REVOLUTIONARY
Virtro’s Journal
By
J. Niessen
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Published By:
Revolutionary, Vitro’s Journal
Copyright 2013 by J. Niessen
Cover Page by J’s Art Emporium, Copyright 2013
Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied, and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the material remains in its complete original form.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.
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Table of Contents:
Part 1: Retaliation
Part 2: Reprisal
Part 3: Retribution
Part 4: Ramification
Part 1: Retaliation
Soon I will be labeled as a homeland threat.
Before this journal’s end, my death will be official.
Till then I feel compelled to complete a list of objectives, and to share my history.
At the rise of my rebellion, I have no idea how grand a scheme my efforts will become. Initially devised as a single outing, aspirations form during preparations for stage one. The purpose behind my primary objective is to enlighten a dark-hearted, power-hungry, selfishly corrupt, control monger. I move on to a grander project, bringing to light blatantly immoral role models. Lastly, I avenge oppression, going after self-righteous rulers in elected office.
My deadbeat ex-boss falls into the first list of abusers. He’s my deciding factor.
At the start of our business relationship, when he first hired me on, he put on a façade, pretending to be buddy-buddy. Deep down he’s selfish and manipulative. At one point he tries to weasel his way into getting me to turn over the money he paid me for the previous job.
Currently, $21,000 is what’s owed me for work I did on a multimillion-dollar, ocean-view home in La Jolla, of Southern California. I watch as after work he delegates my wages toward his delinquent debts, and uses my allowances for his own personal spending. Once the job’s complete he says, “If you wanna get paid, you’ll need to come work on another project.”
Dwelling on the audacity, I’m beyond aggravated. All my time and effort I’ve sacrificed, and here he’s asking that I donate more of myself to another assignment? My response to him…
“That’s not gonna happen, Jed. You wanna know where we stand? You pay me what you owe me. Then we can discuss this next contract you have in the works.”
I haven’t heard from him since. A good way of getting rid of someone is to have them owe you money. I want to take a weathered shovel and sever through his boot the front portion of his foot, bearing a constant reminder of the repercussions when not following through with your word. Nagged, knowing that hobbling through life could have been avoided if he evened the tally. Yet he chose instead to ignore and abandon me for days, weeks, months. Each gimped step will be a cue of vengeance’s swift retribution that counterweights injustice. Money is not the greatest form of power. Control is when I hold the ability to shape the outcome of his life.
I’ve kept to myself about the ordeal, leaving us on good terms. Pondering the issue, I wonder: “Could his frustration, from me not returning to work, have transitioned to distorted contentment, believing he got the upper hand? What would it take to administer such mental grievance, that he would be haunted forever with restless nights?”
Going after his finances won’t do. Punishment must be directed toward his livelihood. He has several costly tractors stored on his estate property. Wiping out the fleet would be a sizable start. I research ways to trash gas powered equipment, making a machine worthless.
Sodium silicate is the commonly used means of destroying an engine in the automotive business. After the first apparatus breaks down, Jed could have the rest of the trucks inspected, leaving only one of the units to be totaled. I need to find another means of destruction to take them out all at once. (An explanation of the sodium silicate procedure is listed toward the back, under the heading: Instruction Manual. Click Here to be directed.)
Let me address this issue. I appreciate smog laws. It’s nauseating to breathe exhaust fumes, learning this from travels in Mexico. Imagine during your daily commute having even 2 out of 10 cars around you in complete violation of smog requirements.
What I can’t stand is overbearing policies on businesses, under the guise of green solutions. By driving a company out of state, because of these costly regulations, does it offer room for a more eco-friendly enterprise? Does it boost the economy in a capitol region that has gone bankrupt? Or encourage future self-starting entrepreneurs?
Jed has shared while engaged in conversation ruthless self tactics, boasting times where he’s paid to have someone who’s crossed him beaten down. With $500 of my own personal funds, I deem it a worthwhile investment to give this trash-talking ingrate a “slumber party” of his own. Now, where to find heartless degenerates, willing to work cheap?
Using monster.com I find a list of unemployed delivery drivers and schedule interviews. I narrow my search down to one assistant for this evening’s retaliation program, based on his shared, personal experiences. James and I scout a dive bar known for the hardened thugs which frequent the joint, in a separate town from where Jed lives. My new driving assistant is given cash to solicit per my instructions. Things must be in order before 8 pm tonight, as I have a prior arrangement scheduled with sleepy-time Jed.
Bartenders who scoff at the request for a nonalcoholic drink really annoy me.
“Listen you self-centered lackey. You’re still getting your $1 tip, so keep your snide reactions to yourself,” I nearly tell the skimpily dressed, bleached-blond server, who greets us by leaning over from behind the counter, asking us “What’ll you boys be having?”
Instead, forcing a smile, I insist she take the extra dollar when she’s returned.
James stands to get the bar’s attention, having felt the place out. It’s between songs. The jukebox is silent. Voices are loud from patrons used to talking over blaring country music.
“A free round to whoever’s been in the most fistfights!” James announces.
All is quiet. Women’s laughs accompany men’s boastings. One brute challenges, “I’ll fight whoever says they’ve been in the most brawls.” His assertion remains undisputed. James slides a $20 bill over to Misty, our bartender, directing, “Get that bully whatever he wants.”
The winner of this competition is an alpha beast in this environment. Soliciting him could be deemed as a hostile advance, putting him on the defensive.
Exiting to the outside patio for a breather, it’s not long before our contestant approaches.
“What’s it to you?” he questions James with a tough, yet semi-intrigued, stance.
James takes the brute aside and explains. Marshal’s receptive, agreeing to the discreet offer. Thankfully our newly acquired heavy doesn’t beat and rob us of the project funds.
We’re out getting supplies when an insightful, life altering, perception dawns on me…
Until now my economic labors have been directed by society’s engineered expectations. Standard thinking dictates that by investing oneself in a contributing occupation, you will achieve conventional desires. By toiling in a solid work environment, enjoyment will follow.
Is the purpose behind grueling work to gain the feeling of accomplishment? Reward comes in achievement, which instills gratification. Consider this: Besides f
ulfillment and a sum of money reflecting your worth…what do you gain by slaving for someone else?
In this moment of clarity I embrace the concept of living a dissident lifestyle. To make this transition happen, as a nonconformist, I would have to limit myself to a lower standard of living. This will allow for the performance of significant personal achievements.
In this enlightening presence of mind I become free from the mental shackles the world imposes, feeling inspired to pass this philosophy on. My primary concern is to beneficially impact others. To become the instigator of consequence, I would be turning a person’s mundane or wrongful life around. Searching for solutions, I deduce the greatest motivational change comes from the firsthand account of a horrific act. I will create a miracle situation of my own.
Once Jed’s project is complete, James will be my candidate to face execution.
I wonder “If my old boss had paid me, and had I continued to work under the guise of toiling for mainstream expectations, would my thought process have sharpened? Would such a decisive agenda as the one I have now, come about?” Having these fresh new tasks instigates wit and clarity. Thanks could be in order to Jed for spawning this bold transformation.
From his delinquency; my motivational freewill exists. The purpose behind my plan is not solely to exact revenge, but that the havoc struck upon him may develop a similar mindset… fostering greater purpose in his life…not just corrective adjustment.
I find an interesting thread on an internet chat page, where vengeance seekers share ideas and knowledge on how to further destroy a motor. It’s included to the back, listed as Questions and Answers, not only for its educational purposes, but its entertainment value. (Click Here)
What makes this plan complicated is that I must avoid the surveillance monitors on Jed’s property. Simply cutting off the electricity won’t do. The monitor system is linked to his phone. Loss of power to the property will trigger an alarm. The service is supported via a secure internet link. By hacking into the connection, I’m able to loop the camera feed.
Yesterday I contacted Jed on his cell phone to set up an appointment to discuss a business proposal. Using an app for my phone, I carry the conversation using a disguised voice. The feminine tone I choose proves to be a noteworthy lure.
Using the website backpage.com, I locate Trina who’s willing to meet up at a local diner, for $45 an hour. At first I consider telling her a made-up story, but instead brazenly share the truth. She reacts enthusiastically, bolstering my decision.
James finalizes the cash arrangements, and then gives Trina detailed instructions, while Marshal and I scan the area. I monitor James and Trina’s encounter on my phone, by way of a pair of glasses James wears, equipped with a concealed camera lens in its frame. He gives our escort $100 to wait at the diner, where Jed knows to meet. Trina is dropped off half an hour before the scheduled time, knowing her date will probably arrive a half-hour to an hour late. She’s given two items required for use. The first is a prepaid smart phone, programmed with the number Jed received at the time of the placed call, for the appointment. Second, a vial containing doxylamine succinate, cut with 100-proof vodka. The sedative is designed to become progressively potent as alcohol is ingested.
Jed’s a jabbermouth. James’ role is to engage him in conversation, at the second location where Trina’s been told the two of them should arrive after the dinner. Marshal’s role is to sit in wait. If the plan fails, at least Jed will return to find the engines seared from molded thermite.
My espionage on his lot goes without a hitch; I’m now pulling up to their location.
My phone’s screen displays James working his angle. Butterflies flutter in my stomach seeing my ex-boss stumble out the backdoor of the bar with Trina. He’s under the presumption that favorable acts will be performed. Tilted by the concoction, Jed’s oblivious to Marshal looming in the shadows, bearing cynical instruments, to disable Jed when he puts up a fight.
Backing our transport minivan down the back alley, I nearly forget a crucial step. I stow the pistol, later to be fired at James’ forehead, loaded with blank rounds…