AN: Well I'm sorta pissed coz I already WROTE a friggin AN, but it didn't save. Grrr. And neither did my page breaks. Grr. So this is my story, chapter one of my story. It starts out pretty funny, bbut let me tell you, the humor's gonna get real dark real fast. Mwaha. This is the first story I'm publishing on this site, so please give feedback.

Disclaimer: I do not own Generator Rex and am not using this story for moolah, so you can't sue me. Um... I think.

A Knife-thin Line

Chapter One: Breifing

One of the worst days of my life started out on the best morning possible. I woke slowly, sliding from my chaotic dream and into the cool white of morning. My eyes flicked open and I was staring at the ceiling, the dirty white ceiling with that ruptured crack across it where Bobo had walloped it with a green plastic baseball bat. The sheets on the hard bed were rumpled and sorta smelly, but cool. Soft light slipped in through the slits in the fake wood blinds.

A beautiful day! I threw off those thin dirty sheets and vaulted from the bed onto the freezing concrete floor. In a few steps I was at the the (locked and barred) window. After a brief struggle, the cheap blinds clattered open. I sighed and leaned forward, just gazing out into the beautifully barren explosives range.

And it was there, leaning shirtless with my cheek pressed to the glass, that I realized the reason this morning was so utterly perfect was I had slept through the four AM briefing session.

And it only went downhill from there.

The talking man kept talking when the doors to the briefing room slid open. He didn't even acknowledge my entrance. Blah de blah-blah. I wondered if he ever stopped talking. I had never seen him without his mouth opening and closing like a fish without water. Then again, I had never really paid attention to him, even when I was at the briefing sessions. Dr Holiday and Agent Six were in their normal places, Six bent over the stone counter in a hard plastic office chair with a notepad, Holiday a standing couple steps behind. Bobo was sitting in my vacated place and for an absurd moment I wondered if I had been replaced. Everybody (besides Talking Man) turned to stare at me upon entrance.

I didn't know what else to do, so I waved.

Dr. Holiday sighed and put her clipboard down on the counter with a soft click. Hearing the click, Talking Man stopped talking and turned to see what was going on. I can make a grand entrance and he'll just talk over me, but when Holiday puts her clipboard down, it's business.

"Good to see you, Rex," Six said. One eyebrow rose above his tinted shades.

"Uh… sorry I'm late?" My voice came out cracked and uncertain. I winced.

Holiday sighed (again) and crossed her arms. Her features were carefully arranged to convey annoyance. "These briefing sessions are important, you know."

"I slept in."

"If you don't think these sessions are important, that's your opinion. But not showing up late puts us all at an inconvenience," Six said. "Sit down. Maybe you can pick something up in the last ten minutes."

"The monkey's in my chair."

"You can sit in the monkey's chair."

"The monkey gets front row seats because the good-for-nothing secret agent likes to sleep," said the monkey (gleefully).

"Yes, Bobo, you've mentioned this," Holiday muttered, and picked up her clipboard. Talking Man started talking again and pointing at some complicated looking mathematical symbols. I wondered if even Six knew his name. But at least now I knew he sometimes stopped talking.

I confess, I didn't understand a thing in the rest of the session. Six is sorta mad and Holiday is acting like she's mad, but I think she doesn't mind. I guess I'll just have to wing it.

"Why don't I ever get to drive the spaceship thingy?"

"Because you'd crash it," the man in the suit said, without looking up.

"But I can CONTROL machines!" I cried. Why was life so unfair? I tuned out Pilot Suit Man's explanation and gazed out at the scenery crawling below us. Ooo. We're in the dessert. The sand was a rusty reddish color and rippled out forever, only broken by the bleached scattered rocks and the dry twisting cacti. Far off in the distance, a mirage glimmered, sending poisoned lies of cool water and shade. Maybe it was a good idea to not let me drive, because I probably would crash it and then we'd all die of overexposure.

"And THAT'S why you can't drive," Pilot Suit Man finished.

I looked at his unremarkable face and hissed, "Lies…". He started to say something else, but I walked away.

I tramped across the the gritty concrete floors. I would go find a mini-fridge and get a soda. Mmm. Soda. I loved soda. But before I could get halfway across the cavernous pilot room, I felt something grip my upper arm.

"I don wanna talk to you…" I bawled. Couldn't the stupid pilot just leave me alone? I already knew he wouldn't let me drive.

"You have to. Where have you been? We're landing in ten minutes. Get in position," Six said.

"Oh, it's you… "

Six frowned, but decided not to comment. "Prepare for landing."

"Okay, getting into position," I said, and kept walking.

"That's not your position."

I didn't say anything and kept walking. At the end of the wide circular room was a door that didn't match the res of the room. The rest of the room was a clean white color. This door was a dirty gray. Broad red and orange lines were painted onto its surface. Oh, and a scuffed metal sign: emergency door. Alarm will sound. I think it was originally put there so that the pilot could take a flying leap (hopefully with parachute) were the engine to malfunction. But in my eyes, it only has one use. How boring these poor people's live would be without me…

"Rex, don't…" Six called (halfheartedly).

"See you at the bottom!" and I pulled my goggles on and shoved the door open. Immediately, sirens wailed and red lights danced merrily on the paneled walls. Pilot Suit Man screamed like a little girl, and Holiday's boots come clicking across the floor. "What, again?" I heard her say, and then I was slapping my goggles on and dramatically swan-diving down and out with a Tarzan yell. Except I don't know what Tarzan sounded like, it's a really old movie, so I just screamed at the top of my lungs. Then a bug flew into my mouth, so I stopped. I loved falling. The air whisked through my gelled black hair. Bits of sand stung my face and lips, bouncing off my goggles. There sure was a lot of grit in the air. And then my wings crumpled out, angling to slow my descent.

My boots thudded into the sand. Gosh, it was lonely down here, even more barren then from the sky. And it was hot. The sun glared down in the burning white sky. The air was completely dry and dust-filled. I looked around. Nothing. There was nothing here. Maybe I would have know what was happening if I had been to the stupid briefing session. Then dust began to stir up, whirling around me and obscuring my vision. I couldn't breath and began to cough, trying to clear my airways. I could feel the sand all over me. Then there was a thump and the ground shook. The air began to clear. The ship hath landed. I heard some shouting about sprinkles and wondered if I'd set them off. I still couldn't see.

And then I felt a slow, creeping dread in my gut. I could almost feel something out there, watching. And suddenly I didn't want to see what had been uncovered in the dust storm.

AN: I would have written more, but I kinda felt that writing too long would kinda crowd my writing, so I'm just posting what I have so far and not the super-awesome twist I was gonna pull. That'll have to come at the end of next chapter, and I'm not telling what it is. Suckers.

And this is where I beg for reviews. What did you think? Funny? Not funny? Too many adverbs? Not long enough? Too much description? Clunky prose? Huh?

And that's it for today. Thank you for reading, please come back sometime, will update within two weeks (going on vacation, may not have time)

Now, let's see if it saves this time...