"2nd EPILOGUE"

 

By:

Quintin J. Scott

2000

 

          “Welcome to Thunderstryke Enterprises, Miss Fairweather,” the man said, getting up from his seat and extending his hand.  Angela Fairweather stepped into the office and glanced around before gingerly taking his hand, offering a warm smile to him.  "Is it Fairweather or Rawlings?"

 

          “I prefer 'Fairweather', professionally.  And it’s a pleasure to be here, Mr. Morissette.”

 

          “Please, call me Sean.”

 

          “Sean,” she smiled.

 

          Sean gestured to the chair in front of his polished obsidian desk.  “I trust that you found our R&D department satisfactory?”

 

          Angela sat down, crossing her long, shapely legs.  Another smile crossed her face.  “More than satisfactory, Sean.  You look like that you could have given Lightspeed a run for their money.”

 

          “In terms of sheer manpower and technology, we are the most advanced company on the planet.  We have so many projects in development that even I have lost count.”

 

          “Well,” she said, looking him in the eye, “what do you want from me?  With all of this, you certainly don’t need someone who has less credentials than your own Dr. Cummings.”

 

          The man smiled at her.  It was a smile that gave off the impression of secret intentions.

 

          Which was precisely what she was prepared for.

 

          “You worked with Lightspeed for, what, two years?  Developing their weapons systems, Zord and morphing technology?”

 

          “Yes,” she said slowly.

 

          “Dr. Cummings is one of my more valued employees, but he still lacks the necessary knowledge for morphing technology.  It is that lack of knowledge which has caused me to seek outside help, namely you and one other.  With you, I…”

 

          “Mr. Morissette,” Angela interrupted.  “I must inform you that I have a taken an oath to not reveal the secrets of Lightspeed or the technology that was employed in its creation.”

 

          Sean raised an eyebrow before it lowered.  That same smile came on his face as he reached into a drawer.  He pulled a large Manila envelope from its confines, tossing it across the desk.  It slid and was stopped by Angela’s perfectly manicured hand.

 

          “What’s this?”  She queried.

 

          “Your official release from your oath, Ms. Fairweather, signed by Captain Mitchell himself.”

 

          Angela looked across the desk at Sean.

 

          “What do you want from me, Sean?”

 

          Sean’s smile slowly faded from his face.  He looked down for a moment before speaking into the air.  “Privacy mode.”

 

          There was a slight hissing of air and Angela could feel the place suddenly get smaller – tighter.

 

          “Privacy mode engaged,” a voice responded.

 

          Sean’s look was one of seriousness, a seriousness she didn’t think he could take on. 

 

          “Well, Angela, about six years ago…”

 

 

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