Issue 1 Downtime

The old homeless guy Jack had apparently decided to beg in front of the gate of the Braddock Estate. He was sitting on the ground with a sign that said "NOTHING HELPS" muttering to himself.

Cal stopped on his way back into the gate, this week's shipment of broken stuff he could fix up in a duffel bag over his shoulder. "...That can't be a good panhandling slogan."

"True though," Jack says, "Nothin' helps. They've got eyes all over the city and you all didn't even notice."

Jack chuckles to himself.

"Are you kidding me? There are eyes everywhere."

"Don't be an idiot, boy. You're smarter than that. There are two kinds of eyes," Jack says, "You ever follow an ice cream truck? Where do you think it goes?"

"That depends on what they're dosing the ice cream with," Cal answered without missing a beat.

Jack chuckles, apparently finding this amusing.

"...She's looking for you."

That shook Cal a bit... probably more than he showed. "...Who is," he said, eyeing the man more carefully now.

"It ain't obvious?" Jack asks, "A mother always looks after her son. Even one as cold as steel, boy."

The duffel bag hit the ground. "Talk, old man," he said, a hint of the craziness of the past week creeping into his voice. "Who the hell are you!"

"Just an old man trying to help," Jack says, "Find out where the trucks go."

Cal was reeling by now. "Who are you? What do you know about this!" he shouted, lunging forward to grab the man by the collar. "TELL ME!"

There was a flash of light and before Cal could grab him, Jack had disappeared. The only thing left behind was the sign.

"NOTHING HELPS"