PlayerMature

This opening chapter is actually a sketch of a significant character in of one of the novels I'm working on, with a few minor adjustments. I've always been reticent to post any part of anything from my three works in progress anywhere. In fact, until now I haven't. I'm pretty certain that you'll never take Josh anywhere like the places I'm going to take him, so here he is. (Yes, that's a backhanded challenge of sorts.)
This offering is selfish of me on two counts. First, I can't wal

            Joshua Jason Grant was seriously overqualified to kill anyone who dared call him by his first two initials, and he wouldn’t hesitate do it gleefully with his bare hands.  Fortunately for his co-workers that warning had been issued from day one with an icy glare from his deep brown eyes that left no room for speculation -- and no margin for error.

            Josh was bored today.  Wait … no, not bored.  “Only boring people can be bored”, his father had once said.  Funny how you remember those things at odd times, Josh mused.  He certainly did not consider himself boring, restless would be a more apt description.  He was only inclined to a degree to admit that impatience entered into the equation.  He didn’t like feeling impatient, it made him, well -- impatient.

            “This is insane”, Josh grumbled out loud, “this is taking too much time.”  The payoff would either be huge or non-existent, as he knew only too well.  He paced around the large, unaesthetic steel workstation staring at the monitors as though they were supposed to respond to his demand, to yield the information he sought.

            “Okay, all right”, Josh whispered to himself, “it will pop, it always does”.  Only having returned from his most recent mission thirty six hours ago, he wasn’t due to go out again for another thirty six, at a minimum.  Unless, of course, just the right circumstances arose, in which case he’d like to see anyone try to stop him.  Those who had attempted in the past, citing procedure, had failed miserably under his overwhelming barrage of facts and not so humble reminders of his talents.

            He sprawled his muscular six foot frame casually across a chair in the midst the soulless eyes of the monitors, each one frantically scrolling screen after screen of information searching for that one piece of information that Josh could sink his teeth, and more, into.  He briefly allowed himself to lapse into a reverie of the details of the previous mission, savoring them.

            Three or four minutes passed and Josh seriously considered widening the parameters of the search.  “No”, he snarled to himself, “no, that only gives me a bunch of useless garbage to scan”.   No, he would leave the settings as they were and -- wait.

            Think of something else, think of something else, he began to chuckle to himself.  Think of what? Baseball?  Logic told him that metaphor had never worked for anyone in any situation.  Not that it mattered to him, control was not something that he lacked.  He liked being in control, and it had saved his life on more than one occasion.

            People were easy, machines were not.  He sighed.  Anything with a pulse also had a price, and provided that you knew where and how to look it could always be discovered, and no matter how high it seemed it could always be negotiated.  Always.

 

The End

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