Agent 72: Corporate Viability shows the story of a tactical operative named Agent 72 fighting for freedom from they're cruel overseers. This agent is one of many operatives of the Mobile Recovery Team (MRT), a tactical unit for the American Baked Be...
"Attention all MRT Personnel, It is lunchtime. Please head to the cafeteria to retrieve your lunch," the announcer said over the intercom.
"Finally, it's lunchtime." Agent 72 said to himself. He is one of the operatives of the MRT, and after many successful missions, he was considered possibly the best operative the company had for its team.
Moving on, Agent 72 was hungry, so he stood up from his chair in his dorm room and walked outside the door. He could see multiple other operatives making their way to the cafeteria. They were wearing brown plaid shirts and black pants, which also applied to him. He slowly made his way to the cafeteria, starving for food, and once he walked through the entrance, he could see a bunch of employees, guards, operatives, etc. waiting for their food in a long line.
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"Ugh.... great, like always. "There is a long... line." Agent 72 said and then sighed.
"It sure is, Buddy." a man said next to him.
Agent 72 jumped in surprise.
"Jeez! You scared me there, Chris. Where did you come from?!" The agent asked Chris. Chris was a good friend to Agent 72, possibly the only person who actually cared for who Agent 72 is and not just how well he does his job, which is what the rest care about.
"Haha... Behind you, mate. So how are you? Any cool missions lately? I know you like talking about those," Chris asked.
"Eh. Not really. I haven't gotten many missions lately." Agent 72 replied while feeling a bit disappointed that he didn't really get any interesting missions.
"Oh well. " At least you can have more time here in the facility." Chris said.
"Eh, I don't really want to be in the place where it's just surrounded by baked beans or humans with guns." Agent 72 responded while trying to be honest with him.
"Oh come on, man, baked beans aren't that bad."
"Yeah, well, I'm getting tired of it."
"Alrighty then," Chris replied as he suddenly heard something on the radio.
"Be advised, shots are coming from Sector B. We need more units, over," the man on the radio said.
"Roger that!" Chris replied on the radio. "Alright, well, I gotta go deal with something, so see ya later!" Chris then walked away and began jogging toward Sector B. The agent waved goodbye to him and then became lonely as Chris left because Chris is pretty much his only friend. He sighed once more. He thought to himself, "I guess I'll go get food from the vending machines with snacks."
He then began walking to go get his food. Finally, he will no longer be hungry. He then became happy again and smiled a bit as he got his food.
But he wouldn't stay happy forever.
***
Around midnight, Agent 72 lay in his bed, awake, staring up at the roof. He would lie there, trapping himself with his thoughts. He sighed to himself and then slowly rolled over onto the side facing the left wall of his dorm.
He would stare at a newspaper article that had been framed on the wall with glass and wood. It says: "Five federal agents found dead in Pittsburgh. ABB denies involvement." He knew ABB was lying, as he was the one who killed the five agents on a mission from ABB.
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Agent 72 placed both of his hands on his chest, close to his head, as he began thinking of how many people he had killed. He felt bad about it. Murder, murder, murder! That's all he could think of in these moments.
Worst of all, some were not even threatening or evil. Some were actually just innocent, law-abiding citizens who just happened to be related to actions or corporate situations that led to them getting eliminated from this world.
This was terrific.
"Why?" He asked himself as he suddenly began tearing up. This was a big change of emotion from just a couple of hours ago at lunchtime when he was happily talking to Chris.
Agent 72 had to kill those people because that was his purpose. To help kill and satisfy the leaders of the baked bean industry.
"All this murder! Over some stupid baked beans?" He said to himself. Tears would drop, showing his regret for, well, almost everyone he killed.
After a few moments, he had enough of staring at the newspaper. He grumpily turned over onto the other side and lay there, still tearing up a bit, but after some time, he'd calm down and fall asleep.
