Time In A Bottle (Buried In A Forest)

Has it really been three years? You don't have to answer that. I own a calendar and a phone, which obviously also has a calendar.

I know it's been three years. It just doesn't feel like it. Maybe it's because I'm getting older, maybe it's because time flies when your schedule is always full, or maybe it's the time distortion present in The Path.     

It's probably that last thing. No, hold on, it's definitely that last thing.

I was brought in for reconditioning.  

I don't really understand the process, well maybe it isn't the process itself. If you zoom out and look at all the steps, it's not that complicated. What I don't understand is the theory behind it. The why behind the who, so to speak.

The process itself is as follows:

1. Find your proxy (the boss is omniscient, I think? So this step might actually be more like simply go to your proxy).
2. Spirit them away and onto The Path. 
3. Leave them there for a time, any amount of time (does time really exist on the path? We'll come back to that on another day).
4. Retrieve them after a time (or don't, honestly I think this happens more often than many of us know. In fact, I'm pretty sure the denizens of The Path are the result proxies who have been left to cook indefinitely).
5. Profit?

What is the profit though? The results?

I call it the great blankening. Mostly because it leaves anyone who goes through it in exactly that state. Nothing but a blank slate awaiting orders. I've also heard it called Hollowing. Have to stick with the tree theme, I suppose.

I guess I should explain.

The Path is safe when used to travel. It's how we can get around as quickly as we do, but the exposure remains relatively low, never requiring more than minute at a time when utilized. 

Then, of course, there are the pockets. Small sections connected and yet segmented away from The Path proper. Again, safe as long as you remain on The Boss' good side. I've known proxies who lived in these pockets for years and remained unaffected. At least no more crazy than they were when they got there.

When you're forced to stay on the actual Path, though? It does something to you. Every thought begins to feel distant as your brain slowly disconnects from reality. The whole Path has this aura of, for lack of a better word, unbelievability. Being there is dizzying and disconcerting. The trees, the denizens, the ground itself... it feels as though you're never getting the full picture. What you're seeing isn't what is actually there, it's just an approximation of what your mind actually deigns to comprehend. You're left on the brink and to take in anything more of what lays ahead would be to shatter your sanity forever.

It reminds me of looking at Him, but to a lesser degree.

That lesser bit doesn't save you though. With how long we're left there, the results are worse.

Minds? Empty. Personalities? Gone. Agency? Missing.

This process leaves you with stereotypical proxies. Zombies that silently pursue anyone The Boss points them towards. This is often what becomes of those who are recruited by Him directly. It is also the fate of those who go through reconditioning and it's in that, where I am left confused.

Why does he choose who he does to be reconditioned?

Why was it me?

Why was it me again?

For some of us, the hollowing eventually fades, though not fully. Just like a tree that has begun its own hollowing, holes develop that never refill. For me, it's been my early life. I remember feelings and sensations, but faces and names have begun to blur from when I was child. Hell, even into my teen years. 

The time it takes to recover can vary depending on all sorts of factors. I've gone through the process three times and each time, regaining what makes me, well, me has taken longer.

The first time it was weeks, the second months, this time it was nearly a year and a half. 

One year in The Path. A year and a half to recover. Over eighteen months after my Hollowing that I spent doing something for The Boss that I have no way of remembering. I'm not sure what I did to deserve it this time, either. Never am, though. What did I do or see that he wanted me to forget?

Maybe there wasn't a reason. Maybe there never is. I'm applying human logic to something that is decidedly not so.

Something that I, with my own human logic, decided to work for.

The real questions, however, now that my sentience (or whatever limited amount my existence consists of) has returned, is: when can I expect The Boss to send me another minder and what became of mine?

Rat, where are you?

Working on the Weekends

Rat and I have been way more busy since I regained use of my hands. Apparently we had fallen behind on our quota after swapping roles. Which, by the way, I didn't even know we had a quota. 

So that's basically been the last month for me. Lots of murder, lots of moving around, not a lot of rest. No rest for the wicked though, right? 

Rat hates when I say that.

Either way, Rat is off doing her own thing today. Walking to her own stereotypical stalker type beat. Which means that I have some alone time. Which in turn means you all get an update.

Not that I'm trying to hide these posts from her, because she'll end up seeing them later anyways but...

Whatever. It's just easier this way.

I know I promised to tell you all what happened the night my hands got fucked up, so I guess that's what this post is going to be. It started like every other night before it that week, searching the old mill. Walking around for hours, following a flickering wifi signal and not expecting to find anything. Except that night I did. 

I had never managed to find the "center" before, but as I walked through one of the smaller buildings, machinery that sat broken and abandoned all around me. I had a bat in one hand (what can I say? I like the classics) and my phone in the other. Every step I took echoed off infinite metal surfaces, something I had found to be an issue since I had started exploring the abandoned buildings, which was why I had all but abandoned any attempt at stealth. I wasn't stomping around, but I was no longer trying to soften my steps. I had to wonder if the acoustics were a convenient accident or if my mark had chosen this area for that specifically.

Maybe he was a good singer.

Either way, as I made my way through, a glance at my phone revealed that the wifi signal was the strongest it had been all week. In fact, it was as strong as it could get yet... there was no sign of anyone or anything around me, just a tall ceiling and clutter. I tried walking for another ten minutes or so, but as the signal dropped a bar I turned around, going back to where I had found the strong signal in the first place. It was full again, the same as it had been before. So then that left the question of where my mark was, or at the very least the router. It was a wide open area. No doors or spaces to hide away. 

Then, just as it had every night previously, the signal vanished. 

I cursed and pocketed my phone, the area brought back into darkness as the bright screen of my device was hidden away. The nights before I had called Rat when the signal vanished, seeing no point in continuing with nothing to go off of. I was hesitant to do so that night. It had been nearly a week of no results and I had watched her get more and more antsy, more irritable. If I called her again tonight with nothing, I didn't even want to think of what she might do. Best case scenario she would just refuse to talk to me for a few days. Worst case scenario...

Well, she might accidentally let me off in the middle of nowhere next time I took one of her shortcuts. 

The thought had me pacing back and forth. It was on one particular step that I noticed an odd noise. Metallic, but hollow sounding. I took my phone back out and flipped the flashlight on, shining it on the floor. Just as with most of the building, the flooring was a metallic paneling. The panels under my feet however, had some overlap with the other panels, as if it had just been laid there. I knelt down and began messing with it, surely enough, it moved. I shoved it to the side, all sense of stealth going with it as a loud scraping noise echoed through the building. A set of stairs was revealed.

I shot a quick text to Rat, letting her know I had found something, then I headed down.

The stairs weren't very long, only about ten steps down, and at the bottom was a decently sized corridor. The walls were made of the same metal as the floor and the path ahead was only a little wider than myself, definitely a bit claustrophobic. I moved forward cautiously, weapon at the ready. At the end of the hall was a solitary door. 

There was no way it wasn't a trap. In what universe did my mark not hear me with all the noise I made? In what universe was he not waiting behind that door with a weapon ready to brain me? I just want it on the record that I did stop and ask those logical questions before doing what I did next. 

I opened the door.

I know, I know. I've heard it from Rat enough. It wasn't my best move, but I had a job to do and if I turned back now it would be at least a few nights before I managed to track down whatever hiding spot he picked next.

I did, however, know it was dumb. Something that was proven correct when as soon as I turned the knob the door blasted open, sending me staggering backwards and onto my back, bat clattering on the ground forgotten. My head spun as someone quickly straddled my downed body. My head bounced off the ground as the first punch landed. Then the next, and the next, and a fourth. It was at least six punches until I blacked out. 

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was a terrible headache, an aching jaw, and the fact that my face was pulsing. The second was that I was sitting and couldn't move my legs or my arms. I could, however, feel them. Most of them. Three of them. So I still had my limbs (at least most of them), which was more than I could have asked for given the situation.

Next thing on the list of initial realizations was the smell of blood, which was shortly followed by the taste of blood. Given the beatdown, this wasn't all that surprising. Though it was unpleasant. 

A quick glance around confirmed that I was in the same factory warehouse I had been exploring, just back up in the area I had started in. Either that or I was in one of the other countless ones I had explored that week that looked the exact same, but given the still removed sheet of metal near the staircase going down, I thought it was safe to assume that I was in the same building. 

The last realization I had, as I sat there in the dark taking stock of the situation, was the real doozie. 

"Huh." Several seconds passed by silently as I pondered my stunning epiphany. "I'm not dead."

"You aren't." The voice echoed through the large chamber and was followed by several slow footsteps from in front of me. I presume this was for dramatic effect. "Don't get your hopes up though. I'm not sure how long that'll be true." 

One final step into a ray of moonlight, revealed my mark, who now that I think about it I will just refer to as Mark, in all of his glory. He had my bat in one hand, and my mask in the other. The sight of him combined with the situation didn't spell out a great picture for me, but it didn't send me writhing in my bonds either, not that it would have made a difference. Guy tied a tight knot.

My mask clattered at my feet as he tossed it, showing off the cracks that riddled its surface, likely having formed as he laid waste to my face. It didn't look totally irreparable though. At least not until he brought the bat down on it, shattering it completely.

That was probably going to come out of my non-existent paycheck.

"I am going to kill you." He let the bat rest on his shoulder in a way I'm sure was supposed to be menacing.

"Okay." 

Props to him, he continued on strong despite my lackluster response.

"The real question will be if it's going to be quick..." Lifting the bat off his shoulder, he held it in front of himself, bringing the tip down to rest in his free hand. "...or painful." 

"Okay." 

"If you answer my questions, I'll make it quick and easy." 

He was trying. He really was, I could tell, and no disrespect because from what I can remember he was pretty intimidating, but my head was pounding. I could hear my heart pumping in my ears. My teeth were itching. It was really hard to focus on the things he was saying. Honestly, it was the most I could do to just keep saying...

"Okay."

"The first thing you're going to tell me," He snarled, "Is who your partner is."

I rolled my neck around to more directly face him.

"Why do you think I have a partner?" I was less trying to hide it and more genuinely curious. There was no way he had actually seen Rat, but if he had I definitely wanted to know. She wouldn't be hearing the end of it for a while if he had.

He snorted. "No way your loud stompy ass is the one that's been following me these past few weeks. I haven't seen hide or hair of the sneaky fucker. Don't really think you would have been that hard to pick out." 

So he probably hadn't seen her then. Shame. But he had said weeks. That meant he knew before I had gone ‘stomping’, as he had put it, through the old mills. Which didn't make a whole lot of sense. If he didn't see her or hear her, how had this guy known Rat was following him?

"Doesn't matter." He leveled the bat in my direction. "Who is it?" 

It was an odd question, but I'm a helpful guy.

"Rat." 

He growled, "I don't want some stupid codename!" 

Did he want her real name? If so, that was going to be a problem. I'm pretty sure that I didn't know her real name. 

Still don't. Which seems a little unfair considering she knows mine.

"A description." He forced out through grit teeth. He seemed pretty stressed.

I would've felt bad for him if he didn't have me tied to a chair.

"Short." I furrowed my brow as I pictured Rat. "Blonde?" 

"Short and blonde." He repeated, as if for clarification.

I nodded. "Sometimes." 

His own brow furrowed. "The fuck does that mean?" 

"Well, sometimes Rat is blonde." I leaned back in my chair, trying to find some semblance of comfort. "Other times it's black hair, brown hair, red..." 

Red weeks were my favorite.

"You think this is a joke?!" I could practically hear steam coming from Mark's ears. "Maybe you need a reminder of the situation you're in."

With that, he lifted the bat and swung. As the wood impacted with my left leg it gave slightly and a metallic clank could be heard. He stared at me, anger seemingly forgotten in favor of confusion. I stared back.

"What the fuck?" He muttered. 

"Yeah..." I sighed. "I get that a lot."

I really do.

"Guess I just gotta try again." His grip on the bat tightened as he lifted the weapon again. 

"Actually, what if-?" 

He didn't let me finish.

I let out a startled yell as he brought the bat down on my hands, starting with the right, then the left a few moments later after I finally stopped.

He asked me a few more questions, just basic questions about Rat that I won't bore you with, but when I didn't answer them to his satisfaction, he hit me. Always in the hands. Always in the fucking hands. Finally, before he could ask me another, an unfamiliar voice chimed in from the darkness.

"Can we just be done with this?" A young woman, who couldn't have been older than mid twenties, walked in from the left. "This isn't getting us anywhere, and the longer we stick around, the better chance that he might show up." 

Mark's face, which up this point had only shown confusion or anger, softened. Was she why he left? Was she what had kept him here in the first place? I decided at that moment that it didn't really matter. 

"If we don't get them both..." Mark started. 

"Yeah." I chimed in, both of them turning to face me as they did. "Hate to burst that bubble of yours, but even if you did get us both, the Boss will just send more." 

They probably wouldn't be as proficient as Rat or I, but they would come. This was not what either of them wanted to hear, apparently.

"Why can't you fuckers just leave us alone?" Mark growled.

"He's done with you all." The girl spoke, stepping in front of him. "He's not working for that thing anymore."

I rolled my eyes. "We don't want him to. This isn't a path you get to just walk away from when you feel like it. Once you're in, you're in for life. You." I nodded at Mark, whose jaw tightened in response. "You can't honestly believe that you get to just walk away after what you did." 

The girl's eyebrows scrunched in confusion and she looked to Mark in askance, whose focus was wholly on me. Even in the dark I could see his expression screaming danger for me if I didn't stop talking.

"You didn't tell her?" I laughed. "Does she think you're innocent? A misguided stalker that she swayed away from the clutches of a monster?" 

"You better shut your mouth right now or..."

"Or you'll what? Kill me? I mean, honestly..." I grinned. "What's one more death on your hands?"

"Shut the fuck up!" He stalked forward, sending the stunned girl stumbling to the side. He lifted the bat high. My eyes narrowed as the smallest bit of black leaked from the edge of his mouth, going unnoticed by Mark in his anger.

A deafening click echoed throughout the room.

Mark froze and looked behind him. My gaze followed his seeing the young woman also frozen, held at gunpoint by Rat.

I waggled my eyebrows at my partner. "Did I make enough noise?" 

She snorted. "That is an ability I have never put into question."

"Molly-!" Mark stepped towards them. 

I winced at the mistake and at the sound of a shot being fired off. 

His corpse hit the floor a second later, a bullet buried in his head. 

The girl Rat had held hostage scrambled for Mark's body, Rat doing nothing to stop her. Instead walking over to begin cutting my binds. Sobs filled the room as she worked. As Rat got to my hands she stopped, staring down at them for far longer than I was comfortable.

"It's fine." 

"It is clearly not." 

She finished freeing me and once I proved I could stand, albeit shakily, Rat turned back to the girl and raised her gun. I placed a hand gingerly on her shoulder, ignoring the lance of pain that shot up my arm as I did, and her head turned ever so slightly, just enough to let me know she was listening.

"C'mon." 

"There is no point to leave her alive."

"There's also no point in killing her. She isn't our target. She's someone else's." 

The small sigh that I heard let me know that I had won. Rat knew better than to steal from the Boss. 

We left the girl crying in the steel mill, only stopping to pilfer the hideout that Mark had been making use of, not managing to salvage much we could actually use, aside from a laptop. That night, after she had finished doing what she could for my hands, Rat spent her time going through it. Looking through search history, downloads, etc. Looking for anything that might explain Mark's sudden departure.

It had become a trend lately, proxies leaving the Boss' service. There had always been a few here and there, and the urge was present in many, but most of them knew better than to think they could actually get away with it. Something had changed, however. In the recent months, the number of proxies who ran had nearly tripled. Something was giving them hope, and while we're still not absolutely sure what that is, as Rat showed me a site Mark had visited a lot shortly before and after he abandoned, I think we found what had made at least him think he could leave. I couldn't help but laugh.

The path Mark had chosen was clearly one of needles.

A Not So Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and hello. 

This post is just meant to serve as a short update from your friendly neighborhood Rabbit, and I really must put an emphasis on the short bit as I was barely able to convince Rat to let me type this out, and even now she's standing over my shoulder watching the screen as I do.

This holiday season brings with it good news and not so good news.

Good news: We finished our job successfully, as is to be expected from a duo with such a high completion rate, found some interesting info, neither of us died, and we got a new laptop out of it.

Not so good news: My hands got fucked. Majorly. I probably created a new revenge plot. Maybe. Jury is still out on that one.

The Boss (really more Rat (who acts like she's The Boss more often than not if I'm being honest), and I don't care that she can see me typing this) has had me on unwilling "rest period" until my hands get better. The vacation (or sick leave, I guess?) would be nice if it was an actual vacation, with real rest, but all it's really meant is that my role in our assignments has been far less direct, which in turns means that it's far more boring.

Scouting, research, and stalking. These aren't things I'm inexperienced with, but it blows that I have to do all the work with none of the pay off. I don't even get to confront people.

Then when we're not working she doesn't let me do anything. Not that there's been much I could do.

Rat and I have swapped roles, basically.

She would never tell The Boss but she hates it as much as I do. Not really the type that likes getting her hands dirty if she can avoid it but because mine have been fucked she can't.

Either way, the fact that I can even type this probably means I'm almost fully recovered, or at least enough so that I can go back to doing my actual job. 

Once I've got a clear bill of health from Rat I'll be sure to update again and explain exactly what got me hurt in the first place.

Until then, watch your hands. 

~Rabbit

Cold Trail Leads to Hotspot

When my feet first touched the pavement, I felt all the warmth return to my body. I stumbled forward and my hand found a dumpster as I steadied myself. A wet dumpster. 

Ew.

Just as I began to wipe the soiled appendage on my pants I heard two more footsteps behind me.

"You dropped this." 

I lifted my clean hand and caught the object thrown at me. The feeling of porcelain comforted me. Far more than it used to.

"Remind me again." I couldn't quite keep the bite out of my tone as I lifted to fit the mask snugly to my face. "Why didn't we just take a bus?" 

"They don't exactly run all the way out here." I turned back to look at Rat with a scowl, who had little pity for my plight. "I suppose I could have let you walk all the way out here."

I wasn't sure where 'here' was but I was almost sure the trek on foot would have been worth it if it meant getting to avoid one of Rat's shortcuts. She knew that I couldn't stand them. 

I frowned at her for a moment more before sighing and looking away.

"Where are we?" 

Rat didn't answer, too busy ignoring me and looking down at her phone. Deciding I didn't feel like waiting for her to finish whatever it was she was doing, I made my way out of the alleyway to find out for myself.

What awaited me was not the city that we had spent the last week exploring, at least not any part of it that I had seen. Tall industrial buildings surrounded me on all sides, metal behemoths spotted with rust, vines, and graffiti. I could just make out towering pipes in the distance pointing towards the sky, likewise covered in overgrowth of some sort.

"It used to be a steel mill." Rat stepped out of the alley to stand beside me. "Every time I lose track of the target he's in this area."

I had been surprised multiple times times that week to see Rat return to the hotel room frustrated. Not just annoyed like she got when I said something she found stupid, but actually frustrated. She didn't often express much traditionally. If you wanted to really understand how she felt you had to be able to pick out her subtle queues. Those were nowhere to be found this week.

Instead I would watch as she stomped into our room, all but slamming the door, the force at which she did so increasing as the week went on. I took this as evidence that she hadn't managed to track our target completely. I didn't ask for details, as I knew it would only make her angrier and that she would tell me once I needed to know. 

Still, it boggled my mind to consider that a run of the mill proxy was throwing Rat off their trail. Looking around now, however, the idea wasn't as surprising. Winding paths and spiraling stairs would cause anyone to get lost in a place like this. You would have to know exactly where you were trying to go, like our target likely did, even then I found it hard to believe that anyone could find their way around easily.

"You're sure he's here?" I usually knew better than to question Rat and it wasn't even my job to do so. Tracking was her job and confrontation was mine. But the thought of wandering the desolate streets in front of me... "Like one hundred percent?" 

"I watched him enter on ten separate occasions." Her tone told me she wasn't exactly happy with being questioned after the week she had. "And that aside, how else would you explain this?"

She lifted her phone to show me what it was she had been staring at. From the bright screen saw that she was in her settings on the wifi page and on it was a single source. It looked like a hotspot. The source flickered on her screen, indicating that we were likely on the edge of its range. It was 5G too. Guy was really riding the highlife. 

"So someone is here." I took another look at the sprawling landscape of degradation before me and let out a long sigh. "And now..."

I let out a deep sigh instead of what I knew to be true. The sooner I said it, the sooner I would be forced to acknowledge it and so I didn't. Rat had no such reservations. 

"You're going to find him." Rat leaned against the alley wall, mask facing my direction. "I did my part, now it's time for you to do yours."

I spent the next few hours trying to get the lay of the land while establishing a general idea of where the hotspot radius was. It was a meticulous process. I kept glancing down at my phone the entire time, checking the signal and watching as it would disappear when I went too far in a specific direction. I mentally noted landmarks, something that was difficult with everything looking the same in a state of disrepair, as I etched a rough map in my mind, one that I would do my best to recreate in our hotel room that night when we finally returned.

I finally gave up for the night when the hotspot disappeared altogether. Either the target knew we were there, something I knew was probable after what Rat had told me earlier that week, he had left, or he had decided to go to sleep for the night. 

Rat was still waiting for me back at the alley, standing in approximately the same spot she had been when I left. I wondered if she had stayed there the entire time. Knowing her, she had. She was silent, wordlessly offering me her hand to which I reluctantly took it. 

We've been back the last couple nights in a row and I've had about the same luck as I did the first. The hotspot itself hasn't moved and the area isn't that large, so it's only a matter of time before I find the guy.

I'll post again if anything happens or just when I can.

~Rabbit

Bored Single Rabbits In Your Area

We've spent the last couple days scoping out our target. Tracking his paths throughout the day, marking his haunts, etc. I told Rat that we should just move in on the guy but she keeps telling me that there's no hurry. 

"Something's got him stuck here."

I asked her how she knew this.

"He knows he's being followed."

I took off my mask just so she could see the deadpan expression on my face and while her face was still covered with a mask, I'm pretty sure she rolled her eyes.

"By more than our mutual friend." 

That actually gave me some pause. 

"He saw us?"

Then to my confusion, she shook her head. 

"He hasn't seen us."

I told Rat that she wasn't making any sense. She rarely ever did, she loves speaking in vaguities (I know it isn't a word, get over it), and man is it annoying, but she was making even less sense in that moment.

"I don't know how, but he knows when we get close." I watched as she lifted one of her hands to where her mask cut off to reveal her mouth, chewing on her fingernails in what I knew to be either a sign of nervousness or irritation, maybe both. "He gets twitchy whenever were closer than a couple blocks."

"So he knows that someone-" Aside from the obvious something, "-is following him. Isn't that all the more reason to jump him now before he skips town?"

"Think about it. We've been following him for a week. He's known and hasn't once tried to run."

"Which means...?" 

I'm admittedly a little slow on the draw sometime. 

"Which means that something has him stuck here. We just have to find out what."

Basically, if our target is in no hurry, then why should we be? That's Rat's mindset, anyways.

It sucks, but I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. She's always cautious like this.

So since we're apparently taking our time with this one, I've had an excess of free time while Rat does her "research", which usually just consists of her disappearing for most of the day and then reappearing at the end of the night with no indication of whether it went well or not. She's never invited me to come along and I've never asked to.

So while she's been off doing whatever, I've been stuck in the hotel room with nothing but a tv and my phone. Nothing is ever on the tv, so I've just spent more time reading through more blogs. It's been entertaining enough but I still can't help but get antsy. I thought that taking a walk to the library to type this out might help, which spoiler, it hasn't. 

Hopefully Rat comes back tonight with good news. Either way, I'll update in a few days if anything interesting happens... or probably even if not. 

~Rabbit

New Blog, Who Dis?

You’re probably wondering why you’re surrounded by books that you don’t recognize. You’re wondering how you ended up there at 9 in the morning or why you’re even awake 9 in the morning when you didn’t go to bed until nearly 4. Why are you getting the stink eye from the librarian just because you had to explain that you just bought that coffee and there are no signs stating that you can’t have drinks by the computers. Why do you feel naked without a mask on? Why are you making a blog? What life decisions lead you up to this point?

If you are wondering about all these things, then chances are that you aren’t you. You’re me. 

Which honestly isn’t something that you want. At least not right now.

My roommate kicked me out of our hotel room this morning. The hotel room that I’m paying for.

She said that she was sick of dealing with me and needed a break.

Give me at least a few hours. 

When I asked her what I was supposed to do for hours in an area that neither of us was familiar with, she said that it was my problem and that I needed to find a hobby. Something to get me out of her hair every so often. I told her I had a hobby.

She said that sharpening knives is not a hobby. 

I wandered for a while and eventually my feet carried me to the library I find myself in now. Sitting at one of the public computers when none of the books captured my interest. 

Old habits came back with a vengeance and I ended up here. Browsing blogs, both old and new, as I tried to fight my oldest enemy.

Boredom.

Reading soon turned out to not be enough and so now I find myself here, typing. 

I used to write a lot. I was one of those self isolating people who always carried a journal around with them. Writing anything and everything that came to mind. Back then it felt as natural as breathing. It’s been so long since then that I thought it would be difficult. 

But sitting here now, it’s as if I never stopped in the first place.

I never stopped breathing.

But that’s enough about the past. Instead, let’s talk about the past. Just maybe something from the more recent past. Like this week recent. 

The boss gave me a new job, which is what led me and my partner to this town (and eventually to me getting kicked out of my hotel room) in the first place. Last night was our first official night on this assignment and let me tell you it was an absolute bore. 

Here’s a short excerpt from that night to give you an idea of how it went.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

“Is he still in there?” 

I followed the question with a yawn which my partner reciprocated before answering my question.

“I haven’t seen him leave.”

I groaned and sat down beside her. I let my legs dangle off the edge of the apartment building we found ourselves on top of just as hers already did, swinging in a slow rhythm. 

The neon lights of the 7/11 across the street shined brightly, a beacon to any of those who found themselves wandering the street in the dead night. It attracted both those who were seeking safety and those who sought to bring them harm. 

I glanced down at my watch.

1 am.

24/7 convenience stores are the bane of my existence and are not at all convenient for someone in my position. 

Yes, I work late. So yes, it’s nice to be able to grab a snack or a coffee or whatever at any time. But more often than not they end up posing as an inconvenience when some jackass thinks they’re being followed and ducks into one like it’s some kind of safe haven.

Like in the current situation.

And just because this particular jackass actually happened to be right, didn’t make it any less annoying.

“Should call them inconvenience stores.”

I muttered to myself quietly. 

“What?”

Apparently not quietly enough.

“Nothing, ignore me.”  

She followed the suggestion easily enough, needing no convincing to do what she typically did anyways, before turning her attention back to the 7/11.

A few minutes passed in silence before my inevitable need to speak made itself known. 

“He’s been in there for hours.”

I rubbed my hands together and breathed into them, hoping to generate some level of warmth. I would have brought my gloves had I known we would be waiting outside for so long. 

“And complaining about it isn’t going to make him come out any faster.” 

The mask that covered the girl’s face may have hid her expression, but the sharp tone in which she delivered her words made her irritation with my grumbling clear. 

I brought my hands to my face, fidgeting with my own mask.

“What do you think he’s doing in there?”

“...” 

“Rat?” 

“...” 

She had apparently reached her limit with me and was done talking. 

I looked back down at my watch. 

“Huh.”

We had only been on the job for around two hours.

“Earlier than usual.” 

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

We ended up calling it for the night about an hour later when it became clear that the dude didn’t plan on leaving 7/11 for the rest of the night. 

I don’t know who he bribed to let him camp out there for the night, but if that person is somehow reading this? 

You probably make minimum wage and I forgive you. This time.

Either way, Rat figures that keeping our distance and leaving our guy be for a day or two won’t do much harm and I’m inclined to agree. He doesn’t have a car, so he can’t make it too far without us noticing, plus the boss didn’t really give us a time limit on this one.

We’re planning to make another attempt on him this weekend.

And if he, and you know who you are, is somehow reading this? Stay on your toes.

While you still have them anyways.

~Rabbit