Alexander Vandervoss sat at his computer terminal reviewing some marketing copy for the latest Pretzelverse PET 2.0 tracker advertisements. He pulled up the latest digital file. It featured a nondescript man with a half-rendered dog. The tagline read “Bring your best friend on your adventures.” The figures were reduced in size. The background featured a vast, futuristic landscape and was very detailed. Alexander was not a marketing expert, but he felt that this promotional poster was adequate enough to sell as a standalone item; it represented exactly what the Colossal Machine was about. He clicked on the “approve” button to accept the design. Been doing this for hours, Alexander thought. Time to wrap things up. At least this design is better than that pink poodle riding a horse.
Alexander stretched and yawned. Then something on his secondary monitor caught his eye.
What was that?
The monitor showed a live picture of the research lab, which was in disarray and looked like someone had ransacked the place. There were boxes, buckets, and furniture strewn about the lab. Closer examination revealed some liquid on the floor. Alexander’s brow furrowed in concentration. What the hell is going on down there? Is that a pair of legs? I must be tired. He rubbed his eyes. He picked up the phone and dialed security. A gruff-sounding man answered the line.
“Hello, this is Alexander Vandervoss.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Who?” the man asked.
“The CEO of Pretzelverse Games.” Alexander was annoyed. “Your boss!”
“Oh, sorry, sir!”
This guy must be new!
“I’m seeing a mess in the research lab. Looks like someone ransacked the place!”
“Oh. I don’t see any alarms on my panel.”
“Can you check it out?”
“Yeah, sure. I will send someone down there.” The guard paused for a moment, and then asked, “Where are you reporting this from, Mr. Vandervoss?”
“The main executive tower.”
“Is there anyone else with you?”
“I’m alone. What diff—”
Alexander hung up. He felt uneasy concerning this line of questioning. He picked up the phone and dialed Alexei Breven. It was late. I trust Alexei.
“Da?”
“Alexei?”
“Hello, Alexander, how can I help you?” He answered like it was business hours, not a late-night wake-up call. Alexander looked at his watch. It was 2:47 am.
“Sorry to call so late, but there is a problem in the research lab.”
“Genetics or Neurology?”
“Genetics, where the animals are cloned.”
Silence.
“Alexei, are you there?”
“Da, I’m sending a team to investigate.”
“I called building security. They are investigating, too.”
“That was a mistake; get out—now!”
Alexander was about to hang up when a searing pain erupted from his ear. Something hot knocked the phone handset to the ground. His face was on fire. He put his hand up to his ear, pulled back and looked at his hand. Blood. My blood? Before he could process this thought, he felt more pain erupt from his chest, neck, and the other side of his face. Alexander heard gunshots as he dropped to the floor behind the desk. He could see boots from several men rushing into the room from his vantage point. Alexander tried crawling under the desk to avoid additional injury. His vision blurred, and everything went dark.