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chapter_2 [2009/12/11 17:37] (current)
doan created
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 +//When a spaceship comes to take me away//
 +
 +//When reality says call it a day//
 +
 +//Will I be happy again//
 +
 +//Here in my own little world//
 +
 +//I do not care, 'cause I'm already gone
 +//
 +
 +//Break Out, all of you, Arkanoid//
 +
 +//Jump right into the void//
 +
 +//Won't you fly with me to Earth Bound Land again?//
 +
 +//With no sense of space and no sense of time//
 +
 +//No reality can enter my mind//
 +
 +//Maybe I lost something then//
 +
 +//Something that will not come back//
 +
 +//Don't matter now, 'cause I'm already gone//
 +
 +//Break Out, all of you, Arkanoid//
 +
 +//Jump right into the void//
 +
 +//Won't you fly with me to Earth Bound Land again?//
 +
 +
 +----
 +
 +
 +A public phone box in Twoson. A normal phone box, the kind that doesn't come to life and electrocute you while the cord strangles you to death and the handset bites you. It does eat your money, though.
 +
 +A shady figure. A tall man in a long brown trenchcoat, two sizes too big for him so that he will cast a shapeless silhouette, and a brown fedora that entirely covers his head as he looks away, his face tucked into the high collar of his coat, only a single wrinkled hand visible, clutching the receiver like he'll die if he ever lets it go.  Hunched over the phone, he talks in a low, soft voice into the receiver.
 +
 +“I've located her.”   
 +
 +“Where?”
 +
 +The man peeps around the door again. Looking down the busy street – it is afternoon and the children in the local preschool are filing out of the doors, as hyperactive as, well, as small children after school, there was absolutely nothing in the world more hyperactive  – he sees his mark. She turns a corner, pushing an antique pram, her eyes on the road and the children. She seems like the sort of person who stops and helps children cross roads safely even when they're not her responsibility. She is dressed in equally vintage clothing, a long black dress with white frills and petticoats, a matching hairpiece and umbrella. She hums the song 'Pollyanna' as she walks. Her singing voice is not unpleasant – trained, he guesses.
 +
 +“Close.”
 +
 +“Claus?” the voice rises to a nervous height, the tone of a man expecting to have to panic within the next few seconds.
 +
 +“Close.” enunciates the man.
 +
 +“Good. Does she have it with her?”
 +
 +“I can't tell.”
 +
 +She might be pushing a pram, but a pram did not necessary equal a baby. One time he walked up to a lady with a pram, she took an AK47 out of it and opened fire.
 +
 +“Keep watching her. I want to know her every movement.”
 +
 +“She's walking into a school. I can't just walk into a school in the middle of the day. Everyone will think I'm some kind of weirdo.”
 +
 +“Okay, well, just stay where you are and see what she does when she comes out and who she comes out with. Sneak into the school at night. Don't worry about guards and dogs, I can send you something to take care of them.”
 +
 +“Gotcha.”
 +
 +He put down the phone, rifled through his pockets and dug out his binoculars. Without warning, he found himself humming the tune. There was nothing he could do. It was there now. A Metroid hyperactive from eating an entire school full of small children would be easier to extract from his head. He had to admit, he wasn't that upset. It was a nice song and a beautiful voice that sung it.
 
chapter_2.txt · Last modified: 2009/12/11 17:37 by doan
 
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