Snippet #1504354

As his fingers flexed slowly and rythmically, The Enigma felt his head start to fall forward. He was a very old man and he often forgot that fact. As inconvenient as it was, it was still the truth and no amount of mechanical aids would prevent him being human. His time left on Earth was not long. In fact, he was well past his expiry date, it was only thanks to MortixCorp that he was here at all. It was usually these thoughts that occupied him as he drifted off to sleep, something that became less frequent the older he got. Locked away in his room for six days a week played hell with his body clock and it was only coincidence that he was falling asleep in the evening, probably because of the exhaustion his powers placed on him.

All too soon though he was awoken from a dreamless slumber by Miss Mortix opening a telepathic channel and allowing him access to every piece of information she heard.

"Nap time's over, old man" he mumbled to himself as he leant forward, face breaking out into a grin followed by a shriek of inhuman laughter. To hear it would be to confuse the sound with his terminal malfunctioning, sometimes the difference between Myrias and his beloved computer was not quite so distinct anymore. And then his fingers started drifting effortlessly over the keypad, typing at lightining speed everything that passed through his mind while his mind's eyes remained trained on the recordings of what was available to see of the battles.

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Francis saw his boss raise an eyebrow, clearly she had seen inside his head and read his very unprofessional thoughts. But to him telepathy was the most difficult power to combat. There was literally no way he could control his roaming thoughts. And to try not to think of something only brought it to the forefront of his mind. The example he had spoken of with a colleague was telling someone not to think of a purple dragon. The first thing they would do was think of a purple dragon. His problem was he didn't know where to stop. His purple dragon would have a cave and a name and a favourite food - Chargrilled maidens most likely - and the more he tried not to think about it, the more purple the dragon would get.

"Actually, if you wish for a discussion with someone who was on the scene... a full-frontal view, if you will, then you have little to do but remain here."

Thankfully his thoughts were finally interrupted by the arrival of a man in a rather nice suit and white gloves who was ordered to report. And he, presumably, was to listen and take note of anything he could use for his analysis. He was starting to feel like an investigator, one of the same people who had tried prying into his own life not so long ago over the claims of 'missing' money at MortixCorp. This is bullshit he thought, all too soon forgetting he was in the presence of a mind-reader again.

By which I meant the title I was inferring to myself Miss Mortix. I love my job. He glanced over at her for just a second to check she had 'heard'.

For the first time since arriving in the office he processed a thought directly for her benefit. It would have made him shudder had he not been where he was and in the situation he was. And it was true, he really did love his job. There were few accountants who did as far as he could tell. Why was something else altogether. How someone could not like the job was a mystery. Numbers, figures, computers, all simple stuff if you knew the system. And a whopping paycheque at the end of the month for it. Piece of cake.

"A pleasure, Madame Freya."

Francis looked over and gave a nod of ackowledgement to the other man. He knew better than to speak out of line. He had made his request and got his answer, if he needed anything else from this man after his report he could wait and ask after the meeting.