Creative

WOODWIND Chapter One: The Journal

WOODWIND is the name of a fictional ongoing joint US-Japanese operation being prosecuted solely on Japanese soil. There are only two members of the team conducting operations within this program, both Americans. The first is the handler, who is known only as Clockwork (or some derivation thereof). The second is the actual operative, known as Van Emery.

Van Emery has recently been involuntarily relocated — and confined — to the sovereign islands of Japan in order to conduct his missions. His previous access program team was known as UBIQUITOUS GESTURE.

JULY

Dear Diary,

Okay. You’ve told me to start keeping a journal. Fine. This feels like a diary, though. Every journal I’ve ever kept was more to serve as an admissible record of events, not a repository for my thoughts. Plus, I haven’t handwritten a fucking thing more than a grocery list in God knows how long. As a lefty, this sucks. But if this is how you’re gonna want me to debrief from here on out, what can I do? At least it’s not a spiral notebook.

Not to mention, now that I know you are going to *have* to read this… I get to put whatever the fuck I wanna rant about in here. Don’t worry, I’ll ease it in, Sweetness.

I’ve been here for six weeks now. I have no fucking idea how a country with such cutting-edge next-gen sci-fi fucking technology has yet to figure out a successful central HVAC system, and with any kind of fucking insulation. June was the wrong fucking time to drop me off in Tokyo. Though, to be honest, I’m not sure when a good time would be…

Up front, I’d like to express reservations about having no two-way commo with you. That is some shit that’s going to have to get worked out ASAFP. I have questions. You have answers (that wasn’t one of my questions). And this situation will no doubt foment more of both.

At the very least, I need to be given some assurances on the health and welfare of my men from UG. I get it… black OGA kill squad. We did our job better than expected or intended. Yada fucking yada. We all know the game. But to burn us all, splinter us, and have State lock us all in place all over Hell’s half acre and isolate us is pretty fucked up for a team who did their job within the lines.

So that’s Question Number One: What the fuck is the status of my men from UG?

Question Number Two: When am I going to get my list? You know how shitty I do with spare time.

As you know, this is all I know right now:

a) my team has been splintered and I am isolated — I assume we all are.
b) I am locked solid within the sovereign boundaries of Nippon-koku (see, I haven’t been doing nothing; picked up some Nihongo over the last month-and-a-half).
c) I am now working under the auspice of WOODWIND.
d) I am now known as Van Emery (you had to have known how difficult is was for the natives to even say that shit; your sense of humor is finally improving).
e) my meager, but well-deserved paycheck is coming from somewhere in the DoJ, by way of the Imperial Household Agency of Nippon-koku (in a Japanese Post Office bank account).
f) you are my sole contact (we’ve been doing this so long, I feel like we should go buy curtains together).
g) this memo pad is how I’m supposed to be briefed/debrief.
z) I’m going to be given my Zulu List at some point.

The apartment that has been set up for me is a fucking shoebox. No. Matchbox. I can reach my microwave while I’m pissing. You’d think there’d be building codes against that shit. But at least I know how I’m going to off myself if it ever comes to that.

I have no problems sleeping on the floor. At least it’s not bare ground. I have a great view of miles and miles of sprawl and what seems like too many power lines snaking over every fucking thing. Sunsets burn through either the smog or the raw humidity in the evenings. Sometimes I can see the mountains west of here.

My tails from Household are lame as fuck. I know they know that I know, but still. I was expecting ninjas when I woke up and realized I’d been moved here.

Oh yeah, thanks for not packing my fucking paperbacks in Cyprus, asshole. You know I’m a slow reader. How long is it going to take to find a copy of The Open Boat in a city this big? (That’s not one of my questions. But the fucking answer is six weeks and counting.) How the fuck do you have the extract team get the framed picture off my bedside table of some random woman I cut out of a magazine, but they don’t grab my fucking books?

The coffee here is shit. Better than chewing MRE grounds. But just barely.

Let’s get back to my itemized Shit I Know list up there. (a) I will patiently await word on my team. (b) As a gentleman, I should tell you I am going to test the fences on how locked down I am here. Just prep for whatever your punishment is gonna be now. And as a gentleman, you should already know that. (c) N/A. (d) I really liked Remy Vane. That was a cool name. As for this new name… you may or may not know this, but I actually have a semi-famous relative named Van. Puppeteer. Did that killer doll, Chucky. Still, I prefer Remy Vane. (e) Call this Question Number Three. But out of sick curiosity, I’d like to understand a little bit about how this is being funded through Justice. (f) Love you, boo. (z) This isn’t our usual scenario. So, I’m gonna need to know if this kill list will be set, or living (haha, that’s a great pun here).

Well, I’m gonna make like a fetus and head out, boss. Gonna go burn some tax-payer money on raw fish that comes to you on these little model bullet trains.

Maybe your dick’s not so dumb,

Van Emery

 

 

Featured image courtesy of Adobe Stock.

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Miche
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Miche

Oooo…this could be all kinds of fun. Fictionally speaking. (Ubiquitous Gesture?! HAHA) Layers of fun. Like an onion. But fewer tears.

Mic-Mac
Member
Mic-Mac

Fun reading Ody! Looking forward to next chapter.

Luke Ryan

This is legit. Looking forward to more, dude!!

clluelo
Member
clluelo

I have missed your writing Theo the 1st sentence has me hooked and please don’t make me wait too long for the next instalment okay ?

Annica
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Annica

Yay, this will be fun! Great start!

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