Dannie Koord here, Sept 1st. Black and Chi have been busy with all of the crazy shit going down everywhere. I can't get into their current activities yet. It would put them in danger if I did that, compromise the mission and what not.
Lets go back to his janitor job and how he got his super powers and died. Yes, I said died. He was bustin out some fat rhymes to the groove jamming in his head, while he emptied the trash bins in one of the classified laboratories. "Shabazz iz da name cuz y'all know I'm BLACK! Sucka MCs bess step da fuck BACK! All da bitches sweat me cuz my roll be bigga. Watch out fool cuz I'm da slick NIGGA! OH SHIT," he yelled as he tripped over his cart and fell into a massive stack of miniature black barrels behind him. His spill sent the mountain of plastic containers bouncing in all directions. They were marked "CLASSIFIED: DARPA." A wad of trash can liners slipped from his hand as he lay on his side and watched his fuck up roll across the lab. He groaned as he slowly stood up, bones creaking. "Is all good," he rapped, "cuz da man ain't here. He ain' gotta know who fucked up da gear." As he stacked the containers back as best he could, Malcolm noticed one didn't sit quite right. Upon closer examination, he found the lid had popped partially open. You know he had to look. In that funky little barrel, Black found his super suit. He didn't know it at the time but the rolled up, very unique plastic jumpsuit was actually a highly classified "future soldier" project that the military had contracted Nanotronics to engineer. This suit was beyond anything that was supposed to exist with todays technology. It is made of a newly discovered "miracle" material and embedded with all of the latest experimental nanotechnology, graphene and other two dimensional materials, quantum computer, harmonic pulse lasers, biomechanical DNA embedding Nanobots with swarming technology and the latest in artificial intelligence software to run the whole damn thing. I'm not bullshitting you. I want you to search all of this so you can see it for yourselves. Now, for all of you out there who don't know yet, about a decade ago, scientists discovered a material called "Graphene". This stuff is made of graphite. It is only a few atoms thick. It looks like clear plastic. It is lighter than air, stronger than tungsten steel, harder than diamonds but soft and pliable. You can roll it, fold it, crumple it up and it unfolds back to its original shape. You can't burn it and it conducts no heat or electricity, unless you make it a bit thicker and stretch it somehow. I'm sure there are many other properties that I didn't mention because I'm a writer, not a scientist. The suit also has electronics, sensors and a super computer built into it. It studies the person wearing it and learns their physiology through the new software. Anyway, this bad-ass suit, literally rolled into Black's life. When he saw it, he new it was special, unique, something amazing. He had to have it. He gathered up a bunch of bags and rolled them up to fit into the bin. The "super suit" was now in the side pocket of his coveralls. He closed the lid nice and tight, stacked the bins back in place with the empty at the bottom row of the stack in back. No worries. Malcolm finished up his shift and went home. He showed Bruce his newly pilfered outfit. They were amazed and confused by all of the intricate circuitry and unrecognizable tech fused into the impressive appearance of the suit.
"Yo, dis is some fly pimpin shit, G," exclaimed Bruce to his older brother.
"Hells yea, lil man. Looks like ita fit nice too," he boasted, proudly holding the suit up to his torso. He was posing with it in the mirror.
"Man, you ain wearin dat. You just jacked it from work. Dey gonna buss you. Call da popo n evythang, naam-sayin?"
"Fuck dat," he proclaimed. "Imma ha dis on unduh my uniform at work tomorra, all mutha fuckin day." Malcolm kept his word and the next day, he wore his stolen super suit beneath his coveralls. All day inside a plastic suit, you'd think he would be all nasty and sweaty, but no. No matter what he did or how hard he exerted himself, he never got hot. He never felt sweaty. The suit seemed to adapt to his condition. Afternoon came and the white collar masses went home in their hybrids. Malcolm found himself in that same laboratory. This time, he was not rapping. He was snooping. Malcolm figured that he would like to sell the suit someday and it would be best to gather some product info. Maybe, he thought, he could take it with some files to a rival tech company and sell them for a small fortune? What Malcolm didn't realize was that the suit had a quantum computer woven into it, powered by the electrical impulses, heat and moisture given off by his body. From the moment he put it on that morning, the suit had been analyzing Malcolm and imprinting all of his physiology and DNA into its memory banks and adjusting its processors to work in synch with him. The quantum computer in the suit ran the latest in artificial intelligence software. When he walked into that lab, the suit activated its counterparts, all 40 quadrillion of them... Swarmies. *fuck, I gotta go people. The dichotomatic duo are calling my name. There will be much more to come. Until then, FIGHT THE POWER!!!
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