"Alright, James. The rest of the reactor fleet is ready to go. How is our grid looking?" asked Aaron, as he entered the control room.
"Well, the grid is stable, and we can handle the load of four 400 MW reactors. However, I would recommend that we only bring them online one at a time, to avoid overloading the grid." said James, his voice steady.
"OK fuel loading reactor number 2," said Aaron.
With a few keystrokes, drones began to load the reactor core with fuel rods. The pumps began to circulate the pressurized heavy water coolant and moderator, and the reactor slowly came to life, its deep rumble muted by the thick lead shielding and the control room's soundproofing.
"Reactor 2 approaching critical, turbines spooling up," reported Aaron.
"Relays are stable, power is ramping up," reported James over the intercom.
"Reactor 2 is now at 100% power. James, switch the grid to internal power," said Aaron, as he watched the reactor's power output stabilize.
"Switching to internal power," said James, as the lights in the control room flickered and then stabilized.
"Excellent. James, how much surplus are we selling back to the State Grid?" asked Aaron.
"Works out to $20,000 per hour as of now," said James.
"Well, that number's about to grow," said Aaron, as he started the fuel loading sequence for reactor 3.
"Hang on, boss. If we dump over a gigawatt into the grid, we might just tank the energy market," warned James.
"There's no such thing as too much energy, James. Demand will rise to meet supply," said Aaron, as he watched the drones load the reactor core with fuel rods.
"Well, you're the one who has to explain that to Congressman DuPont," replied James.
"I'll handle it. Reactor 3 is now online. Fuel loading reactor 4," said Aaron, as he started the fuel loading sequence for the last reactor in the fleet.
"OK, surplus is now at 1000 MW. The rest of the utilities companies are going to be pissed," said James, as he watched the power output stabilize.
"They should have gone nuclear when they had the chance. Now they can go play with their solar and wind farms," chuckled Aaron.
The intercom buzzed, and Natasha's voice came through: "Master Zakhrov, you have visitors, a Father Abel and a Catherine Cormac,"
"On my way," said Aaron, as he left the control room and headed for the Temporary Office.
---
"Father Abel, Miss Cormac. It's been a long time," said Aaron, as he entered the Temporary Office.
"Sure has been," chuckled Father Abel, as Catherine smiled warmly at Aaron.
"So? What brings you two here?" asked Aaron, as he sat down at his desk.
Catherine placed a battered paper form on his desk. "I know that you may not have any love for St. Ignatius Academy, Mr. Zakhrov, but we are badly in need of donations. A recent school shooting has left us with a lot of expenses, and our infrastructure is in dire need of repairs," she said.
Aaron raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that I have no love for St. Ignatius Academy, Ms. Cormac? I understood the political machinations that led to my expulsion, and I still have fond memories of the school," he said.
Catherine sighed in relief, before her tone turned melancholic.
"I suppose you haven't heard about the school shooting that happened a few weeks ago?" she asked.
"No, I haven't," replied Aaron.
Father Abel sighed, and his eyes teared up a little.
He pulled out his phone and showed Aaron a news article about the shooting.
Pictures of the bullet-ridden bodies of two security guards were plastered across the screen, the article mentioning that the school had been the battlefield of a gang war that had erupted in the area, that the security guards had bravely defended the evacuating students, and the principal had been hospitalized with three bullets extracted from his body.
"I suppose we were lucky that there were no student fatalities," said Father Abel, his voice cracking slightly.
"How did that happen?" asked Aaron.
"A lot changed after you left. The school is now a mixed charter school, and the admission policy has been relaxed to allow more students in. The gang violence has been on the rise ever since," said Father Abel, his voice grim.
"I see. What would it take to bring it back under Jesuit and private control?" asked Aaron, his eyes narrowed.
Father Abel gulped seeing the glint in Aaron's blue eyes.
"An investor willing to fund the transition back to a private institution." he said cautiously.
"Harry, get over here to the Temporary Office, we've got a new project," said Aaron over the intercom.
"On my way, boss," replied Harry.
---
"Father Abel? Miss Cormac? What are you two doing here?" asked Harry, as he entered the Temporary Office.
"They came here for donations to rebuild St. Ignatius Academy's infrastructure after the gang-war," said Aaron.
"Oh yeah. I heard about that. Horrible stuff," sighed Harry.
"I'm considering investing in the school, and bringing it back under Jesuit and private control. As an alumnus who wasn't expelled, what's your take?" asked Aaron.
"I'd say it's an awesome idea. But the school's totally different now," said Harry, sitting down.
"If I'm going to invest, then I want the school to go back to its roots, that means the uniform code, the admission criteria, and then some. Are you willing to accept those conditions?" asked Aaron of Father Abel and Catherine.
Catherine squirmed in her seat, "What do you mean by 'and then some'?" she asked cautiously.
Aaron looked her up and down, taking in her faded white sneakers, blue jeans and cream-colored sweater.
"Do you remember the first time we met Ms. Cormac?" he asked her, as she squirmed further under his gaze.
"How could I forget that stare? You were probably the first student to ever meet my gaze without flinching," she chuckled.
"Let's just say that you're lucky Father Abel is here to compensate for your fall in standards of presentation," said Aaron.
"He means you should have never given up your no-nonsense skirt-suit and power heels," chuckled Father Abel, seeing Catherine's confused expression.
Catherine blinked, and then sprang to her feet. "Is that any way to speak to your former vice principal Mr. Zakhrov?" she barked, her eyes flashing.
"Now that's the Ms. Catherine Cormac we all know and love!" chuckled Harry.
Catherine folded her arms and glared down at Harry.
"What's so funny Mr. Smith? Yes, don't think for a second that I haven't forgotten your brazen innuendoes towards me when you were in the 10th grade!" she snarled.
"Hey, you looked smoking hot back then, and I'm pretty sure that you still clean up nicely. I consider it my greatest privilege to have been taught English by such a hot babe of a teacher," said Harry, grinning.
"That's the 'and then some' Miss Cormac. Discipline, decorum and deportment under pressure," said Aaron, as Catherine sat back down, her face flushed.
"These boys! Such troublemakers!" she sighed, shaking her head, but trying to hide a smile.
"Cathy, you know that they are right. Crass as Mr. Smith is, he does have a point. You are a great vice principal, but enforcing discipline works better when you project authority," said Father Abel.
Catherine took a deep breath.
"Well, I suppose we don't have much of a choice. If you are willing to invest in the school, then I will accept your conditions," she said.
"Not so fast, Miss Cormac. I want to see my old Alma Mater before I commit to anything, we can do the inspection now if you'd like," said Aaron.
"Of course, Mr. Zakhrov. We can leave right now," said Catherine, standing up with Father Abel.
---
"What in the fresh Hell happened to this place?" asked Harry, looking at the drab concrete buildings that now stood in place of the old Gothic-style buildings that had once housed St. Ignatius Academy.
The surrounding district was a far cry from the bustling suburb that it had once been.
The storefronts were smashed and ruined, the houses were boarded up, and the streets were lined with stinking trash and debris.
Graffiti covered the walls, and a few homeless people were scavenging through the overflowing dumpsters.
Natasha and Olga, who had come along for the ride, immediately went on the alert, and drew their sidearms, ready for anything.
"It's been getting worse ever since the gangs took over," sighed Father Abel, as they walked through the main school building.
"The outside looks like a ghost town," said Natasha, her voice grim.
"That's because it is. The gangs have driven out most of the residents and businesses. The school is still functioning, but we're barely hanging on," said Catherine.
"Definitely not the school I remember," said Aaron, inspecting a broken security camera.
A gunshot rang out, and the plaster splintered as a bullet struck the wall nearby.
"Everyone down!" shouted Natasha, as she and Olga returned fire, their shots ringing out in the empty hallways.
Harry, Catherine and Father Abel ducked into a nearby classroom, while Aaron crouched down, and drew a handgun from his ankle holster.
Aaron fired a shot just as a door cracked open, and a scream of pain rang out.
The door opened wider, and a gang member stumbled out, clutching his bleeding hand.
He tried to charge Natasha who was closest, only to be met with a swift backhand to the face that sent him sprawling, Natasha's titanium spikes had torn his cheek.
The shooting finally stopped, and the hallway was silent once more.
The bodies of five gang members lay in pools of blood, while the one Aaron had shot, was sprawled on the floor, clutching his bleeding hand.
"Affiliation?" asked Natasha, as she kicked the living gang member in the ribs, eliciting a pained groan.
"Your Mama's," he spat, trying to crawl away, but Olga seized him by the hood of his hoodie and sliced open his sleeve with her combat knife, revealing a tattoo of a skull with a snake wrapped around it.
"Skull vipers. They're a local gang that usually deals in meth, and have a turf war with another gang called the Black Cobras," she said, as she zip-tied the gang member's hands behind his back.
"What the hell are they doing here? This is a school, not a drug den!" shouted Catherine, her voice rising in anger.
"Probably thought that they could use the school's chemistry labs to cook meth," said Natasha.
"At this point, we might as well close the school for good," sighed Father Abel.
"I've got a better idea, but first, let's get out of here. The police should be arriving soon," said Aaron, as he led the way out of the school building, with Natasha and Olga covering their backs.
---
"All right, now that we're back and safe here. Let's talk about what we can do to fix this mess," said Aaron, as they sat down in the Temporary Office.
"Aaron, we're a game development company, not the police. How are we supposed to fix this?" asked Harry.
"One word Harry. Gentrification," said Aaron smirking.
Harry held his head in his hands.
"You're going to turn that dump back into a high-end suburb, aren't you?" he asked, his voice resigned.
"No. I'm going to turn it into a high-end school, Harry. A school that will never fall to a bunch of gangsters high on meth," said Aaron, a gleam in his eyes.
---
"Let me fill you in on a little secret Aaron. Those gangsters have a certain state senator backing them," said Congressman Michael DuPont, as he looked over Aaron's proposal to rebuild St. Ignatius Academy.
"And why would a respectable state senator back gangs peddling meth?" asked Aaron.
"Money and politics dear boy. Politicians don't actually want problems solved, if that happens, how would they campaign?" chuckled Michael.
"You seem to be doing fine, despite me solving problems," said Aaron with a raised eyebrow.
"That's what you think? Every 'problem' you solve creates a bunch of new ones for me to ride on. But I digress, the bottom line is you can't expect the police to roll up in SWAT gear and clear out the neighborhood, even if you buy it up," said Michael.
"Hmm, building my own private army is going to stretch the development timeline," said Aaron, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
"May I suggest you let me bring in the DEA and National Guard instead? I like you, kid. But going full medieval warlord is going to get us both killed," said Michael.
"I suppose that would work as well," chuckled Aaron.
"By the way, I'm an alumnus of St. Ignatius Academy as well. So pull out all the stops, and make it a school that we can all be proud of," said Michael, shaking Aaron's hand.
---
Gunshots rent the air as the National Guard and DEA stormed the school district, hunting down the gang members with ruthless efficiency.
Members of the police forces stood red-faced, as they watched DEA agents and National Guardsmen in full tactical gear escort dozens of gang members out of the school district, zip-tied and hooded.
Large stacks of white packets were loaded into armored trucks, while the gang members were herded into police vans.
"All right, area is cleared Mr. Zakhrov, your bulldozers can move in now," said a DEA agent, as he approached Aaron, who was standing next to Natasha and Olga.
"Thank you, Agent. I appreciate your help in this matter," said Aaron, shaking the agent's hand.
"Don't mention it. Hope you can do the community here some good," said the agent, as he walked away to supervise the cleanup operation.
"All right, Harry, you can start the demolitions now," said Aaron into a radio.
"On it, boss," replied Harry over the radio.
A fleet of bulldozers and excavators rolled into the school district, their engines roaring as they began to demolish the old buildings.
A large black SUV with lights and sirens skidded to a halt, and a woman wearing a blue pantsuit with a pearl necklace and sneakers leapt out, flanked by two burly security guards.
Television broadcast vans stopped behind her SUV, and cameramen and reporters circled around like vultures.
"What the hell is going on here?!" shouted Monica Goldberg, storming up to Aaron, her voice shrill with anger.
"Nice to finally meet you in person, Senator Goldberg. What's the problem?" asked Aaron, unfazed by her outburst, or the flashes of cameras.
"What's the problem? What's the problem?! Your bulldozers are tearing through a vulnerable community, and you expect me to just stand by and watch?!" shouted Monica, her face flushed with anger.
"Vulnerable community? You mean this dump that was just cleared of drugs and criminals? I've got permits to redevelop this area," said Aaron, showing her the paperwork.
Monica snatched the paperwork, glanced through it, and then held it up for the cameras.
"This filthy colonizer is turning a minority neighborhood into a private high-school for the rich! This is gentrification at its worst!" she screamed.
"Senator Goldberg, can you block it?" asked one of the reporters, shoving a microphone in her face.
"Of course I can! Mr. Zakhrov! Consider yourself served!" shouted Monica, shoving a cease-and-desist order into Aaron's hands.
"Harry, pull out for now," said Aaron into his radio.
"Goldberg eh? No problem, boss. We're pulling out," replied Harry over the radio.
"Let's go," said Aaron, but reporters swarmed around him, shoving microphones and cameras in his face.
"Mr. Zakhrov, can you confirm that you are planning to build a private high school in a minority neighborhood?" shouted one of the reporters.
"Mr. Zakhrov, what do you have to say to the allegations of an oppressive dress code and mandatory makeup?" shouted another reporter.
"Natasha, warning shots," ordered Aaron, swatting away a microphone that was shoved in his face.
Natasha and Olga stepped close around him, and fired warning shots into the air, sending the reporters scattering.
The three of them quickly got into Natasha's car, and they merged into the convoy of bulldozers and excavators that were leaving the school district.