🐯White Fang

"So they'll allow bombs and Lazer rifles from the future, but not a single cigar."

Letter of Resignation

I hate that this is how I have to part ways with the agency, but unfortunately, when you shove a man into a corner with barely an inch to breathe, well, I’m perhaps being a bit too considerate even writing a letter.

Hell, even calling it considerate doesn’t make sense, as I’m sure you’ve already officially let me go, making this highly unnecessary. And it’s not as if I’m writing this with respect either. Guess you can just think of this as my final “fuck you.” In all honesty, Varanheight, if I were still able to return to the office, I'd most likely gouge your one good eye out with that clicky pen you love so much. But in the end, I’d have to do a lot more work on your face for you to repay your penance in full, huh? And you know it, that's why you got your security ramped up. As I write this in my car, I can see about thirteen officers surrounding the entrance alone. We didn’t pull this much of a fuss even back during the Katar incident. So are you really that fearful of me? No, you’re afraid of the potential repercussions of my actions. You know, my grandfather greatly respected the work of the agency. During his younger years, they were the only ones to help him out of the bad situation he lived through. He got to grow up seeing the actual heroes of the department, like Detective Bennard and Officer Rattens. Ah, don’t those names bring back some nostalgia? I remember my grandfather inviting them over every holiday and just showering them with admiration and food. Such a kind pair, and it was made all the more wholesome when they finally stopped playing up their “disdain” for each other and got married. But I can imagine that you don’t share as fond of a memory of them. Considering that you made them disappear faster than your intern could black out their names from the files, I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t even remember them. My grandfather held people like those two in such high regard, and all I ever wanted was to become someone who could meet that bar of admiration. Then, just like Bennard and Rattens, he disappeared. But unlike the others who vanished unaccompanied and without witnesses, I was there to see him taken by the ship. I must’ve been what, twelve at the time? He had returned from a trip overseas, and amongst many things he brought back from his travels, I remember specifically adorning a mask he had gifted me from the collection. He told me it was a kind of charm mask, one that fended off evil, that sort of garbage. Even so young, I didn’t really believe in that kind of stuff.

He couldn’t stay for very long, as he had a lot of work to catch up on with his job. So he crouched down to my level, only further tearing his back, that old idiot. But he kept the pain under lock and key, only displaying a smile as he placed the mask on my face and embraced me in a farewell hug.

And then, of course, you know how the story goes. Bright light shined down and pulled him away into the ship. All the while, he yelled the names of Bennard and Rattens, even though he knew they had gone missing months prior. Desperate times conjure desperate words, I guess.

Not only did that day make me a believer in charms, but my decision to join the agency was never stronger. I didn’t just want to be a hero; I wanted the be the best, a hero so great that no matter whatever part of the galaxy he was taken to that my name and accomplishments would reach him.

Like my grandfather, I traveled the world, learning all I could in the ways of fighting, medicine, and the spiritual. Even spent a few years in the military just to harden my resolve. And then, after a decade, at the ripe age of twenty-eight, I joined your agency. Little did I know at the time, am I right?

“He still believes he was taken by aliens, poor thing,” were just some of the kinder phrases I heard during my first few years. It seemed you didn’t waste much time while I was away to cover up what happened to my grandfather. At the time, I thought maybe the truth was just too fantastical for most people to believe, especially with the only evidence being a child's testimony. So even though I held onto what I saw, I had cast no judgment or suspicion onto anyone who tried to dismiss my claim.

The good ol' times for you, wasn't it? You had the best detective under your thumb who only asked questions when you found them appropriate. Not the snoopy risk to security I’ve turned into.

You only have yourself to blame, Varanheight. You got too complacent with my trust. A paper left unshredded, a note you forgot to crumble up into the trash bin, none of them on their own could paint any real picture, but even just one was sufficient to catch my curiosity.

Oh, what a maddening spiral that was; I felt like I was losing my mind, second-guessing all my new suspicions as they sounded so preposterous. Clearly, I was insane. Then I found the list; I’m sure that hardly narrows it down for you, as I know you have many. This one, in particular, was simple: names of missing people with numbers attached to each. I sat locked in my room for days, trying to figure it out. But its secret wouldn’t be revealed, at least until I took perhaps the biggest risk of my life.

I had stolen some files vaguely referencing a “scanner” of sorts, a “device they accidentally left behind.” The paper read that you’ve hidden it fairly well somewhere in your office. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t call tucking it in the first drawer of your desk “hidden fairly well.”

A strength potential scanner, that's what I’ve been able to deduce with testing. Funny thing about this device, it can get easily confused when two entities are relatively closed to one another. For example, when you and your “secretary” are close together in your office, as long as your face is obscured, it will actually read out that she has your strength potential value. And you know, that experiment got me thinking: say someone with a high value is close to another entity, and their face was obscured with, let's assume, a mask. Would your masters get mixed up and take the wrong person?

I think that's really when I lost it; they were meant to take me instead of my grandfather. Sometimes the thought subsides my depression with a bit of morbid humor, getting a chuckle out of me, just knowing the incompetency of the beings you fear so much.

To sum everything up, I hope your fears are realized, and they deliver as harsh of a punishment as you think they are capable of.

Your many data sheets have allowed me to pinpoint a few of their next targets. I have a pretty high strength potential value; you think they might favor me over them? Well, guess I’ll find out soon enough.

Sincerely, I hope they tear you to pieces

The Greatest Hero in the Universe