Jayden 6

Dirty Business Done Cheap

A WhatIf story by Crazy Minh 

I smiled as I walked into my cottage, Biskit riding on my shoulder. It had been several weeks since the library incident, and things were going really, really well. I had just made a business transaction, destroyed a potential terror threat, and managed to get filthy rich all in the space of a single day. In retrospect, the detention I had just received from Carson was kinda a damper on my good mood. But, there was a story to all of the above things…

 The previous day. Hansford Airforce Base, Bedford, Massachusetts. 3:00 PM.

I changed the gears on my car, and pushed down the fifth pedal. The vehicle I was driving was the civilian variant of the M12 ‘Warthog’ LRV from one of the universes attributed to the popular FPS video game Halo. The red and black car had been my personal vehicle ever since I first ‘borrowed’ it from a dealership on Earth, right around the time the Covenant were invading the planet. The car had sat inside a special storage unit I like to call a Hypercube for ages (the hypercube I carry being configured to act like a sort of pocket universe, with the interior dimensions containing a garage and a massive warehouse. It’s where I keep most of the sh*t I accumulated during my travels, which amounts to enough guns, gadgets, vehicles, components, supplies, ammunition and miscellaneous knickknacks to bury the entire state of California completely. Most of that was stolen, as travelling between universes does not at any point grant you a drivers license, birth certificate or other ID that happens to be valid in any universe but the one it came from. So, with the amount of loot I possess, my backpack (even with it’s incredible size) still doesn’t have enough room. Plus, fitting the larger stuff into the pack is incredibly difficult. Imagine trying to fit something the size of a car into a backpack about the size of…well, a backpack. So, when I came across my hypercube, I legitimately bought it. No, seriously. I had just earned a TON of cash selling some black market stuff, so I decided to purchase a hypercube from a 24^th century vendor on the alien world I was on. Anyway, among the stuff I now possessed, I was lucky enough to have the ‘Hog’ in my arsenal. As it was the civilian version of the famous military vehicle, it was not equipped with weapons. At least when I stole it. I had made significant modifications since gaining access to Whateley’s vehicle workshop. To cut down the lengthy explanation of the car’s abilities, I will only say that Q from James Bond would have a envious seizure at the number of toys built into the car’s frame.

I pulled up at the barred gate of the massive airforce base that was my destination. Hansford Airforce Base was not the classic airforce base you got in popular culture. Sure, it had hangars and a runway, but it’s purpose was as a engineering base, not a combat base. The airforce used it for demonstrations and for testing new aircraft that were more open to public viewing than, say, the stuff that Biskit had pulled up on Area 51. Nonetheless, it was where I had arranged to demonstrate my new creation to a group of awaiting representatives of the US Airforce (only because I happened to be in their country), the RAF (Britain’s finest, whose actions saved the lives of so many during the 2^nd World War, the 3^rd World War and the 5^th World war), the RAAF of Australia (my former home, and therefore on the list as a definite buyer), the Luftwaffe of Germany (bad heritage aside, the German Airforce still earned my respect during a particularly heated combat experience), the Aeronautica Militaré of Italy (despite having brown uniforms to hid embarrassing stains, the Italians were still a…well, important, part of the geopolitical climate of the modern world, no matter what universe I was in), the RCAF of Canada (Only because Celebrex cornered me and forced me to do so with blackmail material (how he got pictures of the inside of my locker are beyond me)), and (grudgingly) the VVS of Russia. All the major airforces of all the major superpowers were represented at this base today, for a demonstration of my new aerospace fighter technology. Hopefully, they’d pick up on it’s usefulness, and buy it for $30,000,000 dollars per unit.

I wheeled up to the guard at the gate, and presented my MID as well as my Australian & American Passports. The guard called up the command centre, and verified my ID. He then passed back my papers and opened the boom gate, waving me through. I noticed that two of the other guards on duty clutched their weapons tighter and glared holes through me. Obviously not mutant supporters then. I parked in a available spot, and waited for a lieutenant to show me to the runway. Once we were there, I got to meet the representatives. A stern, tall and bald man wearing a US Airforce uniform with Colonel markings greeted me as I walked up.

“You must be Mister Reynolds. I’m Colonel Jack O’Neil of the US Airforce. As a civilian whose background apparently includes travel between universes, I’m sure you would have made a joke about Stargate. I have no relation to that character.”

“You get that a lot Colonel???” I asked, keeping my face neutral.

“Please can ve get on with zis presentation, Herr Reynolds???” asked a smaller man with blond hair and blue eyes. I assumed he was the German representative, and refrained from making any Aryan Supermen jokes about his appearance. “Ve are all keen to see zis new veapon you have brought us here to see.”

“The Russian Military hopes that this is not a waste of our precious time,” growled a large man wearing a uniform with general insignia and a number of military decorations. A badge proclaimed him to be Joseph Vladof. “We were quite suspicious that a young man would have friends in such highly regarded offices such as the Arkam Research Coalition. We did not come here for idle chit-chat however.”

“Yes, I apologise for the delay General Vladof,” I said politely. “I will get started right away. Please, take a seat.”

I waved my hand, and seven chairs and a refreshments cart appeared from portals in the shade of a nearby hangar. Protective earmuffs and binoculars also appeared at the foot of the chairs.

“Thank you for coming gentleman,” I said once the men had sat down and served themselves drinks. “My name is Jayden Reynolds, and I’m the founder, owner and sole employee of the Vindyne Research Company. I would like to take a moment to explain what exactly I’m expecting you to shell cash out for. No seriously, by the end of today, I’ll have had your respective militaries coughing up the money like vomiting llamas.”

I took a breath as the men chuckled lightly. “Throughout the history of flight, there have always been limitations on how far, how fast and how efficiently we can throw a weaponised aircraft at a enemy, ruling the skies. As great warriors have said ‘Whoever dominates the skies dominates the battlefield’. However, my product will put a end to those limitations.”

I waved my hand a stepped to one side. A portal opened up, and out rolled a fightercraft. Sleek and futuristic (by the standards of the universe I was in), it looked like a hybrid between a F-35 Lightning II from my day and a Eagle MkII from Elite: Dangerous, with a little bit of a Colonial Viper from Battlestar Galactica and a VF-31C Siegfried from Macross Delta mixed in. It’s shape combined sleek curves and hard angles beautifully, and it carried a pair of externally mounted, long-barrelled plasma cannons under each wing. Two large missile pods sat further our along the wings, and four recessed sections in the nose hid conventional machine guns.

“I give you the VAF-001 Guardian Multirole Aerospace Strike Fighter.”

“Aerospace???”

I nodded in response to the Australian officer’s query. “Yes. The Guardian is capable of exoatmospheric flight, and can fly in both space and in a atmosphere.”

“With all respect Mister Reynolds,” asked O’Neil. “Why would we purchase such a craft with said capabilities?? Space is not really a battlefield, nor something the USA has a vested interest in using as said battlefield.”

I grinned. “That’s the thing. Does anyone remember history class??? Anyone???”

The Canadian representative and the British Officer raised their hands tentatively. I grinned wider.

“So you’d remember learning about the Wright Brothers discovering manned flight?”

The British representative lowered her hand. The Canadian kept it up, and glanced over at the British officer, who shrugged her shoulders.

“What??? I grew up in England. We didn’t invent flight!!!”

“Moving on, and getting to the point, before the Wright Brothers showed the possibility of manned flight, there was no such thing as a airforce, or a need for one. When World War I came knocking, the world experienced the first armed conflict with aeroplanes being used as military units, and the air became a battlefield. With the VAF-001, there now is a possibility, and such a battleground is important.”

“How so, Reynolds???” rumbled the Russian giant. “The realm of space has never been much of a battlefield. Even during the holodnoya voyna, Russia only tested spaceborne weapons, never using them against our former foes.”

“Well, it’s true that the current laws prevent the militarization of space. However, the Guardian isn’t truly designed for space combat. Its primary purpose is as a long-range strike aircraft with advanced stealth capabilities, high-power weaponry and speeds currently unmatched…”

“Mister Reynolds, the US Airforce is going to have to decline the use of your weapon in the theatre of war.”

I stared in shock at O’Neil. He had very abruptly interrupted my speech to say that he wouldn’t be using my masterpiece. Vladof also declined, followed by the other nations. I was shocked by their sudden rejection, and asked the reasons.

“With all respect Reynolds, while your craft is amazing, it serves a role currently unneeded by our nations, and a role outlawed by current international treaties. If you were selling to a private organisation which the treaty does not cover, then you probably would get a buyer. But we represent some of the largest militaries in the world, and we are bound to follow the rules our respective governments have agreed to. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

O’Neil patted me on the back, and turned to leave. Just then, a missile speared into the runway, and things turned into chaos.

Present Day. Melville Cottage. Jayden & Alex’s room

“Jayden!!! How did the dressing down from Carson go…you’re smiling.”

I grinned wider. Until now, Alex had been bankrolling the Black Knights, our training team. He was a self-professed entrepreneur, with a small online business selling custom tee shirts. His customers included several students, most notably the perverts Peeper and Greasy (who bought tee shirts by the dozen, and sold them for even more themselves. Alex was rightfully upset by this, as this violated his terms of service. Unfortunately, we had no idea whether they were the ones actually buying it, as they hadn’t said anything to that effect, and the only evidence we had was when we found them selling tee shirts that Alex recognised as coming off his store). He made quite a lot of money off the shirts, and since he was also using my knowledge of the possible future (although honestly what was to come was anyone’s guess in a alternate timeline like this one) to invest in multiple companies that ‘might’ become profitable and big within the next few years. So far, one of my predictions had become true, and Alex had received twenty thousand dollars in dividends from a car company called Tesla Motors (which had become a big success both ahead of time (from my universe), and also begun turning in a massive profit (unlike the version in my universe, which operated at a loss)).

“Alex, you know that deal I made with the military??”

“Yeah, the one that failed because of that terrorist attack.”

“Well, it didn’t fail…”

The previous day. Hansford Airforce Base. 3:46PM

“Alert!!! Armed aircraft over base!!! This is not a drill. All personnel to their stations!!!”

“Reynolds, get the hell out of he…what ARE you doing???”

I clambered into the cockpit of my craft, running a systems check and firing up the engines. “What does it look like Colonel??? I’m saving the day, and giving the demonstration you didn’t give me time to show you. You and the other representatives better get to a position where you can safely watch what’s about to go down.”

I flipped a switch, and the canopy slid shut and locked into place with a hiss. The display screens and control panels around the compact cockpit lit up, and a holographic primary display appeared in front of me. Four red dots indicated hostile aircraft over the base. A volley of enemy cannon fire pinged off the wings of my stationary aircraft. I flipped a bank of switches, and pushed the throttle forwards. My craft sprung into motion with a roar, shoving me back in my seat. The Guardian sprang along the runway at speeds a cheetah would get envious of. I pulled back on the control stick, and the craft pulled upwards, going at speeds that only the four fusion engines at the rear could achieve. I rolled right and swung around, arming my weapon systems as I did. The enemy were piloting F-22 Raptor craft, all of them probably stolen. The craft looked old enough to have been decommissioned, being 1^st generation Raptors. I closed in on one of them, the other craft jinxing to avoid coming into my sights. I pulled one of the triggers on my joystick, and panels popped open along my craft, unleashing a barrage of guided missiles. The enemy craft tried to escape, but- a split second later- the missiles slammed into the fuselage of the jet, turning it into a fireball of flaming debris. My craft dodged round the fireball, and screamed after another one of the enemy craft.

On the ground, O’Neil was having a bad day. First, a group of Raptors belonging to some unknown group bomb his base. Then, a truck carrying about three dozen armed henchmen crash through his front gate, proceeding to engage in battle with his men. In addition, while the chaos is going on outside, a goddamm supervillian strolls into a hangar bay, and steals a experimental strike fighter.

“Sir!!! The enemy is retreating. However, we have visual of the X-191. It’s being stolen!!!”

O’Neil grimaced. The X-191 was the next-generation of stealth fighter. Equipped with optical camouflage, and boasting a flight range equivalent to the entire width of the USA, it could strike anywhere, anywhen and in a number of devastating ways. Just then, as his day was about to get worse, his phone rang.

“Colonel. I see you have a asset being stolen. I see three options here. First, I do nothing more than what I’ve done, and your asset gets away. Second, I destroy your asset, and you lose a whole lot of money. Third, I destroy your asset, and you buy my craft instead.”

“Mister Reynolds, if you destroy that craft, then I will personally buy two thousand units. Count on that. I see the other delegates agree with me???”

A chorus of muffled agreements in different languages came over the communications line. I grinned.

“Well general, let’s get to work. Music online!!!”

All you women who want a man of the street
But you don't know which way you want to turn
Just keep a coming and put your hand out to me
'Cause I'm the one who's gonna make you burn

I'm gonna take you down - down, down, down
So don't you fool around
I'm gonna pull it, pull it, pull the trigger

Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many women with too many pills
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will
Yeah

I'm like evil, I get under your skin
Just like a bomb that's ready to blow
'Cause I'm illegal, I got everything
That all you women might need to know

I'm gonna take you down - yeah, down, down, down
So don't you fool around
I'm gonna pull it, pull it, pull the trigger

Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many…

As AC/DC’s Shoot To Thrill bared over the speaker system in the cockpit, my craft sped after the escaping felon. As the song ended, and I caught up, another great song from the same band came up…

If you're havin' trouble with the high school head
He's givin' you the blues
You want to graduate but not in 'is bed
Here's what you gotta do
Pick up the phone
I'm always home
Call me any time
Just ring
36 24 36 hey
I lead a life of crime

Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and they're done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and they're done dirt cheap

You got problems in your life of love
You got a broken heart
He's double dealin' with your best friend
That's when the teardrops start, fella
Pick up the phone
I'm here alone
Or make a social call
Come right in
Forget about him
We'll have ourselves a ball

Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds…

My machine guns fired into the enemy craft, riddling it with holes. There was a bang, and the engines cut out. As the craft began to fall, a ejector seat flew out of the top of the cockpit, and a figure wearing a jetpack jumped out of it, and began to free-fall. I pulled the plane into a dive, set the autopilot, and portaled out towards the ground. I appeared just as a man wearing a blue and white supersuit with a devil skull logo landed on the ground. He did a classic evil laugh, attempted to tell me that I hadn’t won, and found himself lying on the ground with 50,000 volts of electricity running through his body. I retracted the Taser module into the back of my left hand, and watched as my plane landed nearby. I called for the General to pick Mr. ‘Classic Supervillian’ up for detainment, and flew my craft back to the airfield. I had a deal to make…

Present day, Melville Cottage, Jayden & Alex’s room

“WHAT!!!” cried Alex.

I nodded. “Yep. They each bought 100 units for a grand sum of $21B dollars. I am now a billionaire.”

Alex blinked. “Fuck. That’s a shitton of money.”

I grinned. “Well, not as much money as what Bill Gates is worth. Or for that matter, the Goodkinds. But yes, I am now worth 21 Billion dollars.”

Alex stared without blinking at the wall. I knew that he was currently in a daze over how much money that was. A couple of silent minutes passed before he turned and spoke.

“Y’know, I’m going to ask for a REALLY good birthday present this year.”

Fin