Mailed

Seiver hit the ground hard. Thankfully it was kneepads first, though it still felt as though his bones were coming apart. He immediately muscles to his feet with a mental note to watch what he was doing.

He wasn’t getting shot.

Amongst the maelstrom of returning fire, Seiver focused on his job. The reason he was paid the big bucks.

He crouched in the center of the room and began assembling the Anum Porta. His hands were steady as he slid the frame parts together. He’d practiced until he could almost match the base record.

Sweat was gathering around his neck. He could feel his bandanna getting soggy.

He willed the sweat not to form on his forehead. But he was only human. Heavy droplets gathered across his forehead and trickled like tears down to his jawline.

In his peripheral he recognized that his protection squad had dwindled from 6 to 4. It was the kind of realization that usually came to him when he was on downtime. The fact that his platoon-mates were dying for him.

He shook off the flicker of shock. He didn’t have time right now.

Part A into Part B, he thought. The portal was nearly complete. Then he could grab up his gun and guard it.

Something slammed into his back and he shouldered it aside without pausing in his work. It was the body of Private Hoskins. Seiver’s brain helpfully identified the nametag as the face was gone. A sound escaped his throat before he swallowed it back.

Not now.

Now as for bolting the last pieces in place and snapping the ring into the stand.

There was a sound like angel’s singing. A rush of melodic harmony as the circuit was completed and the miniature-Gate connected with the Intergalactic Ansible Network.

The Gate glowed red briefly and Seiver quickly got behind it.

A ringing tone was held a second longer than any other, then there was a loud GONG! Sound. And the Gate snapped open. A flare of blinding light swiftly obscured by Gatepods.

The capsules struck like bullets, smashing through walls and bodies. When they stopped, the lids burst open to release the marines inside.

An Elderly Lady is Up to No Good at Amazon

They know he has the alien living with him. They’ve seen the creature interacting with the Smith family on camera. Disgusting unkillable monster, that’s what it was.

It had Smith and his whole family in thrall. But as long as it was with them, it remained under State surveillance; State control.

And even under the effects of the creature’s pheromones or space pollen or whatever the fuck it was putting out, Smith was still a good agent. He was keeping it controlled.

All his handlers had to do was clean up the occasional body. Easy peasy.

* * *

It was amazing, watching the changes in the once stolid Agent Smith. He was becoming someone else. Someone looser and wilder, the kind of man that had forgotten consequences even existed.

As a result, he’d spent some time in prison. Short terms that reminded him who he belonged to.

He was the property of the State.

As was his family. He had signed them into service with his very presence.
He’d allowed his children to be implanted with sleeper personalities. They were Human Dolls, technology that gave Wiggens the creeps.

A few wrong words spoken in the wrong order could turn them into unstoppable killing machines, each with their own unique programming and targeting.

The boy was a clone. The original was currently laid up in a coma. He’d been caught in an explosion and hadn’t been able to shake it off. The doctors had medically induced him, and he’d never woken up.

In the meanwhile, his clone had taken his place. No one could know the “Steve” unit was damaged. There could be no suspicions focused on the Smith family.

The wife was so mind-fried that she didn’t notice half the stuff going on around her. But when she was focused, she could cut through near any situation with an amoral practicality that was chilling.

She could clean up a scene with terrifying efficiency. When she acts, Wiggens can sit back with the calm certainty that things will get done and he’ll have another op successfully completed.

Whenever the daughter acted as the foil, Smith would react. And he had no qualms about manipulating his “small wonder.”

She’d gone from precious baby to lab rat with startling swiftness. She’d been Smith’s little buddy for years until she realized how horrible he was.

Wiggens had never seen a personality turn around happen so swiftly in his life. From pampered princess to full on social revolutionary.

Her primary personality wasn’t the stablest. Which resulted in situations of brutal violence (a love interest didn’t return her favor? Ultra violence!) or overblown acts of social justice that did more harm than good.

The young woman was a ticking time bomb.

And when she was Activated, she was dangerously hot. She was like Echo from “Dollhouse.” Just ridiculously attractive and competent, willing and able to make anything happen.

She had deeply embedded motivations. A lot of work had gone into her persona.

It was above his pay grade, but Wiggens didn’t doubt that she was a highly skilled asset.

She’d gotten ninja training as a child. She’d been possessed by the Lady Shiva and spent a summer being chased by Interpol. She’d been paralyzed and rebuilt, her body more bionic than living tissue.

So when he looked at someone like her, there was no way he could believe she was fully retired. She was too valuable to completely be shit down.

He knew but didn’t *know* that she was an active agent like her father.

Smith.

The man was a human wrecking ball.

Witch King at Amazon

I caught the end of this on PBS. It’s nice to be able to watch it from the beginning.

DESCRIPTION: “Episode 1: A House Divided
Examines what impact the relationships between cousins Nicholas II of Russia, Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany and George V of the United Kingdom had on the outbreak of the First World War. This episode focuses on the story of the emerging divisions and rivalries between the inter-related royal houses of Europe during the 19th century.”


Royal Cousins At War – Part 1 by limukohou

The Way of the Househusband 01 at Amazon

Georgie is thirteen–nearly fourteen–years old when she looks in the mirror and realizes she’s not going to be pretty when she grows up. It’s not that she’s going to be hideous or anything, just mildly unattractive. It’s a disappointing realization for someone that had been a beautiful child.

Puberty was not being kind to her, and it’s not the spattering of acne across her forehead and chin. No, it’s her nose and the square shape of her face and her stubbly legs. It’s the way the slant of her brows combined with her heavy-lidded eyes to give her a sullen, unfriendly expression when she wasn’t smiling.

It was unfortunate, but the woman she was becoming was far from lovely. Georgie thought she could hear doors of opportunity slamming shut before her and there wasn’t much she could do about it.

She stared at her reflected face and was glad she was discovering this truth early. There was still time for her to turn her grades around and work hard so she could earn a scholarship to college in the future.

Finding out she was ugly was a blessing in disguise. Even if it did make her want to cry.

She’d always dreamed of being pretty when she grew up, like the women on TV.

/EXCERPT

* * *

What is this even? I don’t know.

Sometimes I write scraps of things that I imagine I should throw away.