The Girl Wants Feedback
Jun. 16th, 2006 01:27 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
shelleybear.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
transThe kid is going back to writing and, considering the nature of the piece, wants opinions.
"You fucking assholes! I told you not to let her out of your sight. Watch the monitors I said. Listen to the bugs. I said. Who the fuck did you think I was talking to!
One of the man cowering in the corner looked up at the man who was berating him and summoned up enough courage to speak barely above a whisper "She was just some old hippy bitch. We were told to snatch her out of her flower shop and bring her in. That was a month ago. There was no problem. We brought her meals. She ate. She washed regularly, did isometrics twice a day and read those damned romance novels you told us to keep her supplied with. She didn't say anything. Didn't smile. Just kept looking sadder and sadder. The crying started last week. Didn't make any noise. Just turned on the waterworks and wouldn't stop."
"And you didn't fucking report it?"
"Some crazy old bitch cries and you expect us to log it every time?"
"The 'Crazy old bitch' as you call her was your god damned job, and if you had done it, we wouldn't have an empty detention apartment with five guards dead with their throats slashed open!"
"She didn't have weapons. No knifes, no forks or spoons that could handle anything more then a small piece of steak."
Shimmel through open the door to the apartment where the five pieces of meat lay in various bent and broken shapes.
He just looked around and shook his head.
"Did you check her nails?"
"Sir?"
"I said, did you check her fucking nails?
They gave him a blank stare.
"For growth you idiots!".
Shimmel was beet red with frustration and carefully weighing the possibilities of finishing the job “the crazy old bitch” had started.
Instead, he just opted to shake his head in disgust and head for his office, leaving the carnage to be cleaned up by the remaining crew.
“I'll be in my office. No disturbances for the next hour. Just get this cell presentable.”
This was great, just great. The whole facility on deep alert, and she still managed to get out. On top of that, she was unstable. Her judgement clouded. Subject to horrendus mood swings. Possibly out of her own control, and certainly out of his.
Bringing her in was a bad idea. He knew it from the moment the idea was discussed, but his superiors honestly believed that
A)the problem warrented it and
B)they could control her.
So now that had
C) a breached facility and a dangerous weapon at large on the streets of New York.
And life was grand.
He opend the door to his office and sat down at his desk, looking at the file in front of him. White edged with black. Operative decomissioned. Dangerous, unstable.
"You fucking assholes! I told you not to let her out of your sight. Watch the monitors I said. Listen to the bugs. I said. Who the fuck did you think I was talking to!
One of the man cowering in the corner looked up at the man who was berating him and summoned up enough courage to speak barely above a whisper "She was just some old hippy bitch. We were told to snatch her out of her flower shop and bring her in. That was a month ago. There was no problem. We brought her meals. She ate. She washed regularly, did isometrics twice a day and read those damned romance novels you told us to keep her supplied with. She didn't say anything. Didn't smile. Just kept looking sadder and sadder. The crying started last week. Didn't make any noise. Just turned on the waterworks and wouldn't stop."
"And you didn't fucking report it?"
"Some crazy old bitch cries and you expect us to log it every time?"
"The 'Crazy old bitch' as you call her was your god damned job, and if you had done it, we wouldn't have an empty detention apartment with five guards dead with their throats slashed open!"
"She didn't have weapons. No knifes, no forks or spoons that could handle anything more then a small piece of steak."
Shimmel through open the door to the apartment where the five pieces of meat lay in various bent and broken shapes.
He just looked around and shook his head.
"Did you check her nails?"
"Sir?"
"I said, did you check her fucking nails?
They gave him a blank stare.
"For growth you idiots!".
Shimmel was beet red with frustration and carefully weighing the possibilities of finishing the job “the crazy old bitch” had started.
Instead, he just opted to shake his head in disgust and head for his office, leaving the carnage to be cleaned up by the remaining crew.
“I'll be in my office. No disturbances for the next hour. Just get this cell presentable.”
This was great, just great. The whole facility on deep alert, and she still managed to get out. On top of that, she was unstable. Her judgement clouded. Subject to horrendus mood swings. Possibly out of her own control, and certainly out of his.
Bringing her in was a bad idea. He knew it from the moment the idea was discussed, but his superiors honestly believed that
A)the problem warrented it and
B)they could control her.
So now that had
C) a breached facility and a dangerous weapon at large on the streets of New York.
And life was grand.
He opend the door to his office and sat down at his desk, looking at the file in front of him. White edged with black. Operative decomissioned. Dangerous, unstable.