It Goes Down at Air Mart
R. A. Franklin | Avius Publishing
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Prologue: The Corner Where It All Comes Together
Cog City wasn’t famous like its neighbor, Galaxy City—but it had a pulse all
its own. Students buzzed from college to coffee shops. Buses wheezed past
neon-lit diners. From the downtown skyline to the Bronze Buffalo Airport
tarmac, this place moved like it had somewhere to be—and fast.
In the middle of it all sat a busy intersection most people knew without
knowing they knew it. North led to downtown businesses and high-rises. South to
the airport. East to theme parks and beach-inspired chaos. West? Shopping
districts, restaurants, and two rival colleges. But right on that corner, where
the city’s lifeblood pulsed strongest, stood something new:
Air Mart.
A towering three-story building with glass that caught the sunrise just
right. Avius 5000, a
family-owned company rooted in local ambition, had seen this intersection not
just as an address—but an opportunity. A bold experiment in retail, food,
fashion, and community… all under one roof. Some believe it’s a mini-mall.
Others? Just their future favorite spot.
But for the employees inside, it wasn’t just a building. It was a
reset button, a second chance,
a shot at something different. From aspiring
football players to foodies, from college hopefuls to full-time day dreamers—Air
Mart brought together an unpredictable, brilliant, clashing crew.
And on one crisp Monday morning, with orientation kicking off for Air Mart’s
new crew, it all began.
Theme music!
The harsh buzz of the alarm clock cut
through the silence like a drill sergeant barking orders. 6:00
AM. Jay Walker groaned, blindly smacking his hand against the
snooze button—missed. Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
"Man, I swear this thing has beef with me," he muttered, finally
silencing the clock.
Still half-asleep, he reached for his phone, unlocking it with muscle memory
before cueing up a track from Blu39. The
bass thumped through his small apartment, instantly shifting the energy.
"Check the stats, gotta stack—pure flames on wax…neva eva remix, or
lie about the facts"
Jay nodded along, lips moving as he repeated the lyrics under his breath.
This was the zone, the mindset he
needed before stepping away from his place of peace.
Swinging his legs off the bed, he stretched until his joints popped, then rolled into the bathroom. The shower was his reset button—steam rising, water hitting skin like a wake-up slap, and Blu39’s verses weaving between thoughts about his new job.
It wasn't glamorous, but it was a stepping stone. One day, the paycheck from Air Mart would turn into a contract offer for arena football. One day, he'd be on the field instead of stocking energy drinks. One day. Soon.
For now? He had three hours to get ready, a bus to catch, and Trent Jacobs to deal with—dude met Jay and immediately tried to compete with him, embarrassing himself in ways he couldn’t even script. Jay wasn’t particularly happy that Trent got a job at the same location after that horrible first impression, but a hard shrug put him back in the zone.
With one last verse shouted into the steam-filled air, Jay grabbed a towel, before wrapping up the rest and he was ready to take on the day.
The bus ride to Bronze Buffalo felt slower than usual, and Jay kept glancing at his phone like it could make time skip forward. A playlist titled “Grind Mode On” vibrated in his earbuds—heavy bass, clean hooks, something to match the heat brewing in his chest. New job. New chances. No fumbles.
He stepped off the bus, duffel over his shoulder, sneakers tapping the curb like clockwork. Air Mart stood before him like something out of a sci-fi movie—three stories of semi-circled newness, a vibrant interior he could see through the huge storefront windows, and promise. The Air Mart logo gleamed under the morning sun like a badge of honor.
Jay muttered under his breath, “Okay, let’s see what this spaceship got for me.”
Inside the Base Station, Craig Green was posted up near a folding table stacked with employee handbooks, a few folders full of the manager’s agendas, and branded water bottles that looked like they’d come out of a motivational seminar.
“Walker?” Craig asked, glancing down the list with his signature resting smirk.
“Yes, sir,” Jay said, standing a bit straighter.
“Sir? I like it.” Craig chuckled. “You sound like you about to enlist. This ain’t boot camp—yet.”
A few chuckles rippled around the sales floor as the other new hires gathered in matching polos. Jay recognized a few faces from the final interviews: Trent, with his hair combed too tight and attitude just as sharp. Maria, effortlessly cool with a notebook in hand. Kim, already glancing his way with a half-smile.
Craig clapped his hands once. “All right, Air Mart Cadets—orientations in 10, so if your uniform ain’t tucked, your breath ain’t fresh, or your brain ain’t turned on yet…” He let the silence sit a beat. “Now’s the time to get it together.”
Jay grinned. The tone was set. Respect, rhythm, and just the right amount of ridiculousness.
He slipped into one of the folding chairs, glancing around as more hires shuffled in. Some looked nervous. Others tapped their feet like they were waiting for a beat to drop from Air Mart’s casual lo-fi music mix. From across the aisle, Maria Sanchez caught his eye with a casual nod.
As the managers handed out handbooks and starter kits, she leaned over just enough to speak low. “Hey, by the way… thanks for earlier. At the door.”
Jay blinked. “Oh—that? It was nothing.”
“Nah,” she said with a small smile. “These days, people don’t really do ‘after you’ anymore. So… it’s something.”
Jay shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his grin betrayed him. “Well, I figured if I started the day being rude, karma might assign me to clean the toilets.”
She chuckled. “Noted. You’re already off to a strong start.”
Before he could say more, Ja’Ron’s voice cut across the room.
“Ummm... is this ceiling glowing, or am I just under-rested and overexcited?”
Heads turned as Ja’Ron spun slowly in place like someone browsing a boutique spaceship.
“You see this place?” he said, eyebrows raised. “They’ve got LED lights under the trim. Touchscreens in the wall. This ain’t no regular store—our stores outta Star Trek!”
Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw her.
Vickie Vanguardi.
Craig passed the mic to Vickie just as the staff settled into their seats with their onboarding packets and glossy floor maps.
“Now that you’ve got your materials,” she said, “it’s time for you to meet your floor leaders.”
She gestured with both hands like a maestro commanding a band. “If you’re assigned to Air Cuisine,” she said with a wink toward Margarita, “your taste buds are in for a treat—and your stamina might be tested.”
Margarita gave a knowing smile and raised her clipboard like a badge of honor.
“To those selected for Air Shop…” Vickie nodded toward Vance, Shica, and Calvin. “Style and tech live up there—and so do the weird ones. And I say that with love,” she laughed. Calvin tried to nod with composure but nearly dropped his tablet.
“For the rest of you who plan to sweat a little more and run the ground floor…” she paused for effect, “Base Station—we hustle different. You’ll be with Craig.”
Craig nodded once. Cool. Quiet. Controlled.
The room buzzed with low conversation as employees began to group up near their respective leaders.
Jay, Maria, and Trent gravitated toward Craig with a few others in tow, while Keith high-fived someone on the way toward the escalators.
Vickie clapped twice. “Alright! Everyone will spend the rest of the morning training with your direct managers. There’ll be demos, safety protocols, and a lot of sitting and standing. But the real prize?”
She raised one hand.
“Free Lunch.”
Mild cheers broke out, especially from Ja’Ron, who hollered, “Does it come with dessert?!”
Vickie smirked. “Thanks to Train A Chef, it will. And yes—you’ll get a chance to tour the other floors after training so you know how this place breathes from top to bottom.”
She motioned toward the stairwell and escalators. “Let’s move. Your official shift doesn’t start today... but your story does.”
Maria looked to Jay, and he gave her a subtle nod like, Let’s get it.
And just like that, Air Mart’s team was born.
Floor 2 – Air Cuisine
The group stepping off the escalator landed in what looked like a boutique restaurant from a cooking show. Stainless steel gleamed under warm hanging lights, and the open space buzzed with culinary potential.
Margarita Valentin clapped once, her curly ponytail bouncing slightly. “Welcome to Air Cuisine—where flavor meets flair.”
T.T. Franklin stood near the back, clutching her packet, eyes wide like she’d just walked into a cooking competition. Beside her, Sarah and Mary Lou exchanged soft hellos, while Victor “Vick” Lopez Jr. leaned coolly against the prep table, earbuds in one ear, head bobbing to music only he could hear. He lifted one brow at the group like he was sizing up teammates for a co-op mission.
“Here's the deal,” Margarita said, walking them to the kitchen side. “For the next few weeks, we train and prep. That means clean uniforms, tight stations, and clean shoes. We don’t do sliding around here, unless it’s into a booth to deliver a hot plate.”
Slight laughter broke out.
Then, in walked Willy James, apron on, smile wide, already holding a serving tray like a prop in a sitcom.
“Did somebody order a culinary masterpiece and 38 years of kitchen wisdom?”
“Hi Willy,” Margarita said with a smirk.
He winked. “Let’s give these young folks a reason to eat lunch here even when they clock out.”
In the corner, Ja’Ron, on cafeteria recon, peeked in a pot and whispered to no one in particular, “Smells like opportunity and cholesterol.”
Floor 3 – Air Shop
Upstairs, the vibe couldn’t have been more different. Lo-fi music played softly in the background, and the fluorescent lighting reflected off racks of gadgets, streetwear, Air Mart merch, and accessories. The walls had murals of art, comic-style panels, and digital signage that blinked with quotes like “Bold Enough to Be You.”
Vance Nadio stood front and center, arms behind his back like he was about to deliver an existential lecture on fashion. But it was Calvin Long who stepped forward.
“Alright team,” he said with an enthusiastic but careful tone, “this floor’s your canvas. You represent creativity, culture, and clean customer service. And yes… I mean physically clean. This is still a store.”
Keith Green, looking slightly drained from his electrician coursework the night before, cracked a smirk at that. Next to him, Manda Gathers adjusted her studded bracelet and looked around like she’d planned how the rest of her shift would go.
“You’ll get time on register rotation, display management, and floor flow,” Calvin continued. “And if you see me on a ladder fixing something—just keep people out the way for me.”
In the back, Lenard, Sedrick, and Chris Rossi tried to contain their laughter after someone whispered something about matching staff hoodies would look like bootleg superhero uniforms.
“Y’all,” Shica said gently, “if we can all just…” She trailed off, not quite finishing the sentence, but still somehow effective in getting them quiet.
Meanwhile, back at the Base Station, Craig glanced at the time on his watch and nodded to Jay, Maria, and the rest.
“Lunch is about to hit. Let’s see what these chefs have in store for us today.”
And just like that, Air Mart’s first official training lunch was about to kick off—tables set, trays lined, and a whole building filled with fired-up ambition awaiting some flavor.
While in the Air Cuisine’s dining area, the staff were able to mingle. And all three teams—Base Station, Cuisine, and Shop—had just taken their first steps into what none of them knew would be anything but a typical job.
Because… It Goes Down at Air Mart.
Special Note:
I hope this story brings you laughter and inspiration in equal measure—and that it opens your eyes to new perspectives and everyday nuances that spark positive change in your life. See you next week! - R. A. Franklin
© 2025 R. A. Franklin
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the
prior written permission of the publisher.
Published by Avius Publishing House
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either
products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
