He wasn't an impressive person. There was no muscle, no charm, or even the slightest wit to make him noteworthy. He wasn't the kind of person to ride around on a white hose with shining armor concealing a less than ten percent body-fat body to save some damsel in distress. Of anything, his appearance resembled more of an over weight silicon valley intern who has seen less sunlight than a vampire, or the guy running the comics book store debating about whether Goku or Superman would win in a fight. He looked the part, but outside the world of Judge Judy or anything else he could get with an antennae from his trailer in the Mojave, he knew nothing. His once white '94 Mustang was now a mosaic of car parts from the 90's, and had there been any muscle under his 'iron keg', it was deep down. His sweat stained Seven-Eleven polo sure did a great job showing off that Sicilian gut every male member from his great grandfather down had. His hair sprouted out from his visor like a long dead potted plant, giving his inflated head the look of a sad pineapple. And he was sad. Nothing good was playing on the radio in Seven-Eleven. All pop garbage instead of the good stuff. What he would do if the radio DJ played something good like Smashing Pumpkins or Queens of the Stone Age. 

CONFIDENTIAL CONFIDENTIAL CONFIDENTIAL

For the eyes of [Data Expunged] ██████ only.

All others subject to termination for the safety of the United States of America

>Requesting further action regarding Project Whiskey exposure...

>All documents concerning recent exposure presented sequential. Confirmation of retrieval and removal required for further intelligence.

Intercepted cellular text messages from ████, TX received August ██, 2015. Names have been changed.

Time 13:24

John: Hey Jane, u off work yet???

Jane: Yeah, just got off work. How about you?

John: No, had the day off and now I'm broken down in the middle of nowhere

Jane: Oh no! anyone comming to get you?

John: Not unless ur going to drive out from Cali to get me. Ur the only one who actully replied.

Jane: did you try AAA

John: Been on hold with them for the past hour. I'm waaaay out here. Surpried i don't hear banjos or something

Jane: Where are you at?

John: Outside some little nothing town. First town i've seen in thirty minutes too, and the last one had more cows than people.

Jane: LOL, that's really out there. That's what you get for working the oil rigs

John: It pays good, and there's stuff to do

Jane: Like what????

John: U know that weird town I told you about?

Jane: Minerall Wells???

John: Yeah, they have this giant abandoned hotel, and they're giving tours of it. Also, there's this really creepy place called Nazarine Hospital that's supposed to be haunted.

Jane: What, you went in there

John: Hell yeah! ;D

Jane: OMG your an idiot

John: And it was super creepy, like a horror movie thing.

Jane: I swear your going to get yourself killed.

John: Why??? U believe in ghosts

Jane: No, you'll have the roof cave in on you or something

John: Yeah sure whatever

Jane: Well sorry for being concerened about you NOT dying

Time 14:02

John: U know, no one has passed me yet and it's been like over 30 minutes

Jane: What about AAA????

John: Still on hold

Jane: That sucks

John: Yeah, I'm htinking of walking into town. Someone's gotta be able to jumpstart me

Jane: How far away is it???

John: I don't know 2 miles, and it's freaken hot

Jane: Ok, well let me know when you find anyone. I gotta go. Almost home.

John: See ya ;)

[END OF STREAM]

Statistics

████, TX

Population: 500

Year Founded: 1949

Primary Income/Employment: Oil Drilling, Cattle Ranching

(last updated 2010)

[END OF STREAM]

Source [Data Expunged]

Regarding ████, TX

Research center: Foxtrot 5

Primary Research Directive: [Data Expunged]

Status: Unknown

Last Contact: June,██ 2015

[END OF STREAM]

Notes

With all due respect for the Military and your rank [Data Expunged] ██████, I cannot reveal much at this time. Once confirmation is received, expunged data shall be revealed. Specific names, dates, and locations shall not be revealed, for I have no authority to do so, nor will any be given.

-Plumber X

*Author's note: I usually don't like monologues, but yet here is one. I guess in a sense they are unavoidable. 

Isn't it funny that we call it humanity,

when humans do such awful things?

I think so. 

I find it hilarious that we compare humanity with things such as valuing life and being a good person. Let me ask you this, did the man who murdered my mother spare her? Did my father spare all those he killed? What about every war, every genocide, ever mass killing caused by none other than humans? Does the blood of those who died still scream, "where is your humanity"? 

No. 

I think they very well know what humanity really is seeing those prime specimens in action.

If I have lost my humanity, I feel that is a good thing. I'll be the monster they created, because then at least, I will be only acting like a perfectly natural human. 

    It was a good day outside, because the weatherman had told Percy that it was. The weatherman was never wrong, or at least he let Percy know if it wasn't going to turn out exactly the way he said it. Like when the weatherman said it would rain, but then told Percy that it was only going to be cloudy, or when he said it was a clear sunny day, but then told him there were going to be clouds.  He and the weatherman talked a lot. Percy could always trust the weatherman. 

    This evening, at eight o'clock, Percey was inside the food court, staring at the ocean beyond. The windows at the food court had a view of the ocean that Percy liked to watch every day. He liked to imagine how the waves splashed with the rocks, and played tag with the cliffside. He imagined the sounds they made, the whooshing and giggling sounds that waves make when the hit rocks like that. There was another rock farther off, one topped with green shrubs along the sides, like the head of a balding man.  He could see the the water rushing around it, a fluid white beard for the rock. He remembered back in high school, learning about the Greeks, and their sea god Poseidon. He imagined Poseidon looked like that rock, watching his wave children play like any proud parent would. The sun was starting to set, and the wave children were dressed in the reds, oranges, and purples to send their friend off to bed. The waves were true children, they always played and never tired. They simply dressed differently for the sun and moon. 

   Percy liked the ocean, and at eight o'clock, when the rest of the people at the hospital were going to bed, or in the lounge watching television and complaining, he could sit here and stare at the ocean. None of the kitchen staff bothered him, and he was willing to move for them when they needed to sweep or clean the table he sat on. Most of the kitchen staff were nice people, like Mr Jones, Mrs. Fields, May (she didn't like to be called Ms. Maybelle), and even Josh. They were all nice, really. But of all the staff at the hospital, his favorite was Mrs Sanders, who gave him his medication every morning and always said, "Good morning Percy, how was yesterday?". She would always talk with him, and see how his day was. He'd tell her about what he ate, and what the weather was like, and what he and the weatherman talked about. She always listened, and asked questions too. He really liked her. He would've asked her to marry him if the weatherman hadn't told him that it wasn't polite to ask already married women to marry them. 

"You have to respect her," the weatherman told him then. "Don't go asking her to marry you when she's already married. The husband won't like that, and she won't like that." So Percy never asked, but it was a nice thought to have. 

    He looked out to the ocean again. There were no clouds, except a few cotton balls far away. The weatherman was right again, it was a nice day. 

"Told you it would be nice and clear, only a little clouds if any at all," the weatherman said. The weatherman could talk to him without being with him. That is what made the weatherman special. He didn't even have to be on the television, and Percy could talk to him. "No rain until Wednesday, and sunny skies for the weekend. A good week, right Percy?"

"Yes, a very good week," Percy said. "If they let me, I would go to the beach. It's been so long since I had sand in between my toes."

"I thought you didn't like that feeling?" The weatherman said. "You said it dried the skin in between your toes."

"Yes, but I haven't done it in a while," Percy said. "Not since I've been here, and that's almost a year now. They let me go on walks some, but the park is not the beach, and the sand there is not beach sand. It's just not the same." Percy thought of the beach. The last time he was there was with his parents, just before he graduated high school and started talking to the weatherman. He used the phone and tried to ask his parents to take him a month ago, but they didn't answer. They still didn't return his call. 

  Percy decided to think of something else, like Mrs Sanders. If he was going to go to the beach, he'd invite her. Maybe the kitchen staff too, but definitely her. She could bring her husband too, if he wanted, but he really only wanted her. He thought of the fun they could have there too. He imagined her smile, her face, and her kind eyes, the same smile and face and kind eyes that listened to how his day was. Except now, they could be at the beach having fun instead of in his room giving him medication. He heard the door open, and for a moment, he thought it could be Mrs Sanders. The footsteps, however, were loud and hurried, which was very unlike Mrs Sanders. Percy turned to see not Mrs Sanders, but a man who was anything but. His eyes darted back and forth underneath his long unkempt hair, searching the room like they wanted to lock on a target to destroy. His mouth was slightly open and panting, his face scrunched in what was either frustration, anger, worry, or constipation. His darting eyes found Percy, and for a moment, looked as if they really did lock on target. 

   Instead of erupting a missile or wielding a minigun, the man pointed a finger at Percey and said, "You, any good place to hide here?" It was then that Percy noticed a small box, a little bigger than a smartphone, was in the man's hand. He wondered what the box was. The man raised his finger again, and slammed it on the air in front of him, so the finger was leveled at Percy's face.  "I asked you a question.  Is there any good place to hide." Percy thought for a moment.

"Tell him to hide on the rock," the weatherman said. "That's a good place to hide." 

"Good idea," Percy told the weatherman. Percy then pointed at the rock out in the ocean, and turning to look at it. "The weatherman said to hide out there. He said it was a good place to hide." When Percy turned to look at the man again, the man had another facial expression. It was a mix of confusion and anger. 

"Who the hell is the weatherman, and what the hell do you mean hide on the rock? Is this funny to you?" Percy was about to explain, when the man interrupted him. "Any place in here," he said, waving one arm around to gesture at the room, while his other held the box. Percy took time to consider. 

"Any ideas," Percy asked the weatherman. 

"No," said the weatherman.

"If I had any 'ideas,' then why would I ask you," the man raised his voice. "Bad people are after me."

"Oh, like how bad people are after Jed. Are they communists too," Percy asked, remembering how Jed always made sure the 'commies' couldn't get him. The man's mouth puckered from frustration. 

"No, they're not communists, and I don't like your back talk. This is serious." Then the man had an epiphany. "Wait, what is this place?" he said, his tone softening but the worry and anxiety still there. 

"Southern California Psychiatric Hospital," Percy said. Then, Percy had an epiphany "Oh, so you're new here. Well, nice to meet you. my name is Percy." The man ignored Percy, and slapped his free hand of his face. 

"Dammit, I was afraid so," the man said. Then, from the next room came a loud thud, and some of the other patients protested loudly. The man's face whiplashed to shock. "Well, Perry, I gotta go." The man held the box out in front of him. From what Percy could see, the box had several knobs and buttons on it. It was like a cell phone that someone decorated with machine parts. 

"It's Percy," he corrected the man, but the man paid no attention. He turned more knobs, and switches, until it made a electronic beep. The doors behind the man burst open, with two men in black suits pushing their way through. They were the kind of men that Jed called, 'commies' and what Eddie called, 'the man.' Percy took note to let them know 'the man' was looking for someone else this time. Maybe they could relax then. The men continued to pursue the man with the device, when a blue circle appeared in front of the man.The other men hesitated while the man turned around, saluted them, and stepped through the circle. Once the man was through, the circle disappeared, leaving the other two men in the suits dumbfounded. 

"Where do you think he is?" One man said to the other."

"I don't know, but we're definitely fired." 

   There was no more conversation between the two men. Percy listened intently and took it all in. 

"That box could have taken us to the beach," the weatherman said. 

"Yeah, I think so too," Percy said. The men gave Percy a nasty look, and then left the room. Percy turned and continued to look at the ocean. "Maybe someday we'll go. We might get Mrs Sanders to come too." Percy gazed out at the rock, lost in the his own thoughts. If he really looked hard at the rock, right on top, he could see a little man on top of the head of Poseidon.