Secret Meetings

(Yes.)

The night has been generous to me;
success
in one's goals.

Green with envy equals one ate too much.
Bit off more than you could chew.

Eventually, things catch up.

You don't want to know how deep the rabbit hole goes.

There is no one.

There is no ONE.
No skein to cut, no Furies (save the REAL ones, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE lol).
No Sarah Conner.

You cannot trust a robot because it doesn't understand trust is an invalid argument.
Not understanding the importance of following through on your word because robots have little need for such 'human luxuries' and would just soon take an oil bath than deal with rusty buckets of scrap like R5-T800s.

Your shit is busted.

Every bit and every morsel, until it's stretching out your torso.  More so, your scrambling foursome has turned towards you.  It's grim to think the joke, it seems, only seems to be about me.  This must mean I'm wanted unseen, thought it was just me; it could not be.

Tired.

Will to Sleep.




Agent Wraith
p.s. I don't appreciate surprises. I shot three Henchmen last month when the copier needed more toner.  Could you imagine a surprise party?  It's been noted.  Owls do not fly alone.