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Saturday, September 27

Last Rites: Prologue

Jim-Bean was in a room. All he could make out was the silhouette of a figure. He was most obscured by the spotlight near his head, shining through the glass separating the examination room from the doctor’s office.

“Now Mister Baxter, I’m going to ask you again…”

Jim-Bean could make out a nametag: Dr. Alan Ettringer.

“You sustained a shotgun wound at point blank range.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t remember.”

Jim-Bean was strapped down to a table. He couldn’t move his arms, legs, or even turn his head. Something was connected to his temples. There was an odd hum in the background.

“You were cognizant enough to get up, eliminate the target, then make your way to the train’s engine and force the engineer to apply the brakes. You then returned to the location where you were shot and carried on a conversation with your fellow agents.”

“I don’t—“

Ettringer pressed a button and Jim-Bean heard his own voice: “Out of the way…We’ll do this the old fashioned way—“

“Do you remember now?”

Jim-Bean shrugged as best he could in his restraints. “Sounds like me.” [MORE]


posted by Michael Tresca at 8:44 AM

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