Do I wanna know?

He has me, as I enter my hotel room with my keycard. The cold steel of a blade presses against my throat.

Furniture lays on its back, like dead flies. Pillows are gutted, ripped apart. What a mess!

I bolt. But he yanks me back. Hard.

No chance to reach the door. I catch myself by falling to one knee. Who the hell is this guy? His fist digs into my ponytail and drags me back.

“OW!” He pulls me to the furthermost corner of the room. My back hurts. His grip in my hair is angry iron! “STOP!”

Why is he so incredibly fast and strong? I don’t even see him move! How is this even possible? As if I have no weight at all.

“Gomen nasai!” I stammer. My apology has no effect. Why is this happening to me? Where are my things?

Cursed, not Gifted

Special Agent Eric Paulson stood in my doorway, with a goofy smile on his thin lips. He flicked away his still burning cigarette. Snowflakes melted on his grey stubby chin.

“What do you want?” I asked. Bitterness seeped from the back of my throat. I wanted to spit it out, but words fell out instead. “Seven. Years.” He didn’t even call when my sweet little Anna died.

The Greater Good Protocol

Part 1 – Safe Atmosphere

part 2 – I’m that kind of guy

part 3 – Judge, Jury &Executioner 

---

 

"Safe atmosphere..."

The safe sign and the notification flash on the screen shield, blink and then fade away. The pressure sensors in the seats activate the engine. Gently purring, the rover comes to life, instruments flare up on the dashboard and project unto windshield. The underground magnetic guidance system pings back on its navigation, showing their position on the southern hemisphere of the Moon.

“Great booty, innit?” Terry nudges Larry’s elbow, as they take their helmets off.  Larry, Terry’s twin brother, is paler than usual. His grey eyes scan the inside of the cabin. No Chinese or Cyrillic characters, he sighs with relief. Blue arrows project unto the screen, showing the routes to the nearest landmarks. Tycho Crater is eighteen kilometers away. Surveyor Tycho City is six points seven, and Surveyor Seven fourteen kilometers north-to-northeast. “Lots of bucks.” Terry pats and kisses the console affectionately. He pulls his thin lips into a satisfied grin and straps into his seat. In the knowledge of a job well done, he holds out his palm and awaits the high-five.