Monday, January 30, 2012



If you drink and drive... we'll lock you in solitary confinement for 2 years! No court date, no doctor.

Night in the cells accidentally became two years in solitary

Suspected drunk driver wins $22m after he was forgotten, isolated – and terribly neglected
Guy Adams Author Biography

Los Angeles

Saturday 28 January 2012
Stephen Slevin at the time of his arrest for drink driving in August 2005, left, and when he was released in May 2007, right

Stephen Slevin was driving along a rural highway in southern New Mexico in August 2005 when traffic police pulled him over and arrested him on suspicion of drink-driving, along with a string of other motoring offences.

By the time all of the charges against him were dismissed and Mr Slevin was released from custody, it was 2007. For reasons that remain unclear, officials had forced him to spend the intervening two years in solitary confinement.

During the ordeal, he claims to have been denied access to basic washing facilities for months at a time. He'd lost a third of his body weight, grown a beard down to his chest and was suffering from bed sores. Prison officials had also ignored his pleas to see a dentist, forcing him to pull out his own tooth. They declined other requests for attention, including an audience with a mental health professional. He duly became delirious and says that by the time of his release he'd "been driven mad".

This week, a jury in Albuquerque ordered Dona Ana County, which was responsible for incarcerating Slevin without trial, to pay $22m (£14m) in compensation. It was the largest award ever granted to a US prisoner whose civil rights have been violated.

"Prison officials were walking by me every day, watching me deteriorate," Mr Slevin, who still from suffers post traumatic stress disorder, told reporters. The court heard how he was originally arrested on suspicion of drink-driving and "receiving a stolen vehicle". He was thrown into solitary confinement after officers learned that he suffered from depression and decided he might be suicidal.

Matthew Coyte, a civil-rights lawyer who represented Mr Slevin, now 58, during the six-day trial, said he was then "forgotten" and left to "decay".

In letters to staff at Dona Ana County Jail, Mr Slevin claimed to be depressed and unable to sleep in the solitary "pod" there. As time went on, he told them he'd begun hallucinating. No doctor was called, but at the behest of a prison nurse, who had a bachelor's degree in psychology but no medical qualifications, he was given some sedatives. It wasn't until June 2007 that Mr Slevin went before a judge, at which point he was immediately released into the mental health system on the grounds that he was by then incapable of participating in his own defence.

The case throws an uncomfortable light on the use of solitary confinement in the US justice system. At present, an estimated 50,000 inmates are housed in such circumstances, sometimes for years at a time. Dona Ana County had previously offered Mr Slevin $2m to drop his compensation case. It pledged to appeal the $22m award, saying: "we believe we have strong legal issues to raise."

PURSUIT: The continuation of The Future of Warfare

The continuation of The Future of Warfare

J. Croft

March 20, 2014

Kayla Miller cruises steady, cooly, in her brand new-to her-Chardon Police Department Cruiser.  The 90’s era Crown Victoria’s V8 thrums with power on tap, its interior consoles jammed with speed radars, automated license plate scanners, a scanner-none of which were working, which only baffled Kayla for a second before remembering the nets, radio, television… all down. 

That’s why the sky’s not filled with all the motherfucking drones the enemy’s produced over the past few years in anticipation of this war.  At least that was what Dad said-wasn’t the first time he was proven right…

Mind on the mission.  That’ll keep the memories of her dead friends, loved ones, comrades-in-arms at bay.  Has to if she’s going to get job done.

Inventory:  one underfed 5’6” girl… hell, grown ass woman… with a gunshot wound clean through her left shoulder like an ice pick that’s hurting like all hell.  Well, she was a right hand shooter anyway and used whatever rest for the rifle anyway.  Yeah… brand new-to her-M14 sniper rifle with suppressor and scoped… mil-dots.  Have to replace the scope first thing, can’t stand having to do math to calculate where to hold some motherfucker on whatever dot.  Slowed her down, but at least the centered dot was on at about 200 yards, so she’ll deal.  Got her sweet Sig-Saur off that dead pig as well, and a loaded pistol is always a comfort.  Got a G18 full auto suppressed Glock with some extended mags-holy shit that’s going to be useful as a motherfucker…

…From the motherfucking Terminator who murdered Chris Bernard.  God that hurt… shit. 

…Yeah, too bad Chris isn’t around to help with his drone design neither.  His plans will have to do.

Got Dave Getz’s M240 with four belts of 7.62x51.  Got plenty of that caliber in the magazines but those are sniper loads she was certain an’ all that belted stuff was ball and armor piercing.  Damn that thing’s heavy-no WAY she could hump that!  Dave was a big dude-in fact that MG came with him when he turned on his platoon doing a sweep through Warren.  Always good to have dude around, and not for just his ability with the MG though he was about a Picasso with the thing when raid teams bunched up.  Dude was another of the Best Kayla herself and the Cause in general lost.  Lost to fucking pigs in black who like to fuck with anyone weaker-physically-than they, lost to 300lb fatties in air conditioned drone control rooms.  No doubt with a twinkie in one hand and a all-too deft hand on the joystick, murdering their fellow Americans from hundreds, thousands of miles away.  Cowards.

Naw, they lost the right to be called Americans when they raised their hand against their own.  Speaking of which, she thanked that Chardon piglet with her new Glock-which has a suppressor as well-for his contribution to the war effort; his M4 carbine, ammo, and this cop car which is getting her through enemy lines with the easiest of ease with the lights flashing and whatnot. 

Kayla looks forward.  Definetly out of the official Chardon town limits but these days those were formalities not even looked at… so long as she wasn’t rolling in the sausage wagon in say, C-Town.  Hickbilly cop car there might set off some alarms. 

Hitchhiker-well, that isn’t exactly a safe bet these days.  Not one bit safe in fact it was a sure bet to get scooped up and thrown into a FEMA camp and God knows where else.  Whatever they were doing with millions of out of work, homeless, starving Americans, it’s turned into something that Nazis back in the day could point at and say “see ve ain’t so bad, are ve?”

Had enough close calls there-that’s why her policy on contact with any government officials is to fight to the last round.  That was for herself if she lost.  Been there and unfortunately done that.

Yep.  Cruise on by that fool.  Bye…  yeah she’s going to have to find another ride to get further down the road… down the road where?  Well, where else but Chesterland?  Man hope her contact out this way’s still alive or she’s gonna have problems-like getting to her alternate across the free-no, highway.  Nobody who sees what the enemy has done to the interstate highway system would for a second call them “freeways”.

Another hitchhiker?!  What gives-is fucking Geauga County full of fools or what?  AND THAT PARTICULAR FOOL’S STICKING HIS THUMB OUT TRYING TO GET A RIDE FROM A COP CAR!

Kayla laughs.  How can you not?  These times just make anyone quit, but quit wasn’t in her.   Won’t give the enemy the pleasure-and bye there Loser number two… was he a twin?

Whatever:  her priority’s to get to whatever contact is around, get these plans to the rebels-yeah, just like Star Wars, an’ she’s Princess Leia.  And where the hell she going to hide a Chardon cop wagon at?  Just have to find some foreclosed home that ain’t occupied and park this piggie in the back. 

Yeah, gonna have to park it-oh what the hell, another fool with his thumb out for the cops?! 

Another fool… looks just like-no, EXACTLY like those other two… oh no.  No-she’s read about this, but this isn’t happening.  Speed past him.  It’s the day-big ass bomb going off, chased by a tank and a terminator looking spook, lost what’s left of her militia, last of her family, now losing sanity just speed on by, bye bye, and look for a place to ditch this and get a replacement… should’ve jacked a Geauga Sheriff but them fools weren’t around. 

There he is.  Again.  Alright that’s fucking enough.

Kayla speeds up, then screeches to a halt inches from the Fourth Hitchhiker… who was the Third, Second, and First. 

Kayla gets out, M4 locked, loaded and ready to rip and let this be a mirage or whatever.

“Hey, what’s it going to take to get a ride out here anyway, Officer?”

He can’t be kidding.  Yet there he is all fed and smiling and happy an’ shit.  Unbelievable.

“Okay: first, I’m no cop an’ don’t ever insult me like that again; second, you know trying to hitch a ride with the po-lice is a one way trip to a FEMA detention facility; third, you an’ yo’ brothers/twins/whatever-this a STUPID ASS way to lure a cop into a ambush.  You don’t have four dudes spread out along the road, you have one an’ the rest y’all be out of sight with rifles.  Maybe have a dude or two nearby if they ain’t got rifles to get to the punk ass cop quick an’ strip him an’ take his ride.  Cruise around, flag down other traitors and shoot them in they face but they looks for that now so that plan don’t work so good cept if they tired or brand new or just fuckin’ stupid.”  Kayla adjusted her jaw and it crackles. 

“Alright, I get it.  You weren’t expecting me” Hitchhiker #4 holds up his hands-wrists got bullet holes neat through each of them.

“Goddamn how you get shot through each yo’ wrists like that an’… oh.  Oh, no you ain’t…”

Kayla’s energy just leaves her, the lightweight government issued M4 drops to the hood of the cop car, she loses the power to make words, to even think.

Jesus gingerly, slowly, walks over to the opposite side of the police cruiser, and as Kayla Miller goes into mental shutdown he takes the M4 carbine out of her hands, safes and slings it, then helps the girl into the passenger seat.  He gets in the driver’s seat and gets going, driving to Chesterland.

Warren, Ohio

In the command chamber at the heart of the converted office building, General Warburg of the German Army on a joint NATO operation looks at the holographic display of Northern Ohio:

*The electromagnetic blackout extending 160 kilometers from the Pymatunig Lake battlesite is still in effect, though there’s now a flashing red beacon indicating a report of a new battle in some hick town named Chardon.  Additional markers not moving indicate all the forces along the 50 km perimeter are moving in rapidly to contain whatever was in, or got out of the battlesite.

*The 160 km perimeter was marching methodically inward, with additional holographic video displays clicking through of house to house searches like nothing America has ever seen, even during the war-NO consideration given, no quarter offered, everyone marched off into waiting buses and off to a massive FEMA detention camp south of Cleveland.  ANY resistance was fired on by every weapon in sight-small arms, tank cannon, gunships, any NATO fighter-bombers in the vicinity given shoot to kill whatever they could.  All in glorious video that’s hours late because of the damned EM blackout that’s the centerpiece of this verdamnt operation.

*He was getting very frustrated with this entire operation.

General Warburg retreats to his office overlooking the command chamber, not even looking at the naked, starved, incredibly abused children chained to his office’s walls and gets on the phone.  They knew better.  He trained them himself… so he gets on the phone, dials.

“This is General Warburg, I need to speak with the Joint Chiefs… Ja.”  Conference calling… he sets the phone to speaker mode.  “This is Warburg; I request that the electromagnetic blackout over my battlefield be lifted immediately.  I cannot coordinate my troops and they certainly cannot communicate with each other, this has turned into a disaster-a disaster I am not going to be held responsible for.”

“General, this the blackout stays.  We’re prepared to pay whatever cost in men and material in order to contain whatever shot down two of the world’s best fighters.  That drone-or design-cannot and will not be allowed to escape.”

“Warburg, this is General Dixon, Air Force; you have a nuclear armed B-52 and about all of NATO at your command, just use them!”

“With respect, but, if the design for this rebel super drone would turn the tide of this war into the enemy’s favor, why not simply bomb the area and use more southern routes to break out into the Midwest?”

“Cleveland’s become strategic.”  Another general- “nation’s road network is densest in this area, not easily cut.  Besides, if you’ve been paying attention to all your feeds we’re clearing this region out.  We do that, secure it, we’ll use this operation as a template for future actions against the enemy.  Win here, Warburg.  There’s no other option.  Alright we’re done.”

The phone line cuts.  Warburg simply walks out, the current operation the only thing on his mind.  He’s greeted by four American intelligence agents.  The lead-a big but wiry blonde haired male in his late 30’s perhaps 40 leads two finely but simply dressed women and a even bigger black male who clearly are subordinate…

“General Warburg, if you have a minute-“

“-Ah, Tom Jager!  From Los Angeles-wonderful!  You’re here-I have much use of you!  I see you have a team.”

“Yes, General:  this is Carol Finn, Andrea Hazel, and Andre Grace.”

“Yes, yes!  Your government’s counter-terrorist specialists from Homeland Security.  Heard many great things about you and how your group’s single handedly disrupted the Los Angeles threat.”

“Thank you.  I am confused however; we know nothing about this area-why were we called in?”

“You’re the best.  Come let us look at the situation at hand.”  All five of them look out at the holographic map and video feeds of the battlefield.  Among them are recovered combat camera images from the downed F22 Raptors of the clandestinely built rebel drone that shot them down with such ease…

“I need you and your team to go into the heart of the electromagnetic blackout zone that will remain up, and you’re to find the trail of the group that built and launched that drone.”

Andrea Hazel speaks, all 5’10” former model of her; “wasn’t there another operative working this?”

“Yes a Agent Cooper of the FBI though my own sources indicate that was a cover-I presume him dead from the Chardon incident but if you do link up with him, assist him in tracking down the group, otherwise track them down yourselves.”

“Um,” Carol Finn: 5’4, not nearly as attractive.  Obviously the brains of the group.  “General, I don’t know how useful myself and Andrea are going to be if we can’t communicate with Tom and Andre.”

“I know.  However, we do have our own landlines at the 50 kilometer perimeter we laid down, use them as you can find them, they ought to be where there are company headquarters.  Alright Agent Jager: I give you my full authority to pull whatever forces you need… can you carry this mission out given the situation?”

“If we can pick up the trail, we’ll find her.”


The Commander of the former Warren Ohio underground base-right underneath the current Federal Fusion Center-gets in a semi-trailer, riding shotgun with a real trucker.  He doesn’t know his real name.  Didn’t need to.  He certainly didn’t know his.

“I do the driving.”  Trucker starts “if there’s a emergency hopefully I’ll still be able to-otherwise, you’ll be doing the driving, solo.  Hope your ID checks out when we hit a checkpoint, we’re bound to.  Stay quiet, let me do the talking, these cops know me, I’ve been hauling their shit for them since well before the war started.  Hope the trip’s worth it.”

“So do I.”  The Commander watches as the Trucker puts his semi into gear, and they roll off to the North to the interstate, to Cleveland hauling a trailer full of ammunition.  Whatever was going on was requiring every last mode of transport to supply all the forces arrayed up there.


Kayla comes to, in the front passenger seat-with the fourth copy of the guy she thought was Jesus Christ parking the Chardon cop car she took from a now dead Chardon cop in the barely there driveway of a long collapsed farm.  He drives the car in the back, parks under a awning.  At least he knows that much she thought. 

He turns to her.  “Yes I really am who you think I am but don’t want to admit.”

“No.  No, no.  You’re not doing this.  Not today.”

“Yes, today.  Listen: you need to succeed.  The fate of this country, the fate of this world depends on you, and what you do.”

“And why would that possibly be?”  There, Kayla thought… Kayla looked into the big, soft, compassionate eyes, feel the love and concern just washing over her like tidal waves… the neat scars on the wrists… Kayla brushes aside the long, hippie hair to see a jagged line of marks on the brow.  She passes out.

Kayla wakes up-in the driver’s seat, behind a abandoned farm.  What a dream.  No time for dreams though, and she needs a place to hide out.

Now normally, Kayla would use a cell phone but with this weird electromagnetic effect going on that wasn’t happening… look around, look around-neighbors!  Leaving most of her armament she takes the silent, selective fire Glock pistol, heads to a neighbor’s home.

Months before the Geauga County Volunteers left pamphlets all over their area of operation and one of those was the protocols for assistance of any Volunteer under threat or duress, and being a good soldier Kayla knew those by heart-she’s had to use them more than once.
Kayla knocks on the back door: RAP, RAP… RAP, RAP, RAP, RAP… RAP-SLAM!

She awaits… she has the Glock 18 behind the back, at the ready…

A voice from inside: “cancerous tumor!”

“Colloidal silver!”  Kayla knew her codes.  …She waits… waits… waits… waits…

The door opens.  A older woman, haggared, but still determined, with a stock SKS rifle at low port.  Thank God.

“Kayla Miller, Pymatunig Militia.  I need to get to Chesterland.”

“Well, beats having to hide you.  Not that we could.  Like riding in a horse drawn cart?”

“Sounds like a question you can only say yes to.”


A B-52H Stratofortress taxis onto the runway, its eight engines spooling up.

Major Glenn Higgins, pilot and commander, advances the throttles along with Major Anne Devaraux, the copilot, and the bomber starts to roll down the runway. 

Captain David Morris checks the weapon status; his board shows six B-61 nuclear weapons, gravity bombs, not armed but ready.

Lieutenant Gary Schoeder checks the radio, internal comms, and onboard radar and sensors-a map shows the 200 mile diameter EM blackout field centered around Pymatunig Lake-warning no radar, nor radio communications possible.  There are also map warnings about enemy air activity from Wisconsin, Minnesota and Michigan.

Sargeant Terry Ray sits in the back, at the tail gunner, checking his four 20mm cannons.  Oddly enough not having radar suddenly makes his position potentially much less anachronistic. 

The B-52 takes off, slowly accelerating skyward, heads South.  Linking up with the strategic bomber are two F-22 Raptor fighters-Major Albert Anson, and Captain Jerry Tomkins.

Major Higgins gets on the comm: “This is Major Higgins, we are proceeding as planned.  MALLET is go.”


Kayla lies under a tarp… not the first time today… on a horse-drawn cart full of home-grown produce driven by that farmer lady with the SKS westward to Chesterland.  Two years ago this would be quite anachronistic… not today as they pass a gas station with 25 dollar a gallon gasoline.

“Folks in Chesterland know me well.”  Farmer Lady rambles on, “my produce is disease and radiation free.”

“Yah, that’s important these days” Kayla wonders just how much radiation she’s sucked down.  Everyone does.  “Y’know, I’m surprised they let you keep that SKS.”

“They haven’t got this part of the country locked down just yet.  Yeah it has that nasty bayonet but its stock Russian.  Besides folks in Chesterland know me well, and know just how many hungry people are around.  Not so many of them would go through me as they would say, west of the freeway but those folks in Chesterland need my produce.  That’s why I’m still armed.  Imagine there’s even parts of Ohio where they still tolerate armed citizens so long as they’re considered safe.”

Kayla shakes her head… Farmer Lady could sense her doing so.  “I was a Volunteer when Sheriff McLellan first formed them, thought things would just collapse.  A lot of folks made that bet.  A lot of those folks lost that bet with their lives, but you know that first hand girly.  Don’t worry, you’ll get to your contact, just let me handle this and could you not point your Glock at me so much?”

How did she know Kayla thinks… woman’s no fool that’s for sure.

The horse drawn cart approaches the outskirts of town-defined by a roadblock manned by Geauga County Sheriffs Deputies and a HUMMV full of Ohio National Guardsmen.  No mounted machine gun, but all the OPFOR are packing M-4s.

“God’s sake keep quiet girl.”  Farmer Lady advances to the roadblock.   The Geauga County Deputy, a Sargeant, gives a halt gesture, and she complies.

“I’d ask what your business is, but I already know what that would be.”

“And I’ll ask if I can be on my way, but you’ll search my horse and buggy anyway.  Got nothing to hide.”

“Ma’am I know what you got, and you’d best be advised to keep it out of sight today-some serious craziness is going down.”

“In Chardon.  I heard.  I couldn’t help but hear.”

“There definetly was an incident.  They’re trying to piece together what happened-literally-and it looks like a suicide bomber-“

“-No way!  Suicide bombers-in America?!”  Farmer Lady shakes her head in shock and despair.  That Sheriff’s Deputy was no fool, and this one honestly made rank by not being one.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t have approved… things are going to get a lot scarier-I’d hide that SKS very well when you get home, they’ll be doing sweeps.”

“What’s going on?  Why don’t the TV and radio work?”

“I suspect it has something to do with what happened in Chardon, and Pymatunig Lake a few days ago.”

“That air crash?”

“No Ma’am.  That was rebel activity.”  Farmer Lady took a breath… that’s why Kayla Miller, Pymatunig Militia was in her cart, in the secret compartment…. She should never have answered the door.

“I appreciate the word Deputy.  But I can only get these goods to town.”

“After we search” to the other Deputy and Guardsmen “I’ll search this one myself.”  The Deputy Sargeant unfurls the tarp sees the produce… doesn’t see the hidden compartment, under the seat…

…Kayla aims at the Deputy Sargeant-no he doesn’t look the fool.  Shit fuck shit fuck shit! 

…Deputy Sargeant regards the hidden compartment, and it’s a well crafted hide… a year of open warfare has given him a well developed sense of danger… he pulls the tarp over the Farmer Lady’s goods, secures it.  He goes to Farmer Lady with some advice “I’d lay a lot lower about everything.”

“I do try Deputy.”

“Take care.  Let her through!”  The HUMMV gets moved aside, and the Farmer Lady with the horse drawn cart goes through.

Chesterland is a small Ohio town built up from a crossroad, mostly built in the west but the Farmer Lady strolls the horse through the car-free intersection to REGGIE’S, a family restaurant that’s somehow been able to hold on.  She guides her cart into the back, gets off and knocks.

Reggie Jones: mid 50’s, clothes a bit baggy on him suggesting he had a bit of a gut opens, smiles.  “Ah, you’re early.  Good thing you’re early, I was actually running out of food.”

“…Got a package for you, personally.”  Farmer Lady was not so cheery.

“Better give it to me right away then.”  Farmer Lady pulls back the tarp, opens the hidden compartment and Kayla Miller cautiously gets up.  Reggie motions for her to enter and she does just that; Farmer Lady lifting a massive duffel bag with Kayla’s M-4, M-14, and M-240 and gear and bringing it in with her.


Flying overhead, a UH60 Blackhawk approaches a cleared space near the devastated east side of Chardon; the fires are out, now there’s burnt houses, burnt vehicles, burnt bodies.  Soldiers and investigators from everywhere from Chardon to NATO Command swarm the battlefield, taking measurments. 

The UH60 lands, and Tom Jager, Carol Finn, Andrea Hazel, and Andre Grace step out with four masked operators of indeterminate service and rank.  Guards.  Muscle.

All look around; a NATO official, a Colonel from Great Britain approaches. 

“Colonel Miles Davidson, British Army.”

Tom steps forward; “Tom Jager, this is my team.  I have authorization from General Warburg to act under his full authority here-what happened?”  Andrea Hazel steps forward, hands the documentation to the British Colonel.

“Ah, good.  Well, that’s about the only good thing-lost one of my tank crews today from that bomb blast, took out a whole platoon of infantry, 60 or so blueshirts-sorry, TSA agents-and several other suspect vehicles.  Then we had a bit of a battle with my other Challenger, and then some flyboys decided to make certain any insurgents got perished to the south of here.”

Tom Jager and his team look to the west, see the bomb blast, the flattened devastation, then the south and see five bodies-four militia and one man in a black leather jacket.

“Any ID on them?”

“The terrs on the road got turned into mush, maybe we can get DNA.  The two other wankers over there are ID’d as Dave Getz, Sargeant, US Army-deserter.  The boffin at the end is Chris Bernard, student, MIT but he dropped out at the beginning of your latest civil war.”

“Bet he’s behind the drone-did you find any plans, flash drives?”


“Damn.  What about the man in all black?”

“Agent Bill Cooper, FBI sir.  Died taking them down I believe.”

“Let’s take a look” Tom Jager leads his crew over to Agent Cooper’s body… yeah it’s him. 

Andre speaks up; “looks like he took about 10 rifle hits after he went down.” 

“Plans are missing from Bernard as well” Andrea is over by Chris Bernard’s body.

“There’s one left and that person has the drone plans.  Any reports from local law enforcement Colonel?”

“Beg your pardon Sir, but we’re still in the process of sorting out just what happened.  I’ll get a vehicle myself-this bloody electromagnetic blackout, whose bloody ideal was it?!”

“Not mine.”  Tom looks at Agent Cooper’s body and his other team members cluster around him.

Carol Finn recognizes the deceased agent, “that’s-“

“Mark Bolo.  In the flesh.  He’s a legend in the intelligence community-known as The Shadow, he was like a… fairy tale.  I’d hoped I never met him.”

“You, Tom?!”  Carol was in shock at Tom’s respectful awe of the black clad corpse.

“He was a one man commando unit.  There would be problems and he’d be sent in to solve said problems… much of what you hear about him they say are myth, but...  Carol, check out his vehicle.”

“Which one is that?”

“The one that a guy like this would drive.  Try the sports car.”  Tom points at the burnt Mustang and Carol goes over… meanwhile Andrea joins Tom wandering over to the Roofing Truck.

“What do you think Andrea, you think a five man team could hide in a secret compartment… in the back… camoflaged by rubble when nobody has any money for roof jobs?”  Tom examines the hide the Pymatunig Militia used. 

“Clever bunch.”  Andrea looks around; a pair of HUMMVs approaches, the Colonel getting out of the lead.  “Just had a chat with the town constable; one of their vehicles was taken, the officer killed and his weapons stripped from him-it was reported going southwest.”

Tom Jager leaps into action “Commandeer the HUMMVs-Carol-“

“-Got Cooper’s-Bolo’s Toughbook!”  Carol comes running, and joins Tom and his team in the HUMMVs and they spin out of the battlefield, headed Southwest.

In the lead, Carol has a good question: “Tom, how are we going to search for a Chardon police cruiser when we have no communications?”

“I know.  We’ll just have to go back and forth.”  Tom brakes the HUMMV-“COLONEL DAVIDSON, CAN YOU GET MY CHOPPER IN THE  AIR?”

“I’LL SPOT YOU FROM THE AIR MYSELF!”  Colonel Davidson runs to Tom’s Blackhawk and seconds later it takes off as Jager’s team heads southwest.


Kayla Miller’s in the back storage room/office helping with her one good arm helps Reggie Jones to help stock up the Farmer Lady’s produce. 

“Look you don’t have to help, you’ve obviously been through enough today.”

“Been through enough the past few days.  I’d like to keep busy if you don’t mind.”

“You gotta rest though, you got that gunshot that needs tending-speaking of which I got someone to come over.  Now sit down right now.

Kayla sits, bone tired but at the same time wired like she’s never been before in her life.  Reggie sits in his office chair by her. 

“I’ve seen how you are before Kayla.  When we stood against the military, we all were run ragged trying to duck those damned drones.”

“24/7.  They never stopped running them.”  Kayla shook her head.

“Yeah.  They operate those things in shifts.”

“One thing to take on a platoon of infantry with those little RC drones, maybe one of those model helicopters with a machine gun on it-a goose gun’s good enough but a Predator at 10,000 feet-fuck.”  Kayla shakes her head… “my whole unit perished themselves getting this here, what was left after those things pounded us to nothing.  The only good thing about this commo blackout’s that it’s stopped them from flying them around here” Kayla pats Chris Bernard’s satchel with the plans.

“Tell me about it.  What’s that?”

“Thing that can turn this war around.  Plans to the drone that shot down those jets and drones over Pymatunig.”


“We built a drone.”


“Yeah.  It shot down two fighter jets and three drones.  F-22s in fact; saw em’ go down myself.  Hard.”

“Made ace on its first sortie.”

“Only sortie-decided to ram the last drone when its gun jammed, or so Chris figured.  And yeah, that’s why there’s a bunch of BS about a plane crash, why Chardon was blown up trying to stop us, and probably why no radios or TVs work.”

“And the landlines cut.  We’re operating by runners and laser signal but there’s so many hostile planes in the air, we don’t dare do it unless it’s absolutely vital.  Even then-they’re pounding on anything.  Anything.”

“We’re going to lose here, aren’t we?”  Kayla looks intensely into Reggie’s eyes, something he understands-a shit situation.

“Don’t know about your situation by the border-“

“-We were done for anyway.  Drone patrols intercepted shipments about every time, we were out of food, down to basic combat ammo loads.”

“Death by inches.”  John McLellan enters the office; if he was a former Geauga County Sheriff turned ‘domestic terrorist’ he gave no hint with a full growth of beard and chef’s outfit.  “Not only do we have to contend with all the drones in the air, but the enemy cut us off with the freeways.”

“Turned them into prison walls.  Had more than enough experience with that getting in and out of Warren.  Pleasure to meet you again, Sheriff.”

“How’s your Dad?”

“Dead from a drone strike.  That’s why we launched.”

“Can you make us a copy of the plans?”

“No need to ask Sheriff you’re getting one.  Think you can get me outta here?”

“That we’ll have to make arrangements.  Reg I’m going to be late for work tonight, I got some calls to make… or messages-how in the hell are they shutting down the entire EM spectrum anyway?”


A huge satellite, blacker than black orbits 22,300 miles above the Western Hemisphere; a cylinder with a nuclear engine, massive solar panels extended, and a series of transmitters aimed at America… at Ohio.


Colonel Miles Davidson, British Army, cruises overhead in the Blackhawk helicopter, with a Copilot operating a optical/thermal sensor.  The Colonel himself looks out the open door with a pair of binoculars.  “Bloody hell, how do these Colonials manage to hide a fucking cop car!”

In the HUMMV, Tom Jager rolls through the Geauga countryside, Andre Grant riding shotgun with an assault rifle, Andrea and Carol going over Mark Bolo’s Notebook…

“Tom I don’t see how Bolo’s done any worse than you have-well, you know what I mean” Andrea’s nonplussed at the hideous carnage Mark Solo/Agent Cooper inflicted on those unfortunates who knew/aided the Pymatunig Militia.  Andre takes a look at the video of Mark Bolo taking a blowtorch to the genitals of a elderly lady…

“Ah, I see the Shadow appreciates Mr. Blowtorch.”

“Who doesn’t?” Tom pipes in.  “Turn up the audio.”

Carol complies:

Elderly Lady SCREAMS, screams horribly with the application of the propane blowtorch to her privates at low heat.

Mark Bolo: “Where’s their safe house at?”

Elderly Lady sobs, shakes.  “Goddamn you to Hell you son of a bitch.”

“I can appreciate you not feeling like cooperating.  Tell the truth I’m impressed by your continued silence.  I can change that.”  Bolo leaves the Elderly Lady to her suffering, drags out a Granddaughter-just a little girl!  He roughly binds her to a chair facing her, rips her clothes off.  He grabs the blowtorch.

“I believe you hickbilly gunfuckers call this Mr. Blowtorch.  Well, Mr. Blowtorch is about to deflower your lovely little Granddaughter.  Too bad-I know plenty of people who’d appreciate that fine little ass…

Tom has pulled the HUMMV over and the four of them watch the screen, hear the horrific screams from the child. 

“Oh, I haven’t done it like THAT!  Not yet…”

“Get a chance in a few hours I suspect, Boss.”  Andre smiles.

“If we can find her-this goddamn EM blackout!  I’m finding a place to park; let the Blackhawk find it, let them come to us.  No need for the good Colonel to have to hunt two vehicles.  …What else does Bolo got in there?”


Sheriff John McLellan-former Sheriff-walks across the street to shopping mall, to what was a supermarket-now a daily flea market.  He approaches the front entrance; two huge Guards nod him through and go through John McLellan does…

A supermarket is a big open space with linoleum floors and flourescent lighting-but without a tenant to pay the electric bill the power comes from a series of ad hoc generators, windmills, solar panels on the roof, the wiring crudely plugged into the lighting.

The shelves are mostly gone-save for those salvaged for walls or use by vendors.  There are a lot of vendors-everyone from full time dealers to desperate families offering what spare produce they sold or parts or, if you ask, other riskier things like guns, gun parts, ammunition.  Most of the things for sale are common household items-about all of which gather dust.  A few vendors sell CDs of illegal movies, copies of web sites but have most of their items being copied DVD movies.

John McLellan approaches a fully equipped stall; filled with old memorabilia, some jewelry, how to books, hand crafted crossbows and bows, walking sticks, common auto parts like lamps, spark plugs.  The Vendor sits behind a glass display case; about 40, full beard getting peppered with grey, Jewish, stocky and strong.  “Afternoon, John.”

“Avrim” John replies “I need an out, for a girl.”

“Oh.  That’s not going to be easy.  Not at all.”  Avrim shakes his head, in a practiced act.

“I know.”  Yeah, John knows a negotiation’s going to be tough with this one.  “If I thought I could do it myself, I would.”

“Ah.  This must be important.  I will have to know where you want her to go to.”

John collects himself… regards Avrim; he’s dealt with him and he’s been straight-wants his cut, a profit margin, but he’s established himself as fair as well…. “You’ve helped us out, and you’ve been more than fair when you could have-“

“-Oh what do you want already?!”  Avrim can be short.

“She needs to get to the Free States.”

Avrim leans forward, “are you a police officer?”

“Not since I started shooting back-“

“-This is serious John!  What did this girl do to merit smuggling to the Free States?”

“Her group was responsible for shooting down two fighter jets and three combat drones over Pymatunig Lake, by the border-“

“-I know where!”

“How much?”

“What did they use to accomplish this?”

“They built a drone.”

“And operated it without the signal being triangulated, shelled or bombed out of existence?”

“You know they couldn’t do that.”

“…Fully automated?  AI?”  Avrim leaned close, eyes boring in on McLellan….

“I suspect.”

“Give me a full copy of the design, I shall deliver the girl wherever you need her to go-the question is where?”

John thinks… “Michigan-“

“-Out of the Question!”

“It’s the closest Free State Avrim.”

“Most of the militia in the Michigan Republic do not appreciate my People.  Certainly not their leadership!  I will take her to Alabama, though Texas may be the best bet, but getting there will be a lot trickier… she will have to backtrack-through PA, and down the Appalachian Mountains-hopefully there’s still enough of a resistance left hiding there to assist.” 

“You’ll make the usual arrangements?”

“No.  I will take the girl myself.”


“John I consider you a friend so I will speak truthfully; my people will be very interested in this drone.”

“Isn’t Israel gone though?”

Avrim shrugs.  “Most of it.”


The Blackhawk lands in the clearing where Tom Jager’s team has parked their HMMV and Colonel Davidson waves.  Tom gets out and runs to him; “found that missing police cruiser five kilometers south of here!”

“Go there and orbit we’ll be there in a few minutes!”  Tom Jager runs back to the HMMV gets in and speeds along the back roads…

…Few minutes later, Tom Jager’s HMMV arrives at the abandoned farm… right when the Farmer Lady arrives with her horse drawn cart.

Andre looks at her… “Think she knows something?”

“Got a blowtorch?”  Tom jokes.  He gets out with Andre; Carol and Andrea stay behind, being more intelligence analysts than frontline agents.  They approach Farmer Lady, G36 5.56 carbines aimed at her.  “GET DOWN FROM THE CART RIGHT NOW!  RIGHT NOW!”  The Blackhawk orbits overhead, a side mounted M240 aimed at the Farmer Lady.

Farmer Lady regards the situation; two highly trained, well armed government agents with automatic weapons aimed at her, a helicopter with a machine gun aimed at her overhead… some things are best not stretched out.  She smiles.

“Oh Father in Heaven-“ Farmer Lady whips out her SKS carbine snap shoots at Andre and puts a round through his skull!  She starts aiming for Tom…

“NO!”  Tom Jager hoses Farmer Lady, peppering her with high velocity 5.56mm, the orbiting Blackhawk joining in with the M240, turning her into bloody mush.

“FUCK!”  Tom kneels down by Andre-now dead… where’s the nearest fucking town?!”


Kayla Miller’s chowing down on a plate full of spaghetti, another plate of garlic bread, and a coke.  John McLellan returns with Avrim Heinz, with Reggie at the door.  “Mhrey” Kayla mumbles through a mouth full of spaghetti and bread.

“Chew and swallow, dear.”  Reggie can only look at Kayla, he’s seen a lot of hungry people the past couple years.  Kayla chews, swallows, takes a swig of coke, then reluctantly turns towards her benefactors.  “Sorry.  Your food’s really good.”

“Kayla” John starts, “this is Avrim Heinz; he’s going to get you to where you need going.”

“Thanks.  Hi.  Where’s that?”

Avrim answers, “that’s what we need to talk about now.”


“We were talking a bit earlier, and Avrim thinks it would be best to get to the Free States.”

“That’s a no-brainer.”

“Ah, you would think!”

Kayla gives Avrim Heinz a good quick look.  “You have objections to going to Michigan… yeah, I can see how you would.”

“Good girl.  You’re smart-I think we’ll get along.”  Avrim approaches; “I work for the State of Israel.”

“That’s still around?!”

“Yes.  I won’t go into details at this time, save that we need your unit’s drone plans as much as your fellow countrymen.  As for Michigan, they don’t have the resources to exploit this technology anyway, they can barely keep themselves in bullets and fuel.  I want to head further west-Texas, Montana, Zion, Jefferson.”

“That’s going to be quite an adventure getting there” Kayla thinks it through, easier to do when you’re not having hunger dominate your thoughts “they sending a lot of shit this way and I’m sure most of it’s not yet here.”

“It’s worse than you think.  NATO is intervening in your civil war.”

“Saw that when that British tank blew two of my friends away.”

“My condolences.  Yes, NATO’s here, and many more of them are landing in New York, Boston, Norfolk.”

“How many?”  John asks, “heard Alabama sent their battleship to try an intercept.”

“It failed.  They threw everything at it, quite the sea battle but no-a full army corps has landed, and is headed west, to here.  Ohio’s done for and likely Michigan will follow.  Our hope lies west of the Mississippi.  You know, they got a nuclear powered satellite that can shut down all EM transmissions within a 200 mile radius… what we’re going through now.  Your drone’s got them desperate, girl.”

Kayla leans back-no she can’t help but smile at the ruckus her and her now perished troop have caused.  “Alright.  We’ll get out of here-you’re guiding me, right?”

Avrim nods.

“Good-you’re a big boy, you’re humping the 240.”  Kayla turns to John, “think I can get some rest before me and Avrim hit the road?”

“I don’t recommend too much of a delay.  Even my people aren’t sure how much they’ve thrown into this state.”  Avrim produces a netbook computer, “now if you don’t mind I’d like my copy now.”

“Aw hold on!  What obligation would you have to get me outta here if I just give you the plans now?”

“Good point.”  Reggie nods. 

Avrim sets the netbook down at the desk, “I’ll get you to the Free States Kayla.  You have my word, and I’m giving that word to you on account of how your government fucking left us flapping in the wind during our war!  You destroying your govenrment is justice for what they’ve failed to do for us!”

Kayla gets out the flash drive with the plans, “since you put it that way.”


Another little burg built from a country crossroad.  Colonel Davidson, British Army, in the Blackhawk lands near a armored platoon of four British Warrior infantry fighting vehicles, presents himself to the commander, a Captain…


Tom Jager and his team arrive at the outskirts of town, at that roadblock Farmer Lady went through a few hours ago.  Tom gets out, goes straight for the Deputy Sargeant.  “My name’s Tom Jager, I’m with the federal government and I’m going to need you and your mens assistance in searching this town for insurrectionists.”

The Sargeant thought fast-ANY hesitation or calculation and this serious looking fed would make his worst nightmares come to frightening reality… “whatever you want, Sir.”

“Good.  I have a Blackhawk and a platoon of British mechanized infantry coming this way.  When they get here, redeploy to the south, west, and north and we’ll squeeze them out.  We’re going door to door and we’re not stopping until we get what we came for!  Understand?”

“Yes Sir.”  Nothing else for the Sheriff’s Deputy to do but to obey… right?

“Come on!”  Tom Jager gestures his team to follow him and they enter Reggie’s “I’m making this my command post!”

In the back of Reggie’s, Kayla finishes up her meal; John McLellan finishes making a copy of the drone plans for his own use, when they both hear the commotion from the dining room.  They both go to investigate…

Tom Jager, Carol, Andrea and his troops burst in, loud and proudly obnoxious as only feds can.

“This restaurant is now under federal control!”  Tom Jager waves his badge overhead, Sig Saur in the other hand,“leave now-right fucking now!”  Tom gives it a thought then shoots a customer dead-just to make an example “I FUCKING MEAN IT!”

The patrons stream out quietly, not wanting to join that unfortunate American.  “Get rid of this body, and get me set up.”

In the back room Kayla and John look at each other-no words are needed.  Kayla hands the M-4 with chest rig full of loaded magazines to John as Kayla gets out her suppressed Glock 18 machine pistol, dials the selector to full auto.  She nods to John-he’ll head this, it’s his town, his county.

Kayla and John creep up to the door, then burst through….

Carol and Andrea are in the center, setting up their computers, with Tom Jager to the left, his eight troops to the right-all of them look as a bearded older man and a young lady burst through.

Kayla works the right, going to the left-she tips the Glock 18 gangsta style to the left and rips full auto, letting the recoil carry the machine pistol from right to left, going for the groin.

John McLellan aims the M-4 at Tom Jager but decades in covert ops helps him; he lands backwards onto the floor, aims his Sig Saur at John as he fires!

Carol and Andrea both push the table towards the threat.

Kayla’s Glock 18 runs dry-she grasps for a second 33 round magazine as she ejects the first, letting it hit the ground.

Tom Jager FIRES pegging John McLellan in the legs, gut and shoulder as he lands and shoots.  John McLellan’s bucked backwards.

Kayla sends the slide forward.  Still on full auto she aims at Tom Jager…

…Tom rolls out of the way…

Kayla fires a burst; Tom’s reactions just enough to avoid the five round burst.  She goes left behind the counter.

“Carol, Andrea-get outta here and get help-NOW!”  Carol and Andrea have no problem obeying Tom and scamper out of the restaurant.  Tom grabs a M-4 off one of his wounded soldiers and SPRAYS the counter Kayla’s hiding behind, the 5.56 filling the air with splinters.

Kayla on the ground, she crawls fast to the back room as Tom’s M-4 runs dry.  He transistions back to the Sig Saur as she disappears into the back office.

Kayla switches back to semi auto, stuffs the Glock and grabs her M-14.

Reggie peeks his head out from the Kitchen-“Get back Reggie!”  Kayla warns!

Tom Jager puts a round from his Sig into Reggie’s head.  He drops down, dead.  Kayla screams!

Tom grabs a fragmentation grenade off another of his wounded soldiers pulls the pin, lets the spool fly, then chucks it into the back then loads a fresh magazine into the M-4.

The grenade EXPLODES!

Tom Jager rises with the M-4, charges forward with maximum aggression…

…when Avrim Heinz charges into the restaurant with an equal amount of aggression-with his new M240 general purpose machine gun ….

Tom turns, sees the new threat-big man with belt fed.  He ducks for concealment behind the counter…

Avrim cuts loose; he shreds the counter with a long burst of 7.62 then turns on the wounded soldiers and finishes them off.


Kayla is in the back room, and is stunned; the shrapnel embedding in the walls but not hitting her, though the concussion sure as hell did.  “Yeah.”

Kayla gets up, staggers, takes her Glock, resets to full auto, comes out and turns left to the counter…

Tom Jager sprays wildly, sending both Kayla and Avrim ducking for cover.  He empties it in their general direction, then draws his Sig Saur shoots out a surviving window pane and dives out of the restaurant.

Avrim and Kayla recover.  “What the fuck?!”

“We got to get out of here Kayla, before we’re trapped!”

A rumble is heard from outside…

Avrim and Kayla look to see four British Warrior infantry fighting vehicles take positions outside the restaurant, 30mm chain guns turned at them, British soldiers disgorged from the rear-seven each to form a 28 man execution squad. 

Tom Jager takes position behind one of the armored vehicles, his own assault rifle in hand.  Miles Davidson combat crouches over, L85 bullpup rifle in hand “I need to tell you we are deployed, Sir?”

“Get some of your troops around the sides of this building, cover the rear exit.  I need a megaphone.”

“Right.  Soldier!”  Colonel Davidson addresses the Commander of the Warrior they were sheltering behind “fetch us a corded mike if you would.”

“Yes Sir!”  The Commander dives back in, then produces a corded phone, hands it to the Colonel who hands it to Tom Jager.  “Kayla Miller, this is Tom Jager-it’s over!  Come out and I will personally see to it you’re treated well.”

From inside Reggies, Kayla and Avrim hear Tom Jager.  “I respect you and your companion as warriors and as Americans.  This country’s been torn apart enough by this war… hasn’t there been enough death?”

Avrim turns to Kayla who simply stares at Tom Jager, almost catatonic.  “I’m afraid he’s right Kayla.  Listen:  I’m with Mossad.  My government can insure your safety and well being.  I have diplomatic status as well, so I can get these drone plans out, and eventually to your compatriots in the Free States.  …Let me talk to this Jager fellow, and maybe I can talk him into letting you go with me.  I’ll tell them something and maybe you won’t even be in their custody.”

Avrim gently turns Kayla to face him, “we get out of here, we can go anywhere-you and me.  My government can send you anywhere in the world you want.  Europe, the Carribean, wherever.”

Kayla stares back at him, not quite there… “Kayla, do this with me and if you want you could even come back to America.  Live to fight another day-but the key to that is staying alive!”

Kayla looks at Avrim, not staring, a decision reached “go talk to him.”

Avrim exhales in relief.  He embraces, hugs Kayla, kisses her on her forehead.  Gathering his wits and his courage anew, Avrim Heinz comes into view “Tom Jager, I am Avrim Heinz with the Mossad-I am coming out to negotiate terms between you and the American.  I am fully authorized by my government to do this!”

Outside Jager and Col. Davidson look at each other in digust “bloody balls up this has turned into I tell you!”

“Carol!  Check up Avrim Heinz-“

“-My computer’s inside Tom!  And we can’t find out about Heinz anyway because of the EM blackout!”

“FUCK!”  Tom paces back and forth…. He gets on the mike again; “Avrim Heinz, come out unarmed;  I will meet you halfway!”

Inside, Avrim was watching, and smiles at Tom’s reaction “I’M COMING JAGER!”  He sets the M240 down as well as the packs of belted ammunition.  He turns to Kayla “see girl, I will get you out of this and out of here.  I know this Jager fellow-he will keep his word when he has to.”  And with that Avrim Heinz steps outside, walks toward the British armored vehicles.

Tom Jager advances, striding to the midpoint between his forces and the restaurant like the proverbial predator he is.  They meet up, facing off.

“As stated:  Avrim Heinz, Mossad.”

“Your credentials, Sir-you’ll understand if I ask given conditions.”

“Ah, I do have credentials-they are not exactly from my intelligence agency” so Avrim hands Tom Jager his diplomatic credentials, with his photograph and ID number.  Tom looks the identification over with a practiced eye “you’re with the Israeli consolate in Beachwood.”

“You do not expect a Mossad agent to carry around an ID stating he is from Mossad do you?”

“So why out yourself?”

“To show you I am dealing with you straight Mr. Jager.  You’ve worked with my people before.”


“I want safe passage for both myself and the girl.”

“You can go-my Kayla’s going to stay and answer questions.”

Avrim looks at Tom… decides not ask about the “my”.  “You’re after something.  You’re after something and you’re desperate enough to use an EM blackout generated from geostationary orbit-“


“-and cut every last landline, and carpet bomb anyone using a laser within a hundred sixty kilometers of where your F22s were shot down to stop these drone plans from getting out and turning this war against you.  Yes my government knows all about this situation.”

“You have the drone plans!”

“Tom, it’s time to decide what’s important: that girl or the drone plans.”

“And nobody else has had a chance to copy them?”

“I can assure you, the one other person who had a copy was killed by you and your team when you entered the restaurant.  I give you the drone plans, but I will be taking a copy back to my government-as well as the girl since she helped construct the drone.”

“Now Avrim, just how much help do you think a college dropout hip-hop dancer’s going to give you?”

“I won’t ask why you’re hung up on this girl-I don’t want to know.  This war has caused enough suffering, don’t you think… you’ll be stopping the drone plans from getting out to your rebels.  Your Eastern Seaboard is cleared; you can mop up the rest of the country in a couple, maybe three years tops.”

Tom turns back, paces, turns, paces back, hand on his mouth… “a rebel killed my colleague a few hours ago…”

Avrim’s eyes close into squints “Was it her, in there, that took your colleague’s life?  I’ve lost nearly all my relations when Tel Aviv was nuked because your government had to stand down.  And yet, I am here.  We’ve both lost, yes?  We know about you Tom Jager.  You losing your wife to a rogue agent, your daughter in Jefferson-disowning you as a father.  Yes we know.  …That girl in there, she’s lost as well-all she’s done is take some back.  We all have.   Look: I’ve stuck my dick out in your sausage grinder by outing myself, you’re going to stop the rebels from turning this fucking war, and you’ll be a hero-let that be enough.”

Tom thinks… Avrim’s hand is by a hidden cut in his pants, by a 25 caliber Beretta Mossad Agents are more than proficient with.

Tom comes to his decision.  The commanders of the British Warrior IFV’s are all peeking through the open hatches as well as Col. Davidson coming into view.  “I will debrief Ms. Miller, do you understand?”

Avrim nods.   “I will be present.  And you will not harm her.”

“If Ms. Miller cooperates after I talk with her, you can take her and a copy of the drone plans out of the country.”

Avrim nods.  He extends his hand and Tom Jager shakes it, both looking each other in the eye, nodding.

Inside Reggie’s, Kayla can’t see Tom Jager’s face, but she sees the shoulders move to make a handshake… she sighs, closes her eyes… then with a fire she brings her captured suppressed, scoped M14 to shoulder, aims, puts the center of the mildot crosshair on the farthest right Warrior commander-fires!

FFBAP!  Connects to his chest-the M14 shoots a inch or so above point of aim at this range-can’t be more than 50 yards.  Kayla does the calculation in a fraction of a second, spins on her heels aims the suppressed semi automatic rifle at the second Warrior commander-fires! 

FFBAP!  Kayla turns on heel to the third Warrior-they haven’t figured this out yet, and a good thing the windows are all shot out already or this wouldn’t have worked.  Back to the task… aim… fire-FFBAP!  Third Brit tank commander down!  On to the fourth… and still not having a clue-God Bless Kayla loves this new rifle, aims, fires FFBAP!  Last fish n’ chip eater down, now for the Jack Bauer wannabe…

…Outside Avrim’s face was fully in Tom Jager’s so he misses the faintest of gun flashes from the suppressed M14 Kayla wields against the exposed Warrior IFV commanders atop their turrents…

…Colonel Davidson, British Army doesn’t; he looks up at the sound of the flopping Warrior IFV commander freshly killed.  He looks around inside, then to his left at the other commanders shot!  He raises his L85 and rips a full mag of 5.56mm into Reggie’s!

Tom and Avrim hit the ground!  Both shocked when Col. Davidson starts spraying the restaurant.

Inside Reggie’s, Kayla can’t believe it… it actually gives her pause to see the fed agent talking to Avrim-Tom Jager.  Oh yeah… can’t get a good shot of Jager without going through Avrim-oh well…

…And that’s when the British Officer sprays his bullpup assault rifle at her-she lets herself fall to the ground in a slick hip hop dance move she’d done probably 20,000 times.

Outside,  all the British Infantrymen start spraying the fuck out of Reggie’s, one of the Warrior IFVs starting to turn its turrent to sweep the restaurant.  Tom pulls out a hidden Seecamp-as Avrim Heinz puts his .25 Beretta to his dome:  “STOP FIRING!  STOP FIRING I HAVE YOUR LEADER AS MY PRISONER!”  He spins Tom around, takes his Seecamp; Colonel Davidson unshoulders his L85, runs through his ranks ‘CEASE FIRE!  CEASE FIRE!  CEASE FIRE! BLOODY CEASE FIRE YOU LOT!”

The infantry stop firing, the first Warrior starts firing it’s main armament, a 30mm chain gun BOOMBOOMBOOM-as Davidson rips the now deceased commander aside “STOP BLOODY FIRING THOSE BUGGERS GOT A HOSTAGE!”  The Gunner inside looks up angrily at his Commanding Officer, but does stop shooting up the restaurant.

The rest of the Warriors stand down, as do the British Infantry.  Andrea and Carol look on, helpless as the Mossad Agent has Tom Jager.

To Tom “I’m sorry sir, I should have disarmed her beforehand; now I will have to use you as a human shield to get out of here.  You understand.”

“I don’t care-“

“-Apparently neither does Ms. Miller!  We’ll be going back inside the restaurant.  Come on.”  Avrim guides Tom up and gun on him guides him back inside the restaurant…

When inside, feet crunching under the splinters and broken glass and debris and shell casings, Avrim silently guides Tom to sit at booth, which he does. 

Avrim glares.  He glares as Kayla Miller smoothly, gracefully arises from some shot up celing tiles and debris, M14 in hand, a death glare straight from hell boring right at Avrim.

“Why”?  Avrim loses it now, “WHY YOU FUCKING LITTLE CUNT?!!”

April 5, 2012

Kayla Miller is dancing on stage for a local Rapper…

…Kayla’s not in camoflage, nor carrying any weapons.  Nor is she 30lbs underweight, desperate, and on the run.  What she is doing is moving in ways with her 5’6” 120lb toned body that makes the word dancing a retarded understatement. 

The crowd; urban, young, black, white and brown, all cheer Kayla.
Her set done, Kayla smiles, waves, soaking up the cheers and love sent her way.  The onstage Rapper goes over and they hug.

Backstage, the two and the Rapper’s DJ relax…

“I’m going to Occupy New York” Kayla declares.

“K, girl, you know I got love for you, but I’m telling you you don’t want to be fuckin’ round at those protests.”

“The po-lice have been foul, an’ I mean foul by even our standards!”  DJ can only look at Kayla Miller, seeing nothing but resolution there.

“That’s why I’m doing it.  I love you guys.  And I thank you fo’ looking out for me, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life regretting not doing something about all this bullshit going down.  You need to be joining me cuz the way things are going, no telling how much longer we got any right to protest or even say shit’s fucked up.  I’d go myself, but I could use you guys.”

“I hear you… I’ll go wit you then.”  The Rapper rises.  Kayla goes to him and they hug.

DJ chimes in “Uh, yeah.  I’ll go as well.  Might as well make it a mu’fuckin show then.”  Kayla reaches over, yanks the DJ up and they group hug.

“Thank you!”

April 25, 2012

Older home from the 50’s.  Brian Miller; bigger and having a potbelly than he does about two years later sits at the family table alone with Kayla.

“You’ve got to believe me Kay, it’s dangerous going to that protest!  Anything could happen!”

“I hear you Dad, I really do.  You have to believe that!”

“Then don’t go:   there are better ways of making change!”

“How?  I mean, I know you do stuff and you don’t tell me-God knows I never wanted in your militia but marching around with guns and typing on the internet-what does that do?  Occupy Wall Street, that’s attracting people… yeah a lot of them are there for the drugs and sex and bang drums but a lot want something done.  Maybe you and yours should join them, come at them with what you got.  Maybe if folks can see the left and the right or whatever you put yo’self… oh God something needs to be done!  Maybe OWS isn’t the best vehicle, or even one steered by folks a hundred percent but it’s the biggest.  Join me.”

“Kayla, last time I suggested to the forums we should join OWS and put our message out I was almost banned.  I don’t even dare suggest it to anyone in my unit.  Too bad though, we need to do something…
If you deliver my message, I’ll let you go.”

Kayla bounds over, hugs her Dad, cries.

April 28, 2012

Occupy Wall Street, Season 2 is well underway; this time the very street itself is clogged by a flash mob of well over a thousand who immediately block access to the road the New York Stock Exchange is located in what could be described as a well-oiled takeover.  Coordinators direct people-every one pulling some kind of cart or luggage and they stream in, directed smoothly down the street, taking over their designated spot.

A Coordinator guides Kayla, the Rapper and the DJ to their designated spot; like a well trained fighting force the three set up a dance floor, turntable, speakers, generator, tent, cooler filled with food and drink.  Kayla kicks off her shoes.  She’s in a flowing hippie like dress.

“Aw no, hold up girl I don’t want people to see knarly black feet!”

“We gots enough hippies in here K.”

“That’s our audience, yo.  Besides get in the spirit of things.  Let’s get started gentlemen.”

DJ switches on the generator, and there’s an enclosure designed to soak up engine noise and vibration.  Equipment checks are quickly done and the Rapper goes to grab his mike as Kayla stretches…

…Overhead a small helicopter drone scans the Occupy Wall Street, and along with all the city-installed cameras and sensors feeds the video back to…

…a Mobile Command Center; a huge trailer packed with monitors and Officers monitoring them.  The white shirted NYPD Commander and a Representative from Homeland Security…


“Yeah; they really came out of nowhere this time!  Out from the streets and set up in three minutes, tops.  They said their coordinators were on the ball but fuck me!”

“What’s your call sir?”  The Commander looked at Homeland Sec. and it didn’t hurt to kiss up to them.

“Let’s see whose here…” they watch the video feeds…

A braless, shoeless, hygeine-less hippie girl works a hula hoop.  There’s a bunch of those-both male and female… some you can tell the difference.  Several packs of those hippies bang on drums, chant.

A Ron Paul for President booth is there, manned by a conservative in suit and tie, a elderly artifact from the 60’s and a obvious gangbanger:  “bust those assholes Commander.  Tag em’ and bag em’.”

“Yes Sir.”  They move on:

Groups from various walks of life congregating; union workers, high tech workers, out-of-work people freshly evicted from both the Middle Class and their homes, along with those who’ve been homeless for a long time.   …Some people walking through passing out pamphlets to everyone.

“Hey what are they passing out-get a copy of that, they don’t look like they’re with the program here.”

They look on; a few bands, a couple already shedding their clothes off underneath a blanket having the first sex of OWS. 

“Get lots of coverage of those two.”

“No need to give me an order for that!”  They all laugh.  A Sargeant manning a console turns, “got a scan of that printout, Sir.”  They read:


Left, right, rich, poor; WE have been looking for solutions to this country’s problems.  We’ve looked to each of our anointed so-called heroes, our politicians for help and when that didn’t work we just looked away and paid attention to our sports and celebrity… heroes.

Isn’t it obvious the solution is US?  We the People! 

We are Sovereign!  We are the rulers of America, not our public servants-and if that will never be understood by them then they must go!

Yet, how do we do that?  By relying still on the same tired ways-that don’t work?  No.  The solution is with YOU-WHERE YOU LIVE!  Start local, clean out your town of the criminals there, spread the Second American Revolution!  Here’s how-

“Hokay that’s enough of that!  Get those fuckers outta there!”

They watch… a minute later the Pamphleteers are accosted by the OWS Coordinators, given hell.

They come up on Kayla Miller, the Rapper and DJ.  The Commander and the Homeland Security Rep eye Kayla in the flowing skirt and cropped tank top, toned body, firm breasts, fine ass, long legs making like a hip hop 60’s flower girl, moving like crazy and just not stopping.  They all check her out head to toe, keep looking at her move to the beat as that Rapper does his thing.

“Who’s that girl?  Really, look her up!”

The Commander himself looks up the biometrics on the girl, “Kayla Miller, from Warren, Ohio.  Some misdemeanors; disorderly conduct, no surprises there-this isn’t exactly her scene though.

“Fucking protests.  Can’t tell whose going to come to these things.”

“…Oh yeah!”

Representative looks at what the Commander’s looking at: her dad, Brian Miller is on the domestic terrorist black list.  “Jackpot.”

“One hip hop hippie chick coming up.”

Kayla’s on stage when she sees a Pamphleteer being confronted by the Coordinators-she immediately stops dancing, marches straight out through the crowd… they part the way for Kayla as she marches straight at the confrontation…

“…We cannot and will not have this incendiary crap passed out!”

“It’s freedom of-“

-“You can practice your hate speech someplace else-“

-Kayla grabs the Coordinator-some fugly professional college student/pol sci major, spins her about to face her: “FUCK YOU DOING BITCH!”

“What?  Who-“


“Whoa; let’s calm this down; I was explaining official OWS policy-“

-“My policy’s to fuck up anyone fucking with my people!”

“I’ll have you thrown out-“


The crowd of OWS protestors surrounds both the Coordinator and Kayla… Coordinator looks at the Cops and doesn’t see any sign of helping her out… she turns and walks way, having to get through the crowd who aren’t too quick in parting the way-she even gets shoved.

Kayla laughs.  The crowd cheers her and she bounds back up the stage.

“That’s Special Kay Y’all” the Rapper calls out!

In the Command Center, the Homeland Security Representative and NYPD On Site Commander look at each other…. This will have to wait until they can bag this bitch without backup.

OWS: It’s after Midnight; Kayla Miller has been dancing all day and all night.  Utterly exhausted. 

“Call it a day, girl.  Go on back to headquarters an’ get some real bed time girl.  Don’t worry; it be my turn tomorrow-“

“-FUCK you!”  Kayla playfully bats at the Rapper and starts walking, her feet looking like shoes they’re so dirty.  “Hey, yo’ shoes!”

“Who cares, the damage is done.”  Kayla scoops up her sneakers and walks through the OWS protest, then sees the NYPD guarding, or containing, the protest.

One of the cops approaches her, “Ma’am I strongly suggest you go back in.  It’s not safe.”

“What?  All y’all are here, right?”

“Exactly… please, let me-“

“I’m good Officer!  Have a nice night.”  Kayla walks off down the block.

At the end of the block Kayla’s grabbed by NYPD Emergency Response Team and thrown hard into a waiting wagon, her shoes and purse flying elsewhere.  A Officer grabs the purse gets in and they speed off.

May 1, 2012

The Rapper speaks to the entire mass of Protesters-all races and creeds in rapt attention:  “Kayla Miller was a dancer!  She had nothing but love for people!  She came from Warren Ohio-a town that’s had its lifeblood, it’s industry and jobs stripmined out by these Wall Street MOTHERFUCKERS!”

The crowd CHEERS!


The Rapper holds up Kayla’s sneakers… “THESE ARE KAYLA’S SHOES-WHERE’S KAYLA MILLER?!”


May 1, 2012

Converted from a warehouse, the cells are open cages all empty in preparation…

In an interrogation room he Homeland Security Representative has Kayla tied to a interrogation chair, hair greasy, naked, dirty, bags under her eyes.  A NYPD Detective stands over her and whenever she starts to nod off to sleep-WHACK!  Kayla gets open hand hit in the face.  She cries, and the two government officials laugh.

The Representative has a TV set and turns it on for Kayla;  it’s a feed from Occupy Wall Street and they’re all chanting “WHERE’S KAYLA MILLER?!”   Over and over and over. 

…The News Crews are ushered out of the area by NYPD-at gunpoint…

“Yeah Kayla, they’re wondering where you’re at.  Let’s let them find out.”  Rep. gets on a cell phone, speed dials, “do it.”  He hangs up, turns, gets behind.

They all watch as tear gas cannisters and percussion grenades EXPLODE among the OWS protesters.  Lines of NYPD with riot shotguns open up on the crowd with rubber rounds-dozens of Americans fall instantly, gravely injured, maybe dead. 

The rest start to run or seek shelter; those that run only run up against another phalanx of Riot Cops who beat them back into Wall St. with batons and a LRAD turned up to a horrific SCREECH… back to the full volleys of rubber buckshot, percussion grenades, tear gas.  Those that try to gain entry into varying buildings find they’re locked-those that desperately try to break in are SHOT with live ammo by building security.

…The Coordinators are careful to stand to the side-a door opens and a NYPD White Shirt Officer motions them inside, and they go in.

That is what everyone in the interrogation room sees.  The government men smile, chuckle.  Kayla is in a state of horror beyond horror-beyond even her own ordeal as the Detective reaches from behind and starts sexually assaulting her breasts.

The door opens, and Tom Jager steps forward, “Tom Jager-this my girl?”

“Yes Sir!  It’s an honor to be working with you Agent.”

Tom only nods.  The Detective had stopped sexually assaulting Kayla to look up-“as you were Detective.”  He smiles and gets back to getting off.

“You know the other reason why we picked you up Ms. Miller?  Your dad.”

“I don’t know ANYTHING YOU FU-“  Kayla’s cut off with a bear paw delivered to the side of her face by the Detective.  Tom Jager leans down to the hapless prisoner’s face, now swollen on both sides, “I know you don’t know about your father’s militia activities.”

“Don’t know nothing.  I swear to God; I am going to sue the fuck out of you for this!”

“Nuh, unh.  Law’s changed; you’re now an enemy combatant.”


“You resisted arrest.  Since your dad has ties with those militia extremists, that means we actually have a plausible legal reason to strip you of your citizenship… as well as your clothing.  You’re renditioned-outside of the judicial system, which means among other things, we get to fuck the fuck out of you.”

Kayla screams.  They let her as both Tom Jager and Homeland Security Representative unzip their pants…

January 6, 2013

Trees abound.  In the parking lot, Brian Miller awaits by his Ford truck as two typical black government SUVs pull up; armed SWAT-like agents jump out, M4’s at the ready.  Overhead a low flying drone buzzes about.  The SWAT agents aim at Brian Miller.

“Easy fellas I’m alone and unarmed.  As agreed.”

Someone in one of the SUVs calls out: “He’s alone!”

“Let’s get this over with then…” that voice emerges: some human robot in a suit who pulls out a frail, shaking figure wrapped in a blanket, barefoot-her toenails haven’t been clipped in many months.  He yanks the blanket away and a naked, emaciated, scarred, utterly filthy Kayla Miller tumbles to the ground.  “Government property” the suit states.

“KAYLA!”  Brian Miller rushes to her, stripping off his coat and covering his daughter.  “You didn’t have to do that!”

“You’re telling us what we can’t do Mr. Miller?  We held up our end of the agreement-you have your daughter back.”


“-I know nothing about what may have happened to Ms. Miller while in our custody; just know we can always return her to her cell if you don’t hold up your end of the agreement.”

With that the suit and his armed and armored thugs pile back into their SUVs and roll away as Brian Miller gently picks up his badly tortured, nearly catatonic daughter, crying.

March 20, 2014

All those memories, events, flood through Kayla now with Tom Jager…. Avrim looks at Tom Jager; yeah they know each other quite well.

“Kayla, what’s going on with you and Jager?”

Kayla ignores Avrim.  She faces off against Tom Jager.

“L-look Kay-“  Kayla pulls out her suppressed Glock 18, shoots Tom Jager in the gut and he crumples down to the debris strewn floor.

“Ah… ah I can’t move my… I can’t feel my fucking legs!”

Outside, the British infantry start to rush-“HE AIN’T DEAD YET, BUT I’LL KILL THIS JACK BAUER PUNK ASS WANNABEE, MOTHERFUCKERS!”  Kayla stares down the soldiers and she can hear Col. Davidson “BACK UP!  BACK UP ALREADY!”

Kayla crouches down, to face Tom Jager.  “I was wondering why I wanted to shoot you so particularly bad, but I had to suppress a lot of yo’ shit just to start functioning again.”  She snorts, “I see you paralyzed-good.  Now, I want you to witness this...”

Kayla unslings her M14 looks through the scope, sees Andrea and Carol together about a hundred yards away by a Geauga County Sheriff’s SWAT vehicle, out in the open, running to the scene and FFBAP-FFBAP-SHOOTS them both in the head, dead.

All the cops and British infantry OPEN FIRE again and Kayla and Avrim duck to the floor as they’re covered in more Reggie’s debris-with Kayla laughing.  The firing dies down for magazine changes and she rises, straining to prop flopping Tom Jager up:  “I WILL KILL ANYONE ELSE WHO FUCKING TRIES RUSHING US-THEM TO BITCHES WAS AN EXAMPLE, YO!”

The police and NATO military forces stop shooting.  Colonel Miles Davidson gets on the speaker “MA’AM, WE CANNOT NEGOTIATE IF YOU KEEP SHOOTING AT US!”


“Kayla”, it’s Avrim, “Kayla you have to stop this!”

“Avrim, the only reason your double dealing ass still alive is cuz I need someone to hump my machine gun.”

“But, how do you know Tom-“

“Yo, if you keep pressin’ on how I know this muthafucka, I’m just gonna blast yo’ kosher ass right here.”  Kayla crouches down, keeping Tom Jager propped up by a booth.

By the Warrior IFV’S Colonel Davidson’s had enough:  “Fuck them!  Open fire!”

…Atop the former supermarket turned flea market Travis Dane sets up a M72, aims for a Warrior IFV, his second Joe Bielski has a scoped Hk-91…  Travis aims…

A rocket streaks towards the IFV and BLOWS it apart!  A second rocket BLOWS UP the Warrior IFV with Davidson along with it.

At a shuttered Denny’s two blocks further away, Doug Heemeyer has a M40 sniper rifle but that’s aside as he assists loading a MG42 in the hands of Adam Bent.  He cocks the weapon, aims-Doug knocks down the board…

A MG42 opens up with it’s ZZZZZZRRRP!  Sends about a hundred fifty rounds at the cops and infantry, shredding through them! 

The remaining two Warrior IFV’S rapidly turn about.  They charge toward the enemy, turrents swivel about, and center on the flea market-and cut loose with 30mm autocannon fire! 

The MG42 sends another burst at the armored fighting vehicles, tinking off the armor and hitting softer components like grenade launchers, sensors. 

Sabine Leersen aims her M14 at the Warrior looking for the soft points and shoots.  She picks at the optics, viewing ports, grenade launchers and other weak points of the British light armor; they pop smoke to obscure themselves and FIRE autocannon through, but not accurately as the snipers and machine gunners have obviously damaged their thermal imagers…

Kayla watches with glee as the NATO forces are engaged by friendly parties unknown to her-which become known as that Deputy Sargeant enters…

“I can get you out of here-Geauga Volunteers can handle these Brits-there’s no drones to buzz about our heads, blowing us up now.”

“Won’t last y’know; they got all kinds of jet fighters that bomb whatever the fuck’s around.”

“Where’s the Sheriff?”

“Dead.  He’s got a copy of the drone plans-take em’, use em’, send em’ wherever… give me a minute here with this… motherfucker.”

“Make it fast.”  The Deputy Sargeant grabs the thumb drive, the M4 that was Kayla’s-extra gun to her-and awaits outside.  She looks at Tom Jager straight in the eye…

“I’m getting these plans out, Jager-by the time you’re shot up with stem cells an’ up and walking and fucking again the skies will be filled with our drones from sea to shining sea, an’ then when your government falls, an’ you’re on the run-dirty, starving, desperate to get outta the country, we’ll meet again.   And I’ll show you what I know about interrogation… show you everything I’ve learned from you. That’s why I’m not killing you: I’m going to destroy you.  I promise you when this is over you will know the difference.”

Kayla hits Tom in the head with the butt of her M14, knocks him out cold.  She gets up, turns and just has to give the Mossad agent a look and he grabs the M240 and they exit out the back.


Kayla and Avrim are in a US Army HUMMV looking like US Army; they look back in the distance at Chesterland, see the flashes and thumps and screaming jet engines of NATO and US Air Force jets blowing Chesterland apart.  Carrie Messing is driving; a 30 year old former college student, former waitress…

“I hope what you got is worth it.  We used up the last of our resources getting you out.”

“I know.  I lost the last of my unit just getting here.”

Carrie looks through the mirror at her at a stop sign, “you must really have something… we’ll meet up with the rest of the Volunteers someplace in Summit County.”

“Summit County Rangers?”  Kayla perks up, “heard they’ve managed to more than hold they own so far.”

“Yep they have.  Don’t worry, we’ll get you taken care of soon enough.  Just remember to act like Army until we get there okay?”

“Hear that Avrim-look like a called back reservist instead of a fuckin’ sellout.”

Avrim whispers in Kayla’s ear, “perhaps where we’re going looking like a fuckin’ sellout may be the way to go.”

Kayla rears back, glares at Heinz.


The town’s essentially gone; fires consume what bullets, rockets and bombs haven’t simply annihilated.  A Blackhawk Helicopter lands and General Warburg, NATO commander steps out to a shot up, bombed out little American town.  One of many.  He looks about, sees the surviving officer approach; a British Lieutenant.

“General Warburg we had that militia lady trapped in that restaurant but then some other bloody militia came to her aid-it was bloody balls up until flyboys came in, bombed everything in sight-nearly got my own Warrior, Sir.”

“Any of the team I sent in survive?”

“Yes Sir-one, got gutshot a few times.  Saw the whole thing; him and some Israeli were negotiating when the lass opened up with a suppressed sniper rifle, took out the IFV commanders, shot his teammates over… would be there but there’s a bomb crater now. “

“Where’s Tom Jager?”

“Being tended to-we’re about to fly him out.”  So Warburg goes over to the medivac chopper with Tom Jager being lifted in, unconscious-too bad.  They’ll be having words when he recovers of course.