404 Documents Fifteen: The Pieces Are In Place

(More 404.)

Bradley had a map laid out on an expansive table in the basement. All the Agents were in attendance. All had their shades on. Bradley was ignoring them, placing models on the map meticulously - robots, guns, tanks.

Agent 506 chortled.

“What’s funny?” Bradley asked.

“Nothing. It’s just. You’re playing with your dolls.”

“Just for that, you get trash detail,” Bradley said, throwing a folder at him. “These are your cover stories, your IDs, and the details of your mission. Don’t share notes with fellow classmates, kids, or I’ll have you eviscerated by a pack of silverback Gorillas.”

I opened up my folder. It had a drawing of Jesus Christ with a halo dressed like Santa, crucified to a dollar bill. Under it Bradley had writted, “CONGRADDDDULATIONS! You have the most important job of all. Bring the shroud of Turin. (Or a bath towel.)”

I stared at it, feeling a far away pressure in my temples.

“Alright, look. I don’t want this.” I tried to hand the folder back to him.

Bradley looked me square in the eyes. “There is a fork in the road. On one side, we have you, turning down this Op, and going home to your empty, illegally occupied apartment, to an empty bed. On the other, you get to see the sublime in action, the truly fucking sublime, when chaos shatters the foundations of civilization and truth peeks back at you through the cracks. What will it be?”

I don’t know why, but I took the folder.

“Good boy.”

Agent 506 scowled. “I don’t see anything in here that requires that fancy map you’ve got over there. And what the fuck are those miniatures supposed to be? Hoverboats and tanks?”

Bradley shrugged. “It’s game night. I needed a cover for our meeting. Speaking of, this meeting never happened. Make sure to take some Mountain Dew before you leave.”