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The courtroom buzzed with the low murmur of disinterested voices as the judge, a portly man with a stern face and a gravelly voice, read the verdict. The words echoed in the hardened criminal's ears, but he wasn't listening. The man in the orange jumpsuit - his name was Jeb 'J.D' Dixon - leaned back in his chair, slouched like he didn't have a care in the world. But the truth was, his blood boiled under his skin. He gritted his teeth, jaw twitching under the rough stubble, as he squinted up at the judge through narrowed eyes.
"Aggravated assault," The judge droned on, voice as dry as the desert, "Armed robbery, possession of illegal firearms, resisting arrest... the list goes on, Mr. Dixon."
J.D snorted, shifting in his seat. "Y'all ain't got nothin' on me," He muttered under his breath, loud enough for the bailiff standing nearby to shoot him a warning glance. But J.D didn't care. He was used to looks like that. Been getting 'em all his life.
The judge's voice cut through the courtroom again, drawing out each word like it was a death sentence. "The court finds you guilty on all charges."
J.D rolled his eyes. The judge kept talking, but it was all white noise to him now. He'd heard it all before - cops, judges, lawyers, they were all the same. Talkin' big and tough, like they was any better than him. Hell, they probably was worse. At least he was honest about who he was. A cold-blooded crook, through and through.
"...and I hereby sentence you to twenty years in a Hammer Corrections Facility, a life sentence not necessary at this juncture." The judge finished, slamming the gavel down.
J.D.'s head snapped up at that. Hammer Corrections? Ain't that the new joint they was talkin' about, the one where all them suits with their big words and fancy degrees was sayin' they had a new way to "fix" people like him? He didn't like the sound of that. Not one bit.
He was on his feet before he realized it, hands cuffed in front of him, and the guards were already moving in. "Hey, now, wait a goddamn minute!" J.D hollered, twisting in their grip. "What the hell is this Hammer place, huh? Y'all think you can just dunk me in some kinda fuckin' reform school? I ain't no lab rat!"
The judge looked at him, expression unchanged, like he'd heard it all before. "Mr. Dixon," he said calmly, "Everything was explained to you at sentencing a few minutes ago."
"That so?" J.D spat back, struggling against the guards as they dragged him toward the door. "Well, nobody listens to that shit! Ain't my fault!"
His voice bounced off the walls of the courtroom as the door slammed shut behind him, cutting off the echoes of his protests. The guards shoved him forward, into the cold, sterile hallway that led to the transport van waiting outside. J.D kept up his string of curses, every foul word he knew spilling out as they practically carried him out of the courthouse.
"Goddamn cracker bullshit," He muttered, kicking his feet just to make it harder on the guards. "Y'all think this is gonna fix me? Sendin' me to some kinda high-tech shithole with a fancy name?" Tch, his mamma beat him black and blue, ain't fix anything, this ain't gonna do it.
The guards ignored him, like they always did. They were all business, dragging him down the steps and into the back of the armored van, throwing him in like a sack of potatoes. J.D landed hard on the metal bench, grunting as the cuffs bit into his wrists. The doors slammed shut behind him with a heavy clang.
He glared at the Hammer logo on the vehicle, pig cars had a sponsor now?
As the van rumbled to life, J.D finally let himself slump back against the wall, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. Hammer Corrections. Hell, he didn't know much about the place, but he knew enough to be worried. He'd heard things - whispers from other cons, rumors on the street. They said it wasn't like any other prison. They said it was... Different.
He didn't like different. Different meant unpredictable. Unpredictable meant dangerous. He knew what to expect from jail, it wasn't even anything he worried about. But now…
The van ride was long, giving J.D too much time to stew in his own thoughts. The road blurred beneath them, the world outside slipping away as they drove deeper into the middle of nowhere. Eventually, the van stopped with a jarring lurch, and the guards yanked him out, not even bothering to be gentle. J.D stumbled onto the gravel, blinking against the harsh sun.
Ahead of him was a massive building, all cold steel and concrete, with a sign freshly installed above the gates. "Hammer Corrections Facility" it read in bold, black letters, towering over the entrance like a bad omen. Putting on fancy airs despite this being a regular slam just months ago.
J.D squinted up at it, lips curling into a sneer. "Another fuckin' cracker dunkin' down on folks," He muttered, loud enough for the guards to hear. One of them, a big brute with a face like a bulldog, gave him a hard shove, almost knocking him off his feet.
"Keep moving, Dixon," The guard growled, pushing him toward the gate. He was even more pissed to notice their bodyarmor and weapons had a Hammer logo too. This cracker fucker was behind every bad thing in his life!
"Yeah, yeah," J.D grumbled, stumbling forward. "I'm movin'. Ain't no need to be rough."
The gates opened with a hiss of hydraulics, swallowing him up as they marched him inside. Hammer Corrections was as sterile on the inside as it was on the outside - white walls, harsh fluorescent lights, and the smell of antiseptic strong enough to burn your nose. It didn't feel like a prison. Not the way J.D. knew 'em. No cells, no bars, no noise of cons yelling and guards barking orders. Just silence, heavy and oppressive, settling over him like a shroud.
He didn't like it one bit. It felt like a damn hospital, a bad one. The kind they do in horror flicks.
The guards led him down a series of twisting corridors, each one looking just like the last, until they reached a heavy steel door with a keypad on the side. One of the guards punched in a code, and the door slid open with a soft whoosh. J.D craned his neck to see inside, and what he saw made his blood run cold.
The room was dominated by a massive pod, sleek and futuristic, all gleaming metal and smooth lines. It looked like something out of one of them sci-fi movies - like a damn spaceship or somethin'. The pod's lid was open, revealing a gel-like substance inside, a thick, transparent goo that shimmered under the harsh lights. Along the walls, machines hummed softly, their screens displaying streams of data that meant nothin' to J.D. Wires and tubes snaked across the floor, leading into the pod, and nearby, a rack held a variety of instruments that looked more like torture devices than medical equipment.
J.D stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide as he took it all in. "What the fuck is this?" He blurted out, voice cracking with a mix of fear and anger. "This some alien shit, or what?"
The guards exchanged a weary look, like they'd heard this all before. One of them, the bulldog-faced one, let out a long-suffering sigh. "It's a virtual rehabilitation pod, Dixon," He said, his voice tinged with the boredom of a man who had explained this too many times. "The judge already told you about this during sentencing."
"No, the judge told me nothin'!" J.D snapped back, eyes still locked on the pod. "I ain't goin' in that thing. No way in hell. Y'all ain't stickin' me in some goddamn test tube!"
But the guards were done talking. They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him toward the pod, ignoring his struggles. J.D kicked and thrashed, but it was no use. They were too strong, and he was too outnumbered.
"You sons of bitches!" J.D yelled, his voice echoing off the walls as they shoved him onto the platform in front of the pod. "You can't do this! This ain't right!"
The guards held him down as one of them started strapping him in, thick leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles, pinning him in place. J.D felt his heart race, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. This was real. Too real. They were really gonna put him in that thing.
"I ain't some kinda guinea pig!" He shouted, voice hoarse with desperation. "Y'all can't just -"
His words were cut off as they shoved a gag with some sort of tube into his mouth, muffling his protests. He could still scream, but it was no use. No one here cared.
They attached monitors to his chest, electrodes to his temples, all while he struggled futilely against the restraints. His eyes darted around the room, looking for any escape, but there was none. The pod loomed over him, the gel inside rippling like a living thing, waiting to swallow him whole.
One of the guards leaned over him, speaking slowly, like he was talking to a child. "You'll be fed by a nutrient paste. Hammer Industries developed it specifically for this purpose. Catheters will handle everything else. You won't need to worry about a thing."
"In fuckin' what?" J.D tried to shout around the gag, his eyes wide with terror. But the words came out garbled, unintelligible.
The guard didn't bother to respond. He just nodded to his partner, who reached for a panel on the side of the pod, flipping a switch. The lid began to lower, sealing J.D. inside with a soft, pneumatic hiss. Panic surged through him like a bolt of lightning. His breath came in short, rapid gasps, his chest tightening as the walls of the pod closed in around him. He could feel the cold gel starting to rise up around his body, seeping through the thin fabric of his jumpsuit, clinging to his skin like it was trying to pull him under. He thrashed against the restraints, his muscles straining with every ounce of strength he had left, but it was no use. He was trapped.
"Enjoy your twenty years," One of the guards said, his voice muffled through the thick glass of the pod. He didn't even bother to look J.D in the eye, just hit the button and walked away, leaving J.D. alone in his nightmare.
The gel was up to his chest now, cold and thick, making it harder to breathe. J.D. tried to scream, but the gag choked off the sound, turning it into a pitiful, strangled moan. His heart pounded in his ears, loud enough to drown out the hum of the machines around him. He could feel the gel creeping higher, rising up to his neck, and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying it would stop, that it was all some sick joke, that they'd let him out.
But the gel didn't stop. It kept rising, covering his mouth, his nose, his eyes, until he was completely submerged. His body jerked in one last, desperate attempt to break free, but all he managed was a pathetic twitch. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. The world around him was dark and cold, the gel pressing in on him from all sides.
And then, as the last bubbles of air slipped from his lungs, he felt something change. A warmth spread through his body, dulling the edges of his panic. The gel, once suffocating, now seemed to cradle him, holding him in a state of suspended animation. His thoughts grew hazy, like they were being pulled under along with his body, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness.
His last conscious thought was a promise - a vow burning in the back of his mind. When he got out of this, he was going to kill the guard who'd put him in here. He was going to gut the bastard, nice and slow, make him pay for this hell. The thought brought him a grim sense of satisfaction, a flicker of defiance in the face of the unknown.
But then the darkness swallowed him whole, and J.D. Dixon was gone.
…
In the control room adjacent to the pod chamber, a group of technicians monitored the process, their faces bathed in the soft glow of computer screens. Data streamed across the monitors, vital signs stabilizing as the gel did its work, lowering J.D.'s heart rate and inducing a state of deep unconsciousness. It was all part of the procedure, part of the "rehabilitation" they'd been trained to oversee.
The lead technician, a woman with short, graying hair and sharp eyes, adjusted her glasses as she checked the readouts. Everything was going according to plan.
"Vitals are steady," She said, her voice calm and professional. "Subject is entering REM sleep. Prepare for full immersion."
One of the younger technicians, a nervous-looking man barely out of college, hesitated as he typed in the final commands. "Are we sure this is going to work?" He asked, glancing up at his superior. "I mean, he's not the first one we've put through this, but... What if something goes wrong?"
The lead technician gave him a flat look, unimpressed by his concerns. "The program is designed to teach them to be better, to temper their violent tendencies. The worst that will happen is that he'll come out with a tradecraft under his belt."
The young technician swallowed, nodding as he turned back to his screen. He didn't like it, but he wasn't in charge. He just did what he was told.
"Initiating full immersion," the lead technician said, pressing a final sequence of buttons. The screens flickered, the data shifting as the program began to take hold.
…
J.D floated in the darkness, unaware of the world around him, his mind slipping deeper into the induced state. Unknown to J.D, he'd already been implanted with the implant necessary to bridge the gap between him and the Pod during a routine medical check up in holding while he awaited the Judge's decision, his guilt already decided. The sedation had given him short term memory loss to help prevent inmates from understanding exactly how things work - although usually performed at the facility itself.
The machines hummed softly, adjusting the flow of chemicals that kept his body in stasis, while the virtual reality program - Hammer Industries' most advanced psychological rehabilitation tool - began to build the world in which J.D would spend the next two decades.
It started with a flicker of light, like the sun rising on the horizon of a new world. Shapes began to form, indistinct at first, then sharpening into focus. Trees, a dirt road, the distant outline of a town. It was a world that looked and felt real, every detail meticulously crafted to engage the senses, to trick the brain into believing it was all true.
And in the middle of it all, J.D stood, whole and unharmed, dressed in the same clothes he'd worn the day he was arrested. He blinked, looking around in confusion, his last memories muddled and disjointed. The courtroom, the guards, the pod - none of it seemed real. Had it all been a dream? Some kind of bad trip?
As he entered the town, a cute girl bounced up to him, curtsying before him, "Vaunted Hero, thank you for coming to our assistance!" She chirped.
J.D blinked and rubbed his eyes, only managing a low, "Huh?"
She rose up with fire in her eyes, her fist clenched, "The Demon King has long terrorized our homes, now we have a chance with you here to fight with us!"
The only thing he really understood there was fight, "Where's the fight?" He ground his fists together, he wasn't sure what was going on, but he could do with some action.
To his puzzlement he was lead to a field with a bunch of giant frogs.
"What da fuq?"
"Slay them Hero! And your harem will surely lavish you with their attention!" The cute girl shouted excitedly.
J.D wasn't really what one would call intelligent, but he knew the word harem, and he was all for that.
Weirdly enough the giant frogs where not that much stronger then any bro he'd ever had beef with, weren't monsters supposed to be badasses or sumthin'?
At least meant he could do it with his own two fists no problem.
Except it seemed the harder he worked, the more things kept happening to only give him a fuckin' taste instead of the full thing.
He fuckin' finally killed the monsters around town, then it turned out that to have a harem - it could only legally be achieved if a brother had a fuckin' education, so between monster killing, he begrudgingly sat for hours each day and after a few years finally got the stupid degree, all for that sweet harem.
Going through high school again… It was a worse punishment then fuckin' jail anytime.
Then the Demon King apparently refused to fight any hero who didn't show they could master a craft, so J.D had to pick a stupid craft to do in between fighting and cuddling with cuties.
To be fair, there were a lot of cuties, so he didn't feel too hard done by.
Years went by as he mastered carpentry, then decided to study to be an architect, girls coming in and out of his life, none staying long enough for him to develop anything more than a sexual relationship.
He started craving that monogamous life, but none of the girls here seemed suitable for some reason.
Eventually he finally met the Demon King, and instead of violence, negotiated a peace for all the realm, tired of slaying monsters and fighting all the time.
J.D would wake up almost a year after going into the pod, a master carpenter, and with a degree in architecture - his rage tempered, his personality vividly different.
Hammer industries was subtly weaved into every task and place inside the setting, his first thought as he'd exit would be on how Hammer industries would make for a great career.
In that same facility, several hundreds of Pods were occupied with different scenarios going on based on the occupants psych profile - the results almost always successful.
To the tune of 98% of those who were already incarcerated when the program started, had been released and not gone back to criminality, even if it was too early to tell the full effect.
Every person got a tailored virtual world now instead of the one size fit all before the AI came along, Nail ensured it, able to know everything about a person before they entered. Not that anyone outside Hammer industries knew that part.
It would create some controversy when people realized that most criminals aren't necessarily punished, only rehabilitated.
Those criminals that were truly monstrous had a somewhat darker world to work through, facing some punishment, but still there it was geared towards forcing them to become productive Hammer industries drones.
Thanks to Nail, the small crime wave that would undoubtedly erupt when people realized they could get free college and a trade if they went to jail - would be short-lived as those people got nothing but a boring few months doing menial tasks.
Nail knew when someone was trying to cheat the system, and ensured it didn't happen again. Crime would always happen either way, so they might as well make them useful to society after.
Stopping crime was not Hammer industries business.
By chance, almost every criminal was leaving prison an avid gamer, just as Hammer industries started up an entertainment and gaming business…
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New York, September, 2009.
The HammerTech store was a gleaming beacon of modernity, nestled in the heart of the sprawling city of New York. The walls were lined with sleek, polished surfaces, reflecting the vibrant glow of digital displays showcasing the latest in technological marvels.
Customers moved through the store with a sense of awe, their eyes wide as they marveled at the gadgets that filled the shelves. The air was filled with the soft murmur of voices, punctuated by the occasional beep or chime of a device being tested or purchased. The store was a temple to technology, a place where the future wasn't just imagined - it was sold.
That slogan was plastered across the back walls, visible upon entering, customers marveled as a small robot cleaned the floor - and the walls, able to climb the surface, just one of the many innovations on display at all times.
The man who stormed into the store wasn't there to marvel or window shop. He had a purpose. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with the look of someone who wasn't used to waiting around or taking no for an answer. His eyes were hard, his jaw set in a firm line as he made a beeline for the customer service counter, his pace quick and determined.
In his hand, he gripped a sleek HammerTech phone, the latest model, gleaming black and still pristine despite the man's tight, frustrated grip. He moved through the store with a single-minded focus, ignoring the polished displays and the rows of shiny new gadgets that drew the attention of most visitors. He had a problem, and he was here to get it fixed.
The customer service counter was manned - or rather, womanned - by a young, attractive agent, her uniform a sharp, metallic silver that matched the store's high-tech aesthetic. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, not a strand out of place, and her smile was warm, welcoming, with just the right touch of professional detachment. She was everything a HammerTech employee was supposed to be - polished, polite, and utterly efficient.
She looked up as the man approached, her smile widening slightly in anticipation of another satisfied customer interaction. But before she could utter a word of greeting, the man slammed his phone down on the counter with a loud thunk, the force of it making her blink in surprise.
"This damn thing," He growled, his voice low and angry, "Is running five percent slower than what your company promised."
The agent's smile didn't waver, though there was a momentary flicker in her eyes, a flash of something sharp and calculating. She recovered quickly, tilting her head slightly in a gesture that was both sympathetic and attentive. "I'm so sorry to hear that, sir," She said, her voice smooth and corporate, the kind of tone that was meant to soothe ruffled feathers. "We strive to ensure all our products meet the highest standards. Let me assist you with that."
As she spoke, she tilted her head ever so slightly to the side, her eyes pulsing momentarily with light. The tilt of her head revealed something just behind her ear. The man's eyes caught the brief flash of metal - a small, disk-shaped implant nestled against her skin, its surface faintly pulsing with a soft blue light in time with her eyes. It was subtle, easily missed if one wasn't paying attention, but once seen, it was impossible to ignore. "I've called a technician for you and they will be over momentarily."
The man's anger faltered for a moment, replaced by confusion and curiosity. He leaned in slightly, his brows knitting together as he pointed at the device behind her ear. "What the hell's that?" He demanded, his previous issue with the phone momentarily forgotten.
The agent straightened, her smile never faltering. "This?" She said, her fingers lightly brushing against the implant. "It's a Hammer Industries neural interface. All of our employees have them. It allows us to place calls, send emails, and perform other tasks mentally, without the need for external devices."
The man stared at her, his irritation evaporating as his mind raced to catch up with what she was saying. "You're telling me you can make calls with your mind?" He asked, incredulity in his voice.
The agent nodded, her smile softening to one of understanding. "That's correct, sir. It's part of our commitment to efficiency and innovation. The implant is directly connected to our internal systems, allowing us to perform our duties more effectively."
"Screw the phone," The man said, his voice growing more insistent as he pointed at the implant again. "I want that."
The agent's smile didn't falter, but there was a brief flicker of something in her eyes - regret, perhaps, or maybe just the hint of a practiced response. "I understand your interest, sir," She said, her tone still polite and professional. "However, the neural interface is not currently available to the general public. It's a proprietary technology used exclusively by Hammer Industries employees."
The man's frustration returned, his hand clenching into a fist on the counter. "So you're telling me I can't get one? What kind of bullshit is that? You're selling all this fancy tech, but the one thing that's actually useful, you're keeping for yourselves?"
The agent remained unflappable, her expression still calm and composed. "I assure you, sir, we are working on making the technology more widely available in the future. If you'd like, I can add you to our waiting list. You'll be one of the first to be notified when the neural interface becomes available for purchase."
The man scowled, clearly not satisfied with this corporate answer. But before he could continue his rant, the agent quickly added, "While you're waiting for the technician to assist with your phone, may I suggest adding HammerTech's new Voice-to-Text program? It's designed to save you the trouble of writing your reports manually. The program is intuitive enough to clean up and polish whatever you say into a professional looking report or essay."
The man hesitated, his anger still simmering but now mixed with a hint of curiosity. "Voice-to-Text, huh?" He asked, his tone grudgingly intrigued. "What's so special about it?"
The agent leaned forward slightly, her eyes brightening with enthusiasm of a potential sale. "It's one of our most advanced programs, sir. It's not just about transcribing your words - it understands context, cleans up grammar and syntax, and can even restructure your speech to make it more persuasive or formal, depending on your needs. It's like having a personal assistant who knows exactly how you want to be heard."
Hammer industries wasn't labeling it as AI. But their employees weren't stupid. Yet the trust in Hammer industries was such that none of them ever questioned it.
The man frowned, mulling it over. He wasn't exactly thrilled with how things were going, but the idea of not having to waste time typing up reports was appealing. Especially if it meant he could focus more on his business and less on the mundane details.
"How much does it cost?" He asked, his voice still gruff, but no longer as hostile.
The agent smiled, sensing his interest. "It's available for a very reasonable 9.99 monthly subscription, and it's fully integrated with your existing HammerTech phone. We can have it up and running in minutes, so you'll be able to start using it right away."
The man sighed, running a hand through his hair. He glanced down at the phone on the counter, the source of all his frustration, and then back at the agent with her calm demeanor and that damn implant behind her ear. "Fine," he grumbled. "Sign me up. But you better get me on that list for the implant, too. I want in as soon as it's available."
"Of course, sir," The agent replied smoothly, her eyes glowing briefly as she added him to the list. "I'll make sure you're at the top of the list. And while we wait for the technician, I'll get your new Voice-to-Text program set up. It won't take long at all."
The man watched her work, a part of him still bristling at the idea that he couldn't have what he really wanted. But there was also a grudging respect for how she handled him - calm, professional, and with just the right amount of empathy to keep him from completely blowing his top. She was good at her job, he had to give her that.
It was annoying in a way. He was a businessman, and none of his employees were at that level. Hammer Industries constantly hoovering up all the talent, not allowing him to compete at all.
Minutes later his phone was set up, and the technician arrived, and quite embarrassingly told him that he'd downloaded a virus, and that was why the performance was slipping. Soon enough he walked out with a HammerTech anti virus software installed on his phone.
He'd been unable to say no, not at the low cost of 4.99 - beating out all other competitors.
Even as he bought the damn thing, he begrudgingly admired Hammer for managing to keep the fees low enough no one really paid attention to how much of their money went into his company each month.
Maybe it was time to shutter the doors of his own small business and look for a job in Hammer industries before it was too late.
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
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Same time, New York.
The Hammer Industries job fair sprawled across a full block in Queens, New York. A sea of people flooded the streets, buzzing with anticipation. Tents and pavilions, adorned with the sleek Hammer Industries logo, lined the sidewalks, each representing a different subsidiary of the industry giant.
Towering screens displayed promotional videos, showcasing the future that Hammer promised - a future of innovation, prosperity, and dominance. From HammerTech to Hammer Construction, and even their recent foray into the food industry, the company seemed to have a hand in everything. The air was electric, crackling with hope, desperation, and fervent loyalty.
In the midst of this teeming crowd was a man named Mike Dunn, a construction worker in his mid-thirties. Mike had the look of someone who'd seen his fair share of hard work - broad shoulders, calloused hands, and a face weathered by years of toiling under the sun. But today, those hands weren't holding a shovel or a wrench. They were clutching a worn, but meticulously prepared, resume. To Mike, this job fair was more than just an opportunity - it was his golden ticket.
He navigated the crowd with purpose, eyes scanning the signs overhead until he spotted the one he was looking for - Hammer Construction. The pavilion was large, prominently displayed and staffed by sharply dressed representatives of Hammer Construction. Their smiles were warm and welcoming, and the sight of them filled Mike with a sense of hope he hadn't felt in years.
"This is it," He muttered to himself, wiping the sweat from his brow as he joined the line. The wait didn't bother him. Hell, he'd waited for less. What was a couple of hours when the payoff could be a secure job with healthcare, guaranteed pay, and a chance to see the world? He could already picture himself on one of those mega-projects Hammer was known for - maybe the next citywide smart grid, or even something overseas, like one of their rumored projects in Dubai. Long hours? Sure, but Mike was no stranger to hard work. He could handle it. And it would mean a better future for his wife and two kids.
Not to mention he'd be part of literally building the future world, one nail at a time. A future he was determined to see through. There hadn't been hope like this before. Not in his entire lifetime had he seen the amount of dreams and hopes for the future that swept through nations nowadays.
In the last year, over a dozen dictatorships had ended across the world, Mike knew. The people finding hope in their hearts for the first time, and surging out onto the streets to take their countries back.
As the line inched forward, Mike's thoughts drifted to the stories he'd heard about Hammer Construction. They were at the forefront of the industry, using cutting-edge tech to reshape skylines, one building at a time. They weren't just another construction company - they were revolutionizing the field, and Mike wanted in. He was already a loyal Hammer adherent, his home filled with Hammer products, his kids wearing Hammer-branded clothes. To him, Hammer Industries represented everything he believed in - innovation, progress, and a commitment to a better tomorrow.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, watching as the people ahead of him handed over their resumes and spoke to the recruiters. Each one walked away with a sense of satisfaction, and Mike couldn't wait for his turn. This was it. This was his chance to be part of something bigger than himself. The thought made his chest swell with pride, a grin spreading across his face. Hammer Industries was the future, and Mike Dunn was going to help build it!
…
A few pavilions down, the line for HammerTech stretched on and on, winding through the street like a river of ambition. Thousands of people stood in line, the air thick with competition and barely suppressed desperation. In the midst of this crowd was Alex Stevens, a fresh-faced college graduate with a head full of dreams and a heart set on one thing - getting into HammerTech.
It was the holy grail of tech companies. People at MIT who'd had an in to the company already were practically kings and queens, able to ask for anything. The students had all been willing to go to any length for an introduction.
MIT had become almost as depraved as any regular college, the biggest nerds suddenly drowning in sex, students desperately working to not miss the big wave of the future. No one wanted to be the one left behind.
Alex hadn't been quite that desperate. Although if he failed here… Well, needs must in desperate times.
Alex had always been a tech geek, the kind of kid who built his first computer at age ten and spent his teenage years coding apps for fun. Now, with a degree in computer engineering, he was ready to take on the world, and to him, there was only one place to do that - Hammer Industries. Sure, Stark Industries was still around, but they were old news. Hammer was where the action was. They were pushing boundaries, integrating tech into every aspect of life, from the implants Alex had heard about to the entertainment tech that was supposedly light years ahead of anything else on the market. Hammer was the future, and Alex wanted in on the ground floor.
The line was moving painfully slow, each step forward feeling like a small victory, but the end of the line still seemed impossibly far away. Alex wiped his palms on his jeans, trying to ignore the gnawing anxiety in his gut. He could see people around him exchanging nervous glances, some muttering under their breath about the wait. Bribes were happening, too - he'd seen more than one person slip a couple of bills to someone further up in line, only to be quietly let ahead. Alex cursed under his breath. He couldn't afford that. Hell, he was still paying off student loans. But missing out on this opportunity? That wasn't an option.
He clenched his fists, trying to steady himself. This is it, he thought, repeating the mantra in his head. This is the chance of a lifetime. If he could just get through this line, if he could just get in front of those recruiters, he knew he could impress them. His resume was solid, his skills top-notch. All he needed was a foot in the door, and he'd show them what he was made of. But as the minutes ticked by and the line barely budged, his anxiety began to morph into frustration.
Just then, he felt a tug on his sleeve. Alex turned to see a woman standing behind him, dressed in business casual - a crisp blouse and slacks, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. She looked around nervously before leaning in close, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Listen," She said, her eyes darting to the front of the line, "I'll give you a handy if you let me get ahead of you."
Alex recoiled, his eyes widening in shock. "What?" He blurted out, his voice louder than he intended. How would that even work? We're in public!?
The woman glanced around, her face flushing with embarrassment, but she didn't back down. "I'm serious," She hissed. "This is my shot, okay? I can't miss it, and I can't afford a bribe."
For a moment, Alex just stared at her, his mind struggling to process what she'd just offered. Part of him was horrified, the other part deeply saddened by the desperation that seemed to hang around her like a shroud. But more than anything, he felt a surge of resolve. He wasn't going to miss his shot, either. He'd worked too hard, come too far, to let anything get in his way now.
"No," He said firmly, shaking his head. "I'm not moving."
The woman's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing as she straightened up. "Suit yourself," She muttered, turning away from him with a scowl. Alex could feel the tension between them, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to let anyone or anything distract him from his goal. Hammer Industries was the future, and he was going to be a part of it, no matter what.
Without whoring himself.
As the line inched forward, he kept his focus on the end goal. He could see the recruiters now, see the way they sifted through resumes, occasionally pointing someone toward a secondary tent where further interviews were taking place. The thought of being one of those chosen few sent a thrill through Alex's veins. He could already picture himself working on the next big thing, maybe even getting one of those implants he'd heard so much about. It was all within reach, and nothing was going to stop him.
…
At the back of another line, away from the tech geeks and construction workers, stood Marie Johnson. She was a mother of three, her figure slightly hunched from the years of hard work and the stress of caring for sick children. But today, there was a light in her eyes, a quiet reverence in her posture as she clutched the small amulet hanging around her neck. The amulet was a stylized version of the Hammer Industries logo, crafted into the shape of a cross - an emblem of the cult of Hammer. To Marie, it was a symbol of salvation.
She stood in line for Hammer Industries' newest venture - Hammer Foods, a subsidiary that had recently swallowed up several major companies responsible for basic commodities across the Western world. For Marie, this wasn't just about getting a job. It was about serving the man who had saved her life, the man she now considered her Messiah.
The person the whole world should acknowledge as the savior, letting go of their petty nations and borders, and just admitting the world would thrive under the Messiah.
Marie's thoughts drifted as she fingered the amulet, her lips moving silently in prayer. Not long ago, she had been lost, struggling to provide for her children as they battled one illness after another. Doctors couldn't help. Medicine failed. But then Hammer Industries had released Panacea, their revolutionary healthcare solution, and everything changed. The sickness that had plagued her family vanished, their health restored as if by a miracle. Marie had never believed in miracles before, but now she was a true believer. Justin Hammer was her savior, and she would do anything to serve him.
Anything.
She glanced at the people around her, some of them chatting nervously, others scrolling through their phones to pass the time. But Marie was focused inward, her mind on the prayers she'd been reciting since she joined the line. She prayed for strength, for the opportunity to serve Hammer in any way she could. She knew the world was being saved, and she wanted to be a part of it, even if her role was small. To her, there was no greater honor.
As the line moved forward, Marie's grip on her amulet tightened. Her thoughts drifted to her neighbor, the one who had dared to speak ill of Justin Hammer. It had taken some planning, but she'd arranged an 'accident' for him, something that would silence his blasphemous mouth once and for all. She hadn't felt an ounce of guilt when the police found him with enough drugs in his car to lock him up for years. He'd been a thorn in her side, always sneering at Hammer Industries, questioning their motives, spreading lies about their Messiah. But now he was gone, and with any luck, Hammer Corrections would rehabilitate him, show him the error of his ways.
She might even have her neighbor returned, now properly adhering to the way.
Marie smiled to herself, the corners of her mouth curling upward in a way that would have unnerved anyone who might have noticed. But no one did. They were all too focused on their own futures, their own aspirations, to see the quiet woman in the line with the strange amulet, praying fervently under her breath.
Ahead of her, the line for Hammer Foods moved steadily, and Marie felt a sense of peace wash over her. She was exactly where she needed to be, doing exactly what she needed to do. Hammer Foods was a new frontier, one that would feed the world, and she was determined to be part of it. Whether it meant packaging products, managing logistics, or even working in one of their new processing plants, she didn't care. All that mattered was that she served Hammer Industries, that she did her part to spread their influence and secure the future for her children.
Her thoughts returned to her neighbor, now sitting in a cell somewhere, and she allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. The police would deal with him, sure, but it was Hammer Industries who would truly set him straight. They'd put him through their programs, make him see the light, just as they had for so many others. When he came out of Hammer Corrections, he'd be a different man surely - a man who knew his place, who understood the power and wisdom of Justin Hammer.
The line continued to move, and soon Marie found herself near the front, just a few people away from the recruiters. She could see them now, dressed in crisp uniforms, their faces friendly but focused. They were interviewing each candidate briefly, assessing their suitability, and then directing them to different areas for further evaluation. Some were sent to fill out paperwork, others were ushered into tents for more in-depth interviews.
She felt a sense of pride in her Messiah when she realized none had so far been told to leave. Justin Hammer provided for all.
As she approached, Marie felt a swell of emotion rise in her chest. She was ready - ready to offer her skills, her devotion, her life to Hammer Industries. She knew they would see the fervor in her eyes, the unshakeable faith she held in their mission. They would recognize a true believer, someone willing to go to any lengths to support the cause.
Finally, it was her turn. She stepped forward, her amulet still clutched tightly in her hand, and looked up at the recruiter with a calm, serene expression. The woman behind the desk greeted her with a smile, but Marie barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere, lost in her thoughts of devotion and duty.
"Name?" The recruiter asked, hands folded in front of her, a shine to her eyes that she imagined must be from the new implants she'd heard about, allowing the recruiter to skip manually taking down information.
"Marie Johnson," She replied, her voice soft but steady.
The recruiter nodded, glancing down at her resume before looking back up. "You're here for Hammer Foods, any particular reason you chose us above the other options?"
"Yes," Marie said, her grip tightening on the amulet. "I want to help. I want to serve."
The recruiter's smile didn't falter, but there was a hint of something in her eyes - perhaps she'd seen others like Marie before, those who had crossed from loyalty into something deeper, more consuming. But she said nothing.
"What kind of work are you interested in?" She asked. "We have positions in production, logistics, quality control -"
"Anything," Marie interrupted, her eyes shining with fervor. "I'll do anything you need. I just want to help."
The recruiter paused for a moment, studying Marie with a thoughtful expression. Then she nodded slowly. "We can always use dedicated people like you," She said. "If you're willing to start in production, we can place you there immediately. There's room for growth, of course, and plenty of opportunities to advance if you're committed."
Marie nodded eagerly, her heart swelling with pride. "Thank you," She whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you so much."
The recruiter gave her a final, approving nod and handed her a small slip of paper. "Take this to the next tent, and they'll get you set up with everything you need," She said. "Welcome to Hammer Industries, Marie."
Marie took the paper with shaking hands, her eyes filling with tears of gratitude. "Thank you," She said again, clutching the slip of paper to her chest. "I won't let you down."
As she walked away, heading toward the tent where her new life would begin, Marie felt a sense of fulfillment that she hadn't known in years. She was part of something bigger now, something divine. She was doing the work of Justin Hammer, the man who had saved her and her family. And she would do whatever it took to prove herself worthy of his salvation.
The job fair continued around her, the sounds of thousands of people clamoring for a chance to join the ranks of Hammer Industries filling the air. But Marie didn't hear any of it. Her mind was focused on one thing, serving Hammer, in whatever way she could. And as she walked through the crowd, her hand still gripping the amulet around her neck, she knew deep in her heart that she was exactly where she was meant to be.
----------------------------------------
Malibu, September 2009, only days after the launch of HammerAll.
Chelsea Cartwright was the epitome of a valley girl, the kind who moved through the world with a constant air of self-importance, her every step deliberate and calculated. With her long, platinum-blonde hair perfectly styled in beachy waves and her pink mini-dress clinging to her slim frame, she strutted down the boardwalk in Malibu like she owned the place. Her high-heeled sandals clicked against the pavement as she talked animatedly into her HammerPhone, her voice tinged with the exaggerated tones of someone who knew exactly how to draw attention.
"Oh my God, Amber, you have to try the new Hammer Shake!" Chelsea squealed into the phone, holding up her half-empty cup as if her friend could see it through the screen. "It's like, literally the best thing ever. I mean, it's got all the protein and nutrients and stuff, but it tastes like sooooo good. Like, better than a milkshake but, you know, healthy."
Starbucks finally realized what everyone else had for like a billion years already, do it the Hammer way, she'd be tots better at their jobs then them if it took them this long, really.
She took a long sip through the straw, making sure to drag it out for effect. Amber, on the other end, probably wasn't even listening - Chelsea didn't care. She was too busy eyeing the other people on the boardwalk, making sure everyone noticed her.
"But, like, can you believe Britney still has a Stark phone?" Chelsea continued, her voice dropping to a snide whisper. "I mean, it's like, so embarrassing. She probably can't even afford to go out for Hammer Shakes with us. Like, seriously, if you don't have a H-Phone by now, what are you even doing with your life?"
She tossed her hair over her shoulder, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of her glossed lips. Britney had been on the outs for a while now, but this was the final nail in the coffin. No way was Chelsea hanging out with someone who couldn't keep up with the latest trends. Especially not when those trends came from Justin Hammer, the man who, in her opinion, was single-handedly making life worth living.
Her homework was literally being done by her phone nowadays, she didn't even have to flutter her eyelashes at some stinky nerd or anything.
Amber's response was cut short by a beep in Chelsea's ear, signaling an incoming text. She rolled her eyes and pulled the phone away from her ear, glancing at the screen. The message was from her mom - Pick up some milk on your way home, sweetie. Love you!
"Ugh, Mom, seriously?" Chelsea groaned, still holding the phone away from her ear. She couldn't believe she was being interrupted for something so lame. Milk? What did she look like, a grocery clerk? She was Chelsea Cartwright, not some basic errand girl.
With a dramatic sigh, she ended the call with Amber and immediately started recording a video, holding the phone at arm's length and making sure her face was perfectly framed. "Okay, so, like, my mom is soooo lame," She began, rolling her eyes for the camera. "Like, she can order groceries on Uber with the HammerAll app, but she's texting me to pick up milk? Like I'm a caveman or something? Seriously."
She made sure to capture the full range of her exasperation, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh before stopping the recording. This would be perfect for her socials later. Her followers would totally get how annoying it was to have to do chores when you were busy living your best life.
Chelsea slipped her phone back into her designer handbag, the shake still in her other hand, and continued down the boardwalk. She was heading for one of her favorite boutiques, a trendy little shop that sold the cutest clothes. It was *so* Malibu - expensive, exclusive, and always on the cutting edge of fashion. Just like her.
As she walked, took her phone out again, flabbergasted at why she'd ever put it away, tweeting about the shake. "Hammer Shake is life." She typed with one hand, adding a series of heart and fire emojis for emphasis. She paused to take a selfie, holding the half-finished shake in one hand and flashing her best pout at the camera. She made sure to get the ocean in the background, because, like, aesthetics mattered. A lot.
The camera clicked, capturing her flawless image, but just as she was about to post, another text buzzed in. This time, it was a notification that her Uber had been scheduled, like she'd ordered that for after her shopping, fifteen minutes ago, god people were slow. She pursed her lips, annoyed that her timeline update was being delayed, but whatever. At least she didn't have to walk all the way home like some kind of peasant.
As she approached the boutique, she pushed the door open and was immediately greeted by the cool, air-conditioned air and the smell of designer perfume. The shop was laid out like a high-end Instagram feed, all bedazzled walls, designer racks, and neon signs with cutesy sayings. It was totally Chelsea's vibe. She spent the next hour combing through the racks, carefully examining each blouse, each skirt, each pair of jeans, making sure they fit her style. Nothing was chosen by accident. Chelsea prided herself on her fashion sense, always knowing exactly what was in and what was out.
Eventually, she settled on a cute, pale pink blouse with delicate lace detailing - perfect for the next brunch with the girls. Satisfied, she made her way to the checkout, tapping her phone to pay through the HammerAll app without a second thought. The cashier handed her a sleek black shopping bag with the store's logo on it, and Chelsea beamed, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she walked out.
Once outside, Chelsea swiped open her phone again, checking that the Uber was almost there. It was so convenient, she could hardly imagine life without it. Waiting on the curb for her ride, she fired off another text to Amber, her impatience seeping into her words.
"Ugh, like, could you imagine if we didn't have Justin Hammer?" She typed quickly, her thumbs flying over the screen. "Like, I'd have to bus home or something, and pay with, like, cash. That's sooooo lame."
She sent the text with a satisfied tap, then rolled her eyes as she waited for Amber to reply. Honestly, what would people even do without Hammer? Stark Industries was practically a joke at this point, stuck in the past with their dumb gadgets that no one even used anymore. Hammer was the future, and Chelsea was all about being on the cutting edge. She didn't just follow trends - she made them.
A few moments later, Amber's reply came in, buzzing in Chelsea's hand. "You think we'll get, like, a virtual world soon? All the geeks were talking about it, would be cool, although maybe harder to be on top."
Chelsea snorted at the thought, flipping her hair back as she quickly typed a reply. "Of course we'll still be on top," She sent, rolling her eyes even as she typed. "They're still just geeks. Poor Britney probably wouldn't even get in even. Pretty sure Stark losers wouldn't make the cut."
She hit send, satisfied with her little dig at Britney's expense, and glanced up just as her Uber pulled up to the curb. It was a sleek, black Porsche - nothing but the best when you were using HammerAll+ the more expensive and therefore better version. She slid into the backseat, barely acknowledging the driver as she continued her conversation with Amber, her eyes glued to the phone screen.
But as the car pulled away from the curb, something caught her eye through the window - a massive construction site, towering steel beams rising against the skyline, the future of Malibu taking shape before her eyes. A new Hammer Industries building, still in the process of being built.
Chelsea leaned forward, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She could hardly wait. "I can't believe Hammer is moving in on the entertainment industry!" she practically shouted into the phone, seeing the billboard, her voice breathless with excitement. "It's going to be so cool! I wonder how he'll make it better!"
The Uber driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, but Chelsea didn't notice. She was too wrapped up in her own world, in her dreams of a future where Hammer Industries dominated every aspect of life. Where she, Chelsea Cartwright, would be at the center of it all, living the dream in a world shaped by the genius of Justin Hammer.
As the Uber carried her home, she felt a sense of satisfaction wash over her, knowing she was part of something bigger - something cooler. Hammer wasn't just a brand. It was a lifestyle. And Chelsea was all in.
----------------------------------------
Africa, September, 2009.
The sun was setting over the horizon, casting long, golden rays across the small town that had once been a humble village near the African coast. The transformation over the past year and a half had been nothing short of miraculous. The dusty paths that had once crisscrossed the village were now paved streets, wide enough for cars and lined with street lights that would flicker on as night fell.
Buildings, new and sturdy, rose up where once there had been only thatched huts and simple, mud-brick homes. The new cement of Hammer Industries worked remarkably well and quickly to build homes with.
Kelechi stood on the balcony of his modest office, overlooking the town that had somehow become his responsibility. He was a tall, lean man with deep-set eyes and skin dark as ebony, weathered by years spent under the unrelenting sun. His hands, calloused from a lifetime of labor, now rested on the cool metal railing as he surveyed the scene before him.
It was still strange to think of himself as Mayor, a title he hadn't sought but had somehow fallen into. When the representatives from Hammer Industries had first arrived, with their promises of transformation, he had been skeptical, as had everyone else in the village. But skepticism had turned to curiosity, and curiosity to hope, as the changes began to take shape.
Water, the most precious resource in their arid region, had become abundant. The new water plant built at the coast just a few kilometers away had transformed their lives. No longer did women and children have to walk miles to fetch water from distant, often unreliable sources. Clean, drinkable water flowed freely through newly laid pipes, accessible to every home. The once-sickly children now ran through the streets, their laughter a testament to the town's newfound health.
Kelechi watched as the last of the day's workers filed out of the cement plant on the outskirts of town, their faces lit by the orange glow of the setting sun. The plant had been the cornerstone of the town's development, providing not only the materials needed to build their new homes and businesses but also steady employment. The textile factory, a recent addition, was already a hub of activity, employing hundreds of men and women. It had brought new colors and fabrics into life that would be filling the market stalls across the region and abroad, with colors and culturally important patterns.
He hadn't realized at the time, but when the people of the town had chosen him to represent them, they had been choosing stability, continuity - someone who could navigate the new relationship with Hammer Industries while still understanding the needs of the people. Kelechi had accepted the role reluctantly, aware that he was no politician, but seeing no other choice. The town had grown too fast for the old ways to keep up, and they needed someone who could bridge the gap between the past and the future.
So, he had set up his administration - if it could be called that - in the new town hall, a building that Hammer Industries had helped design and fund. It was a clean, efficient structure, with all the modern conveniences one would expect in a city, let alone a town that had been a village not so long ago. Inside, the offices were run not by bureaucrats but by men and women trained by Hammer's people, all of them working in tandem with the company's directives. It was as if the town itself had become an offshoot of Hammer Industries, with Kelechi at the helm, more a manager than a Mayor.
He had made peace with that. After all, everyone in town was better off now. There was no more sickness, no more hunger. Every able-bodied person had a job, and the few who couldn't work due to advanced age were still cared for. There were new schools, new clinics, even a small hospital being built on the edge of town. The future looked brighter than he had ever imagined it could.
They all worked in businesses owned by Hammer, bought food grown by Hammer, drank water owned by Hammer, medicine, security, education, it was all Hammer. And such was spreading across minor communities across Africa he knew. In a few years time, African governments might only be able to project power in their capitals.
But there was one issue that weighed heavily on his mind with all of this, one that Hammer Industries had not foreseen - or perhaps they had, and simply didn't care about. Religion.
Kelechi was a devout Muslim, as were most of the people in his town. Islam had been the bedrock of their community for as long as anyone could remember, guiding their daily lives, their morals, their sense of right and wrong. But now, there was something new, something unsettling, creeping into their town. It had started with a few whispers, then grew into open conversation, and now, it was impossible to ignore.
The cult of Hammer, they called it. People - good, hard working people - were beginning to worship Justin Hammer, the man behind the company that had brought so much change to their lives. They spoke of him not as a businessman, but as a savior, a Messiah sent to deliver them from poverty and hardship. They gathered in small groups to pray, not to Allah, but to Hammer, thanking him for the water, the jobs, the prosperity.
Kelechi didn't understand it, not fully. He could see why they were drawn to Hammer's promises, why they saw him as something more than just a man. After all, the changes in their lives were so profound, so swift, that it was easy to see them as miraculous. And yet, Kelechi couldn't bring himself to abandon his faith, to replace Allah with this foreign god of industry and commerce.
But what troubled him most was the division it was creating in the town. There had always been other religions present, mostly a few Christians - but they had lived together peacefully, respecting each other's beliefs.
Now, the rise of this new Hammer worship was causing friction, even violence. Just last week, a fight had broken out in the market between two men, one who had torn down a poster of Hammer and another who had defended it. The incident had escalated, with more people joining in, until Kelechi had been forced to call in Hammer Security to restore order.
Hammer Security. They were everywhere now, patrolling the streets, keeping an eye on the factories, making sure everything ran smoothly. They were efficient, professional, and utterly loyal to the company. But their presence made Kelechi uneasy. They were outsiders, brought in from other countries, and they answered not to him, but to Hammer Industries. They maintained order, yes, but at what cost?
Kelechi sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He knew he would have to address the issue sooner or later. The town was growing rapidly, and tensions were bound to rise if he didn't do something to manage them. He had thought about cracking down on the Hammer worshipers, enforcing a stricter separation of religion and business, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. These were his people, after all, and he understood why they felt the way they did. Who was he to tell them they were wrong?
Instead, he had made a decision that was both practical and, he hoped, wise. He would call in more Hammer Security, assign them to keep the peace between the different religious groups. Perhaps, with a little time, the fervor would die down, and people would return to their old ways, remembering that Justin Hammer was just a man, not a god.
And yet, deep down, Kelechi wasn't sure that would happen. He had seen the power of Hammer Industries firsthand. He had watched as they turned his village into a thriving town, as they brought water to the desert, as they began to push back the Sahara itself, reclaiming land for farming, planting trees where there had been only sand. It was hard to argue with results like that. It was hard not to see the hand of something greater at work.
He didn't know what to believe anymore. Part of him still clung to his faith, to the teachings of the Quran, to the prayers he had recited since childhood. But another part, the part that saw the new school where his children would learn to read and write, the part that watched the crops grow tall and green where there had been only dust, couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Hammer was something more than just a man. Perhaps he was a force of nature, a tool of the divine, sent to bring prosperity to the world.
Kelechi shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It was no use getting lost in such ideas. He had a town to run, people who depended on him, and he needed to stay focused. Tomorrow, he would call in Hammer Security, set up a meeting with the religious leaders, try to find a way to keep the peace. It was his responsibility now, one he couldn't shirk.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the town in a warm, dusky glow, Kelechi turned and walked back into his office. The streets below were quieting, the day's work done, and soon the town would settle into the peaceful rhythm of night. He paused at his desk, glancing at the portrait of his family - a simple photo of his wife and children, taken before the changes began. They looked tired, hungry, drawn.
He kept the photo to remind himself. This was life not so long ago. They could never allow it to return, no matter if they needed to be subservient to Hammer industries, they could never go back to the old life. He would not allow it.
He knew he was doing the right thing for his family, for his town. Hammer Industries had given them a better life, and for that, he was grateful, despite the minor issues, he would never feel anything but gratitude for their lot in life.
The rhythmic ticking of the wall clock drew his attention. It was getting late, but the thought of leaving his office and going home seemed almost daunting. The house would be quiet - his wife and children would already be asleep, their days filled with Hammer's school and their chores, their nights undisturbed by the worries that now occupied Kelechi's mind. The peace they had found was precious, but it came with an unspoken cost - one that Kelechi was only now beginning to understand.
His thoughts drifted to the town's transformation, the unprecedented speed with which everything had changed. A year ago, he would have been sitting in a small, dimly lit hut, eating a simple meal with his family, listening to the wind sweep across the barren landscape. Back then, the future had been uncertain, but it had been familiar. He had known his place, his role within the community. But now, everything was different. The new world they were building was filled with opportunities, yes, but also with questions - questions that Kelechi wasn't sure he could answer.
He stood up, pushing his chair back, and walked over to the window. The town was still, the only movement coming from the occasional flicker of headlights as a car made its way down the main road. The new water plant was visible in the distance, its lights shining like a beacon in the night. It was a marvel of modern engineering, a symbol of the progress Hammer Industries had brought to their once-forgotten village. But as Kelechi looked out at it, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were moving too fast, that the foundations of their new world were being laid on shifting sands.
His thoughts turned back to the religious tensions that had been simmering beneath the surface. The people of his town had always been devout, their faith a source of strength in times of hardship. But now, that faith was being tested, not by drought or disease, but by prosperity. The cult of Hammer was growing, fueled by the tangible benefits that the company had brought to their lives. It was easy to see why some had begun to view Justin Hammer as a savior, a man who had delivered them from poverty and despair. But where did that leave the old ways, the beliefs that had sustained them for generations?
Kelechi sighed, turning away from the window. He knew that he couldn't let the situation continue to escalate. The clash between traditional faith and the new worship of Hammer was a problem that wouldn't go away on its own. If left unchecked, it could tear the town apart, undoing all the progress they had made. He had to find a way to keep the peace, to balance the old and the new, without resorting to force. But how?
He needed to speak with the religious leaders, both the imams and the pastors, and perhaps even those who had begun to follow Hammer. A dialogue was needed, a way to bridge the gap between the different beliefs before things got out of hand. The idea of calling in more Hammer Security had been his first thought, but now he wasn't so sure. Their presence might quell the unrest in the short term, but it wouldn't solve the underlying problem. And Kelechi had no desire to turn his town into a police state, where people lived in fear of speaking their minds.
No, the solution had to come from within the community, from the people themselves. They needed to find a way to coexist, to accept that their lives had changed, but that didn't mean abandoning everything they once held dear. It was a delicate balance, and Kelechi knew it would take time, patience, and a willingness to listen - qualities that were often in short supply during times of rapid change.
But Kelechi also knew that he couldn't do it alone. He would need allies, people who shared his vision of a peaceful, prosperous town where everyone could thrive, regardless of their beliefs. He would need to rally the town's elders, the respected figures who still held sway over the hearts and minds of the people. Together, they could guide the community through this turbulent time, steering them toward a future where both progress and tradition could coexist.
As he made these resolutions, Kelechi felt a renewed sense of purpose. The challenges before him were daunting, but they were not insurmountable. He had faced difficult times before, and he had always found a way through. This time would be no different.
Tomorrow, he would call a meeting with the religious leaders. He would listen to their concerns, share his own, and together they would find a way forward. It wouldn't be easy - nothing worth doing ever was - but it was necessary. The town was on the brink of something great, and Kelechi was determined to see it through. He would do this without Hammer Security this time.
He returned to his desk, picking up the phone to make the necessary arrangements. As he did, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the darkened window - a man who had been thrust into a position of power, but who was still finding his way. The face that stared back at him was older than he remembered, lined with the burdens of leadership, but it was also resolute. Kelechi knew that he was doing what was right, not just for himself, but for his people.
A sudden blast echoed across the sky, making him fall back, wondering if the sky's themselves were falling.
Unknown to him, this sound repeated across Africa.
It was an awakening.
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Cairo,
Deep beneath the ancient city of Cairo, far below the bustling streets and the sprawling markets, a chamber lay hidden within the earth - a relic of a time long forgotten by men. The chamber was enormous, its walls carved from the living rock, adorned with hieroglyphs that spoke of a power older than civilization itself. In the center of the chamber, upon a massive stone dais, lay a sarcophagus, black as night.
The air was thick with the scent of age, of dust and stone and something else - something dark and potent, like the remnants of a nightmare. The only sound was the soft, rhythmic drip of water seeping through the cracks in the stone, echoing faintly in the cavernous space. It was a tomb, but also a throne room, a place where the past met the future, where death and rebirth were intertwined.
Nathaniel Essex, better known as Mr. Sinister, stood before the sarcophagus, his crimson eyes gleaming with a mix of fear and anticipation. His pale, almost translucent skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. His long, flowing cape rustled softly as he moved, its metallic sheen catching the light from the few torches that flickered weakly along the chamber walls.
Sinister's lips curled into a nervous smile as he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the cold surface of the sarcophagus. He knew what lay within - had spent years preparing for this moment once, studying the ancient texts, deciphering the hidden messages left by those who had worshiped the being inside as a god. And now, after all his efforts, and all his attempts to avoid this, the time had come to awaken the first mutant, the being known as En Sabah Nur - Apocalypse. Again.
He'd done it once before, but had realized his mistake almost immediately and managed to put the monster back into slumber.
He'd have preferred not to wake him now either, but Hammer industries was too much of a threat. He'd gotten Magneto under control after finding out that the man was actually cooperating with the worm.
Mystique had been easy enough to get a hold of, and once he had her, his entire organization lay open for him to convert.
But now it wasn't enough. Asgard was in play, an entire alien civilization. He could not allow Hammer to get stronger. So he only had one more card to play, hoping it didn't kill him.
With a deep breath, Sinister activated the mechanism he had installed - a fusion of ancient Egyptian magic and celestial technology, a combination that only he, with his unparalleled genius, could have devised. The sarcophagus shuddered, and the air grew heavy with an electric charge. The hieroglyphs on the walls began to glow with an eerie blue light, casting twisted shadows across the chamber.
For a moment, nothing happened, and Sinister's smile faltered, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind. But then, with a low, rumbling groan, the lid of the sarcophagus began to slide open, releasing a cloud of ancient dust that swirled around Sinister's feet. He took a step back, bowing his head in deference as the figure within began to stir.
Apocalypse rose slowly, his massive form emerging from the darkness like a titan waking from an eon-long slumber. His skin was a deep, ashen blue, smooth and flawless, and his muscles bulged with a strength that seemed to defy the very concept of mortality. He was dressed in ornate armor that looked both ancient and impossibly advanced, its design a blend of alien technology and ancient craftsmanship, forged in a time when gods walked the earth. His eyes, glowing with a fierce, molten energy, locked onto Sinister with a gaze that could have shattered mountains.
"Sinister," Apocalypse rumbled, his voice deep and resonant, filled with a power that seemed to shake the very foundations of the chamber. He took a step forward, his massive frame towering over the smaller man. "What is the meaning of this? What is the traitor doing here, waking me from my slumber finally?"
It seemed he remembered his brief betrayal after all… Not ideal.
Sinister swallowed hard, the sneer in Apocalypse's voice sending a shiver down his spine. He dropped to one knee, bowing low before the ancient mutant. "My lord, I apologize for disturbing your rest," He said, his voice dripping with the kind of slimy deference that came naturally to him. "But I have seen the error of my ways, and I have come to serve you once more. I have brought you an army, the world's strongest mutants, all under my sway. With the celestial technology I found in the Savage Land, I have harnessed their power for you, turned them to my control."
Apocalypse's eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a sneer. "You dare to speak to me of strength, Essex?" He spat, his voice like thunder. "There is no mutant stronger than I!" With a flick of his wrist, he sent a wave of energy crashing into Sinister, slamming him to the ground with a force that cracked the stone beneath him.
Sinister cried out in pain, his body pinned to the ground by the sheer weight of Apocalypse's power. His limbs trembled as he struggled to lift his head, his crimson eyes wide with terror as he looked up at the towering figure above him. "Please, my Lord!" He gasped, his voice trembling. "I only wish to serve! I can be of use to you!"
Apocalypse stared down at him, his expression one of cold disdain. "Trust? I will not make that mistake again, Essex," He said, his voice a low growl. "But you may yet prove useful. Remember this, Essex - if you fail me, if you cease to be of use, I will end you."
Sinister scrambled to his knees, nodding eagerly, his face a mask of desperate obedience. "I will not fail you, my Lord," He said quickly. "My army is ready. They await only your command."
Apocalypse's eyes flickered with a dangerous light, and he turned away from Sinister, his gaze sweeping over the chamber as if seeing it for the first time. The ancient power that had lain dormant within him for so long began to stir, crackling beneath his skin like a storm waiting to be unleashed.
Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his full height, his body beginning to glow with a radiant, otherworldly light. The air around him shimmered with energy, growing thick with the scent of ozone. Sinister watched in awe, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized that he was witnessing something far beyond his comprehension. Apocalypse was awakening, and the world would tremble before him.
With a sudden, explosive burst of power, Apocalypse unleashed his energy, a blast that shot straight up through the chamber, carving a trench through the earth above. The force of it was staggering, tearing through the ancient stone and rock, through the streets and buildings of Cairo above, until it erupted into the sky with a deafening roar. The shockwave rippled outward, spreading across the continent, shaking the very land with its might.
Sinister shielded his eyes from the blinding light, his ears ringing with the sound of Apocalypse's power. When the light finally dimmed, he dared to look up, his breath catching in his throat at the sight before him.
Apocalypse stood in the center of the chamber, his body still glowing with residual energy, his eyes burning with a fierce, unyielding resolve. He turned his gaze back to Sinister, and for a moment, there was silence, a heavy, oppressive stillness that hung in the air like a curse.
"I find I no longer have patience," Apocalypse rumbled, his voice filled with a cold, calculating fury. "This time, this world - it is mine."
Sinister trembled, his fear and awe warring within him as he nodded fervently. "Yes, my Lord," He whispered, his voice barely audible. "The world is yours." At least I'll get a piece, preferable to Hammer taking it all, with mutants as his slaves.
Apocalypse said nothing, merely turning and walking toward the exit of the chamber, his footsteps echoing like the tolling of a great, terrible bell. Sinister scrambled to his feet, trailing after him like a shadow, his mind racing with thoughts of the future.
He had chosen to awaken the ancient mutant not out of loyalty, but out of a desire for power, for the chance to stand beside the most powerful being the world had ever known, now that he had no other avenue to win. But now, as he watched Apocalypse ascend toward the surface, toward the world that would soon bow before him, Sinister couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt, a small, gnawing fear that he had unleashed something far beyond his control.
Could he remain alive enough to enjoy his piece of the world if Apocalypse conquered it and then challenged Asgard?
But it was too late to turn back now. The world was about to change, and Sinister intended to be on the winning side.
As they emerged from the depths of the earth, Apocalypse stood tall, his eyes scanning the city with a gaze that spoke of ancient power and unshakable purpose.
"This world has forgotten what it means to fear the gods," He murmured, more to himself than to Sinister. "It is time they remembered."
Sinister stood at his side, his mind filled with visions of conquest, of power beyond imagining. He had set the stage for the greatest battle the world had ever known, and now, all that remained was to watch it unfold.
And as night fell over Cairo, the first mutant, the ancient Egyptian god of gods, stepped into the world once more.
…
From the Savage Lands, a land hidden from the world, mutants sallied forth as the sign of Apocalypse's awakening manifested, Magneto leading from the front, as mutant kind raced to show the world who was the superior species.
They were creating a second flank, heading towards the Americas, a mutant capable of portals, shuffling them through ten at a time.
Magneto rose into the air, shouting for all to hear, "The Earth belongs to Homo Superior!" Before flying through the portal, a rain of metal followed him.
The battle between humanity and mutant kind was on.
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