Stars and Stripes

The Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Department of Drug Enforcement often worked hand in hand. At any one time, there were a dozen or more joint task forces and investigations underway. Civilian consultants were not unheard of; it just didn't happen as often as television programs seemed to imply. And when they did; it usually involved some number crunching.

When they involved the CIA; well that didn't happen very often, either, seeing how the Central Intelligence Agency was not allowed to operate on US soil.

The Feds and the DEA, on the other hand, worked with a lot of Federal Marshals and State Rangers. Whether it was for the Witness Protection Program or just manpower for a manhunt, these officers had a lot of leeway and were often as secretive as any undercover agent, but with ten times the paperwork.

So, if the Joint Task Force for South American Drug Cartel Intelligence Gathering had a meeting with a WitSec Marshall with a few high level employees of 2 very bland, but strangely solvent, companies, the dearth of paperwork was perfectly acceptable. Expected.

Or, to put it another way, 5 Feds and 2 Spooks, walk into a secured conference room...

They took their seats, and introduced themselves. Their names made it into the record as follows:

-Tim Baldwin, head of the taskforce. FBI.

-Bill Norwood, Lead DEA agent

-Warren Frankowski, DEA agent

-Leo Whitehorse, Special Agent with the FBI

-Trisha Rittenhouse, U.S. Marshal, WitSec.

-Grace Underwood, Civilian, Director of Foreign Procurement for Prime Marketing LLC.

-Rick Ames, Civilian, Overseas Distribution Manager for Standard Trades & Logistics, Inc.

The goals on record was some nice sounding gobbledygook about open dialogues and in a "required effort to prevent stove-piping." And there was a line marked TBD, which was a cute short-hand in this little clique for To Be Redacted.

Maps were passed out among the seven. The projection screen and the computer attached to it did not get turned on. It was cheaper and more effective to scrub the white board rather than the high-end hard drives the government provides. The satellite maps were five years old and printed at a copyshop outside of DC. The intell was fresher and printed on a ditto-machine in non-repo blue ink, typed in a code that was easily broken when told what random keywords to ignore.

"This," Baldwin stated and tapping on a part of Mexico that was far enough for Mexico City that the Mexican police had trouble policing it. Limited budgets and resources made that about a two hour west drive from the capital city. People leaned in, memorized the spot, and sat back in their seats. "It's a stronghold for a Quintero faction; that is mostly legit. We thought it might be a income stream for the main Quintero family, but to the best of our information interaction between the two clans is limited to tense social interactions. And here's why."

Norwood passed out a few photostatic copies of what looked like a toy ray gun in an evidence bag. "A friend in the ATF says that this appears to be working replica of a Neuronal Degenerative Induction Trauma Gun."

"An ND-IT Gun?" Ames asked, pronouncing the acronym as 'Idiot.' "The Shop used something like that to keep it's Secrets secret in the 60's."

"And there was that vigilante, Sucker Punch," Grace Underwood supplied. "He weaponized stolen lab equipment from the Company to take on the mafia."

"You mean an agent stuck a battery and a handle on your mind altering gizmo and went rogue when you failed to protect his family, don't you?" Trisha growled at the only other female in the room. Both dogs of the same age, but hardly the same breeding.

"Six of one," the pure bred poodle growled back.

"Ladies," Frankowski warned. "Ancient History." Not so ancient for the WitSec Marshal, he knew. Everyone knew. She'd been an up and coming Crime Scene Investigator out in Louisville, KY, only three years ago. Things blew up on her and her boss while trying to defuse a bomb left behind by an "alien" or a "supervillian" or a "Mad Scientist." That depended on who you ask. Long and short of it, when she recovered enough for field work, she left the science stuff behind became a Marshal where one hardly ever encountered super-powered bad guys. "Except, that the tech resurfaced and our friend at the ATF says it's not a one-off. Nor do it bear temporal misplacement markers."

"Voigt scooped it up and dropped it into his little black hole," Whitehorse stepped in. Voigt was the Army General tasked with the job of cleansing weapons and advanced sciences from the face of the world and operated in conjunction with the United Species Capital Police. Project Future Shock had a love-hate affair with every other law enforcement agency and strict hate-hate affair with every court that had to let a criminal go because "evidence" had disappeared before or during a trial. Often before these weapons could be studied by CSI.

No doubt, this was why Rittenhouse and her boss were eager to get their hands on some futuristicly weird tech.

With a mixed expression, the former CSI said, "This gun was mass-produced?"

"What we do know is that this type of gun, excluding R&D costs, would probably cost a quarter of a million dollars to build, which makes it a very expensive lead pipe." Baldwin clarified. "It's an impractical statement piece... although attractive to certain power-hungry types."

Rittenhouse nodded. She was familiar with those certain power-hungry types. Repeated attacks with the ND-IT at certain settings were known to enslave some victims by either making them very submissive or very suggestive. In the cases of Avi and Repts, victims can have imprinting reset and adopt their tormentor as a parental unit of ultimate authority.

Baldwin began drawing some numbers on the white board. "But, if you have a proven blue print and or a working prototype, we believe one could easily put together a small batch assembly line... you can make a dozen for an even million. Two million would probably get you 36 guns. At no point does this become affordable..."

"But think of the money the Cartel saves... why bribe a cop to look the other way when you can just pop his memory away? Witnesses without recall, you just have to get close enough... and a hard to prove crime. With the right settings, you can even develop a Zombified workforce." Underwood said almost eagerly. "There's enough Coldbloods down there."

"Well, we don't know what settings this baby had." Baldwin said put pulled up his 9 by 11 map and pointed to the spot he pointed to before, "But we are pretty sure it came into existence here."

"Why don't we just send in the Policía Federal Preventiva?" Rittenhouse asked reasonably.

"We did." Baldwin said with a straight face.

Norwood smiled weakly. "They don't remember finding anything."

"Our observer believes they lost an hour inside the compound." Baldwin finished.

"So, maybe we should politely suggest Voigt and his men go vacationing in Mexico." Rittenhouse said, only slightly less reasonable than professional detachment would encourage. "We probably have some good baffles for mind altering guns." She looked at both spooks.

"We have some tin-foil lined hats and Gestalt Baffle helmets, but neither stops a bullet to the head very well." Ames suggested.

"He already has the good stuff," Grace complained. "Assuming he stockpiles the goodies for a rainy day and doesn't really drop them into a controlled blackhole, of course."

"There's a chance they're working for Voigt," Baldwin dropped this bomb on the Marshal and the 2 spooks, as if they were serious about sending Voigt south of the border.

In the silence that followed, Norwood said, "It's extremely unlikely, but this tech hasn't been seen in almost 30 years. Project Future Shock is the only place that we know of that could have provided blue prints or a working model of an Idiot Gun."

"We want to send in Yankee Poodle." Baldwin cut in and the room fell silent, again.