Beware of Deep Knight Adventures!

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Antediluvian Agent
Yet Another Annoying Deep Knight Adventure

Chapter 1: “Why Didn’t I Think of That” Ideas for Hosting a Girls-Night-In Party

It was 2013 and Deep Knight was depressed. In 2012 he had been at the height of his professional career as an evil enemy agent, thwarting prosperity at every turn, murdering scores of thousands of innocents, and preventing disclosure. This was capped by his single-handed stopping of Ascension on December 21, and marriage to his long-time, long-suffering, secretary, Velna Rider.

But soon after New Years things had all gone wrong. For one, the world's leading Obama eligibility challenge attorney didn’t just fade away as the Dark Agenda had expected, but continued on to the Supreme Court who allowed her to Subpoena the entire Senate and House of Representatives. Suddenly his previous success in both harassing and discrediting Dr. Taitz by calling her well-thought-out theories crazy and bribing judges using techniques developed by the Nazi’s was forgotten, and the powers that be blamed him. Add to that his lack of success in stopping the publication of Erasmus of America’s yet-to-be-published book, the legal success of the One People’s Public Trust filings, and the arrest of the Pope and the Queen by the International Common Law Court, and it was easy to see why his star was falling at work.

One problem was his Modus operandi. The bulk of his previous success had been based on barging into a situation, finding the most beautiful woman associated with the opposition, sleeping with her thus making her his talkative love slave, and using this information to massacre everyone involved. Unfortunately, since this marriage and vow of fidelity to a woman known for her jealousy and homicidal skills, he was forced to change this technique just a bit. Now, he barged into situations, waited for someone to try and kill him, and then searched the bloody clothes of his perforated attackers for matchbooks and other clues that would lead him to the right people to roundup and kill. Not only was it a less-effective method (the darn forces of good had quit smoking and stopped carrying matchbooks), it was much more stressful. Add to that grumblings at work about lightworkers and whistleblowers who wouldn’t give up and missed “productivity goals,” and it all was getting on his nerves.

Luckily, Deep had gotten his new bride the coveted position of executive secretary to his boss, VP of Covert Operations. She had her own office now, with “Velna Knight-Rider” painted on the frosted glass of her solid oak door, and Deep went in to seek some solace. Velna slapped his hand away from her solace, and got that stern look on her face that either meant he had inadvertently done something wrong, or that she needed a stool softener.

“The whole place is in an uproar today, with all the Executives in executive session,” she said breathlessly. “The lid had blown off of our fixing of the Papal election, what with the uniformed New Black Panther poll watchers we put in the Vatican to intimidate the Cardinals. Rumor has it your name has come up.”

“But I had nothing to do with that!” Agent Knight protested. “You know how the Captain of the Swiss Guard feels about me ever since he caught his wife with that goat. And those Swiss know how to hold a grudge, just look at what they do to their cheese!”

“I believe that’s their gripe,” confirmed Velna, “That you didn’t jump in once you saw there might be problems and fix them before it happened. It’s your own fault dear, your success has made you a target of every Tom, Dick and Harry who couldn’t get a Kenyan Muslim usurper into the White House if their life depended on it.”

Deep Knight nodded in agreement as he cleared his wife’s desk by pushing everything onto the floor, then ravished her on top of the polished wood surface. After all, he was used to a diet of hundreds, sometimes thousands, of faceless supermodels a day, and it was hard to go “cold turkey.” Besides, hearing about potential shake-ups and reorganization at work got him excited, he was one of those rare individuals who enjoyed danger and living on the edge. And, of course, the senseless killings.

Suddenly, and without warning, an explosion rocked the building. Velna smiled, thinking it was evidence of her husband’s satisfaction, but Deep recognized the sonic signature of high-explosives, not only inside Dark Agenda Headquarters, but somewhere close. The flying chunks of concrete that whizzed by his head were another clue. But he never expected what came next, a surprise so shocking that it shocked even the hard-headed editors at this publication!

[vkey08]

Well written, I can't wait for Chapter 2

[Burnaby49]

It was Orly taking more direct constitutionally-approved action?

[The Observer]

It was Orly taking more direct constitutionally-approved action?

I am thinking that DK finds out that Velna is really Orly in disguise.

[LaVidaRoja]

Or is Orley really Sorcha? VOS -- Velma/Orley/Sorcha A true DK fantasy!!

[Burnaby49]

Or is Orley really Sorcha? VOS -- Velma/Orley/Sorcha A true DK fantasy!!

Or a DK wet dream.

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Amorous Agent
A Salacious-Yet-Salubrious Deep Knight Adventure

Chapter 2: As I Was Moving Ahead, Occasionally I Saw Brief Glimpses from Behind

Deep Knight, stunned, but still a wise enough husband to make sure his wife was satisfied, waited until they had finished their “afternoon delight” of desktop depravity before inquiring as to the gaping hole in the executive hallway. “Just part of the reorganization,” explained his boss, “You know how the big guy is. But don’t worry about that now, worry about Mr. Beelzebub, head of New Business Development. He wants to see you in his office, and he wants you there 5 minutes ago.”

The sulfurous demon whose ancient name means “Lord of the Flies,” although that was before the invention of window screens, didn’t waste any time or beat around the bush. “I don’t like you, Agent Knight, and I don’t like your approach to work. Despite what others say about your propensity towards priapism, I find your methods sloppy and flaccid. You cut corners, play it fast and loose, take too many chances, and what rules you don’t break you bend like a pretzel. But against all odds you always seem to get results, and right now that’s what we need more than someone who has sense enough to follow orders or the book to the letter.”

Deep Knight knew the real source of Beelzebub’s intense dislike, that incident with The Scarlet Whore of Babylon that ruined her previously-sterling reputation. The old demon had been her beau when they went to Hades High School together, where she was head cheerleader, and he captain of the debate team. They drifted apart when she went to college and he descended to Hell, and the embarrassing incident in question happened millennia later, but he obviously still cared for her. If only the floor in that woman’s bathroom been built to code or not located directly above the buffet table at the office Christmas party.

“Everything out there, all our plans, are going to hell in a handbasket, just ask the guy at the front gate,” observed the evil overlord, “You’ve got a reputation as a fixer and closer. Let’s focus on that and not what the girls whisper about and if you had any sense you would keep in your pants anyway. Pull this off and we’ll even overlook that cannibalism in Texas.”

“What do you want me to fix first,” said a genuinely confused Deep Knight, who had only occasionally partaken of human flesh, and never to his knowledge in the lone star state. “That idiot Erasmus has been really asking for it recently, and I owe Orly one for badmouthing my abilities at forging a long-form birth certificate with PhotoShop.”

“No,” said the unsmiling, fly-attracting lord, “We have to stop America’s move towards energy independence. They’re having an oil boom up in North Dakota, and once the rest of the states see they’ll start to do the same and the cost of gas will plummet! Our petrodollars will become worthless and the Dinar will almost certainly RV. I suggest starting a civil war between North and South Dakota to stop the drilling and raise energy prices. Begin by staging some border incidents first, and then plant evidence of weapons of mass destruction in the North. With their larger population, industrial base, and rich cotton fields, the South could be convinced to launch a preemptive strike to seize the oil. In the confusion and under the cover of the blanket of the fog of war, our fleet of 40,000 armed drones could do the rest.”

Deep Knight winced at the thought of travel to the Dakotas. Not only was March still freezing cold, they were in the middle of the center of the Midwestern heart of darkness. “Look, it’s not a problem. They’re the only state that has a field like this to exploit, you can’t just decide you want a quick frack, drill anywhere, and expect to pump out gushers of oil. They might chant ‘drill baby drill’ but in practice they’ll end up at home and alone on Saturday night.”

“Funny,” mused Beelzebub, “That’s not what I read on the Internet, and they couldn’t post it if it wasn’t true.”

“The Internet is the problem,” concluded Deep Knight, “Too many chances for people to learn the truth by reading incomprehensible posts by people wise to our conspiracy. For years I’ve wanted to kill those who are blabbing our inner secrets, or at the least cut their high-speed cable service, but never get approval. Don't you find it strange we can build thousands of miles of underground tunnels between our hundreds of hidden bases, but not shut up the people writing about them day in and day out? What we need is a good old purge. Our FEMA camps, prison rail cars, and guillotines have been ready and waiting for years, but for some reason we never use them. I say the time has come to knock down the door of anyone who publishes the truth online and give them a one-way ticket for a close shave at Club NWO.”

Beelzebub smiled, “Not what I was thinking, Agent Knight … but I like it! You’re right, our first goal shouldn’t be to fix the problem, but to hide it from public view. Just like they taught us in that executive leadership class. Not only would liquidating anyone who writes about us online end the bad publicity and pressure from the board of directors, it would teach a lesson to all those who would defy our New World Order. Perhaps I misjudged you, Deep, you seem to have come up with a plan that evaded our best minds for years and years. Funny that nobody thought of such a simple solution before…”

Beelzebub pushed a button which opened the armored door and let Deep know the meeting was over. “I’ll have Bob in Accounting cut you a blank check and HR assign you some minions. Get on this immediately, if not sooner, and remember that we expect miracles and that even a hint of failure is not an option. Have a nice day.”

[LaVidaRoja]

And in his next adventure, Deep Knight will run up against a power greater than he has ever faced. In his efforts to purge the Internet, he will anger the man who owns the world based on the internet usage he has made, made available, made usable by any idiot with a keyboard. In his next adventure, Deep Knight will face-----









BILL GATES!

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Allegoric-but-not-Allegorical Agent
Another Factual Deep Knight Adventure

Chapter 3: Spring Break Preview, those Glorious Swimsuits!

Deep Knight sat in a dark corner of the grimiest, lowest Skid Row dive he could find and nursed a shot of Old Overholt, favorite whiskey of bitter, aging detectives. The breeze from the sewage treatment plant and warehouse for storing hogsheads of hog’s heads downstairs make it the sort of undesirable place where no one, good or evil, would find him. Taking out the worn nub of a pencil he started a list on a napkin, “Bellringer, MacHaffie, Rayelan, Beforeitsnews, Removingtheshackles, Abovetopsecret, Congressional Record, Ascension 2012, WingTV…” He would need another, no make that a whole stack of, grimy napkins to fit all the sites that claimed inside information on the ultimate worldwide conspiracy, all of them true. As he called for another shot, he tried to think outside the box and the usual shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later response to these blabby, truthy websites.

Sure, he could call for Ninja assassins, commando raids and drone missile strikes against MacHaffie and others, or use a slow poison that would bring about a horrible, lingering death, but that would be too easy. What if, as was often the case, they had been locked up for observation, or violating a restraining order? And besides, some other idiot would sooner or later take their place. No, he had to find a way of killing the heart of the beast, the internet sites themselves.

Only one problem, that would involve hiring computer savvy programmers and hackers, and the New World Order had a strict “no geeks or nerds” policy. The same went for Jews, Blacks, the disabled and Hoosiers, the New World Order having a rather old-fashioned view of hiring. Sure, once they had hired virus and malware writers to torment all those who did exotic things on the web, like used a search engine, but soon they discovered even eviler programs being made by unpaid freelancers “for fun.” In a case of “why buy a cow when you can sleep with the milkmaid for free” the NWO removed them from their employment, and so they hacked our system. Satan has never forgiven them, and he knows how to hold a grudge.

Then it struck him, when in doubt use the best tool at hand for the job. No not that tool, but the dark arts. Black magic, spells and hexes, in a word witchcraft. Something the Dark Agenda had in abundance. As you might expect witches and wizards of all sorts, from Harry Potter types to Shakespeare to Wicked of the West. He had even worked with some of the girls in the past, avoiding love affairs which tended to go badly when one party to a breakup has supernatural powers. The only truly intimate contact was when he was requested by HR to record the temperature of one of their tits while wearing a brass bra and compare it to the temperature outside.

The most powerful of the in-house witches naturally worked the night shift and so Deep had time to tie one on and get really snookered. Just as he was about to order another shot, Velna showed up. “I thought I would find you here,” she said, without a hint of irony, “It’s the only bar in town you’ve never been to, no doubt because the smell drives away supermodels. I figured you would go someplace like this to get lost, given the shakeups and explosions at work.”

“Look, doll, I’m on a caper and need to get results fast or the man downstairs will hear about it. It’s those damn online truth sites, by telling the truth they’re making our lives a living hell. Think of all the plots they’ve revealed we’ve had to cancel, it’s like their saying it makes it not come true. Now, giddy with that power, they’re trying to get us all arrested. The boys in the suites are crapping in them and heads are rolling. I need to find some witches with Information Technology training to curse their computers and cut their internet access, and I need them fast.”

Velna smiled, “There are plenty in my woman’s networking group, and it’s meeting tonight. As long as you don’t start sleeping with them, I don’t see any reason I couldn’t bring you along and to meet some of the girls. But you’ve got to promise.”

“Baby, you know it’s you, and only you, that I love,” professed Deep Knight to close the subject as quickly as possible, “This is strictly business, well, except for the pleasure I’ll get causing pain to idiots like Sorcha Faal and Erasmus of America, not to mention Okie Oil Man and Sheldan Nidle or Orly Taitz.”

Deep settled with the bartender by shooting him between the eyes. Normally this would be a bad move and it tended to make return visits awkward, but given the location and smell Agent Knight doubted he would be returning. Just to make sure he lobbed a couple of grenades behind him as he and Velna left.

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Adjectival Agent
Another Adverbial Deep Knight Adventure

Chapter 4: An Emergency Room Nurse Confirms that Many Accident Victims Aren’t Wearing Clean Underwear

Deep had seen some of the women at Velna’s networking group meeting before, seductive babes with front office appearance who worked for top level executives. Others obviously worked in the lower levels of the Dark Agenda’s massive underground headquarters, where mushrooms grew from the walls and it smelled of mildew and ammonia. These were where most of the “dark arts” operatives had their offices, not because the ambiance complimented their work, but because for many decades black magic had taken a back seat to high tech. Why go through all the work of incantations and spells when you can call in a cruise missile strike on gps coordinates using your smart phone? Besides, like all drugs eye of newt and wing of bat kept getting more and more expensive, and people looked at you funny in the checkout lines at the pharmacy.

Velna gathered a group of the girls together and introduced her husband Deep to them. They were a radically mixed bunch, looking like every sort of witch from the grizzled old crone to stripper on Halloween, with one a dead ringer for Samantha on Bewitched and another the Emperor from Star Wars. The ladies seemed thrilled at Deep’s interest in using their skills. “Of course we can enchant and curse computers, dearie. We have many Windows-based digital spells that are both 32- and 64-bit compatible,” one of the old-crone-style witches confirmed while cackling and rubbing her hands together.

The various hex-slingers and curse-casters put their heads together and after several ludicrous requests such as samples of hair and fingernail clippings from each of the websites, came up with a plan. An inverted pentagram was drawn in chalk on a naked stone floor. A ring of candles was lit around the star, all made from fat liposuctioned from condemned murderess. Pictures of demons and computer peripherals were placed at the points and symbols of unknown origin written in luminous letters. Incense burned on an altar made of golden calves. Hooded initiates chanted backwards in Latin. Rattles were shaken with great fury. And so it was done.

The head priestess, sweat glistening on her brow, walked up to Agent Knight smiling. “We gave your entire list of URLs the full treatment,” she confessed, “From now on they’ll experience sluggish performance, slow start ups, system crashes, annoying popups that say “not responding,” and most horribly, the blue screen of death when they’re trying to save files they’ve worked on for hours.”

“But, my computers at home and work do this all the time, and they’re not cursed!” said Deep, hoping the last part of his statement was true.

“Silly boy, all computers have been cursed by us! That includes hardware, software, and cloudware! Years ago Bill Gates did the unthinkable and rejected the head of our order’s demand that he make his operating system magic-compatible, and we will have our revenge!”

“So, this curse you just put on these websites, it’s really no more than the same old annoying system problems everyone has? What good does that do me?”

“None, what-so-ever,” the ancient, wrinkled visage said, “but we fulfilled our end of the bargain, now it’s time for your end to do some fulfillment of its own!”

“Wait a second, I’m a married man and never agreed to anything!” protested Deep, for once glad of the wedding ring he was flashing so prominently to the frustrated coven.

“That matters not,” said an even uglier witch, “Either satisfy each one of us in turn or die horribly. And I do mean horribly, with unbearable pain, blood-curdling screams and blood-curdling in general. Me first, and I like it rough with lots of biting and scratching.”

Agent Knight tried to make a break for it, but in his zeal he had made the rookie agent mistake of not learning the building layout, and his dash through the door ended up in a closet. Making all sorts of eerie sounds, the subsection of the women’s networking group fell upon him as if in slow motion and started to rip his clothes off. It looked like doom for Deep, either from the witches themselves if his thingie faltered or his wife when she looked in on how things were going. Once more he strained to escape, but only felt the grips tighten the more he struggled. Suddenly things got dark as one of the larger ladies threw her freshly-removed black panties over his head with a sadistic cackle, and Deep’s braced for the assault he knew would follow.

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Agrarian Agent
Another Alliteratively Agricultural Deep Knight Adventure.

Chapter 5: I Gave You Love, You Gave Me Old Shoes

Deep had never felt so helpless and humiliated. After countless close shaves with death, it looked like he would be used and cast aside by these filthy leering witches. He struggled to get free, he struggled to scream, but to no avail. Panic was about to set in with the removal of his boxer shorts when…

“What in the world is going on back here?” asked a familiar voice in a perky tone, at first sounding far off as if through a haze, but later sounding pixie-like, “Come on girls, break it up!”

The hands that had just seconds before been holding deep in an iron grip let go and he sprung up, breathing rapidly. “They attacked me! They threatened me! They even stuck their fingers where I wouldn’t let my doctor stick them!”

Some of the witches looked sheepishly at the floor while Velna first glared at them and then at Deep Knight. “It’s your fault, you know, you shouldn’t have dressed so provocatively and firmly told them ‘no’ before it started. But you ladies are to blame too, and some of you need to go wash your hands right now!”

Deep started to protest, but Velna cut him off with one of those “I’ll cut it off” looks and he followed her outside, thankful for his close escape. Once out of sight Velna suddenly changed her demeanor. “Are you OK?” she inquired fretfully, “Some of those ladies have been out of circulation since the 17th century and are pretty desperate.”

Deep realized he had been scarred deeply, that these weren’t acts done out of 3 centuries of bad luck at love but a deeper, violent emotion from the depth of their souls, deep feelings no man could name because they were too deep. “Thanks for pulling my bacon out of that veteranly-vixenous fire, dear, my Kung Fu and adjectival adroitency seem to be a bit weak these days. “

“Snap out of it,” she replied firmly yet lovingly, “I thought you lived for danger and laughed in the face of federal murder. Where’s that idealistic young agent I married, the one that could cause mass murder millions during the day and still have enough energy to go out for cocktails, dinner and dancing afterwards. “

Deep reached deep inside himself to that place where all men hide the depths of their courage, but realizing he had pulled that trick at the beginning of a previous paragraph stopped short. “You’re right. Sometimes I don’t know what’s getting into me. It’s the constant getting shot, bombed, and bludgeoned. After a while it loses its luster and becomes a mere annoyance. Maybe we should consider a vacation, someplace warm and assassin-free.”

“That’s better,” she countered, “But now for the reason I came to get you in the first place. Since learning the truth about The Pope the Main Stream Media has been harder to control, and people in the Alternative Press are starting to speak out about your unspeakable acts. Literally dozens of people have anonymously contacted Eric Holder demanding your arrest, and even though you are his best friend he can’t protect you too much longer. We’ve got to put a lid on this hemorrhaging of truth, even if it means resorting to subterfuge and sublimation.”

Agent Knight had a flash of perspiration and inspiration. “I think I can replace these Band Aids with a information superhighway tourniquet. All I need is a basket, five loaves of bread, two fishes and a visit with Eric before a warrant can be issued. He might be interested in some of the things I have to say. If not, we can use hypnosis to turn him into our mind-controlled slave, much like our fraternity hazing did to him in college.”

“That’s my little snuggly wuggly widdle Bolshevik,” agreed Velna, “I knew once the scent of the prey was in your eyes you would spur your horse and get back into the saddle. We can visit him now, it’s only 2:00 in the morning, and evil never sleeps, so he’s probably still at the office.”

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Atypical Agent
An Odd and Unusual Deep Knight Adventure

Chapter 6: Pick Up Bricks

Not wasting any time, Deep and Velna used a black helicopter to fly directly to Justice Department Headquarters and soon they were in a surprised and concerned Eric Holder’s office. An old friend of Agent Knight from way back, they still saw each other often, but usually not under such dire circumstances.

“Damn it Deep, are you nuts?” inquired Eric with obvious concern, “Millions of potential readers have been contacting our offices all day demanding your immediate arrest and execution! It hasn’t been this bad since Britney Spears got caught driving with her kid not in a car seat.”

Deep winced at the thought of his public turning on him like this. Just yesterday they thought his endless string of murders made him sexy, now they wanted his head. “You’ve weathered worse before, like the ‘Fast and Furious’ scandal. Today almost nobody remembers that it originally referred to your being an angry premature ejaculator.”

“There’s heat and then there’s heat. Quite frankly, I never thought Erasmus of America would catch on like he did. He’s become a cult figure with 13-15 year-old boys, a demographic with lots of purchasing power.”

Deep looked concerned. “There’s something you’re not telling me here. I don’t care how messed up kids are these days, you can’t tell me they’re that bad. Besides, your left eye is bleeding, like it used to do when you bluffed at poker.”

“OK, I’ll tell you, but you won’t like it. The word on the street is that you’re washed up! Marriage has made you soft, and in this business you can’t afford any limpness, you have to be hard all the time. Face it. What ever made you marry that ugly castrating bitch, no offense Velna, is beyond me, but now you’ve got to face facts and gracefully bow out.”

The news hit Deep Knight like a ton of bricks, leaving the red dust of despair on his shoes. Introspective by nature, he almost didn’t notice Velna kicking Eric where women in-the-know know it will hurt the most. And it did. Deep waited for the writhing and convulsions to stop before he said these thoughtful words to his friend. “That’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve kicked balls out of the court before, and have a plan to do it again, all I need is some time and support. And you’re going to give them to me, not only because we’re friends, but because I have enough material to blackmail you from here to Timbuktu.”

Deep continued, “The problem isn’t that I’ve grown soft, the problem is that you and the rest of the Dark Agenda have. You’ve gotten so used to winning that you think you need to win all the time, making you risk adverse. Well, it was risk takers that made crime what it is today, job creators who didn’t spend one minute worrying about failure. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, but we’ve been avoiding the smallest catastrophe, and now we’re paying the price by not being made stronger. And it’s not like I’m blaming you, I’ve been just as much at fault, maybe more. My series of incredible successes, which would be considered impossible if they weren’t true, have allowed the rank and file to coast along getting fat and happy. Now that the tide has turned just a little bit, you’re all afraid. What's the matter with you? Is this what you've become, some Hollywood finnochio that cries like a woman? Well, I say ‘No.’ No, no, no! No more! Not this time, consiglieri. No more meetings, no more discussions, no more Sollozzo tricks. You give 'em one message: I want Sollozzo. If not, it's all-out war: we go to the mattresses.”

“Who’s Sollozzo?” asked the Attorney General, genuinely confused.

“Never mind,” countered Agent Knight, “What is important is that we get our balls back in working order, no offense Eric, and fight back! It’s time we got our hands dirty, our feet bloody and clean out goodness and truth once and for all. We’ve got to keep pounding on them until it hurts, and then continue even though it will wake up the neighbors because it’s OK, they’ll only think we’re taking the garbage out. Because that’s the way the New World Order has always done it, and sometimes you have to go ‘old school’ to teach the new kid on the block how to either fish or cut bait.”

Eric slowly got up off the floor, and in a strained voice with a higher than normal pitch said, “Bye Jove you’re right, Deep, it’s time we stood up for what we know is wrong and go to the mattresses! Afterwards we can take care of the box springs, one by one, and then the headboard! There’s nothing like a good fight to make you feel alive! Count me in!”

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Arboreal Agent
Another On-The-Ground Deep Knight Adventure

Chapter 7: File Now and Beat the Tax Crunch

Laguna Niguel, a sleepy town in southern Orange County has a name derived from the words "Laguna," Spanish for "lagoon", and "Nigueli," a pungent cheese native to Spain and no longer produced for public health reasons. Deep Knight could see why early settlers adopted this name as the sea breeze off the lagoon enflamed his nostrils, nostrils that like the rest of him waited in ambush for Dr. Orly Taitz, Esq. to come home. It hardly seemed like the few days it had been since Deep’s call for an Illuminati war against their internet and radio detractors had spread through the Dark Agenda like wildfire. In retrospect it had seemed so simple, but it had taken Agent Knight to ask the question, “If these idiots are exposing our treason and murders right and left, how come they’re still walking around?” Tired of years of abuse and public humiliation just because they were evil incarnate, the agents of the New World Order were ready for a little payback. Orly was hardly their most dangerous foe, after all she was only going after Obama, a mid-level foreign operative 38 levels below senior executives, but had done it in a way that was so annoying that put her on top of the list.

Her husband, already asleep, was apparently unaware that her legal battles against the President were covers for a life of shameful libertinism. Telling him that she was serving papers in Washington or deposing administrators at Social Security in Connecticut, she would drag her sorry behind through Orange County’s birther bars looking for hot young men with explosive evidence. But the hookups were getting fewer and further between and word went out of the concupiscent crusader was actually a salacious sadist who’s unending diatribes made her deaf to even screamed “safe words.” Private parts and ears would be red and sore for days, and those who regained their lost innocence were few and far between. But tonight she had been lucky, the smell from the lagoon masking her perfume, and some young fool fresh off the farm would find his dreams shattered and facing a long series of antibiotic injections in the weeks to come.

Finally, the swerving headlights of a poorly-driven car came up the driveway, scraping and screeching its way to a stop in front of the main entrance to the opulent Tatiz mansion. A crazed-looking blonde got out of the car and only made it a few steps before her mouth was taped, her wrists and ankles tied, and her eligibility-questioning behind being loaded into a large, black canvas bag. Carrying the surprised and squirming package to a waiting black helicopter, the dentist, realtor and lawyer was soon airborne and headed towards deep water.

The other agents were collecting lead weights to add the bag to make sure it would sink, such things are common on helicopters as “ballast,” and Agent Knight opened the bag to taunt the demented dentist. Normally he wouldn’t bother, but the opportunity to confront Orly with her upcoming death and cause her to mess herself was too seductive. As he slowly uncovered the bleached-blonde head of the world’s leading eligibility advocate, he explained. “My men will soon dump you in the Pacific where you will be slowly drowned while being crushed by the ever-increasing pressure of the depths. But since that would be too easy of a death, I’ll be tossing a Tasmanian devil into the bag with you, one that’s been trained to have an intense fear of water. His freshly-sharpened claws should finish eviscerating you about the time you run out of air. But where are my manners, do you have any last words?”

Sadistically pulling the tape off her mouth slowly, Deep hadn’t even gotten half done before Orly exploded in invective. “Obama/Soebarkah/Bounel is having me killed because he can’t refute my evidence in court! In my pocket I have copies of credit card invoices from 1890 showing …” Deep replaced the tape, and even though it didn’t stop Orly’s diatribe, it did muffle it a bit.

“No, Orly, we’re killing you because you’re so annoying. Your death will be horrifying and painful beyond measure. I’m trying to get this concept to sink into your brain so you’ll be fearful and terrified in these last few minutes of your pitiful life, but I can see that’s not gonna be easy.”

“That’s my point,” countered the birther queen as her powerful jaws chewed through the now-loosened tape, “I have papers in my purse which show Obama’s social security number not passing e-Verify! These papers change everything! Urp!”

Dr. Taitz’s exposition was cut short by Deep’s swabbing the inside of her cheek. “DNA,” he explained, “To use to grow your clone. With luck she’ll mature quickly and be able to step into your next court appearance, and off course keep up your blog. With no new information or cases, you’ll simply fade away, and with you doubts about the Kenyan usurper we of the International Communist Conspiracy put into office.”

Deep’s henchmen tossed the lead bars and the already enraged Tasmanian devil into the bag and got ready to synch it back up. “Goodbye Orly,” Deep said smiling, “Try and act surprised with you find yourself in hell. Satan gets a real kick out of it, and it’s something nice we try and get people to do for him.”

“And I have a copy of a paper right here that shows Michelle Obama’s grandmother could have been in the same town as …”

Deep nodded, the bag was closed and unceremoniously kicked out of the open doors on the airship, which was hovering low over a quiet sea.

“You didn’t let me finish,” screamed the malicious Moldavian as she disappeared in the darkness, the bag mercifully muting the higher tones of her voice. Wide smiles came over the evil assassins as the heard the splash below. Deep returned to the cockpit as the black helicopter turned to wing it way back to the airport.

“They said it wouldn’t be easy, but it was,” reported deep over the radio, “In fact, it was fun. Now on to Texas to kill that obnoxious Alex Jones after showing him the kind of reception a REAL prison planet has to offer. I’ll give the Reptilian ship a head’s up once we cuff and stuff him, and then it’s off to the country-western honkytonk for line dancing and tonking some honkys!”

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Axiological but not Axiomatic Agent
A Deep Knight Adventure of Measured Value

Chapter 8: Alternative Uses for Everyday Items

The story so far – Once Deep Knight showed others in the New World Order how easy it was to silence critics the old fashioned way, by simple assassination, he made short work of those brave souls who blabbed about their evil conspiracy. Lightworkers, truthers, birthers, channelers, empanelers, whistleblowers, common law lawyers, tax protesters, disclosers, posers, and sovereigns of all sorts with websites were all on the menu. Fifth columnists from the fourth estate gave the third degree to second rate bloggers in the first phase, then Deep Knight and his Dirty Dozen team of midget minions took care of those thorns in the side of the Dark Agenda that had pierced their pudendum. Orly asleep in the deep with a creep and Alex Jones taken by evil aliens by UFO to a real prison planet, where he was eaten by the carnivorous inmates, was only the start.

Rayelan was surprised at her doublewide Rumor Mill News Headquarters and after being dressed in the flightsuit Gunther wore during the SR-71 trip to Moscow was taken to an abandoned parking garage for some Fight, Bite and Club. I would tell you more, but the first rule of Fight, Bite and Club is don’t talk about Fight Bite and Club. Deep had wanted to mill her, crushing her body to a fine powder and then spread rumors about it, but those sorts of mills were museum pieces that would have taken precious time to get in working order. Discretion is the better part of valor, but time wasted can never be recovered, and the truth will out. Or so they say.

The webmasters at Above Top Secret were gathered up and taken above a top secret location and given an unobstructed view of Area 51 from 12,000 feet. Or at least it started at 12,000 feet, it got much closer towards the end of their free fall without parachutes. Kauilapele was given the luau treatment, wrapped in banana leaves and roasted in a covered fire pit with an apple in his mouth while Don Ho sang “Tiny Bubbles.”

Sheldan Nidle was burnt in a blazing bordello and Benjamin Fulford garotted in a geisha house. Later his body was fed to vicious carnivorous koi under a spreading and blooming cherry tree, and Deep wrote this Haiku poem.

He knew way too much
And liked to blab
Now he sleeps in the fishes

Drake was coated in glue, rolled in feathers, and catapulted over an area where the Duck Dynasty reality TV show was filming a hunting episode. They say he was very tasty with mustard. Cobra’s house was swallowed by one of those sinkholes that are so common these days, or so the lame stream media said. In reality it was a giant snake pit, filled with water moccasins and coral snakes. The people at Atlas Shrugged were given the Going Galt treatment, ground up and fed to the rescued dogs at the Greyhound Adoption League of Tennessee.

Deep was hitting on all 8 cylinders and even though he had done a man’s work in a few days, it was no time to rest on his laurels. Especially since he was driving a V6 and the toughest backstreets were still in front of him. And, even though these murders were designed to look like accidents and coincidences, the forces of good had naturally suspicious natures and were naturally starting to get suspicious. And the meanest, nastiest, and most odoriferous offenders were still alive and on the loose. All of the Dark Agenda waiting with bated breath, could Deep Knight once again pull a rabbit out of his hat and a python out of his pants?

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Analeptic Agent
A Restorative Deep Knight Adventure

Chapter 9: Report Insurance Fraud, when Perpetrated by Others it Increases Your Premiums

Deep Knight, in fine felonious form, had been liquidating those bigmouths who had been revealing Dark Agenda secrets all these years with impunity. In each case cell samples were cloned and new, compliant replacements put in their place, ones that knew nothing and didn’t talk about it. Normally, this level of intense activity would call for a break or short vacation, but Deep was a man driven by a passion for excellence. He also enjoyed the blood, gore, and emotionally damaged innocents. Deciding to switch from internet to radio, he rounded up the staff from Coast to Coast AM and former host and founder Art Bell (Agent Knight was a really big fan), and spread them from the Atlantic to the Pacific as chemtrails. Amazing what a jet turbine will do to a live body. He did the same to the people from NaturalNews and Rense, but marinated them in the toxic mind control chemicals until their livers almost shut down, and then chemtrailed them.

Before It’s News got paid a visit before they woke up at noon, and found themselves part of a great literary tradition by being made into newsprint. First their clothes were stripped off and they were paraded naked to be savagely pulped and screened, because it’s all the nudes that are fit to print. As a final humiliation, they became part of the New York Post. GodLikeProductions were tested for their divinity but were found lacking, none of them were able to walk on shark-infested waters. And WRAM, Well Regulated American Militias, found themselves a bit more well-regulated than they would have liked, being passed through a large water pressure regulator Deep acquired from Home Depot.

When Deep tried to kill the 2012 Scenario staff, he found to his dismay that they had changed their name to Golden Age of Gaia. No doubt because the world didn’t end the year before, kind of voiding the whole scenario. This inspired Agent Knight, and he took them to the Dulce Underground Military Base For Aliens Using Covert Knowledge (DUMBFAUCK), where he used their trans-dimensional transporter to send the Golden Agers to an alternate reality where the world really did end. Planet Nibiru, the secret location of the Saint Germain Trust in their parallel universe, smashed into the Earth, reversing rotation and showering the entire surface with real gold. Molten and incendiary from the heat of impact, but fulfilling those NESARA and prosperity package prophecies neatly and finally finding a realistic way to get all that gold to all those people around the world overnight. It probably goes without saying that this was one golden shower Steve Beckow didn’t enjoy.

While traveling to shut up ZetaTalk, Deep discovered that the people at World Nut, er, Net Daily had been horribly killed before their scheduled time. Worried that some eager beaver at the Illuminati was trying to show him up, Deep immediately investigated and found that, embarrassed by the fact they hadn’t been assassinated yet, the World Nutters did it themselves. Most horribly and painfully, as if to enhance their status. A poor self-image is a terrible thing, no doubt they were all bottle-fed babies. In fact, by the end of Deep's operation “Shut the @#$! Up” almost half of the small-time lightworker bloggers had killed themselves, either online or in reality. I don’t blame Deep, I blame an insatiable thirst for fame. However, it did emphasize the leakiness of the New World Order. People had been blabbing secrets all these years, after all these guys hadn’t been making these stories up, and naturally the “real” story of the carnage in alternative media-land had gotten out. Not only would avoiding these leakers limit his communications with central, and that included asking for help, now the big fish on his list knew he was coming. Worse yet, they were likely to try and turn the tables on him. Instead of zipping the lips of ZetaTalk, he arranged for the Zeta Reticulites to do it themselves, after all it was their fault they got started in the first place. They were given a joy ride in an old style UFO where they all enthusiastically volunteered to learn to “breath vacuum.”

Using pre-arranged code words and obscure communications channels, Deep arranged to meet Velna in Las Vegas. He had wanted her to join him from the first, but she had her duties at work and there was that queasiness in the mornings. Now, no matter what other priorities she might have, he needed her to be tracked to the Paris of the Mohave, leading the inevitable target who decides to take the offensive, into a trap. It was a dangerous game, but it had to be played or when it happened it wouldn’t be at a time and place of his choosing. No matter how smart or how many calendar years his opponents had spent in military school, Deep still had some tricks up his sleeve they had never seen before. And, if he was successful, they would never see them again.

[LaVidaRoja]

Who IS Deep Knight's tailor? I want a jacket with those sleeves!!

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Abstractive Agent
Another Distractive Deep Knight Adventure

Chapter 10: What does this mean for mortgage rates?

Dressed in a white, rhinestoned Elvis jumpsuit, mirror shades, and a slicked-back, duck-tailed wig, Deep Knight was indistinguishable from any other person at the Las Vegas Airport. It was 4:00 AM, the busiest time, and rush hour on the strip and in the casinos. He wisely avoided contact with Velna, who was almost certainly being followed. She was savvy enough to know what was going on made the most round-about trip possible to the taxi stand to draw out their prey. As she walked around the main concourse, Deep clearly saw 3 groups of shady characters of indeterminate sex trying to covertly follow her. He smiled at their clumsy attempts at stealth, and noticed Velna had spotted them also when she gave them chances to catch up. When she got a taxi two of the three groups ran to get the next ones in line. Ignoring the third contingent for the moment, he flagged down the stolen shuttle bus now commandeered by his midget minions. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Agent Knight closed the folding doors and the chase was on!

The shuttle bus not only blended in at the airport, it had been outfitted with heavy automatic weapons, nothing smaller than 50 caliber. Some were recoilless RPGs, but most were on pedestals bolted to the floor. A flame thrower rounded out the ordnance. Steely-eyed, Deep’s demented dwarves readied their sights and gripped triggers and/or launch buttons, waiting for the signal to fire. As they pulled up next to the taxi with the RAP-NESARAites, he clearly ID’d their leader whose phony mustache and beard had fallen off. There was a glean in MacHaffie’s eyes and he stared at Velna’s cab, waiting for the light to change. Deep raised his middle finger in the universal sign of dislike, and Deep’s dirty dozen opened fire.

If it had been a normal “hit” your author could describe the rat-tat-tat of automatic weapons fire and the high-speed rounds as they ripped through squealing metal and splurting flesh, but not this time. In this instance, the highly trained minions all fired at exactly the same moment, and the combination of that amount of explosives being put in such a small space in that short of time was devastating. The taxi turned into a confetti of steel, flesh, and body fluids in an instant, and ascended off the strip in a lovely rising fireball. Some swore they saw a face in the flames. Everyone thought it was another of the free shows put on by the casinos as a little “thank you” to visitors who have dropped thousands at their tables, slots, and video poker machines.

Even though it had been an effective elimination, it also served to warn the FourWinds10 taxi, which gave up trying to follow Velna and took off down the strip at high speed. Deep signaled again as he followed, and the taxi was peppered with 50 caliber metal-piercing dum-dum bullets. But the dwarves aim was put off by the blinding neon and girls in little black dresses, and Ashtar’s ground crew started firing back. Incredible as it may seem, some of their wild shots found their mark and several of the mercenary minions were slumped over their weapons, small pools of blood forming at their feet. Their growth-challenged brothers fought back even more fiercely, scoring several hits on Casper, Wendy, and Truth Warrior, more recently known as Poof. The meaning of the name became apparent when his head made a “poof” sound as it exploded, no doubt due to the large amount of sound-deadening inert padding it contained. An RPG to the fuel tank caused an explosion that brought the taxi to a screaming halt and Anne Mulehumper, er Mulhhausen, er Bellringer running, burning and screaming into the street, much to the amusement of onlookers. Adolph H., er, Patrick H. Bellringer also ran, bobbing and weaving to try and escape with his miserable life. One shot from Deep’s custom 45 caliber Walther PPK brought the fleeing anti-Semite down when it met his kneecap. Deep stopped the bus and slowly walked smiling over to Bellringer who was trying in vain to drag himself along the pavement. He had thought about this moment for years, how he would visit the Bellringers in Rapid City, chase them across the faces at Mount Rushmore in homage to Hitchcock, and then finally causing them to fall to their deaths. If “fall” adequately described being blown from the nostrils of George Washington’s giant head with a compressed air charge, as if if they were the statue's snot and the rocks below a Kleenex. But there was no time for that now, not even time to have him melted down, cast as a bell, then rung, it has been weeks of celibacy since Deep had seen his wife and she was likely checking into their suite now. He smiled at a horrified Bellringer and gave him a quickie circumcision with a few well-placed shots from his pistol. Then after letting him writhe in pain for an hour or so, Deep mercifully almost ended it with a final shot through the spleen, an unquestionably-but-not-immediately fatal wound. “Have a nice day,” commented Deep Knight, as he went back to the shuttle bus to assess the damage.

There had only been one bit of collateral damage, and Deep was pleased to see it was birther Wayne Allyn Root, said by himself to be a well-known oddsmaker and prognosticator. He had been at Columbia during the time President Obama went there and first said he and nobody else ever heard of him, but later that everyone knew he was a foreign student and Communist. He also predicted a Romney landslide and the Cubs winning the World Series every of the last 25 years. A ornamental cover from an exploding taxi wheel had taken his head off, yet another tragic case of hubcap decapitation.

Five of Deep’s dozen midget minions had been killed or wounded, but the van was still operable and Agent Knight sped away before the police arrived. He addressed his remaining “Short Seven” with praise for their courage. “Never let anyone call you half men again, you fought and died like whole men, men whose bravery should be honored. Unfortunately, we can’t have any loose ends and people tend to talk when coming out of anesthesia, so kill the wounded and dump them in the Bellagio fountain where the swans will make short work of them, their being so small and all. Then to the Hotel where we’ll have to work fast, because tonight isn’t over yet, even if it is almost dawn.”

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Adulterous Agent
Another Caught-with-his-Hand-in-the-Cookie-Jar Deep Knight Adventure

Chapter 11: Even the Wicked are Sometimes Wise

Velna had already checked in, taken a luxurious bubble bath and slipped into black lace lingerie and between the sheets of their super-king-sized bed before Deep got to their room. He excused himself for a minute to riffle through her bags and let his Seven Dwarves into the room from an adjacent suite. Velna was shocked at the nature of their reunion, even though she knew of Deep’s sordid sexual history, she thought that he had changed. And besides, she thought he didn’t like it with boys of any size, being the manly sort of man who never had a gay thought except during that one caper at that backstreet Berlin cabaret.

Deep calmed her by sweeping her up, satin sheets and all, and carrying her into the adjacent suite, through the interior door the minions had used. Shutting it behind them, he kissed her sensuously, whispering apologies and sweet nothings. She moved to undress him, not even asking about the strange goings on that preceded that kiss, but he stopped her. “I know how you feel, it’s been weeks for me too, but we have to wait for someone to try and murder me before we can perform that ultimate expression of our love.”

“Doesn’t just being with me turn you on enough anymore?” asked Velna, tears in her eyes, “Is my touch so unappealing that you need the adrenalin from a brush with death to get it up?” Funny, but she had never seemed so sensitive before, especially about mixing homicide and foreplay, which used to be one of her favorites when they were first married. “Is the honeymoon over?”

“Naw,” rebutted Deep, “I got two of the groups that were following you to assassinate me, but one didn’t get in a taxi and they’re still alive. I deduced that they had used a dart gun to mark your luggage with a GPS transponder, which I found when I came in. They undoubtedly knew you were here and were watching the place. I figure they’ll wait until we’re in the midst of our reunion and then savagely attack. Instead they’ll find dummies in our bed, flash grenades trip wires surrounding it, and murderous midgets with machine pistols and machetes infesting the room.”

“So we’re safe then, and can use this couch, the bed in the other room, or the top of the minibar to fool around,” she said, her voice showing its normal perkiness.

“We’d better wait,” said Deep, “I know these people seem really stupid when you read what they write, but they might just be smart enough to consider the possibility I’ve laid a trap and attack this room too. We should be prepared.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” pouted Velna, “Are you sure you haven’t been consorting with the girls you’ve been meeting while killing their friends and family? Or maybe you’ve got a diminutive dwarf lover posing as a minion behind a beard. I hear they’ve got special skills we full-sized girls can’t match without ropes and pulleys.”

Deep smiled at his wife’s suspicions and moved his twin Thompson sub-machine gun with the extra-large drum magazines to reveal physical proof of his ardor. “Don’t be silly dear, I gave that sort of thing up when we were married, and besides I never did it with midgets. Hardly ever. I couldn’t keep from thinking about the Wizard of Oz.”

Velna was listening, but her relieved eyes were on Deep’s tent-like indication of his devotion. Her relief at his fidelity brought her romantic tendencies out even more. “Surely there’s time for a quickie before they get here,” she begged, “After all, a woman has needs.”

“Business first, darling,” comforted Deep, “After all you wouldn’t want our coitus to be interruptus while were in en flagrante delicto, now would we?”

“I love it when you speak legal Latin!” confirmed Velna, “It sounds like those sexy contract law books.” She suddenly pulled down Deeps pants, freeing his firm resolve and causing him to forget the impending danger. Although the most disciplined of agents, his steel will was no match for the hormones racing through his bloodstream and it was obvious that another organ was doing all the thinking. The couple was well on the way to completing that thought with a great show of enthusiasm, when the attack came. An intense firefight exploded next door, but at the same time so did the ceiling above the coffee table that was serving as their conjugal base of operations. Through the hole made by that explosion jumped Heather Ann Tucci-Jarraf, screaming “BE and DO what you BE!” dressed in a black Ninja suit, and brandishing two samurai swords.

None of the participants know exactly how her Ninja suit got torn off, perhaps it was caught on a ragged edge of the jagged hole, or how she timed it to fall exactly where she did, but a stunned Deep Knight found himself in an unintended threesome. Only one of the participants was swinging a razor-sharp blades while lecturing them about BE’ing and DO’ing. Luckily Deep had some experience defending himself against sword-wielding naked women, was able to keep his more vital parts safe while grabbing his nearby weapons. “I DO desire, choose and request transparency NOW!” screamed their attacker, as she raised both of her swords to end the battle, allowing Deep to shoot both her arms off with his machine guns. The effect was much like a combination of the statue, Venus de Milo, and the movie, Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Velna, red with jealousy and Heather’s blood, grabbed the naked, armless one-time-lawyer by the neck and slapped her. “I don’t care who you are or what papers you filed, that was uncalled for! Don’t you ever dare do that again!” as Heather breathed her last.

“Sorry dear,” said Deep, “But I warned you. I suppose we should clean up and see what happened next door.”

“If you think that ruined the mood, you don’t know us Illuminati girls!” said Velna, easing Deep back onto the bloodstained carpet, “Now where were we when we were so rudely interrupted…”

[Deep Knight]

The Case of the Agreeable Agent
An Easy-to-Convince Deep Knight Adventure

Chapter 12: Never Lie to your Lawyer or your Proctologist

The carnage known foreverafter as “The Battle of the Bellagio” was over by the time Deep and Velna, both blushing, made it back to their room. The level of destruction, gore, and carnage was indescribable, so I won’t describe it. Only two of Deeps minions, Dopey and Doc, were unscathed with the others either dead or seriously wounded. The attackers had been the other OPPT trustees and “removing the shackles” shock troops, and only one of them was barely alive. Deep went to the single survivor, Patrick Cody Morgan, whose labored breathing and death rattle indicated he was not long for this world. With an eye to obtaining information he increased the dying man’s discomfort and waited for a screaming confession. Instead he got a bloody “Courtesy Notice” and a wicked, hacking chuckle. “You think you’ve won, but this changes everything! I will have my revenge!”

Deep smiled and threw the notice on one of the small fires caused by some ground-to-air missiles. “I’ll have my lawyers look at it,” he clarified, “But first tell me who the leak in the Dark Agenda is. You must have had inside information, so talk!” He pulled out some of Patrick Cody’s entrails to emphasize his question. “DO your worst, I’ll never talk! If we had won, you would BE the one horribly mutilated, not me. If only Heather had come through the roof like we planned, things would have been different!”

“You mean,” said Deep, “that Heather wasn’t supposed to come through the roof next door to assassinate me and my wife?”

“Stupid BE-itch, I told her to check the room numbers, but would she listen?” wondered Mr. Morgan, his voice trailing off in a tone one normally associates with the speaker being dead.

Deep and Velna took care of all their “loose ends” before leaving, once again dispatching wounded midget minions and shooting Dopey and Doc in their heads too. It was always possible that they might harbor hidden resentments based on a mistaken belief that Deep valued their lives too cheaply just because they were height-challenged. Yet another tragic result of reverse racism. Besides, little people always creeped Deep out.

Taking a valet parking token from one of the dead attackers, our two heroes left the hotel in a new Cadillac, bought with OPPT donations, and drove out into the desert. Sticking to dirt roads so they couldn’t be followed, the only people they saw after leaving the city were groups of guys wearing fedora hats, dark glasses and shiny suits either digging or filling up holes. Finally reaching the main highway in Alaska, Deep turned onto it and followed the signs towards Russia. Velna turned to him with a worried look in her eyes.

“You’re going after Sorcha Faal again!” concluded Velna, somewhat alarmed. “By my count you’ve killed her half a dozen times, and it’s never stuck. What makes you think this time will be any different? I worry, maybe you should be more careful, especially since you’re going to become a … forget it, I’ll tell you later when you don’t have so much on your mind, but shouldn’t you?”

Deep was too busy rapidly-melting ice roads to notice her hints or the strain in her voice. “I have friends in the Russian military who told me that if I ever wanted a few hydrogen bombs to stop by, and I think I’ll take them up on that. Even shape shifters have a problem with gamma rays and neutron flux, and if it doesn’t kill her, at least it’s gonna hurt.”

Velna smiled at the hopeless romantic that was her husband. Some men forgot about flowers, candy, and murder after the honeymoon was over, but not Deep. She settled in for what looked to be a long drive, thankful that the OPPT Caddy had a fully-stocked bar in the back. But suddenly, and without warning, something totally unexpected occurred to her. “Honey, pull off at the next exit, I have to pee. And I’d like to stop at a convenience store if you can find one too, I suddenly have the strangest craving for ice cream and pickles.”

[Deep Knight]

Академгородо́к

Cyrillic script test, comrades