Tales of the Ela-pocalypse – The Clone Saga : 8861

I hate these Housing visits.  I never know why the hell I’m here.  This Dennis guy or Stan or whatever his stupid name is qualifies as an ultraviolet level twitchy freak but he doesn’t seem dangerous.  Not at all dangerous.  I don’t think he could hurt a drain fly.  Not because he’s nice but because he’s so weak that he literally couldn’t hurt a drain fly if he hit it.  So why am I here?  If they wanted us to funge him why would they send this smiling HR bitch along?  Nothing about these drop-ins ever makes any damn sense.  

That’s right, I thought it, bitch.  They tell the rookies that the MMI can sense if you think negative thoughts about anyone from HR or Management or your Officers but it’s not true.  The MMI will report that I have elevated levels of anger and aggression but that’s what I’m supposed to be feeling right now, I’m on duty, in the fielf.  There’s no way to tell the difference between combat readiness and my hatred for her.  Right now I can think whatever I want about this runty HR slut.  I can think to myself that she’s a tight piece of ass and a wild lay and nobody will know.  

On the other side, if I was thinking those thoughts when we first met on the briefing room, when we were depoted on this mission, before we left HQ, the MMI report on that would be a big problem.  Right now though, I can think anything I want.  I’ve got fourteen years in the can, I know these things.  I know how the system works.  I know all the angles.  I guess that’s one good thing about these milk runs, it gives me an excuse to think about whatever I want.  

I wonder if 2247 is doing the same thing.  Probably not.  Killcrazy mother fucker probably doesn’t think about anything but turning people into puddles of grey goo I bet.  I bet he’s probably even more agitated than I am that we’re stuck babysitting this HR twat and a sniveling puke that’s wetting himself to lick her asshole.  

2247, I think his off duty name is Carl, was just rotated off Acquisitions six weeks ago.  Dude is intense.  He’d have to be, six weeks ago he was in the field cracking Vadtaraosoft Fitness-Python Renewables cans.  I hope I can muster out before they send me to the combat zone again but I’m scheduled for First Team duty next year.  As much as I hate bodyguarding these neutered HR sex toys at least no one is going to shoot me so full of holes they can’t even use my armor for the next guy.  

There’s a sign in the First Team locker that says “You’re never more than five minutes away from a Company infirmary” doesn’t do you much good when all that’s left of you is a pair of feet.  

One second I’m thinking about smoking feet in boots with no body and the next thing I know I hear something pattering on my helmet.  I thought that they had turned on the rain in the park but it wasn’t water, it was blood.  I did a quick rewind and playback and saw the Human Resources woman’s head explode.  Just explode.  Her blonde hair went up like a clown wig and then a split second later her head was like a splitting open like a soy packet.  

I was still analyzing the data before the knees on her now dead body could buckle.  How the hell did that happen? I didn’t detect any incoming projectiles!  Was she stuck with one of those bomb bolts they put on Blue Collars sometimes?  No way would they ever put one of those on someone in HR!  What the hell?!

Why is 2247 just standing there?  For that matter why can’t I move my arm?  And why do I feel like my chest is collapsing?

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