2. "Rules are for children. This is war and in war the only crime is to lose."
- Joe Abercrombie, "Last Argument of Kings"

April 7, 2010

Forget the Army, Deeks thought, he got more done by 9AM this morning than most people will do all day. Wednesday started with the weekly 6AM conference call at Port Hueneme with Bates and the rest of the team at Suitland. Bates wasn't there - meeting on the Hill until noon his time - so things moved a lot faster. An hour and a half later - with a stop off at the dry cleaners - he was at the Runnels Pool for his laps - ten freestyle, five breast stroke, five butterfly, five back stroke, five freestyle rotations. Not bad for a man who just finished up a long fitness test twelve hours earlier.

Once his morning swim was done, it was a ride to the Pampered Pooch for Monty's special diet, holistic dog food. He'd call it a rip off but the dog never was healthier and it was only $75 for a 35-pound bag. Alright, maybe not "only" but Deeks certainly knew that the mix of organic bacon and free range chicken made Monty a pampered pooch. Monty ate better now than Deeks did in law school. At 8:45, he was finishing up at his favorite produce shop in Redondo Beach with enough fruits and vegetables to keep him in smoothies and juices for another week - the pampered Marty. Of course that ran him about $25 less than Monty's food.

He still had to write his report about the meeting with Agent Blye but he could do that from his home office balcony by lunch. Not a bad Wednesday morning at all, he thought, seconds before his cell phone rang. "Yes," he answered an unfamiliar local number.

"Commander Deeks, this is Kensi Blye."

Back to Commander - I guess she's back to Agent Blye again, Deeks thought. "Good morning Agent Blye, what can I do for you this fine and lovely day?"

"I was wondering if we could meet this morning. Something urgent has come up and I need to see you immediately."

He looked down at his ancient flip-flops, khaki cargo shorts and blue and orange Pepperdine Waves tee. Add in the semi-wet hair styled by driving and he wasn't the picture of a Navy man. "I'll be honest with you, Agent Blye. I'm driving back from grocery shopping in Redondo Beach and am sort of dressed for it and not Navy business."

"It will just take a few minutes Commander. It's not an official meeting; I just need some points clarified before we can go forward."

"Same place as yesterday, ma'am?"

"Yes."

"I should be there in half-an-hour, Agent Blye," he told her as he disconnected. Good thing he didn't write that report after all.

Pulling into the parking lot, he saw the same silver Caddy SUV from yesterday's meeting. Agent Blye, it seemed, liked the finely built American vehicle. Pulling a zip-up grey hoodie out of the back bench of his Jeep, he still felt wildly underdressed. Walking into the building, he announced, "I warned you about my lack of uniform, Agent Blye."

Entering the main room, he found himself on the business end of three people - Agents Callen and Hanna if he remembered their file photos correctly and Agent Blye - all pointing their weapons at him.

"Whatever I did," Deeks told them as he slowly raised his hands over his head. "I'm sure I can explain."

"Who are you?" Agent Hanna asked.

"Marty Deeks, Commander Marty Deeks. I met with Agent Blye yesterday." Deeks looked over at her. "Obviously I thought the meeting went significantly better than she did."

"Who are you?" Agent Callen asked.

"Martin A. Deeks, Commander, US Navy. 987-00-4320."

"Name, rank and serial number?" Agent Blye asked.

"Not exactly feeling the love. Can I put my arms down?"

"Are you carrying a weapon?"

"Does a devastating wit and a cutting sense of humor count?" He decided to keep his arms up. It was just easier.

Agent Hanna took a step closer. "Put both hands on the table and spread your legs."

"You're patting me down?"

"Do it," Agent Blye ordered.

Deeks took two steps forward and started to put his hands on the table. Agent Hanna slammed Deeks's torso into the top of the table, using his left arm to hold Deeks's shoulders down while pointing his weapon in his right hand at Deeks's head. Deeks felt his phone and wallet pulled from his back pockets, his keys lifted from the hoodie pocket.

"My dog-tags are on my key ring. I am Marty Deeks." He told them. Since Deeks could still see Agent Blye, he assumed Agent Callen was doing the pat down. As Callen started working his way up Deeks's left leg, he told Callen, "I have a knife strapped to my upper right thigh."

"Why's that?" Agent Blye asked.

Deeks chuckled, "I'm right handed."

"Why do you have a knife strapped to your thigh?"

"Upper thigh," Deeks clarified as Callen started patting his right leg. "And I should warn you - I went commando this morning."

"How do you expect to use a knife that's strapped under your clothes?" Agent Blye asked.

"I cut a hole into the cargo shorts leg pocket. Pull it out from there," Deeks asked. A second later, Agent Callen was taking his knife out through the cargo pants pocket. "I'd like that back, along with my wallet, phone and keys once you three realized I'm just a poor sailor who has done nothing wrong."

"Why are you carrying a knife?" Agent Callen asked.

"A gentleman always carried a pocket knife," Deeks answered automatically.

"This is a hell of a lot more than a pocket knife. You have this custom made?" Agent Hanna asked.

"Yes, and if I'm ever decoupled from this table, I'd be happy to discuss my weapon preferences - though the devastating wit and cutting sense of humor usually are my first choices."

"Do you know Lt. Commander Steve Hancock?" Agent Hanna continued to question him, easing up ever so slightly on Deeks's shoulders.

"I'm not familiar with the Lt. Commander. You do know that there are over 50,000 Naval Officers on active duty." Deeks said as Callen finished his pat down. "I don't know all of them."

"Well, Lt. Commander Hancock doesn't know you either."

"And that obviously warrants getting felt up by your friend here. Shame really because if I'm going to get felt up by one of you, why not get Agent Blye to do that pat down? I'd probably have enjoyed it a little more." Deeks commented.

Agent Hanna didn't appreciate the remark, pulling Deeks up a little only to slam him back into the table. While the move knocked the wind out of him, Deeks was seeing stars from his right hip being driven into the corner of the table. He was almost grateful he couldn't scream in pain.

"So you're a JAG lawyer assigned to Port Hueneme," Agent Callen said.

"Which makes this treatment really out of line," Deeks wheezed - still trying to breathe normally.

"And you've been on sick leave because of complications of a ruptured appendix," Callen continued as if he didn't hear Deeks. "Except Lt. Commander Hancock, the chief personnel administrator at Port Hueneme has never met you. You're on their books but nobody's ever seen you. For the past ten weeks you've signed in just before 6AM every Wednesday and sign out between 8AM and 9AM. Nobody knows where you go and what you do when you're there but you sure as hell don't work in JAG Office."

Deeks knew his cover story was shot. "I need to make a phone call."

"No," Agent Hanna told Deeks as he hauled him off the table and walked him down a hallway. The two walked into a room where Agent Hanna brought him to a chair. "Sit tight," Agent Hanna said as he shoved Deeks into the chair. "We'll be back," the large agent said as he closed the door.

Once Agent Hanna left, Deeks surveyed the room. Two chairs at a big table, a small desk with a chair to his left, two more chairs and a credenza to his right along with a camera in the right side corner about eight feet off the ground and one over his head, next to the light fixture. At his feet, however, was his salvation - a trap door. He unzipped his hoodie and took it off. Fortunately, it only took one toss to get the grey garment to cover the camera.

Deeks stood and quickly wedged his chair under the door knob. Jumping on the large table, he ripped out the wiring connecting the overhead camera to whoever was watching him. Once off the table, he flipped it toward him, stood it on its side and pulled it close to the door. He moved the other four chairs and the small desk - the credenza was way too heavy - near the door. A door that now had Agents Callen and Hanna on the other side yelling at him open it.

Deeks pulled up the trap door and saw a ladder - thank you NCIS - and a rope. Looking down through the trap door opening, he saw it was a short swim to the shore. Deeks climbed down the ladder, pulling the door closed behind him. He took the rope and tied it to the trap door's waterside handle and then to the beam holding the ladder. No need to have Agents Callen and Hanna join him on his short swim. Agent Blye could have been a swim buddy candidate but the whole pointing a gun at him was a turn-off. He tucked his flip-flops into his cargo shorts and swam off.

When he got to the shore, he saw a surveillance camera pointing to the parking area as he put his flip-flops back on. He circled back and adjusted the camera up. Whoever was watching was getting a lovely look at the Southern California sky. As he made his way to his jeep, Deeks saw Agent Blye was on the other side of the parking area, talking on her phone. Pulling his spare keys out of a small magnetic case just behind the spare tire mount, Deeks went into the hollowed out back bench and pushed his thumb against the fingerprint pad of the safe he had bolted to the Jeep's floor. He pulled out a small backpack and made his way back toward the boat shed.

Just as Deeks got near the front door of the facility, he heard Agents Callen and Hanna break through the door where they thought he was being held. Deeks snuck in behind them and closed the door. He heard several swear words as he started sliding the bolts closed on both the top and bottom of the door. See how they liked being locked into the little room, this time with a tied off trap door. Turning around, he saw the fuse box for the facility on the wall. It took twenty seconds to take out all the lights and cameras.

Before walking into the main room, he pulled his gun out of the backpack. He was alone as he retrieved his knife, phone and his keys. While Agent Callen was good enough to leave his belongings on the table, Deeks thought if these NCIS agents weren't going to play nice, neither was he. He pulled up a secure app on his phone - a cell phone jammer. Now all forms of communication were cut off for his hosts.

About a minute later, a door opened - not the one he came through. Walking in from the parking area, Agent Blye said "Guys, I just lost my cell..." She stopped talking when she saw Deeks pointing a gun at her.

"Hands up, sweetheart," he ordered. When she didn't comply immediately, he cocked his weapon. "Now."

"Where are Callen and Sam?" she asked as he walked over to her.

"Hands on the table," he didn't answer her question. "Now." Agent Blye put both hands on the table. Deeks frisked her quickly, relieving her of her gun, cellphone, keys and a really nice knife. Turnabout was, after all, fair play.

"Where are Callen and Sam?" she asked again as he sat her down in a chair. He opened his backpack again and found some zip-tie handcuffs. He secured her arms to the back of the chair. Just as he stood to face her, Agents Callen and Hanna started slamming into the locked room's door.

"I put the two of them in a little time out. They need to learn how to treat a guest and I wanted us to talk," Deeks told her as he picked up one of the chairs. "Excuse me," he said as he walked down the hall to the locked room. He placed the chair on its side just before the start of the door's frame.

Returning to Agent Blye, Deeks asked, "Did I do something to offend you yesterday, Agent Blye?" He took the seat to her left, giving him a good view of both the hallway where Agents Callen and Hanna were trying to break free and the door where she entered the room.

"You're not who you say you are."

"Much like my fellow sailor Popeye, I am who I am. Commander Marty Deeks, U.S. Navy," Deeks said as the adrenaline of the last few minutes started to dissipate. Of course, that meant his right hip was really beginning to bother him. He pulled out his keys and waved his tags at her. "See, all official and everything."

"Then why doesn't anyone at Port Hueneme know you?"

"I'm a shy guy," he said with a shrug. "What can I tell you?"

There was another bang on the door. Deeks fished his satellite phone out of his backpack. He hit 01 on the speed dial.

"Admiral Bates's Office, this is Chief Petty Officer Thompson."

"Jackie, it's Deeks. I'm on my satellite phone. Is he back in the office?"

"Are you OK?"

"Delightful and you?"

"Listening to the Admiral have words with the SecNav about you. NCIS broke into your personnel file last night and while they didn't get here, they wound up calling..."

"The chief personnel admin at Port Hueneme."

"You know this?"

"There's been a little bump in the road with my dealings with NCIS." Deeks said as he watched Kensi do a perfect eye roll.

"Commander, don't do anything crazy. I'll have the Admiral call you the minute he gets off the phone."

Callen and Hanna smashed into the door hard. They were doing that ever thirty seconds or so. "Jacks, since I'm on the sat phone, I may have done something that, well, the Admiral might consider crazy."

"Oh Commander, hold on."

Deeks looked at Kensi and smiled. "I'm on hold."

"It better be with the President."

"Tell me you haven't done something stupid," Bates growled into the phone.

"Define stupid, sir."

"I have Leon Vance of NCIS on the other line. When I'm done chewing him out, expect a call."

"Please try to get your anger and aggressive feelings out on Vance, sir, so you're in a better place when you have to deal with me."

There was nothing but a click as a reply. Deeks looked at the ancient refrigerator and wondered if it was functional. "You have ice in that thing?" Deeks asked Kensi just as Callen and Hanna finally broke through the door. And then immediately tripped over the chair. Score two more for the poor, dumb sailor with the hip screaming in pain.

"Where is he?" Hanna said just before he reentered the room.

Deeks pointed his gun at Agent Blye. "He's here with Agent Blye. And I'd hate for anything unfortunate to happen to her so here's the plan: magazines out of the guns and tossed on the table. Spares, too. Guns are thrown on the couch."

"You won't shoot her."

Deeks put his hand in the backpack and pulled out a stun gun. "Not with the real gun, I won't. But there are three of you and just me, coming off injury leave. I think I can make a fairly successful case to anyone in authority that I was thrown on a table, locked into a room and made to feel my safety was at risk. I'm wet, wounded and being abused. I'd hate to tell my superiors that you didn't have enough concern for my safety or Agent Blye's that I had to introduce her to the stun gun to make sure everyone was on the same page." Deeks lowered his voice, confirming his intent. "Now I'll only tell you one more time before Agent Blye is in for the literal shock of her life, mags on the table, guns on couch."

Callen and Hanna complied.

"Knives next, again on the table. I'm hard pressed to believe that Agent Blye and I are the only ones with knives."

Again, Callen and Hanna complied. Deeks stood and collected the magazines and knives before grabbing the guns. He dumped them all in his backpack. "Agent Callen, you sit here," Deeks ordered as he pointed to his former chair. "Agent Hanna, you can sit across the table from your partner."

"You know who we are," Callen said as he sat. Deeks quickly used the zip-tie handcuffs to secure him to the chair.

"Oh, you're not the only ones who can poke around in federal databases," Deeks replied as he started to cuff Sam to the chair. "I'm just the one here who can do it successfully. Hanna is from Brooklyn. Former SEAL. Couple of anti-terror task forces," Deeks made a note that Hanna clenched his fists when he mentioned task forces. "Callen is an international man of mystery. No family, No first name, just an initial. Worked for a few other initials...a few years with CIA, a few years with DEA, then over to the FBI and now here with NCIS. Partnered up with Hanna about three years ago."

Deeks stood and looked at his handiwork. Not bad for a man still trying to prove to the Navy he was seaworthy. "And you, Agent Blye," he continued. "Ivy League-educated military brat. Been with Special Projects for what, a little over a year? You did do the typical NCIS world tour though, Japan, Norfolk, the Navy Yard. I can do all sorts of other party tricks while I wait to hear from my boss."

"OK, you know us. Still doesn't tell us who you are," Kensi said,

"What did my personnel file say? A file I'm guessing your tech guy got for you three. Beale is his name, right? That file is something you're not supposed to even be interested in. And that set off major alarms all the way to Davenport's office." Deeks noticed Hanna's foot sliding toward the table leg. "Agent Hanna, move that foot one more inch and I won't touch you," Deeks fired up the stun gun. "But Agents Blye and Callen will pay and of course, ladies first. Now, what did the file say?"

"You're Commander Martin Deeks, U.S. Navy, a JAG lawyer. Loyola undergrad degree in economics, Pepperdine Law. DC, Gitmo, Roto, Sigonelli and before working out of Port Hueneme, splitting time between there, Pearl and Japan," Kensi answered.

"And that warrants what you pulled this morning? There are dozens of JAG lawyers with that identical background."

"And you're not any of them," Hanna commented. "You don't even look Navy."

"Why doesn't the chief personnel admin know you?" Callen asked.

"Who are you?" Hanna followed up.

"For like the tenth time, Commander Marty Deeks, U.S. Navy," Deeks started.

"Naval Intelligence," a tiny, older woman finished as she walked into the room. "And what do we have here?"

"You wouldn't happen to be Hetty Lange, would you?"

"Yes, I'm Hetty Lange. It is a pleasure to meet you Commander Deeks."

"Nice to meet you too, Ms. Lange," Deeks replied, knowing his call with Bates just got one hundred times worse.

Pulling a pearl handled folding knife from her pocket and cutting Agent Blye free, the older woman said "It's Miss. And I prefer Hetty." She made her way to Agent Callen. "Is all this really necessary?"

"I was outnumbered. Badly. Still am."

"And yet you're the one not in handcuffs. Well done, Commander. I will personally guarantee your safety."

Deeks decided to free Agent Hanna since Hetty's presence calmed the others. "What can I do for you, Hetty? I was brought here under false pretenses. Do you have a story to sell to me as well?"

"Well first Commander Deeks, Admiral Bates says hello and will be calling you at home at fourteen hundred hours."

Great, Deeks thought to himself. He got smacked around here and if they hurried, he can grab a quick lunch and get smacked around long distance. Awesome.

"You work for Roger Bates, Admiral Roger Bates?" Hanna asked, genuinely curious.

Kensi looked confused. "Who is Admiral Bates?"

"Admiral Bates has a rather nondescript official title but he is the chief of covert Naval Intel. His command coordinates everything from submarine radio codes to highly classified intelligence missions," Hetty answered.

"But legend has it he personally runs a team of fifteen to twenty officers. Mostly Navy but one or two Marines who specialize in long-term, dangerous assignments," Hanna told the others. "Nothing on the books, no official acknowledgement that he does it or if the program, NEIT, even exists."

"NEIT?" Kensi asked.

"NEIT - Naval Enhanced Intelligence Team," Hetty told the younger woman. Deeks smiled and said nothing. "Neit is also the God of War in Irish mythology," Hetty added.

"And the lovely Mrs. Bates is the former Angela Tully whose father is from County Roscommon in Ireland. She's a federal prosecutor with a great appreciation for Celtic literature," Deeks added. "Or so I've heard."

"You don't even look intelligent, how can you be Naval Intelligence?" Kensi asked.

"First, ouch. Second, I never said that I was," Deeks said with a smile.

"You haven't denied it, either." Hanna gave him the once over.

"You want to know who I am. I'm a Naval Commander and an attorney whose time here included getting knocked around, an unplanned swim and now being asked questions I have no intention on answering until I hear from the home office. So unless I was brought here for some legitimate reason and not just as an opportunity for me to showcase my escapability and how awesome I look in a wet tee-shirt, I've got other things to do today." Like go to his trainer and sit in the ice tub until his hip stopped throbbing. Then have Bates call and tear him in new one.

"Commander Deeks, please," Hetty started, "Agents Callen, Hanna and Blye were dealing with you by using an abundance of caution."

"Oh, is that what you call this morning's behavior, 'an abundance of caution' is it? I'd hate to see how you'd treat an enemy combatant. "

Hetty sighed. "Commander, you have my word that NCIS is only performing due diligence when confirming your story to us. When there were some questions about your status, the secrecy your client required forced us to perform a deeper investigation into you."

"And obviously that includes bringing me here under false pretenses and locking me up before I could call someone who would verify my identity."

"I told you something urgent came up," Kensi explained. "Your background being a little hinky was what came up."

"And you haven't told us anything about your background," Callen noted. "But you seem to know all about us."

"You wouldn't happen to have an ice pack would you?" Deeks asked Hetty, the throbbing in his hip was becoming a distraction.

"Come on, Commander," Hanna sneered. "You want us to think you're part of NEIT and you need an ice pack after an aggressive pat down and a little exercise."

"According to the Admiral, the Commander was grievously wounded in Afghanistan last fall." Hetty walked over to the rattan storage trunk that doubled as a coffee table near the couch and pulled out a medium sized first-aid kit.

"You told me your appendix ruptured and had to be removed," Kensi said.

Hetty placed two instant ice packs on the table. Deeks took one and sat down. Activating it, he eased it down his pants to his right hip. The cold aggravated the raised scars on his side but it was better than the throbbing of his hip. "I didn't tell you what caused it to rupture. Besides, the doctors may have taken the ruptured appendix out while they were dealing with other issues."

"What happened?" Kensi asked, seeming sympathetic.

Deeks just gave her a look. "Really, we're all going to bond now. I'll tell you everything you couldn't dig up on me. Well, probably not you. Your man Beale in your real office, probably not far from here doing information and logistics in a room full of computers and big old plasma screens."

"Commander, I'd like us to start with a clean slate. Why did Naval Intelligence assign you this case?" Hetty asked.

"I have nothing to say about Naval Intelligence and what was or wasn't assigned," Deeks hedged, not sure how much Bates wanted him to share. "So let's do this again: I am familiar with someone who as approached by the Chinese government to hand over defense department secrets as I told Agent Blye yesterday. Since the Navy paid for law school, everyone who knows me knows I'm a lawyer for the Navy. That's why I was approached to do this while I was recovering from losing my appendix," and six months of my life Deeks added to himself. "Now you know exactly who I am."

"You're not even going to confirm you're Naval Intelligence," Callen said.

"Not really feeling the love. Maybe on our second date I'll open up. I will need a little wining and dining, though."

"So we're just supposed to trust you on this," Kensi wondered.

"Miss Lan...Hetty, what did the Admiral say?" Deeks asked.

"That the case you've presented has been vetted by the ONI and we're supposed to cooperate to the fullest."

Callen shook his head. "We really don't take orders from the Office of Naval Intelligence."

"But we do from the Director Vance and the SecNav," Hetty advised. "And we've been told to work with the Commander. In the meantime, Commander Deeks, my apologies for today. You will have our full cooperation going forward."

"Fantastic," Deeks said with more than a hint of sarcasm. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to be off. I'll be in contact with your agency from this point forward, no need to call me." Deeks dumped their weapons on the couch after he grabbed his backpack and the second ice pack. "You all have a great day," he said as he walked out of the boat shed with the second ice pack pressed to his hip.

Deeks spent the rest of the morning at Restorative Rehab in Topanga - an emergency 30-minute session in the whirlpool followed by acupuncture and massage. By the time he left, just after noon, he was reasonably comfortable.

Once home, Deeks wrote his report detailing both his first encounter with Agent Blye and the morning's festivities. Deeks left out his sore hip - Bates was getting his medical data from Coronado, there was no reason to add to the volumes of information. The report was written, proofread and sent to Jackie just before 1PM Los Angeles time. He made himself a sandwich, played sock with Monty and waited for Bates's call. At fourteen hundred on the dot, the phone rang.

"I can explain, sir," was the way Deeks answered the phone.

"It's Jackie, Commander, hold on."

"I'm sure you can explain," was the way Bates answered the phone.

"Yes sir, I can." This wasn't the first time they had a variation of this conversation.

"I got a full run-down from Hetty Lange, my second conversation with her today and two more conversations than I ever wanted to have with that woman."

"I understand, sir."

"I saw the video. How in the hell did you think you were going to pass as Naval Officer looking like the bass player for Jimmy Buffett?"

"I always look like this, sir, and I am a Naval Officer."

"And then you cover the camera in their interrogation room, slip out of their secure facility and took over said facility. Hetty Lange was quite impressed with your disappearing act. In fact, they're making several changes to their facility after you were done with it."

"Further proof that I was well-trained and I'm ready to return, sir."

"Yeah, well, your medical results were sent upstairs."

"I passed." Deeks was jubilant but tried to sound professional.

"They're reviewing it."

"Add in what I did today. I took on three NCIS agents - you told me they're the best they have. An elite unit - your words."

"Yeah, don't cover yourself in glory with that. Davenport is pissed that NCIS gave you the business today but he's also wondering why one of mine feels the need to Harry Houdini himself out of a manageable situation and is playing games about a possible traitor."

"Not playing games, sir."

"Bring your friend in. Next time he calls, you bring him in. That's an order."

"I'll try sir but you know..."

"I know Davenport wants all of us to work well together. The best way you and NCIS can work well together is for you to turn Mr. Lin over to them. No matter what your physical says, you're not back here until this is all wrapped up."

"But it looks like I could be back?"

"How much pain are you in today?"

"After yesterday, not much at all. I was stunned when I woke up this ..."

"After NCIS gave you the business, how much pain are you in, Deeks?"

Deciding that honest is the best policy, Deeks answered, "It hurt when Agent Hanna drove my hip into the table edge but I was still able to extract myself from their holding cell, swim to safety and put three federal agents in handcuffs and one of those agents was a SEAL. After that, I sought treatment and feel just fine now."

"Sought treatment," Bates mused. "Your acupuncturist, masseuse, aroma therapist, all the kings horses and all the king's men, kid are not going to be with you in Tawi-Tawi if you need to be put back together again."

"But at least I'm on the board for going back."

"We'll see. In the meantime, make nice with Lange's people and wrap things up with NCIS."

"Yes sir," Deeks said with a smile as Bates ended the call. He looked at his dog. "Hey Monty, looks like Daddy may be finally getting back to work. How's about a little fetch on the beach?"

Monty didn't have much of a reaction. He rarely did. He did, however, follow Deeks to the beach.

-30-

Any mythical, super-secret Naval Intelligence squads mentioned in this story are also super-fictional.