“Look, Robert. May I call you Robert, or do you prefer Mr. Halford?” The man didn’t answer. No matter. “Robert, I need to know where this, ‘Rock Meal,’ is.” Aiden paced. Only groans from the man who was tied up in front of him. “I think you know why. Autoadmit.com, your precious zo-zo, is a thorn in the side of our agency. The Department of Social Justice believes in equality for all people, you see, and in order to achieve that, we need to stamp out all forums that allow free speech. Because this can lead to people publishing things we might find offensive. And Mr. Halford, we find your posts on autoadmit very offensive.”

“Mr. Halford, you’re a smart man. Think about your career. Do you want to be associated with this site when we condemn it publicly? Because right now, you will be. But I can make your name disappear. I can help you, if you will help me.”

The man groaned, and Aiden stopped. Aiden looked through the two-way mirror; he knew Ms. Shapiro-Dolan was on the other end of it. It might have been his mind playing tricks, but he could faintly make out her figure, a glorious mix of wine, Sunday brunches, and run-walk marathon training. He loved Ms. Shapiro-Dolan, but he had to put that out of his mind now. Now was not the time to dream up ways of asking consent to talk to her. Now was the time for breaking the man in front of him.

Robert Halford groaned again. His face was reddened and swollen. He looked more like an engorged worm than a person.

“Looooo-“

“I’m sorry, Mr. Halford, did you want to talk?”

Robert Halford could only weakly raise his eyes toward Aiden.

“Looooo-“

“Would you like some water?” Aiden tried his best to shift into the good-cop role, even though pretending to befriend this cisscum made him ill.

He brought a glass of water and raised it to Robert Halford’s bruised lips. Robert Halford drank it eagerly.

Then, summoning all the strength he could muster, Robert Halford cried out, “Long Live the Greatbort!” and slumped over in his chair.

Aiden walked over and felt for a pulse. Nothing. “Damn it,” he said. Then, then lights came on and Lindsay Shapiro-Dolan came in.

“Another one dead,” she said.

“Indeed,” Aiden replied. “But I’m not giving up. Hand me that dossier,” he said, and flipping through its pages, he settled on his next target.

“Pack a bathing suit, Lindsay. We’re going to Guatemala.”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#27703043)

{whispering into the elder raccoon's ear} "Find zeke, toronto, and crazy pills. Tell them their lives are in peril. Tell them to meet me at the 'Rally Point.' They'll understand."

*the elder raccoon turns to his brothers; they consult in their ancient, inscrutable language, then, he turns back, pauses, nods his head in assent*

"Thank you my brother. Make no delay, for the stakes are grave and the hour of wolves is already upon us. Fly!"

{the full gaze turns and swiftly streams into the night forest}

{whispering to self} "The plan is afoot."

*flipping communicator open*

"Ready the Rally Point"

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#27703209)

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#30897515)

Aiden's train of thought was interrupted by Lindsay. Sitting poolside next to her, she wore a bathing suit, a two piece that accentuated her figure. Aiden wished he could complement her, but worried that it might not be recieved in the manner intended. So he left his thoughts unsaid.

"Take a break, Aiden," she said. "There's a beautiful lake just a mile away. Let's go visit it. We don't have to be vigilant all the time!"

Aiden scoffed. "Why go visit the lake? There's a perfectly good pool right here. Besides, we need to find some leads on this Luis. Have you heard anything?"

"I've asked around. I don't have anything concrete but I may have some promising leads to follow up on."

"Like what?"

"Well, would you believe this - it seems that a lot of the hotel staff knows him."

"Perfect!" Exclaimed Aiden. "Who?"

"The chambermaids. The ladies at the front desk."

"Come on Lindsay! Be more specific," Aiden said, pushing his Warby Parkers up his nose. "Which chambermaids? Which front desk people?"

"No, Aiden, you're not hearing me. All of them!"

Just as Aiden was scribbling notes, a loud commotion caught their attention. It was a large group of people, walking down the manicured trail toward the pool. Toward them. Uncontrolled giggling emanated from the bikini-clad women, and Aiden squinted to get a better look.

As the group walked past them, it separated, and they came into focus. It was about a dozen girls and one man, with shaggy hair and olive complexion. He removed his arms from around the waist of two women and stepped forward.

"Hello, friends," he said with a gentle and inviting smile. "I haven't seen you around here before." He extended his hand toward Aiden. "I'm Luis."

Aiden gave the man's hand a gentle shake. No doubt this was the guy they were after. Feelings of disgust began to well up, but he fought them off. If the target had noticed, he hid it well.

Luis turned toward Lindsay and extended his hand again. "Wow. What a beauty you are. May I ask your name?"

"Lindsay," she said, placing her hand in his. Luis pulled her hand toward him and kissed it gently. The other girls giggled, and Lindsay blushed. "It is so wonderful to meet you both." He spoke slowly, as if he did not have a concern in the world. Soon, that would change. "I hope that we are able to pass more time together again soon."

"That would be nice," Lindsay said, beaming, as Luis waved goodbye and continued on with the others. Aiden could only glare in disbelief as he saw Lindsay's eyes followed Luis down to the other end of the pool.

"Lindsay!"

"What? Oh," she said, snapping back to attention.

Aiden leaned in and whispered urgently. "That's our guy!"

"Yeah, I think it is."

"Come on," Aiden said. "Let's head back to the room and figure out a plan."

Back in the room, Aiden paced while Lindsay sat at the foot of the bed. "OK. Here's what we'll do. I know he likes poetry, so when we see him again, I will recite an Angelou poe-"

"Aiden."

"Huh."

"I think I should handle this one by myself."

"What?! No! I insist! It's too dangerous! We don't know what he's cap-"

"Aiden! Do you hear yourself? That's very sexist! I'm quite able to handle myself!"

Aiden felt his face flush with shame. "You're right. I'm so sorry."

She walked toward him, and put her hands on his shoulders. "I'll be fine. Don't worry. His weakness is women. Trust me on this. Take it easy tonight and I will gain his trust."

"OK. You're right. "But call me if you get in trouble! I'll be waiting up."

"Oh, you don't need to do that," she said with a sly smile that somehow reassured Aiden. She had a plan. And she was right, it was going to be fine. With that, she walked out the door.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#27704791)

For a bit, he tried to pass the time. He fumbled around on his phone, but there was no reception. The few television channels that came through showed nothing but scantily clad women clapping and jumping around, misogynistic and disturbing content even for someone who grew up in the U.S. Finally stepping out onto the balcony, he looked around and saw that Lindsay was laying poolside, alone.

"Huh," he thought. “I thought she was going to case the target.”

But as it turned out, she was not alone. Luis soon came around the corner, and waved when he saw her. He was wearing white shorts and a cotton white shirt that was fully unbuttoned. With the same smile he gave before, he went to Lindsay. She got up and hugged him, then extended her arm toward the lounger next to hers.

"Wow," thought Aiden. "He walked right into her trap." He shook his head. “Amazing.” He had a brief thought about the power of female sexuality but forced it down and kicked himself for it.

With his partner in such close contact with the enemy he felt compelled to watch. So he remained on the balcony, making sure to keep his five-foot-seven frame small in case they peered his way.

But his caution proved to be pointless. They did not look his way even once. He could not hear their conversation but every so often a fit of laughter would carry in the wind up to where Aiden was listening. No doubt Lindsay was wearing down his defenses with her charm.

About twenty minutes after Luis sat down, he motioned to a passing attendant. After whispering something in his ear, the man stepped back with a small bow, hurried off, and returned with a bottle of chill white wine and two glasses.

Suddenly Aiden became worried. He did not like where this was going. God only knew what was in that drink. He knew now that Lindsay needed him. He would not blow her cover. She was doing just fine. But if that drink was spiked, Aiden had to be close by to save her. He made his way down from the hotel room and quietly snuck into the yew bushes that lined the pool. They obscured much of his view, but he was close enough to hear them now.

"This wine," Luis said as he fingered the two glasses, "is local. The grapes were grown right at the lake down the road. It is the most crisp wine you will ever taste. Here." He handed her a glass. Then he leaned in close and clinked his with hers. "We drink this gift from the earth in honor of the fates that bring us together." They each took a swig and laid back down on the loungers. “Delicious,” Lindsay said. “This has really been an amazing time.” Somehow, the distance between them had evaporated. And Luis' hand had settled on top of Lindsay's.

"What are you looking at?" She asked. Aiden strained, but the yew bush was in his way. Whatever she was curious about, Aiden could not see it either.

"Oh, nothing. It is silly," Luis said.

"No, tell me!" Lindsay insisted.

"Well, I am looking the stars. They are beautiful are they not? And I cannot help but think about how far they have come to share in our evening. I think that we are all on our own journeys, and I think that it is wonderful that mine, and yours, and those of these stars have all come together for this moment."

Things became quiet after that. Aiden shifted his weight to crane around for a better view, and a twig snapped under him. He froze, momentarily paralyzed by fear. He stood still and listened intently. But it did not seem that they heard. Ever so slowly, he continued to crane his neck around.

Then, he saw it: Lindsay's bikini top on the ground, haphazardly discarded. Simultaneously, his ears were invaded by the unmistakable sound of skin-on-skin contact. He gritted his teeth.

"I knew it!" he thought. "That animal is raping her! Lindsay! I'm coming for you!" He emerged from behind the bush and dashed toward them. They were in clear view now, Lindsay lying on the lounger with her breasts exposed, Luis' member in her mouth as he stood over her, eyes closed in bliss.

"Stop! Rapist!"

They both started. Lindsay shrieked and covered her chest. "Aiden! What the hell are you doing?!"

Aiden looked away. "Lindsay, I'm, I'm sorry to have seen you like this without your permission but I saw this man raping you and I had to put a stop to it!"

"Christ," Lindsay snarled, as she got up to pick her top off the ground. Turning to Luis, she said, "I'm sorry. He means well." In a flash, Luis' easy smile returned and he gave a simple shrug. He had not even bothered to put his manhood back in his shorts.

Back in the hotel room, Aiden could only sit quietly as Lindsay unloaded on him. She was furious. "What the hell was that!" she screamed.

"I.."

"I told you I could handle it! I had him right where I wanted him! Now our cover is blown!"

Aiden hung his head. "I'm sorry! I thought you were in danger!"

"Well I wasn't!" She stopped and placed one hand on her hip, the other on her forehead. She thought for a moment.

"We can save this. But you have to leave tonight."

The confusion must have been evident on Aiden's face. "What?"

"Look. I have an idea. I think I can salvage this. We're not going to get him back to headquarters. Not on this trip anyway. But I can still get something out of this."

"OK. What are you thinking?"

"You almost blew our cover. But if I can meet up with him again tonight, and explain that it was all a misunderstanding, I can at least throw him off our trail. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but .."

"No buts! You have to leave, now!”

“What about Mz. Rene?” Aiden protested, referring to their direct supervisor back at DSJ headquarters. “What would I tell Zer – that I left you here?”

“You let me deal with Zer. Zhe and I go back a long while. Zhe’ll understand.”

Aiden sighed. She was angry, and she had every right to be. He should have trusted her more completely from the beginning. He packed his suitcase, checked out, and caught the red-eye back to San Francisco.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#27710823)

“We need to check up on an operator. He’s been acting erratic lately,” Mz. Rene said. The breeze picked up again, rustling Mz. Rene’s unisex power haircut.

“Mordecai.” Aiden responded.

“Yes. He’s stopped sending in his reports. He may be looking for a way out. But we need to keep him deep under cover for a while longer.”

“Does he know we’re coming?”

Mz. Rene nodded. “Fill me in on the Guatemala situation while we wait.”

Aiden told Mz. Rene about finding Luis at the hotel, and Lindsay’s plan to entrap him. Zhe could only shake zer head as he recounted the story. “That was very dangerous of her. These people are the biggest threat to our agency since Duke went bad in 2006. She could have been seriously hurt. But you were completely wrong to trail her. You violated her autonomous rights, and that is deeply disturbing.”

Aiden could only nod. “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.”

Finally, Mordecai joined them. He was a small, jittery, nervous man with a gaunt, drawn-in face and sickly pale skin, unusual to see in the Florida sun. He quite obviously did not get out much.

“Welcome, Mordecai. Sit down,” Mz. Rene said.

“OK. Be quick,” Mordecai said, looking nervously around as he sat down. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “I want off this project. I don’t care where you reassign me.”

“Slow down, friend,” Mz. Rene said in zer most reassuring voice. “What are you so concerned about?”

“They’re on to me! I know they are! And when they find out who I am, and I get outed …” his voice trailed off. “I’m done for.”

“Snap out of it!” Mz. Rene said, more forcefully than before. “We didn’t let you get outed in 2009 and we won’t let you be outed now!”

Mordecai laughed, an off-key, slightly psychotic laugh. “Oh yes, the lolsuit.”

“The what?” Aiden asked.

Mordecai turned to Aiden, as if he were noticing him there for the very first time. “Who is this guy?”

“My name is Aiden. I am one of the agents investigating Autoadmit and trying to track down their leader, ‘Rock Meal.’”

“Rock Meal? Rock Meal!” Mordecai laughed again, that same high-pitch laugh. “Let me tell you something. I’ve been undercover on that board for over ten years. Rock Meal is a fart in the wind. He’s there one day, promising condors, and then, he’s off our radars for the next three years. Some people think he’s a director in Hollywood. Others say he’s running an Amish Market back east. The fact is – none of you have any idea!”

“We’re getting closer,” Aiden said. It came out more defensively than he meant it to. The truth was, in his time on the case, they had not managed to break a single poster. “We just had Robert Halford in for interrogation. We got very promising information before he died.” Another lie.

Mordecai shook his head. He took another long draw from his cigarette, finishing it, and lit another one. He shook his head again and chuckled softly to himself. “You didn’t have Robert Halford.”

“We had Robert Halford. I was there.”

“You had an impoaster! Don’t you get it, man! They’re always three steps ahead of us! That was just some worthless pumo, a footsoldier among their ranks! You got nothing from him because he had nothing to give you! Open your fucking eyes, man!” Another long, jittery draw from his cigarette.

Aiden’s jaw hit the floor. He looked to Mz. Rene. She played it stoically, choosing not to register a reaction. “Mordecai, we need you undercover for just a little longer. I promise we’ll get you out as soon as we can.”

“You don’t understand!” Mordecai began to cry. “I’ve spent ten years trying to convince these people that I was a Division One running back. That I bench over 400 pounds. That I’m a Harvard lawyer who made partner at 30 despite spending my nights doing cocaine and having sex with models! They’re on to me! I can’t keep it up, and when my cover is blown, I’m done for! Done for!”

“We’ll keep you safe,” Mz. Rene said. “I know the lawsuit didn’t pan out the way we had hoped. We only took down one of them. But I need you to trust me. We are ten times stronger now and we are going to stamp them out. That is a promise from me to you. We broke Moot and we will break these guys, too. And when that happens, your name will echo in history.”

Mordecai took one last draw from his cigarette, his third of the meeting. Then he took a deep breath and stood up. “OK. But I don’t know how much more I have in me.” And he got up and walked away.

Mz. Rene and Aiden finished their lunch and made plans to return, finally, to San Francisco. “Mz. Rene, I worry about how much more pressure that man can take.”

Zhe only shrugged derisively. “We need someone on the inside to feed us information. And who better than Mordecai, a cis white male? He is serving the agency the best way he possibly can.”

“But what if he dies?”

“Then he dies. He knew what he signed up for. Now come on, we’re going to be late.”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#27715647)

With Baltimore well in hand, Aiden could refocus his attention. He was feeling better than he had in a while, and for good reason. A long time informant had come to him with promises of new information. This informant had been reliable in the past; she was constantly in trouble so Aiden had plenty of leverage to ensure her cooperation.

The biggest problem that night was that she had terrible taste in bars. Sitting on the stool of a bright, clean establishment, Aiden nursed his Blue Moon. It was the closest thing they had to a craft beer, and it would have to do for now. She was characteristically late. Aiden ordered another beer.

When she finally showed up, Aiden barely recognized her. In the nine or so months since they had last met, she had put on considerable weight. The lines on her face were more pronounced, and her heavy-handed makeup did nothing to conceal them. "Jesus," thought Aiden. "Is this girl really only in her mid-20s?"

With a practiced smile he gave her a hug. "Hi Ms. Brown. Have a seat."

He listened patiently to her droning. They had met enough times for him to know that she needed plenty of space to complain before she would be of any use. Finally, the conversation took the turn he had been waiting for.

"I need you to help me," she said.

"What is it this time, Ms. Brown?"

"Well, here's the thing. I sort of got arrested for attacking my boyfriend," she said. "But it wasn't my fault."

Nothing ever was. Aiden continued sipping his Blue Moon while she told the story. Frankly, the details didn't matter at all, only that she needed help again.

"Oh, what a shame," he said, feigning empathy. "Of course we can help you with this. But I need information from you. And good information, too. There's only so many favors I can do."

"How would the names and addresses of two megapoasters be?"

Aiden smiled. Perhaps it was the beer. But he was feeling very good. "That would be just fine."

"Even better, they're local. One's right here in Los Angeles. The other's by you in San Francisco. And trust me, they're megapoasters all right. With jobs and families and everything.”

She wrote down the information and slid it over to him. Aiden was so excited that he excused himself to work right away. Visions of shaming rolled over in his head. But she put her hand on his leg. "You know, you look stressed. Maybe there's … another way we can help each other tonight."

Aiden looked her up and down. She was a five on a good day but it had been quite some time since he had a release. "OK. But I need you to sign this consent form first."

"Whatever you say, cowboy. Do you like choking?"

Soon, they were back at her place and Aiden was glad for it. They made rough, rugged love for a couple hours and for those moments Aiden forgot his cares. Ever the gentlemen, he offered to stay the night and make her breakfast in the morning, but she declined. "My boyfriend is going to be home in a couple of hours," she explained.

It was just as well. With his head cleared, he could double down on these leads. He got into a Lyft cab and checked his phone. There were a number of text messages from an unknown number. The first had been sent a few hours ago.

"please help. theyve come for me"

Then, a couple of hours after that: "I'm begging you. please help"

Finally, the last one, which had been sent just a few minutes ago: "tell my mom i love her and im sorry"

Perplexed, Aiden looked up the area code. It was based in South Florida. Worried now, he called the number, but it had already been disconnected. He was in such a daze as he returned to his room that he did not even feel the phone vibrating as Mz. Rene tried to call. Finally, he picked up.

“Aiden. Bad news. I need to see you. Where are you?”

“I’m in my hotel, Mz. Rene. What’s going on?”

“Stay there. I’m sending someone to come get you.”

“OK.”

“And Aiden.”

“Yes?”

“Keep your bags packed. Don’t do any work tonight.”

Before he ask for more details, she hung up.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#27856577)

He took his computer from the packed bag and logged into the DSJ network. His credentials were not accepted. Maybe he input the password wrong. He tried to keep his hands from shaking. He input his credentials again. Not accepted.

Aiden sighed. A feeling of distant nausea pooled in the bottom of his stomach. Then he remembered: Lindsay's credentials. She had accidentally given him a copy of them about a month ago. He dug through his luggage some more until he had them in hand. She would have to forgive him for this transgression. He punched them into the computer.

Accepted.

The hotel's network was running extremely slow and the minutes passed tortuously. Finally he pulled up the Department's dossier program and did a search for Mordecai. After still more minutes, what he was looking for came on screen:

Mordecai. Asset assigned to Autoadmit matter. NOTE: This asset has been terminated. REASON(S): Asset's loyalties questionable; possibly corrupted; too much time undercover. SIGNED: RENE, M.

Staring at the screen, suddenly Aiden's phone began vibrating. Mz. Rene. He could only look for a moment, halted by dread. Finally he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Aiden. Great. Where are you?"

"I'm in my hotel room. What's going on? What happened to Mordecai?"

"They got him. He's dead," she said, without a hint of emotion in her voice. "You're in danger too. We've got a unit out to collect you. They're in the hotel. What room are you in?"

"I'm in room ..." Aiden stopped for a moment. He didn't know why but his hands instinctively began typing on the computer. Searching for his own profile. A firable offense. "I'm in Room 3220." A lie.

Mz. Rene started to say something but Aiden did not hear it. He felt dizzy and speechless as his profile appeared on the screen:

Aiden. Agent assigned to Autoadmit matter. Despite concerns (cis)(white)(male), agent has demonstrated loyalty to cause. NOTE: Agent Terminated effective immediately. REASON(S): several. AUTHORIZED: RENE, M.

The phone dropped from Aiden's ear. Whatever Mz. Rene was saying on the other end of it came out only as mumbles. He picked it up again.

"Aiden! Are you there?"

"Yes. Sorry. What did you say?"

"Did you say Room 3220?"

"What? Oh, no. Room 2330. Are they coming now?"

"Yes. Sit tight and stay on the line with me."

Panicked now, Aiden gathered what he could and hurried to the door and opened it enough to peer down the hallway. A faint creak of a stairwell door opening from the other end of the floor. He stepped out of his room and began walking as calmly as he could toward the stairwell on his side.

But he could feel the intent in the footsteps behind him. He began walking faster.

"Excuse me?" "Sir?" "Stop!"

Aiden ignored them. His speed picked up.

Their feet began to thunder through the hallway as they ran after him, and Aiden broke into a sprint toward the stairwell.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#27937670)

Down ten flights of stairs, and with twelve to go, Aiden felt himself slowing down. He tried to push through and to keep going as fast as he could, but hands grabbed him and pushed him to the concrete. His head the cement wall with a thud. He struggled against the men who wore a uniform he had never seen before - polos with a lavender silhouette that was half-man, half woman, crouched inside the number "6." But they were much bigger than he was.

"Shh, shh," They said as he continued to fight. "It will all be over soon. Don't fight." But still he kicked and tried to push away. A hand covered his mouth, gagging him. He bit it, and the hand recoiled. Then a fist came in and caught him flush on the jaw, dazing him. Then another, and another, and he nearly passed out. Blood began to trickle out of his nose and mouth. They had him on his stomach now, hands behind his back. He could no longer resist. They bound his hands, and then his feet. Then they lifted him up and began carrying him down the stairs.

He tried to protest. But the pain in his head was too intense. He could only mumble, "Where are you taking me?"

"Shut up," came the curt reply.

“But I’m one of you,” he said.

The two who were carrying him let go, and he fell, prone, against the stairs.

“Be quiet,” one said, “Or we will do this the hard way.” Aiden did not respond.

As they methodically carried him down the stairwell, he struggled to keep consciousness. He looked through the tiny glass windows on the door of each floor, hoping that someone might see him and call for help. But there was nothing. They were at the fifth floor landing now. Then the lobby. They went down another floor, to the basement, and out the loading dock where a black Hummer was waiting.

They loaded him into the Hummer, strapping him into the middle seat of the back row. He wanted to give in to his pain and close his eyes as they remained outside, all but the driver. One was on his phone; he appeared to be receiving instructions. Another was smoking a cigarette.

Then, from the top of the loading dock, a new vehicle came speeding in. The guys who had taken him turned to look, and the man with the phone dropped it. It was an open top Jeep with four or five people inside. It came hurtling toward the Hummer and the driver drifted a stop, placing the Jeep right in front of the Hummer.

Three people jumped out, readied their guns, and began firing. The people who had just taken him dove for cover and drew their own weapons. The driver abandoned the Hummer and ran to join the others. He was picked off, the first to go down, and fell onto the ramp of the loading dock, a pool of blood forming beneath him. From the silent, soundproof interior of the Hummer, the pop-pop-pop of the firefight seemed to Aiden to be occurring in another reality. Struggling to stay conscious, he turned his eyes toward the Jeep and saw a mounted turret yawing toward the cover of his assailants. Underneath it, an impossibly short Asian man manned the controls.

The turret unleashed its fury against his assailants. A heavy burst of fire kept them pinned, and the others from the Jeep closed the ground between them, until a final few shots were fired and silence returned.

Without pausing, they started toward the Hummer. Opening the door, they grabbed Aiden and threw him into the back of the Jeep, its door speakers throbbing as heavy metal music blared loudly into the open air and pounded at Aiden’s skull.

"Spack, hit the gas!" The tiny Asian man yelled. The driver, a squat and muscular man sporting a short haircut and mirrored sunglasses, looked over and nodded. The others strapped in and he hit the gas as hard as he could. The wheels of the Jeep screamed for a moment, then found their traction and sped them away from the hotel. Aiden had had enough, and finally he lost consciousness.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#27966111)

would love to re-draft this part too

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#28102859)

He swung his feet over the side of the table. Cupping his hands over his eyes, his blurry vision made out some kind of laboratory. All around him, people sat diligently in front of their computers, clacking away on keyboards, occasionally barking out indecipherable code words, and paying no attention to the strange man in their midst.

The terminals were interconnected, all summing into a giant board with an imprint of the United States, which all sorts of various lights - red, green, blue - some of which stayed lit and some of which came and went in a matter of seconds.

"Hey! You're up! He's up everyone!" A squeaky but familiar voice said from behind. Aiden turned around and saw the short Asian man from earlier, the one on the Jeep. The room feel silent for a moment as the terminal operators stopped to look at him, but soon most shrugged and returned to their duties.

"How are you feeling, Aiden?" The Asian man walked up to him. Do you need a glass of water?"

"Water? FUCK that faggot, Zeke! He can die of thirst for all I care!" The voice belonged to the driver of the Jeep, a broad shouldered, deep-voiced man who was apparently very upset with Aiden.

"Spack! C'mon man we need to take care of him! He's our guest," the diminutive Asian said.

'Spack' walked up to Aiden. His face radiated a deep-rooted hatred. He pointed a finger right in Aiden's face. "The last thing our pumo brother ever heard was this FAGGOT offering him a glass of water." He started to unzip his pants. "You want a drink, fucker? I'll give you a dr-"

"Stop!" A voice boomed from the promenade above. All of the terminal operators stopped and turned. A tall, thin man, with the air of learned wisdom, sauntered down into the main hall.

"He is our guest, and he will be treated as such. Am I clear?"

"But Brother Neumann, this man-"

A wave of the hand ended the conversation. "I had a vision. The greatbort is in danger. This man is key to our freedom."

Another voice protested. "How? He's the enemy! He should be killed and his body dumped in the Tenderloin!"

"I do not profess to understand the visions delivered from the eldergreats. I am but a messenger." Neumann turned to Aiden. "You are safe here, for now. As safe as we all can be in these times. I am your servant. Is there anything you need?"

Aiden's head came into focus and he realized where he was. He was in the hidden autoadmit headquarters. Although he was in pain, he seized the moment. "As a matter of fact, there is. You need to use your influence to shut this site down. The offensive content you post is an affront to all of civilization, starting with this meathead using the f-word against me."

Spack looked confused. "What, fuck?"

"No! You know damn well what I'm referring to!"

"Faggot?" The others laughed and Aiden blushed. "Yes! Your derogatory use of that word upsets millions worldwide and it must be addressed!" He turned again to Neumann. "I demand that this site is shut down and you take me to Rock Meal."

But Neumann could only chuckle. "There is much for you to learn yet, friend. But you are not of proper mind or body. You are not yet ready to learn the truth." He turned to a couple of terminal operators. "Show Mr. Aiden to his quarters. I hope you will find them satisfactory." With that, he sauntered off and before Aiden could muster another protest, he was whisked away.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#28412044)

But Rock Meal never came. No one did. And after what felt like hours, his hunger got the better of him. The stew was surprisingly good; the soda was awful. No wonder he had never heard of it. While he ate, he resolved that he would break out. Aiden would not die a political prisoner.

He tried the door. It was unlocked. Bravely, he stepped out into the hallway. There was no one watching him. The guards must be on a shift change, he thought. He moved down the hallway. past a few empty rooms similar to his. Then, further down the hallway, there was a commotion in a room to his right, indecipherable clapping and cheering.

He peered in. A thong of people formed in a circle surrounding a black man and voluptuous but attractive white woman. They were engaged in some kind of spoken word debate, and the woman was up.

Look cowboy, I really wanna like you

So step aside cause I don't wanna light you

up, like a black man rollin on a white dude

uh, then you get GOT like ya Michael

have ya momma cryin' that you dindu

After every line there were oohs and cheers and explosive applause. The black man who was the object of these insults just stood there sheepishly, and none of them noticed Aiden. The flow was entrancing, as was the woman's rather large backside, which seemed to move in a rhythm apart from the woman it was attached to. But Aiden knew he could not linger if he wanted to get out, so he moved on.

He turned the corner and bumped into someone. His heart sank until he saw it was the short Asian man from before, the only one who had been nice to him. Perhaps he could be turned.

"Hi!" Aiden said. "Zeke, was it? Great to see you again."

But he got only a confused stare back. "Zeke? Who the hell is that? My name is Toronto Unit."

It was Aiden's turn to be confused. He looked the man up and down. He was certain it was the one from eariler. The one from the Jeep, and the one in the control room. The man even had the same high-pitched voice. "C'mon, Zeke," he laughed. "It's me, Aiden. We met earlier today. Thanks so much for your help, by the way."

"What are you talking about? I just got up a few minutes ago. Now if you'll excuse me, I am late." He pushed past Aiden and continued on as Aiden could only stare. But then, he realized: no one had made any effort thus far to stop him. Could he really just walk right out the front door? He decided to press his luck.

"Zeke!" he called, before catching himself. "Toronto!" The man turned around. "Where is the exit?"

Another strange look. "How would I know? I haven't left here in 9 years. And why would you want to?" Apparently, it was a rhetorical question. He hurried down the hall and disappeared.

What a strange conversation.

He continued on, searching. Along the way, he passed more rooms full of people, all of whom were intently engaged in discussions of various topics. He heard them talking about Freddie Gray, saying all sorts of vile things about him and the prosecutors who were standing up to police brutality. He wanted so badly to interject, but he stopped himself.

In another room he heard a group debating the merits of a law degree. Unlike the earlier room, here the group was making cogent points about the relative worthlessness of going to law school. Aiden found himself again listening in and this time he was appreciative of the information; he had been considering enrolling at University of San Francisco. The $45,000 tuition had seemed high but their brochure promised a 95% graduate placement and starting salaries of $150,000, five times more than what he made with the DSJ. Still, though, he knew he could not stay and he peeled away. Finally, at the end of the hall, the was only one door left. This one was closed. There were only two options now. Open the door and press forward, or come back the way he came and risk getting caught.

He pushed it open.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#28531534)

"Uh, hello?" Aiden asked.

No response. He asked again. Finally, he sat next to the man, whom he recognized as Neumann. His eyes were closed in light meditation and a faint smile crossed his lips. He nodded once or twice, to no one in particular.

"Are you Rock Meal?" Aiden could not help but ask.

The man opened his eyes, gently, as though he had just awoken from a long and peaceful rest.

"I am not, friend. I am called Brother Neumann."

"Well, either way," Aiden said. "You seem like the one in charge around here, so do you mind if I ask a few questions?"

Neumann gave a small laugh. "Why would I mind? Is this not the purpose of your visit, to ask questions?"

"I would not call this a visit, sir, you know as well as I do that I was brought here against my will, and am being held hostage as we speak."

"You are free to leave whenever you wish, young one. No one has tried to stop you, and they never shall."

"Then, where is the exit?"

Neumann stood up. He was very tall - a good foot taller than Aiden - and waifishly thin. Dressed in naught but a pristine white robe, he looked almost like an apparition. With the same gentle manner, he gestured toward the door. "It is right behind you."

Aiden turned and looked. Indeed the door behind him was still open, but it did not exit into the hallway as before. What lay beyond the door was an out-of-focus still of another time in his life. He faintly recognized it, but could not pinpoint what it was. He stood up. Neumann was right. No one had made an effort to stop him. The exit called to him, beckoning him back to his comfortable, familiar life. But the light pattering of water rolling down the mosaic called out more, and he turned toward it and sat back down. Neumann joined him.

"Why am I here?" Aiden asked. "Why haven't you tried to kill me? Aren't I your enemy, as you are mine?"

Neumann touched a finger to his lips and guided Aiden toward the mosiac. The black tiles seemed to come alive, playing out a pantomime that made no sense. Attorneys dancing in a courtroom. Senators, wearing cartoonish armor, running haphazardly into dragon-filled rooms. Horses falling to their knees and weeping. But then the images touched on things he recognized. Mz. Rene walking into a psychiatric hospital. Lindsay Shapiro-Dolan driving away from a church. And his parents crying.

Aiden's head began to hurt.

"The greatbort has no enemies," Neumann said. "All are welcome into its bosom.”

“But, how can you say all are welcome when your zo-zo denigrates so many? One time I saw over a dozen threads with the N-word in them! And, even that word, bosom, I think a lot of people would find that very upsetting. That is not welcoming at all,” Aiden said.

But Neumann kept up his gentle façade. “All are welcome in the bosom of the greatbort. So sayeth the eldergreats.”

Aiden tried a different tact. “Even me? Even the DSJ?”

“Especially you, and your organization,” Neumann replied.

"But, some of those people back there, they wanted to hurt me," Aiden said.

"We are but an imperfect manifestation of a perfect principle," Neumann replied, and Aiden's head started to throb. The pattering of the water against the mosaic changed in volume and pitch, from the soft meandering of a creek to the welling rush of a river. Neumann frowned, the most emotion he had shown since Aiden first met him. He helped Aiden to his feet and began to walk with him toward the door. "I am afraid we are out of time," he said as the water's torrent settled into a strange, constant beeping. "I shall see you again, if the eldergreats will it."

Neumann walked through the door and Aiden followed. A flood of light assaulted him and he covered his eyes. When he opened them again, he was on his back, in a hospital bed, wearing a gown. Several wires were attached to his body, flowing up to a monitor next to the bed that sounded off beeps with regularity. Squinting, he turned his head, and Mz. Rene was standing over him.

"You're up," zhe said.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#30328906)

this is genius.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#30338956)

Aiden could only look at her. He wanted to say something, about the attack at the hotel, about her on the phone, but the right words would not come.

"What happened to Mordecai?" He asked.

"Who?"

"Mordecai. The undercover agent in Florida. I got some strange texts and I think something happened."

Mz. Rene looked at him sideways. "Aiden, there is no Mordecai. I don't know who you're talking about."

"Sure you do. We met with him in Flor..." He trailed off as zhe looked at him more sternly.

"Aiden. You hurt your head and were in a coma for several days. I think you are still recovering. There has never been anyone named Mordecai."

"Oh," he said. "Maybe you're right."

"Look, I need to ask you some questions about what you remember. But I can see you're not yet well. I will leave you be to get some rest. Feel better," zhe said as zhe patted his leg, then got up and walked out.

After zhe left, Aiden surveyed the room. There was no one but him in there. There was a TV, but no reception. And not much else. From a window, he looked out to see that he was at least 10 stories up. In the distance was a sign that read, "Bellvue Psychiatric Hospital." Aiden stepped into the hallway but two armed guards immediately stopped him. "No one in or out."

"Can't I just walk around the hallway a bit?"

"No one in or out. Those are the orders."

"From who?"

"That information is privileged," the guard said. He rested his hand on the hilt of his gun. "Kindly go back into the room."

So he did. He passed a couple of lonely days. Only an orderly came to visit, a black man in his thirties who didn’t say much, leaving his food and quietly walking out. That, and Mz. Rene. Zhe stopped in for a bit each day, and asked Aiden how he felt. Each day, Aiden pretended that he was still ill, rubbing his head for effect. On the third day, though, zher attitude shifted.

"We don't have any more time to wait," zhe said. With a knock on the door, the guards came in and grabbed Aiden under the arm. They blindfolded him and led him down into a car, then drove around for so long that Aiden lost track of time and place. Then, the car stopped, and they led him into a building. Only when he was strapped into a chair did they remove the blindfold, and Aiden knew immediately where he was. He was at the DSJ headquarters, in a dimly lit interrogation room. The same kind of room where he had tried to glean information from several poasters.

The same room where those poasters died.

Mz. Rene walked in with two more unknown people and sat in front of him. "Aiden, I need to know what you remember about the night you were attacked."

"I, I, what do you want to know?" He stammered.

"Just the truth. I know it's been a difficult time for you but I need to know what happened that night. For the sake of the investigation."

Aiden closed his eyes and recalled the best he could. "I was interviewing a lead. We were out at a bar."

"Good," zhe said.

"When I finished, I got in a cab and checked my phone. That's when I saw some texts from Mordecai."

Zhe shook her head and nodded to one of the assistants, who flipped a switch. An electric shock popped through Aiden's body with such intensity that he surged against his restraints. He grit his teeth and rolled his eyes at the pain. He tried to scream but no sound came out. He lost control of his bowels and the scent of burning hair began to fill the room. Finally, they flipped the switch again and the shock stopped. Aiden slumped over, his chest heaving.

"I told you, Aiden, there is no Mordecai," Mz. Rene said.

"What .. what do you want from me?" Aiden pleaded.

"The truth."

Still reeling, and flush with shame from the smell of his own voided bowels, he looked around the room for help. But only blank faces stared back. "I got a text from an unknown number. I believe it was an autoadmitter trying to lure me into a trap."

"Good, good," zhe said, writing notes. "Go on."

"Then, I, I went back to my hotel room and got a call from yo.. a wo .. someone who sounded like you."

"Uh-huh."

"Then I was attacked by a group of people and I don't remember anything after that. I swear!"

"The people who attacked you, what were they wearing?"

"Lavender shirts with the number si.." Another electric jolt shot through his body and he wanted to die. When it subsided, he said, trying to choke back tears, "White robes ... with hoods ... with an A-A stitched on the front."

"I knew it, those motherfuckers!" Mz. Rene said, a sly smile crossing her lips. "Look, I know you've been through a lot. So why don't you go back to the room and get some rest." They began to untie him and re-attach the blindfold as Mz. Rene walked out. "Oh, and Aiden?" Zhe said. "Tomorrow you go before the fishbowl, so it would help if you remembered a few more details between now and then."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#30336851)

this stuff is as good as confederacy of dunces, one of my all time favorites.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#30338951)

The moment Aiden had been dreading was here. On the other side of that door were people who were going to take him to back to the DSJ headquarters, to face the fishbowl. The fishbowl was equal parts show trial and community execution, where he would sit face-to-face with Mz. Rene and be made to answer for all of the transgressions he had ever committed. It was supposed to be a way for those who offended against the department to cleanse themselves, but Aiden knew better. No one ever returned from the fishbowl.

Knock knock.

He lay in his bed, sick to his stomach. The night before he had tried to pry the window open but with no luck. He would rather have tried to leap from his 10th story room than face the people on the other side of the door. But here they were, coming to get him for perhaps the last time.

Knock knock. The door opened.

It was just the orderly, the same one from the past few days, with a breakfast. He exhaled slightly, but he was in no mood to eat.

"Just leave it over there," he pointed the counter in the corner. Then he rolled over. But the orderly didn't move.

"Look man, thanks. but I'm not hungry. Just put it over there," he said again.

But the orderly just kept looking at Aiden. Then he shrieked, startling Aiden. He flung the tray to the ground with an enormous crash and screamed again, backing up toward the door.

Before Aiden could even say, "What the fuck," the two hallway guards kicked the door open and burst in, guns drawn. In the flash of an eye, the orderly drew a hunting knife, which he thrust from behind into the neck of the nearest guard. The man's eyes went wide as his body went limp. As the other guard turned to fire, the orderly shot first with a silenced pistol of his own, two shots which downed the man for good.

Aiden stood in shocked silence as the orderly wasted no time in grabbing at the dead guard's clothes. He looked up at Aiden and said, "Fucking help me with this, will you?" But Aiden was too stunned to move. The orderly just scoffed and kept tugging at their uniforms.

"Fuck," he said again. "This fucker's blood is all over the jacket. That won't do. Quickly, he dug through the closet to find a gown and tossed it toward Aiden. "Put this on," he said, as he started undressing himself. Soon, he was yanking up the guard's uniform, stopping only to walk over to Aiden and give him a shake. "Look, numbnuts, there's people coming to kill you, so we don't have much time. If you feel like living, you'll put that damn gown on." Finally Aiden complied and when the orderly finished changing, he slapped Aiden in a pair of handcuffs and put a hood over him.

"Where are we going?" Aiden asked.

"Just trust me," the orderly said. "Come on, we have to move fast."

Cuffed and blinded, the man led Aiden down the hall and to the elevator. "Just act natural." The elevator opened with a ding and he led Aiden in. Soon, they were moving, down, until after a few floors it abruptly stopped again.

"I'm sorry miss," the orderly said to whomever walked on. "Dangerous cargo here. I'm afraid you'll have to take the next one."

"Hmph, fine," said the voice, which Aiden immediately recognized as Mz. Rene. "But I don't appreciate being mis-gendered like that. I'm not 'miss.' I'm 'mizz.' And if I didn't have more important things to tend to, I'd have you brought in for a little education."

"Uh, yes zir, sorry zir," the orderly said. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

The elevator door closed and the orderly yanked the hood off Aiden and frantically began to unlock his handcuffs. "What's happening now? Was that Mz. Rene?"

"Yes," he said. "They're closer than I expected. Look, we can't play this cool anymore. As soon as that door opens, we're running."

Aiden looked at the man's complexion and noticed his taut, refined muscles. "But what if I can't keep up?"

"Nigga, fuck you."

The elevator door dinged open again and they sprinted through the lobby of the Hospital and into a car that was parked in front. He turned over engine and put the pedal on the door. No sooner were they pulling away when Mz. Rene ran out after them, guards in tow, and they opened fire, bullets pinging off the back bumper and lodging in the bulletproof glass.

They sped ahead, 70 miles an hour now, toward the gate that was rapidly closing. He pushed the car through the gates and fishtailed around a curve. Aiden began to exhale as they reached the highway, but an accident ahead brought their getaway to a dead stop.

Before long, ominous black cars appeared in their rear-view, and it wasn’t just Aiden who became nervous. “Fuck this shit,” the orderly said as he veered into the shoulder and hit the accelerator. The cars gave chase again. They veered off the exit ramp and into local streets, speeding through traffic lights and shaking the chasers until only one remained.

“Open the glove compartment,” the orderly said.

Inside were two handguns and several magazines of ammo. “You know how to use one of these?”

“No!”

“You’re about to learn!” the orderly slammed the brakes and spun the car around, drifting backwards in a plume of smoking tires as the last car in pursuit closed in for a head on collision. At the last moment, he stomped the accelerator and moved to the side, causing the cars to sideswipe each other and careen off the road.

Stunned but going on instinct, Aiden unbuckled himself and climbed out of the car after the orderly. He fumbled with the gun’s magazine as the orderly run up to the other car, firing. The others scrambled out and took cover, firing back. They were three to their two. The orderly hit the first. Then he ran toward a tree to try to flank the remaining two. But their shots were a true and hit him in the leg. He crawled to behind the tree and tried to return fire, weakly, dazed.

As they moved to finish the orderly off, Aiden finally jammed the magazine home and lifted the gun, firing wildly. The bullet missed everything, but the shot was enough to distract the others as they flinched and turned. Closer in now, the orderly hit both in the back. Soon, their wailing was permanently silenced, and peace returned.

Aiden ran to the man, who was tending to his leg wound. His pants were stained in blood and his skin was becoming paler. He helped him into the other car, where the man produced a card with an address. “Just get us there,” he said before passing out.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#30382819)

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2856788&forum_id=2#30416944)

They were looking for him. And in a way, they were close. But not close enough. They were just so predictable.