The Government Under the Stairs and the road to completion

Just checking in to drop off a quick passage, heroically, i would label this as my beginning of the end narrative part 2. Just fifty pages later, I can never make up my mind with how close to the end i am. I have a few hesitations before i can say this chapter (16) is good to go. Language, something is just not right, one character is fine, Rebecca Fastet was never meant to take a commanding lead in this chapter, just a brief reminder that she is still alive. I never expected that Jake's mother would have a bigger part after she was debriefed way back in chapter 4. But without her, the last chapter wouldn't be tantalizing as i hope.

My problem, i think, is the Downstairs President, how i identify him, and his lack of qualities. He doesn't strike me as anybody. This probably stems from my not having any planned use for him after this chapter. It's nice to star in one chapter, most get nothing, but I'm sure he will pop up again, just not until I'm done with this book. After chapter 16, the only time he pops up again is in a recon scene that I'm not even sure will be kept. This is a long chapter, with all the micro events that play out here, I'd think I'd be more comfortable with this character. I need to realize who he is, so far he's just generic secret underground boss guy, and i can do better than that.

I will leave you with the pot hole narrative, heralding chapter 16. Stressed out, I leave you this Friday night so i can hash this out, and nurse my crush on the new guy at work.

Remember friends, don't shit where you eat.

Peace

I agree, it’s abrupt, especially, considering the last time you saw me, I was walking out of Rain’s rented room in my old, albeit brief, friend Chad’s house. Maybe you were expecting something different, like a sign of a conclusion, but I regret to inform you it is time for another change of scenery, inconvenient, but necessary. There is one more cast of disreputable characters, then, and I promise, I will tell you what caused me to leave Southern, racing North destination unknown. We shall see if Chad’s vision has any bearing on reality, if Maddy and Box get there in time, and just when will Angel and Vasili arrive to haul my ass to hell. If it proves too much, then let me provide a heads up, even after the events in Southern, this story is just starting. At the time, all signs pointed to this being a trippy adventure, a few psychedelics here, being thrown through a building there, and street fights in the sky. I was wrong, later, months later, when I finally stood in the Office of the President of the United States, and I saw no amount of validation would ever keep me as sane as that man in the chair who lost his. I looked into the president’s eyes and knew I was fucked; this road would take me much farther then one world. It takes many people to establish control in this world, from the aggressors to the get along crowd more commonly mislabeled as sheep, and all the lives caught in between. It is my hope to put an end to the control that many strive to safeguard, the system, which many people unwillingly prop up in our daily attempt to make it through another day. Our daily grind feeds, and nourishes Leviathan.

At this point in our story, I must return you to that segment of antagonistic delight that I comically refer to as the government under the stairs. They were the ones behind the raid on my house as I was conveniently trying to slip away to make my train. Angel’s abode was also victim to their nefarious door busting ways. To make matters obscenely worse, my mother works for them. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry, but they are big, bigger than any other government entity I have ever learned to despise. The IRS, bigger, and unbelievably more sinister, they have similar powers, but the downstairs people have farther reach, and use of the army. Thankfully, the IRS doesn’t have the military at their disposal, yet. Every federal police agency, pick any three letter, even them, can be reallocated and directed on a whim, to add in the wicked tasks that governments feel compelled to dabble in.

Of utmost distinction, the government under the stairs has supernatural levers. Imagine the pork handling, regulatory enforcing, or those confiscating gritty mitts with magical tools at their command. It is time to see how they plan to put their skills to use, and more importantly, how much do they know about what is going on in Southern, who are they keeping tabs on in Chicago, and it would be nice to see how my mother is doing.