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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Mosier" data-source="post: 6622542" data-attributes="member: 6776381">12th December, 2011. CTI Denver Campus. 2:37pm. A corporate security sergeant holds "Kevin" against the wall. The gesture is meant to appear helpful to anyone watching the security cameras outside the dispatch office, as if the sergeant were offering a steadying hand. In reality, the sergeant's grip is a bit too rough, and the concerned expression is forced."What the devil happened here?" the sergeant says with a slight Texan accent. "I want my Human Resources representative," Kevin says. The sergeant takes a step back and sizes him up. "You sure 'bout that?"Kevin is silent, staring back at him defiantly."We got anything to worry about? Any executives missing? Any equipment stolen? Did they break in to anywhere important?"Kevin tries to continue his defiance, but his resolve quickly breaks. "No," he says, surrendering. "I don't know what they wanted, but division security called you before they could finish. Their hacker got into the drones, but they weren't able to steal any.""Wouldn't matter if they did," the sergeant says. As the sergeant walks away, he calls over his shoulder. "Good work, Kevin. Havin' them call us when they did. Looks like we showed up just in time."And with that, Kevin realizes his career is over. -12th December, 2011. CTI Showroom, Denver Campus. 3:03 pm. Daphne LeBlanc is a gorgeous woman. The type of beautiful that only lots and lots of money can buy. Each individual strand of her long, blue-black hair falls perfectly over her carefully sculpted face. There's a hint of mischief in her eyes that only the most observant would be able to recognize as deliberately calculated. She's one-in-a-million, which means that for corporate spokespeople she's only average - the best a low-rate corp like CTI could afford. "You all know CTI as the premier supplier of sports equipment and entertainment," she says to a captive audience gathered in the CTI showroom. "We're proud to provide the world's athletes with the finest clothing, gear, and management services. Today, you will witness the unveiling of the first of many new products meant to bridge the gap between players and fans." There's a small pause, before the lights in the room flicker in hues of red and yellow. "Pow!" Daphne shouts, in a cute, playful tone. Her fist is in the air, holding a sealed can of CTI's new product. She shakes the can, and there's a satisfying pop as the dividing membrane collapses inside the can. "Listen for the Pow! The can tells you when it's ready to drink. Pow!"She takes a deep drink from the can, and winks. "Try it for yourself!" she says. Servers come from dozens of hidden nooks and crannies around the theater, handing out 8 oz cups full of a strange liquid. Half of the liquid is red, and the other yellow. The two parts of the mixture seem to repel each other, and are only mixing together very slowly. It doesn't look unappetizing, exactly. It looks and smells like melting candy.All across the CTI campus, the live feed of this press release is playing on every one of the hundreds of huge screens in the public areas (on a 15 second delay, of course). Thousands of people have gathered in curiosity to watch the demonstration.As the press reporters begin drinking the substance, they begin to choke and gag. Most of them spit it out after the first swallow. Some of the more fortunate people see everyone else's reaction, and wisely choose not to drink their own. Daphne seems confused for a moment. Her can tasted fine, so why is everyone else reacting so badly?A man toward the front of the room begins to retch violently, vomits on the floor, and falls to his hands and knees. "Cut to the backup!" Daphne shrieks. Only about 5 seconds have passed since the symptoms became apparent. There's plenty of time for the backup video to take over the live feeds. She looks up at the single screen in the CTI showroom in which the feed is displayed. She can see herself, as she looked fifteen seconds ago, still holding her winning wink and smile. Far different from the panicked expression she has now."Cut! Why isn't it cutting?" she screams. She watches the screen in horror as the feed shows the press members taking their drinks. The man in the front row was the first to drink, according to the delayed live feed. "CUT IT NOW!" she bellows, but somehow she already knows it's hopeless. She re-watches the front row man heaving and vomiting on the floor. Then she sees herself on the screen, screaming the command to cut to the backup video. She collapses in despair as she realizes that the live feed has been widely broadcast. Two "doberman" model drones enter the showroom. One of the cameras gets a close up shot of the words "Crash Test Industries" printed on the body of one of the drones, moments before their new programming takes effect and the cameras continue to roll...</blockquote>

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