READ BOOKS AND...

[Nephew Twiddleton]

I'll see if I can think of something for this.

[Doktor Howl]

I'll see if I can think of something for this.

Me too.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Agent Thompson walked into the depository with a police officer. He hated these dumb fuckers. But he knew that dumb fuckers were necessary to make things work.

"We hed a breakin hur. Some of the dangerous mateeryuls was took."

"Which ones?" Thompson put his hands on his hips, marveling at the collection of books. He had some books of his own. One of the perks of being an agent.  Agents are supposed to be smart. A higher level of order maintenance that required quick thinking, creativity, and most of all, information. He'd never seen so many of these books before though.

Suddenly, it occurred to Thompson what the thieves must have been after. "Shit!" He searched the shelves, worriedly, and then, "thank god for that." There it was. Thompson had heard of it. There weren't too many copies left in the world, and here was one of those places that a rare copy lived. He stroked his fingers against the cover, in awe. Sure, it wasn't the only book with dangerous ideas, but it was a sought after one by many a collector and subversive.

Thompson was curious about its content, realized his authority and privilege, and ducked it into his inner coat pocket. He could always blame it on the thieves anyway.

He went back to the cop. "All cruisers check in. Thurz been a heist up at the old depository. Keep yur eyes out fer strange folk."

Fucking idiots.

crackle "We were dun by Arby's ter get us some roast beef sammiches. We had are lights on fer fun, an' then all of a sudden, thar's these kids hoppin' out of some van wid a bunch of them books, and they all tore out in different directions. Does that match yer description of strange folk? Please advise"

FUCKING IDIOTS!!!!!

Thompson bolted for his car.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Ossifer Joe 304 and Ossifer Jim 403 stood at the Arby's saw the black car pull up.

"Looks like we got ourself an agent hur, Jim."
"Must've been the perps arter all."

304 noted that the agent reached into his coat an put it under his seat before getting out.

That's a bit queer, ain't it?

304 would remember it. Ossifers might be idiots but they had excellent memories. They had to. They couldn't write anything down.

"I hate agents, Joe"
"I knows. They's too smart for them own good. Never trust a smarty-pants, just like what the news tells us. Smarty-pantses are always up to some sort of trickery. They caint talk right. Caint even say Ossifer right."

Thompson came up.

"Officers..." Thompson had an open com channel to the Agency. "Give the Agency detailed descriptions of the people you saw and which directions they went."

Great thought 403, More of them farkin' agents crawlin' around soon.

[LMNO]

Consider this is a request for MOAR. I'm especially interested in what Franky's deal is.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Consider this is a request for MOAR. I'm especially interested in what Franky's deal is.

Me too. I would have riffed on it, but I didn't want to ruin that bit without more consideration.

[Juana]

Places like these, old schools and colleges and universities, dead places of learning from back Before, always give Frankie the creeps at night. On top of stale air and the scent of decaying wood, he can catch a whiff of old books and the buildings are always echoey. Sometime he can almost hear the whisper of turning pages and it makes him shiver.

God willing, Frankie thinks as he leans against the wall of an old library and waits for his contact with the Department of Literacy Regulation, he'll only ever be in them during the day from now on. He'll be an investigator for the DoLB instead, searching for old caches of books instead of a freelance thief. He'll be getting a good salary to do what he's always done anyway, and it'll be legal and he'll never have to spend another night on the edge and thrumming with fear that this time, he'll be caught.

"Harmon," Mr. Grey, his contact, greets as he strolls up, all dressed up in a nice suit. Frankie'll be able to afford a suit like that soon, and he's looking forward to it. "Got the goods?"

"Yeah," Frankie says, gesturing at the bag of them on the plastic desk next to him. "And the contact information you wanted, too." He waves a small notebook at Grey, who nods and smiles.

"Excellent," Grey says and reaches for the books.

"Got that W-2 form for me to fill out yet?" Frankie asks lightly, stepping between Grey and the books.

Grey stops and smiles. "Ah ah, Harmon, all the employment stuff back at the office. Here," he says, reaching into his coat, "lemme give you my card to give the ladies at the front desk. They'll help you then."

"No," Frankie says, crossing his arms and ignoring the card Grey is pushing at him. "That's not what I was promised. You fulfill your end of the deal and I'll give you the books and information."

"Aw, that's a shame. I was looking forward to working with you," says Grey and pulls out something else instead.

[Juana]

Grey puts away his gun and reaches for the stuff Harmon brought. What a rube, he thinks as he saunters off. As if the DoBL would hire a guy like him. Not the right type of person at all.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Damn.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

BUMPEAUX

[Juana]

BUMP.

[Freeky]

I can't even remember what was going on in my head when I wrote that.