Patten Killer Genius

She Kills Because She Cares
1. Auflage 2015
ISBN: 978-0-9996588-3-3
Verlag: Laughing Black Vampire Productions
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 200 Seiten

Imagine if you lived in a world where you couldn't be racist, sexist, an uneducated bully or even a career criminal without being killed. That is at least part of the vision of The Killer Genius, the most elusive serial killer in human history. Her methods are diverse and her knowledge is unfathomable. Sometimes she kills up close, other times she can be miles away. No matter how she decides to kill, one thing is clear - if you're chosen, you're as good as gone. Will the one cop she deems a worthy adversary be able to stop her, or will she tear New York and the world at large apart to achieve her version of a New World Order?

Autoren/Hrsg.

Patten, Steven Van

Leseproben

Chapter One

The New Network

March 17th 2020 6:57p.m.

Bridgette tried her best to be pleasant. She knew Claire, her regular make-up artist was going to take the night off, but she didn’t expect the fill-in to be quite so talkative. The young Korean girl, after professing to be a big fan of hers, continued to drone on about her weekend excursion to Montauk with her new guy friend well after Bridgette thought her make-up should have been finished.

When the stage manager appeared and lit a fire under the makeup artist’s ass, Bridgette had to stifle a sigh of relief. Many of the anchors at MXFBN enjoyed being showered with accolades by the crew, staff and random people in the cafeteria, but Bridgette was not one of those people. She was about the work, and that meant guarding her mental space whenever she could. It was unfortunate that people mistook that for being a diva, but as a young, attractive black female appearing on TV every day, she knew scrutiny and people jumping to erroneous conclusions came with the territory. Well, that and all the teen boys on social media openly speculating on how awesome it would be to do her.

Minutes later she calmly ignored the middle-aged cameramen stealing glimpses of her curves as she walked across the soundstage and let the audio assistant clip two wireless transmission packs to the back of her skirt, run a black wire through her blouse and clamp the lav mike on the end of the wire to her lapel.

“There were some script changes,” the stage manager warned as she took a seat behind the desk. Under the studio lights, her make-up felt too heavy. The stage manager was calling out that it was five minutes to show time, so it was too late to worry about it now. She scanned the hard copy of the script and sighed.

The audio assistant came to the desk and handed her a fleshtoned bud about the size of a pea and she promptly slid it in her ear. “Everything OK, Bridgette?” her producer asked from the control room via the earpiece. “You look a little perturbed.” Piper Jennings was a typical Ivy League news producer and a living television stereotype; in her late thirties overly aggressive and perpetually single.

“I’m good, Piper,” Bridgette responded. Her answer filled the earpiece of Piper’s headset as the news producer watched her on the monitor wall. As customary, Piper sat in the back of the control room, right behind the director in the front row. “Is this the new lead?” the director asked with a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Sure is!” Piper answered. “We got confirmation from the FBI half an hour ago.”

Bridgette took a deep breath. When she first arrived two years prior, a fresh young thing with a strong correspondent’s reel from her time in Chicago, the network was very different. Hosts like Rochelle Minnow and Lyon Donnell had free reign to fashion the direction of their shows. Now, with a Republican president in the White House yet again and FAX News somehow beating them in the ratings, new management was brought in to right the ship. Soon, the human resources department exploded with activity as severance packages were compiled and a purging commenced. She watched as one by one, they were escorted out of their offices and banished to the purgatory known as talk radio. Surprisingly, Reverend Sal Harpton was the last to go. He stopped by the office she’d inherited from Donnell to kiss her on the cheek and wish her well.

As she watched the forever outspoken and controversial civil rights leader exit she remembered a distinct feeling of loss. She remembered thinking that she was being spared because the new management sensed that she was too young and too hungry to piss away a shot at her own show over something as mundane as principles.

The stage manager shouted another warning. In less than a minute they’d all hear a pre-recorded announcement and dramatic music. As the director barked orders in the nearby control room, cameras glided into position across the studio floor. The viewers would see a stylized graphic open with bright, inviting colors and flying letters, before dissolving into one of the same letters superimposed over a wide shot of the studio.

This is ‘Straight Talk’ with your host Bridgette Aries.

Simultaneously, a red light flashed and the stage manager pointed at her. She was on:

“Good evening. It’s Tuesday, March 17th, 2020 and I’m Bridgette Aries. Later in this hour, I’ll be interviewing former senator Rue Bachman. But first, our top story.”

The home audience watched a graphic flash and fly across their screens. Bridgette turned to a different camera.

“The National Freedom Association, or NFA, is the radical organization that is claiming responsibility for yet another attempt on the life of former President Garret Hussein. This marks the twenty-third day since the last attempt on either Garret Hussein or a member of his immediate family has taken place at the hands of this terrorist organization. With more on that story, we go live to Pat Fielding in DC.”

The control room cuts to a shot of Pat Fielding, a forty-ish Caucasian reporter stood quite upright with the Washington Monument at his back:

“Thanks, Bridgette. At a press conference held earlier today, FBI Director Ted Noonan and Secret Service Director Henry Gaines confirmed that they had received communications from the National Freedom Association claiming responsibility for this latest attempt to attack former president Garret Hussein. Director Noonan had this to say…”

The segment cuts to a pre-recorded statement from Noonan:

“All of our agencies are working in tandem to put an end to this quickly. In fact, many of the FBI’s resources will be remanded over to the Secret Service, and that includes access to personnel, additional surveillance technologies and weapons. Director Gaines and I are planning for this to be the most comprehensive joining of law enforcement agencies in the history of this nation.”

Back to a waist-high shot of Pat:

“Now, for the past six months Congress and the FBI have been engaged in a very contentious battle over the FBI’s budget. With the United States remaining the favorite target for everyone from practical jokers to fully indoctrinated terrorists capitalizing on America’s failed Middle Eastern polices, some sources are reporting that the FBI is stretched dangerously thin. In fact, the FBI has already been forced to abandon much of the work that doesn’t involve anything from global terrorism to local law enforcement; something the agency has been notoriously opposed to over the years. With the constant threats to the Husseins, it is hard to imagine how this is all going to play itself out. Back to you, Bridgette.”

Back in the studio, while Pat’s segment was running, the producers in the control room and the stage manager not fifteen feet away all watched anxiously as Bridgette searched her aPad. When the stage manager called out that there were fifteen seconds left in the video package, she put the electronic tablet away.

“What’s the matter, Bridge?” Piper asked. The young anchorwoman just shook her head and straightened up in her chair. The red light came on again:

“President Sanford has yet to make a statement on either the battle between the FBI and Congress, or the NFA and the safety of the Husseins.”

“You should let me know if you’re going to let her ad lib,” the director complained as he glanced back at Piper.

“She did that on her own,” Piper snapped as the red phone by her station rang. “Ah, fuck!”

Back in the studio, Bridgette had moved on to another story just as the graphic over her shoulder changed:

“Republican lawmakers who once stood against former president Hussein’s education reform policies are now singing a different tune. Senate Majority Leader Rick Tyler now claims that he is willing to sit down and discuss a common ground regarding Common Core. The one big change Republicans are pushing for is for Common Core to allow for prayer in the classroom. While many Democrats are citing that this sudden need to compromise only substantiates claims that Republicans only opposed Common Core to defy former President Hussein, Senator Tyler claims he is merely trying to put the past behind him and reach across the aisle. More on this story of education reform and what it could mean for your kids, after this.”

A musical fanfare sounded, then silence. “Clear!” the stage manager shouted as the show went to its first scheduled commercial break.

As the next tape piece played for the viewers, Piper’s voice blasted through her earpiece. “Babe, no more ad-libs! Upstairs called, and didn’t like that part about defying President Hussein!”

“Just felt like we needed to present both sides, Piper,” she growled.

“Well next time, bring it up in the script read thru, Babe! We have people whose job it is to decide which side said what!”

“Understood, “Bridgette confirmed as she rolled her eyes, then sighed when she realized that everyone in the control room saw her roll her eyes, thanks to the three cameras still trained on her.

“Back in three minutes!” the stage manager...