Post by Chuck Matthews on Jul 30, 2017 17:19:43 GMT -5
July 1st, 2017
Enterprise Arena
Chicago, Illinois
[Off Camera]
Oftentimes, a trip to the Enterprise Arena in Chicago meant viewing a wrestling show with tens of thousands of screaming fans, or hearing a major label play the venue, or, on rare occasion, a game of basketball or hockey, in events where other arenas were occupied, or otherwise unavailable for use. Today, though, and in fact throughout the week, the Arena had been cleared as best it could to make way for a number of large stalls, panels, and stages, several plastered with corporate logos, and all of them swarming with people, businessmen and ordinary people alike, all clamoring to witness what the Matthews Enterprises Exposition had to offer. It was here that Chuck found himself, wandering the floor of the arena, arm in arm with Betsy Granger, who, to his relief, seemed every bit as enamored with her surroundings as he was. They had already stopped by a number of exhibits: Matthews Metals had announced the opening of a new mill in Pennsylvania that would be fully operational by 2020.
John Conrad: “Mr Matthews.”
Chuck glances up from a plaque that explained the purpose of a number of potatoes in pots lined up beside it. He smiles warmly as Conrad approaches, arm outstretched. Chuck gladly accepts the handshake.
Chuck Matthews: “It’s been a while, John.”
John Conrad: “One of us still has a day job with the company.”
Chuck shrugs.
Chuck Matthews: “They still invite me to these things, so I keep showing up.”
John Conrad: “It IS your name plastered on the side of the building.”
He eyes Betsy, but Chuck is quick to speak.
Chuck Matthews: “I’d like you to meet Betsy Granger. She’s a… very dear friend of mine.”
John frowns, but nods, and offers a handshake to her as well.
John Conrad: “Not like you to bring a plus-one to the event.”
Chuck Matthews: “No…. no, I suppose it isn’t.”
There’s an awkward silence as the two stare each other down. Finally, Conrad breaks.
John Conrad: “Well, I’m sure you’re aware, Mr. Marshall requested that I personally escort you through the premises today.”
Chuck Matthews: “He doesn’t trust me?”
John Conrad: “Well….. no, on the contrary, we're hoping you may be able to provide new insight on a particular problem. I understand you’ve been invited to view a certain… projects.”
Chuck Matthews: “That’s what I keep hearing.”
John eyes the table behind Chuck, looking at the potatoes, nestled comfortably in their pots.
John Conrad: “Right… well, if you’ve finished admiring your-“
He glances at the plaque with a scowl.
John Conrad: “….’Super Spuds,’ there’s a presentation I think you’ll want to see.”
He walks off through the crowd. Chuck looks at the potatoes, but follows John, Betsy close behind, whispering to Chuck to avoid Conrad’s ear.
Betsy Granger: “An old colleague?”
Chuck Matthews: “Chief of Security.”
Betsy Granger: “Does he always have a stick in his ass?”
Chuck snorts.
Chuck Matthews: “Yes. Yes he does.”
They wander through the crowds, stopping once or twice when a particularly interesting exhibit catches their eye. Conrad seemed unamused… but that was always the case. John Conrad was a solemn man, hardened by years of combat. He’d served in Afghanistan in 2007, but since had retired to security, working as the head of Matthews Enterprises security force since 2013.
Professor Clark: “Mr. Matthews!”
Chuck stops and turns to find an elderly gentleman in a long white lab coat approaching, smiling proudly.
Professor Clark: “I’d heard rumors you may be making an appearance today, but I didn’t think… I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. Johnathan Clark, Steelwall Security.”
Chuck shakes his head. The man seems excited, as though he’s been bursting to share this with Chuck for quite some time. He motions towards his stand.
Professor Clark: “I was hoping for a moment of your time? I’ve got a piece of technology I think you’ll be fascinated in.”
John Conrad: “We really don’t have ti-“
Professor Clark: “It’ll only take a minute, I promise. I just…”
He looks at Chuck, a glint in his eye. He leads Chuck towards his table.
Professor Clark: “I’d like to introduce you… to the mask.”
He lifts what appears to be a mannequin’s head from beneath his table. It wears a shell over its face, with definitive human features: Holes for eyes, curvature where the nose would be, and a trio of slits over the mouth. The base of the mask curves inwards, beneath the chin, where a black collar-looking device takes the place of the neck.
John Conrad: “You made a Halloween mask?”
Clark looks nervous, and speaks quickly, stumbling a bit over his words.
Professor Clark: “Not for cosmetics, no, although certainly, I suppose it may be a little fearsome when seen in action… We’ve discussed other color schemes as well, but-“
John Conrad: “What’s it do, professor?”
Conrad’s impatience is made evident by his stern tone. Betsy stares curiously at the mask, gazing into its hollow eyes.
Professor Clark: “It makes you invisible.”
Chuck snorts.
Chuck Matthews: “I’m sorry?”
Professor Clark: “Well, there are still a few bugs to work out of the system, but, once we’ve mastered the technology, this will be one of the most indispensable tools to any military in the world.”
Chuck frowns, looking at the object.
Chuck Matthews: “How does it work?”
Professor Clark: “All the cloaking technology is stored here, in the collar. Currently, it can hide the wearer from most sensory technology: You won’t come up on infrared, it disrupts motion detectors. The only thing it can’t do is hide you from the human eye… but we’re working on that.”
Chuck Matthews: “How long do you think before this becomes a working prototype?”
Professor Clark: “I suppose that depends on what you mean by ‘working.’ We hope to have a functioning, fully operational mask by 2025. Without the visual cloaking, we could, feasibly, send these for mass production at any time. Even the model sitting here today can be used with it’s current capabilities… but that wasn’t our intent when we set out to create it.”
Chuck Matthews: “It’s an interesting project, professor.”
Clark smiles weakly.
Professor Clark: “Which… leads to my intention. Our funding has seen a rapid decrease since you’ve stepped down.”
Chuck cocks his head to the side, surprised at the news. Conrad speaks in a low growl.
John Conrad: “Marshall’s new policy. He’s been slashing our military contracts since he took over the company. Pumping our money into Enterprise Futuristic and Sinclair Holdings.”
Chuck Matthews: “So you’re looking for me to do something about it.”
Professor Clark: “I understand that you no longer make these kinds of decisions… but your name carries weight. Do you think-“
Chuck nods slowly.
Chuck Matthews: “I’ll see what I can do.”
John sneers.
John Conrad: “Now if we’re done here… oh Christ…”
Conrad looks around, at a small crowd that has formed.
Betsy Granger: “You’ve got fans.”
Chuck frowns, as he’s suddenly called and pulled in several directions by a number of scientists, doctors, and businessmen, all asking his input on their presentations, all asking for his recommendations. Chuck retreats slowly. Conrad places himself between Chuck and the growing crowd, one arm held out in front of him, the other instinctively moving to his sidearm.
Chuck Matthews: “There’s no threat here, John.”
He catches sight of a young blonde woman standing at the back of the crowd. She, like everyone else, has her eyes locked on Chuck’s, but isn’t in the same frenzy as the people around her. She looks curious more than anything else, as though Chuck is an experiment himself… something to be watched, observed. Chuck stares at her a moment. There’s something familiar about her, but he can’t think of why. He’s brought out of this thought by the intercom coming in through the speakers.
“Attention, Exposition attendees. The Sinclair Holdings Presentation will begin in the main hall in five minutes. Again, the Sinclair Holdings Presentation will begin in the main hall in five minutes. Ticketholders, please make your way to your seats.”
A large number of the crowd slowly begins to dissipate at this news, glancing dejectedly at their tickets, some occasionally looking over their shoulder back at Chuck.
Chuck Matthews: “Do we have tickets for this?”
John groans, and mumbles something.
John Conrad: “…to the main hall, then…”
Enterprise Arena
Chicago, Illinois
[Off Camera]
Oftentimes, a trip to the Enterprise Arena in Chicago meant viewing a wrestling show with tens of thousands of screaming fans, or hearing a major label play the venue, or, on rare occasion, a game of basketball or hockey, in events where other arenas were occupied, or otherwise unavailable for use. Today, though, and in fact throughout the week, the Arena had been cleared as best it could to make way for a number of large stalls, panels, and stages, several plastered with corporate logos, and all of them swarming with people, businessmen and ordinary people alike, all clamoring to witness what the Matthews Enterprises Exposition had to offer. It was here that Chuck found himself, wandering the floor of the arena, arm in arm with Betsy Granger, who, to his relief, seemed every bit as enamored with her surroundings as he was. They had already stopped by a number of exhibits: Matthews Metals had announced the opening of a new mill in Pennsylvania that would be fully operational by 2020.
John Conrad: “Mr Matthews.”
Chuck glances up from a plaque that explained the purpose of a number of potatoes in pots lined up beside it. He smiles warmly as Conrad approaches, arm outstretched. Chuck gladly accepts the handshake.
Chuck Matthews: “It’s been a while, John.”
John Conrad: “One of us still has a day job with the company.”
Chuck shrugs.
Chuck Matthews: “They still invite me to these things, so I keep showing up.”
John Conrad: “It IS your name plastered on the side of the building.”
He eyes Betsy, but Chuck is quick to speak.
Chuck Matthews: “I’d like you to meet Betsy Granger. She’s a… very dear friend of mine.”
John frowns, but nods, and offers a handshake to her as well.
John Conrad: “Not like you to bring a plus-one to the event.”
Chuck Matthews: “No…. no, I suppose it isn’t.”
There’s an awkward silence as the two stare each other down. Finally, Conrad breaks.
John Conrad: “Well, I’m sure you’re aware, Mr. Marshall requested that I personally escort you through the premises today.”
Chuck Matthews: “He doesn’t trust me?”
John Conrad: “Well….. no, on the contrary, we're hoping you may be able to provide new insight on a particular problem. I understand you’ve been invited to view a certain… projects.”
Chuck Matthews: “That’s what I keep hearing.”
John eyes the table behind Chuck, looking at the potatoes, nestled comfortably in their pots.
John Conrad: “Right… well, if you’ve finished admiring your-“
He glances at the plaque with a scowl.
John Conrad: “….’Super Spuds,’ there’s a presentation I think you’ll want to see.”
He walks off through the crowd. Chuck looks at the potatoes, but follows John, Betsy close behind, whispering to Chuck to avoid Conrad’s ear.
Betsy Granger: “An old colleague?”
Chuck Matthews: “Chief of Security.”
Betsy Granger: “Does he always have a stick in his ass?”
Chuck snorts.
Chuck Matthews: “Yes. Yes he does.”
They wander through the crowds, stopping once or twice when a particularly interesting exhibit catches their eye. Conrad seemed unamused… but that was always the case. John Conrad was a solemn man, hardened by years of combat. He’d served in Afghanistan in 2007, but since had retired to security, working as the head of Matthews Enterprises security force since 2013.
Professor Clark: “Mr. Matthews!”
Chuck stops and turns to find an elderly gentleman in a long white lab coat approaching, smiling proudly.
Professor Clark: “I’d heard rumors you may be making an appearance today, but I didn’t think… I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. Johnathan Clark, Steelwall Security.”
Chuck shakes his head. The man seems excited, as though he’s been bursting to share this with Chuck for quite some time. He motions towards his stand.
Professor Clark: “I was hoping for a moment of your time? I’ve got a piece of technology I think you’ll be fascinated in.”
John Conrad: “We really don’t have ti-“
Professor Clark: “It’ll only take a minute, I promise. I just…”
He looks at Chuck, a glint in his eye. He leads Chuck towards his table.
Professor Clark: “I’d like to introduce you… to the mask.”
He lifts what appears to be a mannequin’s head from beneath his table. It wears a shell over its face, with definitive human features: Holes for eyes, curvature where the nose would be, and a trio of slits over the mouth. The base of the mask curves inwards, beneath the chin, where a black collar-looking device takes the place of the neck.
John Conrad: “You made a Halloween mask?”
Clark looks nervous, and speaks quickly, stumbling a bit over his words.
Professor Clark: “Not for cosmetics, no, although certainly, I suppose it may be a little fearsome when seen in action… We’ve discussed other color schemes as well, but-“
John Conrad: “What’s it do, professor?”
Conrad’s impatience is made evident by his stern tone. Betsy stares curiously at the mask, gazing into its hollow eyes.
Professor Clark: “It makes you invisible.”
Chuck snorts.
Chuck Matthews: “I’m sorry?”
Professor Clark: “Well, there are still a few bugs to work out of the system, but, once we’ve mastered the technology, this will be one of the most indispensable tools to any military in the world.”
Chuck frowns, looking at the object.
Chuck Matthews: “How does it work?”
Professor Clark: “All the cloaking technology is stored here, in the collar. Currently, it can hide the wearer from most sensory technology: You won’t come up on infrared, it disrupts motion detectors. The only thing it can’t do is hide you from the human eye… but we’re working on that.”
Chuck Matthews: “How long do you think before this becomes a working prototype?”
Professor Clark: “I suppose that depends on what you mean by ‘working.’ We hope to have a functioning, fully operational mask by 2025. Without the visual cloaking, we could, feasibly, send these for mass production at any time. Even the model sitting here today can be used with it’s current capabilities… but that wasn’t our intent when we set out to create it.”
Chuck Matthews: “It’s an interesting project, professor.”
Clark smiles weakly.
Professor Clark: “Which… leads to my intention. Our funding has seen a rapid decrease since you’ve stepped down.”
Chuck cocks his head to the side, surprised at the news. Conrad speaks in a low growl.
John Conrad: “Marshall’s new policy. He’s been slashing our military contracts since he took over the company. Pumping our money into Enterprise Futuristic and Sinclair Holdings.”
Chuck Matthews: “So you’re looking for me to do something about it.”
Professor Clark: “I understand that you no longer make these kinds of decisions… but your name carries weight. Do you think-“
Chuck nods slowly.
Chuck Matthews: “I’ll see what I can do.”
John sneers.
John Conrad: “Now if we’re done here… oh Christ…”
Conrad looks around, at a small crowd that has formed.
Betsy Granger: “You’ve got fans.”
Chuck frowns, as he’s suddenly called and pulled in several directions by a number of scientists, doctors, and businessmen, all asking his input on their presentations, all asking for his recommendations. Chuck retreats slowly. Conrad places himself between Chuck and the growing crowd, one arm held out in front of him, the other instinctively moving to his sidearm.
Chuck Matthews: “There’s no threat here, John.”
He catches sight of a young blonde woman standing at the back of the crowd. She, like everyone else, has her eyes locked on Chuck’s, but isn’t in the same frenzy as the people around her. She looks curious more than anything else, as though Chuck is an experiment himself… something to be watched, observed. Chuck stares at her a moment. There’s something familiar about her, but he can’t think of why. He’s brought out of this thought by the intercom coming in through the speakers.
“Attention, Exposition attendees. The Sinclair Holdings Presentation will begin in the main hall in five minutes. Again, the Sinclair Holdings Presentation will begin in the main hall in five minutes. Ticketholders, please make your way to your seats.”
A large number of the crowd slowly begins to dissipate at this news, glancing dejectedly at their tickets, some occasionally looking over their shoulder back at Chuck.
Chuck Matthews: “Do we have tickets for this?”
John groans, and mumbles something.
John Conrad: “…to the main hall, then…”
