Scambo
Spider Pickle
FourtyTwo
Spoopy Scary
OldManMountain
BingTheWing
Bartimaeus
Xacha
Plank SinatraEarlier
Stillman woke up to his alarm. He grabbed the small novelty baseball bat he kept next to his bed to beat up would-be-robbers, and bopped the top of the clock alarm. It silenced. He got up, took a shower, came out in a bathrobe. He started making breakfast, a sandwich with pepper jack cheese, lettuce, and three slices of ham. He ate it, gave a passing glance to the bird cage of his old pet parrot. It'd died a year ago, which Stillman was thankful for because it had started repeating the dialog of the adult film Deep Throat. As he was thinking about this, his phone rang. His phone was a novelty Coca Cola old school wire phone, he'd bought it from a thrift store for ten dollars. He answered. He heard the sounds of a very angry man, Mitch, yelling apparently somewhere far away from the phone. "And you better well damn not look into that box, I swear to God Sam!" he hustled over to the phone, saying "Hey, Stillman. Look, I got you pulled for a job, right? I forgot to call you about it-" He explained to Stillman he was to fly to Tucson from an airport Stillman could see from his window, if he looked. Stillman explained that he couldn't look because the window was far away from the phone and the wire couldn't stretch out that far. Mitch asked Stillman to carry the phone base, but Stillman explained that someone had cut the cord that came with the phone and he'd had to replace the power cord with a shorter one from another novelty Coca Cola phone he'd ordered from ebay, but that production line had, had an issue and all the cords that came with that version had short power cords. Also, there wasn't anywhere to place the phone so it wouldn't dangle, so he couldn't just set it down and walk over. Mitch paused for a moment to think about this, then went on to explain that Stillman had six hours to reach the airport and that all preparations had been made for him.
After arriving in Tucson, Stillman went around looking for vaguely Mexican looking people in the shadier parts of town. He eventually found some Banditos and for a sum of cash, he managed to acquire a sawn off mossberg and a glock, both of which he had to file off the serial numbers himself. He used the razor blade he always carried around, then hid the weapons in his coat. He stopped by a Burger King and ordered an extra long cheeseburger and a small coke. He ate these on the way to the bus stop and threw them into the nearby trashcan, which was already overfilled with garbage so he sort of had to push the garbage into the garbage can. He sat down, next to an old lady. He tried making small talk, but she kept mumbling about the coming dark and the name of some man. He gave up on this course of action and instead tried to befriend a mexican man who just arrived, by introducing himself with a "Hola" and explaining how he too, liked tacos. The man asked him politely to stop, which to Stillmans credit he did. Then the car arrived.
Current Time
Streetlights passed and shrank away in the side mirror of the Sonata as they drove through the city. The radio went silent before the next song had come up on the CD Werner put into it, currently turned down to a whisper as they made their way through the streets of Tucson. Werner kept his eyes on the mirrors and all around them looking for tails. He'd found none, but that didn't bring him any peace of mind. Even so, he was hungry and jet lag was really starting to dig its claws in him, dragging down his eyelids. He softly slapped at his cheek in an effort to wake himself up, not having much success. He'd gotten a call from Foster to pick someone up at the bus stop outside of town. A late arrival, he'd said, Stillman. He yawned, and just as he opened his eyes, he slapped the dashboard and pointed out the turn they were supposed to make seconds before it got the drop on them. Javier cranked the steering wheel and they barely made the turn in any way that could've been called good driving. He rolled down his window when they pulled up at the bus stop. There were only three people there, one was an old woman that looked like she was on the verge of dying any day now, the other was a Hispanic man sitting on the curb and another in a black trenchcoat, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. He'd seen that the man had caught sight of the Sonata and was watching them as they drove up and stopped. "Stillman?" Werner's voice pierced the tranquil night air.
Stillman walked up to the car and pulled on the closest door he could find. It was locked. He knocked, "Hey, wanna unlock it pal?"
Werner sighed, pressing a finger down onto the doors' lock/unlock button. The doors unlocked unanimously with a muffled 'chunk' and in stepped Stillman, taking a seat in the back. Werner nodded to Javier and they took off at a respectable speed, making a U-turn to get back to David's apartment building. There wasn't much that Javier and Werner could go after now it was the dead of night. People were tucked in their beds and it would be hard to make up a convincing cover of why two Feds were knocking at their door at an unreasonable hour. On the way back, his stomach began to growl. He set a hand to it and gave a small smile, locking eyes with Stillman through the rear-view mirror. "You in the mood for something to eat, Stillman?" Stillman shrugged, "Ate on the way here." He looked over to Javier, "What about you, friendo?"
Javier nodded as he began to slow the car down. "Yea, haven't had a proper meal since fucking landing at this place." Javier then with one hand began to use the GPS to find a place to eat that was open at this time of the night. Most of the places were closed until they found a small diner, located near to the entrance of the town open for a few more hours. "Guess that's our only shot then for food" he stated, placing both hands on the steering wheel again. The Sonata made a left turn onto the diner parking lot, which was empty with only two cars parked outside of of it. A blue SUV and a old Chevrolet sedan.
The three of them stepped out of the Sonata. Werner stretched his arms to the sky and balanced on the balls of his feet as he stretched his legs. He let go a yawn as he looked around the mostly empty streets for anyone suspicious and only the starry sky and sounds of the night carried by the luke-warm air came back at him. That Corolla and the motorbike had put a sense of caution in him ever since first spotting them and not catching a hint of them since. He shook his head, clucking his tongue and turning back to the others.
The diner was the typical hole in the wall, wood panel walls on the outside. Pugg's, the sign said, its neon anthropomorphic smiling pig in a fry-cook's hat lighting up his face in pink as he looked up at it. Quaint. And it really was something he missed, seeing everything in English and knowing he was in the States. Maybe after this assignment, he'd try for a desk posting at some station in Germany or something. At least something closer to the West.
He stepped into the diner and they took a seat in a corner booth, a clear line of sight to the entrance and the rest of the empty diner. The inside was similarly a sort of rustic theme as the outside. Dark carpeting under his feet, the booths were made of wood and the padding was a fake leather dyed burgundy. When the tired, but smiling waitress came around, he ordered a plate of biscuits and gravy and a milkshake. Good ol' American cuisine. Say what you want about exotic locales and their food, but he still missed all of this for those seven years abroad. He sighed, looking back to Javier seated beside him and Stillman sitting across from him. “So, where you guys come from?”
Stillman ordered a milkshake. He wasn't hungry, but was willing to spring for something to please his palette. Stillman said, "New York! Lovely place, you might have heard about it from Independence Day. Seriously, they didn't send you a profile?" He looked to Javier, "They usually send a profile right?" He looked back to Werner, "Must have been really short term. Got that vibe on the way here. You from around here? I mean, you had the car."
Werner shook his head, "Foster did the recruiting. He just tossed me a stack of dossiers and told me to have fun." He smiled, digging a hand into a coat-pocket and bringing out his flask, "Still trying on that objective. I'm from Texas, anyways. Army, small-town Sheriff, Army again. Now, I'm a DoD adviser, supervising this particular mission." He took a pull from his flask and offered it to the other two.
"For the time-being, Stillman, you'll be glad to know your status as a DoD adviser is officially, uh, official." He nodded. "It'd be best for both of us for me to give you the run-down of our team's fantastic professional relationships once we're on the road again. Alone. What about you, Javier? You remain an enigma to me, besides your position as a DEA special agent."
"I'll have a cheeseburger, a small coke and a vanilla milkshake" Javier said, handing the waiter the menu. He shook his head as Werner offered the flask before placing both hands into his pocket.
“Long story short, I’m from LA, San Francisco in matter of fact. 4 years at Stanford was possible because my father was a lawyer and mother had a good job in a insurance agency. Applied to DEA and after doing various operations I wound up here at this gig.” Javier stated
“Yea, we do get sent profiles, or at least the squad leader does” looking at Stillman. “Nothing major though, most of the time agency, any notable operations, notes of the agent by any of his workers etc. Though what I’ve read in the papers and heard in the grapevine is this faction isn’t something to take lightly” Javier said, before casually looking at his surroundings.
"We're all here because we have sections of our dossiers gone over with black ink. I can say that much, I know I do." Werner said, and shook his head at Javier's astute observation. "No, they are not. Foster gave me the rundown a week ago. Anyone who knows anything about the recent months knows the surge of drugs bubbling up from the other side of the border. You know this past month, there's been more doors kicked in in Tucson, El Paso and other towns near the border than the last year put together? DEA even has folks running around sweeping up cartel messes in Oklahoma." Werner shook his head and sighed, taking another pull from his flask, "Half the fucking meth in Chicago comes from the Sinaloa Cartel. You folks in the DEA get the sense we're winning this, Javier? Stillman?"
The food arrived for the table, Javier nodded to the waitress as she placed down the items that were ordered. He had a bite of his cheese burger as he heard Werner talking. A few more bites later until Javier replied to Werner’s statement.
“Most of us in the DEA are in it for the long haul. Mexican control is weak and everyone know’s it. Corruption is high and law enforcement murders are common so there’s really no control. Not only that but in a economic factor Mexico is weak, reliant on NAFTA to propel its economy. So what do people do? Get into the game. Hell even organized factions in the US like the Russian Mob, Italian Mafia and other organized crime units are taking note that this isn’t their era, and could end violently or with other players.” Javier replied, having a sip of his milkshake.
Stillman sucked at his straw, "Well, Mafias definitely out. Personally I think we should have just let 'em run like Japan does with the Yakuza, a family friendly face to crime is always better than a butcher selling you a hypothermal needle he used earlier to paralyze a guy so he could cut his nuts off while he watched." He sucked again. "Man, crimes really gotten hardcore these days, huh?"
Werner chuckled, forking some of the biscuits and gravy into his mouth and chewing, savoring the flavor of it. His taste buds now got the memo he was back stateside and the sharp cramps in his empty stomach were now starting to subside. When his phone vibrated and he read the text from Black, his stomach dropped, and hunger cramps were the least of his worries now. 'Rosa captured. Taken by Bloods, most likely. Comms from her are compromised. Advise course of action. I suggest we make it look ghetto and gangsta. ;)'
From the sound of vibrating coming from Javier's own pocket, he'd be reading the same thing. He saved the special agent and Stillman some trouble, the latter not yet having his phone issued by Foster. "Yes, it is." He addressed Stillman's comment, before setting down his fork after taking one last mouthful, "We're going to have to cut our meal short."
With that, Werner rose and put his hand out for Javier to toss him the keys. He caught them and shoved them into his own coat pocket, walking with a purpose while throwing down three twenties on the bar counter on his way out, the two other men in tow. Wordlessly, they drove back to the apartment building with a disregard for stop signs and red lights, the siren on the Sonata blaring. Tails and shit be damned, he wouldn't let gangbangers do whatever they wanted to Rosa. He'd seen what Somalis did and the gangs in Cape Town too. The little four-cylinder engine was working with all it had as he sped down the roads, taking sharp turns almost like he was in a rally. Within minutes, he switched off the sirens before the cops at the apartment cordon could see them, stepping out and texting Black, 'What floor?' after adding Ben and Victor to the group text, 'Head towards Black, keep this on the down-low. We don't need PD compromising our mission and whining about warrants and probable cause. We're making this look like a robbery. In and out, five minutes tops. We're getting Rosa out, snatching what we can for intel on the Bloods dealers in David's building, and taking one of these guys so we can get nice and friendly with him later.'
Stillman woke up to his alarm. He grabbed the small novelty baseball bat he kept next to his bed to beat up would-be-robbers, and bopped the top of the clock alarm. It silenced. He got up, took a shower, came out in a bathrobe. He started making breakfast, a sandwich with pepper jack cheese, lettuce, and three slices of ham. He ate it, gave a passing glance to the bird cage of his old pet parrot. It'd died a year ago, which Stillman was thankful for because it had started repeating the dialog of the adult film Deep Throat. As he was thinking about this, his phone rang. His phone was a novelty Coca Cola old school wire phone, he'd bought it from a thrift store for ten dollars. He answered. He heard the sounds of a very angry man, Mitch, yelling apparently somewhere far away from the phone. "And you better well damn not look into that box, I swear to God Sam!" he hustled over to the phone, saying "Hey, Stillman. Look, I got you pulled for a job, right? I forgot to call you about it-" He explained to Stillman he was to fly to Tucson from an airport Stillman could see from his window, if he looked. Stillman explained that he couldn't look because the window was far away from the phone and the wire couldn't stretch out that far. Mitch asked Stillman to carry the phone base, but Stillman explained that someone had cut the cord that came with the phone and he'd had to replace the power cord with a shorter one from another novelty Coca Cola phone he'd ordered from ebay, but that production line had, had an issue and all the cords that came with that version had short power cords. Also, there wasn't anywhere to place the phone so it wouldn't dangle, so he couldn't just set it down and walk over. Mitch paused for a moment to think about this, then went on to explain that Stillman had six hours to reach the airport and that all preparations had been made for him.
After arriving in Tucson, Stillman went around looking for vaguely Mexican looking people in the shadier parts of town. He eventually found some Banditos and for a sum of cash, he managed to acquire a sawn off mossberg and a glock, both of which he had to file off the serial numbers himself. He used the razor blade he always carried around, then hid the weapons in his coat. He stopped by a Burger King and ordered an extra long cheeseburger and a small coke. He ate these on the way to the bus stop and threw them into the nearby trashcan, which was already overfilled with garbage so he sort of had to push the garbage into the garbage can. He sat down, next to an old lady. He tried making small talk, but she kept mumbling about the coming dark and the name of some man. He gave up on this course of action and instead tried to befriend a mexican man who just arrived, by introducing himself with a "Hola" and explaining how he too, liked tacos. The man asked him politely to stop, which to Stillmans credit he did. Then the car arrived.
Current Time
Streetlights passed and shrank away in the side mirror of the Sonata as they drove through the city. The radio went silent before the next song had come up on the CD Werner put into it, currently turned down to a whisper as they made their way through the streets of Tucson. Werner kept his eyes on the mirrors and all around them looking for tails. He'd found none, but that didn't bring him any peace of mind. Even so, he was hungry and jet lag was really starting to dig its claws in him, dragging down his eyelids. He softly slapped at his cheek in an effort to wake himself up, not having much success. He'd gotten a call from Foster to pick someone up at the bus stop outside of town. A late arrival, he'd said, Stillman. He yawned, and just as he opened his eyes, he slapped the dashboard and pointed out the turn they were supposed to make seconds before it got the drop on them. Javier cranked the steering wheel and they barely made the turn in any way that could've been called good driving. He rolled down his window when they pulled up at the bus stop. There were only three people there, one was an old woman that looked like she was on the verge of dying any day now, the other was a Hispanic man sitting on the curb and another in a black trenchcoat, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. He'd seen that the man had caught sight of the Sonata and was watching them as they drove up and stopped. "Stillman?" Werner's voice pierced the tranquil night air.
Stillman walked up to the car and pulled on the closest door he could find. It was locked. He knocked, "Hey, wanna unlock it pal?"
Werner sighed, pressing a finger down onto the doors' lock/unlock button. The doors unlocked unanimously with a muffled 'chunk' and in stepped Stillman, taking a seat in the back. Werner nodded to Javier and they took off at a respectable speed, making a U-turn to get back to David's apartment building. There wasn't much that Javier and Werner could go after now it was the dead of night. People were tucked in their beds and it would be hard to make up a convincing cover of why two Feds were knocking at their door at an unreasonable hour. On the way back, his stomach began to growl. He set a hand to it and gave a small smile, locking eyes with Stillman through the rear-view mirror. "You in the mood for something to eat, Stillman?" Stillman shrugged, "Ate on the way here." He looked over to Javier, "What about you, friendo?"
Javier nodded as he began to slow the car down. "Yea, haven't had a proper meal since fucking landing at this place." Javier then with one hand began to use the GPS to find a place to eat that was open at this time of the night. Most of the places were closed until they found a small diner, located near to the entrance of the town open for a few more hours. "Guess that's our only shot then for food" he stated, placing both hands on the steering wheel again. The Sonata made a left turn onto the diner parking lot, which was empty with only two cars parked outside of of it. A blue SUV and a old Chevrolet sedan.
The three of them stepped out of the Sonata. Werner stretched his arms to the sky and balanced on the balls of his feet as he stretched his legs. He let go a yawn as he looked around the mostly empty streets for anyone suspicious and only the starry sky and sounds of the night carried by the luke-warm air came back at him. That Corolla and the motorbike had put a sense of caution in him ever since first spotting them and not catching a hint of them since. He shook his head, clucking his tongue and turning back to the others.
The diner was the typical hole in the wall, wood panel walls on the outside. Pugg's, the sign said, its neon anthropomorphic smiling pig in a fry-cook's hat lighting up his face in pink as he looked up at it. Quaint. And it really was something he missed, seeing everything in English and knowing he was in the States. Maybe after this assignment, he'd try for a desk posting at some station in Germany or something. At least something closer to the West.
He stepped into the diner and they took a seat in a corner booth, a clear line of sight to the entrance and the rest of the empty diner. The inside was similarly a sort of rustic theme as the outside. Dark carpeting under his feet, the booths were made of wood and the padding was a fake leather dyed burgundy. When the tired, but smiling waitress came around, he ordered a plate of biscuits and gravy and a milkshake. Good ol' American cuisine. Say what you want about exotic locales and their food, but he still missed all of this for those seven years abroad. He sighed, looking back to Javier seated beside him and Stillman sitting across from him. “So, where you guys come from?”
Stillman ordered a milkshake. He wasn't hungry, but was willing to spring for something to please his palette. Stillman said, "New York! Lovely place, you might have heard about it from Independence Day. Seriously, they didn't send you a profile?" He looked to Javier, "They usually send a profile right?" He looked back to Werner, "Must have been really short term. Got that vibe on the way here. You from around here? I mean, you had the car."
Werner shook his head, "Foster did the recruiting. He just tossed me a stack of dossiers and told me to have fun." He smiled, digging a hand into a coat-pocket and bringing out his flask, "Still trying on that objective. I'm from Texas, anyways. Army, small-town Sheriff, Army again. Now, I'm a DoD adviser, supervising this particular mission." He took a pull from his flask and offered it to the other two.
"For the time-being, Stillman, you'll be glad to know your status as a DoD adviser is officially, uh, official." He nodded. "It'd be best for both of us for me to give you the run-down of our team's fantastic professional relationships once we're on the road again. Alone. What about you, Javier? You remain an enigma to me, besides your position as a DEA special agent."
"I'll have a cheeseburger, a small coke and a vanilla milkshake" Javier said, handing the waiter the menu. He shook his head as Werner offered the flask before placing both hands into his pocket.
“Long story short, I’m from LA, San Francisco in matter of fact. 4 years at Stanford was possible because my father was a lawyer and mother had a good job in a insurance agency. Applied to DEA and after doing various operations I wound up here at this gig.” Javier stated
“Yea, we do get sent profiles, or at least the squad leader does” looking at Stillman. “Nothing major though, most of the time agency, any notable operations, notes of the agent by any of his workers etc. Though what I’ve read in the papers and heard in the grapevine is this faction isn’t something to take lightly” Javier said, before casually looking at his surroundings.
"We're all here because we have sections of our dossiers gone over with black ink. I can say that much, I know I do." Werner said, and shook his head at Javier's astute observation. "No, they are not. Foster gave me the rundown a week ago. Anyone who knows anything about the recent months knows the surge of drugs bubbling up from the other side of the border. You know this past month, there's been more doors kicked in in Tucson, El Paso and other towns near the border than the last year put together? DEA even has folks running around sweeping up cartel messes in Oklahoma." Werner shook his head and sighed, taking another pull from his flask, "Half the fucking meth in Chicago comes from the Sinaloa Cartel. You folks in the DEA get the sense we're winning this, Javier? Stillman?"
The food arrived for the table, Javier nodded to the waitress as she placed down the items that were ordered. He had a bite of his cheese burger as he heard Werner talking. A few more bites later until Javier replied to Werner’s statement.
“Most of us in the DEA are in it for the long haul. Mexican control is weak and everyone know’s it. Corruption is high and law enforcement murders are common so there’s really no control. Not only that but in a economic factor Mexico is weak, reliant on NAFTA to propel its economy. So what do people do? Get into the game. Hell even organized factions in the US like the Russian Mob, Italian Mafia and other organized crime units are taking note that this isn’t their era, and could end violently or with other players.” Javier replied, having a sip of his milkshake.
Stillman sucked at his straw, "Well, Mafias definitely out. Personally I think we should have just let 'em run like Japan does with the Yakuza, a family friendly face to crime is always better than a butcher selling you a hypothermal needle he used earlier to paralyze a guy so he could cut his nuts off while he watched." He sucked again. "Man, crimes really gotten hardcore these days, huh?"
Werner chuckled, forking some of the biscuits and gravy into his mouth and chewing, savoring the flavor of it. His taste buds now got the memo he was back stateside and the sharp cramps in his empty stomach were now starting to subside. When his phone vibrated and he read the text from Black, his stomach dropped, and hunger cramps were the least of his worries now. 'Rosa captured. Taken by Bloods, most likely. Comms from her are compromised. Advise course of action. I suggest we make it look ghetto and gangsta. ;)'
From the sound of vibrating coming from Javier's own pocket, he'd be reading the same thing. He saved the special agent and Stillman some trouble, the latter not yet having his phone issued by Foster. "Yes, it is." He addressed Stillman's comment, before setting down his fork after taking one last mouthful, "We're going to have to cut our meal short."
With that, Werner rose and put his hand out for Javier to toss him the keys. He caught them and shoved them into his own coat pocket, walking with a purpose while throwing down three twenties on the bar counter on his way out, the two other men in tow. Wordlessly, they drove back to the apartment building with a disregard for stop signs and red lights, the siren on the Sonata blaring. Tails and shit be damned, he wouldn't let gangbangers do whatever they wanted to Rosa. He'd seen what Somalis did and the gangs in Cape Town too. The little four-cylinder engine was working with all it had as he sped down the roads, taking sharp turns almost like he was in a rally. Within minutes, he switched off the sirens before the cops at the apartment cordon could see them, stepping out and texting Black, 'What floor?' after adding Ben and Victor to the group text, 'Head towards Black, keep this on the down-low. We don't need PD compromising our mission and whining about warrants and probable cause. We're making this look like a robbery. In and out, five minutes tops. We're getting Rosa out, snatching what we can for intel on the Bloods dealers in David's building, and taking one of these guys so we can get nice and friendly with him later.'