Doing it right...

[DinkyInky]

It's a variation on the Turk's Head . . . you need a considerable length of line and there aren't any sharp bends.

The bowline was a better choice.

--FreeFlier

Yes, especially if they're 작은 자지...which most guys like that usually are.

- is the Yiddish for 작은 자지 translate as 'Putz'?

What is Yiddish for small of stature in a selected location?

[Sgt. Howard]

"Putz" Yiddish noun- essentially means it barely qualifies as an erect member and might not be capable of delivering the payload due to... shortcomings...

[DinkyInky]

"Putz" Yiddish noun- essentially means it barely qualifies as an erect member and might not be capable of delivering the payload due to... shortcomings...

작은 자지 is a rather inappropriate Korean phrase denoting lack of size of certain...parts.

[jwhouk]

작은 자지 is a rather inappropriate Korean phrase denoting lack of size of certain...parts.

Which is obvious if you put it through Google Translate...

---

I knocked on the door to the apartment. "It's Badger," I said in the general direction of the peephole.

"Yeah, mushroom, hang on," came a female voice. The door opened – it was Lily. "Hey there. Trap's been sprung. And, best thing is, Tina's got her shop back open. Sort of."

"Sort of?" I stepped into the apartment.

"She's got Becky running the physical shop for her," Suzie explained as she got up from the couch – the only piece of furniture they had in the apartment. "Tina's running a cart at the Library for Paras. There's actually a little brigade of paras that are shielding the area around Mucho Mocha, a lot like what they're doing around Shel's dad's repair shop."

"So what's the chances I'm heading back to work anytime soon?" I asked.

"We have to get him to sign off on it, first," Billens stated. "Then, he actually has to go through with it. We might still want to have Suze shadow you for a few months, until we're sure things are clear."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think she was trying to move in on me," I said, looking at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Unfortunately, of the three of us I'm the youngest – so I get the dirty work." She stood next to Lily. "And Lily here is trying to pay more attention to what's going on at Club Alexander at the moment."

"You guys keep telling me the place is well guarded, and everyone's been doing well, but I've never set foot in the place."

"They're having a big dinner over there tonight, if you're up for it?" Lily stated.

"Let me go get Sarah."

[Sgt. Howard]

After the mayhem of dinner, Greg sat with Anna as he stated his demands to a party over the phone;
"Yes Don- essentially the Mini-14 scaled up to .50 BMG...scale up the trigger and trigger guard space... that doesn't matter... TRUST ME, THAT doesn't matter... this is 'ECHELONS OF REALITY' here, so YES I have the authority... four... yes... lessee here, sixteen magazines times four- sixty four magazines, twenty rounds each... yes... don't tell me you can't do this, I've SEEN your operation, remember? I used to WORK for the old man... OH! Scale up the mass of the action bar by 25%, all external! ... exactly... and the lug/bar engagement as well... uh huh... yea, well here's where we go down the rabbit hole--- I want 21 inches of trigger pull and 8 inches of drop... you heard me... trust me, you do NOT want to know... synthetic composite... go black steel, it'll be easier to mill and quicker as these are essentially prototypes... well, if you can figure out a way to belt feed these on your own production, go for it- but not on these... OK... fifteen Kay per?... that's better than I expected, truth be told... NO! these are NOT three selectable! That action was never intended to handle full auto- had I wanted that, I would have you scale up the old BAR... I NEED THEM BY DECEMBER FIRST! Otherwise we're wasting everybody's time... hah! If I told you, I would have to kill you, YOU know that... yea, sure Don, we're teaching orangutans and mountain gorillas how to shoot... right... gotcha... 'later,"
"Don Mayhew? Of Sturm, Ruger? And did I hear four units at $15 thousand a unit? Howard, what are you planning?" Anna asked.
"A serious conceptual breakthrough- might even be our ticket... Yes? Cindy?" Cindy had just clopped up to Greg with a steaming hot coffee in her hand. She handed it to Greg and said, while looking at the ceiling as she tried to remember the exact message,
"It is only right that the Son benefits from the Father's knowledge,"
Greg looked at her with a furrowed brow as he tried to decipher the message- then his eyebrows lifted as some of it sank through. He glanced at Neil, who was intently watching him. Neil winked. Greg looked at the mug, then at Neil. Neil smiled and nodded, showing three fingers. Greg looked at the mug in wonder... then turned and looked at his wife. His greatest sorrow of their love was that she would be a widow far too early in life, yet too late to likely find a new love. He had taken measures to see to her fiscal well-being upon his death, but there was nothing to help her with the loneliness that would follow-

If his understanding of the situation was anywhere near correct, the contents of this cup would shave at least a decade off her widowhood.

Anna looked at him quizzically as he sipped the coffee- he understood Al's reaction. He was tasting life! Full, rich life! Yes, there was coffee and chocolate, but the three drops of life could not be disguised with balsamic vinegar and tabasco sauce. He savored every sip... and realized that Anna would savor it as well-
...later on tonight...

[Sgt. Howard]

Daisy's phone went off- she pulled it from the satchel belt and answered. A brief conversation later, she turned to Edward and called out- "Four plates more- human, two with blood... where do we get blood?" she wondered to herself.
"I brought my own, Seabiscut," came Lily's voice from the back door, "Suzi and the fleshies are gonna be here shortly- and am I to understand you've been 'two-leggin' around?"
"Some of us still HAVE it- oh!" she did a passable Mae West impression.
"What? Flies?"
"Oh go drink your blood- whatllya have? There's some pulled pork, spareribs and maybe some of the roast chicken- that tends to go quickly with humans- corn on the cob, broccoli smothered in smoked gouda, Baked potatoes with a minor bar for stuffing, rice pilaf and pickled carrots,"
"Pickled carrots? Seriously? I haven't had that since... well, I'm not sure I know... I might have had my own blood in my veins back then,"

Off in the corner, Shelly and Justin conversed in low tones.
"This is all because of me," Justin muttered, "If I had not made the headlines, the targeting wouldn't have occurred,"
"You don't know that- and anyway, you cannot hold yourself responsible for the actions of criminals- you are a cop! You are not supposed to make friends with lawbreakers- nor can you hold yourself responsible for what they do to retaliate. WE WILL GET THROUGH THIS! Stop blaming yourself!"
He fell silent...

Atsali watched her Gramma Lily and Gramma Daisy razz each other- friends- that's what she needed right now I friends... except most of her friends don't understand why she and Nadette broke up, and they tend to blame her. Not good- she had family-
But right now, that wasn't working too well either...

Lily had just tucked into her pickled carrots when an spooky rendition of 'Hall of the Mountain King' on xylophone sounded on her phone.
"Myallow?" she answered with a rather full mouth.

What little color her face normally had drained away.

"... shit..." - the room went silent.

"Al... " she said, "you need to hear this..."

[Just Old Al]

His name was Jan McManus Robertson - sometime and long ago member of the Special Forces and dishonorably discharged, then a mercenary, then a resident of the Twin Cities living on his wits and little else. With that his morals, shaky to begin with had sunk to anything for a dollar, and tonight was no different.

The bonuses on these kills had gone up, but so had the risk. All the visible targets had been heavily guarded from the body count, but this guy had no support. He'd just locked his doors and huddled up - and what could an old guy like this do anyway?

The fact that there'd been no sign of life around this decrepit industrial building for weeks didn't penetrate Robertson's befuddled brain - he just assumed the occupant had gone to ground and trusted his security. Too many years of living on the edge had dimmed a once-sharp mind to fuzzy logical prowess...but one doesn't have to be a genius to be an assassin and a sneak thief.

Robertson primed the device - a 5-gallon bucket once containg pickles, but now containing explosives and metal scrap. He figured what the explosion didn't get the scrap and the remains of the door and wall would. Slamming the hatch and moving to the driver's seat, he moved slowly down the deserted street, turned and backed the ratty Chevette up against the bay door. The car would shield the bomb from view - and after that there'd be no one inside to worry about it if he'd set it up right.

He turned off the car, set the brake, and reached back to light the fuse protruding from the lid. He'd timed the fuse length to give him just enough time to get away but no more - this way no one could see the car and investigate. He hated killing people he wasn't being paid to.

The fuse sputtered in the flame of the cheap lighter, and Robertson grabbed for the door handle to exit...snapping it off in the process. Frantically clawing, the opened the window, squeezed through, and got exactly two meters from the front of the car when Darwin stepped in and the remains of the engine block turned him into a red smear on the pavement.

The bomb, untroubled with the frantic motions of its creator, blew the roller door on the bay across the main room, turning it into a battering ram and destroying test benches, tool boxes, workstands and the contents of an office before it was stopped by the front wall. What the door didn't get the shrapnel in the bomb and of the car did - the once-immaculate work areas were perforated with high-speed fragments.

As the echoes died away, the only sound that could be heard was the tinkle of glass from the shopfronts across the street and the wail of car alarms in a two block radius.

Robertson had designed the charge well, though he would never collect a bounty from it.

"In the Twin Cities last night, the explosion of a car parked at a service center rattled nerves and car alarms for several blocks around. A passerby was killed by debris from the vehicle - police are investigating and the identity of the individual is being withheld held prior to notification of next of kin. The fire caused by the explosion was rapidly extinguished by the fire department, but the area is still cordoned off and hazmat teeams have been brought in to deal with the toxic materials stored on the premises." The detective at the 31st turned off the television, turned to his colleague and said, "Good thing the newsies are relatively stupid - this didn't get tied to the attempts from the vendetta. A little misdirection and the presence of the car let us blame it on that rather than on the bomb that dipshit planted."

The other detective grunted in agreement, then said in a weary voice, "This vendetta is going to start heating up again. The bounties keep going up along with the body count of those trying to collect. The ones bright enough to stay away are fine, but the dregs trying to collect even with the risk are making this almost impossible to stop. Even if it was called off now it would take weeks for this to trickle down to the footsoldiers."

"What can we do? There's nothing to do but hang on and hope we can do our part to keep Epimethus and his family and friends safe."

"Did you let the Feds know? He was one of theirs - likely they'll have to find him to figure out what to do with the place."

Already done. Did you see the part about hazmat teams? They're in there checking the place through and making sure that there's nothing that shouldn't see the light of day where it might. Pity about his car collection, though - that got the hell blown out of it."

Another television clicked off not too far away, in a house full to bursting with refugees from the selfsame vendetta.

"Oh, shit. Did you see the sign?"

"Yes, I saw it, or what was left of it." A twisted, partially burnt piece of metal still stating "cher Engineering" had still been hanging askew on the front of the building,

"Does he know?"

"Yes, he does. When the blast went off the cops called the Feds, who passed it along to MIB because he's on the list of persons of interest to them. Lily was here at the time and told him. He....didn't take it well."

"No doubt. That shop up till very recently was his life. What happened?"

"What do you think happened to the poor bastard? He passed out. Cold. Went down like a poleaxed steer. Never seen anything like it. They thought he had a heart attack. Considering everything he's been through over the years that was the last reaction I thought he'd have."

"Quick thinking in the crunch, situational awareness and handling a crisis is one thing. A blow to the gut like that is something entirely different. I'm surprised it didn't kill him."

"They've got him sedated. He'll be coming out of it shortly - he's been down a good part of the evening."

The room was dim, only a subdued light on the desk illuminating the shadows. The drapes were drawn, and the quiet darkness was soothing.

Daisy sat by the side of the sleeping man, watching him for signs of distress. Even with a massive dose of sedative his sleep had been rough, and punctuated with nightmares. This was not a happy day for him, and she'd try to make it as easy as possible when he finally awoke.

He rolled over, lay on his back, and his eyes opened. They were blank and sleep-fogged, then filled with panic still untroubled by intelligence. He bolted upright, restrained by Daisy until the light of reason returned.

"So, it's true?"

"Yes, dear, sad to say. It's bad...very bad."

Al sighed, swung his feet over the side of the bed, then realized he'd been stripped and dressed in a pair of the ex-MOD hospital scrubs he used for pajamas.

"Who did this?"

"I did, along with Lily's help. You went down hard, then we got in an MIB medic who shot you full of sedatives to get you to sleep for a while and recover."

"Oh, bloody hell...I am never going to hear the end of it from her. Needs must however, and I thank you both for the courtesy." Al began to get up, prompting an anxious "Are you all right?" from Daisy.

"I'm as all right as I will be at the present time - need to get off my feeble arse and sort out what's left of my life." He detatched himself, staggered to the bathroom, dropped to his knees and emptied his stomach forcefully.

Daisy came rushing in, only to be waved off. "This happens when I'm given tranquilizers or sedatives - they unanimously turn my stomach." She knew he was lying - it was an understandable reaction to having a significant part of your life blown out from under you.

After a shower and cleanup he dressed ,Daisy modestly turning her back knowing he wouldn't appreciate any ribald comments right now.

Clad in his usual khakis, he stopped before the door, took a deep breath, and said, "Well, old thing, let's go out and see what's left of my empire." With that, they left the room.

[Just Old Al]

Entering the great room, they walked straight through to the kitchen, to run straight into a distressed Rosalita. After accepting her concerns and stating yes, he was all right he asked for and got a small plate of pastries and a large mug of coffee. Daisy joined him at the counter, the two of them sitting together and sipping coffee till he finished his modest snack.

Suitably fortified he walked back out to the great room to face the inevitable. As he walked in the news on the television was snapped off, a gesture he sincerely appreciated. He wanted to hear about it before he was forced to see it.

Lily was still there, and had waited for him to be up and about. She came over and asked, "So, do you want to hear about it?"

"To be honest, no. I don't want to hear about it. All I want to do is...go hunting." Something flared in his eyes - something frightening - but it died as fast as it had risen. Lily saw this and decided being as clinical as possible was going to be the way to go here. They sat at the table, and unbidden Rosalita brought them coffee. Resting her hand on his leg, Daisy tried to be a comfort without being obtrusive. Lily started in.

"The bomb was a classic ANFO IED, manually actuated and set up to cause blast damage and shrapnel penetration of everything in its blast radius. It was in the back of a car that had been backed against the main bay door - the shop took the impact of the blast, the back end of the car and the penetration damage from shrapnel and the door itself."

"The main shop is trashed - the spray of debris and the battering ram effect of the door took out just about everything. The fire did for most of the rest. Fire suppression systems kicked in and got it down and the fire department did the rest."

"And the back shop?"

"Untouched."

It seemed like a great weight had been lifted from Al's shoulders. He sat up straight and a light of something like relief showed in his gaze."Thank the gods! Thank the gods indeed!"

Daisy and Lily looked at each other trying to decide if it was time to call the medic again.

"OK, I can see the look, no I am not mad and you are not going to have to get the men with the butterfly nets. When we as Greg puts it "Bugged out" I moved all my irreplaceable items into the back shop and into the cases there - Numbers One, Two and Three. If the shop was not destroyed they're still here and all of the items I have that I can't replace are safe in a nitrogen atmosphere. Pictures of my family, memorabilia of my service, personal papers and the things I had no chance of ever having again went in there. Greg laughed and called me a paranoid...but I get the last laugh."

The two women smiled - perhaps this wasn't going to be as big a disaster as it could have been.

"I have to ask- was everything in the main shop destroyed?"

"Yes....the cars didn't survive. I thought that was what you were going to ask."

The gut-punched look returned, followed rapidly by a reddening at the collar level. Visibly restraining his temper he asked "Please do describe the carnage".

"When the door got blown through the shop it rolled over the parking area in front of your office, The Rover, the Bentley and the Cobra had no chance. The ones to the side - The Reliant, the Bond and the Messerschmitt were damaged but the fire got them. The whole thing is a write off."

Al steeled himself visibly, and asked "What's being done for damage control?"

Lily began, but Daisy interrupted. "Let me, please. Al, MIB has a "hazmat" team in there stripping the place to the walls. Now that we know about the contents of the cases I'll make sure those items are treated with great care. Everything that is salvageable from front and back shops is being brought to the Alexander Harvesters main campus - there's an industrial building on site thats no longer used for production that I've had them brought to. It's not what you had, but it can be - and it's yours for as long as you want it."

Al leaned over and hugged Daisy hard. Upon releasing her, he said "Daisy, I kindly accept. Can you have the contents of the cases taken to a secure office area so that I can arrange storage for them? Thank you." He hugged her again.

Leaning back, he said "One thing about this angers me more than anything else. I was going to gift you with that Bentley, Daisy my dear. It's...it was an original Mulliner Park Ward drop head coupe in yellow with a saddle interior - mid 1950s. Lovely car, and my most precious possession."

With that, Al shook himself, took a deep breath and firmly stated " So be it. Lily, if you can have MIB scrape up whatever they can and then the building's owner can have the rest - it's all insured anyway, but straightening this out will take months. I will survive - the precious things are safe, and whatever else can be replaced. It hurts, but any road up, stiff upper lip and all that."

"However, this is now...quite personal." Anyone looking at Al at that time did not see the amiable old man he'd become - but he warrior he had never stopped being. A slight chill ran through Daisy, and Lily looked back, realizing that this game had just gotten serious again.

[jwhouk]

"Did... we come in at a bad time?" I asked as Sarah and I stepped into the great room – just as Al exited with Daisy.

[Just Old Al]

Later that evening in the Great Room, Al pulled a two-legged Daisy aside to a quiet spot.

She had taken to spending more and more time in human form, a bit more each day to "get used to it for the wedding". Al was not at all blinded by this, knowing that it was her excuse to alow her to get used to human - in anticipation of spending the rest of their lives together. She'd spent a good part of the evening with the Houks, getting to know them without their even realizing she was a centaur dam. It warmed Al down to his toenails every time he looked at her even knowing she was a centaur. That just didn't matter anymore - she was Daisy and his love.

"Not now, silly - we'll have time later!" she joshed, sobering a bit when she saw Al wasn't laughting.

"Can you come with me a minute, please?" Taking her hand, he led her down the hall to the back of the house, and opened the door to the room he was occupying. Ushering her in, he closed the door, then took her hands and looked into her eyes.

Struggling valiantly not to melt under her gaze, he said "Dear heart, I must confess that something is concerning me. As you quite well realize, the wedding is likely to get a lot livelier than most - this damnnable drug ring nonsense is likely to erupt there because all the targets will be in the same locale. There'll be a lot of policemen there, but no guarantees we won't have to defend ourselves. After everything that's happened over the past day or so, we really have no expectation that there's not going to be a fracas at the wedding - even over and above the usual drunks, crybabies and people you'd otherwise cross the street to avoid."

"Because of this, I want to give you something - something that has saved this poor life of mine on more than one occasion and will do the same for yours if need be. I would rather have gifted you with my Bentley, but alas that is not to be."

Letting go of her hands was hard, but he did so, turned and knelt to the weapons case on the floor. Unlocking it with a small key, he reached into a padded comparment and produced a holster with a small automatic weapon in it. Extracting the weapon from the holster, he handed it to her, carefully pointing it away from them both and making sure that her finger was outside the trigger guard even though the chamber indicator showed there was no round in it.

"This is a Walther PPK - an original pre-War one in .32 caliber. It fires 8 rounds from a magazine in the butt, which you eject by..."

With an effortless fluid motion Daisy pushed the button to eject the empty clip, then pulled back and locked the slide to ensure the weapon was unloaded. Inserting her pinky into the chamber to double-confirm its harmlessness, she stepped over, turned on the bedside lamp and positioned the pistol so the light shone into the chamber. Peering into the barrel she remarked "You need to take better care of your weapons - this one is a little grubby from sitting. Do you have a proper dessicant in that case?"

Al was gobsmacked. Once he regained the power of speech he asked..or tried to... "What...how do you know pistols? When you came out for long gun training with the rest you acted like you'd never shot before."

"Rock and I used to go to a gun club with his buddies on occasion, long ago when we were first married. Neither of us owned weapons - we used to borrow from his friends - but I got pretty good with a pistol. Most of them ran to automatics and I got good with everything up to and including the .45 ACP Greg carries though I've never even seen anything like that cannon you carry. The .45 is really too big of a pistol for me in this form though so most of the time I shot smaller automatics - .22, .25 and .32 - one of the loaners was a PPK/S."

Totally nonplussed, Al stammered out "Then why did you act like a total and utter numpty if you already knew hand weapons? All that time.." slithering to a halt finally as the warm, loving smile she directed at him melted his heart and his resolve.

"Silly man. It's where you were. If I had to act dumb to get a little extra...attention from the teacher who am I to turn it down?" She unlocked the barrel and slid the Walther back into its leather sheath, setting it on the night stand next to the bed.

Folding Al in her arms and feeling his arms encircle her, she said "It's an old, old trick - make the teacher think he has a backward pupil and he'll spend even more time on her making things work. Who am I to argue if it worked?"

Al said "Silly dam" and tightened his grip a bit more. He didn't care at all - his love for her and hers for him made it all right.

[Sgt. Howard]

*SIGH*

[Sgt. Howard]

Joe, Sarah and Suzi were given a full plate each and a rundown upon arrival- that night, they had accommodations and there were still bedrooms to spare in the spacious manor house. The next morning, breakfast was a rather subdued affair, especially after Al got up... but that afternoon, Al regained his momentum as he mustered the troops-
"Ladies and Gents, " he began, "I am of the opinion that perhaps we have taken the defensive long enough- the only difficulty being that we really do not have the capacity for a frontal assault, nor do we know where to apply such a tactic. It has, however, been called to my attention that we posses some remarkable native talents that would serve us extremely well insofar as gathering intel is concerned- to wit, Tsillah (who materialized at that moment) , as you can see, can appear and disappear at will, can enter any opening at a molecular level and is perfectly capable of relaying information gathered from wherever- the difficulty is we still do not know where 'wherever' is.
We DO, however, have a link to the site that has been putting out these wretched flyers- MIB has acquired this from the computer that the late Mr. Robinson left behind after his Offenhauser enema- in fact, there's quite a bit of info to be found on his hard-drive... but it is encrypted in a manner that defies normal cryptological protocols- thus, I am thinking in terms of bringing another individual into our little family- a fellow as eccentric as the day is long, I dare say... if we can tolerate such, that is..."
Snerks and laughter followed that comment.
"yes, I thought so- very well- Greg here is familiar with him, and has sent a message to the effect that his services might be appreciated in this matter... Sgt. Howard, do you have anything to add?"
"Only that our plan of attack will depend entirely upon what we find- and remember Napoleon's first rule of Combat;
'No plan of Battle survives first contact'- our chief advantage is that these jerks have no clue what they are dealing with, but don't underestimate them. They can surprise you and will if you let them. Glytch will be responding to my request here pretty quick- once he cracks the encryption, we will see where it leads us and go from there... any questions?"
"How much ass are we gonna kick?" Rowdy asked.
"That depends on your boots... or, hooves in your case... yes?"
"What level of casualties can we expect?" asked Daisy.
Greg took a deep breath and let it out slowly- "There's no way to calculate that at this time- we HAVE to accept that there WILL be casualties. Either we commit to this, or we don't- anyone who wants to back out, I have no argument. Nobody will think any the less of you if you DO back out,"
There was an awkward silence.
"I'm in," Buck stated.
"I'm in," Daisy replied, much to Al's visual consternation.
"I'm in," Stated Stanley.
One by one, every member of the group pledged their willingness to engage the enemy- Kathy had to tell Castela that she was too young, to which the plant/animal called "BULLSHIT!"
Anna pledged in as well, as did Sarah- Joe tried to stop her, but she showed a determination that would not yield.
"Now... we wait," Greg finished.

[lake_wrangler]

Just when I thought it couldn't get any more captivating than it already was, it did!
I look forward to more of this saga.

[GlytchMeister]

My phone buzzed on my nightstand, alerting me to a new email. Groaning and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I slowly rolled onto my side and pawed around until I found the aging device.
"Job offer - decrypt dirtbag's hard drive"
Ah, an assignment from Sarge? Hmm... I wonder if it's about that nasty fiasco up north.
I unlocked the phone and dismissed the notification before donning my glasses and reaching to the floor to grab my tablet... It was easier to read than the phone.
"Got a stubborn hard drive here for you to decrypt. A lot of good people are in trouble, if you can recover anything, it will probably help. -Sarge."
I quickly typed my reply, smiling as the new mission gave my mind something to chew on. I was soon up, showered, dressed in warm and concealing clothing, and had everything I needed packed up for a trip.
My phone buzzed with another email from Sarge, containing his location and how to get there...
Alexander? I swear I've heard that name before... Hmm.
I packed everything into the FrankenStratus and set off for the Peoria Public Library. Apparently he had arranged for separate transportation.
Upon arriving, I noticed portions of the library were under construction, including the section I needed to get to. I sent another email off to Sarge, confirming the pickup point, before grabbing my backpack and heading inside.
Most libraries usually don't have patrons walking around with large camping backpacks... But Peoria's library was more than anything a place of warmth for the homeless at this time of year. A sad state of affairs, but it was unavoidable. Books were quite out of vogue. As such, I blended in quite easily. Keeping my hood up, I quietly wound my way into the stacks before making my way to the fiction section, a majority of which was closed while construction crews were tearing up the place before renovating it. I fished a bandanna out of my backpack and soaked it at a water fountain, tying it over my nose and mouth to keep the construction dust, crud, and asbestos out. A few workers looked at me funny, so I simply gave them a familiar-looking wave and shouted "Hey guys, how's it going?"
"Management took the space heater again," one of them replied. "they SAY it's a fire hazard."
"Fifty bucks says they're nice and toasty in their office with that heater all to themselves..." I rumbled, shaking my head.
"Exactly. Damn pencil-pushers."
I laughed and headed past, confident nobody would remember my passing as I found the door I was looking for. Just then, Sarge's email buzzed in, confirming his instructions.
Aye, aye, Sarge... Here goes nothin'... I leaned close to the door and whispered "Badger" before trying the doorknob. It clicked, and I opened the door.
"What?"

Before me was not the janitor's closet, but rather a hallway. One that was much too long to fit in the floor plan of the library. There was also a very tall, very female human-goat hybrid with a dangerous grin standing in said hallway.
"Welcome to the Library, Glytch."
I took a moment to recover myself (her fur left little to the imagination) before responding. "Fascinating! Are you a human-animal hybrid, or your own species? And this hallway! It doesn't fit in the building, so it's either smaller on the outside or it's not there at all, and we are somewhere else entirely. Do you know how this all works? I could really use a backpack that's smaller on the outside... And on a larger scale, it would do wonders for overpopulation!"
"Hey, calm down, kiddo. You have work to do." The goat woman admonished. "I'm Nudge. I'm my own thing, and you aren't in Kansas anymore."
"Peoria."
"What's the difference? Both are immensely boring places..." Nudge shrugged before turning, leading me down the hallway.
"You have a point, there. So, are we walking the whole way?" I listened carefully to the echoes of our words and Nudge's grippy hooves on the floor. Every echo had a faint Doppler shift to the original, indicating spatial manipulation. "I guess it won't be very far, considering how twisted spacetime is here. Is this a tesselation? Or a wormhole?"
"Damn, kid... You are nerding all over the floor. Stay on target, gold leader."
"Nice one, Nudge. Though Gold Leader never did take that shot. I'm pretty sure he was blown up." I chuckled as Nudge's head rolled back with an exasperated sigh.
"Just... Follow me. If you behave yourself, I might let you explore the place... If you don't, you might get to know the portal system even better than Joe."
There was a disconcerting amount of danger in Nudge's voice, and I decided to curb my enthusiasm for the moment. I didn't want to know what Joe went through... It sounded supremely unpleasant.
The end of the hallway approached, marked by a large, solid oak door with very shiny brass hinges. Nudge pushed it open, and the hallway was quickly filled with the sounds of what seemed to be a very lively gathering of family and friends.
Uh oh... I didn't sign up for a party...
"In you go!" Nudge said with a chuckle, pushing me through the doorway and into a room full of lots and lots of people.
The room fell silent as I stumbled in, followed shortly by a grinning Nudge. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: GlytchMeister, the geekiest person I've met this month!"
I looked quickly around the room, quickly evaluating threats... And I was soon quite terrified. There was a man who appeared as young as me, but had eyes so old and a bearing so deadly I couldn't meet his gaze. Next to him stood a woman with her child in one of those baby-front-packs... And her body language was at once at ease, loving, and caring... But also bore an undercurrent of practiced killer. She was a predator, through and through. Then there where two older men... They seemed to be in charge. Both were unmistakably military. Then there was a cop, who seemed laden with guilt, sitting next to another woman who had a similar predatory undercurrent as the Mother, though not nearly as pronounced. Off in the back slouched a short, curvy Hispanic woman who's face and posture spoke of darker things than I ever cared to know. There were other, less intimidating people... Including an incredibly beautiful, moody young woman sitting cross-legged on the floor with a tiny, smiling girl, but the woman watching them out of the corner of her creepy, freakishly black eyes was definitely not to be trifled with, nor was the enormous man holding her hand. Two other women, one with black dreads and the other a curvy readhead, were clearly sizing me up.
"Um... Hey, everyone... I heard there was a stubborn hard drive that needs convincing?" I smiled, taking care not to show any teeth, hoping to ensure every single one of these people knew I bore them no ill will. I simultaneously slouched down under my backpack, forcing myself to look small and non-threatening.
"Relax, Glytch. Nobody's gonna eat you, alright?" One of the military men said.
"Oh, is that a possibility with these people?!"
The mother strode forward, a stern look on her face. "Yes, it is. I am a sphinx, and so is my granddaughter, Shelly, over there. That is Epimethius, of Greek Myth, and the ever-so-bright-and-sunshiny girl back there is Monica, a sub-Titan. Those two are vampires, and even these little girls are about as dangerous as your average Australian predator. But not with you."
I gulped. "Why not?"
"Because we need your help."
The young, beautiful blonde woman looked up at the creepy woman with the black eyes. Some nonverbal signal seemed to pass between them, and the younger one led the small, smiling child out of the room, whispering "C'mon, Pickle, let's go outside and find that big tree again."
"This is about that nasty business around the cop, isn't... It... Wait."
The officer looked me dead in the eye, and I looked down at my shoes. "Please. This is my family..."
I shuddered inwardly at the sound of his voice. "Of course I'll help. I've... Just never been asked for help by, eh... Beings like you. I didn't even know beings like you were real until a few minutes ago. I trust you have good internet service here?"
An attractive woman sitting next to one of the military men nodded. "Google Fiber! Just had it put in last month!"
I cracked my knuckles and set my jaw. "Excellent. Let's get down to business, shall we? I need to plug in."
The woman nodded toward the large man next to the creepy woman. "Buck?"
Buck stood, and I immediately felt minuscule compared to him. "Follow me... If you need fast internet, you'll want the box, right? That's in the study, this way." Buck led me through the expansive house until I was thoroughly lost before opening a door into a large, circular room with a thirty-foot ceiling. The walls were lined with books of all shapes and sizes. At the center of the room was the sturdiest ironwood and pecan desk I have ever seen, shaped like a C, with a leather office chair fit for a Bond villain.
I dropped my bag and immediately set to unpacking my workstation - one laptop, two extra screens, a multitude of neatly coiled cords, my tablet, an external hard drive, a bag of USB memory sticks, and my phone. "Get me that hard drive." I said as I began to hook everything up. Buck nodded and left, returning with one of the military men and a laptop hard drive.
"Sarge, I presume?" I said as I plugged my laptop into the Google Fiber box.
"Yeah... Here's that hard drive. Are you all set up?"
"Yep... Let's have a look at that..." I fished another cord from my backpack and hooked the hard drive up to my laptop and pulled up the encrypted contents. "Yikes. That's a mess. No wonder it's being stubborn, it's using levels of encryption on par with the more well-funded intelligence agencies..."
"Can you crack that?" Sarge said, his brow furrowed with worry.
"No..." I looked up at the old man, flashing a wicked grin. "But the world can."
"What?"
"Look, I can see you're in a hurry, and I can tell you I'm not as good as the NSA or whatever at this stuff. They have teams of teams of teams of people like me. I can't break that on my own. What I can do, however, is use a tiny portion of every computer connected to the Internet to perform a tiny amount of work... All at the same time, all for the same goal."
"How can you use a little bit of every computer?" Buck asked, an eyebrow raised.
I held up one of my USB drives... A small chip of black metal, chuckling. "See this? Plugging this into a computer connected to the Internet will prime a worm I released several years ago. No security program has ever picked it up because it's an incomplete code... That worm never did anything to hurt any computer. It just quietly got in, embedded in images, videos, web pages, emails, anything. And once it was in, it just sat there. This USB wakes it up. And once it's awake, the worm will grant me a fraction of a percentage of the processing power of every single device connected to the Internet, giving me the distributive-cloud-computing equivalent of a supercomputer several trillion times more powerful than any one device on this rock we call a planet."
"So... You're going to use that... To crack the encryption on this drive?"
"Exactly. This level of encryption would ordinarily take billions of years to break with brute-force guessing... But with the Leech, it shouldn't take very long at all. There's one catch, however. The moment I do this, I lose it. Every security protocol will immediately recognize the threat and lock me out, and I'll have to make a whole new Leech. It's a one-off. I'm telling you this so you know just how much you owe me."
Sarge nodded. "Do it. I'm sure we can pay you back."
"A box of Fannie Mae Pixies will do nicely." I smirked before plugging the Leech in. I typed a few commands, telling the Leech what to do with its short lifespan, and hit Enter.
The lights dimmed momentarily as the Leech caused tiny disruptions around the world, diverting processing power away from power companies, traffic controllers, every supercomputer connected to the ESnet, every single desktop and laptop computer, every single tablet and phone connected to the cell towers.
"Behold..." I rumbled as my laptop's security program notified me of a breach. I opened up Tor and navigated to google news, and hit refresh once. The entire page was immediately filled with articles about the Leech.
Minutes passed breathlessly as the Leech worked before the final key was guessed.

No successful keys were found.

"Well, that su-" I began before a new notification came up. "Oh, the results are coming in as waves. Fascinating... It must be because of the different data transfer speeds between the continents. Remarkable."

Four more notifications came and went, signaling the passing of four more waves before finally, just before the fifth wave subsided, a key was entered that successfully unlocked the hard drive.
I immediately dumped the decrypted contents onto my own external drive. "There you go, Sarge. One unlocked drive. You owe me some tasty chocolate."

[Just Old Al]

So now we know who to thank for Skynet....

Be careful with the Mk. 2 there Glitch.

BRAVO!

[jwhouk]

Klaus had heard the news about the bomb going off. He was pretty sure it was the workshop of that old British guy. From the reports, though, it sounded like the bomber had gone the Darwin Award route.

Suicide bombers meant more money he could put on others… He raised an eyebrow at the picture that was being shown on the screen.

The photo was of the Brit – but it was a black-and-white photo, and he was wearing khakis and an old Fifty Mission cap. The closed captioning stated that he was a Distinguished Flying Cross winner and had turned down several accolades from the Falklands War.

The last words on the captioning before the report changed lingered on the screen: "Authorities do not believe that the owner was present at the time of the blast."

Not only did the guy buy the farm, he missed the mark as well, he thought to himself.

There was a buzz from the overhead speakers.

"Tempelhoffer, you have a visitor."

"Not talking to anyone," he said.

"Warden says you don't have a choice," came the voice. "Your last appeal was thrown out. Check the chute."

Klaus hadn't seen anything in the chute when he came out for his rec time earlier that morning. He looked up at the camera with narrowed eyes, then walked over to the chute and pressed the release button.

There, on the sliding shelf, was an envelope addressed to him – from his lawyer.

He opened it, read through it quickly – and realized the guards were right. Before he could say anything, the door to the vestibule leading into his 12-by-12 rec cage had slammed shut. He turned just as the door opened – and in walked two women and a short, round man with a receding hairline.

"Hello, Klaus," the redhead said in greeting. "Agent Suzanne McBride, Federal Bureau of Investigations." She motioned to the taller black woman. "This is my partner, Agent Lily Pratt."

"And I'm Joseph Houk, Wisconsin Department of Corrections," the short guy said. "Or, as your son would probably know me," he turned to look at Suzie for a moment, "Boo-Boo."

"I ain't sayin' nothin' without my lawyer present," he said through gritted teeth.

"Might want to get a new one," Lily said. "Right after your old one sent that letter to you, he tried to make good on one of your bounties. Unfortunately, he met the same demise the rest of the flunkies who've tried to touch anyone on that list."

Suzie handed him a copy of his attorney's obituary from the Star-Tribune. On the other side of the paper was the article stating how his remains had been found on the shores of the Lake of the Isles.

"Guess I'll have to go to the next legal eagle on my list," he said non-committedly. "So? I'm still not talking 'til then."

"I don't think that will help your son out very much," Joe said. "They're working out the travel arrangements to take him down to Beaumont by week's end."

Klaus normally prided himself at maintaining a poker face, but all three of his accusers could see his face drop.

"Yeah, Mikael's a decent kid," Joe went on. "Went to security a few times, but never really gave me any problems. He's your only son, isn't he? I remember seeing that from his visiting list. Only you, his mom, and Antonio. Oh," he brought his hand up to his mouth. "I'm sorry, I forgot about him."

"Here's the deal," Lily said, taking a step forward to close the distance between the three of them and Klaus. "Call off the bounties. We don't care how you've done it – though we've got some ideas. Just end the bloodshed."

"In exchange," Joe interjected, "Mikael gets his charges dropped. He stays, does his time at RYOC, and gets out with good behavior in a few years. Who knows, he might actually be able to get conjugal visits with you." He looked at Suzie with a raised eyebrow.

"And what if I say that my lawyer was how I was getting any information out?" Klaus replied.

"You'd probably be lying," Suzie said. "Your communique with your son about the bounties came through your case worker. She's on indefinite leave of absence at the moment. Something about checking in to rehab for drug use?"

Klaus was starting to get really irritated at these three.

"So?" He sneered at them all. "I can go out and get another lawyer. I have more money coming in this month than you've made in five years."

"I think the whole thing with Malcroft makes that go down the drain," Lily stated. "Your drug ring is busted. The secret accounts – gone. That offshore corporation you set up – yeah, we took care of that, too."

"Even the Swiss Bank account, too," Suzie added. "You know, they've been forced to change their rules since the EU imposed sanctions. Interpol was very helpful."

"That basically leaves you with… Mikael." Joe looked him right in the eye. "And he's heading to Beaumont – where he'll sit until you either call off the dogs, or he gets hit with those charges about being a party to conspiracy to commit murder.

"Or – and I'm only basing this on what I read of his conduct reports – he runs his mouth to the wrong person, and gets a beatdown in the yard that results in him being sent back to you." Joe paused.

"In very small pieces."

Klaus lunged at him. He found the two girls all over him, holding him back like he'd been hit by a stun gun.

"That's not a very good idea, there, Klaus." Joe casually took a step backward. "These two ladies are more powerful than you realize." He crossed his arms at the felon. "So – what's it going to be? Bounties or Mikael?"

[GlytchMeister]

So now we know who to thank for Skynet....

Be careful with the Mk. 2 there Glitch.

BRAVO!

*bows*
I actually have ideas on how to make another... But you'll have to call on my services again to find out how it works. My only hint is this: No one raindrop can be blamed for the flood. In the meantime, Glytch is the Family's favorite computer guy. He will be happy to monitor chatter and the dark web or render any other services in exchange for chocolate or caffeine. And I do believe Sarge has another surprise for everyone, involving his trademark skill.

Oh, I do so love teasing a captivated audience...

[Dave]

.Oh, I do so love teasing a captivated audience...

We forgive you. You've finally explained something I hadn't figured out... why the new high-end anti-malware project was given the code-name "SALT".

[GlytchMeister]

.Oh, I do so love teasing a captivated audience...

We forgive you. You've finally explained something I hadn't figured out... why the new high-end anti-malware project was given the code-name "SALT".

hmmm... If you know the code name, could you perchance dig up some more technical details on that program? It's, um, for a book a friend is writing.

[lake_wrangler]

Of course, I presume that this Leech only works on Windows computers, right? After all, with all the eyes on Linux code, something like that would get noticed, wouldn't it?