Y2?....pt. 01: Unnamed Snea Pea

Y2.... PART I: Unnamed Sneak Preview

By jaxjack1980

Author's Note: The following fictional story preview and planned follow-up stories come from the imagination and creative efforts of the author's mind only. Any relation to living persons (living/ dead), past/current events, or past/ present real-life businesses are entirely coincidental and not intended to reflect them in any manner. Any people depicted engaging in sexual acts are 18 years of age or over. Mature adult themes and relationships explored (see tags).

Narrative note: This is a different creative direction that I am taking in order to challenge myself and also due to some new ideas that have popped into my head. A bit more fun but still overall serious approach. Hope old and new readers enjoy reading

Tagline 1:

A potentially world crippling

bug involving a few numbers turns out to be the least of their concerns....

Tagline 2:

Turns out worrying over a world-wide computer bug would be the least of the world's problems...

??? (See closing notes)

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"...I was dreamin' when I wrote this

Forgive me if it goes astray

But when I woke this mornin'

Could've sworn it was judgement day...

"They say, two thousand zero zero, party over

Oops, out of time

We're runnin' outta time

So tonight we gonna party like it's 1999..."

"1999" Prince (1999)

Prologue: The Beginning of The End

December 31, 1999

1234 pm MDT

Alamo Stadium

San Antonio, TX

2nd quarter of football game between Southwest

Texas Christian High Crusaders and East New

Prairie High Fightin' Gophers

As 18 year old senior Nathan Butterman pulled down and strapped his helmet strap securely across his chin, he felt the familiar stirrings of nervousness along with the accompanying spike of adrenaline as he prepared to face real-life action with monumental consequences on the line.

"This is it Nate, your shot at truly making your mark and showing all the doubters how wrong they were in a literal 'do or die' situation," he said to himself as he looked over his opposition, an ugly, angry, hungry collection of muscular bone and sinew looking to tear him apart. An understandable shiver of fear went through his 18 year old young body as he gazed on what he would be dealing with for the first time through his yellow-tinted face visor.

"No problem, this will be a piece of cake," Butterman told himself, trying to shake that unwanted sense of dread and replace it with a dash of unearned confidence. Still struggling a bit, his eyes went to the far end of the endzone, focusing on his intended destination.

"Visualize, your goal son and then you'll make it happen," the words of Nate's father, Billy rolled through his head as he pictured him and his family, huddled together at home, eagerly awaiting his return.

With mixed emotions, Nate knew that they hadn't come to the game. Instead they had opted to bunker down his Dad's fallout shelter, loaded up with guns and provisions in case the potential warnings of the upcoming Y2K disaster came to bear any type of fruit. "Y2K disaster, what a joke," he consoled himself to hide his bitter disappointment.

"I hate to miss your big game, but better safe than deadass sorry son," Billy had said as he reluctantly watched Nate prepare to leave that morning.

"Rush on back right after the game and entertain us with how you humiliated them sissy, city boys from Austin, Nate my boy," his words echoing in his ears as he departed.

"I got ya Pa, no problem," he replied to his father's last words out loud as his mind returned to the present as he got ready to leave the safety of his team's bench to step onto the field,

"This is my time to shine," Nate declared as he turned his head, cracked his neck a couple of times, and windmilled his arms in preparation of what lay ahead.

"Alright get ready ya big ugly bastards, it's time for Nat 'The Natural' to finally show his stuff."

(edit: break from the rest of this scene and cut to...)

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Chapter One: Tying Up Loose Ends

28 1/2 days later

January 28th 2000

0123 EDT

Motel Paradise

13 miles outside of

Washington D.C. near

the Virginia border

"Are we sure we have the right location?"

The non-descript looking average built young man dressed entirely in black looked back at his partner as he made his sensible query. The two similarly dressed individuals were sitting in the parking lot of a rather questionable, in terms of general quality and overall safety standards, motel just off I-395.

"My source has never steered me wrong before and he better not have based on what rates he charges; especially with what's at stake. Come on, we don't have any time to waste," his partner, a slightly older distinguished looking African-American man replied as he exited the vehicle on his side and quietly motioned toward the motel door marked number four.

"Yeah...take it...take my cock...take it your ass...dirty slut," a man's excited voice shouting could be heard easily through the thin, ragged looking material that passed for a door as the two men approached cautiously.

(

Knock! Knock!)

"What the fuck!...Who could that fucking be...better not be that creepy shitty night clerk...," the words replaced the sounds of sex as frantic rustling could be heard as the sound of heavy approaching footsteps signaled someone's approach.

The door opened a sliver, revealing the obscured face of a man looking at the two men up and down with suspicious wariness.

"Yes...?"

"Sorry to bother you sir, FBI. I'm Agent Carter and this is my partner Agent Morrison," the dark skinned man replied in a calm, soothing professional manner. "Are you Sam Nightingale? We need you to come talk to you about a matter of urgent national security."

"???...There must be some mistake...I'm not Sam Nightingale and I don't know anyone by...."

A sudden flurry of movement followed as the still nude man was quickly pushed out of the way and replaced by an equally unclothed attractive female. About 5'5" with dark, silky hair and slightly naturally tan complexion and piercing blue-green eyes, she looked at Benson Carter with a confident air.

"What is this about? And what does it have to do with me?"

"Apologies Ms. Nightingale...we need to discuss an extremely sensitive matter regarding an incident that has escalated out of control somewhere in Southwest Texas. The reason we need your input is due to the fact that a task force you formerly associated with was also involved in trying to maintain containment. Correct us if we're wrong, but weren't you previously the leader of Fox Force Fi-"

The door abruptly slammed in Benson's face before he could finish his question. He looked at his partner quizzically at the sudden turn of events.

Hurried activity could be heard before the door opened once more to reveal a still nude Sam Nightingale, her clothes gathered in one hand while she frantically thrust a handful of hundred dollar bills into the chest of her puzzled male motel occupant.

"Keep the change as a tip for keeping your mouth shut about anything you heard tonight," Sam said as she hurried past the equally stunned pair of male agents and headed toward the back of their vehicle.

"Hurry up gentlemen, you can debrief me while I get dressed as we get going. I have a bad feeling that time is not on our side..."

(To be continued...)

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Author's closing notes: Thank you for taking the time to read this preview of my upcoming series of stories that will go by the following titles of "Y2?..."; "Y2Z" and "Y2 Zed". I am excited to try out this new approach and direction. I hope readers will join me on this unexpected journey! I've listed this first entry under "(blank blank)" but future entries may be under different ones based on how I think they and Lit approval board feels they fit best under.