Big Johnson's Journal

Mm. The first day of Spring is this weekend. Which means that it is expected that snow will melt, trees and plants will bloom, and...animal mating rituals will be in progress.

....

Hm.

::sits at his desk quietly::

::scratches the side of his face::

....

::scratches it again, becoming irate::

::feels a small lump::

...?

::gets up, traverses the hallway to the bathroom, enters, and peers in the mirror::

...!

::prods the small red bump on his cheek with his forefinger::

::winces and narrows his eyes::

How is this possible? I seem to have developed a...a...pimple.

::fumes::

These cat and mouse games are becoming increasingly...

::fakes yawning::

...boring.

::finds himself under his desk scrubbing at remnant flightless-bird droppings::

::curls his upper lip in disgust and begins to mutter to himself::

My on-going experimental emotional suppression faired well, initially...

::narrows his eyes::

...At one time I was an unreasonable man that allowed unreasonable actions and decisions to render me unreasonable.

::sits back in his chair::

No longer will that be an issue. Despite the fact that I chose to function with these subroutines, I refuse to let them govern me. I decided months ago that they will no longer play a part in my actions or dealing with other individuals. They will play no part in influencing me.

::pauses and runs his fingertips along the edge of his desk, then pulls out the top drawer and peers inside at the small golden locket resting within::

Emotion is, simply, not conducive to the mission.

For amusement's sake. Not that I would expect anything less from Agent Jackson.

::curls his upper lip in disgust::

Agent Centinela, I can see that you've become somewhat arrogant; these hubristic ways of yours have apparently gone to your head.



It seems you now think yourself exemplary enough to have a long slab of concrete dedicated to yourself. I found this particular little "gem" while pursuing a retaliant through Santa Monica.

I demand an explanation. Now. I expect to see you in my office immediately.

::finds himself in front of Maritas' home::

::turns and looks up and down the street, then sighs heavily knowing that she is not there::

::with a solemn countenance, carefully lays one of the agency's new 40mm GP-30 grenade launchers on her doorstep, with a big red bow on top::

::promptly leaves::

In the words of the vernacular...

...HOLY SHIT

My apologies for my...needless to say, lack of updates as of late. I was tasked with something of a classified mission involving...

::grins darkly::

...explosives, and a middle eastern shoe factory.

::discreetly buffs some microscopic bits of sand from his glossy shoe on the back of his pant leg::

::clears his throat::

I expect full detailed reports from everyone regarding the events that I have not been present for.

::roars::

Agent Moore, I demand an explanation. Now.