06/17/2003 -- ::Insert cool sounding title here:: Standing at attention in front of his commanding officer’s desk, Ren mentally recited every curse in every language he knew. He was running out of new combinations, and seriously considering throttling the fat bastard in front of him, when his CO finally looked up from his paperwork. The heavy man scowled at Ren for a minute, as if he could simply rid himself of the tall Palestinian simply by glaring at him, and then reached into some hidden nook and produced a black plastics envelope. Flipping it onto the desk, the CO finally spoke. “Take that, and you’re dismissed, solider” “Yes SIR!” Jeff saluted, took the envelope, and exited the room. Once out of earshot, Ren stopped in the middle of the hall and glowered at the envelope. It had finally come. His inevitable suicide mission. Sighing, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, as if the cold plaster could proffer some kind of serenity. When the freezing flow of emotions had subsided somewhat, Ren took a deep breath and pulled off the strip sealing the envelope. He reached in and pulled two bound files. The first was about 150 pages (at a rough estimate), and was simple titled “Mission 093A5G2 information-ARCHMAGE TOUCAN EYES ONLY.” Despite the situation, Ren mentally winced at the sight of his much hated call-name. A more rational level professed mild surprise that they had gone as much trouble as this packet represented. All they really needed was an order and some basic information in order to get rid of him. He slipped it back into the envelope and looked at the next file. The second packet was much smaller, maybe 10 to 15 pages at most. Its cover read: ARCHMAGE TOUCAN MISSION STATEMENT AND CONTRACT INFORMATION ORDER LEVEL OMEGA Flipping to the next page, Ren prepared himself for the expected fatal order. His earlier state of near-panic was gone, replaced by a listing, detached feeling. There was nothing more that they could do to him now. The dreaded punishment had finally arrived. It was all over. Wallowing in self pity, Ren barely paid attention to the document he was reading. Abrupt comprehension jolted him out of his lethargic, half-fatalistic mindset, and right into a state of raw indignation. “ARE YOU GODAMNED JIDDING ME! FIVE FUCKING YEARS?!” Ren demanded loudly of the air, nicely forgetting years of training in obedience and self control, and drawing stares of the nearby office denizens. Remembering where he was, Ren controlled his anger, pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning on, and strode to the end of the hallway. Waiting for the elevators to cycle, Ren suppressed a grim smile, torn between anger and relief. “So, it’s exile, is it?” muttered Ren to himself, and stepped into the elevator car, “That’s fine. That’s just fine.” ------- ------- [Previous entry: "Lock and Load"] [Main Index] [Next entry: "ágætis byrjun"] gm

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06/17/2003 Entry: "::Insert cool sounding title here::"

Standing at attention in front of his commanding officer’s desk, Ren mentally recited every curse in every language he knew. He was running out of new combinations, and seriously considering throttling the fat bastard in front of him, when his CO finally looked up from his paperwork. The heavy man scowled at Ren for a minute, as if he could simply rid himself of the tall Palestinian simply by glaring at him, and then reached into some hidden nook and produced a black plastics envelope. Flipping it onto the desk, the CO finally spoke.

“Take that, and you’re dismissed, solider”

“Yes SIR!”

Jeff saluted, took the envelope, and exited the room. Once out of earshot, Ren stopped in the middle of the hall and glowered at the envelope. It had finally come. His inevitable suicide mission. Sighing, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, as if the cold plaster could proffer some kind of serenity. When the freezing flow of emotions had subsided somewhat, Ren took a deep breath and pulled off the strip sealing the envelope. He reached in and pulled two bound files.

The first was about 150 pages (at a rough estimate), and was simple titled “Mission 093A5G2 information-ARCHMAGE TOUCAN EYES ONLY.” Despite the situation, Ren mentally winced at the sight of his much hated call-name. A more rational level professed mild surprise that they had gone as much trouble as this packet represented. All they really needed was an order and some basic information in order to get rid of him. He slipped it back into the envelope and looked at the next file.

The second packet was much smaller, maybe 10 to 15 pages at most. Its cover read:

Flipping to the next page, Ren prepared himself for the expected fatal order. His earlier state of near-panic was gone, replaced by a listing, detached feeling. There was nothing more that they could do to him now. The dreaded punishment had finally arrived. It was all over. Wallowing in self pity, Ren barely paid attention to the document he was reading. Abrupt comprehension jolted him out of his lethargic, half-fatalistic mindset, and right into a state of raw indignation.

“ARE YOU GODAMNED JIDDING ME! FIVE FUCKING YEARS?!” Ren demanded loudly of the air, nicely forgetting years of training in obedience and self control, and drawing stares of the nearby office denizens.

Remembering where he was, Ren controlled his anger, pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning on, and strode to the end of the hallway. Waiting for the elevators to cycle, Ren suppressed a grim smile, torn between anger and relief.

“So, it’s exile, is it?” muttered Ren to himself, and stepped into the elevator car, “That’s fine. That’s just fine.”