Nightstorm City and the N-50 Riots: Nightstorm City, #1

By Dennis Toy Jr

Why are they doing this to us?

Asks Remy, an android designed as a cartoon character living a free life in Nightstorm City. When he and his sister are shipped to the dystopic west, they crash land into a terrifying conspiracy involving the company that built them. Now with allies including a rights group, they will battle an evil faction to bring justice for those affected by it. Will Remy succeed and bring peace to a city in tension? Or will his failure bring about unimaginable chaos that will change his life forever?

An exciting cyberpunk adventure taking place in a world of gangsta CEO's, colorful androids-as-cartoon characters and neon galore. In the vein of classics such as Blade Runner and Robocop. Comics and of course cartoons.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DHT
• Release date: Jan 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215868843

Book preview

1

Five Years Early...

Jordan Garvey navigates the neon drenched piss filled humid streets of Nightstorm City.  The young executive has turned informant, giving up secrets about the monolithic Nightstorm Industries. This risk of discovery meant bloodshed not just for him, but his family.

The brazen bums, big bangers and tweakers approach Mr. Garvey asking for a few electronic credits on a pad. Unfazed, he continued southward through blocks of middle class residential neighborhoods ignoring the groups of young hoodlums who stand by cars and light-poles.

Some hung around crumbling stores that sold things such as 40oz liquors, fried Chinese foods, carry-outs and robo-mats selling stuff that doctors consider to be toxic to human health. Yet still tasty and appealing to the poor massesHis attention turned to an old impala slowly creeping down the street looking for some action. The colorful insiders blowing gene-modded weed blasted New Jack Swing, considered historical music from its overpriced inductive sound system. The occupants looked at Garvey with the briefcase but he didn’t pay attention and they drove past.

He reached a dimly lit small street off the side of the main street. He didn’t seem to be concerned that this street might be crawling with cyber implant psychos who like the taste of human blood.

Going into an opening leading to an industrial area that no one to dared to go. Mr. Garvey glanced at a series of brownish tinted buildings whose purpose was as varied as the weather. Some buildings had signs of being there for ages and sported rust stains from the untold number of rainstorms. Occasionally, a car would drive through this area coming from another street.

Garvey scouted for signs of activity to maintain his discreteness and secrecy. An occasional breeze blew dust and debris onto his clothing. Garvey brushed it away and continued on the road going deeper and deeper into this industrial wasteland, headed towards a meeting place that had been assigned to him by a message on his home communicator.

The buildings are as varied as the skid-row populace. The largest ones’ sported extrusions were once the conveyors the intakes and the output systems of these buildings. A former warehouse with a rail line running into an open door once supplied paper to major news organizations but now stood as a ghost of its heyday. It’s unofficially a sanctuary for people at the fringes of society, and wild animals looking for a good habitat.

The insider turned traitor continued down the dirt road occasionally encountering industrial vehicles that were headed into the industrial area Metal and wood junk appeared all around the buildings some of it piled high and having to be shoveled away by bulldozers.

He came upon the fence behind two warehouse buildings that showed no sign of life. He looked in corners and up on roofs hoping this wasn’t some kind of setup for an ambush or sniper attack.

Scanning with his eyes and hands, he found a small hole that had been cut by someone or something to reach whatever was behind it. Jordan squeezed his way through and in the process, tore scratches into his somewhat expensive shirt.

Shit man, just brought this wardrobe He cursed in clinched teeth. Snaking along the concrete that was behind it, he looked down and when he saw how far down the slope was. I have to go down there. He muttered in clinched teeth.

Mr. Garvey reached a man-made rocky ravine that sloped down. Discarded cyber-reality skin implants, and the smell of piss let him know that TL brain blasters also use this place. 

Gotta get down there? ...man, who ever send me to this shithole... He stopped as he put his sneaker onto some stable rocks which made a small pathway held on to the wall holding the fence and clutching the briefcase.

He held to the rocks onto the side of this sloping pathway to keep himself from falling while holding the briefcase. The man zigzagged down the ravine and jumped down a low wall that bordered the slopes.

What the hell? Who the hell sent me here? Jordan Garvey is irritated as he was called by some mysterious caller and an expensive leather briefcase was left in front of his house door. He was promised some payment if he delivered but some unknown consequences if he didn’t.

He looked around and found himself on some railroad tracks. There were two of them and they lead to an imposing train tunnel that is still in service. A sparse light harshly shone on the area making it look like a gateway to hell. A mysterious voice commanded him in a dry yet somehow intimidating tone to stop.

What the hell is this? Jordan asked.

I will give the commands, lift your shirt and spin around. I want to check if you are tagged with nano-trackers or armed.  Garvey complied grudgingly What the hell am I doing down here...Some dude is standing near a train tunnel risking my ass being run over by a train for whatever is in here. Jordan Garvey thought in his head making sure not to speak it or risk getting hurt or killed.

Now come closer The voice commanded. Jordan walked slowly yet defensively.

Now put the briefcase in the light. He complied and walked back to the safety of the pebble pathway.  A man in the shadows begins to move towards indicated by his footsteps as it crushed across the pebbles.

The person with the mysterious voice is a well-rounded but not obese character whose voice was deep but firm.  The person is not threatening just intimidating by the fact he is hiding in shadow and his intentions are not known to Garvey. The individual picked up the briefcase and walked back to the safety of where he was at the mouth of the train tunnel.

Whatever is in there better be good, my stupid ass ‘done walked about 10 blocks in this godforsaken heat to meet some dude who wouldn’t be seen. Jordan Garvey thought to himself, he was careful not to accidentally say it as to antagonize the man.

Sir, what’s in the case, is it drugs, money, cyber tweakers, brain blasters... Jordan Garvey who brought it shouted out.

Neither. The individual told him 

The man stepped briefly out of the shadow, identifying himself as Robert. He only showed himself being a gentleman wearing wire frame glasses and having a rotund shape and wearing casual business clothes. Robert opened the briefcase and found papers, a data disk and a small computer. He put in the disk and turned it on.

WHAT! I CAN'T FUCKIN' BELIEVE THIS Robert's voice spiked. Reading the papers only incensed him.

What do these idiots at the top think they are doing. Of all the things...after I showed the presentations of how it is still possib... The N-50 model series is still viable. Why would they just waste artificial life forms like this.... for god's sakes they are people...sentient life forms.  You can't just throw people away. Robert decompressed from his anger and got back to the business at hand.

Sir, the payment is here, it's good credit on this bio-met card, it will run you a long way, it's about 1,500,000 credits. Now I must take this home. I will keep this for the day the secret in here can reveal the dirty secret of Nightstorm Industries involving N-50s Robert said before moving beside the man and getting into a futuristic looking electro car and driving off. Mr. Garvey left wondering what he had brought upon his company

2

One Year Later...

What the hell this all about... Mr. Channing pulled out his cigar. He flew in the executive cabin on a Nightstorm Transport Vehicle or NTV. The craft designed like a V-22 Osprey used fusion power and EM engines for flight. Inside the cabin, jet engine sounds are simulated for comfort. Two other NTV gunships provided escort.

Some shit the CEO of Nightstorm Industries wants us to look at.  Mr. Naguye, an Asian representative who was sitting in the seat facing Mr. Channing said into his headset. He is one of the stockholders of the company.

Mr. Channing filled with gruff asks What so important we had to fly over a godforsaken forest filled with terr’ist’ crazies and fanatics to get to this shithole you call Nightstorm City.

Mr. Naguye glanced out the window at the city, blanketed by neon and orange lights. Broken by a few 100 story buildings. Remember those N-51 models that have been out for about 5 years...Much better models have come out.  Fully sentient and self- sufficient

What’s wrong with the N-50’s, can’t they be improved. Mr. Channing queried.

Mr. Naguye explained. Yeah, but let’s face the facts...They are getting old, you can’t improve them anymore.  They still have to be programmed sometimes. These new ones don’t have to be; they can formulate ideas themselves.  An N-50 wheeled robot served them drinks but spills one. See as what happened here.

Mr. Channing downed a martini. What do we do with the ones already out there, the ones already walking around the cities or doing some of our dirty work,

Mr Naguye sipped some lemonade. Well, we’ll just leave them be. Others we have a return program which we take them back and get a rebate towards the new N-51’s. Studios and entertainment venues have started sending ‘em back.

But some people are keeping them. They say they don’t like the idea of some of them things being able to think about their survival or their selves. They like them to be programmed to do what the hell they like them to do. Mr. Naguye chuckled a little.

Flight control this is Mother Hawk one...flying with precious payload in talons...flanked at both side by Father and Brother Hawks providing pecking power.... requesting landing clearance at forest nest. Forest Nest Ground Control...You are cleared to deliver payload...other Eagles are cleared." The ground crew confirmed

The aircraft altered course then landed on a large landing pad and taxied to a designated spot.  Mr. Channing and Mr. Naguye walk slowly out, flanked by machine gun toting heavies.

Welcome Sir... A white coat wearing technician named Howard greeted with a smile. This only somewhat appeased the stockholder.

This better be good. ‘got some business to conduct involving them wetbacks rebels occupying the suburb of San Antonio....and.... I have a ...few dates if ‘ya know what I mean boy... Mr. Channing is being playful to Howard while referring to the prostitute he had back home in his large mansion in Dallas. A protected zone in the battlefield that is the Texas-Mexico War. ...right this way.

They went down the long grey colored corridor with a blue strip going along the length in the middle. The recessed lighting spartanly revealed the busy life of technicians or scientists. Carts with papers, computer pads and microprocessors competed for space with the nobodies haphazardly carrying files. The corridor is littered with parts, refuse and some spilled blue fluid. 

We are walking into Alcove 10, one of our main creation chambers.  It is where the life is created, it’s where we create the N-51s, it’s where we begin what is the greatest achievement of the company known as Nightstorm Industries. Right this way... Howard grandstands to an unimpressed audience.

Nightstorm Industries, isn’t that run by that asshole Jason Jayce Nightstorm. Mr. Channing said. That guy runs this shit like it’s his own personal whorehouse.  He said this as he went past a scientist walking briskly in the corridor carrying a box of micro control processor chips. 

Yes, you could say that but we are making strides under his direction. He is moving us in a direction that’s somewhat scaring some of our competitors. Mr. Naguye told the stockholder. And I’d be careful of what you say, The Nightstorm Dynasty build this city, with the old metal and silicon skinjobs, just after they found a precious metal deposit. Then turned it into a mine.

Look, I like where Nightstorm Industries is going, as long as it’s making the money it needs to and I am satisfied with, it’s fine. It’s just that Jayce Nightstorm fella, I don’t really like him. He’s like putting a hot 20-year-old in the seat of a 30-million-dollar sports car. He treats this like his personal video game.  Mr. Channing gritted his teeth a little while saying it in a hushed tone. It wasn’t hushed enough as Howard heard it and giggled a little. Some’in funny boy.  Mr. Channing looked at him funny.

You better stop talkin’ about Jayce like that. Howard jokingly told him.

Why should I be SCARED of Jayce. Mr. Channing mocked Howard.

Well, there is this persistent rumor that keeps floating around, it’s said that Jayce poisoned a stockholder at a gala after he said that this company could use someone who wasn’t a person who uses the corporate power of the company to compensate for... his lack of sexual fortitude.  Howard struggled to hold back his amusement. "

"Look boy, I have been poisoned by people with bigger sexual fortitude issues than his ass. Ever tasted thallium? Well it tastes like shit and makes your nerves feel like they been set on fire using napalm. 

That nigger running that company doesn’t put even a little scare in me. Mr. Channing asserted his Fortitude as they walked through metal doors into a large room. This is one of our creation labs." Howard boasted