Authors Note: An original piece by… me. I’ve posted Guardian stuff here before this one is a standalone. So there isn't really anything to follow, But if you'd like to know more ask and I'll tell what I can.
The Puppet Masters Lament
I'm not a big club goer. I can't stand the loud music you can't listen to or the people you just as soon forget. This one seems to be different. Dim lights, people having conversation and for the most part secluded. That and it's the only bar in the state that doesn't care if you smoke.
“Hey there.” A voice caught me by surprise. I was sitting alone at this table, enjoying a smoke and the music of the jazz band on stage.
I looked over to my side; a woman was right next to me. I didn't see her before now. She had dark shoulder length hair with streaks of silver, her skin was white as snow, and she wore a red dress that hugged her body, showing off every curve. She had a light scar that traversed the bridge of her nose. Not that it took away from how stunning she was.
She laughed, taking my hand. “I'm trouble?”
“More of a disturbance.” I answered back.
She laughed again. “The good kind I hope.”
“The worst kind.” There was a tingle in the back of my skull; the band started to play a slower song. I'm drawn in by her eyes, the color of jade. They're mesmerizing,
She gave me a wink. “Dance with me soldier.”
I got up and did just that. My hands were on her waist; she wrapped her arms around me and held me tight. Everyone in the room seemed to fade. “I thought you had business elsewhere.”
“Let’s forget about work right now.” I heard her say without talking. We dance like that nonstop for a couple of songs
We shared some drinks at the bar and just like that I forgot about work. Even though that's all there is. If I knew what normal was this is what it would be it
“See, Griffan? This is what it should be like.”
“For people like us?” She laughed and then rolled her eyes.
“Yes, for people like us.”
“I don't think so. “ I said. I look down, her face is buried in my chest and she starts to tremble. She's crying. I didn't know what to say.
“Then don't say anything.”
“You can talk.” I hated it when she did this.
“I could. Simpler my way though.”
“Not that you could ever be called simple.”
She picked her head up and smiled at me, everything just faded into back ground noise. “Stop it!” She ignored me and soon after the room went black.
She grabbed the back of my head and pulls me in for a kiss. Her lips were soft; I can't help but kiss her back. I really hated it when she did this. No matter how I protest I couldn’t stop it. I succumb to the inevitable.
So it's March and I'm in the desert. In a few hours this country is going to get its entire world rocked. That is just what happens. It'll be on the news everywhere soon enough. This part, if done right won’t be seen at all. The ramifications of which will create a bit of contradiction, but the whole story never really is that simple.
"Convoy is on approach sir."
I stood in an air craft the size of a football field. Dim lighting and walls arching outward define the interior. The two pilots up front operate the craft through a holographic interface. "Intercept, give us room to open the hatch."
The pilots up front had a laugh and one looks back at me. "Sure."
With the wave of a hand a holo-screen fades into view. The convoy consists of a few dozen trucks, speeding down a dirt road. It left a cloud of sand in its wake. The border is a few miles away, and with it the "actual" purpose for the event to transpire in the next few hours.
We pick up speed and settle just in front of the convoy. The ship flew so smooth I don't feel a thing. I wave the screen off and walk to a wall. A weapon rack stood undisturbed, a selection of rifles at my disposal. I picked one up a chill shoots through my body and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "The hatch is opening, sir." One of the pilots said in a gruff voice.
The back of the carrier opens horizontally. The convoy is in front of me. They didn't see us, and they won’t unless we want them to. I raise the rifle and get ready. The truck was speeding toward us. The driver has no idea what’s going to happen next. What had to happen next. I take aim, he won’t feel a thing. I can hear the pilot in the back ground, "Approaching Iranian border now sir. Sir?"
Just noise, my hands are steady, my breathing still. None of them know what’s going on; none of them know why this happens how it does. Like puppets, they don't realize the strings around them; all the while the puppet master continues the motions.
The first shot explodes out the barrel, the kick from the rifle slammed into my shoulder. The driver slumped over the wheel and the truck careens and flipped on its side. I can hear the sounds of metal twisting and crashing, screams become lost in the chaos as the rest of the convoy came to an abrupt stop and slammed into each other. "Target is in the center of the wreck, sir. We'll bring you around."
Outside the carrier I walked toward the wreck. The trucks smashed into each other, some flipped and others stopped on place. Mixed with the smoke was the poignant smell of gasoline. The sand shifted underneath my feet as I walked over to the truck the pilot had singled out. Flame spit up from the bottom of the truck and would soon engulf the vehicle.
I could hear a stiff cough from inside the vehicle. A small man crawled his way out of the truck, pushing a lifeless body out of the truck with him. He was Middle Eastern, wearing a military uniform; his face was covered in blood and dirt. He swore in Arabic as he picked himself up from the ground. He gripped his left shoulder tight and hobbled as he walked.
"Have I ever mentioned I hate the desert, Doctor?" I said walking toward him.
He stopped cold in his tracks. His eyes widened at the sight of me and his breathing quickens. "I mean all this sand and the heat? How do you put up with it?"
He snapped his head to the right and to the left, and takes a quick look back at the trucks. "You?" He said in a dry voice.
“Me," In answered as I walked closer to him, "We asked you to stop what you were doing. We gave you an offer time after time and all you did was piss everything away. For what? Money? Infamy? I'll just never understand your type."
The closer I got, he would take a step back. With one step he winced in pain and fell on his back in a heap. I got closer, and stood over him. "Because when all is said and done, no one will even know who you are or what you've done. Like you never existed and the world will just keep on spinning."
He went along quietly, thankfully. Not that it would have mattered if he did or not. The next few hours went as manipulated. When we do our job right it will look like we did nothing at all. Pulling on the strings of this world, the puppets are unaware. "Sir, we're coming out of cloak and landing on the Installations hull."
I stood in the cockpit, we flew through the clouds for a moment, until a bright shimmer of light cascaded around us. A city revealed itself. Buildings touched the clouds, air ships docked and departed in every direction. The city was massive in scale, larger than a small country it remained hidden in the sky.
I could feel a tingle in the back of my skull. I was expected, and she knew I'd bring back news she already knew. Much more so than the sheep would get in the end. The justifications of which are mere suggestions put there for their protection. We have created an invisible order to this chaos, and doing the necessary things that the sheep never have to imagine.
The carrier landed on and elevated platform. The hatch opened up and I walked outside. The air was cold and had a sweet taste to it. A woman waited next to the craft. She had dark hair, with streaks of silver. Her skin was white as snow. A scar traversed the bridge of her nose. "Simple operation wasn't it?" She said without moving her lips.
"Never simple, Sue. Nothing ever is."
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