"Set in an experimental sci-fi comic book action adventure literary world-building project universe of multi-book series nested within other book series, 'The Zeppoverse' may be a bit disorienting to navigate at first... but you kind get used to it...
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They all just sat there on her desk. Stacked on top of each other, impossibly in violation of all normal causality. The book was titled "Forgiving Bobby McGee". Agent Macknally couldn't believe her eyes.
The moment that Agent Macknally accepted what the text on the cover read, a powerful shiver of shock and disorientation ran down her spine. Her vision blurred momentarily, and her mind spun out of control.
Agent Macknally was almost always early. Most certainly never late. She aimed for the kind of early that most drill Sergeants, school-marms, and sociopaths mean by "on time". She was efficient with her procedures in the morning, precise. Almost mechanical. She would often, in her personal life, experience a great deal of stress from having to deal with other people, relationship partners, and their overreacting to how grossly inefficiently their own routines were when compared to hers. It would drive both of them nuts. It was the most common reason sighted for ruining what few relationships she tried to take seriously enough to consider cohabitation.
Today, she was the first one in the building by at least 15 minutes, and the only one to scan into her department's floor since the final scan out the night before.
10:45pm - exit - Agt. MackNally
04:49am - ent - Agt. MackNally
Usually, that gave here a little thrill to see her name like that. "First in, Last out, First in", she would always think to herself... (it was something her father would always say). Some days she would say it with more or less passion, more or less snarky sublimated resentment, more or less pride... depending on the morning. This morning, it made discovering a package on her desk just a wee bit alarming, to say the least. No one, not even cleaning staff, could have possibly placed those items there on her desk, without either logging key access into her office, or tripping security. Yet there they were... almost impossibly so, sitting there at a jaunty angle at the right-hand corner of her desk, in her private executive office.
She stood there, stunned, for quite some time... One foot in her office, left hand still gripping the door handle, right hand still holding her security keycard to the scanner next to the name plaque on the wall just to the left of the door frame.
Surreal.
No one had signed for them downstairs in the lobby. No one had screened them through the security imaging machine. No one had cleared them past the second security check point at reception for her department. No one had walked them down the secure hallway to her office door. No one had pass-keyed her office door open and walked in to set them on her desk. They simply should not be there!!! Yet there they sat, in defiance of all evidence and logic... They very sight of them tearing at her heart like an old forgotten wound long ignored.
Memories flooded her mind.
Images she had not consciously recalled in nearly 12 years suddenly sprang up in the theatre of her imagination with a force that held her captivated and temporarily blind to the world around her. Recollections of sunsets on the veranda, international rendezvous in between assignments in exotic locals. Nights of passion. The reoccurring arguments about work and certain causes.
And THE case that had driven a stake between then, rendering their illicit relationship doomed to end badly.
Staff had begun to filter in through the warren of cubicles in the bullpen just behind her as she stood there still as stone for nearly 15 minutes just lost in the imagery unfolding in her mind.
Mack: [muttering to herself in awe] So fucking surreal...
That word seemed to fill her mind, repeating itself over and over again, filling the screen of her awareness till she lost track of time and place and was yanked deep down into a flashback of some smothered, tightly compartmentalized and locked-up memory. Hot, sweaty, silent, terrifying... and then the bliss of safety and sleep and mutual comfort after surviving the impossible. Surreal.
She had been holding her breath as the imagery flooded her mind. She finally remembered to breathe again.
Mack: What the fuck is going on?
Zoom-in on the items sitting on her desk: a standard office sized cardboard filing box, a small book with a cheap looking vanity press cover, titled: "Forgiving Bobby McGee"; and a small, bright white, fancy envelope with a strange embossed emblem or logo that seemed a once- foreign, yet terribly familiar. It was the kind of medium-ish sized greeting card most often used for gifts to important or influential people that you don't actually know personally. Professional. Classy. Expensive looking. Contained within, a matching card with a hand written note scribbled on it.
Mack: How the fuck did that get in here?
Mack finally takes a step into her office, letting the door slam shut behind her.
[BLACK OUT - SNAP TO...]
[LANA'S APARTMENT, INT.]
Lana is sleeping when Macknally calls. Her bed is messy, she is buried under layers of comforters, sheets, etc. Her phone rings... but doesn't make it to the second ring. Lana bolts upright almost instantly, her eyes wide and glossy, but alert... almost like she had been expecting the call.
Lana: Agent Lana Here. What can I do for you at this ungodly hour of the morning, sir?
Mack: [vo- on the phone] Told you- don't call me Sir!
Lana: Sir, yes sir.
Mack: [vo- on the phone] Get your ass down here and pull all the security footage from last night between 11pm and 4am.
Lana: What's wrong? Where are you, sir?
Mack: [vo- on the phone] Fuck you Lana... [slight pause, then like she's changed her mind and let it go, back to business voice] I'm at the office. And you should be here too.
Lana: Our office?
Mack: [vo- on the phone] YES!!! Now, splash some cold water on that purdy little face of yours, step into some clean clothes, and get down here now. I need you. [CLICK- the call is disconnected by Mack]