Dream Journal 30-01-16
I stared at my computer screen, having landed at the docks the Assassination squad 32B left for their new hideout. Far out in the hills, using cavern nearby an old fort to deceive anyone who was coming for them. All was well for this group. They may be new to the trade but they had immense amounts of skill. Benjamin Abrahams was the commander of this squad’s field missions. He was a stoutly built man in his late 50s. Cathelijn, a dutch woman who grew up in Tokyo, dealt with HQ and planned their missions with Nishimoto and Kitara Mutsumi. Twins with a passion for eliminating the corporate executives who abused their power. The last member of the team was a young black haired male of foreign ancestry, his name I never found out. From what I heard the other teammates talking about, I managed to piece together the following. That he was sent here under special circumstances. That he is a native of a hyper advanced civilisation on the west coast of Africa.
This was merely one small group of about 70 others that my organisation had under our thumb. We were not good people. We were not bad people. We had no knowledge of what it meant to be one over the other. So long as we remained within those cream walls we had no emotion, no sense of rational thought. We were just eyes designated to push a red button when one of the enemies died, and a blue button when one of our own died.
This group had been ordered to eliminate the rival gang of assassins that were giving us trouble. I gazed at the data on the other squad, checked my surroundings and forwarded them the data through the good old fashioned dial-up connection that the company hadn’t gotten rid of yet. Kitara transcribed my info into latin written in the fantasy script of Eladrin. The elves of Grandmaster Tolkein. As she handed the sheets out to the other members I noticed an abnormality on the screens. Or rather, a lack of abnormalities. Having done this same job since I was 11 I knew exactly what was meant to be there and what was not. Here there should have been an abundance of postboxes, yet they had all vanished. This could only mean that the enemy knew about our mission and was trying to stop us before we could stop them. (Yes, you read it right. My sleeping mind reasoned that postboxes were always meant to be present when all was calm.)
Using their comrades as a battering ram, they burst through the door blasting it into oblivion. But the real-life avatars of the pixels that I was watching were always ready for such a fight and combat begun. Swords flew around everywhere and killer-frenzy goldfish were shot out of short-range bazookas. As the enemy team’s leader broke through Abrahams’ defense my screen powered down. The fight had ended for me. I could not aid them in any way now that my vision had gone. I felt a hand on my shoulder and saw my superiors standing over me.
Genuinely scared I shot up out of my bed only to discover that it was a pillow that had fallen on me. Disappointed that I missed the end of my dream but kinda glad that I did cause it didn’t involve me having to die again.
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. 😉