If you’re ever in Redacted and you want a sandwich I can recommend Redacted Redacted Redacted’s Redacted Redacted. Sitting on a park bench with Berner and Waldrum I had their cowboy breakfast sandwich. It was out of this world. It was the spicy mayo that put it over the top. Or maybe the Redacted.
“You guys are still stuck on Buffy duty huh?” I asked while enjoying a Redacted with mesquite-grilled onions, jalapeno relish, and mango lime salsa.
“We’ve been instructed to refrain from fraternizing with you” Waldrum said, still sounding worried that I might try to magic his dick off.
“Good thing we’re just talking then, I’m not much of a fraternizer. What’s the endgame for you guys with this deal? Once you’re in on the freak squad how do you get out?”
“Probably a bullet in the back of the head and our bodies get tossed in the river” Berner said.
“It’s nice to have your retirement planned.”
We were picked up by an Alpine Armored BMW Series 7 that had the windows tinted so that we couldn’t see out as well as not allowing anyone else to see in. I wonder how you explain requesting that kidnap-friendly feature to the manufacturer. Just kidding, I know they don’t care.
I was taken to an underground garage and then hustled into an elevator that opened the wrong way into a big windowless conference room. Maybe conference room is too fancy a word, meeting room would be better.
There were no pitchers of water or bowls of fruit or high-backed chairs. This was a bunch of whiteboards and crummy office chairs around long shaky tables with webs of cords hanging underneath them. Blondie and the Walrus and Fat Jon Hamm and the whole crew Investor were there. Plus a bunch of dudes in black polos with headsets.
Starting in the far left corner and sprawling out on two whiteboard walls in both directions were all kinds of symbols. A few of them I recognized as real magic but most of them looked like bullshit to me. A whiteboard in that corner of the room had a big sigil drawn on it similar the ones I had just used on the beast.
I got a real bad vibe off the place. So bad that I tried to noclip out of there. Nothing happened.
A lanky dude with a shaved head and glasses all but ran over to shake my hand. He was wearing dirty jeans and boots with a blue sports jacket. He had roses tattooed forearms. Not thorns, roses. The way he rushed at me I had a hand back ready to clock him.
He grabbed my left hand and pumped it with both of his in a terrible handshake while declaring how happy he was to finally meet me and how much he admired me.
Rocket Cat 