The Worst In Me (Ending to the Fault Line Trilogy)

Chapter Twelve

I type in the code one more time. The same message comes up again. Frustrated, I throw yet another ball of paper at the trash can. But, like all of the times before, my aim goes towards Agent Smith again. He absentmindedly catches it, still doing his paperwork. I mentally roll my eyes at his calmness.

"Grr! Why won't this work? I'll tell ya why! Because it's a piece of crap! That's why! Gah! What I wouldn't kill for some real technology." I lean back in my chair, letting the exhaustion and frustration run all around my body. Already I feel tired and in need of some sleep. But Richie can't be running around loose out there, he needs to be taken care of.

"This is real technology." Agent Smith argues.

Getting even more frustrated, I pace around the table in the conference room where I had pleaded to call Base Uno. "No, I need my stuff! My house! It would be so much easier if I could be there with my technology!"

Agent Smith rolls his eyes at me. "You know that we can't let that happen."

"I know!" I exaggerate. "But I want it to be allowed so badly!" I collapse into the comfy chair. "God, I'm so tired." Agent Smith's unspoken retort hangs around the room. "But this son of a gun Richie needs to be taken care of as soon as possible." I sigh, the exhaustion and adrenaline finally leaving my body. "I'm going to sleep. Don't wake me up unless by some miracle you found him." I drag my feet on the floor as I exit the conference room. I stumble, making my way slowly to my cell. They leave it unlocked now, I guess they trust me enough to let that go. But if I wake up one day and it's locked, I'll never sleep again. I could probably go a week without it if I really tried. Maybe a little longer under the right circumstances.

I pass the open cell door, the atmosphere changes just a little but enough for someone with sharp senses like me to notice. All because of a little less oxygen in the brain during my birth. My gosh, I've got problems. I collapse on the worn-down bed, letting the power of sleep take me. Thankfully, it doesn't take too long before everything slips away to darkness.

I wake up a mess. My hair is everywhere around me, drool covers my pillow and chin, my clothes are all wrinkled, and my face probably looks like Godzilla. Mornings—or whenever it is—are not my most excellent times of the day. I drag myself out of the horrible piece of a bed. I fumble with the bathroom light switch, hitting it a few times before actually flipping it on. I groan, this just isn't my day. I brush my teeth, my hair, and fix my beautiful face. I swear I started over a billion times before it actually went my way. Finally pleased with how I look, I exit the bathroom. I make my way down to the conference room, somehow knowing that my area will still be set up. And seeing as how Agent Smith—or anybody for that matter—hasn't woken me, proves that they have, indeed, not found anything concerning the whereabouts of Richie H. Williams. Surprise, surprise.

"What's up, Smithy?" I pause mid step. "Ew, I'm never calling you that again. What's up, Jethro?" I resume my strides to the laptop. Agent Smith wears his usual suit, looking down at yet another folder full of paperwork. Has he moved at all during my slumber?

"Same old, same old. More accounts of UFO sightings, two brothers running from the cops after a killing in St. Louis, one lady says that she was kidnapped by, get this, an angel of the lord."

I glare at Agent Smith. "Is this supposed to be payback from back in 2015?"

"Possibly, yes." Agent Smith doesn't look up from his paper. I roll my eyes. He probably was waiting to get one over me. Too late, sir, I'm already three steps ahead of you. Ha! He never knew what hit him. That poor sucker.

I continue my tracking, nothing since when I slept and still nothing now. Just great. I play with the security cameras in Japan, watching the Japanese suffer under my control is amusing. Revenge for Pearl Harbor, jerks! I silently laugh to myself as I continue to drive the citizens to insanity. Though they're extremely intelligent, they could never hack into my stuff, I'm in control of their cameras for as long as I say so. I let one of my viruses hack into a local database to find out anything sent over from the Black Market to Richie or just anything concerning him. Nothing. Great.