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FictionalAccount's Journal: One More Job To Do

Journal by FictionalAccount

Col. Pair A'Noid chomped down on the toothpick he was idly twirling in his mouth as he prepped the C4. He could really have used a smoke, but somehow lighting up in the armory didn't seem like a good idea. He gently pushed in the last connector and tested the arming switch.

It was ready.

From out in the hall he heard Taggart and Clark laughing it up over some stupid shit on the vidmon. Well, let them laugh. Wasn't much left in the world to laugh at these days. V-Sign was winning and everyone here knew it.

Pair sighed. Five years ago who would have thought they'd be in complete control of the world's finances and military. It had started innocently enough. Clear ident cards passed out to the unsuspecting masses. No different than anything else out there, and certainly not even close to rousing the suspicion of the Continental Data Forces. Now look at them...scattered, broken, hiding in rathole bunkers doing hit and run ops that barely even scratched the surface of the V-Signs empire. Was it their fault? Could anyone have guessed those numbers triggered a nano-virus already embedded in the worlds drinking supply?

He hefted the C4 into his pack. Maybe he could make a difference. Days ago they'd found out the location of the V-Sign's OPTOUT hatch. Wasn't much of a chance, but if he could get enough explosive in sense wasting hope, that was in as short supply as anything these days. The only thing left was action, and he was the man for the job.

Noyd closed his eyes. Don't worry Mary, coming to you soon, real soon baby. "Alright, Taggart, Clark, move your asses. Joy joy, we got a job to do meatheads!"

He stomped out of the armory, hope growing.
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One More Job To Do

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... though his invention worked superbly -- his theory was a crock of sewage from beginning to end. -- Vernor Vinge, "The Peace War"