Part One
"No, we can't give you another weekend off, Terry. They're suspicious enough as it is. Two chapters of their little organization have already resequestered themselves after our people followed up on your initial leads. There's no way they can know what you are, but they're not stupid. They know something's up."
My boss speaking, there. He doesn't get it, he can't possibly get it. Fucking spook.
Heathen. Betrayer of the Truth.
No, no, no, no!
"Listen, please. Just a day, half a day even. I'm slipping, and that freak is probably fucking up my wiring while I'm in here. It's been three fucking months, boss. I know for a fact that no one has been in for that long. The Conditioning was never meant to prepare us for this."
"The answer is still no, Terry. You're fine, you're just under a lot of stress. I understand how uncomfortable it must be in there with those weirdos,"
Getting more comfortable every day, god damn it. That's the problem.
"...But no one is more qualified. Even our agents with more field experience don't come anywhere near the level of compatibility you have with this subject. You've done a lot of good work already, but we need more time. I'll see to it you get double the standard leave once the job is done, sound good?"
Double time off... that does sound good. Maybe take the time to travel abroad.
Start a new chapter... No!
I let out a sigh, because I can't scream over the phone while I'm here.
"Okay... but look, even if I can't take a resting period, can I at least come in for a visit? Even just for five minutes."
A pause.
"A visit? You mean, like, just look at him for a bit?"
Look at who for a bit?
"Yeah, just a few minutes. I... I think I've got enough insight now to ask a few questions, might actually get somewhere this time."
Another pause. He knows I'm full of shit, but the request is so pitiful that he can't help but consider it. Big softie.
"Alright. Fine, we'll arrange a visit. See you tomorrow."
Click.
wooooooooooo
I'm worried that I might be coming on a little strong with the concept, but it IS supposed to be short fiction and not a fucking novel where I reveal the Big Twist on page three-hundred-seventy-four after tons of clever development :lulz:
This was pretty good. Moar plz.
my mind is full of fucks
It made me want more, to which I say, good job!
Ooooh! More please!
Part Two
Just running an errand, is what I told them. Mind your duties until I return, I trust you to manage the household in my absence, I said. Flattery made things easy enough, and they knew better than to question what exactly my errand was unless I invited questions.
Not their place to question.
Of course they should question, damn it. That's why we're doing this in the first place: this freak has scared and brainwashed the questions out of them. If they started questioning the whole thing would fall apart and I could say my work was done. But no, the higher-ups want the whole thing rooted out carefully.
I took another drink from the cold water bottle next to me, savoring the commercialism of it. Anything besides water they might smell on my breath when I got back, and that might lead to awkward moments. Not supposed to consume anything not made by faithful hands.
"Five minutes," I muttered to no one, unless you count the steering wheel. "Just five minutes to clear things up, bring it back in to focus."
But I'm already so focused. I know exactly what must be done. I know the Truth.
I squeezed the steering wheel harder, nearly missed a red light. Dealing with the regular cops right now is a hassle that would get very confusing, very fast.
A few minutes of empty time later, I pulled in to the old parking lot behind one of those small, run-down offices in the middle of town that you can never quite tell if they're actually being used or not. It's kept that way on purpose, on the outside. Inside, I walked into an air-conditioned office with a threadbare but clean carpet. The completely forgettable face behind the desk looked up from his laptop, and nodded.
"Boss has got it all set up. Good luck."
"Thanks," I said, unsure if 'good luck' was a weird thing to say in this context or not. I'll take it either way.
I walked past the desk, and through a few doors that eventually led into the basement offices. My boss was sitting in a folding chair in the hallway, idling away at something that was probably incredibly important on his phone. He looked up, and the usual twist and mix of expressions that you see on the face of someone who knows exactly what I'm doing appeared on his face. You learn to see these things quite clearly, after a few transfers.
"Hey Terry," he begins, eager to use familiar words to ensure that things keep going along smoothly and get business taken care of before I say anything weird. Part of his job, and he's pretty good at it. "Subject is in here," he says, nodding at the door next to him. "He should be good and awake by now."
I couldn't quite hold back a grimace. "I know you can't keep him in the Sleeper that long anymore. Has he been doing much? Talking much?"
My boss doesn't flinch, oddly enough. "We're using alternative methods to ensure cognitive sedation. He's pretty calm, hasn't been doing or saying much of anything." He sounds vaguely... proud? At least they're taking some pride in keeping the goods intact. Makes me feel slightly better.
Slightly.
A deep breath is taken, and someone who is me takes a hold of the doorknob and turns.
Looking forward to more.
Whoa yeah I like this!
:drama1: