by Todd Daigneault

Created on: October 09, 2009   Last Updated: October 10, 2009

The agent's grip on Peter grew so intense that he was on the verge of passing out from the pain. All he could think was the loss of consciousness before escaping and trying to save all of the bones in his hand from being broken.

"I'm not dying yet!" he hollered: flashbacks of the first beating swirling in his mind. Somehow, he was free of the grip, his hand purple and blue. The grip had cut the flow of blood leaving his hand ice-cold.

He tried to flee, but the intense gravity of the wormhole dragged him towards the opening. The agent grabbed at his wrist, straining his tendons to the breaking point. With tears of agony streaming from his eyes, both men crossed the threshold into the landfill site together.

He lifted Peter by one hand, his strength now eight times greater. "We control the masses." The computerized mind control messages became totally audible. "We are part of the Elite. The Elite rule the masses. Control is the staff of power, and it is for ruling over the cattle..."

The agent tossed Peter at their feet, before he killed himself with a single dagger thrust to his heart.

Peter scrambled and started to run, his mind filled with absolute terror. The TV producer appeared from behind a backhoe. "You lied to me, you son of a bitch!" he hollered at him, brandishing his rifle about. "You sold me false information about the so called extraterrestrials."

"What in the hell are you talking about? Do you know what you're talking about, moron!" Peter retorted. "I've never seen you in my entire life. This is a bloody setup, isn't it?" His own knowledge of Operation Pitfall was extremely limited, due to the fact that he was trying so much to evade his foes that he never had a chance to read through all of the documents.

A camera crew from a local TV station was at the site. A Cabal member, who owned the station, was with the crew to ensure that the filming went smoothly. He was using his ownership of that station and at least fifty more TV and radio stations to launder huge profits from illicit drug sales. The station owner looked at his crew, a profound smirk on his face.

"Slow down!" the first camera operator gasped to the reporter. "That guy over there is armed with some kind of rifle...and is pointing it at another man. Christ, he is one of our producers! It is he! Alex Kingston is his name. Boss, you said your tip on some bastard making the largest drug deal in the history of Florida was rock-solid!"

"I heard something about our producer being sold false

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