REOC Jam - The Prologue Drabbles Round 1Blanky Wood - The Whistleblower
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Blanky hovered in the doorway to Supervising Agent Bonnar’s office. He was on the phone, probably to a handler. He managed several dozen deep cover agents and informants, on top of the people who managed them. He was usually on the phone, or at a meeting. Not a lot of time for paperwork.
She’d been lucky to catch him in the office.
He pointed to the chair across the table without breaking stride in his conversation. She nodded and slid into the seat, reclining into the padded leather. He turned his chair to the side and looked away from her as he spoke. It didn’t sound like there was a problem, just a routine check-in. But then, he’d probably have shooed her out if it was sensitive.
She watched his eyes joining dots on the wall. He was looking at his certificates, his awards, his academic qualifications. Probably not seeing them though. They were supposed to look good to the other ag
REOC Jam - The Prologue Drabbles Round 2Colin Belgrade - The Jazz Man
The final strains of his set drew to a close. Colin ‘Cheeks’ Belgrade relaxed in his seat on the stage and took a deep breath as mild applause rolled in from the rest of the lounge.
The light was on him, so he couldn’t see numbers, but he could make out the shapes of four or five folk sitting at tables, a pair of hotel staff in the door, and Shelley at the bar. She smiled at him. He smiled back.
“We’ll take a break and pick it up in twenty minutes,” he said, the mic transforming his hushed voice into a growl that filled the room.
He set his sax down in its case and lifted his glass of water for his usual ritual. One sip to rinse and spit into the old vase he carried everywhere, then one to moisten his throat. Even in the blues and purples of the stage lights he could see the dark spots around the vase’s neck. He’d been spitting blood after his sets for a while now, but he couldn’t afford to get i
REOC Jam - The Prologue Drabbles Round 3Ethan Burke - Worrier
He propped the box against the wall while he fumbled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the apartment door.
He did it quick, didn’t want to stand out in the stairwell forever. The smell was getting bad, that nasty garbage reek. The other tenants had been letting their trash sit in the cans on the ground floor and now it was getting unbearable. He didn’t want to be the one who moved everyone else’s crap. Because he’d get stuck doing it.
Maybe he could talk to them. Or to the Super. He didn’t like to raise a fuss though. He preferred it when this stuff sorted itself out.
He popped the door open and slid inside, keeping the box lifted with one arm so that he could throw it shut again. He hit lights and wiped his boots. He’d already walked halfway across town to get back from work, but it was habit. No tracking mud in the house.
Slowly but surely, it was starting to get darker earlier. Even so, he’d probably have m