Disposal Clearnce (Two)

The bell, hung from a bent strip of sheet metal above the door, dinged loudly as the metal frame hit it and he stepped into the mold scented interior. Half the lights suspended in the water marked ceiling flickered, giving the rows of snack foods and truck stop knick knacks a seizure inducing effect, while a daytime TV show droned on in the background. Laughter, applause, and the pointed questions of the host seemed entirely out of place in the vacant room, but entirely appropriate as well. 

A drowsy attendant looked up, past his feet propped on the counter, to take a passing glance at who had walked in, registered a living thing with his red rimmed eyes, and returned to the fighting couple on the television. He had faded, and heavily stained, red truckers hat tipped back on his thin black hair. He was obviously his best customer judging by his mountain of stale nachos, just beside his feet, and half gallon soda he was sipping.

He decided against approaching the attendant immediately, politely nodding in his direction instead, and headed to the restroom. There was one last thing that he was told about the assignment and he needed to have just a little privacy. Of course he had to wander past the uncaring attendant to find the bathroom, conveniently placed just beside the deteriorating mop, and pushed the squealing door open. The light was off but the smell rolled through the door, old bleach and fresh urine, assaulting his nostrils but he tried to keep a calm look on his face.

On the inside of the door he found the switch, it popped loudly when flicked upward, to illuminate the ammonia and chemical scented space. The entire interior was coated in a moldy mismatched tile and the two long florescent bulbs hummed and flickered in response to the living entity now entering the room. The urinals were the tall ones that ran all the way down the wall and puddle out at the feet of the user in a in a semi ornate fashion, despite the fact that they are the perfect imitation of the flow they are meant to poorly contain.

The Co. told him that he had a good intuition, told him that was why they like him and kept him around longer than some of the others. There was always someone who looked better on paper, had better credentials, better stats, better backing from some aging board member, but he had experience and was willing to take strange risks. That was why he listened to the entire story sometimes despite the fact that he may not like the words he is hearing, or the information that’s missing.

He was told that he had good instincts and good intuition but they wanted to make those better. They wanted him to be able to truly feel what had happened if his runner had passed through here. Because they wanted him to be as close behind as possible but they didn’t want an immediate capture. They wanted to be able to observe Mr. Allen in a natural environment, apparently from a distance, and they wanted him there to pull him out when the time was right.

‘Or wrong depending on the scenario,’ he thought to himself as he pulled the small roll from the other interior pocket of his suit coat.

The sink appeared to be somewhat cleaner than the rest of the room so he set the roll down on the edge and unfolded it. He was willing to take all training opportunities to better his abilities and his company took that into special consideration. Not only would they offer special training, with reimbursement, but if the candidate took to the treatments well they would be offered more unique opportunities. This was how he managed to get out of the city. This was how he got away from the petty security positions and placed into the recovery department. He had even progressed to the point where they allowed him to maneuver autonomously with minimal contact and no need of an immediate controller or partner. No one needed to keep an eye on him because he had no issue with communication.

His supplies glinted in the unstable lighting, the syringe and the sixteen vials, the tools he was so well trained to use. Some of the training opportunities involved chemical experimentation and over the course of his employment they found that he had an extremely high chemical tolerance, along with the psychological ability to withstand the effects of the doses.

And now he was free to wander and pick assignments more than take what they threw at him. Although it was hard to accept that he was not only an employee but a test subject as well. The only upside to the testing was the fact that he was guaranteed payment and support if he was injured anywhere along the way.

He had been instructed to contact the Co. as soon as he was going to begin injection so they could monitor his chemical levels and his process. He removed his suit coat and hung it on the stall door behind him and rolled up his sleeve to his mid bicep, turning his arm so his palm was face up.

Embedded in the crook of his elbow was a small port that allowed for ease of inject ion and was actually and exposed portion of the coating they used to reinforce his veins. Due to the high frequency of his chemical injections they needed to develop ways for the test subjects to withstand the repeated injections. A permanent port seemed to be the most efficient way to solve the issue.

Just below the port on his arm they had embedded an internal cellular communication system paired with some wireless connection to the net. They always had some fancy terminology for the s**t they put in him and he never bothered to remember any of it. He was more interested in the chemicals and the mixtures. The rest of it was just a means to an end. Basically they embedded a cell phone in his arm, giving them a means to track him anyway.

 The nodes for the phone were arranged in a diamond pattern just below his wristwatch, each one roughly the size of a small ball bearing. He tapped out a pattern on the raised skin and a small screen appeared about an inch above his arm, briefly stating that it was establishing a connection, the a voice came through the screen stating, “Connection established. Yes Mr. Lateran?”

“I am about to begin enhanced research and investigation. I am within range of the subject and would like to become acquainted with my new partner. Please record and monitor my vital signs.”

“We will document the proceedings, and look forward to monitoring the results of the enhancement. Continue with the investigation but do not intercept the subject. Also avoid contact with the local law enforcement agencies, and allow them to conduct any investigations as necessary. If needed we will intervene but the Co. would prefer to remain anonymous in regards to the subject and his influence.”

“Is there any concern in regards to contact with the subject?”

“Any individuals whom have had contact with the subject need to be removed as soon as identified. You have no need to worry in regards to your contact due to the enhancement process.”

“And disposal clearance?”

“Follow blackout guidelines, Mr. Lateran.”

A smile spread across his face as the link closed and the screen subsided. With This level of clearance he was able to do his best kind of work.

Reviews

[tremainiator]

I assume this is a work in progress. This chapter has stronger legs than the first, only because the first needs more effort on your part to make it clear and concise - editing and rewriting. But in this one too I feel you should put more effort into it.

I notice that you have posted more poetry than prose and I wonder if you consider yourself more aligned to poetry. I am not a poet and do not read poetry because I don't 'get it.' It's just how I am.

If you'd care to read my short story, 'The secret of her plum sauce,' it's there under my name. It's nothing like your writing. I'd welcome feedback.

I hope that my comments don't offend you. They are intended to be constructive. I must admit and reiterate that I'm puzzled about why someone would post unedited work and ask readers for feedback.