On the night before his eighth birthday, Johnny saw the face of GOD. Johnny wanted a Cyber-Strike Angst-Man Deluxe Action Figure Playset, but was instead given the secrets of the universe, direct from the man upstairs, for his birthday gift. After that, Angst-Man just could not compete. How could he, after all? Death-Man was just a construct of meaninglessness, fabricated for the amusement of children who were, themselves, constructs of meaninglessness fabricated for the amusement of another construct, for another, another, another. The chain was so long as to seem endless.

So long that the name of GOD had been diluted and misshapen in the minds of his creations. A problem that needed rectification. As Confucius said,"If names be not correct, language is not in accordance with the truth of things." Thus, Johnny had been selected by GOD to be his voice of rectification, the one who would teach the world the truth of things, the true name of GOD. One not-quite-eight-year-old boy would deliver his people from their own ignorance. Johnny The Rectifier.

Angst-Man could not compete with that.

I awoke with the buzzing in my head again. That sense of pending ecstasy before a kill, like an orgasm waiting to erupt. I had been a good boy for ninety-nine days. Today was my reward, my sweet release. Today was the day I would kill again.

I counted to nine before rolling out of the right side of the bed, touching down right foot before left, as always. I walked the nine steps to the bathroom door, paused, counted to nine and entered. After taking a visual inventory, satisfied that everything was as I left it, I began The Ritual.

Cross stormed down the hallway towards Colonel Graves’ office. That son of a bitch had pulled this shit for the last time. His squad had just returned from a suppression engagement in Sector R5 - with only three functioning Units - and now the old man wanted to slap new Units in his squad and drop them in another hot zone in the next twenty four hours. Words needed to be had. He knocked on the synthsteel door.

“Come,” the voice on the other side echoed.

Trying to keep his composure, Cross entered. He hated the old man’s office, its spit polished appearance and lack of any personal effects (save numerous plaques and ribbon cases) demanded proper military conduct to all who entered. Cross inhaled, saluted, prayed for composure and spoke.

“Sir.”

“Cross. What is it?”

His near-monosyllabic manner of speaking always got on Cross’ nerves. Graves treated speech itself like a military engagement –strip it down to its most necessary components, then deploy it as rapidly and with as much lethality as possible. Cross knew he didn’t stand a chance against the old man, but he entered the fray anyway.

“Sir, Sigma just wrapped engagement Red Echo Two-niner. I’ve got half a squad left. You can’t expect me to regroup and execute a new engagement on this short notice,” Cross said, knowing damn well the Colonel expected exactly that.

“I damn well expect exactly that Sergeant,” Graves replied. “I’ve got three Units off the line and skill-loaded for engagement. They’re synching with the rest of your squad as we speak.”

Things could not get worse for Cross.

The gorilla smiled at me and said, "Got anymore jokes to tell smartass?" He wiped my blood off his hands with a rag like a mechanic after an oil change.

"If I'd known you guys were coming, I would have prepared more material." I spit out a tooth for punctuation. It was the fourth one gone in the minutes that felt like days that he'd been working my face over with his fists. Too much more of this and I wouldn't be able to even form the words to make a wisecrack.

"Cute," he grunted, then he gave me another crack right above my left eye.

The world went dark for a bit and I think I pissed myself a little. When the lights came back on in my head, I opened the one eye that still worked and saw that the weasel had returned. He was on his cell having a deep conversation with someone, judging by his lengthy replies of "Yeah" and "Okay" to the no doubt other wordsmith on the phone with him. After another "Okay", he snapped his phone shut and grinned his little weaselly fuck grin at me. "They got her," he said to the gorilla.

That's when I knew I was a dead man.