Rifles and Rapiers: An expansion of America Stranded

“Alright, members of the Committee That Consists of Not-So-Anonymous People With Career-Destroying Secrets, otherwise known as the CTCNSAPWCDS, this meeting is now in session!” Admiral Coden spoke loudly to the room before sitting down.

All ten of the suited men present remained silent in their chairs, except for Larry the Janitor, who clapped. Nobody else did.

“So, I believe that we can start with SOUTHCOM Commander Marvin Valdez,” Coden said. Upon hearing his name, Valdez blinked several times and looked around the room. Cohen walked over to him and whispered, “You’re up,” before retreating back to his seat.

“Ah! Right, sorry.” Valdez stood up and cleared his throat, looking thoroughly embarrassed. He looked around the room at the blank, emotionless faces. Larry was picking his nose.

The room itself was round, with gray walls and black carpet. They couldn’t make it oval because the White House had copyrighted oval rooms. The table was round too, with just enough chairs for everyone present, except for, once again, Larry. He had to stay standing. A pair of double doors at the other end of the room marked where everybody had entered.

“So, I’m Marvin. Marvin Valdez, head of SOUTHCOM.” Valdez nervously introduced himself.

“Hi, Marvin,” everybody droned in perfect unison. Valdez grimly smiled, then continued talking.

“So, according to the reports, we have managed to account for every single person who has gone missing in Central America and the Caribbean. Whether that means we confirmed their death or we actually found and rescued em’, that’s not what I’m here to tell you. What I’m here to share is that, yes, we have everybody accounted for, except for two.” Valdez grabbed a remote and flicked on the projector screen behind him.

Two images of two soldiers in uniform popped up. One had black hair and, according to the height chart behind him, stood at six foot and a half inch. He had an angular, long face and blue eyes. The other, on the left, had light brown hair and stood at five eleven, and a more rounded, evenly spread face and brown eyes.

“These are Ryan Garvey and Alarick Hoffman. These two were stationed in Dresden QRF Base in Nicaragua.” The image changed, showing an arrow pointing to an area in the center of the outlined borders of Nicaragua. Coden furrowed his brows. Isn’t that what the real name of the Banana Republic was, or something?

“Before the Flash, they were on the verge of being kicked out of the Army due to numerous problems with authority, misconduct, and mysterious incidents involving their CO’s now ex-wife.” Valdez turned back to the crowd. “I have chosen to withhold this information from the president because as it happens, we had a lock on their locations due to the GPS tracker embedded in their clothing, but, uh, how do I say this, er…” He scratched his head nervously. “I may or may not have fired the people responsible for tracking soldier's locations due to a… ‘previous incident’, that is unimportant at this time.”

Valdez stepped back. “That will conclude my Thing That I Don’t Tell The President Because I Will Get Fired If I do, otherwise known as TTIDTTPBIWGFIID. Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Marvin,” everybody else in the room robotically replied.

Coden cleared his throat and stood up. “For this next announcement, I will be presenting next.” He looked around the room. “A day ago, we found out that one of the unidentified local villages on the new continent, was suddenly and deliberately attacked by an American drone fleet.”

The room erupted in a cacophony of voices.

“This means war!”

“Against who!?”

“Ourselves! Wait, I mean Japan! Uh-”

Coden banged his hand on the table. It wasn’t very loud, and people kept talking, so Larry the Janitor pulled out a shotgun from his bucket of cleaning supplies and fired off a shot. It was very loud this time, and everybody stopped talking.

Coden cleared his throat again. “Thank you, Larry, for that. Now, me and my (fucking useless) operators back at the control center believe that this was caused due to a combination of a malfunction in the drone hivemind’s information relay unit as well as a misunderstanding of the circumstances. The drone fleet also happened to be in the air at the time, which is how it was allowed to happen. One small issue though.”

Coden took a deep breath. It wasn’t often he admitted his mistakes. “It wasn’t supposed to be in the air at the time. I had ordered it to remain in the air because at the time, that base was undergoing, ah, repairs to the landing strip, which may or may not have been caused by an implosion of faulty pipe lines, which may or may not have been caused by a lack of funding.”

A voice called out. “Where was the funding then?”

Coden almost dropped his tablet. “Uh, that’s not important. What is important is that an unknown number of locals have been killed by our assets, which means it’s MY ass if Dresden ever finds out.”

Coden sat back down. “Thank you for your time.”

“You’re welcome, Drone Fleet Admiral Coden,” the audience said.

The next people who spoke whined about problems ranging from misplaced barrels of Federal Reserve oil that were supposed to be delivered to gas stations, faulty equipment causing the deaths of military personnel who were still stranded, faulty equipment causing the deaths of military personnel who weren’t stranded, and even violent collapse of plumbing systems in military bases because of inadequate pressure change resistance.

However, the final person to speak had, instead of a problem, a solution.

The Deputy Director of the FBI, also known as Jared Pionic, spoke up. “Listen up.”

They did.

Jared continued in a low, intelligent voice. Coden’s interest was piqued.. “As far as I can see, this group of individuals that are currently present consists of a fuckton of lazy, greedy, corrupt, egotistical people who are unfit for their jobs and, quite frankly, all deserve to be deported to North Korea.”

“Hey!” Somebody protested.

“However, seeing as I have my own slew of problems myself, I won’t judge. Instead, I have a solution to all of our problems, at least for those who have issues that aren’t in the continental US.” He reached out and grabbed the projector remote, turned it on again, and flicked over to the images of Ryan and Alarick.

“Martin. Should anyone outside of you and your circle have any idea who these people are?” Jared asked.

Valdez looked surprised. “Uh, no. I haven’t told anybody, and I have made sure that the people who told me don’t tell anybody else. Why?”

Jared grinned, and Coden swore he saw a mentally deranged person in Jared’s place for a moment. “Good. Gentlemen, do you know what this means?”

Silence.

He grinned again. “I didn’t think so. This means,” he began pacing around the table. “That if I contact my people and get them to shred these two’s records and documents, and we manage to actually find out where they are and if they are still alive, we can have a quick, easy, and best of all, cheap solution to all of our problems. We turn these two idiots here into our personal wet workers.”

Larry grunted. “Uh, if ya’ don’ mind me askin’, whassa ‘wet worker’?”

Jared paused, as if annoyed. Coden momentarily feared for Larry’s safety, then he remembered that Coden only cared about himself.

“Basically, a tool to accomplish… less than legal goals. Don’t worry about the morality of the situation. The CIA probably has used wet workers to meddle in all of your department’s once or, twice, or fifteen times before.” The room grumbled with annoyance at the mention of the CIA. Someone muttered, “Fuckin’ hate those guys. They fucked my wife.”

Jared nodded. “Well, are we in agreement? It’s a cheap and easy way to solve most of our problems.”

The room resounded in positivity.

“Hey, I like cheap!

“Don’t forget easy!”

“Did you guys hear the part where he said cheap!?”

Coden sighed. He had a baaad feeling about this.