Covenant: Sent/Sight on Scene
CC email inbox at Langley sent to Samuel Hastings Department Head and Richard Mouser chief of criminal profiling:
To: Openbook2049z@yahoo.com
From: DavidAblack@global.net
I've taken a leave from the agency Kiddo, thought you should know. Its all out of my hands now and I'm going to be absolutely honest with you for once, this email is also my confirmation of my request for a leave of absence so its news to everyone. As you know Kiddo once Agency always agency and I plan on using my contacts within the agency to solve some current dilemmas, in a way I guess you could say I'm going into business for myself (as long as that business doesn't jeopardize American national security or puts America in harm).
I have a partner in this affair, he's just finished the proper agency training courses and will be sending his own leave message, his name is James Stabler you'll of course recognize his name and his implications in what I am undertaking as one of the first wrongs I plan on righting as soon as this e-mail is sent.
We go back kiddo, way back and I never thought I'd be the one to place our former friendships in question. Given the information I received from the Afghan incident with the Alpha team and the ongoing criminal investigations involving this "Barlev_Orinni" character I guess I'm left with little choice. One would think with your reasoning and intelligence you would know we always have ways of watching, I'm left to believe you expected us to find these messages between the two of you. Given the string of mutilation murders all fitting such an exacting M.O. and those tying into the drug killings of last year you can guarantee someone will find this "Barlev".
Maybe that is your wish as well, I never proclaimed to be an expert on you kiddo, you've always surprised me, only this time the surprises find their way into my heart and they shock me. I know you loved her, but hiring this...this animal to do your dirty work? Don't even get me started about the Afghan thing.
You sold technology to the Chinese you refused to sell to us, the bonding plastic C4 compounds, the flight suit you made for Avenger8, and the mech...are you kidding me, did you draw that one while you where on the toilet? You always complained about the "absolute" power of America and its threat, is this your way of leveling the playing field? I can't figure it, we can fabricate most of it...so why? Spite, anger, do you some how blame the agency for her death, and if so how could you?
As usual kiddo you are a complete riddle to me, and I learned a long time ago to stop playing chess with you so I'll come clean, this is carbon copied to my boss so he knows what's going on, I owe him that and a copy is also going to our criminal science/profiling people, if you respond and as an old friend I hope you do I'm hoping they get the chance to review it. I need to know if the smartest young man on the planet is also its most dangerous. I have my doubts and also my suspicions. Lastly I just hope to know why? Why to the whole thing?
If you had a direct way to get a hold of the man whose doing these killings he'd be forced to act smarter, but I think you don't. In fact I just about know it kid, if I James and I find this guy before the locals do I will find out the real identity of the monster than killer Lady Justice, and when I do that monster will do his time by the law, because that's exactly what she would have wanted. This...this killing, working your way to finding him just to be a spiteful child, its sickening and if I can somehow trace your finances to him I'll make sure we seize it, as much of your little nest egg as we can, that's not a threat kiddo, its also what she would have wanted.
If you love her as much as you say you always have, you'd see how wrong this is. Even SE has a limit, even he has a skewed code of law and right. Which leads me to this...are you alone, are they with you and you're just staying a step ahead so they don't see how off your rocker you are? Have you lost it, or is there some misplaced sense of right in all of this?
More questions, I could waste Gigs of space asking you questions over the last several months, but what's the point, any response you give will be carefully thought out and elusive as ever, let me give you one last clue to how people really are kiddo.
If you'd have just got up and asked before the crap the horseman did to you, if you'd just have got up back in the old days, the Covenant days and asked her, if you'd bothered to have grown a pair and take a chance, the two of you might have wound up happy and retired from all this ugliness...all this misery and pain. In fact there's no might about it, she told me as much before you all sprung Big Boy. Sleep on it kiddo. Life is a simple situation of regrets and bad choices and finding ways to learn from them so you don't repeat them, so you tell me "most promising engineering mind of the last 100 years" what have you learned lately?
David.
A carport, downtown Los Angeles:
Sitting in the back of the van, a weight set, a battery powered tv/dvd player, a dirty mattress to small for its occupant, a brown empty glass eyed teddy bear filthy with sweat the the loss of things, reminders of a childhood? No...the trappings of something that was never there, yeah that's more like it. Some clothes, some empty fast food wrappers, I'm sure some villains out there have better digs but I'm here because I found my way here.
The panel door was open and just a few hours ago I sensed something in here, something slow and old, something with only a fey futile days left to breath and eat, although there is little in here that would find its way on the menu for an aged beetle. He's in here somewhere, and I'll find him, I'm strong and in my prime, woke up in a service truck and its time for me to eat, eyes readied all eight I am my own agent of fortune and destiny.
But we're not here for me, while I hunt out a grandfathered beetle who will keep me fed for a few weeks you are free to follow my eyes, the hairs on my legs so acute to movement I can sense the thing crouched behind the drivers seat, although the thing is just as much a predator, as well adapted and ready to be an agent of its fortune and destiny as I.
We start with the thing in the hooded sweatshirt, it absently shovels greasy vegetable matter into its orifice like so many simians do, and as it does this it mumbles and talks to itself behind its own "home made hunters mask". "Where the fuck is he already, told him to come out that elevator, told him to be ready for me to follow him". The simian produces its battery life line dialing on it as I track the trace scent of my next meal.
"Hey...yeah Heimie"? "Yeah its Jorge...where you at?" "Dude Alex is dead man trust me, quit bothering to call people I got the tape that piece of shit sent me, trust me...I know man, I'm sorry he was like a brother to me too". "I know you have to next on the fuckers list...you gotta come down and drive around maybe I can flush him out and put an end to all this shit". "Bro, trust me I got your back, nothing is going to happen to you, please just do this for me". "Alright, I'm down stairs in the parking lot, hurry up".
The phone closes and I can feel the kindred sense of satisfaction from the thing behind the suit, only inches away from its prey, waiting for just...the...right...time. GOT HIM! The old beetle spins around after the bite to face me, his two comic wide eyes face my banks of vision, hunter and hunted, the hexes of his great old eyes widen and contract as the realization reaches his simple motor functions, the bite is true and now I'm around him and on him. Whispers of my hair reassure him his time had come, "nothing personal old chum, food is food and life is life" that sort of thing. There is no hate or vile nature in me, I hunt I feed, and the thing behind the seat looks down in acceptance as he notices my kill.
I will do the same in kind.
The simian starts the van, "Alright cous, let's get this skinny green piece of shit, let's find his motherfucking family and start putting them to the torch, he thinks he knows something about hate, he thinks he knows something about PAIN! FUCKER AIN'T BEEN IN MY BASEMENT, HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK PAIN IS"!
The simian is screaming as he follows in pursuit of the white car ahead of him, "Yeah, gonna do shit to that motherfucker I've been afraid to do". The electronic leash begins hammering out its panic ring and the simian answers shifting his voice to a low growling register from the mild lisp he'd produced through his "home made hunters mask" while talking to himself. "Heimie...bro just go around the block and then head out towards your moms". "Man ain't nothing gonna happen to either of you, quick being a sissy, I got this motherfucker trust me, and anyway if he isn't after you then maybe he's sniffing around there". "No dude your moms is safe...Jesus". "Just drive man I got this covered".
Miles click by, eastward I'll feed slowly on my old prey as I wait it may be days before I have a chance to exit this smelly tomb and get back into the sun for food and to find a mate. The thing next to me who has taken to making me a fine little place to stay while I wait is also waiting the miles, I know he is smelling his prey and listening to it breath slowly, he's a better hunter than I, more patient...less to lose. He wont feed on the simian he's about to attack. His motives are far more obscure and far less useful than mine.
The van stops and the electronic leash fires back up with its annoying vibration and echo. "Just go in man, give me a second I'm going to through on a clean shirt and I'll be right in...DUDE your moms is fine yo...you cryin"? "Hey I said its fine goddammit...just go in, I'll be there in like two minutes". The phone closes as the simian mumbles "Where you at you cheap shot motherfucker"?
"Right here", the green colored hunter whispers from behind it's prey, it's needles as quick as my fangs...maybe quicker, the simian jerks forward...fast but like any healthy prey just that much slower. The gloved hand retracts and the simian shakes for a few seconds and lays still as can be. "You where wrong about me...Sadist is it"? "Wrong about me indeed, yes I killed them, and yes I certainly have been sending you some interesting material, here's the real news for you though, I didn't force them to say any of it, and you are going to be wide awake, awake and ready while I go in there and do my current masters bidding, you're going to sit here in this van still as a paralyzed beetle while I go in and feed on your cousin and your aunt.
"You'll be free to sit here for the next four to six hours, waiting as I dissect them, burn them, hurt them and let them explain how useless and pathetic you where and are". "When I'm done the house in front of you is going to go up all Halloween orange and chimney red and you might just regain the use of your limbs in time to drive away". "If not have a blast when the cops find you outside the place in your little "human skin mask" I'm sure you'll have a fine time getting back in touch with old friends at the craft room of the Astoria Center for the Criminally Insane".
"You know I might even make that young kid eat a few pieces of his mother while I'm at it, for that matter I've always wondered how we taste". "You might think me sick for thinking it, but we feed on one another all day every day, why be a cannibal when I can learn to transcend this feeble flesh and bone, maybe I'll crawl up and cocoon, better yet maybe I'll learn to shed my skin...huh what was that"? "Did you say somethin...oh I'm sorry, of course...you can't say anything, and while you can't let me remind you that no matter what sort of ugly things go on in there before I turn your Aunt's house into a funeral pyre, please believe me, hate fits in NO WHERE here". "I don't hate you, in fact I'm very much hoping that when you're done watching this tape and after you're done wondering which of you relatives I'll hurt and kill later, after all the tears and futile rage, you'll seek me out for reasons completely unrelated to this ugly business".
"You see when I'm done drawing considerable wages from my current master I plan on undertaking a vast number of raw duties, and I could use someone who has the rage and hate I utterly lack, in short young man, if you can find someway of overlooking what I'm about to do to a group of people who never loved or liked you anyway I'm hoping to fashion a Los Angeles the likes that men of quality and substance (mind you we are talking mostly of my quality and then your substance) that men like us might wake up and see a city set wholly in OUR own image". "Think on it, god knows you have the time".
The green skinned hunter laughs as he scoops my kill and I into the "frame" he has made for us. "If you want to take me up on that offer or hell, if you still feel sore about all this, look me up just ask for "Spider"...no..."Green Spider" yes...that will do, that will do quite nicely, my new friend and I will be inside, just scream if you need anythin...oh nevermind, sorry I keep forgetting".
A Harbor side warehouse in Baracoa, Cuba:
In the wee-hours of the morning a slumped form sits in a mechanical chair, alone in the "headquarters" over three monitors all viewing the same E-mail from an old friend a mechanical voice begins making a sound like a blender with a thick carrot stalk stuck in the blades, the mechanical voices closest acceptable recognition of the inarticulate noises reverberating from the throat of a quadriplegic. His moving eyes fall upon the last few sentences again and again and again as the sound slowly drones through the empty air of the warehouse. The world has lost another hero, for once and for all a mind full of promise left to fester has found a root in something rotten and a mushroom has grown where once a rose garden stood.
Slipknot: Execute
It appears that we have reached the edge
that zenith where stimuli and comatose collide.
Forty years ago, the man proclaimed the age of the gross to be upon us
and even though the man was destroying our heritage and insulting our intelligence.
That era has become very real.
We labor for pleasure and abhor the guilt of pressure.
My generation will go down as the architects of contemporary disgust.
Some have fought and died.
Others have allowed the strong to be butchered for a price they themselves don't care about
and will never understand.
I myself am beleaguered by the selfish face of a kind of man that is not mankind.
Distrust in information.
Fundamentalism of opinion.
Catastrophic boredom, and a fanatical devotion to that which does not matter.
Where is your glory now, people?
Where are your gods and politicians?
Where is your shame and salvation?
You rage for no reason because you have no reason.
What have you ever fought for?
What have you ever bled for?
The face of the earth is scarred with the walking dead.
The age of the gross is a living virus.
This is the future you have created.
This is the world you have set ablaze.
All your lies are coming true.
All freedom is lost.
ALL HOPE IS GONE!
CC email inbox at Langley sent to Samuel Hastings Department Head and Richard Mouser chief of criminal profiling:
To: Openbook2049z@yahoo.com
From: DavidAblack@global.net
I've taken a leave from the agency Kiddo, thought you should know. Its all out of my hands now and I'm going to be absolutely honest with you for once, this email is also my confirmation of my request for a leave of absence so its news to everyone. As you know Kiddo once Agency always agency and I plan on using my contacts within the agency to solve some current dilemmas, in a way I guess you could say I'm going into business for myself (as long as that business doesn't jeopardize American national security or puts America in harm).
I have a partner in this affair, he's just finished the proper agency training courses and will be sending his own leave message, his name is James Stabler you'll of course recognize his name and his implications in what I am undertaking as one of the first wrongs I plan on righting as soon as this e-mail is sent.
We go back kiddo, way back and I never thought I'd be the one to place our former friendships in question. Given the information I received from the Afghan incident with the Alpha team and the ongoing criminal investigations involving this "Barlev_Orinni" character I guess I'm left with little choice. One would think with your reasoning and intelligence you would know we always have ways of watching, I'm left to believe you expected us to find these messages between the two of you. Given the string of mutilation murders all fitting such an exacting M.O. and those tying into the drug killings of last year you can guarantee someone will find this "Barlev".
Maybe that is your wish as well, I never proclaimed to be an expert on you kiddo, you've always surprised me, only this time the surprises find their way into my heart and they shock me. I know you loved her, but hiring this...this animal to do your dirty work? Don't even get me started about the Afghan thing.
You sold technology to the Chinese you refused to sell to us, the bonding plastic C4 compounds, the flight suit you made for Avenger8, and the mech...are you kidding me, did you draw that one while you where on the toilet? You always complained about the "absolute" power of America and its threat, is this your way of leveling the playing field? I can't figure it, we can fabricate most of it...so why? Spite, anger, do you some how blame the agency for her death, and if so how could you?
As usual kiddo you are a complete riddle to me, and I learned a long time ago to stop playing chess with you so I'll come clean, this is carbon copied to my boss so he knows what's going on, I owe him that and a copy is also going to our criminal science/profiling people, if you respond and as an old friend I hope you do I'm hoping they get the chance to review it. I need to know if the smartest young man on the planet is also its most dangerous. I have my doubts and also my suspicions. Lastly I just hope to know why? Why to the whole thing?
If you had a direct way to get a hold of the man whose doing these killings he'd be forced to act smarter, but I think you don't. In fact I just about know it kid, if I James and I find this guy before the locals do I will find out the real identity of the monster than killer Lady Justice, and when I do that monster will do his time by the law, because that's exactly what she would have wanted. This...this killing, working your way to finding him just to be a spiteful child, its sickening and if I can somehow trace your finances to him I'll make sure we seize it, as much of your little nest egg as we can, that's not a threat kiddo, its also what she would have wanted.
If you love her as much as you say you always have, you'd see how wrong this is. Even SE has a limit, even he has a skewed code of law and right. Which leads me to this...are you alone, are they with you and you're just staying a step ahead so they don't see how off your rocker you are? Have you lost it, or is there some misplaced sense of right in all of this?
More questions, I could waste Gigs of space asking you questions over the last several months, but what's the point, any response you give will be carefully thought out and elusive as ever, let me give you one last clue to how people really are kiddo.
If you'd have just got up and asked before the crap the horseman did to you, if you'd just have got up back in the old days, the Covenant days and asked her, if you'd bothered to have grown a pair and take a chance, the two of you might have wound up happy and retired from all this ugliness...all this misery and pain. In fact there's no might about it, she told me as much before you all sprung Big Boy. Sleep on it kiddo. Life is a simple situation of regrets and bad choices and finding ways to learn from them so you don't repeat them, so you tell me "most promising engineering mind of the last 100 years" what have you learned lately?
David.
A carport, downtown Los Angeles:
Sitting in the back of the van, a weight set, a battery powered tv/dvd player, a dirty mattress to small for its occupant, a brown empty glass eyed teddy bear filthy with sweat the the loss of things, reminders of a childhood? No...the trappings of something that was never there, yeah that's more like it. Some clothes, some empty fast food wrappers, I'm sure some villains out there have better digs but I'm here because I found my way here.
The panel door was open and just a few hours ago I sensed something in here, something slow and old, something with only a fey futile days left to breath and eat, although there is little in here that would find its way on the menu for an aged beetle. He's in here somewhere, and I'll find him, I'm strong and in my prime, woke up in a service truck and its time for me to eat, eyes readied all eight I am my own agent of fortune and destiny.
But we're not here for me, while I hunt out a grandfathered beetle who will keep me fed for a few weeks you are free to follow my eyes, the hairs on my legs so acute to movement I can sense the thing crouched behind the drivers seat, although the thing is just as much a predator, as well adapted and ready to be an agent of its fortune and destiny as I.
We start with the thing in the hooded sweatshirt, it absently shovels greasy vegetable matter into its orifice like so many simians do, and as it does this it mumbles and talks to itself behind its own "home made hunters mask". "Where the fuck is he already, told him to come out that elevator, told him to be ready for me to follow him". The simian produces its battery life line dialing on it as I track the trace scent of my next meal.
"Hey...yeah Heimie"? "Yeah its Jorge...where you at?" "Dude Alex is dead man trust me, quit bothering to call people I got the tape that piece of shit sent me, trust me...I know man, I'm sorry he was like a brother to me too". "I know you have to next on the fuckers list...you gotta come down and drive around maybe I can flush him out and put an end to all this shit". "Bro, trust me I got your back, nothing is going to happen to you, please just do this for me". "Alright, I'm down stairs in the parking lot, hurry up".
The phone closes and I can feel the kindred sense of satisfaction from the thing behind the suit, only inches away from its prey, waiting for just...the...right...time. GOT HIM! The old beetle spins around after the bite to face me, his two comic wide eyes face my banks of vision, hunter and hunted, the hexes of his great old eyes widen and contract as the realization reaches his simple motor functions, the bite is true and now I'm around him and on him. Whispers of my hair reassure him his time had come, "nothing personal old chum, food is food and life is life" that sort of thing. There is no hate or vile nature in me, I hunt I feed, and the thing behind the seat looks down in acceptance as he notices my kill.
I will do the same in kind.
The simian starts the van, "Alright cous, let's get this skinny green piece of shit, let's find his motherfucking family and start putting them to the torch, he thinks he knows something about hate, he thinks he knows something about PAIN! FUCKER AIN'T BEEN IN MY BASEMENT, HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK PAIN IS"!
The simian is screaming as he follows in pursuit of the white car ahead of him, "Yeah, gonna do shit to that motherfucker I've been afraid to do". The electronic leash begins hammering out its panic ring and the simian answers shifting his voice to a low growling register from the mild lisp he'd produced through his "home made hunters mask" while talking to himself. "Heimie...bro just go around the block and then head out towards your moms". "Man ain't nothing gonna happen to either of you, quick being a sissy, I got this motherfucker trust me, and anyway if he isn't after you then maybe he's sniffing around there". "No dude your moms is safe...Jesus". "Just drive man I got this covered".
Miles click by, eastward I'll feed slowly on my old prey as I wait it may be days before I have a chance to exit this smelly tomb and get back into the sun for food and to find a mate. The thing next to me who has taken to making me a fine little place to stay while I wait is also waiting the miles, I know he is smelling his prey and listening to it breath slowly, he's a better hunter than I, more patient...less to lose. He wont feed on the simian he's about to attack. His motives are far more obscure and far less useful than mine.
The van stops and the electronic leash fires back up with its annoying vibration and echo. "Just go in man, give me a second I'm going to through on a clean shirt and I'll be right in...DUDE your moms is fine yo...you cryin"? "Hey I said its fine goddammit...just go in, I'll be there in like two minutes". The phone closes as the simian mumbles "Where you at you cheap shot motherfucker"?
"Right here", the green colored hunter whispers from behind it's prey, it's needles as quick as my fangs...maybe quicker, the simian jerks forward...fast but like any healthy prey just that much slower. The gloved hand retracts and the simian shakes for a few seconds and lays still as can be. "You where wrong about me...Sadist is it"? "Wrong about me indeed, yes I killed them, and yes I certainly have been sending you some interesting material, here's the real news for you though, I didn't force them to say any of it, and you are going to be wide awake, awake and ready while I go in there and do my current masters bidding, you're going to sit here in this van still as a paralyzed beetle while I go in and feed on your cousin and your aunt.
"You'll be free to sit here for the next four to six hours, waiting as I dissect them, burn them, hurt them and let them explain how useless and pathetic you where and are". "When I'm done the house in front of you is going to go up all Halloween orange and chimney red and you might just regain the use of your limbs in time to drive away". "If not have a blast when the cops find you outside the place in your little "human skin mask" I'm sure you'll have a fine time getting back in touch with old friends at the craft room of the Astoria Center for the Criminally Insane".
"You know I might even make that young kid eat a few pieces of his mother while I'm at it, for that matter I've always wondered how we taste". "You might think me sick for thinking it, but we feed on one another all day every day, why be a cannibal when I can learn to transcend this feeble flesh and bone, maybe I'll crawl up and cocoon, better yet maybe I'll learn to shed my skin...huh what was that"? "Did you say somethin...oh I'm sorry, of course...you can't say anything, and while you can't let me remind you that no matter what sort of ugly things go on in there before I turn your Aunt's house into a funeral pyre, please believe me, hate fits in NO WHERE here". "I don't hate you, in fact I'm very much hoping that when you're done watching this tape and after you're done wondering which of you relatives I'll hurt and kill later, after all the tears and futile rage, you'll seek me out for reasons completely unrelated to this ugly business".
"You see when I'm done drawing considerable wages from my current master I plan on undertaking a vast number of raw duties, and I could use someone who has the rage and hate I utterly lack, in short young man, if you can find someway of overlooking what I'm about to do to a group of people who never loved or liked you anyway I'm hoping to fashion a Los Angeles the likes that men of quality and substance (mind you we are talking mostly of my quality and then your substance) that men like us might wake up and see a city set wholly in OUR own image". "Think on it, god knows you have the time".
The green skinned hunter laughs as he scoops my kill and I into the "frame" he has made for us. "If you want to take me up on that offer or hell, if you still feel sore about all this, look me up just ask for "Spider"...no..."Green Spider" yes...that will do, that will do quite nicely, my new friend and I will be inside, just scream if you need anythin...oh nevermind, sorry I keep forgetting".
A Harbor side warehouse in Baracoa, Cuba:
In the wee-hours of the morning a slumped form sits in a mechanical chair, alone in the "headquarters" over three monitors all viewing the same E-mail from an old friend a mechanical voice begins making a sound like a blender with a thick carrot stalk stuck in the blades, the mechanical voices closest acceptable recognition of the inarticulate noises reverberating from the throat of a quadriplegic. His moving eyes fall upon the last few sentences again and again and again as the sound slowly drones through the empty air of the warehouse. The world has lost another hero, for once and for all a mind full of promise left to fester has found a root in something rotten and a mushroom has grown where once a rose garden stood.
Slipknot: Execute
It appears that we have reached the edge
that zenith where stimuli and comatose collide.
Forty years ago, the man proclaimed the age of the gross to be upon us
and even though the man was destroying our heritage and insulting our intelligence.
That era has become very real.
We labor for pleasure and abhor the guilt of pressure.
My generation will go down as the architects of contemporary disgust.
Some have fought and died.
Others have allowed the strong to be butchered for a price they themselves don't care about
and will never understand.
I myself am beleaguered by the selfish face of a kind of man that is not mankind.
Distrust in information.
Fundamentalism of opinion.
Catastrophic boredom, and a fanatical devotion to that which does not matter.
Where is your glory now, people?
Where are your gods and politicians?
Where is your shame and salvation?
You rage for no reason because you have no reason.
What have you ever fought for?
What have you ever bled for?
The face of the earth is scarred with the walking dead.
The age of the gross is a living virus.
This is the future you have created.
This is the world you have set ablaze.
All your lies are coming true.
All freedom is lost.
ALL HOPE IS GONE!
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
cosette:
Thanks, man. 
gogo:
oh yes, IT IS other people.