Friday, February 24, 2006

If it Looks like a duck...

Hmmm, let's see. How does one blame the deaths of 55 people on a building clapse that never happened?

That's not exactly true. The roof did come down but that ain't what killed those people.

My first mass-exposure. All to take down 4 people. Danni, you're thinking too much again. Someone else decides that the lives of 50 people are worth 4. Hiroshima.

I didn't have to be there for this one but I built it and some nameless drone delivered it. I don't like this one bit.

Has it occured to me that I'm being manipulated by my own people? Could be...could also be I'm still not comfortable with my role and looking for a scapegoat. It doesn't matter anymore.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Hell's Junky - A Pilot Project

What a rush the last weeks have been!

Where do I begin? The short story: went to Copenhagen to kill a high-ranking Ruski snitch. Wil (must remember there's only one 'l' for the #2 boss) processed the assignment on very short notice. I got to go this time, not just build the bug.

We learned the target was taking part in a motorcycle ride over several days through 1100km of scenic Europe. I was teamed with Meg, two-up on a custom Touring. Nice ride, by the way. We were 'sisters touring the backroads'. We dropped into the ride second day out when they stopped for the evening. Not a soul cared, it was all very casual, with bikers dropping in and out during different stretches of the route. Target was cautious but a lady's man and easy to get close to once Meg and I started giggling over pictures of 'our trip'. It was great, Wil's team had us pho-shopped into pictures of places I've never even dreamed I'd see and sure haven't ever been. God, I wish I was allowed to keep real pictures but nope, everything burned as soon as we exposed the target.

Couple of beers and we could have put our hands in his pants if we'd been inclined. Meg carried the bug and I carried the catalyst. Couple of drunken kisses and mission accomplished. We didn't need to hang around after the pill was dropped. Not a whole lot to the job itself other than we did some awsome curves and when the time came, pop went his left ventricle. Oh my, how did that happen? His Ducati took a big tumble right down a hill with him on it. Not a blink or ripple anywhere suggesting it was anything other than an accident. Burn rate perfect, 11 hours spot on, and no residue. Lakes pulled the path samples while waiting for the medical response.

Monday, February 06, 2006

The Benign Behaving Badly

I've been relocated to what Will says is to be my 'home' for the time being. I'm to 'settle in' as it were. New name, new home, new history. I so don't fit into this place. But it's very big and I do my best to blend so my work can continue. I might as well be on Mars. The compound is immense. I had to memorize an entire military history for myself. They wanted me to affect a rediculous accent, too.

What do you do when your whole life becomes a lie? How do I retain who I am, and do I even want to? Or do I cave and become what they need me to be? It's strange. As my old me, I hated what I was doing, detested going against my own code and what doing so made me. As this other person, I can continue the same life with no guilt and remorse. I can quite simply help kill people who someone else deems needs to be dead. At the same time I think I'm killing off the old me little by little every day. It helps me to accept what I've done, what I'm doing, and move on. I can't go back to that life anyway. Oh, well. The bright side is I don't have to be a three hundred pound bald man.

A part of me finds this whole experience fascinating. It's as if I'm watching it happen to someone else. I go through the motions of being this other person, do my job, don't ask or answer too many questions, then I go home and try to rationalize it? I'm discouraged from making any friends. This part isn't too difficult as the other residents of the base don't seem to remain for very long. Outside the compound is off-limits for now. Will promised me dinner on the 'outside' one of these days. Big woop.

I think what amazes me most is how truely simple it is to disappear. But it's more than that. I have transformed into something quite seperate from who I was before. I have accepted my role in the recent disaster and moved on to this new place where I am complacent and willing to do what they ask of me. I'm caught up and become part of the machine that I wished so much to end. I don't seem to mind. For now.

I work building them now, not just verifying. No more processing slides to detect tools of manipulation. Now I poke and coax tiny molecules into roles as deadly little killers, teaching the benign to behave badly. But my work is very specific now. I'm part of a 'team' with a direct role. I'm rather proud of my latest. I even devised the method of delivery - a toothbrush. It supposedly took out a terrorist bomb-maker, but I don't know that for sure. When I say I'm part of a team, I mean it in a very limited access sort of way. I don't know many of the others and they don't know me. I don't get full intel but Will shares little bits of the ops just to help me help them. I'm allowed to study the known behaviors of the target to help best devise their end.

I see a shrink regularly. They process my process and keep me on a short leash. But I'm not bored.