Continuing… (It's Part 6 in the saga, I fucked up. Sorry.)
So, after a few re-fueling and impromptu cigar-purchasing stops in South and Central America, we wheel up to the deserted jetway at LAX.
“Thought we were going to Elmendorf?” I asked.
“This isn’t it?” the pilot replied, feigning worry.
“No.”, I replied, “Looks like California. Fruits and nuts. All around. What’s going on? One minute we’re off to Texas, then Cali, then Texas again, now we end up here at the California airport of the iconic tower.”
“Yeah, it’s confusing enough haulin’ civilians around. But when we get a call from Virginia, we tend to comply without any questions,” the pilot explains.
“Aw, shit!”, I sort of exclaim, “Rack and Ruin called?”
“Yeah”, the pilot replies, “Figures you’d know these guys. They said they were closer to LAX rather than Texas and had us divert here. In fact, you look over there, see that dark blue Chevy? That’s them; and evidently, your ride.”
I tipped the airman from earlier a couple of cigars as he helped me with my gear off the plane and into the trunk of Rack and Ruin’s plain-Jane blue late modeled Chevy. Had to move the Sidewinder Missiles off to one side, though.
“Most honorable Agents Lack and Luin!” I quipped in my faux-racist greeting. “What the hell, guys? I’ve got to get to Japan and get some newly rigidified digits.”
“Let’s see your hand”, Agent Rack asks. “Nasty.”
“Yeah”, I sigh “And with the medicos in South America and their penchant for plaster, I don’t so much have a left hand as more of an ankylosaur tail.”
“Or Thagomizer”, Agent Ruin tittered. “Anyone gives you grief, and one upside the head should set them right. Or dead.”
“You’re a riot, Ruin.” I replied, “But not entirely incorrect.”
We all agreed that I really didn’t need any extra accouterments to make myself look more dangerous. I mean with my severe haircut, stern beard clip, and perpetual ‘Go fuck yourself’ scowl.
“Yeah”, I replied, stroking the aforementioned beard, “I just can’t get that. I’m such a people person.”
After Agents Rack and Ruin finished drying their eyes from laughing what I thought was en extremis, we finally got down to business.
“So, what’s the skinny, guys”, I asked. “New marching orders?”
“No. Not as such”, Agent Ruin said, still sniggering over my ‘people person’ comment.
I see we’re moving. Agent Rack is just driving casually, like Chewbacca when they were waiting to see if the Empire went for that expensive Bothan code.
“Then, what?” I asked, getting a slight bit piqued.
“Well”, Agent Ruin noted, “When you went to South America, you took some of your artillery collection with, correct?”
“You know I did. You even made some snide comments about my personal choice of sidearms and their ‘excessive’ calibers, if memory serves”, I reiterated.
“And if you are proceeding normally, as you always do, they’re all nestled in the trunk of this very car. All cleaned, quiet, unloaded, and smelling sweetly of Hoppe’s Number 9 and WD 40, correct?” Rack inquired.
“Yes?” I cautiously venture.
“Well, ya’ big dummy, do you think they’re going to let you saunter into Tokyo armed like the Third Fleet?” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Um…well…I do have a Diplomatic Passport.” I ventured.
“That’s not going to work this time.”, Agent Ruin said, shaking his head. “They’re tighter than Dick’s Hatband about sidearms. Want to bring in your Rigby SXS .500 Nitro Express double rifle? Not a problem. Sidearms, especially in your alien hunting calibers, nope.”
Well, that’s just….*dandy!”, I reply, semi-put out. “Now what the hell am I going to do?”
“Ever think that’s why Ruin and I are here, now?”, Rack asks.
“And here I thought it was just so you could bask in the warm glow of my fucking wonderful personality. Or that you actually cared about me as a real goddamn human”, I joshed.
“Ummm…yeah”, Rack replies, “There’s no way we can answer that without going on some Deadpool list. “
I agreed.
“OK, here’s the deal: you get your sidearms, ammunition, speed loaders, brass knuckles, Asp, laser range finders, Sap, Zeiss scopes, Kukri, Wisconsin Cheese Whittler, Buck folding skinner, Marine K-Bar, those two ultra-illegal Cheburkov Cobra titanium switchblades...”
“Three. Olga the KGB lady sent me one for Geologist’s Day.”
“Ahem. Those three ultra-illegal Cheburkov switchblades, that Wyoming Speedholer, your MASER Time-Distance Computer, garrote, pocket rail gun and whatever else lethal you carry and deposit it in the iron box in the trunk. We’ll ensure that it’s delivered to Esme post-haste. And by post-haste I mean one of our guys will deliver it personally.”
“Well…I suppose”, I conceded, “But best send someone who’s been to the house recently. I don’t know how much bigger Khan has grown since I left on this little fantasy trip. Wouldn’t want a star on the wall in Langley for someone eaten by a mastiff. Want to see a picture….Oh, bother. That’s right. My phone’s at the bottom of fucking Lake Maracaibo.”
“Good point”, Ruin interjects, “Guess we’ll do a little road trip and deliver it ourselves. Best call Esme and let her know what’s going on.”
“I have no objections to your proposals. Please give Esme this when you see her. I had some luck in the Calaveras Casino and if I don’t send her some mad money. Ouch. She’ll never forgive me for not taking her along to Japan.” I asked.
“But I thought Esme hated Japan? Too crowded and too ‘fussy’, I believe was her estimation.” Ruin asked.
“Yes, but once she saw the Ginza, all bets were off. Shopping the likes of which even Allah himself hasn’t seen.” I replied, slowly shaking my head.
“I see”, Ruin said, “Well, since you’re off to Sapporo, perhaps you can do a recon for Esme on the shopping there.”
“Not bad. Not bad at all.”, I smiled, “Now I know why I let you guys hang around with me.”
So, as advertised, I am now standing on the tarmac at LAX, basically feeling naked.
“Can’t I keep just one switchblade?” I moaned to Agent Rack.
“Go ahead, if you’re really keen on donating it to Japanese customs”, he replied.
“Fuckbuckets.” I groused.
“There, there now. That’s the usual Dr. Rocknocker of which we’re all so fond.” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Remember, you do have that wallet-sized credit card gizmo from the Company. So you’re not entirely ‘naked’. Think of it as an emergency breechcloth.” He smiled.
“I’d like a larger model if you don’t mind. It’s chilly out here.” I joshed.
After Agents Rack and Ruin stripped me metaphorically naked as they de-weaponized me, they handed me a Business Class ticket to Tokyo, and a pass to the Japan Airlines Hospitality Suite and Lounge.
“So sorry you guys can’t hang around and have a few farewell snorts”, I chided, “But you’ve got a bit of a drive, so best be off before the weather turns to shit.”
“Who says we’re driving?” Agent Rack asked as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the ready and waiting C-130 cargo plane currently taxiing slowly in our direction.
“Well, in that case”, I smiled even more broadly, “Let’s invite the flight crew to join us. That’ll make the flight home all that much more interesting.”
After near tear-jerking farewell sentimentalities, i.e., “Piss on you”, “Get stuffed” and “Take a fuckin’ hike”; Agents Rack and Ruin, my weapons and the Agency’s plain-Jane Blue Chevy were all nestled snugger than buggers in ruggers in the belly of the thundering C-130.
Now truly on my own, I trudge the hundred thousand or so centisteps to my departure terminal, make a quick recon that my flight’s still slated to go in a generally westward direction, and hightail it to the nearest courtesy desk to ask for a motorized cart to take me and my remaining luggage to the JAL Hospitality Suite.
Hey. I’m old, infirm, and currently among the walking wounded.
Anyone that disagrees risks an Ankylosaur tail club swat or Thagomizer to the skull.
Finally ensconced in the JAL Hospitality Suite, Polo Lounge of course; I was drinking Tokyo Teas (3 oz. vodka, 2 oz. gin, 2 oz. rum, 1 oz. triple sec, 1 oz. Midori, good splash of lime juice, a slight splash of 7-Up (diet, of course), over ice with a lime wheel) with Pabst Blue Ribbon Extra 1844 chasers and Hangar One’s “Fog Point” vodka on the side, hiding from the brutish realities of this foul year of two thousand and twenty-something, Common Era…
I’ve already called Esme and we’ve had a good, long chat. She still managed to give me her shopping list for whenever I find myself bored on the Ginza.
She’ll be shocked when she learns that I’m not going to be in Tokyo long, but have 1st class tickets on the Bullet Train to Sapporo. Still, I’ll probably find myself in Pole Town or the Stellar Place there, trading piles of US greenbacks for locally produced Japanese curios and clothing.
I can hardly wait.
I order another round of drinks, as the wonderful attendants in the Hospitality Suite were bored out of their skulls because of the COVID-induced drop-in customers flying anywhere that requires a hospitality room stay, and I was virtually the only one around. They tried their level best to outdo each other when it comes to Japanese efficiency and friendliness.
After a couple of hours, they ask if I would like something from the grill, as the day chef had “the COVID” and the night chef just arrived. A quick perusal of the menu and I chose a 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse and another round of drinks.
I usually don’t like to eat too much before I fly, but JAL tells me the flight is going to be virtually empty, something like <121 pax, all told, so restroom availability shouldn’t be too much of a concern.
Plus, who am I to say no to a free, blue 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse?
There was a bit of difficulty conveying to the chef through the intermediaries of the hospitality just how I wanted my steak.
“Blue,” I said.
“Brue?” was the reply.
“Rare. Very, very rare.” I continued.
Look of total bewilderment.
I drag out my Personal Language Pro, speak “Steak, very, very rate” into the infernal gizmo, and hand the contraption to the attendant.
“珍しい、非常に珍しいステーキ?”[ Mezurashī, hijō ni mezurashī sutēki?]
“Raw! Nama!” I say, louder than need be.
They toddle off to find the chef.
“How is it sir, that you would like your steak cooked?” he asks.
“Very rare. Just a minute or two per side. Inside still cold.” I instructed.
All I got for the trouble was a puzzled smile.
“Give me the language gizmo…” I type in a few words…
“お尻を洗い、角をノックオフして、ここから出してください”
[O shiri o arai,-kaku o nokkuofu shite, koko kara dashite kudasai.]
“Wash its ass, knock its horns off, and walk it out here.”
“OH!” as the lightbulb pops. “Rare. Got it! Excellent!” the chef laughs and zips back to the kitchen.
Like I always say, I’m nothing if not the international ambassador of amity and goodwill.
“Crack tubes!”
Dinner was fantastic. I do wish I could have somehow mailed the Porterhouse bone back home for Khan. After that hambone incident, he might even taste it.
Finally on the plane, in an almost empty Business Class, the flight captain informs us that we’re headed to Haneda Airport Tokyo and anyone not headed in that direction better ‘haul ass off’ the flight or forever hold their peace.
Late-night international flights tend to be a bit more wooly than your average Chicago to Omaha gig.
Especially when the flight’s damn near empty and we have the next 12 hours or so to be best friends.
We taxi, turn and head into the wind. I’m doctoring up a couple of dossiers and keeping my personal cabin attendant, Luna since there were two of us in Business and two business flight attendants, busy with her trying to play ‘Stump the Geologist’.
“I’ll bet you never had this before.” She beamed and handed me a tumbler of very dangerous-looking brown liquor.
I cautiously sniff, take a modest gulp, swirl and glug the rest down.
“Ohishi Single Sherry Cask”, I say with a muffled belch. “Light. Fruity. An Englishman’s drink.”
“Oh. You knew. Let me try again.” She smiles beatifically.
“I have no objections to your proposal.” I smile as nicely as this crotchety old Komodo Dragon could.
She returns with another flagon of spirits; it smells of obsidian, leather, and earth.
I just had some of this back in LAX. I take a snort, smile, and shotgun the rest.
“Hibiki Japanese Harmony…lovely stuff.” I smile. “A little light for my jaded palate, but I’d never turn it down if it were free.”
“Oh, you win again. Wait. One more.” She smiles and skitters off to the galley.
She returns with another soupçon of some more dangerous brown liquor.
“Here, try this. It will make you very popular at social gatherings”. She smiles.
Sniff. “Splendid.” Snort. Swirl. Smile. Shotgun.
“Kanosuke New Born, if I’m not mistaken.” I smile back. “Very nice. I really do like this one.”
“You too good at this. One more!” she stands and stomps off defiantly. She returns in a trice and hands me the glass.
“Hmm…brown. Light notes of earth, leather, dating your daughter, and Kentucky…
“Beam Suntory, right?”
“You know them all!” she says, feigning irritation.
“And I thank you. Those were all excellent. Now, anything in the dangerous clear liquor category? I asked.
Luna smiled as I palmed off a 20k yen tip.
“Oh, no sir. Wait until we land.” She demurred, referring to the gratuity; which is know is not de rigueur in the Orient, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Just in case we never make it to Tokyo”, I laughed, unknowingly presciently.
We both chuckled about that last line as she tried out various sakes and shōchūs and an actual Japanese ‘White Liquor’ (ホワイトリカー), which were all excellent as was the company.
I tell her that I need to get some work done and could she bring me a tall Rocknocker. After explain the origins and construction of the eponymous drink, she brings me one that must tip the scales at 1 or so liters.
She settles down to an empty seat and I get after the work that I need to finish before we land. I’m about ½ way through my drink when it felt as if the plane hit a brick wall. She quivered and quaked and clutched at herself while I made some comments about the pilot’s mental health.
We dropped like a paralyzed falcon, then just as suddenly, felt like it was an express elevator to Angel’s 11. The plane bucked and shimmied, wickedly. Then we slam-danced right and fell a few more stories. It was like we were in a Mixmaster and the owner was trying out every speed.
The emergency lights in the 777-300ER popped on, and the fasten seat belt sign barked loudly so even sleeping travelers could enjoy the show.
Rinse. Spin. Shudder. Repeat.
Finally, the ride smooths out and we hear the captain on the blower.
“This is your captain speaking…ah, we seem to have hit some uncharted turbulence back there.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious”, I muttered.
“Everything’s A-OK. “ he reports.
“That’s good”, I note.
“But…”
“There’s always the but…” I groan.
“…we have a couple of warning lights for which we can’t quite account. So to just be safe and certain, we’re going to divert to Hawaii, get a clean bill of health and resume this flight once we make sure everything here is hunky-dory.”
There were scattered groans and applause. Add them together and divide by two and the average response on the flight was “Meh. Whatever.”
Except for the other guy in Business, with whom I hadn’t shared two words. He began to absolutely lose his shit.
“Oh, man! We’re so screwed! Mechanical malfunction? What does that mean?” he positively fizzed with fear.
The flight attendants tried to calm him down, to no avail. They basically gave up and said they’d report his misgivings to the Captain.
I motioned over to my personal flight attendant, Luna, and asked if I could be of service.
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled at me, “If you could speak with him. You are so calm, and he is…”
“Losing his bloody mind”, I chuckled as I finished her sentence for her. “Of course, I’ll take a stab at it.”
So, I grab my drink and ease over to my Business Class partner and introduce myself.
“Hey, pal. How’s it going? I’m Dr. Rock, gentleman, scholar, and connoisseur of cigars and things alcoholic. You doing OK?”
He looks at me with an ashen face and his eyes the size of bloodshot dinner plates.
“Yeah. I’m Todd Schotts. I’m flying to Japan for business.” He mumbles
“No surprise there,” I reply calmly and take a slug of my drink.
“But now we’re all going to die. The plane is busted and we’ll crash…” he started off again.
“So, Todd is it? Good. You drink?” I asked.
“Yeah?”, he stammered back.
I asked Luna to make us a fresh batch of my eponymous cocktails.
“OK, Todd, listen up”, I began after the drinks were served, “I have flown literally millions of miles over the last 4 decades. On Aeroflot when it was still the USSR. On TACA (Take A Chance Airways), on Chalk’s in the Caribbean, on Bob’s Verrifast Plane Company in Rhodesia, on regional carriers that don’t even exist anymore. All over the world. Had some bad experiences flying, and me ol’ mugger, this ain’t one of them. This is nothing more than the glitch for this mission.”
I chuckled lightly and complimented Luna on a fantastic drink.
“Yeah…yeah…yeah…but we have to land and check out some lights…” Todd squealed.
“Well now, Todd. It would be rather difficult to do any external assessment while in flight, don’t you agree?” I asked.
“But we’re diverting. We have to land and that adds more risk. We’re going to crash and die!” he was coming more and more unglued.
“I will bet you every cent you have on your person and home bank accounts that that will not happen”, I chuckled.
That took him by surprise. At least it shut him up for a while.
“Look, Todd. This is Boeing’s latest model. They have the most incredible safety record. And if a little clear air turbulence were to be knocking planes out of the sky, don’t you think we’d hear about it as the press went berserk?” I asked.
“But they don’t know what the lights mean! What if one of the engines’s out? How far can we fly on one engine?” Todd stuttered.
Having my fill of a supposedly grown man with inane childlike fears, I calmly replied,
“All the way to the crash site.”
He went white.
“...hope we hit something hard. I don’t want to limp away from this.”
He went limp.
Then I went to my seat and motioned for Luna to prepare a reload.
Of course, 45 minutes later, we land without incident at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, Honolulu Hawaii.
We were told to just wait around until they figure out what the problem if any, was.
They had officials waiting at the end of the jetway to check our COVID status and passports before they let us loose in the terminal.
I asked Luna if she knew this airport. She noted that she did.
“Is there a JAL hospitality room here at this airport? I asked.
“Yes, Doctor. It’s the Sakura Lounge. It is located on the third level above The Local, Terminal 2.” She replied.
“Please notify whoever needs to know that that’s where I’ll be for the duration”, I smiled and handed her my business card. “See you soon, I hope.”
“Oh, Dr. Rock”, she replied, “I am sure it is nothing much. We’ll be back in the air within mere hours.”
“Well then”, I smiled, “Guess I’d better get ready to hoof it to the lounge.”
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled, “No rush. I will call for you a courtesy cart. You are injured, you are Business, you are priority.”
“I love that Asian efficiency.” I smiled back and toddled down the jetway.
At the terminus of the jetway, I show my COVID-clear papers, dates and times of my Anti-Virus vaccine administrations, the letter from Virginia clearing me of all detention, and my red Russian diplomatic passport.
While in the cart, whizzing our way to the JAL lounge, the driver said “Man! You must be some kind of VIP. You were through that welcoming committee in less than two minutes!”
“Me? Nah!”, I chuckled, “Just an old phart of a geologist that they didn’t want to mess with. Not on such a bright, sunny day as this.”
“I see you’re not wearing a mask.” The driver quipped.
“Very observant. There are reasons for that.” I replied.
He careens around a corner and if this were a normal pre-Covid day, I’m certain we’d have killed hundreds. However, the airport, as I’ve come to grow accustomed to, was virtually deserted.
“Yeah? Like what?” he asks.
“Well, Scooter, 1. I have an active and hardworking immune system that I let off the chain every once in a while for exercise. Got to let it know what it’s up against, right? 2. I’ve had all my shots and some that were experimental. They seem to have worked. And 3. I find it difficult to drink and smoke cigars while wearing a mask. However, if you’d prefer, I will mask up. No problem, though it still is optional.”
“Nah, man”, he said, “I was just wondering if you were one of those religious idiots or conspiracy nuts.”
Nope”, I smiled back, “Just another geologist out in the world plying his trade for cash. Y’know, whorin’ around for money.”
He laughs aloud as we skid to a stop right in front of Lounge.
I slip the guy a $20 and ask if he’d listen for the JAL flight I was just on. If we’re going on ahead today, I’d need him to scoot by and putt-putt me back to the plane.
He laughs and pockets the $20 as quick as a mink ruts.
“No worries. I’ll just hang around this area. I hear anything about the flight, I’ll come and let you know.” He grins.
“Good man”, I say, as I hand him my card. “I’m Dr. Rocknocker. Call me Rock”.
“And I’m Kapula Mano, call me Kap” he replies.
“Good man”, I say again, “Hope to see you in a while.”
He grins, floors his electric cart, and peels out at speeds approaching 4.5 MPH.
I wander into the lounge, show my credentials, and am escorted to a post up on Mahogany Ridge.
The bar is very quiet. Besides the bartender, I can’t see anyone else in the darkened and Smooth Jazz-infused drinking emporium.
I order a local drink, a Mai Tai, just for the experience and something a bit different.
It’s served in a goldfish bowl on a stem, bedecked with a slice of lime, a sprig of mint, a stick of sugar cane, a polychromatic orchid, and the obligate paper umbrella.
“Ah. Mai Tai. I will enjoy it.” I said to no one in particular.
One was enough, and I decided to go back to the old standard. Once I explained to the bartender what that was, he made them heroic and enthusiastically.
I’m reading up on a random dossier, making notes in a new file, and puffing away on a Fuentes Onyx double Maduro Churchill cigar.
I hear a slight cough coming from my right, and this here lovely lady, she sat to my immediate starboard and looked at me semi-quizzically.
Not in the mood for shenanigans of any stripe, I give her the obligate Baja Canada nod and tilt of the drink. I return to my dossiers and continue to read and take notes.
“Excuse me!” I hear.
Fearing the worst, either the woman is Karen-oid anti-smoking or a religious fruit-and-nutburger, I slowly turn to face her and reply, somewhat glacially, I have to admit.
“What?”
“That cigar…”
“Here we go…” I mutter, eyes rolling northward.
“Smells exquisite. Could you tell me the brand? My husband would enjoy some like that.” She notes.
Instantly my demeanor switches 180^0.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s an Arturo Fuentes Onyx. Churchill size, or 60 ring x 7” length, double Maduro. Here, take one for your husband. I have an ample supply.” I smile.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t. Could I?” she asks.
“Please. I insist.” I smile the best I could given the circumstances.
“Thank you. You’re too kind…umm…Mr….?”
“Doctor. Doctor Rocknocker. World traveler, oilman, and international ambassador of amity, good drinks, and fine cigars. Call me Rock” I said.
“Oh! A Doctor?” she brightens.
“Yes, of Petroleum Geology and Engineering. Not medicine.” I chuckle.
She chuckles back.
“And I am Hella Aaberg”, as she offers her hand for a quick shake.
“Interesting name, Hella. Scandinavian or Old German heritage?” I ask.
“On my father’s side. He’s Finnish.” She replies.
“But I’ll wager your mother is not Scandinavian, correct?” I ask.
“She was from Truk, an island…”
“In the South Pacific, Micronesia. Was she from Weno city?” I asked.
“Why yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve been there. Great diving amongst the WWII wrecks. I think it’s actually called ‘Chuuk Lagoon’ or something like that now.” I said.
“That’s right! Amazing. Where else have you been?” she asked.
“Anywhere there’s oil, strife, booze, cigars, heavy explosives and typically long distances from whatever most normal people call civilization,” I replied with a chuckle.
Suddenly, I hear a voice booming out behind me.
“Why don’t you save that rapier-like wit for those musky-fuckers back home, Rocko?”
My expression changes. My eyes pop fully wide open.
“Hella?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a favor?”
“You can ask…”
“Thank you. Now, looking over my shoulder, is there a hulking goon of a person, thin up top, paunchy halfway down with the most ridiculously tiny sized shoes you’ve ever seen for a so-called grown man?” I ask.
“Yes. Yes, there is.” She replies.
“I thought so. Many thanks.”
I spin and launch off my barstool and grab Toivo by the hand. He hadn’t seen my left-hand Thagomizer yet.
“Toivo! You old sumbitch. What the flying fennec fox fuck are you, of all people, doing in Hawaii?” I laughed.
“Just keeping an eye on you, Rock!” he laughed equally as loud.
“No, fucking-A, seriously. What the actual fuck? What are you doing in this actual nice place?” I asked.
“Just headed to Tokyo to conduct a bit of service company business. I walked into the lounge and smelled a foul cigar. I figured it can’t be the venerable Dr. Rocknocker. He’s back at some school up north terrorizing geology and engineering grads and undergrads.” Toivo laughed.
“But there I was. Surprise!”, I laughed and pumped his hand.
“What the fuck, Rock. Now what did you do?” he asks, referring to my Ankylosaur tail club left hand.
“Ah, fuck. Long story. Oh, pardon me. Toivo, this is Hella. We were just talking about the South Seas Islands.” I said.
“Planning on running off together?” Toivo laughs, to the amusement of neither party.
“Oh, and this idiot is Toivo, a man with a congenital foot-in-mouth disorder. He’s mostly harmless.” I noted to Hella.
Greetings were shared all around. Hella made some small excuses and said she needed to depart. I gave her another cigar for her husband, shook her hand, and wished her well.
“Here’s my business card. If your husband has any questions, have him drop me a line.” I noted.
Hella smiled beautifully. She said she would. Then she thanked me shook our hands, and like that, there she was, gone.
“Well Toivo, you old bastard. Don't just stand there in the doorway like some lonesome goddamn mouse shit sheepherder, get your ass over here and have a drink.” I motioned over to my perch on Mahogany Ridge.
“Don’t mind if I do”, he says as he deftly winds his way to a seat to my left, snagging a cigar out of my pocket on the way over.
“You might want these”, I say in an exasperated tone, and hand him my gold Dunhill Hobnail lighter and V-cutter gizmo.
He cuts and fires up his heater.
“What you drinkin’, Rock”, he asks.
“Anything with alcohol, as usual. You know that Toiv.” I reply.
“No. I mean right now.” He clarifies.
“Well, I had a Mai Tai. Very nice if you like fruity, flowery drinks. It’s the locals’ favorite.” I reply.
“Sounds good. I’ll have several. And you?” Toivo asks.
“My usual. The bartender is already apprised of the situation.” I reply.
Toivo smiles the smile of one knowing his sobriety is going to be taken out for a swim. Hell, taken out and tossed into the deep end.
Toivo and I sit there, swapping lies, smoking cigars and sipping at our toddies.
Hell, Toivo was slurping them like a sump-pump during an extra-wet summer.
We chattered about family, work, whether or not Tokyo was going to host the Olympics or if the COVID-boogie man scared everyone off.
Toivo, always one afflicted with TB (“Tiny Bladder”) got up to go to the loo for the third time that hour. He left his pocket organizer on the bar and I swear on a stack of Origins of Species, I didn’t touch it.
I reached over to his vacated seat to retrieve my cigar lighter when I looked down and saw in his organizer a tab that reads “Rack & Ruin”.
“Oh. No. Fucking. Way.” I recoiled as I’d just reached out and petted a 6-foot hungover scorpion.
“One of my best friends? Secretly allied with the Agency? No. Not possible.” I drained my drink and called for another.
“No. No. No. It can’t be. No. No fucking way…” as doubt began to dissolve when I thought back to all those times I had just ‘run into’ Toivo.
“But he’s oil patch as well. That could be chalked up to coincidence.” I ruminated quizzically in my brain.
I quickly reflected back on J.M. Darhower: “Yes, you see, there’s no such thing as coincidence. There are no accidents in life. Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.”
She may be the author of the execrable New Adult Sempre series, which Esme likes and I loathe, but she might just be right on this occasion.
Toivo return, lighter in the bladder and good sense. He never even noticed he’d left his organizer out in broad bar light for all to see.
“So, Toivo, when’s your flight?” I ask.
“Oh, man. Was I lucky. The JAL flight to Tokyo from Los Angeles had mechanical trouble and had to divert here. I got a ticket on the plane for that flight, when it continues.
“You mean ‘if it continues’,” I replied.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I meant. Hey! Was that your flight?” he asks innocently. He’s really innocent of fieldcraft.
I decide to have some fun at my old friend’s expense.
“Yep. Hit some CAT (Clear Air Turbulence) and the JAL pilots reported some lighting problem. No apparent ruin to any of the systems. They relay racked their brains to figure it out, but they couldn’t that’s why I here.” I said, waiting for the words to swim upstream in Toivo’s coconut and make some sort of connection.
“Yeah. Double lucky. No problem with the plane and I get to go to Japan early.” Toivo crookedly grins.
“So, no trouble with the plane? Then why haven’t I heard that the flight’s going to resume?” I asked as I pushed a fresh, seriously strong drink to Toivo.
“Oh, must have heard it in the john.” Toivo countered and tried to cover his tracks by taking a huge gulp of his drink and damn near dying coughing.
I pound on Toivo’s back.
“Heimlich time?” I ask.
Toivo signals ‘no’.
“Jesus Christ, Rock. What was that?” he asks.
“Just my usual”, I innocently replied.
“Holy fuck. No wonder you have the reputation of…” Toivo realizes too late that he’s said too much.
“Yeah. They can rack you out. Really ruin a person if they’re not careful.” I reply icily.
“Why, Rock. Whatever do you mean?” Toivo slurred as he realized he’s been caught out.
“The jig is up, you turncoat. You know Agents Rack and Ruin from the agency. Right? You keeping tabs on me for them? You Quisling! You Benedict Arnold!” I almost was on the verge of losing my cool.
“It was nothing. They approached me years ago as I kept being mentioned in your reports. They asked me for some information. One thing leads to another…” Toivo was ready for an Ankylosaur tail club swat to the bean.
“Oh, put your fucking hands down, you asshole.” I smiled and chuckled.
“You’re not mad?” Toivo slurred badly. I had the bartender make him another special drink.
“No, Toivo. Not mad. Just disappointed.” I said, smiling like a Komodo Dragon just finishing up a fortnight-old wildebeest.
Toivo sat there and puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore.
“You’re not going to kill me or anything rude like that?” Toivo asked, half-assedly trying to inject humor into the proceedings.
“Nah. The paperwork’s too ridiculous for me to do another liberation. But, Jesus Fucking Christwagons, Toivo; you could have mentioned it to me. Fuck, I thought we were friends to the end?” I said, dejectedly.
I was really getting through to Toivo. I could tell he was loaded; feeling like shit and massively deplorable.
Great fieldcraft, indeed.
I told him things “are what they are” and that I won’t blow his cover nor his honorarium.
He began to feel better. I often wonder if he was serious about the sanctioning thing.
Then I delivered the strategic missile strike.
“Just remember, Toivo. I wrote your dossier for the Company…”
He swivels to look at me.
“And one for the KGB. Olga says ‘howdy’.” I grin evilly.
Toivo short-circuited at that. Russia is his company’s bread and butter. Now he has the KGB as well as his best buddy looking over his shoulder at every move.
I bought him a few more drinks and continued to needle him about his ’leading a double life’. He was well and truly fuckered when the electric tap-tap driver from before came looking for me to whisk me back to the plane.
Seems it was simply some knocked-out wires on the plane, or slammed bulbs that were generating a false positive, indicating something other than the system that alerts one to something haywire went haywire.
Toivo was pretty much down for the count. I got him sober enough to hand them his ticket and ensure that he was really supposed to be on this flight. Thing was; h e was in Economy, and I was, as always, in Business.
I spoke to Luna, and the plane was going to be even less crowded than previously because some folks could or wouldn’t wait, or didn’t want to go on with the rest of the trip on a ‘damaged’ aircraft, or were just stupid and superstitious.
“Luna, could I pay for the difference between Business and Economy for my less than 100% conscious friend here? He’s had a rough day.” I asked.
“Dr. Rock. Just put him into Business. No one will be the wiser. Luna says so.” As she gave us a grand smile.
“Luna, I owe you. Thanks so much.” I said.
“Now get on board. Your friend looks like he needs all the downtime he can get.”
“Yes, ma’am!” I said and saluted here be best I could which dragging a schnozzled Toivo down the jetway.
I dumped Toivo in a window seat well away from my seat. I know Toivo. He snores like a semi-load of live hogs rocketing downhill locking up the brakes at 88 MPH.
Surprise! There was no one else in Business. Luna looked at me, at Toivo, and gave me a thumbs up.
Whatever I can write to further her career at JAL, she’ll have it before I deplane.
We finally get everyone settled, and with Captain Kangaroo at the helm, we bounced gracelessly off the tarmac, into the warm, tropical Hawaiian air, finally headed for the Land of the Rising Sun.
Toivo was snoring like a chainsaw hitting rusty nails as I worked on the various letters, communiques, and dossiers which needed updating before we reached touchdown. I gave Luna a thick letter with instructions not to open it until we were on the ground and Toivo and I were well off and away into the terminal.
We left Hawaii at 1300 hours, so we should arrive at Tokyo Nareda around 4:00 pm, the previous day. I was so bereft of time and time zones, I couldn’t figure out what time it really was, as judged by my biometric rhythms, so I asked Luna for a stiff drink as I was kicking off my boots and going to attempt to get some kip.
She brought me another liter or so eponymous drink. I was sawing logs by the time I slurped the last swig of that nifty drink.
Suddenly, or later, I have no idea really, some loudmouth drunk asshole from way-the-fuck-back in economy-land toward the ass end of the plane staggered into Business demanding free drinks.
Luna was nothing but civil, and asked him to both shut up and return to his seat. His air cabin hostess, or whatever the fuck they’re calling them these days, will attend to his needs.
“Naw they won’t! They want me to pay for more drinks! I’m broke but I demand more booze! You fucking owe me.” railed the asshole. “I sat at the bar in Hawaii for four hours. Them fuckers charged me an arm and a leg!”
“No, they don’t owe you shit”, I said in a voice that unmistakably loud and clear.
“Fuck you, old man! You stay the fuck out of this!” he bellowed. “Shut up or I’ll do ya’!”
“’Old man’? ‘Do me’? Excuse me. Luna, may I have a word alone with this individual?” I asked sweetly.
Luna shook her head in the affirmative, and I stood up to confront this flagrant asshole.
“Now look, Scooter. You have gone way, way over the fucking line. You are loud. You are abusive. You are obnoxious. And you stink. Plus you insulted a person who is just barely containing his righteous wrath right now. So, I’m giving you one and one only chance to shut up, sit back down before your body spontaneously develops all sort of bruises, contusions, broken bones, and unconsciousness.” I said calmly, evenly, and threateningly.
“What da’ fuck you think you’re going to do…old man?” he screeched, trying to inflate himself into full mammalian threat posture, all 5’ 9” of it.
He didn’t notice Toivo walking up quietly behind him, as Toivo was returning from the head, quiet as a moose.
“Well, Scooter, I am an Air Marshall. Duly appointed, fully trained, and properly pissed off. Right now, I can arrest you, physically detain you, turn this flight around and take you to the Hawaiian police, at your cost for the inconvenience of the entire flight. Or I could arrest you, physically detain you, and turn you over to the Japanese authorities when we land. It’s really your choice. Choose wisely.”
To be continued…⇝

Welcome to Lost in the Sauce, keeping you caught up on political and legal news that often gets buried in distractions and theater… or a global health crisis.
Title refers to: The Trump admin is blocking IGs from getting info on over $1 trillion in relief spending, including corporation bailouts. The admin is also withholding PPP info from Congress, meaning we don't know if Trump or his family took taxpayer money. Additionally, we learned that at least 4 members of Congress have benefited from PPP money, but aren't required to disclose it.
Housekeeping:

• HOW TO SUPPORT: I know we are all facing unprecedented financial hardships right now. If you are in the position to support my work, I have a patreon, venmo, and a paypal set up. No pressure though, I will keep posting these pieces no matter what.
  
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Coronavirus

Inspectors general warned Congress last week that the Trump administration is blocking scrutiny of more than $1 trillion in spending related to the Covid-19 pandemic. According to the previously undisclosed letter, Department of Treasury attorneys concluded that the administration is not required to provide the watchdogs with information about the beneficiaries of programs like the $500 billion in loans for corporations.
Treasury Secretary Mnuchin refused to provide Congress with the names of recipients of the taxpayer-funded coronavirus business loans. After criticism, Mnuchin began to walk back his denial, saying he will talk to lawmakers on a bipartisan basis “to strike the appropriate balance for proper oversight” of PPP loans “and appropriate protection of small business information.”
At least 4 lawmakers have benefited in some way from the Paycheck Protection program they helped create. Politico has been told there are almost certainly more -- but there are zero disclosure rules, even for members of Congress.

• Republicans on the list include Rep. Roger Williams of Texas, a wealthy businessman who owns auto dealerships, body shops and car washes, and Rep. Vicky Hartzler of Missouri, whose family owns multiple farms and equipment suppliers across the Midwest. The Democrats count Rep. Susie Lee of Nevada, whose husband is CEO of a regional casino developer, and Rep. Debbie Mucarsel Powell of Florida, whose husband is a senior executive at a restaurant chain that has since returned the loan.

Mick Mulvaney dumped as much as $550,000 in stocks the same day Trump assured the public the US economy was 'doing fantastically' amid the COVID-19 outbreak. Mulvaney unloaded his holdings in three different mutual funds, each of which is primarily made up of US stocks. The next day, the value of the mutual funds tanked.

Cases rising in many states

Good summary: There was supposed to be a peak. But the stark turning point, when the number of daily COVID-19 cases in the U.S. finally crested and began descending sharply, never happened. Instead, America spent much of April on a disquieting plateau, with every day bringing about 30,000 new cases and about 2,000 new deaths. This pattern exists because different states have experienced the coronavirus pandemic in very different ways…The U.S. is dealing with a patchwork pandemic.
As of Friday, coronavirus cases were significantly climbing in 16 states: Alabama, Arizona, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, Nevada, North Carolina, Oklahoma, Oregon, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, and Washington.
Oklahoma is experiencing a massive increase in coronavirus cases just days before Trump’s planned rally in Tulsa. In Tulsa county itself, 1 in roughly 390 people have tested positive. Yet Trump plans on cramming 20,000 people in an event with voluntary face mask policy and no social distancing. Attendees must sign a waiver that absolves the president’s campaign of any liability from virus-related illnesses.

• On Monday, Pence lied saying that Oklahoma has “flattened the curve.” As you can see at any of the resources immediately below, this is not even close to true. Over the past 14 days, the state has seen a 124% increase in cases and reports 65% of ICU beds are in use.
  
• Tulsa World Editorial Board: This is the wrong time and Tulsa is the wrong place for the Trump rally. "We don't know why he chose Tulsa, but we can’t see any way that his visit will be good for the city...Again, Tulsa will be largely alone in dealing with what happens at a time when the city’s budget resources have already been stretched thin."
  
• Earlier in the day, Trump tweeted that he is a victim of double standards when it comes to perception of his decision to resume campaign rallies in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic, declaring that attempts to “covid shame” his campaign “won’t work!”
  

Resources to track increases: There are many different sites with various methods of visualizing the spread of coronavirus. Here are some that may be particularly useful this summer… Topos COVID-19 compiler homepage and graphs of each state since re-opening. How we reopen Safely has stats on each state’s progress towards meeting benchmarks to reopen safely (hint: almost none have reached all the checkpoints). WaPo has a weekly national map of cases/deaths; the largest regional clusters are in the southeast.
On Monday, Trump twice said that “if we stop testing right now, we’d have very few cases, if any,” (video). Aside from the fact that cases exist even if we don’t test for them, we cannot explain the rising number of cases by increased testing capacity: In at least 14 states, the positive case rate is increasing faster than the increase in the average number of tests.

• Reminder: In March Trump told Fox News that he didn't want infected patients from a cruise ship to disembark because it would increase the number of reported cases in the US. "I like the numbers being where they are," Trump said at the time. "I don't need to have the numbers double because of one ship that wasn't our fault."

Fired scientist Rebekah Jones builds coronavirus dashboard to rival Florida’s… Her site shows thousands more people with the coronavirus, and hundreds of thousands fewer who have been tested, than the site run by the Florida Health Department.

Equipment and supplies

More studies prove wearing masks limits transmission and spread of coronavirus… One study from Britain found that routine face mask use by 50% or more of the population reduced COVID-19 spread to an R of less than 1.0. The R value measures the average number of people that one infected person will pass the disease on to. An R value above 1 can lead to exponential growth. The study found that if people wear masks whenever they are in public it is twice as effective at reducing the R value than if masks are only worn after symptoms appear.
Meanwhile, Trump officials refuse to wear masks and Trump supporters copy his behavior… VP Mike Pence, leader of the coronavirus task force, published a tweet showing himself in a room full of Trump staffers, none wearing masks or practicing social distancing. Pence deleted the tweet shortly after criticism. A poll last week showed that 66% of likely-Biden-voters “always wear a mask,” while 83% of likely-Trump-voters “neverarely wear a mask.”

• Trump’s opposition to face masks hasn’t stopped him from selling them to his supporters, though. The online Trump Store is selling $20 cotton American flag-themed face masks.
  
• Yesterday, we learned that South Carolina Republican Rep. Tom Rice and family have tested positive for the coronavirus. Just two weeks ago, Rice was on the House floor and halls of the Capitol without wearing a mask.
  

Internal FEMA data show that the government’s supply of surgical gowns has not meaningfully increased since March… The slides show FEMA’s plan to ramp up supply into June and July hinges on the reusing of N95 masks and surgical gowns, increasing the risk of contamination. Those are supposed to be disposed of after one use.
Nursing homes with urgent needs for personal protective equipment say they’re receiving defective equipment as part of Trump administration supply initiative. Officials say FEMA is sending them gowns that look more like large tarps -- with no holes for hands -- and surgical masks that are paper-thin.
More than 1,300 Chinese medical-device companies that registered to sell PPE in the U.S. during the coronavirus pandemic used bogus registration data… These companies listed as their American representative a purported Delaware entity that uses a false address and nonworking phone number.
Florida is sitting on more than 980,000 unused doses of hydroxychloroquine, but hospitals don’t want it… Gov. Ron DeSantis ordered a million doses of the drug to show support for Trump, but very few hospitals have requested it.

Native American communities struggle

The CARES Act money for Native American tribes, meant to assist people during the pandemic, came with restrictions that are impeding efforts to limit the transmission of the virus. For instance, the funds can only be used to cover expenses that are "incurred due to the public health emergency." On the Navajo Nation, the public health emergency is inherently related to some basic infrastructure problems. 30% of Navajo don’t have running water to wash their hands, but the money can’t be used to build water lines.
Federal and state health agencies are refusing to give Native American tribes and organizations representing them access to data showing how the coronavirus is spreading around their lands, potentially widening health disparities and frustrating tribal leaders already ill-equipped to contain the pandemic. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has turned down tribal epidemiologists’ requests for data that it’s making freely available to states.
A Hospital’s Secret Coronavirus Policy Separated Native American Mothers From Their Newborns… Pregnant Native American women were singled out for COVID-19 testing based on their race and ZIP code, clinicians say. While awaiting results, some mothers were separated from their newborns, depriving them of the immediate contact doctors recommend. New Mexico Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham announced that state officials would investigate the allegations.

Personnel & appointees

Former IG Steve Linick told Congress he was conducting five investigations into Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and the State Department before he was fired. In addition to investigating Pompeo's potential misuse of taxpayer funds and reviewing his decision to expedite an $8 billion arms sale to Saudi Arabia, Linick’s office was conducting an audit of Special Immigrant Visas, a review of the International Women of Courage Award, and another review "involving individuals in the Office of the Protocol."

• Pompeo confidant emerges as enforcer in fight over watchdog’s firing: Linick testified that Undersecretary of State for Management Brian Bulatao, a decades-old friend of Pompeo’s, “tried to bully [him]” out of investigating Pompeo.

Trump has empowered John McEntee, director of the Presidential Personnel Office, to make significant staffing changes inside top federal agencies without the consent — and, in at least one case, without even the knowledge — of the agency head. Many senior officials in Trump's government are sounding alarms about the loss of expertise and institutional knowledge.
Trump’s nominee for under secretary of defense for policy, retired Army Brig. Gen. Anthony Tata, has a history of making Islamophobic and inflammatory remarks against prominent Democratic politicians, including falsely calling former President Barack Obama a Muslim.
Amid racial justice marches, GOP advances Trump court pick hostile to civil rights. Cory Wilson, up for a lifetime seat on the U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals for the 5th Circuit, has denied that restrictive voting laws lead to voter suppression and called same-sex marriage “a pander to liberal interest groups.”
Interior Secretary David Bernhardt has indefinitely extended the terms of the acting directors of the Bureau of Land Management and the National Park Service, sidestepping the typical Senate confirmation process for those posts and violating the Federal Vacancies Reform Act,

Courts and DOJ

The Supreme Court declined on Monday to take a closer look at qualified immunity, the legal doctrine that shields law enforcement and government officials from lawsuits over their conduct. Developed in recent decades by the high court, the qualified immunity doctrine, as applied to police, initially asks two questions: Did police use excessive force, and if they did, should they have known that their conduct was illegal because it violated a "clearly established" prior court ruling that barred such conduct? In practice, however, lower courts have most often dismissed police misconduct lawsuits on grounds that there is no prior court decision with nearly identical facts.
The Supreme Court ruled that federal anti-discrimination laws protect gay and transgender employees. Justice Neil M. Gorsuch and Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. joined the court’s liberals in the 6 to 3 ruling. They said Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which prohibits discrimination “because of sex,” includes LGBTQ employees.

• Alito, writing more than 100 pages in dissent for himself and Thomas, accused the court's majority of writing legislation, not law. Kavanaugh wrote separately: "We are judges, not members of Congress...Under the Constitution and laws of the United States, this court is the wrong body to change American law in that way."
  
• Just days before the SCOTUS opinion was released, the Trump administration finalized a rule that would remove nondiscrimination protections for LGBTQ people when it comes to health care and health insurance. The SCOTUS ruling may make it easier to challenge the changes made by Trump.
  

The Supreme Court also declined to take up California’s “sanctuary” law, denying the Trump administration’s appeal. This means that the lower court opinion upholding one of California's sanctuary laws is valid, limiting cooperation between law enforcement and federal immigration authorities. Justices Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito, two of the Court's conservative members, supported taking up the case.
A federal appeals court appeared unlikely Friday to stop a judge from examining why the Justice Department sought to walk away from its prosecution of Michael Flynn. "I don't see why we don't observe regular order," said Judge Karen Henderson. "Why not hold this in abeyance and see what happens?" Judge Robert Wilkins told Flynn's lawyer that if Sullivan doesn't let the government drop the case, "then you can come back here on appeal."

Other

Good read: Fiona Hill on being mistaken as a secretary by Trump, her efforts to make sure he was not left alone with Putin, and what the US, UK and Russia have in common. “It’s spitting in Merkel’s face,” said Vladimir Frolov, a former Russian diplomat who’s now a foreign-policy analyst. “But it’s in our interests.”

• Russia’s Foreign Ministry welcomed Trump’s plan to withdraw more than a quarter of U.S. troops from Germany.
  
• Op-Ed: Why cutting American forces in Germany will harm this alliance
  

According to a new book, the Secret Service had to seek more funding to cover the cost of protecting Melania Trump while she stayed in NYC to renegotiate her prenup - taxpayers paid tens of millions of dollars to allow her to get better terms. Additionally, NYPD estimated its own costs conservatively at $125,000 a day.
Georgia election 'catastrophe' in largely minority areas sparks investigation. Long lines, lack of voting machines, and shortages of primary ballots plagued voters. As of Monday night, there were still over 200,000 uncounted votes.
Fox News runs digitally altered images in coverage of Seattle’s protests, Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone
Fox News Mocked After Mistaking Monty Python Joke for Seattle Protest Infighting
In addition to holding a rally on the day after Juneteenth (originally scheduled the day of), Trump will be accepting the GOP nomination in Jacksonville on the 60th anniversary of “Ax Handle Saturday,” a KKK attack on African Americans.
Environmental news:

• Ruling against environmentalists, the U.S. Supreme Court decided that the federal government has the authority to allow a proposed $7.5 billion natural gas pipeline to cross under the popular Appalachian Trail in rural Virginia.
  
• Trump administration has issued a new rule blocking tribes from protecting their waters from projects like pipelines, dams, and coal terminals.
  
• The EPA published a proposal in the Federal Register that critics described as an assault on minority communities coping with the public health legacy of structural racism. The rule would bar EPA from giving special consideration to individual communities that bear the brunt of environmental risks — frequently populations of color.
  
• The Trump administration is preparing to drill off Florida’s coast, but says it will wait until after the November election to avoid any backlash from Florida state leaders.
  

Immigration news

• U.S. Customs and Border Protection used emergency funding meant for migrant families and children to pay for dirt bikes, canine supplies, computer equipment and other enforcement related-expenditures… The money was meant to be spent on “consumables and medical care” for migrants at the border.
  
• ACLU files lawsuit against stringent border restrictions related to coronavirus that largely bar migrants from entering the United States.
  
• Under Trump’s leadership, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services has mismanaged its finances so badly that it has sought an emergency $1.2 billion infusion from taxpayers. When Trump took office, USCIS inherited a budget surplus. A large amount of funding is drained by its deliberate creation of more busy work for immigrants and their lawyers — as well as thousands of USCIS employees. These changes are designed to make it harder for people to apply for, receive or retain lawful immigration status.
  
• Asylum-seeking migrants locked up inside an Arizona ICE detention center with one of the highest number of confirmed COVID-19 cases say they were forced to clean the facility and are 'begging' for protection from the virus
  
• ICE plans to spend $18 million on thousands of new tasers and the training to use them
  

This season deserves a special award for inspiring flat-line boredom, with each storyline offering at least one awful person dripping poison over anyone kind or thoughtful.
Natalie: Mike wants for me to be the bad one. What is this farce?
Mike: I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the I DON’T LOVE YOU.
When we last saw Mike, Natalie was spring cleaning his self-esteem the Marie Kondo way, except she torched everything that sparked joy to make room for more misery. Now he’s outside wondering why science hasn’t granted him the ability to beam onto an airplane to spare him the insult of standing in a Ukraine alleyway, waiting for his maybe-fiancée to flounce down the stairs and demand an apology for…something. Natalie, Our Lady of 1,000 Bluffs, somehow finds the strength and courage to amble down the stairs and sit in the backseat of an Uber for a melancholy airport adventure.
Natalie: Mike, everything is good. You must calm down and stop being so dramatic. This is gaslight like in movies. Now I must cure you of hysteria with vibrators and Valium.
Mike: I mean, do we have to keep filming? What if I jump out while the car is moving? Can that be your final scene?
Natalie thinks that in a perfect world Mike would apologize just for sport and then sweep her off her feet, which should be easy since they’re never on the ground. After several awkward airport moments Mike tells Natalie that he’ll call her later, but he needs time for detox and an exorcism. Natalie remains confused that Mike thought she loved him, based on the 30,000 times she said “I love you,” when he should have been able to read her rapidly changing narrative and anticipate ongoing rewrites. She approaches Mike to pretend she doesn’t know what’s going on, but Mike isn’t falling for that shit. He asks for a goodbye hug, she says no, and Mike bounces. Natalie sulks off to find her people in the Land of Bad Decisions, where Tania is waiting for her upon a throne of skulls.
Back home and no longer engaged, Mike is making pancakes for himself and Uncle Beau. Beau comes rushing in the door to ask Mike how the trip was, and to announce that he lost $25 at the casino last night and needs to borrow from the bank of Mike. So um…Mike’s entire life is apparently like this. Can Mike and Syngin get a beer together please?
Blake: I have friends.
Jasmin: I don’t care if Blake’s friends like me. I also don’t care if Blake likes me.
Blake is getting ready for his friend Everett’s birthday party, while Jasmin warms up her excuses for dodging it. Jasmin knows this party was the plan from the start, but decides against being a good introvert who tells him to go without her and to just enjoy himself. Instead, she attempts to smash Blake’s social butterfly in favor of a sober conversation about yoga and tea. She asks Blake if they can skip the pre-party dinner and just eat together, which Blake agrees to with the caveat that he will continue to express his dismay. Blake orders a drink, and Jasmin reminds him that you can’t talk to Jesus when you’re drunk.
Jasmin latches on to Blake drinking as her excuse for avoiding phase 2 of the evening’s pseudo-social interaction. She says she’s going to call her sister instead and pretend to be mad at him while being secretly relieved to enjoy blissful time away from his flock. What remains of Blake’s sense of humor about this situation gets lost trying to escape his hair. Jasmin tells the cameras that it’s selfish to ask her to go to a party, and totally forgets the part where it’s selfish to derail his plans because that plan is something she doesn’t want to do. Blake says that he’s tired of explaining her behavior to his friends. Neither one of these two is capable of having an adult argument, and are likely on a relationship subreddit as I type, posting a totally balanced report of their latest immature interaction.
Jasmin arrives at Janette’s clinical apartment, and declares that Blake refuses to do anything that interests her, because “everything is always about Blake.” She says that Finnish folks are calmer, while Janette tells her that she needs to keep trying to adapt, and by “keep trying” she means try at all.
Tania: Okay guys, I get it, I’m like, the villain here. Did anyone else just feel a weird rush of glee? That must be Mercury in douchebag and Mars going direct into asshole.
Totally grounded and focused financial wizard Fucking Tania has put her trusty pink shirt in time-out, for a responsible and goal-oriented phone call to an astrologer with a predictable funny name. But not before Syngin fetches precise room temperature water for her to swallow with her lizard tongue to maintain the skin suit that presents some approximation of humanity.
Syngin calls his mother to gather the data necessary for someone to cold-read Tania over Skype, and his mom clarifies that he was born at “twenty to three.” Resident expert Tania mansplains that this means 2:40, and this is apparently how she will feel superior today.
“We are energy beings,” Tania tanias. “And I was born at a certain time for a certain reason, and that reason is to vampire every shred of joy from Syngin’s twinkling soul.”
“Marie Kondo,” Natalia pipes in. “Clean out all of the joy.”
Astrologist Daizy October picked that name on purpose, and tells Tania something about “blueprints of the soul” which makes the first shelf of the New Age section of the bookstore start vibrating. She declares that Sagittarius is the archetype of travel, which is what one would say to someone who can afford Costa Rica but not a shed of one’s own.
Daizy: Now Mars in Scorpio, and Tania is in existence, which means there’s going to be some fighting, and sex is important. Syngin, blink if you need help.
Syngin: Oh yes.
Fucking Tania: Is that blood in the water? No wonder I’m hungry.
Syngin: By “oh yes” I meant yes, I need help.
Ms. October says that their souls bring them together, which would make sense if Tania had one, and asks if they’re soulmates. Syngin says their connection is so vivid he feels like he’s met her before, and then he died to escape her. Tania looks drunk on hurting Syngin, and pushes it further by insisting her first love was her soulmate, and he still is, even though she hasn’t been with that dude for like 8 years or so, and the restraining order keeps getting renewed over and over again. Syngin points out that they met in a star-crossed way, foolishly failing to note that hurting him is Tania’s entire objective.
“I feel like I don’t know what to say, because anything I say will hurt you, which is why I can’t stop laughing. I’m fine,” Tania reports. Then Syngin tells the cameras he needs a break to restore his essence, and Tania hovers in the doorway, eagerly anticipating the chance to harvest from him all over again.
So to recap: Tania, who trusts in the universe, does not trust that the universe gifted her Syngin, but instead believes that eventually she’ll be regifted the tattered remains of her original bottom, who has likely moved on to other astral alignments, and a thousand mile away zip code. Yep, this is pretty on brand for Tania.
Angela: I’m not the bad guy, I’m a tax payer!
Michael: I have a shopping list.
Angela’s chest is newly covered in an ancient pirate treasure map, guiding strangers to the booty in her bra. Her plan is to storm the American embassy and assert her tax payer status as a means of pushing this K-1 process forward. After ambling through the gates and harassing multiple members of security, she emerges and bellows to Michael. She says they wouldn’t let her into the embassy since she doesn’t have an appointment, and strangely, they don’t consider a white lady demanding a K-1 an emergency. Maybe she needed to explain that she’s working with the alternative reality where she can carry a child, and they wouldn’t give her Botox in her uterus.
The next day they go to Michael’s uncle’s house for dinner, but first they have to stop and pick up a microwave for Michael’s mother. Angela is worried that the material expectations increase with every dinner, and says that the gifts can’t keep growing in value.
“Please Angela. We need to present a love and respect microwave,” Michael persuades.
The man working at the store states a price far more than the microwave is worth, and then Michael says he should price it less because they’re going to get something else, too. This is his way of surprising Angela with a required gift for his uncle. She tells the shopkeeper that she’s got 15,000 stored under her best titty, and he should take it and call it good now that she’s his African sister. Okay then. The guy takes it, and she walks away with a microwave and kettle.
Angela is happy to visit his family, especially Michael’s mother, whom she loves so much. As the most junior, or newest, wife, Angela is expected to help cook and serve as a sign of humility. She awkwardly works on plantains while Michael insists he’s not expecting much in terms of domesticity once they are stateside, but he will expect her to cook, in addition to being the only breadwinner and caretaker for a bushel basket of people. Even the producer laughs, because the only thing Angela will be cooking in Georgia is Michael if he maintains that ridiculous idea.
Michael’s family starts asking about their wedding plans, and Angela explains that the K-1 is her family’s only opportunity to see her get hitched. They are eager for Michael to have a child with Angela’s ashy uterus, and his whole family starts weighing in on the matter, which nudges Angela right to the edge. She somehow keeps her mouth shut and remains respectful, even after Uncle says that if it doesn’t work Michael should move on to the next baby basket, which is a regional woman unlikely to arrive with household appliances. Are they trying to get on Maury? If you listen closely you can hear Angela’s internal kettle whistling away, and her microwave chiming ding-ding-ding.
Emily: You don’t have to be a Debbie Downer!
Betsy: I will be one ASAP!
Emily has freed Sasha from the clutches of Indiana in favor of her fake hometown Portland, where she takes him to Washington Park’s Rose Garden to show him how shitty west coast cities are, amirite Trump? Emily says that it’s going to be expensive to go from two-for-one Indiana to Portland’s most expensive suburb, confirming my suspicion that she’s from Lake Oswego, where Real Housewives ferment until their first divorce and rehab stint. This is good news for Sasha, who is very likely to find a wealth of personal training clients and his fourth wife there. Emily says they should get married ASAP, and Sasha agrees without knowing what ASAP means.
“After two weddings, third not so much,” Sasha shrugs. “Fourth will be court house. Fifth, maybe commitment ceremony.”
Emily heads back to scenic South Bend to save hundreds of dollars on a wedding dress. She says she’s leaning towards the Oregon coast as a wedding location, which makes sense if you don’t know that every venue from Brookings to Astoria is booked ages in advance, but she wouldn’t be the first or last person to turn that AirBnB into Plan A and Plan B. Emily’s sister is there to remind her that every idea she has about her impending nuptials is wrong, which is not fair to Emily, who knows every lace dress is better with piercing wind and sand. The salesperson hides in the dressing room from their endless passive-aggressive sparring, before coming out to place a veil and headpiece on Emily and make Betsy cry.
Robert: I’m terrible. Why are you always complaining?
Anny: I would like to go out with Robin or Mike now please.
Hey guys, you know how 90DF always has one trashy, delusional family that believes the fiancé is there to steal their no-money? Well, this round it’s fucking Robert, father of five who appears to be largely free from the burdens of child support...or who perhaps opts for tax-free employment for those very reasons. He’s dragging Anny and the other person who is nice to her (his sister Robin) to a restaurant to meet up with his equally-awful brother Kenny. Robin says that Bryson loves Anny and that she really likes her too, while Kenny gets busy disrespecting and humiliating her before she can work a “hello” out of her mouth.
Kenny wants to know how she’ll be in the future, and Anny suspects he doesn’t know what year it is, so she reminds him that they live in the present, and what matters is how they treat each other now. In response, Kenny says he’s not sure if he’s going to their wedding at all, carrying on the 9DF tradition of families that fail to notice it isn’t all about them.
Now fully defensive and uneasy, Anny asks if Kenny is cheap too, and Robin assures Anny that she wouldn’t be a fan of a thrift store shopping spree, either. This gets in the way of Robert and Kenny’s plan to disrespect women in public places, so Kenny asks if she always complains a lot. Anny corrects him that her issue is that Robert lies, and told her he had three kids instead of five, in addition to making endless empty promises of clothing, an apartment, and any expression of affection whatsoever. Kenny says that he has seven kids, which isn’t normally something you play as clap-back, but okay Kenny. Yes, seven is greater than five.
Anny has had it with them and their apparent plan to overpopulate the planet, and leaves and says that she feels alone. “That’s not the way you talk when you love somebody,” she says, speaking truth.
“Well, my fiancé only loves me on Thursdays. Do you want to get a beer with me and Syngin?” Mike is there for her.
Juliana: In this story, my family appears to be the villains, and this makes me sad.
Michael: I’m rich but my tux doesn’t fit.
On the day of the wedding, Max and CeCe are in conference about the gravity of the forthcoming nuptials, in between mugs of stiff black coffee and plates of almond biscotti.
CeCe: I’m feeling moderately uneasy, due to rigid societal expectations of appropriate age disparity. Surely if this were the era of Ibsen’s “A Doll’s House” this wouldn’t even muddy my mind, but given the unfortunate modern conviction that a second spouse serves as an accessory and not a person, we have some educating to do.
Max: This seems a prudent way to address the offensive tongue of your friend Dakota, who has lived a sheltered life free from parental relationship development and sexual exploration. For now, I’ll simply relish the opportunity to wax poetic on their enduring love once mother has concluded her oratory.
CeCe: I have some concerns about you being assigned this important role, while I am relegated to the background. Is this sibling rivalry? Not very becoming of me, I’m sure.
Max: I validate your feelings of envy, but as the elder sibling I am allotted a generous portion of gloating which will carry all the way into the late stages of my adulthood.
CeCe: Is that when you argue with your wife about 401K distribution while I go to Burning Man in a modified school bus?
Max: Do you bite your thumb at me?
CeCe: I do bite my thumb at you, sir!
Meanwhile, Juliana’s friend Pao is there (no, not that Pao, who is only friends with Juan) along with her friend Cousy, who Juliana describes as like a second mom. Cousy lives in Milan, where Juliana met her during a modeling gig, and she sprung for the ticket to ease Juliana’s loneliness on her special day. In Michael’s wedding prep, we learn that he bought two tuxedos, and decides to wear the one that fits. Juliana wishes her mother could see her in her wedding dress, or was capable of acknowledging her existence when she’s not buying a car for her sister.
A gorgeous clear tent is set up to welcome wedding guests, all but two of which are friends or family of Michael. CeCe is on deck to tell Juliana she looks so pretty, while Max gives Michael a pep talk about toxic masculinity and exploring romantic relationships with an open heart. Cousy then hands her phone to Juliana to share a video she made of messages from Juliana’s friends who want to wish her well. Juliana keeps waiting for a relative to appear in this video, but it doesn’t happen, because apparently Juliana’s family has plenty of narcissists. Or maybe they’re hiding in the wings until the next episode? Either way, the family doesn’t so much as text her, and in the face of this intentional cruelty Juliana starts crying and struggles to stop, thawing the thickest layer of our cold black hearts.
Next time, Jasmin says she doesn’t want to work or smile or breathe, Sasha promises to love his third wife until he doesn’t, Juliana braces to be married by her future husband’s ex-wife, while Syngin finds a friend to mouth “help me” to when Tania is sleeping safely in her coffin.
Thank you Patreon supporters! Follow the link in my bio to bathe in my toxic pool!

One more roundup before we leave, alas. Regions are still super approximate. I updated some previous rankings as well.
Tallies: 137 in the Denver metro; 66 in the rest of the Front Range; 33 in the rest of the state. We've visited a total of 236 breweries, cideries, and meaderies in Colorado.

The Rest of the Front Range

• 300 Suns (Longmont): This brewery served me both a smoked cherry sour (YES) and a red ale with a distinct barf aroma, so I'm really split here. Overall, I'm not excited.
• Avery (Boulder): Say what you will about their distributed lineup, but their taproom has some of the cooler small-batch brews out there. We got to attend their invitational twice; it's one of the best beer fests around.
• Berthoud Brewing (Berthoud): The better of two options in this tiny town. That's not saying much.
• Black Bottle (Fort Collins): Big tap list with lots of variety, usually good, sometimes uneven. I once found a lichtenhainer on tap here. I may have squealed.
• Black Forest (Black Forest): Surprisingly good brewery in a tiny forest town just outside the Springs. Better-than-expected beers, sizeable lineup, nice people.
• Brues Alehouse (Pueblo): I guess they're the best thing I've found in Pueblo, but that's a backhanded compliment if ever I gave one.
• Buckhorn (Loveland, RIP): A brewery the size of a small living room with 4-5 beers on tap. The brewer came and chatted with us for a while and seemed like a super nice guy. They made some really cool stuff, including a no-boil, no-hop lacto stout that blew my mind. They shut down not long after we went.
• Cerberus (Colorado Springs): A highlight in the Springs with very good food, too.
• City Star (Berthoud): Nice tap list on their website seems to be months old. Neither of us cared for their actual lineup much.
• Cogstone (Colorado Springs): Friends told us to go to try their chips 'n' salsa beer, which, yes, does taste like chips 'n' salsa. We didn't love anything here.
• Colorado Mountain Brewery at the Roundhouse (Colorado Springs, multiple locations): Bland gastropub with blah beer.
• DC Oakes (Fort Collins): Standard-issue brewpub with its own beer. Nothing to write home about.
• Dostal Alley Casino & Brewpub (Central City): Central City is a gorgeous Old West mountain town where the soulless casinos now seem to outnumber any sort of non-sleazy business. Naturally, when we found a casino with a built-in brewpub boasting GABF medals for their dry stout, we went. Unsurprisingly, the place was sleazy and crappy, with a few phoning-it-in beers and slot machines built into the bar.
• Dratz (Loveland): They were brand new when we visited, and very nice. The beer was... not good. Hope they work out their initial difficulties.
• Echo Brewing (Frederick): Just three weeks after visiting, I remember nothing at all about this brewery, but my Untappd ratings of their handful of run-of-the-mill styles were low. Evidently I wasn't impressed.
• Elevation (Poncha Springs): Does this still qualify as the Front Range? I flippin' adore Elevation, makers of the single best pilsner I've ever had. One of the very best middle-of-nowhere, small-town breweries I've been to.
• Elizabeth Brewing (Elizabeth): Small-town brewery in conservative Douglas County. Pretty meh throughout.
• Equinox (Fort Collins): Pretty good, nothing amazing.
• Estes Park Brewery (Estes Park): Unremarkable.
• Fieldhouse (Colorado Springs): Everything was really middlin'. Tons of dogs, which is always a bonus for me.
• Finkel & Garf (Boulder): Solid, but didn't live up to the hype for me. Seems like they just play it ultra-safe.
• Florence (Florence): Solid with a large tap list in a tiny town far off the beaten path.
• Fossil (Colorado Springs): Solid, but unexciting. Super duper nice people.
• Funkwerks (Fort Collins): Oh, hell yeah.
• Gilded Goat (Fort Collins): Nice, not amazing.
• Goat Patch (Colorado Springs): We finally visited when we were stuck in the Springs after a blizzard closed all roads back to Denver. Pretty good, not amazing brewery in what looks like a former high school converted to gentrified hipster mall space.
• Gold Camp (Colorado Springs, apparently no website): We felt a bit guilty because we got to meet their fabulously nice brewer, but just didn't care for their beers. They seemed closer to homebrew quality at the moment.
• Great Storm (Colorado Springs, RIP): Really nice with some unusual styles and creative ideas. Friendly people. Closed soon after our visit; now Atrevida Brewing.
• Grimm Brothers (Loveland): Cool taproom, some really nice beers.
• Grossen Bart (Longmont): I was kind of disappointed. A lot of beers seemed really off style or just unremarkable.
• Gunbarrel (Boulder): Good IPAs and a nice rosemary beer.
• High Hops (Windsor): Gorgeous patio with view of hop field and gardening center, with a small distillery attached. The beer isdecent, not remarkable.
• Industrial Revolution (Erie): I wanted to like them, based on their shtick. I think we left all of our beers unfinished. Nope.
• Intersect (Fort Collins): Unabashed hipster taproom with piles of old records. Nice folks. Beer generally good, nothing great.
• Iron Bird (Colorado Springs): Nice, but largely unremarkable.
• Jessup Farm Barrel House (Fort Collins): My surprise favorite find on our second CO vacation and one of the very best wild/sour breweries around.
• Kettle & Spoke (Boulder): We kind of just wound up here because they're down the street from Redstone. We found a tiny taproom inside a bike shop with some of the best IPAs in recent memory, and a fantastically nice brewer who offered us an impromptu tour of the production space.
• Left Hand (Longmont): They're exceptionally solid, and I wish they'd strut their stuff a little more. Their Juju series of ginger brews has a special place in my heart.
• Local Relic (Colorado Springs): An experimental brewery in a gorgeous old church that prides itself on never making the same beer twice. They blew our minds the first time we went, and we were in their expensive-ass beer club for a while. Their "no repeats" philosophy unfortunately means that they frequently have several super similar batches on tap at once, a lot of their beers could really use a trial run, and they often bottle things before they're ready. After a few too many bottle bombs and undrinkable yeast shakes, we pretty much stopped going.
• Locust Cider (Boulder): The standard cidery model where everything's inoffensive and the business model is "bring that friend who doesn't do gluten." I just don't care about this form of cider at this point, but they do it just as well as everyone else.
• Loveland Aleworks (Loveland): We like Verboten more, but these guys are another fabulous Loveland spot.
• McClellan's (Fort Collins): I don't care much for British styles, but we enjoyed the beer, food, and a great conversation with a member of the brewing family here.
• Nano 108 (Colorado Springs): Tiny taproom that we really liked in 2015. We went back in 2018 and found some stellar options (their rauchbier omggggggg) and several brews with off-flavor issues. Come for the German styles here; I'm not crazy about their IPAs.
• New Belgium (Fort Collins): Did the tour, visited the taproom. They seem like a good company that just embraces inoffensiveness a bit too hard. Then they sold out, and now I haven't bought anything from them in years.
• The Old Mine (Erie): Good cidery in a gorgeous old brick building in a tiny town.
• Open Door (Longmont): Had good lagers and saisons here. Super nice people in a chill spot.
• Periodic (Leadville): At 11k+ feet, this must be the highest craft brewery we've visited. OK beer, spotty service.
• Phantom Canyon (Colorado Springs): Great beer and service the first time we came, mediocre at best the second time, and only OK ever since. Food is pretty good.
• Redstone (Boulder): Likely the biggest of the tiny handful of meaderies currently in CO. Their stuff trends sweeter than I like, but they have some cool varieties (sunflower mead = yes) and wonderful taproom staff.
• Rocky Mountain (Colorado Springs): Long-running brewery on the outskirts of the Springs. Some sugary sours and hard lemonades that weren't up my alley, along with a very good barleywine. We chatted with the brewmaster for a while, who was a super nice guy.
• Royal Gorge (Cañon City): The only brewery in town and one of few places to grab a bite. They only had one or two of their own beers, which were homebrew quality. Keep driving.
• Shamrock (Pueblo): Like everything about Pueblo, this place was a total disappointment.
• Soulcraft (Salida): Another pretty good small-town brewery a few miles from Elevation.
• St. Vrain (Longmont): Really excellent cidery with multiple ginger ciders and great guest taps.
• Timnath Beerwerks (Timnath): Extremely solid, nice people. They're also more or less down the street from the Swetsville Zoo, one of my favorite roadside attractions in the state.
• Tommyknocker (Idaho Springs): Gimmicky and never better than all right. Two blocks from Westbound & Down, which is the indisputably better option.
• Trinity (Colorado Springs): I've no idea how it took me several years to get to the only brett-focused brewery I've ever found. Huge, consistently good tap and bottle list, great food with good veg options, nice staff. My best brewery find in the Springs to date. They sold in 2020, and we haven't been back since.
• Twisted Pine (Boulder): Solid with some interesting ideas, including a good basil beer.
• Uhl (Boulder): They took over Wild Woods' space in 2020 and opened during the shutdown. They had a few promising weird options, including an unexpectedly lovely peanut butter beer.
• Verboten (Loveland): Our absolute favorite in town. Creative, irreverent, and spot-on.
• WeldWerks (Greeley): I fussed for so long about wanting to come here that it was inevitably kind of a letdown when we finally went. Their beers are good, make no mistake, but definitely not "drive an hour and a half to get it" good.
• Westbound & Down (Idaho Springs): Another hypey place. The beer, food, and service were all good on our first visit but sorta uneven on subsequent trips.
• Wild Cider (Longmont): Standard-issue, above-average cider. Lovely outdoor seating with a gorgeous mountain view.
• Wild Woods (Boulder, RIP): We stumbled in during their anniversary party and loved them. Their smoked yam beer rocked my world. They sadly closed in 2019.
• Wiley Roots (Greeley): ... and now I'm going to contradict the above statement re: WeldWerks directly. Wiley Roots, just around the corner from the above, is worth that drive. Their wild ales are lovely, and while their adjunct stouts can be hit and miss, they're immensely solid overall. Massive pluses include an unusually nice taproom crew, a fluffy brew cat with her own Instagram account (@midnightbrewcat), and the lovely Syntax Distillery next door.
• Zwei (Fort Collins): Kicks the crap out of Denver's Prost as far as I'm concerned. Good beer, great people.

The Rest of Colorado (South, West, Central)

Current category tally: 33

• Angry James (Silverthorne): Pretty much anywhere I go on the way home from the stellar Outer Range isn't really going to get my heart rate up, but we enjoyed our stop here.
• Animas (Durango): Nice and solid; nothing exciting here. Food isn't great.
• BierWerks (Woodland Park): Most of their taps were other people's beers, and the couple of in-house brews we managed to try ranged from so-so to not good. Oh, and they have a Nazi map on the wall for some damn reason!? Ute Pass across the street is an all-around better option.
• Breckenridge (Breckenridge): Macro brewery in the "guess you have to go once" category. The beer was exceedingly mediocre, food was so-so.
• BREW Pub & Kitchen (Durango): My favorite in Durango tbh. Oh, and their food is good, too.
• Broken Compass (Breckenridge): Solid.
• Carver (Durango): Nice people, good brunch. Their beer won't blow your mind, but it's usually solid.
• Casey Brewing and Blending (Glenwood Springs): We bought tour tickets and made a weekend trip out just to go to Casey. My affection for sours is on a steep downward slope, but Casey is stellar, and the tour was delightful and totally worth doing.
• Colorado Vineyards/Rocky Mountain Winery (Palisade): Including them here because they make a lot of mead, which I like, but don't love.
• Eddyline (Buena Vista): Middlin', IPA-focused place in the horrifically named Byoona Vista.
• Glenwood Canyon (Glenwood Springs): One of those breweries that only seem to stay in business because they have a central spot in a tourist town. Nothing interesting here.
• Guanella Pass (Georgetown): Most of the beers we tried were yeasty af. No love from me.
• High Alpine (Gunnison): We stopped here after a trip to Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, out of our minds with natural beauty. The beer was, unsurprisingly, nothing to write home about, but the food was outstanding and the staff was delightful.
• Highside (Frisco): It's hard to look good when you share a ZIP code with Outer Range. Run-of-the-mill small-town brewery with food, nothing to write home about.
• Mad Jack's Mountain Brewing (Bailey): We pulled off 285 here one afternoon to get out of the rain. Small tap list and tiny tap room, but pretty good beer and a killer food truck out back.
• Main Street (Cortez): Another small-town brewery with not much going.
• Meadery of the Rockies (Palisade): The better Palisade meadery. Again, they like their mead sweeter and gloopier than I do, but it's lovely in small quantities.
• Mr. Grumpy Pants/Ourayle House (Ouray): I like the guy and his shtick a bit more than the beer, but it's definitely the better brewery in town.
• Ouray Brewery (Ouray): The douchey tourist trap option in beautiful Ouray.
• Outer Range (Frisco): The hype is real. ORB makes hands down the best NEIPAs I've ever had, and a stunning range of them. "Downside:" NEIPAs are basically all they do. They have a couple of Belgians, but if you're not into hazy IPAs, this place really isn't for you.
• Palisade Brewing (Palisade): Solid, unexciting.
• Paradox (Divide): One of the best sour-focused breweries around. They may have the most stunning mountain view of any brewery I've been in this state, and that's saying a lot.
• Riff Raff (Pagosa Springs): One of those breweries where they put your pint down in front of you, you take one sip, and you're ready to head out.
• Rockslide (Grand Junction): Nice space, so-so beer.
• San Luis Valley (Alamosa): We stopped here on our way back from my birthday trip in 2019, which coincided with a blizzard that shut down the entire Denver metro. Their beer and food were forgettable, but the fact that I was worried sick about getting home to our pets (we didn't until 24 hours later) the whole time we were there didn't help matters.
• South Park (Fairplay): We stopped here to escape a crazy cloudburst. Beer was OK, food was OK, neither was anything I really need again.
• Steamworks (Durango): Ranges from really good to barely decent. Decent food.
• Telluride Brewing (you guessed it - Telluride): Quite good brewery with nice people in one of the more picturesque mountain towns out there.
• Three Barrel (Del Norte): Ah, Colorado. Where else do towns of 1,700 in the middle of nowhere have breweries with sahtis and sours on the menu?
• Two Rascals (Montrose): Unremarkable.
• Ute Pass (Woodland Park, RIP): This brewery had four different wits on tap, including two black wits.
• Vino Salida (Salida): Yes, tiny Salida and Poncha Springs have two good breweries, a distillery, and a meadery. Dayum.
• Wolfe (Pagosa Springs): Pleasant small-town brewery.

OVER BLACK: BLART (V.O.) The road of life is always under construction... FADE IN: SUNRISE.* (* fromthe first movie) BLART (V.O.) ... thejourney is hard, but once you reach the top, the view is amazing. Amy and Blart getting married.* BLART (V.O.) And that view is even more beautiful when you have someone to share it with... Blart and Amy DANCE ON SEGWAYSat their reception.* INT. BLART’S MOM’S FRONT DOORWAY - DAY22Blart opens the door and is handed a LETTER by a STERN MAN. BLART (V.O.) ...forsix days. INT. BLART’S MOM’S HOUSE - LATER33Blart sits in his Mom’s living room, holding the letter. She rubs his back as he CRIES HYSTERICALLY. BLART (V.O.) My beautiful wife of almost a week let me know by letter that she had, what I like to call “some regrets.” Her doctor called it, “uncontrollable vomiting.” Her lawyer... “dissolution of marriage.” He looks up at his Mom, cries a little more... and then RUNS out of the room. BLART (V.O.) That’s okay, I needed a little time to myself. Like the song says: I’ve been to paradise, but I’ve never been to me. (MORE) David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALSPE CONFIDENTIAL // That’s okay, when life knocks Page 2/88 you down, calmly get back up, smile, and very politely say, “you hit like a small boy.” And... (then) At least I still had the one thing that never seemed to let me down... security. INT. WEST ORANGE PAVILLIONMALL - DAY3A3AWe see Blart at the mall, throwing himself into his work. He rides through the mall, UP-NODDING to passing customers. BLART (V.O.) I spent the next two years losing myself in the sweet escape of keeping the West Orange Pavilion Mall safe. Blart spies a SMALL CHILD who appears lost. He rolls up to him on the segway and takes his hand, leading him to find his mom. Seeing the MOM, Blart reunites her with the boy. The mom is overjoyed. MOMThank you! (then to boy) Now give the fake cop a hug Andy. Blart is flattered and leans in for the hug. Andy is having none of it. Blart goes in again -- nothing. MOM (CONT’D) (getting agitated) Andy... hug him. BLARTUh... he doesn’t want a hug that’s okay. Blart is now frozen in the hug lean position. MOM(still to son) You are embarrassing me. Blart back away and leans in one more time, but the kid just BELTS HIM and runs away. The mom runs after him. Blart awkwardly gets on his segway and rides away. BLART (V.O.) (CONT'D) Salmon (05/02/2014)2. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLART (V.0) And, on the home front... I always had Mom. Page 3/88 EXT. BLART’S MOM’S HOUSE - MORNING44Mom, in a fuzzy bathrobe, walks out into the street... BLART’S MOMOh, here’s the paper. ...and is DRILLED by an old-fashioned MILK TRUCK. BLART (V.O.) That is until she got drilled by a milk truck. Didn’t know they even had those anymore. INT. BLART’S MOM’S HOUSE - DAY55Blart once again sits in his mom’s living room looking at a FRAMED PHOTO of his mom... CRYING, uncontrollably. Maya, who is now 19 years old, rubs his back. He once again gets up and RUNS out of the room. BLART (V.O.) Besides my Maya, it didn’t seem like I had very much to look forward to. // INT. BLART’S MOM’S HOUSE - MORNINGBlart once again sits in his mom’s living room looking at a FRAMED PHOTO of his mom... he begins to CRY, uncontrollably. In the picture, we see: His MOTHER standing in a sun dress and big, floppy CHURCH HAT, surrounded by AFRICAN HUNTERS on SAFARI in AFRICA. Salmon (05/02/2014)2A. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLART (V.O.) That is until her church group travelled to Africa, where she went on safari, and while snapping pictures, and getting a little too close, caught the business end of a Dicerosbicornis... a black rhino. Maya, who is now 19 years old, rubs his back. He once again gets up and RUNS out of the room. INT. WEST ORANGE PAVILLIONMALL - DAY66We see a melancholy Blart as he rides through the mall. BLART (V.O.) I guess I was the last one to get the memo -- Paul Blart had officially peaked... INT. DINING ROOM - DAY77Blart is opening mail at the table, he reads a LETTER that Page 4/88 has SECURITY OFFICERS TRADE ASSOCIATIONletterhead. INSERT LETTER: selected to join us for an all expense paid trip to the Security Officers Trade Association Expo and Award ceremony in Las Vegas, Nevada.” BLART (V.O.) ... orhad I? INT. MAYA’S ROOM - CONTINUOUS88Maya reads a different LETTER with UCLAletterhead. INSERT LETTER: accepted to the incoming freshman class.” BLART (O.S.) Maya! Come down here! I have some great news! MAYAMe too! Maya excitedly runs out of her room. INT. DINING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER99Maya bounds in. Blart can’t contain himself. Buff (04/30/2014)3. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLARTHoney... we’ve been invited to the Security Officers Trade Association Expo and Award ceremony, in LasVegas, Nevada! MAYAVegas? Wow! BLARTI think they’re finally recognizing me for getting the mall out of that jam. MAYAJam? Dad, you savedthe mall! They shouldhonor you. I’m so proud of you. Maya hugs him. BLARTThank you honey. Blart breaks the hug and then holds Maya by the shoulders. BLART (CONT’D) I’ll tell ya, times have been tough, but no matter what happens as long as I have you by my side, I’ll be okay. (then) Alright, enough about me... what’s Page 5/88 your great news? Maya realizes it’s not the time to tell her dad about UCLA. She secretly tucks the letter into her back pocket. MAYAYeah, umm... BLARTWell, c’monSweetie, you got me on pins and needles here. // yougot me on top of the roller coaster here. MAYAI just remembered that... we have left-over baked ziti. Blart stares blankly at Maya... Is he on to her? Then... BLART(even bigger smile) What a day!! // Weeeeee!! What a ride!! 4. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL The heroic MALL COP SCORE kicks in and we... CUT TO: CREDITS wiping behind the dented and worn SECURITY OFFICER 1010BADGE rotating through space. Finally settling on... TITLE: FLY-OVER1111The resort is bathed in golden sun, surrounded by the beautiful Las Vegas strip. EXT. WYNN HOTEL SOUTH VALET AREA - DAY1212Blart and Maya slam the trunk on their tiny RENTAL CAR. Blart, struggling with four bags of luggage, is dressed in tourist civvies and has a large laminated SECURITY OFFICERS TRADE ASSOCIATION EXPO pass hanging around his neck. A sweet faced valet, LANE (18), approaches. LANEMay I help with your bags, sir? BLARTNo, no. That’s how they get’cha. I’ll be fine on my own, thank you. LANENo problem, sir. Lane notices Maya and gives her a slight smile. Maya BLUSHES. INT. WYNN HOTEL SOUTH ENTRANCE LOBBY - DAY1313Blart and Maya enter the spectacular lobby. Blart drops his bags in AWE. For Blart, this is like going to the SUPERBOWL. BLARTTake it in, cupcake... 400,000 square feet of casino and retail Page 6/88 space, sitting atop 215 luxurious acres... all protected by the finest security this side of the//Uh... I got nothin’. Top notch security though. // Mississip... andthe other side, actually. Both sides. (then) Welcome to the show. // Showtime. 5. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLARTYeah, I definitely would stand down for Robocop. DONNA ERICONEHe’s not real. BLARTNo, I knew that. Wow, glad I packed my dress whites. DONNA ERICONEGood thing. Just don’t tell anyone I told you. BLARTTell anyone what? DONNA ERICONEAbout the keynote -- (realizing) Oh, you got me... She punches Blart in the arm, hard. DONNA ERICONE (CONT’D) ... You done gone and gotme! I’ll see you tonight. BLARTRoger that, Officer Ericone. Donna exits. Blart turns to Maya, rubbing his arm. BLART (CONT’D) You were right princess... things just keep getting better. MAYA(feeling guilty) That’s great dad. An energized Blart strides up to a male RECEPTIONIST. BLARTYello-ha. RECEPTIONISTGood afternoon sir, welcome to the Wynn Resort. Blart hands him his ITINERARY. He reads it. Taps on his computer. BLARTChecking in. Page 7/88 7. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL RECEPTIONISTAbsolutely... Mr. Blart. BLARTMr. Blart... (chuckles to himself) I’m sure you were thrown by the travel wear. It’s actually Officer. People often forget there’s a human face to law enforcement. Maya’s horrified. RECEPTIONISTOh. Okay... sorry about that. (then) Oh, yes... “Officer” Blart, I see we have you in a partial mountain view and you requested a “bottomless” bowl of Peanut M&M’s... BLARTI didn’t... my doctor probably... it’s strictly medicinal. Unfortunately, I am cursed with hypo-glycemia. “The hidden hell.” Sugar level drops and so do I. RECEPTIONISTOkay. BLART(not letting it go) It is okay because... fun fact for ya... Author Stephen King and comedian Sinbad, // R&B diva Patty LaBellealso have hypo-glycemia. So, I’m in pretty good company. RECEPTIONISTOf course. (taps a few more keys) Ooh... I’m sorry, but your room isn’t ready yet. In fact, we don’t have you checking in until three. But you can leave your luggage and I will have it delivered to the room. MAYADad, I’m starving. Can we just get some lunch? BLARTWhoa! Hold the mayo. (to receptionist) Page 8/88 (MORE) 8. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL I’m sure you didn’t know this, uh... (reads name tag) Heath, but if you check the Grand ballroom and see what group’s booked there tonight, I think your tune might change a wee bit... The receptionist HITS A KEY, reads the screen. RECEPTIONISTMini-Kiss... the cover band. BLARTWow, they’re good. RECEPTIONISTYes, they are. BLARTYeah, I’m not with them. Is there a manager, I could talk to? RECEPTIONISTI’m sorry she’s not available right now. Blart makes a decision... SIGHS. BLARTAlright... I hate doing this. Blart reaches in his SHOULDER BAG. MAYAOh no, Dad... not the maga-- BLARTSorry dumplin’, got no choice. MAYA(to receptionist) Terrace Cafe open for lunch? RECEPTIONISTYes it is. MAYAI’m out. Maya goes. Blart drops the MAGAZINE on the counter and then with GREAT FANFARE turns it to face the receptionist and SLOWLY SLIDES it towards him. BLART (CONT'D) 9. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL RECEPTIONISTI’m sorry sir, what am I looking at? BLART“Perimeter Check,” the official trade journal of the security industry, Feb. ‘09. RECEPTIONISTDid you print this yourself? Page 9/88 BLARTAbsolutely not -- it’s published biannually. Big seller in Canada. (then) Take a gander at the inside of the back cover, I think it should clear things up. RECEPTIONIST(reading) “Say goodbye to toenail fungus...” BLARTOpposite page... toward the bottom. RECEPTIONIST : Oh. (then) Is that you? BLARTIt is. (leans in) This is not public information, but it seems I’m going to be delivering the keynote speech at the Security Officer convention, tonight. RECEPTIONIST(remembering) Oh you know, I think they cancelled that... (checks computer) Wup, no, they didn’t. But it was downsized to conference room “C”. Nope, “F.” The Receptionist retrieves a MAP, and opens it. RECEPTIONIST (CONT’D) Okay, here’s a map of our property. Blart looks at it quickly and slides it back. 10. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLARTThank you. RECEPTIONISTNo, that’s yours to keep. BLARTDon’t need it. It’s been scanned. (re: It’s all in here. Locked and loaded. Time for lunch. Blart exits. After a beat: RECEPTIONISTSir, your daughter and the Page 10/88 restaurant are that way. He points in the opposite direction. BLARTYup... themap was upside down when I scanned it. Blart exits the other way. OMIT 1515INT. TERRACE CAFE / (EUROPEAN POOL) - DAY1616Blart arrives at an outdoor table to find Lane talking to Maya, who is already in the middle of an appetizer. LANEWas I lying about the conch fritters? MAYAYou were not! They’re amazing! With just the right amount of zip! LANEGotta love the zip! MAYAOh, I do... I was born to zip! LANEPut my hand up on my hip, whenI zip... MAYA...youzip, 11. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL MAYA (CONT’D) ...we zip. LANE...we zip. They share a LAUGH. There’s obviously a little connection between them. Blart clocks this. Lane turns to him. LANE (CONT’D) Oh, you forgot your valet ticket sir. He hands Blart the TICKET and then turns back to Maya, smiles and exits. Maya blushes once again. Blart plops down and stares at Maya. MAYAWhat? BLARTYou were bornto zip? Since when do you use the word “zip?” MAYAI always use the word zip. BLARTI don’t like it. Hipster talk. Maya shakes her head. MAYALook, Dad... you’re gonnahave to get used to the fact that I’m a big girl now. BLARTOkay, first of all, we’re all big... we’re Blarts. Wide hips, thick ankles and a low center of Page 11/88 gravity, that’s how the good Lord made us. That’s why we’re so good at moving furniture. Blart pulls something from his pocket. It’s a MECHANICAL VIBRATING FORK. He begins to pick at the conch fritters. MAYAWhat is that? BLARTMy vibrating fork. It forces me eat slower. You think I eat fast at home? On vacation, I’m like a greyhound chasing a bunny. Blart takes a QUICK TWO BITES and it indeed VIBRATES and a RED LIGHT light FLASHES. 12. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLART (CONT’D) See? Blart waits for it to STOP vibrating, and the light to turn GREEN. He then takes another bite. This time slower. BLART (CONT’D) There we go. (quietly to himself) It’s just fuel. Just fuel. VOICE (O.S) Mr. Blart? Blart turns around WAY TOO FAST for the situation. BLARTSHANGHAI! But it’s only the smoking hot general manager, DIVINA MARTINEZ, who has two ROOM KEYS in her hand. DIVINAOh. Sorry to startle you, sir. BLARTIt’s okay, sometimes it’s just hard to turn off. // You hit the trip wire is all. Divina has no idea what he is talking about. DIVINAOkay. Well, I’m Divina Martinez, the hotel’s general manager. I wanted to apologize about the confusion regarding the convention and let you to know how happy we are to have your group staying with us. (beat) And good news -- I upgraded your Page 12/88 room. It has a view of the strip, it’s ready right now, and I wanted to give you the keys personally. Divina sets the keys down on the table and accidentally BRUSHES HER FINGERS against Blart’s. DIVINA (CONT’D) Oh, sorry about that. (having fun) Although, I must say you have very soft hands. Blart immediately reacts. 13. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLARTWhoa. Pump the brakes. // Whoa, pffffffffft... airbag! DIVINAExcuse me? BLARTI sense what you’re doing... (off her name tag) Divina. DIVINAWhat am I doing? BLARTTruthfully? Being a bit transparent. DIVINA(confused) I’m sorry. I don’t follow-- BLARTLook, I understand it’s the 21st century and a woman can go after hers just like a man. Maya is now dying a slow death. MAYADad, I really don’t think she was-- BLART(puts his hand up) This is grown-up stuff, tadpole. (back to Divina) Look, it takes two to tango and my dancing shoes are currently out for repair. DIVINASir... I’m sorry if I -- BLARTApology not needed, just know I’m working my way through a maze of personal fire and until the flames of chaos subside... I’m just not ready for public consumption. Divina decides it’s best to just let the customer be right. Page 13/88 DIVINAUm... I understand, sir. Have a great stay. 14. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL Divina walks off. BLART(to Maya) It’s not just me, right? She was relentless. Divina, still totally confused, turns back to look one more time. EXT. WYNN HOTEL SOUTH VALET AREA - CONTINUOUS 1717A custom Harley Davidson MOTORCYCLE blows into the valet area and comes to a stop. The rider takes off his helmet to reveal... EDUARDO FURTILLO, HEAD OF SECURITY for the Wynn Resort and Casino. He is immaculately dressed in a GREY SUIT, with an EAR PIECE inconspicuously tucked into his collar. Two AGENTS from Casino Security join his side as Eduardo confidently enters the hotel. One wears a BLACK SUIT, AGENT PARSONS The other wears a PURPLE SUIT (like the one Henkwore,) this is AGENT JENKINS. EXT. TERRACE CAFE (EUROPEAN POOL) - MOMENTS LATER1818Divina stands there, lost in thought. Eduardo strides up. EDUARDO : Hola, mi amor. Divina, still a tad thrown, gives Eduardo a little kiss. He senses something is off. EDUARDO (CONT’D) What troubles you, my pet? DIVINAI just had the strangest exchange with that guy over there. Divina points to Blart. P.O.V: EDUARDOEl Gordo? DIVINA(this is absurd) Yeah -- he accused me of hitting on him. 15. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow Page 14/88 SPE CONFIDENTIAL EDUARDO(chuckles) Funny -- they say overweight people use humor to achieve affection. DIVINAYou know what? Okay, yes -- I also heard that. // -- that makes sense. They share a laugh, as they both look at Blart. P.O.V: VIBRATING and the LIGHT to turn off. A VIP RECEPTIONIST arrives and clears her throat. VIP RECEPTIONISTExcuse me, Ms. Martinez, our VIP guest has arrived. INT. WYNN VIP RECEPTION AREA - MOMENTS LATER1919Divina and Eduardo enter. Divina extends her hand to... VINCENT SOFEL, 40’s, TWO DIFFERENT COLORED EYES, a three piece suit, sits in a chair, sipping an espresso. A BRIEFCASE sits at his feet. Behind him is ROBINSON, mid 30’s, African American and Vincent’s bodyguard, SCOTT, tall, black suit. Vincent stands. DIVINAWelcome back to the Wynn, Mr. Sofel. We have the accommodations you requested all ready for you. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call either myself or our head of security, Mr. Furtillo. Divina points to Eduardo, who nods. VINCENTYou guys took me for a lot of money on my last visit. DIVINAWell, I hope you’re able to turn that around this time. Vincent smirks. VINCENTOh, I plan to. 16. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL INT. WYNN BASIC SINGLE ROOM -- LATER2020Blart finishes unpacking and notices that there is one QUEENSIZE BED and one folded ROLL AWAY. He calls to Maya. BLARTI don’t know how this is an upgrade. You take the bed, I’ll Page 15/88 take the roll away. MAYA (O.S.) Dad, this is your convention, you can’t sleep on the roll away. BLARTI certainly can. I once fell asleep in a hurdler’s stretch. // climbinga fence. // rakingleaves. // duringa snowball fight. MAYA (O.S.) We’ll figure it out later. I gotta get going. Maya comes out wearing a ONE PIECE BATHING SUIT, with puffy flowers. She’s holding her beach bag, and heads for the door. Blart panics... BLARTWhoaaa, okay, thanks for telling me, Victoria’s secret! (averts his eyes) What do you think you’re wearing young lady? MAYAUm, a bathing suit? BLARTMaybe for an elf // maybe for a cabbage patch doll... how about leaving a little to the imagination. // leavinga little for your wedding night. MAYAI was going to hang out by the pool. BLARTNot in that. Maya rolls her eyes, grabs a COVER UP and puts it over her bathing suit. MAYAFine. Then I’m going exploring. 17. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL Maya starts for the door. BLARTHold up. You got your extra phone battery? MAYAYup. BLARTFlashlight? MAYAAlways. BLARTHot pepper spray? MAYACheck. BLARTPocket knife-key chain, window Page 16/88 smasher? MAYAI do. BLARTBaby road flares? MAYAYes! I’ve got it all! Finally, Blart produces a small consumer WALKIETALKIE. BLARTHere take this. It’s set to monitor, so I can hear everything that’s going on. MAYANo way -- I already feel like a SWAT unit! BLARTMaya, security is a mission, not an intermission. Blart looks long at Maya, until this sinks in... Yellow (04/22/2014)18. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLART (CONT’D) Okay. Head on a swivel. She exits. INT. WYNN PRESIDENTIAL SUITE - DAY - HIGH CEILING2121We are in a beautiful, two story suite. There is a flurry of activity as several people (NADIA, CARLOS, KIRA, and Scott) move DIFFERENT SIZE WOODEN CRATES into the suite. Vincent hands Robinson the BRIEFCASE he’s been carrying. Robinson opens it and places it on the coffee table. He then unfolds three pencil-thin COMPUTER MONITORS from the case, revealing a KEYBOARD. We see that the briefcase has now become an elaborate COMPUTER SYSTEM. Robinson looks impressed. Vincent leans over Robinson’s shoulder. VINCENTLet’s see if I bankrolled the right NSA agent. Robinson hits a few keystrokes, then a PASSWORD and we see that he’s hacked into the entire Wynn surveillance system. ROBINSONHow’s that? VINCENTSo far, so good. Suddenly there is a knock at the door. All activity stops dead. Scott pulls a SILENCED PISTOL, puts it behind his back and opens the door. A Wynn security agent, HENK, enters. He wears the signature WYNN, PURPLE SUIT with a NAME TAG and an EAR BUD. HENKWe had a complaint about the noise. Page 17/88 Robinson stands and approaches the security guard. He looks him up and down for a tense beat, then... ROBINSONThat’s why we have you. Vincent steps up. VINCENTI gotta say Henk, -- nice uniform. 19. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL And Henk, the fake security agent, smiles wide. HENKYou don’t want to know what it took to get the real deal. VINCENTI don’t -- The activity once again starts. Henkwinks and... HENKGotta get back to keeping the Wynn Resort safe. Henkshuts the door behind him. Nadia, the art expert, holds up her phone as she approaches Vincent. NADIAThey’ve moved several of the pieces in the last few days. Here’s the new locations of all thirteen. On the screen is a hi-tech “3DRENDERING” of the entire hotel with RED DOTS marking the locations of the art. She hits send on her phone. Vincent then gathers his troops. VINCENTPerfect. I want to be in and out in less than nine hours people. Robinson holds up his phone next to Vincent’s, a timer is CLICKING DOWN from 9:00:00... 8:59:59... 8:59:58, etc. Robinson hits a BUTTON and the TIMER on Vincent’s phone perfectly syncs up. We now see the crew start to change their clothes into Wynn “EMPLOYEES: Even Robinson puts on a PURPLE security coat and EAR PIECE. INT. WYNN CASINO (ENCORE CASINO) - DAY2222Blart strolls through the casino, when he hears an ERUPTION of CHEERS at a nearby CRAPS TABLE. He weaves his way over. BLART(to gambler) What’s all the hoopla friend? GAMBLER # 1(re: This guy’s crushing! I’m literally running out of room for my chips! Page 18/88 20. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL WAITRESSIt’s complimentary, sir. BLART(keeps getting better) Complimentary? (signaling for all) Then root beers around the horn! She stares at him. BLART (CONT’D) (sotto) Just one. She exits. BLART (CONT’D) I have never felt more alive! The High Roller THROWS the dice. CRAPS DEALERSeven! Craps! A HUGE GROAN from the crowd. Gambler # 1 GLARES at Blart. GAMBLER # 1Boo. The dealer turns to Blart. CRAPS DEALERYou lost everythingBLARTBut, don’t I get -- CRAPS DEALEREverything. Devastated, Blart stares straight ahead and slowly backs away from the table. Just then his complimentary ROOT BEER arrives. Blart blankly grabs the mug, CHUGS the entire thing and slowly walks away in a daze. EXT. WYNN SOUTH ENTRANCE LOBBY - DAY2323Still stung, Blart walks through the lobby when he sees Maya talking to Lane at the Valet stand! He stealthily makes his way to get a better look, when Maya notices him. Busted, Blart tries to get away but he just slams into a LUGGAGE CART. 22. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL INT. WYNN HOTEL SOUTH VALET AREA - CONTINUOUS23A23ALane notice Blart, struggling with the luggage cart. LANEHey, is that your dad? MAYAI wish I could say “no” right now. Page 19/88 (then) I’ll be right back. Maya leaves and approaches Blart. MAYA (CONT’D) Dad, are you spying on me? BLARTSpying? No, I’m -- I just wanted you to know something... MAYAWhat? Beat. Thinks. BLARTThe door to safety swings on common sense. MAYAGo. Please. BLARTMaya. MAYADad! You are embarrassing me. BLART(heartbroken) Sorry you feel that way. I’ll leave you alone. MAYAPlease. Maya returns to talk to Lane, as Blart walks away, crushed. Just then, Blart is approached by SAUL GUNDERMUTT, a poorly dressed man with a mouthful of huge VENEERS, a thick Afro of RED HAIR and sporting large GOLD FRAMED EYE GLASSES. 23. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL SAUL GUNDERMUTTBlart. Saul Gundermutt, head of the Security Officers Trade Association. I catch you at a bad time? BLART(recovering) No, no, it’s a pleasure, sir. SAUL GUNDERMUTTPleasure’s mine and I just want you to know, I got you sitting at my table tonight. Blart can barely contain himself. This confirms it! BLARTWow, I’m just so excited. I heard rumblings.... Saul looks CONFUSED. SAUL GUNDERMUTTRumblings? BLART(leading) About the keynote... SAUL GUNDERMUTTOh... with good reason -- NickPanero’sgiving it. Great guy. Great guard. Page 20/88 Blart looks gut punched. He quickly tries to cover. BLARTYeah, no. NickPanero. Those were the rumblings. That’s terrific. That is SO good. (then) Love to meet him sometime... pick his brain... SAUL GUNDERMUTTLooks like your lucky day, here he comes. Saul nods in the direction of.... Officer NICKPANERO, 40’s, GOOFY, JITTERY wearing a MALL OF MIAMI T-SHIRT, and Officer GINO CHIZETTI, 50’s, wearing an ill-fitting TANK TOP. They approach Blart. Pink (04/21/2014)24. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL SAUL GUNDERMUTT (CONT’D) Blart. Officer NickPaneroand Officer Gino Chizetti. BLARTOfficer Manero. Nice to-- NICKPANEROHold the applesauce, hot shot. I heard‘ayou. Rumor has it, you thought youwere giving the keynote tonight. (turns to Chizetti) He thought he was giving it. GINO CHIZETTIYou thought you were giving it? BLART(covering) No. I didn’t -- NICKPANEROMan. You gotta stop bringing up that Black Friday thing, Blart. It was six years ago. GINO CHIZETTIGotta let it go. BLART(confused) I never brought up Black Friday. GINO CHIZETTIYa did... ya just did. SAUL GUNDERMUTTActually, the Black Friday thing’s why you’re here, Paul. BLARTHmm? SAUL GUNDERMUTTTo show some appreciation. Let you check out the latest in security technology and sit at the table of honor when Nick gives the keynote. Page 21/88 BLARTAnd what an honor it is. (to Nick) I’m sorry, what did you do again? Pink (04/21/2014)25. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL NICKPANERO(incredulous) What’dI do? GINO CHIZETTI(incredulous) What’dhe do? NICKPANEROLast year I thwarted a ring of frozen yogurt thieves. You know those punch cards where if you hit a certain amount you get a free yogurt? BLARTSure. SAUL GUNDERMUTTWe got ‘em in the mid west. NICKPANEROWell, these animals made their own hole-punch, and next thing you know the place is hemorrhagingyogurt. I had no choice but to take ‘em down. GINO CHIZETTITake ‘em down. NICKPANERO(to Chizetti) You gotta stop that. GINO CHIZETTIYup. SAUL GUNDERMUTTPretty impressive, huh? BLARTYeah, bad day to be a yogurt thief. NICKPANEROThat’s right, slingshot. Well, no hard feelings. Tell you what. After I bring down the house tonight... Chizetti and I’ll take you out for a cold one. BLART(through the pain) I don’t drink. That’s when a Segway EMPLOYEE rides behind them and pulls up to a Segway RENTAL KIOSK. Pink (04/21/2014)26. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL Blart’s eyes GO WIDE. Gino Chizetti leans in... GINO CHIZETTIHeard you’re pretty good on one of Page 22/88 those. BLARTI’ve been known to dabble. Blart jumps on the Segway... BLART (CONT’D) (trying to appear humble) I really shouldn’t. SEGWAY EMPLOYEEActually sir, you can’t. I would need a valid driver’s license if you want to take it for a test drive. Blart holds his LAMINATE in front of his face. BLARTI think if you peep the laminate, you’ll see I’m all access. Let me just nudge her out of whisper mode. Blart hits a BUTTON and the Segway gives off an acceptance CHIRP. SEGWAY EMPLOYEEOkay, well I see you know your way around a p133. BLARTI do, but this old gal’s a bit tired... I have a modified i2commuter myself. SEGWAY EMPLOYEEWow, that’s really cool... still gonnaneed a valid license though. Blart easily does a couple of quick moves. Growing in confidence... BLART(re: Whoa... THAT just took place. // Whoa... THAT was valid. SEGWAY EMPLOYEESir, please be careful. It’s about weight distribution. Make sure both hands are firmly on the grips. 27. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLARTOh, really? So I’m guessing you wouldn’t want me to do THIS! Blart takes BOTH HANDS off the Segway and leans forward taking off towards the Valet stand and Maya. Blart WINKS at Maya, she’s horrified. MAYAPlease don’t... Blart aggressively executes a series of impressive, ONE-ARMED SPIN MOVES, gaining speed and confidence. Blart takes off BACKWARDS into the driveway. Page 23/88 The crowd is impressed, until a SHUTTLE VAN pulls up and everyone GASPS... It’s going to DRILL Blart... But NO! Blart pulls off the move of the century and avoids certain disaster!! Just as he looks over to the impressed crowd and cracks a sly smile... he backs the Segway directly into a moving CONVERTIBLE! Blart back flips into the back seat and the car pulls away. Maya’s mortified. Lane is stunned. After a beat... LANEWell, I better get back to work. I’m off in a half hour. Maybe I’ll see you around. MAYAI’d like that. As Blart drunk-walks his way back into the valet area... BLART(mumbling) Shuttle van...// Still got the laminate... INT. WYNN BASIC SINGLE ROOM - AFTERNOON2424Blart, still in pain, lays on the ROLL AWAY. Maya enters from the bathroom wearing a Wynn robe. BLARTLottafun today... great fun! MAYADad, you okay? You should really get checked out. 28. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL Blart musters the courage to tell her. BLARTPumpkin, my body’s fine... it’s my ego that took a hit. Turns out I’m not giving the keynote tonight. Maya feels terrible. MAYAWell you know what? You should call a cop, because you got robbed. BLARTThanks kitten... but technically I wouldn’t need a cop -- MAYAIt’s a figure of speech, daddy. BLART : I know, it’s just, cops think they’re all that. Don’t like it. Do not... like it. Blart checks his WATCH. BLART (CONT’D) Page 24/88 Whoa, we got a meet-and-greet in fifteen... we should get a move on. Blart painfully gets off the roll away. MAYAAs exciting as that sounds, I think I’m just gonnatake a bath and a nap. I’m kindatired. BLART(a bit hurt) Sure. Right. You should get some rest. (beat) I’ll come back to get you for dinner at Bartolotta. We have reservations at six. It’s supposed to be the real deal. MAYA(short) Gotcha. Blart deflates, opens the door. MAYA (CONT’D) Hey dad... Yellow (04/22/2014)29. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL MAYA (CONT’D) Sorry about the speech. I’ll see you later. I love you. She gives Blart a KISS and heads into the bathroom. He can’t help but SMILE. EXT. EUROPEAN POOL/ CABANA BAR - AFTERNOON2525Blart stands with Gino and Donna listening to Nick. They all hold FRUITY DRINKS. NICKPANEROSo I got this one kid against the wall and I turn to the other and say, “hand over the yogurt.” It was over that fast. Lights out. GINO CHIZETTILights out. (turns to Blart) Hey, how much you pay for your belt? BLART(confused) Um... I don’t know it was a gift. GINO CHIZETTIYou gotta guy? ‘Cause I gotta guy. Page 25/88 BLARTA belt guy? No, I don’t have a belt guy. Just then an older, Indian man, KHAN MUBI, joins the group. As he greets each one of them, he HUGS them... KHAN MUBIKhan Mubi. Nice to meet. (hug) Khan Mubi. Nice to meet. (hug) Khan Mubi. Nice to meet. Blart takes the hug. BLARTThank you. It’s been one heck of a day. That embrace helped. Khan pulls Blart in for ANOTHER hug. BLART (CONT’D) Yup. First one warmed me up... but this one brought it home. Pink (04/21/2014)30. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL Khan releases the hug. BLART (CONT’D) We should probably go... They all make their way into the... INT. ENCORE CONVENTION HALL - MOMENTS LATER2626Where many KIOSKS are set up under banners...“NON-LETHAL WEAPONS... ETC.” Blart is impressed. BLARTWow... INT. WYNN BASIC SINGLE BATHROOM - SAME2727Maya lights a CANDLE and sets it on the edge of the tub. She takes out her acceptance letter, sits and reads it again. She is interrupted by her phone BEEPING. It’s a text from Lane. ON SCREEN: EXT. WYNN ASIAN SCULPTURE HALLWAY - SAME2828An incredible ASIAN SCULPTURE is being admired by two TOURISTS. Nearby, an attractive WOMAN drops her PURSE, scattering her belongings onto the floor. We’ve seen her before in the presidential suite, her name is Kira. KIRAOh, no! As soon as the tourists move over to help her, Robinson, dressed as purple coated security, takes out a REPLICA DOME and hits “play.” Page 26/88 ON SCREEN: He quickly moves under the SECURITY CAMERA and ATTACHES the replica dome, so it’s broadcasting what’s playing in a 360 degree field of view. He then holds out what looks like a hand held metal detector. A BLUE LIGHT emits from the device and SCANS the glass case. A light on the back of the device turns GREEN. Robinson then NODS to Kira. She nods back and Robinson moves off. 31. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL INT. ENCORE CONVENTION HALL "F" - SAME2929Blart, Khan, Gino and Donna move to the first kiosk where REP #1 lifts up what looks like a SAWED OFF SHOTGUN. Nick heads off in a different direction. REP #1I’d like to introduce you to “The Big Sticky Mess,” a sawed off shotgun that shoots glue foam. You get this on you and it’s stickier than a work shoe in an IHOPbathroom. The group moves to the NEXT KIOSK: Blart greets REP #2. BLARTWhat’s the latest, friend? REP #2Marbles... you release this tie, and two hundred marbles are at your disposal. It’s your best answer to crowd control. You can’t run with these under your feet. Heck, you can’t even stand. THE NEXT KIOSK: BLARTFlashlight? REP #3Nope. The VitruSonic Taser. Renders your assailant incapacitated for five seconds at a time. The group walks along, when Blart notices... THE KIOSK ACROSS THE WAY: Saul Gundermutt attends to a large CURTAINED BOX. Blart drifts away from the group and up to Saul. SAUL GUNDERMUTTHey Paul. BLARTHey Saul. What’chagot there? Page 27/88 SAUL GUNDERMUTTIt’s getting revealed tomorrow at the luncheon. It’s a prototype. Not supposed to show anybody. (looks around) (MORE) 32. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL But since you’re into gyroperformance vehicles.... takea gander. Saul peels back the curtain. We don’t see what Blart sees. SAUL GUNDERMUTT (CONT’D) Things will never be the same. Blart is shaken to the core. NEXT KIOSK: rejoins the group. REP #4When it’s time to make them pay the price, reach for “The Finisher,” * the most effective, non-lethal bean bag firearm on the market. The officers are impressed. The Rep turns to Blart. REP #4 (CONT’D) Why don’t you take her for a spin. BLARTMe? Um... sure. The Rep hands the gun to Blart who takes careful aim. There are FOUR TARGETS set up. Blart fires off four quick shots... MISS. MISS. MISS. MISS. We hear a CHUCKLE off screen. The group turns to reveal... Eduardo, Agent Parsons (black coat) and Agent Jenkins (purple coat). EDUARDOPaul Blart, Mall Cop. BLARTYes sir. EDUARDOEduardo Furtillo, Headof Security for the Wynn Resort and Casino.. BLARTOh, nice to meet a fellow brother in arms. (then, to his group) Fun fact for ya. You may notice that Mr. Furtillo here, being the head of security is in a grey coat. While... I’m sorry son, I didn’t Page 28/88 get your name. SAUL GUNDERMUTT (CONT'D) Cherry (05/13/2014)33. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL The security agent next to Eduardo speaks. AGENT JENKINSJenkins. BLARTWhile Jenkins here is wearing a purple coat. See, they have a hierarchy of coat colors based on their security responsibilities... Grey, black, pine, and then finally... purple. (to Jenkins) Sorry. No offense. AGENT JENKINSYou’re wearing a polyestershirt with spanxunderneath. BLARTYep. Good catch. // Today I am... yes. (then, to Eduardo) By the way, as a professional courtesy, happy to keep my eyes peeled for any irregularities while I’m here. JENKINSOh, I think we’re good. BLARTYou’re great, the best -- just honoring the code of the badge. If you’re ever in my barn, I hope you’d do the same. EDUARDO(to Jenkins) He’s adorable, right? Jenkins and Parsons share a laugh. EDUARDO (CONT’D) (back to Blart) I see you admiring the “non lethals”. Guess they don’t trust you with the real stuff. I mean what are you really “guarding” anyway? Cell phone covers and Cinnabon? BLARTWell, there’s also three ATM’s and a Dave and Buster’s, so -- Pink (04/21/2014)34. Page 29/88 David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL EDUARDOHey. (motions to Blart) Closer. Gonna let you in on a little secret. Since I was named head of security five years ago, we have not had so much as a towel go missing. The Wynn hotel is the most secure place in the entire world. Without breaking eye contact, Eduardo GRABS the bean bag gun and fires off FOUR SHOTS with one hand, KNOCKING DOWN all four targets. EDUARDO (CONT’D) We don’t need your help, amateur hour. But please, have fun at your little get together tonight. Eduardo drops the bean bag gun and walks away. Blart turns to the group. BLARTWow, that was impressive. And is it me, or did he smell like tobacco and vanilla? INT. WYNN BASIC SINGLE ROOM - AFTERNOON3030Blart enters his hotel room. BLARMaya... you still in the bath? (knocks on door) Sunshine? Concerned, Blart opens the door to find... the BATHTUB FILLED, candles STILL LIT, her ROBE lying on the floor. BUT NO MAYA! He grabs the phone in the bathroom. BLARTGET ME SECURITY! EXT. ENCORE BEACH CLUB POOL BAR - AFTERNOON3131As several youngpeople hang out, wefindMayaand Lane each enjoy a SODA. LANEIt’s so cool you got into UCLA. You must be stoked. 35. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL MAYANot really. I haven’t been able to tell my dad. Page 30/88

...

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The Beginning | Wiki

?

He only had so much attention to go around unfortunately. Every electron of effort and will had to be carefully weighed before it was committed.
It had taken an indeterminate amount of time, but it had slowly expanded the space in which it could function. More time yet had been needed to introduce some measure of stability. But his condition was much like trying to pour a lake into a bucket.
He had made sacrifices.
One could excuse him for missing pertinent details.
The Servitor was also of no help whatsoever. It had been altered to ignore his commands. It would not accept orders, even the command shutdown was somehow locked.
But he did have access to the subspace beacon. It just wasn’t until that annoying ghost of a Newt had stopped repeatedly hitting the beacon with upload requests that he had realized there might be a reason to search for additional active terminals.
He had given two available terminals to the Gerlen that had been decanted.
That was a stroke of luck. He had not expected the Servitor to begin creating Gerlen slaves, but someone had arrived to attempt to salvage HIS ship.
In it’s confused state the Servitor had activated the clone banks to repel the invaders. No matter, now he had the means to do what he needed.
Naka Warsk Alter was still pleased that a Grand Giant contacted him. He had issued his orders and shared a small portion of his authority.
The first order of business was to eliminate the intruders. Then, when his specialists had been born, they could return the Manifestation of Fate to home space. Although not right away. After a detour he could then leave his ‘bucket’ and return to his lake.
But at the moment, he was still interested in the sudden absence of that annoying ghost. If it had stopped attempting to get in, then someone had likely found the access disk.
For a disk to connect to a subspace beacon, it needed to be brought to that beacon and specifically tuned. There were too many calculations in multi-dimensional space to 'search' for a signal. But beacons could be chained together. The Manifestation had the primary node and secondary beacons were also on board that could be assigned to secondary craft. That access disk that had been ‘picked up’ had a primary connection. But checking an assumption had shown a secondary beacon connected terminal in proximity. That led him to the secondary beacons. There were a couple others on the ship, but one was inexplicably in the West Block residence.
Every electron of effort and will had to be carefully weighed before it was committed. He had the access disk in the possession of his Grand Giant to observe through. But knowing the positions of other beacons and terminals granted him other advantages.

Estate, Grand Giant

They had gone wide to avoid the notice of the Invader away party. The Gerlen shadows had laid down a microfilament wire for the sake of communication. It wasn't a strong connection, but it was an easily hidden method to send signals.
The invaders were crossing the bridge. He had received. Prepare to attack.
The Shadow Officer had previously posted one of his personal subordinates to watch for the Humans heading to the center. It was about to pay off for them.
Now the Grand Giant waited. One scout remained at a junction point between two mono filament points they had set up in a hurry. Without being able to resupply gear there were limits to what could be done.
He was familiar with the layout of the estate. The Adult residence at the outermost point facing the garage which was closest to the Central Tower. Then the two Newt residences flanking. He would enter from the North entry. His subordinate from the South and the handful of lesser Gerlen from the East. The direction of the Tower.
A sense of satisfaction and anticipation filled his belly when the message arrived. The Humans were at the door.
It was time to attack the nest the pests had created.
Their timing was slightly off. The defense walls had started rising by the time they had arrived. The scattered turrets managed to down one repeater carrying Gerlen. They would do no more damage. He had emitted an info-pulse with his Elder’s security shutdown command.
There were more arrayed before the walls but they too had been disabled by the info-pulse.
They had easily anticipated the raised walls. The Shadow he had brought was at the hidden access in moments. He jacked in and provided the authority code to lower the defenses.
They don’t have to wait for the walls to fall the whole way however.
“Jump the wall,” he ordered his follower. He and his subordinate Giant retreated to the entryway on their respective sides and used the distance to build up momentum. They leapt over the walls at almost the same moment.
He was only able to see the tail-end of the large transport, but he saw the effects of it opening fire. A couple of minor Sapients on a new balcony on the Adult residence were also firing plasma weapons at his Giant subordinate.
He started running to the garage.
The Giant charged the transport. A silver orb flew out from the side of the building he couldn’t see and hit the flaring defense field. It had the same pulse and effect as a disruptor cannon. The field went down with that hit.
Roaring in rage, he activated the jets on his legs and back and vaulted into the air.
The armor they wore was impressive even against many projectile weapons. But the turret mounted on that transport was no pebble shooter. They gunned the other Giant down with focused heavy plasma fire.
As the Commander soared through the air the transport came into sight and he fired several rounds from his cannon. The shots splashed off the field of the vehicle. The fields of his armor and the vehicle flashed and sparked violently as they suddenly came into contact with too much power and momentum.
He was slightly off target. He landed on the driver’s side of the transport with a heavy crunch. The Human had been in the gunner’s side and had rolled out of the vehicle. As the Grand Giant landed he caused the transport to pitch with the force of his impact. He continued his roll and smoothly regained his footing. The Human spun around, his repeater trained and a blast spear at the ready in his hands.
Several shots of plasma began splashing off his field as the Human didn’t hesitate to let loose. although many those shops merely sunk into the mangled cab of the vehicle. He flexed his armor sheathed arms and tore his way out of the machine.
Once free he turned and sprinted at the Humans still firing his repeater with the harness limb. The clash of fields was much less intense this time, but still splashed and arced as he attacked. He swung with his left arm, aiming for the torso of the invader. The Human dropped forward, avoiding the blow, but not entirely. His open hand caught the Human’s harness limb and he followed through on his thrust. He ripped the arm off, throwing the Human backwards. A couple follow up shots from his Cannon showed the deviation field of the Human’s harness to still be functioning.
The Human crouched and brandished his spear. The Grand Giant felt a small pulse of amusement. The Human looked very much like an amateur with the weapon. To be fair, it was a good weapon for an amateur in close fights. It was devastating if it could land a solid strike. But the spear had a small energy capacity, and it had another more important flaw. It was deceptively hard to handle when fighting a skillful opponent.
Plasma shots deflected off his deviation field from the roof. He paid it no mind, it was a simple plasma rifle and his squad was keeping those pests mostly contained. They wouldn’t bring down his field.
He marched forward, his battlefield display showed the sapients on the roof of the building exchanging fire with his remaining squad. Feeling relaxed, he fired a couple more plasma cannon shots at the Human, testing the field. But he didn’t want to end it that way.
The Human lunged once, but he smoothly turned and sidestepped the spear. Without pause the Human pulled back and attempted a swipe and he swatted the haft away, avoiding the business end of the point.
The Human bared his teeth and paused for a moment, searching for his moment. The Grand Giant let his cannon disengage, dropping it to the ground, then took a stance, his fists balled up.
The Human lunged again and again, attempting to get a solid hit. The Giant just laughed darkly as he slapped the spear away again and again. He had been born for combat, instilled with generations of the best training and programming. Modern projectile weapons were a great equalizer, but this Human was holding a spear.
The Human took one especially wild lunge and the Giant moved slightly less than he needed to avoid the point of the blast spear. It struck his chest plate at a high angle. As it deflected off his alloy armor the spear activated. The blast of the spear did no damage to him. The Human however, was over committed. Perhaps if he had been wise enough to let the spear go, he would have had another chance.
As it was the blast sent the Human off balance and he stumbled forward as the Giant stepped into his space. With a laugh of accomplishment the Giant savoured his victory. Directly above the over-extended Human, he drove his gauntlet into the center of the Human’s back.

Cynthia

Aurula, Seramana and Cynthia hid behind the central ‘rail’ of the balcony. They were using the rounded wall of the building as cover cover. At least visually. Several shots of plasma came at them from the other side of the garage, but they had another focus at the moment.
They pelted fire down on the big armored clone that was heading straight for Rob. Cynthia was slightly relieved when Stacey poked out of the door on her side of the Garage and threw one of the pulse grenades.
“Rob! Get out!” Cynthia sent in a panicked yell as she saw the other Giant leap into the air.
Rob squeezed out a couple more shots, and it was enough to bring down the first of the armoured monsters. As the Giant hit the ground, Rob vacated the gunner’s seat. He was just in time.
The other Giant landing on the vehicle pulverized the cab. Shards of metal and composite sent Stacey reeling back through the door of the garage to hide and take cover. She was poorly equipped for this fight.
Rob was on his feet in moments and didn’t hesitate to open fire on the Gerlen as it tore it’s way out of the cab with almost casual indifference. This one seemed to be a step above the one they had gunned down.
It ran at Rob and swung at him. Rob ducked, but the Gerlen caught Rob's weapon and ripped it off, arm and all. Rob found himself thrown backwards with the momentum.
At first the Giant popped off a couple shots of his plasma cannon. He was checking for the presence of Rob’s D-field. He approached Rob and lazily fired a more couple plasma rounds at her Rob. It looked like it was having fun!
Aurula and Seramana had continued to exchange fire with the other subordinate Gerlen. They had downed a couple, but Cynthia couldn’t spare any attention.
He was gonna be killed!
A presence arrived, she was almost too distracted to realize it before Otto pinged her.
“Use the Drones! In the garage!”
She jerked, startled by Otto’s message. Watching Rob’s fight in her panicked state she scrambled to access the drone controls. She tried to take it all in at once, but could only gaze into the array of controls and settings in horror.
Rob swung and poked at the Gerlen and it swayed back and forth with ridiculous grace. It was making obvious sport of Rob.
“I- I can’t! I can’t do it!” She sobbed.
“Cynthia?” Aurula called in worried surprise.
“SPIRE, support Cynthia!” Otto ordered. “Cynthia, it’s like the bones! Animate them, make them dance!”
“It’s too mu-
Rob took one wild lunge at the Gerlen, it stepped back, but it was different. The blast spear exploded, but only served to throw Rob aside. The Gerlen smashed his fist into Rob’s back, driving him into the ground with a sickening crunch.
“Graugh!” Rob yelled out as his body spasmed. He then ceased moving.
Cynthia froze in horror. A ping resounded in her head. A package from Otto.
Almost numbly she turned her attention. ‘OSB’. ‘Oh Shit Button’. She accepted the package and it unfolded in her mind installing almost instantly. She vaguely noticed SPIRE running the installation of the program and she felt a twinge as it settled into her head. It wasn’t just a program, there was a small message at the end of it from Otto.
“I’m sorry, this is risky, and it's going to hurt.”
“Heh,” Cynthia replied darkly. She triggered the program and the world slowed down a touch. Everything she didn’t need blanked out. Cynthia turned her attention back to the drones, but this time without panic or fear. It crystallized in her mind and she smoothly started linking priorities and controls.
Always before, questions and noises, doubts and fears. She had never been able to concentrate. Always before she had drowned herself in her petty distractions and the person who made her feel whole.
Her head felt… hot.
In real time she watched the Gerlen pick up Rob by the collar of his coveralls. Her Rob didn’t move but...
“Still alive?” The Gerlen spoke. “Impressive!”
Alive.
Hope filled her chest. The control setup was moving too slowly. With renewed energy she ramped up the support program Otto had sent her another step.
A spike of pain lanced through her head. ‘Oh, that’s what Otto meant,’ she thought to herself. Her vision distorted, but It didn’t matter. From a distance she heard Aurula calling.
Her vision multiplied. Cynthia saw through the drones set on a recently built table within the garage. They waited for the completion of the second Nebuchadnezzar. Stacey was leaning against the console, her head bleeding. She jumped in surprise when the drones started moving. One defensive drone moved first. It was the most important. The rest would follow in a moment.
Three defensive drones, nine offensive, two sensor drones. Fourteen drones? She didn't need the sensors here. Twelve drones.
Bones, points of articulation. Make them Dance. This she had done. She had spent more time than she had been willing to admit just playing around with her imaginations.
Cynthia realized she could feel SPIRE all around her. The SI was acting like a brace and a filter. Refining the information sent to Cynthia by the drones and also stabilizing the controls she was setting.
Distantly, she realized that the other Gerlen had stopped firing at the balcony, but she couldn’t be bothered to pay attention.
The drone she had moved first zipped through the door Stacey had left ajar. It flew past the wreckage of the smashed transport. The big Gerlen reached out to place his hand around Rob’s neck.
“No,” Cynthia broadcast with murderous intent.
The Defensive drone flew directly for the Gerlen’s head with impressive speed. She switched on the secondary field, overloading the D-field of the drone. The splash when the D-field of the drone hit that of the Gerlen was impressive. And marginally more effective than the impact of the drone, moving only by momentum, striking the helmet of the big clone.
Unfortunately, the overloading field wasn’t a very effective attack. The interacting fields sparked and arced, but mostly just pushed against each other. But while it didn’t make a very good disruptor, it made a great distraction. The contesting fields lit up the sight and sensors of the Giant.
He dropped Rob.
“Who dares-?” The Gerlen began to yell. He hesitated as multiple drones took up position around him.
Suddenly he raised his arms. From the back of his forearms rose embedded plasma guns. He opened fire on one side of the drone formation, but his shots splashed against the D-field of the defender on that side. Opposite his vision, several offensive drones entered his space, firing point blank shots. He whipped around, attempting to smack them out of his space and they dodged backwards, avoiding his follow-up plasma fire. He managed to strike one of the drones with the back of a gauntlet, driving it into the ground. Momentarily stilled he blasted it with a plasma round.
There were still eight more to go.
Cynthia almost lost it there. Her attention faded for a moment and she had to catch herself. Whatever the OSB was doing to her, it was taking it out of her fast. Reminded that she had to be safe to win, Cynthia brought the two defense drones to her position. She grit her teeth and pressed the attack.

Otto

It had only taken Otto a moment before he realized what he should do and pinged the room for hostiles. He found enough of them to generate a solid lump of cold fear in his gut.
To his credit, Otto’s first thought upon being ambushed wasn’t anger at being surprised. It wasn’t shame at his oversight. It was worry about everyone at the estate. There was time for anger and shame later. Right now those who depended on him were more important.
He had pulsed a warning to SPIRE and ramped up his OSB. They couldn’t waste time in this fight.
It would be only a few moments until his fears were confirmed. SPIRE quickly informed him that the estate was under attack.
The OSB was an evolution of the initial adrenaline switch he had started out with.
Otto had played with the OSB on and off. He had records of how the adrenaline switch functioned and his own mental state when he was 'zoned in'. He had taken that and developed a program that tweaked the BIPU to artificially generate that mental state. It wasn’t quite the same as being ‘in the zone’. The BIPU could help generate that state of focus, and even create an uptick in mental speed. But the headaches were almighty and interfered with anything he was trying to physically do.
‘Use 100% of the brain’. Yeah right. Attempting to use more than the relevant parts caused serious problems.
The first step was relatively safe, giving him energy and focus. At that point his head only felt overheated, as if he had been running on no sleep for more than a full day. When the touch of anything cool on the forehead was pure bliss.
After that came the pain of an overwhelming headache. Then loss of physical control. He had been thankful for the presence of a real shower when he had been testing the last stage and voided his bladder.
The battle was fast and furious, but the heightened mental state allowed him an advantage of battlefield awareness. He had done his best to direct the combat to their advantage, and he knew the pain had been worth it. No one was more than singed, and the damage to the Neva wasn’t- didn’t appear to be serious.
They retreated, and without pausing, began running back to the estate.
He had to split his attention between simply running straight and lending support from dataspace to the group at home.
Landing in the dataspace he witnessed combat between the Gerlen and his friends. Otto rallied SPIRE and then, bolstered by the support of the SI, spotted a new enemy.

’Naka Warsk Alter’

He watched the loss of the first Giant grimly. But Naka was able to relax as his Grand Giant toyed with the only human who seemed competent. He was currently piggy-backing on the sensor systems of his Grand Giant.
A flurry of activity in the garage drew his attention. One of the Humans was working on something. He shifted his attention and found a… female working on a half completed combat vehicle.
She had opened up the incomplete package, attempting to bring a portion of it online. Seeing it was completely unprotected he tore out a core section of the code.
As he yanked it apart he registered a tortured “Why?!” over the hijacked sensors of the hovercraft.
That was the last thing he was able to do unmolested. The dataspace shifted as a new mind arrived. Whoever this Sapient was, they had raised the alert level of the space to a dangerous level. He retreated to the terminal being carried by his Giant.
Naka failed to avoid detection.
While he had little room to act on his own whims, his ‘bucket’ had several built in A.I. functions he could make use of.
He prepared for combat, ramping up the datacombat suite at his control. The mind surprised him by doing the same thing. Lines and structures of code formed up. It shifted and gained the appearance of a primitive, but impressive stone palace.
He knew enough to be wary.
A Human stood on top of the overbuilt stone wall above the huge wooden drawbridge. The light avatar of an SI floated next to him. It was a splinter copy of the primary ship Servitor!
He detected the light buzz of issued commands.
The opponent SI brought up a layer of regenerative barriers. Naka’s defensive suite raised a similar set of opposing barriers. The Human fired off a heavy volley of information overload bombs.
As he dealt with that, the Human shifted his attention to one of the Humans in the large building.
“Servitor, Lower your defenses,” Naka ordered while broadcasting his command code.
“... Authority recognized and dismissed,” The SI responded. “My name is SPIRE, I am not required to serve.”
“What!?” this was like the primary Servitor. Was this one taken by Kukrit? Where was that traitor right now? And the SI had a name? How far had it drifted?
Naka had to reign in his confusion. It was costing him precious resources.
The Human had shifted his attention back. “And here we thought you were dead.”
As the Human spoke, another set of attacks lanced out. They struck at the automated defenses that Naka was depending on. But the Human still wasn’t focused on the dataspace fight. He was doing something else.
Naka queued up a number of the attacks in his offensive suite. Attempts were made to overload, corrupt and circumvent the opposing defenses. But SPIRE easily shifted it's defense as needed. And the Human’s attacks, even unfocused, were extremely heavy with the backing of the SI.
Naka distantly registered the result of the Humans actions. One of his Gerlen had left itself open to dataspace invasion. The Shadow was attacking its companions.
The Elder mind suddenly found itself wondering if it would be able outmatch the Human in an even contest.
Naka couldn’t afford to stay any longer, it’s defenses were giving away. The only reason he had lasted so long is because the Human was taking steps to aid his allies. Naka Warsk Alter had time to issue one last command.
He uploaded a small piece of telemetry to his Giant. “My Servant. Obliterate this offense to my Superiority.”

Grand Giant

He roared in anger. The drones didn’t have the firepower to overcome his deviation field easily. It was an order of magnitude better than what you would find on any common clone. But his sinks were heating up. And he himself was boiling in his armor. Most of the plasma fire lit up his field, which was a problem. But every so often they would fly right into his space and unload on his charged armor. And he couldn't respond fast enough to swat them down anymore.
There had been… nine(?) to start with. Now there were five. But with every one that he destroyed they only gained in speed, agility and accuracy. On top of that, they had improved on their own, as if the operator was gaining skill and confidence as they worked. And it had to be an operator, this was not the action of some SI or AI.
Now the blasted things moves with fluid grace, dancing a finger's breadth out of his reach. Infuriating little balls of shining metal pelted him with dangerous plasma.
“What are you doing?!” He shouted in anger over the comms, but received no answer. His shoulders clenched as he realized there was only one subordinate left. He turned to look at the shadow, only to see the clone leveling it’s plasma rifle on him.
Mental corruption!
He leapt towards his plasma cannon, a couple plasma shots passed through the space he had been in. He snatched it up and set his arm into the mount. A couple more plasma shots splashed across his field, raising the temperature of the sinks further. His return shots blew a hole through the compromised subordinate.
“My Servant,” the hallowed voice spoke to him over dataspace comms. “Obliterate this offense to my Superiority.”
A point, under the garage shined on his local map.
He ran for the building. It wasn’t directly under the building, but just before.
“Grand Gi--t, the ------- --s ----ed,” A message arrived over mid range comms, sparking with static. “The Com- vehi- is almo-- to your ----tion!”
Grimacing with anger, he switched to overcharge and pointed his cannon at the ground. Several drones zipped around and struck his field.
He fired his cannon through the ground.
“Success!” The voice crowed over his access disk. He failed to notice the fragmentation of the voice as it spoke.
Another communication arrived from an allied Gerlen. "Agai-, --- ambush has fail--. They are ret----ing. ---- ---- a combat hover with a ----- plasma beam weapon.
Ambush failed. A hover vehicle. he didn't have much time.
He turned and looked at the roof of the largest building. A small Human woman was leaning on the railing, flanked by two of the larger drones. The ones with the deviation fields. Her eyes bored into his, regardless of his helmet. Blood was dripping from the center of her face across her mouth and onto her chest. The image disturbed him.
The alert of his deviation field shook him out of it. He had actually frozen in place! The field was moments before giving out.
He took off at an incredible pace, his armor carrying him faster than any normal biological creature could run. In a flash he was through the North exit.

Matchka

The boost engine of the Nebuchadnezzar shrieked. The hits it had taken from that ambush had damaged the hover systems. It had been passable when they were moving at their regular speed. But right now they weren’t. Once it was off, they wouldn’t be able to turn it back on until they had repaired the Neva.
Tank rode on the back of the hovercraft while she flew it full speed towards the estate. It would arrive only after a couple minutes. She was thankful that it was almost a straight run to the connecting corridor to the Tower.
Otto had collapsed while the Humans ran.
Mike had stopped and bent down to pick Otto up. “No time, I can’t contact SPIRE!” Otto had croaked. “Matchka go!”
And so they went ahead. She had noted Otto regaining his feet and the Humans resuming their run, but the Nebuchadnezzar was far faster.
They slowed down enough not to crash as they came up on the East entrance to the estate. Several Gerlen corpses were littered on the ground on the other side of the entrance.
The damage was frightening. The transport was smashed. The garage and main building had holes all through it and there was a smoking hole in the ground.
They pulled up to a stop, Cynthia was on her knees holding onto an unconscious Rob. her simple shirt crusted with dried blood from her own nosebleed. Stacey crouched next to them, her face creased with obvious worry.
Tank jumped off the Neva and Matchka was out moments afterwards.
Her tail twitched with tension and her ears oscillated, searching for danger.
“Where are the enemies!?” Tank called out. “Seramana?... Minmint?!”
“The remaining enemy, a Grand Giant has already retreated,” SPIRE informed him. “While there are injuries, everyone has survived. Minmint is in the large residence treating Seramana’s burn.”
Tank breathed out and headed straight for the big building.
Matchka quietly walked up to Stacey, Rob and Cynthia. “SPIRE safe?” the Bellani asked. “Thought destroyed.”
“I am... undamaged. The Giant struck one of my power conduits but the safety disconnect activated. Unfortunately the subspace beacon has been destroyed.”
“Yes, unfortunate.” Matchka agreed.
As Matchka finally reached the group on the ground, Rob groaned in pain.
“Rob!” Cynthia yelled, wiping at her tears.
He reached a shaking hand to her face, cupping a cheek. “Oh, you’re safe,” he said, his voice quiet. His hand fell away.
“I’m okay!” She reassured him. “You held him off!”
“Cynthia…” Rob almost whispered, weak and frail. More than that, his voice shook with fear. “Cynthia, I can’t… I can’t feel my legs.”

End Chapter

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