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[File 33875b]
[Mission Objectives: Completed]
[Squad Leader: J. Fowler]
[Status: Deceased]
[Infiltration Operative: S. Valedin]
[Status: Deceased]
[Medical Operative: M. Dowling]
[Status: Deceased]
[Technical Operative: D. Butterstone]
[Status: Active]
[File Ends]
Dietrich frowned at this file. Although the mission's objectives were completed, his own were not. Only three taken out. Taking out the fourth would be a difficult task; Butterstone had most definitely gone underground by now. The operatives that he had hired were excellent, even for metamorphs. This came at a price, however. Dietrich could not afford to have any loose cannons, not if he wanted his promotion to Senior External Operations Executive, and the 7000 dollar rise that would entail.
[File 33875c]
[Mission Objectives: *Classified*]
[Operative: *Classified* *Level VII Access Required*]
[Status: In holding, floor 104, room 2060]
[File Ends]
Now this was a mystery, and Dietrich did not like mysteries. They tended to clutter things and lower productivity. His predecessor had kept many secrets, probably even more than he had. This one was secure enough to warrant a level 7 block, while Dietrich only had level 6. Hacking Dalyn-Steward files was not a task Dietrich wanted to attempt. Fortunately he was able to locate and capture the girl yesterday. But boy, was that bitch fast. She took out two of his men before the tranq took affect. There was no need to stress. The girl was going nowhere now, and he had all the time in the world to extract the information out of her. Hell, he might even enjoy it.
[File 33875d]Dietrich smiled at the euphemism. Even though he was well-versed in the requirements for corporate doublespeak he still found the title 'Elimination Operative' amusing. He had a few contacts on the lookout for an assassin. It was difficult to find one that met his requirements. So few nowadays were professional, with the total emotional detachment that was so useful. Anyway, time for a little R&R.
Dietrich activated the music console across the room with a reflex from his modified CICI. Top of the range, of course. His favorite band, Titanex, blared through the speakers. This was real music, classic '30s stuff. The noise that was played by today's bands hardly qualified as music. He let himself relax, lighting a cigar. Totally illegal, but that didn't matter for him.
He checked his Chronoex. Ten minutes to go. He finished the cigar and got up, poured himself a generous measure of brandy from the large decanter on his desk and opened the door to the balcony. The semi-circular balcony on the three-hundredth floor was one of the benefits of his new post. Although it was not quite as magnificent a view as the one the Board of Directors enjoyed, it was still breathtaking. It was the view that inspired him to proceed with his actions, the actions that had left his predecessor screaming and falling. Leaving the clean-up crews to deal with the mess left by a body plunging three hundred floors to its death.
Dietrich savoured the brandy, allowing the amber liquid to slide slowly down his throat. He lit another cigar just as there was an explosion in the distance, the blossoming cloud of fire lighting up the dark skyline. The smoke ring he blew out framed the burning warehouse as secondary explosions resulted in more buildings being caught in the blast.
Yes, life was good.
Andrew Jones, 13/10/00
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