The Boss is in his room. Not the room of comfort and rest that lies by the poolside where he can hear the joy of his Family, but the room in the cavernous depths of the facility with eerie distinction between office and laboratory like a visible representation of the Jekyll and Hyde story. He is typing.
The Boss types all manner of things. Notes to foreign correspondents and long distant friends. Birthday cards to his family, for his skill with a pen is long gone. Glowing reports to Servals who went elsewhere to continue the search for their answers. Papers for the academic community. He liked to think that every sentence to escape his fingers was carefully articulated, well thought out and given with a calm and passive voice. That was no truth this day. Even with his hands shaking, he types with utter ferocity and speed. The white glare of the computer screen filters onto his face and the objects of the room. The photo album is open. The little boy with the peacock and flamingo is smiling.
The instructions are to all leaders of the Servals in close range to the target. He's already examined the forest from a map. He's read the reports. He's found the camps. He knows how this will go. The instructions dictate the plans clearly - the forest area is too thick and unfamiliar to the Servals to directly attack the camps. Burning down the woods would provide the shifters with too much of a clue as to their presence. Too much time to escape. No, they would have to drive the shifters of both camps to the only clear location that was still hidden away from the nearby town.
It would begin with Servals shooting both of the camps to scare the shifters out simultaneously. Next, Servals would be scattered throughout the forest, subliminally affecting their retreat to head in the direction of the river. The attack was timed so that both camps would which the river together. Running into their enemies whilst escaping gunfire... The result would be catastrophic for any formation either of the groups were keeping. Servals would push in from the sides. Some shifters might fall into the river. The location in mind was of swift current. The weak would drown. The strong would fight back. Some might need to be shot down. Necessary sacrifices. These shifters would be it.
"No more death, mother. No more killing, father. My family will be free. We will be like you." The Boss didn't know if his parents could hear the whispered words. Nor did he really care. Everything was about to be as it should. His future was about to begin.
The Boss types all manner of things. Notes to foreign correspondents and long distant friends. Birthday cards to his family, for his skill with a pen is long gone. Glowing reports to Servals who went elsewhere to continue the search for their answers. Papers for the academic community. He liked to think that every sentence to escape his fingers was carefully articulated, well thought out and given with a calm and passive voice. That was no truth this day. Even with his hands shaking, he types with utter ferocity and speed. The white glare of the computer screen filters onto his face and the objects of the room. The photo album is open. The little boy with the peacock and flamingo is smiling.
The instructions are to all leaders of the Servals in close range to the target. He's already examined the forest from a map. He's read the reports. He's found the camps. He knows how this will go. The instructions dictate the plans clearly - the forest area is too thick and unfamiliar to the Servals to directly attack the camps. Burning down the woods would provide the shifters with too much of a clue as to their presence. Too much time to escape. No, they would have to drive the shifters of both camps to the only clear location that was still hidden away from the nearby town.
It would begin with Servals shooting both of the camps to scare the shifters out simultaneously. Next, Servals would be scattered throughout the forest, subliminally affecting their retreat to head in the direction of the river. The attack was timed so that both camps would which the river together. Running into their enemies whilst escaping gunfire... The result would be catastrophic for any formation either of the groups were keeping. Servals would push in from the sides. Some shifters might fall into the river. The location in mind was of swift current. The weak would drown. The strong would fight back. Some might need to be shot down. Necessary sacrifices. These shifters would be it.
"No more death, mother. No more killing, father. My family will be free. We will be like you." The Boss didn't know if his parents could hear the whispered words. Nor did he really care. Everything was about to be as it should. His future was about to begin.