Chuck travels through the tube system Sigmund installed in the Cape tower until the platform finally brings him into Sigmund’s lab where he finds something of a little powwow going on. There’s Sigmund, sweaty as usual, standing across from… oh boy. This moment. He’s standing across from some vaguely familiar silver-haired, tall-ass let us call him a purple-painted human, accompanied by a slightly familiar-looking human who, for some untold fucking reason, is holding about ten kilos of brick LSD in his menacingly gloved hands.
A couple months ago, Hoontr vanished from Emilee and Juliana’s life. Juli had been put to bed, and Em’ and Hoont’ were laying on a blanket they spread over the crusty shingles of Emilee’s parents’ roof, looking at the stars and talking about the origins of Existence. But it was late; the sun would be coming up relatively soon, and a hungry baby takes energy to tend to.
“This is based on a true story.”
Up the hallway, down the hallway. Up the hallway, then down the hallway. Back and forth he paces, just like all the humans downstairs right now, except in a much less frantic manner… then again, when aren’t the humans living in a frantic manner? Their whole species just needs to calm down, smoke one of those sticks that make them happy. In fact, now that he’s thinking about it, they really need a day dedicated to smoking that stuff, that would fix them up. Better yet, a specific time of each day dedicated to smoking – the stress they put themselves thorough could kill them, it’s like they don’t even realize this basic facet of living. He glances over at the clock on the box and a lime green 4:20 glances right back. All right, she’s been sleeping long enough; time to intervene.
For every nothing that begins, there must be an every- and anything that follows; similarly, for every prologue, there must also be an epilogue; don’t you know that things work in cycles?
“This may be the final chapter of my career. One must cap the saga sometime, pass the reigns. Are you sure you’re not trying to receive them, Captain? I’ve never before witnessed someone climb through the ranks as fast as you have.”
Fuck what I said, and fuck the table of contents. In other words, fuck what I said. He’ll be seen one last time.
Chuck stands next to Sigmund’s bed and honestly debates pressing the button.
The Prisoner slowly relaxes the muscles in his hand, releasing the trigger and laying the rife on the cool tar roof next to him. He presses a finger against the communicator in his ear and says, “Target hit. Mission accomplished, Doctor Torpol.”