirty-eight. They both superficially looked alike, with the Barion brown and tan fur and wavy brown hair. Walter had bright green eyes while Rob had green eyes that were more bluish. With Maverick and the remaining management, they worked out the final agreement in the conference room, which turned Baritel into an semi-autonomous division of Barev. The deal finally cemented Rob's wealth over the billionaire mark. Stepping out onto the balcony of the main corporate office, Rob felt the stagnant, dry heat as he walked over to the ledge to peer out over the campus and scrubland. The setting sun cast long shadows, the landscape taking on a rich amber color. Rob leaned against the railing and peered out with a pensive stare. Uncle Jack stepped out and walked over to him slowly. "Rob I must admit that something is bothering you." Uncle Jack quipped as he approached. Rob turned to look at him. "What makes you say that?" "I see it in your eyes. They're usually stern and laser focused, but now they seem unsure and tired. Is everything alright?" Rob fumbled his brow. "There's a lot on my mind, and I'm not sure how to approach it." "Do tell~ If you wish." Uncle Jack offered. Pursing his lips, Rob took a slow inhale and exhaled through clenched teeth. "I made a promise to myself this year that things would be different, and I'd let go of shit and just enjoy things and be happy. I feel like I've made some progress, but now I feel stuck. I feel like I let go of things that bothered me in the past, only for new shit to get dumped back in for me to fume about." Jack nodded. "I got shit going on with the neighborhood. My ex boyfriend that was behind me moved to Boston to take up business there, and now I got two yokels from Brownsville fucking everything up. Cleetus and his pregnant girlfriend Mary Jane and their slackjawked country-bumpkin friends that constantly are loud and destructive. My neighbor across the street passed away, Trevor Erickson. He just turned fifty-four and had a massive stroke at home and died the next day at the hospital. And a friend of mine, this woman I rescued from canine trafficking, Gabby Miller, she's really sick and fighting cancer in Pennsylvania. And I look at the aging members of our family, and I look at myself at approaching forty-one, and I feel this great sense of mortality. That I've escaped the clutches of death too many times, but yet death looms for all of us eventually. It's a crushing, numbing feeling, a great malaise that drowns everything else in my life. It's why I feel stuck." "I see." "Plus I see the geopolitical storm that's brewing in this country. I dread it; it feels like history is repeating itself, like the 1930's all over again." Jack took a step forward. "Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it, sadly. Rob, it sounds like you have a lot on your mind, and I understand it completely, given the disaster I've had to unpack with Francis." "Not to downplay the tragedy our family faced, or the grieving process you and Aunt Francis are going through." Rob added. "Success and tragedy are interwoven in our family story." "Every family." Jack nodded. "When I got the call, I was devastated. But the grace of God, and lessons I learned in 'Nam have helped me overcome this. It was a terrible accident, and I can only take solace that the lord took them instantly." "Yeah." Rob nodded solemnly. Before he could speak, his cell phone went off. Rob grabbed it and found that it was his neighbor Varg calling him. Rob closed his eyes and braced for it, knowing very well what was going on. "Damage report, Varg." "Well Rob, I guess you know why I'm calling..." came Varg's voice. He had a deep, rugged voice with a Norwegian drawl. "Noah here, decided it would be a perfect time to play baseball with his younger brother, and their baseball went through your patio door." "Lovely." Rob shook his head. He could very faintly hear Noah's voice in the background. "Is he near you?" "Yeah." "Can you put him on please?" "Sure." Uncle Jack raised a brow as he saw Rob hold his phone out at arm's length. "STOP BEING A STUPID FUCK, DONT'NOAH!" Rob screamed. Rob's irate expression slowly softened as he took a breath upon hearing Varg's voice return. "I'll be back tonight. Are you able to watch the house? Good. I'll make it up to you. Thanks." Rob hung the phone up and shook his head. "I'm gonna kill that stupid kid." Jack chuckled and put his paws on Rob's shoulders. "Rob I get the impression just now that you're in an environment that is unhappy, and its making you unhappy." "I suppose so." "Let me tell you something that helped me when I was at the nadir of my life way back when. When I came back from Vietnam, I thought things were gonna be okay, especially after I got my medal of honor. What a great honor from my nation for what I had to do, but medal or no damn medal, it didn't heal the terrible mental scars I got. After the war I became a raging alcoholic and it about ruined my life, my career, my marriage, everything. There was a point I missed a week of work because I sat in my underwear in my bedroom drunk as a skunk! Then Grandpa James one day confronted me about it and said basically I was the controller of my fate, and if I didn't do something about it, I wouldn't have any future. So I had to make a very tough decision on what I wanted, and it paid off." "What did you do?" Rob asked, looking puzzled. "Well not drinking fixed a lot of issues!" Jack laughed with a smile on his aged face. "I ended up moving to my current home in 1971. I had the money and ability, so I had my dream home made just outside of Lubbock! My own 'Dallas', heh! Everything was built to our liking, and it was quiet and perfect for our growing family. But I had to make that decision to uproot myself and move. I can't tell you what to do Rob, and I know you're a strong willed person regarding your own beliefs, but you clearly see what's bothering you, and the ball is in your court to do something about it. Nobody else can fix what ails you but yourself. So maybe think about that. You have the money, time, and resources to basically do whatever you want. So think hard on that." Rob mustered a smile. "Thanks, Uncle Jack." "Anytime." He smiled back. Rob turned and gazed out over the campus again. "This is a real honor. And I want to make sure things runs perfectly for you since this is your baby, and a lot of the family is depending on it." "There are operational issues that need addressing, but I know with the dream team, you can accomplish it, Rob. My time to run this company has come to a close, and it's time to pass the torch for innovation's sake. I'm at the end of my life, and all things must evolve." "Speaking of dream team..." Emerging onto the balcony was Rob's younger cousin, Calvin Barion. The oldest son of James "The Deuce", thirty year old Calvin was a pudgy brown and tan wolf like Rob, dressed in a slightly snug looking polo and khaki pants. An irate look was on his face as he marched towards Rob with an aggressive forward lean to his posture. Rob was unfazed and uninterested in his presence. "Let's get one thing straight, Rob. You are not gonna completely redo this company without going through all of us. This was a team effort and you only lucked out through tragedy, so cousin or no cousin I'm not gonna let you fuck Baritel up!" Rob's face did not flinch. "That thought never once crossed my mind." "Cal, calm yourself." Glared Jack. "This is uncalled for!" "I should have say so, Grandpa!" Calvin exclaimed. "I could be the one running this whole operation verses Walter's spineless ass!" "CALVIN!" Jack shouted. "Maybe there's a reason why you're just a programmer... a low level one..." Rob glared, twisting the knife. "I could run this whole company effortlessly if people would just give me a chance! My father ran this company, and it should have been me to succeed him!" "Hey Boobie McNipples, nobody gives a fuck!" Rob shouted. "This company's management and Jack decided that merging with Barev was the best option, so they went with it! Be thankful that I'm willing to keep your big loud ass here as a low level programmer! I don't put up with mediocrity, or narcissists." Calvin glared at Rob and turned to quickly walk away. "I swear you better not ruin our big breakthroughs!" "The only thing about to break through is your ass about to break through the seams of those pants, Cal!" Rob shouted as he slammed the door behind him. Uncle Jack shook his head and looked up at the sky. "Why did you take Patrick and not him?" -------------------------------------------- With Texas slipping away behind them, "Coneflower", Rob's L-1049E, droned alone in the nighttime sky. The pale moonlight glistened against the polished bare metal plane, casting the silver skin as softly blue. Flickering blue flames were spat by the four radial engines that burbled through the night. "Okay Grandma, you get some shuteye and I'll check on you in a little while." Rob said as he helped his Grandma into bed in his private quarters. Nancy sat down on the bed and laid out in her pajamas as Rob covered her up with a blanket from the small closet in the corner. "It's been a while since I've made a trip like this!" Nancy exclaimed as she stowed her glasses into her purse which sat on the floor. "It's not easy when you're ninety-one!" "I can imagine so~" Rob nodded. "Don't get old, Rob!" Nancy laughed cynically. "It was a beautiful memorial service." "That it was. They're all at peace now. You have a good night, Grandma. I love you." "I love you too, Rob. Good night." Rob smiled and turned the cabin lights off, leaving just the soft glow of a single dim lamp on the ceiling to act as a nightlight. He closed the door behind him and made his way back through the plane to the nose. The main cabin was dimly lit as almost everyone slept with their seats reclined. Rob stepped into the forward cabin and closed the door behind him to see Maverick and Marcus at work at the video editing station that sat up by the bulkhead in the lounge. On the old Trinitron played back some footage Marcus had shot on his old HL-791, which he used to capture footage of the Baritel campus. Even in the modern era of ultra-high definition, their anachronistic tube cameras still did their work for Barev's internal and educational programming. Rob took a seat at the card table at the window. Peering out the window, Rob watched the propellers faintly shimmer and the engines belch their blue flames. He sat there for a long time in silence and watched the R-3350's roar outside. Faintly below, the glow of little towns and street lights passed as they made their way over Arkansas. Eventually the radial song overpowered Rob, and his tired eyes closed. He dozed off for a moment before the sound of something tapping the table stirred him instantly awake. Maverick sat down opposite of Rob and presented him a freshly made cup of coffee that was in a paper cup. "Thought you might need that!" Rob rubbed his tired eyes. "Thanks~" He took a slow sip of coffee and sat up. "Today was a big day." Maverick nodded as he watched the engines from the window. "I feel good about this division." "Well it certainly doesn't have the same feeling of CGOF..." Rob remarked sarcastically. "You don't have retard one and retard two running things like that disaster..." "Or family being a city commissioner..." Maverick grimaced. "No, just some fat, bottomfeeding, ass that's gonna cause problems..." "Dmitry?" Maverick grinned. Rob about spat his coffee off. "No, not this time. Calvin." "Oh, that pouty looking, tub of lard with the rocket tits straining that ill-fitting polo?" "That's the one! Calvin Hollister Barion." "Who names their kid that?" "The Deuce~" Rob shrugged. "Calvin is the poster child for abortion. The same with the retard that broke my patio door, Dont'Noah Clagg." "Oh your new neighbors?" Maverick teased with a snicker. "Yeah, my new neighbors. Go from having quiet Connor and Scott to Yee-Yee and Yee-Haw from Bumfuckistan Ohio." Rob rolled his eyes. "They blast country rap music all day, they're loud in everything that they do, and they have broken my patio door, on top of damaging my fence." Maverick shook his head. "The neighborhood is changing." "Yeah, for the worst!" Rob exclaimed. "I thought rising housing prices would mitigate this, but here we are. I can't wait to see who buys Trevor's home across the street. Varg and Lily are building a new house out on the east end of Newark, so guess that'll be going up for sale soon!" "And my house is falling apart." Maverick rolled his eyes. "Brand new home built by GR Gordon Homes, and its six years old and shit is breaking on it." "America's Builder my ass. More like fuck everything up and charge three times the cost of building it!" Rob grumbled. "GR Gordon rebuilt the whole neighborhood, and our house is starting to show issues too." "Terrible isn't it?" Maverick shook his head. "My parents' house was built in 1970 and it's built solid. They've done very little to it. This house? I've had to constantly unfuck things and now one basement wall is cracking and I gotta unfuck that too! 'MERICA!" Rob laughed and shook his head cynically as he sipped more coffee. Maverick peered out the window as he drank his coffee slowly. "I feel sorry for my son's generation." "I do too. I feel sorry for Alvin and Robby's whole generation. They are fucked." "Exactly." The husky grumbled. "I remember when I graduated from high school and you could buy a decent used car kinda cheap, or get an okay apartment for like three, four-hundred a month. And if you worked hard and put money away, maybe a house in a decade. Now look at it." "I bought Alvin's Tahoe used, and it was still over thirty-five grand because it had low miles on it." Rob grunted. "My Tahoe is like a step above the base model and it was still fifty-five thousand at Russ' dealership in 2019. It's bullshit is what it is. Companies and renters are pricing themselves out of control because they can and they will." "That's because it's all about capitalism!" Maverick grinned big. "SILLY POOR PEOPLE! MONEY'S FOR RICH PEOPLE!" "Conservatives always bitch about wealth redistribution by socialist Democrats or whatever the fuck scare word they conjure up, but the only wealth redistribution I see is money going from the poor to the rich. It's fucking bullshit is what it is. How much money is enough?" "Chalk that under the whole category of 'power corrupts'." "Yeah, sadly." Rob grunted. "We're all fucked. We got senile old man running the nation, and another senile, tangerine tyrant trying to return. Where's a giant meteor when you need one?" "One of these days something's gonna break. The shitliner's coming to port and I'd hate to be there when they tie it off!" "I suppose nobody stays on top forever... That applies to us too. Every empire falls." "Exactly." "So let's not fuck this up like we did with CGOF..." Rob concluded as he downed the last of his coffee. ------------------------------ Sunday morning was quiet as Rob slept in. Exhausted from a long flight home and late to bed, the wolf-hybrid slept in while Joey sat out in the dining room reading something on his phone. Sunlight softly filtered through the tan curtains that were drawn closed. Birds softly chirped in the back yard. BOOM! Rob threw himself out of bed at the concussion of a huge explosion. The whole house shook and Rob heard glass exploding as debris came down hitting on the roof. He landed on the floor, did a combat roll with his pistol drawn. His blue-green eyes were as large as saucer plates. "JOEY!?" Rob shouted. "Yeah!" came his husband's voice. "The fuck was that!?" "Take a guess..." Rob ripped the blue tarp covering the broken patio door away and stormed outside. There was smoldering debris all over the deck and driveway. The air had the acrid scent of smoke with a hint of gunpowder. Rob stepped down his deck and saw his pet mallard Greenie emerge from the little flap in the garage side door. The green headed duck looked frightened as he quacked at Rob in a frantic manner. Rob holstered his pistol and picked Greenie up to calm him down. "It's okay, Greenie. It's okay." Rob assured. "My dumbass neighbor at it again..." Rob sat Greenie down gently and continued marching over to confront his neighbor, Noah Clagg. As he walked by his garage, he saw that whatever exploded destroyed part of his privacy fence that was installed at the back of his yard. Joey glanced over as he holstered his pistol. He looked at Joey and they both shook their head. Rob walked over to the edge of his privacy fence where it met Noah's chain link fence. The once pristine backyard of Connor and Scott was now completely trashed with car parts and other junk. A burning pile of lumber and trash emitted black smoke as Rob saw blown up propane tanks around. Noah was standing there in a wife beater and oil stained jeans that clung to his pencil thin frame. Rob's eyes squinted in disdain at the gray wolf's presence. Noah Clagg was a twenty-three year old gray wolf. Wavy locks of light brown hair poked out from underneath his backwards turned baseball cap. He was some yokel that came from Brownsville, and this was his very first home with his pregnant girlfriend Claire who stood in the shade of a tree. She was a gray furred wolfess with dirty blonde hair that was tied into a bun atop her head. From Connor and Scott's quiet and low profile existence as his neighbors behind him for a long time, now they were replaced by two loud trashy hicks. "NOAH!" Rob shouted. He got the wolf's attention as Rob motioned for him to come over. Noah walked with a sad little pouty pace, knowing very well that he screwed up. Rob stood there with his arms crossed. "Rob I can explain this..." Noah said with a hesitant, shit-eating smirk. "I was... I was trying to see if this was gonna work for our baby shower and the gender reveal!" "What, blow everyone up?" Rob glared. "Look what you did to my fence!? On top of smashing out our patio door?" "I can fix it!" Noah exclaimed. "Oh yeah, I'm gonna trust Dont'Noah to fix this. I wouldn't let you run a Mister Coffee let alone use power tools!" "Dude, you gotta use your head." Joey said in a calm, but serious tone. "Look I'm sorry! What do you expect?" "You not being fucking retarded?" Rob exclaimed. "I can't even believe you'd even ask something like that?" "What's that supposed to mean?" "This is the fourth time you've done something that has fucked something up in my yard! You've smashed Joey's windshield with a baseball, damaged the fence once before and now you completely did a nine-eleven on it, you play that stupid Kane Brown at full blast all night, and busted my patio door! You're also terrifying my pet duck! You have pissed everyone off in this neighborhood! People wouldn't want to kill you if you didn't constantly fuck everything up!" "Oh who would kill me?" "Me, Joey, Varg, Lily, Nico, Vlad, your neighbors, Misses White, the Sokolovs, the Brenners, the Treymores, and Adams." "Oh." "Yeah." Noah looked all flustered as he glanced at his girlfriend. "I don't know why everyone's being all fucking pissed off? It's a free country!" "This ain't hickville anymore! Welcome to Newark. Welcome to city ordinances and people who don't want to be kept up half the night by half-baked so-called country singers!" "Hey fuck you, Rob! I don't wanna hear shit from a faggot like you!" Rob glanced at Joey with a look of disbelief. "You know, Noah, I think you've got the wrong impression about me... and I think in all fairness I should probably tell you just exactly who I am as a person..." "Okay." "So the next time you do something incredibly stupid and damage another part of my house, I'm gonna come on out and walk on over and come in and see ya, and then I'm gonna crack your fuckin' head like an egg in front of your girlfriend. And hopefully? If you come out of your coma? I'll waltz on back in and split that motherfucker open again. That's the kind of person I am, Noah. I don't give a fuck about you, or your knocked up girl." "You don't talk to me like that!" Rob suddenly lunged over the fence and grabbed Noah by his wife beater. Rob yanked him off his feet and into his face. "LISTEN HERE YOU INBRED IRISH PRICK! YOU FUCKED MY WHOLE PROPERTY UP! LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO IT AND HOW MUCH MONEY I'VE HAD TO SPEND TO UNFUCK IT!" Noah's eyes were huge. His girlfriend tried to intervene, only for Joey to motion for her to stop. "I wouldn't you if I was you." Laughed the Doberman morbidly. Rob threw Noah to the ground and turned to leave. Noah crawled back, jumped to his feet and ran back to his girlfriend as Joey walked away to follow Rob back to their house. Rob brushed some dust off his paws. "Is there such a thing as a post birth abortion?" "Oh boy, Rob..." Joey chuckled. "He's so oblivious..." Rob sat down on the steps to his deck and gave Greenie some pets as he sat there fuming. "Motherfuckers..." Joey looked around at all the debris strewn across the deck, on the roof, the broken patio door, and now a broken TV room window. "Look at this mess..." Rob suddenly got up, kicked some debris away with his foot furiously and went inside. "I need to clear my head and go grab the truck..." ---------------------------------- While Joey swept up all the burnt up ash and debris, Rob left in his red Tahoe. Driving up the road, he picked up his best friend Maverick, and they took off for the east side of Newark for Rob's storage depot. "So that's the huge explosion I heard while doing laundry?" Maverick laughed, finding Rob's lack of reaction on his face even funnier. "Dum-dum behind me was testing his great contraption for a gender reveal." Rob grumbled. "I wish it would have killed both of them." "Rob, that's really mean!" Maverick snorted. "I'm tired of them!" Rob griped. "I'm tired of them and listening to Kane Brown every fucking night for hours while Dont'Noah tries to fix his stupid truck. Hope it rolls off the jack and crushes him!" Maverick about spat out his drink as he drank from a bottle of iced tea. "Rob! Jesus Christ!" "Sorry... they're not helping... I got a lot on my mind lately." "Don't we all..." the husky nodded. On the east end of Newark sat Rob's storage depot, a long abandoned fire station. "Newark Fire Company No. 2" was a square two-story brick building with two large garage doors and a small personnel door in the center, all painted a faded green. A stone plaque at one end of the building bore the names of Newark's past fire chief and mayor, with "A.D 1906" signaling the building's completion date. Having been long since abandoned, Rob had purchased the building a decade before, with big plans on remodeling the upstairs into an archive to house his video production division's extensive videotape library. But in the end, the building was simply used to store spare broadcast equipment, and Rob's two Silverado one-tons. Rob pulled off East Main and parked beside the building in the alley. He hopped out with Maverick and proceeded to make a walk of the perimeter to check for anything out of the ordinary. As he walked back towards the front, he heard Maverick calling for him, something about a sign posted on the door. Rob rounded the corner and found his friend standing and staring at something attached to the faded front door. Rob walked up and saw it was a flyer notification from the city, complete with the seal of Newark. "Oh what the fuck is this?" Rob muttered as he read it, realizing that it was a notification that his building was under consideration for eminent domain for a gas station. "Are you fucking kidding me!? Tear this and two other buildings down for a fucking Sheetz?" "Wow." Maverick shook his head. "Just what we need, a third Sheetz!" Rob ripped the flyer off and read it aloud. "The city is allowing a six month period for negotiations in purchasing and-" He furiously ripped it up. "Jesus fucking Christ this fucking town is so useless! Why bring meaningful employment to town when you can just get a gas station! Newark could fuck up a cup of coffee I swear." "So what's your plan?" "I guess time to do some damage control..." Rob grumbled as he unlocked the front door to step inside and disarm the security. Maverick stepped inside after Rob and glanced around. The ground level of the building was dominated by Rob's two Silverados. Both were red crew cab one-tons; one was a conventional truck with a single-rear-wheel long bed, the other a flatbed dually with a bright aluminum bed. Various boxes of electronics and spare parts, spare broadcasting lights were tucked away in various corners. Rob grabbed the keys from the safe and hopped into his flatbed and fired it up. Its turbodiesel coughed as it turned over with its distinct diesel chug. Rob pulled the 3500 out and then backed his Tahoe in before setting the alarm. "Come on, let's go get these fence panels..." Rob grunted as he closed the door behind him and hopped into the truck. Maverick hopped into the front seat and they took off down Main Street for the highway. They had an half-hour trek to the Home Depot in Zanesville. "I can't believe the Newark Hell Depot doesn't have these stupid fence panels. Only Zanesville and Cambridge stock them, and I don't really feel like driving to Cambridge." Rob grumbled as he drove. "Fucking Noah, pissing me off even when he's not around!" Maverick snorted. "I think you gotta let it go." "Yeah, okay. Flaming debris, explosion destroying my fence. What's next?" "A suicide bombing!" Maverick grinned. Rob shook his head. "At least once I get the stuff then it'll get fixed and be good to go so I can then focus my energy and unfuck this fire station fuckery!" The husky chuckled as he watched the scenery go by the window. "We can't get a break can we as adults?" "No." "I hate adulating, but I have to." Maverick remarked with a cynical chuckle. "I can't believe next year I'm gonna be forty!" "In two months I turn forty-one, but man does my body feel like I'm seventy-one." "Well if it makes you feel any better? You look at least like you're sixty-one~" grinned Maverick. Rob briefly glowered at him before laughing it off cynically. "Thanks!" Rob exclaimed. "At least my hair's not gray yet." "Sometimes I think about the past and remember those halcyon days of our youth. We took that time of our lives for granted." "Yeah." Rob nodded. "I don't know halcyon my youthful days were with all the shit I had to contend with, but there was a period of time in our lives when we had all the time in the world, and things were more simple. I was just thinking about that not long ago, remembering about my first major commercial that aired on TV for the health department." "Oh! Was that the snowball fight exercise video we did in... what? December of ninety-eight?" "Yeah. I was referred to it by Mister Philander, that the health department wanted a thirty-second commercial for exercise for the winter months and we shot it on my old HL-95. I remember bringing the edited master tape to ABC Six in Columbus, and they were shocked I had it on oxide Betacam, which I think they dubbed to DigiBeta for distribution?" "Oh our old cobbled together broadcast gear." Maverick laughed. "You had your HL-95, and I got my ex White House BVP-3 not long after! Those Betacams served us well and that BVP-3 still serves me well twenty-four years later!" "We're the king of obsolete." Laughed Rob. "I don't care what anyone says- tubes were better, they make a better picture that's not these flat, lifeless high definition crap. I don't like modern TV, it's brain rotting junk. It's why this country is in the shape that it is." "I'm waiting for Idiocracy's OW MY BALLS to be a real show. It'll probably be on TLC too!" "Yeah, sadly." Rob chuckled. "That was supposed to be a comedy, not a documentary." "You think your old HL-95 would fire up again?" "Well I know the BVV-1 deck is okay. The camera the last time I checked it over was okay, but the tubes are shot in them, and I don't have any more High Stability Plumbicons, but Ron tells me back in Fairfax they're setting up the old Valvo equipment in the tube plant to make them again as the P2750." "I can't wait, especially since I'm in negotiation to get that supposed motherload of analog broadcast gear from this retired engineer dude in Pennsylvania." "You keep me posted on that, Mav, 'cause we're taking all of it if we get the green light." "Absolutely!" A smile returned to Rob's face. "I really miss those days, when we were the producers, camera crew, editing crew, and directors!" "Now look at us." "Yeah. Who would have thought back then." Rob smiled. "I sure didn't!" "If you're good at something, you never do it for free, Rob." "Exactly. But there was a special charm back then, not the dull monotony of scribbling your name over paperwork..." "...Or adult daycare." Maverick joked. "That too." "Those were the days." ----------------------------------------- Monday morning was strangely cold for the end of May, an overcast sky hanging low over downtown Newark. The northerly wind gently rustled the lush green and flowering trees that decorated the headquarters of Barev, housed in the former Newark High School off Main Street. The old high school and gymnasium shared the space with an old brick farm home, which served as Rob and Mav's office lair. It was surrounded by lush shrubs and flowering garden beds. At eight o'clock, Rob arrived in his Tahoe. He pulled in from the back alley into the parking lot, turned and parked in the space right before his office house. Rob opened the door and stepped out, wearing his usual attire of gray work pants, shiny black dress shoes, and an ultramarine sweater over a light blue dress shirt, its collar just poking out the top. Rob turned, grabbed his laptop bag and closed the door shut, he promptly locked his SUV and walked towards the entrance of the old farm house. Stepping inside the small lobby, Rob spotted his nephew Marcus chatting with Maverick and their secretary, Tabby. They were in the middle of laughing at a joke. "Good morning~" Rob greeted as he closed the door behind him. "Morning!" everyone chimed in almost simultaneously. "Gimme a sec and we'll do the meeting~" "Okay." Marcus nodded he watched Rob walk upstairs to his office. Upstairs was Rob and Maverick's office. There was a small landing at the top of the stairs, which went to their offices, which were connected by a conference room. Rob unlocked the frosted glass door and stepped inside. Unlike his business counterparts with their massive, posh offices, Rob's office was modest in size. It had yellow teak floors, and cheerful blue walls. A set of couches and reclining chairs around a coffee table adored the forward half, while towards a large window that peered out through the downtown landscape, was his big partners desk. A desk to its left housed his workstation, and a small table just in front of the window had numerous portraits of family and friends on display. Certificates adorned the walls, and a couple bookshelves held numerous legal books, broadcast manuals, and his extensive vacuum tube collection. Rob sat his laptop bag down beside his desk and knelt down to retrieve a can of ground coffee from the right drawer to his workstation desk. He got his Mr. Coffee ready as he heard his phone ring. Rob flipped the power switch and walked over to grab his phone off the desk to find his uncle Steve calling him. "Morning, talk to me, Steve~" Rob greeted on the phone. "Rob, hey what are you up to tomorrow, say mid-morning?" "Same shit, different day, why what's going on?" "Well I just got several big properties approved for sale, and I was wondering if you could take me up in your helicopter to go photograph them? I'll pay for the gas." "Sure. How about ten? I also need to talk to you about buying some property." "That sounds great." "I'll see you tomorrow at ten." Rob concluded, just as Maverick entered the office with Marcus, and Borr Eklund, Marcus' older brother. "Thanks Steve, bye-bye now." Rob doled out the coffee and sat down with the group around the coffee table to discuss building a whole new facility to house Barev Video. The idea was spearheaded by Marcus, who oversaw the whole broadcasting division of Barev. The existing facility was nothing more than the former gymnasium, converted into a big production space. The Newark division was outgrowing its space, and the studio had constant sound issues from its hasty conversion. Adding to the dilemma, a recent storm damaged the roof, causing a leak when it rained. Borr, who ran the Newark division of Barev Video, wanted two large sound studios to ease up the workload and scheduling. Rob and Maverick were very receptive to the idea; Rob remarked it would also benefit him trying to find a new home for his ailing fire station building. Maverick sat back and jotted notes down on a yellow legal pad that sat on his lap. Following the meeting, the group proceeded to walk to the main building to go shoot a promo to announce the finalized merger of Baritel into Barev. The main building connected to the former gymnasium by a corridor that was composed of two ninety degree bends. Footsteps echoed against the linoleum floor and concrete block walls. "You okay, Rob?" Marcus asked as he walked beside Rob. "You look tired, like something's on your mind." "I don't know, something feels off today. Like something's amiss but I don't know what." Rob responded with a shrug. "Ah, well, it is what it is." "Have you heard any more about that analog treasure-trove?" Marcus asked curiously as they rounded the first bend. "We're still negotiating the final purchase price for all of it, and the logistics of picking it all up in one trip, but it's gonna be interesting. A nice AVR-3 Quad, a couple Hitachi Type C's, a bunch of Philips cameras, the LDK-6A and their -614 portables, a set of TK-47B's, a couple Sony BVP-360's, BVP-330's, and a couple HL-79A "or D's and spare parts." "Nice." "Other than dust, they look good." Rob shrugged. "Didn't you just find yourself a nice looking BVP-300 too, Marcus?" "I did and I thought I had it going, but something's going on with the CTS circuit? I set it up right on the oscilloscope but when you get a slight overload? It starts to increase beam current up too much and the resolution suffers." "Yeah I think I know what's going on. There's a cap on the CTS logic board that can go bad and cause some problems. I can work on it after work." "I'd appreciate it." "Not a problem." Rob quipped as he rounded the second bend to step into the studio. The studio was an open, two story space. The two reminders of its past life as a gymnasium was its bleached oak flooring, and upper seating that ringed around the open second story balcony. Studio lights now glowed from their gantries suspended from the ceiling. For today's promo, the studio was set up with faux walls covered in gray foam spikes. Rob found that they made for an appealing backdrop that cast interesting shadows when lit up at an angle. A set of black pillars that were topped off with blue had a flat section that would illuminate with the name of the Barev division. It matched the themed title of "The Pillars of Barev". Off in the corner of the studio sat four of the ultra-high definition Ikegami cameras, wrapped in their plastic covers. In stark contrast, the promo would be shot on their anachronistic tube cameras, a set of three Ikegami HK-312's from 1977. The big beige and gray, tub shaped cameras with their large Fujinon lenses sat on vintage Vinten pedestals ready to go as Corey Wilhelm and Ryan McDowd made the final adjustments in setting them up. The "Ikky's" were an interim camera to replace their 1979 vintage "Big Blue" RCA TK-47's, which had gone out of service for major overhaul after four decades of use. Rob sat his paperwork down and grabbed his script to read his monologue. From his days behind the camera, Rob now found himself as company emcee in front of the cameras. Rob glanced at his Ikegami's and missed the days slaving behind his anachronistic fleet of tube cameras for hours on end. Now he slaved over paperwork and playing adult daycare to the company. When he was a teenager and read the morning school news in broadcasting class, Rob had worked out a good network voice, which he subsequently lost in his gay bashing. Now Rob felt he was the cousin of their senator, Sherrod Brown, with his gruff voice. Marcus got behind the camera and lined it up for a shot. "Whenever you're ready, Rob." "Let's wing it!" Rob sarcastically quipped as he handed his script to Maverick. ----------------------------------- Following dinner with Joey, Rob stepped outside to go work in his garage. Still dressed in his work attire, Rob walked carrying Marcus' camera in one paw, while clutching a Betamax cassette in the other. At his feet Greenie chased after him as Rob walked to the garage and opened the door. Rob sat the camera and tape down on his workbench and went over to feed Greenie his dinner. He spent a bit of time giving his pet mallard some love and attention before turning around to sit down at his workbench in the garage. Rob turned on his old Trinitron TV and powered up his SuperBeta that sat beside it. Pulling the tape from its plastic case, Rob shoved it into the front loading slot of his thirty-six year old VCR. He hit play and listened to the tape spool up. He leaned back into his chair and watched his promo start to play back. The set looked good, with the right retro touch as Rob explained on camera about the "pillars of Barev". He chuckled and shook his head at his wooden acting skills. Rob rotated himself on his swivel chair ninety degrees and began working to disassemble the old BVP-300. He took the side panel off and fanangaled the logic board he needed out of the camera, which he sat down on the table to examine. Sure enough, he could tell a capacitor needed replacing. With a classic ring, the old Bell desk phone beside the TV rang. Rob stopped his tape and reached over to answer the beige phone. "Hello, Rob speaking." "Rob? Hey you got a call coming in from Susan Gabboro. I think you need to take this..." came Joey's voice. "Okay, put her through. Thanks." Rob hung up, and four seconds later, the phone rang again. Rob immediately picked up. "Hi, this is Rob." "Rob? Hi, this is Susan." Came the voice of Gabby's eldest daughter. She sounded exasperated. "Hi Susan, what's going on?" "Rob, I wanted to tell you that I bring the sad news that Mom passed away earlier today." Rob froze in place for a moment. His face immediately looked sad, disappointed at the news. He slowly sat back down on his swivel chair. "Mom passed away at eleven-thirty-one in the morning. She was in a lot of pain early this morning, and they gave her more morphine and then just things bottomed out. But at the end, she was happy and at peace when she left us. I apologize we didn't get to you and Joey sooner, her condition just went south on Friday, and the hospital said we needed to do hospice care as there wasn't anything more they could do for her cancer, and it's been a mad rush on top of-" "I get it, I understand. Oh wow, Susan, my condolences on Gabby's passing." "This has been really hard for me and my siblings. You... deal with the passing of your birth mother, on top of the reality of your very own conception under such evil circumstances that she endured for all those years, and yet, made something of her life in her time of freedom before she left us too early." "If you need any help, please do not hesitate to ask for help." Rob assured. "You've been so much of a help for me and Mom. Mom was so fond of you. You were her hero, Rob, for saving her life eight years ago. As she was dying, she wanted me to tell you once again thank you and that she loved you tremendously for everything that you did. You're gonna get a card from her probably in a few days. We mailed it Saturday. We thought she had more time in hospice and she wanted to explain it to you." Rob leaned against the workbench as he stared on bitterly at the blue screen on his TV. "This is the most unfair thing that could happen. Gabby went through all that... and cancer took her." "Mom was a fighter. She held on for as long as she did and never gave up her optimism and hope. But I'm at peace at least knowing she's not going to suffer anymore. And I have the closure of knowing who my birth mother was." "Again, if you need any help, please let me know." "We're going to start working on her memorial service, and we hope your family could come to Pennsylvania, because that would mean the world to her, since your family showed so much care when you rescued her." "Please keep me posted. And again, my condolences." "Thank you Rob, thank you. I best let you be." "Take care, Susan. Bye-bye." Rob slowly hung up the phone. He looked shocked, devastated. Sensing that something was amiss, Greenie waddled over and took off into a short hop across the garage to land on the workbench. The mallard watched Rob put his head down on the bench and lay there to just take a moment to mourn. Greenie got closer and quacked at Rob with a soft call before putting his head against Rob's in an effort to comfort him. "Greenie... I can't believe she's gone." Appearing around the corner, Joey walked into the garage to see Rob with his head down on the table. Joey had a hunch that the phone call wasn't good as he walked over and put a paw on Rob's upper back. "Rob, are you okay?" Rob looked up, with dry, bloodshot eyes. "Gabby passed away." Joey instantly frowned. "Oh man..." "I know life ain't fair, but that really hurt. This was a woman who was kidnapped from her family as a nine year old, sexually molested, abused, held against her will for almost four decades, and just when she gets her freedom and a sense of direction in her life? Cancer took her. How evil is that?" Joey nodded with a sympathetic gaze on her face. Rob got up slowly and ran a paw through his wavy locks of hair. "Everything that had happened to her, and she found the strength to remain hopeful and optimistic, even to the end. Everything that happened to her... so where the fuck did I go wrong with my life?" "Rob, you can't compare yourself to others!" Joey said while smiling at him. "Everyone copes with trauma in different ways, some better than others, some worse, but that's okay." Rob looked down at the floor with a heavy frown on his aged face. He slowly began walking towards his parked truck outside. "Rob, where are you going?" Joey asked. "I need to go clear my head." Joey stood in the garage and watched Rob take off in his Silverado. --------------------------------------- Leveling off at eight thousand feet, Rob flew alone in the almost clear evening sky. Newark slipped away into the distance as Rob sat strapped into his newly acquired P-38J. Dressed in wartime olive drab and neutral gray paint, "Greased Lightning" gracefully flew with the burble of its twin Allison engines. A dejected Rob sat in silence as he monitored his gauges and the scenery outside his canopy. A multitude of thoughts simultaneously ran through his mind as he sat there reflecting on the loss of his friend. Lately it felt like death had come too early for too many people; Gabby, Trevor across the street, his cousins and their loved ones. It reminded Rob again of his own mortality and his several brushes with death. Why was he alive when they all died? It was the enduring question that ran on repeat in his mind. Gabby was a woman who missed out most of her life after being kidnapped at the age of nine. She spent nearly forty years in a sex trafficking ring before managing to escape when the building she was kept in was blown up by their corrupt Sheriff. Rob found her on the side of Route 13, disheveled, frozen, weakly reaching an arm out for help as a last gasp of life. And despite all that, Gabby found the inner strength to let all that go and have some hope for her future. Rob survived his traumatic gay bashing, but in the end, he gave into his hate, and is showed; Rob glanced at himself in the cockpit's rear view mirror above and saw his piercing stare glare back. They were the same eyes his father had, twisted and corrupted by despair and hate. Now he was trying so hard to make things better, but felt even more stuck now. Glancing to his left, Rob looked out at the setting sun painting the sky a beautiful shade of orange. The clouds took on hues of amber and magenta, as the sun hung low on the western horizon. It made Rob wonder; was he nearing the sunset of his life? Was he running out of time to make things better for himself and to really, once and for all, let go of his haunting past? What could he do? Rob thought about all this and felt helpless, frustrated, confused. He decided to stop racing and overwhelming his mind and concentrate on flying. Rob flew north over Cleveland, banked around and headed south to pass over Akron-Canton and then back to Newark. As the last light of the day began turning to night, Rob made an uneventful landing back at Newark-Heath Airport. He stowed his Lightning back into the museum hangar and made his way home feeling no different than when he took off. Nighttime finally arrived and the stars faintly twinkled in the darkened skies above. Rob's driveway and yard faintly glowed from the lights inside the garage, as Rob tinkered with Marcus' camera. He was kept company by Greenie, who rested on the workbench near Rob. The wolf-hybrid watched his oscilloscope as he made an adjustment to the camera's CTS circuit, his eyes watching the monitor as he slowly turned an adjustment pot with a plastic screwdriver. Setting the screwdriver down, he glanced over at his TV to see the camera's video output, which was a stationary shot of a calibration target. Rob leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms as he scanned the screen. The registration looked good, it had decent sharpness, the black and white levels were on par, and there wasn't any noticeable geometric distortions from the deflection yokes. The colorimetry was bright and cheerful, particularly in the yellow and orange portion of the color chart. It made Rob always think of a quote a retired cameraman once told him; "Sony makes pretty pictures, Ikegami makes realistic pictures." Grabbing the camera, Rob put it on his shoulder and panned it around the garage. Watching the monitor, Rob watched the bright garage lights comet-tail with their typical Plumbicon red flare. Rob bobbed the camera around, watching the lights leave fuchsia trails that faded out after a couple seconds, typical for a standard triode-gun tube. There wasn't any loss of resolution when exposed to highlights, confirming to Rob that he fixed the CTS circuit. Content with the result, he switched the camera off and put the lens cap back on it. "Hey, Rob." Rob stopped and turned to see his neighbor Noah standing at his open garage door. "You got a moment?" "What do you need?" Rob said, trying to keep his tone calm. Noah looked a bit hesitant. "I think we've gotten off on a bad footing, and I just wanted to talk." "Okay." "Look, I want you to understand that I'm not a bad person, okay? I'm just... I never lived in a city before! My whole family grew up out in Brownville and Jacksontown, so we had a lot of space to kinda do whatever the hell we wanted! So it's a whole different game then coming to Newark!" "This ain't hickville, Noah." Rob said, crossing his arms. "There's noise ordinances, there's neighbors in close proximity. It's one thing to blow something up on your property in the middle of nowhere, but it's another thing when you blow something up and there's homes less than two hundred feet from yours! Plus its frankly stupid and reckless. You could get yourself killed." "Yeah, but it's my right! I should have the freedom to do whatever I want!" "Let me tell you about freedom..." Rob glared. He took a couple steps towards Noah, who looked a bit hesitant at Rob approaching him. "Freedom isn't what you think freedom is. There is no such thing as freedom in this nation. Freedom is anarchy. Can you run around in public naked? Are you allowed to scream FIRE in a movie theatre and not face consequences for causing a panic? Are you able to just willy-nilly get in a vehicle and drive with no license or insurance? You don't have freedom like that. What you and me have is a limited set of freedoms confined within a constitution and network of laws and ordinances that enforce societal expectations. So spare me the shit about free-dum, Noah. You're more free than me and Joey!" "What's that supposed to mean?" "Do you look over your shoulder constantly because there's people who disapprove of your relationship with your girlfriend? Do you worry when a cop stops you to ask questions? Are you afraid that you're going to be fired from your job for some innate feature that makes up your very being?" "No...?" "Congratulations. You don't have to worry about shit like me and Joey for our sexual orientation, or my nephew, for being mixed. This is the shit I'm talking about. Limited freedoms under the conditions stipulated in the law. And thanks to your unwavering support for President Caligula, the wanna-be Il Duce for America, that freedom is continuing to be under threat." "Who and what is a Caligula?" Rob rubbed his brow. "Jesus fucking Christ... Regardless! You can't be doing the stupid stunts you and your girlfriend and your brother enjoy doing, and then act surprised that people wanna kill you! So don't blow things up in your yard! Stop sending flaming debris over mine, or blasting country music at all hours of the night." "I don't get what the problem is!" "Yeah, that's the problem." Rob sarcastically quipped. "I'm not gonna argue with you anymore, Noah. I've had enough bad news hit me today with a good friend passing away." "Well Rob, I'm sorry to hear that~" "I don't want to hate you because I know you have talents. Like taking that shitbox K10 pickup and getting it running again. You have the brains to do it, and I hate seeing you waste potential. So please take time and get smart before it's too late. You have a kid who's gonna need you. So please, have a good night." Noah stood with a blank stare on his face as he watched Rob unplug his camera and gently pick Greenie up to take him to his little duck house on the other side of the garage. "I said good night, Noah." "Good night." The wolf muttered before turning and leaving for his house. Rob watched him disappear into the darkness before he shut the lights off and closed the garage door. Rob went back inside and slid the new patio door shut. ------------------------------------ "5/22/23 Today I found out that my friend Gabby Miller passed away from cancer. She was 58. This hurt a lot more than what I expected. You know the situation is bad, and it always sits in the back of your mind, but when you're told of their passing, it still hurts. It's been a long time since I've hurt this bad over a passing. Not since my friend Conner Wells in '05. Gabby's death hurts because she had so much of her life taken away by some sick fuck. Oh the evil that men do. She was a nine year old who was kidnapped, and held in sexual slavery for years and years. I can't even begin to imagine what hell that would be. How the world changed so much between 1974 and 2015 and yet you're cooped up and away in a concrete hell. She got her freedom and had such optimism for the future and she couldn't escape the evil of cancer. And yet... she maintained her optimism and happiness, despite her hell, despite her cancer. Where's my excuse? Why do I feel like this? I look back at twenty-five years of my life, and I feel like I wasted it- like it's all my fault. I see my face and how badly aged it is- all those excessive hours, all that rage at everyone and everything. I see my father's glare in mine. The circle has been completed. So where do I go from here? I can't seem to get unstuck from where I'm at? Those few months of progress and now the big wall in my way. Business is growing, my wealth is growing, and I am here, stuck. Money don't buy happiness. Ranting and mourning aside, I did my meeting with Marcus, Mav, Borr, and we're gonna work on building an actual studio for ourselves, and we shot the promo to introduce Baritel into the Barev portfolio as Barev V. I also fixed Marcus' BVP-300. CTS capacitor, the usual culprit. Looks good. Also had to deal with Dont'Noah- usual shit. Good night." Rob capped his black Rolling Writer and tossed it back into his coffee cup that held his pens and pencils. He closed up his diary and stowed it back into the drawer, got up and stretched, and left his basement office, his left paw flinging the door shut just as his right paw flipped the light off. "Have a good night, Alvin~" Rob said as he poked his head into Alvin's bedroom to see his nephew feeding his aquarium. "Good night, Uncle Rob~" the young Doberman said with a smile as Rob smiled back and went upstairs. Rob brushed his teeth and soon stepped into his bedroom wearing his usual sleeping attire of red and white striped pajamas. Joey sat up in bed playing with his phone, wearing just his briefs and a snug white tanktop that clung to his frame. The wolf-hybrid sat down on his bed and slowly climbed in and laid down, wincing a bit from his mangled up back. "Jesus Christ, getting old sucks." Rob grunted as he laid there looking up at the ceiling. "I'm like a fine wine, motherfucker~" Joey grinned teasingly. Rob just turned his head to sarcastically glare at his husband. "Well you haven't been put back together several times like me!" "I should call you Mister Potato Head." Laughed Joey. "Shots fired~" Rob laughed morbidly. "But are you okay, Rob? Seriously, are you okay?" "I'm just... I don't even know how to describe it. I'm burned out, that's the main thing. But I'm also... I feel like I'm just stuck in my own quagmire and I'm the only one who can get myself out of it, but I don't know what specifically is bothering me? So I don't know how to get myself out of this." Joey reached over to grab Rob's paw and hold it and stroke it tenderly in his grip. "I understand, Rob. You've made a lot of progress slowly since I met you. So I hope that makes you feel better." "Heh, I guess." Rob shrugged. "Like I said before, everyone handles trauma differently. Some people are resilient to it, and others fold like a wet napkin, and there's nothing to be ashamed of. We're not cookie cutter people. If the world was just you and me, it would be-" "Boring." "I was gonna say scary." Laughed the Doberman. "Gee thanks, Joey." "You're welcome." He grinned teasingly. Rob fumbled his brow. "What if we built our own house somewhere, Joey?" Joey sat his phone down in his lap and thought about that. "Now that I think about it, we've been here sixteen years." "I feel like maybe it's time for a change. The neighborhood is changing, our friends are moving away or passed on." "Yeah, I get that." Joey nodded. "I mean, both of us have definitely the financial means to do it, but you're thinking like what? Out in the countryside or something?" "Oh I don't know, maybe just outside of town. Buy a big plot of land and put a nice Frank Lloyd Wright inspired home up." "We could just move to Stonecliff in Chicago." Joey grinned. "Over my dead body." Laughed Rob. "That's my 'Wolfsschanze'!" "Whoa, Hitler, easy." Joey grinned with a laugh. "Plus I don't know how I'd feel hearing running water all day and night!" "I like that more as a summer visiting place and company meetings." Rob shrugged. "And its Chicago." "Fine." Joey chuckled. "Why don't you sleep on it, and think some more about it. We got all the time in the world unless a giant meteor hits us." "Time..." Rob muttered. "That was on my mind when I was flying to try and clear my head... I keep thinking about my friend, and how much time she missed under such evil circumstances. And yet... every time I talked to her and visited her in Pennsylvania, she was always so cheerful. She once told me that it was the past and that her counselor said she shouldn't dwell on it because it would only hurt the scared inner child still inside her. She would focus on the future and accomplish her goals to regaining her life. It's just a shame it was too short. She got her GED and had dreams of going to a community college. She was driven. And yet I feel like I wasted a quarter century dwelling on my past, my parents, obsessing over my career and then my business, anything to just take my mind off the pain. I watched the setting sun and feel like I might be running out of time to make things right." Joey shrugged. "I don't think you wasted a quarter century. I mean, I remember stripping with guys who were so young and beautiful and now they're all drugged up burnt-out forty-somethings! You didn't go down that path. Do I think you processed your trauma in a really unhealthy way at times? Uhh, yeah! But again, everyone processes trauma differently. You set such unrealistically high standards for yourself, Rob, and when you can't reach them, you take it out on yourself and everyone around you. Your parents set unrealistic standards for you and Jake after your brother died, but now they're gone, and you're an adult. You can set your own destiny. It's in your paws now. You don't have to be the love-child of Nixon and Hitler!" "You guys really like to go to that, huh~" Rob rolled his eyes with a sarcastic grimace. "Mav thinks you're part Goebbels~" Joey grinned. "I could see a bit of Eichmann in you, or Goeth." "Thanks. I really appreciate it. I like to think of myself as the next MacArthur." "Stalin is another dictator that comes to mind." The Doberman teasingly grinned. "Oh, you know, I love you, Rob!" "Yes, I know." Rob mustered a smile. "I don't know, somehow I'll get out of this slump." "Think about it, the build our own home idea, I kind of like the idea." Joey smiled. A dull backfire, followed by the sound of someone's window exploding made Rob and Joey look at each other with a blank expression. "Yeah, seriously, Rob, think about it." Joey sarcastically quipped. ---------------------------------------- The morning sun shone brightly over the Newark-Heath airport. Fuel nozzle in hand, Rob stood before his brightly colored Chickasaw, topping its fuel tank up with a load of 100LL. The dayglo orange helicopter was checked over by his mechanic Vlado, who inspected its radial engine in the bulbous nose. Rob checked the time on his watch; it was nine-fifty in the morning, and he was waiting for his uncle to arrive. With a full fuel tank, Rob wound the hose back up and stowed it at the fuel pump. He wrote down the amount and went to pay for it in the terminal building. Rob stepped back out of the terminal building and saw his uncle's car pull into the airport parking lot. Rob walked over to the fence and motioned for him to come to the gate. Clutching his digital camera in his grip, Steve Barion walked through the grass to the gate. He was dressed in his usual attire of blue and white polo shirt that was tucked into a pair of dark blue dress shorts and white sneakers. Steve was sixty-five, with tousled wavy hair like Rob's only mostly gray. He was Rob's youngest uncle, and like many of the Barions ran his own business in real estate. Rob and Steve for years had an acrimonious relationship that warmed up after Steve was diagnosed and treated for early stage kidney cancer. Now they cooperated more closely in their businesses. "Come on in." Rob greeted as he held the gate open. "Helicopter's all fueled and ready to go. I just gotta go grab something." Rob walked to his flatbed truck and grabbed from the backseat his camera suitcase, which held his restored HL-791. He carried it over to his Chickasaw and stowed it in the fuselage hold. Sliding the door shut, Rob helped his uncle up into the cockpit before climbing in on the other side. Rob went through the checklist while Vlado stood off to the side with a large fire extinguisher. Rob engaged the magneto and hit the starter. The R-1340 hacked and coughed to life with a cloud of oily blue smoke. Rob watched the RPM's build up before he engaged the clutch for the rotor. The three blade main rotor began to turn at the urging of the engine. It slowly built up speed with the tail rotor as Rob watched his gauges. "Tell me where to go, and we'll photograph all the sites." Rob told his uncle. "There's several sites- two in Hebron, one in Heath, and several around the Horns Hill area." "Gotcha." Gingerly lifting off, Rob guided his Navy H-19 into the air slowly. The bulbous helicopter turned slowly as it climbed and began its journey south towards the Hebron area. Steve had acquired several huge plots of land, which was prime real estate for all the commercial development coming into Licking County. Farmland was being gobbled up for housing developments, and warehouses, all trying to ride the coattails of the huge Intel plant that was being built in New Albany. "I'm gonna make a killing on all this." Steve said with a cheeky grin. "This is a lot of money my company is sitting on!" "They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot~" Rob joked through the headset. "Just what we need. More Garage Mahals." "I'm not too fond of today's cookie cutter McMansions, but that's out of my pay grade." Steve remarked sarcastically. "Everyone's riding the Intel train full speed." "Well they keep getting delayed, so hopefully that don't jump the tracks, ya know." Rob chuckled. "Me and Joey are starting to think about building a house somewhere and moving." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, I'm gonna need your help with that, oh, and we're looking at finding a place to build a new production studio and offices for Barev Video, and I need to find a place to put my fire station at since they wanna tear it down for a damn Sheetz." "Another one?" "Yeppers! Why bring in high paying jobs, when you have a gas station that makes food!" Rob quipped sardonically. "Silly Newark-ians! You don't need a living wage!" "Certainly feels that way doesn't it?" Steve shook his head. "Shit, I remember being twenty-two in 1980 and renting an apartment for only two hundred a month. Can you believe that that same apartment now is almost eight hundred a month!?" "Rent in Newark is ridiculous. No wonder why we have such a homeless problem! Oh wait, our city council says we don't have a homeless problem." "Tell that to the family living under the eleventh street bride..." Steve grumbled. "This town is run by idiots." "I've been saying that for years. Newark is the place where hopes and dreams come to die!" "Frankly I don't know how people are paying for these huge homes. But that's not my say..." Steve quipped with a grimace. "Dare I say housing market crash?" Rob shook his head. Arriving at Hebron, Rob banked his H-19 around and arrived at their first two destinations. Near Route 40 was a two large plots of fallowed farmland. Rob hovered while Steve took a series of photographs. The properties were separated by a small creek that sat in a depression that was lush with tall grass that swayed from the rotor wash as Rob flew over at low altitude for close up pictures of specific regions. Lifting back up, Rob flew northeast towards the next set of properties to be photographed. Passing back over Heath, Rob overflew downtown Newark and rolled slightly left to head north towards Horns Hill, the tallest hill in the Newark area. "There's several plots of land here that I know G.R Gordon is eyeballing since they're building Connor's Ridge on the other side of Horns Hill." Steve pointed out. "It's several plots- lots of woodland, a prairie, some farmland and a nice sized creek. The land near Cedar Hill Road there, that was all tied up for years in legal stuff because the original owner died and the family fought over ownership rights for... gee, twenty years?" "I can't imagine the legal fees after that." "You ain't a kidding there, Rob." Steve shook his head. Rob peered out and saw the landscape as he orbited ahead in a wide circle. The several plots were largely woodland, with a large section being composed of pine trees that were neatly planted in rows. There was a marshy region devoid of trees near the center, and a creek flowed near the end of the woods where the landscape became an open prairie like field. Rob spotted the decaying remains of an old farm home, the two story home having collapsed on itself at some point. Per Steve's request, Rob looked around for a safe landing spot. Descending in, Rob picked an area of the clearing that was near the marshy region. Hovering low, Rob carefully set the Chickasaw down for a brief touch of the ground before pulling back up. It felt firm enough, and Rob gently sat the bulbous H-19 down on its four wheels. He shut the engine down and waited for the rotors to coast down. Rob climbed out first and helped his uncle out of the cockpit. Grabbing his Betacam from the back, Rob loaded a fresh tape into its BVV-5 recorder and pushed the tape door shut to hear it spool up. He threw the camera on his shoulder and walked with Steve to go explore some places on the properties. Through the tall grass Rob walked over to record shots of the old farm home. The first thing that he noticed was how quiet everything was. They were far from the road and the usual city sounds were minimal. Only the sounds of nature, the cheerful chirping of birds, the scurrying of squirrels, were evident. The whole landscape felt isolated from Newark. Standing before the busted up old home, Rob got a wide angle shot of it with his camera. It had once been a two story house, with a slate roof of mottled gray tiles, and wood siding that was once a cheerful, pristine white. At some point, the second story gave way and the roof collapsed down, which blew out all four sides and part of the lower level. Splintered, dry rotting wood lay scattered around in the tall grass. Rob cautiously approached and peered through a broken window with his Betacam, finding a few pieces of rotting furniture still inside the crushed up living room. He thought about what the home might have looked like in happier times. Rob hit pause on his camera's zoom grip and lifted the eyepiece off his right eye. He turned around slowly, examining all of the pristine landscape. Rob suddenly had a vision of his dream home; it was styled in Frank Lloyd Wright's Usonian architecture, nestled amongst the woodland. It was far away from annoying neighbors, just a perfect quiet spot for him and Joey, and their friends and family coming over to visit. It felt so real that Rob was lost in his thoughts, only to be startled by Steve approaching him. "You okay, Rob?" his uncle asked. "Sorry, I got lost in a daydream." Steve chuckled. "This is very pretty. This will sell quick too, I just know it." "Hell I might as well snatch it up." Rob joked. "I'd give you a discount too." Steve laughed. "This land sells quick to developers." "Yeah." After walking around a bit more and exploring the pine forest, Rob and Steve climbed back aboard the H-19 to go photograph one final site. As the helicopter slowly lifted off and climbed back into the blue skies, Rob scanned the landscape from the air. Was this his opportunity to break his rut? ---------------------------------------------- Trying to get caught up with some paperwork in the office, Rob soon found himself rushing to the retirement community his Grandma lived in. His flatbed Silverado burbled into the Shady Acres retirement community, with a portable air conditioner bouncing around in the backseat. Rob pulled up to his Grandma's condo, and spotted his Uncle Bill arriving in his car with a portable air conditioner he just bought at the store. Lugging the big box in his grip, Rob made his way to the front door where Nancy greeted him. The elderly gray wolfess quickly let them both inside her stuffy condo. "I hate calling you at this time but the damn AC went out again!" Nancy exclaimed. "It went out in September last year, and then the heater went out in January!" "They need to put a whole new system in..." Bill said, himself a now retired HVAC tech. "I used to install those old Tappan units back when I was twenty-one!" "Well look at who we're dealing with..." Rob rolled his eyes. "It's okay, Grandma! We'll get you taken care of." His uncle went to set up a portable air conditioner in the bedroom while Rob set his up for the living room. Rob glanced around at Nancy's cozy little condo. Its white walls were adorned with pictures of yesteryear, with faces of now long since gone loved ones. Rob scanned the walls, seeing pictures of Nancy's late siblings, her parents, and most importantly, his late grandfather. Gordo's confident, reassuring smile was something Rob deeply missed. It was almost six years ago that he passed away at the age of ninety-one after a battle with brain cancer. Now his grandma was ninety-one, but still going strong. Rob ran the vent to the living room window and secured it before turning the unit on. It hummed and began pulling and exhausting air. Rob felt the exhausted air grow cold as he set the temperature to seventy-five degrees. "There you go, Grandma." Nancy got up from the couch to give her grandson a hug. "I don't know what I'd do without you boys in my life." "Be a ward of the state~" Rob sarcastically quipped as he saw Uncle Bill emerge from the bedroom. "Okay, Mom. That's all set up too. I got it set up where you can just turn it off at night if it gets too cold and turn it back on and it's all set for seventy-five." "Oh thank you so much, William!" Nancy exclaimed as she gave her middle son a hug. "Getting old is not fun!" "You're telling me, Mom!" laughed Bill. "Sixty-seven in a couple of weeks!" "Try ninety-one!" Nancy laughed. "Rob, let's have a little chat with the office here~" his uncle suggested. Stepping outside with his uncle, Rob and Bill walked over to the back of her condo to check the condenser. "Well there's your problem!" Bill immediately remarked with a chuckle as he pointed to the ancient Tappan table top condenser. Rob stood and crossed his arms at the beat up, rusted up unit. Bill knelt down and wiggled open an already half-opened side panel to peer inside. "Jesus Christ, this thing's corroded inside and out." Bill shook his head. "I used to install a lot of these back in the seventies! R-22 refrigerant- that's banned now." Rob shook his head. "I mean, they don't make 'em like they used to." "No they do not. Ah- here, this is the problem." Bill pointed out. "It's not cooling because the fan motor is blown. Back at the shop I got a fan motor that came out an old Tappan that'll work just fine. I keep all these old parts because you just never know when you're gonna run into another table topper!" Going to the office, Rob and Bill stepped inside the lobby, which was decorated with a number of plants growing in pots by the windows. A middle aged wolfess sat at the receptionist's desk, writing a note down in a big expense report book. She looked up when she heard the door close. "Can I help you?" "Hi, my Mom lives in condo seven-twenty-two Virginia Court, and her HVAC went out." "Yes, we are aware of the situation. We spoke to her this morning, and we're going to be replacing the whole unit. But there's a backlog with the contractor, so it'll be three weeks." "Three weeks!?" Rob blurted out. "Listen, I have the expertise and the equipment to service that old Tappan unit- I run an HVAC company in town with my son and-" "Per the licensing agreements with the insurance to this complex, all mechanical services must be done through a licensed contractor in agreement to the list provided by the insurance company." "It's literally a fan motor I can replace in ten minutes and-" "That is the policy and procedures of Shady Acres, Mister Barion." "My Grandma is ninety-one years old, and the portable AC's we've set up is just a band-aid to the problem, and we're coming into summer and-" "Well if you're this concerned about your elderly loved one, then maybe it's time she needs to be put into a home?" Rob took a half step back, his face suddenly incised at the snub. "Or maybe you fucks can take better care of your condominiums that she's paying on!" Bill stepped ahead of Rob and motioned him to stop. "I'll remember that, ma'am. Come on let's go." Rob turned slowly, his glaring eyes tracking the just as annoyed looking receptionist as he left out the door. "Stupid motherfuckers..." Rob grumbled as he walked with his uncle. "One phone call, and I'd level this whole place..." ------------------------------------------- Watching Uncle Bill depart to head back home, Rob fixed the curtain to the living room window before returning his attention back to his grandmother. Nancy stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of apple juice for them, which she sat down on her coffee table. Rob walked over and sat down and accepted one of them to sip on. "Thank you so much again for rushing over here. I know you have such a busy schedule, but those idiots in the office are just not helpful at all!" "That's what family is for~" Rob smiled. Nancy mustered a smile as she took a sip of her drink. "Getting old is like becoming a baby again. I miss the days where I could go out and drive and go do what I needed to get done. Now I can't do it anymore. You know Rob, I don't feel old in my mind... I feel pretty sharp still. I take care of my expenses, I still sit on the church committee as treasurer, and I enjoy it! It's just my body that reminds me I'm ninety one!" "I'm going to be forty-one and my body feels like it's about ninety, Grandma." Rob morbidly laughed. Nancy had a snicker too, which faded to a look of concern for her grandson. "Is everything okay, Rob? You've looked... sad, serious the whole time you've been here?" "Eh, Grandma, just have had a lot on my mind." "Well you're welcome to tell if you need an ear to listen." His Grandma smiled. "I don't even know where to begin. I feel like I'm stuck, Grandma. I feel like I can't get out of this rut- I want to make life better for me and be happy, but I feel like I'm just stuck where I'm at. Plus a good friend of mine passed away yesterday." "Oh my god, oh no." Nancy frowned. "Do you remember Gabby Miller?" "Oh the woman who was held in the basement for like forty something years?" "Yes." Nancy's frown grew heavier. "Oh my god, Rob. That's so sad to hear!" "She was fifty-eight, and had cervical cancer. Her death hit me harder than I thought. Like you know it's coming, but when you get told, it hurt. And usually deaths don't really hit that hard- but her's did. And its making me feel like I'm running out of time." "Sweetie, let me tell you something. You're only out of time if you're dead. Sometimes people need a long time in their lives to get things straightened out. I mean, look at your uncle, Steve! Or my own life in blissful ignorance in how callous I was to people just like my calloused mother! You're forty years old, and you've been through a lot, so you shouldn't beat yourself up if you're in a snag! Rome wasn't built in a day, Rob~" "Yeah, I get that." Nodded the wolfamute. "I've been also mulling about moving- like me and Joey building our own place." "Oh really? You should do it!" "I just don't know if it'll be worth it though- all the permits, planning, yada-yada. I feel like I'm in a general malaise and I don't want that to impair my judgment." "Listen Rob, just follow your heart." Nancy suggested. "Do what your heart tells you, or your spouse!" Rob smiled a bit and laughed. "Yeah, that would be a good idea to consult Joey." Nancy sat her glass down and motioned Rob to come over for a hug. Rob obliged and scooted closer so Nancy could put her frail arms around him and hug him and give him a kiss. "Everything's going to be okay, Rob. And it's okay to mourn for your friend. She was such a kind soul despite everything. Just think that she isn't suffering anymore. She's now in the gentle hands of the lord on the next phase of our soul's adventure." "I sure hope so, Grandma." "I know she made it home safely." Nancy smiled. "And don't worry, Rob! Things will get better for you. Look how far you've come. And you got all the time in the world. They say forty is the new thirty!" "What's ninety then?" "Apparently ninety is the new eighty!" laughed Nancy as she got a hug from Rob. ---------------------------------- Stepping out on his back porch, Rob carried Greenie's dinner to the garage. In a metal bowl Rob had some shredded lettuce mixed with rice and peas for his little mallard. He carried a pitcher of water to fill his water bowl up. As Rob walked in through the side door, he was followed quickly by a very excited Greenie who gave Rob his happy quacks. Rob knelt down on the floor by Greenie's duck house and sat his food down, which Greenie began to eat. Rob topped his water bowl up and smiled at Greenie chowing down. Rob's smile faded at his growing annoyance to his neighbor behind him, who was having his baby gender reveal with the family. Country music blasted loud enough to make Rob feel like his chest was being compressed by the sound waves. "Eat up and rest!" Rob told Greenie as he went back inside. Rob slid the patio door shut and looked at Joey all annoyed as Joey checked on dinner that was cooking on the stove. "Not really my taste in music~" smiled Joey sarcastically. "One of these days I hope that stupid fuck blows himself up doing something stupid, or better yet, do something dumb that makes him sterile." Rob shook his head. "At least it's more quiet in here." "Young and dumb." Joey chuckled. "Jake's gonna stop over for dinner." Rob announced as he sat the pitcher back down on the countertop. "I guess Karen has to cover a shift because of a call off and the ER is packed." "Plenty of food!" the Doberman exclaimed as he stirred his pot of stew. "And probably better than what Karen could make!" "No comment." Rob laughed. "So how was your outing with Steve?" "I gotta show you the videotape after dinner. There was this beautiful site we landed at near Horns Hill, and it really caught my fancy. Oh, and I had to rush over and put a portable AC in at my Grandma's with my other uncle." "Oh boy..." "Her AC went out again, and they're dragging their feet on it." Rob grumbled. "No sympathy or anything for my Grandma who is ninety-one. Fucking pricks. What's the point of paying all that money when they act like they don't want to fix anything!" "'Merica!" Joey laughed. "Pfft, tell me about it." Rob chuckled as he heard the doorbell ring. "That's Jake~" Rob walked across the living room to answer the front door. He swung the door open to reveal his brother standing there with the mail in his grip. Despite being twin brothers, they were virtual opposites; Jake had black and white fur with a bit of gray fringing in places on his pelt. Both his arms were heavily tattooed up with black and gray sleeves that ran to his wrists, and he had tousled black hair, thick and wavy that sat atop his head, replacing the once crimson red Mohawk of his youth. Having always looked younger than Rob, Jake's face was now starting to approach Rob's aged look after several health complications he got from radiation poisoning in a workplace nuclear accident nearly a decade before. But his blue-green eyes were bright and full of life, and he gave Rob a big hug when he stepped inside. "What's up?" Jake asked warmly. "Here's the mail for ya." "Same shit, different day." Rob chuckled. He grabbed the mail and saw two envelopes addressed to him, one from a Sam Martin, and a purple envelope that had Gabby Miller's name on it. Rob instantly felt his heart ache. "I see your neighbor is providing you dinner music~" teased Jake with a grin. Rob just closed his eyes and shook his head. Rob closed the door behind him as Jake made his way to the kitchen to greet Joey. "How's it going?" Joey smiled. "Great!" "Great that you don't have to eat Karen's cooking?" Joey teased. Jake's response was a morbid gaze and a sarcastic grimace. "Her meatloaf is the scariest..." "Yeah..." Rob agreed with the same morbid look. As Jake and Joey remarked about the annoying music, Rob examined the ivory colored envelope from Sam Martin, his godson. He was a young friend of Rob's; he was a twelve year old who lived in New York with his aunt and uncle. Rob befriended him as a nine year old kid who visited the community center he was stuck doing community service for in Akron in 2020. After Sam's parents died in a house fire in Akron, Rob worked to find his family back in New York, where he kept watch of the kid from afar as his godfather. Faintly listening to Jake and Joey in the background, Rob opened the envelope to pull out an ivory colored sheet of paper and a couple photos, which showed Sam's Uncle Jake on his new motorcycle, and some spring flower photos. Rob unfolded the letter to find Sam's neat, loopy cursive on the paper, written with a blue ballpoint pen. "Dear Rob, Hope you're doing well since the last time we talked. At the time of writing, I just finished school and its now summer time. I'm now on my way to 6th grade! Family is doing as well as expected: Aunt Mary, who I mentioned before was starting to get unwell? Well some medical tests were done and they found two tumors on her brain. Doctors do not believe its cancer. They are working on how to do the surgery. Uncle Jake has been a bit distressed about this, coupled with some issues at his construction job. He seems to be coping with his motorcycle and his desire to join this club. It's a cool bike, I'd be interested in learning to ride someday. Hope to hear from you soon. Your friend, Sam" Rob smiled at Sam's handwriting. He was a smart kid who had a bright future ahead of him. Rob excused himself momentarily to take his letter and Gabby's down to his office and sat it on his desk. As he walked upstairs, Rob could hear clapping and shouting from his idiot neighbors. They were conducting some countdown as Rob returned to the kitchen. "How do you put up with this all the time?" Jake remarked to his brother. "I have no choice!" Rob exclaimed. "What am I gonna do? Chop them up and put them in a hollow tree?" "That's like beyond annoying to have neighbors like this." "This whole neighborhood is going to hell in a handbasket." Rob shook his head. "I'm... starting to think about moving and maybe building a new house?" "Oh yeah?" Jake muttered, looking surprised. "Yeah it's an idea we've been-" Joey was cut off by the sudden concussion of a huge explosion. A split second later, another massive explosion rocked the whole house; windows exploded and shards of glass flew everywhere. Rob fell to the floor and Jake grabbed Joey as they both fell. Flaming debris rained down everywhere, and several loud thuds smashed against the roof. Rob smelled the overpowering stench of propane. Rob got up and brushed the glass pieces off him to see his deck on fire. His garden was on fire, and his garage was smoking. He immediately ran outside to find his house on fire as well. By the windows to his bedroom, flames were melting and blackening the siding. Cocking his head to the right, Rob saw that part of his garage roof was blown away, and smoke was billowing from inside it. "GREENIE!" Rob screamed. He ran for the door as the deck burned. "JOEY! GET US HELP!" Rob ran to the side door and tried to push it open, only for it to jam. He threw all his might into slamming his body into it, and the door fought him. He heaved two more times and slammed his shoulder into the door until it finally broke open. He knocked a shelf over as he rushed in through the acrid smoke to rescue his pet mallard. The garage took the brunt of whatever exploded. It ripped part of the roof away and collapsed the westward facing wall. Joey's Shelby Cobra and his flat-bed Silverado were completely smashed up from flying debris. Hacking and coughing through the smoke, Rob screamed for Greenie. He frantically searched for him in the garage, constantly screaming his name. Very faintly, Rob heard his quack come from his duck house. Rob threw himself to his knees and knelt down to see very faintly a very scared Greenie huddled in the back of his duck house. Rob called for him and he wouldn't move. He tried to reach in but he couldn't get a hold of him. "GOD FUCKING DAMNIT GREENIE LET'S GO!" Rob got up and grabbed the roof of the shelter he had built for him. Rob gave it a heave and attempted to rip it off. He felt the nails start to give when Joey's Cobra exploded. It's gas tank ruptured and a huge fireball erupted out, which pushed the Silverado towards Rob. Flaming aerosol cans bounced all over, and tires began rupturing in the heat as Rob ripped the roof off and grabbed his duck. He could barely get his breath as he struggled through the smoke. "ROB!" came the deep voice of his neighbor Varg. The big Arctic wolf stormed in through the door and grabbed Rob with his big tattooed up arms. Rob emerged from the smoke and collapsed to his knees on the driveway. Varg's wife Lily rushed over and grabbed a very frightened Greenie from Rob's grip as he struggled to get his breath. Varg smacked Rob's back and encouraged him to take deep breaths, as Vlad, Nico, and Dmitry jumped across the fence to assist. There were screams and panic coming from Noah's now burning home. "Oh my god this whole place is gonna burn to the ground..." Joey grimaced, watching the roof over their bedroom, TV room, and dining room burn. "What the hell happened!?" Dmitry asked. "DONT'NOAH HAPPENED!" Rob screamed before passing out. ---------------------------------------- Through the double doors of the emergency room rushed Alvin. The young Doberman quickly made his way to Rob's room, where he was being treated for smoke inhalation. Rounding the corner, Alvin spotted his Uncle Joey standing near the entrance of Room 12. He rushed in to find Rob sitting up in bed breathing through a nebulizer. In the room was his brother Jake, and his adopted son, Felix Barion, a fawn Doberman. Felix's husband, Tony Alvarez, leaned against the wall beside Felix. "I got here as fast as I could!" Alvin exclaimed. "Uncle Joey, what the hell happened again?" "Oh, Noah happened." Joey said with a sarcastic smile. "Baby gender reveal gone wrong..." "Oh boy..." Rob took the mask off his muzzle momentarily. "Dont'Noah turned a gender reveal into a damn thermobaric weapon..." Alvin tilted his head in confusion. "Noah thought he could get blue flames for a boy by packing propane tanks around his big stack of fireworks that would blast blue! Oh it was a blast alright!" "Uhh, are they okay?" "Yeah, they're in the next hall. Everyone got pretty burned up on that side." "Sadly nobody died." Rob shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Rob." Felix laughed morbidly. Joey walked over to put the nebulizer back on Rob's muzzle. "Stop talking genocide and just let the medicine work, sweetie!" "Fine." "So... what about the house?" "Oh it's on fire last I heard." Joey shrugged nonchalantantly. "I mean, there's nothing I can do about it at this point." Alvin gulped. "Oh boy..." "Now you sound like me." Joey shook his head with a cynical chuckle. "Oh hold that thought~" Joey grabbed his ringing cell phone to find Maverick calling him. He put the call on speakerphone and held it close to Rob. "Talk to me, Mav-O!" Joey greeted. "I've been trying to call Rob!" "Rob's phone is in the house that's on fire, Mav~" "Oh. So that explains it. How's he doing?" "He's fine! Just getting treated." "How's Greenie?" Rob asked. "Greenie is well! I took him to the emergency vet and he got checked over and they gave him a good bill of health so I am here entertaining him. Here you can speak to him! Greenie! Say hi to Rob!" Rob smiled hearing Greenie quack into the phone. "Hi, Greenie!" He heard Greenie's happy quacks at his voice. "I'm okay buddy." "Dare I ask about the house~" "Well... I hope you like an open floor plan because that's what it looks like right now. Along with Noah's home, Varg and Vlad's garage... the neighbor adjacent to yours at your eleven o'clock if standing on the deck. It kinda looks like a fuel-air bomb went off!" "How ironic..." "NFD is trying to put it all out. There's fire trucks everywhere. I got the PMC here monitoring things." "Great." "I'll keep you posted if anything's changed." "Thanks, Mav." Rob and Joey both quipped before ending the call. ----------------------------------------- Karen Barion used her stethoscope to check on Rob's breathing before going to enter some data into the computer over in the corner of the room. "The good news is that things sound a lot better, so we're gonna get you discharged soon." "I was waiting for the bad news." Rob joked, which made the husky-wolf smile as she turned around. "Oh no, the bad news is your house is screwed." Karen laughed morbidly. Rob shrugged. "I'll figure it out. It ain't my first rodeo having a house destroyed!" "Only you could say that with a straight face." Karen snickered. "Do you have a phone I could use to call State Farm? Not one of these shit government phones in the room?" "Yeah! There's a phone in the hallway to your right." Karen pointed. "Time to let State Farm be a good neighbor..." Rob joked as he sat up and stretched. "Man that was a doozie..." "I'll get your paperwork ready." Karen smiled as she pushed the curtain aside and left the room. Rob got up and stretched. His gray polo reeked of smoke. Leaving Room 12, Rob walked down the short length of the hallway and made the right where he made eye contact with the phone on the wall. He got out of the way of a stretcher as a patient was brought in from the ambulance loading bay. Grabbing the phone, Rob had to remember off the top of his head the number for the claims office. He dialed the number and heard it ring twice before the automated switchboard picked up. Rob hit two to speak to a claims specialist. "State Farm Claims Office, this is Spencer speaking, who may I have the pleasure of speaking with this evening?" As Rob gave his information, he watched Martha Clagg be moved on a stretcher. Wrapped head to toe in gauze, Noah's Grandmother was sedated and intubated, her breathing being done by a purple Ambu bag being squeezed by none other than Rob's ex, Jason Jasonovich. Dressed in blue scrubs, the big malamute helped the flight nurses move Martha to the medevac helicopter for the trip to a trauma unit in Columbus. Jason and Rob made eye contact, and Rob made a nod to his former boyfriend who smiled as he walked by. Rob looked away and shook his head in disdain for the whole situation. "So your home had a fire." "No, it's ongoing right now. I'm at the hospital calling you from a hospital phone because I don't have my cell phone on me. It's... somewhere in the house probably incinerated." "Oh, right, gotcha. Okay, so can you tell me the extent of the damage?" "Fucked." Rob said bluntly. "I can't tell you the exact damage, other than second hand information which sounds like the whole center part of the house was destroyed along with the garage. My flat-bed Silverado was destroyed, and my husband's Shelby Cobra was destroyed too." "Can you describe the damage?" "Well the Cobra exploded. I know because I was in the garage rescuing my pet duck when the gas tank went off." "Yikes." "Eh, it ain't my first rodeo~" Rob's eyes squinted in disdain when he saw Noah's Dad approach. Big Jeremy Clagg was a bulked up gray wolf, in contrast to his lanky son. He walked up to Rob all bandaged up on his arms and the side of his face with an alpha male pose. Rob was unimpressed as he talked to the claims specialist. "I want to have a word with you." Jeremy said, talking over Rob. "I'm on the phone. Grab a number and wait your turn." Rob sarcastically fired back. "You don't have to be a fucking asshole, dude! I want to talk to you!" "I'm on the phone- okay, when I can get that I can fax it over to you-" "Hey, bub!" "Hold on! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT!?" Rob snapped. "Can't you see I'm on the FUCKING PHONE BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPID FUCKING SON!?" "DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY SON LIKE THAT!" screamed Jeremy. "Watch me, motherfucker!" glared Rob. He pointed with the handset. "Now lemme tell you something here... Your son has fucked everything up... From the time him and his retarded ass girlfriend moved into that house they have been a constant pain in everyone's ass in the neighborhood. And now I have no home to go back to because it's burning to the ground in real time, along with the Treymores' home, Vlad, and Varg's garages!" "Well Noah's home is gone too!" "Who's fault is that?" Jeremy's mouth quivered as he tried to find the words. "Yeah, I see the apple didn't fall far from the tree of retards." Rob shook his head. "Bunch of spud niggers you are." "Excuse me!?" "You heard me, ya stupid mick, now go fuck off ya Irish prick!" Jeremy grabbed Rob, only to have Rob suddenly push his arm away. Rob swung and struck Jeremy in the head with the telephone. He struck him hard enough to whip his head back. "I ought to sue the fuck out of all of you!" Rob shouted. "Look what your son did! Turned a fucking gender reveal into a thermobaric weapon because he thought the propane would burn blue! So now I have no home! No truck! Joey's nicely done Shelby is gone! Once again my house is vaporized! And you're gonna try and get in my face about this!? Go fuck yourself dude, go fuck all the way off back to your room!" Rob glanced over at all the nurses and patients staring at him. "Got a problem!" Rob asked them. His death glare got them to go back to their duties. Jeremy, bleeding from where Rob struck him in the forehead, slowly walked away. Rob held the phone back up. "Sorry." Rob said to the claims specialist. "Uhh, I'm sorry but did you just strike someone with the phone?" "Yes. Wanna file a claim on that too?" The agent didn't know what to say. As they resumed their damage control, Rob saw to his chagrin, Noah approach. The lanky wolf was shirtless, with gauze all over his chest and the right side of his face. "I'm sorry, hold on again. What do you want, Noah?" "Rob... I want to say sorry for everything that happened... I didn't think this was gonna happen." "You didn't think putting multiple propane tanks around fireworks wasn't going to cause a huge explosion?" "Well I-" "I don't want to hear it." "Okay." "So once again, what the fuck do you want?" Noah fumbled his brow. "Do you think you have the heart to forgive me and my girlfriend?" "Go fuck a pony, Noah." Rob's glare was unflinching. "You've been an absolute pain in my ass being a loud motherfucker, blowing shit up in your yard, and now you've burned my home down! You have burned your home down! My home! You about killed me and my pet duck! You destroyed my whole property after fucking up so much! And now you have the audacity to come slithering back on your belly asking for forgiveness!? THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I CALL YOU DONT'NOAH YOU STUPID FUCKING RETARD!" Noah just turned and walked away with a pitiful little slouch. "Look I can't even focus right now, I gotta call you back when I can." "We have enough information to begin the claim process, and we will send the inspector out as soon as we can." "Thank you." Rob hung the phone up, turned, and rested his head against the cold wall. "Oh lord give me the strength to not kill him." Karen came running up to him with paperwork in her grip. She was followed by two security guards. "Jesus Christ Rob, you could wake the dead!" "Well did I?" Karen rolled her eyes. "Here's your discharge paperwork and a pen." Rob grabbed the clipboard from Karen, just as he noticed several Sheriff's deputies marching into the ER, followed by members of the ATF. And bringing up the rear was Agent Gary Dove, of the FBI. Dove immediately saw Rob and stopped. "You and me have got to stop running into each other." The gray wolf remarked. "I know." Rob shook his head. "Stupid's down the hall to your right." Rob read the document, signed, and initialed. He handed it back to Karen, and went to find the elevator to join everyone else in the cafeteria. ------------------------------------- By nightfall, 655 Karen Parkway was a smoldering, broken mess. Under the guard of his PMC's Cuyahoga Battalion, Newark firefighters sprayed water on the still smoldering mess of twisted, charred lumber. Half the house was gone; the left side of the ranch stood, but the rest of the home was destroyed. The garage had burned completely to the ground, as did Varg's and Vlad's garage. Further behind, Noah's home was completely burned, as did the Treymore residence. The landscape was completely burnt. Rob stood in the front yard, with his paws in his pockets taking it all in. He wasn't even upset. There was no point about being upset. About the only saving grace Rob felt was that his decision to reinforce the basement ceiling with steel, to serve as a giant tornado shelter, saved everything below, save for probably some water damage. Just like ten years before, when his home was leveled in a violent tornado, he felt that he was back to square one. Pulling up in front of Varg's front yard was Rob's ex-boyfriend, CJ Johnson. Stepping out of his Toyota truck was the big, burly chocolate brown wolf with his husband, Xan Radabaugh, a black wolf with long straight black hair tied into a ponytail. They brought coffee and snacks for everyone. CJ carried a cup over to Rob, who didn't even hear them arrive as he stood silently. "I thought you might need this." Smiled CJ as he handed the plastic cup to Rob. "Thanks." Rob nodded. CJ stood with his ex and marveled at the smoldering wreckage. "Boy, what an evening right?" "Oh boy, yeah, that's one way of putting it." Rob remarked as he sipped his coffee black. "All I wanted to do was just sit down to dinner and Dumb and Dumber blew everything up." "At least you're alive." "I guess." Rob remarked with a shrug. "If there is a God, he probably kept me alive because he didn't want to hear the government bitch about losing tax revenue from me!" "Ha." CJ grinned. "But man, what a drag." "Just like 2013... back to square one." "You know what, Rob? Think of it like this. You lost everything then and then you gained so much more. So maybe it's a calling?" "Yeah." Rob nodded. "Hold that thought." Rob turned and walked over to his husband, who stood talking with Lily and Xan in her front yard. "You know what, Joey?" The Doberman turned towards Rob. "What's that?" "Let's dump this place and build our dream home." Rob announced. "Let's buy that Cedar Run Road property, build our dream place, and put this behind us." "Is that what you want to do?" "Do you want to do it?" "Well yeah!" Joey laughed. "Not like we have anything to lose now thanks to Dont'Noah!" "So what's gonna happen to him?" Lily asked curiously. "Well considering the ATF showed up, probably fucked." Rob shrugged. "Oh and the FBI too." "Oh boy..." Joey smiled as he sipped his coffee. Rob stepped away and walked back towards his broken home. He called his Uncle Steve, who answered on the third ring. "Hey Rob, is everything okay?" "Hey, I want to buy those plots of land around Horns Hill we surveyed." "Really?" "Yeah." "All of it?" "All of it. Our neighbor decided to force our hand in building our dream home because ours burned down." "Excuse me, what!? Burned down!?" "Yeah, Cleetus and Mary Jane's gender reveal ended up becoming a thermobaric weapon that blew everything up." "Holy fuck." Steve exclaimed. "Are you guys okay?" "Yeah, I got some smoke inhalation, but it takes a lot more to kill me." "Do you need a place to stay?" "We'll be staying with Felix and Tony at their home on Woods Avenue." "Gotcha. Okay, tell you what, I'll start working on the paperwork tonight, and if you can get to the bank first thing tomorrow morning, we'll be set." "I can do that." "Keep me posted, Rob." "Will do." Rob put his phone down and stared at the smoldering rubble. He felt determined to make his dream home a reality. He felt that he was beginning a long, new adventure into the unknown. Was this his chance to break his rut? Only time would tell. ---------------------------------- One Year Later. "4/5/24, Friday Today marks the last day of owning Karen Pkwy. At high noon, I turn the key over to Adam Horvat, my mechanic's youngest son, who now gets his own home, after nearly seventeen years here. After nearly a year of bureaucratic motherfuckery, dealing with the damn Ohio BCI/FBI over Dont'Noah, and construction, I will soon be arriving to our new home- 1455 Cedar Run Rd. in the north end of Newark. Can you believe that I now own 235 acres! It's far enough away from people to feel like you're out in the country, and yet you're just ten min away from the store. So it's a win-win. We should have done this years before. I stand here at the countertop and gaze around this empty home counting down the minutes. It's been a long time since I've seen the home this empty. Like a phoenix, it has risen up from the ashes yet again. The original home was built in 1957 for the Krebs Addition, and it was purchased by my grandparents in 1978 to downsize with. They in turn gave it to me and Joey in 2007. The original home was leveled in the Newark EF-5 twister in March 2013, and was semi incompetently rebuilt by G.R Gordon. And then razed to the ground by Dont'Noah and Mary Jane. I think of all the memories, good and bad, and the hope that a new environment helps me on my journey. I hope this home gives Adam years of happiness. I feel for young people today who are hopelessly fucked by our broken economic and legal systems. Farewell Karen Parkway, and we thank you." Rob capped his rollerball pen and closed his diary book up. He looked up at his empty, lonely home. From being mostly burned down, 655 Karen Parkway now looked like its former self yet again. Sunlight filtered through the big windows in the living room as Rob walked on the soft gray carpet. He stood and gazed around at the silent house, reflecting on his time there. There were lots of good memories, and sad memories that had happened under the roof. This chapter was closing, but another chapter was just beginning for him and his family. Grabbing his diary, Rob sat his key down on the countertop, signaling the official end of his ownership. He walked towards the open door and took once last glance, before turning to leave. With the click of the door locking behind him, that was it. Rob climbed into his Tahoe and departed down the road. He ventured east to go pick up Greenie from his friend's home out in Hanover. Rob decided to take the long way through downtown Newark. He traveled down Granville street to the new roundabout and ventured on fourth to Main, where he continued eastward. Crossing the bridge over the Licking River, Rob glanced over at the slowly rebuilding county jail and HQ for the Sheriff's Department. Rob smirked at the LCSO licking their wounds after trying to go after his friend for suing them. On East Main, Rob slowed up to stop at the red light. He glanced over to where his fire station once stood. The whole lot was now a sea of mud as the Sheetz was beginning to be built. The light turned green and Rob took off in a left turn for Cedar Street. He made a right onto the onramp to hop onto Route 16 and began his way to Hanover. It was early spring, and the landscape was emerging from its long winter slumber. Under an overcast sky, grass took on a rich emerald green. Farm fields that grew wheatgrass looked like immense lakes of bright, cheerful green. Ornamental trees began to flower. Rob enjoyed the scenery as he drove along the rural road leading in and out of Hanover. He put his turn signal on and pulled off onto the gravel driveway to the home of Cyrus Filton. Rob hopped out of his SUV and brushed a wrinkle out of his blue and gray sweater. Following Cy's text instructions, Rob walked around to the back of his old rustic farm house to find Cyrus doing some yard work. Out by his pond, his wood ducks grazed with Greenie. "Hey, Cyrus!" Rob greeted. Cyrus sat a bunch of brush down and ran over. He was a big blonde furred wolf in his mid-thirties, with long, straight, fire red hair that was tied into a Viking braided ponytail. He had a chinstrap beard and goatee that was the same fire red. "'Sup, Rob!" "On my way to the new home." Rob said with a happy tone. "Oh it's all ready to go?" "Mhmm. Come on out later and see it for yourself!" "Oh I will!" the wolf grinned big. "I'm surprised you haven't done this sooner, Rob!" "Well I am a slow learner~" Rob was soon greeted by Cy's wood ducks. The dozen colorful ducks waddled over all excitedly as Rob knelt down to pet them. Greenie ran over, pushed some of them out of the way and stood before Rob with his usual greeting by flapping his wings. "Greenie! My buddy!" Rob smiled as he picked him up. "Ready to go to your new house?" Greenie softly quacked in his arms. "I think you're gonna like the upgrade, my green headed buddy." "He's been such a wonderful lil' guest, haven't you Greenie!" Cyrus smiled as he petted the mallard. "Now look at my wood duckies being all jealous!" "Thanks so much for duck-sitting. I owe you one." "You've done so much to help me, Rob, don't you worry about it." Smiled the blonde wolf. "Well I best not keep you and your yard work. Come on out whenever." Rob said as he turned to depart. "Will do!" Placing Greenie on the passenger seat, Rob hopped back into his Tahoe to begin the journey home. He retraced his steps back to Cedar Street, where Rob made a right turn. Two bends later, Rob slowed up to make a left onto Cedar Run Road, on the outskirts of north Newark. It was a hilly road surrounded by dense trees and some homes nestled among the rolling hills near Horns Hill, Newark's tallest peak. Passing Martinsburg Road, Rob slowed up on the straightaway to arrive at his new abode. Turning off the main road, Rob rolled to a stop before the gate that marked the entrance to his expansive new property. The tree line marked the "zonengrenze", with cold war inspired property line signs that read "HALT! HIER GRENZE!". Rob reached over, put the code in, and watched as the black metal gate opened slowly. He popped the shifter back into drive and took off for the long driveway through the woodland. There was at least a quarter mile of woods that separated the home from Cedar Run Road, giving a sense of isolation. The trees were still bare, and the forest floor in shades of brown and tan from the leaf litter. But there were little bursts of greenery here and there as the shrubs began to grow leaves, and the trees getting their buds. Midway through the woods the driveway split. To the left went up a small hill towards the guest house, while to the right went to the main house and studio. Rob cranked the wheel to the right and made his way down a small hill, where the woods ended to the clearing. Before Rob stood his brand new home. Designed by his ex-boyfriend Connor McDouglas, his new home fused elements of the famous Frank Lloyd Wright's Usonian architecture, with some modern architecture blended in. The new home was big, sheathed in dark brown bricks and ochre steel trim. It had the sharp angles, and huge windows inspired by Wright, the roof pitch forming the angled car port. Just barely visible behind it was the guest house, situated on a small hill just before the woods, which would now be Alvin's home. The whole project was completed in nine months, thanks to a fortunately mild winter with almost no snow. Rob hopped out of his Tahoe and fetched Greenie. He stood with his mallard in his grip and gazed at the new landscape around him. Rob had bought up the several parcels of land and turned it into one large property totaling 235 acres. It had ample woodland, some prairie, and a stream. The once marshy area was dug out to become a spring fed pond that was at its deepest, twenty feet. On the other side of the pond was a small, angular building that was Rob's personal home office. It was inspired by another famous Wright design, with its ample windows, stone walls, and dark wood and steel trim. It sat just before the tree line, which was pierced by a walking path to the personal studio Rob had commissioned. Turning around, Rob smiled at the sight of his old fire station. Carefully dismantled brick by brick, the whole building was reassembled and restored to its former glory, to serve once again as Rob's storage room, and workshop. "And just for you, Greenie~" Rob showed Greenie the big pond, which made Greenie quack happily. "And for me and Joey!" Walking a bit, Rob showed Greenie the large swimming pool that was beside the patio. It was a large rectangular pool, partially in ground and fed by a spring. Greenie happily quacked and flew out of Rob's arms and landed in the pool. He bobbed in the clear, cold water and swam around. It made Rob smile. "You're home now, Greenie! Welcome to home." ----------------------------------------- Stepping inside through the patio door, Rob was greeted by the large living room. Over half the living room was made of giant windows that spanned the floor to the ceiling. They were trimmed in wood that was cut at angles, creating a geometric design. The thick glass was moderately tinted to cut down on the sun. The floor was dark teak planks, which had a noticeable shine to it. In the center of the room was a large Persian rug on the floor where a Usonian inspired coffee table and chairs sat opposite of a large gray couch and recliner. Rob watched the furniture movers finish up in placing the love seat perpendicular to the couch. The main living room had an angled ceiling that reached fifteen feet at the peak. It had wood trim and was painted an eggshell color. Towards the right, the living room lead to the open dining room and hallway to the bedrooms. Tucked into the corner was a little reading area; it had a couch integrated into the shelving, a Usonian themed table and chairs with a Tiffany lamp resting on it, a stone facade around a fireplace, and flat wood paneling that was a deep mahogany color. The ceiling was lower and the same mahogany planks. It would be their little library area. Rob walked towards the hallway. He glanced at the opening dining room, which had a floor made of polished up stone, like his Stonecliff Estate in Chicago. A door led into the kitchen, which had big windows like the living room. Going into the hallway, Rob walked down the narrow corridor; unlike Wright, Rob made the hallway less constricted. It had wood paneled walls and soft glowing ceiling lights that glowed amber. It led to the bedrooms and guest bathroom. At the end of the hallway, it branched off to their master bedroom, and to the right, a workout room and office for Joey. A reinforced looking door was for their gun collection room, which doubled as a severe storm shelter. Stepping into their bedroom, the Usonian features of the home gave way to a more Modernist approach. Their bedroom was a large square, with windows that ran from the floor to the ceiling, in the same grayish tint like the living room. There were curtains installed, in a dark gold color. The hardwood and stone floors gave way to gray carpet. A new bed was freshly placed in the room, along with a new set of dressers, nightstand, and their still slightly charred gun safe. Flipping on the bathroom light, Rob saw his big bathroom, which had both a bathtub, and a large walk-in shower that had stone walls. Gray tiles adorned the floor. Frosted windows let sunlight filter in. Stepping back out into the living room, Rob spotted Joey moving some boxes with Felix and Tony's help. Joey's parents, Andrew and Marie, helped to put the decorations out on the shelves and walls. The aging Brazilian Dobers were arguing about where to put a portrait of themselves on the shelf. Rob smiled and chuckled to himself as he stepped back outside. Stepping off the porch, Rob walked along a stone path towards the guest house, which sat slightly higher on a hill a few hundred feet away. Rob walked along the path and took all the scenery in as he stepped onto the porch of the guest house, which was another Wright inspired creation sheathed in dark red bricks. It was a single story ranch style home, with one half of the home being nothing but giant tinted windows trimmed with red painted steel beams. It was wrapped around by a brick patio that also sported a smaller spring fed swimming pool. Stepping inside, Rob spotted Alvin and some of his friends working to get things set up. "Everything okay, Alvin?" Rob asked. "Yeah!" Alvin exclaimed. "Uncle Rob, this is great. I am so excited for this." "Your very own bachelor pad, Alvin." Rob chuckled. "Now don't be doing no Animal House level frat boy parties!" "I promise." Laughed the young Doberman. "I have faith in you, Alvin~" "What do you think of the whole thing, Uncle Rob?" "Like a dream." Continuing on his journey, Rob followed the walking path that would take him to his new studio on the property. Nearing another tree line, Rob spotted his own little home office, a tiny, sharply angular building that was inspired by the Seth Peterson Cottage, another late Wright design. Situated on the other side of the large pond and right before the tree line, it was a building made of wood and gray and tan stone blocks. It had a small conference area in the sun room, and his office slightly sunk into the ground. Walking through the hundred foot thick tree line, Rob finally reached his studio. In a little clearing inside the woods sat Rob's studio. Unlike the Usonian fused homes, the studio was a generic brick clad rectangle of a building, with only the vestibule having the big fancy windows. Inside was a large sound stage, the engineering room for the studio and camera controls, and a wing dedicated to Rob's own videotape media archive. Rob stepped inside the vestibule and ventured through the door into the studio itself. He flipped on the overhead lights, revealing a medium sized studio space with overhead racks adorned with all kinds of fancy lighting. It was destined to be an analog only studio space, with his "new" tube cameras sitting off in one corner. Four Philips LDK-6A's, colored khaki and beige, sat covered up in plastic covers to keep the dust off them. It was Rob's first use of a studio camera in the one inch format, the cameras being equipped with one-inch Plumbicon tubes in the ACT configuration. In front of the studio cameras sat three hard shelled camera suitcases, containing within them three restored Ikegami HL-79DAL's, which would serve the handheld shots. They had been restored and configured to match the colorimetry of the Philips' cameras. On the other side of the studio sat his three brutish looking Marconi Mk. VII-B's, an ancient British made camera from the late 1960's. It was a big, boxy, gray studio camera, each with a large lens made by a long since gone English optical company. They were hot-running four-tube cameras, with four 30mm pickup tubes. Like the Philips' cameras, they were, to Rob's annoyance, equipped with the dreaded Anti-Comet-Tail gun, a tetrode design. Leaving the studio, he stepped into the control room to see all the equipment that awaited install. The editing console, the screens, and all the CCU racks for the cameras. Along the back wall sat a couple Sony BVH-3000 Type C videotape machines, which used open reel one inch magnetic tape. Rolled up cables sat in a pile on the floor. Rob saw it in his head that it would soon all be in operation. Locking the studio up, Rob returned back to his new home. He stood before his house and did a three-sixty just gathering all the views in. It was so quiet, so scenic. Rob felt like it was still a dream. A dream that had come true. It felt all so surreal. ------------------------------------------- Light rain fell from a low, overcast sky. It was a cold morning, with temperatures only in the mid-forties. Stepping out onto the porch, Rob and Joey were dressed in their rain gear, to go explore more of their property and scout it out. It had been exactly one week since they had moved into their new home. Desiring to create a set of walking paths around the property, Rob and Joey ventured into their woodland to scout out the path. Joey carried a can of orange spray paint to mark the path on trees, while Rob was armed with his digital camera packaged away in its camera backpack. The landscape was a mixture of cheerful greens and still the muddled browns of winter. Trees stood naked still, with growing buds ready for the right time to open. Shrubbery on the woodland floor were getting their leaves, and some smaller trees had lavender blooms on them. The woods were mixture of hardwoods; mostly maples and oak, with some beech trees, and poplars scattered about. Their journey took them into the pine grove, where Virginia pines grew in neatly planted rows for as far as the eye could see. The pine forest floor was naked of any growth, with just a light covering of golden pine needles everywhere. A couple dead pine trees lay broken on the ground, its wood bleached gray by the sun. "This looks like someone planted them." Joey remarked. "It's so perfectly arranged in rows." "Yeah." Rob nodded. He took a picture with his Sony Alpha. "From what I've gathered, the former owner got some kind of tax break planting these." "Well that's interesting." Joey said as he glanced all around at him. "There's like thousands of these pine trees." "Yeah." Rob chuckled. "Probably got one hell of a discount!" Joey sprayed another tree with an orange blob. "There we go! I like to picture it going through here, since well, they made it straightforward for a path." "Future proofing is what I call it." Rob joked as they continued on. The pine grove returned back to deciduous woodland for a couple hundred feet, which slightly went downhill until it encountered the stream. In the flood plain flowed a wide, shallow creek, its bed strewn in rounded stones of various size. The sound of water was very calming as Rob took pictures of it and remarked about building a bridge. On the other side, the trees thinned out until it was the prairie land on the far side of the property, where the tall brown grass lay limp. "This is the flood plain here." Rob remarked. "If we build a bridge, I'll probably get some aggregate and dump it around to reinforce the bank." "Good idea. This flood insurance better be worth it." Chuckled the Doberman. "This is a decent flood plain zone, and we're on enough of a hill plus the guest house is too, so it should be alright." Rob pointed out. "It's also not a huge creek." "Now if it was the Licking River, I'd be concerned." Joey smiled as he put an arm around Rob. "This is great, Rob. I can't believe we made this happen." "I can't believe this worked out as well as it did. Usually things are a clusterfuck." "Sometimes the stars align just right." Rob glanced around and leaned against a tree while stowing his camera away from the rain. "This feels like a dream still. Surreal. Go from that ranch home Grandma and Grandpa had, and now this. All of this." Joey smiled and put his arms around Rob and snuck in a kiss. Rob mustered a smile at him and glanced away to have a more serious gaze. "I look at the triumph of all this, and then I see people in town struggling, homeless, barely able to make ends meet, and it makes me so upset because society is failing them. Our systems in place that are supposed to govern and lead are failing us, Joey." "I know." The Doberman nodded. "I worry for Alvin's generation." "I go to the store and I see people increasingly struggle to buy groceries, I see homeless people in places I never once saw them. And yet, Licking County says we don't have a homeless problem? Homes and apartments are becoming unaffordable thanks to the opportunists who are exploiting the Intel plant, which at the rate its going will never be finished." "Unfortunately, Rob, you can't save everyone. It's sad, but that's the way it is." "People lie, cheat, steal, murder, and destroy people's lives and get away with it because they have enough money and influence. Fuck, I've gotten away with so much shit because I got money and a hell of a lawyer." "Oh boy, yes." Joey chuckled with a grin. "But you also had justifiable reasons for it- I mean, scary, shaky, quasi-almost bullshit reasons." "Hey, I never leave anything unexploited." Rob laughed. "Oh trust me, Rob, I know!" Joey laughed back. Crossing the stream by piling some rocks up to make a crude stepping path, they ventured into the prairie to continue their "Lewis and Clark expedition". The prairieland brought them to the northern end of this property line, where high voltage power lines ran. On the side of those lines was the tree line to another woodland property. The property line was marked by a set of signs that were spaced thirty feet apart. "HALT! HIER GRENZE!" Off in the distance, Rob spotted his "Grenztruppen" walking. A division of his PMC's Cuyahoga Battalion, the Grenztruppen was a small group assigned to patrol his expansive property every two hours. Two groups of fifteen men walked the perimeter, armed with AK-103's and some AK-104's. They wore feldgrau uniforms covered in same gray rain coats. Instead of the battalion's use of the Russian 6B47 helmet, they wore steel SSH-68's that were olive green. "Right on time." Rob remarked as they turned to head back. "I think we got a good idea of what we want for walking trails." Joey smiled. "Yeah. Plus two footbridges. I'll get with the tree people to cut the path in and look about a contractor for the bridges." "Heh, next thing you know, you'll be asking for a mine field!" Joey teased. "Hey, don't tease me like that!" Rob laughed as they walked back. As they traced their path back, Rob spotted the other members of the Grenztruppen, stopped near the western property line. Rob scrutinized the scene and saw they were having a friendly chat with the neighbors who owned the property to the west. They were a husband and wife who stood near their ATV having a conversation. Their property was a giant apple orchard. "Let's go meet the neighbors~" Joey suggested. Walking over, Rob and Joey met with everyone and introduced themselves. "I guess these are our wonderful new neighbors now?" asked a gray furred wolfess with a big smile. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, with straight hair that was brown and graying, dressed in a hoodie and jeans. "I'm Joey Paulo." The Dober smiled. "Rob Barion." "I'm Sue Pentzinger, and this is my husband, Roy." "Nice to meet you two." Greeted the husband, a burly gray wolf dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. "We were told that someone bought up all the land behind us to turn into a giant property, and we were relieved because we were afraid it was gonna be another ugly as sin G.R Gordon housing development!" "No, no." Rob smiled. "We beat them to it." "Rob Barion- heh, I've heard that name a lot from folks in Newark." "In the flesh." The wolf-hybrid shrugged. "Are you the folks who have the peach orchard too up in Utica?" Joey asked. "That's my brother, Greg." Roy pointed out. "Greg does peaches and pumpkins, and we stick to apples!" "Oh very nice." Joey smiled. "Alvin will be thrilled hearing this." "It's so nice to meet you two." Sue smiled. "You're always welcome to visit!" "And you're always welcome to visit us as well. And yes, we'll let the guards know." Rob joked. "Der Grenztruppen can also protect your orchards~" Sue and Roy looked at each other and gulped. "We'll keep that in mind~" After exchanging phone numbers, everyone went on their way. The guards continued their patrol, Rob and Joey walked back through the woods, and the Pentzingers continued trimming their apple trees. "We'll have to come out here and pick some of these wild spring onion, oh and look at all the morels!" Rob pointed out. "There's ramps too- a nice patch here that's growing." "This is what I love, and it's a shame people destroy this for money." "Money makes the world go 'round, Rob." Joey chuckled. "Yeah, and what are they gonna do when you wreck it all? Heh, eat the money?" Rob shook his head. -------------------------------------- Arriving exactly at nine o'clock to Newark-Heath was the "Chicago Express", a BATS flight from the windy city. Rumbling in a slow turn to park was a Barev DC-6B, serving the Chicago facilities. Painted white, blue, and polished bare metal, the Cloudmaster came to a squeaky stop at the old terminal building. Ground crew waited as the inboard engines were powered off before they approached to chock the tires and push the airstair up against the rear hatch. The cold spell that had hit central Ohio continued, bringing snow flurries this time. Bundled against the cold in his brown fleece jacket, Rob walked across the tarmac to meet his friend and business partner, Andy Bueller, and a couple executives who oversaw WNBB-TV, his Chicago ABC station that he won in a lawsuit settlement in 2022. Andy was once one of Rob's best friends when they worked together at WNCS-TV for the school district. They had a falling out in 2007, and didn't speak to each other for almost fifteen years, until the lawsuit reunited them. Putting their differences aside over what had happened, they were now good friends again. The hatch opened and out stepped Andy. He superficially reminded Rob of his nephew Marcus; he was a thirty-nine year old white and gray wolf with a pompadour of platinum blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He too was dressed for the cold in a blue and black jacket and beanie. "Good morning, Rob!" grinned Andy as he shook Rob's paw and gave him a hug. "Welcome back to this dump." Rob laughed. "How was the flight?" "Thankfully uneventful." Andy chuckled. Rob met with the other executives and took a moment to thank the flight crew before going to drive Andy and the executives to Barev's new studio in Newark. They climbed into Rob's Tahoe, and he took off for the east side of town. "New home, new studio, new you." Andy joked from the front passenger seat as Rob drove down Hebron Road for Rt. 16. "It was time for a change, and I took the opportunity." Rob remarked. "I mean, I'd move too if my neighbor burned my house down in a really dumb way." "Well now nobody has to worry about Dont'Noah as he's in federal prison now." "Federal prison? Like a felon?" Rob shrugged. "I didn't press charges, but Licking County indicted him for three felonies regarding fireworks, the propane tanks, and other stupid shit. So he's serving a ten year sentence, with a chance for parole after four." "Wow." "Heh, I almost feel sorry for the dude. He's a fucking idiot and now he's fucked with a felony with a baby mama and a newborn son." "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes they say." "Exactly." Slowing up for the Dayton Road exit, Rob put his turn signal on and rolled to a stop at the red light. After sitting for a few minutes, he got the green arrow, which he took off to make the left turn. Following Dayton Road for a mile, Rob slowed up for a right hand turn for the access road to Barev Video's new home. Getting flagged through by the guards at the gate, Rob drove through a tree line that gave way to the new complex. What was once a large farm field was now the multi-studio setup of Barev Video and its two local stations, WNCS-TV and WHIN-TV. The main office was a two story structure in modernist style, modeled on the Neutra VDL Studio in Los Angeles, with a hint of Usonian and Brutalist flair. Its exterior was concrete, steel, and wood paneling, with large windows for the offices that were tinted a light gray. "BAREV VIDEO SERVICES WHIN-TV" was written in blue Square Serif font between the first and second story windows. "Wow." Andy muttered. "Rob this looks great!" "I figured if I was gonna get a new building built, I'd build it like how I'd do it." Rob shrugged. "I'm... surprised its not brutalist." "Well since America is sleepwalking itself closer to fascism, I thought I wouldn't encourage it anymore!" Rob joked morbidly. Through the double doors, the interior felt open with all the large windows. Marcus greeted them in the lobby with Maverick and Borr. Before their meeting, Andy and the executives got a full tour of the facility. The new broadcasting center had a large open office area, a conference room, videotape archive, and three large sound stages, which finally met production quality after years of improvised adaptations of garages and gymnasiums. One studio was dedicated solely for 4K, with a four million dollar Ikegami camera suite, and the other two exclusively for their analog operations. There were two control rooms, one for the analog studios, and the other exclusively for the 4K studio. The control room for the analog studios was larger as it doubled as the VTR room for digitization services with their aging Quadruplex, Type C, U-Matic, and Betacam VTR's. "And right in here, your future analog fleet." Marcus announced as he opened the door to the workshop room. The husky flipped on the light and held the door open for everyone to step inside the workshop. On display were several cameras on the work benches and tripods. Destined for Chicago were their interim HK-312 studio cameras, a set of HK-322's that once were used by Alvin Paulo, and eight LDK-6A's. They would complement Andy's restored set of Sony BVP-360's and BVP-150's. All the cameras destined for Chicago were marked "BvS/cTc" for the "Chicago Television Complex", an ambitious goal to build more studio space for both Barev's productions and WNBB-TV, the flagship Chicago ABC station. Maverick pointed out some of the details for Andy. "The three-twelves are conventional thirty millimeter Plumbicon tubes, the three-twenty-twos also use the standard thirty millimeter lead oxide, while the LDK's use Diode-Gun Plumbs in the one inch format." "Very nice." Andy nodded. "Those LDK-6's all came from that lot with different tube sizes and types right?" "It was a clusterfuck to sort." Marcus laughed. "Rob's set, the OB truck set had the one inch ACT Plumbs, the ones we got in the studio B here are one inch Diode-Guns, and these are one inch Diode-Guns as well. So we had to pull all the tubes out to see." "Video archaeology." An executive laughed. "You can call it that." Rob chuckled. "The recovered TK-47B's are up in Ann Arbor being overhauled by AAV, along with the two-thirds inch LDK-26's." "Was this like some hoarder?" "Some retired engineer died and had been collecting all this stuff, and it was a semi truck load. Took us hours to load it all up out of a barn in western Pennsylvania." Maverick explained. "Hours, and hours. So much dust." "But we got the Philips treasure trove, and I like those LDK-6's. So much better than the older Norelcos." "Heh, 'new'." Grinned the Russian husky. "Yeah." Rob laughed. "So gentlemen? If you want to go to the conference room to have a bit more discussion and planning for the CTC project?" As Rob departed with everyone for the conference room, his cell phone rang. Rob grabbed it from his pocket to find his grandma calling him. Rob fumbled his brow and glanced at the time; something felt wrong. "Hello, Grandma?" "Rob! Rob! I need your help! Something has happened! I don't know what's going on!?" came Nancy's desperate voice. Her breathing sounded oddly labored, and she sounded in an absolute panic. "Grandma!? Grandma!? Are you okay, what's going on?" "Rob, I don't know what's going on, but I just can't get my breathe suddenly! I feel dizzy, like I want to pass out, and all I did was adjust the thermostat." "Call 9-1-1 now. Hang up and call 9-1-1 now Grandma. I'm on my way! Open a window! Open a window! I'm coming!" Rob's urgent words and sudden dash to the door got Maverick and Marcus' attention. "Rob!" Marcus called. "Something happened and Grandma's in danger!" "Andy, why don't you stay back with Borr, and we'll help Rob." Marcus suggested as he and Borr took off with Maverick. They ran out the door after Rob who was on the phone calling for emergency help. ------------------------------------- Screeching off Rt. 13, Rob practically put his Tahoe into a sliding turn into Shady Acres. Getting his Grandma's condo in view, he saw a fire truck coming in off the 21st street entrance. Rob pulled up near her condo and slammed on the brakes. He immediately jumped out and ran towards the door, just as Marcus, Maverick, and Borr arrived in Marcus' red Silverado one-ton. Rob frantically knocked and tried to look through the window to hear no response. He could hear her voice yell something, so Rob resorted to kicking down the door. Maverick ran up as Rob frantically put all his strength into kicking down the green door. "Here help me!" Rob yelled. Maverick threw his body weight into the door as its hinges and door knob creaked from the stress. Rob simultaneously threw his weight into the door with Maverick and it finally broke clear from its hinges. Maverick caught himself but Rob fell to the ground with it. He got up and immediately felt something was amiss in the living room; the air had a weird heaviness to it, tinted with a note of exhaust fumes. He could hear the furnace running. Something was seriously wrong. "Grandma!" Rob yelled. "Rob!" Rob braved the hostile atmosphere and ran to her bedroom to find his Grandma hunched over with her head sticking out an open window. "I'm so cold! Help me!" she pleaded. Rob rushed and grabbed the elderly gray wolf and helped her back up to her feet. She seemed really dazed and in shock; her face looked extremely cold. Maverick burst into the room. "We gotta get out of here, Rob! Nancy! Come here!" Without hesitation, Maverick carefully picked a weakened Nancy up and carried her out of her bedroom where Borr waited at the door. They all helped carry Nancy out to the sidewalk, where her legs finally gave out. Marcus caught her and they gently laid her down on the sidewalk where paramedics ran over. Nancy was so scared and in shock as tears streamed from her eyes. "Grandma, you're gonna be okay!" Rob assured her as he held her paw. "I was so scared. I just couldn't get my breath and I couldn't get out through the front door! I didn't think you'd make it in time!" "What happened?" Borr asked her. "I felt cold, so I adjusted the thermostat and the furnace turned on, but it didn't sound right, and all of a sudden I started having a hard time breathing! I smelled this burning smell and my heart started racing!" Rob and Maverick looked at each other. Rob's face was instantly cross; he knew exactly what happened. After making sure his grandma was placed in the ambulance, and promising he could come to the hospital, Rob went to confront the management again. Knowing that Rob was going to need backup, Maverick chased after him. Rob had the walk and the pose. Mav knew he was out for blood. Throwing the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall, Rob stormed into the manager's office. The slam was so hard that it started the secretary at the counter. Rob marched up to her with a furious express on his face. "I'd like to speak to the manager about my Grandma's condo..." Rob said in a very low tone. "What is the meaning of slamming our door open so hard?" "What is the meaning of my Grandma getting carbon monoxide poisoning!?" Rob shouted. "You know Nancy Barion is on her way to the hospital after that piece of shit furnace you keep cobbling together that needed replacing years ago finally broke again! How many fucking times do we have to complain before you do the bare fucking minimal!?" The manager, hearing the commotion, rushed out. The older gray wolf looked panicked at the irate expression on Rob's face. "Calm down! Stop yelling!" he yelled. "What the hell is going on!?" "My Grandma is heading to the hospital from carbon monoxide poisoning because you haven't replaced that piece of shit furnace!" Rob shouted. "We have told you, the management of this condominium complex for two years now that she needed a new furnace, and you haven't done jack-shit for it. And here is my family with a heating and cooling business who would do it for FREE and you wouldn't even fucking let us for your gobbledygook regulatory policies!" The manager stared blankly at Rob. The secretary sat at her desk looking uneasy. Rob stood with both paws balled into fists at his side. "What do you want me to do about this?" the manager asked rather flippantly. Rob's face momentarily turned red. His paws trembled, and his rage boiled. But Rob took a slow deep breath, and took a step back. "She's leaving and coming to live with me." Rob said, in a tensely calm voice. Marcus and Borr breathed a sigh of relief. Rob turned and walked out of the door. It's cowbell clanked as the door shut. Maverick turned to exit, followed by Marcus, and Borr. As the door finally shut, the manager fell against the wall and slinked to the ground with an ashen look on his face. He felt that he dodged a speeding bullet from Rob's wrath. Maverick ran up to Rob, who walked with his paws in his pockets through the spitting snow. "Stupid motherfuckers..." Rob muttered. "Holy shit, Rob, you backed off!" Maverick exclaimed as he ran to catch up with his friend. "What's the point?" Rob shrugged. "I've argued and I've reported about that furnace for two years for her, and nothing. So what's the point of wasting my breath for a bunch of greedy fucks." "So she's gonna live with you?" "I guess so. You never leave family behind." Rob said as he hopped into his Tahoe. "I'm heading to the hospital. Why don't you guys go back to Andy and talk about the CTC project and keep me informed." "Will do, Rob." Rob fired up his SUV and spun it around to drive to Licking Memorial Hospital. He called Alvin and put it on speaker phone as he shoved the phone back on his dash mount. "Hey Uncle Rob!" "Hey Alvin I got a question for you." "What's that?" "Do you mind having a roommate?" "Uhh, a roommate?" "Grandma Nancy." "Why would Nancy- oh no, did something happen, Uncle Rob?" "I'm on my way to the hospital. I rushed over here because her furnace pumped carbon monoxide into her condo." "Oh no! Is she okay?" "We got her out just in time." "She's welcome to stay!" ----------------------------- "Well it can't be Ohio without snow in spring time..." Nancy chuckled as she looked out the big living room windows to see the spring landscape turn white from snow. "I guess if you don't get it in January, you get it in April!" Rob joked as he walked by, carrying a box of his grandmother's belongings to her new bedroom. "Here, let me help you~" Nancy said as she shuffled her way to assist her grandson. "Oh Rob, you've done so much for me, I'm so thankful!" "That's what family is for." Rob assured as he went to go fetch another box from his SUV. "Almost there, Grandma." Nancy glanced over to Alvin moving a box. "Well I didn't think a simple thermostat adjustment would get me a whole new place!" "I didn't think I'd get my own place either but my neighbor sure helped!" Alvin laughed. "Funny how life works like that, huh?" Nancy smiled. "Well I hope you don't mind me living with you, Alvin." "Not at all!" the young Dober smiled warmly. "I'll gladly help you when I'm home." "I appreciate it! Being almost ninety-two isn't a walk in the park!" laughed Nancy. "You get tired just getting out of bed! But I'm thankful every day that the lord has given me another day to live and be healthy." "Exactly." Alvin pointed out. Rob stepped back inside with the last box of photographs for his Grandma. He sat down on the couch in the living room and opened it up to examine the contents. He looked around at the still mostly empty walls to see where his Grandma's portraits would fit. Pulling one of the portraits out, Rob smiled at the photo of his late Grandpa, Gordo, who posed in a portrait with Nancy for her eightieth birthday. He missed Gordo, who passed away in 2017 after a short battle with brain cancer. Setting that down on the couch, he grabbed another picture frame that contained several pictures of Nancy's late siblings. Nancy was the oldest, followed by her two sisters, Wilma and Velma, and two brothers, Paul, and Carl Davis. The photo of Wilma and Velma were taken in the late 1980's when they were by that point two old divorcees living together. They were two heavy set chain smokers who had lived in Chillicothe. Wilma passed away the year before at eighty-nine from an array of breathing and heart issues from years of chain smoking, and Velma wasn't too far behind her with lung issues stemming from heavy smoking. Carl and Paul were both gone too; Carl Davis was killed in a car accident in January 1973 with his wife, leaving behind two daughters who were raised by his late wife's family. Paul Davis died in 1989 at the age of fifty-two, after a short battle with Lou Gehrig's disease in Miami. There was an older black and white photo towards the bottom, showing Nancy's parents, Marcus and Virginia before their divorce. Everyone except Nancy and Velma were gone. Rob felt introspective about that. "Oh look at those old photos~" Nancy remarked as he approached. "Look how young I was in that photo there!" "A long time ago." Rob nodded. "Hey, don't remind me now!" Nancy laughed. "Well, this is gonna be different for sure after being in that condo for almost twenty years." "At least the view is nice, huh?" Rob joked. "Oh, its breathtaking." Nancy remarked. "You should have done this years ago, Rob." "I didn't have stupid neighbors to burn the house down then." Rob laughed. Nancy put her frail arms around Rob and hugged him tightly. "I don't know how to thank you, Rob. I love you so much for all the help you've given me over the years!" "You're welcome, Grandma. That's what family does." "Don't worry about the pictures, we can put them up tomorrow!" Nancy assured him. "Why don't you go rest, you've had a busy day!" "When Joey gets home, we're gonna make dinner and I'll come and get you." "Sounds good." Nancy smiled. Rob smiled and turned to depart. He zipped his jacket up to step outside and hop into his Tahoe for the short drive back down to his main house. He turned, rolled under the parking overhang and hopped out. He paused for a moment to gaze at his marvelous house and smiled. He glanced around at all the silent woodland that was turning white from a springtime snowstorm. "Wow." Rob muttered as he went inside. Checking the time, Rob walked over to his reading corner to finish unpacking the last of his books. He opened a box that sat on the small couch to discover to his delight his diary collection. He had completely forgotten what box he stuffed them into. He opened the box beside it to see his older diaries, stretching back to his childhood. Most of his diaries were written in thick leather bound journals that bore the company logo of Satcorp, the company his dad had worked at. Rob remembered that his father gave him a whole box of those journals when the company had changed logos at some point in the nineties. Rob grabbed the first one he saw, and found to his delight it was the very first journal, from 1992. He opened it and briefly skimmed through all the pages, which were filled with his nascent, shaky cursive of his childhood. The book ended in March of 1994. "September 15, 1992 My name is Rob Barion, and I am ten years old. I attend North Fork elementary school in Newark, Ohio. For writing class, Mrs. Bradshaw wants us to keep a diary, to write about our day, and how we feel. So this is the start of my class project." Rob read that and smiled. It was nostalgic to see something from thirty-two years prior. As he flipped through the pages, heard Joey arrive home. He sat the diary down and walked over to open the side door for him. Joey stepped inside and doffed his gray beanie atop his head as Rob shut the door behind him. He sat it down on the dinner table while he took his jacket off. "What the hell is this, Ohio? Mild winter, and now snow in April?" Rob smiled and shrugged. He gave Joey a hug and a kiss. "How was the gun show in Columbus?" "Oh fantastic, and you won't believe who I ran into!" Joey exclaimed. "Oh yeah?" Rob muttered as he put Joey's beanie with his jacket. "So I went out for lunch in the Short North because I wanted to just go see my old stomping grounds from twenty years ago." Joey explained as he sat down at the table to take his shoes off. "And I go into Union Cafe and lo-and-behold, I see Brey Caldwell!" "Isn't he one of the guys you used to strip with? Lanky Dober that was red and tan?" "Yeah!" Joey exclaimed. "He used to have bottle blonde curly hair too. Not anymore... My god... he recognized me and was all excited to see me again, but I didn't recognize him, Rob!" "What, did he get a lot of plastic surgery or botox, Joey?" Rob quipped in a sarcastically mean way. "No... he looks fuckin' old. He's forty, a year younger than me, and he looks like an eighty year old man. No more blonde locks, nothing. He's with this chubby wolf fella for his hubby. So we got the talking about our lives since 2006, and I think of what I accomplished in eighteen years, and Brey tells me he just beat drug addiction and alcoholism for the third time..." Rob just shook his head disappointedly. "Meth, pills, you name it. Sad if you ask me." Joey shook his head as well. "Then he told me he was going soon to this circuit party with his husband. I'll tell you what, Rob, I'm glad I left that lifestyle. Always chasing tail, partying, having a good time. It will consume you and everything around you." "Old habits die hard." Rob said with a shrug. "Never interested me." "Ah, well." Joey shrugged as he put his shoes away. "So Nancy is here now?" "Yeah. I got her room sufficiently set up. I'm so pissed at that condo complex. I should have gave 'em a piece of my mind! But I backed off..." "Oh boy, Rob, just what we need more of." Joey laughed with a grin. "That's why I backed off! What difference was it going to make if I blew up in a fit of rage and raised hell? They didn't give a fuck. They just wanted her money. Fuck 'em." "I think she's better off here anyways, where one of us can keep an eye on her." Joey smiled. "When we grow old, it's like we revert back to being babies who need help." Rob figured as he checked the time on the wall clock. "You know, I'm proud of you, Rob." Joey smiled. "Why do you say that?" Rob asked, fumbling his brow. "You're restraining your anger and letting a calmer through process come through. Plus, you're taking care of Nancy. I remember the days when you two were at odds." "That's what family is for." Rob shrugged. "I want to enjoy my remaining time with her as she's not gonna be here forever. The march of time..." "Yeah..." Joey nodded. "One minute I turned twenty, and now I'm looking at forty-two in October! Well I'm gonna get the roast in the oven and get dinner ready!" "Sure." Rob smiled. "I'm gonna put my diaries away and I'll be in." "Take your time." Joey smiled as he turned to step into the kitchen. Rob returned back to his reading corner to put his diaries away. As he put them away, he would skim through his writings and glance through his thoughts as he went through his teenage years. From his late childhood through his teenage years, his writing matured, from the shaky D'Nealian script to his own loopy cursive, always in black or blue ink, from a generic ballpoint to the rollerball and felt pens he loved. "4/19/95 I got beat up today after school. All I wanted to do was walk from class to my study hall, but my bullies had other plans. I got shoved down a set of stairs, and before I could react, I got kicked and punched by Paul Kirkpatrick, and Randy Mulligan. Mr. Kirk yanked them off and saved me. I don't even know what I did to deserve this? So I'm hurting. My back hurts, I got a black eye. What's the point of rules in the agenda book about bullying if the school isn't going to do anything about it? I called Grandpa about this, and he told me that the school doesn't want to deal with the wrath of their parents over suspensions, and it gets lost in the red-tape. Grandpa said he was going to say something tomorrow between class. Someday someone's gonna get killed. Bullying gets worse and worse as they keep pushing it. What a day. And I come home to see mom and dad fighting. Why me?" Rob flipped through the pages and landed on an entry he wrote in early 1996. "2/15/96 School was fine. Cold and snow got us a two-hr delay. So that was nice. Got an A+ on my history paper about dive bombing in WWII. Grandpa's stories about flying SB2C's in the Pacific was the deal sealer. Later this year I'm going to become a freshman at NHS. They're starting to give us 8th graders the scheduling packet for 9th grade. I've filled out the paperwork, and I decided that I am going to enroll in the NHS broadcasting class. This is a chance for me to turn my hobby shooting video into something! Students can work for the school channel, Channel 19, WNCS-TV, so this could be my break to land a career as a TV engineer! Fingers crossed!" Rob flipped a few more pages, when an envelope fell out into his lap. Rob sat his old diary down and picked up the envelope, which was yellowed slightly with age. He flipped it over to see "To be opened in 2016!" written in black ballpoint. Rob didn't recognize the handwriting. It looked like a child's handwriting. He sat the envelope down beside him and picked his diary back up to try and see where it came out of. After flipping through a couple pages, he saw the faint outline of the envelope on an entry that was dated to June 1996. "6/17/96 Parents had a terrible argument today. Mom and Dad spent probably a good hour just screaming over their marriage. Dad's health issues from being burned are flaring up again, and its making his rage worse. Mom is an emotional wreck. Me and Jake can't take it. Jake wants to just live with his best friend CJ and I can't blame him. Maybe Troy lucked out dying at twelve. Speaking of my late brother... I found this today, an envelope from him that's to be opened in 2016. I wonder what he has to say? Mom said he wrote something on our fourth birthday in 1986, and wanted us to open it on our thirty-fourth. I'll respect his wish. 2016 is twenty years away! Troy passed away in August 1987 from being hit by a car. I wish I knew him. He would be twenty-one now. Forever twelve. Troy dying hurt Mom and Dad so much. I think it broke both of them. This family is nothing but tragedy." Rob leaned back on the couch and picked up the envelope again. In his grip was something from his late brother Troy. A time capsule from long ago. Setting his diary down again, Rob got up and walked over to his wall of family photos. Hung up just below the portrait of his parents was his older brother, Troy Alec Barion. Troy looked exactly like his father Ray; he was a gray wolf with bright blue eyes. Troy had the exact same Barion wavy hair like Rob's, like his brother's. It was naturally tousled and thick, in a medium brown color like Rob's. In his portrait, Troy had a big smile on his face. He had just turned twelve when that picture was taken in the spring of 1987. A few months later, he was killed when an out of control car jumped the curb at the playground and struck him. Just seconds from impact, Troy had pushed his best friend out of the way to safety, only to be run over by the sedan. Despite a herculean attempt by doctors to save his life, Troy died at the hospital from a broken neck, and severe internal bleeding. His death devastated Ray and their mother Ahn, and their marriage never recovered from it. His father, reeling from being disfigured in a workplace explosion, became a furious, angry, broken man. Even his best friend he saved, Mason Munson, didn't recover from it. Mason ultimately died of a drug overdose in March 1995 at the age of nineteen. A heavy feeling sunk in his heart as Rob frowned at the portrait of the brother he never really knew. Troy was gone longer than he ever was alive. He looked at the envelope again in his grip. He was eight years overdue to open it. Very carefully opening the envelope, Rob opened the flap and pulled out a folded up sheet of copy paper. He turned it around in his grip and opened it, to see Troy's handwritten letter. "July 26, 1986 Dear Robert, Happy Birthday to you and Jacob! :D Today both of you turn 34 in the year 2016! This is a time capsule from me, your older brother, Troy. Writing this, I am 11 years old! In thirty years I will be 41! I'll be older than what Mom and Dad are currently! Right now you both are 4 years old, but Grandma and Grandpa always say time flies very fast, so I wanted to make this. In 1986 Dad is recovering from his accident at work. He was badly hurt when a satellite being build exploded into flames and he got caught in the fireball. Mom is working at the Newark Credit Union main bank branch, and Grandma and Grandpa work for the school. Both of you are starting pre-school soon. In thirty-years I hope we can all look back on this letter and have a laugh at how far we've come. I dream to become an engineer like Dad and fly on the Space Shuttle! I dream to reach space and see the stars. I know both of you will find success in adulthood! So when you read this, give me a call and we can share a laugh. Love, Troy." Rob held the letter for a long time and processed it. This was all he had to remember him. This was his parting gift in his short life. Rob gently folded it back up and put it back in the envelope. He walked over and sat it down on his table by the lamp before sitting back down on the couch to just reflect on Troy's message. Out of the corner of his eye, Rob spotted something purple sticking slightly out of the box. He turned his head to see another envelope tucked away in the box full of diaries. It dawned on him that it was the letter from his late friend Gabby that he had forgotten all about after all the chaos of the house fire and moving. Rob quickly grabbed it and opened it up. He pulled out a card, which contained inside a letter, written on several sheets of 5x7 letterhead with a floral pattern on it. Rob scrutinized Gabby's handwriting, which was hard to read in places; she looked to be in great pain when she wrote. "Dear Rob, Two years ago, I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. There was lot of initial hope for me, through all the grueling treatments, radiation, chemo, and then the excitement of remission. But cancer is an evil thing, and it came roaring back with revenge. So after my most recent hospitalization with complications, with counseling from my family and doctors, I have decided to enter hospice care to make my remaining days comfortable. I've had eight years of freedom after you and Joey found me on the side of the highway in that terrible snow storm. As I sit here, knowing that my end is coming, I do not regret how my life has gone, or all the years that I missed out. Sometimes the thought creeps into my head and bothers me, but I've always used that to push myself to live my life the best I could. Perhaps the greatest thing that makes me sad is knowing that I won't be able to see what the future will bring, or what could have been. But that's life I suppose, and you understand that. I was nine years old when I was kidnapped walking home from a friend's house in my home town. And for forty years, I was kept in a horrible nightmare by three different men. I had my three children, almost died two times, and when there were chances for me to escape? Nobody cared or acted bothered or concerned. When I was at the hospital after my last child was born, I told them I was being held against my will, and the nurse laughed. They all thought I was crazy! Even after my captor was killed, the building blown up, and I crawled out of the flaming basement, multiple cars drove past me in the storm. I waved, motioned, everything I could and they refused to stop. Then you showed up. I had almost no strength left, and I reached out and gave the last of my strength to flag you down. Then I remember waking up in the back of your truck, and you were caring for me and trying to warm my frozen paws up as we went to the hospital. You always dismissed the title "hero". I remember one of our conversations, and I told you that you're my hero. You laughed it off and shrugged, and said "I'm no hero." And you told me about things that you have done to protect yourself, all the violence, mayhem. You might not feel it, but you're always my hero. You're a hero to someone because you cared for them. You're a hero to your adopted son, your nephew, your godson in NY, and that green headed little duck you're so fond of. You made a difference in their lives. You're a hero to them. My counselor told me once when I was having a down day, that I shouldn't beat myself up, because when I did that, I only further hurt the little traumatized child that still was deep within me. I recall you telling me about your childhood, and all the things that happened with you and your parents, and how they demanded perfection from you, and all the bullying from your classmates that led to you almost dying in that attack. Deep inside you is a traumatized young version of you, an angry young man, and a burned out old man. When you beat yourself up over what had happened, or if you feel that you're not learning something fast enough, you just further hurt that hurt child deep inside your heart. That hurt child feeds the angry young man, who further burns that old man out. I see that strain on your face. I feel that hurt deep inside you. I know because I was there too. It took a lot of prayer and counseling for me to let it be. I missed out on so many milestones that people take for granted in their lives, but I had to let it be, so I could look forward to rebuilding my life and seeking out the future. So when you feel down, or that you're not progressing to your liking? Don't beat yourself up. You have all the time in the world to keep progressing, Rob. In closing, thank you for being my friend these eight years. As God prepares to call me home, I'll always be thankful for our conversations, letters, gifts, and visits. I love you as much as my children who I'm blessed to have returned to my life in this difficult time. When the lord calls me home, whenever that may be, I'll know that everything will be okay. I do not fear death, as it's just another journey on our spiritual path. I now begin the journey to the sunset of my life. I know for you Rob, you'll have many more sunrises to see. So don't be so rough on yourself. You have all the time in the world to make things better. God bless. Love you, Gabby." Rob dropped the letter to the floor and wept. The world around him went seemingly silent in his mind as he covered his face up with a paw and wept. Years of pent up frustration suddenly came out like a tidal wave, as hot, sad tears flowed from his bloodshot eyes. His cries got Joey's attention, who came running out of the kitchen over to him. "What happened!? Rob! Is everything okay!?" Joey asked, his voice full of concern. "Jesus Christ, I fucked my whole life up." Rob sobbed. "What have I done to it!?" Joey frowned and saw the letter on the ground. He picked it up and read some of it, and realized what it was about. "Aww, Rob, it's okay." Rob leaned back and took a couple deep breaths as his breathing stuttered. Joey went to grab some tissues for him and sat back down beside him. Rob dabbed his eyes and blew his nose and took a moment to regain his calm. "I don't know what hit me, but there was this just... overwhelming emotional rush that had to come out." "You can't bottle up your feelings forever, Rob." Smiled Joey. "We've talked about this before~" "I guess so. It's been years since I felt anything like that, not since after Grandpa died." "You really cared about your friend, and it's clear she really cared about you, like a son. You and Gabby endured great traumas so she understood your pain while others didn't." "And I found a letter from my late brother, Troy." "Oh my." "That too." Rob showed Joey the letter from Troy, which he gently pulled out and read himself. Joey looked amazed. "Rob, that's a treasured piece. A departing gift from him." Joey remarked. "Forever keep that." "It's just surreal to me that Troy has been gone longer than he ever was alive." "Life is a fragile thing isn't it?" Joey nodded. "Grandpa once said to me that he doesn't understand why he made it to ninety and not any of his squadron mates. That always bothered him. Now Grandpa's health is in really bad shape after a fall... I mean, he'll be ninety-eight in September if he makes it." "My Aunt Velma is in bad health too..." Rob shook his head. "Getting older sucks. You watch loved ones start fading away." "You start watching friends fade away too." Joey nodded. The Doberman put his arms around Rob and hugged him. Rob returned the gesture and they both sat embraced in a hug for a long time. "Everything will be okay, Rob." Joey assured him. "Look at how far you've come, and look around you at what you've accomplished. Look at what we've accomplished together!" "Yeah." Rob responded. He leaned back and rubbed his now sore eyes. "I look around this new property and I feel safe. I feel removed enough from society's bullshit that just maybe I can unwind properly." Joey patted Rob's knee. "We should have done this years before." "I am a slow learner." Rob joked. "Take what Gabby had to tell you in that latter. Don't beat yourself up if things don't come naturally, or right away. Look how far you've come from the first time I met you." Rob mustered a smile. "Thanks, Joey." "If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen~" the Doberman smiled. He leaned in, gave Rob a kiss and got up to go back to what he was doing. Rob sat in his library nook looking burned out. ------------------------------------ Snow flurries fluttered in a winter-like breeze that whistled through the trees of Cedar Hill Cemetery. The overcast skies that brought snow were clearing out as daylight faded westward. Boots crunched through the surprisingly thick snow as Rob walked with his brother amongst the silent row of headstones. Both looked rather solemn as they walked to their parents' gravesite. "I remember the day in late February when it hit like sixty-five degrees!" Jake exclaimed. "What the fuck, Ohio?" "Yeah, that's the key word. Ohio." Rob chuckled. As he walked, he adjusted his gray wool papakha that he always wore. "Next thing you know, it's gonna be a heat wave." "I won't complain. Heh, remember when we used to play in the snow all the time without complaint!" Jake laughed. "I was eleven, now I'm forty-one." Rob smiled. "Joints don't like the cold as much." "Tell me about it... ever since getting radiation poisoning, my joints are completely fucked up." Jake grimaced. "Now I feel like you~" "Thanks~" Rob sarcastically glared to his brother's shit-eating grin. "I'm thankful I can still walk!" Near the top of a gently sloping hill was the family plot of their parents, their brother, and their Korean grandmother, who was a casualty of the Cold War. Rob stood looking introspective while Jake knelt down to brush some of the snow off their parents' headstone. "Hi Mom and Dad and Troy." Jake quietly said in the silent cemetery. Rob always thought about the story of success and tragedy being interwoven in their family history. Their father was severely burned and disfigured in a workplace accident. Ray Barion was a successful engineer for Satcorp, and flew into space twice as a payload specialist on Space Shuttle Challenger before his accident in 1985. After that fateful accident, Ray was a broken, bitter man, who at the end of his life was all alone, having driven everyone away as he slowly died of cancer from his accident. Ray died in 2009; in a surprising act of redemption, Ray saved the life of Rob's friend, Carlos Ramirez, from a gay bashing, but was mortally wounded and died in his arms. But he died at peace, knowing there was some good left in him. Their mother was a traumatized orphan who never told them in her life that she was a refugee from North Korea. Cho Hee Ahn was a quiet, intelligent woman who had come to the United States from South Korea in 1970. She worked for a time with the South Korean consulate in Chicago, but found her career in the banking industry, which brought her to Newark Ohio in 1973, where she met Ray Barion. After Troy's tragic death, and Ray's deteriorating physical and mental health, their marriage suffered and ended in a nasty divorce in 1999. After Rob's gay bashing, and Jake getting into a nasty fight with her and leaving to live with his best friend CJ, Ahn died in 2000. Though he could never prove it, Rob believed that their mom simply died of a broken heart. She took her arduous journey out of North Korea to the grave at the age of fifty-one. Glancing to his right was a pink granite headstone that had snow on top. It had etched on it the only good portrait of his late grandmother, Cho Jong-sook. From his Uncle Bae, she was born in 1919 and fought in the Second World War in the Soviet Army with other Korean exiles. She was a sniper and fought the Japanese in the Korean peninsula. After their family was arrested in a power struggle with Kim Il-sung, Cho Jong-sook broke Bae and Ahn out of the prison camp during an uprising and escaped in January 1959. Braving frost bite and pursing soldiers, she was fatally wounded at the DMZ, but managed to get her children across a freezing river to South Korea, where she died. Sixty years after her death, her remains were found five hundred feet across the line, where they were recovered and flown back to the US, where she was buried next to her daughter, with full military honor. "I can't believe it's just us." Jake remarked to his brother. "I think about our lives, and that we've been on our own longer than our own parents being alive or in our lives." "Yeah." Rob nodded. Jake fumbled his brow. "Oh Mom, I wish we never had that fight. But I just couldn't take it anymore. The constant negativity, the controlling of my life. I had to get the fuck out for my own sanity after you got nearly killed and was in that coma. Mom was out of control, Dad was nowhere to be seen, not that I wanted to deal with him anymore. It was all just a fucked up mess." "Success and tragedy go hand-in-hand for us." Rob shook his head. "Today I had such an emotional breakdown and I don't know what hit me. Finding Troy's letter and then Gabby's goodbye note just broke me down." "I don't remember Troy." Jake said bitterly. "Our older brother and I don't know anything about him except for some home movies. I recall him pulling us in the wagon?" "Yeah! You and me would be in the wagon and Mom or Troy would pull us along." Rob said with a smile. "That's about the only memories I have of Troy. I kind of remember one winter, he was mighty proud of making this huge snowman in the front yard. I have the picture of that." "Just a shame." Jake frowned. "I wonder what Troy's life would have been like had he lived?" "Well he'd be old now." Rob laughed. "Would have turned forty-nine on the fifth." "I can't even imagine him being forty-nine. Wow." Jake remarked. "I bet he would have been like Dad and reached for the stars." "I know Troy would have made it into space by now." "Jesus Christ, had Mom and Dad lived, they'd have been seventy-five and seventy-two. Just wow, Rob." "Yeah." "Now look at us. Rich as fuck, having our own businesses. I remember when I wanted to play for Ohio State, and you wanted to be a cameraman." "Had the attack never happened, I don't think any of this would have happened, to be honest." Rob admitted. "I probably would have been with CJ today, working for a station in Columbus and not pushing my boundaries. But after that attack and nearly dying? Spending a year in a coma? I wasn't going to settle for anything less than clawing my way to the top." "And what an understatement that is." Jake grinned. "Yeah, at a cost to my mental and physical health. My friend Gabby said that I'm deep down a hurt, traumatized child, an angry young man, and a burnt out old man." "She's right." "I've thought about it a lot, and I think I wrecked a lot of things and denied myself a lot of things." Rob bitterly concluded. "I just... I wanted to move on from what happened, and I didn't want to be pegged as just the gay dude, you know? It's like when you come out and people know you're gay, it doesn't matter how successful you are in what you're doing, you're just the gay dude to some." "Fuck 'em." Jake shrugged. "You're my twin brother, and that's what matters to me. Because I love you." Rob smiled. "I really appreciate that." "You and me have been through so much shit together, and I wouldn't have it any other way." "Same here." Before leaving, Rob walked a few rows over to where his grave would have been at had he died. Rob and Jake crunched through the powder and stopped at a spot where Rob knelt down and scraped the snow away, to reveal a weathered granite headstone that was flush to the ground. "ROBERT J. BARION 1982-" "I touch this and shutter. That could have been me, many times. So I don't know why I survived while others died. Is there some deity, a higher power that wants me to serve some super specific purpose in this life? Or does heaven and hell not want me!" "Who knows. What matters is that you're alive!" Jake exclaimed. "Who cares about the past now. That arduous journey got you here now. So think about what tomorrow can bring! Maybe something good or better?" "Or worse with the way our political system is degenerating." Jake chuckled cynically. "Yeah, that too." "But that's all we got. Hope for a better day tomorrow." "Yeah." Jake smiled. He gave his brother a tight hug. "Oh Rob, we've gotten through twenty-six years of this shit, we'll press on!" "Press on to get that dinner you were promising." Rob laughed. "Let's get to that pizza shop before it gets too late." "Good idea. Thank god Karen has to work late tonight." Jake said with a shutter. "I'd be afraid what comes out of that oven now!" Rob turned and walked back to his SUV with Jake. "Have you ever suggested she take cooking classes? Or watch a video?" "My wife is the only person who can figure out how to change a transmission with a video online, but make food worst after watching a demonstration!" "Heh, some people aren't made for cooking." "Their name is Karen!" Jake laughed. Hopping into Rob's Tahoe, they turned around and took off down the curving path to head for Cedar Street, to make their way downtown. ------------------------------ By nightfall, under the warm amber glow of his tiffany lamp, Rob sat at his table at his library corner and read more of his diaries. While Joey sat and watched a movie at the couch, Rob was glued to his leather bound books filled with his cursive writing. He looked at the diary that he was writing when he was gay bashed. Turning the page he was presented with the yearlong gap. The last entry was November 18, 1999, and the immediate page was January 18, 2001, which was very shakily written in a blue ballpoint pen. "11/18/99 Rough day at school. I got in trouble for punching Derik Prince in the face. I was walking from the library when I hear footsteps rushing towards me. I turn around and there is, with that stupid grin on his smug lil' face. He threw the first punch, I dodged it, and I don't know what hit me- I threw a punch and right in the kisser. Dropped him to the sidewalk with a bloody nose. So I defend myself from being beat up again, and I'm the bad guy? The principal was very upset at me, and said I was better than that? Why? Because I'm getting tired of being harassed all the time by everyone? What's the point of rules if you're not gonna enforce it? So I defend myself and get sent home, and I can't shoot the football game as punishment. Fine by me, they can make it look like shit with those awful S-VHS camcorders! Save me some tube life on my HL-95!" "January 18, 2001 I have been in a coma for a little over one year. One minute I'm in 1999, and now it's 2001. I'm at Riverside Hospital in Columbus. I was airlifted here and have remained here since. I feel very weak. My body has withered away. I can't even walk right. I woke up on January 13. Jake told me I was attacked by Derik Prince and his two friends. I was stabbed multiple times, slashed, and I almost bled to death. My heart stopped twice and they brought me back. I have a horrific scar on my face, and the left side of my face is numb and doesn't want to work right. I'm devastated. I'm scared for my future. What is my future? I'm gonna die young aren't I? Mom died. Grandpa said she had a heart attack and he found her dead at home at Christmas. What a devastating thing to happen. How can things keep going horribly wrong!? Getting stabbed hurts. I now face the days ahead where I have physical therapy. I'm scared that I may never walk again. Ready or not, here I go." Rob leaned back in his chair and looked introspective. His writing gave it away at how he felt. It was shaky, weak, hard to read in places. Flipping towards the end, Rob read an entry in December 2001. "12/21/01 Just in time for Christmas, I was released from the rehab facility. I got a standing ovation as I left. All my friends and family were there to cheer me on as I walked. I feel better. I'm still kind of weak, I'm tired, and I exhaust easily, but the Dr. said that's to be expected. My body is still healing and building muscle back. I'll be living with Jake in an apartment in Newark. In January I can return to my job at WNCS-TV. Oh this is gonna be an interesting adventure as I begin a lawsuit against NCS. My attorney is this tough gal named Lisa Scheiddegger. Newark's toughest lawyer. She assures me retaliation is very much illegal, and she'd get 'em for that. "Fuck 'em" is her own words. Exactly. Fuck 'em." Deciding that he had enough memories, Rob closed his diary up and walked over to place it back on the bookshelf. He checked the time and walked over to grab his jacket. "Joey, I'm gonna check on Grandma!" "Sounds good! I'll be here!" Joey responded as he laid out on the couch. Rob stepped outside and threw his jacket's hood over his head. The air was cold but still. His breath wavered in the cold as he walked through the crunchy snow up to the guest house. To Rob's surprise, he saw his grandmother standing on the porch, just admiring the moonlight with a cup of hot tea. She was dressed in her red button up coat with a white knit cap atop her head. "Grandma, what are you doing out in the cold?" Rob asked curiously. "Oh just admiring all the scenery." She smiled. "I'm really amazed at how quiet it is out here. The snow is so perfect, taking on that soft blue glow of the moon." "The first couple days for us were so surreal. It really put me into a whole new perspective. So how are you liking it here, Grandma? Everything okay so far?" "I love it. I look out here and this reminds me of visits in my childhood to my cousin Dolores down in Athens. They lived out in the hills on their farm, and I remember visiting when it snowed, and this is what it reminds me of! Though when you're eight years old, the cold hits different than ninety-one!" "Heh, I feel you there." Rob chuckled. "My joints feel like they're ninety-one." "You got many years ahead! Just you wait!" Nancy laughed. "Christ, I won't make it to your age, not at the rate my body is going." Rob quipped with a sardonic laugh. "I'll be a floating head in a pickle jar when I reach ninety!" "Careful or someone will try and eat you." "Yeah, my friend Dmitry~" Rob snickered. "You never know what modern medicine will bring in the future!" Nancy assured him. "I remember a long time ago that medicine today was just something out of science fiction! Heart attacks, strokes, cancer, you were usually a goner. Now they can transplant organs, treat cancer, vaccinate you against all kinds of diseases. People alive today don't appreciate what they have because they never lived before it! My god when I was born, penicillin wasn't even around yet!" "The problem in this nation is that people have had it so good for so long." Rob shook his head. "People not vaccinating their kids, and now ponder why measles is making a comeback. Whooping cough, I mean what's next? Polio again?" The elderly wolfess shuttered. "That was a feared disease. People would panic in the summertime because that's when polio struck. If any of us complained that our legs hurt, our mother would panic because that's how it started. Dolores got polo when she was twelve, and spent several months in an iron lung. I remember visiting her in a gymnasium sized room full of iron lungs. She recovered but she always had a limp for the rest of her life. So when I hear about people not vaccinating their kids, I think it's crazy! I remember your father having measles, Sandy, and Steve had measles- heck, Steve had measles when he was a baby! The doctor came, Christmas 1958, to check him over." "Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it unfortunately~" "Sadly." Nancy grimaced. She took a sip of her tea as she kept her paws warm on the mug. "I've seen a lot in my life! Every morning I thank the lord for letting me have another day in okay health." "And you got a birthday coming up soon~" Rob smiled. "Oh don't remind me." His grandmother laughed. "Another trip around the sun!" "The big ninety-two!" "I told you not to remind me!" "We'll have some cake and food and celebrate." Rob suggested. "I'd like that." Nancy agreed. "Nothing too fancy!" "Pfft. Don't worry about it." Laughed Rob. "Grandma, how about we get out of the cold here! I don't want you getting hypothermia!" Rob held the door open as Nancy stepped back inside and doffed her coat and hat. She ran a wrinkled paw through her neatly trimmed white hair and hung her coat up on the rack. "Oh, Rob, this is the best thing ever." She gave him another tight hug, which Rob accepted. "I can't even begin to thank you for letting me stay with you and Joey." "That's what family is for. You're welcome to stay here forever~" "Well until the almighty says that's enough." Laughed Nancy as she gave Rob a squeeze. "We'll all be here to help you, no matter what." Rob smiled. "I best let you get ready for bed." "You have a good night, Rob. Grandma loves you lots~" "I love you too, Grandma. If you need anything just page the house." "Will do." Rob poked his head in to say good night to his nephew before heading back for the main house. Through the cold Rob walked, his shoes crunching in the snow. He returned back inside, locked the door behind him and sat his shoes on the rack to dry. He found the living room dark, and Joey in their bedroom. Rob stepped into the warmly bit bedroom to find Joey sitting up in bed as usual, playing on his phone. He wore his usual sleeping clothes of briefs and a white tanktop that clung to his body. Rob soon changed into his red and white striped pajamas and joined Joey in bed. "Feeling better, Rob?" Joey asked with a smile. "Yeah." Rob smiled in return. "I do actually." "See? You can't keep all those feelings buried in there for forever. It just builds up until it comes out in a self-destructive way. Like Timothy McVeigh." "Well I have better targets in my head than an anonymous federal building~" "Oh my god, Rob." Joey laughed. "You've seen what happened to Ronnie, you want that to happen to you?" "Fuck 'em~" Rob shrugged. "It felt like an emotional valve opened and emptied out a lot of hurt. My heart doesn't feel as bothered. I didn't think my friend's death was going to hurt as bad as it did. And her letter just sent me over the top." "It's because she sympathized with how you felt. She knew." Joey explained. "Both of you had traumatic things happen in your life, and you both went about it in different ways for your recovery, maybe somewhat better, or somewhat worse. But she listened to you, she didn't dismiss how you felt or told you how to feel about things. Gabby was a very special person, with a lot of strength to come back from being kidnapped for almost forty years. And now she's in a better place, where she's no longer in pain. So take what she had to say in that letter, and go from there. Don't fill your heart back up with dread and let it come out Timothy McVeigh style. It's okay to be hurt, Rob." "Eh, I don't know. I have a problem where I don't feel like you should just air out all your problems to everyone, just a few people you know? I feel that men should kind of hold their emotions for the sake of things." "Okay, Nixon." Joey grinned. "You assume the worst in people and act surprised when you bring the worst out in them!" "People are terrible deep down. When times get rough, you see people's true colors come out. The survival instincts. It's awful." Rob quipped. "Let it be, Rob, everything will be alright." Joey smiled. "Now I'm pooped. It's time for bed." "Yeah." Rob smiled. He gave Joey a kiss. "Good night and I love you~" "I love you too~" the Doberman smiled back before reaching to turn off the lamp. Under the pale blue glow of the moon filtering through the huge windows, Rob laid in bed looking up at the ceiling for a moment, before his eyes grew heavy and slowly closed. Rob fell into a deep, spent sleep. ---------------------------------------- From rain, snow, and cold, came spring again. Almost to the end of April, the sun was shining and the bright, cheerful green returned. The trees surrounding Rob's home were growing more and more green, and some were flowering with pink and white blooms. It provided a beautiful backdrop for Nancy's ninety-second birthday. On the table sat a large sheet cake with two glowing candles that read out 92. The Barion family and their guests clapped and sang Happy Birthday for her while Rob took photos with his fancy Alpha camera. At the conclusion, Nancy blew out the candles with a thunderous applause. Even Nancy laughed and clapped. "My teeth didn't come out!" she laughed with a happy smile on her face. While Joey cut up the large cake for everyone, Nancy was given her gifts by her children. Rob presented a few gifts from himself and Joey; his grandmother got mostly new clothes, some perfume, and slippers. She was delighted and gave everyone a hug before Joey gave her a slice of cake. Rob stowed his camera away in its bag and tucked it away in his library corner. He walked over to his desk to grab a red folder and tucked it under his arm as he walked over to his Uncle Jack, who was having a friendly conversation with Jake. "Uncle Jack, if you have a moment, I'd like to talk to you outside while I grill." Rob asked as he continued on to the door to the patio. Uncle Jack nodded in agreement. Rob stepped outside and closed the glass door behind him. The air was calm and mild, with the soft scent of spring flowers filling his nose as he walked over to his now warmed up grill. Rob sat the folder down on the fold out table and popped open his big cooler filled with ice to grab some hamburgers to throw onto the grill. The door soon opened and his aging uncle stepped outside to meet with him. "What's going on, Rob?" Jack asked curiously as he put on his canvas Stetson. "I want you to grab that red folder there and when you fly back home, I want you to read it. That's the raw Baritel financial report, their redacted budget report from the Baritel finance office, and my own computations on the raw data verses expenses. There is a budget discrepancy of like thirteen million dollars, Uncle Jack." The elderly wolf's eyes grew huge. "Thirteen million dollars!?" "I have done the computations myself. I have asked my comptroller, payroll lead, and two ops managers at Centoh facilities in Columbus and Lainsville to look at the numbers, and they reach the same number. Something's going on with faculty payroll and expenses and I'm not sure what- the official Baritel report omits information and lots of specific expenses are vague. I think there's a cover-up." Jack shook his head. "God damnit, Walter." "Like the whole thing seems out of whack?" Rob remarked. "When I was down there, I was amazed at how packed the office was- like what do half these people do? Just make coffee and grab papers off the copier? And don't even get me started about Calvin because frankly I'd just kill him. It took me forever to get the raw data from their financial department?" "Why? That's your company division now?" Jack asked. "I had to argue and argue and argue with Walter on the phone to get it, and then Calvin wanted to argue about it too, which makes me suspicious that half the problems are because of his big fat ass sticking his dickbeaters into everything. Walter tried to say that the Baritel numbers are restricted, and I had to remind him that I'm Reichsfuhrer der Barev, and I'm his boss. Same to Calvin. I told both of them that they had forty-five minutes to send it to me, or I was going to fly down there and crack both their heads like an egg." "Calvin is my grandson, but he's a damn bully and he thinks he can do whatever he wants because he's the son of The Deuce. And Walter's problem is that he's so afraid of confrontation! Walter just goes along and lets things go out of control because he doesn't want to confront anyone!" "Yeah, that really is gonna work well when you're the damn President of the division!" Rob rolled his eyes. "So I want to ask for your blessing if I set up a consultation team to go there for a few weeks, observe things, and just figure out what the hell is going on? This is your business, Uncle Jack, this is your baby, and I don't want to do anything that would go against what you want." Jack simply shrugged. "I'm president emeritus, and frankly Rob, you do what you feel is best. I stepped away full time fourteen years ago, and after that point it was The Deuce who called the shots. Now it's your turn. And you do what you think is best." "Well, that's the other thing, if it comes down to it, Walter and Calvin might be fired." "Let them fall on their own sword. They're adults, even if they're family." Rob nodded. "Okay." Jack walked over and peered out at the swimming pool and the large pond where some ducks and geese bobbed in the calm water. "You've really built yourself a beautiful place here, Rob!" "Thank you~" Rob smiled. "It's been good for the soul." "See? Didn't I tell you?" Jack reminded him. "Sometimes a change of pace is good for the soul." "I've sat out here at night and just gazed at the stars. There's still light pollution from Newark, but to see them just silently twinkle billions of miles away, and just the silence, save for the rustle and bustle of the woodland critters. It's amazing. It's tranquil." "It's home." Jack nodded. "Very good, Rob." "Thank you~" ---------------------------------- Juggling multiple things at once, Rob was in the midst of work in his home office. The clock struck four-thirty in the afternoon. He had half an hour left before calling it a day. The wolf-hybrid signed his name on some paperwork for Satcorp, while listening to his ancient LaserJet 4M spit out another set of paperwork. He finished his stack and quickly grabbed it to place in his copier to fax back to Miami. Rolling back to his printer, Rob grabbed the ten page set of legalese, regarding his future two jet transports he was having restored in California by his friend's company, Precision Aeronautics. Rob had purchased a retired DC-8-73, and Boeing 737-200 Advanced to serve as his future jet transports, which would supplement his propliner fleet for Barev. Like everything else, Rob was the king of obsolete. As he looked over the paperwork and tapped his felt pen on the table, the telephone rang on his desk. The old beige Bell telephone with its classic ringing bell, rang twice before Rob could answer it. He rolled himself over and grabbed the handset. "Rob speaking." "Hey Rob, this is Dex, I'm sorry I wasn't able to get to your call earlier, as I was covering freight loading as we had a call off today." "It's fine, I understand you got a lot going on down there after the tornado hit Gulfport." "Yeah, we're doing double-time trying to do repairs and keeping the planes rolling." "How are things down there?" "Stabilized, thank goodness." "I wanted to speak to you because I got a situation going on at Baritel in Lubbock, and I'm looking at forming a consultant team to go see just what the hell is going on at Baritel and report to me and Jack Barion." "Okay." "I have the operations manager from Chicago, Todd Kennedy, agree to be one of the consultants, and after seeing your work in turning things around at both Chicago and Gulfport, I am wanting to ask if I could get you to serve on this mission for me." "Uhh, so like, I would basically be the Bobs from Office Space?" "Yeah." "So what would be required of me, Rob?" Rob explained what he wanted from his operations manager. As he talked about the mission plan, he jotted his signature down on the paperwork stack, quickly moving down the line to sign and initial. He told Dex Malprave that he wanted him to Todd to work together for three weeks and observe Baritel's operations, see what needs to be done, and if needed, to cut positions. He also brought up the huge financial discrepancy. Like his agreements with Kennedy in Chicago, Dex would stay in Lubbock during the week, and take a BATS flight back home to Gulfport for the weekends. He would also get extra pay for his services, and a bigger bonus as a thank you. It sealed the deal and Dex agreed to it. Rob promised he would send paperwork to him to officiate the mission. "Thank you for your time, Dex. Have a good evening." "You too, bye-bye now." Rob hung the telephone back up and got up with his next set to place into the copier tray. The other paperwork for Satcorp was quickly sorted back, clipped together, placed in a folder and shoved into the filing cabinet for safe keeping. He faxed the next set of paperwork over to Mark Prince's business, and grabbed it and shoved it back into the filling cabinet for his aviation projects. Rob soon returned back to his desk with a burned out look on his face as he checked the time again. The wolf-hybrid sat at his desk for a moment aimlessly. Gone were the days of messing around with equipment and actually making something for a video project. Now as the president of his growing company, Rob was stuck doing paperwork and delegating tasks out to his underlings spread across the country. It was a boring, tedious task and he felt rather detached. Rob could still bring his considerable weight down on decisions, but many of the finer, intimate details were now in the hands of others. At long last came five o'clock. Rob called it a day by shutting down his workstation and turning off all the lights in his office cabin. He stepped outside and zipped his windbreaker up over his beige sweatshirt. It was a windy day in early May, a bit cool with the sun concealed behind overcast that hung low. The tumultuous sky churned and swirled above but there was no rain. The trees swayed and whistled in the breeze, the big pond choppy. Rob stopped at the swimming pool and saw Greenie contently bobbing up and down on its rippled water. Rob glanced over at the pond and observed some wild mallards milling about and dabbing for food before looking back at a resting Greenie. "Greenie? We made that giant pond for you and the other ducks that visit, and you're just gonna spend all that time in the pool?" Greenie just looked at Rob before tucking his head back in and resting some more. "I'll get your dinner in a bit, Greenie~" Rob said as he turned to step onto the porch to go inside. Rob stepped inside the living room and closed the door behind him. He doffed his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack when he heard the telephone ring. Rob walked over to his library corner to pick up the beige telephone on his desk. "Hello, Rob." "Hey, Rob! This is Sam!" came the cheerful voice of his friend, Sam Martin. It brought a smile to Rob's face. "Oh hey, Sam. How are you doing?" Rob asked as he pulled out his chair and sat down. "I'm okay, just... a bit overwhelmed by stuff going on." "What's happening?" "I mailed you a letter explaining things in more detail, but basically my aunt is having really bad medical complications after her surgery last year. Aunt Mary's personality is just all out of whack, Rob. One minute fine, the next minute confused, then angry, and crying, and back to calm. Her memory is all messed up too. And it's making my uncle Jake really flustered." "I see." "He's now part of this motorcycle club here in town. It's like his medicine I guess, but I don't think copious alcohol really is medicine, more like a bad Band-Aid. I'm not seeing him as much since he's out riding with his brothers or whatever after work." Rob fumbled his brow as he leaned back in his chair. That didn't sound good. "Is everything okay at home? I really want to know if you're safe." "Well..." Sam hesitated. "I don't want to say anything mean about my aunt or uncle, but Aunt Mary is forgetting to make dinner, breakfast, lunch, laundry, and me and Cody have been doing more to help out. Grandpa John is getting overwhelmed too." "I see, Sam. Hmm." "I was curious, since we're coming up to summer soon, if maybe I could come and visit? See your new house?" "I'll tell you what. Have your uncle call me because how about you and Cody just come and stay for the summer? I think it would do everyone some wonders. Because it sounds like things are not running well on your end." "Yeah, no, unfortunately. I'll have to talk to Uncle Jake." "Tell him to call me and we'll work things out." "Sure!" "I hate to cut it short but I gotta go get dinner started here, Sam. So why don't you call me back around eight this evening and I can talk to you then?" "Okay! I can do that. Thank you, Rob." "Anytime, Sam. I'll hear from you this evening. Take care." "You too, bye-bye, Rob." Rob hung the beige telephone up and sat for a moment with a look of introspection on his face. ------------------------------------- Putting his turn signal on, Rob slowed up to make a left onto Karen Parkway. Enroute to Maverick's house on the other end of the street, it was Rob's first return to his former neighborhood. Going up the shallow hill where the road gently curved, Rob slowed up as he approached his former home. It looked exactly like nothing had ever happened to it as he slowly rolled by. He saw Adam and his girlfriend, planting some flowers around the growing birch tree in the front yard. It made Rob smile as he continued on down the road. At Mav's home, Rob found himself working in Maverick's big detached garage surrounded by old camera gear. Just like old times, Rob worked with his best friend in their garage, cobbling together their old analog gear while chatting and sharing jokes. Today's task was to re-tube a set of LDK-6A's that Mav planned on using with his OB truck. Having been overhauled in Ann Arbor, the three brown and beige Philips cameras were destined to be retubed with a set of Diode-Gun Saticons, which required modifications to work in the camera. While Mav sat cleaning the optical block with alcohol wipes, Rob sat at his workbench carefully soldering and replacing a set of resistors on one of the camera's logic boards. By replacing the resistor set, he changed the line voltage to the tubes, as Saticons used a higher voltage electron gun and target verses the incumbent lead oxide tubes. As Rob worked, he thought about the changed settings he'd have to input in the CCU's computer setup terminal for the flare suppression and beam current for the CTS circuits. The changeover was aided by the "tube wizards" of Barev creating a pin-compatible Saticon V as a drop-in replacement, the S6120 one-inch pickup tube. Feeling confident in the modified boards, he handed those off to Maverick to install while Rob got the tubes themselves ready. He wheeled himself back over with a padded box that contained a set of three tubes. Rob sat it down on the bench pulled the cover off and removed the green tube from its packaging to inspect it. The S6120 was Barev's one of Barev's legacy tubes; it was a one-inch camera tube, designed to be a pin-compatible drop-in replacement for cameras with Plumbicon tubes. It had eight pins at the base, and a purplish-black photoconductive target that was surrounded by the faceplate extender ring that doubled as the low capacitance target ground. Rob carefully inserted the tube into the green channel's deflection yoke assembly and gave it a half turn to secure it. He proceeded to install the wiring harness to the base of the tube that stuck out. Rob repeated the process for the red and blue tubes. The camera panel was left off as Rob spun the camera around to aim it at the test chart. "Here's your moment of truth." Rob told Maverick as he locked the camera down on its tripod. Maverick walked over to the computer setup terminal and engaged the camera head power. Rob watched the indicator lights on the back of the camera's control panel light up and the viewfinder come online. On the CCU, Maverick got the good confirmation that power was going. He hit the auto-setup and the terminal displayed the parameters on the monitor. To his relief, the camera's computer accepted the modified Saticons and began setting up the scanning aperture in the overscan mode. Rob watched on a cart-mounted Trinitron as the test calibration target go from a overscanned, monochrome image, to slowly a color image as the blue, and then red tubes came online and were aligned. "Well it didn't blow the guns, so the resistors work." Rob pointed out with an amused smirk. "The camera chain thinks those are Plumbicons, so I think it'll work fine." "Whew." Maverick breathed a sigh of relief. "I just need to back the flare suppression off." "Yeah, it's crushing down the black levels I can tell." Fine tuning some of the settings, Maverick was delighted to see a nice color picture on his Trinitron. Even Rob was impressed by the final appearance, as modified cameras sometimes produced indifferent results. Maverick walked over, capped the camera lens, and let it sit to break in the new tubes for forty-five minutes. They proceeded to retube the other two LDK-6's. "Remember when we used to do this for WNCS?" Rob joked, hearing Maverick laugh. "They would bitch at us about such old equipment, but when you asked if they were going to buy us new gear..." "No." Rob said, mocking the former superintendent's voice. "Fucking stupid if you ask me. Bitch about how old the gear is, or how much they were spending on videotapes, blah, blah, fucking blah. I forgot that it's easier to bitch than actually do something." "Or not be fucking cheap!" "Well someone has to get paid six figures~" Rob shook his head. "I miss these days. I really do. Now all I do is paperwork and take phone calls. Where's the fun in that?" "I know, but I guess it comes with the territory." Maverick shrugged. "Like who would have thought I'm forty now? When did this happen? One minute I'm celebrating twenty, and the next thing I know I wake up and I'm forty and my body aches from getting up too fast!" "Oh small world... Mine's been doing that since I was nineteen..." "Yeahhhhhhh~" Rob chuckled and reached over to examine the next tube to install. He fiddled around with it as he examined it in his grip. "I want to get more involved again in video production. I get to do it once in a while and I have a lot of fun, but being behind the camera is where I'm at. I hate being company emcee." "You're the Joseph Goebells of Barev!" "Okay, listen here Goering!" Rob laughed morbidly. "Everyone's always comparing me to some infamous Nazi. I don't know why?" Maverick bit his tongue and looked away. "Oh boy, Rob." Rob simply rolled his eyes as he secured the wiring harness to the red tube. "Speaking of Kraut scum, that shit sits on my mind as I see our political landscape unfold." "Things are just zero sum, win it all at all costs, and downright mean." Maverick grimaced. "Like everyone's so offended about everything now. And I remember people saying things were too PC when we were in our twenties!" "I remember when people said Bill Clinton was too PC and that was the nineties." Rob rolled his eyes. "I don't even know what to call today- a Kafkaesque clusterfuck?" "I say what we're seeing today is history repeating itself. Nobody has any curiosity or desire to learn. It's scary. A sea of people in public, face down on their phones. And I see people Robby's age? No social skills whatsoever. Deer in the headlights when you try and socialize with them." Maverick shook his head. "Are we becoming Boomers, Rob?" "Heh, it sure feels that way." Rob chuckled. "All I can say is that for those who fail to learn from history, they're condemned to repeat it." "Exactly." Maverick nodded. "I blame social media blasting all these extremist views up and front. Algorithm chasing, and social media companies turning a blind eye in the name for money." "More money, more problems, Mav." Rob remarked as he secured the side panel on the camera head. "I don't know, I feel conflicted about where my place is, being rich but not liking the rich, and being blessed for it for my family's safety, but seeing so many people out there, struggling to make ends meet. It bothers me." "I know that feeling." Rob fumbled his brow as he wheeled himself over to the CCU. "Why do you think we're the way we are, Mav-O?" Maverick sucked on his lower lip and scratched his goatee. "I guess we're not assholes? We didn't get into business ourselves just for the money? What do you think, Rob?" "I think because you read about all through history, the wealthy and powerful abusing their powers, the poor suffering through it, and then all the shysters, gilded age robber barons- that's us now. A new gilded age of being fleeced by the rich to pay for their lifestyles." "Well if it doesn't change, I see a revolution happening." "We'd fuck that up too." "Sadly." Laughed Maverick. Rob chuckled cynically and worked on setting up the terminal. ------------------------------------- Rob poured the last pitcher of water into his yellow and red water dispenser. Halfway filled with cold water, Rob glanced at the instructions on his plastic tub of lemonade powder. He pulled the cap off and pour four scoopfuls of the yellow powder into the dispenser and stirred with a wooden spoon. Grabbing a paper cup, Rob sampled his drink and found that it didn't need any additional sugar. He grabbed his bag of ice and dumped it in before securing the lid. With a heave, Rob picked it up and placed it on the back of his newly acquired Gator, and secured it with a bungee cord to the back rack. The bed was filled with a couple packs of bottled water and his video gear he wanted to test out. Rob climbed in his Gator and took off for the freshly cut trail that led into the woods. The sound of construction filled the woods as Rob had work done to the property. Some trees were being cut down to clear the trail path, a firing range being built, a new bridge, and gazebo. Rob pulled to the side to let a truck depart with a bunch of cut up wood. The smell of sawdust and fresh cut timber filled his nostrils. Rob agreed to let anyone who wanted firewood to collect whatever they could get under the condition they'd leave him some firewood. The new path took him to the creek, where a bridge was halfway completed over the creek. Made of thick timbers, the core structure of the bridge made it across the creek while workers began installing the planks that made up the slightly arched bridge. The wood was a reddish cedar, and Rob planned on the whole thing being stained with a waterproofing that would darken the ruddy tint. Rob turned and parked in the tall grass, where he hopped out and fetched the heavy cooler dispenser. "I thought you guys might want some lemonade and extra water." Rob greeted. "Put it over here with the saw." The foreman said, a burly middle-aged gray wolf who had a tattooed up body covered by a sweat stained tanktop. Rob grabbed the heavy cooler dispenser and carried it over to set it beside the saw. He grabbed the packs of water and sat them down in the shade of a tall maple tree. Getting permission to test his camera out to document the work that was going on, Rob walked over to fiddle around and set up his analog gear to test out after restoration. Plugging in its VTR cable, Rob tossed onto his shoulder a dark brown and gray LDK-14SL, a Philips camera from 1983. Having recapped and retubed it, Rob switched the camera on, and watched in its vertical viewfinder the tubes come online and warm up. Glancing off to his side, a small LCD screen displayed a white glow that turned green, followed by a flash of red and blue and then back to black as the pickup tubes stabilized the gun and target voltages. The iris then opened to reveal a picture that was badly misaligned. Rob shook his head; the SL could make pictures as excellent as the famous HL-79EAL, and match it shot for shot with excellent colorimetry, but it had very poor mechanical and thermal stability for the tubes' registration. Rob sat the camera down on its case and propped up the calibration chart. He flipped the back half of the camera body up, which exposed the registration pots, which he adjusted with a plastic screwdriver. He turned the pots slowly for the red and blue tubes, watching the fringing disappear around the black calibration marks. He closed the hinged back half which locked in place with an audible click. Rob threw it back onto his shoulder, its flat bottom equipped with a custom shoulder pad that Rob had made for his TK-76B. He made a crude white balance adjustment by aiming at one of the white work trucks, which gave him a satisfactory color adjustment for the outdoors. Rob played around with his camera, which recorded to his also recently overhauled BVU-150 U-Matic deck. It was the first three-quarter inch videotape recorder he obtained, and nearly forty years after it was built, still performed yeoman duty for his analog projects. Rob captured footage of the bridge being built, its heavy cedar timbers being heaved by sweaty construction workers who drilled, cut, and bolted the sections together. Grabbing the tape recorder, he threw the recorder bag strap over his shoulder and walked over to record footage of the gun range being built, trees being cut down, and the gazebo getting assembled. Behind the camera, Rob looked mighty content. After getting the shots he wanted and confirming that his camera was in working order, Rob packed everything back up and returned back to his house on his Gator. He backed the Gator into the old fire station and parked it beside his truck, and walked back to his house carrying his tape deck and camera suitcase. Stowing his gear away, Rob went to go check in on his grandmother at the guest house. Walking on the slowly winding trail up the small hill to the house, Rob looked around at the stone lined garden area and imagined all the flowers that he was planning on planting soon. He walked up to the porch, knocked on the glass door and stepped inside to find Nancy on the telephone. Rob peered into Alvin's bedroom to find it empty, presumably Alvin hanging out with his friends after class. Turning his attention back to his grandmother, Rob heard Nancy's voice carry a heavy, serious tone as she talked to someone on the phone. Rob knew that something was up. "Thank you Clark, bye-bye." Nancy said as she put the phone down. She looked up at Rob with a glum expression on her face. "Everything okay, Grandma?" "That was Clark on the phone. Velma is at the hospital, she had a stroke apparently. "Oh no." "This is terrible news." "C'mon, Grandma, let's go." "Where are we going?" "Let's get to Chillicothe." ---------------------------------- Situated on the winding Scioto was Chillicothe, the largest city and administrative center of Ross County. From two thousand feet, sleepy Chillicothe was a tree lined city of old brick buildings. Steam billowed from the large paper plant that sat right on the river. Rob and Nancy arrived after a forty-five minute flight aboard his dayglo orange H-19, the bulbous Chickasaw burbling towards the hospital. Aiming for a field beside the hospital, Rob watched for any obstacles as he brought his lumbering helicopter in for a landing. Nancy held onto her seat with nervous anticipation as they passed between two large oak trees. Rob nudged the stick back to flare and he gently touched the landing gear down for a smooth touchdown. Confirming they were on the ground, Rob cut the mixtures and heard the radial cut out, with the rotors now windmilling down. Gently helping his Grandma out of the cockpit, Rob walked with her to the emergency room. Rob always walked with his arm locked around her's for extra balance. Getting checked in, Rob was immediately greeted by the stench of disinfectants. He hated the smell, which brought back so many bad memories of his hospitalizations. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. As Rob walked, he thought about his Aunt Velma. She was the third of five kids, born thirteen months after his Aunt Wilma, in September 1935. Rob didn't have any close relationship with his bitter, chain smoking aunts, and neither did their children from several failed marriages. Wilma and Velma had lived together for thirty-six years in Chillicothe, until Wilma died the year before at the age of eighty-eight. Like Wilma, Velma was in very poor health at eighty-nine; she had chronic breathing issues, congestive heart failure after half a century of heavy smoking, and now a stroke. Rob used to remark when he saw them together that he was amazed they were still alive, a mean quip that he now regretted saying after making peace with Wilma shortly before she died. Rob put the negativity aside and thought about the reason why he was at the hospital, to support his grandmother. Of five kids, it was just them, at ninety-two and eighty-nine. Stepping into her room, Rob found his aunt lying in a hospital bed, hooked up with wires and IV's everywhere. It was a pathetic sight at the fat old wolfess getting her blood pressure checked by one nurse while another measured breathing with a stethoscope. Velma looked anxious and distressed. Her youngest son, Clark Peters stood off to the side with a disinterested stare. "Sis? It's me, Nancy!" "Nance? Oh am I glad to hear your voice. Oh this is awful sis!" "I know. I know, just hang in there for god's sake!" Rob walked over to see Clark. "Long day, eh?" "Yeah." Clark responded. He stood with a foot propped up against the wall with his arms crossed. Clark looked like the Davis family, a gray wolf with mottled gray fur and dark brown hair that was tousled atop his head. He wore gray gym shorts and a blue t-shirt. Clark was five years older than Rob, at nearly forty-seven. Velma sighed. "One minute I'm eating breakfast, and then suddenly I get dizzy and my left arm doesn't want to work and I pass out and wake up in the hospital!" "We're not so young anymore." Nancy admitted with a frown. "Oh sis... I wish I could make things so much better for you." "It's been all downhill since sis died last year. I thought this assisted living thing would be better, but it sure as hell hasn't been!" Nancy looked up at Clark. "Clark? Has the doctor talked about any plans for her?" Clark shrugged. "As far as I know, they want her back to the assisted living place by tonight." Nancy had a blank stare on her face. "Sis had a stroke and they want her back there tonight?" Rob felt that something wasn't right with that. "That's what the doc told me, Aunt Nancy." "Boy, hospitals have changed so much!" Nancy exclaimed in a sarcastic tone. "American health care system, twenty-twenty-four." Rob rolled his eyes. Just as Rob was about to fire off another sarcastic comment, in came the emergency room doctor, who was a gray wolf who wore burgundy scrubs with a white lab coat on. "Okay, Velma! Family! I have good news from the recent brain scan that the thrombolytics has cleared the clot up, and we're looking at getting some discharge paperwork to send her back to the nursing home." Nancy looked at Clark and Rob and to the doctor. "Don't you think this is kind of rapid? I mean, she's had a stroke and has health problems?" "Well per Medicaid, this is the procedure." The doctor plainly stated. "But doc, I can barely move my left arm!" Velma exclaimed. "Half my face I can't feel!" "Velma, that's to be expected, but there is physical therapy that will come to help you in your recovery." "Medicaid?" Rob thought to himself. When Wilma and Velma went into assisted living, their home was sold and the proceeds split in half to pay for their long term care. Rob also recalled both of them having decent retirement benefits from their former careers at the paper mill. Something wasn't right. The doctor asked everyone to step out of the room as he wanted to do another blood draw and some tests. Rob and Nancy obliged and stepped out of the room where Rob pulled Nancy aside. "Grandma, something's not right..." Rob said quietly. "I know. Like isn't that really sudden for a stroke patient, especially an almost ninety year old stroke patient?" "And Medicaid? I thought she had decent retirement benefits from the paper mill?" "What about the money from selling that house? Wilma's half should be hers now to pay for long term care?" Rob shook his head. "Oh why do I envision her kids screwing this all up..." Rob walked over to Clark, who played on his cell phone. "Clark, you got a moment?" "Uhh, yeah, uhh yeah." Clark responded as he quickly stowed his phone away. "What's up, Rob?" "Hey Clark, what's this talk about Medicaid for Aunt Velma? She had a retirement package from the paper plant? What about the money in selling their house? If I recall that piece of shit house was sold somehow for two-hundred and thirty grand, split between her and Wilma, and upon Wilma's death, the money would go to Velma's care save for the seven percent allotted to her surviving heirs per Medicare?" Clark looked uneasy and looked away from Rob as he pursed his lips. "Well?" "Well Rob, there were some complications we found." "Who is we? Clark, aren't you supposed to be Velma's legal guardian? Who is her legal guardian? What the fuck is going on here?" "Why do you care? You don't even like Mom?" "I don't like your Mom- I'm doing this for my Grandma." Rob glared. "Now you're gonna tell me what the fuck is going on Clark?" "What if I don't?" Rob raised a brow. "You really wanna go there?" Clark gulped. "No. FINE. Rob, fine." Clark had a visible shutter as he closed his green eyes and took a deep inhale. "Look, there was some stuff that happened that Mom didn't do with the benefits in time, so we couldn't use them, and we're paying full price for the nursing home, and we ran out of money." "You put her in a shitty nursing home, Clark, it don't cost that much money... What is going on here?" Clark hesitated more. "Well I, and Billy, and Randy, we all had some financial stuff come up... like I had a roof get severely damaged in a bad hail storm, and my car got totaled and so I had to take some money..." Rob crossed his arms, his face growing cross. "So basically all of you raided the money and pissed it all away and probably bullshit some story to Medicaid to get dole money? Is that what you did?" "You don't think my Mom would have done that to us? Multiple times?" Clark said defensively. "I don't give a shit what your Mom did! You act like you're the only person alive with shitty parents? Walk in my shoes, motherfucker!" Rob snapped back. "That's your Mom whether you like her or not. She doesn't have much time left... and neither do you to make peace about stuff. You think I don't think about happened between my mom and dad? How they're gone and I can't take back what was said and done back then? Be a better man." "What's that supposed to mean?" "Don't be using your mom's long term care money for your personal piggy bank, ya fuck!" Rob shouted. Clark threw his arms up in disgust and stormed off to get away from Rob. He made his way to a private bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. Rob shook his head and turned to go return to his grandma. -------------------------------- "WellCore Adena" was one of Chillicothe's three nursing homes. It was an unimpressive looking single story brick building that wasn't even nicely landscaped. To Rob, it seemed like the perfect place to dump a Medicaid patient at. Going inside with his Grandma, it looked even worse. Rob walked and glanced around the lobby and hallway, looking very dismissive. The nursing home looked overcrowded, and understaffed. It also had a dingy, worn appearance with faded paint, flickering fluorescent lights that were either harshly white, or flickering a soft green tint. Rob again hated the disinfectant smell. And the sight of the tired and sad elderly, as if at the final stop before departing for death, dragged Rob's mood down further. Nancy stayed close to Rob and looked bothered as well as the elderly wolfess clutched her purse. "Okay, Misses Davis, here you go." Announced the ambulance assistant. He helped two nurses move a practically limp Velma back to her hospital bed in her room. A nurse covered Velma back up with a white blanket and put her supplemental oxygen line back to her nose. "Could I get something to drink please? I'm thirsty!" Velma called out. Rob watched the nurse simply turn and leave the room. Velma tried to turn her head to the left but struggled with the paralysis. "Could you please get me something to drink, please?" "Sorry, ma'am, that's at the discretion of the nurses." The ambulance assistant quipped before leaving himself. Velma sighed loudly with a groan. "Oh how I hate this place!" Rob turned and left the room, and almost immediately spot a nurse in blue scrubs. "Excuse me, my aunt is thirsty and could she get some water?" The burned out looking wolfess with brunette hair stared blankly at Rob. "Well?" "I'm busy." She said brusquely before turning to walk away and carry on. Rob's face grew instantly cross, his eyes squinting menacingly. "Oh fuck it..." Rob grunted. He saw a vending machine, fumbled for his wallet and shoved two dollars into it to grab a small bottle of cranberry juice. He walked past a serving tray that was being used to deliver dinners to patients and stole a bendy straw off it. Rob returned back to Velma's room to see Nancy try and comfort her visibly frustrated sister. "Here, Aunt Velma~" Rob announced as he unscrewed the cap off the bottle and unpackaged the bendy straw to place in. Nancy worked the bed's controls and slowly lifted Velma's upper body up as Rob pulled a chair up to sit down in. He helped Velma get the straw in her muzzle and let her take a much needed sip as he held the bottle and straw for her. Velma leaned her head back into the pillow that Nancy was adjusting for her. She looked at Rob for a long time with a look of puzzlement, surprise, and introspection. Rob glanced back with a rather mute expression on his weathered face. "All these years of us squabbling, trading barbs, and that's the nicest thing you've ever done." "I do it for my Grandma." Was Rob's reply. "And I never question doing the right thing." "Thank you, Rob." "You're welcome." Getting Velma situated back at the nursing home, Nancy and Rob grabbed a taxi to go back to the hospital to return to Rob's helicopter in the field. Rob helped his Grandma back into the cockpit and they quickly took off for the forty-five minute flight back to Newark. Both felt mentally burned out from their trip. There were no words spoken as they flew home. Rob sat behind the controls with a glum expression on his face. ------------------------------- As the sun set, casting a soft amber glow in the living room, Rob sat in his library nook opening another old diary of his. He was waiting for a phone call from Clark. Taking another trip down memory lane while Joey watched TV and waited for dinner to bake, Rob opened up his diary from 1999 to reflect on things. "4/18/99 Had a big fight with Mom today that was not nice at all. I get it that with her divorcing Dad that emotions are running high, but taking it out on me is not going to fix the problem she is facing, or blaming me for being gay starting all of this. Quite frankly, I told her that tearing others down to build herself up wasn't going to work. I don't get my Mom. Before all of this, she could be loving, and yet, so emotionally unavailable. It's like she's emotionally shut off to things. Maybe it's a cultural thing being from South Korea? I don't know. You'd think Mom was from North Korea or something! Me and Jake are getting tired of it, Jake more so. Between school and home, I feel tense. Thank God there is CJ here. Love him to death." Rob fumbled his brow and continued skimming through the pages of his loopy cursive handwriting. Flipping through a few dozen pages, Rob landed on an entry that caught his eye a few months from his April entry. "6/22/99 Shot a promo for the athletic department today with Vlad and Maverick. Today was the first time we used Mav's three Sony BVP-3's for a shoot. They use the same BVV-1 Beta recorder, but they have Saticon tubes, the Mixed-Field type. Charles said something about them being similar to the tubes in my HL-95, but the deflection and focusing types are reversed. They shoot a really sharp picture and their comet-tailing lacks the Plumbicon red flaring, and instead is a really neutral white color. Interesting. After the shoot, I went over to help Grandpa change a ceiling fan out in the living room. And of course who else that would be there would be my two deadweight aunts, Wilma and Velma. I swear all they do is sit, whine, complain, and smoke cigarettes. Everything smells like an ash tray when they show up to mooch off Grandma and Grandpa. Seeing them is like watching the lung cancer Olympics!" Rob sat back in his chair and regretted writing that. He shook his head and continued to skim through the past when he finally heard the phone ring. He quickly picked the old Bell telephone up off the receiver to answer it. "Rob speaking." "Rob? This is Clark, I just talked to all my siblings about Mom, and I just wanted to ask you again, are you sure you want to do this?" "Yes." Rob responded. "I'm doing this for my Grandma." "Okay. Everyone is fine if you want to be her power of attorney with me, and move her to a nursing facility in Newark. But I can't help but ask why you want to help Mom when you and her never got along?" "Like I said, this isn't for me. This is for my Grandma, and to do the right thing. That nursing home should be ashamed of itself for being in such deplorable condition, Clark." "I know... but the decision was out of my pay grade." Rob rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to argue with you. And I get it, you and your mom did not get along." "Well none of us had a good relationship with Mom, because where was she when we needed help growing up? I mean, my god, I'm going to be forty-seven next month, and I have a brother who just turned sixty-nine! Mom bounced between husband to husband, cheated on four of them, and vice versa, and made all of our lives a living hell because she wanted the next best thing for herself, and not her kids! So it's hard to feel sympathetic to see her in this condition when she brought it upon herself for bad life choices." "I get that. I really do, Clark. But you have to look at it as you still have her in your life, and you still have time to try and make things work. I lost my mom when was eighteen and in a coma. And I want to tell you a personal story that will always bother me. Before I got put in a coma, me and Mom had a terrible fight, and I said the wrong thing and made her cry, and then I got bashed. And a year later, she died. What I said can't be undone, I can't go back and apologize for what I said. And to know that Mom took that to the grave with her? That kills me to this very day. I'd love to pick up the phone right now and talk to her, but I can't. This is your opportunity to try and mend things as best you can, or learn to let it be. Because I don't want you holding this kind of regret in your heart because you waited too long." "I'm divorced two times already, so I'm already on my way to being my parents!" Clark laughed cynically. "But I get what you're saying, Rob, and it's hard." "I know it's hard." "I see my mom and I want to cry but I can't. Because all the nights growing up crying because of the chaos her divorce inflicted on me and the past divorces to my half-siblings? It's hard. It's such a mix of emotions and I hate it. I love mom but I hate her at the same time for all the chaos she put on us through our lives." "You gotta let it be. I learned that too late myself." Rob remarked. "Remember, you have to be the better man and learn from what she did wrong." "Yeah." Clark agreed with a slow sigh. "Alright, so you'll come down with the paperwork?" "Yeah, me and my attorney will come down to get the paperwork signed, and I'll talk to Sharon Brooke too." "Sounds good, Rob." Getting everything squared up with his cousin, Rob ended the call on good terms and hung the telephone back up. He closed his old diary up and walked back over to stow it away on the shelf. He returned to his desk to slide his present diary in front of him. Rob grabbed a black felt pen from his cup of pens to write down his day. "5/17/24 Good day today. Was out of the office to go see all the construction on the property. Clayfield Co. put a new gazebo in and the bridge over the creek. Gun range was installed in and the berms formed as the backstop. Me and Joey got some shooting to catch up on! Tested the recapped LDK-14SL. Everything works great, but it's such a dog of a camera compared to the -79's. Excellent tubes- LOC PbO but piss poor thermal and mechanical stability! I simply moved it on the Gator a few hundred feet and the tubes were all out of whack. Shot some b-roll of construction. Memories I suppose. Me and Grandma flew to Chillicothe for a medical emergency; Aunt Velma had a stroke. She's got paralysis on the left side of her body. And in typical American healthcare fashion, its patch 'em up and ship 'em out. She got treated and then sent right back to this deplorable nursing home. I swear her kids, all of them, could fuck a cup of coffee up. They dumped their mom in the shittiest fucking nursing home one could imagine. I was disgusted, and Grandma wasn't happy about it either. And yeah, I get it, I don't really care for Velma- she's a fat, lazy, chain smoking fuck, who burned her bridges with her kids for putting what she wanted first, the same with Wilma, but sometimes you have to look at the bigger picture. Seeing her being ignored by nurses, her own kid, that bothered me. I talked to Clark about this just now, and we're gonna have me be a power of attorney for her, and she's gonna come to a nursing home in Newark so she can be closer to Grandma, and I can oversee and unfuck this clusterfuck. I don't know what's gotten into me with this, but seeing my Grandma upset about her sister bothers me. Grandma doesn't have that many years left, and I want them to be happy. Plus it's the right thing to do- I always believe it's safe to do right. Ah, well." Rob capped his pen and closed his diary up to stow it off on the corner of his desk. He got up, turned off the lamp and walked back over to sit with Joey, who watched the TV with an aimless stare on his face. Rob grabbed his paw, smiled and held it affectionately. Joey glanced over and smiled back. "How's your Aunt doing?" Joey remarked as he shut the TV off. "Want to sit outside?" "Sure." Rob nodded as he got up. "As well as anyone who just had a stroke." Stepping through a single door led them to a more private secondary patio, which was sharply angled to a point that faced the setting sun. Rob and Joey sat down on brown wicker chairs to enjoy the fading light of the setting sun. "Today just pissed me off down in Chillicothe." Rob remarked. "Seeing how Aunt Velma is just patched up enough by the hospital and dumped back at that clusterfuck of a nursing home. I don't even like Velma, and it broke my heart just seeing all those elderly people there, just waiting their turn to die." "Yeah." Joey nodded with a frown. "After seeing Grandpa sick for several months, it was a blessing when he passed." "Can't get out of this life alive." Rob shook his head. "Like I get it. Wilma and Velma burned their bridges with their kids from all the divorces, prioritizing what they wanted to do in life, and dismissing their concerns, but I think of my own experience with my parents. The regret I feel to this day because I couldn't mend things up in time, and I don't want Clark and them to feel that." "That's their sword to fall on though." "Yeah." Rob agreed. "But I'm doing this for my Grandma. She's the only one left in her family. And if I can make Velma's last years comfy and make my Grandma happy at the same time? Then that's fine with me." Joey smiled. "See, Rob? Beneath that iron shell of yours is the compassionate person of your youth, still coming through." Rob shrugged. "Things bother me, the richer I've become. And when I got my fortune, I promised myself, and me and Jake promised each other, we'd not use your fortunes for evil. I promised that I would help people where I could." "Don't be evil~" Joey smiled. "Hey, I'm not Google." Laughed Rob. "Well yeah, you'd be mining everyone's data!" Joey grinned with a laugh. "Sadly." Rob chuckled cynically. "The whole nation feels like it's at a make or break point. The wealth disparity gap, the skyrocketing cost of living, wages kept down out of greed, this political clown show with Congress, and a guy in office who half the time seems like he doesn't know where he's coming or going, and a guy wanting to get back into office who is in about the same cognitive shape, and a corrupt political party ready to throw those 1930's era red arm bands on... It's disgusting really." "Yeah." Joey shook his head with a sigh. "I think people have had it so good for so long, that what we think is hardship would have been seen as just an annoyance way back when." "I mean, before my great-grandpa got rich on oil, my great-grandma used to make dresses out of flour sacks. That's how poor they were in the depression." Rob pointed out. "I think the most important lesson James Barion taught the family was that money doesn't make you happy, and don't let money be the only goal in your life. Something Wall Street could figure out." "You mean billionaires could do with one less yacht!" "One less Gulfstream jet?" Rob and Joey laughed together. "Sign of the times, Joey." "Unfortunately, Rob." ----------------------------------------- Putting his paws on his hips, Rob looked at the extra bedroom in the guest home, just a blank empty room with eggshell colored walls. He stood there trying to envision what it would look like with a dresser, bed, and a desk for Sam. In a few weeks, Sam would be coming to spend the summer with him. Rob held up his notepad and jotted down what furniture he needed to buy and turned to leave as he turned the light off behind him. Rob glanced over to see his grandmother sitting on the couch, reading the morning newspaper over a cup of coffee. "Grandma? Do you need anything from the store?" Nancy momentarily lowered her paper. "No, I'm good! Thank you, Rob!" Rob knocked on Alvin's open door and poked his head in. "Hey, didn't you say you wanted to go get a new office chair?" "Yeah!" the Doberman exclaimed as he threw his shoes on. "C'mon, let's go get it." Rob motioned. "I gotta do a couple other errands if you don't mind." "Not at all~" Stepping out through the back patio door, Rob and Alvin walked back down to the main house along the main trail. Rob pointed out his plan to pay his friend Cyrus to help with the planting of flowers. Returning to the main house, Rob stopped at the pool to see Greenie contently floating in the clear spring water. "Greenie! There's that huge pond you can swim in and you just choose the pool?" Greenie momentarily peered out at the pond, looked back at Rob, and then tucked his head back in to fall back asleep. Rob chuckled with Alvin as they continued on. "Spoiled duck, Uncle Rob~" "That's why you have pets." Grabbing Rob's truck from the fire house, Alvin and Rob took off down the winding driveway through the woods for the main road. They ventured into the north part of Newark, where they stopped at the mattress store at the old strip mall off Deo Drive. Rob ordered a new bed frame and mattress, and saw a dresser and nightstand that matched, which he also ordered for Sam's bedroom. By luck, it would come Monday. Getting his receipt, Rob and Alvin then drove over to Walmart, Rob's least favorite store, to go get an office chair Alvin had seen. Newark's Walmart was a congested mess, and just stepping inside, with all the security barricades to deter theft, the pajama pants wearing, cracked out citizens of Newark wandering about, made Rob instantly feel anxious and slightly annoyed. As Alvin went to go look at an office chair that was on sale, Rob took a moment to look at some storage totes and a couple boxed office desks that were underneath the display. As he turned to go glance over to see where Alvin was, he took notice of Claire, Noah's girlfriend, pushing a shopping cart with her year old son, who Rob believes was named Benson after hearing Noah talk about naming his son Benson. Claire looked tired and worn out, with a slightly slouched posture, and light brown hair that looked slightly frizzled. After burning down his own, Rob's, and several neighbor's homes, Noah was sentenced to prison. Through a plea deal, Noah got a ten year sentence at Lucasville, with the chance of parole after four. He never got to see the birth of his son. Rob watched her pass by and disappear around a turn. Rob went back to examining furniture when Alvin returned back with the shopping cart with his office chair. Placing a desk box underneath the shopping cart, Rob and Alvin picked up a few more things before going to check out at the self-checkout. While waiting in line, Rob read a text message from his friend and operations manager Todd, giving him an update on the Baritel consulting when he started to overhear a conversation off in the distance about a card being declined. Rob didn't pay much attention at first, but gradually came to realize that it was the voice of Claire, sounding frustrated. Turning his head, he saw the young wolfess look visibly frustrated at her card being declined. She ran a paw through her frizzled hair looking so helpless as her baby blissfully reached for her in his carriage seat. Rob frowned and looked down at the floor momentarily. Without words he walked over quickly, excused himself around another customer and went to the cashier with his bank card. "Here, let me help you." Rob said in a quiet voice. He tapped his card on the POS pad and saw his card be accepted for a $130 payment. Claire looked at the cashier and at Rob in shock at the generosity. "Rob? Rob... I don't know I could repay you for this and-" "Don't even worry about it~" Rob shrugged. "Are you okay? Is everything okay?" "Money's been very tight." Claire admitted with a look of embarrassment on her face. "Now that Noah is in prison, and it's just me and Benson here." Rob glanced over at the young gray wolf in his carriage. He looked exactly like Noah. A sympathetic gaze was on Rob's face as he turned his attention back to Claire. "What could I do to help you?" "Oh god, no, I can't. Not after what we did to your house and everything." "Don't worry about it. Let me help you. At least let me do it for the kiddo." Claire nodded quietly as Rob reached into his wallet and handed her a couple hundred dollars. "That's what I got on me. Here's my card with my cell number on it, if you ever need help. Please don't hesitate to call me." "Okay. Thank you so much Rob." Rob returned to Alvin at the self-checkout lane, the Dober looking surprised at his uncle's generosity to their former neighbor. Rob didn't say anything more as he paid for everything. Rob ripped the receipt off the printer and pushed the cart to the door greeter, who cleared the receipt, which Rob shoved into his pocket. "Uncle Rob, you paid for all her groceries?" Alvin asked curiously. "I did, yeah. She didn't have enough money on her card." "Why'd you do that? And our neighbors of all people!" Alvin exclaimed. Rob looked over at Alvin. "I did it for the baby. And I can't hold grudges anymore. I can't let that hate be in my heart forever. If I can't help someone in a time of need, then what's the point? Be better." Alvin nodded. "I feel that." "C'mon, let's grab some lunch and go home." -------------------------------------- Tuesday morning was foggy on the property, the amber sun filtering through the woods and slowly burning away the milky gray fog. Shadows were cast long, even in Rob's office as he multitasked at his big partners desk inside. Rob sat in his plush office chair, talking on speakerphone with one of his "tube wizards" from Virginia, Ron Napier. As Rob discussed matters about testing a new tube type, Rob worked on filling out a check worth five million dollars. He used a blue felt pen to jot down the details to Sharon Brooke, a nursing home in Newark. Ron Napier was the senior "tube wizard" of Barev One, the huge electronics plant complex in Fairfax. He was the senior engineer to the vacuum tube division, with a career spanning almost fifty years between English Electric Valve, the Whirley Electronics Company, and now Barev. He loved camera tubes as intensely as Rob and Maverick, and his cheerful voice happily told Rob about the latest tests of engineering samples of the High-Stability Plumbicon tube after getting retired equipment from Valvo of Germany to build them. "Quality control seems content with the engineering samples. I put a set into a Ky-320B and shot some test footage around the factory and it looked really nice to me." Ron explained. "Well that's good. I've never really understood the point of the High Stability design, since it's Sony's mixed-field in reverse with that truncated design, and registration and stability isn't that much more improved over all magnetic designs with a Diode-Gun and low capacity target." Rob shrugged as he ripped the check out of his checkbook. "Well the pin base is definitely more fragile, at least to me it is. I never really cared for them when we made Leddicons in the forty-one-eighty-seven design. But they work very well, and I think you'll be very happy with the sample tubes." "How soon could I get a set, Ron? Do you want me to come out to the factory?" "I think to spare people heart attacks, I can just mail you some." Laughed Ron teasingly. "How about I send four sets, two for you, and two for Mav to test out?" "Sounds good to me." "I am curious to how they'll work in your old HL-95!" "An old friend will come back to life again." "Oh! By the way, how's those pin-compatible Saticons working out for Maverick?" "Well we haven't had a chance to use them for his cooking show as it's on a temporary pause and he's been busy doing damage control on his house, but they were tested out for a segment to Thinkabout, and they looked pretty good." "No major stern waves?" "No, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary in the lag." "Good." "They look about the same as lead-oxide in those LDK-6, but there's a bit more lag in high contrast scenery and the comet-tailing is longer in persistence and neutral color." Rob explained as he grabbed paperwork out of his ancient LaserJet. He gave it a smack against the desk to line up all the pages, and stapled them together. "As always, Ron, thanks a bunch." "You're welcome Rob. Take care!" Rob smiled and pressed the red stop button on his cell phone. As he clipped the check to his paperwork and stowed it into a red folder, the Bell telephone on his desk rang. Rob quickly reached over to pick it up. "Rob speaking." "Rob!" came the deep burly voice of his friend Varg. "I stopped by to say hi and you're not in your office! Charlie tells me you're working from home now at the 'wolfsschanze'!" "Nein." Rob laughed morbidly. "I'm not in my office as much lately because Grandma is living with me, so I feel more comfortable being closer to her in case she needs help." "Ah. Well that's very kind of you. Well we should grab lunch later today!" "I like that idea, yeah. Just shoot me a text around noon? How's that sound?" "Good! I'll see you around, Rob." "You too, Varg. Bye." Rob had a smile on his face as he hung the telephone up. He got up, tucked his folder under his arm, and took a moment to gaze out at how beautiful the fog looked with the rays of amber sunlight burning through it. Rob walked for the exit, turning the lights off behind him as he made his way to the Tahoe under the overhang of his house. Rob departed from his long wooded driveway onto Cedar Run Road. He watched in his rear view mirror as the gate automatically shut behind it. Driving into town, Rob made his way up Sharon Valley Road to Sharon Brooke, the large assisted living facility near the OSUN campus. The red Tahoe rolled into the parking lot and parked under the shade of a large maple tree getting its bright green canopy back. Rob hopped out with his folder tucked under his arm, and marveled at the beautiful landscaping and happy looking seniors enjoying some sunshine under the overhang. It was a massive contrast to the dingy, sad nursing home in Chillicothe. "Right this way, please~" the secretary said as Rob was welcomed inside the administrative office. He was led into a side office where the head administrator of Sharon Brooke sat at. "Good morning!" the middle-aged gray wolf grinned big as he shook Rob's paw. Rob gave him a reserved smile; the administrator wore a gray suit with a blue necktie, contrasting to Rob's more casual gray polo shirt and black work pants. "I'm John Stone, it's a pleasure to meet you, Rob, please have a seat." Rob sat down and scooted the chair up closer to the desk. "Thank you for sparing some time for me to come and visit and chat with you." "Yes indeed, so I am told you have an aunt who'd be interested in coming here, yes?" "Yes that is correct. Velma Davis is eighty-nine and is in need of some medical assistance with COPD, heart disease, and recovery from a stroke. I have become one of her POA's, with her youngest son, Clark Peters, which I have the paperwork here." Rob reached into the folder and showed him the signed PoA copy, which Stone accepted. He looked it over along with a brief summary of Velma's medical file. "I will have to see what availability we have as there is a bit of a waiting list." Stone admitted. Rob pursed his lips slightly. "I also saw an article in the Advocate recently about your plans to upgrade and expand SB a bit more, and I was hoping that if you understand where I am coming from, I would like to help you, if you could help my aunt out?" Rob pulled out the check and presented it to him. Stone saw the monetary amount of the check and his eyes went huge. "Ohh my." Stone muttered. He immediately got up and extended a paw with a grin on his face. "Mister Barion, your aunt is more than welcome to come here! And we'll give you a nice discount as well." Rob got up and shook his paw. A smile graced his scarred face. "I appreciate it." "Let me get some paperwork started for you!" Stone promised as he walked towards his door. "Could I get you something to drink or snack on Mister Barion?" "Maybe a mineral water." "You got it! Iris!" Stone exclaimed as he went to his secretary. Rob chuckled to himself and shook his head at his shameless bribe. Exactly one hour later, Rob left Sharon Brooke with everything squared away for his aunt. With paperwork in a manila covered folder, Rob walked with a cheerful pace back to his SUV. Fiddling around with his phone, he noticed several missed calls from his Uncle Jack. Rob quickly redialed his uncle. "Hey Rob!" Jack greeted, sounding a bit frantic. "Sorry I missed your calls, I was in a meeting with the nursing home for my aunt. Is everything okay?" "I wanted to call you personally about this." "Okay. What's up?" "Your consulting boys figured out what is going on with the budget discrepancy with Baritel, and we found the missing seven million dollars that was unaccounted for- it's being embezzled." Rob stopped in his tracks. "You're joking." "No, Rob. 'Fraid I'm not." Jack said bluntly. "And you can take a wild guess who's name comes up." "Yes, I know... well I'll tell you what. You get back to Dex and Todd, and you tell them to call Jerry, get the PMC resources ready, and we ride at dawn. I'll see you tomorrow." Rob ended the call with a serious gaze on his face. But he shook it off; there was no point being upset over something he couldn't control. He was tired risking a heart attack getting pissed off over things out of his control. The wolf-hybrid climbed back into his Tahoe and quickly took off for home. ----------------------------------- It was the first really warm day of May. The thermometer sat in the mid-eighties, with a bright, hot sun high in the cloudless sky. Rob took the opportunity to do some yard work, which helped clear his mind of any frustration over what he now called "Baritelgate". On his way home, he stopped at a flower market to buy some of his first annuals, a couple sets of red, white, and pink petunias, which he planted around the porch in the brick lined flower beds. Rob's dour face did not hide how he felt about his cousin and accomplishes fleecing Baritel; deep down, he wanted to kill his cousin Calvin by putting him in a wood chipper. But accountability would be coming tomorrow, so there was no use for him to rant and rave about it. Though the idea of hitting both Cal and Walter in the head with a shovel was entertaining. Gathering up the empty bags of potting soil and plastic flats, Rob walked towards the trash can on the other side of the house. As he opened the lid and dumped everything inside, something out of the corner caught his eye, something moving. He turned his head to the left to see a little robin hopping on the ground, around her nest that had fallen out of a tree. Rob closed the lid gently and examined more closely, finding the cup like nest lying on its side with its soft blue eggs spilled out on the ground, with one of them broken open. The little mother robin looked helpless. Rob fumbled his brow and pursed his lips. He slowly walked over, and the mother robin flew away from him to the tree above. Rob gently put the three intact eggs back into the nest made of straw and little twigs, and gently carried it back towards his porch. The robin watched Rob for a moment before flying towards another tree that was close by to observe. Grabbing a hot glue gun from his workshop, Rob glued the nest into his newly planted crab apple tree by the porch. He placed it near a fork in a branch to give it more reinforcement. It was also somewhat concealed by the newly green canopy of leaves. As Rob walked away to stow his glue gun, the mother robin landed in the tree and examined her nest out of curiosity. Rob walked back to his house and ran a paw through his sweaty locks of hair. He eyeballed the swimming pool. Returning from his bedroom in a pair of gym shorts and a black tanktop, Rob stepped outside with a towel draped around his shoulder. He stopped on the porch and happily noticed the mother robin now resting on her nest once again. It brought a smile to Rob's face. Sticking a foot into his big spring fed pool, the water had a refreshingly cold bite to it. Rob slowly immersed himself into the pool and swam out to bob in the water. Rob floated in the middle of the pool and made a short lap to one end and back. His splashes got the attention of Greenie, who flew over to land in the water. Rob poked his head up and out of the water to see his mallard quacking as he waded over to see him. "Hi, Greenie~" Rob said as he gave his mallard a head pat. Rob floated in the water using his arms to maintain his buoyancy. In that moment, Rob felt so calm, so relaxed. It dawned on him that he never felt like that, not in a long time. There was nothing on his mind bothering him, no stress, frustration, despair. It was just calm. Rob sprawled out, floating on his back keeping his buoyancy with his arms and legs, and floated in the water for a long time enjoying the feeling of nothing. -------------------------------------- "What's going on here? Where are we going?" Velma asked all confused. Laying on the stretcher, the enfeebled Velma was in the back of a private ambulance with a couple EMT's and her daughter, Gloria, as they waited on the tarmac at the Ross County Airport. "Well, Mom, you're going to a new nursing home today!" Gloria said with a smile. "Your nephew Rob is going to be helping take care of you at Sharon Brooke." "Oh, alright. But at an airport?" "Heh, well Rob is picking you up in his plane." "Ohh myy, I haven't flown in years!" Velma exclaimed. "Flying's his passion, Mom, you'll be alright." Gloria chuckled. Right on schedule at nine o'clock, the distinct rumble of piston engines broke the calm at the airport. Circling around the land was Rob's colorful Convairliner, his Navy marked C-131F, "Columbiana". The twin-engine Samaritan burbled in towards the runway with a slightly nose down droop. The plane's white and silver paint scheme was made more colorful by a generous application of dayglo orange on its nose, outer wings, and tail. The black radome contrasted to the fluorescent orange. The propliner flared, touched down on the runway centerline, and rolled out in full reverse thrust to bleed off speed. Velma looked shocked from her stretcher as the Convair came into view as Rob turned to park on the tarmac. The port hatch opened and the electric steps deployed and unfurled with the whirr of their motors. The Samaritan's aft cargo door opened up almost simultaneously, revealing a couple of the PMC's combat medics, ready to tend to Velma for the flight back to Newark. Rob descended the steps with his husband Joey, along with Felix, and his good friend, Ivo as the backup crew. Velma was brought out of the ambulance where the PMC crew helped the EMT's transfer Velma to their stretcher. She was checked over, strapped in, and gently brought over to be loaded into the Convairliner via the airport's hydraulic lift in through the cargo door. Rob made sure that the stretcher was secured in the executive cabin before signing off at the airport to pay dues and file the return flight plan. "Mom, you're in much better hands now!" Gloria assured her. "I gotta get going here!" "Are you going to visit me?" "When you get nice and situated I will be there~" Gloria assured. "Love you, Mom. Have a safe flight!" "You too, sweetie. Love you." As Gloria departed from the plane, Rob climbed aboard with his flight paperwork and payment receipt. He buttoned up the hatch and made his way to the cockpit to get ready for the flight back to Newark. Both port and starboard engines were turned over with a hacking cough of smoke. From the airport fence, Gloria watched as the Convair began to taxi, taking her mother back to Newark. The propliner soon went roaring down the runway and "Columbiana" lifted into the sky at Rob's command. It left a faint exhaust plume as its roar faded away to the calm rustling of the wind through the trees. Setting the autopilot, Rob got up from the left-hand seat and turned the controls over to Felix. The fawn Doberman checked over the autopilot as Rob excused himself from the cockpit, the door closing behind him. He wanted to check on his aunt. The largely open cabin, with everything in either dark gold or brown was the original design of the Convair's interior when it served as an admiral's transport plane. Velma sat up in her stretcher, sipping on a water bottle held up by one of the combat medics who was telling her a story about her time serving in Afghanistan. Velma seemed very interested as Rob approached which got her attention. "How are you doing, Aunt Velma?" Rob asked in a courteous tone. "A little nervous flying!" she exclaimed with her raspy voice. "I don't think I've flown in almost fifty years!" "A little taste of flying in the past." Rob smiled. "Is everything going okay? Do you need anything?" "I'm fine, thank you." Velma muttered. "I'll be fine, I promise." "Gotcha." Velma momentarily glanced out the window and looked introspective before turning to look back at Rob. "Why are you doing this for me, Rob? You and me never had much of a relationship, or really anything nice to say to each other." Rob shrugged. "To be frank, I'm doing this for Grandma. But I believe in doing the right thing, and you needed help, and I have the means to make it happen, so I did." "It's just me and Nance now. And it's been a lonely time." Velma admitted. "It's been lonely after Wilma died. And when you do see your kids, they act like they're not all that interested in visiting. And I think about that a lot, especially at night when I have a hard time sleeping. I just stare at the ceiling and think about my own kids acting like they don't like me. And then I think about all the mistakes I made in my life to cause this. Now look at me, at the end of my life, in this shape, alone except for Nance." Rob looked away with a look of regret on his face for a moment before sitting down on the gold couch beside Velma's stretcher. "I'm gonna tell you something a friend of mine told me before she passed away. Sometimes we stumble in life and we make mistakes, but it's never too late to turn things around and make ourselves a better person. And we will stumble, and fall, but it's okay, we can pick ourselves up and press on. Even if it's one little thing one day at a time, it's progress. I would know firsthand." "Is that so?" "Yeah." "Well your friend gave you some really nice advice, Rob." "So it's not too late for you to make right with your kids." Rob suggested. "Never say never, Aunt Velma. Just as I've learned." Velma nodded and sighed lightly. "I'm sorry that we've had such a bad relationship over the years." "Don't feel sorry because I was just as guilty of it." Rob brushed it off. "Let's just move on from the past and consider it water under the bridge?" "I like that." Velma mustered a smile. "I do too." Forty minutes later, the Convairliner arrived back to Newark for an uneventful touchdown at Newark-Heath. On the tarmac awaited another private ambulance where Velma, unloaded by the combat medics of the PMC, transferred Velma to a new stretcher where she was brought into the ambulance. Rob turned his Samaritan over to his mechanic Vlado as he turned in flight paperwork and departed for Sharon Brooke. Making the drive back to the north end of Newark, Rob pulled into Sharon Brooke where the ambulance was departing. Rob walked inside and checked himself in to find Velma excitedly checking out her new room with the help of an aide. Visiting with her was Nancy and Alvin, plus Clark, her youngest son. Velma's new room was larger, painted a soft warm pink color with fancy furniture Rob had put in. Rob stood off in the distance, crossed his arms and had a reserved smile on his face. Deep down, seeing his enfeebled aunt all happy did make him happy. ------------------------------------------- "5/24/24 Decent day today. Got up and did some of the usual paperwork for work. Yada, yada, legalese bullshit, fax it here, e-mail it there, mail it somewhere else. Got Lisa a birthday card and mailed that out too- gotta make the lawyer happy! Grabbed the C-131 and flew out with Felix and Ivo to grab Velma with some of the medics. Uneventful flight to and from Chillicothe. Me and Velma talked some and it was cordial; I'm willing to be nice, but I don't know if we could ever fully be close. I don't know. But seeing her be happy at SB, and seeing her smile with Grandma at how nice her new room is? Okay, that did make me smile and feel good on the inside. I'll give it that. I now have Robins as friends outside. A couple days ago, I found a little bird and her nest fell down, so I put it back up in the tree near my porch. Robin is back taking care of her eggs which hatched yesterday. Three little hatchlings. I try and help the mom by putting food out there for her. Some nutrient solution I got from a wildlife specialist. She isn't afraid of me approaching to put some food down, and I find a little stick placed at my table outside, almost as if she's giving me a thank you gift. Animals are so much kinder than us. It's in our nature to destroy ourselves. Monday, Sam is coming to stay for the summer. Today is his last day at school and then it's summer break. So he'll be here until the second week of August. I like that kid- he's really smart, got a lot of promise. He'll do great in life. He just needs encouragement." Rob capped his felt pen and placed it back in his pencil cup. Closing his diary back up, Rob sat it off to the corner of his desk before turning the lamp off and getting up to go check on dinner cooking in the oven. With the roast beef and potatoes cooking happily away in the oven, Rob grabbed the can of nutrient solution for his mother robin from the fridge. Exiting the kitchen and stepping out onto the main porch, Rob tapped his fingers on the tin, which was his way of saying feeding time. Poking her head out from the greenery was the little robin. She always gave Rob a friendly chirp as Rob opened the tin and used a pair of tweezers to grab some of the soft, brownish colored nuggets of food. Rob held it out and the robin would take it from his tweezers and go to feed the hatchlings. Three little helpless babies sat in the nest, and the robin would take the food and feed it to them and come back for more. Rob found it a fascinating sight to see in person. Finally, Rob fed the robin, who proceeded to go back to taking care of her hatchlings and keeping them warm. As Rob stood feeling content for his good deed, he saw Joey arrive home in his new Shelby Cobra. It burbled and growled into its spot beside Rob's Tahoe under the overhang. Joey soon stepped out carrying a package under his arm. "Hey there handsome!" Rob smiled. "Oh what a day!" Joey remarked sarcastically with his friendly smile. "Oh, and a package for you that looks like it was supposed to be express!" "Oh yes." Rob quipped with a sardonic smirk. "My camera tubes from Barev One." Rob shook the box. "They sound intact!" "That high quality postal service, right?" "Yeah." "Were you feeding your lil' robin friend and her babies, Rob?" Joey asked as they went inside. "Yeah. Feeding time for them." "You're gonna have woodland critter friends galore!" Joey laughed. "I guess I'm a glutton for punishment." Rob shrugged as he closed the door behind him. "How'd your day go, Joey?" "Oh same shit, different day, yourself? How'd flying your aunt back to town go?" Joey asked. He couldn't help but snicker. "You didn't have a load shift with her aboard right?" Rob stifled a laugh as he sat his tubes down on the desk. "Everything was fine with Aunt Velma's flight. She's safe and sound now at Sharon Brooke." Rob stepped into the kitchen to put his nutrient solution back into the fridge and wash his paws in the sink. "I don't recall ever meeting your two aunts and ever not seeing them be grumpy old Fahrvergnugens~" Rob snorted, having forgot all about that mean nickname for them. "Oh man, I forgot all about that mean Mav joke." "That one day both of them fat old ladies, walking up the sidewalk in their matching track suits, looked like two VW's trying to pass each other on the highway!" "HA!" Rob blurted out laughing. "Regardless. I did it for my Grandma's sake. But... seeing her happy and excited to have an actually nice room? That did make me happy deep inside." "Good." Joey smiled. He walked over to put his arms around Rob. "You're a good man, Rob." "Eh, working on it." Rob joked. "You're doing a good job." Joey complimented as he gave him a kiss. "So I'm gonna go toss my salad and get dinner started!" "Why don't shower first." Rob joked with a smirk. "I can toss it~" "Maybe later." Joey grinned. "Oh you~" With dinner nearly ready, Rob went to go get his grandma and nephew from the guest house. Alvin walked quickly ahead while Rob walked with Nancy. He carried a pie that Nancy had baked for dessert. As they walked past the newly dug out garden bed, Nancy remarked about what kind of flowers she wanted to put down with Rob, who planned on visiting the garden center soon to buy a bunch of flowers. "You know, Rob, I am just so relieved that Velma is out of that god-awful nursing home." Nancy admitted. "I don't think I've seen her that happy in a long time." "Well yeah, it was an absolute dump. How people can just dumped loved ones there is beyond me." Rob shook his head. "The state of healthcare in America!" "Getting old is a blessing, an opportunity, and a curse." Nancy remarked with a cynical laugh. "My mind still feels really sharp, but the body reminds me that ninety-two is ninety-two!" "Time to go for that marathon, right?" Rob quipped with a smile. "Yes." Nancy laughed with a happy grin. "I couldn't help but smile seeing Aunt Velma so happy at her new room at Sharon Brooke. She doesn't have that many years left, and I want them to at least be as comfortable as her condition would allow. Plus I want you to be closer since its just you two left." "Sadly." Nancy shook her head. "I came from a big family. Cousins galore! People always coming and going from the house growing up! It was me, Wilma, Velma, Carl, and Robert. Now everyone's gone but Velma. I know you had your feelings about Wilma and Velma, but you would have loved Carl and Robert. Both of them died too young." "I kind of feel bad now for being kind of mean to them." "Well mother ruined them. My Mom was such a nasty person when she wanted to be, and Wilma and Velma learned that from her. Same with chain smoking. You'd think those three were in the damn lung cancer Olympics!" Nancy scoffed. "Everybody just shrugged their shoulders at mother's antics- her side boyfriends, running around and doing everything on her terms- nobody cared! It was like 'oh it's just mom who cares'. Well I cared! Because it hurt our Dad! It hurt all of us in a way!" "And look how it worked out for the Fahrvergnugens~" "Exactly." Nancy said as she saw Rob open the side door for her to step inside. "Thank you, Rob! Hi Joey! How are you doing?" Rob stepped inside and grabbed the door with his foot to pull shut as he stepped inside to sit down for dinner. --------------------------------- The evening light cast long shadows along the landscape as Joey peered out from the little private porch space at the point of the house. The angled porch had a small table and chairs for them to sit and peer out. Rob opened the door and stepped out with two coffee cups filled with ice cream for them. He handed Joey a mug with two scoops of butter almond, while Rob had a cup with a couple scoops of vanilla ice cream. He sat down beside Joey and just admired the woodland scenery with him. "Best thing we ever did." Joey remarked as he savored a spoonful of almond ice cream. "I love how quiet and scenic this is." "Yeah." Rob nodded. "It calms my nerves when I sit back and just take the beauty in." "I think you've changed a lot since we've gotten here~" Joey quipped as he smiled at Rob. "You've been in a much better mood, and you've let the issues that come up- you've let it be." "I mean, I got my cousin beat up and several people fired for embezzlement, plus letting go of hundreds of useless positions in Texas." Rob shrugged. "Let's just focus on the big picture." Joey grinned with a laugh. "Okay." Rob smiled. "You seem a lot happier and I can tell by your body language. It makes me happy." Joey complimented. "Now I guess it's my turn to be introspective..." "Being in charge of a big business will do that." "Heh, I remember when it was just Dad's gun store!" Joey remarked. "I'd spend my days at the counter, or putting AR-15's together. Now I got four rifle plants and five ammunition plants churning out munitions for the US, NATO, and civilian consumption. ...It's hard to brush off being called a baby killer I must admit, especially when you're pretty darn liberal, and the people calling you a baby killer are liberals!" "Well, liberals are kinda fucking retarded..." Rob joked. "The more left or right you go, the more it starts sounding the same because it's just about control. There's nothing wrong with firearms ownership. The problem is people are god damn stupid and ruin it for others." "Exactly!" Joey exclaimed. "But try telling these people that. Like I'm sorry, the genie got let out of the bottle a long time ago on guns, and if people think you're gonna just ban all civilian firearms ownership, and violence will just go away is so naive. This whole nation and its history was birthed and marinated by violence. "I look at it as, you're providing a necessary evil for allied nations and our defense department. I mean, hey, one day they could make a movie about you, kinda like Lord of War or something." "Oh god, hope they don't pick Nicolas Cage to impersonate me!" Joey laughed. "I CAN'T PERFORM MY DUTIES!" Rob shouted, impersonating Cage from a film. "Honestly, Joey? Fuck 'em. That's how I feel about it." "Well you certainly have a way of saying a lot with a little." Joey snorted. Rob was about to say something sarcastic when he faintly heard the phone ring inside. "Lemme answer that." Rob stepped inside and walked over to the cordless phone near the couch. The caller ID read a New York number, signaling his friend Sam calling him. Rob pressed the answer button and immediately heard a huge commotion through the phone, complete with a loud smash and yelling. "Aunt Mary, stop it! Stop it! Rob! Rob!" "Sam!? Sam? Is everything okay? What's going on?" "Oh my god, my aunt is on a rampage and me and Cody don't know what to do?" Sam pleaded. "I've tried calling Uncle Jake, he's not answering, I've tried calling my other uncle, grandma, and nobody is picking up! Aunt Mary is having a crazy fit again! I don't know what to do!? She's destroying the living room!" "Okay, Sam, call police. Get help because it sounds bad." "Okay. Okay, you want me to call police? On my own aunt?" "Yes." "Oh my god, Cody, Rob wants us to call the cops on Aunt Mary?" "Well I don't know what else to do!" Rob could faintly hear Sam's cousin exclaim. Both sounded equally exasperated as he heard Mary scream something about webcams before another loud crash filled the speaker. Joey poked his head inside to see Rob look all concerned as he stood with the phone to his ear. "Sam, hang up and call the police! I'm coming to you. Hang on! Call the police! Get help! Hang up and call the police, damnit!" Rob smacked the phone back down on the charger. "Rob? What the hell was that!?" "Come on, we gotta get to New York." "Why? What's going on?" "I don't know, but there sounded like a real commotion on Sam's end with his aunt. He said she's being crazy and destroying stuff." "Oh boy..." The Doberman muttered as he ran after Rob. ------------------------------- Coming in hot for the Adirondack Regional Airport was Rob's massive Soviet interceptor, his blue and gray camouflaged Su-27UB. "White 30", in Ukrainian markings, arrived to northern New York after a supersonic dash from Ohio. Rob sat in the front cockpit controlling the descent for the runway while Joey sat behind and slightly above him in the rear seat. Rob flared for touchdown as he backed off the throttle. The Sukhoi sank down onto its main gear, the tires smoking as they scraped onto the pavement. Rob applied brakes, deployed the spoiler and gently touched the nose wheel on the centerline. Guided onto the tarmac by ground crews, Rob taxied towards his awaiting helicopter from the PMC, a large HH-3E in a dark green and white camouflage scheme for Cuyahoga Battalion. The big jet came to a stop, its screaming turbofans powered off and the tires chocked. Rob opened the large canopy and helped guide in a ladder to disembark from. He climbed down first, followed by Joey. Rob quickly doffed his helmet, and met his leader of Cuyahoga Battalion, Lieutenant-General Karl Von Kaulser, the highest ranked general to serve in his PMC, from Germany. Everyone quickly climbed aboard the large Sikorsky, which took off for the short hop over to Saranac Lake, where Sam lived at. In flight, Joey talked to Kaulser about a security matter at one of his new ammunition plants, while Rob sat in silence, his eyes peering out the window at the rugged Adirondack terrain. It was a far cry from the rather flat central Ohio, or the gently rolling hills of eastern Ohio, which signaled the foothills of the Appalachians. As the last light of dusk faded, the details of the rugged woodland below blended together with the shadows of the hills. Rob thought about his young friend, and how he must be feeling. Sam was a bright kid who just couldn't seem to get a break from family woes. Born in Akron to drug addicted parents, Sam was a bright young kid who helped take care of his parents. Rob remembered the first time he saw Sam, as a blissfully happy nine year old, carrying two bags full of food from the community center back home to them in a rain storm. That sight would never leave Rob's mind. The loving innocence of such a promising young man. Rob befriended Sam, and every day he "worked" in Akron, he would come early to pick Sam up, and stay late to take Sam back home. His parents were kind, but troubled, who almost got Rob killed in a drug related shooting. And despite everything he could do to help them, a house fire started by their drug use ended their lives too young, leaving Sam orphaned. And once again, Rob worked overtime to find Sam's family, which led him to move to Williamstown New York to be with his aunt and uncle. Now they lived much further north, at Saranac Lake, where Jake DuPont worked at a construction company. Arriving over town, the pilot circled the big Sikorsky around, which landed in a field at the end of the street Sam lived on. As they descended in for landing, Rob saw a couple police cars parked in front of Sam's home. Rob hopped out and ran a paw through his wavy hair as he quickly walked over to Sam's home with Joey. In the front yard stood an exhausted looking Sam, with his just as burnt out looking cousin, Cody, a young black wolf his age. Mary sat on the front porch step, sobbing and being tended to by a counselor who stood hunched over her trying to keep her calm. From what Rob could see from the open front door, the living room was destroyed. Sam, a brown and tan wolf with tousled brown hair that was wavy like Rob's, looked unsure of himself. His blue eyes looked tired. "Excuse me? Who are you?" asked a cop with a thick New York drawl. Rob showed the cop his paperwork signaling that he was Sam's godfather. The cop's attitude softened after seeing Rob was a legal guardian. "Oh my god, you made it!" Sam exclaimed. "Rob, I've been trying and trying to call Uncle Jake and he won't pick up." "Is everything stable around here?" Joey asked, looking concerned. "Well we finally got Mom to calm down..." Cody grimaced. "The whole living room is destroyed." "Sam, are you okay?" Rob asked. "Yeah." Sam nodded. "This is exhausting." "I understand, Sam." Rob said sympathetically. He walked over to see Aunt Mary staring off with tear filled, bloodshot eyes. "Oh god, Rob, oh god what are you doing here? You're Rob, right?" "Yes, Mary, I'm Rob. What happened?" "I don't know what happened? I thought someone put webcams in the house and were spying on us so I wanted to stop that and I tore everything up! Oh god, Jake is gonna be so upset." Rob stepped beside her and stepped inside the house to stare at everything in disarray. Rob slowly inhaled and exhaled through clenched teeth. Broken picture frames sat on the floor. The recliner laid on its side, and house plants were strewn about with half the pots smashed. Rob simply shook his head. As Joey stepped inside, Rob heard the telephone ring. He glanced around to find the cordless phone lying on the floor, its battery dangling off the back from a busted cover. Rob picked it up to find Jake DuPont calling. The wolf-hybrid decided to answer it. "Jake." Rob greeted. His voice must have thrown Sam's uncle off guard. "Who the fuck is this!? Hello? Hello?" "This is Rob Barion." "Rob, what the hell are you doing on my phone number at my house!?" "Well your nephew called me saying he had an emergency and he couldn't get ahold of anyone else, so me and Joey flew on out." "Oh, oh my god, I had my phone off and I was at the clubhouse for a party, and-" "If you're curious..." Rob cut him off. "Your wife has destroyed the living room in some paranoid fit." "Oh my fucking god, not again... Okay, okay, I'm on my way home!" "I have the situation under control here." "I'll be there in twenty minutes!" "We'll be here." Rob hung the phone up and sat it down on the side table. Joey approached and shook his head. "What a mess." ------------------------------------- By the time Jake arrived back home, Rob got the cops to go away, and half the living room cleaned up. Sam packed his bags in preparation for his trip, and Cody helped Joey replant some of the potted plants that were savable. Pulling up to the house was Jake and his black and chrome Street Glide. Its headlamp brilliantly glowed as the Harley burbled and growled to a stop. Throwing his kickstand down, the black wolf hopped off the bike and quickly doffed his helmet. He ran up to the front door to suddenly see Rob appear in it. Jake stopped in his tracks. "Oh Jesus Christ, you scared me, Rob!" "I have that talent it seems." Rob quipped in a dry tone. "I think we need to have a bit of a discussion." "Where is Mary at?" Jake asked. He rushed inside to find his wife sitting on the couch, looking burned out. "Mary? What on Earth happened!?" "Jake, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I freaked out because I thought someone was spying on us!" "Why would you think that!?" Jake shouted. "C'mon, stop it." Rob cut in. "Yelling's not gonna fix the situation." "I thought I saw a camera!" Mary shouted. She jumped up. "Jesus fucking Christ, Jake, why don't you cut me some slack! I got some issues going on!" "Yeah, no shit!" "STOP IT!" Rob screamed. He grabbed Jake and pulled him aside. Rob could smell alcohol on his breath. "I can see why you didn't want to pick up the phone when Sam was calling you." Rob quipped while crossing his arms. "Having a good time, huh?" "What's that supposed to mean?" "You know your wife is sick, right? You are aware of that? So why would you ignore multiple phone calls from Sam and Cody while they're here trying to keep Mary under control? That's not what thirteen year olds are supposed to be doing. And you're fucking lucky I got the cops to go away or they would have nailed you in front of your own house with a DUI riding drunk on your Harley like a fuck." "The cops? Sam! You called the cops!?" "I told him to!" Rob exclaimed, putting himself in front of Jake once again. "Who else was he gonna call? You? He called me, and he sounded in a panic and so did your son, so we flew out here. I got special permission to go up to Lake Erie and break the sound barrier. That's how we got here so quick. I can see you're flustered, you're upset, and you got a lot going on with Mary's brain condition, so what the fuck are you gonna accomplish blowing up like that?" Jake didn't know what to say. He fumbled his brow in frustration. "I got a lot on my mind." "I know you do." Rob nodded. "So this is what we're gonna do. I already called back home, and my crew is flying out with my jet, so Sam is gonna start his vacation a little bit early and come back with us. That way it's one less thing on your mind." "Okay." Rob made his point across by slapping Jake across the face. It was an unexpected, hard, pimp slap that made the burly wolf look shocked. Rob had no emotion on his face. "Don't make me have to come back here." Rob emphasized. Cody saw Rob's abrupt slap and gulped. ------------------------------------ Sam tossed his suitcase and backpack into the dark green Sikorsky. Looking tired, the young wolf turned to say goodbye to his aunt and uncle over the hum of the helicopter's running APU. Jake and Mary both looked tired. "Well, I'll see you in August." Sam said. "If you need me, you know how to get ahold of me." "I want you to have fun, Sam, and enjoy your time with your godfather." Jake told him. "Everything will be okay here." "Okay." Sam mustered a smile. Mary smiled. "You enjoy yourself and be your very best, Sam." "Thanks, Aunt Mary~" Sam smiled. He gave his aunt a hug. "I'm worried for you." "Everything will somehow work out." Mary said. "It's rough, but somehow we'll get through on the other side." "We'll be fine, Sam. Go enjoy your summer in Ohio!" "Yeah! Have fun, bro!" Cody exclaimed as he and Sam hugged each other. "I'm gonna come and visit too!" "You're more than welcome to." Joey smiled. "Just let us know and we'll come get you!" "Cool!" the black wolf grinned. "Alright, we need to ask that all of you stand back because we're ready to depart." The pilot announced from the cockpit. "See you later, Uncle Jake and Aunt Mary." Sam waved as he climbed aboard the HH-3. Rob, Joey, and Lieutenant-General Kaulser followed behind, and Rob closed the hatch. From across the street, other neighbors watched as the helicopter's turboshafts were powered up, its five blade rotor slowly beginning to turn as the power increased. Soon the big helicopter lifted off into the night sky, its deep roar fading away as it flew towards the airport. Jake, Mary, and Cody stood there for a long time, watching the rotating red collision light disappear into the night. It was a short hop back to the airport, where sitting on the tarmac beside the Su-27, was Rob's first passenger jet, a 1971 Boeing 737-200 Advanced. The twin-jet was conservatively dressed in a white paint scheme, with its wings and lower fuselage polished natural metal, and a thick dark blue cheat line running the window line. The golden BATS arrow logo adored the nose, and the upper fuselage read "UNITED BAREV INDUSTRIES" in black stenciling. Slung under the wings were two rather tiny looking JT8D turbofans, the original 737 powerplant before the high bypass turbofans were introduced in the 1980's. The cabin windows had a soft glow from the interior lighting. The forward hatch was opened and an airstair propped against it as Felix Barion and his husband Tony did an inspection of the airframe. "Wow!" Sam exclaimed. "You got a jet now!" "Yeah, she's my 'new' jet~" Rob joked with a chuckle. "Wait till you see my DC-8 and MD-11." "Oh cool!" "Rob and his salvaged wonders." Teased Kaulser. "You know it Lieutenant-General!" Sam grabbed his backpack and threw it over his back. He grabbed his suitcase and laptop bag from the helicopter and carried them up the steps into the cabin of the 737. The APU in the tail gave a steady hum that was somewhat muffled as Sam checked out the fancy interior. Like the Super Constellation, the cabin was adorned in earth colors; beige carpet, tan chairs and couches, white ceiling and walls. Sam looked very impressed as he sat down in one of the recliners bolted to the floor. After making sure Sam and Joey were ready to go, Rob turned his attention to get his Su-27 ready for flight. The fuel truck arrived and Rob took the time to refuel "Savchenko II" with a fresh load of Jet-A in the wing tanks. He sat on the wing and watched his 737 start up, its little turbofans having a high pitched whine to them as they spooled up. The twin-jet began to taxi with a wide turn, the unnamed Boeing whistling down the ramp for the access road to the airport. As Rob finished up fueling and climbed down, he stopped and listened as his Boeing roared into the air. Even with hush kits on the engines, the jet had a throaty roar to it. Rob watched the jet disappear into the night, as he went to turn in paperwork and pay for the fuel. Twenty minutes later, Rob was in the air. Taking off without afterburner, the Sukhoi roared into the night sky. With the stars twinkling above, Rob sat at the controls and monitored his radar as he plotted course to meet back up with his 737 that was well on its way back to Ohio. Only the soft glow of his instrumentation illuminated the cockpit as Rob maintained his climb to altitude. Climbing through ten thousand feet, Rob donned his oxygen mask and kept climbing, eventually reaching twenty-five thousand feet, where the 737 was now in cruise. Rob saw the plane in the pale moonlight, its anti-collision lights giving it away as Rob used his radar to maneuver into an intercept. He formed up on the Boeing's four o'clock position and stayed there a few hundred feet away. From the cockpit window, Sam saw Rob in his Su-27, silhouetted against the pale light of the moon. The young wolf was always impressed by the Flanker's immense size, and unmistakable, hunched back shape from its canopy. Joey approached with a tray with some food on it. "Hey, Sam, if you're hungry, Felix and Tony made some food for you~" Sam turned around to see a couple sandwich wraps on the tray with some fruit, and juice. The young wolf happily grabbed a sandwich wrap, with Joey remarking that it has turkey and cheese inside it. Sam bit into it as he leaned back into his seat. "Sam are you doing okay?" Joey asked him. "Just making sure. I know you're going through a lot right now with your aunt being sick." "I am, and I'm not." Sam admitted. "I'm tired of feeling frustrated. I feel like since I was a kid, I'm playing the adult while everyone else gets to be the kid." Joey nodded. "I understand." "I wish my uncle would step in more instead of running away with his biker friends at their clubhouse. It's as though he's afraid of Aunt Mary's illness. But me and Cody can't do much!" "Maybe this time away for a few months will help everyone out." "Maybe." Sam shrugged as he took a sip of his bottle of apple juice. "I'd like a break for once." "We'll have lots of fun, and you'll love the new place." Joey smiled. "It's a huge upgrade over our old house on Karen Parkway." "Oh yeah, that one burned down." "Thanks for reminding me." Joey chuckled. "It's a boy, too." "Nice." "We got your room all set up in Alvin's house. You'll be staying with Alvin and Rob's Grandma, Nancy." "Oh nice. I look forward to it." Sam smiled. "There's no crazy people, right? Not that I have any specific reason to ask that." "My parents don't live with us." Joey grinned. "So we're good." "Ha. Okay. Good." Sam chuckled. "Time for some mental relaxation!" "That's the spirit~" Joey exclaimed as he unwrapped the plastic off a sandwich wrap. "We'll have a lot of fun and travel places." ---------------------------------------- Saturday ushered in the first of June. With bright sunshine and a nice, dry heat, the first felt like the perfect symbolic start to summertime. At Rob's property, the trees were lush and green, and the newly planted flower beds were full of color. Activity bustled; Joey swept the sidewalk with a straw broom of grass clipping as their friend Cyrus mowed the lawn with his riding mower. Not far away, Cyrus' boyfriend, Ben Reynolds, helped plant some bushes with Talon Bradley. In the garden bed between the homes, Nancy knelt on the ground planting some tomato plants for the garden. She was assisted by Alvin who dug the holes for her. Rob and Sam were out exploring the property. Through the woods and the plains of the large property, the duo stopped to explore the creek, where they waded in the shallow creek to go hunt for rocks. Up to his knees in the cool, clear water, Rob fished out a dark red piece of sandstone for Sam to look at. Both were similarly dressed in black gym shorts, t-shirts, and baseball caps to keep the sun off their heads. "You get all this jumbo of material here because the glaciers brought down so much material from the north. Like this granite is not natural to Ohio because we're a geologically dead region. This most likely came down from Canada." "Granite comes from the slow cooling of magma, right?" Sam asked. "Basically. You get dikes that come up through the bedrock and the magma cools slowly. Like this piece here has different composition than this piece. Hence the gray and black speckling, and this one being pink." "Ah." "This is Ohio~" Rob joked as he held up a piece of limestone. "For four hundred million years, the area of Ohio was underwater and buried in silt during the Pennsylvanian and Mississippian eras. Ohio is chock full of sandstone, limestone, flint, quartz. That sort of sedimentary stuff." "And coal!" "That too. But it's the bituminous, not the anthracite, so its junk." Rob shrugged. "So how do you know this much about geology, Rob?" "Oh, I minored in geology in college. I figured it might come in handy for something." "Study people's hard heads?" Sam teased. "Kinda." Rob laughed. "Science is really neat to learn. I wish more people would be interested in it." Sam remarked as he held up a chunk of conglomerate. "Classmates are more interested in Tik Tok and memes." "Yeah, it's a problem in the US for sure. It's why we keep falling behind." Rob shook his head. "People need to be intellectually curious and they're not." Sam glanced over to see Greenie the duck resting in a calm area of water where the rocks broke up the current. "I think someone's relaxed!" Rob looked up at his pet duck and chuckled." See Greenie? You can happily swim in the pond and not have to always be in the pool!" Greenie opened one eye at Rob for a second, and then closed it before tucking his head back in to go back to sleep. "Spoiled duck~" Sam chuckled. "Only the best." Rob smiled. "Well I'm thinking about grabbing lunch, what about you, Sam?" "Sure! Hey! Can I drive the Gator?" "Heh, alright." Rob agreed. Rob hopped into the passenger seat while Sam buckled up in the driver's seat. Greenie waddled out of the pond, and flew up to land in the bed of the Gator. "Hang on tight, Greenie!" Sam exclaimed as he put it into gear and took off with a jolt. It took the young wolf a few seconds to get a feel of the accelerator as they turned around to head back on the trail through the woods. "This whole property is amazing!" Sam exclaimed. "How much did this all run, Rob? If you mind me asking~" "Oh just a couple mil." Rob quipped nonchalantly. "The two homes, moving the fire station, building the studio." "Oh neat. A big upgrade from your last place, right?" "Oh yeah. It's so quiet out here. I love it." Rob remarked. "And no neighbors to set your house on fire!" grinned the wolf. "Heh, we're good there." Rob chuckled. "So did your neighbor go to prison?" "Oh yeah? For quite a while too." "Oh boy... did you sue him?" "Nope." "Oh really? I would have~" "What was I gonna get out of suing him? Some shit kickers? He didn't have any money. Plus it wasn't worth it to me. I just let it be." Sam looked surprised at Rob's response. "Just let it be?" "Yeah." "He burned your house down?" "Yeah, I know. But look what I got now. So it was a blessing in disguise." Rob explained. "I've... thought really hard about my life over the past couple of years, and have been making some changes." "Well this is quite a change too!" Sam laughed. "Yeah, and for the better." Rob smiled as he sat back and crossed his arms. "Definitely for the better." Emerging from the woods, Sam drove across the grass and parked by the fire station. As Rob stepped off and grabbed Greenie, he heard the distinct rumble of a motorcycle approach. Emerging from the trees was his friend Ronnie on his bright red Road Glide. The red Dober rolled up to the house and threw his kickstand down by his boyfriend's truck. Rob walked over to greet him. "Hey welcome! How are you feeling, Ron?" Rob greeted. Ronnie doffed his helmet, his long locks of wavy brown hair flowing down his face as he shook it back. Ronnie wore black leather pants that matched his shiny black cut, which was adorned with the red and white patches of the infamous Hells Angels, Ronnie a member of the Akron charter. "Doing much better!" "How's your leg?" "Getting there~" Ronnie pointed out. "Still not one hundred percent there." "Hey, been there done that." "At least I'm still breathing. A lot of motherfuckers can't say that." Ronnie quipped as he opened his saddlebag to grab some bags of food for everyone. "Here, I'll take that." Rob said as he grabbed the bag of sandwiches. "Thanks~" Ronnie said as he grabbed the bottle drinks from the other saddlebag. "I got food for everyone." "I appreciate it." Sam approached holding Greenie in his arms. "Oh Ronnie, this is my young friend I was telling you about. I'd love you to meet Sam Martin!" "How are you doing?" Ronnie greeted with a warm smile as he held out a paw for a shake. "I'm Ronnie Samson." "Sam Martin." Sam smiled as he shook Ronnie's paw. "I like your motorcycle!" "Thank you!" "What kind of Harley is that?" "She's a twenty-three Road Glide Standard. Bored out one-oh-seven, and aftermarket pipes and bars. She replaces my wrecked Fat Boy and my Dad's former Fat Boy." "Oh cool! My uncle back home has a Street Glide in black and chrome. He just got patched into a motorcycle club- the Gothic Warriors MC." "Oh neat~ Good for him! I'm originally from New York- Queens. Moved to Chicago when I was four, and through misfortune, here in Ohio, thanks to Rob." "I'm originally from Akron~" "That's my home away from home with the club." Ronnie pointed out with a chuckle. "I need to go there and see my parents' grave soon." "Tell you what, if you wanna ride on my motorcycle, I can take ya up there sometime?" "Oh? Rob? What do you think?" "That's fine with me, Sam." Rob nodded. Ronnie put an arm around Rob. "Rob's the miracle maker! I don't know how I would have done it without his help." "Usually I'm told I'm someone's nightmare." Rob sardonically laughed. "Rob saved my life." Sam remarked with a smile. "I'd be dead in Akron if it wasn't for Rob." "Rob's a good man~" Ronnie said as he smiled at Rob. "I am who I am~" Rob shrugged. --------------------------------------- With the sun low on the eastern horizon, early Monday morning at Rickenbacker International was somewhat calm as the morning cargo flights departed. Behind one of his husband's C-118A's of Freightmaster Systems, Rob towered over the old propliner in his friend's trijet, a 1999 MD-11F. He was in the right hand seat to get flying hours to obtain his type rating for the widebody, as Centoh was adopting a fleet of MD-11's and DC-10's to supplement their propliner fleet. In the cockpit, Rob sat with his best friend, Mark Prince, and Mark's husband, Tanner Rodriguez. Mark was a jet black wolf, in his mid-forties now, with shiny black hair that was neatly combed back atop his head. Bright green eyes peered out. Tanner was a brown and tan wolf with both arms tattooed up in sleeves. He had a backwards turned baseball hat that covered the top of his head. Rob and Mark wore polo shirts and work pants, while Tanner had a t-shirt and shorts on. They would soon be in the air to fly to Florida for business. Rob had plans to visit Satcorp and inspect preparations for a launch of Barev's telecommunications satellite prototype. "Say what you want about the payload and speed, but nothing beats four piston pounders." Rob remarked as he waited on the access ramp. "There is a charm to them." Mark chuckled with an amused look on his face. "Three engines is better than two as well~" Tanner added with a laugh. "Isn't that right, Markie?" "We don't talk about blowing an engine right over the North Pole~" was Mark's reply. "Just think, a triple-seven flew halfway across the Pacific on one engine to make it to Honolulu~" Rob pointed out, which made Mark sarcastically shudder. "Oh thank god, here we go~" Tanner quipped as he saw the C-118 ahead of them turn onto the runway. The yellow and black propliner revved up and began its takeoff roll. Rob was guessing it was probably heading to Freightmaster's major hub in New York, at JFK. Rob would be landing at Opa Locka, and taxiing to their main hub. The DC-6 used only a couple thousand feet of runway as it climbed away in a slow climb. Rob manipulated the throttles gently and began to slowly roll. He put his feet into the rudder pedals and turned the MD-11 in a wide turn onto the runway, lining the centerline up for a final hold at the threshold. With clearance from the tower, Mark gripped his throttles and commanded "Smiles" to go to maximum takeoff power with its three PW4000's. The engines revved up and Rob felt them begin to roll as Rob watched the speed build up. The glistening bare metal plane with its blue painted stabilizer, roared down the runway; with no cargo, it quickly became airborne at Rob's command. Rob pulled the plane off the runway into a fifteen degree climb to depart out of Rickenbacker. As he held control, Mark set up the autopilot for the just under three hour flight to Opa Locka. At the controls himself, Rob found the MD-11 relatively straightforward to fly. Being a large widebody, the trijet wasn't as nimble or responsive as his propliners. It's smaller empennage made handling on takeoff and landing trickier, coupled with its high wing loading, but being accustomed to flying ex-military planes with fickle handling, it gave Rob no issue. About the one thing that stood out to Rob was how quiet the cockpit was; the three PW4000's gave a soft, steady hum as the background noise, verses the pounding burble of piston engines and their propellers beating their wash against the fuselage. Once the autopilot was set, Rob could let go of the controls and proceed to watch the trijet continue its climb to thirty-seven thousand feet. Mark made a note on his paperwork for Rob as he felt the jet finally level off. He momentarily glanced at the heading and airspeed before capping his pen. "So Whacha think? Pretty smooth ship eh?" Mark spoke with a deep voice that resonated. "I think I better get my fucking type rating faster than the DC-8... Still waiting for the okay from the FAA." "Yeah... there's some bureaucratic hiccup somewhere." "Ivo, Jordan, Vlado, Felix, they all got their type ratings for the eight, and mine's hung up somewhere..." "Always the government red tape~" Tanner chuckled. "Everything good happens in due time." Mark assured. "Yeah." Rob agreed. "I try not to think about it because I don't want to get upset about it." "Now you can be like every other rich snob and fly as a passenger on your jet instead of flying it!" Tanner grinned big. "Ha, yeah, I guess so." Rob chuckled. "We'll we're gonna be testing that old DC-8 out when we fly down to see your rocket launch in a few days." "I'm looking forward to it after so many delays on this mission..." Mark rolled his eyes. "The first launch of our Barevsat prototype." Rob quipped. "We got a lot riding on this." "No kidding." Was Mark's reply. "Trust me, Rob, she'll fly. We helped design that satellite bus together!" "I know she'll fly, and hopefully not into the ground!" "This is also a crucial test of the Orbit Transfer Stage." Mark added. "She's only flown once and we had a problem with the nozzle on the first flight that almost sent it into a tumble!" "I'm just hoping Barevsat can handle flying on the OTS verses PCSS as originally planned..." Rob pondered. "I recall that solid motors have a much more vibration environment verses liquid motors." "Well if Barevsat can survive the launch on Zeta's solids, then the OTS should be fine." Mark chuckled. "Remember we overbuilt this satellite for a twenty year mission minimal." "Always assume the worst." Rob pointed out with a smirk. Just under three hours later, Rob brought "Smiles" into the landing pattern over sunny Florida. Banking around slowly in a holding pattern, Rob communicated with the tower as he lined up for the runway at Opa Locka. Trimming up the trijet by the book, he controlled its descent in with the right amount of spoiler as the MD-11 came in with everything down. The computer's automated voice called out the altimeter as Rob held the jet steady for the centerline. Mark controlled the throttles as they crossed the runway threshold. Rob deployed more of the spoiler and got ready for touchdown as he held the nose right on the centerline. With throttles idled, the MD-11 sank onto its landing gear with smoke erupting off the tires on touchdown. It was a gentle jolt in the cockpit as Rob gently brought the nose wheel down. Mark deployed reverse thrust to help bleed off speed. "Smiles" taxied to the ramp of Freightmaster's headquarters. Rolling slowly in, Rob was delighted to see Joey's yellow and black propliners in various states of being loaded and unloaded. Rob was guided to a stop by ground crew and he watched as a Freightmaster C-54D taxied by, ready to fly a load of cargo to Cuba. Twenty seconds later, Rob watched one of his own jets taxi by, an A300F, one of the first in service, taxiing to depart to Lainsville New York. The Airbus looked great in Centoh's red and white paint scheme. Following the ground crew, Rob turned and parked towards the back of the ramp. The wheels gracefully came to a stop and all three engines powered down. Rob unbuckled himself and stood up to stretch. "Damn I'm good." Rob boasted. He watched Mark sign off on his paperwork on his clipboard. He handed it to Rob who signed under Mark's name. "I feel like you've got a lot of experience flying." Mark grinned teasingly. "Great work flying 'Smiles'." "Just like riding an oversized bike." Opening the hatch, Rob stepped out with the clipboard tucked under his arm. Unlike Ohio's dry warmth this time of year, Opa Locka felt stuffy and humid, the air saturated with moisture. Walking down the airstair, Rob was greeted by Joey's business partner and friend, Kurt Tanager, and his seventy-seven year old father, Lloyd. Kurt and his father were black and rust Dobermans, dressed semi formally in slacks and polo shirts that bore the Freightmaster logo on the breast pocket. "Rob, how was your flight?" Kurt greeted as he shook Rob's paw. "Well any landing is a good landing if you walk away from it!" Rob smiled. "How are you liking the big jets?" Lloyd asked curiously. "You put that bird down perfectly!" "They're nice. Not as classy like the piston pounders, but they sure got some speed to them." "We'll take good care of her and get her cleaned up and refueled for your flight back home!" Kurt assured Rob and Mark as Rob went to the terminal to turn in paperwork. ------------------------------------ Satcorp was the name Rob was familiar with his whole life. It was the long time place of employment of his late father, Ray Barion. From his visits as a young child to Opa Locka's corporate headquarters, Rob now stood before the concrete and steel office building with its gold windows as its owner. Satcorp was now a division of Barev's empire, its foray into aerospace after Satcorp agreed to merge into Barev in early 2023. As Rob walked to the entrance, the wolf-hybrid thought about his painful, tumultuous relationship with his late father. Before the accident that severely burned and disfigured him, Ray Barion was a bright, promising engineer turned payload specialist in the Space Shuttle era. Rob never knew the kind and gentle Ray Barion; after his accident that severely disfigured him, he became a bitter, angry, broken man, who took his rage out on his wife and children. When Troy died, it permanently broke him. Rob remembered all the insults, all the screaming, all the put downs. Each step felt heavier and heavier as Rob could hear his voice plain as day in his head. It took more and more effort to walk towards the building as his voice grew louder in his memories. Satcorp was the origin of all of Rob's problems. Reaching the entrance, Rob forced himself to stop thinking about his father's terrible actions. Only then did his raging voice stop. Ray worked at the company for twenty-seven years, before he was fired in 2001 in a rather unethical way. Tired of his behavior, the company sabotaged his work for a big name customer, which gave them a backhanded justification to fire him. His life then spiraled downward from then on to his death; lesser, degrading jobs, several bouts of cancer, a stroke, a heart attack. When Ray died at age fifty-seven in late 2009, he was basically destitute, living on the gentle mercies of his coworker, Rob's friend, Carlos Ramirez, who he saved by sacrificing his life in a workplace attack. Refusing to watch his friend die, Ray attacked Carlos' attacker, but was mortally wounded. He ultimately died in Carlos' arms. "At the end, there was a smile on his face. He was happy." Carlos had once told Rob before he left to return home to Barcelona, Spain. Stepping inside, Rob met with Satcorp's president, David Takiyama. A white wolf with black hair that was streaked with gray, fifty-two year old Takiyama was the headman for Satcorp's operations. A Nisei, originally from Honolulu, Takiyama had spent the past twenty-eight years working for the company. Much like Rob's father, Takiyama started his career as a college intern, interested in fulfilling a career in aerospace engineering. The lobby of the company was expansive, a showroom full of Satcorp's accomplishments. In the huge open rotunda, the centerpiece of the lobby was an immaculately restored Atlas-F missile, in homage to the decommissioned ICBM's that once carried Satcorp's earliest satellite buses to orbit from Cape Canaveral and Vandenberg on the west coast. Portraits of past leadership hung on the walls, photos of past satellite designs, and space missions that Satcorp helped make possible. Rob and David walked over to the memorial display for Rob's late father. The memorial was a model of Ray's first satellite bus design, a spin stabilized satellite that was eight feet wide and tall, and adorned with solar cells. On the wall hung a portrait of him before the accident, taken around 1980 when he was selected by NASA to be a payload specialist on the Space Shuttle. Rob stood there and gazed at his father's portrait in a moment of introspection. His father looked so young and happy, a confident grin on his face. Ray looked like his mother, with a pelt of medium and light gray fur, and blue eyes that were full of life. But he had the Barion hair, thick, brown, and wavy, brushed back atop his head. Rob tilted his head some and wished he knew the father before the accident, not the emotionally abusive man he was stuck with growing up. Finally Rob made his way to the clean room. Donning protective gear in a white lab coat, booties, gloves, and a hair shield, Rob and David entered to see the next two Barevsat's under construction. Entering through the airlock, Rob stepped inside and gazed up at his creation in awe. Barevsat was a essentially a huge cylinder, almost nineteen feet in diameter. Purplish-black solar cells, faintly outlined in red, covered nearly the entire body. The solar cells were a proprietary design Barev developed, but license built by a South Korean company, Diamondstar, as part of a legal settlement over Diamondstar's attempts to steal Barev's solar cell designs. With the lower half of the solar array stowed in launch configuration, the spacecraft stood fifteen feet tall. With the lower half deployed, the satellite would be over two stories tall. Stowed for launch, the spacecraft had two large, and two small spot beam antennas. With several transmitters, each Barevsat could handle hundreds of telecommunications channels for planned customers in the US and Europe. And being more than just a telecommunications satellite for Barev and Precision, Barevsat planned to do Earth science with an array of scientific instruments, inspired by the legacy Pioneer 10 and Voyager missions. Instruments to study Earth's magnetic field, solar particles, cosmic rays were integrated into the spacecraft body. Hidden behind the extending solar array was the stowed scan platform, which held a set of imaging cameras, ultraviolet, and infrared instruments. Inspired by Voyager's scan platform, it carried two visible light imaging cameras; a 300mm wide-angle refracting telescope, and a 3,000mm reflecting telescope, both of which had eight filters and fed two slow-scan Chalnicon video pickup tubes. The wide-angle could provide a whole disk picture of Earth from geostationary orbit, while the narrow angle could photograph a selected area in higher detail. To ensure a long life in geostationary orbit, Barevsat carried over 13,000 pounds of chemical propellant. Each spacecraft weighed 29,000lbs, and Mark's rocket would carry two at a time to geostationary orbit. "What do you think, Rob?" Takiyama asked him. "I think its surreal to see this in person. When I drew a rough idea out on a piece of copy paper." "Sometimes that's how it works." Takiyama nodded. "She'll fly and make us a lot of money." "I sure hope to god she flies." "We'll find out in a few days." -------------------------------------- Rob finished out his Florida day trip with a visit to Cape Canaveral Space Force Base to see preparations for launch. Near the heart of Missile Row, Mark Prince had two launch sites for his rockets. LC-11 and the Project Gemini famous LC-19, were home to Precision's ADLV-3 Sigma, and Zeta rockets. Each launch center had two launch pads, complete with all the infrastructure; mobile towers, tank farms for propellant and gases, flame trenches and water sound suppression pools. This was the reality of almost a decade of work for Mark and his husband as they entered rocketry with their aerospace business. The star of the show was the mighty Zeta rocket. Sitting on LC-19B was the Heavy Zeta, towering over Rob at 216 feet. Looking like a scaled up Titan IV-B, the ZLV-4 was Precision's flagship rocket for commercial and government flights. While partially reusable like its competitors, Zeta lacked the graceful, futuristic appearances of commercial competitors; Zeta was brute force in reaching space. Attached to the core vehicle were two massive solid rocket boosters, the largest in the world at fourteen and a half feet in diameter. They were 140 feet in length and made of a woven white graphite composite epoxy casings in three large segments. The boosters would generate nearly eight million pounds of thrust for 125 seconds, and then be jettisoned to parachute into the ocean. The core stage was a single large stage that was 150 feet long, and powered by cryogenic fuels. Fourteen feet in diameter, the large stage was covered in a light gray foam insulation to slow boil off of the liquid hydrogen and oxygen. Black and white stripes were used for roll angle calibration. A single PB-1C-A engine, with two nozzles covered in heat shielding, generated 1.1 million pounds of thrust for six and a half minutes, which injected the core stage and its upper stage into parking orbit. At the very top was an extended twenty foot payload fairing, at sixty-six feet in length, made of white carbon fiber. Beneath it sat the first Barevsat and its solid-fueled two-stage Orbit Transfer Stage. Overall, Zeta had a drab, conservative look, its core vehicle conservatively marked "UNITED STATES" in black stenciling. The payload fairing bore the logo of Barevsat, and the logos of Barev and Precision. A small "402A" signaled the subtype of the ZLV-4 booster. Rob aimed his Sony Alpha and got a wide angle shot of the towering rocket. He felt dwarfed by its massive size. Looking around, Rob felt an element of danger standing near the fully fueled solid rocket boosters. Rob recalled an incident during the testing of the PSRM's that a casing split on the test stand and took everything with it in a massive explosion. He walked over to take a picture of the heat shielded PB-1C-A nozzles. "It never gets old to see this on the pad." Came Mark's voice from behind him. Rob turned around to see Mark gazing up at his creation with his arms crossed. "This is your baby." Rob remarked as he looked at the photos on his camera. "I remember when we first met and you had just vaguely talked about this as a long term goal." "Now look at it~" the black wolf smiled. "From a drawing on a sheet of copy paper, to a CAD design, to now being on the NSSL for government payloads." Mark and Rob stood there for a long time staring up at their rocket in awe as they discussed their goals for Barevsat. ------------------------------------ The calm sound of ocean waves lapping close by mixed with the laughter and ambience of the beachside. Sitting under the shade of the restaurant's overhang, Rob had lunch with Mark and Tanner. Brushing a curious fly away from his sandwich, Rob grabbed it and took a bite out of it before returning to his paperwork attached to his clipboard, which concerned his prospects for the type rating to fly the MD-11. They were also waiting for Joey's arrival to Florida, a last second decision to help fly a plane down to Opa Locka after a pilot called off sick. Mark sat back in his chair and sipped on a pineapple smoothie and observed Rob as he jotted his flight log information down on the paperwork from his photocopy beneath it. Rob had a calm, relaxed look on his face. "Rob, I must admit I notice a huge personality change in you since the last time I saw you." Mark remarked, which got Rob's attention momentarily. "You think so?" "I last saw you at Christmas last year, before I went to California for several months to assist in an upgrade at Vandenberg, and from that time to now, you've calmed down more, you don't get riled up over little things, and I even find coaxing a smile out of you so much easier. In fact, I remember the first time I met you nine years ago, and compared to then, you've come so far." "Heh. A lot has happened, and a lot of reflection has been done on my part." Rob shrugged. "But it is what it is. If you don't learn and make changes, then what's the point?" "Good point." "I'm tired of feeling bitter. And its hard some days to not feel bitter. Take a look around at the fucking world? But I don't want to go through whatever amount of time I have left, and be an angry, bitter fuck." "Hey baby steps right?" Tanner smiled. "I mean, you've come a long way from the day you had a bad panic attack and flipped me Steven Seagal style!" "That a bad year, nine years ago. Too many bad years. This time it's different." Rob quipped as he signed his signature on the bottom of the final page. "Alright, this is done, Mark." "That should suffice for your type rating petition." Mark said as he took the clipboard from Rob to examine it. "Good. Tell 'em to speed it up on my DC-8 certification too." Rob chuckled. He glanced over in time to see his husband come running over from the taxi. "Hey I made it!" Joey exclaimed. "What kept ya?" Rob teased with a smile. "Oh the usual." Laughed Joey. "Uneventful flight thankfully ferrying that DC-7 down here." "Good." Mark nodded. "Let me order you some food, Joey, then we can fly back to Ohio." After a nice lunch together, the four climbed back aboard "Smiles" for the flight back to Ohio. With Rob in the right hand seat again, the MD-11 quickly rocketed out of Opa Locka and into the blue skies. Reaching 37,000 feet, Rob let go of the controls and let the autopilot plot course for Ohio in the empty skies far above the clouds. "I wonder how Sam is enjoying the strawberry festival with Felix and Tony?" Joey remarked from the jump seat behind Rob. "Sam? Do you have a guest staying with you?" Tanner asked. "Is he cute?" "I'm not Jeffrey Epstein~" was Rob's reply. "Sam Martin, the kid I befriended in Akron when I was stuck doing community service there four years ago." "Ohh, now I remember." Tanner replied with a sarcastic smack to his forehead. "D'OH! Now I feel like a creepy, dirty old fuck!" "Ha, don't worry about it." Rob chuckled. "I mean, hell, at the rate things are going in politics, that's like senator material right there." Joey chuckled with a smile on his face as he leaned over towards Tanner. "Sam's got some family issues going on back in New York, so he's spending the summer with us." "Ohh." Tanner nodded. "I feel sorry for him." Rob admitted. "He was nine years old when I met him and he had more maturity than his own parents. It was like the roles were reversed. Sam took care of them instead of the other way around, and that's just not healthy at all for a kid's development. I see how intelligent he is, his intellectual curiosity to things, and I want to nurture and encourage that since so many other teenagers are just glued to their fucking phones watching Tik Tok or scrolling through Twitter, or whatever the fuck Elmo Muskrat renamed it to." "I'm glad I grew up when I did." Mark admitted. "It was bad enough being a teenager back in the early nineties, I can't imagine how worse it would be today with technology." "Yeah." Joey nodded. "I stop back at NHS to see Mister Philander from time to time and we talk about students and he tells me he sees so many students now with no goals, no hopes, nothing. Like I can't blame them." Rob explained. "What's the point of having dreams, goals, desires, when the whole system is rigged against you from the get-go? The cost of living is skyrocketing, wages are way down, and companies are finding any opportunity to offset costs onto workers and fuck them over for their shareholders. No wonder why teens just want to numb their mind with stupid videos and memes? What else is there to look forward to?" "Everything is all fucked up." Mark started saying. "The system we have in this country is broken. Our economic system, politics, none of it is working. Everything's so divided, so polarized, so politicized. Stuff twenty years ago that would have been a non issue is now looked at in the left-right, conservative-liberal, Republican-Democrat optics. And it's stupid. And it breeds exhaustion and hopelessness." "When you have a whole generation of people who feel there is no hope for their futures? That's dangerous." Rob pointed out. "Oh yeah." Tanner nodded. "That's a powder keg waiting to go off." "Maybe it has to happen to make things better." Rob shrugged. "I know for sure, that if things fall apart? I'm taking what's mine." "Whoa, Hitler, easy." Joey teased with a grin. "Rob's Germania project here." Tanner and Mark laughed as Rob shook his head. "That's the other thing. As people in my Grandpa's generation die out, the evil ideologies like Nazism rear their ugly head again. We're in a dangerous phase. It's gonna be rough sailing for a while." "I don't like where the election is going." Tanner grimaced. "I don't either." Rob shrugged. "Eh, enough of the doom and gloom. No use fretting over something out of our control." Mark glanced over at Rob. "You've come a long way Rob, and I'm proud of you for it." Rob nodded slowly and glanced back at Mark. "Like I said, it was time for change." ----------------------------------------- "What do you want to do for dinner?" Rob asked Joey as he reached out the open window to put the gate code in. "Why don't we ask Sam and see what he wants and goes from there? I'm fine with pretty much anything~" "Pretty much anything?" Rob joked with a smirk as he watched the gate open. "Do I look like a woman?" Joey grinned with a laugh. "If you want to get McDonald's or a fucking three Michelin star restaurant, I don't care." Rob laughed. "Wanna get tacos?" "Sounds good to me!" Rob rolled up the driveway and made the right turn at the fork to head down the small hill towards his house. Seeing his home come into view brought an instant sigh of relief that he could just relax for the rest of the day after getting the hours in to petition his type rating. Rob parked under the overhang of the house and hopped out to hear screaming. Sam screaming. Rob ran towards the sound of Sam's yells to find Sam being attacked by a brown hawk. In the split second view, he saw the mother robin lying on the porch floor, with her fledglings scattered about. Rob grabbed a large rock that was in the flower bed and charged forward. "GET DOWN SAM!" The young wolf dove to the ground as Rob threw the fist sized rock at the hawk, which struck it and killed it. The hawk landed on the sidewalk with a thud. Joey ran forward to grab Sam. "Sam are you okay!? Are you okay!?" "Yeah, I'm fine, but what about-" "Oh man..." Rob knelt down to see his mother robin mortally wounded. Not far away one of the fledglings lay dead. Two fledglings were alive and hopped around lost on the porch. Sam ran over to see Rob look sad. "Oh no!" Sam exclaimed. "Oh no, oh no..." Finding a spot at the end of the flower bed, Rob buried the mother robin and her fledgling together. Sam made a memorial cross out of some braided up willow branches and stuck it in the ground as a marker. Rob felt sad about it. That mother robin was surprisingly friendly and not scared of him. When he'd step outside to have coffee, she'd sing him a morning song from the tree. But this was the brutality of life, the way nature flowed. "She was a pretty robin, and so friendly." Sam remarked as he adjusted the cross. "So what about the two baby birds?" "I guess I'll be raising them." Rob walked back to the porch to see Joey sitting at the table watching over the two surviving fledglings. Rob pulled up a chair and sat down to listen to their little squawks as if to call out for their mom. Rob thought about how he lost his mom when he was eighteen, and how his mom got orphaned when her mom passed away. Those little birds had nobody but him now. "Lil' buddies, it's okay." Rob assured. "I'll take care of ya~" "Do they have names?" Sam asked. "Not yet." "I think you should name the male one, Rocky! Because he's all plump, and the little female should be Sparkle!" "You think so?" Rob asked. "Yeah! She's got quite the sparkle in her eyes!" "Then that's what we'll name them." Rob smiled. "Hello, Rocky, and Sparkle." -------------------------------------------- "6/14/24 Huge day today. Barevsat prototype launches and there's a lot riding on it for IOC. Enroute to Florida early, on the maiden flight of Photon, my 1969 DC-8. She's a quiet bird compared to the piston pounders, just a soft hum of four CFM56's. Not curvaceous like Coneflower but built Douglas tough like my DC-6/C-118's. It's a very long plane; I had a hell of time filling the interior up! All the creature comforts I like when traveling (I hate traveling). I sure wish I could be behind the controls of Photon, but for whatever reason, the FAA has not granted me my type rating? I got the type rating for the MD-11, but not the DC-8? The fuck? What do I have to do? Burn their fucking headquarters down to get it? Ah, well. Ivo, and Jordan are happily at the helm of It's new glass cockpit. I helped modify that to fit. I got up super early; not only to get things ready for the trip, but to take care of my little robin friends. I am raising two little American Robins, a plump male named Rocky, and a cute lil' female named Sparkle. Sam gave them their names. They're cute little fledglings and they sure love this food I got for them from the wildlife rescue center. They let me hold them and when they want food they squawk at me. They'll be getting ready to fly soon. I think Greenie is jealous that I have them as well. He's a silly duck-o. They make me happy. Breakfast is being served here, and all of us are having a good time. Whole family is traveling along; Joey, Sam, Felix, Tony, Grandma. We're gonna meet up with Mark, Tanner, Takiyama, and Esker Jarvis, Barevsat's project Mgr. All's well at 36K feet." The easterly sun rose, casting long, dramatic shadows on the clouds and landscape. Like silent icebergs, large puffy clouds floated several thousand feet below, taking on the amber and magenta hues of dawn. Leaving a quartet of contrails flew Rob's DC-8 on its maiden flight as "Photon", Barev's true long-range VIP plane. The narrow-body quadjet looked like a thin pencil with swept wings as it flew in its new paint scheme; the upper fuselage was painted titanium white, and the lower half plus wings were natural metal, polished to a shine with prominent dayglo orange outer panels. The cheatline sat below the window line, painted blue with ultramarine stripes in it, and a thin dark gold outline on the top. The nose bore the golden "BATS Arrow" logo, and the upper fuselage read "UNITED BAREV INDUSTRIES" in black stenciling. The tail bore the blue shield logo of Barev, which read "UniBar" on it. Closing his diary up, Rob stowed his leather bound journal back into his laptop bag and peered out the window which straddled the wing. The morning sky enroute to Florida was beautiful. Rob was drawn to how the clouds cast long shadows among the landscape. His eyes peered over to the big turbofans that gave a steady hum. Instead of the throbbing burble of pistons and shimmering propellers that clawed the air, the CFM56's were quiet. They replaced the former low-bypass turbofans that the jet once used, in its past life as a Super-60. "Photon" was built in March of 1969 for United Airlines as a long-range dash sixty-three. In 1980, the plane was upgraded and rebuilt as a Super-70 with the installation of the CFM56's. It ended its passenger career in July 1989 and was converted as a freighter, which flew for UPS until it was retired in 2009. After sitting in the desert boneyard with other ex-UPS airframes for fourteen years, Rob purchased the jets to expand the PMC's long range air transport needs and DoD work. From its life as a hard working passenger plane, to freighter, now "Photon" would serve as the posh transport for Rob and the upper echelon of Barev management. Rob worked a little bit on paperwork as Joey walked by and sat a cup of coffee down for him. Rob glanced up and saw Joey sit down with Sam not too far away in the forward lounge area. Sam sat and contently wrote on a yellow legal pad with a pencil and conversed with Joey. Rob smiled a bit and went back to working on his bureaucratic mess of paperwork concerning Baritel's embezzlement scheme that was busted and now was going to court. Deciding to take a break, Rob closed his red folder full of paperwork up and stuffed his pen back into his shirt pocket. He got up, stretched and decided to go for a walk. Exiting the lounge, he stepped through the galley area and through the next compartment door to go down a narrow hallway. Three-quarters of the middle section of the plane was an editing room filled with broadcast gear, and a conference room. Towards the back was a small compartment of conventional airline seats that would seat forty-eight, and finally, the tail, where Rob had his private bedroom and office. Compared to fitting stuff into his propliners, space wasn't an issue in the DC-8's lengthy fuselage. Everything was painted in light Earthy colors, Rob's typical choice for his aircraft. It made the space feel less claustrophobic. Returning to the nose, Rob spotted Alvin and Nancy sitting together and sharing a joke. Since coming to live with him, Nancy and Alvin were close, and Rob always saw his nephew helping his grandmother. It brought a smile to his face. Checking in on Sam and Joey, Rob stepped into the cockpit, where Ivo and Jordan sat comfortably behind the controls. The original three-man cockpit and its analog gauges were upgraded to a glass cockpit resembling the MD-11's, to allow a two person crew to fly the DC-8. The instrument panel and its LCD's came from a scrapped Boeing 717; the computer software was modified and the whole contraption retrofitted, which the FAA signed off thankfully. Rob jokingly called his jet an "MD-8". "Must be nice to have your type ratings!" Rob joked to Ivo, who turned around from the left hand seat. "Sounds like someone's salty!" the Croatian wolf grinned. "You know Vagisil is half off at Walgreens, right?" "Funny..." Rob said with a insincere smile on his face. Even he couldn't help but chuckle. Jordan turned around. "You still haven't gotten it yet?" The German Shepherd looked puzzled as he glanced over at his husband Ivo. "Sadly no. Mark thinks there's a bureaucratic screwup somewhere in Washington." "Sounds about right." Jordan nodded his head. "At least I got mine~" Ivo grinned with a giggle. "Watch yourself or I'll de-person you and I'll become Ivo for it." Rob joked. "The only thing I can think of is on one test flight, there was an engine problem at final approach and maybe I wiggled it too much trying to reach for the fire extinguisher handle, I don't know." "Just do a Karen and yell at them on the phone!" Jordan sarcastically suggested. "I'm about to burn their headquarters to the ground over this." "Well if that's one way of getting the feds to your house!" "The FBI already wants to have a word with you~" Rob rolled his eyes. "It is what it is. Keep up the good work, guys." "Will do!" Ivo and Jordan both exclaimed as Rob turned around to leave the cockpit. Rob closed the door behind him and ventured back to the cabin to take a seat by the window again. A lot was on his mind as he thought about the day ahead. --------------------------------------------- Cape Canaveral was sticky warm, with a warm breeze coming in off the ocean. The salt marsh surrounded them as the Heavy Zeta loomed in the background for the promo shot Rob was in preparation for. In roughly five hours, the Heavy Zeta would launch Barevsat into space. Making sure his tripod was secure and level, Rob placed his hard-working HL-791 onto the tripod's camera boot and locked it into place. Devoid of its BVV-5 Beta recorder, the HL-791 looked tiny with its battery adapter attached to the back. Rob plugged the VTR cable into the camera's side port, which ran to a Sony BVH-500, a portable Type C machine. Maverick knelt on the ground spooling up a gold reel of Barev 525 videotape into it. Once the tape was secured, Maverick closed the lid on the VTR and latched it. Sam handed Maverick the microphone cable, which he plugged into the audio input of the VTR. Sam had the honor of holding the blimp mic to record sound. Not far away, Mark and Tanner joked with Esker Jarvis and David Takiyama. Esker was a sable and brown furred husky in his late thirties, who was the program manager to Barevsat. He was dressed corporate casual in slacks and a green polo shirt that bore Satcorp's logo on the breast pocket. Thick, wavy brown hair was piled high atop his head in a pompadour. Today's shoot would be a promo for the first launch with Esker in front of the camera. Flipping the power switch on, Rob waited for the tubes to come online. Through a small LCD screen he held, plugged into the camera's BNC port for auxiliary video, the camera powered up with a white screen that soon flashed, green, red, and blue, as the Plumbicons came online. Once the beams stabilized, the iris opened, revealing a wide shot of the marsh with Heavy Zeta in the background. As Rob fiddled with the lens and white balancing, he knew it was going to be a tough shot to light properly. Even with the camera set to -3dB in gain, the haze in the morning sky turned it into a bright white, blown out highlight in the background. It was the trials and tribulations in operating cameras with limited dynamic range in their tubes. If Rob had shot this on his UHD camera, it would have been easy peasy, but Rob didn't like easy, and he didn't like the extremely sharp "eye candy" of UHD. "I think this is good to go." Rob announced. "Uhh, Esker? You ready for this?" The husky looked up from his legal pad. "Yes, sir!" "Whenever you're ready, the camera is ready to go." Esker put himself in front of the camera and reread his script a final time, as Rob guided Sam into how to aim the microphone and keep it out of the shot. Sam sat down on the ground crossed legged and held the microphone upwards. Rob could see the excited sparkle in Sam's eyes. "VTR is good." Maverick called as he powered it up. He threw on a set of headphones to listen in, which were connected to a splitter, allowing Sam to listen as well. "Let's do this!" Esker exclaimed. "You're gonna win an Emmy!" teased Takiyama with a laugh. "Yeah, okay." Esker laughed. "Alright, let's do take one." Rob announced. Hunched over his camera, he lined up the shot to zoom in tightly on Heavy Zeta, which would slowly zoom out to Esker's monologue. Rob gave the countdown as he toggled the VTR button, the reels of videotape spinning with a pop-click to engage. "Action!" "In about four hours, our partners at Precision Aeronautics will launch their Heavy Zeta booster. Carried aboard is the first Barevsat, our operational prototype. Once it achieves geostationary orbit, this prototype will conduct the operational tests of ground stations in North America and Europe. Scheduled for launch next year will be three flights of two Barevsat's each, which will allow full operation of the telecommunications and meteorological network by October 2026." Esker explained. He continued. "Barevsat is a public-private partnership between United Barev Industries, Precision Aeronautics, and the United States government. Our international partners include the governments of Canada, Mexico, the United Kingdom, Ireland, Iceland, Ukraine, the European Union states, Japan, and South Korea. Our goal is to provide our customers with reliable and effective telecommunication needs by this geostationary satellite fleet, and active meteorological forecasting, along with Earth sciences with the onboard scientific instrumentation. Today's launch is the beginning of something great. For Satcorp, I'm Esker Jarvis, project manager for Barevsat. Thank you." "Perfect." Rob called. He hit pause and looked up. "Can we do one more take just to make sure?" "Absolutely." ---------------------------------- The countdown stopped at the five minute hold as a last second check of the telemetry was underway at the launch control center. Situated roughly a mile and a half away, Rob had a front row view of Heavy Zeta from the neighboring launch tower at LC-19. On the catwalk stood Rob and his grandmother, along with Sam, Alvin, who patiently waited with his super telephoto equipped camera, and Joey. On the catwalk on the other side of the umbilical structure was Mark, Tanner, Esker, and Takiyama. Rob adjusted his floppy boonie hat and listened to a speaker that provided a running commentary from the launch control center. "I remember the excitement everyone had of the space program when it was new!" Nancy remarked as she held onto her straw hat that shielded her face from the sun. "I never thought I'd be here ever to see a rocket launch in person!" "Never say never." Rob chuckled. He grabbed his binoculars and peered out at Zeta in the distance. From his magnified view, Zeta sat ready for launch. The pad was devoid of any activity, and the only motion Rob saw was the gentle wafting of steam from the core vehicle's liquid oxygen boil off vent. Rob heard some activity over the speaker as he continued to observe the launch pad. "Final go, no-go. Guidance." "Go." "Telemetry." "Go." "RSO." "Go." "Cryo." "Go." "Solids." "Go." "OTS team." "Go." "Core team." "Go." "Payload." "We're go for flight." "Commence countdown to zero. T-minus four minutes, fifty-nine seconds." Rob fumbled his brow and watched with a serious gaze on his face. The last five minutes felt like time had slowed down as Rob thought about what was stake for the first Barevsat. There was a lot of money, and a lot of careers riding on this launch. Nervous anticipation abounded. "T-minus fifteen seconds." Rob chomped at the bit and watched. At t-minus ten seconds, Rob watched a bit of smoke puff from the solid rocket boosters; the igniter was armed. The countdown made Rob's anxiety spike up as he watched intensely. Nancy braced herself on the railing and Alvin had his camera aimed. "Zero!" At the zero mark, both solid motors ignited. With an explosion of smoke and flames that violently erupted from the flame trench, the hold down bolts were detonated, and Zeta immediately climbed away with nearly eight million pounds of thrust. Rob counted that it took Zeta around four seconds to clear the 250 foot tower. "We have commit." "Tower clear!" "Liftoff of Barevsat! The first in the latest generation of global telecommunications." "Plus ten seconds, flight." "Roll and pitch program in. Zeta is beginning the roll and pitch program that will put the vehicle on a proper heading." Rocketing skyward, Zeta's launch plume was a brilliant yellow, which faded to the white and gray smoke column. It took a few seconds for the roar to hit Rob; it was a deep, throaty growl that shook everything. The launch tower vibrated and groaned, and Nancy held on as the vibrations startled her. The roar was for a few seconds, deafening. Rob watched in awe. Climbing skyward, Zeta flew southeast over the ocean, gaining altitude as its solid motors continued to burn. Rob watched the smoke trail as he continued to listen to the flight controllers feedback through his speaker. "Coming up on two-minutes." "Chamber pressures are beginning to drop as expected, flight." "Copy that." "Standing by for core vehicle ignition." "Acknowledged." Watching through his binoculars, Rob faintly saw a puff form in the smoke column, as the core vehicle ignited its engines. Rob did the countdown in his head as he continued to listen. "Core vehicle has ignited." "T-minus ten seconds to SRB sep." "Standing by for SRB separation." As the solids burned out, the separation motors fired. Both solid boosters were jettisoned, the separation motors imparting a spin on them. Shooting dying flames and sparks from the depleted fuel, the solid motors twirled end over end. The core vehicle continued on, its dual chamber engine having a bluish-white glow to it. "Flight there was a good startup signature on the core. Looks like we're well on our way." "Two minutes, thirty-five seconds, everything continues to look good." "We're now in core solo mode for the next six and a half minutes." "Solid jettison looked normal, flight." "Two minutes, forty-seconds, onboard guidance is converging as programmed, Zeta is now maneuvering for its precise window into space for main engine cutoff." "Payload fairing jettison." Rob put his binoculars down and breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to smile at his grandma. "Wow!" she remarked as she gave Rob a hug. "That was amazing!" "I know, right? Rocket launches never get old, Grandma." Rob remarked as he gave her a hug. "I can breathe again." "Don't turn blue on me, Rob!" Nancy laughed excitedly. "Wow, what a sight and sound!" "I got some great pics!" Alvin grinned big. "Good." Rob smiled. "I think we're good to depart here. That's about all we can see." Rob grabbed the speaker and picked it up to switch it off. He heard the last radio transmission as he hit the power button. "The steering is very light on the core as we're pretty much out of the atmosphere now." Taking the elevator back down to the ground, Rob helped his grandma off as they met back up with Felix and Tony who watched and recorded video for Rob from the tank farm. As everyone talked excitedly on their way back to the company van, Rob was quiet in a moment of thought. So far everything looked good as Barevsat began its long journey to geostationary orbit, but there was a slight nagging doubt in the back of Rob's mind. The launch was perfect. Too perfect. And Rob always knew that when things start off perfectly, they never end perfectly. ------------------------------------- Just under three hours back to Ohio, "Photon" carried Rob's entourage back home. The DC-8 smoothly cruised at 36,000 feet, heading north after watching a successful rocket launch. Rob departed Opa Locka knowing that Barevsat was now in its intermediate transfer orbit, following the first stage burn of the Orbit Transfer Stage. It would be seven hours before the second stage of the OTS would fire to circularize the orbit into GSO. In the editing room, Rob sat behind the controls of an ancient Ampex ACE micro system. Powering it up, Rob leaned over to watch Maverick fiddle around with spooling up the reel of Type C videotape into a Hitachi HR-100 bolted down to the table. "That should do the trick!" Maverick called as he took a seat beside Rob to edit their promo. Shuffling the tape back using the editor's toggle joystick, Rob leaned back and watched the footage play back on the CRT. With the marshland and Esker's green polo, green was the predominant color. With the awful lighting angles, the greens looked slightly dull and murky, and the sky was clipped pretty bad; Zeta in the background was nearly lost in the haze. Rob remarked about the CTS circuit saving the sky from blooming by increasing beam current to stabilize it. But the sound came in crisp and Sam did a great job aiming the microphone off camera. "I miss doing this." Rob remarked as he reached down to grab Maverick a fresh reel of Barev 525. "I really do. The days lugging a camera around and creating something. Not endless paperwork and shit like that." "A lot of fun memories when we were doing this full time." Maverick chuckled as he spooled up the blank tape. "...A lot of headaches too." "Yeah about that." Rob joked with a cynical laugh. Editing the promo was pretty simple to Rob; a simple fade in, add the graphic to show Esker's full name and position, and a fade out to black. The tapes were then rewound, labeled, and stowed away for the rest of the flight back to Columbus. Rob powered off the editing console and leaned back in his chair. "Sometimes I have this feeling hit me- like this surreal feeling that all of this is actually happening." "I know right?" Maverick remarked as he sat back down and grabbed a water bottle from his backpack. "One day we were stupid teenagers with just a goal of making videos and getting paid for it, and now we run our business that's as huge as they come in corporate America!" "And now we have our first satellite on its way to geostationary orbit." "We're gonna net billions in the telecom industry." Rob shook his head hesitantly. "I watched that launch and it felt too perfect. Nothing ever starts off without a hitch." "Oh don't worry about it." The husky motioned confidently. "We have brilliant minds who reviewed the idea and built the thing, so what could possibly go wrong?" Rob raised a brow and leaned forward sarcastically. Maverick chuckled. "Like it's great to see what we've branched out into, and all the money that's flowing into Barev, but I do miss the days when we'd spend all day with our cameras, shooting commercials, PSA's, city stuff, editing it into the late hour, and turning it into the stations for broadcast. A simpler time." "Less adult daycare." "That too." "Unfortunately life dictates that you must press forward, or you get left behind. But I miss those days too." Rob mused. Finishing up his chat with Maverick, Rob left the editing room to go check on everyone. Joey was found in the forward lounge taking a nap on the couch. He was slouched over slightly with his arms crossed, his blanket having fallen to the floor. Rob picked it up and covered his husband back up before going to find the others. Felix and Tony were both asleep in the passenger cabin compartment, and Rob found his grandmother taking a nap on the bed in his office in the tail. With Alvin in the cockpit with Ivo and Jordan, Rob found Sam alone in the conference room. The young wolf sat at the conference table calmly writing on his yellow legal pad. Rob stepped in as he watched Sam sharpen his pencil with a little hand sharpener. "How's it going, Sam? Everything okay?" "Everything's fine!" the teenage wolf exclaimed with a confident smile. "Just writing on a story of mine." "Oh yeah?" Rob responded. "If you don't mind, what are you writing about?" "Oh this is something I started at school, but it was too ambitious for writing class so I had to do something else for the assignment. But this story was inspired by the book Hatchet- about someone surviving a plane crash in the Adirondacks, but set in fall and winter. I was inspired to write it after going on a hike once through this really scenic state park." "Very nice." Rob smiled. "I like writing everything down on a yellow legal pad and a Dixon pencil, just like my favorite author, Roald Dahl." Sam remarked. "Well you can never go wrong with a Ticonderoga, though I remember when they were made right here. That's all I used in school were Ticonderogas, heh, maybe a Black Warrior here or there." Rob recalled . "I find writing fun. It kind of de-stresses me with everything going on with my aunt." Rob sat down opposite of Sam and leaned an arm on the table. "Sam, what do you dream of doing in the future? Like what's your goals?" "Rob, I'm trying to make it to Friday." Sam teased with a laugh. Even Rob had to laugh at the sarcasm. "What do I want to do? Well I mean, I like writing. I like photography, so who knows? Maybe something in journalism? Maybe be a writer?" "Well here's my advice for you, Sam. Do what you love and do what your heart tells you. Lots of people can tell you what to do, but if you truly want to find a career and not a job? Do what your heart tells you." "My uncle thinks I should 'get real' about being a writer, and should focus on just getting a job in like construction like him." Rob rolled his eyes. "A lot of people choose the path of least resistance. Sometimes finding what you love is hard, or takes a long time, but it works out. I also suggest learning a trade as a fallback. There's this talk about you need a college degree to make money, blah, blah, boomer shit. Not true at all. There's nothing wrong with a college education, but having a diploma means nothing if you have no experience." "So basically not what you know, but who you know?" "Exactly!" Rob pointed out. "See where your passion takes you, and learn a trade as a fallback." Sam nodded his head slowly. "I like that advice, Rob. Okay, now I am curious. What do you dream of doing now? Since you have this big business, certainly you have goals to fulfill still?" Rob thought about it for a second. "To be honest? I'd like to go back to shooting videos again. Up to about 2019 I was regularly in the studio assisting, but after that point with the business expanding, I got stuck in the office." "Why not make a day or two in the week and just work on videos or something?" Sam suggested. "I mean, you have all these little underlings in the factories and offices. Let them handle some of the workload and give yourself a break! Or just do a Ferris Bueller!" "It's a little hard to play hooky when you're the president of your own company!" Rob laughed. "But I'll think about your idea some more, Sam. Thanks." "Anytime~" Sam smiled as Rob departed the conference room. --------------------------------- "Alright, birdies! Feeding time!" Rob exclaimed over the happy chirps from his two fledglings. Opening the door to their large cage on the porch, Rob held his paw out and watched as Rocky climbed on first. He gently picked him up and placed him on the patio table, followed by Sparkle. Both robins had grown considerably, and were getting their flight feathers. Rob grabbed the bottle of food and using tweezers plucked some out to feed them. It was a soft, reddish brown colored food, packed with nutrients that the robins enjoyed eating. Rob gently placed the bits of food into their beaks and watched them happily eat it up. It made Rob smile as heard their happy chirps. He happily gave them more as he talked sweetly to his feathered little friends. "One day you'll both grow up to be big, strong robins." Rob complimented. "Make your mother bird proud~" After feeding them and cleaning up their cage, Rob took a moment to pet them and show them how to fly. To get them prepared, Rob picked them up off the table by a few inches and let them go. They flapped their wings as they fell back to the table. "See? That's how you birdies fly. You flap your wings through the air." Rob explained. He did it again with Rocky, only a little bit higher. Rocky fluttered back to the table flapping his wings. "See, there you go." Smiled Rob as he did it to Sparkle, who did the same thing. "Good job!" Rob's cell phone rang. He reached over to grab it, finding Esker calling him. Rob checked the time and figured that Barevsat was now in geostationary orbit after the circularizing burn of the OTS' second stage. "Yeah, Esker, speak to me!" Rob greeted. "Hey Rob, I want to report to you on an issue we've encountered on Barevsat." Came Esker's voice. It sounded kind of drab, down. "Yeah, what's going on. What's up?" Rob asked calmly. "Let me start with the good news." Esker started off. "The spacecraft is pretty much where it needs to be in geostationary orbit, and we just have to maneuver it into its exact place over the Atlantic. The camera scan platform and magnetometer, plus counterweight for the despun antenna platform all deployed and locked into place, and the solar array extension deployed and locked into place. The spacecraft is at thirty revolutions per minute as spec." "Okay, what's the problem?" Rob asked. "We believe there is a major antenna malfunction for the beam spot antennas, Rob. The number two antenna deployed fine, the helical antenna and spacecraft engineering telemetry antenna platform deployed fine, but the number one antenna jammed, and based on telemetry light output from one sun sensor, the number one antenna is partially deployed and jammed." "I had a feeling that something like this would happen." "Well I wouldn't worry too much yet, as the engineers are working to see if we can get the joint to unstick through thermal annealing." "Keep me posted, Esker." "Will do, Rob. Thank you." "Thanks. Bye-bye." Rob ended the call and sat the phone back down on the table. He turned his attention back to his fledglings, who quietly sat looking at Rob curiously. "Sometimes birdies, your gut instinct is right." ------------------------------ Pulling off Dayton Road, Rob arrived to visit Marcus at the studio. He rolled his Tahoe into the first parking spot he saw, next to Borr's blue Yukon SUV. Rob hopped out wearing his usual khaki pants and a dark green polo shirt. He ran a paw through his wavy hair as he stepped inside. Placing some paperwork in the photocopier tray, Marcus pressed a couple buttons and began scanning paperwork over to WNBB-TV in Chicago. As he watched the papers go through the scanner, he heard the door open behind him. The Nordic husky turned around to see Rob stepping inside with an orange folder in his grip. "Oh, morning!" Marcus greeted. "I got that paperwork signed for the purchase order." Rob said as he sat the folder down on his desk. "Oh thank you so much for doing that. I was swamped yesterday!" "It's fine~" Rob smiled as he took a seat opposite of his nephew's desk. "How's Barevsat?" "Oh, I rather not talk about that." Rob chuckled. "I do want to talk to you about the Ad Council's projects we've been working on. Uhh, what's all going on with that? What are the topic matters they want shot?" "Oh, I'm not sure. You'll have to ask Corey and Ryan, as they're the go-to's for that big ass project." Marcus replied. "That bad, huh?" Rob closed his eyes and shook his head. "...There's some issues that are being worked out." "Ah." Marcus nodded. He left it at that. "Just curious to your interest in the Ad Council projects?" "Oh, I'd like to take a whack at getting back into video production." "Oh!" Marcus exclaimed with a smile. "Just can't escape the urge, huh?" "Well it's better than paperwork, texts, and phone calls all day!" Rob exclaimed with a laugh. "This boss man stuff isn't always fun." "I mean, it could be worse, it could be the factory blowing up with you inside." "...Too soon." "Yeahhhh." After chatting with Marcus a bit more, Rob made a quick walk around the facility, which took him through the office and into the control rooms. Two of the three studios were in the midst of production as Rob saw his 4K cameras happily recording a commercial for an expensive cologne. Rob stood and watched the monitor with his arms folded; there was a tight shot on a cut crystal bottle filled with an amber colored cologne; the bright spotlights reflected with fourteen point starbursts from the tightly cranked down shot. It was so clean, so perfect. Rob found the picture boring. Turning around to depart, he gave Borr's shoulder a friendly squeeze as he departed for the analog control room. Stepping into the analog control room, Rob was greeted by the sights and sounds of a music video being shot by the "Big Blues". On the CRT's, Rob watched in real time as a high energy music video was cut together. Behind him the Sony BVH-3000 recorded the edited shots to a reel of Barev 525. Rob watched the music video on the output monitor; it was some Ohio band he had no idea of. They played a fast, energetic song that reminded Rob of some eighties tune sped up even more. A tight close up of the singer showed a fawn colored Dober who reminded him of Felix, but with black dreadlocks flipping around. In the shot was a bright red spotlight that had its intense light spread out as a four point starburst from a star filter. "Two, zoom out." Called Corey from the editing console. "Three, standby." Rob watched the shot rapidly zoom out; the highlight overload comet-tailed with a bright crimson flare that left a purplish-red streak across the shot. The TK-47's 30mm tubes gave a warm, saturated colorimetry that Rob loved. Yeah, it was standard definition, but tubes had a character solid state lacked. The wolf-hybrid stood there watching until the song ended, and a "cut" was announced for a break. "Hey, what are you doing here, Rob?" asked Corey Wilhelm, an Arctic wolf with raven black hair tied back into a ponytail. "Oh coming here to get some work!" he laughed. "I was told to come to you for the Ad Council stuff." "Oh! You're wanting to be a glutton for punishment for this shit?" "Heh, I guess. I already am." Rob joked. Rob climbed back into his Tahoe with an orange one inch binder that had several Ad Council proposals for PSA commercials. Departing the studio, Rob returned back to the HQ briefly to grab some mail from his main office, converse with his secretary and comptroller, and proceeded to go back home. Arriving back to the house, Rob rolled under the house overhang to park. As he pulled in, he spotted his grandma sitting in the shade under the big maple tree with Velma and a couple medical assistants from his PMC. Nancy sat at the picnic table pouring a pitcher of lemonade for Velma as they all shared a laugh from something Velma said. Rob couldn't help but have a reserved smile as he parked. Velma's health at Sharon Brooke had stabilized and in a way slightly improved. Rob stepped into the house to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and went out on the porch to check on his "lil' friends". The two fledglings gave Rob a chirp in their big cage filled with straw. Rob promised them dinner in a few hours and more time to practice learning to fly before taking his binder back to his office. Walking to his office, Rob took notice of Sam and Alvin swimming in the pool with the company of Greenie. Sam's happiness brought a smile to Rob's face as he waved to them and carried on his way to his little cottage on the other side of the pond to pick up where he left off on his work. At one o'clock, Rob had his conference call with Satcorp and Precision. All the engineers were in the conference call with Rob and Mark Prince, as they all worked to overcome the antenna malfunction on Barevsat. Rob listened to the engineers talk as he opened the binder to look at the Ad Council's PSA's and commercial concepts they wanted shot on analog as part of a retro themed package of ads. Rob glanced through the summaries of what the Council wanted; there was stuff for the national anti-smoking campaign, gun violence and safety, a PSA concept about success and failure, drug abuse prevention, and another exercise promotion. "Interesting" was Rob's thought as he saw the other proposals. As they got less interesting, he picked back up to what the engineer's were saying on the conference call. "Looking at the engineering model in the lab, there's a spring-loaded elbow joint at the antenna mast structure that is held in place by a pin that's supposed to release when sufficient pressure is applied to it from the deployment motors. I'm suspecting that the satellite was subjected to a very high vibration environment during the ITO injection burn, and the pin got deformed, or shifted out of its groove and has jammed the antenna mast in a partially open configuration." Mark chimed in at this point. "The Orbit Transfer Stage was flown one time before, and the accelerometers show a pretty hefty vibration, especially in the first burn phase, as that's the larger solid motor. The, uhh, data is a bit skewed because OTS had a nozzle issue that developed during the injection burn that was knocking it slightly off course, requiring the RCS to compensate to stay on target. This was a risk factor in switching from the cryogenic upper stage to the OTS, but it was within the acceptable risk margin for the mission time table. On this flight, the OTS performed flawlessly through the first burn, ITO coast, and circularizing second burn. But we are going to look into the vibration matter to see if we can suppress it more for future payloads." "Esker, why not just run the deployment motors in reverse for the number one antenna?" "Well, that would be great, if the antenna and its motors was designed for that!" Esker said with a cynical chuckle. "The motors are designed to run for up to seven minutes without overheating, and the antenna mast is intended to basically unfold one way only as there wasn't a contingency plan for this, as the idea of the spring loaded bends in the unfurling process added an acceptable fail safe margin. We pulsed both motors at one point eighty-three hertz and increased torque slightly, and there was a slight movement of the antenna, but there was still no deployment." "I think what we did was we bent the pin even further so it's not gonna budge!" Rob shook his head. "So in other words, the antenna is fucked." Takiyama's voice came through. "We'll continue to try and free the stuck antenna mast, but I think in all honesty that this prototype is not going to allow Barevsat to reach initial operational capacity." "No." Rob shrugged. "The European partners are going to be pissed, especially Ukraine." "I know." Takiyama admitted. "We shall double our efforts to get Barevsat's two and three ready for launch." "Well let's make sure the damn thing is ready for it!" Rob laughed. "Jesus Christ, what a start..." "Can't win 'em all, Rob." Mark quipped. "But this happens even today with satellites." "A lot can go wrong, and go wrong fast!" Esker exclaimed. "The one good thing is that the scientific instruments are working." "Well that's good at least." "In fact, I'm sending you the first global image of Earth from Barevsat's camera. I think you'll be mighty happy of it." "Sounds good to me." Rob heard the sound of a new email in his inbox. Rob rolled himself over to his workstation and woke it up from its slumber to find an e-mail from Esker. He clicked on it to be presented with the first global portrait of the Earth, taken by Barevsat's wide angle camera. Rob sat back in his chair and was amazed at how beautiful it looked. It reminded Rob of the famous "Blue Marble" image of Earth from the last Apollo mission. Earth was a deep blue, the continents a muddled green and brown mix, hidden in places by bright white clouds. Barevsat was situated right over the Atlantic, so North America resided to the left, and western Europe and the northern part of Africa and the middle east, on the right. He was especially relieved that the Chalnicons rendered the color accurately, as they were poor tubes for broadcasting. Their cadmium selenide trioxide phosphors gave the tube a wide spectral response, plus a very high tolerance to extreme radiation, but horribly bad lag for broadcasting. Another email came in with a high resolution photograph of the Moon, taken from a combined set of four images from the narrow angle camera. Rob was just blown away. He couldn't help but smile as he quickly sent both images to his laser printer. "Esker, these are fantastic. You've made my day!" "That's your baby up there, Rob. It just has some growing pains." "We'll get through it." Rob assured them. "Somehow." --------------------------------- A light fog hugged the mist covered ground as Rob stepped outside onto his little porch. With his little cup of food for the robins, it would be the last time Rob would feed them, as today would be the day they would be released into the wild. Rob felt bittersweet about it. Rocky and Sparkle were pretty much fully grown, with all their gray flight feathers. Both were now tagged; Rocky had a little blue bracelet on his left leg, and Sparkle had an orange bracelet for identification. They happily ate their breakfast from Rob's paw and gave him a happy chirp as Rob picked Rocky up first. "I want you know how much I enjoyed raising you, Rocky. Rob loves you lots, and I hope you live long and prosper out there. It's a mean world. I hope to see you again." Rob remarked as he held him to the ledge. Rob stood and held his paws open for Rocky. "Fly my friend!" Rocky looked at Rob for a moment before turning to leap. He spread his wings and flew out towards the pond. A little shaky on the takeoff, Rocky flapped his wings, gained some air and then proceeded to glide to a spot by the dock on the pond. Rob watched him sit there for a few seconds, before taking off and flying towards the woods. Rob did the same for Sparkle, saying his goodbye and well wishes for her. Rob released her, and watched as she took off and flew away towards the guest house. Rob leaned against the porch wall and smiled, watching them fly. His mission was complete. But his smile slowed faded to a sad frown, realizing that he'd probably never see them again. Rob looked down at their cage and felt empty inside. He quietly picked up his now empty can of food and turned to head back inside. He had a busy day ahead with Sam. Getting cleaned up, Rob got ready for the day while waiting for Sam. In the living room, Rob knelt down on the floor and got his old camera suitcase ready. It was a gray plastic and metal rolling suitcase, still marked with the faded stickers of WNCS-TV, Newark City Schools. Rob had freshly installed new foam inside it, with the appropriate cutouts to fit spare batteries, cables, videotapes. Rob packed a couple of batteries, his fancy shotgun microphone enclosed in a yellow foam windshield, a couple blank Beta SP takes of Barev 645, and finally his old Betacam. Picking up off the couch beside him was his old HL-95B, from 1985. Rob took a moment to gaze at the old broadcasting workhorse from his youth. Rob cut his teeth on that camera, shooting everything from school assignments to commercials for local businesses. The old Betacam was only partially complete; instead of its original BVV-1 tape deck, the camera had attached to its VTR interface adapter a BVV-5. Instead of oxide Beta cassettes, the -5 used the metal formulation tapes for Beta SP. The original deck had seized up and was in the process of being overhauled in Ann Arbor. This would be the first time Rob used his old HL-95 in fifteen years. Twenty-one years prior, Rob began to slowly phase out the old HL-95 for an ironically older HL-79A as it got harder and harder to find working High Stability tubes. Rob was never fully sold on the benefits of the "High Stability" design; unlike conventional all-magnetic Plumbicons, HS tubes were a mixed-field design, using electrostatic focusing of the target. The envelope was an odd truncated design made of glass and metal that was more impervious to registration drift, while using a low capacity target and a Diode-Gun to minimize comet-tailing. Rob thought the HS tubes and their shrunken down pin base were more fragile, and the tubes themselves had worse highlight memory than the all-magnetic Diode-Gun Plumbicons that were in his cameras like the HL-791. The last time Rob had used the HL-95 was in the spring of 2009, when his HL-79A was having a viewfinder issue. He resurrected it for his nephew to use in 2017, but the tubes by then were suffering from cathode exhaustion, and with no more HS tubes to replace them, the camera went on display on his bookshelf for many years. But now she was working again, with brand new tubes, and Rob felt as though an old friend was back. An old friend with a lot of difficult memories. Rob placed it in the foam case and closed it shut. As he locked the side latches, Sam stepped inside, clutching his camera bag that held his Nikon F3, which once belonged to Rob. Picking it up and adjusting the carrying handle, Rob and Sam walked to the side door to step under the overhang to hop into his Tahoe to depart to shoot some commercials. Sam sat in the front seat fiddling around with his F3, which was equipped with a variable zoom lens. "So the robins flew away?" "Yep." Rob nodded. "They were ready to go and they took off to begin their lives." "At least two of them made it." "Indeed." "Well I hope we can see them again! Maybe they'll stay close." "Eh, who knows. I wish those birdies the best." Rob remarked. "It's gonna be cool to be in a commercial." Sam chuckled. "I wanna show my friends this when I get back home at the end of summer!" "I'll gladly give you a copy." Rob smiled. "The commercial you're in just a short thirty second spot for Vistachrome, regarding its versatility." "It is a great film." "Great selling too. It's one of the top films. It's rare to hear a name that's not Kodak or Fuji in general photographic films now that people are embracing film again. It gives you the look and feel of Kodachrome in the C-41 process." "It's really good in fall." Sam remarked. "I shot three rolls while out on a hike and it looked fantastic with all the reds, oranges, and yellows in the forest." "I notice it has a hint of that Velvia super saturation, especially in the bright reds, but it maintains fur tones well without it being gaudy or unnatural." Rob remarked. "Makes good cine film too for my Arriflex." "Ah~" "I got a general idea in my head of what I want, and I'll wing it. Heh, you'll get to see how we used to do stuff many moons ago. That camera I'll be using was the same camera I had back in high school." "Oh really!" Sam remarked, his interest perked. "Yeah, it's an HL-95B. The school's broadcasting program bought ten of them in 1985 with a grant my great-grandfather gave them. They replaced the IVC-7000P's the school district had. I got three in the summer of 1998, and got them working again with Charles' help. They served me well for a long time. And this is the first time I've used camera one since early 2009ish. So we'll see how these new High Stability tubes work." "That's as old as my Uncle Jake!" "Heh, yeah, old, like me." Rob laughed. "It's probably in better shape than me!" ---------------------------------- "Roll VTR." Marcus called. Huddled around the TV, Rob and Sam sat with Marcus and Borr as they watched the finished commercial Rob had shot with Sam. Sam was excited to see how it looked as the blue title card came up with all the technical information on the tape. The opening shot was a close up of a roll of Vistachrome being loaded into a camera; its film part was chroma keyed out to allow a shot of Sam running through a field of wildflowers to spin in. The shot was bright and vivid, with the warm pastel colors from the lead-oxide tubes. Sam was shown running and take photographs with his Nikon F3. It also showed shots taken around downtown Newark, highlighting the versatility of the film. "Vistachrome, for the beginner learning the art of film, to the expert. For everything, everyday." "With digital photography, great pictures come with post-production. With Vistachrome, you just take it out of the box and your pictures will be perfect." "From your partners at FotoChem, a Barev Division." Rob looked mighty impressed as Marcus reached over to stop and rewind the tape. "What do you think, Sam?" "Wow!" the wolf grinned. "That looks awesome!" "See, Marcus? I still got it." Rob joked. "I'd sure hope so." The husky chuckled. "That looks great. We'll send that over to Andy." "Sounds good." "Now aren't you in the evening going to shoot that anti-smoking ad with your Grandma and Aunt?" Marcus asked Rob, who nodded yes. "Yeah, Velma is coming over to visit in the late afternoon, so me, Mav, Alvin, and Sam are gonna shoot that." "I'm available if you want an extra hand to run the VTR or something." "Fine with me. The more the merrier~" "I'll be there." Before leaving, Rob took Sam over to the studio, to let him see the big studio cameras. Going into Studio 3A, Rob flipped on the overhead main lights to show the dormant studio, which was dressed for their long running educational program, "Thinkabout". 3A was the studio equipped with their "new" Philips LDK-6A's, the smart khaki and tan studio cameras. Rob grabbed an easel and the calibration chart, which he sat up in front of the first camera he grabbed, camera two. Taking the lens cap off, Rob glanced up at the control room window as Borr powered up camera two. Its indicator lights on the back panel began to glow, and Rob watched on the viewfinder as it initially turned to white, followed by a sort-of wipe effect of different shades of gray as the tubes came online. He reached over to turn on a small TV that was strapped to a cart, which fed a live image from camera two. Grabbing the handles on the pedestal, Rob lined up the camera to the calibration chart, and watched as Borr commanded the auto-align. The calibration chart, an abstract black and white "starburst" pattern was used by the computer to cancel out registration errors and any geometric distortions by the yokes. Sam watched intensely. "Alright Sam, you said you wanted to use a studio camera, so here's your chance." Rob announced. "Oh cool." Sam smiled. He took the controls just like Rob and did a slow pan around the studio. "Wow." "This is one of our, heh, 'new', cameras. This is an LDK-6 by Philips, this particular one built in 1984." "Oh wow, that's old. But it looks well cared for~" Sam remarked. "How do I focus with the zoom?" Rob patted the focusing knob, and showed Sam how to work it by turning it backwards to focus in on a close up object, and then forwards, to focus towards the background. Sam took note of that and slowly zoomed in one of the studio cameras, as it grew unfocused, he turned the handle backwards to bring it back into sharp focus. "See? Very good." Rob smiled. "At the rate you're going, you'll be running one of these in no time, heh." Sam laughed and zoomed out, watching as the bright overhead lights left their colorful comet-tails in the shot. From the television on the cart, the camera produced comet-tails that had the characteristic red flare, but left a faint white trail that quickly faded away. "So these use tubes to generate a picture?" Sam asked. "Yes." Rob nodded. "These LDK-6's in the studio employ the one-inch Diode-Gun Plumbicon. The ones in my studio at home use ACT tubes, which are a tetrode gun for the beam flood discharging. On a vidicon type tube like these, the light that is focused by the lens falls upon an imaging target made of an electrically conducting glass that is coated with a phosphor, which in the case of the Plumbicon tube, is lead-oxide doped with a bit of sulfur. That target converts the light intensity into a charge pattern that is read out by the cathode ray. That charge intensity is then modulated into a video signal for playback, which is what you see here. So comet-tails are basically a temporary overload that the beam can't discharge in the nominal scanning period of one frame, which is one-thirtieth of a second here roughly." "Kind of like our eyes when we see something really bright flash and you get that momentary after image?" "Yes!" Rob exclaimed. "Our vision is a nearly perfect analog." Sam zoomed in fast past a bright spotlight and watched it leave a momentary trail across the picture. "So your cameras have a different tube you said?" "Yeah, mine use the, ugh, Anti-Comet-Tail Gun, or A-C-T. These utilize a Diode-Gun type electron gun. Diode-Guns are essentially a triode gun with only two active electrodes, and it provides a finer beam spot to increase resolution, and extra beam reserve to stabilize highlights. On these cameras, there's a dynamic beam circuit that monitors the white channel. When it detects an overload, it increases beam current to stabilize highlights, which improves the dynamic range slightly. On A-C-T, you have an extra electrode to flood discharge during the beam fly back. You have a normal beam readout during the raster scan, and during fly back, the beam current is increased and unfocused to stabilize bright overload spots, which stabilizes them during the normal beam readout." "Oh wow." "The only problem with ACT is that they're a fixed beam, you have to be careful setting up the different beam currents, and the high beam current use significantly eats into the gun life. Which is why our tubes are thorium doped to extend cathode life." "Isn't that toxic?" Sam grimaced. Rob laughed. "You're not eating it. And no more toxic than lead-oxide!" "Well I guess you have a point there." "Here, I'll show you a few more tricks with this camera, and you can help us with our evening shoot." "Oh?" Sam grinned. "You got a lot of potential, kid. Lemme show you some more tricks in using a studio camera." "Okay!" Rob laughed and took the controls. "Running one of these is like riding a bike, you never forget about it." ------------------------------------ The evening sun slowly set westward, casting longer shadows across the landscape. With Rob's home providing a picturesque backdrop for his anti-smoking commercial, Rob labored with Marcus and Maverick in getting everything set up for the shoot. Sam walked, unreeling a large reel of blue sheathed triax cable that ran from the studio several hundred feet away. The young wolf walked at a quick pace while ensuring that the cable didn't tangle up as he followed the other cables. Rob adjusted one of his bright floodlights, placed to help compensate for the backlighting from the western sky. At the picnic table sat Nancy and Velma, who were being served sweet tea by Joey. The two elderly ladies talked about what they were going to say, with Velma being a bit nervous and regretting how she looked. Nancy gave her some words of encouragement that she was helping people with her message. "Here we go, Rob!" Sam called out as he handed the connector to Rob. "That's a long cable!" "These triax cables can easily run to two miles." Rob chuckled as he plugged it into the side of his LDK-6A. Sam gulped at the idea of running two miles worth of cable. Rob checked the triax connector with a gentle tug of the cable. The shoot brought two of Rob's LDK-6's out of the studio, with handheld shots being done with his HL-95B, which replaced the VTR deck with a TA-95 triax adapter. Maverick fiddled around with Rob's Camera One, as he radioed back to Marcus in the studio to begin powering up the studio cameras over the walkie-talkie. Plugging in his headset into the back of the camera, Rob watched the indicator lights come on camera number two. "Okay, Marcus can you bring me up online. Let's warm 'em up." "Copy that, Rob." Marcus said over the intercom. Adjusting the viewfinder, Rob watched the camera switch on, the tubes beginning to warm up as a picture came online. In crisp monochrome was the calibration chart with its starburst pattern. Marcus began the auto setup with the computer as the tubes were aligned. He repeated the process for camera number one. "So Rob, I get to use one of the studio cameras?" Sam asked with a smile. "What we'll do is you get to do the secondary shots as I call them. For this shoot, I will operate the critical talking camera, and Marcus, through the headset, will ask you to line up a specific shot he'll cut to. So remember how we practiced in the studio?" "Yep!" "I think you'll enjoy this as a starter course." Rob laughed. "This is a pretty straightforward for a production." "If you say so~" "I think we're good to go here." Maverick suggested. "Ladies?" "Grandma? Aunt Velma? Do you feel ready to give this a shot?" "I guess." Velma shrugged. "I'm feeling good about it." Smiled Nancy. "Good." Rob smiled. He grabbed his studio camera and wheeled it on its wheeled tripod to line the shot up in the grass. "Am I good here, Rob?" Sam asked. "Yeah! You're the oblique angle taker." "Cool!" Rob toggled his headset's mic. "We ready to go in the studio, Marcus?" "Everything's ready to go here!" "Alright, well let's try take one." Rob announced. "Oh lord, people are gonna see me babble on camera!" Velma exclaimed sarcastically. Nancy adjusted her shirt collar and smiled and reassured her. "It's gonna be good, Velma. Your message will mean something." "I sure hope so, sis. This is awful." Velma groaned. "I know." Nancy nodded sympathetically. Rob lined his shot up to start and got confirmation that the VTR was rolling. His red tally light began to glow as he zoomed in on Nancy. Rob checked the placement of the shotgun mic mounted on its own tripod opposite of the picnic table, and did the countdown. "Okay! Take one! In five, four, three, two, one, action!" "My name is Nancy Barion, and I'm ninety-two years old. I have never smoked once in my life, and at my most recent visit to my doctor, he said I am in good health for a ninety-two year old woman." "I sure wish I could say the same thing, sis..." Rob panned the camera over to Velma slowly. "My name's Velma Davis, and I'm eighty-nine years old. I recently had a stroke this year. On top of emphysema and congestive heart failure. My doctor told me that these major health problems have come from years of heavy smoking. I started smoking when I was fourteen years old- that was back in 1949, when everybody smoked, and nobody really knew the dangers. I smoked up to fifteen packs of cigarettes a day until I was eighty-seven years old. I quit but the damage was done to my body. I suppose I am lucky to be alive still, as our sister, Wilma, is no longer with us." Sam got the oblique shot of Nancy speaking. "Wilma Davis was our middle sister. She passed away last year at the age of eighty-nine from end-stage COPD from years of chain smoking. Her death was painful; not only for her, but to us sisters. Now it's just the two of us." "My tip to you is to never pick up this terrible habit. Not getting your breath is a terrible feeling." "And cut." Rob called. "Perfect!" "Oh it was?" Nancy smiled. "Yeah! I liked it." Maverick agreed. "Let's do one more just in case?" "Yeah." Rob nodded. ----------------------------------- Warm amber lights glowed in the last light of the day as Rob said goodbye to everyone. The last light of the day took on a faint purplish hue as night descended. All the camera gear was stowed away, and the edited videotape in Marcus' possession as he waved from his truck to depart down the long wooded driveway. Rob turned to walk back inside with his best friend Maverick. The tall husky closed the door behind him. "I thought you might like to go on a memory trip!" Rob chuckled. "I forgot where I put these after moving and found the surviving copies of our high school work." Rob opened a cardboard box that was packed with Betamax cassettes. They were copies of both raw and edited tapes Rob and Maverick had shot in their teenage years on Betacam, and were dubbed over to SuperBeta. They were all that was left playable after a flood in Mav's basement in 2001 destroyed most of the original Betacam tapes from that time period in their lives. Rob turned on his large flatscreen TV and powered up his SuperBeta, a Sony SL-HF1000 editing Beta deck that was concealed in a compartment under the TV stand. He pulled out a gray Betamax cassette and read the label on it. "WNCS-TV PSA for Exercise 12/30/98 EDIT COPY B1S." Rob shoved the tape into the VCR and he heard it spool up. Grabbing the remote, Rob sat in his reclining chair while Maverick sat on the couch. Hitting play on the remote, Rob watched on the big TV his now twenty-six year old PSA play. It was a forty-second spot, depicting a energetic snowball fight with energetic music. Rob had cut it fast with the music, showing a young CJ and Jake throwing snowballs with Vlad, Dmitry, Maverick, and Kalash. "Oh my god, look how young I was!" Maverick exclaimed with a happy grin. "Holy shit I was fourteen then!" "Look how young all of us were." Rob smiled. "Christ, that was twenty-six years ago." "That camera has held up too after all those years." Maverick pointed out. Rob sat and observed the picture quality as they watched the raw footage play back. The most notable thing Rob noticed was that the once sharp picture Betacam gave was now slightly muddied by the generation loss to Betamax. It had more chroma noise, particularly in the reds that dominated the evening shots, and there was some dropout in places. His Ikky captured the warm evening light well, the snowy landscape taking on a slight orange tint. On a shot with a car passing by, its chrome accents and windows reflected sunlight back as a brilliant starburst pattern, which comet-tailed with a bright red flare and purple streak. Rob figured he had set the beam current too low when he had retubed it back then. "I remember when we ran around, with either my Ikky's, or your Sony's, and we'd shoot everything and anything and edit it." Rob reminisced. "Well Christ, you gotta be specific saying that now in 2024!" laughed the husky. "People run around and shoot everything and I don't mean with cameras!" "Sadly." Rob shook his head. "I remember Columbine." "Same here. That hit home. That could have been us with how Newark was setup with that open campus." "Yeah." Rob grimaced. "We were stupid back then. Today's society has gone full retard." "Sadly." Rob rewound the tape and ejected it. Stowing that tape away, he rummaged around the box to pull out a tape from early 2001, which he put into the machine to watch. It was a news segment on the Wildcat News about a new traffic light installed near the high school to reduce traffic congestion in the mornings and afternoons. Maverick was the news reporter for that segment with his BVP-3. "GET THE SHOT LINED UP TITS MCGEE!" Maverick shouted into his microphone, which clipped. "Obviously I see who is behind the camera..." Rob rolled his eyes with a snort. The unsteady shot zoomed rapidly into the new pagoda light that was hung in the middle of the intersection of Brennan and Granville Street. Lined up, the shot was stable, showing a glowing red stop light in the early light of morning. "Let's do take one!" came the voice of Andy Bueller off camera. "Cameras rolling!" Dmitry called. "For years a traffic light was sought at the intersection of Brennan and Granville Street to mitigate morning and afternoon traffic congestion coming to and from Newark High School. In July of 1999 a traffic study was finally undertaken by the city of Newark, who allocated the funds for a traffic light in October of last year. Today marks the first official day of its operation. City and school officials hope that this traffic can curb the high accident rate that has plagued this intersection for-" As the camera zoomed out to Maverick, there was a loud car accident immediately behind him. A silver Oldsmobile slammed into a old Ford pickup truck. There was a dull, crumpled thud, and the sound of a horn going off. Maverick, clutching the microphone, turned to look at the crash and then back at the camera with a bewildered look on his face. "Are you fucking kidding me?" the husky said with a snort. Rob and Maverick watched this and laughed hard at Maverick's reaction on camera. "Some bitch just ploughed her Oldsmobile into that truck and there's a fucking giant red light there." There was a jump cut to a handheld shot of the two vehicles up close, with Newark police cordoning off the road. The bright strobe lights on the cruisers comet-tailed with a neutral white lag in the camera's Saticons. Another jump cut showed Maverick sarcastically interviewing a disgruntled middle aged woman in pajama pants. "Ma'am, there was a red light in your direction." "I didn't see the stop light!" "You didn't see the giant five hundred watt bulb of glowing red suspended in the middle of the intersection?" "What was I supposed to be looking for?" "The giant red glowing light that signals to stop!" Maverick exclaimed into the microphone with a chuckle. The woman wasn't having it, and her disgruntled expression made Rob and Maverick laugh harder. "You are such a dick." Rob teased his best friend. "That's hard hitting journalism right there!" Maverick exclaimed. "I gotta ask the hard questions!" "Oh yeah, because Crackhead Jane there was gonna own up to running a red light." "She did get arrested for blowing a point-seventy-five or something." Maverick laughed. "Journalistic masterpiece!" "Whatever helps you sleep at night." Rob laughed. "Man... watching all this is just a trip down memory lane." "So whacha think about getting your first Ikky running again?" Maverick asked curiously as he took a sip of water from his glass. "Eh..." Rob shrugged. "It's nice to have an old friend back, and it runs and shoots as good as I remember back then, but it's also got a lot of sadness to it. It brings back a lot of bad memories..." "I understand..." "So I don't know. I'd like to move on from those bad days." "Think of how far you've come, Rob." "I've come crawling away quite a few times. Just pick myself up and keep going." "Exactly!" Maverick exclaimed. "I never imagined how I'd go through the level of shit you went through until me and Amy got divorced, and then Robby got molested... and then my heart attack... and me and Amy getting back together and her dying... It makes you have a whole different perspective of life. That my entire world view got shattered and glued back together?" "Well some people live their life through blissful ignorance, or have everything go their way, and when things go bad, then they freak out." "Dmitry... I mean~" Maverick teased with a grin. "Well Rob, it's getting late and I best get back home to Robby." "Alright, well it was great to have you over." "It was great to shoot video with you again Rob!" "We'll do it again." Rob smiled. Maverick gave Rob a hug and departed through the side door to his truck. Rob watched from the tinted window as Maverick turned around and went home. Rob walked over to grab the ejected tape and stow it back into the box. ----------------------------------------- "6/22/24 Waiting for the dishwasher to finish. All in all a good day, but it started off bittersweet. Today's the day I let my little robin friends free into the wild. Rocky and Sparkle flew beautifully off into the woods to begin their lives. I was so happy to see them fly, but a sad emptiness hit me. I had made them such a routine in my life, checking and feeding them, and keeping them company, that now I have nothing. I'll probably never see them again. So I hope they live long and prosper. Another bitter moment came from an evening phone call with Esker/Takiyama; The conclusion with the engineers is that Barevsat's number one antenna is gone. During another attempt at thermal annealing in hopes to pop that stuck pin out, both antenna drive motors seized up. They had to have hammered the deployment motors at least several thousand times to pulse them in hopes of shaking that pin out. So that's that, and the Europeans are upset. Esker talked to M.P, and he's aiming to get a Heavy Zeta ready, and Takiyama is looking to accelerate Barevsat 2 and 3 to launch in the fall. The telecom is fucked but the Earth science mission has been making scientists happy. The scan platform is working well. Today was otherwise great; just like old times with Mav. Today I shot a commercial with Sam for FotoChem. Thirty-second spot about Vistachrome, and then later, Grandma and Aunt Velma were in a PSA about smoking. Had the crew over and we used my LDK-6A's outside. It was a fantastic shot. Sam did wonders on one studio camera for the oblique angles. He'll do good if he wants to make this a career. After everyone left, Maverick stayed over, and we watched some videos that are on Betamax. I found my box of dubs from the stuff we made in high school. It was a trip down memory lane. We were so young looking back then. Now look my old ugly ass self. Look what I did to myself. I had the perfect network voice and those fucknuts took it away from me slashing my throat. I'm tired. I'm gonna head to bed early tonight." Rob clicked his pen closed and closed his diary as he heard the buzzer go off on his dishwasher. Getting up from the small table in the kitchen, Rob opened it up and put the dishes away for Joey, who was already in bed watching TV. He neatly stacked the dishes into the cupboard and closed everything up. He grabbed his pen and diary and walked back to set it on the desk in his library nook. Glancing at his shelf, which now held his Betamax collection of high school works, Rob felt compelled to watch one more video. He scanned his selection and picked a tape from September 1999. "Wildcat News, Segment on White's Field, WNCS-TV. 9/11/99 D.A.T" was written on the label in Maverick's handwriting. Rob loaded the gray plastic Betamax into his SuperBeta and sat back to turn the TV on. The shot was taken from the announcer's box, a great high angle shot of the football field taken from Mav's BVP-3. He zoomed out slowly to get Rob in the shot. "For fifty-nine years, White's Field has been the home of our one and only Newark Wildcats. Many great victories and bitter defeats to the cheers and groans of family and friends, have echoed at this football field. But like many things, time has taken its toll. The aging infrastructure of White's Field has posed several challenges for Newark City Schools that have only gotten harder as 1940's era lighting and electronics wear out. Today, the superintendent has announced that through a generous grant provided by the Alford family foundation, that White's Field will be soon receiving a critical makeover for the new millennium. Early plans is for construction to be underway in 2000 for an official reopening in the spring of 2001. For the Wildcat News, I'm Rob Barion, reporting." Rob sat on the couch and watched the raw b-roll play with a blank expression on his face. The person that was on the screen, his past self at seventeen, was someone he no longer recognized in himself. He remembered standing there talking to the camera, but that person was gone forever. He was so youthful looking, and now his face was badly aged and scarred. The happy smile on his face was replaced by a dour glare and facial paralysis, which he hid behind that scowl. The network voice he once perfected was impossible for him to do now with damaged vocal cords from his throat getting slashed in his gay bashing. About the only thing that looked the same was his hair, the thick wavy locks of brown. But that took years to grow back properly. As the tape came to an end, Rob just sat there with an introspective, if not slightly regretful look on his face. He quietly got up, knelt down and hit rewind on his SuperBeta. After the tape rewound to the beginning, he ejected it, stowed it back into its plastic case, and placed it on the shelf. Rob turned the lamp off and returned to his bedroom where Joey sat up in bed watching TV. Rob changed into his pajamas and joined Joey in bed. Without words, Joey pulled Rob into his arms for a long cuddle session. Rob closed his eyes and smiled as he nuzzled Joey's chest and basked in his warm embrace. ---------------------------- A low fog clung to the woods around Rob's home. The morning air was cool and calm as dew sparkled in the early light of the day. Stepping out onto his more private porch, Rob took a deep breath and enjoyed the sound of birds chirping. He carried a cup of coffee and a plate with a pastry on it for a quick breakfast before starting his day. Rob sat down at his small patio table and took a sip of coffee and admired the scenery before starting his itinerary for Sunday. He had hoped to spend the day with Joey, but Joey had to fly down to Florida to assist with a minor landing accident at Opa Locka. Rob heard the sound of a robin's morning call. Glancing down at the ground was the now empty and cleaned out cage that once housed his little robin friends he raised. Rob got up and looked out over the pond area towards the woods and wondered about Rocky and Sparkle. He hoped they were safe. Rob took notice of Greenie bobbing around in the pond. Rob couldn't help but smile and be amused by his little green headed duck. The robin's morning call sounded especially close, and Rob glanced around to see if he could find them. He heard it again, followed by a fluttering sound. The wolf-hybrid turned around to see a robin land in the crab apple tree closest to the porch. It was a plump little male, and it chirped at Rob. Rob took notice of a little blue bracelet attached to his leg. It was Rocky. Rob stood there in surprise to see his robin friend again. Rocky gave Rob another morning song. Slowly walking towards him, Rob was relieved to see that Rocky wasn't afraid of him. "Oh my god, you're back!" Slowly holding out a finger, Rob watched happily as Rocky climbed onto his finger and let Rob hold him in his hand as he stood there smiling. "Mister Rocky. I can't believe you've returned." There was another flutter behind him, and Rob watched in amazement as Sparkle landed in the crab apple tree. The little pink bracelet was a dead giveaway. The two robins happily chirped at Rob. Rob gave Rocky a gentle petting to his head and orange chest. They had made his day with their return. After spending a moment being reunited with his "little friends", Rob got ready for the day. Rob left the house casually dressed in gray shorts and an untucked green polo shirt. His Tahoe rolled out from the overhang and down the long driveway through the woods to the main road. As he departed, he waved to his arriving Grenztruppen who were beginning their perimeter patrol. Rob turned left onto Cedar Run Road to make his way towards downtown Newark. The courthouse square marked roughly the center of Newark. At the roundabout for South Park Place and Third Street, was Xan Radabaugh's camera store and studio. It sat adjacent to the Jasonovich Bakery, which was run by the Serbian family of Rob's ex-boyfriend in college, Jason Jasonovich. Rob drove through the roundabout and parked in the gravel lot by the newly completed parking garage. Rob hopped out, ran a paw through his hair and donned his blue baseball cap. Stepping inside, Rob always took a glance around at all the fancy doodads and electronics for sale in the old building that was once a jewelry store. There was one wall that was nothing but film stock from all the major brands, including an entire rack dedicated to FotoChem. That made Rob smile. "Good morning, how can I help you?" came a young gray wolf with a backwards turned hat behind the counter. "Yeah, I'm looking for my friend, Xan." Rob greeted. "Oh! He's in the darkroom, I can go fetch him." "Thanks." Rob leaned on the counter and fiddled around with an ancient Kodak Instamatic in the dreaded 110 format. Xan soon appeared from the dark room with a happy grin on his face at seeing Rob. Xan Radabaugh was a black wolf who hailed from Belgium. Rob knew him for twenty-three years, and he always had long, straight hair that was once dyed neon green. It was naturally shiny black, with some gray starting at the roots now that Xan was forty-one like Rob. "You're here for the Super-eight, right?" "That I am indeed, Sam's gift." "He's gonna absolutely love it. It's all cleaned up!" Xan exclaimed. Reaching down below the counter, Xan pulled out the original packaging for a 1980 Minolta XL-84 Super-8. He opened it up and showed Rob the compact black camera with its large lens, which Xan noted was one of the sharpest lenses for the 8mm film format. Rob held the camera in his grip, took the lens cap off to examine the cleaned up glass and aimed it around while looking through the viewfinder. "I know a lot about electronic cameras, and the still photography film cameras, but these fellas are tricky." "I had to clean up the exposure meter on it, and replace a couple gears, but she runs great. Me and Sergei took it out and shoot some B-roll around the square with it and it looks fantastic when scanned at high definition." "Fantastic as in poop." Rob laughed sardonically. "It's got a unique charm to it, but it's no sixteen millimeter that's for sure. I love my Arri." "It's like one-ten but in motion." Xan laughed with a chuckle. "But hey, if you have the right camera, one-ten doesn't look too terrible... That lo-fi look is what people love." "People realize you don't need Instagram filters when you can get the real McCoy through a film camera." Rob shrugged. "I still think film has a character that digital can't touch. Yeah, sure, you can get instant, and you can tweak and fuck around with it in Photoshop or Lightroom, but your pictures are already gonna look fantastic when you take the film out of the box!" "In theory." Xan grinned. "You should see some of the disasters we develop." "Oh I know. Bracketing is your friend. Oh, and so is a light meter." "Rookie mistakes." Xan laughed. "Yeah, kind of like how you took my HL-95 out and destroyed those tubes that I had to replace~" Rob said with a sarcastically blank stare on his face. "If there was a day flames could have erupted off the top of your head that would have been the day..." "Oh yeah." "At least you don't have to worry about that with film!" Xan laughed. Rob smiled and shook his head sarcastically. "Okay, what do I owe ya on the Minolta?" "Oh, a hundred bucks." Rob grabbed his wallet to pull out two fifties to hand to him. "How's the Vistachrome business?" "Dude, it's flying off the shelves!" Xan exclaimed. "I had some woman come in a few hours ago and buy over five hundred dollars worth of it in one-thirty-five." "Good." "There's some talk from a few customers if you're ever gonna make one-ten film?" "They'd have to work out the logistics of making the cartridges, and probably tweak the formula some for the small film size and grain, but anything's possible. I'll relay it to the engineers." "Heck, I'd like to dig out my one-ten and play around with it and have some basic Fotochrome or something." "Anything's possible." The bell on the door jingled as Rob turned around to see his ex-boyfriend CJ arrive. The big chocolate wolf wore shorts and a snug tanktop that clung to his beefy frame. His big tattooed up arms gracefully swayed in his happy pace as he walked over to give Xan a kiss. CJ then gave Rob a big hug and kissed his nose. "How's it going, Rob? Ready for lunch?" "It's going, CJ~" ----------------------------------------- On the north-west side of the square was a small winery and restaurant. Rob stepped out onto the terrace with his ex, carrying a plate with a hamburger and fries on it. In another hand he carried a green bottle of sparkling water that dripped condensation off from its cold glass. Rob and CJ sat at a wrought iron table, and Rob poured him and CJ some sparkling water in cups filled with ice. "Jake told me you guys scored big in a Boeing contract." Rob quipped as he swirled his cup and took a sip from it. CJ laughed a bit at Rob's inquiry. "'Big', heh." He chuckled. "We get to build the engine pylon mounts for the KC-46 program next year. So me and Jake are looking at expanding space to make that happen." "Eh, it makes money and gets your foot in the door." "At the rate Boeing is going, we might as well make the damn planes ourselves!" CJ exclaimed. "Not gonna argue with you there. That's what happens when you let bean counters, not engineers, make decisions." "Indeed. What's new with your business empire, Rob?" "Same shit, different day." Rob shrugged. "Dealing with a major investigation regarding a skimming and embezzling operation that was uncovered last month at Baritel." "That your chip plant in Texas?" "Indeed." "I thought you fired everyone involved." "There's an internal investigation, and we're dealing with the Texas state government involved too for the financial crime part. Several people are going to go to jail." "And your cousin?" "You know I had him. I could have sunk the whole world for Cal, but I spared him for Uncle Jack's sake. He gave back the money and I let him have that stupid Lambo. I betcha there's more involved in this." Rob said while rolling his eyes. "But eh, this is what happens when you have to work with other people. People are like money- more money, more problems. More people... more..." CJ chuckled and shook his head. "Idiots I tell you." "Yeah." Rob smiled. "You look much happier." CJ smiled. "You know, other people say the same thing, and I don't know why? Do I look happier to you? Does my body language give something away?" CJ chuckled. "You carry yourself in a much more relaxed state. You don't look as standoffish, and the way you tell me about a serious problem with part of your business, it doesn't have the seething rage like before. You're starting to remind me more of back when we were together." Rob about choked on his mouthful of hamburger. "Let's not get carried away there, CJ." "Okay, maybe not one hundred percent." The wolf grinned. "But a reminder of how things were before everything that happened." "I was watching some footage last night with Maverick that we had shot back then. It was a nice little nostalgia trip." Rob recalled. "But I see myself from back then, so young and youthful, naive, promising, shy, unpopular, and I just no longer recognize that person as me. Now I'm old looking, burned out, out of touch." "Still Rob." Smiled CJ. "Still my best friend after twenty-six years of knowing you. The love we had for each other is still there, it's just transformed into our close friendship." "I know." Rob smiled back. "So much shit has happened in my life, and I don't know how I made it to this point now to be staring down turning forty-two." "Extreme violence." Laughed his ex. Rob shrugged at the quip. Rob took a sip of his drink and smacked his lips together as he sat the glass back down. "Since moving to my new house, my mind feels so much cleaner. I go out for a long walk sometimes and things are so quiet and I love it. I can just think about things and clear my head." "Well that's good! It's better than holding it all in until it comes out in one violent event!" "Well I'm not Timothy McVeigh." "I mean, you did burn down the Sheriff's department back in the spring..." "Them fucks were asking for it. I call it a Citizen's arrest." "I call it being crazy." CJ teased. "So I still have my thorns, fine." Rob chuckled. "But you're making so much progress, and I love to see you look happy once again." CJ smiled. "It's a better mindset for sure." After lunch and a long walk around the courthouse, CJ and Rob returned back to Rob's Tahoe, where they both had parked at. "It was so great to see you, Rob." CJ said as he gave Rob a big hug. Rob put his arms around CJ and hugged him tightly. "You too, big CJ~" As Rob broke away, CJ smiled and gave Rob a kiss on the lips. "Love you, friendo." Rob smiled and blushed a bit. "Love you too, friend." Rob hopped into his SUV and departed, waving at CJ as he waved from his truck. Rob drove back home with his Super-8 camera box sitting on the passenger seat looking and feeling pretty content with himself. --------------------------------- Rob unrolled the last of his gold and silver wrapping paper across the dinner table. He placed the Minolta box in the middle of it, measured one end and cut it with a pair of scissors. Using some clear tape from the dispenser, Rob taped up the ends and wrapped the box up in the shiny gold and silver paper, which had a intricate zigzag design. Rob slapped a red bow on it and a sticker, which he wrote "TO SAM. FROM ROB. Rob picked it up and placed it with the other gifts that sat in the living room by the fire place. Joey had bought him some new clothes, and a couple books. Rob had the Minolta camera, a big pack of Super-8 Fotochrome cine film, a book on learning how to shoot on a film camera, and a light meter. Rob sat the box down and glanced at the stack before going to clean up the table. He stowed the gift wrap in the closet, and carried his scissors and tape dispenser back to his desk in his library nook. Rob took a seat at his desk and just sat there in silence for half a minute. He glanced over at his shelf full of his diaries, got up and grabbed one of the older ones to read. He knew where to look as he cracked it open roughly halfway and flipped through some pages to find an entry from late October 1998. "10/23/98 Me and CJ went out for dinner to bring in the weekend, and he asked me to be his boyfriend! I am on Cloud Nine right now. I can't believe such a beautiful, studly, jock would pick someone like me. A nerdy, unpopular, shy person. He asked me to be his boyfriend and I said yes. Jake is happy for me, but nobody else can know. Oh how mad my parents would be if they knew that I'm gay. They'd go ballistic. But I'm happy nonetheless. I'll be seeing CJ tomorrow. School today was okay. It just sucked that it rained and I forgot my umbrella." Rob flipped through to the last quarter of his diary and stopped on the second to last day of 1998. "12/30/98 The penultimate day of 1998. Oh what a year this has been for me. Today was pretty busy despite being on X-mas break; I got up and went to work to drop off some tapes at the station and pick up some fresh tapes that came in for me. In the late afternoon, I shot the NCS end of the year message from Mr. Schultz. Shot downtown at the school administrative building. Vlad, Mav, helped me with recording this. And I ended the day out in the cold, shooting the health PSA about exercise with everyone doing a snowball fight. I think we all had fun. Now it's close to bedtime. It's almost over. Tomorrow is NYE, and me and CJ plan on being with friends to celebrate. Can you believe it? 1999? We're at the cusp of the millennium! Everyone's freaking out about Y2K, the end of the world. The usual mush. 1998 has been a very consequential year for me. A lot of bad luck this year as I end it living with CJ and his family here. I came out of the closet- not willingly, but basically because the school counselor 'was concerned' and let my parents know. So I got kicked out. Me and Dad had a huge fight. Mom had a mental breakdown it seems- she's always having a mental breakdown. I will never understand my mom. There's these huge voids in her life, maybe one day I'll understand or figure it out. Me and Jake are over it. Fighting Dad was like a big pressure value opening. A lot of pent up feelings came out in that. So yeah, they're not happy, but I'm free to be me at least. And screw my bullies. This year I got myself a job, a cameraman job! At our station, WNCS-TV. I got my driver's license! CJ's Dad gave me the Firebird I got. I'm so happy. I got my HL-95B, a real, true broadcast camera, not those crappy SVHS camcorders in class. I even learned from Charles on how to re-tube these old beasts. Hopefully the Plumbicons last a long time- tubes aren't common anymore, nor are they cheap! So not all was a bust in 1998. CJ thinks I'll be successful one day, after seeing me cut together the PSA. He thinks I'll somehow be in the same league as Jobs, Gates, Wexner. I would like a successful career, but to be rich? Famous. Ha! That'll never happen. My Great-grandfather James lucked out hitting oil, and that's how he got his health. How am I gonna get that kind of luck when I already feel like I am subjected to the trials of Job? Lord willing I don't go insane. May 1999 bring better fortunes. Good night." Rob cynically chuckled at his remarks for 1999 as he closed the book up and put it back to grab another to open up and read. "10/23/99 Today me and CJ celebrate one year together. Oh where has the time flown? Oh how I love this beautiful, sexy jock. Whenever I see him I am filled with happiness. I hold his hand and it I feel like he's the one for me. Never mind the naysayers, the bullies, the negativity. I don't care. I am happy with my boyfriend. My family accepts him. And his family accepts and loves me. Mom and Dad are divorced now. Mom keeps the house, and Dad apparently has moved to Cbus according to Jake. Mom's still all over the place. Me and her have been arguing a lot lately because she's upset at my 'sexual choice'. So I won't be coming back home. But me and CJ are talking about getting an apartment together after we graduate from high school. That's coming up before you know it at the rate time is flying. 2000. Wow." Rob flipped through to the last quarter of the diary, which went from 1999 to 2001 after he emerged from his coma. Rob stopped on a date in August 2001, when Rob was still undergoing physical therapy. "8/15/01 Me and CJ made the decision to break up today. We're both sad about it. But I had to do it, given my condition here. I turned nineteen a few weeks ago, but I would never know it by how bad my body hurts. Esp. undergoing all this therapy to walk again. My legs are pretty much shot. I've made some progress, but I need a cane just to walk a short distance, and I tire so easily. The Dr. says this is expected given my body atrophied so much while comatose. CJ deserves someone who can care for him. I can't do that in this state. I am so weak, I can't even care for myself. CJ would come here and put a smile on for me, but I know deep down he's hurting like me. Hurting for what we had before all this went down. So it's time for me to let go. Oh lord, I see how fucked up I am. My face is so scarred and numbed up- half my face can barely work. I look like a Holocaust victim with how skinny I am. Am I gonna make it? Will I even make it to twenty-eight? This is the consequence of hate. What is my future?" Rob closed the diary up and sat at his desk, thinking about his remark back then. In less than a month he was turning forty-two. His health had stabilized; it wasn't great, he had some skeletal and nerve issues from injuries over the years, but he was alive. From the lowly school videographer to overworked and underpaid administrator to the broadcasting program to now a billionaire businessman with a multistate business empire, Rob beat all the odds and his own self-doubt. Rob sat there silently reflecting on the last quarter-century of his life. -------------------------------------- "Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Sam, happy birthday to you!" Taking a deep breath, Sam blew out all thirteen candles on the big sheet cake on the table. There was a round of applause from Rob and Joey's family as they celebrated his thirteenth birthday. Alvin snapped a picture with his camera as everyone clapped. "Thank you everyone!" Sam grinned for the camera as he brushed some of the smoke away from the candles. As Joey worked to carve up the big white sheet cake, Rob doled out Sam's gifts. From Joey, Sam got a couple new tanktops and a baseball hat, and two novels. From Rob, Sam got the light meter, film book, film packs, and the Minolta camera, which made him so excited. Rob sat looking content at Sam's excitement as he opened the old box up to examine his new camera and its fancy large lens. "Rob! Thank you so much!" Sam grinned big. "My first film camera!" "You've reached the new milestone in your life. Goodbye being a kid and welcome to being a teenager." Rob complimented. "Heh, welcome to teen angst." Chuckled Joey as he gave Sam a big slice of cake. "Thank you! Wow, I'm thirteen now." "I remember when I was thirteen..." Rob remarked sarcastically. "That was a long time ago. That's when you know you're old." "You best enjoy being thirteen." Came Marie Paulo. "One minute you're young and then you blink and you're old." "You're telling me..." Andrew muttered over a bit of cake. "Or! You're young one minute and then you find yourself stuck with a pain in the ass for over forty years!" Andrew emphasized his sarcasm by staring at his wife, who glared back at him. "Sam, if you ever get yourself a girlfriend, whoever, think about it long and hard before you're stuck making meals for forty years for Il Duce~" "Oh stuck making meals, huh? You don't think I gotta put up with your wannabe perfectionism and clean freak status? Like keeping a box full of little pieces of string too small to use for anything else?" "That I'm gonna turn into a noose!" "I GOT A BEAM ALL PICKED OUT, MARIE!" "Wow, okay crazies! That's enough." Joey laughed. Sam glanced over at Rob, who just smiled and shook his head to let it be. "Sam has dealt with a lot of arguing from his aunt and uncle, Mom and Dad, so why don't we just calm down." Joey suggested with a smile on his face. Marie and Andrew looked at each other. "Fine." "Speaking of your aunt, how's she doing?" Joey asked Sam as he took a seat with a slice of cake. "Well when I last talked to her on the phone, she sounded okay. Cody tells me there's still some arguing going on because Aunt Mary has these unpredictable mood swings, and Uncle Jake spends more and more time with the club guys." "Well that's unfortunate to hear." Joey nodded. "Somehow things will get better." "I mean, I take it one day at a time." Sam shrugged. "Well enjoy it when you're young. The joys and innocence of youth go too fast." Joey added. "Take that from experience. One minute I turned thirteen and then I blinked and was twenty, and then blinked again and turned forty! Now I'm aiming for forty-two in October!" "Well I mean, I've already had to be parent for my parents..." Sam suggested with a cynical tone. "That's sad." Marie said sympathetically. "I miss them, for sure." Sam nodded. Joey nodded at Sam's words as he glanced over at Rob, who nodded back at him. --------------------------------- Rinsing another plate off in the sink, Rob stuck it into his dishwasher as he continued to entertain his in-laws. "So how's Karen Parkway?" "I don't know what the hell is going on there, but all the new neighbors kinda suck!" Andrew exclaimed. "Well except the couple that bought your house." "Adam and his girlfriend Vicki." Rob nodded. "I sold that to him cheaply because I know he'd be fucked if I didn't." "Home prices have skyrocketed so much, I cannot believe it." Marie exclaimed in shock. "Even rent across Ohio has skyrocketed!" "Roberto tells us they got an offer for their home in Akron, and it's like almost half a million!" Andrew remarked in shock. "I remember that home was a dump when Roberto bought it and we gave him the money to fix it up." "Everything's skyrocketing because they're not building starter homes, the zoning regs, and property taxes forcing builders to build larger homes to make larger profits, and corporations buying up everything to make money off you. You'll own nothing and be happy." Rob shook his head as he rinsed another plate off. "Oh, Rob, do you want me to wash those dishes?" Marie asked. "I'm not sure how well those dishwashers work!" "This dishwasher can practically be an autoclave, I think it'll be fine~" Rob assured with an insincere smile. "There is nothing wrong with doing it the old fashioned way with a bit of elbow grease!" Marie exclaimed. "Oh Jesus Christ, here we go..." Andrew exclaimed. "At least I can wash dishes! Verses you just running them under the tap!" "Nothing I do is ever good enough, Marie!" Andrew shouted. "Jesus tap dancing Christ! For once just appreciate me trying to help out verses just biting my head off!" "ALRIGHT!" Rob shouted. "Marie, the dishwasher is fine." "Alright." "Thank you." "So you're saying the new neighbors are causing issues?" Marie fumbled her brow. "I don't know if I'd word it like that? So the house across from yours was sold to some couple who remind me of the people behind you that burned your house down." "Oh boy..." "They seem well intended, just... backwards. Country people." "Inbreds." Rob shook his head. "I'll take them over the pieces of shit two houses down..." Andrew glared. Marie nodded in agreement and leaned in towards Rob. "They're a young couple with a cute as a button little boy, but man do they scream and fight." "...all the time." Andrew shook his head. "We can hear it in our own homes." "Maverick said something about that. Domestic violence. It makes him upset." "Well yeah! Cops get called and she doesn't want to press charges!" Marie exclaimed while throwing her arms up in disgust. Rob shook his head and loaded another plate into the dishwasher. "That makes me worried about Sam." "What's wrong?" Marie asked. "Oh just his aunt and uncle being all over the place. His aunt had that brain tumor removed and her mental and physical health has been all over the place, and I can tell its stressing him out and he's reacting badly to it. So I feel for him and his cousin. I know what it's like to grow up in chaos like that." "Poor kiddo." Andrew frowned. "He's such a smart, cute kid." "He could almost be your son, Rob~" "Sam reminds me of photos of my grandpa when he was his age." Rob remarked. "So he's close enough- godson." "The good lord was looking out for him by having you up in Akron at the right time." Marie smiled. "The good lord? Heh, you wanna be nice? I thought the Devil." Rob laughed morbidly. Getting the dishes loaded up, Rob had to practically force Andrew and Marie to leave by practically pushing them through the living room and out the door. "Hey it was great to see you Rob!" Andrew said as he was practically getting pushed by Rob. "It was great to see you too, and I hate to cut it short but I gotta get a few more things done before I go to bed." "Oh if you need our help we'll be glad to stay over!" Marie smiled. "Marie! It's fine." Rob smiled insincerely. "Trust me, it's fine." "Well have a good night, Rob! And tell Joey we said goodnight!" Andrew smiled as he and Marie were practically shoved through the door. "Will do! Good night!" Rob quickly closed the door and locked it. He turned around, and breathed a huge sigh of relief, just as the telephone rang. As he ran over to grab the Bell telephone on his desk in the library nook, he saw Joey step inside with a towel draped over his shoulders from swimming with Sam and Alvin. Joey smiled and motioned for Rob to join him in the tub when he was done with the call. Rob smiled and nodded as he picked the telephone up off the desk. "Rob speaking." "Rob, this is Jake DuPont, do you have a moment to talk?" "Yes I do. Is everything okay?" "Not after I opened two statements from the hospital regarding Mary's treatment!" Jake exclaimed. "Look, I'm sorry to ask for your help, but I'm fucked. I got a bill here for fifteen grand." "Fifteen grand? As in fifteen thousand dollars?" "Yeah! And the other statement is an eight thousand dollar bill over this medication Mary was given to control seizures!" Jake exclaimed. "Apparently my insurance has deemed the MRI scan and this medication to be not medically critical services and denied the payment, so now it's in my fucking lap!" Rob sat down at his desk and propped his head up as he rubbed his forehead. He felt for Jake. "Send me a copy of the paperwork and I'll write you the check for it." "Oh my god, thank you." Jake exclaimed, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'll have to send it over to you when I get to the office because I don't have a scanner here." "That's fine." Rob remarked. He heard in the background the voice of Mary, who sounded suspicious when she asked Jake who he was speaking to. Jake sounded immediately annoyed at his wife, and snapped back at her that he was talking to Rob. "Oh yeah! Well lemme me talk to Rob!" shouted Mary as she grabbed the phone. "Hello, Rob..." "Hi, Mary. It's Rob." There was a moment of pause on the phone. "...oh." "GIMME THAT PHONE, JESUS CHRIST MARY YOU'RE INSANE!" Jake screamed. "You're already cost me money I don't have and I have to beg on the damn telephone!" "Okay, calm down." Rob suggested in a blunt tone. "I'm sorry, I got so much shit going on in my life right now. I don't know what to do." "Take a deep breath, and relax. I'll take care of it Jake, okay?" "Okay." "Send me over the paperwork and let me know the first moment you can, and I'll send the money to you. Alright?" "Alright." "You have a good night, Jake." "You too." "Thank you. Bye-bye." Rob put the phone down and shook his head. He sat there for a moment pondering about things. ------------------------------------------- Rob stepped into the bathroom wearing just his boxer shorts. He found Joey sitting in their large tub up to chest in water as he sat soaking and listening to music. Rob took his boxers off and gingerly climbed into the hot water to soak. It felt good on his aching back. "Sorry I'm late. I had a phone call from Jake DuPont." "Oh yeah?" Joey asked as he turned the volume down on his phone. "Jake tells me he got two bills from the hospital that totaled over twenty grand." "What!?" "Something about an MRI and anti-seizure medication." Rob rolled his eyes. "Insurance wouldn't cover it because it wasn't deemed medically necessary. This is exactly what's wrong with our healthcare..." "Not wrong there, Rob. It's a joke." Joey shook his head. "You have insurance but yet you don't." "Yeah, fucking bullshit is what it is. And I'm talking to Jake and Mary grabs the phone from him thinking I'm like some woman he's talking to or something and they had a few words... I'm afraid something's really amiss in New York." "I was thinking that same thing too." Joey admitted. "I was swimming with Sam earlier, and Sam remarked to me that he's having a blast here, but is dreading when he goes back home, because he's afraid he's gonna have to uproot himself again." "What does he mean by that?" Rob asked, fumbling his brow. "Well Sam stays in touch with his cousin Cody, and Cody is telling him that Mary and Jake are constantly fighting when he's at home, so Jake spends more time with his biker friends at the clubhouse, or working longer hours, the house is falling into disarray because of Mary's illness and her memory issues, paranoia. So Cody is sometimes eating dinner with a neighbor of his, or going to his uncle's." "Oh boy..." "So Sam is kind of worried that he's gonna have to pack his bags and start all over again." "You know, I was thinking about that too... I have a feeling that we're gonna be taking Sam in for good at the rate things are going in New York." "Yep..." Joey agreed. "That's not a life for him. It's not fair." "I feel for Cody too." Rob remarked. "Why do I feel like another young life's fate will be dumped into my lap?" Joey smiled. "Because you care, Rob." "Because I don't want them to become like me." Rob admitted, crossing his arms. "I grew up with screaming and yelling, and the neglect, and abuse that comes from all that shit. I wouldn't wish it on anyone." "Maybe it'll turn around, and if it doesn't? We'll be ready to go." Joey suggested. "I agree." The Doberman chuckled. "By the way, did you have to shove my parents out of the house to get them to leave?" Rob closed his eyes and shuddered. "Yes." "Aren't you glad we have a gate at the end of the driveway and they don't have the access code?" "Exactly." --------------------------------------- Descending towards Lubbock's runway flew "Altair", Rob's Starliner. Dressed in the white and blue Barev scheme of BATS, the curvaceous Constellation with its long, slender wings was on its last official flight with Barev. Having been replaced in the long-range VIP role by "Photon", "Altair" was destined to be leased to Ronnie Samson and his job, Viking Records, as a secondary long-range transport for Varg Eikemo's music company. It would soon be repainted and rechristened as "Akron". At the controls in the captain's seat, Rob guided his Starliner in. With flaps and gear down, the propliner flew slightly nose down. He was assisted by his usual motley crew of Ivo Horvat, and Jordan Hoover. Jordan flew in the right-hand seat, and Ivo served as the flight engineer. Rob sat in silence as he listened to radio traffic through his headset. As he kept the runway lined up, he thought about the expected bloodbath that was awaiting Baritel; the much awaited investigation into the embezzlement operation was completed by the PMC's intelligence wing, the Staatssicherheit, and their "Kripos", the Kriminalpolizei. The resulting report was damning. Not only was money embezzled, but a skimming operation uncovered, traced to the company treasurer, which allowed Calvin and his cohorts to get money. More names were linked to the scheme, which meant Baritel's treasury department was about to implode. And to make matters worse, Rob discovered in the report that Walter was not only aware of the skim, and Calvin stealing money, but did nothing about it out of cowardice. Rob didn't want to do the "nuclear option", but now he had no choice. "Altair" gracefully flared for touchdown. Coming down on its main gear, the propliner scraped onto the pavement, its tires belching bluish smoke on touchdown. The slender wings flexed slightly as full reverse thrust was commanded. Propellers roared as the L-1649 bled off speed down the runway on its spidery gear. It was now July, and the brutal, stagnant heat turned the Texas scrubland brown. Tall dry grass swayed to the propwash as Rob taxied in towards Jack's hangar. He turned the Starliner in a wide, slow turn, and parked to the ground crew's instructions. Rob engaged the parking brake as he heard Ivo cut the two inboard engines. The big Curtiss props windmilled to a stop. Rob thought about what was going to happen with a slight look of regret on his face. Regret for his Uncle Jack. Baritel's campus was quiet on a Monday morning. The sun cast long shadows along the ground as workers arrived to their offices. But the quiet was soon shattered to the screech of tires as a convoy of BTR-70's arrived. The dark green Soviet APC's roared into the campus, forcing cars over as they made a beeline to the main HQ. They came to a screeching halt, and the hatches burst open to reveal Unit G of the PMC's Strategic Missile Troops. Heavily armed men in dark green digital camouflage and body armor, all clutching AK-103's met up with the Kripos, the feared intelligence gathering men and women of Barev's Staatssicherheit. The Kripos wore matching green uniforms with a yellow armband that denoted their allegiance with the SMT divisions. Above the yellow armband was a black and white armband, that read "KRIMINALPOLIZEI" in black German gothic. Garrison caps covered the tops of their heads and tall riding boots adorned their feet and legs. Some of them carried only their sidearm, while a couple carried 9mm Swedish K submachine guns. The Kripos wasted no time in splitting up with the PMC to find the responsible parties. Going up to the top floor of the six story building, several Kripos along with several PMC infantry, went to find Walter. Leading the pack was Kripogruppenfuhrer, Ernst Vogelmyer. The imposing looking gray wolf marched up to the office door and knocked on it. "Who is it?" "Good morning Mister Barion, this is Kripogruppenfuhrer, Ernst Vogelmyer, with Strategic Missile Troop Unit G. We need to have a word with you, please?" the wolf asked with a distinct Prussian drawl. "Uhh... just a sec!" Vogelmyer grabbed the doorknob to find it locked. "Mister Barion, we need to speak to you." "Yeah, yeah, just a sec!" Vogelmyer's face grew cross. The wolf wasted no time in motioning for the breach team. A big malamute clutching a sledgehammer swung and busted the door knob clean off. He then proceeded to kick the door open, which practically flew off the hinges, revealing a startled Walter rushing for the window closest to the fire escape. The Kripos rushed in and grabbed Walter, throwing him to the ground. He was promptly grabbed and dragged to his feet and out of the office. "Your cousin, Mister Rob Barion, would like to have a word with you." Vogelmyer announced. "Oh god, even worse..." Walter thought out loud. Walter was taken to a conference room, where Rob was waiting for him, along with Jack Barion, and Jerry Schultz, the feared Lieutenant-General of the Strategic Missile Troops. Walter felt that his goose was cooked. "Rob I want you to understand that whatever is in that report is people jumping ship and saving their ass- I swear to god that I did not know anything about a skimming operation going on, or Calvin taking money from it, and if I did I would have reported it to you! I swear!" Walter pleaded, his brow soaked with a nervous sweat. Rob's face was unflinching and stone cold. "You call yourself a man, Walter? I think you're a pathetic, yellow-belly, pussy-ass bitch, you know that Walter? That's what I think of you. Three young kids at home and they're gonna grow up knowing their father got punked by a talking marshmallow with nipples?" "Rob, I-" "I gave you several chances to reign in Cal and other operational issues and you didn't do anything? The report laid it out plain as day to your cowardice in any issue going on in this division and that you were aware of Calvin and the others stealing money?" Rob glared. "And you're gonna sit there with a straight face and try and tell me that bullshit that you had no idea what was going on? Huh?" Walter tried to shake his head no. "No? No?" Rob got into his face. "DON'T FUCK ME WITH, WALT! DON'T YOU MAKE A FUCK OUTTA ME! You wanna lie to my face, embarrass me, make a fool outta me!? Tell me you knew that Calvin was skimming money- YOU FUCKING TELL ME THAT YOU KNEW THAT CALVIN BARION AND THE OTHERS WERE TAKING MONEY AND I WON'T FIRE YOU ON THE FUCKING SPOT!" Rob took a slow, deep breath. "Did you know about it, Walt?" Walter frowned. He bowed his head and slowly nodded yes. Rob rolled his eyes and looked at Jerry in disbelief. "This muddafucker... can you believe this." --------------------------------------- Rob stepped into Jack's office and closed the door behind him. The wolf-hybrid had a hesitant, regretful look on his face. "Well, Rob?" Jack asked from his desk. "Come have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?" Rob brushed off the request for a drink as he sat down opposite of Jack. "Well after consulting with Maverick and some of the execs who didn't get shitcanned today? Walter is going to become the chairman of public relations. It's a low-key job that won't stress him out with tough decisions, and he can keep his salary. Greg Marino, the senior engineer who won over Dex and Todd with his frank observations of the company, will now be division President." Jack nodded. "Very well, Rob." "Uncle Jack, I want to apologize for demoting your son." Before Rob could say anything else, Jack cut him off. "I don't want to hear you apologize over business decisions- this is your company now, and I picked you to run it because I knew you could. I warned Walter many times that he can't cave- he has to make tough calls and that's his weakness." "You have to take the emotions out of it." "I learned leadership skills in the military, and so did the Deuce. Walt wanted everyone to be his friend and like him, and you can't have that in leadership sometimes." Jack explained. "Plus, he's lucky. Had he not been family, he'd be gone or in jail. Plain and simple." Rob nodded. "Our family ties weigh on my conscious. Cal, and Walt. Imperfect, but family." Jack brushed it off. "Cal is as useful as tits on a boar!" "Well back to square one." Rob remarked. "Baritel's financial records going back almost a decade are completely fucked." "I know." "And we have no treasurer." Rob shrugged. "I'll figure it out." "If there's a will, there's a way, Rob." Jack smiled. "I want you know that I'm very proud of you. I know my creation will be in safe hands with you." "I appreciate that. Because in times like this, I feel like I'm a monster that has to be a monster." "The pitfalls of leadership. When things go good you get the credit, and when things are bad, you get the blame. You can't let it get to you." "Yeah." "So don't worry about Walt, and don't worry about me!" Jack exclaimed as he got up. "You're doing a great, job, Rob!" Rob left the meeting feeling more calm about the situation. He met back up with Maverick who was talking to Vogelmyer and Jerry at the end of the highway. As Rob was about to join them, he saw out of the corner of his eye Walter approach him. His cousin looked incensed as he stormed up to him red faced mad. "I can't believe you would demote me, Rob." Walter snapped. "Do you know how hard I've worked at this company, only to be demoted to a do-nothing position!?" Rob, was unimpressed. "So who's fault is it?" Walter didn't say anything. Maverick chimed in. "You were too scared to say and do anything to Calvin, and you let him rip your giant diaper off!" "SHUT UP!" Walter screamed. He pointed at Rob. "This is all your fault!" "It's my fault that you have a sandy vagina? I heard Walgreens has a two for one deal for Vagisil right now, you should stock up." Walter's face grew even more red. "I was given the power to run this company after my brother died, and by god I'm not gonna let it get taken away." "Whoa, hold the fuck up, Walt. You were given power?" "Yes." "Well lemme tell you something, Walt, if Jack gave you power, then you had NOTHING. Real power's something you take..." Walter didn't know what else to say. Jack stepped out of his office to observe the tense standoff. "Walt, I think I'm a nice guy. And I gave you a nice exit strategy from a fucked up position you weren't part of. I gave mercy to you- I let you keep your salary and I put you in a stress free position verses letting your ass go. So I think you should be more thankful, and pray I don't change my mind, even with your audacity to get in my face when you should have done that to Cal and the accomplices." Walter pursed his lips and tried to say something but instead just looked down at the floor. Rob turned to leave and motioned for Maverick to follow him. Walter's face grew cross and he was about to say something when he was punched in the face by Jerry. Walter's lights were instantly knocked out and he fell to the floor limp. The German Shepherd brushed a wrinkle out of his uniform as he walked away. "Thought he'd never shut the fuck up." Jerry muttered to Vogelmyer. Jack just shook his head at Walter sitting up in a daze. The elderly wolf returned back to his office and closed the door. Rob and Maverick walked to the elevators. Rob adjusted his blue and white necktie as he walked. "Stupid motherfucker wouldn't stand up to anyone, but god forbid I do something and he'll get in my face." "You could have fucked him up ugly~" the husky suggested. "It ain't worth my time. Not for him." Rob brushed it off. Rob pressed the down button and the doors to the elevator next to them opened up to go down. They stepped in and Maverick pressed the button for the ground level. "No treasurer now, barely a treasury department, finances going back a decade are royally fucked, and I'm sure we'll get fined by the feds for all this shit, ain't it a dream?" Rob remarked disparagingly. "This is CGOF territory all over again." "Well I wouldn't go that far..." Maverick chuckled. "At least there wasn't a bombing?" "True..." Rob shook his head. "Or us dealing with two fucking retards like Ryan and Brent." "We'll get through it like the other headaches." Maverick ensured. The doors opened and they stepped out into the lobby. "With this gaffe in Baritel's treasury, I think it's time we start to maybe consolidate things verses having each division have a duplicate treasury and payroll." Rob quipped as he stopped to hear commotion behind him. Turning around, Rob saw the second elevator open its doors to reveal Vogelmyer running out. "Mister Barion!" "Ja?" "I have just received a phone call to an incident in Chicago at the FotoChem plant. Last Friday, an employee was fired for attendance issues, and there is a protest going on in front of the facility, a civil rights group from Chicago led by an old friend of yours from my understanding, Laura Earhart." "Oh boy, the bitch is back." Maverick grimaced. Rob's face grew instantly cross. He knew exactly what was going on. Laura Earhart was the disgraced, ex-mayor of Chicago. She had once been seen as a new and fresh face, an up and coming star in the Democratic Party. An ex-assistant attorney, who served in Chicago's City Council, and Office of Emergency Management, Laura rode the progressive wave and became Chicago's first lesbian mayor in 2019. Rob and Laura's paths crossed after the bombing of the Chicago Glass and Optics Factory in 2021. The bombing was orchestrated by Sam Vlockner, the city commissioner, who was the older brother of the two bumbling idiots who ran CGOF, Ryan and Brent Vlockner. Rob sued the city of 1.4 billion dollars, and in the midst of the legal fallout, Laura tried to negotiate a settlement between Barev and the city government. The settlement negotiations were painful for both sides, and ultimately ruined by two assassination attempts on Rob's life, one by the Vlockner family, and the most damning, a contract hired by corrupt city comptroller, Michael Trenoff and his assistant, Shannon Fenris. Laura's fate was sealed by authorizing a poorly worded and vague "Operation Defochi" which looked as though she endorsed Rob's assassination attempt. In the end, the city lost 2.6 billion dollars to Rob and his company, and Laura resigned in humiliation. Even if the factory bombing didn't happen, Rob was certain that Earhart's tenure was doomed to fail. She had a personality that came across as bitchy, and her first two years in office succeeded in multiple strikes after angering the teacher's, police, fire, and nursing unions in the city. She drew the ire of city council by calling them out when they wouldn't go along with a plan, or quick to throw them under the bus when something didn't go right. But instead of owning up to her own shortcomings, it was very easy for Laura to blame Rob for everything. And thus their bitter feud began. She got a job for a civil rights organization in the city and she used that position to try and derail anything Barev did in the city. Everything Rob did was discriminatory and sexist. Rob just brushed it off; he could easily just sue her into oblivion, or just call his guys up and have her whacked, but it was best to just meet her noise with silence. Rob thought it drove her more insane with the silent treatment. "Well isn't that great. The nigger bitch is up to her usual tricks." "You know we can do something about that..." Vogelmyer suggested, which Rob brushed off. "Don't worry about it. Thank you." Rob quipped as he looked at Maverick. "Well? Wanna make a detour to Chicago?" "I'm game." Maverick smiled. "Kripogruppenfuhrer!" Rob called. "Inform Viking Battalion to stabilize the situation, and inform the Sicherheit that I want Laura's location by the time I get to Chicago in four hours." "Ja, it will be done." "Danke." While chaos swirled inside the office, outside, Sam enjoyed the relative calm to explore the campus with the help of the "little green men". Standing on top of one of the BTR-70's, Sam took aim with his Nikon F3. He adjusted his circular polarizing filter and lined up his shot of the fabrication building. Its gold tinted windows sparkled in the sunlight, creating a starburst effect through his stopped down lens. Sam fired off the shot, heard the autowinder load the next exposure, which he used to bracket the shot, going slightly over and under what the light meter was suggesting. "Perfect!" Sam called. Poking his head up through the hatch came Sergeant Miller, a red Doberman. "Young man! We just got a request over the radio to your whereabouts? Your godfather wants you!" "Alright!" Sam exclaimed as he climbed back into the APC through the roof hatch. He pulled it shut as the BTR-70 lurched forward to head back to the main office. The APC pulled up to the entrance as Rob stood there waiting for Sam. "Sorry Rob! Was having fun photographing the campus!" Sam exclaimed as he ran out through the side hatch. "We gotta head to Chicago for a matter." Rob told him. "I'm sorry for the delay, but I'll make it up to you. Once I fix this little issue, we can go photograph some stuff in the city." "Sure!" "Alright, let's head out!" Rob announced. ---------------------------------- A thunderstorm rumbled into the windy city. The summertime sky turned dark as the tumultuous storm clouds moved into the city, plunging it into an early darkness. Streetlights flickered on as people bustled to take shelter from the expected downpour. Boystown was a rainbow of color from flashy neon lights and rainbow flags that lined every street pole. As people disappeared from the expecting rain, Rob arrived in his usual fashion. Roaring into Boystown was a convoy of three BTR-70's, the all black APC's belonging to the PMC's Viking Battalion. Rob rode in the lead vehicle as they made their way up North Halsted. "Our latest intelligence briefing is that Laura and her wife were seen going into this bar named Dottie's about fifteen minutes ago. This is her favorite go-to place." The intelligence officer told Rob as they rode inside the cramped confines of the APC. "Very well. This won't take long." "Do you need backup, Rob?" "No. She's not a threat. Just an annoyance." Rob remarked. "She's lucky. The protest went past the zonengrenze, and had they escalated any further, it could have ended badly for them." "I wouldn't dirty my bullets." Rob suggested. "We're here!" the driver announced over the radio. "Danke!" Rob thanked as he popped the hatch open. Rob quickly stepped out as the other PMC infantry set up a perimeter around the APC's. People who saw Rob's arrival quickly ran away as Rob matched across the street to Dottie's, this fruity looking lesbian bar. "I think it's great to be the sand in the gears of Rob." Laura joked with her wife at a booth near the dance floor. Laura was a red Doberman in her early sixties, with a puffy hairdo of tightly curled hair that was black and turning gray. "One of these days, your luck is gonna run out." Said her wife Emily, a middle-aged wolfess with mottled gray fur. "You know how many goons Rob has out and about here?" Laura brushed it off. "It is my life mission to be a thorn in his side from what he's taken from me! I could have been in my second term now!" "I keep telling you, let it go, it's over. It was overrated being mayor anyways." Emily quipped as she sipped at her drink. "You don't know how it feels to work your entire life and overcome so much shit, and then finally get what you worked so hard for, and then have it ripped out of your-" Emily gasped when she saw Rob arrive and stand before them, an insincere smile menacingly gracing his scarred face. Laura dropped her drink onto the table, practically spilling it. "Holy shit." Laura blurted out. "I mean, what the hell are you doing here, Rob!?" "Hi Laura, and hi Emily." Rob greeted. "Emily, why don't you take a moment to mingle with people and get your wife another drink, I'd like to talk to her for a moment." Emily quickly got up and moved past Rob as he sat down opposite of Laura. He moved Emily's half consumed beverage aside and clasped his paws together on the table. "What a displeasure to see you again, Laura." Rob smiled. "I was in Texas about four hours ago, and had to rush my ass up here because of your cute little stunt making a big scene in front of my workplace. I would have got here faster had I had my DC-8, but I'm sure you'd find a way to claim that my jet was keeping little spooks up all night, I'm sure." Laura's face grew cross. "What your business did to that woman was wrong, and we're calling you out for it." "Oh you must be talking about Quantisha Adams." "You fired her because of her ethnic hairdo and her background!" Laura exclaimed. Rob looked puzzled. "First off, let's get this straight. I did not fire her as I do not run the day to day operations of FotoChem, so if you wanna blame someone, then you need to blame Okeo Martin for firing her, who, by the way, is African-American. He brought up to her multiple times that her 'ethnic' hair, which was dreadlocks, was a serious risk of an injury in the machinery room cutting photo paper. This issue was brought up multiple times and she refused to do anything about it. She also refused to accept a transfer to another position. And let's not even go to where she had bad attendance problems too, so she was let go. And then she ran to you like every other butthurt loser would and your ilk show up to make a big fuckin' scene." Laura didn't say anything. "She must have omitted that information from you, eh?" Rob asked, smiling slightly. Laura still didn't say anything. "You got that look on your face that you just made a huge fool of yourself. Something you're good at doing." Laura slowly pointed a finger at Rob. "I absolutely hate that smirk on your face. I'd love nothing more than to just wipe that fuckin' smirk off your face with my hand!" "Only in your dreams." Rob laughed. "Because I had you, Laura." Rob reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo that he slid over to Laura. Laura grabbed it and her eyes went huge; it was a little four-by-six photograph of Laura mid-yell, photographed through the scope of a sniper rifle. Its crosshairs were aimed right at her head. "I don't appreciate you shoving our Colonel and making a big scene. So that there is a reminder that your life was in my hands, and you didn't even know it. I could have gave the okay and your head would have been all over the pavement, along with everyone else there. I had you." Laura looked at Rob with an ashen face. "I have no compunction about killing you, but I won't do it on a whim... What's the matter Laura? You got that look I'm familiar with." "You know what an absolute monster you are?" "Are you upset that I bested you again?" Rob smirked. He got her to glare furiously at him. "You know what, I realized something about you. You're a good actress. Fuckin' real good actress. You know that? You fuck everything up and then you blame others, and run to the cameras, and you give that face, that little pouty lip and get that pity outta everyone. But I ain't some stupid jagoff, Laura. I ain't a sucker. My eyes are wide open about you." "You don't know me." "Oh I don't know you? How when you were mayor, you pissed off all the wrong people? The teacher's union? Police union? Nurses union? City council? You let that stupid comptroller walk over you like stairs and you signed that stupid document and had no idea what it was going to do?" "YOU SHUT UP." "Everyone in Chicago was all excited five years ago when you rode that progressive tidal wave into office, everyone all excited they got their first dyke for mayor, but in the end, you showed everyone your incompetence. But I forgot, it was everybody else's fault. In the end this whole community sees you exactly as who you are- a stupid, fuckin' ugly-ass nigger. And I don't give two fucking shits if you think I'm some slit-eyed gook, or a goose-stepping Nazi. In fact I don't even give a fuck if you want to keep hating me, because I don't hate you anymore. I don't have time for this shit anymore in my life. So if you wanna hate me, fine. You wanna hate my business? Fine. You go right on ahead. It'll just consume you. And I'll cry all the way to the bank, Laura." Rob got up as Emily returned with some drinks. "Have a good night, Laura." Rob turned and walked away calmly, leaving a bedazzled Laura to just blankly stare at her wife as Rob left the bar. Leaving the bar, Rob stopped at the overhang as the rain came down hard. Running across the street with an umbrella was the head of Viking Battalion, a big black and white malamute, Lieutenant-General, Bruno Matix. He held the umbrella over Rob's head as they walked across the street. Rob loosened his necktie and his shirt collar as he walked. "Must not have gone too bad then?" Bruno asked him over a clap of thunder. "No point getting upset." Rob shrugged. "Let's get back to the airport." "With pleasure." -------------------------------- Turbulence rocked the flight back home to Newark as "Altair" punched through the clouds of the line of storms. As the Starliner climbed away in the fading light of the day, lightning flashed beneath in the turbulent, dark clouds. The silver wings of the Lockheed glistened amber as the propliner burbled away from Chicago, aided by a tailwind. "So what'd you tell her?" Maverick asked as he felt the whole plane rock and vibrate from the turbulence. "You don't seem that upset verses the last time you saw Laura?" Rob just shrugged. "She's a fucking idiot and not worth my time anymore. There was no point in me getting red faced mad and screaming at her and making a big 'ole scene because that's exactly what she wants. So she can go run to her allies and give that stupid pouty face and then everyone give her that dopamine rush she wants to stroke her narcissism. I'm done with that shit. She can hate me all she wants and I don't give two fucks about it." "Well I guess that's progress?" "Her mayorship was doomed to fail anyways. Piss everybody off you need? And then when things go wrong, blame everyone else? Blame discrimination? I ain't a sucker, Mav. I ain't no fuckin' zipper head gook, that's for sure." Maverick laughed. "Jesus Christ, Rob. Easy does it!" "I'm sick of it!" Rob exclaimed. "I hope in my lifetime that maybe we can move on past identity politics, verses people walking around with more labels than a god damn soup can!" "It's the sign of the times." "Fuckin' retarded is what it is. One side wants to grandstand at how woke and smart they are, and police your words, pronouns, everything, and the other side are wanna be Temu Nazi's to prop up some geriatric zombie wearing bronzer dick-fuck. It's almost insulting to call them Nazi's- at least the Nazi's were smart!" Maverick burst out laughing. "I mean, you're not wrong, but that's not appropriate to say! It's a fucking mess Rob, and I don't know how we've gotten to this point? Social media? Things being so good for so long?" "All of the above." Rob shook his head as he rubbed his head. "I was talking to my mom a few days ago about something like that, about how society is behaving, and mom said something about how she felt when she came to the United States in 1983. When she first came here, she was taken aback at how laissez-faire things were here culturally verses growing up in the Soviet Union. Mom described growing up in Soviet Ukraine as this sort of make the best of a bad situation deal. To come to the US and there be stores always packed with quality goods, no food shortages, ample opportunities? Mom and Dad were blown away completely, and felt happy they could raise all of us in prosperity. Now you have teenagers growing up here with no hopes and dreams of the future because our system is fucking everything and everyone over for the all mighty dollar." "And it's just gonna get worse. And I fear what happens when people who have nothing left to lose decide that's enough." "Yeah, same here." Rob grumbled and took a sip of his mineral water. "This decade has been a disaster." "It just seems like things are getting worse and worse slowly. I remember when everyone was optimistic that the internet would bring people together, and information would be at your fingertips, and now it seems like the internet is being used to just make people more fucking retarded. Like the people who drank hand sanitizer during Covid, or eating horse dewormer and- oh, what was that other drug?" "Hydroychroloquine." "That!" Maverick exclaimed. "Like I feel sorry for baby's being born today because parents' aren't vaccinating their kids, and they're trying to just be a friend to their kids verses being an actual parent." "I think there needs to be an IQ test before you procreate." "Whoa, easy, Doctor Goebbels." Grinned Maverick. "I'M NOT GOEBBELS!" Rob shouted with a morbid laugh. "What the fuck is with you and Joey getting off to comparing me to Nixon and infamous Nazi's? I'm not Nixon either! I'm not a crook!" Maverick tipped his head back and laughed. "Everyone needs a favorite Nazi, so you can wake up and tell yourself you didn't condemn six million Jews to die, or you didn't invade Poland, or authorize the 'Nacht der langen Messer'!" "Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it. And I'm afraid it's happening right now." "Absolutely." "A Voltaire quote I love in particular for these times is 'if they can make you believe absurdities, they can make you commit atrocities', and people don't realize how we're setting the stage for what happened in Europe, right here." "Sadly." Maverick nodded. Rob shook his head. "Okay, enough of this weird, morbid, detour, Mav. What are we gonna do about this latest fuckup?" The husky tapped his pen on the table. "Well we had the skim with Sam Vlockner at GGOF, and now this clusterfuck at Baritel, so I think it's time we start consolidating departments into the headquarters, but we're running out of space in the former NHS." "Yes. That building is at almost max capacity." Rob admitted. "It didn't quite work out as I had planned when we opened it in 2019. I thought duplicating facilities in each division would provide critical redundancy in a doomsday scenario, but it seems that people have fucked that up too!" "I like the Baritel campus. It's like a cute little city of modern architecture, so why don't we invest some money into building our own campus? That way the division facilities can focus on their main job, and we can keep better watch over things to avoid our version of the movie Casino!" "I like that idea." Rob admitted. "I think we need to think long and hard about what we need, and what kind of expansion space we need." "Yeah, I agree." "Let's keep that on the backburner for twenty-five." Rob said. He glanced out the window for a moment to watch the big radials roar outside. The turbocompound radials spat a steady stream of blue flames that were more evident as the sunlight faded away. The sight made Rob think about Sam and his camera. "If you excuse me, Mav, I gotta check on Sam~" Rob got up and walked towards the tail of the plane. As he walked, he examined the executive interior, which was essentially a duplicate of "Coneflower's". Rob stepped into his private quarters to find Sam sitting at his desk, quietly writing on his legal pad. Rob tapped on the door to get his attention. "Everything alright, Sam?" "Yeah!" Sam responded with a friendly smile on his face. "Just writing~" "Hey I want to apologize that we couldn't go out and test that film that was given to you by FotoChem." Rob said as he sat down on the bed by the wall. "Oh I get it. The weather sucks." Sam nodded. "I am kind of interested in seeing how it works in low light, this Foton 1000!" "It's a fine-grain, high-speed film that doubles as a critical test to the fine-grain technology for the one-ten film." "Ah." "Foton 3000 would be the fastest high-contrast black and white film, and Foton 1000 the fastest color film that can be pushed to about 1600 ASA." Rob explained. "I want to get a one-ten camera!" Sam remarked, wanting to compliment his Nikon F3. Rob couldn't help but laugh. "They're a unique format, but not something to write home about in picture quality unless you like grainy, lo-fi stuff." "Sometimes there's a charm in that." "I get it completely. Like that's how I feel about ultra-high definition verses analog videotape. Analog has a charm. UHD is boring and flat." Sam nodded and tapped his pencil on his pad of yellow paper. "So everything is squared away in Chicago?" "Oh yeah." Rob smiled. "I made my point across and made my peace, and that's that." "Good." "I some business to resume with Mav, so I'm heading up front. If you need anything, just call me." "Sure thing!" Rob smiled and turned to leave. --------------------------------- With the runway in sight, Rob kept his Starliner steady as he descended into Akron-Canton Airport, the new home of his propeller and engine overhaul facility. Sam sat in the jump seat behind Rob as he watched and documented Rob, Ivo, and Jordan guiding the old propliner in for a landing. It was a smooth ride into Akron-Canton as Ivo called out the altimeter in one hundred foot increments. Sam liked the view of the runway approaching and raised his Nikon up to snap a wide angle photo of the cockpit as he felt them begin to flare. Rob closed the throttles and felt the tires jolt onto the runway for a perfect touchdown on the centerline. Jordan deployed full reverse thrust, and the propliner quickly came to a slow crawl as they turned off the runway for their tarmac at the overhaul facility. "Altair's" final flight in Barev colors came to a close as Rob arrived on the tarmac and shut the four radials down. "Prishtina's Propellers LLC" graced the newly build hangar. Formerly up in Cleveland at Burke Lakefront, the business was now owned by Rob after being sold to him by his friend and once business partner, John Prishtina, who retired from the business after forty-five years. Running the division now was his middle-son, Greg Prishtina. "Good morning, Rob!" Greg greeted with his Dad as Rob walked down the stairs to the tarmac. "How was your flight into Akron?" "Short." Rob quipped sarcastically. "Greg, I want you meet a good friend of mine, Sam Martin." "How do you do?" Sam smiled as he held out a paw, which Greg accepted. "Sam." "I'm Greg. I run the day to day here at the propeller shop." The gray wolf greeted. "Rob tells me you have a busy operation!" "Well Rob keeps us busy!" Greg grinned. "Mister John, how are you doing?" Rob greeted as he shook John's paw. "Same shit, different day you know!" laughed the old gray wolf. "Quite the ship coming in today!" "Yeah, I'm bittersweet about this one. But she's surplus to BATS needs now, so she can live and fly another day for Varg and Ronnie." "They're gonna get some long legs for sure." John chuckled. "I remember flying on an Eastern Connie for the shuttle flight when I was ten years old visiting relatives on the east coast. My only Connie flight. Jets just don't have the charm." "Eh, but speed can come in handy when shit hits the fan." Rob laughed. "Oh, before I forget Rob, you wanted to meet our new apprentice for the propeller shop?" John recalled. "Oh yeah? Casey right?" "Yep! Quite the character." John chuckled. "He's our Fabio with that mullet of his~" "Oh boy." Rob smiled as he walked towards the hangar. While Sam talked to ground crew and took some pictures of them getting the Starliner ready for the tow vehicle, Rob ventured inside the hangar to see and hear all the commotion going on. The whole hangar was filled with radial engines and propellers, plus the machinery to overhaul them. There were rows of Pratt and Whitney R-1830 and R-2800's, a row completely of Wright R-3350's, and two massive R-4360 Wasp Majors. The air was filled with the smell of oil and cosmoline. Rob spotted who he was looking for. His senior propeller tech was with Casey Moore, a tattooed up malamute in jeans and a hi-viz orange t-shirt. Both his arms were sleeved with black and gray artwork that ran to his wrists. Casey wore reflective sunglasses that had a polarized look to them, and a backwards turned hat. He turned his head and revealed a shiny mane of wavy black hair that spilled down to his upper back area. The two of them were busy examining a Hamilton Standard propeller on the stand. "Casey and Bob?" John called. "Yeah?" Bob asked as he looked up. "Casey, I would like you to meet your big boss to the whole company! Mister Rob Barion." John said as he introduced Rob. Rob smiled and held out a paw. "Rob Barion." "Well hello!" Casey grinned. He took his glove off and shook Rob's paw. "Casey Moore!" "They say you're Fabio." "Well let's not get ahead of ourselves here." Laughed the malamute. "But I did win a mullet contest last year and beat a lesbian for the Ohio mullet!" Rob looked at John and just chuckled. "What will they think of next? Well it's a pleasure to have you aboard, and I hope you enjoy working here. I'll be here from time to time." Bob gulped. "Thank you, Mister Barion!" Casey smiled. "Just call me Rob~" Rob assured as he turned to leave. "Have a good day, gents!" John walked with Rob back outside into the sunshine. "Rob you seem like you're in an exceptional mood?" "I'm feeling pretty okay." "I'm surprised you ferried your Starliner up here? Got plans in Akron or something?" "Me and my friend Sam, have to pay a visit to someone." "Oh, gotcha." "So if you don't mind, we're gonna borrow the company truck." "Sure thing!" Rob approached Sam as he saw him label and stow away a used up roll of film in his camera bag. "You ready to go, Sam?" "Yep!" --------------------------------------- Glendale cemetery was quiet. A warm breeze rustled the dark green canopy of trees that shaded the hilly cemetery. Rumbling into the cemetery, Rob and Sam rode in the propeller shop's old square-body Chevy 1500. Sam wanted to visit the resting place of his late parents, Kayla Martin, and Isaac Eckler. Rob pulled up to the curb and parked. Sam hopped out first, carrying a bag with some cleaning supplies and a bucket with a brush rattling around in it. Rob hopped out and grabbed a garden hose from the long bed. With a little scrubbing and some elbow grease, Sam cleaned off his parent's headstones. They were made of gray granite, with their names etched into it. Rob had paid for their funeral so Isaac and Kayla would be spared a potter's grave by the state government. Sam used some cleaner and a scrub brush to brush the lichen and dust that accumulated on it. When he finished, Rob rinsed the headstones off with the hose. Sam dropped his brush into the bucket and stood, marveling at the clean headstones again. His young face looked introspective as he stood there. Rob threw the raveled up hose back into the bed of the truck and walked back to see Sam's conflicted look on his face. Rob stood there and reflected with him, his memory filled with the futile effort to save them in the house fire. "I don't know how I turned out so different than my parents." Sam remarked to Rob. He continued to stare at their headstones. "Must have been an anomaly." "We don't choose our parents, Sam." "I wish they were here right now. I know they'd be proud of what I've accomplished. But I know if they were still here, they'd still be on drugs. And alcohol. And it would have been so much worse. And I would have had to carry them both while going to school in Akron. I just don't understand it." Rob walked up and put an arm around Sam. "They were good people, deep inside. They had big hearts and they loved you, they just... couldn't help themselves. Addiction is an evil disease. It starts off as a bad choice that slowly consumes, like a plague that devours everything in your soul. Your life and being reduces until your very existence is working on the next hit." "You know, I got ahold of my uncle last year. Brett Eckler. I found out he's imprisoned with my grandpa Eckler down in Scioto County at the prison there. So I reached out to try and talk to them, because I never knew them. Brett went to jail for grand theft auto, and grandpa Eckler for meth possession and dealing I believe." "I don't recall you ever told me this, Sam." "I didn't." Sam shook his head. "Prison put me on the line with Brett. He says in this really gruff voice, 'who the hell is this', and I tell him I'm Sam Martin, his nephew, and he immediately snapped at me- 'well you got some fuckin' money or shit for me?' He was very rude, and did not even express an ounce of interest in talking to me. So I hung up. Grandpa Eckler wouldn't speak to me. Now I can see why Dad was so messed up. When your foundation is rotten, the building won't stand. My Dad was doomed." Rob nodded. "Sadly." "Now I sense the same looming threat to me and Cody with Aunt Mary and Uncle Jake. And I worry more about Cody than myself. Aunt Mary is in bad shape from that brain tumor and the complications of surgery, and Uncle Jake can't take the stress of it. It's a bomb waiting to go off, and I know it. And I'm afraid that I won't have a chair when the music stops." "I don't want you to feel that way at all, Sam." Rob assured his friend. "I want you to know that if you ever need anything, to just call me, and I'll help you. That's why I'm your godfather. If the situation at home gets worse, you can always stay with me and Joey. You're family to us. I don't care if we're not blood- family is more than blood, Sam." Sam looked down at the ground. "I'm sick and tired of feeling like I have to be ready to move at a moment's notice, Rob. I'm tired of being the adult in the room. Like having to feed my parents, get food for them, go get errands for them at the dollar store, and now me and Cody having to cook food and take care of things around the house because Aunt Mary forgets or is out of it and Uncle Jake wants to spend more time with his biker pals than us, his family. People keep telling me that I need to enjoy being a teenager, but how? When you have to put your big-boy pants on and fill in for the adults in the room? I'm tired of being tired, frankly." "I understand, Sam." Sam walked over and knelt down to pat their headstones. "I'm sorry, Mom and Dad. I hope wherever you've gone after death, you're at peace. I love you." The young wolf got up and adjusted his baseball cap. "Well I think that's tidied up here as best we can." "Yeah." Rob nodded. He watched Sam calmly pick up his blue bucket with the brush and cleaner and walk back to the truck. The wolf-hybrid pursed his lips and felt sorry for his friend. He walked back to the truck to drive back to the airport. As Rob and Sam returned to Akron-Canton, their ride back to Newark was just taxiing in. Rob stopped the truck and stared in awe at the arrival of "Quimper", his long suffering L-1049G project. Taxiing in on the inboard engines only, the curvaceous Super-G looked immaculate in its silver, blue, and white BATS scheme. From a derelict airframe rusting away on display in Quimper France, the Super Connie was practically rebuilt from the ground up as an almost completely new plane after nearly eight years of restoration. There were times where Rob wasn't sure if the plane would ever fly again; its airframe was so badly corroded that its outer tail fins broke away when the tail was removed for shipping. Ninety-five percent of "Quimper" was brand new metal. She was in the final stages of testing before being sent out as a BATS plane assigned to Virginia to support Barev One. Sam quickly loaded a roll of Vistachrome into his F3 as he hopped out with Rob to examine the L-1049G, which was parked beside the L-1649A. Ground crew were busy chocking the gear as Rob saw Felix Barion emerge with Vlado and Tito Horvat. "Well that looks like one hot ship!" Rob exclaimed to Felix. "How was your flight?" "Well better this time. No engine overheating problem like the last test flight!" Felix chuckled. "I never thought she'd ever fly." "You're welcome." Teased Vlado, who gave Rob a sarcastic little nudge to the shoulder. "Hey! Can I get everyone's photo with the two Connie's?" Sam asked. Obliging, Rob, Ivo, Jordan, lined up with Vlado, Tito, and Felix. Joining them were John and Greg Prishtina. Sam lined up his camera to get them standing in front of the two Constellations, set the exposure and fired off a set of shots to bracket with slight changes in the exposure. "Got it!" With flight plans filed and everything ready to go, Rob joined everyone to climb aboard the VIP interior of "Quimper". Barev's VIP planes were slightly more austere than his own Constellation, but still a nicely decorated and dressed interior. Rob took a seat by the window in the forward fuselage, always within sight of the big radial engines. Sam accompanied him as they watched Ivo turn the big radial engines over. They hacked to life one by one, coughing oily smoke out. Departing Akron-Canton, Rob watched as they taxied to the runway, turned around, and commanding maximum power, the four R-3350's roared to life. Spewing bright red flames, the Constellation galloped down the runway and got airborne, climbing away over I-77 and banking around to head southwest, back to Newark. ------------------------------ Stepping into his former fire station building, Rob flipped on the lights and went upstairs with Joey. The upstairs was lit by the sunlight coming in from the large arched windows over the bay doors below. When the station was rebuilt, Rob had the upstairs turned into a largely open zone, with four massive columns holding up the roof. It was intended to be a party room, but in the end, Rob simply used it for extra storage. A couple boxes and a rocking chair covered in a sheet of plastic sat off in the shadowed corner. "So you think things are bad in New York?" Joey asked Rob. "I think so, yeah. From what Sam told you, and what he told me today? I think things are a lot worse than what he's leading on, or what I've seen with his aunt and uncle. And I think we need to start preparing for the worst case scenario- us with Sam and his cousin Cody." "You surely think that Cody would come here by the state? What about the rest of the DuPont family?" the Doberman inquired. "I just have a weird feeling the worst case scenario is coming." Rob mused. "And I want to make sure we have enough capacity to handle it should the worst happen to them." "Well the party room idea did kinda fizzle out~" Joey admitted with a chuckle. "Nobody is gonna walk up a flight of stairs to party in a fire station." Rob laughed cynically. He walked around to get an idea of how to draw up creating a bathroom, and bedrooms with a living room area. "I think two bedrooms, a bathroom and maybe two open spaces would be ideal?" Joey suggested. "There's a lot of real-estate here to play around with." "Yeah, I agree." Joey put his beefy arms around Rob and held him close with a smile. "Plus, if Cody has to come here, then we have no space for an in-laws suite~" Rob and Joey both laughed and shuddered to that idea. "I'm worried about what's coming politically, and with Sam." Rob admitted. "I'm worried about it as well." Joey agreed. "The politics is BS, for sure. And with Sam's case, I wonder if Mary is getting like vascular dementia?" "That's what I fear. That's a death sentence if she is getting that. And Jake, I sense, is spiraling towards a dark path." "What can ya do about it?" Joey shrugged. "You can tell people, you and warn people, but it's up to them to decide what they want, and sometimes it's too late." Rob rubbed his forehead. "If they can make you believe absurdities, they can make you commit atrocities, Joey." "I know." Rob turned to head back to the house. "I got an idea in my head, and I'll start making some phone calls for a contractor tomorrow." "Sounds good, Rob." Joey followed Rob back down the steps and turned the light off before closing the door behind him. ------------------------------------------- Under the hot Texas sun, Rob emerged with his entourage from the Lubbock county courthouse. Keeping a stoic face, Rob walked silently with his attorney Lisa Scheiddegger. Behind him marched Baritel's new president, Greg Marino, who walked with the new treasurer. Jack Barion walked out with Jerry Schultz, who held the door open for him. Half a minute later, several state government employees with taxation stepped out. Nobody for Baritel smiled. Through some tough negotiations and discussions, Lisa managed to save Baritel from having the book thrown at them for white collar crimes. Several people were heading to prison for the embezzlement and skim, but nobody with the last name of Barion. As a favor to Uncle Jack, Rob was able to spare Walter and Calvin of any legal fines or liability. By giving almost all the money back under the threat of violence, Calvin saved his butt. Rob told the judge that the one million dollars that Calvin used to buy his obnoxious luxury car was a "gift". In the end, Baritel would only owe the state government four million dollars as a fine for tax discrepancies from the books being way off. Rob climbed into the SUV with Lisa, Jack, and Jerry. Greg and the treasurer hopped into the other Traverse that bore Baritel's wordmark on the front doors. Rob put the address in for Walter and Calvin's ranch, the "Westbrooke Ranch" on the west side of Lubbock. "You're welcome." Rob said to Jack. Half an hour later, Rob turned off the road to the Westbrooke Ranch, the former home of "The Deuce". With 1,500 acres of prairieland, it was the long sought dreamland that The Deuce wanted for his family. It complemented the historic ranch that the late James Barion owned to the north of Lubbock, which was now a museum for his life accomplishments. With his passing, the ranch was co-owned by Calvin and Walter, who had run it with his brother and had the other home on the property. Driving down the mile-long driveway lined with trees, Rob felt as though he was driving into the "Dallas" Southfork Ranch. The long driveway ended to a large roundabout, with a giant fountain in the center, which split off to the two homes. Rob rolled around and stopped to hop out. Rob was dressed in his usual formal attire of black slacks, shiny dress shoes, and a crisp white shirt. A warm breeze rustled his dark red and blue striped tie, which had white stripes to accent the red and blue. "Oh Rob!" greeted Walter's wife, Bailey. She was a brown furred wolf like Walter, with light brown hair hidden behind a big wide brimmed hat. "How are things?" "Fine. Where's Walter at? And more importantly, where is Cal." Rob asked. "I saw Cal leave earlier and- oh well you timed it just right!" Bailey pointed out. Rob and everyone turned to see Calvin's obnoxious Lambo arrive. It was neon green with blue stripes on the hood. Rob's eyes squinted in disdain at his cousin's arrival. "Bailey, I want to talk to Walter if he's available. About the court decision." Jack said as he adjusted his white Stetson atop his head. "I'll go get him, he's tending to the kids out back!" Hopping out of his fancy car, Calvin had a cocky look on his face when he saw Rob approach. "What do you want, Rob? Want to make my life even more of a living hell?" "That's a nice living hell if it involves you riding around in a Lamborghini." Rob fired off without cracking a smile. "And you're welcome." Calvin looked confused. Lisa pushed Rob aside and marched up to Calvin. The middle-aged German Shepherd was Rob's ruthless, no-nonsense lawyer. She earned the nickname of "Mrs. Rob Barion" by having a similar mercurial personality as Rob. "We saved your ass from going to jail today for your stupid little stunt." Lisa pointed. "Perjury could blow up in Rob's face, my ass on the line, and blow up in your fucking face!" "Whoa, whoa, whoa, you're a lawyer, and you're gonna talk to me like that!" Calvin hissed. "The fuck I am baby-blubber!" Lisa shouted. "So I hope you like that fucking Lambo because we lied about it in court to save your ass, and Walter's! That wasn't stolen money- that money was a gift to cover the vehicle. Had we said it wasn't valid, the Texas Rangers would have come and hauled your ass off!" Calvin gulped. "So I hope you're happy, Cal, because now Baritel has to pay back over four million in fines over this whole financial shitshow." "I'm sure you're fine with the money." Calvin chuckled with a cocky smirk. "Not my issue now!" "Oh it will be. Lemme tell you something, Cal. You fuck up again, and there's a hole in the desert with your name on it!" Rob pointed. "You're full of shit, Rob!" Calvin laughed as he shoved Rob. The wolf-hybrid immediately grabbed Calvin and shoved him into his Lambo. Calvin flew over the hood, did a roll and fell on his face on the other side. Rob marched around, grabbed his loaded 10mm and aimed it at Calvin as he got up. The chubby wolf looked ashen faced at Rob's Glock. "Don't you ever do that again." "ENOUGH!" Jack shouted. Walter ran out of his open garage door, looking ashen at Rob's presence as he holstered his pistol. "Rob saved your worthless ass for me!" Jack shouted at Calvin. "I've already lost two of my sons, and several of my grandchildren, and I rather not the indignity of having one in prison! Even with your god damn cavalier attitude towards life." "This is all your fault!" Walter shouted. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, baby face!" Jack pointed. "If you had the gonads like your brother, it would have never have come to this! If The Deuce knew that there was a skim going on, he would have shut that shit down immediately!" Walter frowned. Jack turned his ire towards Calvin. "I'm so ashamed of you for stealing money from the company! How could you, Calvin!? You were raised better than that!" "It's our company! So it's our money!" Jack rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Cal." "Yeah, tell the law that." Rob glared. "You what you got from your father. Look around at everything here, Cal! You got your father's money, his home, half the ranch, and that wasn't enough for you!" "You're an ungrateful, selfish motherfucker!" Lisa glared. "Shriek some more, Miss Frizzle!" The German Shepherd's face grew furious. Lisa immediately lunged at Calvin who recoiled to her raised fist. Rob and Jerry stepped in and stopped her. "CALVIN!" Jack screamed. "Boy you're a lucky sumbitch I'm so old now, 'cause I'd beat you like a cheap drum if I was younger!" "You've been warned, Cal!" Rob pointed. "Don't you ever come back around Baritel, if you don't want to end up in a hole!" Rob turned to walk over to Walter and tell him the results of the court hearing. In a nicer way, Rob reiterated what he told Calvin with a sarcastic "you're welcome." Rob then turned to leave with Lisa and Jerry. They hopped into the Baritel Traverse and took off down the long driveway. "If there isn't a J.R Ewing in the Barion family." Walter remarked to his Dad as they watched Rob leave. "Some day's Walt, I don't know if I should laugh or be scared of Rob's capabilities..." Jack shook his head. -------------------------------- Taxiing in past "Coneflower" was "Thing One" and "Thing Two", Rob's hard-working C-121A Constellations. Wearing their identical USAF "white top" paint schemes with copious dayglo orange patches on the tail and outer wings, the tubby short-fuselage Constellations burbled in to momentarily park and refuel at Lubbock. They were Rob's ride to Arizona, to go pick up a set of warbirds and fly them back to his aviation museum in Newark. "Thing One" was captioned by Joey, while "Thing Two" was captioned by Felix. Both propliners turned and parked, their inboard engines cutting out almost simultaneously. Wishing Lisa and Jerry goodbye, Rob watched as Lisa departed in his L-1049E. Jerry left for Mississippi aboard a BATS Convairliner. Rob assisted in refueling the two Constellations before he boarded it for the flight to Arizona. Forty-five minutes later, the two C-121A's were back in the air and climbing westward for Arizona, about three hours away from Lubbock. Sitting behind the controls of "Thing Two", Rob flew with Joey and his mechanic Vlado. In the jump seat behind Rob sat Sam, with his camera bag sitting on his lap while he ate lunch. Far below, the arid scrubland stretched for miles around, disappearing into the haze on the horizon. It was a hostile, unforgiving landscape of sun baked earth, reminding Rob of the surface of Mars in places. He sat in the left-hand seat unwrapping a hamburger to have for a late lunch. "So how did your court hearing go?" Sam asked curiously while munching on his food. "Well me and Lisa did our damage control so in the end, they lowered the fine to just four million dollars." "Just." Joey chuckled. "Well four sounds a lot better than almost ten!" Rob exclaimed with a snort. "Plus for Uncle Jack I saved Walter and Cal's asses. Yeah sure, there was some perjury involved, but that's family. I'll stick up to family from the state even if those two are two cheeks of the same ass." "People like Cal get their just desserts in the end regardless." Joey smiled as he shrugged sarcastically. "More like getting thrown out of a plane without a parachute over the ocean~" Rob rolled his eyes. "Well now it's taken care of and you can focus on other things!" Sam suggested. Joey leaned in and smiled at Rob. "See? Sam's got an excellent point~" "Yeah, I suppose so." Three hours later, "Thing One" and "Thing Two" arrived at Chandler. "Thing One" descended in first, while Rob orbited above in the holding pattern. Getting permission to land, Rob and Joey banked around and lined up for the runway. The gear and flaps were dropped into place, and the C-121A slowly descended in with its slight nose down angle. The old Lockheed burbled over the threshold and made a textbook landing on the centerline. Chandler's airport was home to Collingwood Aviation, a big-time partner in Rob's quest to restore and maintain warbirds. Collingwood was a father and son team, headed by fifty-seven year old Brent, and his twenty-nine year old son, Trey. Both were burly Rottweilers with black and rust fur. Arriving with a load of spare engines, propellers, and other miscellaneous parts, "Thing One" and "Thing Two" taxied to the hangar and parked. Ground crew with the company set the chocks and grabbed the airstairs for the two propliners. Brent and Trey stepped out of the office and into the dry afternoon heat to greet their guests from Ohio. "Good afternoon, Rob!" Brent greeted as he shook Rob's paw. "You're late!" "My court bullshit in Lubbock ran over." "Did you get everything fixed." "As best I could, and my cousin didn't wind up in a hole in the desert~" Rob joked. "That's gotta be a pretty big hole with him." Brent teased. "Mister Joey! Welcome!" "Hey!" Trey greeted as he shook Rob's paw. "You are going to absolutely love your Grandpa's Corsair. She flies as good as she looks!" "Well if you say it, it must be true." Rob smiled. "This is a day I've been longing after she crashed six years ago." "'The Barion Two' flies like she just left the Vought assembly line." "Good." "And Joey's Thunderbolt is ready to go as well." "Excellent." "Joey, you are going to love your razorback." Brent assured Joey. "She's gonna look nice next to Grandpa's Jug." Joey smiled. "How's your Grandpa doing, Joey?" "Not good at all." Joey shook his head with a frown. "I don't think it'll be much longer." "I understand." Brent nodded. Walking down the metal steps came Sam as he fiddled with the lens cap to his F3. "Oh Brent! This is a family friend of ours that's staying with us. Meet Sam Martin!" Joey said, introducing Sam to Brent. "Oh my lord! You look like a young clone of Rob!" Brent exclaimed as he held out a paw. Sam happily accepted and shook his paw. "I'm Brent Collingwood, brains of the operation here!" "Sam Martin." The young wolf smiled. "Looking forward to photograph some planes!" "Come! Lemme show you!" Brent motioned as Sam followed him. The hangar doors opened up, and Rob saw to his amazement his late grandfather's F4U-5NL, fully put together and ready to go. Rob's eyes were fixated on how beautiful his Corsair was; the last time he saw it, it was in three separate pieces after breaking apart on landing following a midair collision he survived. The Collingwood restoration hangar was filled with a number of projects, most of them his museum's. Next to his Corsair with its wings folded up was Joey's P-47D-23RA, a beautiful polished metal Thunderbolt with a black and white checkered cowl, and black and white D-Day stripes on its elliptical wings and rear fuselage. It would compliment his Brazilian marked D-40RA that honored his ailing grandfather. Sam stood kneeling down as he took a picture of it. Rob walked up to "The Barion II". It was his very first warbird, a gift from Gordo in 2002 after it had sat in a hangar at the airport for nine years after its last flight in 1993. The Corsair was seventy-seven years old, having been built by Chance-Vought in March 1947 and accepted by the Navy in October 1947 as a winterized night-fighter. It was a Korean War veteran, having five confirmed kills, two of which were MiG-15 jet fighters that were shot down in 1952. After its service, it was retired in 1957 to a Navy surplus yard in Pennsylvania, where Gordo had purchased it for $2000. He christened it "The Barion II" after his wartime SB2C-4 Helldiver, and flew it for thirty-six years. This was the plane's second rebuild. In 2010, it survived its first mid-air collision where a Cessna incompetently flown slammed into it nearly head-on, nearly killing Geert Apps. The night-fighter lost its radome after that, and Rob had it restored as a day-fighter, its matte black paint and red lettering becoming glossy sea blue with Navy reserve markings. Now it sat in a new coat of glossy sea blue, with a lo-viz scheme used during the Korean War, where the white lettering and the white in the star and bar, was turned a medium blue to blend in. The blunt prop boss of its huge Hamilton Standard prop was now a light blue color. Matte black covered the top of the long nose, to reduce glare from sunlight glistening off the paint. There were no words from Rob. It looked like a masterpiece. His late grandpa would be proud. Glancing around at the other projects in the hangar, Rob spotted his long-suffering Tigercat restoration. Seven years before, he had purchased a F7F project from Collingwood, only for the plane to catch on fire over New Mexico while bringing it home. Forced to bail out, the Tigercat blew up over the scrubland; about the only thing salvageable from it was the data plate, used to build it all over again. It was roughly halfway done, with the fuselage and wings all sitting in the jigs and support racks to hold them. There was another Focke-Wulf project- an Fw-190A-8 for Joey. It was a "Frankenwulf"- a German built wartime airframe recovered from Norway, but instead of its mercurial BMW 801 radial, a Soviet made AsH-82 would be installed. It would complement Rob's "Frankenwulf" A-8, and his temperamental A-5 back home. And tucked away in a corner was another Thunderbolt destined for Rob, a F-47N Thunderbolt, dressed in the markings of the plane his late relative, Edgar O'Donnell flew in the early 1950's out of Lockbourne AFB, Ohio. Rob and Joey kept Collingwood in business with their aircraft. ------------------------------------ Dusk turned the sky a rich reddish-orange that blended to purple as night descended on Chandler. The beautiful sunset provided Sam with a perfect backdrop as he lined up his shot of a imposing looking saguaro silhouetted against the rugged landscape. Sam set his exposure to what the light meter read for the sky as he put the cactus on the right third of his shot. He anticipated how it would look on the test roll of Foton-1000 as he fired off a shot. Sam turned the camera to get a portrait version as he lined it up, focused, and took a second shot. The autowinder whirred and loaded the next exposure. Another click-whir signaled Rob's photo taken on his F3 and its autowinder. Sam liked how a rock formation looked in the fading light of the day. He took aim of the tall, sandstone rocks that were painted amber and orange and set his exposure to fire off two shots to bracket. He was running low on his roll in the camera. Noticing Rob standing and examining something on a rocket, Sam found his next photography subject. He quickly raised his camera up, set the exposure and focused on the silhouette of Rob and fired off the shot. He spun the camera around and took a portrait of Rob silhouetted against the sun which finished off his roll. The camera rewound the roll back with a steady hum. "Well that's it for my roll!" Sam called out to Rob. Rob finished his last roll of Foton-1000 as well. "Same." Rob nodded as he hit the rewind button. "I'm curious to how fine-grain this Foton is gonna look." "Yeah." Sam nodded. "Isn't color film not as fast as black and white?" "Correct. You can get some faster monochrome films, but usually they just get pushed further in development to compensate. So there's an Ilford that's actually a one-thousand speed film but it's pushed in development to be equivalent to thirty-two-hundred." "Ah." "That's where you get that neat grain. Grainy monochrome has a sexiness to it that grainy color lacks. Thought I'd take grainy color over digital noise any day." Rob pointed out as they both started walking back to the car. "Digital cameras are fun but you have to work on them in post to get them to look great. With film, you just take it out of the box and it's gonna have a character to it." "Film is fun to work with because there's a surprise to it. Sometimes a good surprise, sometimes bad." "That's how it used to be!" Rob laughed as he stowed his camera in his bag. "Well I think it's best to go back to the motel~" Sam hopped into their rental car, a tired old Chevy Aveo. Rob popped it into drive and turned around, kicking up dust as they made their way back to the motel. "You have a birthday coming up in a week and a half!" Sam remarked as he unloaded his rewound roll of film to put back in its canister. "Oh yeah. The big four-two." "How does it feel to be in your forties?" "Well it feels more like my eighties!" Rob exclaimed. "Heh, I feel more enlightened after nearly forty-two trips around the sun." "That sounds like a carnival ride the way you describe it like that~" "More like the ride from hell you can't get off until death do us part." Rob cynically quipped. "Being in my forties brings a lot of feelings. It's a reminder of one's mortality, but a reminder that there's still many years left. I don't have a midlife crisis, because my whole life has been one crises after another, so there's that. But I keep on my new path in life." "In seven years, I turn twenty, wow." Sam remarked. "Well enjoy being a teen, Sam, because you'll never get this kind of freedom ever again. I took it for granted. I dreamed of becoming an adult and escaping my troubles, to realize how good I had it back then, even with all the trials and tribulations." Sam nodded. "I see how exhausted my uncle can be after work. I'd like to do something that won't break my back, like my interest in writing, but he gets all dismissive of my dreams, saying it won't work." "Well what does he know? You'll never know unless you try." "I know. That's what I tell him!" "To some people, Sam, it's brawn over brains. I like to have brawn and brains." "The march of time is ruthless. One minute you're thirteen, and then you'll blink and you're thirty-three. So my advice is enjoy it, Sam. Every minute of your youth, because it won't be there forever." Sam nodded. Back at the motel, Sam sat on the bed eating a slice of pizza and watching a movie that played on the TV on the wall. Rob and Joey ate dinner on the little concrete walled patio outside by the parking lot. The patio had a couple faded plastic chairs and a sad little green table bleached by the sun that housed a box of pizza and a bottle of sparkling water. "Me and Sam got a bunch of nice sunset shots out there in the desert." Rob remarked as he munched on some pizza. "Well that's good." Smiled Joey. "Brent kept remarking how Sam looks just like you. He's got the same wave in his hair like you." "Heh, well I don't got gook hair, that's for sure." Rob joked sardonically. "I guess that's what drew me to helping Sam when I first met him. He reminded me of myself in my childhood, so innocent and blissful while all the bad stuff swirled around me. I had to help him. I couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't." "He's alive because of what you did in Akron." Joey nodded. "I think Sam would have died in that house fire had it not been for you." Rob looked regretful as he slowly chewed his food. "Yeah." "I know that still bothers you, Rob." "If I had just gotten there sooner... They were doomed. Their bodies were so badly burned. It kills me on the inside." "I know it does, Rob." "And Sam, when they took him away... that eats at me. I felt so helpless. He could have been a ward of the state. Then he would have truly been doomed." Joey nodded solemnly. Rob took a sip of sparkling water from his red silo cup. "Sam told me he tried to talk to his uncle, from Isaac's side, and he was apparently a fucking asshole to him on the phone, demanding about money and shit, and basically told Sam to fuck off." "Well remember Isaac did say his family was trash." "How could you do that to a kid?" Rob remarked as he shook his head disparagingly. "That whole family failed each other. How and why do people choose such a life?" Joey shrugged. "Not everyone can be smart, Rob." "If only stupid hurt, huh?" Rob quipped as his cell phone rang. "One sec- Hey Esker!" "Rob, Jesus, I've been trying to get ahold of you all morning!" Esker said, sounding despondent. "What's going on?" "Barevsat, we had a major electrical malfunction on it early this morning after sending the command to adjust its orbital perturbations and we lost all contact. We got a message from the spacecraft about five minutes later from its low gain antenna saying it had gone into safe mode and was awaiting further instruction. We were able to restart the science instrument package and the scan platform, but the telecom package isn't turning back on. The transponders are not responding to any command to turn back on. The spacecraft is down to one K-A, one X-band receiver, and the S-band uplink systems, and that's it. That's a real problem." "Yeah that's a real problem and I can already tell you what happened." "Yeah, I have a feeling it's what you're about to tell me. The logic board design for the bus fittings to the telecom package." "That violent ride to GSO really fucked us with this spacecraft, Esker." "I know." "Well there's no use crying over spilled milk." Rob shrugged. "So let's work the problem and see how we'll get out of this." "I'll keep you posted." "Thank you." Rob put his phone down, shook his head and smirked cynically. "Well that was not the phone call I wanted." "The satellite?" "Yeah, it's fucked." Rob grumbled as he took another sip of his drink. "I know exactly what happened. The telecom package is a set of riser boards off the main logic board, using plug-in card slots like a desktop computer's PCI ports. Well they probably got rattled loose in the two solid fueled burns putting it into geostationary orbit, and when they fired the thrusters to adjust its orbit, it probably shook them completely out and there was a short circuit." "Oh, lovely." Joey shook his head. "So basically the spacecraft's primary mission as a communications satellite is over." "Yeppers. She's fucked." Rob grunted. "And with the next launch being moved up to October at the earliest? A lot of people are going to be pissed." "You don't seem too pissed about it?" "Well what's the point? I could bounce off the walls for ten minutes here about this and end up with the same problem. It's gonna be an insurance write-off and we'll take the money, help our customers out, and try again in October and this time with the proper rocket upper stage configuration we should have flown with had the Israeli's not pulled out!" Joey laughed. "It's never easy is it, Rob?" "Life likes to throw a fast one, for sure." ------------------------------ With the last drop tank filled with 154 gallons of 100LL, Rob secured the cap and dragged the hose back to the refueling truck to stow away. "The Barion II" was ready for its long flight back to Ohio. Beside him, Joey helped hand-turn the large paddle blades to his P-47's propeller, and off in the distance, the flight crews worked to inspect and prepare "Thing One" and "Thing Two". Sam stood loading another roll of Vistachrome into his F3 and got it spooled up. He raised his camera up and shot a wide angle shot of Rob and Joey's warbirds, glistening in the bright Arizona sunrise. "Hey Rob! Can I get a picture!" Rob obliged. He stood by the starboard landing gear, his back against the gull-wing kink of the Corsair's wing. With a stoic, calm expression in his gray flight suit and white helmet, Sam took a set of pictures of him and his immaculate F4U-5. "Thank you!" Rob watched Sam run over and do the same for Joey who also obliged. He then turned his attention back to his aircraft as he did the final walkaround inspection. He checked to make sure all the control surface locks were removed, the pitot tube cover was removed, and there were no abnormal leaks. The F4U-5 passed with flying colors, and Rob signed off on the paperwork. Brent came over with Joey's paperwork in his grip. "Have a safe flight home, Rob! Let me know when you get home!" Brent said as he shook Rob's paw for good luck. "Thanks. And will do, Brent. You turned her from a twisted wreck into a masterpiece." "And your other Corsairs will look the same too." "Well they do have a charm to them after sitting under Lake Michigan for half a century." Rob chuckled. "See you around, Brent." Rob saw Sam run to board "Thing One" as he climbed up onto the wing to get into the cockpit. Rob momentarily paused and examined the cockpit; it was a sacrilegious place for this plane, the place where his grandfather, in the last hours of his life, sat in before dying from brain cancer. He snuck out, got a ride to the museum when it was closed, got in and got himself into the cockpit, a sick, dying, ninety-one year old man, and probably reflected on his life and family, before dying peacefully. When Rob and Geert found him the following morning, he sat with an unspeakable peace to his aged face, paws neatly folded on his lap as if in meditation. If death could be beautiful, it was to Rob in that moment. Rob patted the canopy as he climbed in. "Wish me luck, Grandpa." Getting strapped in and situated with the controls once more, Rob went through the checklist as he switched on the power, checked the magnetos and made sure the battery power was sufficient. Lights that hadn't glowed in years came back online as Rob flipped the arming switch and engaged the starter. With a whine of the starter, the big Hamilton prop began to turn. Rob counted the blades of the four-bladed prop as his fingers anxiously waited on the magneto switch. After several blades, Rob engaged both magnetos and the engine caught with a blackblast of oily blue smoke. The rough chug of cold cylinders gradually smoothed out as the engine warmed up. To his right, Rob saw Joey's Thunderbolt roar to life with a blast of bluish smoke. Getting the all clear, and seeing that the two C-121's were departing, Rob released the brakes and gave a slight burst of power. The Corsair began to roll as he turned slowly. Keeping his forward view by slowly zigzagging down the tarmac and onto the service road, Rob followed behind the two Constellations. Joey was soon taxiing behind him as they slowed to a stop to wait for the Connie's to take off. "Here we go!" Felix called from "Thing One". "See you in the air, Rob!" Sam said into the radio as the first Constellation began its takeoff roll. It used up two thousand feet and climbed away into the bright sky. "Thing Two" followed behind, and more heavily loaded, lumbered slowly into the air. Rob worked the throttle and slowly crawled in a turn onto the runway. He held for a final check of his instrumentation. With an all clear, Rob put his feet into the rudder pedals and gave full power slowly. The plane responded and roared to life as Rob countered the torque with opposing rudder. As the speed built up, he felt the tail grow lighter as the tail wheel lifted off the runway. Rob passed through V1 and V2 was fast approaching. Tugging back on the stick, Rob felt the wheels slowly lift off the runway. Fully loaded with fuel, his Corsair lumbered into the air. Once again there was wind under those bent wings. A smile emerged on Rob's face as he retracted the gear and continued his climb away from Chandler. With the canopy locked back, Rob enjoyed the slipstream blowing against him as he formed up with the two Constellations. A few minutes later, he spotted in his rearview mirror, Joey arriving in his immaculate checkerboard adorned Thunderbolt. It had a beautiful sparkle in the July sunshine, the lumbering giant Jug made more ungainly with the three heavy drop tanks shackled to its wing mounts and belly. "How's she handling?" Rob asked Joey over the radio. "Heh, about as well as she looks!" he exclaimed. "Three drop tanks turn this thing into a house with wings on it." "I feel pretty sluggish too with my two." "Give it a couple hours, and it'll lighten up." Joey remarked. "Your Grandpa would be so proud of his old bird looking that good, Rob." "I sure hope so. She flies better than ever. This is like having an old friend back." The long journey home took several hours. But several hours didn't feel like a long time for a euphoric Rob, as he sat strapped into his "old friend". His Grandpa's Corsair flew beautifully, gracefully holding pace with the two Constellations at an indicated airspeed of 305 mph. A tailwind aided them along on their journey back to Ohio. For several years, Rob had flown in place of "The Barion II", his "Ensign Eliminator", an FG-1D Corsair, and "Sam", a FG-1A. Compared to the older wartime Corsairs, the F4U-5's metal control surfaces gave slightly better response, and the four-blade propeller handled torque more gracefully. The control panel had more instrumentation and gauges on it, including the now redundant radar scope. Rob sat back and thought about all the years of its military service, and then the almost four decades of leisurely flights his grandpa had with it flying to and from Texas to visit his Dad and nephew. Now she'd fly again for years to come. With gas low and the drop tanks exhausted on both their planes, Rob and Joey were relieved to make it back to Newark-Heath. In the holding pattern, Rob followed the two Constellations around as Joey came in for landing first as the Thunderbolt was eating into its emergency reserve. From his vantage point, Rob saw Joey stick the landing perfectly. The D-Day stripes complimented its black and white cowl beautifully. Rob checked his fuel and gave the Constellations the go-ahead to proceed for landing while he orbited above. "Thing One" and "Thing Two" descended in one at a time and made an uneventful landing. With everyone now back on terra firma, Rob banked around one final time and lined up for the runway. Dropping the flaps and gear into the slipstream, Rob began his steady descent in for the runway. The runway was a pretty sight, and its presence finally made Rob realize the fatigue and exhaustion from several hours of flying in formation. He kept his Corsair steady, controlling its descent with the throttle. Crossing Irving-Wick and the airport perimeter, Rob held steady and pulled the throttle slowly back while flaring. "The Barion II" touched down on its main gear, and Rob held the nose up while gently applying brakes. The tail wheel gently touched down and Rob let the plane roll down the runway to bleed off speed. Rob breathed a huge sigh of relief to be back on terra firma. Taxiing to the museum's hangar. Rob folded the wings back up. As they folded up, he passed below a welcoming honor of two water jets shot from the fire trucks at the airport. Geert, and several employees gave an applause as Rob turned and parked. He pulled the mixture handle to "cut" and the Pratt and Whitney sputtered and died, the propeller coasting to a stop. Rob unstrapped himself, took his helmet off and climbed out with shaky legs to be greeted by Tito, his junior mechanic. "Long time no see for this bird!" Tito greeted as he helped Rob down. "You ain't a kiddin'." "How was your flight?" "Long." "That is a great looking Barion Two!" came Alvin with a big grin. The young Dober stood with Nancy who looked in awe. "May I see Gordo's plane?" Nancy asked Rob. "Sure!" Rob helped his grandma over, and they all stood there from the front, admiring the plane's new paint scheme. Nancy walked over to examine the nose art, and told the story of how Gordo designed it on the carrier for his divebomber, and why he picked the colors that were available on the ship. Rob had returned the four-leaf shamrock on the design in homage to "The Barion", his SB2C-5 that was painted in his grandfather's Helldiver colors. Nancy put her paw on the wing leading edge, bowed her head a bit, and began to weep. Tears welled up in her blue eyes. "Your Grandpa would have been so proud to see this..." she said as she reached for a tissue in her purse. "Oh Gordo, you're missed so much from my life!" "I understand, Grandma." Rob smiled as he put an arm around her to comfort her. "I miss Grandpa too. Every day. This plane is to honor him. And I'm honored to keep it flying for him for as long as I can." "He was so proud of you, Rob. I know wherever he may be, his spirit is looking down and smiling at this moment." Nancy smiled. "This is for you, Grandpa." Smiled Rob as he patted the cowling. "Love you in my heart, forever." -------------------------------------------------- "Oh I like that picture~" Sitting on the couch in the living room, Rob and Sam poured over about $200 worth of developed film, which was digitally scanned and displayed on Rob's giant TV. On the screen was a picture Sam had taken at Baritel of one of their office buildings. In the morning sun, the gold tinted windows glistened, creating a large fourteen point starburst. Rob remarked about the higher contrast Fotochrome had compared to Vistachrome. The next photo was a more wide angle shot of a group pose of some members of the Strategic Missile Troops. Sam had gotten a group photo of some of the Kriminalpolizei with the facility's Grenztruppen gathered in front of an imposing BTR-70. Sam liked how the green in their uniforms was rendered and how the grain looked for a 200 speed film. "I notice Vistachrome is more of a medium contrast film. Fotochrome reminds me more like Fujichrome." Sam pointed out at another office building shot. "In bright scenes it's contrast is really sharp, like the steel accents of the windows in that picture." "Like the Fuji film, it's a great everyday type film for a variety of uses." Rob nodded. "That's what we wanted." Rob reached down to his laptop on the coffee table to open another folder to look at some pictures taken in Arizona. He pulled up a picture Sam took of an imposing Saguaro, taken with a roll of Foton-1000. It was grainy, but the grittiness gave a character to the fading light of the day. With the iris cranked down, Sam got a starburst tucked in near the multiple arms of the cactus. The setting sun painted the sky an intense red-orange, the landscape taking on that color. Some light colored rocks off camera cast the Saguaro with just a tiny bit of light to give its body some detail. A photo Rob took was of a black silhouette of a cactus against the harsh desert landscape. Again, the sky was ablaze of color. "Wow!" Sam pointed. "Look at the sky!" "I love the color." Rob agreed. "I think the grain looks good, don't you?" "It's got a lot of character to it." "I think film grain looks better than sensor noise. I got a very expensive Sony Alpha, and it's noise is quiet, but that's character in the film emulsion. If you shot that black and white, it would rival an Ansell Adams piece." "I wouldn't put myself that far ahead of my skill." The young wolf laughed. "I don't brag~" "Good." Rob laughed. "Sometimes it's better to never brag and let your work brag for yourself." "Exactly." "I'll let the film chemist back in Chicago know that the Foton looks good." "Yeah!" Rob chuckled at a picture Sam took of him, silhouetted against the sky as he stood on a rock gazing out at the landscape. Rob looked imposing, ominous. "I had a lot of fun shooting these." Sam nodded. "I was told before the end of school that when I start eighth grade and do that Word and PowerPoint class, I will have to make a presentation on what we did for summer break, so I got a lot of pictures to work with!" "You got a lot of material to work with on your adventures." Smiled Rob. "That was a worthwhile trip, even with some headaches." "Indeed. So Baritel is all squared away?" "I sure hope so." Rob shrugged. "But I'll deal with the next problem. Expect the unexpected, Sam." "Mhmm..." Sam shook his head. "That's how I feel about my aunt and uncle right now." "I get it. I understand." "But I can't worry about it until that time comes." The wolf shrugged openly. "Any who, your birthday is in a few days, so I got a surprise for you!" "Oh you didn't have to, Sam~" "Me and Joey went shopping and I wanted to get you something nice, so I saved up some money and you'll like it!" Sam smiled. Rob's cell phone started to ring on the coffee table. "Well keep it a secret and surprise me!" Rob remarked as he picked his phone up, noticing that it was Joey calling him. "What's going on, Joey?" "Hey I'm at the hospital with Mav." Rob's expression dropped. "What happened?" "I'm visiting with Mom and Dad and all of a sudden we hear just a bunch of screams! And so me and Dad rush out and we see that that there was a domestic going on beside Mav's house." "Rick and Jose's old house they rented?" "Yeah!" Joey exclaimed. "All of a sudden that dude smashed a bottle filled with I think drain cleaner on the girlfriend and her kid." "Oh nooooooo." "Maverick and his son sprung into action while me, Dad, and the other neighbors restrained that motherfucker and called the cops. Oh Christ, you should have seen the chemical burns. Maverick and Robby both got chemical burns on their paws tending to the girlfriend and the kid. It's bad. Maverick and Robby used their garden hose to try and flush as much of it off them. Karen said they're fighting to save their lives and they're gonna be airlifted to Columbus. So, me, Mom and Dad, Vlad, Nico, and Dmitry are here at Licking Memorial. I think for Mav's sake, you should come here, because he's really been affected by this." "I'll be on my way." Rob stowed his phone and quickly shut the TV off, surprising Sam. "Come on, let's go to the hospital." "Why? What happened?" "Maverick got hurt. Domestic situation with his neighbor." "Oh no!" Sam exclaimed. "Lemme get my shoes on!" ----------------------------------------- Looking at his bandaged paws, Maverick sat down on his couch, looking dejected. He wore a snug fitting black tanktop and blue gym shorts. Poking out around the right strap was a gauze pad applied to his chest, which covered a minor chemical burn he got on his chest. Still looking shook up from the ordeal, Mav sat with a thousand yard stare on his face. "Robby, could you get me a bottle of water from the fridge, please?" "Sure, Dad." Robby, a sable furred husky with tousled brown hair returned to the living room with a bottle of water. He handed it to his dad only to realize that he couldn't open it. Robby had to kneel down, brace the bottle between his legs as he struggled to open it with one-handed, his left paw bandaged up after sustaining some chemical burns. "Here you go~" "Thanks." Rob stepped in through the kitchen door, carrying Maverick's prescription salve. "I got your guy's medication from CVS." He announced as he sat them down on the kitchen table. Rob quickly walked over to take a seat opposite of Mav on the couch. "What happened?" "Me and Dad were playing video games and all of a sudden here comes our burnouts next door screaming and fighting again." Robby started to explain. "Crackhead Jane and Matthew Meth having a screaming match." Maverick rolled his eyes. "And it went outside, so I go out to warn them I will call police. She was screaming about leaving with the kid, and he went and grabbed this gray bottle of I think drain cleaner, and he threw it at her, and it burst all over her and the kid. They fall to the ground screaming in agony. And when he charged me? I sucker punched the fuck out of him, and that's when Joey and Andrew came in to help me. Joey's got a hell of a right hook~" "Oh yeah~" "The other neighbors held down Matthew Meth. I didn't even have time to be scared. I called for Robby, and he grabbed the hose from the back yard, and I grabbed the front, and I knew what had to be done. I ripped the clothes off that little boy, and I started irrigating his eyes and chest with the hose. He screamed bloody murder... he was in so much pain. I felt so helpless. Me and that little fucking hose washing his eyes. Marie called for help. Robby took care of the girlfriend trying to wash the chemical offs her. That young man is probably blind." "Well, you don't know that, Mav." "His fucking eyes looked like little wads of crumpled up paper. They had a gray, bloodshot appearance to them, Rob, your eyes don't look like that!" Maverick shouted. "Vicki and AJ are probably blind and maimed because of that stupid motherfucker!" Rob pursed his lips and looked down at the floor. "I feel so terrible. I feel like I didn't do enough for them. It felt like forever for the police and ambulance to show up. The paramedic saw the kid, and immediately grabbed him and RAN to the ambulance. They took off immediately. And when I saw how fucked up my paws were, I about passed out. My heart was racing." "You did the right thing, Mav." "I don't know if I did enough." "You did so much for them. And you too, Robby. I'm proud of you." "Thanks, Rob." Robby smiled. "I've been mulling about this, and today... I'm just tired of it all." Maverick said before suddenly jumping up off the couch. "This whole neighborhood is going to hell in a hand basket. Varg's home is up for sale, Rick and Jose left and now their home is Crackhead paradise, you and Joey left, and Christ! Two more people on Leslie Drive have 'For Sale' signs up! What am I gonna get next? More Yee-Yee and Yee-Haws!? And take a look at this dump!" Maverick pointed to a hole in the wall that Rob had completely ignored. Rob squinted and noticed that a painting Mav had done of his late wife was destroyed, her head missing by a hole in the wall where a colored Pex line had burst at the fitting. "All I wanted to do was eat breakfast and I get a fucking sharkbite fitting shoot through the wall and hit me in the face with a jet of water!" Maverick shouted. "The neighborhood is turning into West Virginia, my neighbors have mangled my paws up, my house is falling apart, and AMY'S PAINTING PULLED A JOHN F. KENNEDY! WHAT WORLD AM I LIVING IN!?" "Calm down!" Rob motioned. "Yelling isn't gonna change things." "I'm ready to move, Rob." Maverick shook his head. "That just... that really bothered me..." Maverick fell back onto his couch and covered his face as he started to sob. The husky was emotionally overwhelmed. "How could you fucking do that to a kid, let alone anyone!?" Rob frowned and slowly sat back down. "Why does anyone do the evil that men do?" Maverick looked away, tears welled up in his now bloodshot eyes. "I still hear the screams, Rob. I can't believe someone could do that." "Yeah." Rob agreed. "I can't tell you what to do with you and Robby's life. But if you want to move, I'll gladly help you. Building my new house and that property was an eye opening experience for me." "I see the writing on the wall here." Maverick nodded. "The original house burned down, and then G.R Gordon built this dump and its falling apart at five years old. Christ, what's it gonna do in ten or twenty? Burn down again with me inside!? Or what neighbors am I gonna get? It is gonna be ding-ding! Beat 'em up in the front yard again! Oh that stupid cocksucker... or am I gonna get another Dont'Noah?" "I think you're ready for a change too." Rob nodded. "Yeah." After making sure Robby and Mav were situated, Rob departed to go back home. As he left he took a short hop around his old neighborhood, and noticed the "For Sale" signs on Leslie, and Euclid Avenue. The neighborhood was turning-over again. As he began his journey home, Rob thought about Mav's upset reaction to his neighbor kid and mom getting badly burned by acid, and his question over why anyone could do such a thing. "Why does anyone do the evil that men do?" Rob thought about himself as he drove. A tough, bitter expression was carried on his face as he thought about his own actions, the extreme violence he inflicted on others. Sure, they were crooks, corrupt cops, and people who were begging to be made an example of, but what difference did it make whether it was right or wrong? Rob thought of the pain he inflicted on their families, the image he created of himself as the tough, no-nonsense, John Wayne ready to waltz into any fight unafraid. "For I am become death, destroyer of worlds." Rob came to a red light on Rt. 13 and stopped. His eyes glanced at his reflection in the rear view mirror. They were empty pools of blue-green, sunk into his face that was in the shadows. Rob saw his own dead-inside eyes. They told a lot about him, and people kept their distance. And for what? Rob didn't know the answer. Returning back to his house, Rob backed into his space under the overhang and hopped out. As he locked up his SUV, Greenie waddled over to greet him with his usual quack and flapping of wings to get Rob's attention. Rob smiled and picked Greenie up, who gave him some happy quacks as Rob went inside to say hello to Joey before going to his little private porch space. Flipping on the light overhead, Rob sat Greenie on the table and pet his soft green head as Rob saw his little Robin friends join him. Rocky and Sparkle landed on the table for their pettings as well. "Rob's feeling the weight of things on my shoulders tonight, my feathered friends." Rob admitted to them. "I feel for Maverick. He's emotionally exhausted from a terrible accident with his neighbor, and I feel for them too. But I'm a hypocrite I feel- I ask why people do the evil that men do, when I myself have that capability when pushed too far. It's scary. I hate it. But I can do it." Rob clasped his paws together and rested his muzzle on them as he sat in silence in a long moment of introspection as night fell upon his property. ------------------------------------ Looking quite content at the helm of "Photon", Rob sat back and watched his quadjet build up speed down the runway of John Glenn International. Joey called out the speed as they ate up runway on the takeoff run. "Vee-one, Rob." Tugging on the yoke, Rob began to rotate as Joey called out for V2; pulling the nose up slowly, the old DC-8 lifted off the runway with its four howling CFM56's. Columbus passed below as Rob pulled the gear up and began the hour flight to Chicago with his friends and family to go celebrate his and Jake's birthday. Today Rob and his twin turned forty-two; Rob had remarked on his diary entry that he was now "another year closer to death". And what better place to celebrate than to take his entourage to his "summer house" in Chicago, the "Stonecliff Estate". "I'm getting to like this jet-set lifestyle, Joey." Rob teased as he set up the autopilot to the jet. "Well it only took the FAA like forever to get you your type rating." Joey smiled with a chuckle. "Yeah don't remind me. They signed off on it and lost the damn paperwork. Typical government job I tell ya." Rob joked cynically. "Well now you're DC-8 type rated!" "And I'm having a blast with it." Rob laughed as he set the autopilot heading and let the plane take over the flying. It took a little over an hour to make the trip from Columbus to Chicago. "Photon" arrived over the Windy City by nine o'clock in the morning, and circled in for an uneventful landing at Chicago Midway, Centoh's operating base. From there, it was a forty minute drive across the city to reach Stonecliff Estate, on the far north end, just outside of the city limits. Stonecliff was the "Fallingwater" of the Midwest; smack dab in the middle of almost nine hundred acres of land was Rob's "summer home", modeled on the famous Frank Lloyd Wright home in Pennsylvania. It was a scaled up version of Fallingwater, a radical cantilevered design suspended over a waterfall fed by a shallow creek that cut through the property of meadows and woodland. It had a facade of mottled gray stone, concrete painted beige, and ample windows that were braced with ochre tinted steel. The home was created by a student of Frank Lloyd Wright, who designed it in 1949 for the wealthy Vlockner family of Chicago. Henry Vlockner II was its original owner, who left it to his daughter Virginia Vlockner. The whole property came into Rob's possession in 2022, when he defeated the Vlockner family in court for their involvement in the factory bombing and attempts on his life. It came with several other properties and assets, and was the only one Rob kept to himself. One mansion became an art gallery and museum, another a facility for gifted, troubled youth, while other odds and ends were sold off to pay survivors of the CGOF bombing. Stonecliff was a "guilty, shameful luxury" to Rob; just from everything that had happened, soured Rob on his opulent retreat in the windy city. He only used it a few times a year with Joey. For most of the year, Barev ran it as a tourist spot, where people paid to tour most of the home and mingle on the neatly landscaped grounds and walking trails. It made a lot of money, which was used in maintaining its upkeep. Rob stepped inside and glanced around at its stone floor and walls. Natural sunlight filtered into the open living room. Rob carried his bag towards the bedroom, while examining everything. Like its inspiration, the hallway to the bedroom was constricting and dim. Stepping into the bedroom, Rob felt the release as he gazed out the big bay windows at the woodland below. The sound of the waterfall faintly filled the whole home with its comforting roar. "Imagine if you tried to replicate this in Newark." Chuckled Joey as he sat his bag down on the bed. "I'd have to call it 'Moldywater'!" laughed Rob cynically. "The water, it's relaxing, but it would get old after a while." Joey shrugged. "Like living near a beach. You'd just take it for granted." Rob glanced around the bedroom and looked out the sliding glass door to the cantilever balcony. "I look around and see how opulent this is and wonder just what the fuck the Vlockner family pulled this all off with them being so fucking retarded." Joey laughed. "It's proof that being intelligent won't make you rich, and being rich definitely won't make you intelligent!" "True~" ---------------------------------- "Look at that view." Jake remarked as he and Rob stood on a hill with a clearing in the woods offering a distant view of the Chicago skyline. "It's an amazing place I must admit, but sometimes it fills with regret to the means and ways of getting it." Rob admitted to his brother. Jake crossed his arms. "Well heck, if you don't want, I'll take it!" "Heh, I gotta plant my flag here somehow!" Rob laughed sardonically. "I'm Chicago's new boss." "Oh we know." Jake grinned. "I can't believe it, Rob. We're forty-two today." "I know." "I didn't think ten years ago I'd be here." "Hey small world, many times over." Rob teased. "We've been through a lot of shit together." "No kidding, Rob." Jake grimaced. "All the shit mom and dad put us through growing up, and then get into adulthood and it was pretty much just us after mom died and dad left. I guess the shit we dealt with got us ready for what life will throw at you." "I've gotten mad at myself so many times because I've felt 'stuck', and I realize now that I can never be the person I once was because it's impossible. Life embitters, enlightens, and traumatizes us and changes us. I can't be the happy sixteen year old person anymore because it's impossible. I've learned so much and seen how the world operates now, and none of us knew any of that when we were teens." Jake nodded in agreement. "I like to say that I still enjoy life and friends as much as when I was a teen, but I'm more mature about stuff now. But man, the last ten years have kind of embittered me a bit too." "Yeah." "Life's hard, Rob." "It is, Jake." Rob nodded. "I thought I knew everything in my twenties, thought I could boss and twist people's arms to what I wanted, and now I see how wrong I was, and the bridges I burned. But man, are old habits hard to kill off." "I mean, sometimes you have to be the bad guy to get results." "I guess." "That's the thing I realize running my own business now. I can't always make everyone happy. I have to make tough decisions and some people might not like it." "Fuck 'em." Laughed Rob. "All these years, all these adventures, and I wouldn't have anyone else be my partner in crime." Jake laughed and hugged Rob. "Agreed. Love you brother." "Love you too, brother of mine." Rob said as he hugged Jake in return. "Another trip around the sun complete~" Jake said as they turned to walk back towards the main house. Their feet crunched along the gravel path back through the woods. "Jake I apologize that we don't get to spend much time together." "Oh it's fine, we're both busy with our jobs." Jake said. "I think I got it almost in the bag to get an important contract with Boeing to build more components for them." "Heh, gonna make sure their jets don't fall out of the sky, eh?" "Trying." Jake grinned. "And I got my adult daycare duties with the Baritel acquisition." Rob shook his head. "But I think I got the problems ironed out now." "You were telling me there was a company skim going on?" "Yeah, this whole fucking nightmare from a disgruntled employee, and then Calvin taking the skim and embezzling money. So I got that resolved, Cal is gone, and we paid Texas to shut them up. Now we have to fix the books and correct for that. But we're on the right path." "Well that's good. People are exhausting, Rob." "Yeah." In a little clearing between the guest house and main house, a big table was set up with a white table cloth fluttering on it. A huge sheet cake with forty-two candles being lit by a member of the PMC sat in the middle as caterers placed food around it. Guests mingled about and grabbed drinks from a drink table. Rob and Jake invited their friends and family along; Joey and Karen stood chatting with Steve and Bill Barion, Maverick talked with CJ and Xan off in another corner, while Ronnie was reunited with his bandmates and other club members of the Harvey Hells Angels. Nancy was assisted by Alvin and Joey's parents while Sam ran around with his Super-8 camera recording footage excitedly. Andy Bueller and his camera crew from WNBB-TV walked around recording B-roll with Andy's old BVP-150 camera. "And a ABC Chicago breaking news special!" Andy sarcastically said into the camera as he ran over to greet Rob and Jake with the camera crew in tow. "Mister Barion! How does it feel to turn forty-two today?" "You're full of shit, Andy." Laughed Rob as he jokingly put his paw up and over the lens hood to push the camera away. "It feels about the same when my body turned sixty-four! That's how it feels some days!" "Hey I turned thirty-nine two weeks ago, and it doesn't feel so young as it used to be as well!" Andy laughed. "And there you have it, folks. Rob Barion in the flesh. Reporting for ABC Chicago, I'm Andy Bueller!" Rob and Jake took a seat at the big table. They were surrounded by all their family and friends and a big sheet cake that was covered in white icing and had forty-two candles that glowed. Crowding around, everyone sang Happy Birthday to Rob and Jake, which ended with a huge round of applause as Rob and Jake both blew out all the candles together. "Well, grandsons, what did you wish for?" smiled Nancy as she leaned in close. "Continued prosperity for us." Jake replied. "Peace and quiet." Rob chuckled, which made Jake laugh. "That too." Jake grinned. "Hey! Can I get a group photo!" Sam exclaimed as he ran up with his Nikon. Everyone quickly got up, posed around Rob and Jake, while Sam fired the shutter on his old F3, capturing everyone's big smiles onto his roll of Vistachrome. -------------------------------- Feeling exhausted, Rob sat down at his desk in the living room. The evening light bathed the living room with warm amber tones as the birthday celebrations gave way to just quiet now. Their friends had departed, and Jake retired to the guest house with his wife, CJ, and Xan. The others had gone off to their hotel rooms. At the house, Rob saw Nancy sitting on the couch with Alvin as both read the same novel together. Felix and Tony had retired to their bedroom for a nap. Sam sat at the dinner table writing on his legal pad. Joey was laying down for a nap, while Maverick was taking a phone call on the steps that led down to the creek. The soft sound of flowing water was ever present in Stonecliff. Rob examined one of his gifts. From Sam, he got two fancy rollerball pens. An all black Ohto CR01, and a stainless steel Parker Jotter. The black Ohto had dark blue ink. Of the small gifts he got, the pens from Sam were his favorite. Grabbing his diary from his backpack, Rob opened the leather bound book and flipped to a blank page to write about his day with the Ohto pen in his left paw. "7/26/24 In Chicago. Today me and Jake turn 42. Somehow I made it 42 times around the sun on this sick and twisted ride called life. But today was a great day for me and Jake. We loved it, celebrating here at Stonecliff. The whole family and our friends flew out on my DC-8. I can finally fly the damn plane after months of waiting for my type rating! The FAA had it, they just misplaced it. Alphabet agencies I tell ya- they're useless. When you got lots of money, gifts seem silly to get from your friends and family. I rather give gifts to them than the other way around. Grandma got me a fancy black and white striped tie, I got some gift cards, and Jake got me a book I've been wanting to read. My favorite gift is this pen I'm using; Sam got me an Ohto CR01. Smooth as silk ink. Which is great because I'm signing so much god damn paperwork every day for the adult daycare! Earlier me and Jake were talking about reaching 42. From me almost dying at seventeen, and many other times, which I've lost track of how many times I've almost died... It's almost like some higher power is trying to tell me something. Heaven don't want me, and neither does hell apparently. Jake getting radiation poisoning from the reactor accident in 2014... and that long recovery. Both of us are thankful that our health has held on. We talked about so much shit we've both endured from growing up with Mom and Dad, and then being basically on our own from age 18. To now. I wouldn't trade Jake for anything. He's my only surviving brother. Me and him, verses the world. Tomorrow we're gonna fly back to Ohio. Fly back to where hopes and dreams go to die. Newark. Good day today." Rob chuckled at his disparaging remark about his hometown as he capped his new pen. He closed the diary up and stowed it back into his backpack with the pen as he got up to stretch. Rob then proceeded to go check on his best friend. Walking over to the glass doors that led down to the creek, Rob opened one side up and stepped in to venture down to the base where Maverick sat at, the big husky dipping his feet into the creek and looking introspective as he gazed off into the distance watching his son wade in the creek to take picture of the house. "You doing okay Mav-O?" Rob asked as he sat down beside his best friend. "Just had a conversation with the detective regarding my neighbors. She told me some good news that they're starting to get their vision back at the hospital." "Oh that's great news!" Rob exclaimed. "You saved their vision with what you did, Mav." "She told me that she's got them a safe place to stay, and the mom's gonna go into rehab and most likely move back with her parents." Maverick remarked as he looked at his mangled up paws. "I knew I had to act, and there was no second guessing it. There was no choice." "You're a hero, Maverick." "Someone has to be in a world full of villains!" the husky laughed cynically. "It's crazy to the times we live in now. The evil that men do, Rob. I mean, evil has always lurked around us- look at what happened eighty years ago." "And it's sadly being repeated now." Rob shook his head. "And if people aren't careful, it's coming here too." Maverick remarked as he leaned against the railing. "I have a really bad feeling about what's coming down the line with this train wreck election." "Yeah." Rob agreed. "I remember my dad telling me a story about growing up in the Soviet Union, and how there were many places that were destroyed and burned to rubble, and remained destroyed for many years after the war. My grandpa, Anatol, told him of finding mass graves of civilians that the Nazis murdered. It was a horrifying sight. And then I see people around us today, who would do the same thing all because of fear and hate. There's people around us I wouldn't dare tell where Anne Frank was at." "My favorite Voltaire quote is 'those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities' and we're seeing it in real time with half this country." "Yep." The husky shook his head. "I read about what my own people are doing to Ukraine... the same thing the Nazis did. I guess governments change, the brutality stays the same." "Putler wants the USSR back." "Yeah, that'll never happen." Maverick laughed cynically. "He might get a nibble of Ukraine, a bite of Georgia, but nobody is gonna run back to that Kafkaesque nightmare of a nation! Actually, I asked Mom and Dad about growing up in the Soviet Union, and I remember Mom basically saying that people made the best of a bad situation. Dad told me that people largely went about their business trying to just survive, but there was an element of suspicion and apprehension about the government's intentions. Dad was just lucky because he had a father who was a Hero of the Soviet Union, and a brother who was a general in the Red Army. And I think about what they told me, who was born and raised here in the States, and I think that there's Americans who would be absolutely fine under totalitarianism, as long as it's the others, not them, that get hurt." "Little did they know that totalitarians don't give a shit about you." Rob laughed morbidly. "These evangelicals think their conservatism and faith will save them from the crushing vise of dictatorship. They're wrong. They're just useful fools for a spray-tan charlatan." "Condemned to repeat it, Rob." "Sadly." "I suppose that we can't save the whole world." "We can only make a difference, one person at a time. Just like what you did." "Or in your case with Sam." "Yeah." Rob nodded. "Like Felix, like Alvin. I'm afraid Sam is gonna need me when he goes home in mid August." "We were lucky with our families, Rob." Maverick nodded. "Kinda." Rob smiled. ------------------------------------ In between the main house and the guest house was Stonecliff's fancy rose garden. Neatly manicured rose bushes of all different colors bloomed. Some were pink, some were white, red, and orange. Some were old heirlooms. The early morning sun cast long shadows, the landscape taking on the orange hue. Dew sparkled on the ground, and a haze obscured the windy city way off in the distance. Rob took a moment to gaze at a portrait of his late friend. Framed in an fancy silver frame was a photo he took of Gabby in 2019. It was on her fifty-fourth birthday, and she beamed with happiness in her photo, dressed in a red and blue sweater with a light gray background. She was a gray wolfess, her faced aged by the rigors of what she had endured. Her hair was silvery gray, and cut short. But her blue eyes were full of happiness. Rob smiled at her portrait. He sat the framed photo down on a stool, which was placed near some red roses that Gabby had once been fond of. She was the focus of a PSA shoot he was narrating on camera. Sam helped Maverick get his camera ready. On the tripod adapter sat Maverick's hard working Sony BVP-3. He had it aimed at the calibration chart to get its Mixed-Field Saticons lined up and white balanced, while Sam unfurled the microphone cable for the big blimp mic he held in his grip. Andy Bueller had returned back to Stonecliff to help set up a floodlight, to help tamp down the backlight overpowering the shot and blooming in the tubes. Rob adjusted his new black and white striped tie. With his crisp white shirt, black slacks, and shiny black dress shoes, Rob felt like a mobster with such a high contrast tie. He ran a paw through his wavy brown hair while he read his monologue he had written the night before on a yellow legal pad. He hoped what he had to say would mean something to her. "Hey whenever you're ready, Rob!" Maverick called. "Sure thing. Let's do the close up first." Rob suggested. Rob stood in front of the camera and adjusted the knot to his tie out of nervousness. Maverick worked to line up his shot and focus it, keeping Rob centered up with all the colorful roses behind him blurred into an artful bokeh. Sam sat on the ground holding the microphone steady with headphones on. He gave Rob an encouraging smile and a thumbs up. "Camera's rolling, Rob. Whenever you're ready." Rob wasn't the one to waste videotape. "They say, 'every rose has its thorns', but sometimes scars aren't visible." With the second take, Rob sat on a stool, and gave a heartfelt monologue about his late friend and what had happened to her. He briefly mentioned about his own traumas, and how they would talk and ease each other's pain, and her optimism and hope for the future. "Evil is allowed to triumph when good men do nothing. If you see something suspicious. If something doesn't sit right with you. Say something. Do something. Someone's life may be depending on you. For my late friend, thank you for your friendship, and your understanding. Gabrielle Miller made it her life to help others after finding freedom. We will never forget her and her bravery in the face of death, as she slipped the surely bonds of our world, to touch the face of God. Thank you." Rob looked away from the camera after Maverick called "cut". He took a moment to compose himself as he looked down at the ground with a paw over his muzzle. "That was good." Rob called out. With their birthday trip concluded, Rob and Joey spruced up Stonecliff and turned it back over to the PMC to oversee for tours. Rob said goodbye to Andy as he and the family departed back to Chicago Midway to return to Columbus on "Photon". Sitting happily in the left-hand seat, Rob guided his aging DC-8 to the runway. As he stopped to wait for a Boeing 717 to take off, Rob glanced over at all the aviation photographers ogling at his rare Douglas jet. Rob smiled and appreciated their interest in his "slick stick". With an all clear from the tower, Rob turned onto the runway and gripping the quartet of throttles, commanded maximum takeoff power from the four CFM56's. They howled to life and began propelling them down the runway. He and Joey gently pulled the jet skyward to begin the hour flight back to Columbus. After getting everything situated, Rob turned the controls over to his friend Ivo as he and Jordan kept Joey company in the cockpit. Rob ventured into the cabin to check on everyone, before going to the editing room to edit his PSA with Maverick. Loading the tape into the Beta SP deck, Rob listened to it spool up while Maverick leaned back in his chair twirling a pen around. "I think this was your best monologue yet." "I hope so. I especially mean it for Gabby." "Usually I tease you for being as wooden as a nutcracker, but this was very touching, and your body language shows it." Maverick explained. "You had a very relaxed pose, not that tense perfectly straight back, military style, or Goebbels like approach to your videos for the company." "STOP COMAPRING ME TO NAZIS!" Rob shouted jokingly. "I can't help it!" Maverick grinned. "Nixon and Goebbels!" Rob brushed it off with a snort and a roll of the eyes. Reviewing his planned cut list, Rob began to work on the video with Maverick's help at the switcher. He rolled through the shots and cut them together quickly for another Ad Council PSA. "Here we go, playback." The shot began with a close up of a red rose, which glistened with some dew. A star filter spread the little pinpricks of light out as six point stars, which faintly lagged. It began with Rob's voice, which faded to his close up, before fading to the long shot which began at a tight shot of Gabby's portrait. "They say 'every rose has its thorns', but some scars are invisible. My name is Rob Barion, but this isn't about me, this is about my late friend, Gabby Miller. She was a victim of canine trafficking as a nine year old child, and was held captive for forty years until February 2015. I met Gabby in the middle of a snowstorm near Utica Ohio. She was on the side of the road, desperately trying to flag somebody down to help her. When I saw her, she waved one final time before collapsing into the snow. I knew she had given the last her strength to try and flag me down. I turned around and found this frozen, frostbitten woman in tattered, bloodied clothes, her paws badly burned as if she was in a fire. Gabby had survived a heinous crime that killed her captor, and what was intended to kill her, inadvertently gave her freedom. From forty years of sexual slavery, Gabby had eight years to resume and rebuild her life. She is sadly no longer here, having passed away from cancer a year ago. But she entrusted me to tell you her story. Gabrielle Miller was born in Lima Ohio in 1965. She had a younger brother, and an older sister. In the summer of 1974, Gabby was kidnapped by a neighborhood man, who offered her a ride home from the park on a hot summer day. She was never seen again. That fateful encounter set forth forty years of great evil subjected to her by multiple men. Gabby was declared dead in 1980. For thirty-five years, the world thought she was dead and unaccounted for, when in reality, she was enduring a living hell locked in the basement of an old fire station in northern Licking County. She mothered three children, she endured two miscarriages, and almost bled to death from her third. She was taken to a hospital where her desperate cries for help were dismissed, and the people that could have rescued her, placed her back into the hands of evil, under the dismissal attitude that she was just mentally ill. After being freed from forty years of captivity, Gabby made it her life goal to help others as she rebuilt her life from the ground up in Pennsylvania. The scars remained; she did not like the dark, she did not like cramped, confined spaces, and forever was uncomfortable in the presence of men. She needed female doctors to take care of her for risk of a panic attack. Gabby told me once that I was the only man she truly felt safe with, because I saved her. That's a burden I must carry in my heart. But trauma or not, Gabby was determined to find hope and move on from that nightmare. She went back to school, she got a GED, and had hopes of maybe going to get a two year degree at a college somewhere in Pittsburgh. Her strong faith in God guided her, and allowed her to forgive what had happened. She told me that she could not carry that hatred in her heart, and could only carry love in it, for fear of that hate consuming her. She volunteered at a canine trafficking help organization, and even saved the life of a teenage girl who was being trafficked in Pittsburgh, when she saw that teen be shuffled between two cars in a parking lot. She felt suspicious about it, took down the license plates, and called police, who arrested four men who had kidnapped her from her hometown in Delaware. Another Gabrielle Miller was thwarted by quick thinking. Gabby was a very special friend to me. From one person with invisible wounds to another, Gabby understood my own traumas. I'm a twenty-five year survivor of a gay bashing that left me with a fifty-fifty chance of dying at the age of seventeen. It took many years for me to fully grasp the magnitude of what had happened, and the anger and despair had taken its toll on me. Gabby listened to my pain, and I listened to her pain, and we understood each other. We know how it feels to survive the evil that men do, even if the circumstances are different. It's easy to dismiss invisible trauma; 'oh just move on', 'get over it', 'just don't let it bother you'. Talk is cheap. A year before she died, me and Gabby came here at this garden to admire the roses. She was sick from cancer, but I remember the happiness she had as we walked around examining all the different roses and talked about everything under the sun. We talked about very personal things, things that only we understood about each other. It was therapeutic. She said to me that no matter what happened to her, she wanted me to carry the torch of hope when she no longer could. And with her passing, I'm honored to continue carrying it for as long as I can. I continue to support her cause, the organization that she volunteered at. I continue to remain vigilant on her behalf. Evil is allowed to triumph when good men do nothing. If you see something suspicious. If something doesn't sit right with you. Say something. Do something. Someone's life may be depending on you. For my late friend, thank you for your friendship, and your understanding. Gabrielle Miller made it her life to help others after finding freedom. We will never forget her and her bravery in the face of death, as she slipped the surely bonds of our world, to touch the face of God. Thank you." The last shot was a tight close up of Gabby's framed photo. "In memoriam: Gabrielle Miller 1965-2023" Rob hit the stop button and rewound the tape. "What do you think?" Maverick clapped. "That was your best work ever, Rob. You did it!" "I usually hate hearing myself talk. But that meant something to me." "It shows." The husky smiled. ---------------------------------------- The first of August fell on a Thursday. Even at eight in the morning, the air was saturated with humidity, a miserable, stagnant heat. It was the sign that the "dog days of summer" had reached Newark. The woods around Rob's home trapped the heat, stifling a relieving breeze. The start of August always made Rob think of a quote from a book he read in childhood: "The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is hot. It is curiously silent too, with blank white dawns, and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color." Under the shade of a patio umbrella, Rob sat with his neighbor, Sue Pentzinger, on her patio talking about a commercial she wanted to record for the family apple orchard up in Utica. Rob sat jotting down her ideas on a yellow legal pad with the pen Sam got him for his birthday. It was going to be a pretty conventional commercial, a thirty second spot. Rob promised to give her a discount too. "I got a meeting at the station in a few hours, so I'll turn it over to them and they can reach out to you." Rob concluded as he put the cap on his pen and placed it in his shirt pocket. "Oh that's great news." Sue smiled. "We're looking for a big year at the orchard and we plan on pulling out all the stops!" "Sounds like a perfect opportunity for a commercial!" Rob exclaimed sarcastically. "Oh look!" Sue pointed out as a plump little robin landed on the patio. "Oh that's Rocky." Rob smiled. "Oh! Is that one of the robins you were telling me about!" "I swear, these birdies know wherever I'm at." Rob chuckled. "Rocky and Sparkle are my little buddies, along with Greenie. When I'm outside, they keep me company." "Oh he's just so adorable. Hi buddy!" Sue greeted with a smile. Rocky hopped over close to her and gave her a cheerful morning song. "Sue, I appreciate your time very much, and I'll get this turned in for you~" Rob said as he stood up to stretch his back. "Rocky? You want to come back home with me, buddy?" Rocky chirped out what sounded like an "R" and "B". It took Sue by surprise hearing that as the robin fluttered into the air to land on Rob's shoulder. "They're smart little fellas. My Grandma taught them how to chirp out our initials." Rob said as he gave Rocky some pets on his shoulder. "So he can say R-B, N-B, J-P, A-P, S-M." "Aww, that's so sweet. Animals are so wonderful aren't they?" "They amuse me." Rob smiled. "You take care, Sue!" "Thanks, Rob! Stay cool!" "Trying." Rob laughed as he turned to leave. Rob made the long walk through the wooded trail back to his house. Rocky sat and rode on his shoulder, periodically giving Rob little chirps as if to talk to him. "Well once I get back, I need to trim up a bush before I get ready to go to the station to have a meeting with Marcus and Borr about buying another UHD studio suite. Not that a little bird would understand all that!" Rob remarked with a laugh as Rocky chirped in reply. Exiting the woods near the guest house, Rob saw his grandmother in the garden, knelt down deadheading some petunias. "Hey Grandma, careful in this heat!" Rob remarked. Nancy looked up, a big straw hat atop her head. "Oh it's just some flowers!" she smiled. "And I'm gonna pick a couple tomatoes for something I'm going to cook this evening!" "Just be safe and drink a lot of water, Grandma!" "Okay, Rob!" "I'll be heading out in a few hours to have a meeting at the station, but in the meantime I'll be trimming two bushes at the house, so if you need me, I'll be over there!" "Sounds good." Rob made his way down the sidewalk back to the house, where he stopped momentarily to place Rocky at the newly installed birdbath. "Why don't you get a drink and get yourself cooled off, and go find your sister." He turned his head to find Greenie bobbing around in the pool. "Greenie! Are you ever going to use the big pond we made for you and the other ducks?" Greenie opened his eyes, looked at Rob, and fell back asleep. Rob laughed at his usual reaction and went on his way to grab the clippers from the old fire station building. "I'll get you a snack once I'm done trimming, Greenie!" The idea of treats woke his mallard up, and Greenie hopped out of the pool to slowly waddle behind Rob to follow him back to the fire station. Stepping inside and opening one of the big bay doors up, Rob went to grab his hedge clippers. They rested on a large shelf that was recessed into a little cubbyhole between two doorways. Rob slid between the wall and his one-ton truck to grab them. As Rob picked them up, the blades rubbed the upper shelf; there was a crack and a lurch that made Rob momentarily jump. The shelf had come loose from the wall. Rob sat the clippers down by leaning them against the wall as he scrutinized where the shelving had come loose. Just as Rob found where the loose screw was, the whole shelf came off the wall. With a mighty crash of everything on it, Rob was slammed into his Silverado, his head smashing the rear left window. The heavy wood timbers pinned Rob in his upper abdomen. The truck's security alarm fired. The impact knocked the wind out of Rob; he could barely get his breath. Struggling, Rob grabbed the frame and tried to push it off him, only to find that it wouldn't budge. The weight was crushing and he could not get his breath. Blood ran down his face from his head wound. Rob tried to scream but he couldn't get the volume. He couldn't get enough air. By chance, Greenie saw the impact. The mallard stood seeing Rob struggling against his truck. Rob saw Greenie by the doorway. "Greenie! I need help! Help me!" Rob desperately tried to shout. It came out as a loud whisper. The little mallard realized Rob was in distress and immediately turned around to take off in flight. Greenie spotted Nancy in the garden and immediately landed and waddled over to her as fast as possible. Nancy placed a bright red tomato in her wicker basket when she heard Greenie calling for her. Turning her head, the elderly wolfess saw Greenie flap his wings and give a hesitant, fast quack. It sounded very distressing. "Greenie? Is everything okay?" Nancy asked. The little duck kept quacking away desperately and flapping his wings. The bobble of his head took Nancy's attention, and she glanced over to where Greenie was bobbing his head at. "Is this about Rob, Greenie?" The change in tone of his quack made Nancy realize that something was wrong with Rob. "Okay, let me check on Rob!" Getting up and wincing from her aching knees, Nancy slowly shuffled down to the main house. Greenie followed right behind her. At ninety-two, Nancy grumbled to herself about not walking that fast anymore. She walked down to the house and tried to peer through the windows, but Greenie's loud quacks and insistence that she follow him to the fire station, made her realize that Rob must be inside the building. Nancy shuffled her way over to the fire station and its open bay door. "Rob!" she called. Nancy poked her head in and immediately gasped when she saw Rob pinned against his truck. "Oh my god! Rob! Rob!" "Grandma! Help me!" Rob pleaded, barely able to get his words out. Nancy tried to run as fast as her frail legs would take her. She grabbed onto the wood timbers, but her thin little arms just couldn't muster the strength to move it. "Oh my god it's too heavy! I will call for help!" "Help me!" "I'm gonna call for help!" Nancy exclaimed as she turned and tried to rush to the main house. Trying to run, Nancy strained in the punishing heat. She saw the side door in sight when a slight unevenness of the sidewalk caught her off balance. Nancy suddenly tripped and went down, hard, on her side. Her right arm scraped on the concrete and immediately began to bled, and she hit her head on the concrete, her temple bleeding. The impact stunned her, and she laid there bleeding under the hot sun. In the crab apple tree, the little robins saw Nancy go down. Rocky flew down and landed near her, chirping some and investigating. Nancy tried to get up but her arm hurt so bad, her face was twisted in pain as she cried out. Greenie waddled up and saw Nancy crying out for help. Rocky hopped over, chirped at Greenie as if to speak to him. Greenie gave a few quacks and immediately took into flight to go find help. The mallard flew over the pond, giving out a distress quack that got the attention of the other mallards bobbing about. Nancy heard ducks everyone quacking loudly. Sparkle, the little female Robin landed near Nancy as Rocky took off as well to find help. "HELP!" Nancy called out. Her voice echoed through the woods. There was nobody around to help them. Rob strained, and strained, but could not get the leverage to push the shelf off him. His vision started to grow dim, the noises around growing muddled, unfocused. Soon everything went to black, and Rob passed out, his head bobbing down, his whole body going limp. ------------------------------------------- On the back patio of the studio, Maverick leaned back in his chair and looked at the time on his phone. Rob wasn't responding to his text messages, something which puzzled him. Rob was the only person he knew who was prompt at answering texts from him. Marcus grabbed the pitcher of lemonade and poured himself another glass as they waited. "Rob said he had some stuff he had to do around the house before he'd show up?" Marcus asked. "Yeah, but he usually answers his phone..." Maverick remarked. "That's true. Maybe he left his phone somewhere?" the Nordic husky asked. Stepping outside was Marcus' older brother, Borr Eklund. He carried a tumbler with him as he poured himself some lemonade and sat down in the shade. "It's hot out here!" "I wanted to get out of the office." Marcus shrugged. "Hey have you got ahold of Rob?" Mav asked Borr. "Oh, no, I haven't texted Rob yet." "Huh. I've been trying to get ahold of him and-" Maverick heard the sound of flapping wings and paused when he saw Greenie suddenly arrive. The presence of the green headed mallard made everyone fumble their brows. Greenie waddled up and began quacking frantically, his wings flapping as he signaled their attention. "Hey Greenie! Whacha going here?" Marcus asked curiously. "Greenie!" Maverick smiled. "Have you seen Rob?" Saying Rob's name made Greenie quack more frantically. Maverick fumbled his brow and looked at Marcus and Borr. "Greenie? Is everything okay with Rob?" Greenie bobbled his head and quacked some more. Marcus looked at his brother. "Something's up." Borr leaned forward over the table. "Greenie? Is Rob okay?" Maverick got up. "Let's go check it out! I'm gonna call the Grenztruppen as I think they have a patrol coming soon to his house." "Let's go!" Borr and Marcus exclaimed as they ran towards Marcus' truck. "Come here, buddy, let's get you back home safely." Maverick said as he picked Greenie up to carry him to the truck. On the other side of town, Rocky flew alone. The little robin sought out Joey for help. Following landmarks around town, he flapped his wings and fought a headwind in an attempt to fly as fast as he could. At his family's gun store, Joey stepped out back to spray some stripper down on an old M1 rifle stock. With gloves on and a gas mask, Joey sat it on the bench out back and shook his can of spray. Just before he took the cap off, he saw Rocky land before him, his frantic chirps getting his attention. Joey took his gas mask off to smile. "Rocky! What on earth are you doing here?" the Doberman asked. Rocky chirped fast, loud, and frantically. He flapped his wings and hopped around. "N...B..." Joey froze. "Nancy?" "N-B!" Rocky chirped out. "N-B! R-B!" "Did something happen to Nancy and Rob?" Joey asked. His cell phone suddenly rang, finding it Maverick calling him. Joey put it on speaker phone. "Yeah!" "Joey! We're driving to Rob's house, I think something bad just happened. We called the Grenztruppen and they're enroute too." "I just got one of Rob's little robins here, and he's all freaking out." "Greenie flew across town to the station to find us here!" Marcus shouted into the phone. "I think something bad has happened!" "I'll be on my way! I'll meet you there!" Joey put his phone away and saw Rocky collapse from exhaustion. The little bird gave all his energy to fly across Newark. Feeling sorry for the little bird, Joey gently scooped him up and placed him in his shirt pocket. Rocky rested while Joey ran inside to let his Dad know he was leaving to check on Rob and Nancy. He quickly hopped into his new sports car and took off with Rocky. ----------------------------------- Screeching up to the front gate, Marcus threw the shifter into park and immediately jumped out with Maverick and Borr. Rolling up the road were two BTR-70's and a BMD-2 IFV in the feldgrau camouflage of Cuyahoga Battalion. As the gate slowly opened for Marcus after putting in the code, The Grenztruppen leader, Gruppenfuhrer Brantley, jumped off the top of the BTR-70 to meet up with them. "I want you guys to stay behind us! I don't know what we're gonna encounter in there!" the fawn Doberman exclaimed. "Alright!" Marcus nodded. The Nordic husky watched as the BMD-2 rolled in first, its tracked wheels squeaking and grinding on the pavement as it entered first, followed by the two BTR-70's. Marcus, Borr, and Maverick hopped back into the red Silverado and took off to follow the convoy. There was an uncomfortable silence between the trio as they drove up the long driveway through the woods. With the house in sight, the BMD-2 stopped, followed by the two BTR-70's. The Grenztruppen soon poured out and formed up behind the IFV. "Gruppenfuhrer, I don't see anything out of the ordinary." Came the driver of the IFV. "I think we're safe from major threats. Over." Brantley toggled the switch to his radio. "Copy, Corporal." The Grenztruppen heard the strangest sound around them; the air was filled with the sound of birds chirping frantically, and ducks quacking loudly, frantically. It sounded like the entire area was filled with distress. Marcus and Maverick looked at each other with concern. Everything felt so surreal. "I don't like this." Brantley said to his Oberfuhrer, who nodded. "Something's up." The Rottweiler admitted. "Wait!" A faint "help!" was heard, and the Grenztruppen immediately ran towards it. Running up the driveway, Brantley found Nancy lying on the sidewalk, her face covered in now dried blood. "Medic!" Brantley called. "MEDIC!" "Nancy!" Marcus shouted. "Nancy! Are you okay!?" "Get Rob! He's pinned!" "Pinned!?" "In the fire station! He's dying!" Nancy screamed. Maverick and Borr immediately ran with Marcus to the fire station where Maverick found his best friend slumped over. Rob was pinned against his truck with the shelf pinning him near his chest. He looked cyanotic under his brown pelt of fur. Without words, Maverick grabbed the shelf and began to heave in an effort to lift it off his friend. The Russian husky's burly arms bulged in muscle as he fought the heavy wood timbers. Borr jumped in and the two of them lifted the shelf off him. Marcus caught him as Rob fell to the ground. The Nordic husky laid Rob out and found that he was not breathing, but had a weak pulse. "Guys! He's not breathing!" Marcus exclaimed. "Does he have a pulse!?" Maverick exclaimed. "I NEED A MEDIC HERE NOW!" Marcus put his fingers to Rob's neck and his head down on Rob's chest. He confirmed he had a weak pulse. Marcus stepped aside as a combat medic rushed in and doffed his medical bag to begin assessing Rob. He radioed back to the Gruppenfuhrer about needing another ambulance. "Oh man, Rob, what happened..." Borr said as he examined the smashed truck window and the busted shelving. Marcus helped hold the bag-valve mask over Rob's muzzle as the medic began breathing for Rob. ------------------------------------- Rob awoke. As his senses came to, Rob felt no pain. The crushing sensation and inability to get his breath was gone. He opened his eyes up to find himself in a foggy woodland, the sound of water flowing somewhere in the distance. It looked to be morning. He got up off the ground and looked around at the picturesque landscape. He looked down to find himself bare foot and dressed in all white. "Am I dead?" Rob asked. His voice echoed slightly. "Not quite, Rob." The wolf-hybrid turned around at that familiar voice to find Gabby standing near a stream. The middle-aged wolfess looked exactly as he remembered her from the last time he saw her in 2023. She was dressed in all white like him. A happy smile graced her face. She ran over and gave Rob a hug, which he happily accepted and hugged her back. "Oh it's so good to see you again my friend!" Gabby exclaimed happily. "We don't have much time to talk as this is not your time. But your father wanted me to talk to you." "Why my Dad?" Rob asked. Gabby smiled. "I've seen how much progress you've made in your life, and I'm so proud of you! But I sense deep inside that you're still struggling. And you're worried about things. Your father thought it was best I talked to you." Rob looked down at the forest floor. "I have been struggling with this angst inside me about a lot of stuff." "Do tell. It's okay, Rob." "I'm worried about my friend Sam. I'm worried that something bad is going to happen to him and his cousin over his aunt and uncle's marriage problems and her health issues. I'm worried about the political headwinds and where they're steering us into. I worry about my family over this. And I guess I'm just... upset at myself because I feel like no matter what I do, I can't shake the regret over the past actions of my life after everything that had happened." "I know your worries about Sam. He's going through a series of trials and tribulations that will one day pay off for him, Rob. Just as your trials and tribulations have given you unique insight." "Yeah, unique insight, alright. More like a tidal wave of death and destruction." Rob shook his head. He looked away and back down at the ground. "If I knew then that all the shit would happen, I would have just knelt down in front of a train and ended it right there and spared the world my death and destruction. What have I accomplished? No amount of good I do can compensate for the killings, and beatings, and just me being a raging asshole." "You can't look at it that way Rob!" Gabby said as she grabbed his paws to hold them. "You can't beat yourself up for what had happened and for events in the past. Remember what I told you? Deep inside you is a very traumatized young man, and every time you criticize your past, you hurt that traumatized young man. That fuels the angry young man that becomes the burned out man now. You were exposed to a very turbulent growing up, and extreme violence that changed your life forever. You did the things that you did, like shoot burglars, corrupt police officers, go after the Sheriff's Department- you did that because your life depended on it." Gabby sarcastically grimaced some. "It's... unorthodox. But you didn't kill anyone who didn't see it coming." "It's still murder." Rob shook his head. "And when I do good deeds, I feel deep inside, like it doesn't matter." Rob looked at Gabby and cynically chuckled. "I think heaven don't want me, and hell is afraid of me, so they keep me on Earth until they can figure out what to do with me." Gabby laughed and just smiled. "You can't beat yourself up like that. You've saved a lot of people's lives." She grabbed Rob's arm and took him over to the stream. "I want to show you what would have happened if you really meant you would have ended your life at seventeen." Rob peered down into the crystal clear water, which acted like a porthole. Rob saw a dystopian world for his family and friends. Gabby explained to him the fates of those closest to him; Rob saw a vision of his twin brother being a drug-addled burnout, his ex CJ took his despair out partying and died of alcohol poisoning at twenty. He saw his husband being alone and still a lowly gunsmith for his father, having lost all ambition at some point in his thirties. A vision of Marcus showed him being homeless. Without Jake adopting Marcus, Borr would still be in Sweden searching for him. Rob covered his mouth with his paw in shock and horror. Another vision showed Felix on a couch in a dilapidated apartment somewhere in Columbus; he was broke, unemployed, and found out he contracted HIV. And the visions got worse. Rob saw a young Sam trying desperately to drag his parents' lifeless bodies out of their burning home in Akron, only to succumb to the smoke. Rob saw his body slowly be consumed by flames. It flashed to a vision of his friend Ronnie Samson and his young son, Colt. They tried in vain to fight the corrupt Sheriff's department setting their home on fire, only for Ronnie to shield his son as they got cut down by bullets. Then the tears began to well up into his eyes. The vision of his nephew Alvin showed him as a gang member in Columbus, in trashy clothes clutching a bottle of cheap liquor with his cousin Shakar. They were then gunned down by a hail of gunfire from a car. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Rob screamed. He couldn't take it anymore. Rob threw himself to his knees and put both his paws over his face as he wept at such a horrific fate. Hot, angry tears spewed from his bloodshot eyes. Gabby stood and watched Rob sympathetically before kneeling down beside him and putting a paw around him. "WHY ME!?" Rob shouted. He looked at Gabby breathing heavily. "Why all this... why did nobody else step up and help any of them?" Gabby smiled. "The events in your childhood and teenage years fine turned your empathy for them. You helped them because you knew what they were going through. All of them. Just like how you stopped for me when I escaped that hellhole. Two other people saw me waving at them and they drove on because they didn't want to be bothered." "I know what it feels like to have nobody supporting you. I just couldn't live with myself if I didn't try and help them. And now they've filled the emptiness in my heart that I had for all those years." "See?" Gabby smiled. "You've made a difference in their lives. That's why people do love you Rob. Your family loves you, those little birdies you saved and Greenie loves you! I love you to death, Rob." Rob slowly got back up to his feet and wiped the tears out of his eyes. "The person that you once were can never truly happen again, Rob. I could never go back to being nine years old before being kidnapped. That kind of innocent can never be found again. In adulthood, that's called ignorance. Being young is supposed to be fun and innocent. Adulthood is tedious and exhausting. So it's okay that you can't go back to feeling that kind of happiness. Nobody can. But you're heading in the right direction, and you should be proud of yourself at what you've accomplished over the past year." "You think so?" "I know so." Gabby nodded. "Rob, it's time for you to go back to the living. But thank you for letting me see you again." "Will we ever meet again?" Gabby laughed. "Hopefully not for a long time Rob! Just remember that I might be gone, but I'll always live on forever in your memories. And I'll always keep watch from afar, here in this spiritual realm. I'll always be there in your heart." Rob smiled. "I love you, Gabby. My beloved friend." He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly. Gabby laughed and hugged him, squeezing him tightly. "My hero, Rob. Godspeed, and always remember that everything will be okay..." "...Just let it be, Rob." Came his father's voice. Rob opened his eyes one final time to see off in the foggy distance, his departed loved ones gazing on happily. He saw his parents, Ray and Ahn, his brother Troy, who waved at him, his grandpa, Gordo, his great-grandparents, James and Ethel, and his Korean grandmother, Cho Jong-sook. There was an unspeakable peace among them as Rob smiled at them. Then everything went to white. Rob felt nothing, but heard faintly, a consistent beep-beep, like a heart monitor. Rob awoke with a sudden jolt of energy. He lifted his head and immediately winced in pain as his ex-boyfriend Jason reacted by placing a paw on his chest to set him back down on the exam table. "Rob! Rob! It's okay." Smiled the big malamute. "I have you intubated and I'm breathing for you- you're in the hospital- a shelf fell on you and pinned you. "Is he awake?" came Karen's voice. "Yeah." "Rob! You're gonna be okay." Karen promised with a smile. Rob weakly lifted a paw and pointed for something. Karen saw that Rob was pointing to a notepad that sat by the computer terminal. "You want the notepad?" Karen asked. Rob weakly nodded yes. Karen ran over and grabbed it with a pen. She held it up and Rob weakly took the pen from her to crudely write "Grandma?" on the pad. "Nancy is okay. She's getting bandaged up. She didn't break any bones. But she got some scratches and some stitches to her head." Rob nodded slowly. He sat his head down and looked up at Jason who gently caressed the side of his face. "You and me gotta stop meeting up like this." The big malamute chuckled. "How about getting coffee instead?" Rob jokingly flipped him off, which made Jason laugh. "He's gonna be okay, Karen." --------------------------------------------- By dusk, the lights to Rob's home came on automatically outside, and the landscape was silent once more. Rob and Nancy were in the hospital, and everyone was there to keep them company. On the sidewalk, a blood stain from Nancy's arm was still evident, and Greenie sat silently there, the little mallard looking glum. Not far away, the two robins were perched in the crab apple tree, looking down at Greenie silently sitting on the sidewalk as if in mourning. Headlights appeared from the tree line, revealing the arrival of Alvin in his blue Tahoe. The slender Doberman hopped out to check on the home and feed Greenie and the robins. "Hey Greenie!" Alvin called. Greenie lifted his head up and quacked when he saw Alvin approach. The Doberman knelt down and gave Greenie some pets as the duck greeted Alvin with his usual flap of the wings. "Hi Sparkle and Rocky!" Alvin held out a finger and watched as Sparkle climbed on to let Alvin hold her. The little robin gave Alvin a cheerful chirp as Rocky flew over and landed on Alvin's shoulder to keep him company. Alvin grabbed his phone and dialed out as he put it on speaker phone. "Hey Alvin." Came Rob's voice. Greenie's head perked up more. "Uncle Rob? You got three birdies that are holding their breath for you. Would you like to say hi to them?" Alvin held the phone down close for them. "Hi Greenie, Rocky, and Sparkle." Greenie started to happily quack and Rocky and Sparkle both gave Rob a happy morning song. Alvin chuckled and smiled. "You're a hero Greenie, Rocky, and Sparkle. You saved our lives." --------------------------------------- Struggling to set his cell phone down on the nightstand, Rob winced in pain. With his stomach and chest badly bruised, his head bandaged up after getting stitches to close the gash to the back of his head, Rob was exhausted. Pain medicine silently dripped into his arm from an IV. Rob laid on his back and looked up at the ceiling with its single water damaged tile as the TV softly played in the background of his room. "Grandma Nancy, I must depart for the night, but I'll be here in the morning." Smiled Joey as he adjusted Nancy's blanket in the bed beside Rob's. "Try and get a good night's sleep and we can all go home tomorrow." "Sounds good, Joey. You have a good night!" Nancy smiled at the Doberman as he turned his attention over to Joey. "Well this could have ended pretty badly." Joey smiled as he knelt down to give Rob a kiss. "Don't remind me~" "Try and have a good night, Rob~ I love you." Smiled the dog. Rob mustered a smile for Joey. "I love you too." Joey departed and closed the door behind him. "Rob, hold my paw, please~" his grandma asked him. Rob held out his left paw and gently grasped his grandma's paw, and he held it between the beds as they laid looking up at the television aimlessly. "I was so scared for you, Rob." Nancy admitted. "I just couldn't get the leverage to get myself back up! Everything hurt so bad!" Tears welled up in her blue eyes. "I'm just so old now..." "Grandma I understand. This was a terrible accident, that's all." Rob quipped. "I'm glad you're okay." "I went down hard, and I remember trying to get up, and I saw Greenie come up to me. He quacked a few times and took off. Then that little robin, Sparkle, landed and wouldn't leave my side until your security guys found me." "We don't deserve animal's kindness with how we treat them. Yet they show us love." "Animals are as smart as us. They have to, to survive!" "I'm trying to understand what vision I saw as I lay dying." Rob revealed. "It felt so real. I woke up dressed in white, in this tranquil place, like a woodland out west. It was so comforting. And I saw my friend Gabby." "Oh my, Rob." "I saw Gabby, and I saw the whole family in the background at the end. I saw Grandpa wave at me." "What did your friend say to you?" "It wasn't my time." Rob said, recalling the vision. "She told me she was proud of my accomplishments and trying to deescalate situations, and when I told her I still felt unsure, she told me that it was okay. But she showed me a horrible set of visions of what would have happened had I not helped my friends and take in Felix, or help Sam out. It was horrible. I wept. It was so evil at what I saw." Nancy frowned. "What did you see, Rob?" "I saw my friend Ronnie shielding his son as the sheriff's department shot them both and killed them. I saw Sam trying to drag his parents' bodies out of their burning home only to be overcome by the heat and smoke. I saw Joey giving up on life. Did I really make this much of a difference, Grandma?" "I would say yes." Nancy nodded. "Rob, the lord works in mysterious ways. And you have been through things many have never experienced. It gives you that unique perspective that allows you to empathize, even if you say you're not emotional. You care, deep down inside you. When you see someone in distress, it activates your deeper talents." "I don't want to see people suffer and feel alone like I did for a long time. I want someone to know they have a friend they can fall back on." "And they do." Nancy smiled. "You've been a godsend for me, Rob. Especially in the twilight years of my life. I just... oh never mind." "What's that, Grandma? You can tell me~" "Oh... I just think that I'm ninety-two, and of all my siblings and family, it's just me and Velma left. I don't have that many years left, and every day at this age is a plus one it feels like. I don't know why God has blessed me with this many years when Daddy didn't make it past his sixties, and my two brothers died in their thirties and fifties. But I'm ninety-two. Is my mission not complete on this Earth?" "I guess that's for God to know and for us to only find out when it's our time." I guess so, Rob." "I think about God sometimes, Grandma. I think of this omnipotent being who can decide anyone's faith, and billions of people praying to you for hope and advice. That's a responsibility I wouldn't want. But when I think of myself as an omnipotent being, I think I would be more concerned and appalled about poverty, war, homelessness, and not abortion and gay sex, or trans stuff. I think some of the teachings in Christianity are good, I just don't like how Christians have become." "It's about power..." "...and power corrupts, Grandma." "People should get over our differences, and see what we all have in common." Nancy remarked. "I remember growing up when there was such things as segregation and women couldn't do what they could do today. Oh how I'd love to be young today. But I wouldn't have the wisdom that I do now, the life experiences to pass on." "I'd trade everything just to keep you forever, Grandma." "I appreciate it, but sooner or later the almighty has to say 'that's enough!'" laughed Nancy. "I get that, Grandma." "Try and get some rest, Rob. We'll go home tomorrow." "You do the same, Grandma. I love you." "I love you too." -------------------------------------- Two Weeks Later Descending into Adirondack Regional, "Coneflower" rumbled towards the runway with everything down. It was the end of Sam's three month stay with Rob. Now he was returning home, with school a week away. Sam sat at a window seat by the wing with Rob on the other side of the card table. No words were said as they watched the big radial engines outside the window. The props etched red, white, and blue circles through the air as they continued descending in for the runway. A morning rainstorm made the landscape damp as the wet runway came into view for the final flare for touchdown. "Well that's it." Sam said as he was jolted by the touchdown. "That was the end of my summer break." Rob nodded. "Now you're in the eighth grade. Enjoy it, Sam, because adulthood lurks." "Yeah." Sam mustered a smile. "Back home with Aunt Mary and Uncle Jake, and Cody." Under the command of Ivo and Jordan, they taxied the L-1049E towards the terminal building, where they turned and parked under the command of the ground crew. The inboard radials were powered off as the ground crew approached with the airstair. At the airport fence was Uncle Jake and Aunt Mary with Cody. Ivo opened the rear hatch and stepped out to secure it. Sam stepped out with his luggage and began walking down the metal steps. Out came Joey and then Rob, who winced as he knelt to exit the plane. His whole body still hurt from the accident. "Hey Aunt Mary and Uncle Jake!" Sam greeted. "Welcome back bro!" Cody grinned as he gave Sam a hug. "How was your trip?" "Great!" Sam grinned. "I can't wait to show you all the photos I took!" "I know!" Cody exclaimed. "Here, lemme grab your bag to throw in the truck, Sam." Jake said as he grabbed the bag from him to carry back to the truck in the parking lot. "How are you doing, Aunt Mary?" His aunt was somewhat listless. She stared off blankly into space. "Aunt Mary?" Sam reiterated, which brought her back to reality. "Oh, okay." She remarked. "Just... kinda feeling under the weather, I think. Yeah, I know, I think." Sam looked over at Cody, who shook his head slightly out of concern. Sam knew. "Gotcha, Aunt Mary." Sam nodded. "Lemme go say goodbye here." Sam stepped through the fence and ran back to the plane where Rob and Joey were checking the plane over for the flight back to Ohio. "Well this is it. Time to say goodbye for now, Rob." Sam said as Rob handed the clipboard back to Jordan. "That it is. It was a real pleasure to have you spend the summer with us." Rob smiled. "I had a lot of fun! It was really great, and now it's time to go back to, well, school." Sam said, his smile hiding the hesitation of returning home. Rob could sense the hesitation in his eyes. Rob approached closer. "I know you're worried about your aunt and uncle." Sam silently nodded yes. He glanced back over to Aunt Mary standing with Cody. "I worry about the months ahead, Rob." Rob put an arm around his friend. "I want you to know that no matter what happens with your aunt and uncle, you always have a home to go back to if it comes down to that. Tell your cousin that too. No matter what happens, I'll be there for you and Cody." Sam nodded and smiled. "I don't know how I'd ever thank you. That makes me feel better." Rob smiled in return as Sam put his arms around him and hugged him tightly. Rob gave Sam a tight hug in return as well. "Everything will be okay, Sam. I promise." "Thanks Rob." Sam gave Joey a hug and thanked him before saying goodbye and returning to his family. Rob and Joey watched them depart for the parking lot. Rob leaned against the nose wheel while Joey had an arm around him gently. Rob looked introspective at watching his friend leave. Quickly getting turned around, "Coneflower" departed Saranac Lake to return back to Newark. In the hot, sticky air, the Connie created vapor trails from the propeller tips as it strained to climb away in the heat thinned air. It would be a three hour flight back to Ohio. "We got everything under control here for the flight home, Rob! You rest!" Ivo said over the phone as Rob chuckled. "Well just making sure, in case you need a break." Rob assured his friend. "I think you need the break." Ivo laughed. "It's just a bruise... over a good portion of my abdomen... If you need anything just phone me." "Sounds good, Rob." Rob hung the cabin phone back onto the receiver as he turned his attention back to some paperwork in front of him. Joey sat opposite of him sipping on a bottle of water with a lemonade pack added to it. The Doberman sensed Rob's sadness to having to say goodbye to his friend after three months of spending time with him. Joey had a weird gut feeling that Sam would be coming back, sooner than later. Three hours later, their uneventful flight took them back home. Rob winced as he got out of Joey's Shelby Cobra. He ran a paw through his hair as he walked slowly back to the house. Everything seemed so quiet. Rob walked up to the guest house to check on Alvin and Nancy. He found Nancy and Alvin on the patio, having a friendly chat over some iced tea and keeping Greenie and the robins company. "How was your flight, Rob?" Nancy asked. "Quiet." Rob responded. "Sam's back home." "It was so great to have him here." Nancy said to him and Alvin. "I swear to god, Sam is Gordo reincarnated! Gordo looked exactly like him when he was thirteen years old!" "It's the hair. Sam's got the Barion wave." Rob remarked as he ran a paw through his thick wavy locks again. "I think Greenie is missing his friend." Alvin pointed. Rob found Greenie sitting by the door, as if waiting for Sam. The little mallard and Sam were best friends, and Rob found Greenie following Sam around the flower beds and swimming in the pool. His mallard looked glum without him. "Hey, Greenie." Rob smiled. He winced in pain as he knelt down to pick him up slowly. He held his mallard and gave him a hug as Greenie quacked a bit. "You saved our lives, Greenie. I don't know how I could ever thank you enough or repay you. You and Rocky saved me and Grandma." "Treats are always a plus." Alvin snickered, the word "treats" getting Greenie to give his "snack quacks". "You're a pig, Greenie~" Rob laughed. "But you earned it." Not to be ignored, Rocky landed on Rob's shoulder and chirped at him. "My plump lil' Robin friend! You're a hero, Rocky. You and Sparkle both. You guys are so loving- we don't deserve your love~" Taking a moment to step inside, Rob walked over to gaze into Sam's now empty bedroom. The desk was empty, the bed neatly made and pillows stacked up. Rob leaned against the door and just frowned. --------------------------------------------- "8/18/24 - Saturday It's 5:30AM, 36,500 feet, southbound to Flori-duh, somewhere over West Virginia. Got a really busy schedule today, and a hell of a lot of flying across the country. This is the maiden flight of "Voyager", my MD-11CF, my largest, and newest, heh, "newest", jet, circa 1995. $$$ to fly. Me and Joey are at the helm. At Florida we're dropping off 60,000lbs of cargo for Freightmaster, and then seeing a rocket test launch at LC-11; an ADLV-3 will be carrying an updated Orbit Transfer Stage to space to test the changes made to the stage after the Barevsat debacle. On the topic of Barevsat- got a meeting with Takiyama and Esker about Barevsat's 2 and 3. They will be launching in October, and have several upgrades from lessons learned by the ill-fated prototype. We've decided to work with NASA to send the prototype off into deeper space to explore the inner solar system and asteroid belt. The telecom package is fucked, but the science instruments are good, and so is the camera scan platform. Salvage something out of this. From Flori-duh, we're heading to Lubbock to see Jack and Walt at the ranch. And then back home. This jetset lifestyle is pretty fun, but this MD-11 is expensive. But she connects the whole world pretty much from Columbus. Sure wish Sam would be here. He was so excited seeing the Zeta launch. He's back home, getting ready for school to resume. I miss Sam. All's well here." As the first rays of dawn emerged from the hazy horizon, "Voyager" gracefully flew over the cloud deck over North Carolina. In the same paint scheme as "Photon", the silver, white, and blue Barev trijet raced to Florida. Its three CF6 turbofans whistled, spewing icy contrails that turned red in the early light of dawn. Under the red cabin lights, Rob stowed his diary away in his backpack slung behind his seat. He sat back, wincing from his abdomen behind the controls of the MD-11 and its glass cockpit. Joey sat sipping a coffee and admiring the scenery from the cockpit windows. "Our eighteen anniversary is coming up soon. What do you want to do about that?" Rob asked. "I'm not sure yet!" Joey responded. "Wherever you want to go to spend it, I'll fly." Rob smiled. "I'm kind of content just staying home, Rob." Joey smiled. "I'm forty-one, not twenty-five." "No beach parties and copious alcohol?" "I did that shit when I was twenty-two." Joey grinned teasingly. "I'm forty-one." "Forty-two in October." "Oh god, don't you remind me!" Joey exclaimed. "Listen here, baby face~" Rob laughed. "You're not sitting here looking like President Reagan in your forties!" "I'm like a fine wine, motherfucker, I get better with age." Joey grinned big, which made Rob laugh. "I'm like vinegar. Sour." "Balsamic vinegar, Rob~ At least price yourself higher." "WOW!" Rob laughed. "You fuck!" "Just saying~" grinned the Doberman. Arriving at Opa Locka by eight o'clock in the morning, Rob confidently put the MD-11 into a descent for landing. The onboard computer maintained the trim as Rob monitored the descent speed and Joey controlled the throttles. It was a smooth touchdown on the centerline as "Voyager" rolled out with reverse thrust to slow them down to a crawl off the runway and onto the service ramp. They turned in a wide arc to continue their way down the access road to Freightmaster's HQ. The MD-11 was guided in via the ground crew riding in the back of a truck, which took them to Freightmaster's newly acquired MD-11's getting loaded up on the ramp. The ramp was an eclectic mix of Freightmaster's newly acquired widebody jets, and their legacy propliner freighters. "Don't lose the keys." Rob teased Kurt as he went to turn in paperwork. "How's it going, Joey?" Kurt said through a chuckle at Rob's quip as his friend and business partner descended the airstair. "Pretty darn good, Kurt! Here for a rocket launch and spending time with Rob." "Sounds like a good deal to me~" ------------------------------------- The cameras scattered around the launch pad recorded steam wavering off the frosted first stage of Precision's Sigma booster. Sitting on the pad fueled up was an ADLV-3C, Precision's licensed copy of the legacy Atlas booster. It was an amalgamation of several historic Atlas components; the ADLV-3C used the stretched balloon tanks of the Atlas III, a modified booster package and twin vernier engines of the Atlas I, and a stretched Atlas V type fairing from the 400 series. Instead of the RS-27A engines of the MA-5A booster package, Sigma used Precision's PB-3H and -3HS for the three engine, booster, and sustainer motors, allowing Sigma to keep parity with the incumbent Atlas V with 900,000lbs of total thrust. It burned RP-1 Kerosene and liquid oxygen, which was an acceptable compromise in performance compared to the fickle cryogenic fuels, or the temperature stable, but extremely toxic hypergolic fuels. The second stage was the Precision Cryogenic Second Stage, or PCSS, in its ten foot diameter variant, with a single RL-10 motor that had a nozzle extension. PCSS was a hybrid design that combined elements of the famous Centaur upper stage, and Delta's Cryogenic Second Stage. It had balloon tanks for the large liquid hydrogen tank, while the spheroid liquid oxygen tank was attached in a truss structure, which was concealed by the interstage. And hidden beneath the payload fairing was the test article OTS-A. It would be a critical test flight for the solid motor upper stage, after problems with the first two flights producing unacceptable vibration. This was an unorthodox flight of the ADLV-3; usually the flight profile of the ADLV-3 was to launch payloads into a transfer orbit to geostationary orbit, but on this flight, PCSS would have to burn to depletion to inject the OTS-A into parking orbit, so it can fire and begin its intermediate transfer orbit. It was the heaviest load yet for the ADLV-3. In the control room, Rob sat with Joey watching the booster on all the monitors along the wall. There were multiple shots of the rocket from various angles, its frosted first stage having steam get carried off it in wispy bursts by the warm Floridian wind. For this flight, Mark Prince himself was the voice of mission control, as he called out the five minute final hold for liftoff. "And we are holding at five minutes for the final checkout of the booster to commit to launch. And standing by." Mark's deep voice called out over the intercom. "Final systems check." "Telemetry." "Go." "Range." "Go." "Range Safety." "Go." "Weather." "Go." "Atlas Team." "Go." "PCSS Team." "Go." "OTS Team." "We're go for flight." "Cryo." "Go." "And the countdown continues, t-minutes four-minutes and fifty-nine seconds and counting." Mark concluded. Rob bit his lower lip at anticipation for the test launch. The Orbit Transfer Stage was a critical backup for Barevsat should only one satellite need launching. It would be a very expensive flight on a 401A Zeta, as the large diameter PCSS was optimized to carry two satellites directly to geostationary orbit. And the medium Zeta configurations were unable to directly launch Barevsat directly to geostationary orbit. Crossing below one minute, Rob watched the monitor intensely. Joey looked relaxed and content as he waited and watched the clock run down. "T-minus, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight..." Mark began counting back. At four seconds, the vernier motors ignited with a yellow tongue of flame shooting out. One second later, the sustainer and boosters ignited with the greenish-white flash of the hypergolic starters. With a huge blast of flames, the engines came to life with smoke and steam rushing out of the flame trench. "Zero." The hold down arms released, and the ADLV-3 lifted off the pad trailing a pillar of fire. "Liftoff of Sigma-PCSS nineteen, with the newly redesigned Orbit Transfer Stage test!" Mark called. "Tower clear!" The tracking cameras watched Sigma lift off into steel blue Floridian skies. It carried a steady stream of yellow flames, with the turbopump exhaust spilling out one side as a lazy, flickering yellow and orange fireball. "Here we go." Rob said to Joey. "That's impressive." Joey nodded. "Sigma P/U is in closed loop. Everything's looking good flight. All Sigma motors are up and running." "Good startup signature on the telemetry." "Copy that." For two and a half minutes, the Sigma first stage burned, carrying the payload through the lower and middle atmosphere. As it neared the edge of space, tracking cameras continued to follow as the timer came up for booster engine cut off. "Flight, two minutes, twenty seconds, and we're coming up on BECO." "Copy." "Standing by for booster engine cut off." The tracking camera shot on the monitor was a crystal clear picture of Sigma in flight, its exhaust plume spread out by the rarified atmosphere. Right on time, the missile programmer executed BECO; the two booster engines cut off, with only the glow of the sustainer present. One and a half seconds later, the booster package was jettisoned with a huge flash. It slid off the base of the first stage as a ghostly silhouette in the flames and smoke, leaving the core vehicle and its sustainer to continue on for another two minutes. The booster package would then parachute back to the ocean to be recovered by one of the recovery ships. "Stand by on chamber pressure, flight." "Booster package jettison looked good. Recovery forces are enroute." "Copy." "Flight, we notice a slight underperformance of the sustainer, but it's still within specifications, so uhh, most likely the missile programmer will extend the sustainer burn time by a few additional seconds." "Copy." The view from the rocket by one of the monitoring cameras showed the growing curvature of Earth as the core vehicle continued on. Part of the payload fairing was seen flying past as the fairing was jettisoned, another shot revealing the upper part of the OTS stage, with a bad glare coming from the sun just outside of the camera's viewing angle. At four minutes, thirty-five seconds, the sustainer shut down for MECO, followed four seconds later by VECO. The engineering camera at the base of the PCSS watched as the Sigma first stage was jettisoned. The vernier engines reversed and retrofired to back the stage away. The nozzle extension deployed on the PCSS, as its turbopump spun up, some liquid oxygen being vented overboard by a vent pipe just in shot. The engine ignited with a thump, and almost immediately, the engine bell began to glow a dull cherry red as the PCSS began its long single burn to establish parking orbit. Periodically, the exhaust from the reaction control system was evident as PCSS worked to stay on course. It was a long thirteen minute burn over the Atlantic Ocean as the OTS raced towards zero degrees latitude. Rob sat and contently watched the Earth pass below the shot. With fuel about exhausted, the PCSS shut down on schedule. "Flight, we've achieved parking orbit." There was a round of applause in the control room as engineers watched the PCSS be jettisoned by the OTS' engineering camera. Its gold plated engine bell glistened in the sun as the PCSS stage was backed up and flipped over to prepare for retrofire to burn up in the atmosphere. "There will be a ten minute coast in parking orbit until we hit zero degrees latitude to begin ITO injection." "Copy that." Joey leaned over to Rob. "This better work!" "You're telling me~" chuckled Rob. "I need this stage in case we have to launch a spare on its own." OTS-A coasted in space for ten minutes. It was the moment of truth to see if the changes to the upper stage would work. While the vehicle looked about the same, there was a change in the solid fuel type, its grain structure and pouring, and a reshaping of the engine bell on the second solid motor. The payload interface adapter was changed, and more shock absorption was applied. The OTS carried additional test instrumentation, and additional hydrazine was carried to enable the upper stage to clear GSO to a graveyard orbit at the end of the mission. "Here we go, coming up for MECO-1." With a bright flash, the first solid motor ignited. On camera, the rocket plume was noticeable, a whitish-yellow plume that sparkled from ablated material coming off the engine bell. The first thing Rob noticed was that the camera wasn't violently shaking. That was a good sign. The first stage burned for two and a half minutes, which injected it into an Intermediate Transfer Orbit. "Flight, confirm burnout of the solid motor. ITO achieved." Rob applauded with everyone as he got up with Joey. He adjusted the collar to his polo shirt and walked over to congratulate Mark. "Job well done!" "Right on the money!" Mark grinned as he put an arm around Rob to celebrate with everyone. ------------------------------------------ "I think you'll be very impressed by this." Grinned Esker as he showed Rob and Joey the Barevsat buses that were under construction in the clean room. Dressed in a clean suit, Rob and Joey got to see the behind the scenes at Satcorp. The sable furred husky climbed up onto some scaffolding to help an aching Rob up to peer inside the satellite bus that was under construction. "So here's your logic board assembly for the telecom package." Esker pointed with a yard stick. "We've beefed up the design and added this reinforcing strip over the top of the circuit boards to keep them in place should the vibrations go over the upper stage design specs." Rob scrutinized the reinforcement; it was a thin strip of powdered coated metal placed over the tops of the PCB's. It looked laughably cheap. "This looks like the equivalent of when a high school student writes their history exam five minutes before the due date, Esker." "What did this redesign cost? Half a million?" Joey grinned teasingly. "Funny!" Esker laughed as well. "Sometimes simple ideas just work." "Fuck it. If it works, it works." Climbing down, Rob got to see Barevsat number two in the final stages of testing. In the large open clean room, Rob saw the satellite fully deployed for examination by engineers. It's delicate antennas, magnetometer, and camera scan platform were all supported by guy wires from the ceiling holding them up. Compared to the prototype, the main communication antennas were redesigned, with the folding arms redone with spring loaded elbows to assist the deployment motors. Instead of gold Kapton on the antennas, black Mylar film covered them, giving the spacecraft a more sinister look. "She'll fly this time." Esker promised Rob. "I sure hope so." Rob nodded. "October can't come soon enough for flights two and three." "We took the lessons from the prototype and also applied them to Barevsat Two, if you'd like to see the early stages of progress?" Walking into the adjoining clean room, Rob saw the earliest stages of Barevsat II, the planned fleet of communication satellites that would be in a highly inclined, Molniya orbits for reaching the Arctic and Antarctic regions, where geostationary orbits struggled with signal attenuation. Unlike the spin stabilized Barevsat bus, Barevsat II was a large rectangular box covered in silver Mylar. It had a fixed high gain antenna, plus several helical antennas on the body, with several scientific instruments as well. Instead of a camera platform, its dual Chalnicon cameras would be mounted to the body. It would have two large steerable antennas, and two massive solar panels. One of the panels was off in the distance being tested. It was a large, cross shaped design with four panels making up one wing. The solar cells were purplish-black with red accents on them. "You guys have done a fantastic job." Rob complimented. "Keep up the good work." "We're eyeballing a 2027 date for the Molniya orbits." "Here's hoping we don't pull a Boeing~" "Heh, exactly." Rob left from his meeting with Satcorp looking very content, as Joey and Rob returned back to the airport to get their MD-11 ready to fly over to Texas, a few hours away. ----------------------------- Early afternoon in Lubbock was stifling hot. There was no breeze, and the haze and humidity turned the sky a milky, coneflower blue. Arriving in a Baritel Traverse from the airport, Rob and Joey pulled off the road and onto the mile long driveway of the Westbrooke Ranch that was tree lined. "Now imagine if you had something like this." Joey teased with a smile. "I'm happy with my two hundred and thirty-five acres!" Rob laughed. "It's not the size, Joey." "It's how you use it." Joey grinned. Pulling up to the fountain, Rob rolled around it and parked in Walter's driveway. He hopped out to just hear an absolute commotion going on. Walter and Calvin were having a screaming match on the back patio. "THIS IS NOT YOUR FUCKING RANCH TO DO JUST WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT! I'M HALF OWNER AND ANYTHING YOU WANT TO DO YOU HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME! AND I AM NOT GOING TO LET SOME GOD DAMN MINERAL PROSPECTING COMPANY TEAR MY BROTHER'S CREATION APART!" Walter screamed in Calvin's face. "YOU COULD POTENTIALLY BE SITTING ON MILLIONS OF DOLLARS OF RARE EARTH ELEMENTS!" Calvin screamed. "THINK ABOUT MY INVESTMENTS!" "Oh yeah your investments? More like your father's investments 'cause it's his money!" Walter hissed. Calvin looked insulted. "How dare you think it's not my money!?" "Where the fuck did you get it, Cal? Baritel? You skim more money off that we didn't know about, motherfucker?" "You take that back..." "Take a look around you at this whole place! YOUR DADDY CREATED IT, ALL OF IT! LOOK AT ALL THE MONEY YOU INHERITED! Now my brother would be rolling around in his damn grave!" "Alright! Enough!" shouted Rob. "You know what, Walt!? Go fuck yourself you pussy ass bitch!" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, why don't you back inside and fuck up more of our family legacy, you inconsiderate fucknut!" "Dicktree!" "STOP IT!" screamed Rob. "STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" Calvin and Walter shut up immediately. "Walter I gotta talk to you, and McNipples? You fuck this place up and I'll sic my Einsatzgruppen on you. Remember the last time with the Kripos, there cousin of mine?" Calvin turned and immediately stormed off to his house. "Fuckin' prick..." Rob muttered under breath as he watched Calvin slam his front door shut. He turned his attention to Walter, who adjusted his gray Stetson. "I don't think I've ever seen you ever get this mad, Walt?" Rob said amusingly. Walter didn't find it amusing. "That sumbitch was gonna bring a mineral prospecting company here to tear up swaths of the ranch to search for rare earth elements, and I said no! That's absolute bullshit! The Deuce didn't want any of that! He wanted this to be a pristine nature preserve and working ranch, not a fucking mine so AI Cal here with his stupid investments in these data centers, can make more money!" "Watch that investment blow up in his face." Rob chuckled. "Sorry we came at a bad time." Joey smiled as he greeted Walter. "May I get you guys something to drink?" While Joey took a moment to go talk firearms and shoot some guns with Walter's ranchhands, Walter and Rob had a sit down talk on the patio, over a bottle of sparkling apple juice. Rob grabbed a handful of ice and placed it in his little tumbler before pouring himself some of the sparkling amber drink. "Walt, I want to apologize for demoting you." "No, don't apologize, Rob. It's fine. I accept responsibility for a lot of these problems." Walter bluntly stated. "I just wanted to be nice about it." "I get why you demoted me, and I was very upset about it, but after talking to my wife and Dad, I accept that leadership isn't my thing." "You have to make unpopular calls and be the bad guy. It's inevitable." Rob explained. "You weren't a bad president for the company. Your name isn't Ryan Vlockner." "I got anxious because I didn't want to disappoint people." "Heh, well that's something that has to go out the window when billions are at stake!" Rob laughed cynically. "Fuck 'em! Is my advice. Just like that talking marshmallow next door." "My brother and then myself worked so hard to make this ranch a dream come true, and I'm not gonna let him destroy it." "He ain't going to, and you know I have your back one hundred percent." "I appreciate it." "Tell you what, Walt. You keep doing a good job and I'll keep an eye out for an opening for you to work your way back up. I need you, Walt." "Thank you, Rob." "Anything for family." Walter sat back in his chair as he picked up his drink to take sip. "Ya know, Rob, I get the impression that a lot of people don't really know the true Rob?" "Yeah, it's true. And its best they don't know." Rob shrugged as he took another sip of his drink. ----------------------------------------------- Kicking up dust upon their arrival, Rob and Joey drove into the historic James Barion Ranch, which housed the James Barion Museum. Rob pulled into a parking spot and hopped out with Joey, to go find Jack inside the museum. The museum told the story of James Barion and his interesting life from a poor orphan to billionaire oil baron. From old clothes, to his Dallas inspired sedan, the museum housed many mementos of his long life. Rob and Joey stood with Jack to examine James' F6F-5 Hellcat, its cowling bearing the logo of the Barion Oil Company. It was damaged in a tornado, and Rob had restored it to flight, but after obtaining his own F6F-5, he flew it back to Texas to return to the museum display. Behind them sat his Boeing 707, which glistened under the bright spotlights. James was the first civilian owner of a 707, having obtained his in early 1958. "James was born at the right time to see a great change in society and the world." Jack remarked as they walked around the museum. "Born just a year before flight, and died in the supersonic era." "It would have been amazing to see the massive changes he saw." Rob remarked as he gazed at the red and silver 707. "Oh yes. Indeed. I remember Grandpa telling me about traveling to Europe right after the Second World War. President Truman asked him to go assist the US government in accessing aid for war-torn Europe and later Japan. So Grandpa commandeered an old war weary bomber plane and flew all across Europe, and documented it. He saw great horrors to the aftermath of the Nazi machine, and the destruction of Japan." "Wow." Joey nodded. "He was a good man. And the world sorely needs more James Barions. They'll never make 'em like that again." Jack smiled with a light laugh. "Now the robber barons have returned." After touring the museum, Jack took them to the home that James had built to establish his ranch and farm. For a man that was once a multi-billionaire, James Barion lived in a little white farm house he built himself in 1922 for him and his wife and the expected arrival of his son, John. The farm house was usually off limits, except for limited tours. Jack opened the front door and held it open for Rob and Joey to step inside. The interior of the home looked as though time had stood still. It was left in the same as James had it when he passed away in 1990. Newsweek magazines, a coffee mug, and a pen, still silently sat on the coffee table. A newspaper sitting neatly folded on the dinner table, displayed a headline about a treaty announcement for the reunification of Germany. Rob walked over to the wall to examine the photos. He looked at the photo of his late great-uncle John, who died on D-Day. His Medal of Honor sat next to his portrait. Beside it was a portrait of Jack Barion in his Army uniform. His Medal of Honor sat neatly on display. Almost all the family photos were in color, as James instantly fell in love with Kodachrome when it was released in the thirties. A photo of his great-grandmother, Ethel Barion, in a bright red jacket with a fur collar, looked as though it was taken today. She had neatly curled hair that was yellow blonde. Another photo showed James and Ethel posing in front of their newly delivered 707, taken in early 1958. "I look at all these photos, and I can still hear them and see them in my memories." Jack smiled. "Now they're all gone, Rob." "Sadly." "The march of time is ruthless and waits for no man." Jack nodded. "Since I know you keep a diary, I thought you might like seeing this one from Grandpa." Rob was handed an old leather bound diary, which when Rob opened it, revealed his great-grandpa's slightly jagged handwriting in pencil. It was the diary James carried with him when he toured Europe after WWII. "June 29, 1945 We're in flight, heading to Bonn, Germany. With me are my comp. photographers, and some Red Cross doctors and nurses who needed a ride. Flying in a converted bomber is cramped! Ole' John is a tired, cranky, Lib, but she gets the job done. Flying over parts of Germany remind me of looking at the moon through a telescope; its bleak, cratered, bleak, devoid of life. Many cities are just burned out shells of twisted, crumbled buildings, pulverized into rubble just like the Nazi regime. When I visit, nobody says much. It's quiet. People walk with their heads down. They too sense the great tragedy that Europe is left with after six years of war." Rob flipped a few more pages, finding an entry about James visiting a concentration camp, Buchenwald, and a sub-camp, Mittelbau-Dora. It was a long entry. "July 2, 1945 "Landed in Nordhausen today to go talk to some aid workers from France who were needing assistance. Upon saying we were also taking some pictures, we were asked to go and take some photos of a camp that the Army liberated, Buchenwald is its name. We also stopped at a sub-camp, Mittelbau-Dora. I don't even think I can conjure up the right words to describe what I saw today. Evil is the sole word. Flying all around Germany, is a reminder to the great evil that the Nazis inflicted on not only all of Europe, but to its own people. The camp was liberated three months ago, but the stench of death lingers everywhere. Survivors are still recovering and weak. We spoke to a couple of them. They spoke of the evil subjected to them. I see it firsthand. We took thousands of photographs. We exhausted all the Kodachrome and I had to obtain some German film to keep up with what we were seeing. This was a well constructed death machine for undesirables. They are still digging up mass graves of victims. I saw one, and a stack of bodies awaiting removal and disposal. The putrid stench made me vomit. I had to sit down on a stone and I wept because of how evil man can be. This is what hate and indifference can do to man. I will never forget this. I want the world- I want future generations to see this evil. So this could never happen again. If it can happen here? It could happen anywhere, even in America. I want the world to see what the Nazi machine did. I don't want John's death to be in vain." Rob closed the book quietly and handed it back to Jack who sat it back on the bookshelf. Heading outside, Rob and Joey stood with Jack at the Barion cemetery, where James and his wife were buried at. The small fenced in cemetery held the remains of several O'Donnell's, including the remains of Mitch O'Donnell, who was Gordo's rear gunner during the war. Gordo himself was interned next to his father after his death in 2017. Rob knelt down slowly and brushed some dust off his grandpa's headstone. "Grandpa, I'm here. It was nice to see you again in that vision." "Ole' Gordo was a great man." Jack complimented. "I miss our conversations, Gordo." Rob stood up with Joey's help as he stood there silently. "I read Jack's entries and I feel his hurt in the last one." Rob remarked. "And I fear that what he saw is coming back again, here, with our political storm that's brewing." "Unfortunately I can agree with you on that, Rob." Jack nodded. "Politics is nasty and toxic now. And they say that those who fail to learn from history, are doomed to repeat it." "Sadly." Rob nodded. "I believe the deeper good of people will shine in dark times. And you'll find who your heroes and villains are, Rob." "Little Eichmanns walk among us." "That they do." "I've always said monsters lurk among us." Joey added. "Our late friend Gabby once said that you can't tell who is a sex trafficker. They're priests, farmers, office workers, people who interact and blend in with society every day." "Scary isn't it?" Jack remarked. "But monsters usually slip up. And then they get their just desserts." "Well Rob, I think I should get the vehicle started up to cool it down so we can get home by dinner time!" Joey suggested as he turned to leave. "Good idea. Well Uncle Jack, thank you for your time." Rob smiled. Jack smiled back. "It's a pleasure as always to see you, Rob. I'm very proud and happy that you've got Baritel under control. I know it's gonna be okay." Rob nodded. "I appreciate that, Uncle Jack, because... sometimes I feel like... I'll never be to the same level as Grandpa James." "You can't compare yourself to James Barion. None of us can. He was a one of a kind man who was born at the right time in history to witness the massive changes to the world and our society across the board. He saw and heard things that were groundbreaking. He saw massive technological changes. And when the world needed help? He jumped in to assist. You can't beat yourself up or put yourself down because you can't be as great as James. I'm never going to match what that my Grandpa accomplished, and that's alright, because I'm proud of what I've done for myself, and you should be too, Rob." Rob nodded. "You and me have faced trauma, and we've gone about healing from it in different ways. And from the first time I met you many years ago, to now, you've come so far. You should be absolutely so proud of that. And you've helped give my youngest boy a spine, so I'm proud of you for that too!" "Well, yelling is my specialty~" "Heh, oh lordy, Rob." Jack laughed. He put an arm around Rob to turn him around to leave the cemetery. "I think it's best we get out of this dang stagnant heat, and you guys get on home to Ohio. Just lemme know when you get home, okay?" "Gotcha, Uncle Jack." ------------------------------------ Making a quick detour, Rob and Joey took their MD-11 to Pennsylvania, to make a quick visit to their late friend's resting place. An Uber dropped them off at the Allegheny Cemetery. It was a quiet, tree lined cemetery, near the north tip of Pittsburgh. It was the perfect resting place for Gabby. Rob and Joey walked up to Gabby's grave. It was neatly adorned with two flowering rose bushes in a pretty shade of red. Her headstone was a big granite block, deeply etched with a cross. It bore her full name. "Gabrielle Sandra Miller 1965-2023. 'Perseverance is my story'". Rob knelt down and wiped a couple withered flower pedals off her headstone. He knelt his head against it for a moment. "Gabby, my friend, it was so great to see you again in that vision. It felt so real. I hope it was real. Because your words were so comforting to hear again." "Hi, Gabby." Smiled Joey. "We all miss you tremendously." "You have helped transform my life and helped me let go of the past more and more. I can't thank you enough for that." Rob said to her headstone. "I'll always cherish the friendship we had." "I think you and Gabby helped each other heal in a way nobody else could." Joey remarked. "I'm so proud of that." Rob looked up at the headstone. "Why must the good die young?" "If only we knew, huh?" Joey smiled as he helped Rob up. "I'm proud of where you're going, and it makes me even happier to be your husband." "Well I'm glad I'm your husband~" Rob smiled as he held Joey's paw. "A lot of people asked me years before why I picked you over any other generic uber gay in Columbus, and I knew from the first time I met you that beneath your tough outer skin, was a man with deeper talents. And I was right." Joey complimented. "You're happier now than I ever have seen you years before. You're not always right, and stuck up about stuff. I see you carry yourself more relaxed." "I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now." Rob joked. "That's why I'm so thankful for Gabby. Alvin and Felix opened your heart, and Gabby helped put you on a much better trajectory with that open heart. The same with Sam." "And for that I'll always be thankful." "I know." Joey smiled. "Well I think we should rocket on outta here and back to Ohio? It's getting late." "Yeah." Rob nodded. "Thank you for your time, Gabby. We love you." "We love you and miss you lots. Take care." Joey said as they walked back to the exit to get a ride back to the airport. Rocketing out of Pittsburgh as the sun began to set, they got a beautiful front row seat to the glowing warm colors of the setting sun. It would be a less than hour flight back to Columbus. Joey rummaged through the bag and handed Rob a hamburger. "Well all in all this was a lot of fun, Rob!" "Yeah, I did enjoy this too." Rob smiled back. "You and me cruising the sky with 'Voyager'." "I like to think this is the Chevy Suburban of jets." Joey laughed. "Yeah, it burns fuel like one too." Rob snickered. "Ten grand in fuel!" "Oh come on, that's pocket change, Rob." The Doberman teased with a grin. "...she does fly fantastic." Rob sat back in his chair and watched the autopilot direct them back to Columbus as they passed over the state line. He reached forward to adjust the heading slightly as the jet turned ever so slightly to maintain its path to John Glenn International. "Joey, did you ever think when you first met me that any of this would happen?" "No, but I knew someone special when I met them." He replied back. "Special you say?" "Before you, I had a couple boyfriends and girlfriends, and one really abusive boyfriend. There's a lot of people who only give a shit about you if you're good looking and when things are going good. When people only date you for looks, it's a superficial shitshow waiting to implode, and when people only date you when things are going well? Well what happens when things go south? I remember you from a distance in high school, and classmates saying you were very smart, but shy and aloof. I remember you as a regular customer in our gun store. Quiet, never making a scene. Serious. And then I finally got to know you that day you collapsed from heat exhaustion. And I knew you were someone special. You're not like all the other garden variety gays that linger around in the Short North. You carried yourself so much different. You treated me so differently, you always wanted to make sure that whatever we were doing was what you wanted. Plus I thought you being so awkward and unsure about social stuff was cute." "HEY!" Rob exclaimed with a hesitant smirk. "I'm teasing!" Joey laughed. "You are one of a kind Rob. And don't you forget it!" "Heh, it's hard to forget when you've blazed your own path all your life." "I remember one of our earlier dates... I think you had a bad day at work, and you did not crack a smile the entire time." Joey grinned. "You sat there in the back of the restaurant with this burned out look. Now I see you eighteen years later, and you're more relaxed, you're happier. You have your dream career, wealth, everything. I didn't think any of this would come down the line, and I'm so happy to say you're my husband." "I really appreciate that, because I look in the mirror and see what an old fuck I look like now, and then see you and how beautiful you are, and that you could have had any guy in the world, and you picked me? I can never not be thankful." "Again, I'm like an old wine, motherfucker~" grinned Joey. "I get better with age!" Rob laughed as he took another bite out of his hamburger. "You and that big mouth of yours~" Joey laughed. "Oh one of these days Rob, I'm gonna suckerpunch the fuck outta you." They both burst out into laughter. ---------------------------------------- Urged by its whining starter, the big four-blade prop to "The Barion II" began to turn. Rob held the starter button while he counted the blades. At the seventh blade, he engaged the magneto switch and the Double-Wasp coughed to life with a back blast of smoke. The engine chugged and ran at low power as Rob let it warm up. Glancing to his left, he saw his twin brother Jake fire up the engine to his F4U-5 Corsair, which was in a glossy sea blue Korean War scheme with a yellow prop dome. "Rad Atomic" was the Corsair's name, written in an artful font on the long nose. To his right, Rob saw his nephew Alvin prepare to fly a Corsair for the first time. The young Doberman sat in the cockpit of Rob's FG-1A, "Sam", which was glossy sea blue with yellow fuselage stenciling as a stateside trainer. It sported a green prop dome for a splash of color from its dark blue paint. "Flying a new is like riding a bike! You never forget, kinda." Teased Jake to Alvin over the intercom. "You'll do great, Alvin." Rob complimented. Alvin hit the starter, and Rob watched the three-blade prop to "Sam" turn. He counted eight blades when Alvin hit the magnetos and the engine coughed to life in a back blast of oily smoke. "Got that down pat!" laughed Alvin. With engines warmed up, Alvin began to taxi first. With a long nose and the cockpit recessed back, Alvin had to zigzag to maintain his forward vision. Rob and Jake did the same as they taxied behind him for the runway. Alvin turned onto the runway first and after a final check, cautiously opened the throttle up to the "Ensign Eliminator". The Corsair responded and began its takeoff roll as Rob watched Alvin put opposing rudder in to counter the heavy torque from the propeller. The tail rose up slowly and very cautiously, Alvin hopped into the air for the first time aboard the FG-1A. Rob turned onto the runway next and opened the throttle, and his Corsair began its takeoff roll. Strapped into his grandfather's Corsair, it felt like second nature. Rob didn't even look at the speedometer as he gently lifted the bird into the air. He just knew by how it felt. Raising the gear, Rob climbed skyward into the milky white August sky. Jake soon formed up on them. "Too bad Joey couldn't join us!" Jake said over the radio as they climbed in formation. "He had an issue at the plant in Virginia that he had to go check out unfortunately." Rob responded. "But that's okay." "So whacha think, Alvin?" Jake asked. "Well this is my first time on a new plane that has iffy handling, so I'll tell you how I feel after I land!" he nervously laughed into the microphone. "You treat you nice, and she'll keep you alive." Rob chuckled. "That's how I was taught." "Comforting, Uncle Rob!" Having taken off before them, Rob saw in the hazy distance, a couple other warbirds flying in formation. It was Felix and his husband Tony, flying aboard the museum's two F6F Hellcats. Rob's Navy reserve F6F-5, flown by Felix, and Tony aboard Joey's tri-color F6F-3, "Ole 479", with "479" purposefully sprayed crudely on the cowl like newly delivered planes to the field. They flew in formation with Mark Prince and Tanner Rodriguez in their Thunderbolts. "Hey, Alvin! Looking good in that bent wing bird!" Mark complimented. "Thank you! Trying not to get myself killed here!" Alvin said excitedly. "New plane rush!" "You'll do great." Felix assured him. Rob took a moment to glance out his open cockpit canopy to see Felix in flight aboard his Hellcat. He was mighty proud of his adopted son. He thought of what could have been in that nightmare vision, and where Felix is now. It brought a smile to his face. "Felix, you look fantastic." Rob complimented. "Thank you, Rob! It's nice to see The Barion Two with wind under its wings too." "I agree. It's back in the air where it belongs!" laughed Rob. He let go of the mic toggle, only to immediately toggle it again. "I'm proud of you, Felix, from where you've come from and where you're going." "The sky's the limit." Felix replied. "Thanks to you." Rob smiled. "Well here's our turn to head to New York. See you guys later!" Tony called as everyone banked to head eastward. "Safe travels, guys." Jake radioed. "See you later!" Alvin called. As the wind whipped and rattled around in the cockpit, Rob sat back looked extremely content. He flew behind Alvin at his four o'clock, while Jake took up formation at his seven o'clock. Seeing his nephew take flight in the Corsair for the first time made Rob feel so proud for him. He thought of that nightmare vision of Alvin's death, and to see him flying high and happy brought so much relief to his heart. And he made that happen with Joey. After years of false starts, and broken hope, Rob felt that he finally turned the page to a new chapter in his life. From those halcyon days in his youth, the trials and tribulations of his twenties where he felt subjected to the trials of Job. The swashbuckler thirties where he began building his business empire, but in the process, tore his body up even more. Now he was moving into middle-age, and he was feeling it too. But his mind felt clear. He didn't feel as disgruntled about everything. He built his dream home, had his dream family, he had everything he wanted. Now there was calm too in his heart. Rob's eyes winced behind the amber goggles he wore. The bright August sun glared in the eastern sky. The haze turned the sky a milky white. The wolf-hybrid sensed a political storm brewing for America. Whatever worry Rob had, he countered with the idea that after storms pass through, the sun shines again. It would be another turbulent time, but in the end, goodness would eventually prevail, and the heroes and villains defined. He didn't know what all was going to happen exactly, and he wasn't gonna act like he knew the answer like the past. As they flew northward towards Cleveland, Rob reflected on everything with a line from a Bob Dylan song he was fond of. The three Corsairs, burbling along with their big radials, flew away into the haze. "Ah, I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now."