Shoulda Swiped Left
tags: Lorelai // July 20th, 2030

Elijah Corey


A pack of Secret Service agents walked into a bar.

It was Friday and the staff of the Orlando field office had unanimously voted to get the intern drunk. The mission was a smashing success, though, predictably the pack had thinned out over time. Some had the spouses and kids to get home to.  Meanwhile, other patrons cycled in and out of the establishment. Once the intern was hammered to the point of drunkenly mooning over of an image of Neo-Queen Serenity and King Endymion on the wall, some of the others chipped in for a cab and helped pour the intern into the taxi before departing all together.

This left Elijah and the Assistant Special Agent in Charge. They knocked a couple more back and talked shop for a while in low voices.

"...you really think so?" the third-in-command asked when it was all through. "That's heavy."

"You're telling me" Elijah said. "But too many numbers keep flowing in that direction and none of them add up."
An experienced agent like Elijah, the ASAIC nodded and polished off the final beer for the evening. "You got to run it by Our Fearless Leader. Chief's due back from Washington on Monday. On that note," the ASAIC said, getting up, "Thanks Corey. You really know how to make a fellow agent sleep better at night."

"My specialty," Elijah said, tipping his glass to his colleague.

"You heading out?"

"In a while. No curfew over here."

The two agents closed out the tab and said their goodbyes, with the ASAIC heading for the door and Elijah relocating to the bar itself. One more, then he'd hail a cab and hit his rack. Wake up at 0500 and be back at the office for the weekend shift. Everything would be fine. He'd jumped out of airplanes on less sleep.

Elijah signaled to bartender. "Single malt, dash of soda."

Lorelai Price


Lorelai was looking for her next victim. She was looking fo someone that was of weak will and would be easily twisted by her prophecies. She had, of course, brought one of her many black notebooks with her. She had the leather bound book laid out in front of her. It was open and she had scrawled through over half of the book by this point. She wrote down her visions so that she didn’t forget them. The book itself was often nicknamed the book of the dead because of what it signified. The pages were filled of the visions of deaths that had come true or were going to come true in time. Death was, after all, what she dealt in the most.

She took a sip of her whiskey and glanced up a a group that had come into the bar. She frowned a little bit. They were louder than she would have liked and that made her hate them. She was trying to concentrate and see what might come to her. She closed her eyes and her mind’s eye was seeing something that she couldn’t quite make out.

”Oh my god! Can’t you just see how much good they’ve done for us? I mean, look how beautiful the queen is and how kind! And the king?! They’re perfect for humanity!

Her grasp on her pen tightened as she heard that. The man actually thought those things? He had no idea what he was talking about. Another flash of something flew across her mind and she began writing before she could stop. The group the man had come in with were all laughing at the fool’s drunkenness and she gritted her teeth. She now had her next victim. The Belladonna was going to strike again because that fool didn’t deserve to live.

Not anymore.

Lorelai stood up and slid the book marker in the page that she had just been writing on and she closed the heavy book and put her pen away. She got up to head in that direction. There were too many people. She frowned. She wasn’t going to be able to take this one out this time. She would have to wait and that made her cranky.

She needed another drink.

She noticed that one of the men had stayed behind and she made a sudden choice. She sidled up into the seat beside him. ”Could I get myself another whiskey?”

She had a new target and she already knew how he was going to die. She was going to see to it personally.




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