It gets good - Greg

So I hadn't gotten three steps away from the kid when Ellen called. She was real excited about the job she'd done on the folks. I'm willing to bet she was doing her stupid little victory dance while she talked to me. Ellen can be a little unprofessional, but we overlook it because she's good - about as good as they come. I was sure she'd do fine with the girl's parents, but that doesn't mean she'd be happy about it. So I got it out of the way pretty fast. Told her there was a complication; tried to explain, but of course she wouldn't hear it.
"And there was no way you could have caught him alone!?! Greg, you moron, she could cause big waves. Suppose she goes and tells her parents, or the cops. Do you know who's gonna have to put out these fires, Greg? I'll give you a hint, it isn't you!"
"Actually," I cut in, "I thought you could start on the fire thing now. We need to get to her parents somehow. You got the database handy?"
"Yes," she seethed.
"Same high school as Ian, first name Scarlett."
"There's two."
"Check the mugs. Red hair, she has a mole on her cheek."
"Got it. I have tickets to a show tonight. If I miss it you're paying." Click.
Well I looked at Marcus, and he looked at me and he finally said, in the stupid question of the year, "How'd it go?"
"Well how'd you think it went? She's ballistic, but she'll be over it in an hour. We got anybody else on the list?"
"Chip's taking care of the other guy, so that just leaves one thing."
"Who? Where? I need the data man."
And then he stopped walking. He looked at me in a funny way and he said.
"Look, Greg, This is weird, but, it's you."
"I'm being recruited?"
"Yep."
"But I'm a recruiter!"
"Yep."
"WHAT!?!"
"C'mon Greg, you fit the profile. Dissatisfied with your job, but out of other options, little to no social life, --"
"But I've already done this! It didn't work the first time! If this is your idea of a joke."
"Greg, this is right from the top, you will be a recruit on this mission," he said gravely, "Here's your time and place. Don't wear the suit."
And we just stood there, he and I. I couldn't believe this. Me. Recruited. Geez.

How to ruin a $600 pair of shoes (that you bought at the mall) 9--Gillian

I checked the piece of paper that I clutched in my hand.  Six o'clock, it said, at 1437 Dunhill.  Pretty spiffy, I thought to myself.  Dunhill is the biggest street in town.  Big office towers, huge shopping malls, even some luxury condos.  I figured this orginization had to be something big. 
As I neared the address, I stopped the cab and paid the driver.  Not exactly a small thing.  Cabs aren't getting any cheaper.  I sighed and handed over more than half the money in my wallet.
When I turned around, purse on my shoulder and small duffel bag in my hand, I saw that I was in front of 1429 Dunhill.  I continued down the street, staring up at the tall buidings that surrounded her.  1431, 1433, 1435...
I stopped in front of number 1437 and blinked.  Twice.  Then did a double take.
Number 1437 Dunhill was a number on a stick.
And not one of those fancy plaques either.  No, it was a piece or wod with the numbers "1,4,3,7" written on in permanent marker.
Ok, I thought, now what?
After I had finished oggling at the wood on a stick, I realized that behind the sick, there was an alley.  A dark, spooky, wet alley.
Great, I thought, I'm going to ruin my shoes.
Now, before you say, 'Why is she thinking about her shoes? She's about to go on a wild and exciting adventure!' You must realize that these were very good shoes.  We're talking, a 600 dollar pair of shoes (that I got on sale for $150) that would now be ruined because of a stupid mission.
Oh well, what the heck?
Toward the middle of the alley, there was a small door, rusty, metal door.  I started towards, it but didn't get more that three steps before I heard a splash behind a dumpster right in front of me.  Immediately, I tensed up.  Being a single girl, I had invested in self defence classes.  I put my bag down on a semi-dry patch of concrete. 
No sooner had I turned than someone jumped out at me.  A man dresed in black, ninja-style.
How original.
I made short work of him.  A swift kick in the groin took care of him.  As he lay on the ground, I wacked him on the back of the head, causing him to lose conciousness. Another guy tried to sneak up on me, but sonn he was lying beside his friend.  The third man was a little more difficult.  He actually knew a little bit about martial arts.  He attacked me from the side, hitting me hard.  As I lay on the ground, the wind knocked out of me, he stood back and did the whole, macho deal.  Unforetunately for him, he forgot I was lying within kicking distance.  Bye bye number three.  I picked up my bag, satisfied that no one else was going to attack me, and headed for the door.  AS I openned the door, I heard someone from inside say, "Very good, Ms Taylor. Please step inside."
I stepped into an ankle-deep puddle. 
Bye-bye $600 shoes.

I wish I wasn't at the Mall- Virgil(7.5)

Well, heres another one.  Could be different, but I doubt it.  I've been watching this group atleast as long as the recruiters, if not longer.  It's getting easy to figure out who they're going for next; the pattern is the same everytime. The kid with something to prove, the kid with nothing to lose, the occasional unplanned for follower, sometimes more. Funny, it happens often enough one would think it wouldn't cause a problem anymore. Still, they stick to their rules, I stick to mine. Sort of...

The Problem(s) with Scarlett- Ian(8)

My mind is a constant jumble, really, but two major lines of though were lobbying for position as I watched the men disappear into the crowd.  First, I had been given the opportunity to finally make something of myself, and Scarlett had had to go and be nosy and ruin it for me.  That was the part of me that was dreading spending this much time with her, so close, yet so far away.  Being with her was just bad for me.  The other part, the part that was making me stare at her butt as I thought, was saying that maybe this was the opportunity I'd been hoping for, to prove to her that I was a 'real' man.  You know, good for something besides talking to.  I could just see it - I would save her life, she'd fall into my arms - only no.  It probably wasn't even real. 
Scarlett said something, interupting my train of thought. 
"Huh?" I said, "Sorry, I wasn't really listening,"
"I said that was really weird.  Who do think they were?" she asked.
"I suppose we'll find out tomorrow at 6 pm," I said looking down at the slip of paper. "Can you get there, or do you want me to pick you up?"
Scarlett looked shocked for a moment. "You're not actually think about going, are you?" she asked.
I was a little surprised; I thought she knew me better than that.
"That's what I said."
"Ian, are you insane?" A few people turned to look.  "You don't know who they are!  They could be kidnappers!  Lord knows what kind of ransom your grandpa would pay for you.  I really think this is a bad idea,"
Then why did you agree to it? I thought.  That's the problem with Scarlett.  Well, one of many problems.  She's impulsive.   She's also paranoid, but only after she's made a mistake.  It makes for an annoying combination.  I remember once in eighth grade we were at an amusement park and she decided to go on this big tube slide, you know, the kind with the big inflatable rafts?  It had been raining on and off all day, so there was barely any line.  Anyway, we were in the raft when she realized she really wasn't dressed for a water ride.  Of course by that time it was too late.  She was cold and wet the rest of the day, and none of us enjoyed the ride because she was complaing the whole time about getting her clothes wet.  That was kind of off topic, but the point is, Scarlett isn't good at planning things out.  She acts on her feelings without thinking first.  I'm very surprised no guys have taken advantage of that.
Anyway, back to what I was saying.  The problem here was that she was right.  I had absolutely no reason to trust these people.  Nothing but a gut feeling.  Was that feeling really worth the risk?  Of course not!
But then if I'd ever put logic before feelings, Scarlett wouldn't even be a part of my life right now.
"No one's making you go," I finally said. "But this is my desicion; and I, for one wanna see what it's all about,"
"I'm going with you then," she answered. "I'm your friend and I'm gonna stick by you in this.  But maybe we can take some sort of safety measure.  Call the police, or get-"
"No!" I interupted her.  For some inexplicable reason, her perfectly reasonable lack of trust in these random people was making me mad.  Looking back it may have been a jealousy thing; you know, like 'how come you can think straight and I can't?'.  All I know is, I snapped.
"Look," I said, "You can go, or you can stay, I don't care.  But don't try anything like that.  It's..." I honestly couldn't think of a reason. "It's just not gonna end well," I finally settled for.
She just looked shocked for a minute, then the impulsiveness kicked in again.
"Ok," she said "I'll see you there,"
Then she turned for the door.

I Wish I Was At the Mall - Ellen Leigh (7)

"Let me put it this way, Mr. Wallace."
Ha! I'd been working on that in front of my mirror all morning. I could tell by the looks on their faces that they were sufficiently intimidated by my all-black clothing ensemble, dark sunglasses, and serious expression. I'd been working on them all morning, too. I took a moment to hope that I'd remembered to unplug my hair straightener; the last thing I needed was another small house fire. Then I continued, keeping my voice completely level. 
"Let me put it this way for you, Mr. Wallace. Did you ever want to be in the CIA or the FBI when you were a little boy, sir?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Well, you couldn't."
"I couldn't?" He was curious, and slightly offended.
"No."
"Why not?" 
"Because this is how we pick them."
Significant pause.
I'd put a lot of weight on the words, because a big impression was vital at this point. What I had just told the Wallaces was a complete lie, but it was a good one. It tended to work on big men with mustaches like Mr. Wallace. Mrs. Wallace didn't look like she'd object to anything much. The FBI and the CIA were bumbling morons and I had nothing to do with them, but the important thing was what I could make the Wallaces believe.
I hated this part.
I'd considered a number of options in speaking to Ian Wallace's parents. Not the least of them was perhaps slipping a note under the door. This way worked, though. They bought it, hook, line, and sinker. They signed the papers; I was out of there.
Before I walked out the front door, I handed them a card. "My name is Ellen Leigh. This is where you can reach me."
My mouth was already twitching as a I said it. The moment the door closed I broke into a wide grin that quickly turned into a delighted laugh. I skipped over to my car, a black Mustang whose name was Sally, and slapped her on the hood.
"Yes! Yes!" They bought it. I sighed and allowed myself a momentary bask in my triumph. It was my first mission as a senior officer. I was pretty much the foremost field agent on the trip. For the first time, I had two suits working under me.
Ooh. That sounded dirty.
I slipped into the car and dialed on my cell phone.
"Greg? It's Ellen. I got 'em, baby. Oh, wait! Sorry. Unprofessional. Um, the parents are on board. Repeat, the parents are on board." As I listened, the grin faded from my face. "What kind of complication?"

Why I'm Indifferent about Malls - Greg (6)

So, as I was saying, Marcus and I got to the mall after a couple more conversational dead ends and started looking for this Ian guy.  Marcus showed me the pic. A kid, blonde, 5' 10', acne troubles.
"Little young, isn't he?" I asked Marcus.  He just shrugged.  That Marcus.
So after some walking we got lucky.  I caught a girl's voice saying "Ian." Followed the noise with my eyes and I saw him.  Also saw her, and she was quite a looker.  Brilliant red hair.
"Look at that, he's got a girl.  Candidates are necessarily single, aren't they?," asked Marcus.
"Look how he's trying not to look at her, not to talk to her.  They're not together.  My guess is she's an ex, and he still loves her, and she's got no idea."
"You got all that out of -"
"Oh c'mon. Let's help him out of a tough spot."
See, Marcus thinks I'm an idiot because I talk too much.  I'm smart, though, I notice things.  My favorite job is picking out the recruitees in the first place.  These recruiting rounds are just depressing.  I motioned to Marcus to start it off.
"Ian Wallace?" he asked.
"Yeah," the kid said, startled, "That's me."
"We'd like to talk to you alone for a few minutes."
He started to say sure, but the girl cut in.
"Don't go with them, Ian.  You don't know who these people are.  Whatever it is they can tell us."
"No, ma'am," I said, "We can't.  Ian has been handpicked for a special mission.  If we allow you to hear anything, you'd have to accompany him."
"Ok," she said.  She just wanted to win.  She didn't know what she was agreeing to.
"It might mean giving up your whole life as you know it, for an indeterminate amount of time."
I remember when I first started, I said "For God knows how long." Boy did I get chewed out for that.
"If Ian here'll do it, I'll do it," she said firmly.
"I'll, um, meet you guys by the Frullati," said the other boy.
Well, Marcus was looking at me questioningly, cause I've got seniority and this was my call.  I knew that if my hunch was right, recruiting her wouldn't make his life any better, but then that's not our job.  Well, it sort of is, but anyway I decided it was my best bet to not try and argue with her, or else I might come off as the bad guy.
"Ian," I asked, "What do you want to do with your life, what's your asperation?"
"I want to be a sculptor.  Of junk," he said uneasily.
"You think there's money in that?" I asked, evenly, emotionlessly.
"Not really. I mean, maybe, if I'm good."
"Are you?" asked Marcus.
The girl again, "He's wonderful!"
"They fall apart," he contradicted, "Even when I hot glue them, they fall apart.  The masters weld, but that's no good for the plastics and cardboard.  I- I see a whole new art form, but unless I can bond it better, no one would buy it."
"We'd like to offer you the opportunity to participate in a mission to protect your country, world, and way of life.  The risk to your life is minimal, but you will be gone for some time.  The position is unpaid."
"Then why would anyone do this?" asked the girl, crossing her arms.
"Ian knows," I replied, "And it's up to him."
The kid had a thoughtful look on his face. We watched and waited for a few seconds.
"C'mon, Ian," she said finally, "Let's go meet Jason."
"No," he said quietly, then louder, "I'll go."
"Here are the time and place of your meeting. Show them to no one, pack only what you need.  We've already sent someone to explain the situation to your parents; no one else needs to know."
"I'll be there," he said, uneasily, but happily.
"So will I," said the girl, glaring at me.
They ran off.  When Ellen got back from talking to Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, I was gonna have to send her to this girl's folks.  I'd also have to explain to her why I'd recruited a non-candidate.  I was in some deep... trouble.

Chai Tea and Keanu Reeves--Gillian (5)

As soon as I said the words "Why not?" the smaller recruitment officer's face twitched a bit.  Part of my brain recognized that he was suppressing laughter.  At my expense.  But the rest of my brain overided this thought almost immediately, so I didn't dwell on it.  I learned long ago that what my brain overrides, I don't want to know anyway.  So I moved on.
The smaller man got a hold of himself and handed me a bunch of papers.  "This is the time and place of our next meeting.  Be there with only the things that are necessary."  Then they walked out of the Starbucks and drove away in a black jaguar.  Nice car. 
I finished my chai tea and walked out onto the street.  Suddenly the world looked different to me.  I had a purpose now.  No more boring Gillian, who brings Jim his coffee every morning.  I'm a new woman, I told myself,  I should act like one.
I straightened up, and walked purposefully down the street.  I got about five steps before my heel hit a pothole, causing me to fall on my face in a not-so-graceful way.  Relax, I told myself, More Queen Elizabeth, less Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality.
As I set off again, I wondered about what this mission was about.  Was it a secret government conspiracy? A mad scientist testing out time travel? Or did the Matrix truly exist? I hope it's the third one, I thought, I want a long black leather coat.  Plus working with Keanu Reeves wouldn't be too bad either.
Well, I said to myself, let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes.

Why I hate malls - Ian(4)

Ok.  The beginning.  I guess it all started when I let Jason convince me to go to the mall.   Now let me just say so you'll know - I hate malls.  I like hardware stores.  Not malls.  Gaggles of giggly girls everywhere, standing around talking about the clothes they just bought, looking pretty and not looking at me.  I know there are all kinds of stores, but I prefer to go to those outside the mall, the ones that don't leave me feeling lonely and depressed.  Not that I really care what these girls think.  I don't.  But every so often I see one with red hair, and she'll remind me of Scarlett.  And I couldn't have that.  Not when I was so close to getting my life together.
Sorry, I'm getting off track.  Anyway, Jason wanted me to come with him to an electronics store in the mall to look at some gadget he wanted.  Since I'm the "rich" one, he figures I can afford to get him one for his birthday.  Truth be told, I probably could.  My grandpa owns ... most of the city.  My Dad won't accept any money from him, so I take it myself behind his back.  I want for nothing, dad still feels like he's being defiant, and no ones the wiser.  Sorry, off track again.  Anyway, I walk in the door and who should I see but, yup, you guessed it, Scarlett.  I didn't feel like plunging into another six months of depression, so I decided to avoid eye contact and walk briskly past.  Well, Jason ruined that plan. 
"Hey Scarlett!" he says.  She turns to look at us.  Scarlett is named for her hair.  Beautiful, flaming red hair.  Down to her butt.  Gets me every time.  She stares at me and its like I can't move.  I can't do anything but look at her. 
"Hey Jason!" she starts.  Then she sees me.  "Ian?" she says.  She runs up and hugs me.  It's too late now.  Another month of therapy down the drain.  "I've been trying to get in touch with you all summer!  Did you change your phone number or something?  And your e-mail?  And I don't think I had your IM right.  It's junkmaster06, isn't it?"
"Yeah" I say.  Now what?  I can't tell her I've been avoiding her.  I can't lie with Jason right there.  I closed my eyes and prayed for some sort of distraction.  Well, I guess someone up there likes me cause that's exactly when the men in black showed up.

Another Day (3) - Greg McIntosh

"Sure," the woman asked, "Why Not?"
Why Not! Why not indeed.  It was all I could do not to laugh.  Well, that's a lie.  I'm virtually incapable of laughter or expressing any emotion when I'm wearing the suit.  Years as a recruitment officer does that to you.  If any of them could see me at home, with Fluffy, they'd never believe it was me.
Anyway, we gave her the papers, the time and place, and got back in the car (black of course).
"Where to next?" I asked my partner, Steve or Sven or Marcus or whoever was with me that day. (One of the guys for sure, but on the job we all act alike.)
"Guy named Ian Wallace, should be at the mall."
"Great.  Maybe we'll have time to go shopping."
He didn't answer.  I think it was Marcus.  Guy has no sense of humor.  I mean, none of us are supposed to, but I've never even seen Marcus laugh off duty.  We drove on silently for a while, but I hate long conversationless pauses.  This never was my dream job.  I'm not cutout for this work.  But then, none of us are.  The Recruiters are the leftovers.  The people who really did have nothing to lose.  Most people; finish their mission, have some epiphany and they know what they want to do with their life.  We're the ones who finished our mission and still couldn't find anything else.  Except Marcus.  I really think Marcus likes it.
Anyhow, I said to Marcus, to break the silence,
"What's with all the black anyway? Why do we have to look like we just walked out of the Matrix to be recruiters?"
"You know why," he replied boredly, "We can't standout in any way.  The recruitee's decision must be based on their own desperate situation, not on impressions of us. We must-"
"Be totally emotionaless, personalitiless, and uninteresting," I finished for him, "I know the creed, but I still think we could be uninteresting in something more comfortable."
He didn't answer again.  It was definitely Marcus.  What a piece of work.

The end of Gillian's so-called life

I should have said no.  It would have been so easy just to open my mouth and say loudly and clearly; "NO! I don't want to! It's too dangerous! I don't want any part of this!"  But of course, being me, I didn't.  I said; "Sure, why not?  What have I got to lose?"
Well for one thing, I had the three packets of raspberry jam, sitting in my pocket.  They were there because they reminded me of my mother.  She  always used to tell me, "Don't go anywhere without a packet of jam.  You never know when you'll need one." 
I realize now that I was only the OCD talking.  But still, I like to keep a part of her near me all the time.  Which is why I always carry around jam.  It is the only thing in my life that I've got to lose.
The rest of my life sucks. 
I've got the worst job on the face of the planet.  I'm a secretary to the most disorganized man on the planet.  That's not what it says on my business card, but that is essentially what my job is.  Don't get me wrong; Jim can be a great guy... if you're tall, blond, and beautiful.  I would love to tell you that I'm all of these things, but the truth is, I'm none.
Which is probably why I have no love life.  My last date was four years ago.  I should ask my friends if they would set me up on a blind date, I'm that desperate, but I'd have to find some friends first.
All of these factors combined to bring me to the decision that I had nothing to lose.  Which is why, yesterday, when the recruitment officers came up to me on the street, and asked me to come with them, I didn't really care what happened to me.  They were, big, like six feet tall, and they were wearing black suits.  They told me, "You have been selected for a dangerous mission.  You may risk your life at some point during the mission.  Will you accept to undergo this mission?"
"Wait a minute," I said, "Why did you pick me? What redeeming qualities do I have?"
"That is not important at this time," the bigger recruitment officer said, "just answer the question, yes or no."
I contemplated my options.  If I said no, I would go back to my normal, boring, friendless, boyfriendless, mind numbingly boring  life.  If I said yes, my life would change and possibly be, dare I say it, exciting. Unwillingly, my mind jumped to The Matrix and suddenly I was 8-year-old Gillian, eager to go on adventures in made-up places, never thinking about the costs. 
"Sure, why not?" I said out loud, "What have I got to lose?"

Prologue - Ian

What's on my glasses?  Is that Jam?  How did it get there?  I don't eat jam.  Man, this is weird.  Jam on my glasses........... hmm...Maybe it got there when I was running from the Rhino.  Or was it earlier, on the Motorcycle ride over?  But then why wouldn't I have noticed it before?  Could I have gotten it in the future?  Do I even say that, or should it be "will I get it in the future?".  Time travel is so confusing.  It doesn't matter.  I knew I shouldn't have trusted those recruitment officers.  Oh, I'm sorry.  You must be horribly confused.  Perhaps I should just start at the beginning........