NV204

nv204

NV204TX/2203 NV204TX> It’s late. My eyes are tired. The grates in my brain are rattling again. Two days it’s taken me to find a terminal and file my report. Two days. Could be more. I am still dehydrated and my mouth is sore and wired shut. Not literally you understand. No the board wouldn’t sanction that. Too expensive. Last feasibility study says I will be shut down in three months anyway. End of the line and home. No wired shut by the pounding heat of the sweat-box I’ve been locked. In. I would apologise for not making any-sense but fuck you. I didn’t volunteer for this shit.

So I guess you want details.

The lead you sent me was shit. I turned up, followed standard procedure and recon’d the place. Whatever happened there happened years ago. Problem was when I got back to my safe-house I’d been fucked over. My room was trashed. The land-lady said she didn’t hear a thing. They smashed the terminal and found the resonator and smashed that too. The police were already there when I got back. Two of ‘em. The TV and the money was gone but the weird thing was how uninterested the cops were in the pieces of broken resonator. I mean it’s not exactly radio shack is it? So I slap a tracker on one of the fuckers (full descriptions attached) For now I’ll call him Fucker A. I follow this fool for a few days. Everything’s fine. Seems normal enough. I’m just about to give up after watching him sleep for the seventh night when he starts sleepwalking. I follow him as he walks from Stockwell to Blackfriars bridge – there I loose him. What I find is one of your boys hung up choking by his neck under the bridge. I go to get him down when I’m whacked from behind and I black out. I wake up in a 2m square tin, with a couple of holes drilled out for air, the door welded shut and one wall is a reinforced five thousand watt lightbulb. or panel. Whatever believe me I tried to break that fucker for the two days I was in that box. Your men. Your inquisitors torture me for a couple of days thinking that I am carrying a squid. They tell me the squids have found a way to avoid a bio-scan. I tell them that’s bullshit. They reply by playing fucking maroon bloody five through crappy speakers for 12 fucking hours. Oh do I sound angry? I’m sorry that’s because I fucking am fucking angry. What the fuck are you playing at? Do you want me to do this job or not? Anyways I can’t tell exactly when the music – music? Jesus I didn’t even like them on the radio for fuck sake. I can’t tell when it was, but all of a sudden the lights cut out the music stopped and there was silence. That when I passed out again. when I came to the box I was in was opened and your men were so many pieces of meat. I spent the next two days hitching to the alternate safe house where I am now. Right can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on? Is there something going on I should know about? nv204signout> >>>NV204TX/2203>RECEIVED>Processing report>Please Wait… … …

Categories: Sci-fi, Short Story, thriller

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Follow The Diary (Email)

Anyone want to be a tester for my mailer?
CLICK HERE

Follow DIARY OF SHORT DISTURBANCES on WordPress.com
%d bloggers like this: