Newspaper Airplanes Prt 1

The white static of an overcast sky scudded over the bustling port. A dark parapet wavered off in the distance, the musings of a storm slowly percolating forward. Later with the onset of evening, the usual rumble of the cranes removing cargo from the ships on Pier 19 to be loaded onto trucks and ferried off ground to a halt with the shift change in process. White spotlights came on, drowning the darkness in some sections as evening turned to night in a slow parody of death.

Yosef danced past a forklift and through the maze of sea-cans. A little further in, into and out of pools of light amid the sudden beginnings of renewed hustling, and he arrived at the warehouse. Through a sliding door and past holes that glinted beneath the light pollution burning at the edges of shadows with vigor, he checked over a number of carry cases piled together. His crew was opening some, pulling the contents out of the foam packing.

Behind him, an older man was being shown about the varying displays of technical force application. He was grandfatherly, Yosef thought, but his motives were fairly clear in this regard -- a need for the application of will to make known a resolute disposition that force would indeed be used as the ultimatum. The means would make for a rich end for some, and a dead end for others. He heard Dvor talking. "This you will like. Is railgun, but better. Fires two foot long self replicating explosive nanites. Kinetic blast, it acts as primer, trigger, for self replicating explosive. You can destroy whole city block with one shot."

The man nodded as Yosef passed by, moving toward another case. Looking over the markings, he opened it and glanced at the weapons inside. Styled after an assault rifle and chambered for what looked like a twelve-gauge slug. SD20s. Nasty business, those. Shockwave rounds capable of pulverizing most anything through blunt force alone. If those didn't sell, well, Yosef didn't know what would.

"You will like these," Dvor began again, going on about some new gadget that would pulverize the tallest skyscraper and the most heavily armored vehicle. Capable of turning them into disfigured corpses, twisted amalgams of metallic polymer constructs mimicking a functional form no longer. There was definitely an allusion to macabre artwork in there, somewhere.

The old man, he nodded again. "I'll take it," he said. "Which ones?" Dvor asked. "All of it," he replied with a glint.

Yosef spun his right arm around in a quick circle over his head, calling for everything to be packed up and moved. Dvor and the man were now talking details while Yosef moved the materials out. Outside, the rustle of machinery echoed as the whine of a diesel motor rose and fell, churning. A few liftgates were lowered, doors opened, equipment loaded. It would be dropped off at a location yet to be decided -- Dvor and the old man were deciding that now. Yosef just liked the fact he'd be getting paid. Who cared who died or what got destroyed? Who cared...