Daniel, the Janitor

Date: 5th of November, 2005
I'm technically not allowed to do this, keep a journal that is. I distinctly remember having to sign multiple non-disclosure contracts But I think that I'll be needing something to keep me sane in this god forsaken place. First day here, I haven't even had the time to do any real cleaning and I already know this place is batshit insane. But, I think that in the long run it doesn't really matter. Worse case scenario is that one of the higher ups finds this and decides to have me "Suicided" or something crazy like that, But, I think that might be an improvement to my current status.
Currently, i'm a Janitor. While that alone is not note worthy- the situation i'm in is a baffling one and most definitely not normal.
It started about 5 6 days ago, when I was an inmate in some prison down in Missouri. It was some maximum security prison too- what could I have done to get in there? simple. I answered an E-mail at work. Yeah, crazy, right? Well, the punishment wouldn't have been so severe if I didn't work for the CIA. Having your personal E-mail open is a big no-no there, yet everyone does it. I was the unfortunate son of a bitch who happened to open my e-mail just as someone took a peak at my monitor and decided to snitch. That landed me in hot water. Not prison water, but dangerous water. What made it worse? It was a pen pal. someone outside of my work place whom I was assigned during therapy.
And the cherry on top of the cake?
He was Russian.
That right there is Prison water. I'll finish this log later, I'm getting a call on my walkie talkie. I probably have to clean up some vomit or something trivial like that.
Signed, Daniel.

Date: 6th of November, 2005
So- I didn't have to clean up vomit. Nor was there a spill, there wasn't an accident of any sort, what happened was actually way more unexpected.
I walked into Lab 4B which was located on the second floor, and in the middle of the room was a dead fucking body.
Yeah, you heard me right. A dead fucking body, like, a Human- with a bullet straight through his chest. What's even weirder? Nobody seemed to care. Nobody what so ever. The Lab was mostly empty apart from myself, a scientist, and 3 soldiers. But they didn't give a single fuck about the body. The scientist pointed the body out to me and said "Dispose of that" as he shifted through documents.
"What- How- Shouldn't we call the police or something?!" I said, absolutely confused. One of the soldiers chuckled and the Scientist looked at me Incredulously.
"What? No. Just get it out of here" he said impatiently, like i was a McDonalds worker that got his McFlurry wrong.
After a moment of fussing I sighed deeply.
"How?" I questioned. He looked at me and rolled his eyes, sighing like a Teenage girl who's tired of her parents pestering her. He reached into one of the cabinet drawers and pulled out a large book and tossed it at me. I caught it and read the cover:
"CLEANING FOR RPC STAFF: THE BASICS" it said. I was a little confused, and I opened it up, First page? How to get rid of Unwanted waste, Examples used? Trash, Chemicals, and Dead Bodies.
I was absolutely fucking flabbergasted. Was death a natural occurrence here? Was it so common that there is a fucking book published about it? Jesus Christ.
I already hate this place.
Signed, Daniel

Date: 7th of November, 2005
Okay- well I've learned a lot today. They held a Seminar to tell us what the hell is going on. There are 4 other Janitors at this facility: Janet, Who was a logician for the FBI until she was caught up in a sex scandal with the FBI director and promptly fired, Brody, who's a clinically diagnosed psychopath (and probably enjoys it here), Adam, Who was a scientist at this very facility but was demoted for undisclosed reasons, and Vaskolav, who barely speaks English.
We're all Level-1 Clearance janitorial staff, this facility is owned by an organization called "RCP" or something like that. They say that they're whole goal is to "Protect Humanity" from "Anomalous Objects". Whatever that means. They briefed us on some basic protocol, and extensively laid down rules- I'm talking authoritarian level amounts. We can't leave the facility, we must report to the mess hall every morning at 9 AM, at noon, and at 8 PM every night, and many, many other such rules.
I am not having fun, and I wish I could go home.
Signed, Daniel

Date:8th of November, 2005
I didn't get to finish the story about how I got this hellish job. When I was in prison (Scared shitless, mind you.) I was approached by one of the guards and brought into one of the interrogation rooms that they had (It's an older prison) and sitting in the cell was a well dressed man with sharp facial features. He introduced himself as Agent Wally. I chuckled, as did he. He told me that it was a nick name that his co workers gave him. Before I could say anything else, he said this, verbatim:
"Daniel, What if I told you that I could get you out of here, free of charge. Now, what if I also told you I could get you a job- and a stable one at that. In fact, I dare say it's one of the most stable jobs in the country. It comes with risks, but it's worth it. You will be clothed, fed, paid, and sheltered. all you have to do is sign some paper work."
I thought I was being inducted into a super soldier program.
"Where do I sign up?" I said, excitedly.
I have come to regret those words.

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