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Mixed-Field

"WHELP, TIME TO UNFUCK THIS!"

At five o'clock in the morning, in the midst of a rainstorm, Maverick and his entourage rushed to their plane. On the tarmac of Newark-Heath sat "Attica", Barev's immaculate DC-6B, idling with the burble of her Double Wasp radials. Polished propellers glistened in the harsh glare from the airport's floodlights. Maverick leapt up the wobbling airstair, the buff gray husky in a mad rush to board. He was followed behind by his son Robby, and Marcus and Felix Barion, who lugged their video gear with him. Maverick quickly climbed up the steps, and attempted to make a fast dash through the small hatch, only to smash his face into the propliner; he promptly fell backwards and was caught by his thirteen year old son.

"Whoa, Dad, easy! Let's not break the plane!" Robby exclaimed, as Maverick made his way through the hatch.

"We got business to take care of!" Maverick shouted as he rubbed his forehead. "Oww! Son of a bitch!"

Felix stepped through and motioned for the ground crew to pull the airstair away. The fawn furred Doberman sealed the hatch, and called up to the cockpit to report that they could begin taxiing. Maverick took his soaking wet coat off and hung it up in the chrome lined galley to dry, before quickly making his way through the executive interior of the Cloudmaster to the cockpit. He burst in to find his flight crew, Jordan Hoover, his boyfriend Ivo Horvat, and brother Tito Horvat at the controls of the old Douglas.

"Alrighty boys! Get me to Chicago, stat!" Maverick encouraged.

"Will do, Mav!" Jordan confidently responded.

Maverick grinned in encouragement and turned to get a seat in the forward lounge area. The Russian husky was back in charge of the company that he helped found, "United Barev Industries". Returning from a much needed hiatus, he found himself playing damage control once again, leading an ailing company that felt as though it was in freefall all around. Now he found himself flying to Chicago at five in the morning with his son, to respond to a plane crash at Midway. A company DC-7BF, belonging to the Centoh cargo division, belly landed, after suffering a serious landing gear malfunction following an engine failure. It was just more damage control for him.

Lifting off into the stormy October skies, the DC-6 punched through the clouds and turbulence, and plotted coarse against the winds to the windy city, north-west of Newark Ohio. Maverick took the time to just admire the limited scenery outside his windows, as he listened to the mesmerizing burble of synchronized propellers clawing the air. He also took the time to think about things, to reflect on his own life journey, through a perilous 2020. Everyone was quiet on the plane; Robby went to go back to sleep in the tail of the plane, and Marcus and Felix sat with Maverick at the card table, as they listened to the radial song fill the cabin.

It took a little over an hour to fly to Chicago, where the rain continued there. In the holding pattern, the Cloudmaster circled the city, which was hidden from view by the gray cloud deck below. The morning sun cast a beautiful shade of orange on the clouds. Finally after fifteen minutes, they got the all clear from Midway to come in to land. The crash of the DC-7 closed one of the runways, creating congestion. "Attica" descended into the clouds, and everyone was jostled around in the rough turbulence. For about the span of a minute, Maverick could see absolutely nothing as the plane descended through the cloud deck; he was bounced all around as the plane shook and yawed to the turbulence. Finally, the ground came into view, and Chicago's streetlights and roads emerged for all to see. "Attica" flew over neighborhoods and businesses that hemmed in Midway, and touched down on the runway with a skidding, crosswind landing.

As Jordan and Ivo taxied off the runway, Maverick got his first view of the crashed DC-7. As the plane turned to follow the service road, the husky got a glimpse of the red and white Centoh freighter, sitting on the runway, its four propellers bent and twisted up. There were vehicles with flashing lights surrounding it, and it appeared that cargo was being removed in the process. "Attica" rolled towards the Centoh tarmac on her inboard radials. The towering hangar that read "Centoh Chicago" in bold red neon lit letters glowed above the DC-6 as it turned and parked. Propellers soon coasted down as the inboard engines were powered off.

Quickly climbing down the steps, Maverick walked in the pouring rain in his rain suit, with Marcus and Felix following with their video gear. The fawn Doberman wielded his wrapped up analog HL-79D on his shoulder, complete with big Fujinon lens and grip, which fed video by a cable to the Nordic husky, who had the three-quarter inch tape deck strapped to him. They walked up to the plane to find Chicago police, members of the FAA, the flight crew, and Centoh's maintenance crews, trying to figure out how to jack the plane up, to get the gear deployed. Maverick introduced himself as the headman of Barev, and proceeded to do a walk around inspection with Felix, who was much more gifted in aviation than Maverick. Captain Rogers made a textbook, perfect belly landing, and Felix could find no major damage to the aircraft itself.

"The props are toast- so are the engines. The inboard cowls are going to need replacing, and the underbelly is going to need reskinning, but otherwise, she's intact." Felix pointed out.

"Well that's good~" Maverick breathed a sigh of relief.

It took an hour for the engineers to lift the DC-7 up with a set of hydraulic jacks. Smaller jacks lifted the plane up so the bigger jacks could fit under it. With it secured, the gear was manually dropped into place. The nose gear and port gear came down fine, but the right gear was jammed in place. The engine failure was traced to one of the power recovery turbines off the R-3350 exploding. Shrapnel severed a hydraulic line for the gear, and jammed the door actuator, preventing deployment. That would all have to be repaired and replaced. A tow arrived and hooked itself up to the nose wheel of the plane, and slowly towed it back to the Centoh hangar, where it was gingerly backed inside. It would be out of service until it could properly be repaired. It was now just another problem for Maverick to fix.

Problems seemed like the norm anymore for Barev. Since the start of the new year, Maverick watched as crisis after crisis hit, and placed him in damage control mode. Company profits were way down, millions in debt, there were vendor supply issues, customer cancellations, quality control problems, and a general sense of low morale amongst the employees as the pandemic ground on, and now entered its second wave of massive infections across the nation. The whole nation seemed lost in chaos; there were at least two thousands deaths a day from coronavirus, there was civil unrest over police brutality, discrimination, and the global economy turned on its head from the pandemic. Maverick had to contend with all of that, while rallying his workers and company ahead, a herculean task. The trials and tribulations were made harder by a great personal loss in his life; the death of his wife, back in June, which he still reeled from.

With the plane crash mitigated for now, the husky was thrust into the Chicago media, which wanted to interview him and the crew over the belly landing at Midway. It was a overwhelming media frenzy, as Maverick had cameras and microphones shoved into his face for commentary. He made a few comments, and quickly whisked himself away; his itinerary required him to work fast.

Climbing back aboard "Attica" with his entourage, the DC-6 turned around and took off for Virginia, to the Barev Electronics Factory, in Fairfax. It took two hours with the help of a tailwind, to reach Fairfax. Maverick spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon meeting with the management team at "Barev One", discussing the lingering quality control issues that continued to periodically creep up. The problem didn't seem to be on Barev's side anymore; the company was back up and running near capacity. The issue stemmed from the varying quality of materials coming in for manufacturing. Vendors were getting sloppy on their own quality control, and sending bad raw materials. It was a frustrating, never ending problem that led to numerous arguments between Barev, it's suppliers, and customers. Taking a bit of a respite, Mav helped shoot a promo video with engineers Ron Napier and Darryl Sanders, over vacuum tubes and magnetic tape products. Then they drove back to the airport to fly off to Lainsville, in New York, to inspect the Centoh hub there, before finally returning to Ohio by nightfall. Maverick and his son returned home, mentally worn out.

---

Cold white fluorescent lamps glowed against the exposed joists of his garage workshop. Sitting in his swivel chair, Maverick spent the early night working on his old studio cameras, changing tubes out, and cleaning and servicing logic boards that were inside. The big husky sat in a swivel chair, listening to the evening news play on his laptop over on the workshop bench, while he worked to calibrate another one of his restored "Big Blues", a 1981 vintage RCA TK-47EP. At the CCU, he manipulated dials and switches to manually "paint" the camera up, the camera head itself staring at a calibration chart held up on an easel. It had a series and black and white lines, color bars, and markings for the CCU's onboard computer to align to, but Maverick had found that computer was malfunctioning; he would have to do it manually. By adjusting the pots, he cancelled out lens aberrations by using the scan amplitude of the tubes, and aligned all three color channels. On his monitor he got a crisp, clean picture from the brand new set of Diode-Gun Plumbicons; the big 30mm tubes gave a sharp, bright image that was noiseless, thanks to the TK-47's special preamps that ran the tubes at -3dB.

He got up and took control of the camera head, which was bolted down to a vintage Vinten pedestal. Sweeping the camera around in a random panning motion, Mav looked at all the other TK-47EP's that sat in his garage. He and Rob had obtained eight of them over the past year; they were intended for an ambitious project with Hulu, for an eighties themed sitcom, shot completely on analog cameras for aesthetics. Mav had labored to get all eight back up and running, which involved hours of meticulous cleaning of board connectors, replacing capacitors and resistors, cleaning the dichotic prism splitters, and replacing worn out, burned out tubes. But at the last moment, Hulu pulled out and cancelled the project, citing the downturn from the pandemic. It was another disappointing blow to a disappointing year.

Feeling bored, Maverick played around with his studio camera. He swept it around, watching the bright spotlights in his garage comet-tail in the tubes. On the monitor the overload had a bright crimson tail off the bright lights, but the after-image trail in the picture was a ghostly white, which faded out after a few seconds from the beam discharge. Like Rob, he was "loose" with the comet-tail suppression. RCA's CTS circuits were iffy, and if one wasn't careful aligning up the beam current reserve, the overload would damage and burn out the tube's gun. Too high of beam currents would also degrade the resolution, as the beam spot would bleed over relative to the line structure of the imaging target. Thus, Mav and Rob often partially disabled the CTS circuit, to simply setup of the cameras, and to get the comet-tailing lag effect.

Powering the camera down and capping the lens, he rolled it to where the other seven TK-47's rested at. As he disconnected its cable to the CCU, his ears picked up the latest headlines, this one about Ohio State University. Mav heard OSU and thought immediately about his new friend, Maverick Kennedy, a husky who ironically shared his nickname. He was Mav's doppelganger; they were the same age, and they looked almost alike. He was the assistant athletic director at OSU, and formerly a coach to a college in greater Cleveland. Pausing from his labor, the Russian husky watched on his laptop as the anchorwoman talked about a 108 million dollar shortfall in OSU's budget, on account of the pandemic; there were to be big layoffs in the athletic department, due to the severe slump in revenue for the school. He thought about his friend, who he hadn't heard much from or seen since late August. He had met the other Maverick by pure chance at a charity event, during a slight lull in the pandemic, and became instant friends with him. He helped Mav channel through the emotional nadir he faced after Amy's death, when he basically shut down emotionally. The joke of "I'm Maverick, you're Mav- wait, what if I'm Maverick and you're Mav!" brought a momentary smile to the husky's face. He even chuckled at the memory.

Returning to his swivel seat at his workbench, Mav continued to listen, as he watched a video clip of Maverick speak to the local NBC affiliate. He was a tall, muscular, burly husky, much like himself, with a well built, hourglass shaped body dressed in a snug fitting polo shirt. He had similar markings and colors to his fur, but his face mask went up to a point between his eyes, verses Mav's face mask, which dipped downwards. He spoke with a deep, masculine voice, which had a bit of a southern drawl to it, his muzzle covered by an OSU marked face mask. Maverick spoke from his well furnished office about the announced layoffs, and sounded regretful about the whole situation. There were talks about sport cancellations, students getting sick, and budget shortfalls. He continued to listen as he grabbed another camera body to work on.

Armed with a screwdriver, Maverick took apart the light and dark gray camera body of a Sharp XC-B10. He worked quickly to take the cover panel off and remove the optical assembly, which held the prism splitter, deflection yokes, and tubes. It took a half twist to pull the tubes from the assembly, revealing a set of stubby two-thirds inch, mixed-field tubes, made by Sony. Their glossy, deep purple imaging targets gave them away as Saticon III's. He sat the worn out tubes aside and grabbed a box of new Saticons, which were engineering samples from Barev; the "Advanced Mixed-Field, LOC Diode-Gun Saticon V, type S6575" were still engineering samples, as the company worked to iron out mixed-field technology. Rather than the traditional all magnetically focused and deflected tube, Mixed-Fields were tubes that employed electrostatic deflection and magnetic focusing. In theory, it reduced distortions of the beam that caused soft corners, and helped minimize lag. Electrostatic deflection allowed for smaller, less power hungry yokes, and the tubes themselves could be made shorter. The deflection coils were built into the tube, etched in the silvered glass as a set of zigzag patterns to properly deflect the beam relative to the target. Maverick reversed the process and installed the new Barev tubes into their yokes and locked them into place.

He had four more B-10's, and five B-20P's, which used Mixed-Field Plumbicons, to clean up, and re-tube, for use with BVS, the broadcasting division. They were the last video production group anywhere, to regularly use analog equipment. Rob liked the Sharp's colorimetry so much that he gave Mav the green light to restore them for regular use, to supplement their fleet of Ikegami, Sony, and RCA cameras. Maverick chuckled to himself of the sort of playful "rivalry" he had with Rob over tube type; Rob liked Plumbicons, and he liked Saticons. They constantly went back and forth over the merits of tube type. Rob always argued about the high burn-in resistance, the colorimetry, and standard broadcast adoption of the lead-oxide Plumbicon, while Maverick adored the Saticon for its long gun life, easier burn mitigation should a highlight "stick", and its colorimetry. His thoughts about his best friend made his smile start to fade.

He sat back from what he was doing and realized that he barely got to hang out with Rob all during the year. Rob had been severely injured in a workplace accident and he had spent several months in convalescence. It was made longer by a sudden bout of the flu and pneumonia, that kept him bedridden for almost two months alone. The pandemic also kept them apart for the most part, and now he was going to Akron almost every day to resolve a legal matter. It was such a terrible year, with a sense that everything was going horribly wrong. Here he was, feeling so alone, after Amy died, cut off from his friends and normal activities because of a serious virus, nursing along a crippled company reeling from the worst economic recession since the Great Depression. The weight felt terrible on his shoulders.

Still clutching the blue tube in his grip, Maverick stared off into space with a blank, detached from reality gaze.

---

"Once again, it's the bad materials coming in from our vendors, not Barev's manufacturing..."

Rubbing his forehead, Maverick exhaled slowly at a tense phone call he was having with a customer, a hospital director from Texas. It was a boisterous phone call over a bad batch of medical-imaging Plumbicon tubes that were purchased for the hospital's legacy CT and MRI machines. They had apparently failed after just thirty-hours use, the victims of "holes and blemishes" emerging from the defective targets. It was a problem that lead-oxide tubes suffered from in particular, and was a nagging issue that affected Plumbicons since their debut by Philips in 1960. Maverick tried to explain that Plumbicons were sensitive to the quality of lead-oxide, and that a contaminated batch lead to excessive blemishing of the targets. All that got was another round of accusations of poor manufacturing on Barev's end.

"Again, it's the bad materials coming in from our vendors, not Barev's manufacturing." Maverick reiterated.

"What, you don't have fucking quality control on your end?"

"I'm going to ask you to not cuss at me please." Maverick scolded. "I am not cussing at you. I am trying to help you."

"So you're telling me that you have no control over the manufacturing quality!?"

"No, I never said that. There was a bad batch of lead-oxide that came in contaminated with trace amounts of tellurium that was not detected when the targets were manufactured. Even in an ideal, perfect environment, the vapor deposit process is not completely perfect, and Plumbicons are very sensitive to target thickness and consistency. Holes and blemishes are something that even perfectly made Plumbs can suffer from- it's just endemic to that model of vidicon. If you are concerned about blemishes and tube operational life, you can easily swap them for a set of medical grade Saticons- selenium, arsenic, tellurium targets are amorphous glass- they do not suffer from blemishes."

"That would require a costly refit!"

"You adjust target voltage and gun voltage. If I can swap Saticons into a TK-76, and have it fully calibrated in less than an hour, you yahoo's can do the same for a CT scanner." Maverick quipped sarcastically.

"If you're so fucking smart about doin' this, then why don't you fly your dumbass down here and fix it yourself since you guys fucked my machines up!"

"Or...if you're not happy with Barev's tubes, we'll refund you, and you can go on GE Medical's website and order a deadstock set of medical Plumbicons that were made by Perkin-Elmer in the nineties, and go whine at them."

"Fuck you."

The line went dead.

Maverick slowly exhaled and put his phone down on his desk. He didn't say anything as he rubbed his forehead from a tension headache. He dropped his head up and closed his eyes, just as his cellphone went off again. It was Gerome Robinson, the assistant plant director for Barev One.

"Yeah." Maverick answered.

"Mav? Hey it's Gerome... we got... a radio station director calling in...regarding a defective Klystron..."

"Okay."

"This is the third one we've sent him as for warranty replacement... and like the other two, the gun burned out prematurely...I believe at fourteen-hundred hours. He would like to speak to you."

"Alrighty."

Maverick closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as he awaited the call. His phone soon rang and he answered it begrudgingly.

"Maverick Tokarev, head of United Barev."

"This is Killian Butcherman of K-O-O-W in Tulsa... I am wanting to ask you why I have gone silent on the air because of a third defective Klystron?"

Maverick closed his eyes and listened to the radio director berate him and the company for their defective Klystrons. It was a verbal barrage that ended when Maverick abruptly hung up. He turned his cellphone off and threw it across his living room, where it smacked against the wall and landed on the ground with a thud. Paws trembled a bit as Maverick contained his frustration. He took two steps away from his desk, and suddenly stopped, his paws immediately grabbing his chest. He doubled over to the feeling of chest pain, a sensation that his chest was tightening up. His breathing was shallow, and each breath hurt. Fear stabbed his mind of another heart attack.

"Robby..."

Checking himself into the hospital, Maverick underwent some tests in the emergency room, which ruled out any serious cardiac problems. He was diagnosed with an anxiety attack, and hypertension. The doctor ordered him to rest, and gave him a sedative to calm his nerves.

"I don't know how I'm going to rest, when I have to save Barev." Maverick spoke to his son, a thirteen year old beige and tan husky. "Rob's gonna kill me if I drive this company into the ground..."

"Maybe you'll be like all the other CEO's that run their company into the ground and get millions in severance?" Robby sarcastically quipped. Maverick gave a sarcastic gesture behind his homemade mask in mock agreement.

"Think of it this way Dad. It's always darkest before the dawn~" Robby suggested.

"I agree." Maverick nodded. "It's just a rough time... It's made rougher because there's just no horizon to see yet...the future is clouded by the fog of uncertainty."

"I know." Robby frowned. "I don't even know if school's going to ever be safe."

"I don't even know if and when this pandemic is ever gonna lift, because of our anemic government response." Maverick admitted. "This is what happens when you elect a clown- you get a circus."

"Exactly!" Robby laughed. "Well...I'm gonna go to the vending machine~"

"Oooh, get me a bag of corn chips!" Maverick suggested as he reached into his pocket to grab a dollar from his wallet.

"Okay!"

Robby quickly left his hospital room, pushing past the beige curtain. No sooner had he left, when a knock against the wall got Maverick's attention. Stepping into the room was Karen Barion, the hospital's trauma nurse in the ER. The husky-wolf was dressed in her blue scrubs, complete with booties, a head covering, goggles, and a mask. Karen took two steps in and just stopped; she stared at the husky and his silly, homemade mask, depicting his own muzzle, with a huge shit-eating grin on it. Mav stared at her with wide eyes, making himself look psychotic with the grinning mask on.

"Why can't you just be normal?" Karen asked him sarcastically.

"Where's the fun in that?" Maverick responded with a snort.

"Jason told me you checked into the ER for chest pains~ How are you feeling now?"

"Much better after they calmed me down." The husky admitted. "I had a bad panic attack it seems from all the stress."

"Heh, join the crowd..." Karen nodded. "It's not fun wearing this shit all day...but someone's gotta do it."

"Yeah, that's what I tell myself when I try and unfuck a fucked up company..." Mav rolled his eyes. He emitted a soft sigh beneath his grinning mask.

"I understand completely, Mav." Karen nodded in understanding.

"They tell me to rest, but how can I rest? There's a whole lot of people depending on me. A lot of my friends, families all over the US... they're depending on me to navigate the impossible."

"You can only do it one day at a time." Karen responded. "Things will get better in due time."

"When?" Mav asked rhetorically.

"I don't know." Karen shook her head in a disappointed way.

---

The afternoon sun shone brilliantly through the canopy of colorful trees. Wanting to escape away from his problems for a bit, Maverick and Robby ventured down to Hocking Hills, to go spend much needed father-son time, and videotape some waterfalls.

Gravel on the trail crunched beneath their feet as the two huskies walked alone on the trail, descending into the valley of Cedar Falls. Robby walked ahead of his dad, the two of them lugging around their cumbersome videotape recorders, and re-tubed XC-B10's. Robby carried his U-Matic recorder strapped to him like a backpack, while Mav carried his BVU-150 via its thick strap against his shoulder. Despite the cool temperatures, the air in the valley felt heavy with humidity from the river that flowed from the waterfall. Evergreens mixed with the deciduous forest clinging along the rocky hills of the valley, casting a blaze of color all around for their cameras.

Surprisingly there were few people at Cedar Falls, as Maverick and Robby stood at the base of the falls, recording the roar of water as it splashed over the slickened sandstone walls. Robby knelt, balancing the camera on his shoulder, while Mav ran his off a tripod for a stationary shot. Their gear got a few curious glances by passerbys. For Maverick, it felt great just to escape from his problems and spend the afternoon with his son, far away from everyone and everything that was ailing him emotionally.

"I like the B-10's, Dad." Robby admitted as he wiped water droplets off the lens with a tissue.

"They have a good balance on the shoulder don't they?" chuckled Maverick as he swapped tapes. With muscle memory, the husky grasped the tape from the cartridge door, swung it around to rest against his stomach and the VTR, and grabbed a fresh tape from its plastic sleeve. He shoved the light gray cassette into the sleeve and wrote on its label with a blue marker. It was then promptly placed back into the bag.

"Boy Dad, you just got those motions down pat~" chuckled Robby.

"Yeah, when you've been messing with U-Matic for over twenty years now, you get used to it." The big husky chuckled.

With the sun beginning to set, and the valley beginning to plunge into shadow, the two huskies began their long trek back to the truck.

"You ever think things are gonna go back to normal?" Robby asked as they slowly walked uphill.

"Probably not for a while." Mav admitted. "I don't see this pandemic lifting until sometime in maybe 2022."

"That's a long way away..."

"Yeah... when you think about it..." Mav shook his head. "It's disappointing, you know?"

"Yep." Robby solemnly nodded in agreement. "I don't really want to go back to school until I know for sure it's safe~"

"I understand fully, and I don't want you to go back until we know it's safe...well...safer!" Maverick exclaimed with a sarcastic end. "This is what a failure of leadership looks like."

Maverick smiled and rolled his eyes. "I have to lead my entire company through this unmitigated disaster, and I have three thousand employees that are depending on me to do that! But maybe I'll just be like the president and just completely just shrug my shoulders and go 'fuck it!' Ha! I mean, what's three hundred and thirty million people!? SILLY POOR PEOPLE! ADVANCED MEDICAL TREATMENT IS FOR RICH PEOPLE!"

Robby had a laugh at his dad's morbid quip. "Then you really would be like Trump~"

"Yeah, drive my company into the ground and declare bankruptcy! D'OH! MONEY LAUNDERING!" the Russian husky chuckled cynically. "Oh man, I could never do that- Rob would kill me, and I could never do that to my best friend and thousands of people whose livelihoods are dependent on Barev."

"You just have to weather the bad then, Dad?"

"That's right! And hope the stress doesn't give me another heart attack..." Mav rolled his eyes sarcastically. "You got a spare heart lying around dontcha?" Robby just laughed a bit.

"It's always darkest before the dawn... One has to weather the bad to appreciate the good, they say." Mav said with some encouragement on his tone. "But this year has really shown this country's longstanding endemic problems."

"Yeah..."

"But of course nothing's gonna get done- that's the American way! Just give a bunch of platitudes, and then sweep it under the rug!" laughed Maverick cynically.

"Why fix it when you can just kick the can down the road for the next guy!" Robby exclaimed.

"Exactly!" the husky laughed with a shrug. "You're perfect politician material, Robby!"

"Heh, maybe." The young husky laughed.

The sun slipped beyond the hills as Maverick and Robby returned to his truck in the lot. They stowed their video gear away in the backseat of Maverick's crew cab Silverado, climbed back in, and turned around to begin the long drive back to Newark. Twilight turned to night on their journey home, as headlights pierced the darkness of rural Ohio on Route 33. The two huskies sat in the dim cab, with the occasional glare of headlights of opposing traffic momentarily illuminating them. The gauge cluster and dash glowed from the indicator lights.

"So Dad, how do you think you're gonna turn business around?" Robby asked curiously.

Maverick let out a slow exhale through clenched teeth. "Well... it's sort of a work in progress."

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "It's going to have to just be cost cutting and wage and benefit concessions... and sadly... job layoffs... something me and Rob are discussing with the big wigs at Centoh and Barev One..." Mav smacked his lips together. "We're about four hundred million in debt... and a hundred million of that is courtesy of Narovec zapping Jerry with a damn Klystron, and the NRC big wigs fining us for a radiological accident."

"Yeahhhhhhhh~" Robby shook his head.

"You know what? Being nice sucks." Laughed Maverick in a jaded way. "I wanted to help my workers during this crisis, so when everything shut down, I continued paying people their wages... because well... I had to~ A lot of people are hurting in this pandemic."

"I think it was the right thing to do." Robby shrugged.

"It just...blew up in my face." Maverick fumbled his brow. "I thought I could mitigate it, but this pandemic has ground on much worse than what I expected, because people are not doing the steps to mitigate the damage! It's too much to ask to wear a mask, or socially distance, because 'mah freedums', and the 'gooberment ain't tellin' me to wear that there commie mask!' PFFFFPPFFFFFTTTTTTT!"

"And you got the people who think it doesn't exist and is some political stunt~" Robby added.

"Yeah, that too. The same people who think Trumpsky is the second coming of Christ! Silly Trumpers! Don't they know that was Reagan? HUR! HUR! HUR!" laughed the big husky, who got his son to laugh with him.

"Oh!" Maverick added. "I do think I can help mitigate the budget shortfall, as Marcus is talking to a few big names in advertising."

"Oh yeah, Dad?"

"Yeah! Our analog broadcast gear has been attracting some attention lately for its aesthetics, and a couple big names want us to make some retro themed advertising for them... and that could net in the big bucks that Barev really needs!"

"Oooh~ Neat!"

"I said that too! So we'll see how that goes."

Returning home close to nine o'clock at night, Robby ran inside clutching one camera suitcase and his VTR, while Maverick followed behind. He sat his gear down on the couch and glanced over to find his phone still sitting there he threw it at earlier. He had completely forgotten about it.

"Oh crap..." Mav muttered as he walked over to retrieve it. Turning it back on, he found his voicemail clogged with messages from friends, and a few customers. As he scanned through the log, he saw that he received a message from his friend, Maverick Kennedy. That immediately perked his attention as he played it back.

"Hey Mav-O, o' buddy of mine." Came his deep, resonating voice. "I'm sorry I haven't been in touch with you lately since the last time we saw each other. I've been really busy until today. I'm sure you heard on the news that Ohio State was laying off members of the athletic department... and well... today I received notification that I am one of them as well. I got laid off, effective today, for six months, maybe longer, or permanent. So yeah. When you get this message, please call me back. Hope to hear from you soon. Bye~"

Maverick lowered his phone with a look of disappointment on his face.

---

Downtown Newark's courthouse square provided the backdrop to a working lunch. The mid-morning sun shone through the colorful canopy of a mighty maple tree, where beneath sat Maverick and his entourage at a round picnic table. The mild breeze rustled paperwork and paper bags.

Maverick sat with Marcus and Felix Barion, Charles Manchester, Nico Timofeyevich, and his brother Dmitry. They formed the "inner echelon" of United Barev, with Marcus and Felix being involved with BVS, their broadcast division. It was a working lunch to discuss plans on big marketing projects, and budgeting, to turn the company around. The four huskies shared the table with the three Dobermans. On the sun bleached wooden table were binders, folders, and notepads of documents. The rustle of paper bags and the flipping through of binders was the ambience around the table.

"I thought I'd like to share some updates on a couple big commercial projects that are very promising." Marcus announced to the group. The white and gray husky flipped through his binder of paperwork. "I'll start with the most lucrative one- Turnberry Dairy, out of Chicago. They're wanting us to make a series of commercials and print ads for their premium ice cream, for its national debut. They're willing to pay a hundred million dollars for this massive campaign spanning into 2022, and they are particularly interested in our analog fleet for a classic look, especially to commemorate thirty-five years of business."

"That's a lot of money~" Maverick nodded as he munched on a handful of fries.

"I like it." Felix added. "Good for the budget."

"Critical. For the budget~" Maverick emphasized.

Marcus flipped a page. "I also have some smaller, but still worthwhile projects."

"Let 'er rip, Marcus~"

"Let's see- We have multiple inquiries about videos for the local and state health departments regarding the pandemic, and even an inquiry about a national set of infomercials by the CDC." Marcus went on to mention a few other commercial inquiries from local businesses around the state. Maverick and the others liked the idea.

"The graphic design stuff won't be too hard." Dmitry chimed in with a muzzle full of food. The chubby husky dabbed his muzzle with a napkin and pushed a few greasy looking locks of yellow blonde hair out of his face. "I just need what they want and I can do the rest."

"Yep." Nico nodded. "We'll just need the input for the publishing part."

"I'm just afraid this will strain BVS's resources." Felix admitted.

"Heh, not like we're doing anything else!" snorted Maverick. "I hope this can bring in enough revenue to help patch the budget up. I need to close the big ass gap Barev's facing."

"The Turnberry deal is my mission critical. I think it has the most potential." Marcus pointed out.

"Yeah, the most potential to go either or." Maverick rolled his eyes.

"By the way- before I forget. I sent the Turnberry execs, a brace of sample videos from several of our tube cameras, to see what they like. Sample footage from the TK-47's, HK-322's, SK-110A's, HL-79's, to name a few."

"I bet they loved my HK-322's with their narrow-angle scan Saticon V's~" chuckled the Russian husky with a smug smirk.

"Actually no. They thought that picture was garbage. They liked the TK-47EP's with the big thirty millimeter Diode-Gun Plumbicons."

"Ah." Maverick responded, looking disappointed.

"They thought it balanced out the right amount of sharpness, with those warm, soft pastel colors, and the right amount of lag effects." Marcus explained. Charles, a aging Welsh Dober, leaned in a bit.

"They also wanted to know who the 'fucking loser was with the shit-eating grin mask on'." Charles added.

"Hmph." Mav shook his head.

"Well if there's a consolation. They did like your XC-B10 footage."

"Yessssssss~" Maverick breathed a sigh of relief. "I knew it!"

"So that's that for ya." Marcus chuckled. "The only annoyance... we have to use their paid spokesperson."

"Oh my god..." Maverick grunted.

"This guy named Mario Schleppi." The Nordic husky added. "He looks like a pretentious douche."

"What's he look like?"

Felix shook his head and rolled his green eyes a bit with a chuckle. "He's a red furred Dober- looks kind of like Nico, in his early forties, but with brown hair in a man-bun, wears v-necks, snug jeans and Chuck Taylors."

"Eww. He sounds like a fag!" Maverick laughed.

"He's this washed up C-grade actor who's only claim to fame was being on some sitcom in the nineties."

"Loser!" laughed Maverick.

"Think about the money~"

"Exactly~"

"If you are fine with this Mav-O, I'll split these projects up into teams. We'll knock out the small projects as we tackle Turnberry."

"Sure." Maverick agreed. "Not like anything else is trickling in for the broadcast division!"

"You're telling me..." Marcus shook his head.

"This has been quite a year..." Nico added.

"Yeah, no shit..." Dmitry added.

"I didn't think I'd be overseeing a company going all over the place..." Maverick added. "I have to close the budget gap. The company can turn a profit if I can get rid of the debt... but sadly... I'm probably gonna have to lay off a few hundred employees."

Everyone was mum around the table.

"You guys are safe... it's gonna have to be the folks in Virginia... and some of the Centoh folks that are gonna get the cut."

"It's terrible...but if you have to do it...you have to do it."

"May I suggest an idea for revenue making?" Dmitry suggested.

"Oh boy... what's your idea?" Maverick sarcastically quipped.

"Well I got the thinking about this lately... why don't we live stream things? Like my graphic design stuff, or how things are made, get sponsorship and that'll rake in the dough!" Dmitry exclaimed.

"Oh my god, no." Maverick shook his head. "That would completely fuck us over with copyrights, and other legal matters with sponsors... plus... sponsors? Really? This is a company with three thousand employees- sponsors? That's just below us."

"Hey, I was just offering up an idea!"

"Yeah! Another dumb idea by chubbums." Mav rolled his eyes.

"Call me chubbums again! Considering I do all of Barev's graphic design work! I'm essential!" Dmitry boasted.

"Oh, yeah, drawing phalluses at any opportunity you can!"

"I draw dick shapes!"

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK PHALLUS MEANS!" Mav shouted at his brother.

"Oh Dmitry..." Nico shook his head.

"We're going to have to tiptoe around all the pandemic precautions... I can already tell that's going to be a nightmare in itself..." Charles mentioned, before biting into a green apple.

"Two thousand deaths a day across the nation." Felix added.

"Sixty-five thousand cases a day." Marcus chimed in.

"It sucks doesn't it?" Mav responded. "Now my buddy in Columbus lost his job."

"The other Mav-O?" Dmitry asked.

"Yep! OSU laid him off yesterday."

"Wow that blows." Dmitry frowned.

"It's the reality of 2020." Mav grimaced. "Something I'm going to have to do myself..."

"How's everyone else holding up?" Charles asked the group.

"Eh, playing it safe..." Nico shrugged.

"No adventures or anything..." Felix quipped. "It's been a very boring, sometimes lonely 2020..."

"My life's been basically on almost pause since March." Marcus added.

"My life's been actually pretty normal, if you ask me~" Dmitry shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess life would be pretty normal for you when you don't do anything, huh?" Nico snorted.

"Oh yeah? I do plenty of stuff!" Dmitry protested.

"Oh here we go..." Felix smiled.

"I do your fucking laundry and clean your bedroom! You are thirty-seven and I clean your disgusting ass room." Nico scoffed. "Meanwhile you just play videogames and fart around!"

"I help you with your job! And I get you and Vlad your weed- so shut it Nico!" Dmitry protested as he flipped him off.

"Anyways... how's Robby doing with virtual school?" Marcus asked, trying to defuse the usual banter with Dmitry.

"Oh, Robby's doing okay. Heck, it's actually been pretty fun helping him out with school work. Shit! Why couldn't this have happened when I was in school! I'd love to sit in my boxers all day doing school work. Pull the perfect Ferris Bueller!"

"Well that's good to hear~"

"Yeah, we're currently learning about the French Revolution, and it's quite fun to go back and relearn about it~ I remember learning about it during freshman year. The class inequality, the first estate, the second estate, and-"

Maverick interrupted himself and smacked Dmitry paw, stopping him from stealing his fries. "GET YO THIRD ESTATE PAWS OFF MY FRIES YOU LOWLY PEASANT!"

Dmitry retreated and rubbed his paw. The others just chuckled.

"Let 'em eat cake, Mav-O~" Marcus shook his head with a smirk.

---

The Arena District was the sparking gem of Columbus. Swanky apartments and condos shared space with restaurants, bars, and a few parks with trees ablaze in red foliage. Nationwide Arena and Huntington Park were for the sport venues. Everything was quiet in the community watering hole; the pandemic closed up businesses, and sidewalks were empty. Outdoor cafés were silent. The Arena District was home to Maverick Kennedy, Mav's new friend. An expat from Biloxi Mississippi, an alumnus of Ole Miss, the big husky was the perfect analog to Mav. They were both thirty-six, and played baseball in their youth. They also looked almost identical, save for their "husky mask" differing a bit around the eyes. He lived in an upscale apartment complex that overlooked the district and downtown Columbus with his boyfriend Faust, and their friend, Greyn.

Pulling into the parking lot, Mav swung the wheel to his blue 3500HD and rumbled into the lot with his son. Robby sat clutching a big glass salad bowl that was sealed by saran wrap. He turned and backed into a parking space, next to Maverick's black half-ton Silverado. The two got out and quickly made their way inside for the elevator to the sixth floor.

Inside his apartment, Maverick stood on his balcony, grilling steaks. The smoke billowed away from a cool breeze. The husky was dressed in his usual shorts and a t-shirt, all of it clinging to his ripped, muscular body. He just finished turning over a couple steaks, when he heard the doorbell to his apartment go off. He closed the lid and stepped back inside to answer it. Maverick opened the door to just pause and stare at his friend, who wore his grinning mask that seamlessly matched to his face. Maverick had a smirk curl up and laughed at the sight.

"Oh my god. Why can't you be normal?" he teased.

"Where's the fun in that?" Mav responded. "Well we're here!"

"I see!" grinned Maverick. "Hey Rob-o!"

"Hey big Mav!" Robby greeted.

"Come on in!"

Robby stepped inside, followed by Mav, who clutched his salad bowl. "Tossed my salad, Maverick!"

"Good for you!" grinned the husky as he patted Mav on the back. "I'm proud of you!"

"Thanks!"

Mav closed the door behind him. "Where's everyone else at?"

"Well Faust is probably making his way back from Gunpowder Trails in Kentucky." Maverick chuckled. "Eighty-four fucked him again on a long run."

"Oh lord~" chuckled the Russian husky.

"Greyn's grabbing a few things at the store."

"Ahh~"

"Come, put your salad bowl down here."

Maverick stepped back out onto his balcony to continue grilling. Mav followed behind and stepped out to brace himself against the railing to admire the scenery.

"WHOO! EYYYY!" the husky yelled, hearing his echo. He sarcastically waved a few people down on the sidewalk below. "EYYY! YOU GUYS!"

"Stop it!" Maverick laughed. "People are gonna think you're gonna jump!"

"Sorry... couldn't help it~" Mav shrugged. "Always wanted to do that."

"Oh lord..." chuckled the other husky.

"So...how are you doing?" Mav asked him.

"Well...about as well to be expected when you get the rug pulled out from under your feet..." Maverick responded in a slightly disgruntled tone. "Everything was going so well...then boom!"

"2020 happened." Mav chimed in.

"Yeah... exactly..."

"I honestly should have saw this coming..." Maverick admitted. "Between my delay coming back from break... and then everything just going wrong when classes resumed at OSU."

"I can imagine. What happened if you mind me asking?" Mav curiously poked.

Maverick flipped another steak and sprinkled seasoning on it. "Oh I get back there, and within about the first month, we had over two hundred students get expelled for not following the Covid restrictions in place. I lost a couple good, promising athletes that way. Then they kept pushing back and then cancelling, and then un-cancelling sporting events, this back and forth, back and forth, angry parents calling me constantly, students disgruntled over everything. It was rough. Then the budget shortfall happened, and my boss told me to start compiling names for termination. THAT was rough. You see these people wave and smile at you every morning, as you're planning their termination. Then when all the dirty work was done? I was handed my paperwork, got a 'sorry' and was told to go. Maybe I'll come back in six months, maybe I won't. Now I'm struggling to get my stupid unemployment going..."

"Wow. That sucks dude..."

"Yeah... Just another nail in the coffin called 2020!" laughed Maverick cynically.

"Yeah exactly!"

"How's your business?"

"...where do I start?"

Soon everyone was around the dinner table in Maverick's apartment. Greyn returned home from the store, and almost an hour later, Faust returned home, in his work truck, straight from Kentucky. Everyone ate around the lacquered dinner table, enjoying a meal of steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a salad. It was a time to talk and unwind around each other, a sense of normality in a world filled with utter chaos. Greyn and Faust grumbled about their jobs at the lumber yard, and the never ending insanity in last second sales. Maverick went a bit further in detail about his unemployment battle, and Mav talked about his own struggles keeping Barev afloat. That caught everyone's attention, as Mav told his herculean tale of trying to "unfuck his company", and his plans that were being set in motion.

Mav abruptly turned his head to look at Maverick, a grin curling up on his muzzle. "I'm working on a couple video projects..."

"Oh boy." Maverick responded with a chuckle.

"NEVER LEAVE A CRISIS UNEXPLOITED!" the Russian husky exclaimed. "You should be part of this!"

"Heh!" Maverick chuckled in return. "I never thought much of myself being an actor~"

"You were a masterpiece in your OSU video we shot!"

"Look where that took me!" laughed the husky.

"Right to the unemployment line!" teased Faust.

"I know!" Maverick quipped back with a shit-eating grin.

"Hey, you win some and you lose some~ But you can totally be part of my efforts to generate enough money to close the giant budget gap! Plus, I'll pay you handsomely~"

"Handsomely you say? Well now you're just buttering me up~" grinned Maverick at his friend.

Mav shrugged. "Heh, what can I say?"

"Heh, I got nothing to lose, so fine. Let's see how I can embarrass my ass further~"

"It could be worse..." Faust added with a shrug.

Maverick shrugged his muscular arms with a smile. "I could be like Jim and wind up in prison for voyeurism and allowing hundreds of OSU athletes be molested during his tenure as assistant baseball coach~"

"Weird~" Mav sarcastically agreed. "Almost like Jordan was a piece of colossal dog shit~"

"Hey, I was thinking just that!" laughed Maverick.

"It's gonna be great!" Mav exclaimed with a grin.

---

Enroute to Chicago, Mav and his team flew aboard "Altair", Barev's rare Starliner. The polished and posh Lockheed cruised with its graceful thin wings slicing through the patchy magenta tinted clouds. They were enroute to meet with the executives of Turnberry Dairy, to sign and accept the deal between the two companies on advertising.

In the tail of "Altair" Mav sat at Rob's desk in what was his personal quarters. The small room had a desk and bed, and some shelving that was bolted to the wall. Faux wood paneling adored the bulkheads. Mav worked alone; the husky sat writing a letter to a pen pal of his. Since his wife's death, he kept in touch with all the several people whose lives were saved by her organ donation. He sat writing a letter to Mary Gordon, a sixty-two year old Chicagoan who received Amy's heart. She was someone he had grown close to platonically; she was a chef, and had a passion for cooking much like Amy's. They wrote letters back and forth, talking about cookery, and their mutual interest in postcards and travel. He kept in touch with all of them, which helped him emotionally cope. He liked hearing about their lives, their hopes for the future. Mav finished up her letter, written on a manila colored Barev letterhead, stuffed it into an envelope, which he addressed, and went right down the line, responding to all of them. He eventually got a neat stack of envelopes, which he gently packed into his laptop bag. He would mail them once he got into Chicago.

Grabbing a binder, Mav flipped through it, to double check his sketches and outlines for some of the Turnberry commercial concepts. His own sketches, done with a felt pen and pencil filled page after page, with typed out outlines, and script ideas. It was a big lucrative contract that would do wonders in helping to close up Barev's debt load. He flipped through the pages one more time, looking more closely at the five commercial spots planned and their scripts. He stowed the binder back away, and went to fetch more paperwork to look at. He sat in front of him a set of drawings, of a new paint scheme for Barev's transport planes.

Mav had worked on the design with Rob's nephew Alvin; in fact, Rob had very little involvement on something that was usually his domain. It was Mav's first time designing a paint scheme for an aircraft, and it was a project that perked his curiosity. On his sheet of cardstock was a drawing, depicting a Douglas DC-3, painted up with a dark royal blue lower fuselage, wings, and cowlings. Its upper half was painted titanium white, and the two were separated by a thin red cheat line. The tail had a royal blue stripe across it, which bore the seal of United Barev, and a small US flag. "United Barev Industries/Barev's Air Transport Service" graced the upper fuselage in a stenciled font, reminiscent to the military scheme that Mav and Alvin based the design off of. As with all of Barev's transport planes, the nose was graced by the "golden WHIN arrow" logo, which stood for "We're Here In Newark!" Mav had drawn another version of it, for the planes that would be based in other states of Barev's operation. "WFNO"- "We're From Newark Ohio" would its abbreviation. The scheme was named "Royal Barev Blue"

Flipping through, he had drawn the scheme for the Constellation, Super Constellation, DC-6, and DC-7. It was part of an ambitious plan to provide Barev's employees with their own internal airline for transport needs between the various hubs and locations where they do business at. "BATS", "Barev's Air Transport Service", would be formed out of the rubble of the shut down "Great Lakes Airlines", itself a failed project by Felix Barion. Five L-1049H's, six DC-6B's, and several C-47's would form the nucleus of "BATS", providing "internal passenger and cargo services for Barev". It would help take pressure off Centoh, which was starting to strain from meeting both internal and external customer needs.

Going to the last set of drawings, they depicted the scheme applied to a DC-7B and DC-7C "Seven Seas". They were the next two planes to be added to the executive fleet of Barev. It was a decision made solely by Mav, to augment the current fleet, especially as a couple aircraft were coming up for their scheduled IRAN's, and one was delayed in restoration to flight. It was a major power move for the husky, in a field that was usually dominated by Rob. The DC-7B was named "Berwick", and the DC-7C, "Aquitania", after the famous Cunard ship. He felt it was fitting for the Seven Seas and its transoceanic range. He took a final glance and organized all the drawings back into their folder, which was stowed with the other paperwork. He glanced at the clock on the wall and sat back and watched the clouds pass by his window outside.

Arriving into Chicago, "Altair" descended in to land at Midway Airport, Barev's major hub for Centoh operations. Felix Barion taxied the L-1649A to the Centoh hangar, where he turned and parked. A Centoh ground crew awaited them with the airstair, which they pushed up against the rear fuselage to disembark. Everyone climbed down, and Mav waited for Felix to inspect the aircraft with his crew, doing a walk around to check the landing gear, and engines. While Felix and the others finished up their inspection and signed off on flight paperwork, Mav pulled up in the company SUV, a white Suburban SUV, with the Barev seal on the door. His entourage of his son, Felix, Marcus, and Charles, climbed aboard the roomy Suburban, and took off for the forty minute drive into Chicagoland, to meet with the Turnberry executives.

To Maverick, Chicagoland was a vastly different world than what he was used to in rustbelt Newark Ohio. It was a sprawling concrete jungle of skyscrapers and crisscrossing streets. It was ironic that he didn't quite know urban living, as he was born in New York City, in Brighton Beach, but left when he was still an infant, to grow up in little Newark. As he drove, he took time to admire the landscape, while his son took photos with his vintage Canon AE-1. Forty minutes later, he pulled off Wacker Drive and into the parking garage of Willis Tower, the former headquarters for Sears. The black, towering skyscraper, jutted up into the sky, standing out like a darkened crystal amongst the steel and glass landscape.

Taking an elevator up to the seventy-eighth floor, the elevator doors opened to reveal the floor that held the offices and call center for Turnberry. Mav was immediately greeted by the lobby, which had massive windows that overlooked the skyline of the windy city. All the furnishings and walls were adorned with dark lacquered walnut. The seating and couch in the lobby were a deep purplish brown leather, with a noticeable sheen to it.

Mav and his entourage stepped inside. Mav was dressed in black slacks, a crisp white shirt, and a brown and orange striped necktie, with a thick, four-in-a-hand knot. The others were similarly dressed, as was his son, who clutched his video camera on his shoulder. Robby wanted to document some of the negotiation process for Barev's record keeping.

"Good morning!" greeted the secretary, a poodle who wore a bright blue cloth mask over her face. She got the laughing at Mav's grinning mask.

"Morning!" he greeted back. "I'm here for the ten o'clock meeting with Mister Epstein?"

"Sure! Let me get you signed in here. If you could come over here and sign this."

"Sure~"

Mav walked up to the secretary's counter and was handed a document to sign. He stopped and stared; they had spelled his name horribly wrong.

"Doogan McTokarev?" Mav muttered. He looked at the secretary and laughed. "That is nowhere even near my name!"

"Oh my! What is it?"

"Douglas Tokarev! D'OH!" the husky exclaimed. "You can just call me Maverick~ That's my nickname."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I misheard."

"Wowzers~"

---

Chicago's concrete and steel cityscape peered out through the massive windows of Simon Epstein's office. The entire rear wall of the office was nothing but glass that was tinted gold. Dark, lacquered walls were adorned with certifications and family portraits. The entire office felt massive; it was half the size of Maverick's own home.

Simon Epstein was the CEO of Turnberry, an aging gray wolf at sixty-three. His CFO stood beside him, sixty-one year old Carl Norquist, a fawn Doberman with light tan fur. They oversaw Turnberry Dairy, which had its involvement in all things dairy. They owned hundreds of farms across the US, and made everything from milk, milk products, to cheeses and ice cream products for store brands, and their own. They were the prototypical big wigs in nice suits.

"So as you know, we are looking to unveil a nationwide marketing plan to promote our Turnberry Magnum- premium ice cream. We have test marketed it in the greater Chicago area, and also tried it out in Miami, New York City, and Atlanta to good results, so we are wanting to make this a national release." Simon explained to Maverick and his group, who sat across from his big desk, on a plush leather couch. Robby stood recording things with a big HL-79A resting on his shoulder.

Carl added to what Simon was saying. "We want an advertising campaign that is very distinctive, and aesthetically pleasing, and reminiscent to support our fortieth anniversary next year."

"I see." Mav nodded.

"That is why we turned to you." Carl nodded. "We liked your analog camera looks, and your style."

"Last production house with a working analog chain~ You're in luck!" Mav laughed lightly. "So I brought with me our outlines and ideas for the first set of commercials, as requested."

Sitting with the execs, Maverick and Marcus explained their ideas in more detail while flipping through the pages. It was a back and forth exchange with lots of questions and answers, as the executives analyzed the commercial and advertising concepts. There were five initial commercials planned; two shot locally in Chicago, and three in the studio back in Newark. Each concept was approved and signed off, and the print advertising checked through and approved. A deal that was worth over one hundred million dollars was authorized.

"Perhaps to help with the creative juices, I would love all of you to sample Turnberry's Magnum ice cream." Carl motioned as a secretary came walking in with a cart, that had samples of ice cream sitting in a big tub of ice.

"Connie, if you will~" Simon greeted.

"Too bad Dmitry couldn't have come." Chuckled Mav as he grabbed a small, personal sized tub of peach ice cream. "He would have loved to be Barev's food connoisseur!"

Felix snorted. "Yeah right!"

"Exactly!" laughed the husky as he took his spoon and sampled some of his ice cream. "Wow, that was like a thousand peaches just orgasmed on my tongue~"

Mav looked around and found nobody laughing. Everyone just blankly stared at him. His smile immediately faded "...I mean, that was really flavorful."

Carl and Simon just looked at each other momentarily with blank expressions. Simon took a step forward. "It's a high end premium product- it's smooth and silky in the mouth, not that stiff, bland cheap store crap that gets passed as ice cream."

"I agree~" Marcus noted.

The telephone buzzed on Simon's desk, which he promptly answered with a lean in to hit the speaker. "Yes Connie?"

"Mario is here to see you, Mister Epstein."

"Thank you! Send him on in!" Simon concluded.

"In a moment you will be meeting with your go-to man- our paid spokesperson, actor Mario Schleppi!"

The office door swung open to reveal a red furred Doberman, who came strutting in. He had a snug, faded green t-shirt, snug blue jeans, and sneakers. His hair was light brown and tied up in a man bun. Sun glasses still covered his eyes, and a green cloth mask covered his muzzle.

"Mister Epstein and Norquist!"

"Hello, Mario." Greeted Carl. "I want you to meet the gentlemen from Ohio- the executive of United Barev, and their broadcasting division, BVS."

"Sup." Mario greeted. He had a voice reminiscent of a surfer, laid back and relaxed.

"Nice to meet you~ Maverick Tokarev, of United Barev."

"Marcus Barion, administrator of BVS."

"So I'll be working with you guys then~" Mario nodded. "Nice."

"That's right!" Mav exclaimed. "Hey- you're from the nineties sitcom, 'Three Guys and a Couch', right?"

"Yep, that's me~ Harold~" Mario acknowledged. "And you can take that to the bank!" he exclaimed, his catchphrase from the show.

"You were a hit minor character, and then when the show ended, never heard from again~" laughed Mav sarcastically.

Mario didn't laugh in return. "Not quite... but still doing gigs around Chicago and whatnot... still waiting for my big break... I'm forty-two... still got time~"

"In the meantime, you're hawking ice cream and dairy products!" Mav added jokingly.

"Well I hope to enjoy working with you folks." Mario added.

"Same~"

Wrapping up a few things with the execs, the productive meeting came to a perfect conclusion. The day was still young, and Maverick and his group spent a few hours exploring downtown Chicago, capturing photos and video of its concrete landscape. They eventually drove back to Midway, where "Altair" was refueled and ready to go. They climbed back aboard and quickly departed for home, an hour and a half away by air.

Cruising amongst the clouds once again, Maverick sat back with his son and watched their recorded tapes play back. The plane gently rolled with some turbulence as they cruised over the flat lands of Indiana. They sat in the lounge, which dominated the forward half of the plane. By the bulkhead, "Altair" had a small editing suite set up, where they watched their U-Matic cassettes on an Ikegami monitor, bolted to the desk. The television was cranked up to drown out the radial song permeating the cabin; just outside their window were the massive radial engines, driving the glistening Curtiss Electric propellers that kept them propelled along.

Mav alternated between watching footage that his son shot, to working on sketches for a couple commercials that he was planning on doing in the afternoon. In his sketchbook, the husky doodled things out with a felt pen, storyboarding a landscaping commercial, and an election PSA for the Licking County Board of Elections. He would take a break and watch more footage with Robby, and go back to sketching some more.

Arriving back at Newark around noon, "Altair" touched down, and the Starliner returned to its hangar, where Felix and Ivo Horvat parked it. Mav disembarked clutching his laptop bag and sketchbook. He quickly ran down the wobbly airstair and onto the grayed asphalt, where he saw in the distance, Mark Prince standing. The forty year old black wolf stood alone on the tarmac, overseeing the constant work of aircraft maintenance on the tarmac. Mark, who ran an aviation services company himself, was tasked with restoring Rob's old piston pounders; it was Rob's quest to keep the old propliners flying, and Maverick found himself learning about aviation, as he was tasked with overseeing operations in the aviation departments of Barev.

"Hey Mark!" greeted Maverick. The tall husky met up with the jet black wolf, who turned to greet him.

"Mav, how was Chicago?" Mark asked. His voice was deep and velvety, a happy grin curling up on his muzzle as he greeted him.

"Well none of us got shot, and we didn't get the 'rona!"

"Good!" Mark chuckled. "I'm glad you're here- I'd love to show you some progress on things."

"Sounds good! Whacha got?"

Mav walked with Mark down the tarmac. Lined up was Barev's L-1049E, a glistening silver Super Constellation named "Coneflower", in the final stages of restoration, after it had crashed on takeoff the year prior. Workers were making adjustments to the four engines and their massive Curtiss Electric propellers, which sported flat yellow tips. Beside it sat another bare metal Super Constellation, a partially disassembled "Super-G", named "Quimper". The Connie was still missing its outer wings and radar nose. Named after the French town Rob salvaged her out of, the Connie was in bad shape when brought to the US four years prior. Years of salt air exposure corroded the airframe extensively. Rob was repairing and salvaging the airframe to bring it back into airworthy condition. It still had a long way to go to fly again, and Mark mentioned about the recent repairs and replacements in the fuselage.

"So that's those two, for your update, and I have the IRAN scheduled for the DC-6 and DC-3 on the thirtieth." Mark explained as they walked.

"Gotcha." Nodded Mav.

"Now, your creations are right here. Tell me what you think?" Mark pointed.

Mav stopped and stared at the open doors to the massive hangar. Tucked away inside the shadow of the hangar sat his DC-7's, "Berwick", and "Aquitania". Walking into the hangar, Mav stood and looked up at the big Douglas propliners. His paint scheme looked very sharp on the airframes; the entire lower half of the plane, and cowlings were a deep royal blue, almost black. The thin red cheatline separated that from the white upper half, the red following just beneath the windows. Propellers were silver and polished like mirrors, their tips painted red, white, and blue. The golden "WHIN Arrow" stood out proudly on the nose, and the title "United Barev Industries" stenciled on the upper fuselage, brought a smile to his face.

"Wow. That looks nice." Mav nodded, as Mark walked up to stand next to him.

"I think Rob would be very proud of you." Chuckled the black wolf. "I'm surprised he didn't help you design it?"

"Rob's got a lot on his plate..." Mav admitted. "He told me he trusted me to do what's best, and said he would leave me to make the decisions."

"Oh, I know." Chuckled Mark with a smile. "Typical Rob and his predicaments~ So now you're the headman in charge of it all?"

"Unfortunately!" laughed the husky. "I've been busy since I got up. Work and sleep. Work and sleep! Hell, that's literally all I've been doing the past couple of months to try and turn things around. But...eh...it keeps my mind off the sadder things I'm dealing with..."

"I understand completely."

"Workaholic it is!"

"Just remember your heart, Mav~"

He sarcastically brushed it off. "Pfft- I'll just go to China, and get some prisoner executed for his~ SILLY POOR PEOPLE! MEDICAL TOURISM'S FOR RICH PEOPLE!"

Mark laughed and just shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Mav. I've never see anyone like you."

"Really?"

"Let's not go into detail~" the black wolf grinned.

"Oh shit... look at the time... gotta go and get ready to shoot my commercials! Your nephew's helping me with the election PSA."

"Oh, he told me." Laughed Mark. "You as Ronald Reagan."

Mav put his arm around the muscular black wolf. "I sure hope this...little talk has helped..." he said in his Reagan voice.

"Oh lord~" Mark shook his head.

"See ya around Mark! And thanks for all the help!"

"No problem, Mav!"

The husky quickly made his way to his truck, climbed aboard, and took off for home, to continue on with his busy day.

---

The afternoon sun shone brilliantly through the canopy of colorful maples around the square. In front of the Licking County Administration Building, stood Mav's gaggle, getting ready for their election PSA shoot. Not far away from them was the official election ballot drop box, for absentee ballots.

Dressed in a dark gray suit and slacks, Mav looked at himself in a little handheld mirror, while he adjusted the knot to his dark red necktie. He had shaved his goatee off, the top of his head was adorned by a realistic looking wig of coifed, dark brown hair, which made him look like former President Reagan. Not far away, his friend Maverick stood with Joey Paulo and Russ Drabek looking at scripts, the other husky and two Dobermans appearing as the main cast of the PSA. In another small gaggle, his video crew got things ready; Matt Prince, a twenty-three year old black wolf, loaded a Betacam cassette into his camera. He worked with Ryan McDowd, a red haired, gray and white malamute, and Corey Wilhelm, a white Arctic wolf with long black hair tied into a ponytail. The three of them manned Mav's trio of 1983 Sony BVP-3's, which ironically had served in the Reagan White House. Camera equipment was prepared, microphones set up, and tubes powered on to warm up.

"So what do you think?" Mav asked Maverick.

The big husky put his script down and just chuckled. "I look like I'm going to be ready for my public flogging."

"Nonsense!" laughed Mav. "It's gonna be a masterpiece!"

"Heh, if you say so." Maverick rolled his green eyes. "So why am I doing this again?"

"Because I'm paying you five hundred dollars?"

"That's right~" grinned Maverick.

"And your unemployment got denied..."

"...don't remind me, Mav-O."

"You worked nineteen weeks last year. It needed to be twenty!" Mav grinned.

"Can't be easy can it?"

"Nope! WELCOME TO UHHIA~!"

Maverick took a deep breath and just smiled at everyone. "Alrighty. Let's do this~"

"You folks ready?" Mav asked the others.

"Video gear is set." Matt nodded.

"Yeah. I guess we can wing it." Joey chuckled. "Whatever helps to get this dumpster fire of an election over with~"

"Fuck it, that works~" Mav shrugged.

"Let's get 'er ready!" Matt announced.

Using the parking lot of the administration building as the backdrop, Mav's PSA was shot in the span of two hours. There were a lot of takes, a lot of stifled laughs and bloopers, as Mav comically impersonated the likes of former President Reagan, in a light hearted public service announcement about absentee ballot safety. It was shot "shakycam" style, to add a feeling of "spontaneous", "organic", and "natural" to the PSA. Once the shoot was finished, he gathered tapes and gear, got into his truck, and drove across the downtown, to where the future headquarters of Barev was being rebuilt, out of the old Newark High School building. He had another commercial to shoot on his hectic itinerary.

The entire property was a construction clogged mess. Behind schedule and over budget, the future home of United Barev and Viking Records was dogged by endless problems, made worse by the pandemic. There were unforeseen building issues with the old Newark High School, bureaucratic problems with the city utility departments, and labor issues on account of the pandemic. Adding to the chaos was the somewhat last minute decision to adopt an old farmhouse into an additional office, for Barev's "inner circle". Sitting adjacent from the main building was an old brick farmhouse; it was a year before, an abandoned, rotting structure up in the city of Delaware, slated for demolition. Rob had happened to drive by it, and was so enamored by its looks, that he bought it and dismantled it to bring back to Newark. Now it sat fully reassembled, with new windows and doors. It's interior was in the middle stages of being upgraded and converted into office space. Outside, a landscaping company was working on its gardens, which was the focus of Mav's commercial.

The workers of "Filton's Finest Landscaping Company" were the focus of Mav and his Betacam. Kneeling, the Russian husky worked his BVP-3 at a low angle, capturing the work of evergreen bushes being planted. He was gathering B-roll, stopping at various places to capture footage of mulch being applied, bushes and trees planted, and sod being unrolled. He filled almost a whole twenty minute tape just with B-roll, to gather enough clips to edit a commercial together for his customer, and landscaper, Cyrus Filton.

Finishing up with some boxwoods, Cyrus stood up and brushed the dirt off his paws. He was a tall, burly wolf with blonde and tan fur, aged thirty-two. He had a red beard that was trimmed into a chin strap, and ruddy hair that was long and braided like a Viking ponytail. A red and white bandanna was tied around his forehead, and his lips were pierced; having two silver snakebites evenly spaced apart. Bright blue eyes peered out. Cyrus wore a loosely buttoned flannel shirt that had its sleeves ripped off, revealing muscular arms that were tattooed completely up in black and gray sleeves that ran to his wrists. Snug, faded jeans that were torn in places were held up by a black leather belt with an elaborate buckle. A silver chain that ran from his wallet rattled as he walked to go fetch a bottle of water from the cooler sitting on the sidewalk. Mud splattered, faded cowboy boots scraped against the new concrete.

Mav walked up, clutching a tape in one paw, and holding his Betacam by its carry handle. He met up with the blonde wolf, who chugged down a bottle and crushed it in his grip.

"Hey how's the filmin'?" Cyrus asked. He had a friendly sounding, masculine voice, tinged with a slight drawl to it.

"B-roll's shot for the commercial. Time to bullshit out your spot!" laughed the husky.

Cyrus had a playful grin. "Bullshitting is my specialty!"

"Small world!"

Mav changed the battery and tape to his BVP-3 while he walked with Cyrus over to his mud splattered truck, a mid-2000's, white GMC 3500 dually. Mav took notice of the company logo on the door; an abstract pine tree that was surrounded by the name "Filton's Finest Landscaping Company", "Hanover, Ohio".

"That's a neat name for your landscaping business~" Mav pointed out as he switched his camera back on and waited for the Saticons to warm back up.

"You like that? Heh, that's what happens when your family landscaping business gets torn in half..." chuckled the wolf. "There's Filton's Landscaping, which is run by my idiot brother Darryl, and my drunk Uncle Ronnie, and then my side, with my younger brother Ed, and my Dad, and we're the FINEST! Ha!"

"Oooh, I love family drama~" teased Mav.

"My family's kind of feuding. It's kind of like a drunk hillbilly Jerry Springer~"

"My god."

"Yeah... all because I came out of the closet and Grandpa dying and not resolving family matters to the landscaping business..."

"Really, Cy? You're gay?"

"Oh honey, couldn't you tell?" he teased with a big playful grin. His rugged voice made the husky laugh.

"Ha, that's great~"

Cyrus was just about to say something, when his phone went off. He wiggled it out of his pocket and answered it, an annoyed look growing on his face at the realization it was his brother calling him.

"What do you want, Darryl? You fucking something up again?" Cyrus barked into his phone. He rolled his eyes and took a step away from his truck. "You wanna know what I gotta say to your proposal?"

He stuck the phone to his rear, lifted a leg and farted, ripping a loud, wet one for his brother. He promptly hung up. "Fucking idiot, I swear~"

"Wow, that was pretty good." Mav complimented.

"Right?" grinned Cyrus. "Pretty proud of that one for my bro~ He's a god damn idiot. He wants to be mister badass, moral conservative- but that motherfucker takes no responsibility, and he's a hypocrite. Knocked up four girls and has four kids... Heh, at least when I have sex with my customers, I don't knock them up!"

"But you're gay?"

Cyrus responded to Mav with a grin and a wag of a finger.

"Oh man, that reminds me of Travis... oooooh that Travis..."

"Oh lordy, you know Travis Rocha too?" Cyrus chuckled.

"Ungh..." Mav grumbled.

"He's annoyingly cute isn't he?" the wolf teased.

"CUTE!? He's the embodiment of evil, Cy! He sleeps with all the broads I want to socially distance my dick into! He's a fucking slut, brags about it, to my face! And you know what's even worse! Travis calls me Shirley! ...SHIRLEY!!!!"

Everyone in the construction zone looked up and turned to look at Mav after his outburst. Cyrus tilted his head a bit and smirked in bemusement. He didn't even know what to say.

"Uhh...surely you can't be serious, Maverick~"

"I am serious- and don't you dare call me Shirley!"

"Oh my god..." laughed the wolf. "Well if you want to get Travis to stop bugging you, just do what I did~"

"What's that?"

"He constantly hit me on me for eons... so I finally relented and said 'yes'. I fucked him like a man- he apparently said it burned when he pooped for like half a week."

"Wow."

"Hey, he never bugged me again!" Cyrus gestured with a smirk. "Plus, I broke in my new Prince Albert piercing...wanna see it sometime?"

"I'll pass!"

"Don't know what you're missin'~"

"Alrighty! Camera's warmed up!" Mav announced as he threw it on his shoulder. Cyrus chuckled and leaned against his truck's hood for the camera, as Mav lined up the shot.

"I think I can wing it~" the wolf chuckled, as he watched the tally lights glow red.

"Camera's running, Cy~"

Cyrus had a momentary look of thought on his face. "Filton's Finest Landscaping of Hanover! If you want the FINEST mulching, mowing, trimming, landscaping, plus snow and ice removal? Call us today! We're the finest pick around!"

"Perfect!" Mav called. "Want to do a second just in case?"

"We could do a couple~"

"Great!"

---

Leaning back in his chair, Mav stretched and cracked his fingers while he yawned. Blinking a few times, he leaned forward to resume work editing his commercials together at his Beta editing suite. Situated inside the cramped VTR room, he was surrounded by a barrage of noise as the big, bulky videotape machines played back old programming for customers, for digitization. The various sounds of old shows and commercials mixed with the hiss and hums of the big Quadruplex and Type C machines playing back two and one inch videotape reels.

The husky worked on finishing up his last shot for the election PSA; it was a slightly out of focus shot of some brightly colored maples that surrounded the courthouse in the middle of the downtown square. Mav always loved the colorimetry that Saticons gave, which captured the yellows and oranges perfectly. He leaned in a bit and set up the text with his vintage Chyron IV, which made up part of his Beta A/B editing deck. Four Beta SP decks chained together through the A/B switcher and fader, with the Chyron IV and a Quantal Paintbox as the graphics and character generator, which was output to another Beta SP deck. A giant Sony Trinitron, complete with faux wood casing, served as the master monitor, with a couple smaller Trinitrons allowing viewing from the other VTR's.

"Cast your ballot today by mail, or the ballot box!" Mav wrote in white Helvetica. The mechanical keys to the Chyron gave a wonderful "click-clack" feedback as he typed it out. He reached over, and hit "drop shadow" which helped the text stand out from the background. "Licking County Administration Building, Newark, Ohio" he concluded. He adjusted and placed the text on the upper left of the image, being mindful of the overscan zone. Inserting the logo of the Board of Elections, he added that in the lower right, and made a final assessment, before reaching over to record to tape. The shot played out in real time as it recorded to another Betacam cassette. He flipped the lever to fade to black at the conclusion. His commercial was finally finished. He hit rewind on the control board and watched the finished commercial play back on the monitor. Mav sat back and watched.

The intro shot faded in to a shaky cam shot of the courthouse's golden steeple and clock. It quickly panned around to show Russ and Joey walking on the sidewalk, the camera capturing a bright glare of a passing car's windshield, which comet-tailed as a solid white trail across the shot. Everyone was wearing face masks.

"It's been a crazy year~" Russ said to Joey as they walked, the shot cutting to a forward view of them.

"That's an understatement." Chuckled Joey in his usual tone and manner. "It's my first time doing an absentee ballot, so I hope I got this right..."

"Heh, same here. I really don't feel like standing in line with a roaring pandemic sweeping the place..."

"Yeah, I agree."

Walking up to the ballot box, big Maverick was seen approaching from the parking lot, where his black Silverado sat at. The afternoon sun glistened off it as six point stars through the lens, which comet-tailed with the sweep of the camera.

"Is this the ballot drop off?" Maverick asked, his deep voice clearly picked up by the microphone.

"I believe so. I mean, I don't think there's any other one in town?"

Mav closed his eyes and just laughed at how "bad" it was. These were actual concerns his friends had, but it came out laughably bad on camera. It was the "effect" Mav wanted for a corny, eighties themed PSA.

"With everything going on, you know? I just want my voice counted on the ballot. You hear?" Maverick explained in a close up shot of his upper body.

"I hear you loud and clear~!" came Mav's own voice, disguised as Ronald Reagan's. Everyone swung around just as the sharp cut went to Mav standing in his gray suit, with an exaggerated smirk on his face. He wrinkled his forehead up as he stood there, exaggerating a stiff twist of his body. "Oh my god..." Mav said to himself as he watched this scene unfold.

"Ronald Reagan!?" Russ pointed. "Oh my god you're dead! I saw them lower your coffin into the ground on C-SPAN!"

"Well...I am dead... But I've come back as a spirit..."

Mav laughed at his own rapid run towards Russ, who backed away in terror behind Maverick and Joey. He twisted himself around to be right next to Russ. "...to educate you whippersnappers over absentee mail in voting!"

"Well there's a lot of concern, especially with concerns about fraud, and manipulating of the vote, and delays due to the pandemic itself." Joey explained to Reagan.

"Well let me tell you gentlemen something." Reagan quipped as he looked at everyone. "I know things are chaotic...but we must pull through with this! Remember...I went up against the great foe, Tip O'Neil... and I had nothing but a crystal ball... and these wrecking balls between my legs..."

"HA!" Mav laughed at himself.

"...these concerns of yours are dumbfounded! In years and years of absentee voting, there has been very few cases of fraud ever! And this has been backed up by government and independent think tank studies. As long as you fill out the ballot properly, providing all the information and mailing it by election day, or dropping it off here in this official ballot drop box... your vote will be counted by a bi-partisan election team, right here, in the Licking County Board of Elections."

"Wow...I see..." Maverick nodded. "So how do I know that's the official drop box?"

"If it doesn't carry the Licking County logo on it with this official sticker? It's not genuine!" Reagan pointed out. "And you do not need postage for the drop box! So make sure your voice is heard, and go vote!"

"Alrighty!" the others responded.

Mav put his arm around Maverick and looked right in his face. "I hope this... little talk has helped..."

"Aren't you afraid of catching coronavirus, uhh, Mister President?" Maverick asked him.

"Well...I am dead..."

"...right..."

"Now if I can take down the Berlin Wall... you gentlemen can take down the barriers to voting! So VOTE!"

"What about potential consequences to our vote? Like election violence, or ongoing attempts to suppress voting via gerrymandering, and manipulations of voting stations and ballot drop boxes?" Russ asked.

Reagan had a look of thought on his face. "Can't answer em all!"

Mav burst out laughing as he abruptly just dropped to the ground in the shot. It abruptly cut to a wide shot of him crawling through some bushes to escape; it was a completely unexpected move he did, and it cut to the credit scene right before everyone burst out laughing. The final shot faded to black. The husky rewound the tape and laughed some more. He reached over and grabbed the ejected tape from his VTR and placed it in its plastic sleeve. He grabbed the label and wheeled himself over to an old fashioned mechanical typewriter. He put the label in place and typed out its contents.

"Licking County Board of Elections- PSA

10/15/2020

Tape 1/1

Run Time: 1:05

Cam: Sony BVP-3A

Edited: D.A Tokarev"

He slapped the label on the tape and went back to begin editing Cyrus' landscaping commercial spot. It took him a good forty minutes to cut together the commercial off two oxide Betacam cassettes. It was a much faster cut, with music added, and Cy's narration partially dubbed over to get to his final shot of him leaning against his truck. Mav played it back, found no issues, and rewound the tape, which was labeled and stuffed into its plastic sleeve. The edited tapes were bound together with a big rubber band, and a note attached, asking Marcus to digitize them and give them to their customers tomorrow. At almost six in the evening, Mav was exhausted. He had spent the morning in Chicago, and afternoon videotaping. He was spent for the day.

Getting up, Mav walked by Shane Phyllis and Borr Eklund, hard at work manning the big VTR machines. He said goodbye to them and slipped from view around the door. Mav made his way down the hallway of the temporary home of BVS. It was once the former bus depot for the school district, and made for a rather ill suited broadcast facility. It was once just a storage facility, but became the temporary home of Barev, after an arson destroyed Baker House. Everything looked old and tired; the walls were covered in faded tan paint, and the brown carpet on the floor was matted where foot traffic trampled it down over the years. Even the fluorescent light diffusers were cracked, and yellowed with age.

Mav gave Marcus the tapes, and said goodbye to everyone in the office. He stepped out through the wooden entry door into the evening sun. Shadows were cast long as the sun began to set. Mav got into his blue Silverado, and quickly left, to return to his home on Karen Parkway.

The husky felt relieved when he finally got back home. He parked the truck in the garage, and stepped back inside, to be greeted by his son once again.

"I'll tell you what, Robby...let me get my shoes off...and I'll go make dinner." Mav announced as he sat down on his couch to take his shoes off. Robby went to grab his Dad's encased Sony camera that sat in the kitchen, to go put it away. He walked into the living room to find his dad asleep on the couch. His shoes laid where he sat them down at. Mav was slouched over to one side, snoring lightly. Robby proceeded to go put his camera away in his bedroom, and returned to the kitchen to make himself a meal from the fridge.

---

Nine o'clock on the dot arrived Barev's Convairliner, "Columbiana". The colorful Navy marked C-131F descended into Newark-Heath, having punched through Monday's morning overcast. The growing sound of approaching radials filled Mav and Marcus' ears, as they stood on the tarmac, by Marcus' brand new Silverado 3500HD. The Convair touched down perfectly and rolled down the runway with the roar of reversed propellers. The propliner turned off the runway and taxied up to the tarmac, its propellers etching red, white, and blue circles as the Double Wasps purred. Jordan and his boyfriend Ivo turned the plane and parked. Its engines soon were powered off, and the electric airstair deployed. Soon, Mario descended the metal steps.

Clutching a suitcase in his grip, the Doberman climbed down from the Convair and approached Marcus and Mav, who were ready to greet him. He peeled off his cloth mask, looking annoyed.

"Good morning and welcome to Newark, Mario!" Mav greeted. He was about to say more, when Mario cut him off.

"That stupid plane is loud and slow!" Mario griped. "And why would you pick me up in a war machine? Navy colors? Really? Are we promoting war now and glorifying it! So stupid. Fuck it, I'm here."

Mav's smile beneath his mask faded. "Let's get to the studio..."

Marcus took Mario's suitcase and placed it in the backseat of his crew cab truck. Mav took notice of the annoyed looks on Ivo and Jordan's face, as they inspected the Convairliner. The husky pursed his lips, turned, and hopped into Marcus' truck, for the ride back to the bus depot. It was a very unpleasant ride, as Mav and Marcus both were stuck listening to the onslaught of complaints of Mario. It was as though Turnberry had replaced the Mario he had met in Chicago, just half a week before, with a never ending complain machine, a real "Debby Downer". Mario seemed to have just nothing nice to say as they drove through the streets of Newark, back to Day Avenue.

"What kind of a studio is this? It looks like a beat up old, abandoned bus station or something!" Mario pointed out with a grumble as he climbed out of Marcus' truck.

"That's because it's a former bus depot..." Marcus grumbled. "We had to move into it after our original building burned to the ground last year..."

"It's not the size, Mario. It's how you use it." Mav said in a slightly irritated voice. "Alright, we got a busy schedule today."

Stepping inside, Mav showed Mario around the cramped confines of the bus depot. He was introduced to the VTR and editing room, before being taken to the studio. Mario seemed largely unimpressed by the cramped, drab confines, and old video equipment.

The studio was brightly lit as Felix Barion got the set finished up with Borr Eklund and Shane Phyllis. The studio was nothing more than a somewhat modified bus garage, with improved sound deadening and lighting. The set was black; black curtains concealed the wall, and the floor had a black tarp laid down. A number of spotlights were setup, with colored gels to give a variety of colors. A large platform in the middle of the set was the display for the ice cream container; it was hollow on the inside, to allow dry ice fog to come boiling over, like a laboratory experiment. It was all the corny tricks in the book for an eighties themed commercial.

The fawn furred Doberman went back to setting up one of their TK-47EP's. It was the first time they would be using the Diode-Gun "Big Blues" for a shoot. The old RCA cameras sat on a set of Vinten pedestals; there were three TK-47's to create the usual three-camera setup, with a fourth on hot standby should a camera malfunction. Mav walked over to check on another, which sat pointed down at the floor with the iris closed up to avoid burns on the tubes.

"So Whacha think?" Mav asked curiously.

Mario crossed his arms and stared. "Boring."

"Well sorry to shit in your wheaties this morning."

"Whatever- just smile and think about the money..." the Doberman grunted.

Felix looked up and fumbled his brow at Mav, who just shrugged with a puzzled look on his face.

Mario took twenty minutes to read and look over his script. When he finished, he just tossed it over his shoulder and muttered a cynical "fuck it". He walked on set, and Mav watched as Felix, Ryan, and Corey took control of their TK-47's. Mav stood back and watched an old Trinitron bolted to a TV cart of the live feed that Marcus saw in the control room. Felix was lining up his shot on Mario, and the bright spotlights comet-tailed to his movements with the camera. The camera was equipped with a four-point star filter, the lights taking a four pointed diffraction pattern. The EP's Diode-Gun Plumbicons gave a more subdued comet-tailing effect; instead of the brilliant red trails like the "A" models gave, the EP's higher beam current neutralized the overload charge, reducing the effect to a ghostly white trail, with a bright red flare off the highlight. He was always "loose" with the extra beam reserve, to preserve the gun life of the tube.

"Roll VTR!" Felix called.

"VTR rolling." Came Marcus over their headsets.

"Okay, whenever you're ready Mario! Action." Felix called out.

Mario walked into the shot, and in a snap of a finger looked cheerful and excited as the camera followed his movements. He gave a zappy, cheerful introduction of Turnberry's accomplishments, as Felix followed him with the TK-47. He walked over to the large platform emitting fog to introduce the Magnum brand ice-cream. The shot cut to a close up of the ice cream container, which zoomed out to show Mario concluding with his silly catchphrase, "you can take that to the bank!" Mav just rolled his eyes with a smirk.

"Excellent." Came Felix's voice.

Mario's smile immediately faded back to his annoyed look. He crossed his arms and tapped a foot while preparations were made for a second take.

---

What was once a bustling area of social life in the Arena District was just empty silence. Browned leaves rustled to a chilly breeze that whistled through, twisting and twirling along the sidewalk of empty café seats and patios. Harsh white streetlights glowed along the side road, not far from Maverick's apartment complex. Businesses were closed early, as part of the Coronavirus restrictions Columbus returned to.

Under the glare of streetlights walked Maverick and Mav, the two huskies on a lonesome walk amongst the empty side street of the district. They were looking for a good shooting spot for another PSA Mav was tasked with shooting, this time, for the Franklin County health department. Mav lugged his Sharp camera on his shoulder, and clutched his tripod in his left paw. Maverick wielded the bulky U-Matic tape deck.

"I remember when I first moved here...how bustling this place was every evening." Maverick recalled, pointing to all the closed up shops. "We'd spend every Friday evening here, having a few beers, some great food, laughing it up with friends. Now look at it."

"Yep." Mav nodded. "It's a really sad time."

"Yes it is. Everything's turned upside down. I can't believe it sometimes." Maverick exclaimed. "It didn't have to get this bad. It really didn't. But people in this state are stupid..."

"People have a right to be stupid you know~" Mav sarcastically quipped with a chuckle and a roll of his eyes. "This is the direct consequence of our nation's anti-intellectualism. Our rejection of science and reason for bravado, brawn. People can just blindly believe in religion, but need thousands of pages of evidence to support things like mask wearing. Unbelievable."

"Oh I know... the bullshit I heard on campus about masks..." Maverick grumbled. "Now look at my job..."

"It's gonna get worse before it gets better...and we're at the tip of the ice berg..." Mav grimaced.

"You can lead a horse to water..."

"Yeah..."

They both grumbled and shook their head. Stopping near an intersection, Mav decided that a closed café would make a great backdrop. The outdoor patio was still illuminated by rope lights that danced in the cold early night breeze. Maverick removed the leather shoulder strap from around his head and sat the U-Matic deck on a wrought iron table. He took his big paw and rubbed his neck a bit.

"You sure do like this old gear~" the husky chuckled as he watched Mav deploy his tripod with its camera boot. He sat his white and gray XC-B10 on the boot and locked it into place.

"Heh, what can I say?" Mav responded with a playful shrug of his shoulders. "It's a labor of love~"

Maverick fetched the camera cable from the VTR's bag and handed it off to Mav. "Why such an interest? This is such old gear that you keep putting along... why not just use modern stuff and create the effect and look when editing?"

"Pfft." Mav responded. "People do it, and it's just too clean, it's just too 'perfect'. The effects and filters don't capture the little nuances genuine hardware and videotape give. The dynamic range, the subtle softness, chroma noise, drop-out, lag, comet-tailing, burns, and the sort with Saticons or Plumbicons. Or on early CCD's, the really bad blooming, and vertical-smears from highlight overload. You just don't get that on modern cameras. Plus... I like working on the hardware. Tube cameras were meant to be very hands on- not this turn on and go kind of deal like today. A labor of love!"

"Fair enough~" Maverick chuckled.

"Plus they give me something to tinker on when I'm not ripping my hair out with this business... not like there's much of anything to do these days?"

"Heh, yeah~" smiled Maverick. "Well this one I'm gonna do off the gut... I feel compelled to let this one rip..."

"Hey, I feel the same way too when I gotta rip ass~" Mav nodded.

Maverick just chuckled and shook his head. "Oh you~"

"Oh me indeed!"

Mav walked over and hooked up the camera to the VTR by its cable, and loaded a tape into the deck, which spooled it up. He turned the camera on, and gave it time for the Saticons to warm up and stabilize. He hooked up the big shotgun microphone and checked it over, and fetched from his backpack, his own company "Barevlite". It was a battery powered, compact little floodlight that was very bright. It was a hot seller for Barev. He attached it to the camera's shoe horn and switched it in, illuminating the whole area in a harsh white light. Maverick held up a white sheet of copy paper, which Mav used to white balance the camera.

"So you're just gonna wing it basically?"

"Yeah, I got my idea in my head. Heh, my OSU spiels on this shit." Chuckled Maverick.

"Love it! Let's do it!" Mav agreed. He hunched himself over his camera and tightened up and focused the shot on Maverick, who fiddled around with his mask. He had a sharp monochrome picture of Maverick in his viewfinder, as he zoomed in, and focused. The fancy rope lights behind him comet-tailed to the movements of the camera sweeping the lights around the shot. The lens diffracted the bright pinpricks of light as little ten point stars; the camera's Saticons smeared the overload around as a solid white streak. Judging the by the grayscale value, Mav figured the "tail" off the bright lights was a bluish color, typical of Saticons. He got the shot that he wanted, with Maverick in crisp focus, and the background slightly blurred. He engaged record, the tally lights glowing red, and the faint pop-click of the U-Matic deck engaging.

"Whenever you're ready. Cameras rolling~"

Maverick took a deep breath behind his red cloth mask, his eyes focused on the camera. "We are now in our third wave of the Coronavirus outbreak in Ohio. At the time of this video, Ohio has had seven thousand, four hundred and ninety-three new infections, forty deaths, and three-hundred-and nineteen hospitalizations, all within a twenty-four hour period. The United States as a whole is averaging almost a hundred and forty thousand cases a day, with over a thousand people dying a day. More Americans have died from Coronavirus, in ten months, than in all of our military conflicts combined. Two hundred and forty-nine thousand Americans are now dead, because of this pandemic, and that number is surely to rise. Our entire society is disrupted, and so is our economy. We have not seen this kind of disruption since World War Two."

Mav zoomed in a bit, slowly.

"There is hope on the horizon with several vaccines around the world being developed, that will certainly bring this pandemic to an end. But there are no guarantees. We do not have a full enough picture at this time of the relative safety, or efficiency of these vaccine candidates. In the meantime, people will continue to get sick, and continue to die, from this disease. We may not have a vaccine, but we've come to learn a lot about this virus since the start of the pandemic. We have learned that this virus spreads by aerosol droplets, emitted from our breathing and speaking. We know that it's transmitted in close contact by people. I know that its rough to be isolated, but if we are to stay safe, if we are to avoid needless deaths and long term health issues, we need to make temporary sacrifices, for our most vulnerable members of society..."

"...we need to wash our paws frequently. We need to socially distance, and most importantly. Please. PLEASE. PLEASE. Wear a mask."

Maverick held his red OSU mask up. "The CDC studies have shown that this simple cloth mask here can be the greatest defensive, and offensive weapon in our fight against this pandemic. When Ohio faced its second wave, and mask wearing was mandated in the state of emergency? Our case numbers dropped in half. Masks work. Please. I'm begging you to wear a mask, for the most vulnerable in society. Our actions today can make a world of difference for our tomorrow... or we may be living just like this a year from now, or two years from now. It's your choice. The longer you fight social distancing, the longer you, myself, everyone, will be dealing with this unfolding tragedy. The choice is yours."

Mav hit pause and looked up. "Wow~ That was great."

"Whew that was a lot of bullshit I pulled out of my ass!" grinned the husky.

"Heh, you should be a pro at that by now."

"Shut up, Mav~" laughed Maverick.

"I loved it buddy~"

Finishing up, Mav and Maverick walked around the empty Arena District, to capture some b-roll of the desolation. Maverick held the light, while Mav worked his camera, capturing a variety of different shots; the flutter of leaves being blown by the wind, empty streets illuminated by streetlights, the occasional passing car with its glaring headlights comet-tailing in the shot. Then they walked back to his apartment.

"That felt good. That felt like a much needed release~" Maverick admitted as they walked slowly down the road.

"The misinformation is frustrating- I'll admit." Mav shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "It's been the perfect storm to make the perfect pandemic."

"My conclusion is that people are just stupid."

"Heh, speaking of stupid... that's what I am currently dealing with... my Turnberry Dairy deal from hell..."

"How's that coming along?" Maverick asked.

"Well my blood pressure sure has gone up because of it..." Mav grumbled. "The project itself is easy...it's the fucking spokesperson Turnberry gave me... this douchebag named Mario Schleppi."

"Never heard of him."

"Good! He's a nobody, washed up, D-list actor who had a one hit wonder on a minor nineties sitcom, which lasted maybe four seasons. He's a fucking dicktree, and constantly just bitches about everything and wants to be waited on hand and foot every fucking time. Him and that stupid, pretentious manbun!"

"The motherfucker has a manbun?"

"Yeah!"

"Heh, usually when I deal with guys with manbuns, I use it as a gripping point when I skullfuck them~" grinned Maverick.

Mav just stared at his friend. "Did I really need to know about that?"

"Hey! Just sayin'~" the husky grinned in return.

Mav just shrugged. "Fuck it~ I'm about half-way done with it... I just gotta think about the money..."

"The pandemic has really wrecked the economy as we know it~"

"I know."

Returning back to the apartment complex, Mav packed his gear away into his truck, and took a moment to write out a fifteen hundred dollar check for Maverick. They gave each other a goodbye hug, and Mav took off to head back home, returning to Newark under the cover of darkness.

---

One Week Later

Bright blue skies, and green palms that swayed in the salt air, Mav found himself in Miami for the weekend. It was part of his grueling schedule to shoot the Turnberry project, on top of everything else he was tasked with as the headman of Barev. At least it was warm down in Miami.

The Russian husky was dressed in gym shorts and a floral patterned tanktop that clung to his ripped body. A red OSU hat sat atop his head. His right paw gripped the carry handle of his Panasonic AK-30, which swayed with his walk. His left paw lugged a clunky Sony Type C open-reel deck, a blue and cream BVH-500, loaded with a gold reel of Barev 525 videotape. With its battery, it weighed a total of almost sixty pounds. He walked down the old wooden pier right next to the beach, which had a large area blocked and barricaded off for their video shoot. It was Mav's attempt to make the pier look desolate, as if in a state of lockdown. It was a laughable attempt; Mav looked over at the beach to find an endless sea of people just milling about, as if everything was normal, and the fears of an out of control pandemic, didn't exist. In the distance, beachside restaurants and businesses were packed with people. Mav could only shake his head, his disappointed face hidden behind a red cloth mask. "Florida~" he grunted.

He met back up with his motley crew; He had Borr Eklund and Ryan McDowd as his fellow camera crew. Ryan, the white and gray malamute with reddish-brown hair and goatee, stood next to the taller Borr, who had long blonde hair braided into a Viking ponytail that flowed behind his head. A blue, patterned bandana kept the sun off his head. Ryan had a backwards turned baseball cap. Like Maverick, they were dressed in shorts and a tanktop, showing off their tattoo sleeves that adored their right arms. With them was his son Robby, who shouldered one of his white and gray BVP-3 Betacams, to document the shoot for posterity. To Maverick it was a rushed, short-staffed clusterfuck he was dealing with.

Not far away stood his three actors; Mario, with two Miami locals he scouted out online. It was their third commercial shoot of the day. Mav's eyes squinted in annoyance at Mario's presence. If there was someone who got under his fur and drove him insane, it was that stupid Doberman from Chicago. He was a pretentious douchebag, full of himself snob, who thought he was some phenomenal actor with endless talent. He tested Mav's usually deep tolerance. Mav wanted to get the Turnberry commercials over and done with, so he could get Mario out of his hair for good. He was just an unbearable person to deal with; on the whole flight from Chicago to Miami, Mario just complained and complained, about anything and everything.

Regrouping together, they shot their third and final scene on the pier. It took a few takes to get the shots required. Mario seemed annoyed the whole time, only to snap out of it when it came time for his parts. Mav, Borr, and Ryan worked their AK-30's and got the shots that they needed. The final spot they videotaped was with the three actors reminiscing about the pandemic situation, and how Turnberry's ice cream was "their grasp at normality and sanity". Mav thought it was laughably bad.

By late afternoon, with the sun setting, the group returned back to Opa Locka's Executive Airport, where "Aquitania" sat waiting. On her first official mission for Barev, the venerable DC-7C was refueled and turned around to head back to Chicago, to drop Mario off. Her long wings gracefully lifted the propliner into the evening sky. Polished paint and propellers glistened, and a faint exhaust plume was emitted from the four Cyclone-18's that roared skyward.

Finally at cruising altitude of ten thousand feet, Mav and the others settled down for the three and a half hour flight to Chicago. The cabin was filled by the immense drone of the four radial engines, a monotonous, but mesmerizing sound of droning propeller blades. Like the others in Barev's fleet, "Aquitania" had an executive interior, made up of four compartments. Everything had warm, earthy colors, and the cabin was artfully lit. Mav and Borr occupied the forward half of the first compartment, which was a lounge area that also housed both an analog and digital editing suite, complete with a couple Type C and U-Matic VTR's. Mav and Borr sat playing back footage, to "grade the shot".

On the monitor was a shot of the pier and their actors, laughing from a mistake they had made. Mario wasn't laughing; he looked annoyed and stomped around, armed crossed. The Panasonic gave a warm, crisp image, with the soft pastel colors that Plumbicons gave. Bright highlights gave some impressive comet-tailing artifacts, with a bright red flare off overloads. High contrast scenery gave a faint purple fringe in the sweeping shots. Maverick attributed the heavy lag effects to his modifications to the AK-30's, to accept Barev's Plumbicon ABO tubes, which differed slightly from the "high-focus-field" tubes specified by Panasonic. It only added to the effect he wanted. Borr and Maverick followed by the time code and jotted down the time and length of the shots they liked, which were simply noted on notepads.

"I think I'm gonna go take a break, and grab a late meal..." Mav said to Borr. The Russian husky rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"I'll finish up here for ya~" Borr offered.

"Appreciated."

Maverick got up and stretched his back, which popped a bit. He glanced around the lobby and went to go check on his son, who was taking a nap in the tail of the plane. Stepping through the bulkhead, he entered the chrome lined galley, where Mario stood, waiting for dinner to heat up in the microwave. Mav walked by him without saying anything and entered the second compartment. There was a soundproofed conference room for a couple people, and a narrow hallway that led to the tail. The conference room, in the age of Covid, was strictly off limits. It had a lacquered desk bearing the seal of United Barev, and a couple swivel chairs bolted to the floor. Squeezing his muscular frame down the narrow hallway, his head practically bumping the rounded ceiling, Maverick made it to the tail of the DC-7, where the final two compartments resided at. The third compartment was where there were a couple extra jump seats, and sleeping bunks. He found Ryan asleep in one of the bunks, lying on his side with his arms crossed. Their video gear sat buttoned up in their crates for the flight home. A final door led him to the extreme tail, where the personal quarters of Mav, or Rob, resided at.

Stepping into the dimly lit office, Maverick found his son asleep in the bed. Robby laid partially covered up with a blanket; he had worn himself out helping his dad all day. It brought a smile to his face. The personal quarters wasn't fully finished; it was still missing several pieces of furniture, and looked spartan in its current state. Mav gently closed the bulkhead door as he left.

Returning to the galley, Mav grabbed his food, a meal from Panera Bread; a flatbread pizza, a salad, and a bowl of macaroni and cheese. He warmed it back up in the microwave and carried it all to the lounge.

He sat down at another card table by another window, to eat alone.

"Hey, come and sit here~" came Mario's voice. Maverick closed his eyes and took a slow inhale, then exhale. He got up with his food and made his way to Mario's table.

"I was trying to practice social distancing~" Maverick responded as he sat down, opposite of Mario. It was a really bad lie.

"We're all packed in this flying tin can..." Mario grunted. "Want some champagne?"

Maverick raised a paw and shook his head. "I don't drink anymore. I'll just take a cup of mineral water."

"Alrighty~"

The tired looking husky watched Mario grab a paper cup and pour him a glass of sparkling mineral water from a pretentious looking blue bottle, which he shoved back in a tub of ice with his champagne bottle. Maverick accepted it and took a sip.

"So how do you think today went?" Mario asked. He gave his glass of amber colored champagne a swirl and took a sip.

"I think it went about as well as expected." Maverick responded. "Tomorrow, we'll start editing it and sending them off to Turnberry for their review."

"I don't think the other guys really liked working with me..." Mario shrugged as he took a bite of his salad. "Steve gave me a bit of an attitude at the end- all I was trying to do was correct something that I felt was really lacking for the shot! Amateurs I tell ya~"

Maverick's eyes darted back and forth with a bit of a fumble of his lips to the Doberman's pedantic, pretentiousness.

"I've been acting since I was eight years old- I know my stuff and what works and what doesn't. Amateurs!"

"Everyone's tired... been a chaotic day."

"I guess...." The Doberman shrugged.

"Just a hectic project made more hectic because of the pandemic, that's all." Maverick shrugged with a bit of a fib.

Mario fumbled his brow at Maverick as he picked his champagne up for another sip. "I can tell you don't like working with me. None of your guys do back at your studio~"

"What?" Maverick responded. "Naw. That's crazy talk..."

"Heh." The Doberman grunted. "I've been told by many people that I am a very difficult person to work with. Weird..."

"Yeah, weird..."

"I'm a perfectionist, Maverick. I think everything needs to be done perfect the first time! That way you're not fucking shit up, you're not wasting time. You gotta be perfect the first time!"

"Well you know nothing and nobody is perfect in life..." Maverick added.

"Well you go tell my father that." Mario grumbled. "My parents are both actors, or were...before they retired... I never saw them half the time because they were always flying out of town for gigs, commercials, whatever. My Dad always hammered it into me that I had to be perfect, everything had to be perfect. Second best wasn't good enough. If you weren't first, you were a loser. There was no second place in my household. So I was always pushed to be perfect. If I got a B on a quiz, it should have been better! A ninety? Why not a hundred? You see where I'm getting at?"

"Yeah."

"People don't understand it, and that's why I have such problems working with people... it's why I'm struggling to get a nice steady gig and instead doing this stupid shit hawking dairy products..."

"So why not try and get back into a sitcom? Why not try your hand at Broadway?"

"Pfft." Mario responded with a swipe of his paw at Maverick's suggestion. "Broadway's for suckers and people whose careers in television ground to a halt."

"Not really..."

"Plus New York... ugh... just fuck that whole place. Chicago is the place to be!" the Doberman laughed.

"Well considering I was born in New York City..." Maverick pursed his lips.

"Heh, that explains everything."

"Hey, were your parents comedians by chance?"

"No?"

"They sure raised a joke!"

"Fuck you, Maverick." Mario glared. Maverick just smirked a bit and took a sip of his drink.

"I thought I made it big when I was on that sitcom! Four seasons, on top of the world! But then network politics fucked us over and moved us to a bad time slot and our viewership just tanked. There went the show! My agent screwed me over afterwards... he wanted me to do all these stupid and weak projects that were going to be one season dead-enders! So I told him to fuck off, and went on my own, and he fucked me! He blacklisted me from all the big shots in LA, New York, it's bullshit. Nobody wants to work with me because of him!"

Maverick stopped mid-chew at Mario's words for a moment. It was such a laughable excuse.

"Have you ever thought that maybe it's not him, but maybe your mercurial, pretentiousness that keeps you away from landing another big gig?"

"Nah~ I think I'm alright. I don't see anything wrong with me."

"...I see."

The conversation pretty much ended at that point. It fell to silence as Maverick and Mario ate their meal. Maverick gathered his trash, and threw it away, before making his way into the cockpit, to go check up on things.

Stepping through the narrow cockpit door, the husky entered the dim cockpit of the Seven Seas. Dim red lighting preserved night vision as Aquitania was flown by Ivo Horvat, and his boyfriend, Jordan Hoover in the right-hand seat. Ivo's younger brother, Tito Horvat, served as the flight engineer. Jordan, a twenty-six year old German Shepherd, turned around in his seat to notice Maverick's big frame silhouetted in the dim red light.

"How's it going Mav?"

"Heh, exhausted." Chuckled the husky. "Just checking in to see if everyone's okay here."

"Doing fine on my end." Ivo acknowledged.

"Four engines are doing okay." Tito added.

"Well that's good! That's what I like to hear!" Mav laughed playfully. "I think adopting this aircraft was a gambit that paid off?"

Jordan patted the yoke. "She's a nice, sturdy old bird that'll fit the bill for transportation needs."

"Heh! Sometimes a complete dead clock like me gets it right twice a day!" Mav joked about himself. He was about to fire off another joke when he suddenly heard yelling. The whole cockpit grew quiet. Maverick turned around and bolted through the cockpit door and back into the lounge to find Mario arguing with Robby, who was clutching his Betacam.

"I've been filming all fucking day, don't you be filming me you fucking twerp!"

"HEY!" yelled Maverick. "Don't you talk to my son like that!"

"Your son shouldn't be filming me!"

"I will just shooting B-roll like I've been doing all day!" Robby yelled back.

"That gives you no right to cuss at my son like that, Mario!" Maverick growled. "Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you!"

"What did I tell you earlier!" Mario pointed. "Perfection!"

"More like being a little bitch!" Maverick shouted. "Robby, go to the office, close the door."

"But Dad~"

"Office now, Robert!"

Robby quickly left the lobby for the tail of the plane.

Maverick stared in disbelief at the Doberman. "You're a forty two year old man and you're gonna talk to my son like that? That's low, Mario. That's really low."

Mario grumbled and brushed Maverick off. He sat back at his seat and poured himself another glass of champagne and slowly drank at it. Maverick glared and took a few steps back, to regain his calm.

Arriving to Chicago's Midway by nine-thirty, Aquitania landed and quickly dropped him off. Nobody was sad to see him go. The "seven" was quickly turned around and took back off for home, an hour and a half away. Through the night the DC-7 flew, its four radial engines spewing a constant stream of blue flames from her exhausts.

Maverick sat along in the lounge by the window, fiddling a cup of mineral water and watching the flames from the radial engines. The big R-3350's were tightly cowled, the massive eighteen cylinder, turbocompound radials giving a mighty roar. The exhaust stubs to the Cyclone's power recovery turbines glowed with blue flames that sometimes flicked a bit of yellow here and there. It was a neat gimmick that Maverick thought was cool; using the exhaust flow to power a set of blow-down power recovery turbines to scavenge power back into the driveshaft. The flames were a very pretty blue that he liked. The husky sat and watched the nighttime scenery drift by, the blackened landscape having a few pinpricks of lights from little towns, streets, and homes. Maverick's tired face looked uncertain as he thought about everything that was stacked up against him. His green eyes were empty of emotion.

---

Rushing around his kitchen island, Maverick juggled a salad bowl and a jar of chicken gravy in his paws, while pressing his phone up against his head with his shoulder, arguing with his brother Dmitry. He walked back to the stove and nearly dropped the salad bowl onto the granite countertop when he sat it down. He nearly spilled the gravy. About dropping his phone, the husky grabbed a big wooden spoon and stirred his instant mashed potatoes that were cooking in a pot, to go with his chicken roasting in the oven. Glancing over, Maverick gritted his teeth over the waiting conference call with Turnberry on Skype, and the endless e-mails coming in on his laptop. He was in the midst of arguing with his brother about a livestream concept that could net money in for Barev, but it was rife with uncertainty.

"For the millionth time, no! I don't want to do the livestream concept!" Maverick shouted. "We're not pairing up with the company, because I know they're gonna try and fuck us with product placement."

"It's a financially lucrative deal!"

"Listen here missile tits! NO! For the millionth and one time, NO! NEIN! NYET! I got a conference call waiting, and you're wasting my time chubbums."

Maverick hung up and sat his cellphone down. "Sorry about that Simon and Carl."

"...uhh did you call your brother- did I hear it correctly, uhh, 'missile tits'?" came Carl's voice.

"It's a long story." Maverick said in a serious tone. "Sorry, I'm juggling multiple things at once here!"

Setting his spoon down, he ran over to resume his reply to an e-mail concerning the wrecked DC-7 in Chicago. "So what did you think of the video concepts I've sent you?"

"We watched through the six, and we're liking five out of it."

"Oh, good."

"There was one that was really 'bleh', and a couple that really popped!" Simon exclaimed. "I have to say, your cameras have quite the quality to them."

"Heh, thanks. Me and Rob restored them ourselves." Chuckled the husky. "Nothing like a good set of tubes and magnetic videotape to get the look you want!"

"Heh, I'll say." Chuckled Carl. "Overall, we really like these."

"Great!"

"We're hoping that you can get a chance to shoot some more Chicago centric spots with Mario in the near future... right now... it looks like we may be heading into another shutdown period because Covid numbers are spiking up real bad in the windy city."

"It's sadly happening here too- people letting their guard down." Maverick pursed his lips while hitting 'send' on his e-mail. "Hey Carl, Simon, since I got you guys here on Skype..."

"Yeah?"

"Uhh, so...I need to bring to light something about Mario, because he did something that I really am not happy about." Maverick said, his tone growing serious and stern. "So on our flight back from Opa-Locka a few days ago, Mario cussed my thirteen year old son out. All my son did was videotape him for some b-roll I asked him to shoot to cover what we were videotaping down there, and Schleppi flipped out over it. It's part of a pattern of behavior I notice..."

There was a momentary pause of silence from the executives. Carl eventually spoke up. "Mario's...kind of a prickly personality."

"Fickle." Simon chimed in.

"I notice he's very uncooperative when things don't according to plan, and he has an attitude a lot of time, especially with my subordinates at our broadcast station. Nothing is ever good enough, and he makes a big scene about it."

There was more silence on their end. "Well.." came Simon's voice, with some hesitation. "Here's my advice Maverick- don't bring your son along for shoots."

Maverick stopped stirring his potatoes and looked dumbfounded. "You don't tell me what my thirteen year old son can and can't do- as if that's some kind of justification for Mario's sordid behavior."

"He is thirteen~"

"I don't care?" Maverick fired back. "That is no excuse for Schleppi."

"Alright, look." Came Carl's voice, tinted with annoyance. "I get it, Mario is a pain in the ass. He's needy, whiny, and pedantic. If you just do as he demands, you won't have any problems with him!"

Maverick blinked a few times in disbelief. "You know there was a group of people in history who tried this... ...they were called the Jews. Look what happened to them!"

"Well I don't think comparing compliance to Schleppi would be anywhere near to the level of the Holocaust, Maverick."

"It's dumb, because your advice is dumb." Maverick rolled his eyes. "Regardless. Back to business. I'm glad the commercials are working out... and we will send you the print ad concepts when they are finished."

"Alright."

Ending the conference call, Maverick braced himself against the countertop and took a deep breath. He felt mentally exhausted. Taking just a few seconds to himself, he grabbed a small sauce pan for the gravy, and kept on his busy schedule.

---

Looking glum, Maverick sat jotting notes in his planner, listening to a conference meeting. At Barev One, the husky sat in the socially distanced, masked, meeting with the management team of the factory, hearing the bad news of a poor third quarter in company profits. It was a very anemic showing, and showed the budget deficit growing worse. There were now talks about layoffs, cutbacks. Maverick glanced over at his best friend Rob Barion. In a rare outing, the brown and tan wolf-hybrid sat listening, his scowl hidden behind a blue surgical mask. His glaring, piercing eyes gave it away. Rob was facing a bunch of legal matters of his own, coinciding with a noticeable decline in his health. Now he was watching his own company crumble.

"It's going to have to be across the board... layoffs, overtime cut back, no bonuses, a freeze in pay increases, moratoriums on hiring, and management, that's you, will have to take pay cuts. Everyone's going to have to take pay cuts to slow the monetary hemorrhaging." Rob spoke to everyone.

"Unfortunately." Came Ryan Bolton, the plant director for Barev One.

"We'll see into it." Gerome Robinson acknowledged.

"It's a terrible thing, but it's the only solution at this point." Maverick shook his head.

The agreement was typed up, totaling twenty pages. As a whole, the company would be losing five hundred employees, from the electronics factory, and the Centoh hubs in Chicago, Columbus, and Lainsville. The most junior employees would receive the axe, while employees who had longer tenures would stand a better chance. The decision of who got the axe would fall upon the directors of the facilities. Bolton and Robinson looked ashen faced at their expected responsibilities. Rob made it very clear that his two engineers, Darryl Sanders, and Ron Napier, were off limits; they were "critical employees", tasked with overseeing magnetic tape and vacuum tube manufacturing. There was a moratorium on any expansion. For the aviation division, aside from losing employees, was not getting a hub down in Mississippi. The Biloxi hub would be on an indefinite hold, as would a moratorium on any expansion of Centoh's fleet beyond what was scheduled. The packet was passed around, glanced through, and signed off by the management team members of the company.

Maverick got the copy, glanced through it and reached the last page. He very reluctantly took his felt pen, pulled the cap off, and very quickly wrote his name down. He passed it to Rob, who placed it in a folder and closed it up.

"I will sign then when I get on the plane." Rob announced as he got up. It was his signal to go.

Maverick grimaced a bit beneath his mask and got up to follow his friend out of the conference room. Rob walked with a stiff gait, on account of his badly mangled back. They met back up with Felix Barion, and his gaggle, which had been shooting video in the factory, and left for the airport to head back home.

Climbing aboard the company Suburban, it was a half hour drive back to Fairfax's airport, where their transport plane awaited to take them back to Ohio. On the tarmac sat "Vanguard", a restored L-749, a short-fuselage Constellation. The curvaceous propliner was dwarfed by Rob's double-decker C-124C Globemaster, "Ole Shaky", which was taking a couple company vehicles back to Ohio for overhaul. The bare metal Douglas sat in her original USAF "MATS" markings.

Climbing out, Maverick threw his laptop bag around him and climbed up the metal steps to board Vanguard. Felix assumed command of the old propliner, which coughed to life and spewed smoke as its radials were turned over. The two planes took off five minutes apart, climbing slowly away into the western sky, on their way back to Ohio.

Maverick spent part of the flight alone, in the tail of Vanguard, working in Rob's personal quarters. He passed the time reading and replying to his pen-pals- the seven people whose lives were saved by Amy's organs after her death. He left Rob alone; his best friend had been in a bad mood all day over his legal and personal problems in his life. They said very little to each other.

"10/23/20

Dear Mary,

Well, things aren't going exactly as I had hoped.

Today, I made the difficult decision with my

business partner and our management team to

let go hundreds of workers, slash wage and benefits

in an attempt to salvage our budget. I feel so guilty

and unhappy at this decision. There's so many people

hurting this year, and we've just made five hundred

more people suffer more. On top of a pandemic. On top

of economic downturn. This year has really shown that

this country has a number of endemic issues that need

resolving somehow. Whether we have the political will?

No idea."

Maverick wrote from the gut and vented his frustrations to Mary. He signed it and stuffed it into an envelope, which he sealed up and stuffed into his laptop bag. He wrote a few more letters, and took a bit of time to read the news on his computer, before deciding to go see how Rob was doing. He grabbed a couple U-Matic cassettes that were sitting on the desk and left through the bulkhead.

Going into the lounge and video suite area, he found Rob sitting at a card table, filling out legal documents over a couple aircraft he was purchasing surplus from the United States Navy. Maverick took a seat opposite of him and sat his tapes down. The two took a moment to look out the window together at the scenery outside the plane.

"I feel bad." Rob admitted. "I just fucked over five hundred people, with Christmas two months away."

"I know." Maverick nodded. "But it had to be done."

"Sacrifice some than sacrifice all." Rob shrugged bitterly. "But it's still a bitter pill to swallow."

"It's been a really bad year..."

"Tell me about it..."

The two friends just sighed together about their misfortunes. Rob, from all his health and legal problems, and Maverick, who's wife died in a tragic car accident back in June.

Maverick fumbled his brow. "I feel like this is my fault, because I was in charge when everything began to collapse in. Then you have 'klystrongate' thanks to Narovec."

"Jerry got zapped."

"I didn't want to recreate K-19..." the husky shook his head. "It's my fault for-"

"No, Mav, it's not your fault." Rob pointed out. "Nobody could have predicted this was going to be this bad? Well, maybe except our government, which sat on it for months."

"Crazy~" chuckled Maverick cynically.

"We started this business in the last financial fuck-up, we can weather this out." Rob tried to assure. "...but we were also a lot smaller back then too. Little ripples are now tidal waves hitting our company because of the size."

"Yep."Maverick agreed. "I don't see any light at the end of the tunnel you know?"

"Yeah, same here." Rob nodded. "Heh, this is what a lack of leadership looks like."

"Elect a clown, expect a circus!"

Rob neatly stacked his Navy documentation and stowed that into another folder. He grabbed the two folders and got up with them. "I think I'm gonna lay down for a nap...I got a tension headache."

"Gotcha, Rob."

Maverick watched Rob walk away and step through the bulkhead and close the door. The husky pursed his lips and twirled his thumbs together while he sat alone. After a short while, he grabbed his tapes, and went over to the video suite, to review the footage to pass the time.

---

For almost two months, Maverick took little time off to himself. Faced with heading a company through unprecedented times, his efforts led him to feeling massively burned out. Urged by Marcus and the others he worked with, Mav took a few days off for himself, to recuperate.

Late October had an abnormal warm spell. Bright clear skies, and temperatures hovering near eighty made for a great weekend to get out and enjoy the weather. It was the perfect opportunity for a game of baseball between the two Mav's.

On the pitcher's mound stood Mav, clutching a baseball in his grip. On the other side, on home plate was Maverick, looking serious, in position with his wooden bat. The Russian husky wound up and threw a fast ball, which Maverick hit with all his might. He sent it flying straight towards Mav, who had to duck at the last second. He stumbled and fell, laughing as the baseball went flying. The husky got up and brushed some of the red dust off this tanktop and shorts. He then traded places with Maverick, who assumed the pitcher's stand. Mav picked up the bat, got his grip and took position, watching Maverick, who concentrated, then wound up and threw a lightning fast ball. Mav had less than a second to react; he swung and the bat made contact, with a pleasant "thwoop", and the recoil of impact in his grip. The ball went flying into the air, as everyone watched.

"Another home run, boys!" Mav joked as he playfully swung the bat around with his cocky swagger.

"Equal might~" chuckled Maverick as he smacked the mitt into Mav's chest. "Fausty!"

"I'm up!" the brown wolf exclaimed as Mav handed the bat off to him.

Mav felt great as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel. His mind felt clear and he enjoyed himself tremendously. He could decompress from all the business stress he was dealing from. From late in the morning, all through the afternoon, Mav played baseball with Maverick, Faust, and Greyn at the baseball diamond at Newark High School.

"Hey that was great~" Mav said to his friend while he packed his gear away in a duffel bag.

"Hey, I agree. Great de-stresser." Chuckled Maverick. He zipped his own duffel bag up and threw the strap over his shoulder to carry it. As they walked back to the truck sitting in the empty parking lot, Maverick threw his arm around Mav and gave him a friendly squeeze with his muscular grip. "So what do you want to do now?"

"Wanna do some lunch?"

"Sure!"

Returning back to Mav's home on Karen Parkway, he ate lunch with his friends in his garage. They sat eating hamburgers around a folding plastic table, surrounded by all his broadcasting gear under restoration.

"So is this just what you do in your free time?" Faust asked Mav amusingly. "Just work on old camera gear?"

"Basically." Mav shrugged as he picked up his milkshake to suck at it a bit. "I mean, what else is there to do?"

"True..." Faust grimaced a bit. "It's been work, work, and work!"

"More like drive, drive, drive!" teased Maverick with a playful grin at him.

"Pfft. They replaced my Cincinnati runs to Toledo now..." Faust grunted.

"Hey, at least you guys are working..." Maverick rolled his eyes.

"Or having to shoulder an entire company amidst the worst health crisis in a century and economic downturn. Crazy~" Mav shrugged. There were mumbles of agreement amongst everyone.

"It's almost like... this whole crisis got to where it is because of incompetent people...." Greyn chuckled. "Weird."

"Yeah, weird~" Mav snorted. "At the rate things are going for this country, my business, heck! Myself! What more could go wrong?"

Mav heard the sound of tires on his driveway, which perked his attention. He got up to notice that it was Andrew and Marie Paulo, arriving in their black Ram truck. "Oh boy~" was Mav's immediate reaction. He ran over to greet the aging Brazilian Dobers, who climbed out of the truck to immediately greet them. He was surprised to even see Joey Paulo step out from the back seat.

"Joey and Joey's parents what are you doing here!" Mav sarcastically grinned in surprise.

"Maverick! I got a wonderful surprise to show you!"

Andrew leaned in a bit to speak. "Marie made a sculpture in this art class she's been doing, and wants to just show everyone."

"Mom's really excited~" chuckled Joey.

"Art class you say?"

"Yeah~ Mom wanted something to do because well...what else is there to do in the age of Covid... so she found out about this socially distanced art class thingy...and there you have it~" Joey explained before going to help unload something that was wrapped up in a sheet. It looked tall and flared towards the base.

"I can't wait to show you!" Marie exclaimed.

"She spent all this time making this and not enough time in the damn kitchen! I have to eat these little dried meat snacks because of it!" Andrew exclaimed.

Joey sighed sarcastically. "...Dad, those are bouillon cubes..."

"Oh..."

"Wow..." Mav shook his head.

Maverick, Greyn, and Faust walked over to see what was going on as the sculpture was unwrapped. The sheet was pulled off to reveal a fountain, made out of what looked like marble and alabaster. The base had a flared wavy design, reminiscent of a tutu. Inside the basin was three rounded stones that faded into a towering shaft that flared out a bit at the tip. Mav examined it, and suddenly his eyes went huge; it suddenly dawned on him that Marie had made a giant phallus shaped fountain, and the realization would not leave his head. It looked like a giant uncut penis with a tutu! The husky couldn't believe it. He could not believe that Marie unintentionally made such a design.

"Wow, Mom that's great!" Joey complimented.

"Hey, now that's impressive." Maverick smiled. "Marie you made this yourself?"

"Yeah!" Marie happily exclaimed.

"It's beautiful!" Faust and Greyn chimed in.

"Marie, that's beautiful~" Andrew complimented.

"Thank you everyone!" Marie grinned. "Andrew! Let's get the power cord and find Maverick's hose~"

Mav gently nudged Joey and pulled him away towards the garage.

"What did you think of your Mom's fountain?" Mav asked his friend.

The Doberman looked a bit curious at Mav's inquiry. "I thought she did a pretty good job there, Mav-O~"

"Uhh...does it look like something to you?"

Joey looked puzzled. "No? Why?"

"Uhh..." Mav muttered as he leaned in. "Doesn't that look a little... masculine?"

Joey took a step back and looked at Mav with a bewildered smirk on his face. "What?" The Brazilian Dober leaned around the husky and looked at the fountain from a distance. When he put two and two together his hazel eyes went huge. He looked away and recoiled in disgust, turning to glare at Mav. "Oh great Mav..."

"You see it?"

"Oh now I do thanks to you!" Joey exclaimed.

"Hey Maverick? What do you think?" Marie asked the Russian husky.

"Oh, I think it looks great!"

"I noticed you didn't quite say anything at first~"

"Oh, I got a lot going on, been kinda distracted you know?"

"Come over and look at the fountain!" Marie said, grabbing his big paws. "You can even touch it!"

"Oh god!" Mav blurted out. "I'm fine, Marie!"

"So Marie, what is this?" Faust pointed and asked.

"Oh it's something abstract!"

"Really..." Joey grimaced under his breath.

"Why does this remind me of something, hmm..." Maverick pondered as he rubbed his goatee. "This is really bugging me, Fausty, where have I seen this before?"

"Yeah, it's got a shape I've seen... hmm..." Greyn pondered.

Marie explained how she made the fountain out of a couple blocks of marble and alabaster, and the tools she used to make it. As he talked, Mav leaned over and whispered to Maverick what he thought it looked like. The big husky leaned away with a look of disbelief on his face. "You're joking..." he muttered quietly. Turning to look at the fountain again, the husky's green eyes went huge at the realization of the shape. He took a step back. "Oh my god! Marie..."

"What is it other Maverick?" smiled Marie.

"Oh...uhh...what a masterpiece!" he grinned. "You did a fantastic job!"

"Thank you!" Marie exclaimed. "And watch this!"

Mav watched as Andrew filled the basin with his garden hose. He tossed it aside and plugged it in, where the hum of a pump became evident. Water suddenly shot out the top and ran down the shaft, back into the basin. Mav stared in disbelief. Just when he thought it couldn't get more inappropriate.

"So where do you want this, Maverick?"

The Russian husky blinked a times to return to reality. "Uhh, what?"

"It's a gift for you!" Marie exclaimed. "A gift for your home!"

The other Maverick snorted and immediately looked away to stifle a laugh. The others tried to avoid openly laughing.

"OH NO- I MEAN, really Marie?"

"I knew you were having a rough time this year because of the pandemic, work, and Amy's passing...so I made this so the sound of flowing water could cheer you up!" Marie smiled.

"Oh my god Marie, you really shouldn't have!" Mav exclaimed.

"Who else!" Marie cheered.

"I don't know...maybe Roberto?"

"Who?" Andrew asked.

Mav blankly stared. "Your second born son?"

"Pay attention, Dad~" smiled Joey.

Mav looked at the fountain and stifled a sad, embarrassed sigh.

---

"Oh my god look at this thing..." Mav shook his head.

The fountain sat in the corner of his living room, beside his couch. The phallic shaped fountain stood out like an embarrassing, sore thumb. It's light gray stone contrasted against the blue of the wall.

"Oh boy..." chuckled Joey as he stood with Mav.

"I can't believe your mother made this, and then gifted it to me! Like I really wanted a giant dick that shoots water out the top!"

"It's the thought that counts..." Joey teased. "What the fuck Mom...what were you thinking?"

Mav just sighed and laughed a bit.

"My Mom was getting lonely because the pandemic has just kept her away from all the places she liked to go...and when this art class thing got offered...she went and did it and it gave her something to do and really cheered her up..."

"It erected her spirits..." Mav rolled his eyes and laughed.

"You know what Maverick? Just pretend it's an, uhh, mushroom! A giant forest mushroom!"

"Yeah a giant mushroom that could use some fucking underwear!" the husky exclaimed. "You know what, maybe if I just rotate it..."

Mav gripped the base of the fountain and rotated it, finding no matter how he tried to rotate it, it looked virtually the same. "Oh my god Joey your mom made a FUCKING THREE SIDED PENIS! NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES I TURN IT, IT LOOKS THE SAME! IT LOOKS LIKE A GIANT FUCKING WINKIE!"

The front door opened to reveal Robby, who stepped inside, clutching a basketball under his arm. He saw his father's pathetic plight in futilely rotating the fountain around. "Dad? What are you doing?"

"OH ROBBY!" Maverick shouted. He immediately put himself in front of the fountain.

"What is that?" the young husky pointed.

"Well Robby, this is a gift from Joey's parents... this is a fountain..."

Robby stared at the fountain for a moment, then just turned and looked at his dad in disbelief. "Dad, this looks like a giant-"

"Okay, that's enough art for today!" Mav exclaimed. "You know what Joey? I'm just gonna pretend it's some forest mushroom, sprouting from its three-sided veil! Like a toxic Amanita!"

"I don't know, maybe people won't notice it if you don't point it out?"

Stepping through the open door was Travis, a red furred Doberman with tattoo sleeves. "Bro! Where'd you get the giant dick sculpture!"

"I KNEW IT!" Maverick yelled.

"Travis...what are you doing here?" smiled Joey.

"Uhh... do you really want to know?"

"No."

"Okay~" the Doberman grinned playfully.

"TRAVIS, what are you doing in my house?" the husky exclaimed.

Travis just playfully grinned at him. "Well I was wondering if you wanted new mulch put down in your garden before winter?"

"Yeah, that's fine." Mav agreed.

"Great, that's all, 'cause I'm going to go over to Nico and Vlad's and fuck my boyfriend there!" laughed the Doberman. "Hey Joey, you should totally come and have some fun with me and Chris! We'd love a hot piece of ass to be in bed with us yo!"

Joey just smiled at him. "Travis, I'm gonna beat the fuck out of you~"

"Oooh...well... I'm not really into that...but I'd let you do whatever you want to me." Travis grinned teasingly.

"Okay, you really are gonna get sprayed with my hose~"

"Which hose!" Travis excitedly asked him.

Joey looked at Maverick. "You see what I deal with all the time?"

Maverick just rolled his eyes at Travis.

---

A thunderstorm slammed Newark, dumping torrential rain from dark slate colored skies. A brilliant flash of lightning, followed a few seconds later by the sharp crack of thunder, rattled Maverick's home. In his living room, Maverick sat at his desk, doing multiple things at once. His brother Dmitry sat on his couch, working on an advertising poster on his Thinkpad laptop. He sat back with his drawing tablet on his lap, the chubby husky cleaning up the edge of a cropped image of Mario on the advertisement.

Fumbling around with his pen, Maverick juggled the handset of an old Bell telephone against the side of his head and shoulder, while dealing with an important zoom conference call, between himself, Barev's engineers in Virginia, and executives from the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in California. He was dealing with an urgent phone call from the Turnberry executives in Chicago, informing him of the city's shutdown order, preventing Mario from traveling. Maverick wasn't sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief that he didn't have to deal with Schleppi's pretentious, mercurial ass, or weep at the delays depriving Barev of critical money. But at the same time, he was at the cusp of getting a multi-million dollar deal to supply NASA's deep space network with their high powered klystrons.

The Russian husky quickly smacked the handset back onto the receiver, which rattled the bell inside the beige case. "Sorry about that!" he laughed. "I had an important call to take."

"No worries~"

Mav and the engineers went back and forth with the executives from JPL, discussing the benefits of their newest generation of klystrons, and the improvements to the gun structure to increase signal frequency output and tube life of the high powered devices. It was a productive meeting as Maverick jotted notes down on a notepad with his pen.

"Uhh, pardon me for interrupting..." came one of the engineers on JPL's end...I've been wondering about this, this entire call and... uhh... Maverick? Is that what I think it is in the background?"

Maverick's face grew ashen when he saw on his own video window, his fountain perfectly framed up in the background. "BE RIGHT BACK!" He blackened his video for a moment, and came back to have the fountain completely covered by a blanket. "Sorry about that...had a minor technical difficulty."

"It looks like you covered it up with a blanket. What on earth is that!"

"It's a fountain! It's a mushroom shaped fountain, yeah!"

"Heh, if you ask me it looks like a giant dick~" snorted another engineer, which got everyone to laugh. Maverick looked really embarrassed. "No, just a friendly Amanita mushroom!" He gave a big shit-eating grin. He quickly changed the subject back to the features of their klystron, and finished up their initial meeting, which concluded with JPL deciding to discuss the matter further between them. Maverick ended the zoom meeting with a sigh of relief. "That stupid fountain..."

Mav locked his computer screen and walked over to sit on his couch. He glanced over to see Dmitry just glaring at him. "What the fuck's your problem, chubbums?"

"You know...I've been thinking about this recently... where's my fountain at?" Dmitry asked him.

Mav tilted his head while staring at him with a puzzled look. "What, you want something like this?"

"Oh you mean like a sign of love and affection from family and friends? Gee Mav-O, what's that like?"

Mav blinked rapidly and pointed. "You, you, you, call this a sign of love and affection!?"

"IN ITS OWN DISGUSTING, FUCKED UP WAY, YES!"

"Eww! You sick fuck!" Maverick shouted. Dmitry just mocked him as he tried to grab the remote beside Maverick.

"Gimme that remote!"

"Eww! God! Get your fucking rocket titties outta my face!" Maverick shouted as he slapped his brother's flabby breasts.

"Stop it!" Dmitry shouted as Mav shoved him back with the remote.

Dmitry turned on the TV and ran a paw through his messy locks of blonde hair. "Alright... well... here's my print ad design so far."

"What a douche, that Mario. Even his smile just screams douchebag..." Mav rolled his eyes. The ad depicted Mario holding an ice cream scoop and an open container of Turnberry ice cream. A big grin lit up his face.

"Xan said taking these photos were a nightmare because of him." Dmitry added.

"I can see that! He's a fucking dicktree!" Maverick shook his head. "I cannot stand this motherfucker! I'm happy and irritated that he's going to be stuck in Chicago for several weeks because of another Covid lockdown and- oh god...that means now I have to go back to contingency plans for Centoh there! D'OH! My Turnberry deal is going to get pushed back further now! Damnit!"

"Why are we stuck with this thing again?" Dmitry asked.

"Because this thing named Mario Schleppi is going to make millions for Barev..."

"Is it worth it?"

"I ask myself that too..."

Mav quickly got up to grab the phone. He needed to call over to Centoh's Chicago hub to announce their contingency plans.

"What about my livestream ideas?"

"NO!" Maverick shouted. "Stop with that stupid idea!"

"Why is it stupid?"

"Because you're gonna make this company get on its knees and suck corporate dick for sponsorship!"

"Oh, because we're not sucking Mario's teenie weenie right now placating him at every turn?"

Maverick rolled his eyes. "NO!"

Dmitry threw his arms up in disgust and went back to editing with his tablet, while Maverick spoke to the hub director in Chicago.

---

In his garage workshop, Maverick prepared for another weekly shoot of his "Covid Advisory Update" video. Dressed in a snowflake patterned cardigan of blues and grays, Maverick stood in the harsh glare of floodlights that illuminated him in a harsh, snow white light. Behind him was a large rolling corkboard that had a map of the US pinned on it. There were markers denoting where Barev had a facility at. Smaller maps beside the big map were for Ohio, Illinois, New York, and Virginia, states where Barev operated at. Charts denoted the rising infection and death rates in those states. In front of him was Robby, manning his restored HK-322, a boxy gray sided studio camera. It was another restored tube camera of his, the big 30mm tubed Ikegami equipped with his own company's Saticon V ABO tubes. Robby peered around the side, watching his dad adjust a microphone that was bolted to a tripod just out of view.

"Well tape's all spooled up." Marcus acknowledged. He sat off in the distance beside the open door, manning a portable Hitachi HR-100 Type C recorder. It sat on a folding desk, plugged into the camera's CCU via a composite cable. The microphone was directly plugged into it. A gold reel of "Barev 525" was spooled up.

"Nothing like starting November with some bad news!" Maverick exclaimed with cheerful morbidness.

"That's the spirit~" Marcus chuckled. "You even got your festive sweater to give it as well!"

"I know right? Via la Goodwill for my tacky winter sweaters." Laughed the husky.

"Whenever you're ready, Dad!" Robby called.

"Alrighty!" Maverick exclaimed as he tossed his script aside. "Fuck it! We'll do it live!"

Marcus hit record manually and sat back as he watched the reels spin. He had playback on a small color monitor he sat up. He had a crisp color picture to observe.

"Here we go! Five! Four! Three! Two... one..." Robby called out.

"Action!"

"Good evening and welcome to another episode of Barev's Covid Advisory Update! What a way to start off the new month, huh? Heh, heh, well, here we go."

Maverick grew more serious as he gave the company update on the pandemic. Since the middle of September, he made a video every Sunday, providing updates and information for all of his employees regarding the pandemic and safety updates. Each video lasted between ten to fifteen minutes. Besides informing his workers and trying to bring a sense of control to the spiraling out of control crisis, it was a fun project to do with his son, who enjoyed being the cameraman. In his latest update, he talked about the shutdown in Chicago affecting Centoh's hub there, and announced that office workers would continue to work from home, while the maintenance teams would rotate on shifts to try and reduce the amount of people around each other in the hangars. Because they were essential employees, Barev would provide them with hazard pay for their work. It was grim news as virus numbers all over were spiking in unprecedented amounts. There were growing fears about hospitalization rates and capacity. Maverick concluded his video with the reminder to remain vigil about one's health, and wished everyone well.

"That's a wrap!" Robby called.

Following their shoot, Maverick took the reel of videotape, to be edited in his basement suite. Marcus went on home, and Maverick and Robby spent the rest of the afternoon editing the tape together. Robby was learning how to edit videotape the old linear way, and followed his Dad's instructions to edit the shots together. It was a fun time together as Maverick watched the finished piece come together.

"And here goes the last shot~" Robby called as he worked the vision switcher. Changing the input feed to the Beta deck on the desk, he dubbed the last shot in, a wide angle view of the garage, shot from a Sony BVP-7 that sat above a storage area. It was an early 3-CCD camera and it showed; the picture had a muddy, washed out appearance, and the bright floodlights illuminating Maverick were spread out as sharp six point stars, with a very noticeable red vertical streak that smeared up and down the picture from the overload. Robby cut in the closing music, and manipulated the fade lever, bring the video to black.

"That's a wrap!" Maverick exclaimed. He took control of the console, and rewound the edit master to prepare it for digitization. It was then replayed and digitized to his laptop, for publishing. Finally the edited master tape was labeled, and put away on the shelf with dozens of other videotapes.

"You're doing a great job learning all this obsolete stuff~" chuckled Maverick. "It could very well help you one of these days."

"Well, it's fun." Smiled the young husky.

Climbing up the stairs, the two ventured through the kitchen to the living room, where Maverick sarcastically shielded his eyes from his fountain in the corner. The two huskies stood at the big window and watched snow flurries flutter outside. The last of the warmth was finally over with.

---

"Let's introduce you to the klystron manufacturing area~"

Ron Napier led the small tour through the factory of Barev One. The aging gray wolf in his white lab coat and cloth mask, stepped through an entryway into the klystron assembly area. Three engineers from NASA followed, dressed in their formal attire and NASA logoed masks. Maverick followed behind them, with his camera crew, Marcus and Felix Barion. The sound of machinery was deadened by the sound proofed walls sealing off the clean room areas, where the klystron components were put together and evacuated. On a wheeled mount stood a giant multicavity klystron, which half the upper half painted blue, and the lower half, a cylinder of polished steel. Flange covers sealed the microwave input and output ports.

"This is our latest high powered multicavity klystron, which is designed specifically in mind for satellite and television telecommunications systems." Ron explained. He was Barev's "tube wizard"; having spent years working for English Electric Valve, then the Whirley Electronics Company, Napier became a crucial employee to Barev, and spearheaded the continuation of vacuum tube manufacturing. Now he showcased his latest work in the evolution of vacuum tube technology. Marcus stood to the side, manning his gray sided HL-79EAL, which sported a large yellow padded shotgun microphone. Felix stood beside him, manning the U-Matic deck that captured video.

"Our advanced klystron has not only a much improved gain, and signal to noise ratio, but we also strived to improve the gun life, and electron beam efficiency. We did this by adopting our patented ABO- Automatic Beam Optimization electron gun, from our video tubes, to incorporate into the klystron. Instead of a hot cathode, we are using a thorium doped cold cathode, for long gun life via low work function. The ABO provides an automatic adjustment to the beam as the gun ages, so there is minimal need for manual adjustments during the life of the tube."

One of the engineers took notes. There were nods and murmurs of interest as Napier explained the finer workings of their newest klystron model. Maverick stood and looked content as he observed Napier in his natural habitat. This was a big opportunity for Barev to make crucial money. If he could nab NASA's Deep Space Network telecom needs with their klystrons, then other telecom customers would flock to Barev's design.

Following the examination of the klystron, Napier took the guests to go see some of their other designs, particularly development Napier had been doing on traveling wave tube amplifiers. Maverick took that moment to slip away and go inspect other parts of the factory. He toured the vacuum tube assembly area, the magnetic tape manufacturing section, and the research and development laboratory, where engineers were prototyping some solar panel designs Barev had been tinkering around with. He felt confident that despite the layoffs, things were at least stable.

Lastly, Maverick took a moment to touch base with Ryan Bolton, the plant director. In the conference room, he met with a few of the upper echelon of the factory, to get an update over the legal matters Barev was facing.

"Well, I have an update about the suite Narovec filed against us for wrongful termination- that has been dismissed in a court of law." Bolton explained to Maverick.

"Oh good~"

"It was dismissed with prejudice, announced the judge presiding over the case, because Narovec failed to provide evidence that his termination was wrongful."

"Well yeah, no shit." Chuckled the husky. "Steve was a fucking idiot, and an accident waiting to happen."

"I actually need to discuss the next step with you about the Jerry Schultz lawsuit brought on by his family..." Bolton added. "They are willing to settle, and it would be about two million dollars."

"Jesus Christ..." Maverick shook his head.

"Well, I mean, we did kind of hit him with a lethal dose of X-rays. Accident, or not."

"On top of the NRC's fines~"

"Don't remind me about them..." Bolton grunted. "Constantly dropping in, examining our klystron testing procedures. And now that we're creating a thorium doped ABO gun for our newest klystron? Red alert!"

"Ahh, nothing like government red tape~" chuckled Maverick. "Fuck it, we'll settle."

"Probably for the best..." Bolton pursed his lips.

"Anything else new?"

"Well... your old friend has been starting to bug us again..." Bolton announced.

"Whirley..." a secretary leaned in.

"Oh god... what the fuck does Kevin Whirley want?"

"He wants the use of his name back, since we own the trademark 'Whirley', from the Whirley Electronics Company era. He wants to use it to kick start some business venture."

"Oh lord." Laughed Maverick. "That guy was a fucking joke. He wants to start his own business? Why? So he can just drive it into the ground again? He's like fucking Donald Trump. Everything Whirley touched just withered and died."

"I know. But he wants, err, demands that Barev relinquish ownership and trademark status of his family name."

"Ha. No." chuckled Maverick. "Not after the shit he put us through."

Bolton sarcastically nodded in agreement.

"If he wants it, he will negotiate an agreement and monetary transaction." Maverick pointed.

"You want him to pay for his name?"

"Yeah! He fucked his family business over, he fucked us over, and he can go fuck himself."

"That's a lot of fucks~"

"Fuck yeah it is!"

"Alrighty, that will be our response." Bolton responded as he sat back.

---

As the NASA engineers climbed back aboard their white and blue Gulfstream to head back to Florida, "Berwick", Barev's DC-7B, taxied by. The old Douglas dwarfed the little corporate jet as it rumbled by, its four radial engines burbling away. Maverick sat back and watched from a window as the slow roll to the runway was accomplished. "Berwick" soon rumbled into the air, on the return leg to Newark, on her first official mission for the company.

Taking a break from staring at his laptop, Maverick emerged from the tail of the plane and walked up the fuselage cabin. He spotted Marcus and Felix, examining footage they had shot in the video lounge while he walked by to the cockpit. He stepped in through the bulkhead, through the crew quarters, and into the cockpit itself, to find his older brothers flying. Vlad and Kalash Tokarev, who worked for Centoh, crewed "Berwick" with Tito Horvat as the flight engineer. Kalash, the eldest at forty-one, looked like a miniature version of Maverick, standing at just five foot four. Vlad, the second oldest brother, at thirty-nine, had blonde hair and goatee, his blonde hair cropped and tied back into a stubby ponytail. Both his arms were adorned with tattoo sleeves.

"Time to take a break from all the number crunching!" laughed Maverick as he braced himself and leaned against an instrumentation rack.

"How'd it go?" Vlad asked.

"About as well as expected. They liked the klystron design, but now they have to discuss it with the big wigs in Florida."

"Ah, yes, the bureaucratic part..." Kalash chuckled.

"The big wigs want a meeting between us at Barev, the engineering team, the DSN folk, on Zoom... so I have to craft an invite for them."

"On top of everything else~"

"Nah, I got Dmitry. Chubbums is gonna design it."

"Oh god." Laughed Kalash.

"It's fine!" Maverick exclaimed. "It's just an evite! What's the worst that could happen?"

---

Snow flurries danced around Maverick and Marcus on the tarmac. The two huskies watched as Felix arrived in "Challenger" his polished up L-749. Fresh in from Chicago, the "white-top" Constellation taxied in on her inboard radials, carrying Mario aboard. Both huskies looked glum at Mario's return.

Ground crew wedged the airstair up after the engines were powered off, and the hatched opened, revealing Mario shoving Felix aside. Maverick closed his eyes and suppressed a shudder. Mario climbed down the steps carrying his bag that bounced along on his shoulder. He wore a green plaid cloth mask, a green and black plaid shirt that was loosely buttoned over a gray t-shirt and jeans. Even his sneakers had a plaid pattern to it.

"Good morning, Mario how was your-"

"Let's get this fucking shoot over with~" grunted the Doberman as he stormed on by. Marcus turned and looked at Maverick with a disdainful glaze on his face. Maverick shuddered a bit and nodded in understanding.

Making the drive back to the BVS station, Maverick and Marcus had to listen to the usual barrage of complaints and gripes from the mercurial Mario. He seemed impossible to placate. They got back to the station and got to work on their latest shoot for Turnberry. It was an all day shoot, doing multiple takes, with some of them green screened before the cameras. Mario made it such an unbearable process; he thought the takes weren't good enough, so they'd redo it, and redo it and redo it. Mario would critique the camera crews, the sound people, the lighting. Anything he could draw negativity from, he would. The morale in the studio soured, and it got even worse when one of the cameras threw a malfunction. Taping had to be paused while Maverick diagnosed a problem aboard one of the TK-47EP's. There was an issue with the focus controls, and Maverick needed to take a moment to work on the lines and servos that controlled focusing. Mario looked impatient and tapped a foot as he watched Maverick service the camera with Marcus.

"Oh come on, what's going on?" Mario griped.

"Just hold tight, there's a jammed servo." Maverick grumbled. He worked with Marcus to repair the component.

"We gotta finish this shoot!"

"HOLD ON!" Marcus shouted.

"Don't yell at me!" shouted the Doberman.

"You're impatient! Shut up and sit down, Mario." Grumbled the Nordic husky.

Mario grumbled and marched over to see what they were working on. Being cocky, he pushed Marcus aside to try and fiddle with some of the camera's components, only to have his paw slapped by Maverick.

"GET YO' TALENTLESS DICKBEATERS OFF IT!" shouted Maverick.

Marcus pushed Mario back. "Go take a fucking break or something dude, let us work with the camera!"

Mario scoffed and just marched out of the studio. Marcus and Maverick just grimaced at each other.

Exiting the studio, Mario marched into the office, where he found the other employees of BVS at work in their little cubbyholes of the former bus depot.

"You folks got any coffee?" Mario asked.

"Yeah, I'm about to put a pot on." Replied Nico, a tall red furred Doberman, who spoke with a thick Serbian drawl.

"Good. I want some."

"Alright."

Mario turned his attention over to Dmitry, who had his own little space, strewn with paperwork. He was working on his drawing tablet, doing some tweaks to another Turnberry print ad.

"Hey, what gives with my photo?"

"What?" Dmitry asked, looking up from his work.

"Look at this crop here! Look at it!" Mario pointed.

"It's fine. It's going to be covered up so don't worry about-"

"No, I don't like how you did it."

"It don't matter if its covered up by a tub of fucking ice cream, dude? Give it a rest." Dmitry scoffed.

"Well I have say so!"

"Uhh, not really! You are not my boss there Mario." Dmitry shook his head.

"What I say-"

"I don't fucking care what you say, motherfucker!" Dmitry exclaimed. "Hell! I'll draw a fucking penis in your mouth for acting like a faggot!"

"How dare you say that!"

"Ohhh nooooo...." Snorted Dmitry.

"At least I'm not some fat, pathetic slob who sits in a fucking pig pen of a cubicle. You call me a faggot when you're just a greasy, disgusting pig!"

"Hey!" shouted Nico, who held two mugs of coffee. "Don't you be talking to Dmitry like that!"

"Who the fuck are you coffee boy?" Mario glared as he snatched a black mug from Nico's grip. He took a sip of coffee and spat it out, his face growing disgusted. "Eww! What the fuck coffee is this?"

"It's French roast..." Nico grumbled.

"What brand?"

"Target brand..."

Mario promptly splashed Nico in the face with his mug of hot coffee. It took Nico completely by surprise; he dropped his mug and took a step back, his hazel eyes immediately growing enraged. Maverick stepped into the office just as it happened, and saw the look of pure rage boil up in the tall Serbian Dober. Dmitry was silent at what he had seen.

"If it's not fucking Vietnamese artisan coffee, it's fucking shit!" Mario shouted. "Pathetic! All of you!"

Nico's paws balled into fists. He practically towered over Mario, his whole body twitching from being so enraged. Maverick was expecting Mario to get the shit beat out of him, but instead, Nico suddenly turned, grabbed his coat, and stormed out of the office.

"Nico! No! Come back!" Maverick shouted.

"Good riddance. Fucking prick..." Mario grunted. He turned to stare at Dmitry. "Yeah, and what's your fucking problem? Go fucking fix that mistake you lazy fuck!"

Dmitry's face grew cross. He looked at Mario, then Maverick, and just threw his tablet aside. He got up and didn't even bother with his jacket. The chubby husky just stormed out after Nico, the office door slamming shut. Maverick looked at Mario in irate disbelief.

"I think we're done here for today..."

"Good. I need a break from you fucking idiots." The Doberman scoffed. "I've never seen such a haphazard shithole like this place!"

"It's time to go." Maverick pointed.

---

Looking frantic, Maverick threw open a storage cabinet, to fetch a spare lens. His garage was a chaotic scene, as he was surrounded by the BVS crew, angry over Mario's conduct. Maverick looked flustered as he marched by a fuming Marcus and Nico, who were accompanied by Ryan, Corey, Borr, Shane, Felix, and their secretaries, Charles and Tabby. Each one had a negative comment to say about Mario Schleppi.

"I know! I know!" Maverick exclaimed as he worked to quickly swap lenses to the studio's TK-47EP. The lens focus drive gears had sheared after a servo malfunctioned, and he needed to replace the Angenieux lens with a spare, so he could properly tear it down and repair it. "Look I get it you guys! Mario's a fucking douchebag, but what more can I do?"

"Like not have him come back?" Nico responded.

"Yeah and what? Lose a potential hundred million dollar deal that could very well help this company pay off its fucking debts?" Maverick retorted. "I get it! He's like ear rape! He's like being raped in the ass with peanut butter for lube."

"Oh my god..." Marcus rolled his eyes.

"Too much?" Maverick asked.

Marcus shuddered. "He is getting out of control. He went from being just a pretentious washed-up actor, to now just a fucking monster."

"I'm done listening to him bitch on the plane..." Felix chimed in. "Myself, Jordan, Ivo, the people at Centoh Chicago? Everyone's done hearing him bitch. The plane's too loud, it's not fast enough, oh my god where's my peanuts!?"

"He's seriously bitching about peanuts now!?" Maverick shouted.

"Basically!"

"Well he can go eat these nuts!" Maverick shouted, pointing to his crotch. "I want him gone too! Believe me! But I can't forfeit that much money. If I can get this pulled off, and then this NASA deal, Barev will be in better shape to handle next year, and maybe we won't have to cut anything more, or lay people off."

"How did we get to this point?" Shane the sable furred husky asked.

"Gee! I don't know! Massive pandemic? Massive economic downturn from the pandemic? My generosity in an attempt to protect the health of workers because of a pandemic that was made worse by a lousy, incompetent government administration that just sat on its paws for three months and made absolutely no preparations? Gee, I have no fucking idea! But lemme just pull solutions outta my ass and fix this! D'OH! And worse of all, I have no Rob Barion to fall back on! I don't have my Joseph Goebbels sidekick!"

"Did you really just compare Rob to Goebbels?" Marcus asked.

"Well he ain't Hitler~ I've had this discussion with Joey! Rob is Nixon and Goebbels, with a little Reinhard Heydrich mixed in, sans anti-Semitism. I'm just the Leonid Brezhnev of autocrats, if I was one."

Marcus smacked his paw against his face. "This cannot get any worse."

"Yeah...I agree..." Mav grimaced.

Trying his best to defuse the situation, Maverick reattached a replacement lens to the TK-47, and got it recalibrated in a hurry. He gave the camera off to Marcus and Felix, who placed it into their truck and took it back to the station. Maverick went back inside to just take a break from the day, while everyone else went on home.

He closed the door to his kitchen and leaned against it, letting out a bitter sigh. He felt so overwhelmed, like he was flying at the seat of his pants. There was so much at stake, and he felt almost powerless.

Walking into his living room to head to his bedroom, Maverick walked by his awkward fountain. He immediately shoved a paw up to block the view as he walked by, grumbling about its shape and what to do with it. He stepped into his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

---

Rubbing his forehead, Maverick listened to more bad news over the phone. At his living room desk, Maverick sat watching the steam from his morning coffee take on a glow from a ray of light through the kitchen window. On speakerphone was Bolton, reporting to Maverick about a new outbreak of Covid-19 at Barev One. Two employees on the maintenance team got infected, and the entire janitorial and maintenance team was now in quarantine. The factory was shut down, and all the workers sent home as effort was made to deep clean the facility. Who knew how many more were going to get sick? Maverick was dealing with the fact that already, several employees had died in Virginia and New York from Coronavirus complications. He was juggling that emotional burden with the reality that Barev's finances were going to be even more in the red with the factory being shut down and workers sent home. He couldn't be generous like before and continue to pay the ones whose jobs could not be done at home.

"Fuck me..." Maverick grunted. "It was Johnny wasn't it?"

"...yes." Bolton admitted. "I told him that if he didn't take this seriously, it was going to bite him in the ass."

"Typical fucking yokel. GREAT. Now the entire maintenance team is fucked. God alone knows who else encountered them."

"Well, I've made an assessment, and I don't think the risk is very high? The office people weren't around them, so I can rule them out. I told the floor workers that they need to check for symptoms over the next five to seven days."

"Gotcha."

"I will do my best to keep this situation under control, Mav."

"I have faith. Ugh, what a year."

"I agree."

Maverick was just about to make some sarcastic quip, when he saw a notification about a new e-mail pop up on his laptop. He scrolled over and opened it to reveal a message from one of Barev One's secretaries, concerning the evite to the NASA engineers and executives meeting on Zoom. There was another e-mail notification that chimed in just as Mav opened the evite. His eyes went huge.

The e-mail had a wonderfully designed layout, but as Maverick read it, he realized that Dmitry had put the wrong date and time in for the Zoom meeting. The more he read it, the more he found things were blatantly wrong. There were blatantly spelling and grammar errors. Add to the fact that nobody in Fairfax caught these mistakes and corrected it? Mav was horrified. His eyes wandered over to the other new e-mail in his mailbox, from a name he didn't recall, congratulating him. At first he thought it was spam, but upon clicking on it, he realized it was coming from a live streaming company, DataCo. It was an e-mail congratulating Barev for an "agreement to produce live streamed programming for DataCo, courtesy of Dmitry Tokarev".

"Mav? You still with me? Mav?" Bolton asked over the speaker.

"Oh...no...."

"What's wrong?"

"Bolton, unfuck the situation, please. I have to go..."

Mav hung up and quickly printed both e-mails. He rushed to grab his wallet and keys and bolted out the back door for his truck. Maverick spun the tires on the pavement and peeled out for the station on Church Street.

---

Standing around watching the Mr. Coffee percolate, Nico and Marcus took a moment to mock Mario as they watched their French roast slowly drip out.

"Oooh it's not Vietnamese coffee..." Marcus mocked. "It's gotta come from Vietnam come on, Nico."

Nico grumbled and shook his head. "I wanted to kill him, right there. That fucking piece of shit..."

Marcus poured himself a mug of coffee, just as Dmitry came bebopping up. "Hey! Did you see the e-mail from DataCo?"

"I did. And you know Mav's gonna be pissed at you..."

"Well he won't be pissed with the potential money maker we could get with them."

"Yeah, at what cost to us?" Marcus snapped back.

"What do you mean?"

"The fact that we have to make programming for them, meaning we have no say so in it? That we have to bow to corporate sponsors? Where are we going to get studio time? I told you no for those exact reasons, Dmitry." The Nordic husky griped.

"I'm sure we can make studio time- don't we have like a giant studio in New Albany?" Dmitry asked, sounding optimistic.

"Yeah, that's being leased out to two Columbus production groups that are shooting talk shows in them!" Marcus shook his head.

"Idiot." Nico grunted.

"It's gonna work trust me! Dmitry's gonna have the last-"

The front door suddenly burst open with a mighty crash against the wall. Maverick came running in, breathing heavily. His face was twisted in rage as he stared right at Dmitry. Marcus and Nico took a slow step back.

"What did you do Dmitry... WHAT DID YOU DO!?" Maverick yelled at him.

"What do you mean?" Dmitry asked naively.

"A LIVE STREAM PRODUCTION AGREEMENT!? THE EVITE FROM HELL!?"

Dmitry's face grew ashen. He took a few steps towards his brother and grabbed the printed evite from him. He took one look at it and his face lit up in shock. "Oh my god they sent this out!?"

"What the fuck did you do Dmitry..." Maverick glared.

"This...this evite wasn't supposed to go out, I just asked Patricia to review it and make any corrections!"

Marcus walked over. "I didn't check my e-mail yet so let me see- oh my god! This was sent out!?"

"Apparently so!" Maverick exclaimed. "It's so fucking bad! I'm trying to unfuck a brewing crisis again in Virginia and then this monstrosity comes my way, and so does the DataCo e-mail! I couldn't even finish reading it because I kept hearing all these screaming sounds, and it dawned on me that the little voice in my head was screaming!"

"You have a little voice in your head?" Nico asked.

"SHUT UP!" Maverick yelled.

"Oh my god I told Patricia to review it! I guess I got a little too stoned last night when I worked on this..." Dmitry admitted.

"YA' THINK!?" Maverick screamed.

"I told her to review it!"

"She must have been pretty fucking high too! She sent the motherfucker out!" Maverick exclaimed. The others in the station came running over to see what the commotion was about. Borr, Shane, Felix, Ryan, Corey, Tabby, and Charles piled around at Maverick's meltdown.

"Look at all these fuckups, Dmitry!" Maverick shouted as he read the invite. "Rob n' Mav! ROB N' MAV!? N' MAV!? NNNNNNNNNNNNNNN' MAV!?!?!? ARE WE FUCKING REDNECKS NOW DMITRY!? IS THIS SOME DOWN YONDER HOEDOWN?"

Maverick continued. "Rob n' Mav of United Barev, formally invite the members of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration- DMITRY you spelled half this shit wrong!"

"I smoked some potent shit last night!"

Marcus interjected. "You put the fucking wrong date and time in! It's supposed to be the twenty-first! Not the seventeenth! At five-thirty in the evening? People are gonna log in three hours late, four days early!"

"I TOLD HER TO REVIEW IT!" screamed Dmitry.

"WHAT THE FLYING FUCK IS THIS DMITRY!? CLOTHING OPTIONAL!?" Maverick yelled. He immediately glared at his brother. "It's casual clothing optional... Clothing optional MEANS BE FUCKING NAKED!"

Maverick threw his paperwork into the air. "OH MY GOD DMITRY! THERE'S GONNA BE NUDE NASA EXECUTIVES! Trying to log in on Zoom at five-thirty! ON TUESDAY!!!!"

The entire office was silent.

Dmitry stared in shock at how mad his brother was. "Now's probably not the time to talk about the live stream deal I signed for BVS..."

Maverick stared at his brother with crazy, wide eyes. He then just threw his arms up in disgust and turned to throw the front door back open and leave. He didn't even bother closing it. Marcus watched Maverick hop back into his truck and drive off.

"Wow, way to go..." Borr shook his head.

"Now you pissed him off~" Felix added.

"I just wanted to help..." Dmitry frowned.

---

At dawn, Maverick tossed and turned in his bed. The covers half kicked off him, the husky mumbled in his sleep as he battled a nightmare.

"No Megan...no...not the peanut butter! No!"

Maverick's eyes burst open and he threw himself up with a audible gasp. His fur was soaked in a cold sweat. He breathed heavily and turned to look over to suddenly find the phallic shape fountain beside his bed. The husky threw himself out of bed and landed hard on the floor.

"OH MY GOD IT'S FOLLOWING ME!!!!!"

Maverick scooted away on the floor, just as his son came bursting in.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!" yelled the young husky as he checked on him. "What's going on?"

"The fountain!"

"You put it in here last night because of your online meeting."

"...oh."

The Russian husky regained his composure and got up. "Wow, that was a bad nightmare."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just had a nightmare where the fountain held me down and demonic turtle Megans were marching towards me."

Robby just blankly stared at his dad.

"Need a moment? Chew it over with Twix!" Mav exclaimed.

After eating breakfast with Robby, Maverick decided to just go on a morning walk, alone. He needed to clear his head. Stepping out into the cold sunshine, Maverick began his journey through the Krebs Edition. He wore his gray Swissgear jacket that was a bit loose around the collar, and his gray wool papakha that adorned the top of his head.

Venturing out onto the sidewalk that straddled Granville Street, Maverick took in all the sights and sounds of Newark, as the morning traffic passed on by. If one was unaware of a massive pandemic that was ravaging the world, it seemed like any other day. People went about their lives in the little town of Newark. As Maverick walked, he shook his head in disappointment at all the surgical masks that litter the ground. The usually optimistic husky felt disappointed in society and how it was poorly handling the pandemic. And each day, hundreds of thousands of new people got infected, and over three thousand were dying. They were now well over three hundred thousand dead, and the number was rapidly climbing.

The weight of responsibility felt heavy on Maverick's shoulders. Each day he took great vigilance in protecting his own health; he was a high-risk person for complications, as a result of a heart attack at thirty-two. He worried about his brothers, his family, his friends, and all the workers who depended on his leadership. Guilt stabbed at his heart, over all the careers he ruined with layoffs. The company was in big trouble, and he felt just about powerless to stem the tide. He felt as though he had bitten off more than he could chew with the Turnberry deal, and now he faced the wrath of a pretentious Chicago actor who everyone hated. Morale was eroding fast at the station, and all over the company. Now he faced a new business crisis through his brother's idiotic, but well intended decision. There seemed to be no light at the end of the tunnel. No more hope left. Maverick thought about all these crises as he continued his lonely walk, under the bare maple trees, the icy wind whistling between the empty branches.

Returning back home, Maverick made an attempt to get out of the contract with DataCo, without success. He spoke to the company over the phone and tried to explain the situation, only to be told that he was bound by the contract, which stipulated a hefty fine if broken. It was another boneheaded move by his idiot brother, who never bothered to read the fine print. Dmitry was always easily bamboozled, and once again had the wool pulled over his eyes. Maverick wasn't about to bankrupt himself over the fine, and Barev didn't have the financial headroom to absorb it. He felt so powerless. He was now obliged to create programming for them, and he had not the manpower, or studio space to pull it off.

He took an hour to work out in his home gym to get his exercise regiment in, and to clear his mind of his frustrations. He did his usual routine; push-ups, sit-ups, worked his muscular arms and legs on his Bowflex, and lifted some weights to music. He grabbed his clean clothes and went to take a shower to clean himself up. Under the hot stream of water, Maverick kept his face pressed to the tiled wall, as the hot water soaked tired muscles. A melancholy expression was on his face the whole time.

---

"I have to get outta this contract somehow..."

Amongst the decaying ruins of the south Zanesville cement factory, Maverick ate lunch with his brothers Vlad and Kalash, along with Marcus and Felix. They sat on the upper floor of the towering cement plant, at an abandoned metal table. The cold wind whistled through empty windows that peered out over the crumbling complex. Around them sat ruined machinery that had stood still since the plant was abandoned in the 1980's, following a union strike. Cement dust and busted blocks of concrete and twisted rebar littered the floor in places. The wind rustled paperwork that was strewn all over, dated to 1985, and yellowed and faded with age. The entire landscape reminded Maverick of the abandoned city of Pripyat, in Ukraine. They wanted to be far away from prying eyes and ears, as they discussed how to mitigate the latest crisis with Barev.

"Why can't you just tell them to fuck off? You're in charge, Mav, just tell them no?" Kalash asked.

"Yeah, and get hit with a massive fine?"

"Oh how much could that be?"

"Like three-quarter of a million dollars..."

"What? Why so much?"

"Because Dmitry signed a multimillion dollar agreement to create programming for them for the next three years..." Mav grumbled. "How the fuck am I going to get studio and production time, and even extra crews for this? We have no say on what gets made, zero input- we're literally just the engineering people to create programming while they have complete say so!"

"Yuck." Vlad shook his head.

"I'm already having nightmares because of Mario... can you imagine if DataCo subjects Barev to dozens of Marios? Pretentious, stuck up, tinsel town motherfuckers who want to be waited on hand and foot!? Mario already splashed Nico with Target brand coffee because it's not good enough, what's next? Imported glacier melt water from a specific glacier in northern Italy?"

"We have to get out of it." Felix said with a stern voice. "We told Dmitry it was a bad idea."

"You could tell Dmitry whatever you want 'till you're blue in the face, and it wouldn't matter because that pea brain of his just doesn't work! I don't understand how Dmitry can possess such creative mastery, and no common sense in one giant, fat body."

"Dmitry is mentally retarded, that's why." Laughed Kalash.

"D'OOOOOOOOOH I'M SPECIAL!" Vlad snorted.

Maverick blurted out laughing. "That is so mean."

"Ohhh coming from you..." Kalash rolled his eyes.

Marcus flipped through the contract, which was contained in a half-inch blue binder. "We're fucked, regardless."

"Yeah." Mav agreed. "There has to be a way! Some kind of technicality!"

"A loophole..." Marcus grumbled as he flipped through the pages.

Mav sat back down and stuffed a few more fries into his muzzle. "Unbelievable."

Marcus seemed interested in something as he flipped back a few pages. "Oh what's this?"

Everyone crowded around him. "Hey! Social distancing!" Marcus yelled out, to derisive laughter and chuckles from the others.

"Here's a list of conditions on where the contract could be voided." Marcus announced. "DataCo reserves the right to terminate the working agreement in livestreaming productions between DataCo and United Barev Industries, and its broadcasting division, Barev Video Services. Blah, blah, blah, blah, bloviating bullshit, and you come to this- 'termination resulting from obscene, vulgar, deviation of broadcast manifest, and-or, poor production quality."

"Wasn't Dmitry going to have some introductory broadcast thing to promote it?" Felix rolled his eyes.

"Yes..." Marcus shook his head.

"OH. MY. GOD!" Kalash yelled out. "THAT'S IT!"

"What's it?" Maverick asked.

"Dudes, hear me out... here's what we do to get out of the contract... we're gonna fuck shit up!" Kalash proposed.

"Oh boy..." Marcus pursed his lips.

"This is the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone! We get Barev out of the contract, and! We can set the stage for the greatest Dmitry prank alive."

"Oh my god that's brilliant!" Vlad exclaimed. "Take it up to the next level!"

"Yeah!"

Maverick fumbled his brow a bit. "Don't you think this could have serious repercussions?"

Kalash and Vlad just blankly stared at Maverick. The big husky's look of concern turned into a stifled smile as he snorted in laughter. "Let's fucking do it~"

"You let me and Vlad do all the planning, and you just make sure everything falls into place!" Kalash exclaimed.

Marcus looked at Felix and leaned towards him. "Here we go..."

"That bottomfeeding ass, Dmitry, got it coming!" Kalash grinned. "Oh-ho-ho-ho, it's gonna finally happen!"

Sitting around the metal table, the group ate lunch and talked about their plans to get out of the contract. It was unanimously agreed that it would be the only option, if Barev wasn't to pay a hefty fine.

Following their meal, the group slowly descended the metal stairway, through the crumbling ruins of the factory. They stopped to take some photos and explore the abandoned confines of the plant, before finally exiting and walking towards Mav's truck, which sat in the lot near some rusting storage tanks.

Through the exit, everyone ducked down from a low hanging pipe. Mav, fiddling around with his Canon AE-1, smacked his head into it and fell. "God damnit!" he shouted as he landed on his back.

"Hey, there's a pipe there~" Vlad pointed out with a snort.

"Yeah, no shit!"

"Well if you weren't so fucking tall, you wouldn't have hit it!" laughed Kalash.

"Well aren't you just special... I guess we all can't be like you and just walk into our crawlspace!"

"You calling me short there, Mav?"

"I ain't callin' you a beanpole!" the husky shouted as he brushed the cement dust off his jacket.

"You're just too tall, Maverick!"

"Yeah, you're telling me..." the husky grunted as he rubbed his forehead. "But I rather be tall than a candidate for a garden gnome!"

"At least you can reach the cereal in the cupboard..." chuckled Vlad with a grin at his eldest brother.

"Do you need a stepstool when you fuck your wife?" Mav laughed.

"At least I have a wife!"

"OHHH NOOO YOU DON'T!" Mav yelled. "LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

Kalash laughed as Maverick chased him around the lot. Marcus and Felix laughed at the sight as Kalash outran Maverick.

"God damnit! How the fuck does your little midget legs go that fast!" Maverick shouted. "COME HERE YOU LITTLE FUCK!"

Kalash ducked under the metal supports of the rusting tanks, when Mav bumped it. The tanks rattled and a metal bucket, precariously placed up top, fell, hitting Vlad in the head. Kalash and Mav stopped when they saw Vlad land on the ground, the bucket atop his head.

"Oh shit!" Kalash yelled as they ran over. Mav and Kalash tried to get the metal bucket off, but found it stuck on his head. Vlad yelled at them, but his voice was muffled by the bucket resting on his head.

"What the fuck did he say?" Kalash yelled.

"DIB-OH-DIB-OH-BAH-DIB-EDIB-BOW-BOW!" Maverick yelled back, only to be slapped across the face by Kalash.

"YOU NITWIT!" Kalash yelled.

Finally they pulled the bucket off Vlad's head. His face was covered in soot, and his blonde hair was a complete mess. Mav and Kalash checked him over, only for both of them to be slapped by Vlad.

"You two motherfuckers!" Vlad shouted. "You for starting it, and you for being a big dumb idiot!"

"Hey!" Maverick shouted. "I'm your boss!"

Vlad flipped him off. "BOSS THIS, MOTHERFUCKER!"

"I'M GONNA SHIT IN YOUR MOUTH!" Mav yelled back.

"You sick fuck!"

"Oh my god, you idiots..." Marcus laughed. He covered his face with his paw and shook his head while laughing.

"Brotherly love~" Vlad suggested.

"Hey, look! It's the stethoscope we found last year!" Mav pointed as he picked the random medical device up and put it on. "Hey look! I'm one of these YouTube medical experts now because I got medical equipment!"

"Pandemic's not real, right?" Vlad teased

"Yeah!" laughed Maverick. "Hey Kalash! Come here! Lemme see if I can hear any brain activity in your head!"

He jokingly smacked the diaphragm up to his brother's forehead, only for Kalash grab and yell "HEY!" into it. Maverick immediately ripped the earpieces off and grabbed his ears as he fell to the ground.

"OWW! MMMMMM! MOTHER!" he screamed, to the derisive laughter of everyone else.

---

Walking back and forth, Maverick worked with Marcus in getting the studio cameras ready. The studio was bustling with last minute activity as the set was finished up, camera's warmed up, and calibrated. The studio was dressed for an introductory livestream, as contracted with DataCo. Using the set that Barev used for "Tube Talk"; a set of transportable "walls" lined with radar absorbing foam spikes that were a bluish-gray, it would be the backdrop for Dmitry's broadcast.

The three TK-47A's sat on their pedestals, aimed at a set of calibration charts that were placed on easels. Each chart carried a specific set of stripes, targets, and color charts, for the camera's computer equipped CCU could use to properly align and calibrate the tubes. Despite being over forty years old, the old "Big Blues" continued on, a testament to RCA's engineering. Maverick double checked the teleprompter bolted on the front, and went to see Marcus.

"Tubes look good." Marcus said to Maverick as they met back up.

"Good."

"Well...this is it..." Marcus pursed his lips..."

"Oh yeah... I'm...feeling...regretful?" Maverick admitted quietly. He looked over to see how excited Dmitry was, as he helped in getting things ready. He was beaming to showcase his graphic design skills for an audience online. Maverick sucked on his lips at the sight; but it had to be done.

"I know... but... we have to." Marcus sighed a bit. "I feel this is going to be brutal."

"It's gonna be something alright..." Mav nodded. "I have to go get ready myself."

Leaving the studio for the restroom, Mav flipped the light on and stepped into the cramped single-person restroom. He closed the door and stared at himself in the mirror. He wore slate gray slacks, and a tacky looking winter themed knitted sweater; blue, with white snowflakes knitted into it. He ran a paw through his thick, deep gray hair and exhaled, slowly. He was about to premier on a livestream that would certainly humiliate Dmitry to a level never seen before. Maverick regained his composure, and reminded himself that it was a necessary evil, to get out of a flawed business contract that Dmitry put Barev in. In a twisted sense, he felt it was justified; the ends justify the means. He turned and left the bathroom, flipping the light off as he departed.

Inside the studio, Maverick walked through to see Ryan and Corey preparing the console with Shane Phyllis. To his left, Borr and Charles prepared the Sony BVH-3000 with a roll of one inch videotape, and Matt Prince checked over the connections between the digitizer, which would convert the composite video signal into a digital format, to the desktop, to be streamed through DataCo's servers. The entire concept had been tested by Maverick before, and it worked surprisingly well, with no degradation of the picture quality. Maverick also took note of his brothers, Kalash and Vlad, who were preparing their laptop for their "prank of a lifetime". The shit-eating grins on their faces gave it away. Maverick closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned for the studio, he passed by Marcus, who went to take his sport as the director of this whole operation.

Returning into the studio, he saw his camera crews in place; the three TK-47's were controlled by some of Matt Prince's friends who worked at the New Albany studio.

"Hey I'm super pumped~" came an excited Dmitry. "You ready?" The chubby husky wore a partially zipped up black jacket with the BVS logo on it, and a gray polo shirt that was loosely buttoned at the collar.

"Oh yeah~"

"I'm so excited. I can't believe this is happening!"

"Yeah... I can't believe it either!"

"Break a leg!" laughed Dmitry as he ran into place. Maverick grimaced a bit.

On the main monitor, the shot showed Maverick and Dmitry walking into place. Kalash and Vlad watched from a TV monitor sat close to them and their desk. Kalash chuckled at the close up of Dmitry, as the cameras were lined up and set into place by Marcus' orders through the intercom.

"Oh my god...this is going to be great..." grinned Kalash. "I got the best fart soundboard you could find!"

"Fuck, this is going to be a gut buster. Our best yet." Vlad laughed. "You all ready, Marcus?"

"Unfortunately." Laughed the husky in a cynical way. "Let's get 'er on the broadcast."

"Our stream is established, so we're standing by." Matt called out from his position.

"Okay good. Roll VTR~" Marcus called.

"VTR is rolling. Signal good." Borr called out.

"Confirmed. Begin production!" Marcus announced as he began the countdown. At zero, action was called and the video stream began.

"Good afternoon! I'm Maverick Tokarev, the interim head of United Barev Industries!" Maverick introduced with a close up on the monitors. "We are a company that is as diverse as our people! We are involved in multiple facets of operation; we have aviation transportation services, electronics manufacturing, and broadcasting services, which here today, we are to demonstrate a new field in our broadcasting division, the creation and livestreaming through our studios, with the help and input of DataCo."

"Blah, blah, blah." Kalash chuckled from his seat.

"And here to help me today usher in this nightma- brilliant plan! Is my brother Dmitry Tokarev, Barev's graphic design artist.

"Thank you Maverick!" beamed Dmitry. "I'm Dmitry Tokarev, and I have the honor of being Barev's primary graphic design artist. I am the mastermind behind this deal between Barev and DataCo for the creation and showing of livestreamed programming.

"Dmitry sounds so full of himself, pfft, like he's some intellectual or something." Vlad rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

"If only the world knew his dumbass..." chuckled Kalash as they listened. "And here we go! Fart board is loaded up!"

"Let 'er rip!" Vlad grinned.

The camera got a close up shot of Dmitry. "Alrighty! Let's begin, I want to show you some-"

PFFFFTTTFFFTFFFTTTTT!

Dmitry immediately froze up to the sound of a loud fart ripping through the studio. There was dead silence as Dmitry looked at Maverick, and Maverick looked at him.

"...let's show you some of Barev's studio and-"

PFFFTFFFTFFFTFFFT!

Dmitry's face grew uncomfortable. "I'm sorry we seem to be having some kind of technical difficulty here~"

Vlad and Kalash laughed and snorted about Dmitry's reaction, as Kalash selected which sound to fire off next. "Oh man, this is great..." the short husky grinned as he let another fart rip through the speakers.

Maverick kept a stoic face, as he stifled the urge to laugh. "Dmitry, I think we have a bit of a gas leak here!"

"Seems like it!" Dmitry said as he tried to play it off. His face was growing increasingly uncomfortable, his face sweaty as he fought back nervousness. He tried to say something but instead just swallowed his words. He looked suddenly lost, unsure of what to say as more farts ripped through the studio's speaker systems.

"Maverick, I think we have...a..." Dmitry said, stopping mid-sentence. Vlad and Kalash laughed the whole time at the shot on his monitors.

"And now the dumbass glazed stare." Vlad laughed. "DUDE! Remember Maverick telling us that story about Dmitry freezing up on camera and just reading whatever the fuck was written on the teleprompter?"

"Oh my god, yes! YES I do!" Kalash exclaimed as he rushed over to take control of the teleprompter's keyboard. "Eat your heart out Chubbums!"

"WHOO! Alrighty then! We seem to be having a technical issue, no problem, so as I was saying I HAVE BIG GIANT PEPPERONI NIPPLES THAT ARE LACTATING!"

Maverick tilted his head in disbelief and stared at Dmitry.

His sweating increased, and he scrambled to find his words as the teleprompter went out of control. Dmitry stared at the camera wide-eyed. Panic was all over his sweating face.

"So...Dmitry why don't you talk about our studio?" Maverick encouraged with a grin. His eyes were manic and wide.

"Yes! Our studio! So our building here was once a bus depot for the school district, and I AM SO FAT THAT I CAN'T EVEN SEE MY DICK! LET ALONE MY FEET!"

"PERFECT!" laughed Vlad as he gave his brother a hi-five. Marcus turned around from his spot at the console to just stare at the two huskies in disbelief.

"Uhh, why don't we show-"

"MAVERICK WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL PEOPLE ABOUT THE TELEPROMPTER INCIDENT!?" screamed Dmitry. An eye twitched and he fiddled with his jacket. "WHOO! Boy! This studio is really hot in here, let me just shed this jacket and- OH MY GOD!"

Dmitry pulled his jacket off to reveal his polo shirt completely soaked in sweat from his pits and around his chest.

"DMITRY!" screamed Maverick.

"Oh...oh no..." Dmitry muttered. "Well...ladies and gentlemen... it appears that my anti-perspirant... has failed me yet again..."

Maverick walked over to stand next to his brother. "If there is a hell, I am standing in it right now... Dmitry... I told you this was a bad idea... and you didn't listen to me..."

Dmitry just turned to glare at Maverick. As he glowered there was another wet fart, exploding through the studio, that broke the silence. Maverick lost it; he burst out laughing and caught himself at his knees. Kalash and Vlad had tears in their eyes from laughing so hard at the television screen.

Marcus finally stepped in. "That's it. This circus has to stop, cut to the technical difficulty screen."

Ryan reached over to switch the shot to the technical difficulty chart; it depicted a painting of Maverick laughing, with a gun placed to his head, and a "BANG!" flag attached to the other side. "SORRY! TECHNICAL ISSUES!" was written around him in a whimsical, cartoonish font. Marcus looked back to Vlad falling out of his seat from laughing so hard. Kalash had his head down on the table, pounding his fist on it and laughing away. On the television, Dmitry walked away in a sulking pose, as Maverick motioned with a neck slicing gesture to stop the shenanigans.

"Well that's going to be a taping session that will live in infamy..." Marcus shook his head.

---

In the early evening hour, Maverick found himself at his brother Vlad's house, with Kalash, and the others from the station. They all sat around in the living room, waiting for Dmitry, who had gone to speak to the executives of DataCo.

"That was...ruthless..." admitted Marcus with a hesitant look on his face.

"Dmitry left kinda pissed..." Ryan added as he took a slow inhale through clenched teeth.

"I don't blame him, it was a fucking nightmare." Nico shook his head.

"I'm not gonna lie... that was kinda bad." Chuckled Maverick. "Like, that was a brutal public flogging."

"Naw, I doubt anyone saw that stream..." Kalash said, brushing the concern off. "It ain't Dmitry's first rodeo!"

"Uhhh, I wouldn't count on that..." Matt grimaced.

"Dmitry will be fine, trust me." Kalash laughed. "This is not his first time making a fool of himself!"

The front door swung open to smack against a small table. Dmitry stood in the doorway, breathing heavily. His polo shirt was untucked and the collar all messed up and open. The chubby husky was red-faced enraged; his squinted eyes were intensely focused on Kalash and Kalash only. Maverick and Vlad took notice and scooted away a bit. Kalash took notice of their facial expressions and turned around to see Dmitry in the doorway.

"Hey Dmitry! How'd your broadcast go?" Kalash asked. He could just barely stifle a laugh.

"Why don't you come here and let me tell you about it..." Dmitry grumbled as he slowly stepped inside.

"I heard your broadcast had some technical difficulties..." Vlad mentioned, a smile wiggling up on his muzzle.

"Oh...you could say that again..." Dmitry grumbled. "Technical difficulties because my brothers all conspired to sabotage a live broadcast with me in it!" Dmitry proceeded to slam the door shut.

Kalash covered his muzzle with his paw to hide his smile. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Why the fuck would you people do this to me!? Why the fuck would you humiliate me like that on a live broadcast! Those motherfuckers at DataCo's office looked at me like I was a fat, pathetic, flatulence filled, idiot!"

"...and how does that differ from your real life self?" Vlad asked.

"IT'S DIFFERENT WHEN PEOPLE IN EXECUTIVE POSITIONS TELL YOU TO YOUR FACE!" screamed Dmitry. He suddenly shoved Kalash into the couch and charged at him. Dmitry tackled Dmitry and started punching him in the face. Vlad and Maverick jumped up to break the fight up, only for the four brothers to start swinging at each other. Their yells all muddled together as they fought each other. The fight came to a sudden conclusion with Kalash grabbing Dmitry's nipples and twisting them.

"OWWW! GOD DAMNIT! YOU GAVE ME A NURPLE!"

Kalash fell backwards, his nose bleeding from Dmitry's punch. Dmitry staggered back; his greasy locks of blonde hair were all over the place, and he fell backwards against the couch. Maverick stood up and realized that his sweater was torn at the collar.

"Dmitry you tore my fucking sweater!"

"Good. The itchy part's from me..." Dmitry glared.

"Motherfucker! I paid three bucks for this at Goodwill!"

"Good."

"Jesus Christ..." Vlad muttered as he sat back down.

Dmitry got up and pointed at his brothers. "I'm tired of it! I wanted to do something right and help this company, and I get hurt by it! If you motherfuckers had told me this was a bad idea..."

"We did." Everyone chimed in, in unison.

"I told you, I told you, I told you, I told you. DON'T DO IT." Marcus glared. "I rank above you, Dmitry! And when I said no! I meant no!"

"I told you there was no spare capacity to embark on such a project!" Felix added. "I kept saying and you're like 'we'll make it work!' Well how the fuck can we do that when we're all running this company by a financial thread!?"

"And when I say no, that's final." Maverick pointed. "It was a bad idea, and you should have seen it coming, but as usual, you never think long term, or think at all! That's why I told you to fuck off and get that idea out of your head, rocket tits."

"You're just a fucking idiot as usual, Dmitry." Kalash scoffed as he held his nose against a tissue.

"YOU LISTEN HERE, KALASH." Dmitry snarled. The husky took two steps towards his eldest brother. "If this was the only time you ever fucked me over, and if it wasn't done on a live broadcast... I would have just gone home and went 'oh those brothers of mine'... but this is just the latest in your sick little twisted plots to keep me held down!"

Dmitry's glare did not flinch. "I'm sick and tired of being made to feel like I'm so worthless, fat, lazy fuck, by all of you! Every single day. And here I am doing the majority of the graphics for this company that doesn't even thank me?"

"I think your almost seventy-thousand a year salary is your thank you?" Maverick gestured in confusion.

"Why would you think humiliating me on the internet would be a good idea!?" Dmitry shouted at everyone.

"I doubt anyone saw this..." Kalash rolled his eyes.

"There were over... A MILLION PEOPLE WATCHING IT!" Dmitry screamed. "So now everyone's gonna see Dmitry just being a fucking retard on camera!"

"And again, how is this different to-"

"SHUT UP!"

Dmitry's lower lip quivered as he tried to fight off some tears. "Now the entire world is gonna know me just by that! I'm burying my soul to millions people I never met before and GIGGLING! FROM YOU GUYS!"

The whole living room was silent. Dmitry was just about to add to his rant, when a loud, wet fart, erupted. "PFFFPPPPFFFFTTTTT!"

"YOU INSENSITIVE MOTHERFUCKERS!" screamed Dmitry. He promptly stormed off to his room and slammed the door shut.

"Okay...who let that one rip?" Matt Prince asked, the black wolf scanning the room.

Nico looked embarrassed. "Oh man, that fart came out louder than I thought...sorry guys..."

Maverick fumbled his brow with a look of disappointment on his face.

---

One Week Later

With bloodshot eyes and a throbbing headache, Maverick took a moment to pop two Tylenol and wash it down with a Powerade. He smacked parched lips together and sat the drink back in the fridge. In just a pair of shorts and a tanktop, the Russian husky dragged himself back to his desk to continue working, after pulling another all-nighter, to get work done.

On his desktop, he frantically worked with his drawing tablet to complete another poster for Turnberry, this time, a holiday themed one. He hated staring at the douchebag Mario; on the poster, it depicted a happy, winter time themed portrait of Mario and a Christmas tree, looking all cheerful. That stupid, phony smile of his bellied the terrible, rotten personality he showed everyone at the station. Maverick worked to blend elements of the design together in Photoshop. Without Dmitry, it was left to him to finish the graphic elements for the Turnberry deal.

Dmitry was royally pissed off by his little stunt; he refused to speak to anyone, and wouldn't come to work. In retrospect, publically flogging Dmitry with such a terrible stunt, in a desperate attempt to get out of a contract, was in vain. While Barev did get out of the contract, by violating the terms and conditions, DataCo in turn, having been sanctioned by their ISP, turned around and sent the fine to Barev; in all, $300,000. It would have been fifty thousand dollars cheaper to just pay the fine by breaking the contract in the first place. Now Barev was deeper in the red. Now he had no Dmitry to do graphic design. They humiliated Dmitry to a wide audience, and in the words of one of the DataCo execs, "you turned your brother into a meme". Maverick just rubbed his head from his pounding headache. Nothing was going right.

The telephone rang; each ring was like a pulsing, throb of pain to his forehead. He hit the speakerphone button. "Mav."

"Mav? This is Colton." Came his hub director at Centoh's Lainsville hub. He spoke with a thick Queens drawl. "I got an emergency situation here..."

"Yeah?"

"Bill...committed suicide this morning."

Mav paused and just stared at the phone. "You're joking."

"No."

"Bill Roswell? Or Bill Demchek?"

"Roswell- he was the long hauler who was out sick for three months."

"Fuck."

"He...ran out onto the runway, right as one of the Sixes took off- the propeller got him. Dead on impact. Airplane got damaged, not my immediate concern."

"Jesus Christ..."

"I got the situation under control here. I've been in contact with authorities and his family..."

"Okay... please keep me posted."

"Will do, Mav."

The husky reached over and ended the call. He put his face down on the desk, and had a stab of sadness hit him. Another worker had died on him. He had several workers sick with Covid-19, one seriously, and now this. He smacked his nose on the desk a few times in frustration, and proceeded to rub it. He just started working on the poster again, when the phone rang. This time it was Marcus.

"Yeah Marcus~"

There wasn't an immediate response, but he could hear Marcus yell at someone. Then he very faintly heard Mario's voice in the background. A very faint "fuck you too!" Mav closed his eyes and shuddered.

"You are coming to the station and making an assessment, Maverick." Marcus said. His voice took on the tone and acidity of Rob's. He was very angry in his voice. "Mario broke two of our fucking cameras."

"Uhh, what!?"

"Mario had a fucking temper tantrum because he demanded that I go out of my way to get him breakfast from some place in Columbus, and I told him to pound salt. So he grabbed my HL-79EAL, and threw it at the TK-47. He broke my Ikky, and broke the lens to the TK-47. Fucking unbelievable."

Maverick groaned. "FUCK ME! I'll be over."

Mav hung up and stood up. He felt his heart throb in his chest from anxiety. He quickly rushed to grab some clothes from his bedroom. "Robby! I'll be back!"

---

Screeching into the parking lot, Maverick hopped out of his truck and rushed to the door. Even without opening it, he could hear a screaming match inside. The husky rushed inside to find Mario on one side of the office, and everyone else ganged up on the other side. The whole place was a screaming match.

"HEY! HEY!" Maverick shouted. "HEYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

The whole office went silent.

"Mario. Take a seat." Maverick glared.

"Ya' know, these motherfuckers here- all I wanted was-"

"I didn't ask you to fucking speak. Sit."

"Mav." Marcus motioned.

The husky glared at Mario as he walked away from him. Marcus took him to the studio, where the aftermath of Mario's temper tantrum was laid out. The studio was dressed to look like a tacky winter wonderland scene; it was done on purpose for the sake of recreating a corny eighties commercial. Snow was cotton tufts, and artificial Christmas trees adored the set. On the floor sat the broken up remains of Marcus' prized HL-79EAL. The camera was in three pieces; the lens was smashed and torn off the blade mount. The body of the camera was dented and scratched up. The triax adapter on the back was torn, and it destroyed the battery mount, which had wires exposed and frayed. The TK-47 sat on its pedestal, its lens lying on the ground with sparkles of glass littering around it. Mav could see that the lens mount was bent, and Mario damaged the dichotic prism splitter. The tubes were most likely damaged beyond repair.

"I want this motherfucker gone!" Marcus demanded. "I don't fucking care how much money we lose, I want him gone!"

Maverick didn't say anything. He sucked on his lower lip, and immediately turned to exit the studio. The doors leading to the office suddenly burst open to Mario storming in, the others pursuing him.

"I want to talk to you about your behavior towards me." Mario demanded.

"Oh, my behavior!?" Maverick pointed. "TAKE A LOOK AT OUR EQUIPMENT, MOTHERFUCKER!"

"Yeah that's what happens when you don't take care of your guests!" Mario yelled. "I asked to get breakfast, and this fucker here just wanted to give me an attitude!"

"You are a grown ass adult. You are not going to be waited on hand and foot because you're some D-list actor! Hell! I wouldn't give a shit if you were the president of the United States! You want food or something? You go get it yourself you entitled fuck!"

"I have needs that need to be met!"

"Yeah, what's next! You're gonna tell me you wear a fucking tampon?"

"Maverick I swear to god!"

"Want us to change that too?"

"Don't you even-"

"CHANGE YOUR TAMPON!"

"I want you out of my studio!" Marcus screamed. "OUT!"

Mario suddenly threw a fist at Marcus, hitting him square in the face. It knocked the husky off his feet, as Maverick intercepted the Doberman. He blocked a punch and swung, missing Mario on the first throw. Mario responded by hitting Maverick in the side of his muzzle. It momentarily knocked him off his feet, into his studio camera. Marcus rebounded and shoved Mario from trying to jump Maverick. As the fight broke out, others rushed into the studio to break the fight up.

Mario missed Maverick, and the husky shoved him back. Before Mario could respond, Maverick hit the Doberman square in the face with a very hard punch. It knocked the Doberman off his feet; he spun around, and suddenly smashed his head into a spotlight. The 5,000 watt spot exploded in a brilliant flash of sparks and shattered glass. Mario fell over with the light, which landed with a loud thud.

Marcus was bleeding from his nose, and Maverick had a busted lip. He dabbed at it to find fresh blood on his finger tips. "Jesus Christ..." he muttered. Marcus and Maverick both watched as Mario got up, to reveal his hair on fire.

"FUCK!" Marcus yelled. Felix Barion rushed for the fire extinguisher as Mario tried to put the fire out with his paws.

"PUT HIM OUT!" Marcus yelled.

"FUCK! GET THE EXTINGUISHER!" Maverick screamed.

Mario screamed in terror as Felix hit him with a blast of frozen Co2. It covered Mario and the two huskies in white frost as the fire was extinguished. It left Mario with no hair; his hair and fur had been burned away to the bare scalp, which was raw and bloody, blackened in spots. Both his cropped ears were burned. His paws were badly burned too.

"Call an ambulance!" Marcus yelled.

"Jesus Christ what the fuck is this, a Pepsi commercial!?" Maverick exclaimed.

---

Filling out a statement, Maverick scribbled his recollection of events on a piece of company letterhead. He filled half a page up, and signed at the bottom, all in dark blue. He capped his felt pen, folded the page up, and handed it to the police officer that stood in the office. Marcus promptly turned in a statement, along with the others who responded. All of it depicted Mario in a negative light. A very negative light.

The officer, looking tired behind his cloth mask, looked over at the stack of statements and put them in a folder. The German Shepherd handed Maverick a piece of paper with some legal information on it. "Just to let you know, given the information and testimony. I'm not going to charge any of you. But be prepared that you're probably going to be sued..."

"I know." Was Maverick's plain response.

"You two have the option of pressing charges..." the officer mentioned.

Marcus brushed it off. Maverick just shook his head no.

"Not even worth it." Marcus admitted. "I want him gone, and that's good enough for me."

The officer nodded. "Alrighty. Thank you gentlemen."

"Thank you~"

Concluding their investigation, the Newark police departed. The station was quiet as Maverick walked back to the studio, to see Felix, and Corey cleaning up the mess, while Ryan and Shane slowly tore down the set. Mav smacked his paws against his hips and looked at the destroyed cameras.

"Marcus, your EAL is toast. I can't save it."

"I know." Marcus acknowledged.

"I got another one in storage, I'll give you."

"It's fine. I'll think on that."

"Sure."

"The Big Blue needs a new lens mount... so I'll have to mask Mark to make another...since you know! RCA hasn't made a forty-seven in thirty-nine years!" Maverick shouted. "I can't believe this. Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"Take a deep breath, because there's no point in-"

"Turnberry is gonna fucking pay for this! All of this!" shouted Maverick. "I promise you that! I'm getting that motherfucker, that fucking Mario! I'm gonna make his motherfucking ass pay!"

Mav examined his studio camera closer. "The splitter is fucked. He pushed it out of place, which means it's FUCKED! So are the scanning yokes, the tubes! GAHHHHH! MARIO!"

Maverick angrily kicked the broken remains of the Ikegami across the studio floor. He stormed over to grab some tools from the utility closet. "Help me take this stupid camera apart so I can take it home!"

Marcus and Maverick carried the damaged TK-47 out to his truck, where it was strapped down and taken back home with him. As he drove back to his neighborhood, his phone went off. He shuddered and slowly reached to grab it. Each vibration and chime only made his heart sink more, his stomach unsettled from all the anxiety. As he pulled up to a red light, he found it was Bolton from Barev One calling him.

"Bolton. Do I want to know?"

"Mav, I got a issue with Whirley..."

"Okay."

"I am going need you to fly up here as soon as you can to defuse this situation. Whirley has been relentless on trying to get his name back from Barev's ownership, and I need you to-"

"Fine. FINE! FINE!" Mav shouted. "Alright? I'll fly up tomorrow and get this fucking thing settled. I also have to assess a crisis in Lainsville..."

"Alright. We'll let Whirley know."

"Thanks."

Mav's heart beat faster, harder, as he sat his phone down.

Returning back home, Maverick and his son carried the damaged camera by its side handles, and placed it on his workshop bench. Robby watched as Maverick took his time to disassemble the camera and make an assessment of its internals. He pulled the optical block out, and took it apart; while the prism splitter was ruined by a large scratch on the front, the scanning yokes were okay. He removed the EP's big 30mm Diode-Gun tubes, and sat them aside. From what Marcus had told him, the camera was running when the lens was broken. It was guaranteed that the out of control light coming in destroyed the lead-oxide targets. He would just have to put a new set of Plumbicons in. Other than needing a new lens blade mount, the camera would live to run again.

"Well Robby, it could have been worse..."

"Whew." The young husky responded.

Before Maverick would add to what he was saying, his phone rang again. He found it was Mario calling him. Maverick answered it and held the phone up to his head. "Yeah, what do you want?"

"When I get released from the hospital, I am going to need to be flown back to Chicago."

"Go fuck a pony, Mario."

Maverick hung up and blocked his number. He threw his phone across the garage and took a seat on a bar stool. Robby looked sad at his father's burned out expression.

---

The faint morning light revealed a low, slate gray sky. Friday morning was cold and damp, as a cold rain fell upon downtown Newark. Construction was just beginning for the day at the future Barev headquarters, as Maverick arrived in his truck. He stepped out of his truck and adjusted his wool papakha atop his head, and zipped up his jacket some more. A look of dread was on the husky's face. Today, he was to meet with Rob and oversee construction of the old Newark High School, before flying out to Lainsville and Fairfax to confront those crises. Mav planned on informing Rob of all the events that had recently happened, and he dreaded the wrath of his best friend, who he knew for certain was going to self-destruct in a fit of blind rage over the bad news. Rob had been largely out of the loop due to his commitment to community service to resolve a legal matter in Akron. He knew Rob was going to be especially tense, as he was reeling from the deaths of two people he was looking after up there.

The old barn home was just about finished, and there was just a few more things left to do. Maverick made a brief tour of the building, which smelled of fresh wood and plaster, before standing and waiting, anxiously, the arrival of Rob. Five minutes had passed until he saw Rob's figure at the door, which opened, revealing a tired looking Rob behind a blue surgical mask, his wool trench coat dampened around his shoulders.

"Morning Mav."

"Good morning, Rob. How we doing?"

"Fine." Rob responded in a very bleak tone. Mav knew the true answer without even guessing.

The two took a tour of the barn home, and went upstairs, using the newly installed cylindrical elevator. Made of glass and steel, it gave a unique view as they went up to where their offices were. Rob stepped out first and walked into the open space that would become their offices, complete with a massive window that peered out over what was once the playground, showcasing the old high school off to the right. Rob stood and looked out the window. Mav slowly stepped inside the office and closed the door.

"I say it's going well." Rob nodded. "What's left for our offices?"

"Well...they just have to put the peephole in the door and that's it, really." Mav nodded.

"Oh that'll be a piece of cake. So... how's the business?"

"Uhh, Rob, I need to tell you about some incidents that have happened..." Mav started off with a hesitant chuckle at the end. "There's been some...developments...and not good ones."

"Yeah?"

Maverick decided it was best to just be blunt, and he let it rip. The husky told his best friend about the setbacks, the deals gone wrong, and then all about Mario Schleppi and the Turnberry deal that was starting to go wrong. He watched the rage boil up in Rob's eyes as he gave him more and more bad news. He explained about Dmitry's stunt with the DataCo contract, and their futile attempt to get out of it, which ended up humiliating Dmitry. Now he refused to come to work, and the graphic design was now falling on Maverick, who admitted that he did not have enough time to do Barev's publishing, on top of leading the company. He also mentioned about the maintenance team coming down with Covid-19, and the suicide of a Lainsville employee, and the damage to a DC-6 that contributed to his death.

On top of all that, Barev now faced being sued by Mario, over the incident in the studio, where his scalp got badly burned. He suffered second degree burns on his ears and scalp, which had to be treated at a hospital in Columbus. He was now suing Barev for millions of dollars in damages, including a laughable "hair expense" charge in the hundreds of thousands. He accused Maverick and the others for "emotional abuse", and claimed Maverick was a homophobe against him. Maverick assured Rob that he turned it over to their attorney to resolve. Rob finally lost it.

"HOW THE FUCK DOES THIS HAPPEN!?" Rob yelled. His face was red from being so enraged. "I let you fucking idiots run this company and you run it into the fucking ground!"

"Rob I am trying my best to rally about the company and-"

"OBVIOUSLY NOT!" Rob screamed. "All you're ever good for is laughs and a good time! That's your problem! You let these fucking losers like Schleppi just walk all over you until it's too late. You let a talentless, brainless, dickless, big city MOTHERFUCKER just walk all over you and this company! If I was you, I would have bitchslapped him back to fucking Chicago! YOU LET HIM RIP YOUR FUCKING DIAPER OFF YOU BIG DUMB BABY!"

Maverick maintained his composure. "Rob...stop kicking yourself in the ass."

Rob pointed at Maverick. Mav froze in place and gulped a bit; Rob's point could be as terrifying as having a gun pointed.

"You're gonna fix this, you're gonna fix this! YOU ARE GOING TO FIX THIS!" Rob screamed at the top of his lungs.

"ALRIGHT!" Maverick screamed in return.

Rob threw his arms up in disgust and stormed off. Obviously Rob looked as though he felt bad at yelling at his best friend. As he left, Maverick watched Rob punch the door in a fit of rage. He left a fist sized hole in it, as bits of wood landed on the ground. Rob walked away, down the steps, in silence. Maverick stood alone in the office, unsure of what to how to feel, or what to say to being verbally assaulted as heard Rob slam the door shut.

"You...you know, I was going to have a professional put the peep hole in! But okay~"

That's just how Rob was, and Maverick left it at that. He checked the time, and went on his way to continue his busy schedule.

---

Rushing out onto the tarmac, Maverick stumbled at the weird sensation of being stuffed into a G-suit. He tightened the straps to his Russian ZsH-3 helmet, which was painted bright orange with a blue stripe down the middle. A KM-32 oxygen mask was attached to the right side. On the tarmac of Newark-Heath was Rob's two-seater Su-27UB, painted in a wavy pattern of dark blue, light blue, and gray, with a green radome. It bore Ukrainian markings as "Blue 75". Rob had named the jet "Savchenko", after his friend Anton. In the forward cockpit was Mark Prince, the black wolf preparing the jet to get Maverick to New York quickly. He was dressed in his black leather flight gear, and white American flight helmet, complete with goggles.

Maverick climbed the red painted ladder that was attached to the side of the plane. He climbed into the rear cockpit and was assisted by Vlado, who strapped him into the ejection seat. He connected the intercom headset, and oxygen mask and checked it over, before giving Mav the all clear and climbing down.

"Everything's good here, Mav. You ready for flight?" came Mark's deep voice over the intercom.

"Yeah. I'm good to go here."

"Here we go~"

The twin AL-31F turbofans began to spool up, with an increasing whine filling the cockpit. The airframe felt alive as the cockpit instrumentation glowed. The original Russian Cyrillic was replaced by English stenciling, and some of the Russian gauges were replaced by American components. The cockpit was painted in a weird shade of blue that was calming to the eye. Mark released the brakes, and the Sukhoi began to taxi, in a wide turn for the runway's service road. Maverick felt high up off the ground as he got a perfect view of the scenery around him. Mark guided the jet to the runway, and after a final check of instrumentation, pushed the throttles to full. The jet screamed to life, and the afterburner lit, pushing Maverick immediately into the seat.

Brilliant red flames erupted from the exhaust as the jet galloped down the runway. Mark pulled the stick back, and effortlessly, the Sukhoi lifted off the runway, going nearly vertical. The sensation surprised Maverick, as he felt his heart beat intensely. They were flying almost vertical, and his view almost immediately became constricted as they punched through the cloud deck. He felt the plane shudder and shake from turbulence, only to suddenly see sunlight as the Flanker exploded through the deck to clear skies above. They had climbed several thousand feet in just under a minute. Upon the order to don oxygen, Mav snapped the mask over his muzzle, and breathed the cold pressurized air that flowed through it. They soon climbed up to thirty-thousand feet, where Mark plotted course towards New York. It took just a hair under an hour to close the gap at 500 miles per hour.

Arriving at Lainsville, the Flanker touched down smoothly, and Mark made quick work to bleed off speed and taxi to Centoh's large hangar the dominated the airport scenery. Centoh's ground crew awaited as the Su-27 turned and parked. Its wheels were chocked, and an identical set of red ladders propped up against the towering jet for them to disembark from. Maverick climbed down and took his helmet off; he was all business. He was in damage control.

He spent a little over an hour at Lainsville, assessing the damage. The DC-6BF that was involved in the accident had its number two propeller damaged by the impact. The blades had their tips bent back by several inches. Bits of dried blood on the prop blades brought a chill to the husky. He felt so bad about Bill's suicide; he had the pleasure of meeting and talking extensively to him, pre pandemic. He was a very experienced mechanic in the care of old radial powered aircraft, and his knowledge proved very useful to Maverick when he initially took over Barev back in January. Roswell was one of the early victims of the pandemic when it struck New York with full fury. He had gotten sick in early April, and was hospitalized. He spent a week on a ventilator, and almost died twice. He recovered but was left with debilitating conditions. He was a Covid "long hauler"; the aftereffects left him oftentimes short on breath, and feeling constantly fatigued. He had frequent headaches, and myalgia. His suicide note, found in his car, mentioned that he "couldn't fucking take it anymore". He left behind a wife, four kids, and two infant grandchildren.

Maverick talked to some of the workers; he wanted to make sure they were okay. He spoke to Roswell's widow over the phone, and tried his best to comfort her and the family. But deep in his mind, he had a cynical thought about "oh shit, another lawsuit..." stab at subconscious. He was already dealing with another debacle.

Following Lainsville, Mark flew Maverick down south to Fairfax, where they landed, and he was quickly whisked into a company Suburban for the half hour drive to the industrial park. He didn't say much, and he looked visibly tense as Robinson drove. He was mentally preparing himself to confront Kevin Whirley once and for all. He just couldn't believe that Whirley was back to make trouble again, this time over the trademark of his family name.

Whirley was the disgraced ex-owner of what was now Barev One. Before, it was the core nucleus of the Whirley Electronics Company. The company started in the 1930's, specializing in vacuum tubes. It grew considerably during the war, and became a big electronics supplier for decades. Ownership passed from grandfather, to father, and finally to Kevin himself, in 2012. He lacked the business acumen that his father and grandfather had. He was just a eighties yuppie who had a cozy position because of his family, not his merits. He lacked leadership, and was more concerned about the all mighty dollar, than actually running a company. Through incompetence and greed, he drove the Whirley Electronics Company into the ground. By the time Rob and Maverick had come into the picture, in 2016, the company was bankrupt and hemorrhaging money. The creation of what had become Barev, was cemented by the acquisition of Whirley's company.

Rob had sold off some of the other factory buildings and assets that Whirley had owned in the industrial park, to bankroll the overhaul of the main factory. Kevin remained as now the plant director, to take direct orders from Rob, or Maverick. He was a clumsy leader, and didn't like being told what to do. He was stubborn, and defiant; old habits died hard. Rob hated Whirley, and Maverick didn't quite care for him. After two years of trying to put up with him, Whirley was fired, after a whistleblower in the budgeting department, revealed that Whirley had been manipulating numbers to make himself look good. He was promptly fired, and Ryan Bolton put in charge. Then the pandemic hit. One train wreck after another, piling up. Maverick wanted to put Whirley in his place once and for all.

Arriving at the factory, he got his temperature taken by a security guard, and escorted inside by Robinson. He rounded a couple corners and made his way to the office, where he stepped into the board room, to find Whirley on the other end. The middle-aged German Shepherd wore black slacks and a dark blue polo shirt. Graying hair was neatly combed back atop his head. The few other executives in the room looked tense. There was a lot of tension in the room; it was thick enough that one could cut it with a knife.

"Maverick~ It's been a while~"

"What a displeasure, Whirley." The husky stared. "You're back stirring up trouble for us, eh? I thought we fixed that with your firing."

Whirley didn't quite know what to say. He had a shit-eating smirk curl up on his muzzle as he licked his chops and laughed a bit. "I'm not here to stir up trouble."

"But yet you are. You are harassing Bolton and the others for something you don't own anymore, nor are you entitled to."

"Well...that is my name, Maverick."

"Whirley, and the Whirley Electronics Company are trademarked under United Barev Industries, effective November the twenty-first, 2016. You signed off on the agreement during the acquisition process."

"Yes, I understand that, and I would like that the trademark be given back to me, as that is my name."

"And the answer to that will be no, Whirley." Maverick bluntly stated as he sat down.

"And why is that?"

Bolton interjected. "It would create chaos in Barev's support to legacy Whirley products."

"Exactly."

Whirley fumbled his brow. "Me and a couple of investors are looking to start our own electronics supply company, and we would like to have the name, so I can honor my late father and-"

"No."

Whirley sucked on his lower lip. He looked frustrated at Maverick.

"If you are wanting the name Whirley back, then you will have to formally enter negotiations to legally transfer it, and you are going to pay for it. After all the shit you put us all through, you ain't getting it for nothing."

"That is my name!" protested Whirley.

"I don't care!" Maverick shouted. "You don't own your name pal! We own it!"

"That is bullshit!"

"You should have thought about that before you scribbled your chickenscratch John Hancock on those legal documents transferring your company's ownership to the Barion-Tokarev company, now United Barev Industries." Maverick shouted. He was unflinching.

Whirley looked very agitated as he tapped his fingers on the desk. His breathing increased. "If you're not going to cooperate, I will take this to litigation."

"What's your case? That you're a dumbass little bitch?" Maverick exclaimed with a sardonic laugh. "'Oh gee, I didn't think that through, d'oh~'"

Maverick made his point further. "...I guess we could all be like you and just live in fucking mamby pamby land where you can do no wrong, and everyone just sings your praises! SHIT! You're just like Steve Narovec! Nothing's ever your fault! You're the smartest, most clever, handsomest, motherfucker around! You two are in the same! HECK! He had his head shoved up your ass so far- I didn't know where he ends and you begin! HA!"

Whirley ground his teeth.

"Hey, I got an idea for your business name. You and Steve should get together and start Little Bitch Industries~ Has a nice ring to it eh?"

"You know, Maverick, I used to like you. I thought you were so much more reasonable than dealing with Rob... but now I see that you are one in the same with him. Behind that phony ass smile and laugh is a ruthless businessman with an agenda." Whirley scolded. Maverick just nodded at him.

"I'll see you in court." Whirley concluded.

"Get out."

Whirley was whisked out of the building by two of Barev's security guards. Maverick sat back in his seat and looked incredibly tense.

"Well prepare for a lawsuit I guess..." Bolton pursed his lips. "Just what I wanted!"

"You think I want to get sued again? Yippety fucking doo-dah!" Maverick exclaimed. He slammed his fists on the table. "FUCK IT I GUESS!"

The husky got up and left in a huff, leaving a sour looking Bolton to sit and process everything.

Half an hour later, Maverick returned to the airport, where he suited back up and was flown back to Newark-Heath. It took just under fifty minutes to cross Virginia, West Virginia and into Ohio, with two orbits above the airport to let traffic land. Mark smoothly brought the Flanker-C in for a landing. The big jet returned back to its hangar and parked, where Vlado greeted them with his son Tito. It was still raining in Newark.

Maverick climbed down first. His face looked sour from the whole ordeal, and didn't say anything as he climbed down to the wet pavement. As Mark began to step out of the cockpit, and Vlado greeted the husky, Maverick suddenly just collapsed. He fell and hit face first on the pavement. His whole body tensed up, and he began to have a seizure. Mark jumped down and immediately responded with Vlado and Tito.

"Maverick! Maverick!" Mark shouted.

"Roll him on his side!" Vlado exclaimed as he and Tito held onto Maverick. His seizing suddenly stopped, and the husky came to. As the rain continued to pour, Maverick sat up, and took a deep breath. But something wasn't right; the husky sat up looking catatonic. His eyes seemed defocused to the world around him; they were wide open, like a thousand yard stare. Despite Mark and Vlado's calls to him, he wouldn't respond. It was like he was dead to the world. Tito grabbed his phone to call for an ambulance.

---

One Week Later

Setting his pen down, Mav took a break from his storyboarding to take a sip of coffee. He smacked his lips and held onto the warm mug as his eyes watched the snow fall outside his living room window. It had been a rough week.

The husky had a really bad nervous breakdown over everything that was going on. It required him to be hospitalized and placed under a sedative for a day and a half to recover. He was then ordered by his doctor to rest; he even met with a counselor a few times. Barev and all its ailments were now in Rob's control once again; but even Rob took a large step back and kept his work load light. Even he was emotionally suffering from his own problems. In the meantime, Mav took his personal time to just recuperate and enjoy the holiday week. Thanksgiving was in a few days.

Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, he rubbed his eyes and took another slow sip of coffee. He went back to his storyboarding, picking up his felt pen and continuing to sketch out scenes to a video he was working on. It was a storyboarded sword fight, for an ongoing video project with his friend Tony Alvarez. Drawing helped relax him as he sketched rough figures, depicting himself and the other Maverick, in a mock sword fight in a wooded area. Tony worked for the public library and before the pandemic, ran a club where he read stories to children. Because of the restrictions imposed, he now read the stories on camera, and they included a fantasy reenactment. The idea of a swordfight, in a children's book, made the husky morbidly chuckle.

A knock at the door got his attention as he got up. He stretched and walked over to answer it, finding Joey at the door. He welcomed the black and tan Doberman inside.

"How are you feeling, Mav-O?"

"Oh, better~" the husky admitted as he closed the door behind Joey. "Just...blah mentally."

"I understand." Smiled Joey. "I've been through it with Rob, oh, half a dozen times now, so I understand fully~"

"Heh, good to know~" chuckled Maverick, as he noticed Joey look over his shoulder.

"Hey, you got rid of the fountain!" grinned the Doberman, as Maverick shuddered.

"No...it's in my bedroom... sadly..." the husky sighed sarcastically. "Look, I have to get rid of it somehow! It's just this huge fucking eyesore! It haunts my dreams! That giant marble and alabaster winkie! Robby brings his friends over and they're like 'what is that Maverick?' 'Why's it so huge?' 'Why's it shaped like my winkie?' 'MY WINKIE'S AS BIG AS THAT!' I can't take it anymore! And it's from your mother...and I gotta get rid of it..."

Joey just laughed. "Understandable~"

There were the sound of footsteps that caught Maverick's attention. He glanced over to see Marie come marching into his house, carrying a couple bags of groceries.

"Marie, what the hell are you doing?" Maverick asked.

"I figured you needed a little bit of help, so I got you some groceries!" the lady Dober smiled warmly.

"Oh Marie, you shouldn't have, I'm doing much better now."

"Nonsense!" Marie exclaimed. She took a couple steps and stopped to look around the living room. "Oh Maverick, where's the fountain at?"

The husky had a momentary look of panic on his face. "Oh! The fountain! Well...you see Marie... I... put it away... because it was kind of becoming a distraction... it was... standing out too much in my living room..."

"Oh, that's how I designed it!" Marie explained. "I wanted it to be the focal point of your living room!"

"Really!" Maverick grinned, his eyes going wide as they looked at Joey. "Well it really did that... trust me... but...I had to put it away because it was just overpowering everything."

"Oh..." Marie nodded. Her face looked a bit sad. Maverick then started to feel bad.

"If you don't like the fountain... you don't have to lie."

"Marie, nooooo, it's not that. It's-"

"It's fine, Maverick. Maybe I shouldn't have just thrust it upon you."

Joey closed his eyes and covered his muzzle with a paw. Maverick couldn't believe Marie's choice of words.

"Would you like me rehome the fountain?"

"It was a very kind gift, Marie... but unfortunately... I think it probably needs a new home."

"Well you let me take care of it, Mav, and you keep on resting up!" Marie smiled.

"Thank you, Marie." Smiled Maverick in return. "Oh thank god..." he thought to himself.

"I'm gonna put these groceries away!" she exclaimed as Joey walked up to his friend.

"Your problem is fixed~"

"Thank god..." Maverick breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alvin tells me you're going to be doing a sword fight for Tony's story time video?" Joey asked with a playful smirk at the end.

"That's right!" Maverick laughed. "Doing some fun before I jump back into the insanity."

"That's the spirit~"

"Hey, how do you handle stress, Joey?"

"Well..." the Doberman started with a playful little smile. "If you haven't noticed the dumpster fire that lives across the street from me- ah-hem, my parents- I have been prepared to handle chaotic stress."

"Huh, that's neat~" Maverick figured with a shrug.

"You could say that." Joey laughed.

---

The woods of Black Hand Gorge were quiet. A few inches of snow blanketed the forest floor and naked trees that swayed to an icy breeze. The quiet ambience was filled by the presence of the Licking River that flowed through the gorge; it's cold, grayish water churning over rounded stones and fallen tree trunks.

Snow crunched beneath Mav's boots on the trail. He walked with the other Maverick, bringing up the rear as Alvin and his friends walked ahead at a bit of a distance between themselves. Mav lugged his white and gray Sharp camera on his shoulder, and Maverick man handled the U-Matic deck as they walked slowly through the snow.

"It's been quite a year, friend." Mav said in a burnt out way as he walked.

"Yeah." Chuckled Maverick cynically. He watched his breath waver in the sunlight that filtered through the woods. "That it has, Mav-O. What a year indeed... You, uhh, doin' alright?"

"Yeah, as well as to be expected, post nervous breakdown." Mav grimaced.

"You got a lot on your plate..."

"Yeah, and I gotta dive right back into that shit next week..."

"Don't overdo it~"

"I have to. Who else is there to do it? Rob needs me and I have to lead. A lot of people are depending on me..."

"You gotta take care of yourself." Maverick suggested.

"Yeah, I'm aware of that other Mav...but unfortunately I'm placed in this position."

"Oh, I understand completely."

"If this year couldn't get any more fucked up." Mav rolled his eyes. "Between the pandemic, and politics. And I'm sick of both of them to be honest with you~"

"Well...at least Biden won~" Maverick suggested with a smile.

"Oh whoopity-doo! Yeah, I voted for Biden, but it's not going to just magically fix all the problems in this country. This pandemic has really opened my eyes to a bunch of just simmering endemic problems this nation is facing. Our selfishness, our ignorance, our penchant for conspiracy theories over facts! Truth isn't truth is more truer than anything I've ever heard out of Looniani's mouth. You got on one side, people who think that this election was stolen by Democrats, even though if that was the fucking case- why the fuck would Dems take the presidency and not the senate? Unbelievable." Mav ranted.

"I cannot stand conservative gobbledygook, but this pie in the sky, moonbat, lefty shit pisses me off too. Free college, free healthcare, multi-trillion dollar social welfare programs, universal minimal income- how the fuck are people going to pay for this? Our deficit is out of control, and nobody's gonna pay more taxes for this! Do these people think money just grows on trees? Or 'GEE LET'S JUST TAX THE FUCKING RICH AND IT'LL PAY FOR IT, HUR, HUR, HUR'. If Democrats wonder why they had such an anemic performance, it's that. Yeah, it's great, it's critical to think about protecting the environment, clean energy, not push and treat immigrants and minorities around like pieces of shit. But to some roughneck out in the middle of Oklahoma surviving paycheck to paycheck, who would most likely benefit from Democratic economic proposals, the message gets lost in all the mamby-pamby 'free college' 'I have twelve genders' bullshit! And conservatives play up to that because they have no values or morals. 'Win by any and all means', 'the end justifies the means' kind of playbook is why Republicans are shamelessly doing circles around Democrats. It just drives me up the fucking wall that everyone's just pushing themselves further left and right, and tearing this whole nation apart, over petty shit. One side just wants to fuck the other side over. And then you have geopolitical foes, like Russia, China, Iran, all greasing the wheel to fuck this nation over some more. Petty shit, pisses me off."

Maverick nodded. "Those are some pretty intense feelings there, Mav-O~"

"Being a moderate sucks." The husky shrugged. "Me and Rob, stuck in the middle with you!"

"Heh~" grinned Maverick. "I guess I'm pretty liberal? I mean, I'm a gay Mississippi boy into leather~"

"I mean, conservatives are too, but just in the closet."

"As they pass anti-gay legislation."

"Always~" laughed Mav in a jaded way. Maverick put a burly arm around Mav's shoulder and pulled him close.

"Things will be alright, buddy. It's just a rough year..."

"You're telling me..."

"Oh I know..." Maverick grinned. "Whelp, time to humiliate myself on camera again~"

"You know it!"

Alvin and his friends sat their camera gear up at a rock outcrop that overlooked the gorge. Mav and Maverick both changed out of their jackets into fencing gear for the shoot. Alvin suggested that they videotape the fight scene first, to make available the most light.

"Remember, you're supposed to be British~" Alvin suggested to Maverick as he got his XC-B10 ready.

"Oh boy." The husky laughed. "I got a southern drawl~"

"HA! Oh my god! You're reverse Jonas from Twister!" Mav exclaimed. "WELL LEMME ENLIGHTEN YOU PEOPLE!" he yelled with a mock southern drawl.

"Oh my god..." laughed Maverick. He smacked a bit paw across his face. "I charge premium for this~"

"You can charge deez nuts!" Mav exclaimed.

"Oh I can~" grinned Maverick.

"You know what- nevermind!" laughed Mav. He held up his fencing sword that was polished silver. "Put up your dukes, string bean!" Maverick just closed his eyes and laughed.

---

Stepping out of his bedroom, Maverick stretched and yawned. The Russian husky scratched his belly and made his way to the kitchen, to prepare Thanksgiving dinner. He walked by his fountain and recoiled in disgust at it. He was looking forward to Marie getting rid of it for him. Making his way into the kitchen, he turned on his oven to preheat it, and spun around to open the fridge up to take his turkey out. It sat in a metal tray to thaw out. He sat it on his countertop and grabbed some spices and butter to prepare his Thanksgiving meal.

He ripped the lid off his tub of butter and shoved his paw into it. He took a big handful of butter and began smearing it all over the raw bird, while morbidly thinking about his brother Dmitry salivating over the amount of butter. "D'OH TINA, RUB THE BUTTER ON MY NIPPLES, D'OH!"

As he grabbed another handful of butter, the back door swung open to reveal the other Maverick, stepping inside with a large paper bag filled with groceries. He was followed inside by Faust and Greyn.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Mav greeted.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" they responded happily. Maverick chuckled at watching Mav shove his arm into the bird to butter up the inside.

"Nice~" he teased. "I like to go arms length too~"

"Oh my god..." Mav laughed. "I'm just buttering up the inside~"

"I'm gonna call you Paula~" grinned Maverick. "Butter y'all!"

"Heh, that's better than Shirley..." Mav grumbled. "You know what? If I had a girl's name, it would be Vanessa, Jeanie, or Billie! With an 'e' at the end!"

"What the fuck..." Maverick laughed. "I'm convinced that Travis is not calling you Shirley..."

"Oh yes he is... I know that motherfucker all too well... questioning my masculinity... Oh...Shirley... SHIRLEY!"

Maverick just chuckled in return. "Well...gimme a bit... and I'll help start cooking with ya~"

"How's it going Mav?" Faust asked him as he took his jacket off.

"Much better actually!" Mav exclaimed. "I've rested up, and feel recharged to dive back into the hornet's nest called Barev!"

"Heh, that's good."

"I've...had some encouraging news from the big meeting between Barev's engineers and NASA- they like our klystron design, and are discussing purchasing matters further."

"Oooh, neat!" Faust responded.

"Millions of dollars baby!" Mav grinned. "I can smell it! ...or is that raw turkey juice?"

"Things are maybe looking up?" Maverick suggested.

"Well...there's still a lot of issues going on... but they're being mitigated... like the lawsuit between Mario Schleppi and Barev... which probably isn't going to go in his favor."

"He did throw the first punch~"

"That's right!" Mav exclaimed. "Our attorney is going to eat him alive."

"Oh joy~" chuckled Maverick.

"...we just have to take it one day at a time..." Mav admitted as he grabbed his salt shaker to salt his bird up.

"I say that too..." Faust nodded.

"One day at a time... to Toledo." Grinned Maverick.

"Shut up." Laughed Faust.

"Where'd you go yesterday?"

"Fucking Oregon...to a retirement center being built...for soffit..."

"There you go~" grinned Maverick.

"Oh the joys of delivery service." Mav laughed. "Big Mav! Hey, lemme ask you something~"

"Yeah?"

"You want to help me in my next big project? My Turnberry reboot?"

"Oh boy..." he chuckled. "Am I sword fighting in this one?"

"No... but man you fucking whacked the shit out of my arm fencing!"

"The only sword fighting I do is in bed with Faust~"

"...did I really need to know that?"

"Sure~" he grinned playfully.

"I'll have to show you that video when I get this bird in the oven." Mav suggested as he sprinkled paprika on his turkey.

"But what would you want me to do?"

"I'm redoing the Turnberry project...because well...they fucked us over... and I don't think Mario is going to be part of it... so I'm trying to salvage and unfuck this, so I can net that money in for Barev." Mav explained. "My idea is for an ice cream parlor having to deal with the same quality from Turnberry's ice cream. And maybe you could play a customer, or an employee? I don't know yet."

"That sounds promising."

"I'll pay ya~"

"Well yeah. 'Cause if you're good at something, you never do it for free!"

"Ha! Yeah. I do have your check ready, once I get the-"

Mav stopped midsentence as he picked up his turkey, to put it in the baking tray, only to drop it on the floor.

"Ohhh, motherfucker!" Mav shouted.

"Ooooh~! Dropped the turkey!" Greyn laughed.

Mav knelt down and picked it up, only to drop it again. Frustrated, he grabbed it once again, but slipped on the butter and raw turkey juice and fell on his side with it. The others laughed and watched as Mav got up, slipped and fell again, and finally grabbed the bird and tucked it under his arm. He threw it on the tray, and shoved it into the oven. He walked off, grumbling about taking a shower.

Maverick poked his tongue against his cheek and smiled as he observed the mess on the floor. "I like the idea of using the lemon Pine-Sol for extra flavor! Neat~"

---

The Friday morning sky was ablaze with color, as the brilliant amber sun rose in the east. Puffy clouds that were painted magenta and violent drifted by the polished wings of "Aquitania", enroute to Chicago. Backlit propellers flickered in orange amber as the DC-7C droned westbound. Sitting up in the forward half of the Seven Seas, Maverick shared a card table with Rob at one of the square windows, which gave them a front row view of the big R-3350's keeping them aloft. A continuous stream of blue flame spat from the big radials, the propellers etching red, white, and blue circles in the cold air outside the cabin. It was Rob's first trip aboard Barev's newest transport plane.

The card table was strewn with various paperwork and laptops. Maverick and Rob ate breakfast together, listening to the news play out on one of the Thinkpads. Breakfast was composed of leftover Thanksgiving dinner and coffee.

Rob took a sip from his mug, his eyes not leaving the window as he watched the propellers churn. He smacked his lips together once. "The sound of synchronized propellers is so calming to me- I love radial song. You did a fantastic job with this plane, Mav."

"I didn't- Vlado and the airport team did." Mav chuckled. "I just worked with Alvin to design the paint scheme!"

"You made the decision to return this plane to its roots, so you deserve some credit." Rob shrugged. "I think you're doing a great job at the helm."

"Ehh..." Mav grimaced a bit. "Things are not exactly as what I wanted them to be at... I seem to fix one issue, and create another~"

Rob shrugged. "It is what it is..." He took a another slow sip of coffee. "I don't think it would have mattered who was in charge. This year has just been an economic clusterfuck for everyone and everything. It's just something that has to be dealt with."

"I guess~" Mav shrugged as he took another bite of turkey with some mashed potatoes.

"I...shouldn't have yelled at you like that." Rob admitted with a look of regret on his face. "I let my anger get the best of me when you told me what had happened."

"I should have been upfront and honest from the get go..."

"It's fine."

"I just...didn't want to drive you further into the ground after everything that had happened up in Akron."

"Getting shot sucks." Rob rolled his eyes.

"How's your arm doing by the way?"

"About as well as you'd expect after getting shot three times..." Rob shrugged. "It'll heal. It's just a flesh wound. Just like my leg burn."

"Understatement of the year~"

"I guess." Rob chuckled cynically. "I...just...regret that I couldn't save those two in that fire..."

"I don't think there was anything you could have done to alter that outcome."

"I tried..."

"You did, Rob. You're a hero." Mav nodded.

"I'm not a hero." Rob shook his head. "Heroes have good virtues, and I don't."

"You ran into a burning home wearing a Soviet chemical suit and mask... I think that's heroic."

Rob brushed Mav's comment off. "It's not heroic. I had to do it. There was no choice."

The wolf-hybrid returned back to the original topic. "I think you're a better leader than me, because you resonate better with workers. You seem to have a knack at employee relations- something I lack. You bring the best out in people, I bring out the worst in people, it seems~"

"Well...I don't know about that..." laughed Maverick. "With Mariogate... his lawsuit... and now Whirley filling a lawsuit over us owning the trademark to his name."

"Fuck Kevin Whirley." Rob scoffed. "I don't worry about those two losers. And that's exactly what they are. Losers. I don't give a shit about a washed up, irrelevant actor, or a yuppie who drove his own company into the ground by a lack of foresight. Mario's suite has no merit- it'll get tossed, and so will Whirley's because it has zero merit. It's frivolous chickenshit the court has no time for..."

Maverick nodded as he drank his coffee. A little bit of turbulence rocked the plane in a yawing motion momentarily. Rob caught his mug as it slid a bit on the desk.

"I was wrong with what I said about you, Mav."

"It's fine, Rob." Mav smiled. "It was a heat of the moment thing."

"That's my fucking problem- fly off the handle over stuff."

"You've been through a lot this year."

"Yeah, don't remind me. You and me both!"

"Thrust into leadership, pandemic, Amy dying, now all this gobbledygook." Maverick exclaimed.

"Always the gobbledygook." Rob shook his head. "This year has just shown a lot of people all the endemic problems of our country, and instead of doing something about it, everyone just digs their ideological trench and stays in it. Trench warfare, but for ideology. It just pisses me off- that's the biggest threat this nation faces- ideology. And anti-intellectualism."

"It's disappointing to see people eschew reasoning, logic, facts, for some dude on YouTube saying crystals will magically heal Covid or something like that."

"Random dude on YouTube saying vaccines cause autism. Two cheeks of the same ass, Mav..."

"Yep..."

"There will not be any outside power that can destroy this nation. We. Will destroy ourselves."

"Sadly." Mav agreed. "And we're seeing it in real time."

"Terrible isn't it?"

"I know."

For the remainder of the flight into Chicago, Rob and Maverick kept their conversations intermixed between talking about business, and their own personal thoughts to the world. Rob decided to let Maverick and Marcus deal with Turnberry's executives, while he stayed behind at Midway, to oversee the repairs to Centoh's DC-7BF.

---

The elevator doors swung open to Turnberry's office floor. Maverick stepped out with Marcus and Felix, as they met up with the secretary for their appointment with the executives. Maverick walked with a quick pace, his blue and gray necktie that sported white snowflakes on it fluttering as he walked. They were lead to the executive suite, where Simon Epstein and Carl Norquist awaited them.

"Good morning, gentlemen, please have a seat~" Simon greeted. The secretary closed the door behind her as everyone sat down.

"Would you like a drink, Maverick?"

"Nah, I'm fine. Thank you thought."

"Alrighty." Nodded Epstein as he sat down at his desk. "I think it's safe to say that the working relationship between Turnberry Dairy Enterprises and United Barev Industries has been unfortunately damaged by recent incidents."

"I wouldn't say damaged- I think that's a bit extreme... I would say it's been 'frustrated'". Marcus spoke up. "The working relationship between our broadcasting company, and Mario Schleppi, was very tumultuous."

"Nobody liked interacting with him." Felix added. "He was vain and full of himself- nothing was ever good enough, and he seemed just annoyed by our presence."

"But the property damage of our two cameras was the final straw. That, and myself getting punched in the face."

"I understand completely." Epstein acknowledged. "Carl?"

Norquist took a few steps forward. "As of Monday, Mario Schleppi is no longer employed with Turnberry as company spokesperson. His pattern of behavior could no longer be tolerated, and we let him go. Now you are aware that legal matters between Mister Schleppi and United Barev, has no connections or encouragement, or endorsement by Turnberry. This is a legal matter between himself and your company, over the incident."

"I'm not worried about it." Maverick shook his head. "But that incident was the final straw of a frustrating endeavor, and because he was your employee on your payroll, we feel it is best that the damage will be paid for by Turnberry."

Maverick handed a folder to Epstein, who accepted it and opened it up. It was a bound packet of paperwork that had a plastic spine. Neatly typed up, it included photos of the damaged TK-47 and HL-79, including the parts that needed to be replaced on the studio camera. Maverick had to not only replace the lens mount with a reverse-engineered part, but reverse-engineer a dichotic splitter that had to be custom made. New 30mm tubes replaced the ones that were badly burned. The total cost of damage, including punitive damages, was $80,000.

Epstein sat the packet down on his desk. "Eighty thousand seems a bit steep for cameras of that age, wouldn't you think?"

"Not when you struggle to keep them going for customers like yourself." Maverick responded. "You sought us out specifically, because we are a studio that still maintains and operates an analog chain of equipment. You wanted that nostalgic look and feel for a commercial project, and we could meet that goal. That is the final cost of damages, both physical, and punitive."

"Alrighty then."

Carl spoke up. "Since Schleppi is no longer our company spokesman... our project for 2021 has effectively been brought back to square one."

"I propose to start over." Maverick stated. "I have a plan that I think you'll like."

"Let's hear it."

"My proposal is instead of a variety of eighties themed commercial kitsch- why not do a setting where it's an ice cream parlor, competing with a supermarket across the street that is selling Turnberry ice cream? It has consistent themes, consistent cast, a consistent message in the same setting. It would also be fundamentally easier to shoot."

"Hmm." Epstein hummed. He looked over to Carl, who seemed interested in the concept.

"But, my condition is... we're going to do it our way...with our people."

"That's a pretty bold proposition."

"I've been in video production for twenty years, and doing it in-house with people we know, will make for a lot better product..."

"Certainly better than a washed up actor..." Marcus pursed his lips.

"Alright, fine. We will take our paws off the wheel and give it to you. But I expect results, if you want your money..."

"As for the payment... we are going to send this to the budget department for a discussion. There will be financial compensation." Carl promised.

"Sounds like a plan!" Maverick exclaimed happily. He glanced over at Marcus and Felix, who seemed content with the results.

---

After spending part of the day exploring around the heart of downtown Chicago, shooting B-roll with Marcus, they all returned to Midway, for the return flight to Newark. Barev's DC-7C lifted off the runway slowly and roared away, back into the clear skies. They flew over the city and banked around to head eastbound for Ohio.

In the forward lounge, Rob sat with Marcus, Felix, and Maverick, as they examined footage that Marcus had shot on his "new" Ikegami. On the monitor, the scenery of downtown Chicago played back, around the Loop area. People milled about, and the sounds of traffic and machinery filled the ambience. The picture had a very sharp, but kind of "cold" appearance to it. Headlights from cars and a passing train comet-tailed, but without the typical red flaring Plumbicons gave. Skyscrapers jutted up towards the bright blue sky in another shot, which Rob and Maverick "graded".

"It looks just like the picture from my old EAL." Marcus pointed out.

"Basically the HL-791 is an HL-79EAL packaged into a modular frame with an adapter on the back for half inch VTR's~"

"Yeah, I like the BVV-5 Beta SP deck on the back. It's just a bit more convenient to carry everything in one package!" Marcus laughed. "Plus Beta SP just goes better with the Diode-Gun's resolution."

"I like Beta SP- it's a clean format, but I always got a soft spot for U-Matic, even with its annoying habit of chroma noise." Maverick chuckled. "Remember! I'm a Sony U-Matic fanatic! A-HA! HA! HA!"

"Oh lord..." Felix laughed. "That old stupid t-shirt you bought off e-bay..."

"I think these shots look good." Rob complimented. "I think these will look great."

"Thanks~"

Following their review of Marcus' tapes, Rob and Maverick returned back to their spot at the card table, to eat an early dinner, and watch the big radials outside work to keep them up in the clouds. Paperwork and laptops were stowed away, and a big deep dish pizza sat on the table, which was slowly eaten, slice by slice.

"Well is it good to be back at the helm?" Maverick asked Rob.

"Eh, it is what it is." Rob shrugged in return. "But... I think the company would be better served if I took a step back."

"Oh?"

"I want you to have more of a say so in the day to day operations of this company, because you've really shown your leadership, and how much better you are in handling crises." Rob explained. "People resonate with you. You're not polarizing like me. I seem to bring the worst out in people, you bring the best out in people, and the numbers show."

"Like I said earlier...things haven't been exactly running all that smooth..." Mav grimaced.

Rob just brushed it off. "You've handled it as best you can. I want you to lead, and I'll do more behind the scenes stuff."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Rob mustered a smile. "I need some time to think about things..."

"I understand fully."

Rob grabbed himself another slice and sat it on a paper plate. "We need to make a video to announce some changes...and the fact that nobody's gonna be getting a Christmas bonus this year."

"Unfortunately..." Maverick shook his head.

"It's the budget."

"Yep..."

"There's a chance we might have to lay more people off next year..." Rob frowned. "If we can't get the bills paid..."

"Forty million due on the thirty-first." Mav nodded with a bitter look on his face. "That's why I'm hoping for the NASA deal."

"Fingers crossed~" Rob hoped.

"The company is at a crossroads."

"Exactly." Rob pointed out. "That's the theme I want for our next video message to everyone."

"You speak and I record?" Maverick offered.

"You got it~"

"Sweet!" Maverick exclaimed.

---

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the bike path. While the sun glowed brilliantly in the western sky, through the naked trees of the woodland, a few patchy clouds overhead spat snow flurries, providing an interesting backdrop for Rob's video shoot.

Rob walked with his best friend Maverick, the buff Russian husky lugging Rob's camera, and his U-Matic tape deck around on his burly frame. Rob carried the tripod in his grip. They walked along the bike path, looking for the perfect setting for Rob's video speech.

"This will be the first time we're using the XC-B20P for an official video." Rob chuckled. "I feel bad, because you restored it for my birthday!"

"A lot's been going on this year." Maverick chuckled back in a cynical way. "You and me both."

"That's putting it nicely." Rob laughed. "I'm curious to the performance of those Mixed-Field Plumbicons."

"Mixed-field, Low Capacity, Diode-Gun tubes." Maverick added. "I think they look good when I tested it- and they have the same registration and lag stability as the Saticon version, the B-10 model. It's one of the nicer Sharp cameras..."

"Heh, I thought your XC-900 looked nice."

"Just tweak the gamma a bit and it puts out as nice a picture as a HL-79~"

"Indeed."

"Sony's are the ones that give a bit of a weird colorimetry. I think the BVP-3 is fine, but some of their other models don't reproduce fur tones and shading properly. They lean towards a more reddish hue."

"Sony also had bad caps in the eighties."

"Oh my god...that too..." Maverick cringed. "So many caps to change."

"Heh, at least they're not paper caps like the TK-76A..."

"Nope, nope, nope..." Maverick shook his head and laughed.

"Regardless...I hope workers take this with acceptance..." Rob pursed his lips. "Not that we've pissed off enough people this year."

"It had to be done. What do you say?"

"The ends justify the means, Mav-O."

"Exactly."

"Just a shame- that's all."

"Understandable, Rob."

Rob found the perfect backdrop on the bike path, where it came to a fork and split off. Rob sat the tripod up, and Maverick bolted the camera down and fired it up, where they waited to let the tubes warm up. Rob glanced over his notes and discussed how he wanted to shoot it with Mav, who gave his own opinions and thoughts. Rob clipped on a wireless microphone, and Maverick got the receiver and recorder ready for capture.

"We'll try this in one take. We'll see what I can pull out of my ass~"

"Hey you should be a champ at that."

"Shut up, Mav."

"Let's do take one~ Action!"

Rob stood at the crossroad of the bike path, his leather gloved paws clasped together in front. Rob was dressed for the dour occasion in his gray wool jacket and a dark blue sweater beneath. His papakha kept his head warm.

"United Barev Industries is at a crossroads. As a company, and as individuals, we are all faced with unique challenges and exigencies that stem from this tragic national crisis. In challenging times we must make tough calls that, may cause short term pain, but offer long term strategies for success. Our actions and sacrifices today, will determine our future, as he navigate a perilous time. As this year has unfolded, United Barev has responded to the challenges the Coronavirus epidemic has laid on this nation. We've shut down, we've restarted, we've introduced strict cleaning measures to protect workers. Unfortunately, these measures could not forestall an economic slump, that has cut back orders, and reduced demand for our cargo logistics with Centoh. Because of the reduced operating revenue, and a series of unfortunate quality control issues, cumulating in the accidental death of a well respected engineer, the company has collectively entered the red. To reduce the financial hemorrhaging, myself, and Maverick Tokarev, made the difficult decision to lay off five hundred employees, trim back overtime, and wages. Sadly that means, yes, the yearly Christmas bonus will have to be eliminated this year. I'm sorry to the people who were depending on that bonus, but it had to be done in the name of austerity."

Rob paused for just a moment.

"Despite these temporary cuts, myself and Maverick have agreed to make three fundamental changes to our company, two of which, in the policies and procedures. To start, I am assigning all employee relations, and the operations of manufacturing plants, a-la, Barev One, to Maverick Tokarev. I will be stepping away from that role, as I feel Maverick has a unique understanding, and knowledge in managing employee relations. I will be focusing on running the company as a whole day to day. Adjustment number two is a change in the policy of drug and alcohol addiction. As originally created, workers who were caught under the influence at work, and failed a drug or alcohol test were summary terminated. As of today, December the first, the new policy and procedure for addiction, will be that the company will pay for treatment for the employee in full. In recent events in my life, I have come to understand the pain and darkness addiction does to people. And terminating employees who have failed a drug and or alcohol test, would only further the cycle of abuse further. Employees who want help, can get help, paid for by Barev..."

"Lastly, due to the dangers of this pandemic, United Barev will pay all employees should they choose to get vaccinated, if and when a vaccine is approved for use. While I am cautiously optimistic that a vaccine will be approved and be safe, I am not going to put all my hopes on it. I want you to be aware that what we're witnessing today, could very well be the new normal for a long time- we might not get a vaccine anytime soon, or not at all. This pathogen might be lurking for us for years to come. The United States has already had three hundred and eighty three thousand casualties from Covid-19, and we're still faced with almost two thousand deaths a day. We must stay strong and be safe, in this tragically unfolding emergency. To conclude, we are faced with an impasse, and tough decisions have to be made. And our actions today, determine our future, tomorrow, at the crossroad. Thank you."

Maverick gave a thumbs up and hit pause. "Great work!"

"That was a bloviating piece of shit." Laughed Rob.

"You did a great job."

"Yeah, it was right from the heart, I'll admit." Rob chuckled.

After discussing a bit more about business, Rob and Maverick ultimately went their separate ways. Rob wanted to take a moment to himself and go for a walk, amongst the blustery snow flurries. Rob walked on, while Maverick took the gear back to his truck to stow it away and return home. He drove through the flurries back to Krebs Edition, dropped Rob's camera back off at his house, and returned home up the street.

Turning some cartoons on, he sat down at his living room desk and resumed drawing his ideas for his Turnberry commercials.

---

Walking down and across the street, Maverick ventured over to go confront his brother Dmitry, who hadn't been to work almost a month. He knocked on the door and stepped inside after Vlad answered it.

"Where's that worthless tub of lard at? In his room?" Maverick asked as he looked around. "Dmitry!" he shouted as he went down the hallway.

Vlad and Maverick stood in the open doorway to find Dmitry sitting in bed, playing video games. To Maverick's shock, his whole bedroom was cleaned up; Maverick could see the floor for the first time.

"Dude, I told you, Dmitry's cleaned this whole room for the first time!" Vlad exclaimed. "He's even showered everyday!"

"What the fuck did we do to him?" Mav asked. "DMITRY!"

Hitting pause, Dmitry ripped his headset off and just glared at his brothers. "Yeah, what the fuck do you want, Mav? Wanna humiliate me some more?"

"Oh you're still butthurt about that?" Mav scoffed. "Why don't you drag your ass back to work where it belongs?"

"Oh, now you seem to give a shit about me? Must suck not having a graphic designer... maybe you shouldn't just take me for granted..."

"Oh Jesus Christ... it's a joke." Vlad grumbled. "We were just fucking around with you to get out of a contract."

"Oh just fucking around... you people act like it was no big deal!" Dmitry shouted. "You know what it's like to be memeified? When randos on the internet turn you into some joke- plastering your face on a pinwheel background!?"

"What the fuck is this? 2012?" Mav asked.

"SHUT UP!" Dmitry shouted.

Mav smacked his paws against his hips. "Alright. Look...I'm sorry that we did that stunt to you. And I'm sorry that it was seen by so many people."

Dmitry took a moment and just nodded, slowly. "You know what I think about that, Mav-O?" He promptly leaned over, grabbed and lifted a leg and farted, ripping a loud, wet fart. "THAT'S what I think about your apology! And you know what else I think about that stupid stunt!?" Dmitry farted again, which made Mav roll his eyes.

"You are aware you were going to fuck this company over... right?" Maverick shook his head. "Plus I came over here to make it up to you... I want you to star in a set of commercials for Turnberry... since we got rid of that Mario motherfucker."

Dmitry sat back up. "What do you mean fuck the company over?"

"Your contract with DataCo would require us to basically be at their mercy for two years. If they wanted something made we would have to make it! We don't have that kind of studio space or capacity! I get it Dmitry, it was a well intended idea, and I'm flattered and appreciated that you thought about helping the company, but when I told you 'no', that's why I said 'no'- because there was too much risk."

"I guess I wasn't thinking..."

"Well...admitting a problem is the first step towards recovery~" grinned Vlad.

"I KNEW IT!" Dmitry shouted. "THERE IT IS!"

"You walked right into that motherfucker!" Vlad laughed.

"Would you please play the main character in my Turnberry commercial? He runs an ice cream parlor, and he's competing against a supermarket selling Turnberry ice cream."

"Alright, fine."

"And we need your graphic design skills."

"Sure~"

"Perfect!" Maverick exclaimed as he ran off to head back home.

"And you know what I gotta say to your disgusting ass farts, you lazy fuck!" Vlad exclaimed as he braced himself against the doorframe. He stuck his ass out and ripped a long, wet fart, with a shit-eating grin on his face. "THAT's what I gotta say to your fart!"

"Wow, Vlad, that was pretty good." Dmitry complimented.

"Thanks! I gotta shit now..." Vlad said as he turned for the bathroom. "Nico! I gotta poop!"

---

One Week Later

"Okay, gently, easy!" Maverick called as he lugged with Marcus, one of the TK-47A camera bodies. They both heaved and sat it down on the pedestal's attachment mount, which Mav quickly secured. Felix followed behind, carrying the big Canon lens for the camera. Mav accepted it from him, quickly pulled the cap off the lens mount, and attached the lens. He reconnected its power, zoom, and focus connectors, and took a step back. Hard working "Camera One" was back together. The husky reattached the VTR cable, which ran across the floor, to the big Airstream trailer that sat outside the building, which served as a mobile studio for BVS.

Maverick found himself inside what was once a bustling ice cream parlor near downtown Newark. It was a rustic old building that had stood a century on the eastern half of downtown. The interior was covered in dark lacquered walls, with the textured tile ceiling painted a shiny black. Track lighting provided focused, artful lighting, while the parlor's bar area was illuminated by both the windows up front, and Tiffany lamps that hung overhead. The interior was even still stocked with an assortment of glassware and ice cream serving cups; the business had recently just folded, another victim of the pandemic. Maverick had reached out to the family, and offered to financially help them, in exchange of using the old building as "Mr. Resnik's Ice Cream Shop".

As Mav set up the calibration chart to align the camera's tubes, his actors slowly came filtering in. Big Maverick stepped in first, dressed as one of the employees. He wore white pants, a white button up shirt, complete with a red bowtie. A neatly folded soda jerk cap rested atop his head. Faust and Greyn would play as some of the patrons of the eatery. Next to come in was Mav's friend Russ Drabek, a red furred Doberman. He was dressed like Maverick, as one of the parlor workers. Lastly, Dmitry slowly made his way in.

Looking a bit embarrassed, Dmitry stepped in, keeping his head low. The chubby husky sported a dark purple sports jacket. He wore a light gray shirt, with a black bowtie on it. His usually greasy long locks of blonde hair was cleaned up and slicked back atop his head. His goatee was neatly trimmed up.

"Wow, Dmitry, you look great." Mav complimented. "Anton made you go from worthless slob, to halfway decent!"

"Heh, thanks..." Dmitry grumbled. "I'm so embarrassed by this suit... I feel like I'm Prince or something!"

"Whoa, let's not go that far~" teased Russ with a snort. "Now for me? I love this outfit... Heh...you could say I'm...kind of a stud..."

Mav and everyone just stopped and blankly stared at the Doberman. Russ' smirk faded and he took a step back.

"Wow! Seriously? Fuck you guys!" he shouted.

"Maybe!" grinned Maverick with a laugh. "Oh my god... this outfit..."

"It looks great!" Mav exclaimed. "This is going to be a great shoot."

"Let's hope..." Maverick chuckled. "This is something I'm never going to live down..."

"Nonsense~" laughed the Russian husky. "This is going to be great."

"I hope..." Dmitry grunted. "This suit is so purple... are people going to think I'm gay?"

Mav just smacked a paw across his face. "Oh my god Dmitry..."

"Hey I'm just asking!"

"You are perfect as Mister Resnik, the hapless ice cream parlor owner who has to compete with the tasty, orgasm in your mouth Turnberry ice cream!"

"If you say so..."

Marcus stepped forward, holding the master script outlines. "We will be taping three commercial spots today."

"Fair enough~" Maverick nodded.

"One camera magic!" chuckled Mav as he took his place behind the TK-47. He scooted the camera around on the smooth floor, which gave a perfect glide as he practiced maneuvering around the tables that were set up. He closed the iris up on the lens and pointed the camera down at the floor, to protect the big tubes from incidental burn-in.

For about an hour, everyone huddled around and read lines and practiced their motions. The first commercial would be the "introduction" to the series of commercials planned. It would feature Dmitry and Maverick as the main cast.

"Let's try it out~" Marcus announced.

"Roll VTR!" Mav called through his headset. His tally light came on, glowing red, signaling that the camera was now active.

"Let's do take one~" Marcus said as he began the countdown. Mav gripped his zoom and focus handles tightly for a rolling shot across the room.

"Action!" Marcus called out.

Starting his dollying motion, Mav followed the scenery of the parlor, as his friends ate ice cream. He carefully maneuvered around them as he watched Maverick enter inside through the front entrance. The windows and door were at the point of clipping in the tubes, and as he panned to follow, some of the highlights comet-tailed.

"Hey look out the window, what do you see?" Maverick asked as he stepped behind the counter.

"What? What's going on?"

"Look out the window!"

"Turnberry? At the supermarket?"

"Yeah, some kind of nice ice cream brand."

"There's no way they taste as good as our ice cream! ...go check em out~"

"Right!"

"And cut." Marcus called. "Good intro."

"I liked it!" Mav called out.

For the rest of the morning, into the afternoon, they videotaped the contents for three commercial spots. It took multiple takes, multiple angles with one camera, and it gave everyone time to get adjusted in their roles. There were a lot of laughs and bloopers along the way.

At dusk, the parlor took on the perfect scenery for the final shoot of the day. It was a solo commercial just featuring Dmitry, who would be sampling the peach flavored Turnberry ice cream. Behind the camera, Mav stifled a smile as he got his shot lined up.

"Yeah, laugh it up, Mav. Fat guy eating ice cream. I get it!" Dmitry glared.

"No...I'm not laughing at you..." Mav said, with a paw clasped over his muzzle to hide the smile. "Not at all!"

Dmitry just flipped him off. "Let's fucking do it~"

"Sure~"

"Roll VTR~" Marcus called out.

Dmitry snuck around the parlor bar with a bag that held a tub of Turnberry ice cream. Mav followed him with the TK-47, keeping him in constant focus as the chubby husky fumbled around with the bag.

"Turnberry ice cream with peaches... pfft.... Same ice cream parlor taste... yeah right! We'll see about that!"

Taking a moment to capture the close-ups of Dmitry scooping ice cream out of the tub and out of the freezer, they proceeded back with the rest of the shoot.

For the shot, Dmitry held two fancy cups that each had a scoop of ice cream. "Well you can see the difference right here! This one's... wait... this one has more peaches... oh... oh no.... But it's the flavor that counts! Heh! Heh! I'm sure mine tastes... well... Turnberry's is creamier... and it's more intense... peachiness! But that's not fair! How is this... oh ohhh d'oh..."

Mav concluded the shot with a shot that dollied out to a wide angle of the entire parlor. The Tiffany lamps and streetlight through the window comet-tailed, with the typical red flare of the big Plumbicons.

"That's a wrap!"

---

Hitting rewind, Maverick rubbed his tired eyes and waited as his BVH-2000 rewound the reel with the edited master tape on it. He watched the footage rewind in rapid speed on his monitor, before he leaned forward to hit "play" on the editor's control board. His newly edited commercial began with a title card, denoting Barev's technical information. It gave some color bars, and four seconds of black, before the commercial finally aired.

"Two scoops of that there butter pecan!" Maverick shouted as the video opened up. The Russian husky played some hapless customer, masqueraded up as an old man with big, thick framed glasses, and a turtleneck sweater that had a winter theme on it. He put out an exaggerated "old man voice".

In the background, Big Maverick washed dishes, as the camera panned to follow Dmitry as he went to fetch it, only to realize he was out. He slammed the freezer lid closed on the counter. The windows were clipped to white and as the camera swept around, it comet-tailed as a brilliant crimson lag effect. The camera tracked back to reveal Russ lazily looking at his phone.

"Go to the supermarket and get some Turnberry butter pecan- QUICK!" Dmitry exclaimed with a shooing motion at the end. Russ ran off, and the shot cut to the inside of a store, the IGA in Granville. A shaky shoulder mounted shot, it showed Russ running to the freezer to grab a tub of Turnberry ice cream. Shot on his XC-B10, the picture lacked the subtle soft, warmth of the TK-47's Plumbicons, but the rather sharp, cool colorimetry of the Sharp's Mixed-Field Saticons. The fluorescent lighting above Russ comet-tailed and smeared about as a colorless, white overload trail.

"Oh Turnberry Magnum, butter pecan... just like ice cream parlor taste... mhmm!" Russ' voice was narrated over. He ran off, which immediately had a flip transition back to the parlor, where he handed the tub off to Dmitry.

"Smart boss..."

"HEY! Where's that darn ice cream at!?" Maverick shouted.

"Coming up, sir!"

"Here you go~"

Marcus got a tight in shot of Maverick eating a spoonful of ice cream, which made him snort as he watched it. "That is some GREAT butter pecan!" Marcus rapidly zoomed out to Dmitry and Russ.

"Nice price..." Russ leaned in with a grin.

"Yeah..." Dmitry muttered as he grabbed Russ and yanked him back. "My change?"

"Ohh..." he grinned.

The last shot faded to a tub of ice cream sitting on a marble countertop, with a muslin backdrop all faded out. Maverick provided the narration with his deep, smooth voice, as Felix's paw stabbed a sign into the tub that read "supermarket prices".

"Turnberry... quality ice cream parlor taste... at supermarket prices..."

"Perfect!" Maverick shouted in excitement. He managed to cut it together flawlessly. He watched the third commercial, Dmitry's solo performance, which made him snort in laughter at watching his brother eat ice cream. He surprised acted really well; it looked natural. He was always just in awe at the picture quality his forty-one year old TK-47 gave; despite such low and uneven light levels, the camera pulled through with a noiseless, clean picture. It was RCA's special preamps that gave those big 30mm tubes the amplification needed to get a good picture at -3dB.

Feeling excited, he rewound the wheel and took it off his Type C recorder to get it properly labeled up. He slapped a "EDIT MASTER" sticker on the gold reel of Barev 525, and labeled the contents of the videos. He tucked it back into its plastic carrying case and took it with him back upstairs.

He sat the reel of videotape down by his laptop bag that sat on the dinner table. "Robby!"

He heard the eager footsteps of his adopted son as the tan and beige husky ran out from his room. "Yeah Dad!"

"I just realized that we should probably go get a Christmas tree~" Maverick suggested.

"Yeah, but what about the fountain?"

"I'm still waiting on them to pick it up. Marie said they should be coming sometime this morning..." Maverick said as he cringed at the sight of it sitting in the corner of his living room, concealed beneath a sheet.

"Ahh~" Robby nodded. "Should I just take a shower now and get ready?"

"Sure~ That way when this monstrosity is removed... we can go get the tree!"

"Alright! And I can try the new two in one shampoo~"

"Hey, I like it for my pretty locks of hair." Chuckled Maverick. He proceeded to smack his paws together and point. "I'mma pull a Joe Biden and sniff your hair! COME HERE BOY! LEMME SNIFF THEM LOCKS!"

Robby laughed and ran off as Maverick jokingly chased him down the hallway. He then heard a knock at the door which got his attention. "Oh that must be for the fountain! Thank god!"

Grabbing his cloth "grinning" mask, Maverick donned it and went and opened his front door. He saw two men standing before him, their faces covered by masks as well. One was a pudgy German Shepherd, the other a gray wolf.

"Oh hello~" Maverick greeted.

"Hello there, Mister Tokarev?"

"Yep, that's me."

"Oh hi~" the German Shepherd greeted. "I'm David, and this is my partner Paul here...and we're with the Saint Vincent de Paul Catholic society...we're here to pick up the fountain!"

Maverick's eyes suddenly went huge. He froze in place and just stared at them, his eyes darting back and forth at the two men. There was an awkward silence for a moment. That horribly inappropriate fountain, being picked up by two men from the Catholic church.

"Uhhh, you're...what?"

"A Marie Paulo donated a fountain that was here to the church art auction." David explained.

"OH NO!" Maverick blurted out. "I MEAN, oh really?"

"Is that it behind you?" Paul pointed.

"Oh...no...no... that's not it... that's something else... I think Marie got the fountains wrong or something because it's just not here." Maverick tried to lie, to get them to leave, to save him from embarrassment.

"She told me it was a really bulbous, big fountain!" Paul pointed. "That's it back there!"

The two men stepped inside, as Maverick awkwardly tried to stall. "You know what! I stand corrected! Heh! Heh! Sorry about that! This is it! You can even take the sheet! It's part of it and- oh no don't take the sheet off... oh...oh...oh no..."

David pulled the sheet off to reveal the fountain. Complete silence befell the living room as the three just stood there looking at it. Maverick fidgeted a bit with his paws and stood there, blushing beneath his mask out of embarrassment.

"Wow, look at that art! Yeah...pretty surreal.... ABSTRACT!" Mav exclaimed with an awkward laugh at the end.

David and Paul, in unison, turned and stared at Maverick. Their masks concealed the looks of disdain.

"Alrighty! Why don't we take your dolly and just pack this bad boy up!" Maverick exclaimed as he hesitated to touch it.

Stepping through the doorway was Marie Paulo, who greeted everyone warmly.

"Good morning Maverick, David, and Paul!" the lady Dober waved.

"Uhh...Misses Paulo? Is this the fountain you're...donating to the church art auction?"

"Yeah~" she nodded.

"Umm..." David hesitated. He looked at Paul who motioned. "Misses Paulo... don't you think this fountain is...ummm.... A very touchy subject matter for a church auction?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you think this is very...inappropriate?"

"Inappropriate?"

Maverick braced for it.

Paul leaned in. "Misses Paulo... is that not a fountain of a giant penis?"

"WHAT!?" screamed Marie in shock. She took a step back and looked at the wolf and German Shepherd in complete disbelief. "Are you two NUTS!?"

"It's just that the shape of this is..."

"Are you two sick in the head!?" Marie asked them.

"I think it is best that we just leave this here..." David suggested.

"If you have anything else...we'll gladly donate it." Paul added as Maverick escorted them to the door.

"No, nothing else...tell you what, I'll donate a few hundred bucks to help the homeless or something. God bless! Have a good day!"

Maverick quickly slammed the door shut and braced himself against it. He saw Marie standing and just looking at her creation. Her body language looked visibly tense as she tilted her head and looked at the fountain at various angles.

"Maverick? Do you see what they see?" Marie asked him.

"...yes, Marie. I see a giant stone phallus..."

Marie slowly pulled her mask off and sat it down on the coffee table. "Wow..."

Marie looked at the fountain again and looked back at Maverick. "This was supposed to be a sort of hibiscus flower! I mean...does it really look like someone genitalia?"

"...yes. Yes it does, Marie."

Marie looked terribly disappointed. "I wanted to make a hibiscus flower fountain for you, because I remember Amy telling me how much she liked my hibiscus flowers that I grew in my garden! I wanted to make something for you to remember her by, because I saw how sad you were when she died. I wanted to find something to do in the middle of this pandemic that was safe... and... now I understand why you wanted it gone..."

Marie broke down into tears. Maverick rushed over to gently grab her and guide her to sit on his couch. The husky felt so bad; he wanted to comfort her.

"This year has been so terrible!" Marie cried out. Maverick handed her a Kleenex to blow her nose. She took a few deep breaths to regain her composure. "Ever since March...I've just been so cooped up in the house. No friends to see, no places to go. Constantly worried about my sons, my ass of a husband- you know I love him so much... I feel so isolated because of this damned virus! Everyone all over is just getting sick...it's like the walls are closing in!"

"I understand, Marie. I know the feeling." Maverick nodded.

"There was this socially distance art class that went on, and I thought it would be fun! So I started going to it to home in my skill- since I like creating knickknacks. And I wanted to create a fountain, and I wanted it to look like a flower, because we were just starting with stone when Amy died... and she was such a kind person. And her whole life just got cut short by a drunk driver. She had her whole life ahead...and it was cut down. And I saw how heartbroken you were... so I made it for you, to cheer you up! Plus it got me out of the house because Andrew was starting to suffocate me. Can you imagine dealing with him all the time? He's reduced his workload because of Covid, and he's always around!"

"But that's what happens when you've been married for forty years and him probably slowly preparing to retire!"

"...I know, but I didn't think he'd live this long~"

Mav just tilted his head with a blank stare at Marie.

Marie looked over at the fountain. "Instead I just made a perverted disaster..."

"Marie..." Maverick said, cutting in. "You should be proud of what you made. Yeah...it looks really awkward... but that is something you made! You turned three blocks of stone into something! With your own paws and your creativity! That's your creation!"

"You think so?"

"Indeed." The husky nodded. "And I'm very flattered that you made that for me...and I am very much appreciative, even... if this fountain haunts my dreams with its bulbous, endowment..."

Marie got up and walked over to the fountain to examine it with Maverick. The two stood there and reflected on it with a moment of silence.

Mav put an arm around Marie. "...but seriously, this has gotta go~"

---

Sitting at the board room meeting, Mav sat back with the socially distanced crowd of big wigs at Barev One, to hear the latest budget report and forecast. There were looming deadlines, and an uncomfortable tension sat in the room amongst everyone. Maverick sat back, checking on a order he had placed for a PS5 at a Target in Chicago, his afternoon destination. It was part of his Christmas shopping for his son, and reflected the hectic schedule he had for a Monday morning. From Newark, to Fairfax, then to Chicago, to meet up with Rob, who was assisting Centoh's hub at Midway. As Gerome Robinson spoke, Maverick placed another order for a Christmas gift.

"We're looking at the budget here...and profits are good." Gerome spoke. He was a black furred Samoyed, dressed in a blue polo and black slacks. "The problem is that the loans are coming up...and it's going to really sink those profits just to pay for them with the incurred interest... and that's a problem. It's a serious problem."

Bolton rubbed his paws together on the desk. "We have millions due on the thirty-first. And if we don't get it-"

"We're going to be looking at borrowing more money to cover the gap... and potentially... cause more layoffs across the board."

There was a collective group sigh.

Maverick looked up from his laptop. "I have hope and confidence in both the NASA deal, and the Turnberry commercials BVS is creating, that when combined- the profit will help pay for those, and minimize expenditures, so we can save as much as we can for the budget."

"I recall you saying that Centoh received a government grant?" Gerome asked.

"Yes. Operation Warp Speed granted Centoh four million dollars, to help set up infrastructure needed to reliably transport Pfizer and Moderna's Covid vaccines, aboard our cargo aircraft." Maverick explained. "That grant covers operating costs, and facility upgrades, and services. That goes a bit into our budget margin as well."

Maverick pursed his lips and glanced the other way momentarily. "Unfortunately... there is a chance that if things don't improve, or something goes wrong in either deal...we may be looking at further job terminations and cutbacks. Whatever it takes to mitigate the damage unfortunately."

Finishing up the meeting by eleven in the morning, Mav exited the conference room and made his way down to the factory floor. Just as he met up with a masked up Napier, Mav saw, to his surprise, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. The army of men sent to inspect the facility, came marching up in a row. They were all dressed in hi-viz vests that bore "NRC" on the back. After Jerry Schultz died in the Klystron accident, the NRC had been breathing down Barev's neck in ensuring compliance to radiological safety in testing X-ray tubes and Klystrons.

"Mister Warren! How are you doing today!" Maverick greeted in a faux happy tone.

"Mister Tokarev, here is your finalized report to our findings to your company factory." Warren greeted. The brown wolf handed him a big packet of paperwork that bore the NRC's logo on the front.

"Well thank you."

"We inspected your facility, and it comes up to compliance for all testing and radiological safety."

"I'm glad. Not that we spent millions of dollars to upgrade components because a government agency had its pantaloons in a bunch! Ha! Ha! No way!" Maverick teased, only to find nobody laughing.

"We... hope that another accident of that magnitude will never happen again."

"For the million dollar fine and damages we had to pay out, I agree~"

"Have a good day, Mister Tokarev."

As the group walked by, Maverick wished them all a Merry Christmas.

"Merry Christmas, merry Christmas, merry Christmas, merry Christmas! Merry Christmas- kiss my ass, kiss his ass, kiss your ass... go fuck yourself... Happy Kwanzaa~"

Maverick quickly escaped away down a corridor, to get his ride back to the airport, for the flight across the mid-east, to Chicago.

---

Descending in for Midway's runway, flew "Coneflower". Back from a yearlong restoration, the polished silver Super Constellation rumbled in, with a nose down droop. The curvaceous Lockheed flared, and touched down on its spidery undercarriage. Smoke puffed off the tires upon touchdown. Engaging in full reverse thrust, the Connie bled off speed rapidly and rolled out to a slow crawl off the runway access ramp.

From his window, Maverick saw Rob at work at Centoh's hangar, where their DC-7B sat outside, getting some final touches on its newly installed radial engines. Rob had flown in with his mechanic Vlado, aboard his MiG-21US jet trainer.

"Coneflower" rolled up to park on the tarmac, guided in by one of Centoh's ground crew. The inboard radials were powered off, the big Curtiss propellers windmilling to a stop. The airstair was quickly pushed up, and Maverick disembarked, laptop bag bouncing off his shoulder. He found Rob standing with Vlado, examining the newly overhauled Hamilton propellers, the four blade props having a polished shine to them. He fetched Rob to board one of their company SUV's, for the half-hour drive to Willis Tower.

"I'm starting to get used to drive through this city~" chuckled the husky as he momentarily glanced at the GPS on the dash.

"Eh, it's Chicago." Rob cynically chuckled. "Other than providing a nice hub location for Centoh, it's a violent shithole, just like every other useless big city."

"You're such a suburbanite~" teased Maverick with a laugh.

"From good ole N'erk." Rob shook his head. "Speaking of shitholes too..."

"Yeah...." Maverick laughed. "Newark's just a real land of intellectualism..."

"Indeed..." Rob snorted with a laughter.

Driving into the Loop, they parked in the parking garage of Willis Tower, and hopped an elevator up to have a meeting with Epstein and Norquist. They were to showcase the new commercials and print ads that were created for the project. A projector was setup, and Maverick showcased the new commercials from his laptop, which really impressed Epstein and Norquist. The theme of an ice cream parlor competing with a supermarket next door really took them by surprise at how good it worked. They openly admitted that it worked much better than Mario's commercial attempts. Following the videos, they showcased the print ads, which depicted Dmitry, the other Maverick, Russ, all dressed as the parlor's employees.

"I must say...these are gorgeous." Simon exclaimed. "I am very impressed. These are better than what I even imagined!"

"I agree." Carl nodded. "I say you blew this one out of the water with flying colors~"

"Well thank you!" Maverick said, grinning behind his mask. "I told you I would deliver, and deliver I did!"

"We're going to send these off to our publishing department immediately for release." Carl added.

"...now I know you're here to discuss payments..." Simon started off.

"Yes." Maverick acknowledged.

"Maybe this is not the news you wanted to hear...but we're going to send the payment on the second of January, along with money for the damages Mario inflicted on your infrastructure."

"...Ah..."

"I apologize if this may... cause a bit of a headache on your finances... but it greatly simplifies our budget and expenditures, especially for taxes...by sending it together."

Maverick pursed his lips, feeling frustration stab at him, knowing that deadlines were looming. "Well... okay then."

"I assure you...the money will come then." Simon reminded. "I appreciate the time, gentlemen."

There was a feeling of disappointment as Maverick and Rob left to go pick up his gifts from a Target. A new PS5, some video games, and action figures were whisked out in multiple bags that Rob helped carry back to the company Suburban. From there, they made a quick detour to a Whole Foods, to grab some lunch to take with them on their flight back to Ohio.

"It's the holiday season..." Rob pointed out as they walked by a Christmas tree surrounded by boxed goods.

"I can't believe it... Christmas is coming up soon."

"This year has flown by." Rob rolled his eyes.

"Maybe that's for the better."

"I agree~"

Stopping up at the deli region, they stood by the pizza station, where hearth-fired pizzas were cooked to order.

"I'm surprised at how good this place is in making pizzas~" Mav admitted with a chuckle as he stood with Rob.

"It's a nice place. The one in Columbus is just a bit too far to make it worth the trip."

"True."

"Hey, check out these big ass candy canes." The wolf-hybrid muttered as he grabbed one and examined it. The giant candy canes were red and white, or red and green, and were as long as his arm, and a few inches thick. They had some heft to them. "Heh. Maybe I'll pick up a couple for Joey and the others back home."

"Hey neat~" Mav nodded.

"Well...I'll be right back...gonna hit the restroom, Mav."

"Sure~ I'll be here!"

Rob walked over, as Maverick checked out the candy canes himself. He picked one up and was goofing off with it, until he heard footsteps approaching him. He looked up to suddenly find himself staring at none other than Mario Schleppi.

The Doberman stood with a stern gaze on his wedge shaped face. He wore a black apron over a t-shirt and jeans. The top of his head bore the scars of the freak accident that set his hair on fire; his tall cropped ears were still mostly furless, with the scars of skin grafts evident. His scalp just had some fur returning to it, but it was a few shades lighter and stood out from the rest of his red fur. Gone was his manbun of brown hair all tied up. He looked terrible.

Mav's expression hardened; the calm gaze on his face stiffened into a glare. He immediately turned and walked away.

"Hey!" Mario shouted. He chased after him. "Hey!"

"No!" Mav shouted back. He walked and put a rolling table filled with a crate of grapefruits in front of himself and the Doberman. "No! Get away!"

"I want to talk to you!" Mario glared.

"No!" the husky shouted. "You are suing me and my company, and anything I say can and will be used against us in a court of law. No!"

"You sound like that's a bad thing!"

"It is!"

"Yeah? Well why don't you wake up every morning and be in pain like me with what you fucking did to my head!" Mario pointed.

"Don't you even make a scene here..." Mav exclaimed as he walked away. He tried any and all means to break Mario away, but the Doberman relented.

"Because of this, now my acting career is over! Ruined! Because nobody wants a mangled, ugly person as their actor! Now I'm stuck working retail, because everyone now thinks I'm difficult!"

"Really!" Mav shouted. "Get the fuck away, Mario. Get!"

"You come here, Mav!"

Mav ran back towards the pizza counter, when Rob appeared around the corner. The wolf-hybrid momentarily looked confused, as his best friend ran by him. Rob immediately recognized a problem, and put two and two together. "HEY!" Rob screamed through his mask. Mario stopped dead in his tracks.

"You've caused enough headaches for this company, and you're not about to fuck shit up in some pity party, attention seeking stunt!" Rob pointed.

"Your company did this to me, and you're paying for it..." Mario glared.

"Over my dead body."

"I could easily have that arranged!"

"Oh really?" Rob laughed.

"You're in my home turf!"

"Yeah, you're a real badass there, peaches~" Rob shook his head. "Suing us for fucking hair expenses... fucking faggot shit."

Mario got into Rob's face and yelled at him. "YOUR COMPANY FUCKED MY WHOLE CAREER OVER! YOU UNDERSTAND ME!? YOU FUCKED MY JOB, AND MY LIFE OVER AND-"

Rob grabbed a candy cane and smashed it over Mario's head. The sheer pain stunned Mario, and Rob shoved him into a post. "Get the fuck outta my face!" Maverick smacked a paw against his forehead.

Rob pointed the broken piece of candy cane in his grip. "Now you listen the fuck here, Mario." Rob took a few steps forward. "Don't you EVER. EVER! Do that to me!"

Mario practically wept as he gently rubbed the top of his head.

"You're gonna fucking apologize to all my workers, you understand me Schleppi? You are going to apologize for the fuckery you subjected my hard working employees to! You ever pull that kind of fucking stunt again, I'll shove this fucking candy cane up your ass so far, you'll be tasting peppermint!"

Rob pointed. "This lawsuit of yours is fucking petty- I don't feel sorry for you at all!"

"I'm in pain!" Mario yelled. "My ears, my scalp, it hurts constantly!"

"Who's fucking fault is that?"

"Your company!"

"Bullshit! Who threw the first punch! You hitting the spotlight was an accident... what a waste of a spotlight..." Rob shook his head.

"...and claiming homophobia was involved- HA! You worked in the gayest ass place full of faggots like myself... ...splashing fucking coffee on my publisher, who's the husband to Maverick's brother... Why don't you use that fucking brain inside your head?"

Mario slowly regained his composure and stared at Rob with a sour face.

"I can't believe that you would act like this. My company welcomed you with open arms and you just made a complete ass of yourself! You dimwitted, brainless, dickless, WORTHLESS, NO TALENT, MOTHERFUCKER YOU! You ever fuck my company around like that again, I'll drown you in the Chicago river myself... understand me?"

Rob ripped the telephone off the pole beside him and smacked the receiver across Mario's face, sending his head whipping back into the post. It practically knocked him to the floor. "Cleanup on aisle four." Rob called into it before hanging up. "Come on, Mav, let's go."

Maverick looked embarrassed about the whole spectacle, as others looked on. Rob nonchalantly put his paws into his pocket and continued about his way, for the exit.

---

Eastbound to Ohio, flew "Coneflower", the silver L-1049E flying in formation with Rob's East German Mongol-B trainer, flown by Vlado. Rob flew with Maverick aboard his curvaceous Lockheed as they made the trip back to Ohio.

Sitting at a card table by one of the windows in the forward fuselage, Maverick sat examining the PS5 for his son. Robby was going to be so excited. But he couldn't help but think about all the people who weren't going to have a nice Christmas. Maverick thought about all the employees who got laid off, all the employees who needed that extra money at Christmas to buy presents for their families. The time of joyous celebration was going to be a bleak time for millions struggling to pay their bills in the massive economic upheaval the pandemic had brought. Here he was, a moderately wealthy person, insulated from the ravages of economic downturn. Sadness stabbed at his heart.

"I can't help but think about all the people who are fucked this year."

"Yep." Rob nodded in acknowledgement. "This pandemic has really shown all the endemic problems this nation faces."

"There's a long list..."

"Oh yeah..." Rob shook his head. "This is one of the richest nations in the world, yet so many people live by a thread. And others don't seem to care. Our militant individualism is going to one day be our downfall. As seen with this pandemic."

"Everything is a conspiracy by the government."

"Remember, cannibalistic, satanic, child fuckers." Rob pointed out.

"Heh, yeah." Snorted the husky. "How'd we get like this?"

Rob grumbled. "Probably through a combination of our lack of intellectual curiosity, social media allowing wingdings to connect and propagate their insane dreck all over the internet, a little bit of Dunning-Kruger, oh, and just Republicans and conservatives being retarded. As usual."

"Heh, you're not like other rich people, Rob." Teased Mav with a smirk.

"That's because I don't care for other rich people." Laughed the wolf-hybrid. "Money doesn't make you happy. It just makes life a lot more comfortable."

"Isn't that the truth."

"I could easily afford a fifteen bedroom mansion with a giant walled in garden, and personal servants to wait on me hand and foot... but I don't. Because that would not make me happy in any way shape or form. I don't care for these other rich fuckers because of the greed and harm they're doing to this country in the name of self-interest. And the sad part is they've convinced a significant amount of the electorate to vote against their own self-interest, a-la, Republicans."

"Yep..."

"I have no problems paying higher taxes, my only gripe is how this government completely fucks up where taxpaying money goes! So much pork and useless waste because of empty suits that run congress and the White House." Rob shook his head.

"I feel so bad laying off those workers, because remember when we lost our jobs?"

"Oh yeah. I was pissed." Rob recalled.

"You and me worked at the school district for years, and slaved over their broadcasting needs, and even brought extra money with our broadcast services side jobs! And then in one swift stroke, they threw us out in 2008." Maverick exclaimed. "And I empathize to all those employees we let go, because we were there."

"Sadly, it had to be done... and sadly it's probably going to have to be done again..." Rob sighed. "We're gonna have to take out another loan to pay the ones coming up... If we can get the NASA deal... then it won't hurt as bad... but we might have to let a hundred or more go..."

"I know..." Mav frowned. "I don't look forward to it."

"Neither do I."

---

Rolling himself across the smooth concrete floor of his garage, Maverick fiddled with his headset as he talked to his engineers in a Zoom meeting. The husky was multitasking as he returned to his workbench, to continue servicing his studio camera that sat on it. His laptop sat beside, with all his engineers being able to observe him work on his HK-322 as he did the tedious process of re-tubing it with Plumbicon tubes. He was waiting for NASA's engineers to join the conference for the final "yay or nay" for the Klystron deal. It was a bit of a tense wait for everyone.

"I thought you were a bit fan of Saticons?" teased Napier as he watched Maverick fiddle around with the optical block, which sat on a mat in front of the laptop. "You're putting the classic lead-oxide Leddicons back in!"

"I'm doing this because I'm gifting this camera to Rob's nephew. We're giving Alvin and his friends our old studio, while we move into our new building."

"Ohh, neat."

"That's a pretty darn generous gift you guys are doing there." Bolton chimed in.

"Yeah." Chuckled Maverick as he gave a half-twist and pulled the blue tube out. "What can I say? Gotta train our next generation in how to calibrate and paint up a tube camera!"

"Just don't keep em on those bright lights for long!" Napier laughed. "Always a novice's first mistake I recall!"

Bolton spoke up in the midst of the conversation. "I am hoping that this will be good news, because we're in trouble if they turn down the tube deal."

"Yeah, don't remind me." Mav shook his head. "We're fucked regardless, since my Turnberry payment got pushed back. We've already talked to the bank to get the loan ready... but be prepared to start cutting back because it's gonna push us deeper in the red."

"Yeah..." everyone mumbled in a bitter tone.

In the middle of swapping tubes, he got the notification that the NASA engineers were trying to enter their meeting. Bolton accepted them in, and three new video screens appeared, of formally dressed engineers reporting in from both Pasadena, and Cape Canaveral.

"Good afternoon gentlemen!" Maverick greeted. "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, Maverick, it's good to see all of you again~" greeted Mike Watson, head engineer for the Deep Space Network. "So we wanted to give you a final yay or nay for the Klystron deal."

"Right, yeah."

"We talked it over with management at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory and the members of the DSN and NASA executives. We believe that your Klystron design fits the bill for our upgraded DSN receivers and transmissions... but..."

"I don't like that 'but'..." Mav pursed his lips.

"Given the presidential transition, and a new administration and budget to be allocated next year? We feel that it is prudent to hold off for the time being, any purchase of new Klystrons. We are very much interested, but it will have to be sometime next year."

Maverick's face sank with disappointment. "I understand completely, Watson."

"I hope all of you have a very Merry Christmas, a happy holidays, and be safe!" he concluded. The three engineers signed off shortly afterwards, leaving Maverick and the engineers looking disappointed.

"That's that." Maverick muttered. "Well Bolton... looks like plan-B it is."

"Yep..."

Maverick ended his video call and tossed his headset aside. He went back to work changing the tubes out on his -322, and put the camera back together for calibration. He did it in complete silence as he ran the computer CCU and calibrated and aligned the new set of 30mm Diode-Gun Plumbicons with an Ikegami calibration chart. The camera was capped back up and powered off. The husky turned the lights off to his garage, and carried his laptop back with him inside. It was beginning to snow.

Taking a seat at his living room desk, Maverick propped his head up with his paws as he stared off into space. A blank, gaze was on his face, his eyes defocused and looking empty. There was no alternative now but to start cutting back on production, and further layoffs. More people were going to be hurt.

The front door opened to reveal Robby, who stepped back inside. He shook the snow off his hat and took his cloth mask off, finding his dad looking sullen at his desk.

"Dad, is everything okay?"

"I wish I could say yes." Was his response.

"What happened?"

"NASA turned down the Klystron sale, which just deprived us of critical money we needed for those loans."

"Oh no." Robby frowned.

"So a lot of people are going to be hurting, because I have to do some really unpopular decisions."

"Yeah."

Maverick glanced over to his Christmas tree, a glowing, decorated, and glistening Frasier Fir. All his presents were neatly wrapped up and placed in front. It made him think about all the families who weren't going to have anything for Christmas, all the families mourning from a lost loved one.

"I think I'm gonna go for a car ride. Go clear my head, Robby."

"You have a lot on your plate, Dad."

"Yep."

Robby gave his Dad a reassuring hug. The slender husky hugged his father tightly, and Maverick gave him a hug in return. "I love you, Dad~"

"I love you too, Robby." Maverick assured. "Things will be alright for us... it's just been a year..."

"Yeah..." Robby agreed.

---

The snow came down harder as Maverick left Newark. The horizon grew gray and dim as the headlights to his Silverado peered ahead through the snow storm. It was late evening and the sun was setting, the last light of day choked away by the storm.

Hitting Route 16, Maverick drove alone on the empty highway as he left town for the empty expanse of highway between Newark and Coshocton. He drove slow the whole time, the road gradually turning whiter and whiter as the snow continued to blanket central Ohio. There was no radio to keep him company; he just drove in silence, listening to his tires slosh on the pavement. He battled the snow the whole way, through Muskingum County, into Coshocton county, over an hour of driving.

Coshocton was quiet as he arrived into it. Streetlights peered ahead on Chestnut street as he gingerly made the turn off Route 16. He crossed the Tuscarawas that cut through town, and made his way into the downtown. He drove by the courthouse, and came to a red light. At the intersection sat an old abandoned building, a former Carnegie Library building. Mav glanced over to see at the base of the steps to the old building's side entrance, a homeless man sitting, shivering in the cold. It immediately made him think about all the laid off workers Barev had to let go, and the people who were next on the list of being purged. It was soul destroying. As the light turned green, Mav spun his tires in the slush and snow and took off to escape the pitiful sight.

Taking a scenic route, he drove by the restaurant that Amy had worked at. It's entrance was decorated with a Christmas tree, and icicle lights that flickered, bounced in the cold wind. He made a few turns and drove by the apartment complex she once lived in. It brought back such vivid memories of her, before the car accident that claimed her life. He thought about their relationship, their divorce, their feuding, and then reconciliation, friendship, and finally, the brief resumption of their relationship, their desperate wedding, and her death from a drunk driver.

Finally, Mav reached the cemetery where Amy was buried at. He parked the truck by the entrance and got out to walk. He zipped his coat up and adjusted his papakha atop his head as he walked alone in the snowstorm. The snow crunched beneath his shoes. The cemetery was completely silent. He knew the path to her grave like the back of his paw; he walked with a blank stare on his face, past all the other headstones of Coshoctonites laid to rest. He made a left at a young maple tree, and walked a hundred feet to make a right turn where some bushes were at. He stopped and stared down at the granite headstone that was Amy Golagonoff, and her stillborn son, Atlas.

"Xenia 'Amy' Golagonoff 1984-2020"

"Atlas Michael Golagonoff 2016"

He put his paws into his pockets and just stood staring at her grave, reflecting on his late Bulgarian wife.

"Amy I wish you could hear me." Maverick spoke. "Because I really wish you were here. I need help, and I don't know what to do."

He fell to his knees in the thickening snow, to brush the powder off her headstone. "I can't believe you're gone- I can't believe you had to go like that. You've gone to a place where I can no longer see or hear from you... when I needed your love and comfort more than ever! All these people are depending on my leadership, and I don't know how to right a sinking sink... my business is in trouble, people are getting sick left and right, the whole world seems upside down. I'm about to let more people down. I need a miracle. I need a sign of hope! Something! If you can hear me Amy! Gimme a sign! Gimme some hope!"

Maverick looked up at the darkened skies that spat snow. He took a few deep breathes, and slowly regained his composure. He got back up slowly, and brushed the snow off his legs. He said his goodbye and turned around to begin the long walk back to his truck, which was being blanketed by snow.

Before making the drive back to Newark, Mav pulled into the lot of a BP to refuel. He pulled up to a diesel pump and hopped out to open the door and unscrew the cap. He grabbed the nozzle, and shoved it into the port, and went to shove his card into the card reader. It threw an error code. He tried again, but found that the card reader was malfunctioning. Grumbling, he grabbed his mask and stepped inside to pay.

The attendant was a young looking malamute with red hair and a chinstrap. His mask sat on the counter instead of on his face, and he looked slightly drunk. Maverick could smell alcohol on him.

"Hey buddy, what can I do for ya~" the malamute asked with a yawn at the end.

"I need thirty on pump three out there."

"Hey why you're at it...why don't you get yourself a lottery ticket or two? Big bucks are waiting!~ Powerball's going huge... six hundred million man!!!"

"Nah, I'll pass."

"Mega Millions man! Five hundred million bro!"

"No."

"Come on man, you could get filthy stinkin' rich!"

"No thank you."

"Come on you-"

"FINE!" Maverick screamed. "I'll do it! So I can shut your cocksucker up!"

He paid two dollars for the Powerball, and four dollars for the Mega Millions from the terminal. He quickly grabbed the ticket receipts and left to go refuel his truck, and make the long, slow drive back to Newark.

The clock struck eight by the time Mav parked his truck back home. Under the glow of his table lamp, and the soft glow of the tree in his living room, Maverick glanced at the lottery receipts sitting on his desk. "Poor man's tax" he thought to himself as he shook his head with a jaded chuckle. It seemed so silly, so futile, but Maverick shrugged and muttered a "fuck it" as he looked at them. He used Amy's birthday, 5/18/84 and the number of years they were married as his numbers. He left them on his desk and turned the light off. He shut the tree off, and went to his bedroom, for an early bedtime.

---

Newark's city health clinic was an inconspicuous square brick building, nestled near the doctor's complex by the hospital on the west end of town. It was the site of a small dedication ceremony.

Looking completely embarrassed behind his mask, Maverick stood with a round of applause as the health clinic accepted Marie's fountain for their lobby to the STI clinic. The calming sound of flowing water filled the lobby as Maverick got his photo taken next to it. Robby stood off in the distance with his Dad's Betacam, recording all the scenes for posterity, as Marie, Andrew, and Joey clapped.

"Wow, they just love the fountain!" Marie exclaimed to Andrew. "It looks so great!"

"Wow... it's great... I can't believe you dedicated this to me..." Maverick mentioned to Marie in an awkward tone.

"Who else would I dedicate this to!" Marie laughed as she hugged the husky.

"Oh, I don't know! Why not one of your sons?"

"Whoa, don't look at me~" Joey laughed.

"Well I'm glad this worked out for you, Marie, but I have to go do some work... and... wash my eyeballs..."

Maverick said goodbye to the Paulos and quickly made his way back across town, to help in the move to their new headquarters. He arrived at the bus depot, to watch as Nico and Felix carried boxes that were placed in the bed of Felix's white GMC pickup truck.

He stepped inside to find the interior of the cramped bus depot looking spartan, as workstations, filing cabinets, and boxes upon boxes of paperwork and videotapes were readied for transport to their new home in downtown Newark. He walked by Charles and Tabby and stepped into the studio to see Ryan and Corey dismantling the TK-47's and readying them for shipment. Lenses were removed, the camera's capped up, and placed in their shipping crates. Pedestals were stowed for the trip. Mav took a step back and glanced around at the studio. It had once been a maintenance garage for school buses, but was hastily converted into a studio. Over the course of a year, it was steadily upgraded and refined. What was an ill-fitting building for BVS had done its job to bridge the gap between headquarters. He and Rob were giving the studio to Alvin and his friends to use, while the rest of the building would go back to being storage space.

Mav backed his truck into the studio and loaded up their six TK-47A's. They were packaged in a large rolling suitcase that bore a faded RCA logo on top. He strapped those six down, and had just enough space to stack the studio's fleet of HL-79DA's. He slammed the tailgate shut and took off for downtown, heading east on Church street. He drove into the downtown, made a right on 4th Street, and turned right to head down an alleyway, connecting the back of the old Newark High School. He drove by the construction trailer to Petersen-McDouglas, and pulled into the new parking lot that was once a playground when the old building was an intermediate school. To his left was the old NHS, and in front of him, the old farmhouse that was repurposed as his own office space.

Stepping inside the old home, he found that it was finally furnished. The first floor had a partially open floor plan for the secretaries and the publishing division. The upstairs would be Rob and Mav's own suite, while the basement held a small studio just for them. The main building would house both Barev's and Viking Records' offices. Barev spanned the second and third floor, along with the gymnasium, which housed the big studio and associated editing and control systems. Viking Records occupied the first floor, with its office space and recording studios. Meeting up with his masked cohorts, they all marveled at the building, though the mood seemed a bit bittersweet from all the problems facing the world.

Going upstairs, Mav stepped into his office to find it furnished. He had a nice office desk that was a deep mahogany color. It had a brilliant sheen to it. It was an L-shape that wrapped around- perfect for his workstation. His office felt so open and roomy, a significant improvement that being shoved in a cubby hole like in the bus depot. He had bookshelves that were black, and just begging to be filled with manuals, videotapes, and other doodads and tchotchke. The husky examined it and Rob's office, which was next door, and separated by a frosted glass door. He felt happy about his new workspace, but the lingering doubt of the company's fortunes rested in the back of his mind. There were lawsuits that made Barev the defendant, sick employees, and an anemic economy dragging its feet along. A look of worry was on the husky's face as he looked out the window.

"You okay?" came Rob's voice. Mav turned around to see Rob closing the door behind him. "You seemed pretty quiet today."

"Yeah, just stuff on my mind lately." Admitted Maverick.

"I can tell."

"I'm just...worried about the company and where we're going."

"Oh I know." Rob nodded. "We just have to deal with it. One day at a time."

"Yep." Maverick agreed. "I guess we'll have to start looking at who gets the cull next year..."

"Sadly." Rob frowned. "We...might have to look into cutting back on our tube manufacturing and research as well."

"A shame."

"Yep."

Rob and Mav boarded the fancy glass elevator and rode down to the first floor, to go and unload his truck of the studio cameras. It began to snow as they unloaded and wheeled in the TK-47's, which would have a new home in the basement studio. Going down a slide grade, they went through a side door that directly led to the basement studio. The basement had been dug down deeper, to give more ceiling height.

As Mav helped Rob pick up their TK-47, Felix came running into the studio.

"Dude, Mav, hey didn't you say you bought some lottery tickets a few days ago?"

"Yeah. The stupid Powerball thing, and some Mega Millions to shut the drunk attendant up."

"What were your numbers you put in? Apparently someone up in the Coshocton area won~"

" Ha! Probably not me! My chances of being hit by lighting are greater than a lottery win!"

"What numbers did you put down? Apparently the winning numbers are eighteen, five, four, eight, and seven."

Mav tilted his head a bit at what Felix had told him. "And you said that was the winning numbers?"

"Yeah~"

"My god."

Mav let go of the handle, and Rob immediately took all the weight of the camera, which fell on him as he tried to catch it. Rob landed on the ground, pinned down by the heavy studio camera.

"My god!" the husky shouted. He immediately ran out of the studio for his truck.

"Rob! Rob!" Marcus and Felix shouted as they ran over to tend to him.

Maverick jumped back into his unloaded Silverado and took off, it's tailgate still down as he rushed down the alleyway and made his way back home. He screeched into the driveway, and burst through the back door, startling his son Robby, who was making a sandwich in the kitchen.

"Dad? What's going on?"

Mav tripped and fell into the living room. He quickly got up and grabbed his receipts and looked at them with wide eyes. He grabbed his phone and checked the lottery numbers. He looked at his receipt again, and at his phone. Robby ran over to see Mav collapse into his chair. A look of shock was on his face.

"Dad!" Robby shouted. "Dad! Is everything okay!?"

"Robby, I just won a bunch of money."

"You did?"

"Yeah, thanks to Amy~"

---

One Week Later

A barrage of camera flashes blinded Maverick as he stood before an audience of media spectators in Cleveland. In front of the headquarters of the Ohio Lottery, a beaming, yet still shocked Maverick was awarded his jackpot prize. In a stroke of completely dumb luck, the husky won the Powerball, and the Mega Millions, using the same number combination of Amy's birth date. Just a few days before Christmas, Maverick was awarded a lump sum total of $710,000,000, after taxes. He was still gobsmacked that he won almost a billion dollars.

With him stood Rob Barion, Marcus Barion, Ryan Bolton, and Gerome Robinson, representing BVS and Barev One. Representing the Centoh Intermodal division was Jaska Saari, a black furred Finnish wolf, who oversaw the aviation division, and Sharon Voyager, a gray furred wolfess, who oversaw the trucking division of Centoh. They held the giant cardboard "check" that spelled out the payment. Near the onslaught of reporters stood Felix, and Robby, who captured the moment on their own cameras.

"So what's your plans with your newfound wealth?" asked a reporter from a Columbus station, WSYX-TV. The black Labrador held up a microphone to the much taller Maverick.

"Well, this money isn't for me." Maverick admitted. "Uhh, this money is for my company, United Barev Industries."

"Oh?"

"Most of this money is going to be spent paying off significant debts that incurred, and also to have a Christmas bonus for all workers, and a bit of a rainy day fund for the company."

"I see, and are you keeping any of it?"

"Just a few million. Heh, I guess that's a much more legitimate way of getting rich verses money laundering! Ha!" Mav laughed, only to stop when the reporter didn't laugh in return.

"It sounds like this is a Christmas miracle come true, Maverick."

"It is, Ron, and I contribute this stroke of dumb luck to my wishes and prayers to my wife, who...died back in June. I said 'Amy if you can hear me, please give me a sign of hope', and I guess she did."

"What a wonderful story, Mister Tokarev. Thank you so much~"

Maverick spent some time talking to reporters from Cleveland, Akron, Cincinnati, while camera flash guns fired off constantly. After finishing up talking to reporters, the group drove back to Burke Lakefront Airport, where "Altair" awaited them. Back from her scheduled IRAN, and now sporting the new "Royal Barev Blue" paint scheme, she served as a spectacular backdrop as news media continued to snap photos and roll cameras of them climbing aboard, as the big radial engines coughed to life with copious amounts of oily blue smoke. They were destined to fly back to Fairfax, then Columbus, and finally, home to Newark.

Returning to the air, the Starliner cruised eastbound, over the rugged Appalachians as it flew southeast. In the quieter tail of the plane, a meeting went about amongst everyone, on their plans for their newfound injection of cash.

"I want all of you to get with your support teams, and start calling back the laid off workers. I want all of them back. I want every worker to get a two thousand dollar Christmas bonus- I know it's late, but it's the thought that counts." Maverick delegated. "I am going to fill out the checks to pay off the debt, and that will bring Barev back to positive gain. There will be no more money being siphoned away from interest and debt."

"I will notify the hub directors and we will start making phone calls to get mechanics and fleet support back." Jaska nodded.

"I will call back our truckers myself." Sharon added.

"We will start making phone calls." Gerome added.

"Good." Maverick nodded. "This is our comeback moment. Let's not screw this up."

---

Going through his roster, Maverick dialed the number to a laid off employee, and quickly returned to filling out a new check. Beside him sat a huge stack of personal checks, attached to a formal letterhead to employees. Maverick heard the phone ring as he jotted the name of another employee down with his blue felt pen.

"Hi, this is Maverick Tokarev of Barev, am I speaking to Ron Gillespie? Oh, hi Ron, how are you doing? ...yeah...I understand your frustration. I am calling you because I would love for you to return to work to your previous position. I even have a Christmas bonus ready for you. Would you please return? Okay, excellent! Thank you! Ron! Uhh...give Bolton a call at the plant...I think Monday would be great for you to return. Thank you so much~ Bye-bye."

Maverick put the phone down and put a checkmark next to his name on the list, he went down the line and dialed another number, while he clipped another check to a formal letter and sat it on the stack. He did that all afternoon with the other managers of Barev; reaching out to laid off employees and welcoming them back. Almost everyone jumped on the opportunity. He juggled between filling out checks, talking to employees, and making sure that the four hundred million dollars worth of debt that Barev incurred, would be paid off in one swift stroke. Now the company was back to an immediate profit, no longer saddled down by debt. They now had a clean slate to end the year with, and to begin the new year. He finally ended the afternoon by writing out a script for a Christmas video speech, a yearly tradition that Rob and Mav always did. Instead of some comedic, ham-fisted video, like before, this one would be a bit more somber; it reflected the zeitgeist.

Grabbing and sorting all his paperwork, he carefully stuffed them into three leather bound document holders and left for the airport with his son. They would be flown out to Barev's three main sites; Chicago, Lainsville, and Fairfax. Rob would fly to Lainsville in his bright orange F-4A Phantom, Felix to Chicago, aboard a polished silver, Polish marked, MiG-17PF, and Joey and their mechanic Vlado, ready to share flight time aboard a camouflaged MiG-21UM that Rob inherited like his Phantom II. Maverick handed them the document holders, and stepped back to hear the tarmac come to life as turbojets spooled up and filled the cold air with their howl. A tired, but accomplished look graced the husky's face as he watched the three jets taxi out, and one by one, lift off into the air, their afterburners screaming away with a long tail of flame. They disappeared into the clouds.

Wasting no time, Maverick rushed back to his truck, as Robby followed behind him with his Dad's BVP-3 bouncing on his shoulder.

"Time to record a Christmas message~"

---

Looking in the mirror, Maverick adjusted the knot to his winter themed necktie. Dressed in a dark gray wool overcoat, Maverick looked the part for his Christmas message, in the lobby of his new headquarters. The bright, yellow wood paneling added such a rustic feel around the live Frasier Fir, which decorated the wall that was lined with photos. Maverick walked around, looking at his outlines, while there were last second tweaks to the "Big Blue" sitting on a pedestal. One of the TK-47A's, hard working "Camera One", on the lens, had a teleprompter installed; Robby would have the honor of running the camera and videotape his Dad. The young husky wore a headset, and looked at the viewfinder screen while Marcus finished up tweaking the teleprompter setting.

"Okay, you're good!"

"There's no Kalash to fuck around with the settings is there?" Dmitry cackled from behind the camera. He was one of the few masked members who stood to watch as a small audience.

"No." chuckled Maverick. "We sent his dumbass to Miami to fly more vaccines down."

"Good."

"Good? Motherfucker! You're not on camera!" Maverick exclaimed with a snort.

"And while we're at it! Now that I am finding newfound stardom with those ice cream commercials! I want to renegotiate my salary!"

"How about renegotiating DEEZ NUTS!" Mav shouted as he pointed at his crotch. "Shut your rocket tits up!"

Dmitry just brushed it off and shook his head, as Marcus interjected.

"Okay! Let's get this all prepped!" Marcus exclaimed. He radioed back to the VTR room down the hallway. "Is everything prepped back there? Okay good. Let's roll VTR."

Maverick handed his script off and adjusted the wide flap collar to his overcoat, just as the red tally light to the "Big Blue" glowed red. "Here we go~"

"Okay, whenever you're ready, Mav."

"Gotcha."

"Action."

Standing by the glowing Christmas tree, Maverick began his monologue.

"Good evening to everyone at Barev and Centoh Intermodal, this is Maverick Tokarev, your Vice President to the company. This is another one of our annual Christmas videos, and I had thought about creating a ham-fisted funny one like usual... but I don't think this is the year for laughter... although they say laughter is the best medication. I think this is the year of introspection, and reflection from everything that has gone on. There is a pandemic spiraling out of control, economic downturn, civil-unrest, all gripping this nation. People are angry, they are fearful, there is a sense of hopelessness going around. While it seems that everything is going horribly wrong, I think we should take solace that while things are bad, they could have been a lot worse. This nation has endured great suffering throughout its history, yet the bedrock of our nation's republic has always held firm. It too, will endure this as well. Just as our own company, enduring the turbulence of a chaotic time.

There have been too many goodbyes this year, and not enough hellos. There have been too many frowns, too many tears, too many moments of uncertainty and fear, over this pandemic. There is hope on the horizon; we have two authorized vaccines that are both almost one hundred percent effective in preventing disease by SARS-CoV-two. There are two more vaccines that are close to be approved as well. This will take some time to roll out, before you can roll your sleeve up for a jab. Our Centoh Intermodal division has the honor of helping to roll out this vaccine, by flying it across the country in our restored fleet of propeller airliners. We are helping to bring hope to a nation that has been hard hit by Coronavirus. At the time of this video, thirty-four million Americans have been infected, and four hundred and fifty two thousand, five hundred Americans are dead. Twenty-two employees of Barev have died as a result of this pandemic, across our vast operations. These were people who, big and small, played a role in the success of this company. And their deaths are a sad loss to this company. We will inevitably beat this virus back, but it will be a team effort. Big and small, we MUST play our part to mitigate this virus, for our more vulnerable neighbors and family members. I know it's tough. I understand it completely- but we must wear masks in public, we must physically distance ourselves, and we must keep up on sanitation. I know it's tough to do sometimes, but if we are to get back to a subjective sense of normal, we have to do our part.

This pandemic has hurt Barev in many ways. We were knocked down quite a bit this year, and shutting the factory down for a month did not help either. We were behind schedule and facing quality control problems. We had a tragic accident that killed a well respected engineer. It drove Barev into the red. People were getting nervous, morale was eroding. But I am happy to announce that Barev is back in the green, turning a profit once more. Through a stroke of well timed, bad luck, a record setting dual lottery win of seven hundred and ten million dollars from both the Power Ball and the Mega Millions allowed me to pay off Barev's debts, and recall laid off workers, but it also gave the company a rainy day fund, and a Christmas bonus for everyone- after we had announced a cut to that. Wages will return to their previous amounts come January first. I made a wish on my wife's grave for help, and apparently she must have heard me.

Now things are back to more or less status quo ante bellum- but we are still facing uncertain times. We are still in the midst of a pandemic, and it's only going to get worse before it gets better. I ask that everyone at Barev, please... please... please... please... be a team player, and think about your co-worker, think about your family, their family. A sick work force is a non productive workforce, and if everyone's sick, the company falters. Covid-19 does not discriminate, and all of us, myself included, are targets to its ruthless wrath. We must do our part, despite the frustrations, the burn out. People are still going to get sick, some will sadly die. We must do our part.

I am very proud of this workforce. I really am. Everyone has faced this crisis and handled it with diligence and grace. All of you have played a part in this company, and you mean something to me. I know it's a clichéd thing to say- especially with the understandable cynicism that American business practices give us. The bland platitudes, the glib remarks, it leaves a feeling that we're all just numbers in a system. When I used to work for the school district, that is how me and Rob felt. I vowed to not be like that when I took this position. I have had the pleasure of meeting many of you, and I hope to continue meeting all of you. Please stay strong.

I want to wish every single one of you a happy holidays- and a wonderful, safe, joyous filled Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Years. Thank you~"

Following his Christmas speech, Maverick returned back home for the night. Instead of retiring to his home, he found his spot at his garage workbench and resumed working on repairing another camera that sat on his workbench. Under the cold white fluorescent lights, he worked on a Sony BVP-30, which was separated from its Sony BVV-5 Beta SP recorder. It was Rob's surprise Christmas present; Maverick always liked surprising Rob with old camera gear. He was cleaning up and restoring the camera for his friend. With some rock n' roll playing in the background, he worked to re-tube the camera with a new set of their company's Mixed-Field Plumbicons. A tired, but accomplished look was on his face as he worked on the tedious task of re-tubing.

---

A gentle snow befell the Arena District, as Mav pulled into the lot of his friend's apartment complex. Hopping out, the husky grabbed his camera suitcase, housing Rob's Christmas present, that BVP-30. He was grabbing Maverick to go do a PSA shoot and test the camera out, on Christmas Eve.

Taking the elevator up, the masked Mav knocked on the door and waited. The door swung open to reveal big Maverick, in a tanktop and shorts. He was quickly welcomed inside his apartment.

"How's it going?" Mav asked him.

"Oh I got great news!"

"Oh?"

"OSU called me today, and they're asking that I return to work on the fourth." Maverick exclaimed with happiness to his voice.

"Hey congrats!" Mav exclaimed.

"Apparently they needed someone with expertise!" grinned Maverick with a confident, playful laugh. "Merry Christmas to me!"

"I'm so happy to hear."

"Yeah, me too." Chuckled Maverick. "So you're wanting to do that PSA eh?"

"Yeah, let's test this camera out."

"People are gonna think I'm famous or something." Grinned Maverick.

"...nevermind the whole playing professional baseball." Mav teased.

"Heh~" chuckled the big husky.

Getting dressed in some exercise clothes, Maverick drove Mav in his half-ton Silverado, over to Genoa Park, which straddled the Scioto in Franklinton. Near the fancy suspension bridge that held Main Street over the Scioto, would be the taping location of the PSA, this time about physical fitness in the era of Covid-19. It was another production for the Franklin County Health Department.

Mav got his BVP-30 ready; he powered it up, and gave it time to let the brand new tubes warm up and stabilize beam current. He opened the tape deck and loaded a fresh Beta SP cassette into it and closed the lid to hear it spool up.

Doing some takes, Mav had Maverick jog for the camera. He captured multiple angles; low angle shots, Dutch angles, perspective shots of him jogging up close. He even climbed up onto the bridge to get a high angle shot of him jogging below. Even in the dim, uneven light, he got a clean "quiet" picture that pulled through with minimal ghosting in the high contrast zones. The bright globe shaped streetlights that lined the sidewalk at the park comet-tailed with his motions of the camera, smearing across the picture as he panned and tilted. It only added to the effect that he wanted. He felt good with the results of his restoration; Rob was going to love it.

"How's that?" Maverick asked as he caught his breath.

"I like it." Mav grinned. "This camera works like a champ! Just needed a recapping and re-tubing and presto!"

"Heh, you and your mad lab garage." Chuckled Maverick.

"You know it!"

"Come on, let's go back, I gotta take a piss." Maverick chuckled.

The two huskies walked along the illuminated sidewalk, back to his truck, which sat parked by the closed recreation center.

"So what time do you want me to come over with Faust and Greyn?" Maverick asked. "I got a couple presents for you and Robby."

"Oh, maybe around noon? How's that sound?"

"Sounds like a plan~" Maverick chuckled.

"And you didn't have to get me anything." Mav chuckled.

"Oh I insist, because you've been so good to me." Maverick acknowledged with a smile. He put an arm around his friend. "You've really helped me in this pinch...especially because unemployment fucked me in the ass."

"I thought you were used to that."

"I'm a top~" grinned Maverick. "You should know that!"

"Do I really want to?"

"Sure!"

"Heh, okayyyyyyy then~" laughed Mav.

"There's a lot of people who are definitely hurting, and nobody seems to be doing anything or giving a shit."

"Silly poor people! Money's for rich people!" Mav snorted sarcastically. Maverick laughed morbidly about the quip as well.

"That's fucked up."

"I know~"

Stopping at a secluded area, where a concrete wall blocked any prying eyes, Mav and Maverick unzipped their jeans and whipped their maleness out to pee together. Breathing sighs of relief, they peed against the wall, forming a bit puddle that ran to a storm drain. Steam wavered off the wall as they peed. Maverick put a burly arm around his straight friend and chuckled as they relieved themselves.

"I'm usually not this affectionate with guys~" Mav joked.

"I know." Grinned Maverick teasingly. He even reached down to gently grip Mav's uncut tan cock, and give it a shake for him, before going and give his cut tan shaft a few shakes to get the dribble out.

"Uhh, thanks~"

"You're welcome!"

After returning to his apartment and loafing around for an hour, Mav went on back home. Under the cover of darkness, and snow fluttering in the frigid air, Mav drove on home, feeling content for once. He thought about everything that had happened during the year, and finally felt that he had pulled off the impossible, and brought stability back to Barev. He couldn't believe it was finally Christmas; it had snuck up on him after all the chaos during the year. All the stress, all the heartache.

---

The Nixies on his Nixie clock glowed cherry red as they read out 6:00AM. Maverick was sound asleep on his side, snoring lightly as his bedroom door burst open to his teenage son rushing in. Robby jumped on his dad with a playful laugh and woke him up.

"Merry Christmas Dad!" Robby exclaimed.

"D'OH!" Mav shouted. "Hey! Merry Christmas!"

"Let's get our presents unwrapped! I got a big surprise for you!"

"Oh do ya! Okay!" Mav exclaimed as he got up.

Making himself some coffee to wake up, Mav got a barrage of text messages from his family and friends, wishing him a Merry Christmas. It lightened his mood as he went to unwrap presents with his son.

Robby unwrapped his presents first. The young husky was excited; he got his PS5 and all the video games he wanted. He even got a new bicycle, so they could go riding together in the spring. In his Christmas card was a hundred dollar gift card. Robby beamed in excitement. The tan husky handed out his dad's Christmas presents. Maverick unwrapped his gifts to find a set of rare Nimo tubes, which brought a smile to his face. He could make a equivalent like his Nixie clock, but with Nimos. Robby gifted him a set of old stock Ampex Beta cassettes, and presented him a huge wrapped gift that was clearly labeled "THIS SIDE UP!"

"What's this?"

"Open it, Dad!"

Maverick chuckled as he undid the wrapping paper, to suddenly stare at a vintage box, which was labeled "English Electric Valve". He opened it up to reveal a massive 4.5 inch Image Orthicon tube. His eyes went huge; it was a 7295/E I.O, one he had always wanted for his tube collection. It was a massive glass tube that was fifteen inches long, almost three inches thick, and had a bulbous glass head, that held a massive target made of silvered selenium. It was brand new and never used, complete with date stamps from 1964.

"Robby! My goodness! Where did you get this!?" Maverick exclaimed.

"Oh...I had connections." Grinned the husky. "Merry Christmas!"

"Wow!" Mav beamed. "This will definitely go on the shelf!"

"Hehe!"

Robby got up and gave his Dad a hug. Mav put his beefy arms around his slender son and gave him a tight hug. "I love all these gifts Robby. Thank you so much!"

"I would have gotten more, but being thirteen limits your funds, and child labor laws apply." Robby chuckled.

"I love what you got me, thank you!" Maverick exclaimed. "It's not the gift, it's the thought that counts!"

"Exactly!" Robby smiled. "I wanted to find something you didn't have to surprise you...because this year's been so rough for everyone."

"Yeah, it has been."

"I can see the strain on your face, Dad."

"Oh, I'll be alright. Come on, I'll make us breakfast."

Following breakfast with his son, Mav went to go take a shower and get dressed for Maverick, Faust, and Greyn. He took a hot shower to wake up further and loosen up some stiff muscles. He shut the water off, grabbed a towel, and dried himself off as he opened the curtain, the steam pouring on out. He finished up drying his torso off and wrapped the towel around his waist, before reaching over with a rag and wiping the condensation off the mirror to look at his own reflection. He took a look at his hair, and realized he was due for a haircut. He was getting the usual "Tokarev wave", his deep gray hair getting thick and waving up. His goatee needed a trim up. As he reached for his shaver, he stopped and looked back at his reflection. He grabbed his rag and wiped more steam off to get a better look at his face.

It had suddenly dawned on him that his face looked different; something didn't seem quite "right" with him. He noticed that around his eyes they had darkened up a bit, and got just a bit baggier. His forehead had a few more wrinkles. His green eyes seemed somewhat "dead"; they had become like Rob's blue-green eyes, "empty, like pools of polished emerald". He ran a paw through his thick, dark gray hair, finding that at the roots, they were turning a bit lighter in gray. Even his goatee was starting to gray up a bit more. It made him think that in just a month, he would turn thirty-seven. Another year closer to forty. Middle age. He took a step back and looked dumbfounded at how rough his face had become. He had endured a lot in the year 2020; he was thrust into a leadership position of a company of three thousand employees, spanning four states, as a pandemic unleashed utter chaos on an unprepared society. He had to worry about his own health, and now the lives of three thousand men and women. Then Amy's sudden, shocking death. After their bitter divorce, their reconciliation, and rekindling of love, she was taken away from him by a drunk driver. Her death took a lot of out of him; he felt that a piece of him "died" with Amy's passing. All the chaos steering the company out of financial hardship, the chaos dealing with Mario's mercurial personality, the lawsuits, everything. Everything had taken a terrible toll on the husky. And it was finally showing. "Wow." Was all he could say.

At noon, Maverick, Faust, and Greyn showed up to bring some food and gifts over. Mav gave them their gifts; some gift cards and other thoughtful mementos for their apartment. Maverick gifted Mav a fancy lacquered baseball bat, bearing the OSU seal on it. It was a very beautiful bat that impressed Mav. Mav and Robby got gift cards as well. They ate lunch and helped Robby set up his PS5. In the afternoon, they had a physically distanced gathering in the street with Rob and his household bunch, along with Mav's brother Vlad and Nico from next door. They exchanged gifts and some jokes in the thick snow. Rob got his BVP-30, and in return, Rob gifted Maverick a restored Sharp XC-800, which he loved immensely. Finally, Mav and his friends went to go see his parents, and they too had a brief, physically distanced get together outside, where some gift cards were exchanged. It was a different feel for Christmas, but the happiness was there.

By late evening Mav and Maverick had returned back to his home, but they got sent out on one more little adventure. Once again, Joey called, asking Mav to go check up on Rob, who had disappeared for the evening once again. Mav knew exactly where to look, as he and Maverick went out to go check on him, leaving Faust and Greyn to entertain Robby.

---

Tires crunched in the snow as Maverick pulled his black 1500 off the side road. He pushed the shifter into park and shut the engine off. He got out with Mav to look at a giant hill that was near the city dump. The dusk sky was getting dim, with a rich deep purple tint. The westward sky was ablaze in amber and orange as the sun set for the night.

"Every Christmas, Rob comes here." Mav explained.

"Why?" Maverick asked curiously. "It's just a hill."

"This is where Rob goes to meditate. Just like his father, before he passed." Mav explained, pointing to a sign that the city erected, denoting the hill as "Ray Barion's Hill". "Uhh, every Christmas, Rob gets a bit depressed...because his parents both died around this time..."

"Oh..." Maverick frowned. "I get that completely."

Mav and Maverick slowly walked up the snowy, steep hill. At the top of the manmade hill was a large, gnarled oak tree. It had a very thick base, and a massive canopy of interwoven branches that whistled in a cold breeze. At the base of the tree, sat Rob, bundled against the cold, watching the sunset.

"Rob!" Mav called. It immediately got his attention as Rob turned around. He immediately got up.

"Did Joey send you?"

"Of course!" Mav smiled. "He wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah. I'm okay." Rob nodded, having spoken in a drab tone.

"You sure?"

"Yeah I'm- no- not really. Not from all the shit this year." Rob shook his head.

"You know it's okay to say you're not okay. You can't bottle everything up forever. Timothy McVeigh tried that, look what happened to Oklahoma City~"

"Wow, Mav." Rob shook his head.

"Too much?"

"Just a little~"

"Oh okay." He chuckled.

Rob couldn't help but laugh a bit. He turned to watch the sunset and cross his arms. "I remember being up here with you last year, and thinking how I was going to make 2020 'my year'."

"I think a lot of people thought that- then 2020 went EL-OH-EL, and YOLOOOOOO!" Mav shook his head. "Nobody could have seen this coming- well maybe the president, but hey! Sit on something for months while it brews out of control. Crazy~"

"Crazy~ I know." Rob chuckled.

"This year sucked, and next year is probably gonna suck for a while... but I think there's hope on the horizon."

"You think so?"

"It's gotta come to an end eventually." Mav reasoned. "Vaccines will slowly become available for the general public- I give it... the first four to six months are going to suck... but I think by this time next year? We might be almost back to normal, or close to that point."

"Or enough people get sick, it burns itself out from a lack of new hosts."

"That too."

"But at what cost to lives? I don't know." Rob pursed his lips. "I dodged a speeding bullet this year. I just got shot by another type..."

"Literally."

"Yeah. No shit."

"We all dodged a speeding bullet...and we're all targets."

"And you and me? High risk. Me for my health issues...and you for your heart."

"Yeah..."

"...is what it is..." Rob shrugged.

"This year has taken a big toll on me, Rob." Admitted the Russian husky. "I was getting ready to trim my goatee up, and I realized how much my face has aged."

"That's because you cared about your job and all our workers. You aged because you cared and worried about them. And I think you did a very good job."

"I mean, a lot's gone wrong under my tenure..." Mav pursed his lips. "Multiple lawsuits, bloated debt, workplace accidents..."

"Oh fuck the lawsuits... I'm not worried about those." Rob shrugged. "Hell, Mario's lawsuit has no standing. I'll just pay the fucking medical bills, and shut his stupid cocksucker up. And fuck Kevin Whirley. I'm half tempted to just give him the Whirley trademark, so he can go fucking drive his next venture into the ground like a retard."

"It's just the idea~"

"I wouldn't worry about them." Rob assured. "You passed the important leadership test in my opinion. You went above and beyond for this company, especially with those lotto ticket wins. You forfeited all that money."

"I didn't forfeit it. Money doesn't buy me happiness. And the company needed it, so I gave it. There was no choice. Heh, I mean, I kept a few million for myself... it's much more convenient than fraud or money laundering!"

"Heh, now you sound like Trumpsky."

"Hell, I could be like him and paint my face up and look like a clown- WAIT A MINUTE HE IS A CLOWN! D'OH!"

Mav and Rob had a loud laugh about their morbid political jab.

"I want to thank your friend, other Maverick, for all the help~"

"Oh, anytime." Maverick said as he walked over to be with the two. "It gave me a something entertaining to do while I'm unemployed, and some extra money."

"Maverick was a big help when I was at rock bottom over the summer..." Mav smiled at him. "And I'm very thankful for you doing CPR on me when my heart stopped."

"What can I say?" Maverick chuckled with a playful shrug. "You learn a thing or two as a coach!"

"Like not fuck one of your students?" teased Mav. Maverick just smirked and wagged a finger in agreement. Rob chuckled and shook his head.

"You really helped to save the company." Rob complimented him. "I appreciate you for helping Mav-O."

"It's what I do best~" the husky smiled. "I made a great friend this year. And you've helped keep us company when everything went wrong."

"That's what I do best! Friend zone material! Wait..." Mav joked, to everyone's laughter.

"I know things are really bad. And believe me... they are... But if you look out there. The sun may be setting... but it's gonna rise again tomorrow morning in the east. It's gonna bring a new day, and maybe some more hope that things will get better. People are fucking stupid, so it's gonna take some time... but I feel confident that things eventually are going to get better."

"This year has really exposed a lot of endemic problems." Rob admitted. "How fucking selfish this county is, and how we've bamboozled our politics into such extremist rhetoric. This year reminds me all the time how goodness is murdered and mediocrity thrives. It just shows how god damn stupid everyone's become."

"There has always been colossal stupidity in the US of A, and there always will be... but I hope at least some will learn from this. Maybe... we should appreciate our friends and loved ones more. Every hug, and kiss, hanging out... maybe we need to appreciate that more when this is all said and done."

"I agree." Rob and Maverick nodded.

Rob nodded and continued to watch the sun set below the horizon. "This year has taught me a lot... that, uhh, Sam Martin, taught me a lot for just a kiddo."

"Yeah?" Mav asked.

"He was so innocent and whole... Here is this kid, surrounded by poverty, addiction, and vile criminality. And yet he wanted to always take care of his parents. He loved them, problems and everything. He's a truly a good kid, and I hope what happened, didn't ruin him."

"Rob, I think you did a lot of good for Sam when you were up in Akron. You were there for him at a critical time, and you opened your heart up for him that you've never done for anyone else."

"I had to help him... I just... his life... it reminded me too much of my own... and I feared him becoming like me. I didn't want to see that joy for life be extinguished by jadedness, like what happened to me." Rob explained. He shook his head and looked away. "If only I just...got to that burning house sooner... I could have saved Isaac and Kayla! If I had just-"

"Rob... I don't think you could have changed that outcome." Mav shook his head. "Had Sam not been waiting for you? He would have been dead with them."

"I wanted to help them, and I failed... I just couldn't do anything for them once I pulled them out... they were so burned... I just...I couldn't..."

Rob had to wipe some tears out of his eyes. "I'm sorry for crying... this is just-"

"No, don't be sorry." Maverick shook his head. "It's okay to be sad like this."

"I've cried a lot this year myself, Rob. We've all experienced a sense of loss. Think of all the hundreds of thousands of families around the nation, around the world, who had to say goodbye to their loved ones, all isolated away."

"Or the people who are depressed and torn away from loved ones because of this pandemic." Maverick added. "We're all suffering. It's okay to not be okay, Rob."

Mav opened his arms up and pulled his best friend into a hug. "Everything's going to be okay Rob..."

"I hope so..." Rob muttered as he hugged his friend in return. "I have to find the strength to endure another year like this..."

"All of us have to buddy."

Maverick joined in and gave the two a big group hug with his meaty arms wrapped around them. For that moment, there was no more worry about the chaotic world unfolding around them; in their warm embrace in the last light of Christmas day, there was just peace and calm between them.

There was chaos in the nation; hundreds of thousands were getting infected daily, thousands were dying a day, and hospitals were at capacity. There was violence unfolding in parts, as partisan hacks duked it out between each other over the election results. The world seemed like a grim place, but it always had been. All through history there were moments of uncertainty in what the future would bring; whether the nation's bedrock survive global and civil unrest. It was just the wheels of life continuously turning, chaotic and unpredictable. But if there was any solace, the sun would rise again in the eastern sky, bringing with it a new sense of hope for a better tomorrow.

Their shadows cast long against the snow, the three friends continued to embrace each other, shielded from the world's misery, by their loving embrace together.

---

I am very appreciative to Windcatcher, for his character Maverick.

Lainsville is property of Hawkwolf.