The Factory, written in 2016 by Marcus De Storm under the pen name pseudonym of Casanova Da Vinci, became quite the eye-opener at the Writer’s Guild for “New Arrival Authors”. While many looked deeply into the violence and erotica elements of the Novela, others looked at the structure and balance of the storyline, one that brought together both a unique Protagonist and Antagonist. Of course, revolving the story around “The Hardline 80’s Series” it was De Storm’s aim to bring back the nostalgia of a decade which oozed with substance and purpose before the Sheeple were taken away in their flocks of great promise. However, with a crafted imagination bringing together the look, feel and atmosphere of such a founded era, not only did the author find a reason for one book but also found the need to write a second that was pinned to be released eighteen months later. Fortunately, with the success of “The Factory” the whole intention of continuing with Novela-style books in the series was changed. From November 2023 – January 2024, two Full Novels of “The Factory” will be released in Special Edition format. The run order will be The Factory (Book 1) and The Factory: Fall Of The Jackal (Book 2).
This version of “The Factory” (which has no subtitle after the main title) is now available in eBook format priced at £3.15 but is available FREE for whoever Contacts us for the Code. The Code will need to be pasted – or if you are feeling nostalgic, you can type it – into the box in your Shopping Cart on the Purchase Screen. Note* DO NOT click Purchase until you have entered the Code, or you will be charged £3.15 and this cost cannot be returned. After inserting the Code and Confirming it, the Price will change to £0.00 which you may then click purchase and DL the eBook immediately. Alternatively, if you wish to Buy the title, it also available on Kindle for the same price of £3.15 (UK price) in the Amazon Store
INTRODUCTION
Redstone, Seacliffe, the Hardline 1980’s; lives are touched by both luck and fate in this action-packed violent crime thriller that looks deep into The Underground world of Clubs, their Owners and the people who shaped an entire generation.
Joshua Warburton is a nineteen-year-old opportunist; if it isn’t nailed down or secured, Joshua will claim it as his own. But times are changing – The Jilted Generation is spawned.
Warren (The Jackal – Self-named) Jackson is a Club Owner of The Factory and Underground Boss in Redstone, one of Seacliffe’s worst-hit regions for violent crimes, street gangs, and gangland killings. Dubbed ‘Fire City’ because of its red sand foundations, the local police force finds themselves defenceless against these Gangs and their Leaders. A new initiative has been given the go-ahead – but this is not without its technical problems.
Max Kingsley is a University Student who is down on his luck when the police arrest him for Disturbing the Peace. When it is found that he has a warrant out on him already for the murder of a man in Briarsdale, he is offered a deal that may well have been a big mistake. For Love, Joshua will do what needs to be done, and for freedom, he will do whatever is necessary to get him through the journey alive. A true “Love gained, Love lost, Tragedy” tale – but with a twist so crude that it will leave you breathless!
SAMPLE
1 The Factory
The Devil’s Crown – The Hardline 80’s
The Sunset Strip that stretched the whole length of the 105 was ablaze with the loud roars of heavily customized cars; Japanese imports mostly, while through the dust clouds, more common GTO’s and Chargers made their way to the top of The Devil’s Crown starting position. The pyre burning its beacon that could be seen throughout the whole city of Redstone signalled the beginning of the races that ran sixty-six miles in crisscross formations around deep L-bends, tight alleys, sheer-faced cliffs, and hazardous conditions. All of this added up to the “Devil’s Run 66”: The Redstone Race Circuit.
For me it had been a long day, the stress from working two jobs that didn’t appreciate my skillset sent me into an oblivious and parallax overture that could only be quenched by road and rubber – the faster the better.
‘You’re fucking late, man, you were supposed to have been up here ten minutes ago,’ Justin Danes shouted across a group of cars being worked on in the Pull Pits.
There was a reason I was late, I just preferred not to bite to the SOB, sometimes it was better that way for everyone.
‘Did you pick up the parts I asked for?’ I asked avoiding his question that would have only resulted in a slagging match.
Justin pointed over to our Pull Pit where I set my eyes on the Viper; The Viper was both all-American and a true exotic, with lots of curves and bulges in all the right places to let you know it meant business. The long nose, bodacious body, and predatory stare gave the Viper a menacing look, while its 645-hp, 8.4-liter V-10 could catapult it to 60 mph in about three seconds – but this would later become the infamous Viper ACR, with all kinds of aero aids, special tires by Kumho and carbon-ceramic brakes that Dodge says made it the fastest Viper on any racetrack.
‘What do you think?’ Justin asked, turning to the small cabinet and taking a hold of the keys before throwing them over to me in my direction.
Catching them out of the air with no hesitation I jumped inside to the soothing welcome of the hi-res leather upholstery, its almost liquid change of shape holding me into place perfectly.
‘She’s beautiful. Who am I racing?’ I spoke dreamily, my thoughts already envisioning the open roads, the challenging bends and, of course, the thrilling curves.
Justin was quiet – silent.
Turning to look through the passenger side window I was met with a very warm smile hanging from a young woman who was dressed in a yellow canary-coloured dress, holding what appeared to be a glass of champagne and a Gucci handbag. She was cold, shivering with the unwelcome night air that had the prominent hard nipples of her sufficiently well-shaped breasts rubbing against the fabric indiscreetly.
‘You’re the winner, right?’ She asked almost convincingly.
The streets were by far the real school establishments around Redstone, and there was hardly anyone who didn’t know the ‘Ball-Breaker Maneuver’ before now, which came to an unexpected conclusion. If I didn’t know better, she was a hasty fan who was seeking some kind of VIP special treatment.
‘Nice try, Lady, but that died with the last Ark!’ I laughed.
The woman suddenly opened the door and jumped into the passenger seat by the side of me, it was not unusual in its occurrence, just kind of creepy to say that the Totty usually jumped in after the race – and this was only for the winner.
‘You have to save my life!’ She bleated winding up the window. ‘Will you help me?’
Justin was stood waiting for me to give him a sign as to pull the woman from the car and send her on her way home, or wherever it was she had come from. My head nodded a silent “No” to his offer.
‘Put your seatbelt on, we’re going for a drive.’ I announced just before wheel spinning away from the Pull Pit onto the main entry lane that brought me and my unknown passenger up to The Devil’s Crown Starting post with a sudden stop.
The young woman, obviously oblivious to the whole race thing was looking out of her window and acting strangely; her body was fidgety and uncomfortable, nervous-like and panicky.
‘You ever raced here before?’ I asked pointing at the Start Line that was well-illuminated and crowded with onlookers.
Something told me that she had, and not only by the look she gave me but maybe that she had had an episode whilst driving The 66; the manner of dress she displayed was odd fitted, as well as the way she showed agitation at the dress running up the thigh each time she moved. Of course, she was a Racer, this was so obvious, but, she was hiding it for some reason or other.
‘You’ll be fine, I’ve driven this track a hundred times before…’
‘That’s what they all say!’ She exclaimed sitting back in her seat and taking a hold of the passenger support handle above the door to her right.
Whether everyone said this to the women it was irrelevant to me, the road was my life, my soul, even my whole state of being. The feel of the acceleration, the strain of the Torque, grip of the tires and the scent of the air that circulated around the night; the intoxicating smell of petrol, diesel, methane, and NOS invading every sense, nerve and chasm in my body, as the first rush of adrenaline was unleashed.
Turning to the competition car at the side of us, I marvelled at the spectacle that was a Ford Mustang GT500. The driver, an unknown to me, was sat staring forward with his hands firm on the wheel, while with a sense of my eyes upon him, he gave a lingering glance that had me turn away.
‘His name is Sean Wilkes, two-time winner…’
‘Never heard of him…is he any good?’ I whispered looking up at the red lights.
The woman reached a hand over to rest it on my thigh, an act that had me flinch, at first, before gazing down and removing it back to her own leg.
‘That all depends on how good you are, I suppose?’ She gave an answer that had the dissatisfaction of my actions that in all manner of habit had her, too, look up at the lights.
Reaching forward of the dashboard I switched on the PDA, and then with a quick input of the code, we were all set to start the race on The 66. The lights flicked from red to amber, to green within a moment, sending me into an automatic reaction of gear, handbrake, accelerator, release.
The acceleration was flawless, the one-and-a-half-ton muscle car was up at the front, the rear tires spinning with whines before leaving the smoke-ridden tarmac with an aggressive gripping force that had us pulled back into our seats.
‘HOLY SHIT!’ The young woman cried out in excitement.
The race had begun, my opponent unknown, the road clear.
The first turn was “The Kidney Punch”; 5.8 miles of both sharp rights and left turns that had your whole entire body stuck in two battling positions to stay leant from one to the other, which to be fair did have its moments of cramp and pain. In the Viper, however, the tilt-tronic seats made the ride less tense of discomfort and more intense of adrenalized excitement.
‘Fuck! Is that ninety-five?’ She gasped pointing at the speedo.
Looking down quickly from the road to the speedometer I checked the speed and sure enough, it was showing ninety-five miles per hour on the clock. I couldn’t believe my eyes at first, until looking again and seeing that the car was stable at its incredibly fast speed.
‘Open the glove box, there’s a tablet in there…switch it on and tell me where we are on the map?’ I called over to her now relaxing body that seemed to destress from its inward decline.
She took the tablet in her hands and switched it on.
‘We’re coming to the end of The Kidney Punch, only one and a half miles left.’ She said bringing the distance to my attention.
Pulling on the gears I geared down before allowing the accelerator to rise beneath my feet, as with a slight nudge on the brakes the car started to roar intermittently as it decelerated just in time to make the cautious drive through Bluff Point and down a steep hill toward the treacherous Catcher Bay, its steep incline catapulting both car and driver around an almost 360 circle, but for the close corner that in all the times I had driven that part of the road, I myself knew that it needed to be done in second gear, no higher, no lower gear would do but second.
‘You’re a pretty good driver, friend, my name is Tiffany,’ she began to introduce herself to me, as I lined up the steering for the Coaster Road.
‘Joshua,’ I replied with a glowing smile that had my face light up like Christmas. ‘Joshua Warburton, pleased to meet you, Tiffany. Of course, now you have told me your name, it is the custom…’
‘To be the Navigator!’ She spoke up, looking down at the tablet and typing in various settings that had the screen show the whole mapping of The 66 Route.
For the rest of the ride, the young woman directed me through the worst of the turns, warned me of oncoming dangers and even had a friend of hers text whenever our opponent came too close to us.
By the time we reached Redstone Falls, the night had become almost black with hardly any stars in the sky at all. The headlights beamed their light far off in the distance, the flickering light on occasion picking out potential Road Kill at the side of the road. It was starting to become automated the way that I went up or down a gear, turned the wheel, pressed on the brake…I was becoming anxious. And at 215 mph that was not a good state to be in, not at any break-neck speed.
‘Are you okay?’ She asked, placing a hand on the inside of my thigh, her fingers tightening around the soft leather.
Glancing down I immediately looked up into Tiffany’s eyes.
‘I’m fine.’
Leaving Redstone Falls, we entered the diversion road of Snake Pass, to cut across The Drive and up into what the many locals called The Devil’s Mouth; 220 feet of sheer rock face that had an inverted wall structure overlooking the whole city of Redstone.
‘We have twelve miles left before The Sunset Strip…The Devil’s Mouth,’ Tiffany whispered almost silently, her voice low and afraid of speaking the run out loud in case it was bad luck; as so many other racers had lost their lives on the difficult straight of unpredictable rock slides and road speckled debris.
‘It’s okay, I’ve got this,’ I spoke up into the silence while taking a hold of her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. ‘You’ve done this before, right?’
Tiffany nodded. ‘My Brother, Ethan, he used to bring me on all of his races here in Redstone,’ she replied pointing from the tablet to the road showing me the surface was weak and worn. ‘Second, then third, then back down into second. Got it?’
I nodded before coming to the point of The Devil’s Mouth where so many victims had lost their lives, young and old, it didn’t matter because death, as we all knew, was not picky or choosy about who it was going to take from each and every race – and almost every race had a casualty.
‘This race, what does it get you?’ She asked suddenly while frequently glancing down to see the marker on the tablet screen.
I knew exactly what she was getting at. ‘Peace of mind.’
Tiffany was kind of confused about the fact that other drivers out there were in it for the money, while others preferred to keep their own reasons to themselves. I didn’t, however, it was for the challenge rather than the cash – it always was.
The Devil’s Mouth had three Peaks that protruded outward toward the valley below it; the first Peak was nicknamed Twat, the second Bastard and the third Cunt, because each turn, incline, and corner had every car driver door suffering some deep scathing or tearing scratch that pissed you off just enough to make one of two life-altering decision’s: lose your temper and lose the road or simply just gain your composure and get through to the end by the skin of your teeth.
As we made our final adjustments through the last Peak, Tiffany turned around in her seat to see our opponent gaining speed on us.
‘He’s point five, point four…Put your foot down!’ She yelled out at the top of her voice in a moment of both excitement and built anxiety.
I had already engaged third gear, accelerating more, changing into fourth and then finally into fifth gear above the sixth. The other car was now only a short distance behind us, his NOS already used up from the starting line – a very stupid mistake.
‘Let’s see what this baby can really do?’ I said pushing in the NOS button that stood out at us in a bright neon circular blue light on the nose tip of the gear stick.
NOS was dangerous if used in the wrong hands. The twin, eight pounds, fifteen-litre tanks that released the contents into a reactive chamber pushed the Viper with an ease that for a moment had me and the Tiffany lift off of our seats and hang in the air, as though jumping an invisible ramp – but there was no ramp…This was sheer thrust.
The Viper howled with power, the engine driving us forever closer to the final few miles of the finish line. The steering was smooth, the early tracking alignment changing what was rear-wheel drive and initiating All Wheel Drive. Now all four wheels dug into the track and sped victoriously over the finish line to rapturous welcome applause. We did it – we won.
SAMPLE ENDS
