Threatcon DELTA

The women’s locker room at the station. And I can’t believe I’m standing here wearing nothing but a skimpy towel and aiming a gun at a real-life Man in Black! But I am! I can’t believe this is happening! This son of a bitch promised me I’d never see him or hear from him again, but here he is! How the hell did he get in the station? This is a police station, for God’s sake! And a women’s locker room to boot! Good Lord! I’m beginning to think they’ll let anyone in here anymore!

“What the fuck do you mean, you need my help? You’re a Man in Black! The last thing you people want to do is reach out to the police! Or anyone else!”

“Ordinarily? Yes. That’s true. But these aren’t ordinary circumstances, Miss Rane. Could you please lower your weapon? As I said: I’m not armed.”

Is he kidding? I know what these sons of bitches are all about! I’m not about to drop my guard with him! I’d sooner drop this towel!

“Maybe not. Are you alone? From what I’ve seen? You dickheads tend to travel in groups. And you tend to carry guns.”

“I don’t. And I assure you, I’m here alone. I felt it was better if I approach you that way. Please lower your weapon and I’ll try to answer your questions.”

I’ll lower it, but I’m damned sure not going to put it away! Everything I know about these dickheads tells me they’re as dangerous as hell even without a gun!

“Perhaps you should…get dressed before we talk?”

“Like hell! I’m not taking my eyes off of you for a second! Start talking! What’s this bullshit about you needing my help? I’m supposed to believe that? Since when do the legendary Men in Black need anybody’s help?”

“Not very often, but it does happen. And we don’t refer to ourselves as ‘the Men in Black.’ That’s an unfortunate result of popular culture and mythology…”

Don’t try to bamboozle me with your double-speak! I could put one right between your eyes at this distance!

“Spare me the bullshit and answer the question! What do you mean, you need my help? Help with what?”

“A situation has developed that is beyond our usual means to ensure secrecy. As much as we’d like to handle the matter according to our existing procedures…”

Good Lord! Is this dork even capable of saying three words without a shit ton of total double-speak? Sheesh!

“Translation: you fucked up somehow and now you’re in a jam where you can’t do jack shit without exposing your shady little organization! Am I right?”

Well, if the shoe fits! Read through the bullshit and you can see that’s exactly what he’s trying not to say!

“In so many words. We find ourselves facing a threat that we can’t deal with using our usual methods. You’re correct: doing so would expose us. It would compromise our work. We also feel that our probabilities for success are very low. And if we failed? The results could be catastrophic. That is something we cannot allow. After careful consideration? I believe we have no choice but to enlist…outside help. That is where you come in, Miss Rane.”

All that total secrecy crap has warped his brain! He can’t even sell me on whatever the hell he wants me to do! For God’s sake, he can’t even bring himself to tell me what he wants! This dickhead is totally pathetic!

“Let’s lay out some ground rules right now, before I shoot your lying ass and plant a throwaway gun on your corpse! And yes, cops do that sometimes! Rule number one: lose the damned double-speak! I’m not in the mood for it! You don’t want to know what kind of a mood I’m in right now! Rule number two: you’d better start giving me some straight answers or I might just have a negligent discharge! Let me make this easy for you: exactly what are you asking me to do? Or maybe I should ask: who do you want me to kill for you?”

Hey, why else would the Men in Black want my help? I’m a trained police sniper with a lot of notches in her gunstock. About the only thing he knows about me is that I killed his psycho colleague Hunt with one hell of a precision shot. If they’re coming to me, then I have to figure they want somebody killed, right?

“We’d prefer you didn’t kill anyone, Miss Rane. Contrary to what you may think of us? We don’t go around murdering people. You’ve been watching too much television if you believe that.”

“Really? Then how do you explain your former psycho Martin Hunt and his army of thugs? You do remember him, don’t you?”

As if anybody could ever forget that fucking assbag! May he rot in hell forever!

“As I told you at the time: Mister Hunt acted without any sanction from us. We all found his actions to be reprehensible. Certainly not what we’re about. And I don’t mourn his demise. The truth is, you did us a favor by eliminating him. No, Miss Rane; we’re not in the business of murdering people. Our job is to ensure the security and secrecy of very specific highly-classified matters. We wouldn’t last a week if we went around doing the things people think we do. Those who believe we exist, anyway. No, I’ve come here to ask you to retrieve something for us. That’s all.”

Retrieve something? He wants me to get something back for them? OK, this is even weirder than I thought! Since when did the Men in Black ever have any trouble “retrieving” anything? Well, unless you count that thing that our UFO conspiracy guy Myron stole. Then again, we were on the case so fast that maybe they didn’t get a chance to do their thing, you know? Not before the whole case went to total shit, that is. I’m sure you remember how it turned out. God knows I do!

“You want me to get something back for you? Is it bigger than a breadbox?”

“Very funny. No, the item would fit comfortably in a large purse. If at all possible, we’d like you to retrieve it without resorting to gunplay. Your shootings tend to attract a great deal of attention, as the events of the past thirty-six hours demonstrate.”

Thirty-six hours? Hey, pal! Did you forget about all of the people we shot in the last week? Because I sure as hell haven’t! Fucking Luther Bodine was just the tip of the iceberg!

“Why me? I’m not going to ask you why you people can’t handle it because I know whatever you tell me would be a total lie. So why me? Is it because I managed to get that stupid piece of metal back from Myron?”

“That’s part of it. You were successful where we weren’t. Or should I say, where Mister Hunt wasn’t. I’ll be blunt, Miss Rane: you’re my first choice because you’re an extraordinarily talented woman with unusual resources, and because you already know our organization exists. It’s not a question of belief for you. You know it for a fact. And despite those atrocious movies and television programs about our organization; we don’t have any alien devices that can erase people’s memories with a flash of light. Would that we did. It would make our job a great deal easier.”

If he’s telling the truth? Then the real Men in Black might not be so awesome after all. I guess that’s a letdown. I’m too tired and my brain is too fried right now to even think about it. And speaking of that…

“Do you have the slightest idea of the hell I’ve been through in the last thirty-six hours? Do you? I am in zero mood and zero condition to go out on some crazy covert ‘retrieval’ mission for you dickheads! I’ve got a cracked rib! The Sarge is wearing an ankle brace that looks like an alien exoskeleton from a sci-fi movie! Gil Nunez is about six inches from being dead! I just spent an hour scraping the mud and sand off of me! If I wasn’t so freaked out by you standing here in this room right now? I’d probably keel over from exhaustion!”

“I don’t doubt it. Yes, I do know what you’ve been through. It was quite an ordeal, to say the least. Your performance was outstanding, as usual. If anything, it reaffirms my belief that you’re the best person to assist us in this matter. In addition to your police tactical training? Your personal strength and tenacity are almost legendary. Those are qualities we need for this undertaking. You made quite an impression on us, Miss Rane. I can tell you very few people manage to do that.”

Oh, sure! But do you think he’s going to tell me why? Fat fucking chance! This dork is a professional liar! I can’t take anything he says on face value!

“Suppose I tell you to go fuck yourself? That I don’t want anything to do with you or your…lost property? Will you go away and never contact me again?”

“Miss Rane, I appeal to you as a professional with a sense of what’s best for your country and for the greater good. We’re in a precarious position right now. You’re a young woman. Too young to remember the Cold War or the strategic arms race. If we don’t recover this item soon? We could replay those scenarios in this generation. Perhaps with a very different result. I’m guessing you wouldn’t like that. I’m guessing most Americans wouldn’t. While I wouldn’t accuse you of being a flag-waving, fire-breathing patriot; I do believe you have a sense of patriotism. You clearly have a sense of right and wrong and a strong sense of justice. And since you’ve dedicated your life to public service? I’m asking you to serve the best interests of three hundred fifty million Americans.”

And that, boys and girls, is the answer to the next question! Here, just watch this! I don’t need the Sphere of Destiny to tell me the answer to this question is “absolutely nothing!” Just watch!

“So what’s in it for me? Besides this wonderful opportunity to serve three hundred fifty million Americans, I mean?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

See? I told you so! This dork is the worst salesman on the planet! Totally!

“You really know how to sell a girl on something; you know that?”

“Miss Rane, it’s as I told you: we’re not the monsters you think we are. Far from it. And I’m afraid we’re not the all-powerful agency that we’re made out to be in popular mythology. I can’t offer you millions of dollars or an opulent mansion or access to all of our secrets. I can’t promise you that you’ll never have to pay taxes again or that we’ll make you the Chief of Police. There are a lot of things we can do, but I’m afraid they’re all in keeping with the course and scope of our official duties.”

Hell, I ought to just ask him what his official duties are! He’d never answer that question! Not even if I pressed this gun to his head!

“Like making evidence disappear from police custody?”

I hope he didn’t think I don’t remember that! They made all kinds of evidence disappear! They even doctored some of our police reports! If you ask me? They’ve got way too much power as it is!

“That is something we can do. Is there any particular evidence you’d like us to make disappear?”

Is he trying to be funny, or is he serious?

“No. I was just pointing out the fact that you people have way more power than you’re claiming. Mister…I don’t even know your name. Do you have a name? A real name; not the fifty bullshit ones you probably use.”

I see that got a chuckle out of him. I’m glad I could amuse him! I don’t find any of this crap one damned bit amusing!

“I have a name, but I can’t tell you what it is. Since you seem intent on referring to us as ‘The Men in Black?’ Why don’t you just call me Mister Black?”

Why not? Any name he’d give me would be a fake anyway. And I don’t think it would be a good idea to call him Dickface. He’s a dickface, but I don’t think he’d enjoy being called that for his name.

“Fair enough. Mister Black, I have zero doubt that whatever it is you want me to do? It’s illegal and it’s going to entail me putting my neck on the block – probably more than once. Why should I do that for some sense of patriotism and a ‘thank you’ from the shadow government? I’m not in the Army. I don’t even work for the government. I love my country, but I don’t salute the flag first thing every morning. And I’m sure as hell not one of your Men in Black. Not now, not ever. I happen to value my life, thank you very much. I just spent over thirty-six hours going through sheer hell to save it. Now you want me to stick my neck out for you people? After what you put us through the last time? Based on nothing but your bullshit guarantees and an insistence that the world might come to an end if I don’t? Give me a break! What would you say if the roles were reversed?”

What the hell is he doing? Is he writing his answer down in that little notebook? This guy is even weirder than I thought!

“I understand your point, Miss Rane. Allow me to suggest the following: you get yourself a decent night’s sleep. You look like you need it. I have no doubt you’ll reach out to Mister Varanasi and Mister Deacy regarding this meeting. We have no problem with that. Now, it’s just about midnight. Meet me at this address in twenty-four hours and let me know your decision. And in the meantime? I’ll give serious thought to finding some way of properly compensating you for your services. Goodnight, Miss Rane. And congratulations on a job well done. Mister Bodine was a highly-skilled hunter and killer. Defeating him in that manner was no easy feat. Very impressive. Very impressive indeed.”

And away he goes! And I’ll bet if I ran out into the hallway right now, he’d have already vanished! Those guys are weird that way. So what’s this? An address and a room number. It’s not the Federal Building. Hey, those assbags don’t work for the federal government. They work for the damned shadow government! There’s a big difference, believe me!

Well, this is some turn of events, isn’t it? After what I just went through and that son of a bitch shows up here and drops a load of mega shit into my lap? If I hadn’t seen it? I wouldn’t have believed it! Something tells me I’m not going to get one goddamned wink of sleep tonight! And if I don’t? Then I’m likely to collapse and wind up in a hospital! My brain can’t even process what I just went through with Bodine! Now it’s supposed to process this crap? Oh the Allison Rane curse just reached a whole new level of weirdness! This is fucking off the goddamned chart!

Cydonia Survival. Mid-afternoon. The Sarge and I are down in the bunker with LC; which was no easy feat when you consider the Sarge is wearing an ankle brace that looks like something Iron Man wears underneath his iron suit. When I woke up this morning, I honestly thought I dreamed that whole episode with the mysterious Mister Black. Then I saw that scrap of paper that he wrote the address on and it all hit me at once. Have you ever had one of those mornings where you wake up from a horrible nightmare and then you’re totally relieved that it was just a dream? Well, imagine that and then you find out it wasn’t a dream! Yes! That’s exactly what it felt like! I almost burst into tears! In fact, I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t! And I can’t be sure I won’t in the next ten minutes!

The guys here at Cydonia are all kicking themselves that they couldn’t find a way to get to us so they could help. That’s just ridiculous – no one was getting through in that storm – but they’re kicking themselves anyway. I’ll need to have a talk with them. Nobody blames them. We know they’d have been there if it were humanly possible. And if I end up agreeing to Mister Black’s “proposition?” I’m going to need them like never before. Then again, I’m not sure I want to get them involved. That assbag wouldn’t have come to me if this “operation” of his wasn’t ginormously dangerous and probably illegal. I can’t do it alone, but I can’t ask these guys to stick their necks out for me the way they did with Martin Hunt. I’ll think about it later. Besides, he already said he expected me to reach out to LC. It probably made him want to scream, but I guess he’s a pragmatist. Let me tell you, you should’ve seen the look on LC’s face when I told him about how Mister Black showed up in the women’s locker room with his proposition. I had to sit through a good ten minutes of the whole “The-shadow-government-is-seeking-to-dominate-the-world!” speech. Well, it’s not like I expected him to be happy about it. At least he seems willing to listen. That’s a good sign, right?

“Babe, are you out of your fucking mind?”

OK, maybe I spoke a little too soon?

“Hey, it’s not like I called the guy! He just showed up unannounced in the locker room! It’s pretty clear he was keeping a tab on me; at least through the whole thing with Bodine and Avicenna. Once he knew Bodine was dead? He made his move. What was I supposed to do? Shoot him right there in the women’s locker room?”

“Fuck, yeah! As many times as it takes!”

Well…I did consider that. And yes: part of me wishes I’d done it. I guess I figured they’d just send another one. As much as we don’t know about the Men in Black; we do believe there are a lot of them out there. I’m sure they’ve got a replacement for Mister Black if something were to happen to him.

“Look, the meeting is set for tonight. Both of you are going to be there. I’m not at all sure we can tell this guy to fuck off. They’ve got a long reach, as we all know. LC, you were with me through the whole Martin Hunt thing. You know these people don’t seem like the type to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Babe, you can’t seriously be considering this! Go to work for the Men in Black? The shadow government’s secret storm troopers? Once they get their hooks into you…”

“Into us, LC. Our Mister Black mentioned all three of us by name. He expects that if I do this; you two will be right there with me. Whichever way this turns out? We’re all in it together. If we say yes? Then whatever this is about? It’ll be on all of us. And if we say no? Then we might have to face the wrath of the shadow government together.”

You know, it’s not lost on me that a certain old coot has been remarkably silent through this whole thing! He’s the tactical genius, for Pete’s sake! Whatever this is all about? We’re going to need that if we’re going to pull this off! No way in the world is this some simple “recovery” mission. Not if they’re coming to me. And I have to believe that at the end of the day, they expect me to shoot somebody. I’m the Sniper Girl. I can’t believe that’s not why they reached out to me in the first place. And I’m nobody’s goddamned assassin! If they knew a damned thing about me, then they’d know that much!

“Do you want to chime in here, Sarge? These are the people who almost killed you, remember? Because we sure as hell remember it!”

“Damned straight, Sarge! You almost cashed in! They were ready to pull the plug on your ass! And now these fucking assbags are asking for our help? I’m supposed to believe this isn’t a fucking setup? Give me a break! This is the shadow government we’re talking about! The goddamned shadow government always has a hidden agenda! And we’re supposed to be a willing part of it now?”

It’s a shame he was in a coma after he got shot. He missed what happened after that. Right now, he probably thinks this is LC on one of his Conspiracy Boy tirades. Trust me: he isn’t! Oh, if he only knew!

“Rane, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that they reached out to you. I saw enough before I got shot to understand these sons of bitches are for real. I’m having a hard time believing they work for the federal government…”

“The shadow government, old man! Big difference! Gil Nunez works for the federal government. The real government. Don’t you dare lump him in with these psycho nut jobs! He almost died for us out there, remember?”

“Have it your way, princess. The fact is, these sons of bitches exist and there’s clearly some degree of overlap between this ‘shadow’ government and the real one. These assbags haven’t been off running their own program since the nineteen-fifties. They’ve got some kind of official sanction; even if it’s extremely limited in scope. And since we know practically nothing about them? It’s damned hard to figure out their game plan.”

That’s one of his annoying ways of saying these dickheads hold almost all of the cards. Not that I needed him to tell me that!

“I’m with LC on this one: they’re professional liars. They couldn’t tell the truth if you held a gun to their heads. I know! I did hold a gun to that assbag’s head! If there’s any way we can bail on this shit show? I say we do it. We go to work for them? Even just this once? I don’t think it’ll ever end. Not unless their game plan is to get us all killed in the process, anyway.”

“A distinct possibility, babe!”

All right, that’s two “no” votes. What does the Sarge have to say? Does he have some argument that will convince us that this is really a good idea? I wouldn’t rule it out. He convinced me to jump out of an airplane in the thunderstorm the first time I ever rode in a plane, remember? He can be pretty damned persuasive when he wants to be. I still haven’t forgiven him for that, though. No more airplanes for me ever!

“Rane, what if this whackadoo is telling the truth? What if there’s a major threat to national security out there and they really do need our help to deal with it? Because if that’s the case, then I don’t see how we can say no. I spent the better part of my life serving and protecting this country. You said this guy told you if this goes to shit, we could be looking at a new arms race?”

“And a new Cold War. Maybe even a hot one? Though I really don’t see how that’s possible.”

“You don’t know what’s missing, do you? Maybe it’s something that could make all of that happen? The world’s in a precarious place right now. Who knows what it would take to push it over the edge? Maybe not much?”

I hate it when he says things like that! Because I know he’s probably right! We’re totally in the dark with this crap! How can we make an informed decision when we don’t have any information?

“People, I think we need to hear him out. Find out what the hell this is all about. If it’s for real? Then we decide if we’re going to get involved. If it isn’t? We tell that maggot to go fuck himself.”

“Sarge, this is crazy! We’re two cops and a guy who owns a survival shop! Who turns to people like that when there’s a national security crisis?”

“Evidently, your Men in Black. Look, I think it’s as crazy as you do. I’m still having a hard time accepting those assbags actually exist. I can’t deny it. I’ve seen too much and I’ve got a great big scar on my chest to prove it. And I know what the two of you did after that happened. But I don’t see how we can make a decision without hearing this son of a bitch out. Do you?”

No. No, I don’t. But I know enough to know I can’t believe a word that dickhead says. How do I reconcile those two opposites?

“What if he refuses to tell us what we need to know?”

“Then we tell him to go fuck himself and that’s the end of it. There’s no way we’re jumping into this with insufficient information. If there are any repercussions? We’ll deal with them later. We’re not going to let him lead us around by the nose. I’ve got more reason than either of you to want to kill this son of a bitch. His little henchmen damned near killed me. Believe me, I’m not going to let myself get suckered by him. I’m as suspicious as you two are. Maybe even more so.”

Good to know. I still think we might be walking into a setup, though.

“Maybe we should rally as much of Lima team as we can get and have them there waiting for this guy?”

“If he’s what you two say he is, then he’ll know if we do that. He won’t show. And what would we tell Captain Weitz when we marshaled the team? Do you honestly think he’s going to authorize an SRT callout for one mythical Man in Black?”

Not when he puts it that way! But he’s right: they’ll never authorize a callout. Not for a crazy story like this. If you’d told me this would happen a year ago? I’d have said you were totally nuts! And I’m Cydonia Girl! No, however this plays out? We’re on our own. No official help from anyone. I’m guessing that’s exactly what our Mister Black is counting on. Don’t think it doesn’t scare me. It does!

“All right, we keep the meeting. We hear what he has to say. If he gives us a load of crap? We bolt. If he won’t give us a straight answer? We bolt. And if he thinks we’re going to take over for the late Martin Hunt as their new on-call assassins?”

“We blow his fucking ass away and then we bolt, babe!”

Right there with you, LC! Right there with you!

“Two to the body and seven to the head. Sounds like a plan to me. Sarge?”

“It sounds like one to me too, Rane. All right, we’ll keep the meeting. I’m curious to hear what this son of a bitch has to say. Just tell me this: are you two sure he had nothing to do with shooting me?”

I almost hate to admit this, but…

“We’re sure. I know I can never prove it, but something tells me they were going to kill Hunt when I blew him away and saved them the trouble. This guy made it clear he was outraged by what that assbag did. He seemed almost relieved when we talked to him at Dugway, like we solved a major headache for him. And I’m pretty sure they don’t just fire you when you’re a Man in Black. LC?”

“More like a nine millimeter permanent retirement, I’d say.”

Or life in a CIA black prison in some third-world hellhole. Either one would make sure you didn’t spill the beans to anyone about what you knew. These guys are all about the secrecy, aren’t they? Well, our new friend Mister Black had better be willing to ditch the secrecy and provide some straight answers. As much as killing Hunt left a bad taste in my mouth; I won’t hesitate to shoot this son of a bitch if he starts screwing with us. I am not going to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for those thugs. And I am not going to wait for them to use some underhanded Man in Black technique to ruin my life. They’re experts at that stuff. I have zero intention of giving them the opportunity. I know how to stop them – permanently!

Back at the station and sitting back in the Detectives’ Room. Don’t ask me why we’re here, but the Sarge and I felt we had to at least check in after what happened yesterday. We’re kind of hiding from Captain Weitz because he said he didn’t want to see us anywhere near here for forty-eight hours. Believe me, I get it. If it were up to me? I’d sleep for forty-eight hours. In fact, I might do just that when we get home. My skin is still all red from being soaked and my side is killing me thanks to my cracked rib. The doctor said it was just a hairline fracture, but let me tell you: hairline fractures hurt! Especially when you bend over to tie your shoes! And the Sarge has been grumbling about that ankle brace he’s got to wear. It’s a lot bigger than any ankle brace I ever saw. I saw this lame-assed sci-fi movie once where this guy was dying and they bolted him into this huge exoskeleton contraption to turn him into a total weapon so he could…I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’ll shut up now.

Luther Bodine is all over the news: the whole story about how he was working as a drug cartel hit man for Avicenna. Our vigilante groups are losing their shit over it, let me tell you. It’s like he betrayed the brotherhood, or something like that. They’ve been going nuts and beating the shit out of every assbag they can catch, or so Lieutenant Jutras tells me. The rain is gone, the streets are dry, the sun is shining, and dozens of psycho vigilantes are running around the city with big sticks and turning our assbag population into human piñatas. Well, don’t look to us to do anything about it. We are most definitely light duty for now. And here comes Lieutenant Jutras and boy, does he look pissed!

“God fucking damn it to hell!”

See what I mean?

“Problem, sir? Besides the five hundred other ones, I mean.”

“Yes, there’s a problem! Fucking Stu Pratley!”

Seriously? Our local talk radio shock jock? What did he do?

“What happened, sir? Did they cancel his show?”

“I wish! He’s on the air, screaming about how the police have lost control of the city and how the people need to take up arms and take to the goddamned streets! This thing with Bodine really lit a fire under his ass!”

And…this is news?

“OK, but…isn’t he always saying things like that? I know he’s been cheering on the vigilantes since the whole mess started, right?”

“Yes! But nobody took him seriously before! Now they do!”

I don’t want to be the one to break it to him, but a lot of people in this town take Stu Pratley seriously. They always have. He’s a far-right-wing shock jock who’s been around for years. He spends most of his time making fun of the far-left-wing talking heads out of Phoenix and Tucson and the lefty editorials in the Arizona Star Telegram. Sometimes I think he’s the only person in this town who reads that rag. I’ve never seen anybody around here read it. It’s good for paper-training your dog, though.

“Do we know if it’s having an effect?”

“Judging by the number of radio calls we’ve been getting since the storm passed? Hell yes it’s having an effect! I don’t think we’re ever going to get rid of this shit!”

That’s not what I wanted to hear! We’ve already got the governor looking at us funny because of that crap! If it gets any worse? We could have the federal government saying we’re out of control! I know Gil Nunez said the FBI didn’t want to get involved, but if some dork politician in Washington calls for something to be done? We could have real trouble on our hands!

“So what did he say that’s got you in such an uproar all of a sudden?”

“He had one of his ‘special guests’ on this afternoon! Darrin Nolasco! Just what we fucking need!”

Seriously? That guy? He’s a cartoonist! He draws comic books! Well, technically, they’re called graphic novels. The difference is important if you’re into graphic novels and comic books. Graphic novels are really thick comic books and they sell for about nine bucks. That’s the main difference. Still, why him? Pratley’s got to know certain people are going to go total nutso for bringing that guy on the show. I guess that’s one way to fan the flames, so to speak.

“Were there protests?”

“Not yet! But there will be! Maybe not the people in this town, but the fucking lefty assholes from out-of-town? They’ll be here in full voice!”

And the locals will kick the living crap out of them. When Nolasco did his…thing? The first time? They were all over the place! Mostly from places like Phoenix. We had the social justice weens and even some people claiming to be Antifa. Let me give you a lesson: being a total assbag from out-of-town and spraying people in the face with pepper gas? It’s a really good way to get your ass kicked. I’m talking about the kind of ass-kicking that gets you a stay in the hospital. We had a lot of them during that time. I’m not looking forward to seeing it again.

“Maybe Sergeant Kettering should schedule some riot control training?”

“More like the City Attorney’s Office should schedule some lawsuit training! Those little shits who got their asses kicked filed a truckload of suits the last time!”

Yes, but most of them were dismissed and the rest of them, they lost. It’s like I keep telling you: this is a very conservative town. A bunch of out-of-town lefty assbags don’t rate a lot of sympathy from our juries.

“Sir, as the Sarge is always telling me: don’t go looking for trouble. Enough of it will find you all by itself.”

“Easy for you to say! You’re not the one who’s running a skeleton crew! And now Kettering’s down two patrol sergeants! His two most tactically sound sergeants!”

That would be me and the Sarge. He’s right: we’re not about to take on an angry mob when he can’t walk straight and I can’t bend over and touch my toes.

“What did Darrin Nolasco have to say?”

“Do you mean besides the fact that he’s launching another of those inflammatory comic books?”

Oh, wonderful! So that’s why he was on the show: to promote his new “watch me throw gasoline on the fire” graphic novel! Just what we need!

“It’s been through the courts, sir. It’s protected by the First Amendment. Even sick shit like his. I really don’t see the problem. He’s pretty offensive, but I don’t think it’s a big deal. Nobody has to buy them if they don’t like them.”

“Yes, but what about the millions of people who do like it? It drives the wacky wokies right up the fucking wall!”

Which is exactly what he intended. And when they go ape shit? Then it becomes our problem. That’s the part that sucks.

“And a lot of our vigilantes are calling those three-foot riot sticks of theirs ‘woke whackers.’ I see your point.”

“I need you to do a lot more than see my point! How fast will that cracked rib heal up?”

Is he serious? I’m not jumping into that crap! Not after what I just went through!

“The doctor said six months to a year, sir.”

“Bullshit! I want daily reports on your status! As soon as you get the green light to go back in the field…”

“I’ll run for the hills. After what we just went through with Bodine? The EMTs said the Sarge’s ankle is going to take at least a week to heal, and that’s if he manages to stay off of it.”

“Which he won’t! He’s a pigheaded son of a bitch when it comes to things like that! Kind of like you!”

Truer words were never spoken, sir! Remember: the Sarge is the pigheaded dork who built a gazebo while he was recovering from open-heart surgery. He said it was his exercise. He does things like that. Hey, speak of the devil!

“Sarge? Where were you?”

“Talking to Kettering. He says we’ve got five patrol SUVs out of action. What the hell happened to them, sir?”

“Waterlogged. Some of our geniuses tried to drive through flooded streets. Some of the electrical systems are fried. Our guys at Motor Transport say it’ll take days for them to dry out so they can get in there and fix them. We’ve also got two repeater towers in our division down. The ground got so soft, they tumbled over in the wind. Now we’ve got a couple of dead spots for our radios.”

Until the city gets those repeater towers back up. Great, huh? We finally get good radios and now this happens!

“Sarge, the Lieutenant was just telling me how Stu Pratley’s on the warpath again. He had Darrin Nolasco on his show this afternoon.”

“The comic book guy? What the hell for?”

“Ratings, I guess. Lieutenant Jutras is afraid Nolasco’s new graphic novel is going to stir up another shit storm.”

“Rane, anybody who gets that worked up over a goddamned comic book should be institutionalized! For Christ’s sake! Don’t these people have anything better to do?”

I’m inclined to agree with him on that one. I realize Darrin Nolasco went out of his way to enrage the loony lefties with his work, but still! The Sarge is right: they’re just comic books! Big deal! People have been drawing sick shit in comic books for decades! You didn’t see people rioting over it back then, did you? Did you ever read Heavy Metal? Or Elfquest? OK, they were graphic novels, but so are Darrin’s…I’m babbling again, aren’t I? The point is, those were definitely not suitable for kids! But no one staged a riot over them, did they?

“Well, if his new one is like the other six? We could have trouble. We might get another caravan of wokies from Phoenix, just like the last time.”

“And the locals will wipe the floor with them, just like the last time! Jesus Christ! Don’t these people have jobs to go to?”

“Part of the whole ‘woke’ thing is you don’t have a job. Unless you’re a teacher with tenure. At least, that’s how it was explained to me.”

It’s not just the wokies, though. Plenty of our local far-right assbags are either unemployed or they’re self-employed so they can make time for things like protests and vigilante patrols and major punch-ups. It’s kind of a toxic combination, isn’t it? And just wait until our organized vigilantes get in on the action! We’re going to have Ten-Thirty-Four calls all over the place! That’s a riot in progress, in case I never mentioned it. Oh, what fun, huh?

“Keep us posted, sir. We’d rather get the news from you than get it from TV.”

“Heal fast! Both of you! We need you here and we need you out in the field!”

Dream on, sir! I’m probably going to have to wear a rib protector under my uniform! And the Sarge? He can’t go out in the field with that contraption on his leg! They promised us some time off after going through holy hell with Bodine. I think we’re going to get it whether they like it or not. I’ll see to it!

Home at our cabin. I’m hoping to get a little rest before we go meet our new friend Mister Black. For the life of me, I can’t imagine what he wants us to do for them. We’re not Men in Black, after all. Wouldn’t any kind of help kind of ruin the whole ultra-secret thing? From what I understand about their mandate, they deal with stuff that’s so secret; a top-secret security clearance wouldn’t get you admitted to the club. I guess we’ll find out soon enough. I have a feeling that whatever he wants us to do? It’s going to be crazy, dangerous as hell, and probably illegal. We’re going to tell him to go to hell. At least, that’s what I’m thinking. I don’t trust those assbags one millimeter! I think you know why. I think I can say the same about the Sarge. And LC? The King of Conspiracies? The Men in Black are the very embodiment of the shadow government! No way is he ever going to trust those bozos! Can you blame us? You know what they did to us. You know what they’re like. And I whacked their mega-psycho right in their own top-secret backyard! Not to mention we threw Hunt’s lap dog to the vigilantes and they strung his ass up in public. Now you see why I can’t even begin to wrap my head around this thing, right?

As for our more down-to-earth problems? I guess a little background is in order. It goes kind of like this: Darrin Nolasco is a local artist and as far as I know, a pretty law-abiding guy. I hear he did a stint in the Coast Guard. Not many people from around here go that route. He’s a young guy, but definitely not some punk graffiti artist. No, that’s a fancy term for vandalism and I don’t consider vandals to be artists. Darrin Nolasco, on the other hand, wouldn’t think of just painting the side of a wall with some lame-assed graffiti. He’s done some murals, but he always goes to whoever owns the property and asks permission to paint something. He even brings sketches so the owner can decide if it’s something he’ll like. Nolasco got into drawing graphic novels a few years back. I’m not what you’d call a fan of graphic novels – or comic books, as the Sarge insists on calling them – but I’ve seen his stuff and he’s a really good artist. The problem is – if you consider it a problem, anyway – he absolutely despises wokies and wokeism. He said it was a bunch of crap that he saw in college. It really ticked him off and while he’s not the most political guy in the world, he’s a fine artist with a really twisted and devious mind. Gee, when was that ever a bad combination, right? Well, I think you can imagine how things went: he took a lot of flak from the loony left over some things he said on social media and he responded by creating graphic novels that just totaled the woke. I mean he was absolutely merciless. And that sick part of his mind? Let’s just say that a lot of the images were totally not suitable for most people! I mean, the story lines were bad enough, but the amount of detail he put in those drawings? Oh, my God! If there were a triple-X rating for comic books? His would’ve earned them in a heartbeat! But I have to admit: I thought they were as funny as hell. Let’s face it: I can’t stand wokies and I’ve got a pretty perverted imagination; what with me being a total nympho and all. The stuff made me laugh. Sue me.

His first graphic novel was titled “Smoke the Woke.” Trust me: it had very little to do with smoking anything in the traditional fashion. It was brutal. It seems Darrin is quite the satirist. Anyway, you can imagine what happened after that: word spread all over social media, the diaper rash crowd screamed at a pitch that probably made dogs in Minnesota bark, and some douchebag groups tried to have his work deemed hate speech and banned. All it did was make the thing sell over a million copies. Darrin Nolasco went from riding an old dirt bike to driving a brand-new Corvette. The offbeat publisher that published the thing? They cleaned up massively. And Darrin being Darrin? He got right to work on another one. He called the second one “Reet Boys.” Apparently the shrieking noise that wokies like to make is translated as “reeeeeet!” It was just as sick, just as merciless, and maybe even more nail-on-the-head with the satire as the first one was. It’s in its tenth printing and Darrin Nolasco lives in a very nice three-bedroom house as a result of it. The left just about tossed their collective cookies over it. That just encouraged him to write four more graphic novels just like it. I know one of them mocked the so-called “forever children.” That one really brought out the shriekers. The forever children can’t seem to do much else besides shriek at things. You really have to wonder how stupid those people can be. You know how they say about newspaper editors: never pick a fight with a man who buys ink by the barrel? Well, never pick a fight with a guy who’s a very talented artist and can bring all sorts of perverted imagery to life. As far as I know, the wokies around here still haven’t learned that lesson.

So Darrin Nolasco found himself a new lease on life: he’s sort of a social anarchist artist whose specialty is torpedoing the loony left. He’s got it down to a science. All of his graphic novels are specifically designed to enrage the left. He’s become a minor celebrity in some circles and he shows no sign of stopping. He also…OK, bear with me for a minute. I have a lot of trouble telling this story without cracking up. You see, when there were protests in town about his…shall we say, irreverent artwork? Our chief said some unkind words about him. He should’ve known better than to weigh in on a subject like that, but this is Chief Bricklin we’re talking about. He’s the guy who, when they were handing out the common sense? He was busy holding the door. As bad as that was, what really set off Nolasco was the fact that Chief Bricklin canceled the extra patrol at his home. The guy was getting credible death threats. Now, I don’t have all the facts of this…case, but I can tell you…you know how there are always official portraits of the city leaders over at City Hall? You know: the mayor, the chief, a bunch of bigwigs on the city council; that kind of thing? So the chief’s portrait is hanging in the main hall. Somehow, some unidentified individual…I guess you could say he “touched it up” a little. Oh who the hell am I kidding? Darrin Nolasco totally fucked with it! He redid the chief’s face…oh, hell! I’m just going to say it! He painted a gigantic penis shoved into the chief’s mouth! The detail was beyond belief! And he redid the chief’s face so that it looks like he’s sucking it for all he’s worth! And the look on his face? I can’t even begin to describe it! Like he’s having some kind of panic attack, I suppose! Good Lord! It was hanging up there in public for two days before anyone said anything about it! It was totally sick! Totally disgusting! And yes! I laughed my fucking ass off when I saw it! I wish I had a picture of it! It was that good!

Everyone knew it had to have been Darrin Nolasco who did it, but they couldn’t prove it. Chief Bricklin even hired an art critic with his own money to come out and examine the…portrait…to see if she could swear it was Nolasco’s work. The best she could do was say it was extremely similar to some of his existing works, but she couldn’t swear to it. How the hell Nolasco managed to get to the portrait and deface it like that is anyone’s guess. I mean, he had to have had help, right? Chief Bricklin isn’t exactly the most popular guy on the department so it’s not like there aren’t a lot of suspects. He took it particularly hard; claiming it was a betrayal by the rank-and-file. Hey, we weren’t the ones who painted it! Captain Weitz says Chief Bricklin still hasn’t gotten over it. The investigation is still officially open and there’s a video camera aimed at the portrait twenty-four/seven now. I don’t know who’s paying for that. Anyway, that’s Darrin Nolasco in a nutshell. He’s got an almost unique talent for pissing people off and he absolutely revels in it. Now do you see why Lieutenant Jutras was so worried about this?

“Rane, go grab some sleep. We’ve got a late night tonight. You’re sure about the address where we’re supposed to meet this son of a bitch?”

“I checked it out. It’s an office building. The office number he gave me is on the ground floor. I took a look at it on Google Earth. The place isn’t abandoned or anything. It’s legit.”

“We’ll see just how legit it is. In the meantime, I want you wearing a vest and carrying extra magazines for your forty-five. We’ll have rifles and shotguns in the car and plenty of ammo.”

It sounds like he’s expecting real trouble. Not what I want to hear!

“You think this is some kind of setup, don’t you?”

“I know they tried to kill us once. They almost succeeded in killing me. I’m not taking any chances this time.”

No, neither am I. We can’t trust them. I don’t think they’d be stupid enough to try to wipe us all out – they probably think we told someone about this meeting just in case – but we have to take precautions. We’ll be ready. And I’m dying to see why the Men in Black suddenly need our help. Whatever it is? I think it’s going to be worth hearing. I’m not saying we’ll do it, but I think it’ll be worth hearing.