After Dan

[bitsmith]

After Dan, Chapter One



“Have you seen what is happening in Texas and Oklahoma?” asked Lieutenant De’ton “Oatmeal” Miller?


Carrie Smith, former Marine Lieutenant in charge of Communications at Camp Freedom looks up from the desk full of reports she is filtering through. “I’ve read that both are walking a very fine line between the 1st Amendment and heretic fanaticism.” She replies. “Sending people out of their state just for having a different political opinion … Really? They think that is ‘right’? I do not believe Dan would have put up with it.”


“There’s more to it, than that, Carrie. It’s not the lawmakers forcing the hardcore progressive liberals out.” Miller continued. “It is the common citizenry. All those people who emigrated to Texas, focusing around Austin, from California? They want the benefits of living free with low taxes, as in Texas, but they also want all of the expensive ‘social reform’ programs of California. And since the ‘Because of Biden/Harris’ bill in Texas, becoming law, they are moving forward, as a single entity towards cessation. They are considering returning to the Republic of Texas. Oklahoma has officially opened communications with Texas to join them. Their President to be, in Texas, is welcoming to join them, but not as a separate state. They would be … Uhm … like annexed into the new Republic.”


“That is interesting,” Carrie admitted. “But I need more than just hearsay, on this. If we are to put it out on the ‘Free News Network’. I need the actual facts. And don’t forget that ‘deep fake’ that was given to us by those asshats in Counter-Q. That one that showed Biden admitting he ordered the building with the Dominions machines and all the state voting records destroyed … That nearly killed our network, with the new laws about propaganda. That law Harris bullied into passing, after Biden’s diagnosis for Alzheimer’s disallowing propaganda. Yet, she feeds it to the state-run media outlets, such as ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, PBS … ever notice they are all three-letter alphabet entities, too? And they now work FOR the government as well as are partially funded BY the government.”


“Yeah. I remember. Good thing you managed to show documentation that you were using that name, before the loss of Rios and Dan. That lets you be grandfathered in. I’m still not certain if that bomb was the malfunction the commie news says it was. I still believe that video of Biden was legit. But was he destroying the actual evidence or was he killing Rios and Dan?”


“I honestly do not know,” Carrie added, firmly. “I’m not sure I want to know. I think it would be extremely dangerous to know.”


“I get it. If you did know and had actual proof … you would probably be Clintonized.”


“Maybe. But, remember, you are STILL in the Marine Corps. You are STILL a Bastard. YOU have to abide by their rules. Don’t forget that and up being re-educated. You have ‘hero status’ from your time with Dan, but that won’t last much longer. Harris keeps finding ways to bury him and all he did. She even tried to revoke that CMH Rios pushed for him. Claiming, that at the time, there was not a full Congress to vote on it. Enough people voiced about it when the state media channels tried to make it sound like it was justice. There are A LOT of leftists that Dan saved, or helped, or taught how to feed themselves. But he is gone, now.”


“I will be more careful with what I say. You are right. I must be. There are far too many people watching me, waiting for me to screw up, so they can jail me like they did Tony and HotShot.”


“You just be careful, Oatmeal. We need you, still.” She warned.


“You know, there is ONE thing that I believe Biden did right.” Oatmeal continued. “He buried Dan with his family and the Rios family on Dan’s family land. Then made it a federally protected, true military installation, Camp Curtis. Have you been there, yet?”


“Oatmeal, please go back to work. I have a lot to do here, and these memories are just killing me, OK?”


“I’m sorry, Carrie. I did not mean to … you know …, “ Oatmeal apologized. “I just miss him, you know? I owe him so much. I would not be who I am, today, if not for him. I meant he and Baker created the entire officer’s training program, because of me.”


“We all miss him, De’Ton,” Carrie admitted. “Now, please go. I have work to do. And so do you. Remember what Generals Baker and Armstrong said … Honor Dan with all that you do. Dismissed, Lieutenant.”


De’Ton saluted the veteran, before leaving her civilian office.


Carrie Smith, editor of the Free News Network, an alternative news source had been federally licensed to provide news stories with a different perspective. The Harris administration was still making things hard for them to operate. Multiple times she had asked Congress to limit the 1st Amendment protections, but because of the churches, synagogues and mosques all getting bent out of shape of losing THEIR rights and freedoms, she had to back down. Ten minutes after Oatmeal left, Carrie pulled out her cell phone, made certain she was not on the news company’s wifi network, opened an illegal VPN program, and left an anonymous, coded message on a one of four, forgeign hosted web server forums.



“I just had Oatmeal for lunch. Something was missing. Caused tears. Been a long time since I spent a day not thinking about the things I have lost, but can not name.”

[misterjimbo]

Its about time you came back. I hope all is well. Thanks.

[beeman]

Thank you.

[texican]

BS,

Like the tie-ins with Biden/Harris and what is happening now. Will be interesting as to what follows.

Keep up the great works.

God bless us, America and President Trump.

Texican....

[bitsmith]

Dec 17, 2020 22:14:51 GMT -6 misterjimbo said:

Its about time you came back. I hope all is well. Thanks.

Well ... let's see if my stories are any better.

[bitsmith]

Dec 18, 2020 15:00:15 GMT -6 texican said:

BS,

Like the tie-ins with Biden/Harris and what is happening now. Will be interesting as to what follows.

Keep up the great works.

God bless us, America and President Trump.

Texican....

Evil is evil.   And it only shrinks when the light of truth and reality are shown upon it.

[solo]

Dec 19, 2020 10:57:12 GMT -6 bitsmith said:

Dec 18, 2020 15:00:15 GMT -6 texican said:

BS,

Like the tie-ins with Biden/Harris and what is happening now. Will be interesting as to what follows.

Keep up the great works.

God bless us, America and President Trump.

Texican....

Evil is evil.   And it only shrinks when the light of truth and reality are shown upon it.

So very true.  This light is shining brightly now and we should see what unfolds in the months and years to come.  I am afraid that many of the Sheep won't be enlightened, though.  Some would blindly follow Satan if he had the correct letter after his name.

Solo

[bitsmith]

Biden / Harris do not represent the evil of Satan or Hel or Cthulu or anyother 'Higher Power'.

They represent the evil of men.
The greed of small-minded, cold-hearted people.

The kind of people who read the signs about not feeding the bear, but do anyway. They desire to control the bear, so they can use the fear of the bear to control others.

Biden, Harris, Pelosi, Schumer, and so many of the others; red, grey, and blue ... they are not puppets of the supernatural. They are puppets of other men. To not acknowledge that is to give them reason to avoid accountability.

[bitsmith]

After Dan – Chapter Two

“Mrs. President …” the Secret Serviceman called as he entered the Oval Office in the new Capital building. It still felt ‘wrong to him’ to think of the Oval Office being in the new ‘People’s House’ in Oakland, California.

She held up a hand, palm out to him when she saw it was him.

“… yes, President Xi, I do understand. Your uncle was a great man. He did much to modernize your nation. We do understand that the tariffs from the Trump administration are damaging your economy. And I am working on getting them reversed. I have been working on that, for the last 8 years, as you know. We have seen them greatly reduced. But you have not reduced your tax tariffs on what you import from us. I will be happy to continue to work on this, for you. Yes, Mr. President, I do understand. And I’m just as certain that YOU understand what YOU need to make happen for my continued efforts to resolve this pain your people are suffering.” President Kamala Harris stated, then paused as the translators on each end did their jobs.

Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, she turned to open, but blocked the door … “why can’t he just get with the program and learn American?” She asked, “I mean if he can’t learn to speak English, is he smart enough to be the President of China?” She stopped, holding up a single finger, again.

“… Thank you, Mr. President. I look forward to sharing that news with my associates and colleagues. Yes, sir. Good day, sir.”

“<Heavy sigh> Is it too much to ask people who want something from the US to deliver on the promises they made to get the requested relief?” She asked, aloud, and frustrated.

“So, Michael, What do you have for me?” She asked.

“It’s about Operation Hang ‘em High, Madam President.” Secret Service Agent Walter Cranston stated as he walked in and closed the door. “One of the sites we have been monitoring for sedition had a coded message posted this afternoon. It stated, “I just had Oatmeal for lunch. Something was missing. Caused tears. Been a long time since I spent a day not thinking about the things I have lost, but can not name.” The connection was too short for us to get a traceback through the anonymizing VPN that was used. We believe it was Smith, of FNN. We also believe that ‘Oatmeal’ Is Marine Lieutenant De’Ton Miller of Baker’s Bastards. The tone of the message suggests they had lunch and were talking about the past and General Curtis.”

“Fucking traitors. Every one of them! I still do not understand why that idiot Biden lifted them up to such high hero status, as he did. Weak, sniveling, forgetful, … “ She started to rant, before stopping herself. “OK. That message … is there anything in it or about it that can be considered traitorous or seditious? I want her FNN shut DOWN. They are making it VERY difficult to get Congress and the Senate to turn down that Voter ID law. Hinting that I cheated to get elected and then re-elected. I am loved by the majority. I am the first black and the first woman to sit in this office. That means a lot to my supporters.”

“Yes, Madam President. I can see how it would be,” Agent Cranston agreed softly. “As for the message, I do not believe there is any way we can use it.”

“Thank you, Michael,” she said, dismissing him. “I still want a report on every message that comes up on those sites that we believe the traitors are using to communicate on.”

“Yes, Madam President,” Walter stated, as he backed out of the room, closing the door with him.

“She still calling you by the wrong name?” asked the President’s private secretary.

“Yes. But that is just her way, I believe,” he stated as he left the ante office, hiding his disappointment in her obvious and blatant disrespect.

-----

“Good day, miss. Would it be possible to speak with the owner of this school, please?” A large, fit, muscular, older gentleman asked as he entered the lobby of the flashy, trendy, ‘survival’ school. Though dressed casually, he was followed closely by two men best described as ‘suits’ with thin, expensive, leather, brief cases.

“I’m sorry, sir. But Mr. Curtis is with a VIP class on their 72-hour final exam,” she stated, robotically and without looking up to see who she was addressing. “He is not expected to return for at least another 48 hours.”

“Well, my dear, I find that highly unlikely. Your employer is not the kind of person who leaves a half-million dollar imported sports car in the parking lot, while going on a camping trip,” He stated. “Please, call what ever extension you need to dial, and let him know that Major General William Custer Armstrong, of the United States Army is here to discuss contracts with this facility. I will wait, exactly 10 minutes. And thank you.” Armstrong then stood straight again, at ease, in front of her desk as she looked up at his joyless face. After a moment of thought, at least three pumps of her heart, and two blinks of wonder from her flat, fresh cow patty brown eyes, she picked up the handset, pressing a sequence of numbers.

“Yes, sir, you have a visitor at the front desk. A General. From the Army? He said he wanted to talk with you about getting training contracts. Armstrong, I think he said. Ok. I will let them know,” she says as she hangs up the phone. “I’m sorry. But he is not available, today, for walk-ins. He will be happy to meet with you, next week. Which is better for you? Tuesday or Thursday?”

“If I had time for such games, I would have called ahead and made an appointment, miss. And if I leave here, today, without a resolution to my issues, I WILL return with the full force of the military at my back.

“Now, then. I am here to speak with Mr. Curtis. Mr. Daniel Wayne Curtis. And he is to present himself, now.

“The consequences will be QUITE expensive, should he fail to do so.” Armstrong continued.

“Okay, okay. No need to be so passive-aggressive about it. I will try, again,” She said. “Please, go take a seat, or something.”

“No, thank you. I will wait, right here for him. Or … I can just go find him, myself.” Armstrong said, loudly.

“NO! You can’t do that! No one is allowed past those doors with out an escort!” she called out, as Armstrong kicked the glass of the door separating the lobby from the offices. The breaking glass was loud and obvious. Armstrong stepped through the paneless door, looking left and right sown the halls to determine which way to the office he was seeking. The suits followed him. He stayed there a moment, as he watched heads pop out of offices, looking to see what all the noise was about. Finally, at the end of the hallway, from a corner office, a medium height man, comes out of a door, fastening his belt, as he quick marched past on-lookers towards Armstrong.

“I got this. Get back to WORK!” he snarled as he passed others.

Armstrong watched quietly, as a petite, youngish blonde left the same corner office, holding clothes up to her chest, as she tried to discretely escape down the perpendicular hall.
“Ah… You must be Mr. Curtis?” Armstrong shouts with a booming voice that was heard through walls.

“Yes. Yes, I’m Captain Dan Curtis,” he agrees, nodding, passing the last partially open office door. “Who in the name of Hades are you?”

“I am Major General William Custer Armstrong. I was the directing commander of Baker’s Bastards. And you are NOT the Captain Dan you claim to be.” Armstrong held a hand out behind him that was immediately filled with a sheaf of papers. “As the executor of Daniel Wayne Curtis’ estate, I am here to inform you that you are not allowed to use him, his likeness, nor anything of his personal or professional life for the marketing or advancement of your fake ‘commando’ school.”

“What? *I* am Captain Dan Curtis.” The dweeb with unzipped business slacks stated, puffing out his chest and chin. “How dare you come into MY business and tell me what I can and cannot do! Last I looked, this was a free country and I’m entitled to use my name AND my exploits as I see fit.”

“If you were the REAL Captain Daniel Curtis, whom I know, personally, you would not be doing this sham school.” Armstrong stated, flatly, with a growl. “Dan was a pain in my ass to command. But he did the job, he got the job done. We did not agree on much of anything. But we earned the respect of each other. You are not him. And after a fashion, he was my friend. You are not, and never could me my friend.”

“Why? Because I’m a pagan? I don’t fit in your beliefs, so I’m wrong?” the impostor Curtis argued back.

“No, because you are a sniveling, panty waste of a human being. You are not a man, and I believe that pretty blonde who just left your office, knows that, too. At least not the kind of man you pretend to be,” Armstrong stated, flatly. “Oh, and the Dan I know … he was Pagan, yes. But, as he once told me, he followed a Nordic path. Not one that relied on the Greek and Roman Gods as you fake believing in.

“Here are the ‘Cease and Desist’ court orders to shut down your business, refund every penny you have taken from people using this alleged school, the likeness, name, and actions of a true hero,” Armstrong continued, while holding his other hand out behind him. “And this order is a federal redaction of your licenses to have, use, train, or possess weapons and ordinances that require federal oversight. How you managed to get such licenses under this administration, I would truly like to know.”

“You can’t take my business away from me!” Curtis screamed.

“We are NOT taking your business away from you. You may continue to run and operate your business. Just without the benefits of stolen valor, appropriated honor, and misdirected success.”

“I will kill you for this!” Curtis raged, continuing, “What? You don’t think I won’t?”
Curtis stepped in, closer to Armstrong, kicking for the knee of the forward leg. Armstrong pivoted, slightly on the front leg, taking the kick to the back of the knee, dropping him down to that one knee on the floor. Looking up, he saw Curtis smiling as he raised a fist, bringing it down into Armstrong’s face. He took the blow, easily, rolling away from as the suits with him, backed away. Both with hints of smiles.

Armstrong stood up. Looking at Curtis as he advanced. Holding up an open palm for Curtis to stop, Armstrong asked, “Are you certain this is what you want to do? I’m not here to shut you down, I’m just here to stop you from pretending to be someone you are not, and using that to profit off of the name of a good man.”
“I said I will kill you. And I will. You can not shut me down. I have the right to run my business. I have the right to do as I wish. And I have legal authorization to use that name for my business.”

“Where did you get the legal right?” Armstong asked.

“Because I AM Daniel Curtis, you old fool!” Curtis yelled as he started coming into range of Armstrong. Again, Armstrong let him in close enough. Took a few punches, remembering how he was taught to fight, how to take a beating without getting hurt. Like a professional boxer, Armstrong took several hits to his arms, shoulders, chest.
Then his stance changed. Curtis noticed and backed off a little, looking to use his legs. As Curtis took another step back, then started to take and telegraph a fancy kick, Armstrong ducked under it, advanced and put a pistol under Curtis’ chin.

“You definitely are NOT the Captain or General Daniel Curtis I served with. I am not here to shake you down. I am not here for any portion of your business. I am here to ensure the name of my friend, whose estate I am responsible for, is protected. I have given you the court orders. You have 24 hours to comply with all requirements of removing the likenesses of my friend from your business. You are to NEVER pretend to be him, again. Do you understand me, Morton?”
Curtis’ eyes were already large, with the pistol under his chin, but for his real name to be used definitely got his attention. “What did you call me?”

“I called you by the same name your mother gave you, because you had not father. Morton. Jameson Morton. The names of two containers on top of her refrigerator. She did not want you cursed with the name of your dead beat father or the name of her curse family.”

“How do you know these things about me?” the fake Curtis whispered.

“I’m one of Baker’s Bastards. I learned from the best how to get people to tell me what I wanted to know. I am not coming back here. This is your one and only notice. The Bastards have been retired. But they have not disbanded. They will be by, in the near future to ensure you are not using out mentor to your financial gain.” Armstrong stated
clearly, but solidly. “And they are NOT as nice, nor as forgiving as I am. Do you understand me, Mr. Morton?”

“I can’t! If I give up the name, then I lose it all. Everyone wants to be a Bastard! How else am I going to make any money doing this?”

“As the executor of the Curtis estate, and to quote Dan, ‘that is not my problem’. You have 24 hours to remove every reference to the U.S. Army, the real Daniel Curtis, conflicts or battles, prisons, over seas travel or actions, and anything that you, personally, have not done, in reality.” Armstrong states, while continuing to hold the fake Curtis on his toes, with that pistol still under his chin. “Do you understand me? After all, I doubt you want to go to court for assault and battery, not to mention the threats of killing me that you made. Just agree to the court orders and I will leave. I will leave you alive, and able to continue making an honest living.”

“Alright. I will do it. I will do as you say.”

“Good. I will be back in 24 hours to watch you sign those refund checks for every student you have had come through your school.” Armstrong added. “Don’t worry. It’s all a part of those court order papers.” Armstrong, quickly dropped the gun to his side and gave the fraud a slight push away, to add some distance between them.
The fake Curtis looked up and down the halls, seeing several staff and more than just a couple of potential contract signing clients watching his every move. “Yeah. I got it. I will have my lawyers look them over. We will adhere to the letter of the court orders.”
“Good. I think you will find they are very clearly written and with simple orders on what to do and how to handle the instructions,” Armstrong stated with a smile. “OH, and have a goooooood day.”

[bitsmith]

After Dan – Chapter Three

“Hey, HotShot,” Tony asked as he sat down with his tray of food. “You doing alright, in here?”

“Hey, Tony. Yeah. I’m alright. I think I understand a little about what the Captain used to say about prisons, though.” HotShot replied.

“I get it. He always knew the right thing to say to get his idea across.” Tony agreed.

“Or not say, like that winter training we did, before going into Phoenix.”

“Yeah, that too.”

“Do you think anyone is actually working to get us out of here?’

“I don’t know. And that is the same thing I told you, yesterday. Whoa. Watch your six. Guard coming at us.” Tony stated as he put his head back down, to eat what was on his tray.

“So, if it’s not the heroes of the nation.” The guard said, his voice dry and vile with disgust. “You two are to come with me.”

“Why and where?” asks Tony.

“You will know both when we get there. Leave your trays. Stand up, convicts.” The guard ordered.

“You do know that neither of us were ever tried or convicted of anything, right?” HotShot asks the guard.

“Look. I don’t care. You were sent here by someone who makes a lot more money than me. I’m supposed to guard you monkeys. Keep you from leaving and keep you from tearing each other apart, like the animals that you are.” The guard pushes verbally. “If it were up to me, every one of you would be thrown into a pit and left to fight for your miserable lives.”

“That’s not too different than how it is, today,” Tony states as he follows HotShot towards the guarded door.

“You say something negative to me, monkey-boy?” the guard says, pressing his baton into Tony's lower back.

“Just an observation.”

“Officer. ‘Just an observation, Officer.’ When will you ever learn to properly respect your betters?” the guard says, as another guard is wrapping the waist chain around Tony’s middle.

“Clem, one of these days, the wrong person is going to hear how you talk to the prisoners. When that happens, I hope I am no longer working with you.”

“Screw you.” The rude guard brushed off the comments of the other. “These two are just trash. They think because they did some soldiering or something, they are to be allowed to do whatever they want. Well, that ain’t how my America works. As long as they are in here, they got no rights, but for the rights we allow them to have.”

“Whatever, Clem. But you keep taking that way, the union is not going to be able to help you, when someone with enough juice gets wind of what you say and do.” The guard stands after putting the shackles on Tony’s ankles. “Come on, you two.”

Once through the door and in the hallway where inmates were not allowed with guards, Tony spoke up. “Thank you, Office Simmons.”

“For what?”

“Treating us like human beings with rights. You are an honest man.”

“That may be. But I do understand where Clem gets his ideas from. Some of the other inmates we have had in here, over the years. Their lack of humanity wears a guard down. Like I told you, during orientation, keep your head down. Do as you are told. You will be fine in here, if you do those two things.”

“Yeah, but that’s not always possible,” HotShot stated, as he shuffled along to keep up with the other guard.

“Yeah. We saw the tape of what you did to those guys in the shower.” The other guard stated. “Where did you learn to move like that?”

Hotshot looked over at Tony, then back to the guard on his side, “We learned from the best. From Captain Dan Curtis, himself.”

“I remember hearing about him on the radio, after the fall and during the recovery. Down this way. Hold at the door.” HotShot’s guard said as they all turned a corner. “So you guys really are heroes? Serving with him, and all?”

“We served him. Not a better man on earth to have at your side or covering your back in a hostile situation.” Tony said, as he passed through the opened door and stopped, again, knowing the routine of doors opened, then locked behind. “Honestly, I wish he were here, right now.”

“Why do you say that?” Simmons asks.

“Because I would ask him for his input on the six escape paths I have come up with.” Tony states, flatly.

“Six? You think you have six escape plans?” the guard leading HotShot laughs. “OK. ‘Big Deal’. If you have so many ways to get out of here, why haven’t you?”

“Because I’m not a convicted criminal. I believe in justice. And I know, that eventually, I will be released from here, a free man.” Tony stated.

“Not to mention, the harm we would have to commit to decent men, like you two, who are just doing their jobs.” HotShot states, politely. “Garrison, you and Simmons, have treated us fairly, respectfully. Anyone who gives you two minutes to get to know you knows exactly where they stand with you. Not all of the guards are that way.”

“OK. Let’s get you in here and then maybe you tell me how you would overpower us and start your escape?” Garrison suggests.

HotShot nods as Tony shugs, after entering the room and approaching the table in the middle of the room.

“Well, first, hold up a second,” Tony says, while still standing. “We have been here, long enough to know how the two of you work together. You will seat us both, and you each will release one hand from the restraints. Maybe, if we show enough docility, you will release them both, before attaching them to the safety bar on the table. But that one had is really all we would need. With that one free hand, I would reach out to your uniform, Office Simmons, and use it for leverage, to slam your face into the table. You would be dazed, and I would continue to drag you onto the floor, where I would press a knee into the back of your neck, to keep you there, as I searched for and used your keys to free myself.”

“While he is doing that, I would let you watch, for a moment, Officer Garrison. While you were distracted for just that half second, I would stand up, quickly, grabbing your belt with my free hand, falling back away from you, taking you with me. That momentum and speed and surprise would be enough that when your head hit the ground, you would also be dazed for just a moment. That would be all the time I would need to pin you down and get your keys, as well.” HotShot explained.

Both prisoners stood still as the guards processed what they had just been told.

“Oh,” is all Simmons could think to say, as the implications of these two men being prisoners only because they did not want to hurt him were dumbfounding. “So … you two, literally could escape from here?”

Tony shrugged, “Yeah. I think we could.”

“But we won’t, because some of you are decent men, just doing a difficult job, and we both believe in justice,” HotShot added, as he approached the chair.

Both Tony and HotShot stiffened, slightly, when the ceiling speaker was activated with a slight pop and barely noticed hum.

“Officers Simmons and Garrison. Please remove all restraints from both these men.” Garrison looked up to the cameras in the corner, then to Simmons. Simmons nodded with a shrug and followed the orders from the speaker.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Simmons stated. “But you scared the hell out of me with how you could escape. I allowed myself to relax around you two. And that is not safe. Not safe for me, or any other corrections officer I might be with. It’s too easy to let that relaxation be applied to others who have not earned my respect.”

When Simmons finished releasing Tony, he stood, offering Simmins his hand. “I’m not sure what is going on. But I will promise you this. If I ever witness you in need, I will step in and offer any help I can. That goes for Garrison, Fletcher, and Thompkins, too. If you can, please let them know, that I … we both appreciate their efforts to treat us like people.”

“Goes double for me!” HotShot stated when Garrison finished with his restraints, while still seated.

“You know, you guys aren’t half bad, either. I sincerely hope you get out, soon. Legitimately.” Garrison stated, with a smile. “Though I kind of wonder how old Clem would respond to seeing you come back in CO uniforms.”

“Officer Garrison?” came the voice over the speaker. “That could be arranged. Easily. But instead, would you and Simmons be kind enough as to get the release orders for these two from the Warden’s office, then retrieve their personal property?”

“These two are getting out of here?” Simmons asked, smiling.

“Yes, these two are free. The charges that held them here, for nearly two years, without a trial, have been dropped.” The anonymous voice stated.

Simmons slapped Tony on the back, as he stepped past him to get to the door. “Come on, Garrison. Today is going to be a good day.” Both men left the small meeting room. So much pep in their step that their keys jangled.

“So, General Baker?” HotShot spoke aloud. “What took so damned long?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. You were being held without bail. Then the complaints just stopped moving through the system. No one would tell us what was going on. So … One of Dan’s lawyers started looking into it. No one could find the witnesses, anymore. The complaining prosecutor turned up dead, as did his boss and that guy’s boss, too. All together. In one place.”

“Sounds like something the Captain would have done,” HotShot murmured.

“Well, know this, Jones. He would be proud of you, both of you, for staying put and believing in how our laws are supposed to work.” Baker’s voice came, again. “Anything you two want to do, before leaving this place?”

“Yeah. There is one thing if you can manage it, General.” Tony said. “The monkey wants to talk with the animal tamer. Clem is his name.”

“And Johanson,” HotSHot stated, with a smile.

“Let me see what I can do,” Baker says. Both men could hear him smiling, through the speakers.

“Bremsford?” asks HotShot.

“Bremsford,” confirms Tony.

“Bremsford,” comes the General’s voice, from the speakers.

[misterjimbo]

Carry on carrying on. Really am glad you decided to come back. Thanks!

[bitsmith]

After Dan – Chapter Four

Tony and HotShot were already in the gymnasium set aside for the guards to train in. Fall mats had been laid out on the floor, two deep, when half the guards were brought in for a hand to hand refresher.

Clem was one of the last to enter the gym. He was followed closely by his shift supervisor and the captain of the guards. Soon he was seated on a front row of the many gathered officers.

“Hello, Officers. You all know me. I am Tony. Formerly a Sargeant of the U.S. Army. And one of Baker’s Bastards. I was in the Special Forces, Green Berets we were called. And today, I was told that all charges against myself and my colleague, Jones, have been dropped.” Tony nodded at the applause he received.

“In our time here, Jones and I had the opportunity to meet many of you. Under a variety of circumstances. We were shown fairness, compassion, and humanity, in most cases. You were here to do a job and there was nothing personal in it. Thank you for maintaining your professionalism.

“As a token of our appreciation, the warden has been kind enough to allow us to show you a few things that may help you, as you continue to do your jobs, so well. If you are willing, Officer Simmons, would you mind coming onto the mat, please?”

Simmons kicks off his shoes and squares off, against Tony.

“OK. Many of you rely, very heavily on your batons. In my opinion, you use them, far more than you should. Especially, when you are talking with or giving instructions to inmates. Granted, not everyone in here not a threat. At the same time not, all inmates are, either. Legitimately, most just want to do their time and to do it as peacefully as possible. The baton is seen as a threat. And if you lose it, you are screwed. Simmons, pull your baton and approach me, like you saw in the dining hall, this morning.”

Simmons, pulls his baton, holding it loosely in his hand and approached Tony. In a moment of feigned conversation, Simmons poked Tony with his baton. It was a slow gesture, holding the baton like a knife, with the cross handle pointing to the side.

Tony grabbed the baton, quickly jabbing it back into Simmons midsection. Simmons was caught off-guard. He exhaled quickly, as Tony, again, jabbed the baton back, this time into Simmons solar plexus. While lost for air, Simmons released the baton. Tony held it up, as he also held onto Simmons, keeping him from falling.

“It is that easy to disarm you when you are using the baton to intimidate. Using it in the fashion Simmons was kind enough to demonstrate, that annoying fashion to demonstrate some kind of superiority will backfire. It will, gentlemen. It is only a matter of time. You will come across someone who at least thinks they know more about fighting and they will challenge you. And if you lose your baton in that situation, you have most likely lost, no matter how hard you try to get back control.” Tony explained, still holding up Simmons, by the arm. “Are you good, Simmons?”

“Yeah,” he croaked to which everyone chuckled. “I’m good. Just give me a minute.”

Tony lead him to the edge of the mat for firmer footing. “Officer Garrison, would you mind joining me? And bring a chair, please.”

As Garrison approached with a folding chair, Tony continued. “You all have taken inmates into the meeting rooms, right? There is that bar on the table you are supposed to secure the prisoner to? OK. Let me show you how that can be dangerous to you. And how to avoid it. Now, in this scenario, I’m going to sit, as Officer Garrison unlocks frees my hand to attach it to the bar on the table.” Tony moves to sit as Garrison moves to mime releasing one hand. Tony immediately grabs Garrison’s uniform, quickly dragging him down, then putting a knee, lightly on his back.

“I was able to do this because Garrison was overextended. His center of gravity was above mine, as he bent over. With one hand free, I was able to grab him, use that overextension against him, and take control of the situation. From here, even with only one hand free, I have access to get the keys from Garrison and free my other hand. Sorry, Garrison, if that happened, I would have to kill you.” Tony finished as he got off Garrison’s back, then helped him up. “One way to avoid this would be to have another officer with you, in that meeting room. Another way would be for a shackle to be left on that bar of the table. When the prisoner is walked in there, while still standing, that shackle is added to his arm, before the one keeping his hands at his waist are freed. Any questions?”

Clem holds up a hand. “Yes, Officer Clemson?”

“Then why would the scum not grab you, when you freed his other hand, at the table?” he asked.

“He very well could. There is no perfect, always protected, secured option, when transferring a prisoner in this fashion. One reason this would be riskier for the inmate is the risk of the Officer getting out of reach, or the keys being dropped out of reach of the inmate. Which is, when, Officer Clemson you would likely pull out your baton and teach the prisoner a lesson for messing with you. Right?”

Clemson laughed, “Damn right! It would be head-splitting time!”

No one said anything. Every officer was silent. A professional line had just been crossed. And everyone knew Clemson had just fired himself.

[misterjimbo]

Thanks for working on "Now What" also.

[eyeseetwo]

Wow!
Hope you can add to the story when you are able to.