Endgame - Chapter 98

   The cat did try to wake them up the next morning but they just fed the cat more, and while the cat continued pointing out the error of their scheduling, it was way toned down. Panic's eyes popped open shortly after noon. He didn't know exactly what had awakened him. Merry was all but a small space heater and still unconscious. She hadn't woken him. The cat then. No, the cat wasn't acting up, nor even around. What had done it, if anything.

   Now he heard it. Really light knocking. A low voice. Someone was seeing if they were up, and were at the wooden cabin instead of the trailer. He gently jostled Merry awake to tell her.

   "Are you ready to get up then?"

   Merry stretched, still in her sleeping pose. This lolled his head around some, when her hug arm went into stretching mode to join her free arm. He realized he liked the leg slung over him, seeing it stretch and pull before settling back down. He waited for it, like he always did. When she was done replacing her leg slung over him? He would always get a little rub of the foot, before she settled back in. Somehow, that was the most poignant thing. It was the little things that really mattered, and this was one of them.

   "We missed breakfast. We probably missed lunch, too."

   "They sent a search party out?"

   "Doesn't sound very important, does it? Not like they're beating on the doors and yelling. We were up late, we could choose to strategically ignore it."

   Merry smiled.

   "Hmm. Which one of us is going to get dressed, and see what it is."

   "I will. We have to get up eventually, you know."

   Merry rolled over, and watched him with distracted mild interest as he pulled clothes on, then a jacket. The thermometer said it was a little cold. Just before going out to see who and what was going on, Panic's phone beeped, and he glanced at it.

   "Oh. It's JG. I guess he's early.".

   "Go on and run off to spend time with Junior then. I know the drill."

   "I think he prefers JG, but, I'm guessing."

   He texted back to come to the trailer, then closed the bedroom door behind him. JG got the innocent little peep show of seeing Merry with a small blanket around her, headed to the tiny bathroom to change back into clothes she could be seen wearing in public. JG smiled politely.

   "Am I interrupting your own little operation? I could come back. I honestly didn't think of that."

   "Well, that operation was last night, so, you're fine."

   JG's eyes followed Merry back out of the bathroom, and back into the bedroom. She had thrown on shorts and a T shirt and socks.

   "Not being rude, but… you're a leg man, aren't you?"

   Panic grinned.

   "Among other things? Yeah. What… you're just now noticing her."

   "I, uh… noticed before. On the road. I'd see her laying out, getting winter's last tan. Or, I'd notice her on a bunk in the van. Takes you a little by surprise, when you notice it."

   "You've seen her a million times."

   "Not the way you see her. Not in shorts and a cut off T shirt, I don't. That's why I noticed on the trip."

   Panic winked and grinned more, to let him know it was okay.

   "I mean, what's not to like? In my book, anyways."

   "Like I said, I saw it. Then she puts your work-boots on, and they fit. She stands up."

   Panic smiled.

   "Yeah. She's not a little girl. I like it."

   "Well, I didn't come all this way, just to eyeball your old lady."

   "Not a social call? I'm crushed."

   JG's eyes showed amusement.

   "Well… it's a social call too. Mike took me to New York with him. He's finishing up there, then… he asked me to mention he's coming in too. You already knew I was coming."

   "No, it's fine. Hell, I can't wait till this is all done with. Then when people come over, it's just to hang out for the weekend. Remember, this isn't my career, it was just a hobby I thought would be fun."

   "Mike kinda stole me off of Senior, if you couldn't tell already."

   "Now that you mention it? Yeah. Look at you, going with the big guy, to New York. Seeing about important shit. You're moving up in the world, that's a good thing."

   "Yeah. Anyways. Mike asked me to mention it to you guys. He's bringing in another guy with him. He didn't want you to be surprised."

   "An agent? Tell you the truth, as long as he doesn't try to kill me, or my girlfriend? I'm all happy about it. So… what's up. Who's the extra guy, anyways."

   "He's from the legal department."

   Panic chuckled, and yelled just loud enough for Merry to hear him in the bedroom, through the closed door.

   "Hey, Honey? Mike's coming in too, this weekend."

   "Oh. That's nice."

   "Yeah! He's bringing a lawyer with him, though."

   "Are we getting sued? Bummer…"

   Panic and JG both had a little bit of mirth out of the exchange. Merry broke it by coming out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her, and asking if they wanted coffee. JG didn't, but Panic did.

   "Go ahead, I've been mainly drinking coffee and driving, anyways. I need a break."

   Merry made coffee, while they all sat at the tiny table the trailer offered in the "kitchen". Merry liked standing behind him, draping her arms around his shoulders. Panic couldn't help teasing her, with his fake Indian voice.

   "Huh. Pale face woman? Make good coffee."

   "Funny this morning, aren't we."

   "Well, I am, anyways. Someone, who shall remain nameless, but whose name rhymes with Merry? Is a little miffed her tan goes away in the winter."

   "Miffed? I'm as pale as a cancer victim, honey. Honestly, I'm pretty sure my stock quote goes up a couple of points, every summer."

   "Oh yeah, you're hideous, honey. JG? I've been trying to get her to wear a big, black cloak… just so she quits scaring people, when we go out in public. You know, like… Elephant Woman and shit. Ugh…"

   He shivered with humorous fake fright.

   "And, don't forget my big ass feet. And my bullfrog voice. And I look like I've been shot in the throat. The pale skin? Goes right along with all that."

   "Hmm. You conveniently forget, you're violent streak. You scare people, honey."

   "Oh really."

   JG started to interrupt, and apologized for everything. Merry and Panic looked at each other's face, then back to JG. They giggled. Merry asked Panic to break it to him.

   "We're pulling your leg, JG."

   Merry and Panic didn't really need to talk in secret. They both already knew, that because Uncle Mike had JG with him anyways, it appeared a lot more "normal" if he stopped in because he needed something. Sending JG early, both gave JG a fun errand to run, as well as warned Merry and Panic that a stranger would be coming in with him. Merry went to her default position as Mike's witness, and Panic just another coworker that got along with Mike.

   While they both finished their coffee, JG was finding it funny about their little bet. When he asked how much the bet was for, They both laughed and Merry told him simply it was a "boy girl" bet, and added that if Panic didn't brag about it later? She wouldn't tell. JG pronounced the bet "flapping for fun". JG instantly went to techie mode, and him and Panic had a back and forth, making sure the flapping would be kept up to standards. He seemed satisfied. Merry watched the exchange, and smiled to herself. Talking tech. Going over strategy. He was already in a good mood to begin with before JG's arrival, but he was having fun now. The positive stimuli she was becoming more and more sure of, once again allowed her to predict him.

   JG chuckled, and idly asked if he should try to watch his money, for bail. All three laughed at that one. Panic reassured him.

   "No, JG. No bail required. Merry agreed, she wouldn't put her hands on her, if it comes out like that."

   "Well, I'm allowed to give her a few choice words, if I feel like it. But no, I won't put my hands on her."

   Panic grinned.

   "See JG? Merry's working on her violent streak. I think she's trying to impress me. And you know something? It's working."

   "Ha. You could have a few more cameras if you wanted to, you know. You have your own personal server at the FBI tech vault, you know."

   "Really? How long does that last…"

   "Normally, it would eventually end. When the case either gets dropped, or, in this setting… eventually gets done with trial. No one can change any evidence. And honestly, it's not like a few videos are taking up any space we need or anything. I showed you already, where you have your own partition on the server, right? Until you get your own server, it's yours. You can document anything you want to, and it's unimpeachable that it wasn't messed with, and the days and times are on the logs."

   Panic shook his head, and thanked him for the offer, though. Merry thought it was funny.

   "No, you tech guys will have to find something else to watch, other than this one here, out on a date with his real estate agent."

   JG laughed.

   "Okay. No witnesses then. Good call."

   They bummed around camp and town with JG, then they caught the chief coming off of day shift, in the coffee and donut shop before his next shift came on line. It didn't take a lot of prodding for Merry and Panic to get the chief to entertain JG, with some of the amusing stories he had already related. Panic and Merry knew the punchlines already, and it was still entertaining to hear the tales, the way the chief related it. When the chief took a bathroom break, JG made a funny to Panic.

   "Christ, he sounds like one of us. I'm picturing him, on the image board. Doing an ask me anything thread."

   Panic couldn't miss the chance for a silly voice and mannerisms.

   "Small town cop here, AMA. Then he goes on to tell the funny stories. I'm telling you, the guys would be in stitches. We haven't had a good thread in how long now?"

   "Ha. Days. Oh hey, remember I told you we started seeing how it went, to talk with text inside our images?"

   "Yeah, I forgot about that."

   "It might catch on."

   Merry asked what was going on, and they explained AMA was simply Ask Me Anything. Then, JG explained how they would not just post an image to go with their post text, but… also text in the image as well. When Merry asked what that accomplished, they took turns explaining to her.

   "So, you can say one thing, seeming to agree with the conversation. But… you can say something funny, the exact opposite? With text inside your image."

   "Okay, but, how's that so funny. I'm missing something, ain't I?"

   JG and Panic took turns gently explaining what shilling was, what brigading was, and how it drowned out their entire website, to the point that if you didn't already know what it was supposed to be like, and how to ignore it all? It effectively ruined the site. Merry had trouble understanding what "bots" were, and what "chat-bots" were as well. JG took great delight, in explaining that part too.

   "See. All these threads get made, by one person. It's meant to be a distraction, for any newcomers. To think the board is dumb and boring. Now… that we started agreeing with the shill that made the thread? But… disagreeing obviously, in the hidden image text. It shows everyone, that wouldn't normally notice. We're not crazy, they're listening to chat-bots, not human beings. The chat-bots? Can't see the text inside the image, so, they keep talking like it's not even there. Which makes it obvious to everyone else, how fake they are."

   Panic wanted to know if this was JG's idea, if he was trying to flap on the site.

   "I wish it was my idea. Some other anon's idea, though. I just picked up on it, and helped push it. Like I said, we're trying it out, and it looks like it's going good."

   "If only it wasn't a complete pain in the ass, to keep track of your conversation already, without stopping, opening the picture you want to post, and typing text on the image. Then saving it, then posting it."

   "Well. That's where me and the boys came in on it. Check your email, kemosabi. You got a new app."

   "To do…"

   "We came up with it. You just pick a folder of images, and click on it, so the app knows where to get the images from. Every time you type some text in the box? It generates the next picture, with the text on it automatically. The image keeps changing, so we don't violate the no avatar rule. It's no harder than giving a regular response. You just right click the new image filename, into the box. You don't even have to go browsing for it."

   Panic got a charge out of it.

   "Now that's funny. Like anyone would use an app, that the FBI agents made in the first place."

   "Yeah. We thought about that. We scrubbed it, and released it into the wild. Source code is in the download, just in case anyone wants to recompile it themselves, after looking at the code, and seeing there's no super advanced faggotry going on. Anyone can check their download hash, or even check the new hash after compiling, just to make sure."

   They again both took gentle turns, best explaining to Merry how this prevented someone from taking advantage of the situation, and making an "app" that did the same thing, yet reported back to their master anything they wanted to learn.

   "Jesus. You guys make it sound like… there's enemy agents, coming onto a website. You sound… paranoid. A little, anyways."

   JG sighed.

   "Panic. You wanna take this one? Or me."

   "Go on, bust her little internet cherry."

   "Merry, years back, the website we both like? It was just silly fun. It's big, it's fast. It's anonymous, and you can say just about anything you like. You like Panic's sense of humor?"

   She nodded.

   "Picture a bunch of guys like him, around the world. We're talking, and making jokes, and sharing funny pictures. Until, one horrible day? The normies noticed we existed. Then it all started."

   "What started?"

   "The cold war, basically. Instead of ten quality threads every so many hours? We suddenly started getting a hundred shitty ones, or more. Every day, every night. It never quits. It's not normal, it's not… organic. The people doing this? They clearly don't belong. Now at first? They were easy to spot. We laughed at it. Ignored it. But, over time? They got better and they keep trying. They try to use our words and phrases, trying desperately to fit in. It's very cringe-y. A real life example? Picture you're in high school, and some adult claiming to be another teenager is there. Trying to fit in, and use whatever hip jokes and phrases they learned a year ago. You would cringe, when you finally noticed, right?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Well. This has been going back and forth for a while now. This might tip the balance back in our favor again, for a while anyways. So people can notice them easier."

   "What are these… groups of people trying to do, anyways. Assuming this doesn't sounds a little paranoid."

   "Well. Let me give you some examples. Social media, has been undergoing a bit of a shakeup, right?"

   "That billionaire, just bought the one site…"

   "He did. You know what a lot of people noticed?"

   "What…"

   "He banned, the bots. No more voices chiming in, how every word you type, is such a wonderful thing. Automatic up-voting, by automated scripts. One guy said it best, I think. He showed where before the guy bought the site? He had something like 40,000 people following him. After the script bots got banned? Wow. He noticed, he only had about fifty real humans, liking him and following his every word. It was all fake, and it all went away. He didn't even know. He actually thought he was popular."

   "Oh. Ouch."

   "Yeah, ouch. The internet? Is being used as a giant propaganda machine."

   "For what?"

   "To push the official, approved narrative."

   "On what, though…"

   Panic chimed in.

   "On everything, honey. On everything. Anything some little group of people are talking about? Noticing? Not agreeing with? You send a digital army. To make thousands of little posts, to drown them out. Normies, mostly want to feel like they fit in, and… this gently controls things. It's 1984. It's here. It's been here for a while now."

   "Okay. Let's just say, I accept this on faith. What would an example be…"

   JG and Panic met eyes, and started tossing out ideas. Panic finally jumped on one suggestion JG made.

   "Tibet, honey."

   "Tibet? The hell does Tibet even care, what people talk about on social media, anyways. I me---"

   "Not Tibet. China. Remember, some years back? Chinese military was wiping out villages in Tibet. Pictures, and movies got made and put on the internet, to show people, what was going on."

   "Now that you mention it? Yeah… social media? Just because I'm not on it, doesn't mean I don't look at it."

   "It only caused an uproar, on the internet. On American TV? It just wasn't a story, at all. China went around and slowly… scrubbed, the internet. Scrubbed those images and videos as best they could. A few of us, guys like me and JG? We notice that shit. We save the pictures. We save the videos. We make funny little jokes with the images, when people come around talking about how wonderful China really is. Don't take my word for it. Grab your phone, and try to search for the Tibet Massacre pictures and videos. You won't find anything that way, except a bunch of dead links. It makes it, because it was never reported in the news, because it's almost impossible to find online, unless you know where to look… yeah, it makes it like the massacres? Never even happened."

   Merry held her index finger up, and did indeed try searching. They were right, and she showed them. A whole screen full of "file not found" 404 errors, if you tapped on the links.

   "So… it's China. Doing an online propaganda campaign?"

   JG snorted and giggled.

   "It's 1984 Merry. Everyone's doing it. United States TV? Just can't find stories, that other countries seem to have no problem finding. France, by the way, was fighting in the streets, off and on for months. You never heard a peep about it, on the news, did you? Don't be ashamed, no one did. France, is fighting with the police in the streets. For months, mind you. Not one newspaper found out, not one news station. You can watch hours of riot videos, by the way. It was our entertainment, for a month and a half, a ways back."

   "China and France. Gotcha."

   "And Russia, and every country in Europe. Every country in the middle east… it's everyone."

   "Okay. So if it's all over, and it works on social media, and on newspapers and TV stations, like you say… why do they even care about the site you guys go on? Seems weird."

   "JG? Back to you."

   "Well… our website, is known for a couple things. You can say just about anything. Even dirty words. No censorship. But the biggest thing? We're just not normies. You can't just post a few feels good memes about something, and we all sit back and go… aw. How cute. You can't just tell us what our opinion is going to be, like most people in the world. We fight back."

   "You fight back…"

   "Yeah. You try to cover shit up, and memory hole it? We let you go, then we re-release all of what you're trying to hide, right back out into the light of day. On social media. Oh, it's funny. People are laughing, at how we make fun of the powers that be, but… make no mistake. It's a cold war. A cold war for propaganda, and the right to see through the bullshit."

   Merry thought about it. This made sense, when you looked at it the right way. People were out there lying, and trying to shout down people like Panic. If they expected Panic and people just like him to have a short memory, then go and click on click-bait? They were sadly mistaken. Not to mention, Merry was privileged to really know Panic, and knew some of what made him tick.

   If some country somewhere was invading little villages and shooting and stabbing anything that moved, then burning it to the ground? Oh yeah. Now, that would get his attention. Loud and clear. He suddenly would take some perverse interest in it. She could just imagine him, calling someone a "faggot" online, and pointing out how silly things really were. Taking images of political and military leaders, and giving them a little kid's once over. Funny words, funny word balloons and sarcastic little labels and arrows.

   He would make the normies laugh at the propaganda, while showing them it was happening. Then it struck her, that if there were others joining in his fun, yeah. They would try to do something about it. What these two were describing, was likely the best thing they had come up with yet.

   "How do you figure out who is doing what, though. Seeing it or even proving it exists, is one thing. Knowing who, sounds elusive."

   "During an election, or any other bipolar story-line? You can tell who's pushing it, just by what's being said. There's two sides, and it's pretty clear which side they're on. Then there's a few little gems floating around. Some shill accidentally doxxed himself here and there, it happens. People noticed and screen-capped it, and spread it around. Showed in the archives, that it really happened."

   Merry thought that was funny.

   "Wait a minute. All this advanced attack going on, and some ding dong accidentally let's everyone know who he is?"

   Both JG and Panic laughed, then JG showed her an example.

   "Know who… James Magretzy is?"

   "Nope."

   "Well, don't take our word for it. You can look up the name, and who he works for. You can see it here…"

   Merry studied the screenshot someone had made to prove it happened, then passed it around. Where he should have had his name as "Anonymous", his full name and title was there. Including where he worked. It was purportedly his private internet email address at work. JG explained.

   "See, he's at work. You can see, he works as a writer for that newspaper agency. What happens is, people aren't used to coming on our site? They're mixing work and the board time together… next thing you know, oopsie. The computer doesn't know any better, and your browser auto claps your information into the box, and you don't catch it. Here, it's his work email. Which gives everyone his name, where he works, his title… everything. As well as a place to send him a wonderful bit of fan mail, until he gets a new email address. Look at what he was writing, before it happened."

   Merry was so engrossed in seeing the person had doxxed themselves on accident, when she did take a moment to study what he had been posting, before realizing his error.

   "Hmm. I assume that this guy, is the last guy that anyone would think was posting bullshit like this, right?"

   "Oh, yeah. He's a huge writer for a major news agency. One of his favorite topics? Pro immigration. Pro everything, really."

   "Then… why would he type that shit? It doesn't make any sense."

   JG and Panic exchanged knowing glances. Panic took over gently explaining it.

   "See honey, he always writes a ton of articles? Complaining about online racism, and the internet hate machine, how horrible free speech is. He's an outspoken advocate for hate speech legislation. If you type a dirty word, that's against the teacher's rules? You get a fine, or go to jail. That's how a lot of countries handle it, you know. England, France, Sweden… all places that put you in jail for not saying what the government tells you to say."

   She looked again. His opening post? He asked straight out, if "can we get a nigger hate thread going". Then, people started making fun of him, for his leak. He asked to have the thread deleted. But, not before someone caught it, made fun of him, then saved it for all time. Panic never talked like that, and neither did JG.

   "See honey, here's the game plan. Journalists, if you even wanna call them that… come to the site. They post over the top, outrageous shit, like this is a good example… then? They sit back and write an article, about all the horrible things going on, at this site. We get smeared in the news, daily."

   "Oh, I get it. He's posting the stuff, then complaining about it in an article, asking to get the site shut down."

   JG smiled.

   "She gets it. She might not even be a normie. I'm impressed."

   "Wow. Makes me wonder."

   "Makes you wonder what, honey."

   "Well. How many of his articles are as fake as this one was going to be. Or…"

   Panic saw the light dawning on her face. No Bluetooth connection needed.

   "Or… how many other so called journalists, are using the same trick."

   "The powers that be, Merry. The powers that be. Do not like anonymous speech. Where you can say anything, and not be held up to be ridiculed for it. They don't like it, one bit. They're always pushing and pushing and pushing… hate speech, and some kind of universal online ID. So anything you ever type, can instantly be traced back to you. And you can get fined, arrested, lose your job, lose the friends and wife and kids… that's what they want. You have the gall to not only vote for the wrong candidate, you dare talk openly about it? You won't let a news story die, that they find embarrassing? Oh, you should have to pay for that. That's a big no no in 1984. Not allowed to have original thoughts. Your opinions? Will be given to you, so you can have one."

   "All right. I'll play along. I've heard about the website before. Everyone rolls their eyes. Going there, with the steakhouse waitresses? Kinda like you report how you went to… that one shady bar you always heard about. Now… are you guys really a bunch of… racists there?"

   JG and Panic both eyeballed each other, and started giggling.

   "JG? I'm gonna let you field this one…"

   "Nah… it's your girl, you handle it."

   "Okay. So Merry… the site? It's anonymous. No one knows who anyone else is. Young boys on the internet, talking in headsets, while playing group games?"

   "Yeah…"

   "It's just talk. If you can make the other guy uncomfortable? You do it, he loses if he gets mad. Saying faggot, saying nigger? It was an online game. And remember… no one knew who each other was! There's been times, one black guy playing a game, was calling another black guy… a nigger. As soon as it happens, everyone cracks up on the channel playing. It's funny."

   "That's gamers gabbing during games. What about this website."

   "Same people, hun. Used to be teenagers and young adults. Gamers. They finally got a website, that reflected their online culture. Anonymously saying edgy shit, to be funny. No one ever got hurt. And everything was just fine… until the goddamn normies, discovered our little world even existed. It's been hell on earth ever since. Imagine how this looked, to some reporter coming on and looking around."

   Merry finally started laughing again.

   "Oh Christ. He wouldn't understand…"

   "No. He would most certainly not understand."

   "Well, why didn't you guys tone it down, then."

   "What? The hell for. We were as happy as pigs in shit, before the normies figured out we existed. Honestly, the game plan at that time, was… say it more. Drive the normies out. People started posting, just… completely outrageous shit. You found a video, of a cat ripping a bird apart? Disgusting, but… don't let it go to waste. Post it! Help drive the normies out."

   "Oh shit, I can see it now. It backfired, didn't it."

   "Well, obviously. Seemed like a better idea at the time. I mean, it sort of worked. For like, a minute."

   "Hmm. I know you, honey. You love animals."

   "I do. Now… here's this big site, filled with hate speech, and obviously deranged psychos, watching gore threads and making jokes about all the carnage, right?"

   "Yeah…"

   "What you don't hear about, is all the good we did. JG… remember back in the day? That asshole was posting videos of him torturing baby kittens? Then laughing about it."

   JG winced.

   "Oh, I remember that one. Merry… there was some wacko, and he was posting videos, of… it's disgusting. He was putting a bunch of baby kitties, into one of those… vacuum bags? And… sucking all the air out slowly. You could see, these cute little kitties, struggling, in the tight wrapped vacuum. It was ridiculous. We got pissed…"

   "You and Panic?"

   "No, Merry. The entire community, practically the whole site. We all made it a mission, to find some way of tracking the guy down, and putting a stop to it."

   "You guys… doxxed him."

   "Took a while? But yeah, we got him."

   "How'd you guys finally… nab him."

   "Out his window, Merry. Dipshit let us see out the window, in the background. Everyone that lived in a city, just looked out their window, and posted the picture, along with a city location and block number. Only took a day or two, to prove it was New York. Another couple days, concentrating on Anonymous users loyal to the site, in New York? Couple days, we started homing in on the view outside his window. We finally got one guy, the picture matched perfectly. Asshole lived on the floor below him, in his own apartment building. Guy was creep-ed out that shit was going on, just underneath his feet."

   "How did you know it was below him, not the apartment above him?"

   "The difference in angles, between both seemingly identical pictures."

   "Did someone…"

   "No. We sent proof to the cops. We sent proof to the mayor. We sent proof to all the newspapers and TV reporters. Once we had his building location, that's when some of our experts took over. Tracing his IP. We ended up with some guy, worked in public IT. Guy worked in a building that housed one of the giant routers, that run the internet. When the guy was posting? He used his position, to start helping track the guy down."

   "Well… you guys should have been hailed as… heroes. Who cares if you say a few dirty words, you're fighting for defenseless animals like that."

   Panic took back over.

   "Yeah, hun. You'd think. But no. Instead of our own ticker-tape parade? The world just ran with the story, of the horrible cat killer who was finally brought to justice… by the quick thinking, and internet savvy, of the New York's finest. They were quick to take credit."

   "Aw. You guys should have had your day in the sun…"

   "Nope. Remember. We're the bad guys. We're what's wrong with the world. Anytime we do anything good? And there's plenty of operations we got into like that one, but… no. We're not allowed to look good. We have to be the bad guys. We're the bad guys, every time something goes bump, on the internet."

   "Well. It's kind of amazing, they didn't just pull the plug on your website. Why leave it up, anyways, if everyone's so concerned. Doesn't make any sense."

   JG and panic shared another look. JG took over, it was his turn, it seemed.

   "They tried that one, Merry. The whole site, not just our board… went completely down. No official word why, and stayed down, with no explanation. Must have been four, five… six months or so."

   "Well, why let it go back up then. They won."

   Both of the guys laughed. JG continued on.

   "There's thousands and thousands of us, Merry. When the site went down? Hey… everyone went someplace else. And, a lot of us? Were back on mainstream social media. That was the problem."

   "What do you mean?"

   JG smiled.

   "Thousands and thousands of us, all spread out. The funny memes? The funny pictures making fun of the powers that be? We all figured out ways around the bans on the normal social media sites. The problem got worse, not better, looking at it from the normies point of view. Now? It's not just one site. It's all the sites. You can demonize one site… you can't demonize the whole internet. People were laughing, at things they weren't allowed to find funny."

   Merry chuckled.

   "So. You boys got your board back. Good for you."

   "Did we really get it back? We're under constant attack now. Instead of 10 quality threads? We get 100 bullshit, spam threads. We joke, it's a containment board. You can't shut it down, or we all go our own way, and… I don't know… I guess they think we kind of… infect, the normies with our special sense of humor."

   "So. Are you guys there… really a bunch of… Nazis?"

   JG and Panic both almost doubled over in laughter, before squelching it and getting back to the conversation.

   "Merry. Remember the gore threads, saying dirty words? It was part of a campaign, however misguided it was, to drive the normies off our site. Yeah, someone got the idea early on. You start seeing normies whining and complaining on the site? Everyone spam Nazi photos, Hitler photos, pictures of the SS and the swastika. We thought it was funny. We thought, we would get left alone. Yeah, it backfired."

   Merry laughed.

   "Hmm. Along come the journalists, that got wind of it. Took one look around the place. Treated it like a trip to the zoo, and posted picture of the inmates at the asylum, in articles."

   Merry suddenly got the giggles. When Panic prodded her, what it was… she rolled her eyes, and stuck her hands up above her head briefly.

   "Oh. Merry wanted me to tell you, that she took your… advice, we'll call it… and bought… cat ears, and an outfit to wear for me."

   JG busted out laughing for a few seconds before he got it under control.

   "Bet you liked it."

   Panic positively beamed.

   "I did."

   JG suddenly made a no no face, and made the tsk tsk sound.

   "Completely? Degenerate!"

   Merry slapped his shoulder in fun.

   "Hey!"

   "Just kidding, Merry. Glad you two crazy kids, went and had some fun. Panic… did you tell her?"

   "I mean to, but… it wasn't the right time… see, I---"

   Merry cut him off sweetly.

   "Wasn't the right time, to tell Merry what, exactly. Hmm?"

   JG looked at Panic to tell her. He looked back at JG.

   "Oh no, mister. You gave her the idea? You explain it."

   JG looked at Merry, and back to Panic.

   "Uhm…"

   "Merry? Our buddy here, was having a little in-joke with me. I had fun, I can't wait to do it again, trust me. But, what he's talking about…"

   "Oh, no. Go on…"

   "They're called… cat girls, but… I don't know how exactly to say this. What the joke is, just from him to me. It… honestly? Has no reflection on you, whatsoever…"

   "Well, I guess you'd better try then, huh?"

   "Okay. I know they sell the… cat outfits, to women? And they do. It's just… well… there just might be as many boys buying that same outfit, as there are girls. If you know what I mean by that."

   "I don't get it…"

   "Remember, the package said cat girl, or cat boy?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Well? You get the idea, then. Right?"

   Merry's face seemed to half drop, and she leveled her gaze on JG.

   "You were making a joke, that because I have big ass feet, I'm a fucking transvestite?"

   She watched JG positively squirm for a few seconds, before laughing and telling him it was fine, she was just kidding.

   "Great. Worried I was gonna get… Dirty Dozen-ed, for a second there."

   "Hmm. No, not you, JG. Someone else runs that risk…"

   "Hey. We both had fun. It wasn't any statement on you, hun. It was just a private joke between me and him."

   "And I know this because…"

   "Did I complain when you put a kitty collar on me? No, I didn't. So there."

   JG found this particularly amusing, and started snickering.

   "Oh. You wore a cat collar, eh? You degenerate. What's next… you gonna go full on fur-fag, or what?"

   Merry was laughing now, right along with both of them.

   "Wait a minute, I know what a furry is? And no."

   Panic had his somewhat patented look on.

   "Well, let's wait a minute here. If you got dressed up as a cute girl cat? I wouldn't exactly say no, right off the bat…"

   JG had fun pointing right at him, denouncing him as a fur-fag, several times in rapid succession. Asking when the next "furry convention" was in town, there was no end to it for a little while. Merry noticed, no one got mad. It was clearly all in fun.

   Panic jokingly tried to change the topic.

   "So. When's Mike getting in again…"

   "Why? You gonna try to put cat ears on him, too?"

   JG got struck by the giggles.

   "Thanks for the mental image, JG. I'm sort of imagining, him and Senior? Both with the ears on…"

   That produced another round of giggles.

   "Great. You're both absolute degenerates. What's next, you gonna start peeing on each other? Perverts…"

   Merry and Panic both laughed, JG had some comedic timing. Merry laughed and added to it.

   "Nah, that's for little kids. What I like to do? I take a shit on his chest. Then? I scoot my ass like a dog on him, to clean off. Jesus, JG, I thought you knew about this stuff, come on now…"

   JG was temporarily stunned and froze. Merry jumped on her chance.

   "Yeah. That's why I call him? My little baby wipe. I mean, everyone does that, right?"

   Panic looked from Merry, then to JG, then back and forth a couple more times. He was grinning. JG picked it up as well.

   "Yeah, I can read your mind. Femanon, huh?"

   "Eh. Some basic thread etiquette, a little site history… some bait thread training… I think she might be able to keep up with the… dare I say it… the Australians, even."

   "And the Canadians?"

   "JG, come on. No one, can handle the Canadians. The leafs? Are in a class all their own. Besides? She doesn't even own a dog."

   "Do I even wanna know about the Canadian girl dog joke?"

   "Probably not. You can guess, far too much has been said already."

   Panic smiled, and gave JG a weird comeback, from Merry's perspective on the conversation.

   "Merry? If you only knew, how bad things really are…"

   Merry just shook her head, watching these two laugh themselves silly over whatever it was that they deemed so funny. Merry idly wondered suddenly. There were two of these in the same room, whatever in the hell they exactly were anyways. So then what would it be like, to have a dozen of them there. Then, the idea quickly coalesced.

   No one would get hurt, nothing would really happen that mattered, but… it was all too obvious. A dozen of them got together, and got a few beers in them? They would go out in the middle of the night, and make snowmen and snow women, doing it on front lawns around town. Snowmen, with little snow penises. Snow women? With little snow boobies. Some joker would go awry, and make a snowman in front of a car, looking like it got hit in a pedestrian accident, and the top half would be laying on the hood of a car. Someone would find a roadkill, and put it on top of one of the snowmen, for a winter fur hat. Not to be outdone? His buddy would one up him with a pointy little white Klan style hat, and an old white sheet for the robes. No, it would be funny, and the entire world would come and take pictures and videos.

   There would be newspaper stories, a TV reporter might even show up with a camera and make a fifteen second blurb on it. They would be labeled as everything from merry pranksters, to downright terrorists. Someone, somewhere? Would decide, that what the snowmen really meant? Was racism. Snowmen were, after all, completely white. Half the world of normies would laugh and get the joke, and the other half? Would believe that snowmen were a racist dog-whistle.

   When they were done with the "racist" snowmen? The after party, would likely be to go and find a big bronze statue somewhere around town, and dress it up in women's lingerie, complete with wig and makeup, and a little pink purse attached to one hand. Someone, somewhere would get highly offended that they could do such a horrible thing, to statue X. Most people, though… would point and laugh. Cameras likely wouldn't miss this stunt, either. They would be declared racist trans-phobics, no doubt.

   They wouldn't be happy, unless they wore masks and sunglasses, and posed with one of the snowmen under construction, so when it showed up later on the news? They could anonymously claim credit online for the stunt, and make their online buddies, who they never once met, and never once would ever meet… point and laugh.

   Merry had spent enough time with Panic, to have seen him take out his felt tip marker he usually carried in public, and look around to make sure the coast was clear… before making the joke so everyone else could get a laugh out of the mundane, and the everyday. Sometimes, it was even something you didn't notice how funny it really was, until he pointed it out. Or his silly little joke stickers he ordered somewhere, and would put them up in various places. They looked like any other ordinary instruction stickers, but… once you read one after noticing it? It was anything but ordinary.

   Merry's favorite? He had a little sticker that purported to show a "review" of the bathroom stall, with text proclaiming the bathroom… 4 out of 5 stars, would poop here again. Under normal circumstances, Merry would never have seen one, but, she had seen that sticker unused, and inquired about it. He went in a men's room, made sure the coast was clear, then taken her in so she could see one he had put up. It was funny, when you finally noticed it.

   What did Panic always tell her about silly shit in society he was always pointing out? It's clown world, baby. You gotta honk. She suddenly realized, that she just got the joke. She had wondered, why she had seen so many funny pictures on the internet for a while now, and the person was always dressed up like some kind of clown. Making fun of what the regular media was claiming everyday was perfectly healthy and normal.

   Guys like these, she realized, were fun and largely harmless. For the most part. Until someone went and got them all riled up. Then, they didn't get violent, but… that trademark sense of humor, got weaponized. These were the guys that all got together online, and convinced the world that maybe some famous guy's wife? Was really a man. These were the guys that thought the world was so silly, that they could actually convince people, that milk was racist. When someone had laughed at the funny joke, that simply taping up blank pieces of white paper on telephone poles, might bring the FBI to investigate the rampant racism? Some joker tried it, and it worked.

   You could be one of the world's most powerful dictators, and execute people for breathing too loud, but… heaven save you, if you insulted the board somehow publicly. These guys would see to it, that people were laughing at doctored photos of the dictator in full drag, until the end of time. Someone else would come along, and would animate the image. So the dictator appeared to be rave dancing.

   When someone once said that Nazi's weren't funny? These guys had risen to the challenge, and made more Hitler jokes, than anyone ever once thought remotely possible. And indeed… Merry now knew she had once before seen these guy's handiwork. The one girl at the steakhouse thought it was hysterically funny, to see Hitler dancing around the screen, waving what for all the world appeared to be glow in the dark "rave sticks".

   When someone else found the same dancing Hitler, but with a soundtrack? Hitler was dancing to rave music. It was even funnier. The more the "normies" would wring their hands, and wondered what to do about it? The funnier it became. The nightly news? Warned parents about the dangers of Nazi racists online, now targeting innocent children. With their kid-friendly dancing Hitler, they would later on seek to radicalize their child, now that they had been groomed.

   Merry instantly realized, that if it had been Ben Franklin dancing around to rave music, with glow sticks? It would have been fine and dandy. Or George Washington, or Abraham Lincoln… or Paul Revere. All would have been considered fair game to be made fun of. But not Adolph. Oh no. You can make fun of the founding fathers all you want? But you're not allowed to make fun of this bad guy, here. Not this one. He's off limits.

   Every media figure, that had publicly made fun of the denizens of the website? Had caught media hell for it. One, had their email hacked. Saucy emails between the famous man, and his secretary, who by the way was not his wife? Had been the endless source of amusement for almost 2 weeks, that's all you heard about. Some famous national newswoman, had her cell phone account "compromised", and photos and videos of her having explicit fun with some guy surfaced. She was all the more embarrassed, when the man in the videos was proven not to be her husband. Celebrities tended strongly now, to give the website a wide and respectable berth. To rile them up, was to risk seeing yourself embarrassed on the evening news, all week long, and possibly nosediving your career.

   Merry remembered when "online trolls", had discovered that a large movie review site, actually operated with a few hundred "reviews", and hardly more than a couple thousand, per movie. The merry internet pranksters, had mobbed the site. Written several thousand outrageous reviews, and dropped the aggregate score reviewing the movie? To a dismal 1 and a half stars. People laughed, it was funny. Other people? Were wringing their hands, wondering what could be done about it. The site responded? By simply "declaring" their own number of stars. Which prompted everyone to point out, that it was no longer a "review", it was just a paid puff piece, that meant nothing. They temporarily interrupted the movie review business, just for fun. It was grown up, silly teenage fun… and people were acting like there were heads on sticks up and down the road.

   Before the meme had been banned? It of course had went viral. A certain "Rabbi Whoever" had his "review" screen-capped, and it ended with "it's one small step, from this? To ovens again! This can not be tolerated in a decent society! We will not stand for it!"

   Everyone just laughed even more. These two, and their cohorts? No doubt about it, they had a copy of that "banned" meme saved. They would re-release it, from time to time. Panic had explained to her once, that if a meme or any image is banned? That's an automated filter. Try renaming the file. If that didn't work? Try adjusting the colors. The automated filters created image keys, by counting color pixels. If all else failed, you could re-work the image. Change it just enough, it got through the filters. As a last resort, you could even re-make the meme over, to change it entirely, yet still be basically the same thing. Similar but different image, with different colored text below it.

   Millions of dollars and man hours were being abjectly wasted, trying to put a stop to people deciding for themselves, what was funny and what wasn't. Circumventing these measures, took about a couple days and cost nothing. Creating them? Loads more time and money. They had the system, swatting at flies with sledgehammers.

   Political leaders and the serious commentators at the national and international level, were the most at risk. They needed desperately to be taken "seriously", whatever that meant, and… everyone laughing at a doctored photo of them dancing around like an idiot? Was enough to make them check morale. They could no longer be taken seriously, once people associated their face, with the silly dancing cartoon. Now, people would simply point and laugh. They weren't scary anymore. The more they yelled and screamed, the more everyone laughed. Like political cartoonists, they wielded humor as a weapon.

   A simple text preceded Uncle Mike's arrival. He proved to indeed, have a lawyer or two in tow with him. After a short while, Mike asked Panic to take a little walk with him.

   "So. I assume JG told you already. That I had a lawyer with me?"

   "Two of them, I see. Yeah, he mentioned it. What's up? They here to… prep me for a hearing or something, I'm guessing."

   "Well. Actually, only the one with the briefcase. He's the lawyer. The other one? He's from another agency altogether."

   "Oh. All right."

   Mike took a while, beating around the bush like he would sometimes do. How he had to sometimes sit down now, and figure out what a normal steakhouse waitress, in Merry's situation, would likely do next. After several sideways trips around this particular barn, Panic wondered aloud what it had to do with him.

   "I'm pretty sure, that someone probably mentioned this before to you, but… the bureau's legal department is bugging me now that the main part of the case is done."

   "About…"

   "Panic, it's now public knowledge. That a dirty FBI agent, tried to kill you and your then steakhouse waitress girlfriend, in the middle of the night. The legal department? Wants some degree of… closure on that particular turd. Quite frankly, it's an embarrassment to the bureau. It makes us all look bad."

   "Define… closure. I figured when the hearing cleared me on the shooting, that was… closure."

   "From a legally responsible standpoint? That's true. Official inquiry, all ends right there."

   "Implying, that there's something more in play, than just the official inquiry."

   "Well, now that you bring it up. The bureau, and particularly the legal aid department, as well as the PR department? There's that."

   "What's legal aid have to do with it again?"

   "If you were an agent, and another FBI agent tried to kill you, like what happened? Legal is looking to… close on the deal. No one wants to think it all went away, then… you turn up in some interview. Next thing you know, comedians are making jokes about the incompetency of the FBI."

   "Mike. What are we talking about here, really. Actually, you're the one talking about it, and I still don't know where the hell this is going. Come on. Toss me a bone here."

   "Legal aid, will… want to sit down with you. Go over the case. And want your… opinion. On how you thought you might answer any questions, in public about it. I'm sure, that lawyer will have a list of his own questions, and would want to see how you thought you would answer such a question."

   "An agent would, you said so yourself. How about a consultant?"

   "Actually, a consultant? Would… more than likely, be asked to sign some sort of… waiver… gag order. You could call it whatever you like, but, they would try to… court your favor, to agree to a few key things."

   "And, how would they go about courting my favor, eh? By threatening me, no doubt."

   "No, Panic. This is the 21st century, my boy. They're lawyers. They want to buy you, not threaten you. If you were to agree, to answer certain questions a certain way, beforehand? Nice little cash prize. Maybe if you were to agree to not answer certain questions, and just beat around the bush politely. Might be a different cash prize. And in case you're wondering? It's really rare for a consultant, to be put in harm's way. For that harm to come from a dirty agent? Ugh. Most people, would be looking for a lawyer. You? Haven't done that. That, somewhat ironically I have to admit… has legal rattled. You'd make a lot of people, very happy, if you were to put their fears to rest, and people could… count on, what you might say."

   "You were sent here, to see if my right to free speech, is for sale."

   "You could look at it like that, I guess. You could look at it another way, though."

   "What way, would you be proposing, Uncle Mikey."

   "Well. Since you ask? You did have a case you found out about. You got together with Speedy. You two? Wormed your way into the Hoover building with your outlandish theory. Then? You guys sold us on it. Your case? Got manpower, and budget, and importance. It happened. Now, let me ask you… aren't you happy, that you got your case taken care of? It was your pride and joy as a hobby, right?"

   "Yeah. Like my own baby. You put it like that? Yeah, I'm pretty happy."

   "Okay, so. The bureau? Was in some ways, there for you. You're happy, maybe… with the Bureau. Would… you want to see harm come, to the bureau?"

   "Well, no. I j---"

   "See? You agree, to limit the damage certain answers can cause in public. To your team, that was there to help you. In return for this public relations collective sigh of relief… well… friends sometimes do for one another. Like what I'm talking about. What do you think."

   "Will it be enough, that I meet the guy, listen to his spiel. See what we're talking about? If you and him can show me, realistic harm can be done to the Bureau… yeah, I would probably get on board with limiting that damage."

   "There you go. That's the spirit. Now, if you wanted a tip?"

   "Sure. Why not."

   "If the lawyer, got met with… let's just call it, ah… token resistance at the gates? You know, you're a free speech advocate."

   "I kinda am, really."

   "Right. If you try to remember, that this is a lawyer? He has two weapons at his disposal, to accomplish whatever he's trying. You know what that is?"

   "Pray tell."

   "Paperwork, and money. If you were to, oh I don't know… hold out a little? I'm real sure, the price would go up."

   "How would this be any different, if I was an actual agent and this all happened."

   "Well, an agent is… I hate the way it sounds, but… kinda property of the FBI. You're expected to be a team player, do what the coach wants you to do. The coach says, he doesn't wanna see any end zone dances, on TV? An agent, is expected to go with that. And remember, Panic. This is an agent's life and career, and most of them have wives and children. So yeah, there's a certain amount of built in mild pressure, to get on board with the team view of things."

   "I gotcha. I'm a consultant, not an agent, so… they have less pressure they can bring."

   "Actually, if you were a paid consultant? Some of the same pressure exists. But, as an unpaid consultant… you're a bit of a wild card in their eyes."

   "This would obviously make Uncle Mike, happy."

   "I represent the Bureau on this. My visit? Unofficial. My opinions I just related to you? Off the record, naturally. I would say, simply look and listen, see if they're asking for a pint of blood or not."

   "Okay Mike. You sold me. I'll give it a listen. Question?"

   "Sure. Shoot."

   "So… if that guys the lawyer, representing legal aid and PR… who's the other guy? You said he was from a different agency. I really don't wanna work for any other agency, Mike."

   Mike stopped walking, and smiled at Panic.

   "Didn't I tell you before, I would eventually bring out an assistant, from the ATF? To discuss your gun shop paperwork with you. That? Is him."

   "Hmm. Do I get to choose which one I talk to first?"

   "Panic? You can talk to either one first. But, if I might make a suggestion."

   "You do seem to be full of them today. Go on."

   "There's a kind of… circle of friendship, that goes around. When people are all happy? Good things can happen. I mean, you want to borrow your Dad's car keys for the night, and stay out late, drive to some concert. You're more likely to get car keys and a 20 dollar bill from Dad? When he's happy. I mean, go figure."

   "Define… happy."

   "Well. Pretty much everyone's happy right now. You're happy, JG, senior, Speedy. All happy. Now, take my assistant director. He's pretty happy right now. If you asked me to divine the future? Now, or very soon, really. Would be just the perfect time, to ask for the car keys and 20 bucks."

   "Okay. And if I talk to these gentlemen, in the recommended order. What kind of happy could I envision for myself. In the whole… circle of friendship theme of things, that is."

   "Off the record?"

   "Always."

   "There's a couple of things that go into being approved for a gun shop. One of those things, is a required minimum waiting time. Now, normally? This is to ensure that the FBI, has the time necessary to do a thorough background check, on the guy that wants to own a gun shop. Except, in your case? You already had an even more thorough background check, by the same FBI… to wear the consultant badge. Since this is a special case, and by that I mean the FBI already has an even more thorough than normal background check already prepared for the ATF, before they even ask for such a thing… this waiting period, while a requirement? It's kind of silly. What if, and just saying what if, off the record. Someone accidentally put the wrong date down on the forms. I mean, I don't know… could just happen to have been several months ago, even. Curiously? It could just happen to be, just the right date? That approval could come, almost immediately. As far as any of your friends were concerned? You filed the paperwork months ago, and it meets the minimum waiting period."

   "Mike?"

   "Yes."

   "You're very good at this."

   "Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment."

   "You? Make bribery, and corruption, seem like family values."

   Mike laughed.

   "Save it, for the lawyer. You'll get paid twice from him, for a comment like that. Now. On a more serious note?"

   "Sure."

   "I'm pretty sure you're just kidding, but… I once knew a guy, and most people would call him a former spook. A mercenary, even."

   "You don't say?"

   "Yeah. Small world. Anyway, this guy. He had a problem with the word mercenary. Seems that's a legal word, that means some specific things. None of which, he was. He preferred the term… private security specialist."

   "Really."

   "Oh, yes. Now, in line with his reasoning? A bribe, has a very strict definition in and of itself. In fact, a bribe is when you're trying to pay someone, to do what they really shouldn't do, otherwise. Or, when a person should be doing something, and want to hold out for money to do it. I honestly don't think either of those things apply here. You're entitled to pursue your dream of owning a… gun shop. Playing with class III toys. No one, is trying to keep you from that. If a friend of a friend, put you in touch with someone that could expedite your paperwork? Well… that's how friends and family operate then, isn't it. If, in the spirit of teamwork and friendship, you happened to agree beforehand how some questions would get answered? Again, nothing illegal about that. Private agreements get made every day. Here, I think a gag order isn't even what we're talking about. Not like anyone wants to muzzle your free speech rights. Friends are just asking for an honest heads up, what the answers might be. More of a… official letter of intent. We could call it… a gentleman's agreement."

   "Mike?"

   "What now. I think we covered everything, un---"

   "No. You started out saying something about Merry? How's she figure in on all this."

   "Oh, slipped my mind. Actually, as you can imagine? I spend a great deal of time, worrying about exactly how to position my niece, on the chessboard. It's becoming clear to me, since no one knows who she really is, and what part she really plays. A normal out of work waitress in her position? Would, in all likelihood… go shopping for a lawyer, and start suing agencies. The city of DC. The DC police force. The FBI. Honestly, the fact she hasn't done it yet? Is getting mildly suspicious, in a way. Lawyers? Have their own reasoning, and the scuttlebutt is, she's biding her time, waiting for the proper moment to strike. Lawyers, representing some of these key agencies I mentioned? Would love to get her to sign off her little Jane Hancock, and agree not to pursue civil remedies against them. In fact, it's a normal procedure, to approach such an individual, and see what a quiet, private, binding out of court settlement would look like."

   "I can speak for myself, but. You really need to talk to Merry, about that one, Mike."

   "I already have, Panic. I'm giving you a heads up. And do you know why?"

   "Because… I'm sleeping with your niece, that's why."

   "No. The same agencies? Mainly the DC force, and the city of DC? Would like to approach you, for the same thing."

   "What would a normal person do."

   "Most people, would ask to speak to a lawyer, then… let the lawyer negotiate on their behalf. Now, a lawyer? Would be in a much better position, to ascertain how much money such a lawsuit would cost the city to defend. How much they stand to lose, if it goes sour. You know, how much to ask for."

   "And… does this talk, also come before I meet the friendly ATF guy?"

   "No. It doesn't. Quite frankly? The FBI is embarrassed, that the dirty city cops, infected 2 agents at the bureau. The FBI, would like nothing better, than to rake the motherfuckers over the coals on this, simply cause this isn't the first time we've had a chance to do something about a problem, that everyone else was happier sweeping under the rug."

   "I'm actually, kind of friends with City IA."

   "And city IA? Would encourage you, to seek revenge this way. People have short memories, and the city IA? Would like to make it so they remember. The only thing a large organization understands? Is PR, and budget. Their PR, is at an all time low, and about to tank even further, now that it's starting to go public. Kick them in the pocketbook. Bean counters? Learn from budget failures like we're talking about. It forces the bean counters, to lecture everyone, the way they're supposed to be lecturing them in the first place. Also? These actions, fit you and Merry's cover, to a T."

   Panic then drifted in conversation. Where previously, he had been the one wondering where Mike was going in conversation? Now it was Mike's turn. Panic delicately laid out more or less everything he and Merry had talked about late at night. He stopped short, of asking Mike to either confirm or deny it.

   Mike just smiled, and looked at him.

   "Panic? On the record, well. We both know. I didn't work on that project. I worked on something else. Down the hall from that department. Off the record? Well. I didn't answer the question, did I?"

   "No. You didn't."

   "I think we both know which office I worked in, don't we?"

   "Down the hall. No doubt about it."

   "Yeah. Because if I did work in that office, then I could potentially recognize a name. Because this is all highly hypothetical, you understand. But… I'm just saying what obviously could have happened. If I did in fact work there, even thought I didn't."

   "Naturally. Hypothetical situations? One of my specialties, as it turns out."

   "Yeah. Because my niece coming to me, with a story like she did, asking me if I could check it out? And after I thought I recognized a name, well… obviously, that most certainly did not happen. But, it could have."

   "Hypothetically."

   "Yeah. Then after the midnight fun you two had at her motel room? Well… you could see, where a man in my position, would do anything and everything he could, to try to gain that asset's trust and cooperation. Hypothetically speaking."

   "Of course."

   "You like protecting Merry. She needs an insurance policy. I've got an important asset, dangling in the breeze with dangerous felons. If you put yourself in my shoes, what would you try to do, given the same situation. Not to mention. I've got a huge budget, that I barely scrape any off for this operation. Don't take this the wrong way, but… you? Are cheap insurance, and judging from what I've seen… you're thorough, and effective. Sorry this has been such an awkward conversation, but…"

   "No. It explains a lot."

   Mike paused, then spoke again.

   "While we're on the subject, though."

   "The subject we're not on? Yeah."

   "If I was the guy you thought I was, even though I'm not… but if you thought so anyways…"

   "Yeah…"

   "I would probably ask you to understand. I didn't have any hand in creating that mess down there. They call me, the magician, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Wasn't my nickname back then, but… it meant the same thing. My first mentor in that field. You work under one for a while, before you go off on your own. He taught me. There's any number of guys that can handle lots of operations. But, no one wants to touch a bad one. You get over your fear of a bad one, and you drag it across the finish line, with something everyone can more or less live with? Now, that… is a much more valuable guy to be. Sure, you pad your record like anyone else does, but… when everyone's scared? Be the guy that grabs the big, stinking mess. See what you can do with it. I've made a living doing that. We didn't call it stage-coaching in that field, but, it's what we were doing. So no… I didn't get brought in on that mess, until the cake had already exploded all over the kitchen, so to speak. You'd have to believe me, I tried everything I could think of, to keep it down to a dull roar. I mean, a lot of people wish they were in charge for a day, but… would you really know what to do… with that mess?"

   "No."

   "Me neither. I just wouldn't want you to go off half cocked, thinking I was the person responsible, for getting people you knew killed. I got handed that mess after it had already exploded in everyone's face, and started taking on a life all it's own."

   "Did it ever fucking end? I mean, I give three shits what politicians and rich assholes made out like bandits, I'm sure… I mean the poor villagers. Did what was going on… eventually come to an end?"

   "Eh. More or less. Did life go back to normal for the villagers? I don't think so, no. Are things still… tense down there? Yeah. But, the wholesale slaughter of the villagers, it's not wholesale anymore, I could put it that way. Probably more like only the occasional villager gets greased. I'm not trying to be funny, I'm not trying to make light of it. I'm just telling you how it is. I mean, did it ever go back to a jungle and prairie paradise, like it always was? No. But… it's not what you were used to, no. Can you live with that?"

   "Like I have a choice."

   "Not trying to demoralize you, kiddo. You just strike me as the kind of guy that doesn't want smoke blown up his ass."

   "Well, someone once said… that if the truth hurts? Then it's probably the truth."

   "You curious how the world shook out after that slowly wound down? After you and your buddies got out of the game."

   "Afraid to ask."

   "After that, there was the whole Colombian thing. You remember that one, that was another gift that just kept on giving. Then? All things considered of course… Central and South America, kind of settled down. Well, back down to whatever is normal for that part of the world, anyhow."

   "Why doesn't this sound like as good of news at it sounded at first."

   "Well, you remember your mess. What was going on."

   "How could I forget."

   "Yeah. Africa. All that jungle and desert. All those third world dictatorships and military juntas. All those tribal rivalries. All those minerals."

   "Let me guess. Billionaires, want resources. People live on top of those resources. Rival countries and ideologies? Want any excuse to wipe the other guys out anyways, and this is as good of an excuse as any. Same story, huh?"

   "Chapter and verse. Funny you said billionaires. It's no secret, that the same ones are in Africa now that Central America got carved up for resources. About the only difference? No one wants to get involved, and the modern versions of Redwater these days? Won't touch it, with a ten foot pole."

   "Instead of hiring outsiders, to butcher the innocent villagers… they managed to get them to do it to each other, huh?"

   "Yeah. Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings."

   "Wow, Mike. You really know how to give a pep talk, you know that."

   "Or I could lie to you. The reason I bring this up. One, I wanted you to know, that I didn't make that mess, and I did what I could to try to help. Also? Merry might have mentioned once, that you were motivated to finally catch the devil, as she said you put it."

   "She mentioned that, huh?"

   "It's my niece. We don't have many secrets. So. You first proved, that another devil existed. Then? You and Speedy went out and found him. You feel any better? That you finally won."

   "I guess so, yeah."

   "Well. I did what I could. I helped. Any way I could. You're not the only one, that left with a bad taste in their mouth, from that line of work. I know I like this line of work I do now, as compared to what I did. I sleep better. My wife says I'm more pleasant to be around. How about you. Life after Spookville?"

   Panic laughed.

   "God, I hate that term."

   "I used to be a spook. Now? I'm a pig. I moved up in the world. You?"

   "I guess, I actually have a life now. At least, according to everyone else around me, that is."

   "You and Merry sure seem to hit it off, you know. You really like her, don't you."

   "Like her? No. I don't think I like her."

   "Huh? You could of fooled me. And here w---"

   "I'm pretty sure I love her."

   "Oh. Well, from one former spook to another?"

   "Yeah…"

   Mike smiled.

   "Boo."

   Panic grinned. Mike wanted to know what it was.

   "Well, hypothetically, and all."

   Mike chuckled.

   "Yeah. So, what do you say. That we… hypothetically and all, maybe go back now. Promise me not to kill the lawyer, promise me not to fuck the ATF intern. We're all good?"

   "We are."

   On the short walk back, Panic idly asked Mike about some of the loose ends.

   "You mean loose ends down in the mess? Or… loose ends on this case."

   "This case."

   "Oh, sure. Something I can actually talk about. What do you wanna know?"

   "Well. I seem to remember, Merry knocked her female agent handler out cold, to steal the cruiser, and come down to jump in the river, after me."

   "Yeah. Off the record, but yeah."

   "How did you spin that? I never heard any repercussions from that one…"

   "Hey. I'm the magician, remember? I pull rabbits out of my ass all day for a living. That was a small bunny. Pretty easy, really. I sent a guy up to get her unconscious ass, off the road in the rain. I gave him instructions, to not say a word to her. When I got her with me? I asked her what happened. She didn't know. Why tell her."

   "So, what did you tell her, then."

   "That she slipped getting out of the cruiser. Bashed her head. Merry didn't know exactly what to do, and called for help. I told her I sent a guy to get her, and another guy to get Merry. That way, when she inevitably learns about Merry's harebrained stunt woman jump? She escaped from some other handler. Not her."

   "Slick."

   "Yeah, got my technique all down and all that jazz, too. I wrote her up a glorious report. How she got accidentally hurt, in the line of duty. That all she was concerned about, was where the witness she was assigned to babysit was. That it was someone else that fumbled the ball, not her, and it led to Merry getting away and jumping."

   "Aw. You screwed someone else?"

   "Not really. Writing reports. It's half science, half black art. People know how to read between the lines, in a report. I went on and on, how the guy that supposedly let Merry get away? I went out of my way, to devote three paragraphs to the fact, that I don't hold it against him, he did the best he could under the situation, and he wasn't even supposed to be doing that job anyways. It was no reflection on him, or his competency, or ability to follow orders. It helps, when the guy understands what you're doing."

   "Do I know the guy?"

   "Had to be someone I trust, right?"

   "Yeah…"

   "I think you met him once or twice. His name's JG."

   Panic laughed at that one.

   "I bet he already told you, I formally stole him off of Senior. I gave Senior two junior agent gophers to replace him. Made sure I patted him on the head, and told him if he did half as good a job with those two, as he did with Junior, I would be happy. And JG, well… not like that little blurb in his file will hurt jack shit in his career now. Plus, anyone with half his wits about him, can tell something went on in the report, because I wasn't assigning any blame. And anyone smart enough to read that between the lines? Smart enough to know better. Any other loose ends?"

   "Well. There is the matter, of the other female handler, that Merry laid out."

   "Oh. That one? Took care of itself."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. After seeing how I handled that first one? Merry was sure she had eyes on Elvis. I read the Elvis virgin interview. He didn't get a good look at whoever got him. It was dark, and raining, and shitty out. The fact that a perp got his head bashed in with a Glock, and had a pretty bad concussion? Him thinking it was some other female agent, well… head injury and all."

   "What does that woman's file look like, I wonder."

   "Oh. Nothing but praise. Why, she voluntarily approached the most dangerous suspect on the menu? And took him out, when he made a move on her. They were both unconscious when Merry got over there, to see what happened. Bravery. Dedication. Quick thinking. Attention to detail. I arranged a little citation for bravery for her. A nice little puff piece in the DC papers, about our star female agent. Knocked out cold, by a head injury, from a dangerous felon she apprehended, and she even managed to get him cuffed to the steering wheel tight, before she passed out. Must have thrown her Glock away, so the guy couldn't reach it, handcuffed to the wheel. She even had the presence of mind, in her condition… to toss the guys phone out, so he couldn't call for help. She's a hero. Evidence guys, found it behind a tire."

   "Christ. Don't that beat all."

   "Yeah. There's some male agents, jealous. Now, the PR guys? Hoo boy, they're just having a field day with her. Female agent? Hero? Handled herself in a pinch with a big perp? She's loving life now. Remember. Elvis? Was the most important one to bring in. We? All missed him. She got him. She saved the day, don't you know. The bureau PR guys? Are always on the lookout for a female agent, they can pin a medal on. I just gave them one."

   "You're good at this. You should do this for a living."

   "Hey, when you write reports? Sometimes, you even get to tell the actual truth once in a while."

   "How's the case look for now. The girls, Elvis… whoever else you picked up."

   "Oh. They all tried to play the strong, silent routine? For all the good it'll do them. The girls? Are starring in JG's home movies. Walking a victim out, and putting him in the water. On camera. Now imagine a jury seeing that, right? Now… the next thing the jury sees? Is that victim. Floating. No way they're weaseling their way out of this one."

   "What about Elvis?"

   "He's not slipping away, either. Stupid shit, he attacked a female agent. Assault of a federal officer. Aggravated assault, on again a federal officer. Reckless endangerment. And that's just for starters. His phone? The girls phones? It's gold. George is a solid witness. I bet we can't get them for the Bobby kid in Pittsburgh, but… we got him on this. We even have two live victims. He knows exactly how much crypto coin they stole off of him, and what night and roughly the time. There it is. What he's missing? Magically appears in the Elvis account. Then there's the dots movie. Everywhere those damned dots all come together and pause for any length of time? A floater pops up directly after. They all are in on the conspiracies, plural. A list of thefts. Wire fraud. Murder one. Attempted murder. We probably can't make Bobby stick, but… George's ID? The jury will know. Anything can happen in a courtroom, but… they're gonna start turning on one another soon. Best part is, we don't even need them turning on one another. It'll just be more icing on the cake."

   "So, one of the girls, won't get a sweetheart deal for turning evidence, and…"

   "Oh, no way. They're laughing and joking, walking the obvious victim out the tracks. We got them getting him into the water. They're on audio there, at the water's edge. The one? She throws a handful of pocket change, into the river. Go on. Get the bitcoins… go get them… and the victim goes stumbling into the water, to feel around for the coins. The jury? Is gonna hate them."

   "Man. Wish you had a solid case, you know?"

   "Oh. I almost forgot. One of JG's… tech buddies. This guy, comes up with another one."

   "What."

   "JG says, he's sitting there. Looking at the dots, to make the movie showing how anywhere they linger, a floater appears nearby. Right?"

   "Okay."

   "Guy says to JG… hey. This? Is a two year plan on all these phones. Wonder what they were doing a year ago, huh? No one ever thought to ask. They go and make a last year's dot travel movie? Guess what."

   "Floaters, where the dots come together."

   "Bingo. These guys, and girls… are done. Oh, by the way. You mentioned once, on camera in the interview room, I think. This… smiley shit, as you call it?"

   "Yeah."

   "You saw similar patterns, in Europe. England and France. Always around waterways. In cities."

   "I did. Speedy told me we had to concentrate on American crime, to be successful."

   "He's right, but… Interpol is interested in this case. Seems someone over there heard about this case going down, and is starting to wonder what they have on their hands."

   "I already know, they have triple and more accidental drownings, in some areas in the cities, always around water. Canals, rivers, pretty much anything bigger than a mud puddle."

   "Thing that has Interpol so excited?"

   "What."

   "Motive. Accidental drownings, no robbery motive. The crypto theft? Gives motive. Like I said, they're looking into it again. Even if all they manage to do, is turn up the heat on them? It might be enough. Interpol only has one complaint."

   "Afraid to ask."

   "It's Europe. This crime, grew out of what American police call the traditional Gypsy scams. Half the population uses the words gypsy, con artist, and thief? Interchangeably."

   "And the other half…"

   "Interpol is afraid to step on any toes, because it's gypsy crimes. Being thieves and con men, that's part of their culture, you know."

   "Sounds like they'll fuck it up."

   "Probably. Unless someone gets lucky and it breaks, I guess. Oh. By the way, you never actually saw Elvis up close, huh?"

   "Not really. You said, he's the spitting image of George's ID sketches, though."

   "He is. Remember… the long hair?"

   "Oh. The bushy haired stranger, yeah."

   "Guess what traditional Romani men look like, in most cases."

   "Survey says…"

   "Shoulder length, somewhat curly hair. Almost always a mustache, and sometimes a beard. Ear rings in men? Very common. Remember the ear being cut?"

   "Yeah. Major part of the ID."

   "Looking like he was in some kind of issue when he was younger, and they cut his earring off. A gypsy thing. I don't know. Just some trivia for you."

   "At least the hard part's over now."

   "You have any plans? Besides the gun shop, and the range."

   "Yeah. Get the trials over with, and me and Merry settle down and live quiet. She was thinking, 5 to 10 years. Before we retire."

   Mike began making the introductions quietly, as soon as they got back.

   Panic told the ATF representative, that he couldn't wait to talk to him, but he wanted to get the other meeting out of the way, and would he mind terribly. The young man didn't mind at all, or at least pretended he was happy with the situation. Panic disappeared with the lawyer, into the bunkhouse and everyone got more or less voluntarily kicked out until they were done.

   Whatever went on in there between the two of them, no one else was privileged to know it. After about an hour and a half, the lawyer came out while shoving papers back into his briefcase, and Panic came out behind him. The lawyer went and sat alone with Mike for a little while. They talked, they nodded, occasionally the lawyer pointed over at Panic when referencing him.

   Panic had small talk with the ATF intern for a while, then waltzed past Mike and the lawyer.

   "I've been waiting. Everyone happy?"

   The lawyer nodded to Mike, and Mike shrugged and smiled back, before shaking his hand.

   "Thanks. Go have fun now."

   "I intend to."

   "I'm all yours, mister. Now… you're not a lawyer are you?"

   "No, I'm not. My bachelors was in Business Administration, and I'm pursuing my MBA. I landed an internship at the ATF main offices, in my undergrad senior year. I must have done all right, because that turned into a half decent job, that allows me to pursue my MBA while working. I'm no longer an intern per se, I'm actually an administrative aide, which is just a glorified term we use in house for an assistant. My typical assignment, would be to hold the hand of a corporate representative, interested in getting a multiple location FFL up and running as smoothly as possible. I was asked, if I would handle your case personally, as a favor to my boss's boss. I have a lot of preliminary information, and so far I don't see any problems, but, my job is to follow instructions, not second guess the wishes of my superiors, sir."

   "Right. Not a lawyer, always a good start."

   "Now, sir… I w---"

   "Hey. Stop a second there. My name's not sir. And it's not mister anything. Name's Panic. Just… Panic. Short for Colonel Panic."

   "Oh. You were a colonel t---"

   "No. Enlisted. Never a Colonel. It's… a computer joke. See, if you had degrees in Mathematics and Computer Science, like me? You'd probably think Colonel Panic was sort of funny."

   "So. What kind of FFL were you looking into."

   "I wanna own a gun store. Not the kind where I get to order curio and relic, I mean a real brick and mortar store."

   "Well, there are various types. What did you have in mind?"

   "Want me to describe what I want?"

   "Sure. Relax, and describe what you want."

   "Okay. I want to own a gun store. You know, customer walks in. We talk about what he wants. He looks through some guns lining the wall that I show him. Maybe he buys one. I'd rather not go to jail for performing this service. So, here we are."

   "Well, are you simply intending to buy guns and sell guns?"

   "Scopes. Ammo. Gun parts. Put scopes on guns they bring in. Anything really. Trying to turn my favorite hobby, into my job. So work will be a little more fun. Guys wanna know where hunting accessory X is? I'll buy it, and provide it to them. I thought it was pretty straightforward, what I wanted."

   "Well, you just mentioned working on guns. How much work are we talking about here."

   "Oh. Certain guns, I work on more than others. If I owned one, and did the work more than once? I could see performing it for customers."

   "Changing barrels, on bolt actions."

   "Yes."

   "Reaming chambers…"

   "Yes."

   "Working on AR style rifles."

   "I was in the service, so yes."

   "What about putting together ARs, from kits. Any experience machining, maybe you'd like to really go over a receiver, and put together your own AR style, and market it and sell it, out of the store."

   "Definitely."

   "I thought this was a giant shooting range, but, everyone tells me you guys are all reloaders first, and shooters second."

   "Guilty. You're sitting at the RLB camp, named after our website. RLB stands for Reloading Bench. So, definitely. I could see me working up a load for a customer that doesn't reload for himself, then keeping track of his recipe, and making him boxes of ammo on demand. It's for accuracy."

   "I see. What about, making a receiver, from scratch. You mentioned machining."

   "I wouldn't be against the idea."

   "Now. I see you've expressed an interest, in class III endorsement."

   "Definitely. I already own some class III toys, so… why wouldn't I want to buy myself some cool toys, sell some to qualified people."

   "No, I know. I actually have a three list here. Couple suppressors, various calibers. A silent 22, built into the barrel."

   "I wouldn't mind owning a single shot 12 gauge pistol, legally of course. For hiking. Bears. Just in case."

   "Most people off the street might not understand, but trust me, this is my job. I understand completely. You don't have to explain your desire to collect things for exercising your constitutionally protected second amendment rights."

   "Great. Do… I need to fill out a bunch of forms, or… fees? Whatever."

   "We'll get to that, that's just busy work. Now, based on what all you think you might wanna do? I'd honestly recommend a class 07 Federal Firearms License, commonly called a FFL, in this case, an FFL-7. That, and it's a very popular option, of course. It would allow you to buy, sell and trade guns, naturally. You could also repair firearms. As well as manufacture your own. Also, you would be able to not only sell ammunition, but also make the ammunition from scratch, and sell it. Or as you indicated, provide custom reloading as a service to certain customers that can afford it."

   "Does that include class III?"

   "That's a separate endorsement, but… in your case, we do it all up front. Sure. You could not only buy and sell class III items, but, you could manufacture them, as well. For instance, you said machining. Perhaps you'd like to manufacture your own suppressors."

   "Sure."

   "All right. What about importation. This would allow you to buy, for instance… receivers and whole firearms, from outside the United States. Then sell them."

   "Okay. See, I hadn't thought about being an importer, but now that you mention it? Yeah."

   "Well… what about importing, manufacturing and selling Class III."

   "Hey. Sounds good."

   "Okay. What's commonly become known as Class III? Is called SOT, or Special Occupational Taxpayer. It has different license classes, much like the FFL has divisions. I believe you're looking at type 11. Actually, it's a bad time of the year to do that, just being honest. The one year registration, only runs from a certain date, to a certain date. July to July, basically. You'd end up paying full price, about 1500 dollars, for an endorsement you'd barely use, then turn right around and have to re-certify."

   "Ah. I really don't care. I'm spending money on a building in town, I mean another grand or two? Not a big deal in the bigger scheme of things, really."

   "Where do you live? Your address is listed as be---"

   "I moved. I live here now. That's why I wanna have the gun shop here."

   "Okay. I'm going to recommend, that you get another license printed, with your updated address… not a big deal, really.. and… what's your relationship with the police like?"

   "My relationship, with the police? I don't know. It's a small town. My and my girlfriend, we go into town, and if it's early enough? We sit and eat a donut and drink a coffee with the chief and the officers before they hit the streets."

   "Sounds good. You need to notify the Chief Law Enforcement officer, in the town you intend to do business in. I'll get you some forms, you get him to sign off on one. That sound like a problem?"

   "Not really. The property owner here, owns the only bait shop in town, so… I end up fishing sometimes with the Chief and the Mayor."

   "And… you'll need to take a course, in FFL. So you understand what you can and can't do, paperwork, things like that. Here's a pamphlet, off the record? I always recommend the online course… this one, here. Depending on how well you progress with your course work, pass the little quizzes… couple weeks."

   "Okay."

   "Now. Location. You said, you were buying a building. In town, yes?"

   "I am."

   "You said earlier, about your… property owner. Do you not own property here?"

   "Not yet."

   "I see. This… property. Will it be where you're going to live, or… for this gun shop… or…"

   "I was thinking both. Figured I own a business, why not have an apartment there above it. Keep an eye on it. Walk downstairs and go to work, walk back upstairs for lunch and when I'm done."

   "Well, a lot of people go ahead and buy a property first, then… go through great difficulties when they find out it doesn't meet certain criteria. It might be wise, to see what you need first, before you buy a building. Just my suggestion. Then, there's the matter of security. This isn't a shoe store. Doors, windows, entrances… all have requirements, to prevent theft and unauthorized access. It's a requirement, that you have 24 7 video surveillance. Certified by a reputable security service provider. The guns themselves, need to be stored in special safes. Ammo is fine on shelves, but… powder jugs? I imagine you wanting to buy and sell powder, because you mentioned reloading…"

   "Definitely."

   "Bunker requirements, for powder? Are pretty stringent. It's not as much theft, but… what if there's a fire, or… an explosion."

   "How long are you in town?"

   "Just tonight. All weekend. More, if need be. I was instructed, to be as polite and accommodating as I could possibly be, to help you in any way I can. Why?"

   "Monday, I'm supposed to look at the building. Then… I have a very important meeting, directly after closing on the building. But, Tuesday?"

   "Sure. I get paid, and the longer I stay here, to make you happy? That's less office grind like normal for me. Tuesday? Sounds wonderful."

   "How are we doing here?"

   "I'm fine. You?"

   "Just Jolly. Wondered what else."

   "Actually, I already have your letters of recommendation. We require three reputable citizens in good standing to recommend that you're trustworthy. The Police Chief in town, is another."

   "I… already have letters of recommendation? That's weird…"

   "Oh. Don't be so modest. Let's see here… I have a list…"

   He went through a little notebook he looked at periodically.

   "Here we are. FBI agent, FBI agent, FBI agent… Assistant Director 'of' the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He wrote a nice little cover letter, I might add. And… capping it all off? Actually one Assistant Director of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. We need to add the local Police Chief to this list, but that doesn't sound like an issue."

   "Not at all."

   "Moving right along. Work history. You… are employed as… big surprise there, a consultant for the FBI. What does a consultant do there, if I might ask?"

   "Well. It's all been one case so far."

   "Anything… exciting?"

   "Multi state, multiple homicide and theft. One of those things. I'm… actually looking to get some time off for a little while."

   "You intend to keep working there?"

   "Yes."

   "Sounds exciting."

   "I'm hoping? The gun shop is less exciting of an endeavor. A little less traveling. A little more gun shop time."

   "Well. When you get your new address, before I leave, I'll give you my card… contact me, and update your new address. You can fax me your police chief form, and we'll go over insurance and stuff like that another time. I've actually, based on the information I already was given… and based on what we just discussed? I already have most of your paperwork filled out digitally, on PDF forms we use now. I just need to fill in your work history, and you can… go have fun."

   "Okay. I work at the FBI, so…"

   "Well. Where did you work, before that?"

   "Actually? I was a delivery driver. Other side of this state. I can get you the employer info."

   "Okay. Before that? Trying to go back to high school."

   "Yeah…"

   "Well. We could start at High school…"

   "My parents are both dead. I was home schooled, and I got a GED."

   "College, or… work came next."

   "I spent 6 years in the Air Force. Computer Programmer."

   "And then…"

   "And then what?"

   "Well. I already have most of this. It's in your background check, for the FBI. I just see this… employment gap. Just curious."

   "Yeah. After the service? I was… mostly out of the country."

   "Oh. You worked abroad."

   "Yes. I also took time off, to go to college, one semester any time I could. Instead of vacation time."

   "Who was your employer? What did you do?"

   "Well. I worked out of the country, so… that really has no bearing."

   "Huh?"

   "Look. My employer, had all the employees and contractors? Sign NDAs. That's Non Disclosure Agreements. Gag orders. I… don't answer, specific questions, about my employment at that time. Since that work was performed out of the country, and I was hired out of the country… and the company was based outside of the United States…"

   "I see. Were you… a citizen of the United States during this entire time of employment?"

   "Definitely."

   "If you can't disclose the name of your employer… can I ask what you did?"

   "I mainly, operated a radio. In remote locations. Computer feeding the radio. Satellite up-link. Secure encrypted transmissions. Plus, we all did whatever needed done at the time, but… that was my main job. Remote secure communications specialist."

   "You… went from this, to being a delivery driver?"

   "Yep."

   "Why? I'm betting this was a better job, it sounds like."

   "Just wanted a change of pace. Always traveling, always working or going to school."

   "I'm happy, but… I'll just have to get an okay from someone else, about the NDA on the employer thing. I just never ran into that before. No offense."

   "None taken. You have to call your boss, I guess. God, I hate bugging someone higher up the food chain, if I don't have to. I like to be the fish that just swam by in the water, not one of the ones jumping and splashing."

   He called someone, ostensibly his boss or someone to answer a support question in the field. After he asked, he did end up holding his cell phone back from his ear, making a face at the phone before completing the call.

   Instead of appearing to be irritated or complaining, he simply shrugged it off.

   "Well. That simply wasn't the best time of day to call him now, was it."

   Mike was sitting several feet away, and happened to look over.

   "Hey, little buddy. How's it going over there."

   "Oh, I'll be fine. I just obviously called the wrong phone, is all that was."

   "I just feel like I know you now, ever since me and the legal eagle here, dragged you all the way to New York City and back."

   "No. You gentlemen have been very accommodating. I don't mind traveling with you guys."

   "Couldn't help overhearing. I've ran into NDAs before. It happens."

   "Well. How do you handle it."

   "One thing I can tell you, is that federal law, is not the all powerful and all consuming thing, that some people get to believing it is. For instance. Did you know that Federal law, completely stops and ceases, the instant a citizen's toe crosses the border? For instance, getting hired while out of the country, working out of the country, things like that."

   "I guess that would be logical… you would be subject to some other country's laws and rules and regulations and customs."

   "Yeah. It could get weird, too. I mean, what if you found yourself in a country with citizens, but what looked like no functioning government… or in international waters. A really firm, non disclosure agreement? Can be like that. Do you know how NDAs work?"

   "Not really. No."

   "They work like this. Let's say, I'm rich, and I own some big company. I hire you, to be a scientist. I'm paying you, to… I don't know… invent some… giant laser. To make it possible to… have good communications with the moon. Whatever. Something really important. You can certainly appreciate, that I would want to make sure, that you were loyal. That you weren't disseminating my secret company information, to anyone else. For any reason. How would you go about accomplishing that…"

   "Well. You impress upon them, when you're interviewing and hiring them, the importance of the work. They'll be fired, if they leak information. I guess, I'd have to pay the person better than normal, too. So… they wouldn't wanna lose the job."

   "Really. You think, that would work?"

   "Why wouldn't it?"

   "Well. Let's play a game. You? Pretend you're the scientist in question. Me? I'm some other company guy. Trying to get info on the super secret new laser. You know. The competition. Okay?"

   "All right…"

   "Hey Buddy. You know, a friend of mine? Was telling me all about your situation, at home. God, it breaks my heart. I can't imagine what it must be like. Your poor kid. Got the Leukemia. You don't have enough money for the… expensive, experimental treatments. God, I know I'd do just about… anything… if I were in that situation. I mean, I know the answer, but, I'll ask anyways. Do you really love your son?"

   "Yes?"

   "You know, when a human life is on the line. Particularly the life of a small, innocent child. A beautiful, special child of your own. A child that never hurt anyone, that doesn't deserve this. It's human nature… to do… just about anything to save his life, right?"

   "Yes?"

   "Because, I just happen to have ten… million… dollars. In cash. A little green county bird? Told me, that it's only 5 million for the Leukemia private treatments. I'd really like to help you, your wife, and your child… out of your pickle. I'm a father too. I know what it's like."

   "You'd do that?"

   "I would. All I need? A little information. Now, if you could tell me, what color that big laser you're working on is? Hey."

   "I don't know about that…"

   "Well. Let me ask you. What's your child's name? Hmm? Look. I'm just trying to give you a way out of this… personal hell you're in. The grief. The pain. The anguish. The torture. Torture for you. Grief for the wife. The pain for the poor kid himself. I can't even imagine how hard that must be on a marriage. I know you love your child, but tell me… do you love your wife? Something like this, god… can't imagine a marriage lasting, after something like this. Now just picture it, buddy… two roads before you and your family. Road A? Your child dies. Your marriage dies. Your family dies, your line ends. Road B? Kid gets his chance, with the new treatments. Your wife? Oh god, buddy. You? Are the hero. And you give that special family, a little bit better life, too."

   "And if I choose option A?"

   "It would certainly be a shame, if someone were to… later on down the road? Happen to mention, to your wife… how you had the power to stop it all, and make it all better? But… you chose work, over the life of your kid and family. Hell, no one would even have to do that, because if you were a real man? The guilt you carried inside you, every day… knowing you could make it all better, and you didn't… that? Well… you'll do it to yourself."

   "I'll have to think about it."

   "I'll be in town, only this weekend. Door? Closing on this great… opportunity. I just happen to have several more stops, just like this one? That I have to make. I'm sure all the others, won't want this deal. I picked you first? Because of the kid."

   "Wow. You? Are way too good at this game, Michael. I mean, I'm not married, I don't even have a kid? And I'm sitting here, getting a feeling in the pit of my stomach just thinking about it. Ah."

   Mike took a tiny bow while sitting, smiling easily.

   "So you can see, where NDAs come from. There's even two kinds. We jokingly call it the carrot plan, or the stick plan."

   "What's the difference?"

   "The carrot plan. You get tossed treats, for obeying the letter of the NDA. You can imagine what the stick kind is, right?"

   "Oh. Yeah… I can guess."

   "Can you really?"

   "Well, actually? Once I finally moved up, after interning, and became an IOI? I, uh… I had to be bonded. You know, if I were to willingly help or otherwise ignore a… criminal getting a gun shop approved? I understand."

   "How bad is your bond wording? I know, it must be a scary bedtime story to read it the first time…"

   "Something like ten years in jail, minimum. A million dollar fine, assessed with interest, after my release. I'd spend ten years in jail, and when I got out? I'd be guaranteed to be broke and miserable, the rest of my natural life."

   "There you go. You fully understand a binding NDA. Some people, aren't even allowed to say where they work, much less what they do. With an agreement? That makes yours, scary as it is to you… seem like a fortune cookie, by comparison."

   "While I certainly understand, that doesn't affect the simple fact that I have a boss. I answer to that boss. That was him I called, for clarification. As you might have guessed, I must have caught him at a stressful time at work. It can get pretty hairy, he can get… prickly."

   "He can get prickly, huh? Tell me something, buddy…"

   "Yes?"

   "Did the assistant director, where you work… not walk you out to my car? Put you in the car. Ask you to be… helpful?"

   "Well. He did. That, is another source of stress right now. On the one hand, I have a prickly boss. Who… never mind what he said, but… I figured I'd try him again later, when he's in a better mood. Then, on the other hand? Yeah. I have the big boss… and he made it too clear what he wants."

   "I appreciate your dilemma. Who do you side with?"

   "Well. That's the big question, isn't it."

   "Yes. It is."

   "Now, what was your title again? IOI?"

   "Yes. Industry Operations Investigator. Our job, is to conduct the interviews on the applicants."

   "And your… boss? Mr. Prickly. What's his title? If I may."

   "Oh. No secret there. He's a Field Office Supervisor, they glance over the stack of applications, and… they send out us lowly IOIs to conduct interviews."

   "Okay. And… the assistant director? We already know his title. And his job is…"

   "Hey. That's the big boss."

   "Right. Now, did I, or did I not… I mean, I could have misheard, it happens. Thought I heard your big boss tell you, that if you ran into any problems, not to hesitate to call him. Slipped you his card and everything, and even wrote his personal line number down on it. Again, if I'm remembering correctly."

   "Oh. No, your memory is working fine, Michael."

   "Let me guess then, what's preventing you from making that call. Off the record."

   "I have to work for that prickly guy. I mean. I technically work for the assistant director? But… he didn't know my name until a couple days ago. Mr. Prickly? I work for him? Every. Single. Day. So like I said. I figured it was best, if I just waited, try him again later, maybe he'll be in a better mood."

   "You could. Or… answer me this. Your boss. Mister Prickly. Does he give you good reviews?"

   "Honestly? He's pretty stingy. Off the record, mind you."

   "Of course, of course. Mr. Prickly? Sounds like more of a prick, if you ask me."

   "You said that, not me."

   "Do you, in your heart of hearts, imagine he's ever going to give you good reviews? Push through a promotion for you, for doing a good job. Making him look good, doing all his work for him. Hmm? Be honest."

   "No. Everyone knows. He's like a brick wall, for a career."

   "Right. Lotta them types in DC, if you never noticed before. The guys doing all the work, working overtime, doing all the extra things. They get nothing. Some asshole that knows someone? Oh. They spend more time at lunch with bigwigs, and get promoted every week, don't they? Everyone knows that's how it works. The lazy, I know people, workers? They end up being your next boss, after being there half as long as you have, all while doing half the work of everyone else. You? Won't get a good review and a good promotion, simply because your Mr. Prick, likes having hardworking slaves around. Wouldn't wanna lose that."

   "Yes. You've worked in DC for a while."

   "Now then. The only reason we have to deal with Mr. Prick in the first place? Is because you guys have three offices that do what you guys do. One? Downtown Pittsburgh. Covers the west of this state. Philly? Covers the east of this state. We're in the middle, so… Harrisburg it is."

   "Hence, you see my dilemma."

   "Buddy?"

   "Yes."

   "Buddy… I like you. I asked the assistant director, for someone good. Someone, who's opinion was unimpeachable, later on down the line. My college frat buddy, he called around, until he called me back. Because he found you. Spent two days in the car, traveling with you now. And hey, I decided I liked you. You're a likable guy."

   "Thank you, but…"

   "No thanks necessary. Buddy, I already have the number. Tell you what. Why don't you make the call, the one you're going to have to call eventually anyways… and use my phone to do it. Put us on speaker, while you're at it."

   Buddy started protesting, explaining how Mr. Prickly, in particular among other things, did not like anyone going over his head, jumping the chain of command, etc etc. Mike proceeded to make the call, and put it on speaker while it was still ringing. Over Buddy's stream of polite protests.

   "Hey. Mikey. How're things going? I see you're out of New York already. Trip going good?"

   "New York? Just paperwork, really. You got a minute?"

   "Sure. What's going on? The guy I sent you… Buddy? Things going all right, I assume."

   "Yeah. Buddy, is simply wonderful. Thanks."

   "Great."

   "Listen, we're on speaker. Buddy's right here. Ran into a little snag, as it were."

   "What kind of snag, Mike."

   Mike went on to give his friend the overview of it. Then, spent the rest of the explanation, quite politely describing the future problems for Buddy. There was a protracted sigh that came across the speaker call.

   "Buddy, you there?"

   "Yes sir."

   "I understand. Now Buddy… you work for me first, you understand that, right?"

   "Oh. Yes sir. Definitely."

   "Great. Your supervisor? He does too, even if he forgets that. I would say, that he forgets that from time to time. He actually forgets it all the time. Now Buddy, I can trust you… right?"

   "Yes sir. A hundred percent."

   "Good. You know how to make a conference call?"

   "Yes…"

   "Good! I want you to make a conference call. Me. You. And your supervisor. Now do me a favor. You punch this number in, after his phone is ringing. You got that?"

   "Yes sir, but…"

   "But what?"

   "That's my boss. He's not going to like it, when he finds out he's got someone higher up listening in on a call, I mean it w---"

   "Buddy. Just do it. You trust me?"

   "Yes sir."

   "Good. It won't be a problem. Just do it. I'll be waiting."

   After some more pleasantries between Mike and his college buddy, they ended the call.

   "Well. Here goes nothing… which, is going to be what I call my career, about a month from now. Nothing…"

   Buddy called his boss, the prick. He politely started asking again about the nondisclosure agreement. How he never encountered one before now, and how there was nothing in the literature about how to handle it. If he was having a better day now, would he please address it.

   His boss laughed, and launched into a long winded tirade.

   "I don't believe this. You actually had the nerve, when I wouldn't answer your calls, to get me on the phone by calling with some other dip-shit's phone? Exactly how fucking retarded are you, Buddy. I didn't pick up your phone call, because you already called, I already told you what to do about it, and here we are."

   "Sir? I also work for Assistant Director Sykes. He gave me instructions before I left. Personally. Now? I can't follow his instructions. Because of you and your instructions. Perhaps you'd like to speak to Mr. Sykes, and get back to me on my question?"

   Laughter. Haughty laughter. Lots of it.

   "Listen to me, you little shit. Let me go over the structure, since you seem to have forgotten. It starts at the top? With god. God, in this case? Is the director. It goes… from God? To Sykes… to me, and then to you. You ever notice, that no one ever calls you, and asks your fucking opinion? There's a reason for that. How many times, do I have to explain to you assholes, that our job? Is to keep as many guns off the streets of America, as we can. Now then. Guy won't answer a fucking simple question abut his work history? Fuck him. I already told you. Tell him to figure out where he worked, then get back to us next year. What part of that, did you not understand? Hmm? Tell me. I'm all ears."

   "Assistant Director Sykes, gave me explicit instructions, that I was t---"

   "Yeah. From God, to Sykes, to me? Then you. I'll bring it up with the assistant director, next time I have lunch with him. You? Don't have lunch with him. Now then. Do what I told you."

   "But… the assistant---"

   "Fuck Sykes. And fuck the FBI. You? Work for me. Or god help me, I'll help you find a job doing something else around here, because you clearly can't follow instructions and simple commands. Am I making myself clear?"

   That was about it for the conversation going the way it had been. Another voice cut across the call, clear as a bell. Everything came to a screeching halt.

   "Do you know my voice?"

   "What…?"

   "Oh. We have lunch all the time. I figured you'd know who I was. Now, if you don't believe me? Maybe you'd like to hang up. Call my assistant, and that way you'll be sure. I don't recommend it though."

   Complete silence, followed by wheedling.

   "Oh. Mister Sykes, I j---"

   "Shut up. Don't say a word. Now, let me get this straight. I? was keeping notes. I'm pretty sure, I heard you say… let me quote you here… oh yeah. Fuck Sykes? It was right before you said, fuck the assistant director of the FBI. Ringing a bell?"

   No answer.

   "Yeah. Now then. Did I, or did I not… come and ask you, to borrow someone good, so they could help me out. Yes or no."

   "Yes, but I j---"

   "Shh. Now, we've had lunch, sure. Exactly twice. The first time? Was when you got ran out of Allegheny County, and they came to me, to find a place for you. The second time we ever had lunch? Was about a week ago. When I asked you, to loan me someone. Now then. I was already getting the idea, that I made a big mistake, taking you on in central PA. You're a pain in the ass, and they ran you out of the Philly office. You didn't learn your lesson, you were an even bigger pain in the ass, in Allegheny County. Let's go over that one."

   "Mr. Sykes, I w---"

   "There was a shooting on the news, in Pittsburgh. It happens. But who the fuck told you, to get on a press conference, and tell the world. That the ATF was personally going to see to it, that things like this didn't happen in the future, because the ATF, was going to prevent violence, by preventing people from owning guns. That was just the icing on the cake. We took lawsuits, from qualified applicants, because you refused to check off the boxes, and process the paperwork. Do you remember that? Yes or no."

   "Yes, I…"

   "And that was just the icing on the cake, wasn't it? You pissed everyone off, every day, so often? They ran you out of Allegheny offices. Then? I was asked to take you on. Now then. Let's get this straight. The director? He, sets policy. Me? I just follow that policy. I have to trust the people under me, my supervisors? To implement that policy. We, are like a business. Our job? Is to approve or disapprove, of applications. According to policy? And laws. Now… if you have a problem with our policy, of approving applicants that meet all the criteria on the forms? Well, I suggest you call the director's office. Have lunch with him, and you tell him what you think policy should be. Better yet? Go to DC, and you tell the lawmakers, what you think, the policy should be. Maybe, you have lunch with them, too."

   "Sir, I j---"

   "Your employee? Was following my instructions. He tried to talk me out of this conference call. Apparently, he's afraid for his job and his daily life, dealing with your sorry ass every day. Which I have no problem believing? Given your history. In Philly. Then Pittsburgh. Now? Out of Harrisburg, overseeing the sticks that are central Pennsylvania. There are no further stops for you, you pain in my ass. We don't have a fourth office in PA. I can't even promote you to get you out of my goddamn hair, by sending your silly ass down to DC. Ain't nobody wants to work with your ass there, either. And god help me, when DC doesn't want another asshole? It's gotta be a big one."

   Silence.

   "Oh. I got your undivided attention now. Look. There's nowhere left in PA for you, this is the last stop we have for you. In Pennsylvania. DC? Don't want you. The next stop? How about Alaska. Or, if you don't like the idea of Alaska? You can try flipping burgers. Now, I know how much you like to throw your wife's name around. Maybe, you'd like to set up a conference call, with me… you… and her? And you can personally sit there and listen to me, tell her, what I just told you… followed? By me telling her, to fuck off. Because I gotta tell you, right here and now. Something special."

   "Sir?"

   "Just checking, to see you're listening close. I'm sure you think you, and your wife, the junior lobbyist… are some kind of… power couple? You're not. You're both complete pains in the asses. No one? Can stand either one of you. All the… power, or… influence you two think you have? Is because you guys give bags of money to elected politicians, to get them to do what they pay for. Bottom line on that. This isn't politics we work in. We're not elected. And another tip… those politicians? Just want the money, they can't stand you two either. The only reason you can generate phone calls? Is because they like the campaign money. Could I be any more clear, than I am being right now?"

   "Yes… I mean… no, I w---"

   "Now. Here's how this is going to go. Do you know, what a non disclosure is? You have some idea, I'm sure."

   "Yes…"

   "Good. If you try to make someone go against a binding non disclosure agreement? They go to jail. The agreements, are perfectly legal. If you had an actually important job in the bigger scheme of things? You'd probably have one yourself. But? You don't. In the future, you will not be dangling government authorization, trying to make someone tell you things, that you have absolutely no business knowing. Because that? Is what the agreements are really for. So assholes like you, can't make people tell you things, that you have no standing to even be asking about. Are we clear?"

   "Yes sir."

   "Good! While we're at it, here's how your job works. The director, people like myself… we made your job easy, for idiots like you. You have a list of things that disqualify a candidate. You simply fill in the blanks, and check boxes off. It's all yes and no, so assholes like you can grasp the concept. Now. Does this applicant have any no boxes checked?"

   "Not really, b---"

   "It was a yes no question. Try again."

   "The boxes are all checked…"

   "There. That, solves that, doesn't it?"

   "Yes sir…"

   "See how easy your job is? You don't make policy. You don't get to… I don't know… implement you and your wife's vision of something… all the work's done for you, so you don't have to think much. You just check yes and no, and tally it up. Then? You approve or disapprove, based on the boxes. Now that we settled that? Let's move onto my lunch dates, shall we."

   "Sir, I…"

   "We never have lunch. Not if I can avoid it, we don't. But Buddy there? I like him. He? Follows my instructions. Now, because I free up my lunch dates, by avoiding eating with pains in the asses like you, well… I plan on having lunch now and then, with Buddy. In fact? Once in a while, I plan on stopping by your floor you run, and take him with me. Other than our lunch plans? We're going to be talking about you. About how you are around the office, about what you're up to, handling applications. I know what goes on, I'm not stupid. I'm going to start looking into all your reviews of all your employees from now on. Am I making myself clear here, or… do you want me to say all this, in front of your office, in a loud, clear voice… so the whole floor knows, what the assistant director thinks of you, and how you run things."

   "Not a problem sir. Thanks for clearing up the NDA issue."

   "Yeah. Wasn't a problem for anyone but you, and your wife. By the way, you can hang up now. We're done. Buddy? Stay on the line, if you're not too busy there."

   When the phone reported in red letters, that one of the three callers hung up, the assistant director's whole tone and demeanor changed.

   "Buddy? Sorry about that. That needed done a year ago. You have my apologies. Mikey, you still there."

   "Yeah, Sykey.."

   "I apologize for that. I honestly don't know who to blame more. The asshole? Or his goddamn wife."

   "I'm afraid to ask who the wife is, and what she's like… after hearing him speak."

   "Oh, that? She's a real peach. They met in college, he married into a decent zip code. The little wife? Got some little job, as some kind of assistant… to a junior lobbyist. Because of the zip code and her dad's last name. She's a real piece of work, trust me."

   "Maybe we shouldn't joke about this, in front of Buddy…"

   "Ah. It's no secret. Everyone knows. Buddy? We're off the record now. I can trust you, right?"

   "Yes sir."

   "Fine. I guess I can't say which lobby group the wife works for, but… it's one of those… mommies against guns kind of deals. I heard the guy was sort of okay before her? But… she wears the pants. They also do… lobbying for feminism, and all that shit. So… she likes to go all around, bragging how her husband, works at the ATF, and is doing his part, to make sure no one can get guns, because guns are dangerous. Poor guy, has to tow the line with her, and her family. I'm sure you're starting to get the picture."

   "Uh… yeah."

   "Right. It's even better though. The wife? Is all over social media. Has one of those big things, where she makes videos. Showing her, and her husband, and her boyfriend? Out to dinner. You know, the boyfriend and the husband? Are all smiling, and cooking her dinner. It's disgusting. I honestly feel kinda bad for the guy, he has to put up with this shit. Hey, wives cheat, but… no need to go in public, with a megaphone, and make sure the whole world knows about it, you know?"

   "You're making this up, Sykey…"

   "Nope. Look the guy's name up on the internet, you'll see his wife's websites. Go look for yourself. The poor bastard. Now, imagine how useful he is to her, and her lobbying… if she no longer has an ATF husband to brag about. Or, better yet? Imagine if he had to move to Alaska, and leave her and her boyfriend alone. I mean, I try to feel sorry for him, I can almost understand why he's so pissed off, but… you can imagine what kind of problems he creates, day in and day out here."

   "Wow."

   "All right, enough juicy gossip. Buddy?"

   "Yes sir. I'm still here."

   "You did the right thing. You just follow instructions, don't you."

   "Well. It's my job. To follow instructions, right?"

   "Yeah. It is. Next time we're moving desks around? I'm always on the lookout, for someone that just follows my instructions. For right now? I wasn't kidding. I want you, to keep tabs on that asshole, and what he's doing to deliberately create big backlogs of requests, to make us look bad. And don't worry. I'm telling him too, right in front of you. I can't have this shit in my organization, the director's always pulling his hair out. Now, about your job right now, though. Going good?"

   "Fine. He's getting a prospective building, Monday. Figured I might as well ask about coming back out for that. I am his interviewer. My name's on his paper now."

   "It's the weekend. You comfortable there?"

   "Yes."

   "Wanna stay the weekend, then just take care of that Monday? You can come back Tuesday or Wednesday. Or whenever. I don't care. Unless, you can't wait to spend more time with your boss…"

   "I'll be back when it's done then, sir."

   "Good, good. Mikey?"

   "Yeah, Sykey…"

   "I'll just ask you one time. Personal. You personally vouch for this applicant? I already know the FBI does. I mean you, personally. This ain't no… Operation Gunrunner, Operation sell arms to the Contras bullshit, right?"

   "No. You have my word. He's a fucking altar boy. Guy took a bullet for my star witness."

   "Oh… well, that explains that, then."

   "Explains what, Sykes?"

   "Eh. Not too often you get to see an Assistant Director over on your side of the zoo, write a puff piece on a recommendation. Someone joked, he was either a great guy, or… the FBI wanted to pull some kind of bullshit."

   "Like I said. You have my word."

   "And? You don't have to give it twice. I trust you Mike. Call me if you run into anything else, but I gotta get moving. Buddy? Enjoy the long weekend. Don't know what they have to do up there, but, have fun doing it. See you when I see you, call me when you get back in."

   "No problem, sir. Thanks."

   "No. Thank you. Guys? I gotta go. See you, Mike, Buddy. Good talking."

   The call then ended, and Mike had trouble suppressing chuckles. Panic was trying not to laugh. Even the lawyer was having trouble not spitting out his over-stacked sloppy Joe sandwich at this high entertainment.

   "Buddy. Did that go the way you thought it was going to go?"

   "No, Mike. It did not."

   "You… happy with the outcome?"

   "I could dance. I can probably throw my antacid medicine away now."

   "Hey. Told you in New York, Buddy. You should hang out with the cool kids more. You got any more… work to do?"

   "Not really."

   "Panic? How long till we can meet the Chief, you think."

   "Oh. We could probably catch him for lunch, in a little while. I'll text him on it, and see."

   "See Buddy? We'll get you anything you think you need."

   Buddy adjusted his glasses, then pointed at the lawyer, finishing up his second overstocked sloppy Joe sandwich.

   "Actually, I think I need one of those, to tell you the truth."

   Mike and Panic made sure he got a couple sloppy Joe's. Panic got Mike aside quietly without making it obvious.

   "Hey. The lawyer, now the office worker. What are the odds either one hunts, knows anyone else that hunts, or that either one knows they're eating ground deer."

   "Do me a favor? Don't ruin it for them just yet. Let's see how many meals of game meat we can get into them, before it dawns on them, what they're probably eating."

   "Oh, good idea. I'll go around and spread the word. Quietly. Christ, I just wish Skykid was here, cooking gourmet campfire food. It would be so much better."

   Mike smiled.

   "Yeah. This could be a good one."

   Before lunch, everyone was on board. Right before lunch, the two were taken to the "candy store", which was of course the barn. They got to see the rows of coolers and freezers member Picklehead had gone over, for his contribution to the camp. The two were opening up commercial vertical freezer after commercial vertical freezer, ogling all the vacuum packed meat. When allowed to candy shop to their heart's content, they kept coming back to the wild pig freezer. Stacks of gigantic pork steaks, cut off the legs a slice at a time on the band-saw in the corner. They picked the giant pork steaks.

   When the office drone ATF employee pointed at the 250 gallon plastic fermenting tank, and asked what it was? Panic had absolutely no reaction to give it away. Quick as a wink, he began explaining it to Buddy.

   "Okay. You know how people do composting? Free fertilizer."

   "Yeah. Sure."

   "That's basically the same thing, except it's a wet version of the compost heap. Free fertilizer for crops. There's a lot of farms around…"

   "Really? That's neat."

   "Yeah. It is, isn't it?"

   "Wow! Is that a real cannon?"

   "Yeah. The property owner? Does civil war re-enactments with his whole family…"

   Mike shook his head and palmed his face, when he fully realized what had just happened. Someone that worked at the ATF building for a living? Was being told a giant fermentation tank, was a wet compost tank. Mike didn't even think wet composting was even a real thing. He noticed the easy manner in which Panic got his arm around the smaller guy's shoulders, all friendly like, and gently steered him back out the barn door, now that lunch had been picked out by the guests.

   George would either be livid, or bust a gut laughing, when someone finally told him later on down the line. When Mike and Panic shared rolling eyes and knowing smiles, Panic suddenly realized everything else. There were bags of black powder, stacked on 2 pallets, and under the tarp in the other corner? George's 55 gallon stainless steel home made still.

   Smooth-bore cannons were in no way illegal, and you didn't need any license to buy, own, use or even manufacture and sell them. The same for black powder. Even the fermentation tank wasn't illegal, as long as you were making beer or wine. But the large still? Legal to own, but not with a fermentation tank sitting next to it, it wasn't.

   Thank god the booze cooler was kept under lock and key, Panic realized.