World Wall 3

Donald Trump won in 2016. By 2018, a giant wall exists south of the U.S., ridiculous cultural reforms fill society, and as such, a Hispanic American man has a hilarious adventure in this satire.

INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY OF MR. ROSHAN SAMUEL GUPTA

Preface:

It's December 2018, and it would seem Donald Trump has won the 2016 presidential election, causing many Americans to pop champagne bottles in celebration and others to pop caps into their own heads in dismay. Nonetheless, his plans are in full swing- and are going better than expected. His aggressive policies have resulted in the marvelous defeat of the ISIS terrorist group with minimal cost to the States (and there's totally no troops dismembered horribly by IEDs, and others still lingering in Iraq and Syria), no illegals in the country (who totally weren't helping our economy with cheap labor), reduced crime and unemployment, and greater global respect of America (because, yeah, when that black guy was president, we totally got walked all over). Not to mention, a giant wall exists at the border between Mexico and the U.S. per Trump’s ideology, constructed by nothing more than “willing, newly encouraged, hardworking” Americans seeking to make the country “great again”, inexplicably funded by the Mexican government.

Chapter 1:

Well, that's all hunky dory, but meanwhile, a Hispanic American man who immigrated to America from Mexico in 2003 named Ramon Juarez is exasperated with his circumstances.

“I shouldn't have to put up with this kind of discrimination from that right wing no-neck we call a president!” He ranted to Dilbert Whittaker, an underling of his at work from the customer service section with a tendency to chew tobacco while glaring up and to the left. “What… *chomp chomp* do you mean, *gurgle* boss?” Dilbert absentmindedly retorted. “Well, for one I find his policies prejudiced against Hispanics. Two, this holiday season, I won't be able to make it to Santa Ana, you know, the city they built in Mexico and destroyed in Cali for having a Mexican person’s name last year because of Trump’s racism, to see my family until December 26- I'll miss Christmas because what would be a two day drive from here in Phoenix to Santa Ana will take four with all the new regulations and traffic around the wall.” Ramon explained. “I agree *cough* with you. It's totally *chomp* unfair that Trump has removed migrant workers from the country. Now I gotta get my own tobacco. Anyway, why *chomp chomp* don't you just leave earlier, then, like the 21st or something?” Dilbert replied. “Can’t,” Ramon said, smashing a customer’s defective iPad on the table in a last-ditch effort to fix it, “I care about being the manager of this Best Buy. Too much to take the extra two days off and let that idiot Shawn take over. He once tried to hire the A-Team when he saw a TV was team lift, you know.” “Personally, I can't *chomp* blame ya, I”-- “Hey, where’s the XXXbox One?” Interjected a random, unkempt customer. “Ya mean the Xbox One?” Dilbert questioned. “Oh, I see. There's a code word. You don't want anybody getting their hands on a dirty-movie streaming device. Secret item, gotcha.” The customer said more quietly. “Uhhhh… *chomp chomp* no sir, you don't understand, we don't sell”-- “Acute dermatitis!”  He shouted, attracting the attention of several people in line. “You're weird. *chomp chomp* Go away!” Dilbert asserted. “No! I need this! Is it… uhhhhh…. macroeconomics?” He inquired. “You know”, Ramon interceded, “there is a secret unlock code- but you'd never guess it. That's why it's on the freeway 2 miles north. Jump on the road and dance around like a chicken with your eyes closed for 30 seconds and it'll be revealed to you.”

“Hot diggity dawg!!!” The man ran off. “That's why I'm manager.” Said Ramon boastfully. “Uh… I'm not aware of *cough, chomp* any ‘secret freeway dance code, or XXXbox One porn machine’ we have in stock.” Dilbert pointed out. “Neither am I, Dilbert, neither am I.” Ramon replied. “Anyway, whatcha gonna *chomp chomp* do about your little holiday problem, boss?”

“I'ma sneak over the wall.” said Ramon.

End of chapter 1.  

Chapter 2:

“That’s not *chomp* particularly legal, boss. Besides, how would you even get away with that? NSA Guards patrol the area twenty-four seven. *Chomp, chomp, hack, squish* I really can’t recommend it.” Dilbert uttered after a long pause. Dilbert was not an easy man to take by surprise (not after seeing the 2016 GOP debates), but something as ridiculous as this made even his eyes go wide. “Maybe I’m not being rational, but I don’t see why I should have to abide by rules that oppress me to begin with.” Replied Ramon. “What concerns me is more so *chomp, chomp* the fact that you’d never get away with it in a million years. Unless you’ve got some kinda plan.” Rebutted Dilbert, finally spitting out this batch of tobacco. “I don’t have a plan, but I don’t have options, either.” Said Ramon. “Well, if it really means that much to you, you’d let Shawn run the store- What’s the worst that could happen?” Inquired Dilbert. “If you’ll excuse me, Barbara from retail just texted me- Seems I’ve got a hysterical customer dissatisfied with their AK-47 to attend to.” Ramon said, glancing up from his phone and pacing away, wondering why Best Buy now sells firearms. Oh duh, because gun free zones are “target practice for sickos.”

Ramon glanced up at the clock. 11:13 P.M. “Getting late, should go to bed”, He thought, sitting alone in his condo at the kitchen table after work, “But Dilbert’s right, I can’t just sneak over the wall, but I can’t just sit here and pretend nothing’s wrong. Dilbert doesn’t understand the full extent of my situation.” Ramon picked up a sheet of paper on his table, studying it intensely. “I feel like such a fool. I should have made sure my dad took everything back with him on his last visit.” The sheet of paper he was looking at was a very important one. It was the property ownership deed to his father’s restaurant in Santa Ana- Due to the recently increased crime in Mexico due to the rage of illegals being sent back, the Mexican government has mandated property ownership checks to prevent forgery and fraud. Ramon’s father, Pablo, and his mother, Mia, had visited him the previous year for the holidays, before the completion of the wall. Having recently opened a new restaurant in Santa Ana which was an immediate success, Pablo brought the deed papers to the U.S. to show his son his accomplishment, but forgot the papers here in America! Mailing it wasn’t practical, because mailing over the wall now comes with a hefty fee. Now, the Mexican Government threatens to shut down his business if he cannot produce the papers by December 25th, 2018, (the Mexican government won't take holidays under these dire circumstances) taking away the frail old man and his wife’s only means of putting food on the table in a newly stricken, harsh country of Mexico, unless Ramon can deliver the papers. Ramon didn’t just want be home for Christmas-- He needed to be to save his mother and father.

Meanwhile, Dilbert Whittaker stood at the exit of the local cemetery late that night, after wishing his late Jewish father a happy Hanukkah, placing a replica menorah at his grave- He was a victim of leukemia earlier that year, which hardened Dilbert’s resolve even more than seeing the very disturbing GOP debates. He started his car to return home, a small tear dripping from his eye.

After a nearly sleepless, troublesome night, Ramon awakened from his hour of rest half-haggard and bereft of his normal morning enthusiasm, something which Dilbert picked up on at work. “Ya okay, boss?” He muttered, glancing over at the solemn looking, 5 o’clock shadowed Ramon. “No,” he said, “Nothing’s okay… you wouldn’t understand…” “Hey man”, Dilbert said sympathetically, leaning in a little closer, “yeah, I would. We’ve been *cough cough* working together since 2012, you can tell me anything. It’s more than just wanting to see your family for Christmas, right? You need to see them, is that it?” “It’s just… um…”, he said nervously, fiddling with the cash register and avoiding eye contact, “My father’s restaurant will be shut down by the Mexican Government if he fails to deliver the property deeds by December 25th. And he forgot the deed at my condo last year. He and my mother can’t make it without that restaurant supporting them. Mierda!”

“I get it, *chomp, cough* you know my old man passed away earlier this year due to leukemia, so I understand your sympathy for your folks. Know what? I’m in. I’m off next week anyway, and I’ve got a real shady uncle, Marv, knows his way around hi-fi security, even got an armored van perfect for this kinda thing. *Chomp chomp* He’ll do it, too, I know, because he’s super liberal, been dying to defy Trump’s policies ever since he got elected.” Dilbert informed Ramon. “Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a plan. It’s… what, uh...Thursday, the 20th right now? I say we should leave Sunday, the 23rd to allow ourselves enough time to drive over, without letting Shawn run the place for too long, since I’ve also got a shift to cover on Saturday.” Ramon added. “Fair enough… *chomp chomp* I’ll call him right now.” Dilbert said, a smile spreading across his face.

End of Chapter 2.

Chapter 3:

The three men met in Marv’s garage on Saturday night. “Ramon, Dil, Here’s how it’s gonna go down”, said Marv, “Our expected arrival time at the wall, if we leave by 9:00 A.M. tomorrow will be 8-ish in the evening, and our expected arrival time in Santa Ana would be around 2:30 A.M. Christmas morning, on Tuesday, mind you. We gotta ditch the van at a half mile from the wall in one of the toll booth staff parking lots, then reach the wall on foot and move to the staff exit adjacent to Gate A. Wearing all black, the guards up top won’t be able to see us in all the light pollution of the traffic at night, provided we avoid the spotlights. We can avoid tripping the alarm at the door with a cell phone battery and copper wire- It’ll disable the electric lock and short circuit the alarm system. That’s phase one. Phase two, we step into the main hall, next to gate A, which doesn’t have patrolling guards except in the booths at the gate. We head up a flight of stairs to reach the balcony on the Mexican side. The door to the balcony will be locked, so we’ll have to head left around the flight of stairs to a security control room that can open the door, but it has two armed guards in it. We’ll need to create a distraction which will attract the guards further down the hall, such as causing a small electrical fire with steel wool and that cell phone battery. Once the control room fire alarm sets off, we retreat back down the stairs and wait for the two guards to exit the control room to find the source. At this point, let’s head to the control room and open the door. We then simply stroll out onto the balcony, which only has one guard, and stealthily head down the flight of stairs to reach the Mexican side.” “Good, good, but how will we get a ride into Santa Ana if we ditch the van, plus, don’t you care about keeping your van after this is all over?” Asked Ramon. “The hard part is getting over the wall. Once we do, we can waltz right past the Mexican Border police, we just have to show them a passport, and since now, your vehicle has to have international clearance to cross borders in and out of the U.S. to prevent terrorism in Trump’s ideology, which congress mindlessly ratified, we can just claim our vehicle not to be registered, and we had to leave it at the border to explain why we’re on foot, quite common now really. Then we can catch a bus into Santa Ana. As for the van, it should be exactly where we left it, no one ever checks those toll road parking lots.” Explained Marv. Dilbert nodded knowingly. The men went to bed early that night, preparing for what was to come.

End of Chapter 3.

Chapter 4:

“Black clothing?”

“Check.”

“Wire and battery?”

“Check.”

“Steel Wool?”

“Check.”

“Mad libs for the drive?”

“Check”

“Meth?”

“What?!”

“Oh, uh… nothing... never… nevermind…”

Zooming onto the freeway in a few minutes, the three men debated where to head for breakfast.

“I say we go *chomp chomp* to McDonaldTrump’s!” Exclaimed Dilbert.

“Why not Burger President?” Marv asked.

“It's super racist that they discontinued Taco Bell!” Ramon shouted.

“You know, I used to think fast food couldn't get any more American, but I guess the names where the one thing that still warranted change.” Marv replied.

Finally settling on I-G.O.P. for breakfast, Ramon enjoyed the YUGE omelette, Dilbert had himself a nice plate of bancakes, and Marv wasn't super hungry, so he just had the fundalentilist soup.

Back on the road, discussing one thing or another, they soon realized there was a police cruiser strafing behind them. “Hey, see that cop car behind us, you think it's suspicious?” Asked Dilbert. “Why would it be? Nothing's really suspicious about our vehicle.” Stated Marv. “Yeah, Marv’s right- it looks like there's an accident up ahead the cop is responding to. See it? Yup, there goes its siren.” Ramon said as the police car zoomed ahead. As they advanced forward, it became evident that three cars at an intersection had to swerve and collided with a FedEx truck.

This caused a nearby traffic jam and a crowd to gather around the intersection.

“Hey, what's the big idea?!” One woman yelled. “Are they alright?!” Yelled another.

Pulling over, Ramon, Dilbert, and Marv exited the van for a closer look.

“Sergeant Donovan, suspicious character seen fleeing the scene. Witnesses reported seeing a hefty bearded man dancing around like a chicken in the middle of the intersection… a few cars had to swerve, and well, you know the rest. He ran to an unknown location after the collision, over…” Said an officer within earshot of Ramon. “Hey, hear that, guys?! It's that pervert from Best Buy who caused this! Aww, it's my fault, really… I shouldn't have said that stuff!” Ramon complained. Dilbert chuckled. “Wait, Ramon, what'd ya do?” Asked Marv. “Long story.” He replied.

After standing around, waiting for the police to let people through for about 15 minutes, devastated at the time they were losing standing idle, it was revealed that all of the collision victims were mostly unscathed, save for a few fractures and gashes. Soon after, a few officers came into view restraining the handcuffed pervert. “We found the guy, we found the guy! Get the squad car ready!” Some officers exclaimed. As he was walked closer to the cop car, the pervert saw Ramon standing to the side. “Hey! You-- it's you! You lied to me! Liiiiiiiiied to meeeeeeeee!!!! You made me do this! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!” Screamed the pervert. “Ummmm…” Ramon uttered, looking back and forth after hearing the man’s accusations. He quickly sprinted back to the van, with Dilbert and Marv following suit. The police hesitated for a moment, but decided not to pursue, believing the three men just to be frightened witnesses. Before anybody could even react, Marv's van turned around, zooming away from the scene. They took an alternative exit into a small suburban town which would take them back onto the main road at the expense of thirty minutes. “I can't believe that dude *chomp chomp* actually went through with what you told him *cough* to do on the freeway for a nonexistent… ahem… media consumption device. Just goes to *chomp chomp* show ya how stupid people can be.” Dilbert reflected. “Tell me about it.” Responded Ramon. “Hey, Dil, Ramon, we gotta stop for gas.” Marv announced, pulling into a garden variety Phillip 666. (It seems when America went ultra-conservative, some did not approve and became liberal. VERY liberal.) Marv hooked up the nozzle to the van and began filling it up. “Man, 30 cents a gallon? Way too expensive… I mean, when you consider all that oil we got from ISIS after we blew them up…” Muttered Marv. Ramon and Dilbert walked into the convenient store for a restroom break, but something caught their attention on the wall-mounted news television in the store- “And once again, Sheila, this kind of lawlessness is exactly what the wall was built to prevent. The riot on the American side of the wall earlier this morning, in which 1 was killed and 11 were wounded, including an NSA agent, seems to have been caused by a group of 7-10 American tourists who, for unknown reasons, attempted to charge the security checkpoints with blunt weapons, causing several fights to ensue in the confusion, with people believing they were being attacked. The agents responded with non lethal force, subduing the perpetrators, but not before one man was accidentally trampled to death by a crowd in chaos and an NSA agent sustained a bash to the head from one of the perpetrators. The government has ordered an increase in security personnel at the wall in response to this disaster. Back to you, Sheila.” Conveyed an on-scene news reporter.

Ramon and Dilbert stood in disbelief. “Great”, said Ramon, “Just what we needed.”

End of chapter 4.

Chapter 5:

“Welcome to Phillip 666.” Said the unenthusiastic, incompetent and unattentive 16 year old working the cash register as Ramon and Dilbert exited the store.

Upon stepping outside, they were greeted with a private concert from Marv who'd decided to tune into the radio. “FINISHED WITH MY WOMAAAN ‘CAUSE SHE COULDN’T HELP ME WITH MY MIND”, he sang along to the car stereo, “PEOPLE THINK I’M INSANE BECAUSE I AM FROWNING ALL THE TIME--” “Uhhhh”, Dilbert interrupted, shutting down the radio, “No uncle- People think that you're insane because *chomp chomp* you're singing along to Black Sabbath on full blast in the middle of a parking lot *chomp chomp* when the gas tank needs to be filled.” “Already done. Well, enough about me though, let’s get rolling.” Marv responded. “Ooh… Yeah… About that…” Ramon stuttered, stepping up into the van. “See, when Dilbert and I, oh wait- real quick- hang on… Got this 8-box of Birthday Cake PopTarts for $1.99!” Ramon opened up the box, opened a pack, took one toaster pastry out and placed it on top of the compartment between the driver and passenger seat. Marv grabbed a pack and opened it up, giving one treat to his nephew and keeping one for himself, giving Ramon a look of gratitude. “So, anyway, Dilbert and I saw a snippet of news on TV in the store. Looks like there was a riot at the wall with some angry American tourists, and basically it resulted in like a ton of confusion with everyone waiting at the wall, causing several fights and stuff… In short, one guy was killed and more were injured. The perps were subdued, but it's resulted in beefed up security all across the wall down there. Any suggestion ‘bout what we're gonna do now?” Ramon elaborated as he took a hefty bite of his tantalizing PopTart to ease the wicked pain, chewing it violently.

“Dang it. Hmmmmm… what kind of security enhancements? 50 cals, tear gas, more guys, biometric scanners, something like that?” Marv inquired, also biting his PopTart with anguish.

“Dunno… but yeah… we've gotta be prepared for all that stuff. But Marv… I gotta ask… What kind of ‘shady’ activities--” “*Hack! Cough, cough, yik yuck, hick, cough, cough!*” Dilbert screamed out. “Dilbert! Buddy, spit out your tobacco before you eat your PopTart!” Ramon shouted. “Yup… Ayup… Eh… I'm good… I'm good.” Dilbert said, opening the van door and spitting out the horrid PopTart-Tobacco chew mix. “Actually, ya know… Some poor sucker’s gonna step in that nasty crap… Better chuck it in the bin…” Dilbert continued, exiting the van, leaving his bitten into PopTart on the dash. He apprehensively scooped up the mush, and ran to the bin, leaving Ramon and Marv in the van.

“Anyway, Marv, what kind of shady stuff have you done that makes you so experienced with this type of thing? Uh… if you don't mind me, um… asking.” Ramon asked. Marv replied, “Don’t mind.. see, I used to own a lo-fi garage type auto parts and service shop when I lived up in the Bronx back in the 80’ and 90’s. Me and my guys used to steal auto parts from a bigger corporation of auto stores and clunker junk yards in the Bronx called ‘Solomon Automotive’. It was run by a real sleaze bag named, you guessed it, Solomon. Gregor Solomon. He was a fat cat, a big fish in a small pond, and remember, the auto industry in the Bronx really is a small pond. Urban area. Crowded. That money monger and his whale of a wife would secretly have their men gut his own customers’ discounted cars they bought from Solomon Automotive. Then the victims wouldn't be the wiser and just buy the stolen parts back from him or a repair service and he'd get double income. If ya suspected it and tried telling the police, well, I heard there was one guy who did try that when he became suspicious of Solomon, and let's just say his kneecaps don't work like they used to. But we screwed that immoral con over more than once. In the dead of night, we'd bust into his facilities and take back mufflers, hood boards, brakes, stereos, and just about anything else. Then we sold ‘em at discount price! He knew somebody was takin’ his loot, but that son of a gun never figured out who. You learn a thing or two from stuff like that, and I even got this van from a heist at Solomon Automotive. I moved to Phoenix in 2000 to meet my love interest I met on DOOM multiplayer in 1996, but that turned out to be some gamer guy with Hello Kitty sweatpants covered in Dorito dust. But I like it in Phoenix. Dunno what Solomon’s up to nowadays or if he's still in business, but I hope he's changed his evil ways for the better. Anyway, that's my story, we've all got one. Why'd you come to America, Ramon?” “Wow… First off, amazing story. Secondly, I came here in 2003 because, all my childhood, my parents said I should try to make it into the states to get a good education and secure a good future. The land of opportunity. I got citizenship pretty fast after high school in Mexico, and attended Arizona State University. Majored in business and technology, and attended night classes on bettering my English. Naturally, I moved to a small apartment in Phoenix after graduating and applied for a job at Best Buy in 2011. Quickly rose through the ranks and became a manager. When Dilbert joined the crew in 2012, I was only assistant manager, but it was the best day of work I've had yet, and we immediately became good friends. He was the first real one I'd made since coming to America. I love my job.” Explained Ramon. “Nice, man. I love Best Buy, too.” Said Marv.

“Hey guys, what's shakin’? Dang, the bin outside the store had no bag so I had to walk all the way over to an outhouse way out in the field to dump that garbage... yuck.” Dilbert told Ramon and Marv, climbing back up into the van. “Not much, just chattin’.” They both replied. “Alright, cool. I think we oughta plan for the security redouble as we drive, guys, no time to waste.” Dilbert suggested. The other two men nodded, with Marv starting the engine. “Hey guys, it's probably a good time to tell you- the PopTarts weren't $1.99- they were the regular $4.99 price. I just said that to comfort you guys when I told you the rough news about the security increase.” Ramon timidly said.

End of chapter 5.

Chapter 6:

“Alright, we’re outta Arizona and into New Rubio, or as it used to be known, New Mexico. (Author’s note: ‘cause all republicans just flock together, right?) It’s… quarter to three now. We ought to be at the wall by like 8 or 9 with all this traffic.” Marv told Ramon and Dilbert as they filled out a MadLib, nodding at Marv. “The conservative forest surveyor stepped into the dilapidated hallway while narrating a documentary about John Cena. It was-- okay, I need an adjective.” Ramon informed Dilbert, reading off the MadLib so far. “Acidic? Depressurized? Heck, magenta? I don’t know.” Dilbert responded. “Yeah… um… I like ‘depressurized’. It… was… depressurized… out in the hallway.” Ramon said as he penciled in the four syllable word. “...The- oh, gotta write in forest surveyor again real quick, hang on- okay… uh… the forest surveyor had a… noun needed. Well, if it was depressurized in the hallway, then our forest surveyor had, a, ummmm… spacesuit.”

“Real nice, man, real nice, but… uh… let’s put that away for now and talk *cough, cough, cough, cough, hick yuck* about our plans for the security enhancements at the wall.” Dilbert told Ramon. Ramon sighed and put away the MadLibs. “Wish we knew where and with what equipment the added security will be deployed. I mean, I’d assume it to be maybe 2 or 3 extra personnel per gate armed with AR’s, sidearms, gas, riot gear, batons, and pretty much anything else. Then again, the riot just happened so I wouldn’t expect them to have fully prepared by tonight. But everyone will, for sure, be on high alert.” Marv replied. “Maybe, though, we can use the fact that there’s confusion and disorganization following the riot at the wall right now to our advantage.” Ramon added. “I’ve thought about that. The guards will more likely be focusing on what’s outside the wall than what’s inside it, watching out for shady business.” Marv noted.

“Okay, guys, just wondering, are either of you actually nervous? You’re both acting like this is sort of a game. I know I’ve got butterflies in my stomach, never committed a crime before. That is, of course, if you don’t consider bribing voters in a church with free megaphones and books of racial slurs at the 2004 elections to vote for John Kerry to avoid Bush’s reelection a crime. You know how those right wing supporters of Bush loved those two things, especially together.” Confessed Ramon. “Eh… the only *cough, cough* thing to fear is fear itself, an actually good president once said. I ain’t scared-- that’s for people who voted for Trump. I for one, believed in Kanye 2016. You shouldn’t worry, *hack, splush* either. Marv has a plan that we’ve reviewed time and time again. Plus, the security ain’t so smart-- being in the NSA doesn’t require a ton of intelligence nowadays *hick-ya, splish-a-sploosh* since they now hire more employees to keep the wall adequately staffed than Obama undoubtedly got laid off. Oh yeah, *cough, cough* it totally wasn’t Bush’s fault for getting us in debt, but it was Obama’s. ‘Cause, ya know… Blowing up troops for 15 years is way better than renewable energy… but… I digress. Ah, I’m off on a tangent. Just don’t be scared. That’s what I meant.” Dilbert mumbled out, glaring out the window at the pretty scenery of New Rubio. Yep, it was pretty.

Pretty ugly, pretty sure it’ll stay that way. Marv nodded in agreement with Dilbert, letting Ramon know he, possibly even more than Dilbert, wasn’t scared. New Mexico- Ah! No, damn it… Rubio. New Rubio. They said being a narrator would be easy! Sorry to break the fourth wall, here, dear readers. All these damn political puns are really starting to piss me off! I’m gonna deck that stupid writer in his shaggy, brown face after this is over! Anyway, back to the plot… New Rubio had the type of traffic one typically only sees when they type “heavy traffic” into Google Images, slowing Marv’s van down to a snail’s pace. “Oh, hey, there’s an exit to a campground and rest stop, looks like 12 miles away… maybe we can head to it and find a less crowded route… you guys up for that? I mean, we really aren’t making any progress on this stretch of highway.” Marv inquired with an irritated overtone. “That’s alright… but *cough, cough* in this traffic, it’s gonna be at least 45 minutes to an hour to get 12 miles, uncle.” Dilbert uttered, cracking his neck, sending it further up and to the left than one would think biologically possible. “Yeah… so, it’ll be like four o’clock by time we get there. Let me check Google maps really quick, see if it does allow for an alternate route… ‘cause we just need to make it to the wall. Plenty of highway routes leading to the gate we want to get to,” Ramon added, pulling out his outdated Galaxy S8 and pulling up the app, “whoa… hold up… a missed voicemail… must’ve called me when I put my phone on vibrate back at I-G.O.P. and I must’ve not noticed it was ringing. It’s a voicemail from… Shawn.”  “No! No, no! If that *hack* waste of brain cells is leaving you a voicemail… it can’t be good. Just get it over with.” Dilbert fretted. “Alright.” Replied Ramon, tapping the play icon.

“HEEEEEEEEEEY!!!! REEEEEEEEEEEECORD ALREADY!!!! PLEASE?! Oh? After the beep you said. You are very misleading and inconsistent, lady trapped inside the phone. You should do your job better, then again it must be hard to say the same thing for every missed call ever, so I respect you. Well, anywho, Rammy, or, uh, Mr. Ramon? No? Or Just Ramon? Ok, Just Ramon…. Well, Ramon, I just wanna let you know that, uh, everything-- AHHHHH *Smash, ding, boing, crash! My leg!* -- Ooh, sorry Frankie, yeah that’s gonna leave a mark… um… but, sir, everything is going admirably well, swimmingly in fact. Literally swimmingly… uh… yep… there, in fact, goes the fire sprinklers... *Boom! Ahh! It Burns! It Burns!* Um… Just in case you’re wondering, we are, uh, undergoing some uh, unplanned, uh, shall we, ummm… say, renovations? Yeah, all totally necessary stuff and definitely not my fault at, uh, all. Yep, uh, everyone is totally alright… and no one’s hurt at all in any way, shape, or form and it’s a totally normal Best Buy here… Yeah. Especially because we, um, have--*THE CHEEZ WHIZ ISN’T CREAMY ENOUGH!!! AAAAAAARGHHH!!!!*-----*Static_____ Beep… beep beep beep beep.”

“Ok…” Ramon said in monotone, as Marv cracked up and Dilbert felt his heart drop. Closing the voicemail app and pulling up Google Maps, Ramon continued, “outta sight, outta mind. Not even gonna think about that right now. Looks like, yeah, there’s an exit onto another route from the rest stop. Take, a look, guys.” Dilbert and Marv glanced at the screen, nodding. “Uh, so, Ramon, you still think leaving Shawn *cough* to run the place was a good idea?” Dilbert asked in a smartmouth-tone. “I never thought it was even an okay idea. Not even a little. But I’d say we have too much on our plate right now to worry about that.” Ramon replied.

45 minutes later:

“This bathroom smells like my grandma’s house. But that’s *cough* not surprising because she was a hobo who lived in a rest stop bathroom, I guess.” Dilbert muttered, as Ramon and Marv washed their hands at adjacent sinks in the bathroom of the long-awaited rest stop. Stepping out in the lobby, the men joined a short line at the 50-Starbucks for coffee. After a quick wait, their turn to order came. “Just three black, small, please.” Ramon requested from the dweeby but buff looking cashier with glasses and freckles, who was easily over 6’7. “Do you mean, tall?” He asked in the most irritating voice Ramon had ever heard. “Sure, Carl,” he said mockingly to the cashier, reading his nametag, “tall coffees. Ugh…”

Carl scoffed and filled in their order. “One minute. Names?” He asked. “Ramon, Bert, and Marv, please.” Dilbert said, shortening his name to simplify the situation.

Walking out of the rest stop a few minutes later with their coffee and being $10.88 poorer, the men began to approach the van, when they heard something suspicious around the corner of the rest stop. “Dil, Ramon, do ya hear that? Sounds like- screams and crashes- like someone’s in trouble over there.” Marv asked, heading in that direction. “Yeah… sounds *cough, cough* like something we oughta check out.” Dilbert said, following Marv. Ramon quickly followed, not sure if he wanted to know what was over there. Around the corner, an isolated area with nothing but a dumpster and a fence, of the rest stop, they saw the source of the screaming. Carl, their cashier from just a few moments ago, stood with two large goons in ski masks, mercilessly beating a man with sock maces who lay crippled on the parking lot ground. “Ahhhh! Ahhh! Please!” The victim screamed. “Yeah, take that, sucker!” One of the goons yelled as he swung at the man. Upon seeing this, Ramon, Dilbert and Marv immediately charged the attackers, with Ramon screaming “HEY! STOP THAT!” The attackers quickly grabbed a black book from the man’s pocket and ran the other direction, towards a small exit leading to a suburban town, pursued by Dilbert and Ramon. “Guys,” Marv yelled, stopping, “Get those dopes! I’m too old to chase them down, so I’ll stay here and help this guy.” He continued as he squatted down to aid the victim. “Hey- *cough, pant, pant* Ramon,” said Dilbert as he ran, “Ya sure *huff, huff* we can take these guys? Two of us, three of them! Plus, they’re way bigger and have those *huff* sock maces!”  “Maybe not, but *pant, huff* we can’t just let them get away scott free!” Replied Ramon. The perpetrators sprinted down the turnpike leading into a small town in New Rubio.

Trying to zigzag in every possible direction to shake Ramon and Dilbert off their tail, they reached an intersection with citizens walking about and stopped in an effort to blend in and be lost in the crowd. Ramon and Dilbert reached that very same intersection just seconds later with a look of confusion. “I just *pant, pant* saw them. They must've disappeared into a crowd.” Dilbert complained. “It'd be tough *huff, gurgle* for three big guys, two wearing ski masks, to disappear into the crowd. They can't be too far.” Ramon replied, analyzing the area. “I think they'd be trying to out walk us if anything in this busy street, they'd stand out if they ran. Plus, that intersection crosswalk light over there says ‘walk’ over on the other side of the intersection right now, and we lost sight of them like a minute ago… Those crosswalk signs change sides about once a minute, right? They must've gone further down this way, c’mon, if we run, we can catch up!” Ramon deduced. The two men sprinted towards the direction they chose, hoping the thugs would be down that way. They ran off of the town’s Main Street, reaching a run down apartment complex, surrounded by a fence. Over the fence, they saw the bandits in the parking lot attempting to break into a parked car. “There they are, Ramon! Don’t think they see us yet. Let's *cough* jump this fence from a different angle, get close, and charge ‘em by surprise!” Dilbert suggested. Ramon immediately agreed, jogging to the far end of the side of the fence they were on. “Gimme a boost up, man!” Dilbert whispered. Ramon squatted down as Dilbert hopped onto his shoulders, and reached the top of the fence with only a bit of struggling. Ramon was not as tall, so reaching the top of the fence for him proved harder, but he eventually scaled the wooden mountain. The men ducked behind a large tree in shadow on a hill above the parking lot as they watched the thugs’ every move intently. “On three, I say we charge.” Dilbert murmured. “Don't see any better option,” Ramon concurred with Dilbert,

“ready-- 1… 2… 3!” Ramon and Dilbert charged the thugs as fast as professional football players. Unfortunately, Dilbert tripped as soon as he reached the base of the hill. “Ah! Go Ramon, I'm good!” He shouted. One of the thugs immediately saw the assault coming and prepared for a brawl against the still advancing Ramon, getting in his way. Ramon however, juked the observant thug and reached the hood of the car that was in the process of being stolen. He slammed Carl’s head into the hood of the car from behind, as he was working on the hood to steal the car, but only to be put in a headlock by the thug he juked. Meanwhile, the third thug charged the downed Dilbert, and as he reached him, prepared to stomp on Dilbert’s head, but just as he did, Dilbert lunged his head forward and bit the man’s ankle, getting up and stumbling away. “Ahhhhhhhhh! You'll pay for that, dork!” The thug yelled. “Yaaaawn!” Dilbert screamed out mockingly. As he stumbled back, Dilbert saw Ramon in a headlock and ran to Ramon’s aid, chased by the hobbling thug whose ankle he bit. Dilbert threw a wild swing at the thug restraining Ramon, missing by a long shot, just as Carl and the other thug reached and surrounded them. “You shoulda just walked away,” said Carl in a sinister tone, pulling out a switchblade, “but now, you gotta pay the price for trying to be heroes. Sad really, you guys seem like such friendly fellas. Shame it's gotta end this way.” Ramon spit in Carl's direction as he advanced on them with the knife, Dilbert and Ramon both being restrained from behind by the other two. Carl shook his head at this, “You don't wanna piss off”--*CRASH! BANG!* Abruptly, through the fence, sped Marv's van into the parking lot, swerving into position just behind Carl. Carl turned around, only to be smashed across the face by the driver seat door of the van, opened incredibly forcefully by Marv, who emerged from the van, grabbing the now unconscious Carl from behind and his blade, positioning it at Carl’s throat. “Let my friends go, or your buddy gets it!” He exclaimed. Without a second thought, the thugs released Ramon and Dilbert and pushed them towards him. The men climbed back into the van, grabbing the stolen black book from Carl's jacket. Marv released Carl only when he and his associates were safely in the van, dropping him and the switchblade.

End of chapter 6.

Chapter 7:

“Uh… uncle,” Dilbert cried out, “why are ya *cough, cough* driving away? Those thugs are gonna get away in that car if we just leave ‘em! We gotta call the police!” “Already taken care of, Dil. Called the cops as soon as you guys went after those dipsticks. They're flanking both exits of the town and know exactly what to look for- a vehicle with signs of break in harboring two masked men and a third one with glasses. Call it a good deed. By the way, everyone in the van right now owes this old man for saving your lives. Yes, all three of ya.” Marv informed Dilbert “All three of us? But--” “Ah, hold it.” Marv interrupted Ramon, pressing a button that opened the divider between the back row of seats and the middle row of the van. Upon the back row, lay none other than the victim of the rest stop attack, patched up with gauze and a few stitches, under which some blood and bruises could be recognized. He moaned softly, half conscious, in pain. “Wow, uncle, nice job.” Dilbert said in awe. “Yeah, I always keep a first aid kit up front in the van, anyway. He had some external bleeding and I patched that up, but he's got internal bleeding, we gotta get him to a hospital. Then I threw him in the van and drove over to see if I could offer you guys any help. Just a lucky shot I happened to drive by these apartments in time to hear you guys struggling. I'm sure this guy will come to his senses in a few minutes here, and maybe he'll have some answers as to the motives of his attackers… saving the day, all day.” Marv replied. “Thanks for the rescue back there, but uh, ya know, Dilbert and I scored a few solid hits on those thugs, too.” Ramon declared.

As they turned back through the exit they had taken into the town, Ramon, Dilbert and Marv saw a barricade of police cruisers at the exit come into view, with the rest stop attackers restrained in one of them. Imagine that, three big guys each over 6’5 crammed in the back of one police cruiser. Cruel and unusual punishment? Oh right, Trump is president, so screw the constitution.

“Perfect.” Marv said, grinning and pulling the van over. “Yuh da guy what reeported this-a heeeere incident and knocked out one uv deez here perpetrators?” Asked a hillbilly highway police lieutenant. “Sure am, ma’am,” Marv replied, as Ramon and Dilbert emerged from the van, approaching the officers slowly, “like I said on the phone, the guy they attacked is badly injured. Gotta get him to a hospital.” “Well, uh, how-a bad is his, uh, medical cunditeeeeon, might I inquire? ‘Cause thar ain't no hospeetal what for 40 miles er so.” She informed Marv. “Dang it… well, the man's got internal bleeding, he needs IVs and maybe even surgery, but at the least he needs professional care. He's only got a few hours without it, maybe less. And no, I checked his wallet- his job doesn't support Trumpcare, so we can't just give him ‘small quantities of vaccines’ to heal him. I mean, that's what Trumpcare is, right?” “Purty much. Is the veectim even conshas?” The hillbilly officer asked. “He's in my van. Give me a minute, let me check.” Marv said as he and the other two men turned around to check the van as the police cruiser that contained the criminals drove off, with them yelling profanities at Ramon, Dilbert, and Marv from the closed squad car which were inaudible to them. Climbing up into the van, Ramon tapped the victim on the shoulder. “Yessss,” the victim said in a meek voice, still laying face down on the seats, “I’m pretty banged up,” he continued, slowly sitting up, “but I know… why these, um… guys attacked me.” “Why?!” Ramon inquired, as Dilbert and Marv sat beside him on the middle row of seats. “They aren't thugs like ya think. They're undercover NSA agents. You watch the news this mornin’, hear ‘bout the riot at the wall?” The victim conveyed.

“Wait… NSA agents?! How?! I guess that's why they gave up the gig when Marv held Carl, or whatever his real name is, hostage. Regular thugs don't have that type of loyalty. But yeah, saw a segment of that news clip, why do ya ask?” Ramon responded. “I was one of the attackers,” continued the victim, as Ramon, Dilbert and Marv gasped, “My name is Terry Keller. Me and 9 other people attacked this morning, but for good reason. See, the chief of security at the New Rubio section of the wall is abusing her power. Her name is Kobrine, Agent Alana Kobrine. She’s worked the wall since it’s been there, and used to be a member of an elite British strike team. She immigrated to America about 15 years ago, though, after leaving the service. Ya might wonder why a foreigner would chose to work the wall, since it's frankly racist, but I can tell you why she does it. She's a psychopath, a sadist. Just likes tormenting people. She has detainees at the wall tied up, waterboarded, beaten, cigar burned, and all the like. Even has it recorded in ultra HD. It's illegal, but so far, no one’s been brave enough to confront her… who knows what she'll do. Me and several of my friends, two of whom were wrongly detained and beaten on their previous legal pass through the wall for being Islamic, organized a rebellion. We planned to go into the wall--” “And kill her?! An assassination?!” Ramon interrupted. “No, no,” Terry replied, annoyed. “Not kill her, murder is always wrong and so is what she's doing, and two wrongs never make a right. No, our goal was to extract some footage from the tortures and have her exposed, but the NSA overwhelmed us. They detained us and some of us were even waterboarded or beaten, including me. Yeah, I know, I've been roughed up a ton today. I managed to escape when the guards left us unattended, shame I didn't have time to free my friends, too, but I promised I'd come back for them. I then hot wired a ride and drove a few hours north to try to get to my house and bring more people and supplies back to break them out, but when I stopped at a rest station, and when I went back outside, a Starbucks cashier and two guys in ski masks revealed themselves to be NSA and tried arresting me, but I decked one in the face and tried to get away. So they pull out sock maces and start whooping me. Even took my passport. No idea why.” He paused, as Marv handed the passport, a black pamphlet, back to Terry, “Also, the car they ‘hot wired?’ It was their car, just planted it over there and they pretended to hot wire it just to maintain their cover as thugs since they had already been identified as such by you two. This is what I mean, Kobrine doesn't play by the rules, she has her men subdue people in inhumane ways and do questionable things just for the fun of it. I guess the NSA had deployed undercover guys everywhere in New Rubio to catch me, don't know. But, listen, it won't be long until the highway popo figure out these guys are NSA agents on a mission and let ‘em go ‘cause of the legal hierarchy. So if I go to the hospital, I'll be caught again.” “Wait… why’re you telling us all this? Why do you think we need to know?” Ramon questioned, puzzled. “I told him what our mission was when he asked about the steel wool and stuff in the back. Figured he wouldn't bat an eye at knowing, I know people.” Marv said nonchalantly. “Yeah… so… I can't go to the hospital. Tell the cops you'll take me to the hospital, highway police don't give a rat’s bosom. But I actually need you to do me a favor-- please, drive me home, it's just 6 miles back, I was close when I stopped. I'll treat myself… don't worry.” Terry added. “We're running on limited *cough, cough* time here, but we'd be happy to drive you home. We cannot, in all good conscience, however *cough* leave you without professional medical care.” Dilbert asserted. “Would you rather have me take my chances on my own or get treated only to be whooped with sock maces again?” Terry rebutted. “He's right, Dilbert, sorry to say, but we don't have time to drive him all the way to the hospital, and for that matter, he has no chance if he goes to the hospital.” Ramon stated.

“...and Marvin, Ramon, Dilbert, remember-- watch out for Kobrine when you sneak through the wall. She's crazy, but boy is she smart. In fact, I think you guys may even be a little more crazy than her for trying to mess with her.” Terry advised the men as they carried him into his house and onto the couch. “We are crazy, believe me, *cough, cough* I once chugged a gallon of milk in under a minute.” Dilbert replied. “So what?” Asked Terry. “Without any milk.” Clarified Dilbert.

“Oh, uh, I see. Well, that changes everything. Highest respect to you, sir. Anyway, best of luck to you all, friends, and thank you all. I think I can walk on my own now, so I oughtta be good by myself.” Terry declared. “Best of luck to you, too.” Said Ramon with a smile. “Yup, uh, gotcha man. Just phone us and let us know how it goes, hopefully well.” Marv responded, walking back out to the van with Ramon and Dilbert.

“This mac and cheese is clearly the out of the box version from Kraft or something.” Ramon muttered, picking at his plate at Olden Morals, formerly Golden Corral, that is, before the right wing take-over, the place the men chose for dinner. “Guys, it's the home stretch- we’re twenty minutes away from *cough, cough* the wall!” Dilbert exclaimed, not sure if he was more excited about the scrumptious brownie he was eating for dessert or the fact that they were so close. “Yeah, Ramon, that reminds me- have you told your parents about your plan to sneak over the wall to deliver the deed to your father?” Marv questioned, scarfing down the delicious meatloaf. “No! You kidding? They'd never approve in a million years, but I'm not about to let my dad’s business fail. I just told them I was bringing some friends over who've always wanted to visit Mexico, which they were okay with… I also lied and said I took the extra two days off from work to get to Mexico legally.”

“Ahh… gotcha. Wise man. Keepin’ the family peace.” Dilbert and Marv said in unison.

“You guys alright? Need anything?” Asked the pleasantly rotund waitress.

“Actually, we’re just about ready to leave.” Ramon replied, leaving a crisp Abe Lincoln on the table and scooting out of the booth, as do Dilbert and Marv.

Without another word, the guys ran out to the van and started it up.

“Kobrine, ready or not, here we come.” Ramon announced.

End of chapter 7.

Chapter 8:

“For 9:09 on Sunday night, there sure are a lot of people who wanna get into Mexico.” Ramon observed, shocked at all the cars lined up for miles in front of the wall. As a matter of a fact, the wall wasn’t even in sight, just a never ending onslaught of vehicles. “Yeah… I mean, why are there 18 wheelers and busses in this line, anyway? Shouldn’t it just be regular civilian vehicles?” Marv complained. “Well, uncle, frankly, *cough, cough* a van from 1988 looks pretty out of place around here, too.” Dilbert noted, to the annoyance of Marv. “We’re gonna be even more out of place in a few minutes here, as soon as we ditch this van and make for the wall.” Ramon added. “I knew the security-- *honk*, hey, move it, dummy! Anyway, uh, I knew the security chief around here wouldn’t be any push-over, but I didn’t think it’d be a psycho. Just one more reason not to get caught.” Marv said, switching lanes after crawling behind a slow drifter for the past 10 minutes. “How can we really be sure our plan will work? When ya consider the security increase and there being a crazy nut job for a security chief.” Ramon pondered. “We can never be sure anything will work. But where would the fun in it be if you knew everything would work out? Think of it like real life Risk. But if we get caught, it’ll be like Sorry. Or rather, we will be sorry.” Marv confidently stated. “That pun was very, shall we say, Par-cheesy?” Ramon replied, a grin forming on his face. “You guys must *cough, splick, sploosh* be very board to be making jokes this bad.” Dilbert interjected.

“That’ll be $2.30, sir.” A toll booth employee told Marv, leaning out of the booth window, a little too close to Marv’s van for comfort. “You… got it…” Marv replied, sifting through his pocket for his wallet and wondering why he didn’t invest in iZoom. “I got it.” Ramon snapped, pulling out his wallet and some cash and reaching over Marv to hand it to the toll booth worker. “Thaaaaanks. Have a nice day.” The worker said with a voice crack. “Make *hick, cough, yuck, huh* sure the guy in the booth doesn’t see us turn into the parking lot here and ditch the van, uncle.” Dilbert reminded Marv. “Just gotta be smart about it… and… now… easy now...” Marv said in a whisper-yell, drifting into the parking lot as the toll road worker glanced back down at the movie on his laptop. Giving the van only a few light taps on the gas pedal, slowly inching forward towards a semi in the dark end of the parking lot, which he planned to park adjacent to to help conceal the van, all three men darted their fields of vision around sporadically, making certain no one was watching. Marv slowly glided the van into position, deactivating the headlights as he crept further into the parking lot. Finally crawling into the desired parking space, Marv killed the engine. “Here we go,” Ramon began, reaching to the back row of seats for the black attire and outlandish break-in tools and dispensing the clothing to Dilbert and Marv. Removing their jackets and replacing them with the dark colored turtlenecks, the men each took turns shuffling into the back row of seats with the divider up to change pants. As an even further precaution, they clothed themselves with matching winter hats and a few disposable, dark-colored, plastic garbage gloves. Ramon, Dilbert and Marv each looked like they were in some kind of radical left wing insurrection group. Oh wait…

“Now, uh, how do we go about getting out of this van without *cough, yuck* getting spotted by the toll booth guy?” Dilbert inquired to both Ramon and Marv. Marv raised his eyebrows and thought aloud, “Well, the dark clothes should help, but he keeps looking back over here into the parking lot for some odd reason. He’d see us if we tried to get out of the van. From where he is, I don’t think he’d be able to see the van, and I know he didn’t see us park, so what gives?” “Guys, wait- take another look at the guy in the booth- look closely this time.” Ramon suggested, pausing while Dilbert and Marv focused their gazes on the toll booth. “He’s not so much looking back over here as he is looking around his office- maybe like he’s looking for something.” Continued Ramon. Dilbert responded, “Yeah, yeah, definitely, um, *cough* looks that way. Wait, hold up… he just exited out of the movie he was watching on his laptop, see that?” Ramon and Marv nodded with squinted eyes, trying to focus on the booth worker as well. “He’s gone onto some… Email website, uh, *cough, cough* looks like he’s sending someone a message.” Dilbert observed further. “Not sure this is even relevant information you’re pickin’ up on, Dil. Could just be routine stuff for this guy.” Marv proposed. “Maybe not, but, you know, it does seem weird to me that he’s searching his own office for something and now he just gets up to send an email out of the blue.” Ramon counter-argued in defense of Dilbert. “We’ll see, just tryin’ to contribute to the mystery solvin’ here. Dang it, he’s *cough, cough* looking around his office, *cough, slosh* but in doing so keeps looking back here… Come on!” Dilbert complained. “Wow, mystery solvers in a van, eh? Ruh-roh. What does that remind ya of?” Marv joked, his smile quickly fading when he realized that Ramon and Dilbert were 80’s kids, not 70’s or 60’s kids. Both of them just gave him a weird look, having no idea what that meant.

Before the awkwardness consumed the demeanor of all three men, it was broken by what sounded like a cell phone ringing. “Is it one’a you guys?” Ramon asked, knowing it wasn’t his. “Nope.” Dilbert and Marv said in unison, checking their phones. “Yeah, it’s too, uh *cough, splish* faint to be one of our phones. Sounds like it’s coming from that semi next to us.” Dilbert noted. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” Ramon concurred. “Aww crap… the toll booth guy, he’s leaving his post and is coming over here, into the parking lot. I guess this semi is his car and he was looking for his phone. Must’a left it in there ‘n sent an email to someone to call it so he could find it. Didn’t hear it in the booth so he must’ve guessed it was in his car. Get down!” Marv deduced. “What’s the point *hick, cough* of getting down? He’s gonna see the van anyway!” Dilbert declared as the booth worker drew nearer. “Damn… just… play it cool. It was a couple minutes ago when he checked us through the toll road anyway. He gets a ton of cars, probably wouldn’t remember some random van.” Ramon said, slouching down in his seat, Dilbert and Marv following suit. As the worker reached his car, the men closed their eyes tightly and gritted their teeth in anxiety, locking the doors. Suddenly, a knock on the glass window came from the worker who just reacquired his phone. “Hey, guys! How ya doin’ tonight?” The worker said in a casual and friendly tone, his voice muffled through the glass of the window. “Huh? What?!” Marv questioned, rolling down the window. “Hangin’ out, guys? Little in-car dinner, eh? Makes sense on a long road trip, yeah. Where y’all headed?” The worker nonchalantly inquired. “Ooh, uh… just Texas… gonna take a little detour in a couple miles here… got… family… there.” Marv awkwardly replied, making up a story. “Oh nice. Happy Travels!” The worker said, walking away happily, back to the booth with his phone. “Um… that was a bit… anticlimactic”, Ramon began, “does he not know parking here if you don’t work at the toll road is illegal?”

Dilbert and Marv shrugged. Simultaneously, the men exited the van and jetted down the turnpike leading to a long road. At the end of the road… what did they see? Well, there’s the Great Wall of China. Then there’s the no-longer-existent Berlin Wall. This? This was World Wall 3.

End of Chapter 8.

Chapter 9:

“Stay left, we don’t want any cars to see us from the road. Keep your distance, and they won’t. It’s too dark to see more than 10 meters or so off the road.” Marv advised, crouched as he moved. “At what distance from the wall do we have to start worrying about the spotlights?” Ramon whisper-asked. “Once we get about an eighth of a mile into view, they’ll be able to see us. But those are more for spotting large targets like vehicles, not as much for spotting individuals. If we’d worn ghillie suits, we coulda just crawled up in this grass like nobody’s business. But turtlenecks were cheaper.” Marv conveyed. “*Cough, yuck, hick, hack, hack, cough*” Dilbert moaned, stopping and putting his hands on his knees. “Dilbert, man, what’s wrong?!” Ramon questioned, turning around. “The… *cough, cough, hack* night air is pretty cold and dry out here… messing with my *cough, cough* throat.” “Marv, uh, I don’t… um... suppose you’ve got a, um, cough drop… ‘cause yer nephew here really needs one bad.” Ramon stuttered, looking back over at Marv as Dilbert’s grievous hacking continued. “Yeah, ‘cause I just carry cough drops 24/7 like all normal people. That was sarcasm if you could not tell. Uh… but really, I don’t know how we can get through the wall with Dil scratching out his throat faster than

Trump scratches out amendments.” Marv replied. “No, *cough, gurgle* guys, I’m not gonna let this compromise our mission… I’ll suck it up and make it through.” Dilbert asserted. “If you cough or even gurgle some spit too loud, we’ll be caught!” Ramon yelled in an aggravated whisper. “Not… *cough, yuck* necessarily… just ‘cause a guard hears someone coughing, they won’t think it’s an intruder. Plus, it’ll be easier to suppress in the wall, since the air is less dry and cold *cough, cough, hick* inside. I’m also fairly certain that the NSA handbook doesn’t have a chapter covering ‘becoming familiar with the sound of your coworkers’ coughs’ that they obligate their agents to read.” Dilbert argued. “Ok.. number one, is there even an NSA handbook? And two, do you really think your coughing will become less severe in there?” Ramon inquired. “It was fine in the van, *cough, squish, hack* wasn’t it?” Dilbert replied, continuing to approach the wall. Ramon and Marv immediately followed.

“One… two.. three… go!” Marv declared, keeping his voice low. The three men shuffled quickly but carefully across the minefield of active spotlights, barely avoiding some of them. “Don’t stay still for too long but watch where you move!” Ramon reminded the other two who were slightly behind him, intimidated by the somehow oblivious NSA agent atop the wall with an M240 Bravo Machinegun. Ramon was slightly ahead of Dilbert and Marv: Marv was at the age where one starts to be a tad slower and take longer to judge situations more thoroughly. Dilbert, on the other hand, was just too casual in his demeanor and too stricken by the dry air to move as fast as Ramon. Ramon reached the end of the spotlight field first, now huddled against the side of the wall, awaiting Dilbert and Marv. Soon, Marv snuck into position behind Ramon. Meanwhile, Dilbert was still moving through the spotlight field like it’s a game in phys ed. “Dil, hurry it up!” Marv whisper shouted, not sure if Dilbert heard him. Dilbert stumbled forward, barely avoiding two lights. Dilbert noticed the machinegunner up top dart his gaze downward, unsure whether he had seen something from the corner of his eye or if he was just taking a usual glance downward as standard security measures. Either way, it made Dilbert rather uneasy. Keeping an eye on the machinegunner, Dilbert made a ‘careful’ charge towards Ramon and Marv, accidentally passing right through a spotlight- just as the machinegunner returned his gaze upward and moved to patrol another part of the wall. Dilbert paused and did a choppy-looking espionage somersault towards Ramon and Marv, colliding with the wall in the least graceful way possible. “Ouch!” Dilbert whisper-cried out. “That was extremely risky on your part, Dil. I don’t know how that gunner up top didn’t see you.” Marv critiqued, as Ramon took out the copper wire and cell phone battery from his pocket. “No time for a performance assessment, uncle.” Dilbert whispered, his voice fading as he tried hard not to cough. “So, uh, Marv, could you tell me, uh, how, exactly this works?” Ramon requested, hovering the copper wire and battery in front of the electronically locked door.

“Give it to me.” Marv replied, taking the materials. As Ramon and Dilbert watched intently, Marv pried off the flimsy electronics panel under the handle and placed the copper wire over the positive side of the battery. Next, he connected the wire to the positive side of the wiring, short circuiting the door’s AND gate and unlocking it. “Ha! Destroy one gate, open another!” Marv exclaimed quietly, realizing that that was the nerdiest joke he’d ever made. The men carefully stepped into the hallway from the staff entrance side door. “Already feeling better.” Dilbert noted upon stepping inside the structure. Around the corridor leading to the main hall, they saw the expected guard behind the booth, his senses dampened by the headset he was wearing and the cars constantly passing through. Nonetheless, he still had a lethal 9mm pistol strapped to his side. However, what they did not expect to see was another guard standing against the wall across from the booth with a 12-gauge combat shotgun in full riot gear. “Ok, I knew that guy in the booth would be here, but I guess they really have beefed up security around here. What do they need a riot control guy patrolling the area for?” Ramon thought aloud. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because there was a riot.” Marv replied. Trapped behind the corridor, all the men could really do was listen to the two guards converse. “How’s Mary doing with the move?” The riot man asked the booth guard. “Ughhhhh… This just proves you don’t listen when I tell you stuff, Watkins. Mary is keeping the house and kids. I gotta move out. Now I’ll only get to see ‘em on every other weekend.” The booth guard replied. “No… no… uh, I listen… uh, really… wha… what I meant by ‘how’s Mary doing with the move’ was um, how is she doing with you moving out? I mean, hey, heh, who’s gonna, um… mow the lawn, uh, and uh, repaint the fence now, huh?” Watkins awkwardly asked. “First off, that’s horribly misogynistic to think she can’t do those things without me at home. Second, she’s happy I’m leaving. Gives her the chance to finally ‘spend one-on-one time with the kids.’ But I know what that really means is drink more and play around with other men.” The booth worker said in response.

Dilbert and Marv raised their eyebrows at this, quietly air-fiving and whispering,“Hey-oh!” At this suggestive statement, as Ramon turned his head away and cringed. “Yeah, well guess what,” Watkins began in rebuttal, “I ain’t ‘miso-gymnastic’ or whatever the hell you just said, jackass, not by a long shot. So you can just shut the fu--” “Hey!” Interjected a feminine voice from atop the stairs. “I don’t sign you simpletons’ paychecks so that you can sit here lollygagging about your little trials and tribulations.” She continued in a pronounced English accent, walking down the stairs. She was a tall, slim, and physically fit woman wearing a black NSA jacket with the sleeves rolled up, military fatigues, and combat boots. She had a large tactical knife sheathed at her side and wore her black hair, in stark contrast to her pale skin and green eyes, in a single ponytail. The guards immediately stood at attention and turned her direction, avoiding eye contact. “Ma’am!” They both shouted as they saluted her. “I was gonna say ‘french toast’, ma’am, french toast.” Watkins said nervously. “At ease, guards.” She said sternly. “You know why I’m down here. No one has been detained since this morning. Now, that really shouldn’t be the case, you incompetent scumbags, seeing as how this morning, you imbeciles carelessly allowed one of the attackers to escape. The undercover agents we sent after him were arrested by the police after they got into an altercation with whom they described as a dweebish, caucasian smoker with a baseball cap, a bald, caucasian old man in a trench coat, and a Hispanic man in a jacket and work pants with a goatee. They were released, but the trail’s gone cold. Since you two are the ones who were supposed to keep an eye on the detainees this morning, you should be doing everything in your pathetic power to recover the escapee! You should be reviewing an action plan or possible search locations, not talking about your hideous wife leaving you. Hell, now I see why she did.” She scolded, moving closer to the guards. “Yes, ma’am, sorry ma’am. It’s just… how can we work security here at the wall and review our recovery plan at the same time?” The booth guard timidly asked. “Maybe you need a little incentive.” She replied, pulling out a baton and whacking him as fast as a fan blade in the leg, incapacitating him. “Ahhhhhh!” He screamed, down on the ground, as Watkins dropped his shotgun on the ground and backed into a corner. She walked away, smiling. “Hopefully that will give you the motivation you need.” She said sadistically, walking back up the stairs.

“I’m pretty sure that was Kobrine. Now we know Terry wasn’t BS-ing.” Marv said, shocked, as the guard she struck moaned on, with Watkins at his aid. “It was, for sure. This is actually kind of a good thing. Now we can sneak past these ‘imbeciles’ effortlessly…” Ramon said as he snuck to the stairs with Marv right behind him. Once they reached the stairs across the hall, Ramon and Marv noticed Dilbert was still over by the entrance corridor. They silently signaled him over, as he was just standing there motionless. Upon seeing their signal, he began slowly waddling past the distracted guards, finally reaching Ramon and Marv. “What the heck, man?!” Ramon interrogated. “Th-that… w-was… K-Kobrine?” Dilbert asked slowly. “Why must our enemy be so *cough* attractive?!” He questioned, drooling with his pupils dilated, with maybe a few other things going on in other parts of his body than his face. “Heh… Dilbert’s got a crush on Kobrine!” Marv exclaimed, chuckling. Ramon shook his head, sighed, and started up the stairs towards the control room. Across the control room, he saw the door out to the Mexican side of the wall, and further down the hall, he saw the door to Kobrine’s office. Scouting ahead, Ramon leaned around the corner. “Two guys in there, both with M16’s or something such”, Ramon told Dilbert and Marv as they crouched down next to him, “Marv, how ya gonna start the fire with the cell phone battery and steel wool?” Ramon continued, as Marv pulled out those two things. “Not a fire, persay… sort of lied to ya earlier to simplify things… just gonna keep scraping the positive and negative against the steel wool until it generates some charge. Oughta make a small spark, enough to activate the smoke alarm.” Marv explained, striking the steel wool against the battery. A small spark emerged from the steel wool, some smoke arising from it, but not setting the alarm off. Marv struck it again, creating a small spark. The alarm did not go off, even after several seconds. “Damn!” Marv whisper-yelled, striking the battery again.

This time, it did not even spark. He attempted another strike, again with the same result. “It must be out of juice from all this sparking and crap.” Marv deduced. The men paused for a minute, weighing their options, but were interrupted by the smoke detector finally going off. ‘BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!’ The noise of the alarm was even more irritating than ordering a tall coffee, but the men ignored it and headed back down the flight of stairs, now finding the downstairs area devoid of guards, most likely because they went off to discuss their “escapee recovery plan.” Regardless, they still stayed low to the railing at the base of the stairs. Above, they soon saw the two control room guards evacuate their post, as Kobrine exited her office yelling, “Move it, move it, you incompetents! We’ve got a potentially hazardous situation! Evacuation in progress, go!” She ran down the hall with the others, out of sight of Ramon, Dilbert, and Marv. The men started back up the stairs and moved swiftly into the now vacant control room, with Ramon pulling the balcony door unlock lever. “Come on, guys!” Dilbert yelled over the fire alarm, running for the balcony door with Ramon and Marv close behind. Peaking out the door and looking both ways, Dilbert reported back to Ramon and Marv, “Don’t see any *cough, cough* guards out here, guys, let’s go!” Dilbert said, running down the stairs on the Mexican side. Ramon and Marv quickly followed. The men ran down the stairs and met at the bottom. “Alright, guys,” Marv began, “now that we’re past the wall, who’s ready to get into Mexico? We’ll book a hotel, and catch a bus ride into Santa Ana tomorrow afternoon. Mind you, Santa Ana’s only like three hours from here, but on a bus with stops and detours, try 8 to 12 hours. Sound good, guys?” He finished, smiling.

“Yup.” Ramon and Dilbert said in unison. “I really think we oughta make sure--” Ramon was interrupted by another voice and the sound of a few clicks from behind.

“Right… Now that you’re over the wall.” Kobrine mocked, holding an assault rifle with two similarly armed guards behind her.

End of chapter 9.

Chapter 10:

The fire alarm was now silent, as were the three men as they were escorted back upstairs to a dim interrogation chamber with guns pointed to their heads. “You will sit down in these seats.” Kobrine commanded, pointing to three adjacent seats across from a desk with a dim lamp atop it, behind which she sat down. The NSA agents nudged the men to sit down with the barrels of their rifles, nudging Ramon especially hard. “Good. Now handcuff them to the seats.” She ordered. The NSA agents did as she wished, rendering Ramon, Dilbert and Marv all restrained.

The agents backed up to the entrance of the room, keeping a close eye on their captives with their guns at the ready. “I know who you all are. Ramon, Dilbert, Marvin… good job taking on my men back at the rest stop, I must say, futile though it was. I take it your friend, Terry, I believe his name was, has already told you all about me, hmmmm? Told you I’m a psychopath? A terrible sadist who torments people for the fun of it? All very true. But what he didn’t tell you is that I do it so that I can uphold order. I’m all about maintaining order, really… because, without order,” She said, drawing a .44 revolver from the drawer at her desk, “Things become… unpredictable.” She continued, loading one bullet into the chamber, closing it, and giving it a forceful spin. “Care for a demonstration?” She mockingly asked. “Not particularly, but since you behave like a stereotypical movie villain, I know that was a rhetorical question. Oh, and you like to maintain order? From how bad it smells in here, I’d say you like to maintain odor!” Ramon critiqued. “OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!!!! Ha! Time out! Time out! Lady, you just got schoooooooooooled!” Marv shouted boisterously. “Hey guys, *cough, cough* be nice to the attractive lady…” Dilbert muttered. Kobrine flurry slapped all three men across the face hard enough for a kid to call CPS if it were their mom... or maybe make a kid go Down With the Sickness style on her. (I don’t expect many people to get that joke, but just had to throw it in.)

Ramon, Dilbert, and Marv sat stunned by her slap for a good few seconds. That slap honestly felt like it came from 1979 Arnold Schwarzenegger rather than Kobrine. “Anyway, now that your little games are out of the way, I’ll use this time to demonstrate the importance of order.” Kobrine declared, pointing the spun and 1/6 loaded revolver at Ramon’s cranium. “The smartest one should always go first.” She said, bracing back the trigger. Ramon closed his eyes, grinding his teeth together and feeling like he was on a rollercoaster. Seconds became hours. Days, even. It seemed as though she was purposely taking as long as possible just to psychologically torture the men, Ramon especially. Ramon began to count the seconds and breaths that could be his last ones, sweat breaking from his forehead. He thought of saying something else, but decided not to on account of the fact that that odor burn would make for some pretty solid last words. Dilbert and Marv sat helplessly, terrified for their friend.

Why, oh why, they wondered, hadn’t they brought David Banner along with them? Silence… waiting for that trigger to reach the grip. “1… 2… 3…”, Ramon thought to himself, “4… 5…”-- *Click!* “So be it,” Kobrine sighed, “live on to die another day.” Ramon opened his eyes, not sure, for a moment if he was in the afterlife or if this was real. He felt the ambient noise in the room return as he drifted back into reality. “Well, I think I’ve made my point fairly clear. Any questions?” Kobrine continued. “Yeah, *cough, cough, yuck* I’ve got one- will you go out with me? Assuming, *hack* of course, you don’t murder my friends and I?” “I’ll give you credit… You’re the first border hopper who’s ever tried that card on me… and you’re also the first nicotine addicted nerd I’ve had try to hop over the border.” She replied, her tone getting fiercer as the sentence progressed. “I like to think of myself *cough, huck*  as unique.” Dilbert rebutted. “What I want to know is, why are you all trying to sneak over my wall? I understand why you attacked my men… you thought you were saving someone from vicious thugs. But why sneak over the border?” Kobrine demanded of Ramon, getting up in his face. “One… if ya wanna know so bad, why did you risk killing me just a moment ago? I’ll tell you why you did it-- ‘cause you’re psychotic and irrational. And two, we did save someone from ‘vicious thugs’. That’s precisely what your men are, nothing more! They aren’t NSA agents, they’re your own little personal dirty-deed-doers!” Ramon shouted, angering the guards behind him. “Stay where you are, men!” Kobrine ordered the guards, to which they reluctantly obeyed. Kobrine continued, “You’re gonna regret”-- *Doooooooooooo!* Kobrine was interrupted. All of the sudden, the lights in the interrogation room went out, as did they throughout most of this area of the wall. “What just happened?” Yelled one of the guards, fumbling in the dark. “The power went out, you idiot. Get out your mag lights.” Kobrine responded. “Know why?” The other guard asked, turning his light on, as Ramon, Dilbert and Marv sat puzzled. “No, but I have to go and get our squads moving so we can get to the bottom of this. Keep an eye on these three. Weapons pointed, don’t even blink or look away for a second. You got that?” Kobrine commanded her goons. “Yes, ma’am.” They both said in unison as Kobrine left. After a few minutes of hearing Kobrine yell at the guards in the other areas of the wall, another noise just outside the interrogation room began, the sound of someone in boots running down the hall. One of the guards in the interrogation room stepped out into the hallway to see who was coming, shining his light on the figure. “Whoa! Hey, hey, easy there, bud! You trying to blind me?” Ramon overheard the man in the hall say. “You work here, Erik Connolly?” The guard asked suspiciously, reading his nametag. “I’m from maintenance. Gotta figure out this power outage, ya know!” Connolly replied. “Yeah, well, maintenance is on the opposite side of where you were coming from, plus, where are your tools and maintenance associates?” The guard interrogated. “Oh, here’s a tool right here!” Connolly shouted, pulling out a taser and jabbing it into the guard’s neck. *Zaaaaaap!* “Ahhhh!” Shouted the guard, falling unconscious. This drew the attention of the other guard, who turned to the door, only to be put at gunpoint by Connolly with the M16 of the guard he just incapacitated. “Put it down.” Connolly told the other guard. Having not yet drawn his rifle, the guard had no choice. “Get down on your knees. Hands where I can see ‘em.” He continued. The guard complied, as Connolly bashed the butt of the rifle against his head, knocking him clean out. “Ramon, Dilbert, Marv, pleased to meet you all.” Connolly said, unlocking their handcuffs with the keys from the agents.

End of Chapter 10.

Chapter 11:

“Alright guys, follow me. Let’s get out of this craphole.” Connolly told Ramon, Dilbert and Marv as he jogged forward in the dark ahead of the three men, still carrying the loaded assault rifle. “Wait, who are you?” Marv shouted, trying to keep up as Ramon and Dilbert grabbed maglights from the downed agents. “I’ll explain later, just stay close by.” Connolly replied, his voice echoing down the hall, back at Marv. Ramon and Dilbert, now illuminating the halls with maglights, quickly caught up to Marv, who was struggling to catch up with Connolly. “Shouldn’t *hack, cough* we tie up the guards ya knocked out?” Dilbert asked Connolly, hustling forward towards him. “No point,” Connolly told Dilbert, “Kobrine and the other agents will find them before they even wake up and untie them anyway, so we shouldn’t waste the time. Besides, I’m sure they’ll be out cold for at least 6 hours.” Dilbert and Connolly stopped when they reached a corridor at the end of the hall with an elevator and a flight of stairs, allowing Ramon and Marv to catch up.

“Can’t take the elevator, obviously. No power.” Ramon immediately pointed out, heading for the stairs. “Well, I had to cut the power in this area so Kobrine would leave, to get you guys out. I never could’ve knocked out Kobrine, she knows more martial arts than you can shake a stick at, including one that involves shaking a stick. Well, a bo staff. Same difference,” Connolly explained, as Ramon opened the door leading to the stairs, “Hold up there, Ramon- we can’t use the stairs to get out of here, either. That flight of stairs exits right into a hall with a manned security checkpoint, but the elevator has an exit to the Mexican side you can reach before you’re in the line of sight of the security guards.” He continued. “Then how do we get out of here if the stairs aren’t an option and the elevator’s inoperable?” Marv asked as Ramon and Dilbert gave Connolly a weird look.

“We gotta get in the elevator… and climb down the shaft.” Connolly replied, causing everyone else’s eyes to go wide. “Oh,” began Ramon, “so you’re suggesting we force the elevator door open, climb up through the ventilation duct and mantle down the shaft? For one, that’s extremely dangerous, and two, how are we gonna force the elevator door open? I don’t suppose you’ve got any Jaws of Life.” “You’re exactly right. We gotta force this door open. And while I don’t have any Jaws of Life, I do have a tactical M16. The butts on these things were made for prying.” Connolly responded, placing the rifle between the elevator doors and prying the right door back, as Ramon, Dilbert, and Marv quickly ran to his aid, grabbing the left door and also pulling it back. “Hrrrrrrr!” The four men grunted, as the door became slightly ajar. As they continued, the gap between the two doors gradually began to become larger and larger. Finally, the doors jolted apart, loudly slamming against the hydraulics and machinery behind them, startling the men. “Nice job.” Connolly told the others as he stepped into the emergency-light illuminated elevator, soon followed by them.

“So, how are we gonna go about climbing up into the ventilation shaft, *cough, cough* assuming it’s even possible?” Dilbert inquired. “Your guess is as good as mine.” Connolly said, studying the vent, which was about eight feet up from the floor of the elevator car.  “We could stand on this stuff here.” Ramon began, pointing to the wall-mounted railing inside the elevator, “It ought to be sturdy enough to support our weight, and I think we could all reach the ventilation shaft from on top of it. We won’t have much room to maneuver, mind you.” “Ok… *hack, yuck* but how do we go about getting the shaft panel off? Isn’t it locked?” Dilbert asked Ramon, more expecting a response from Connolly or Marv. “Yeah… that’s true… it would be locked…” Ramon replied, “maybe we could fashion some sort of lock pick… anyone got a credit card or a--” “Nope.” Marv interrupted, snatching Connolly’s M16, much to his surprise. “When in doubt, this is the best locksmith there is.” He continued, aiming the rifle at the panel and firing four consecutive three-round bursts at the hinges, causing the panel to plummet to the elevator floor. Dilbert and Ramon covered their ears as Marv did this, and Connolly immediately stole the rifle back from Marv after it was done. “Marv! What the hell?! Why would you do that? The NSA had to have heard that!” Ramon snapped at Marv, who just shrugged and replied, “What’s done is done. Now get your butt up there before we get caught.” “He’s right, guys. The NSA aren’t about to check the elevator shafts for escapees, and the exit downstairs is right outside the elevator. Let’s go!” Connolly professed, dropping the rifle, hopping onto the railing and mantling up into the ventilation shaft atop the elevator, as Ramon handed the gun back up to him. Leaning his head back through the panel hole, he yelled down, “Next!”, as Dilbert slowly and cautiously climbed onto the railing, struggling for balance for a few seconds. Standing up to reach the shaft with the same delicacy as one would use to build a house of cards, (or destroy one in Trump’s case) Dilbert grabbed onto the ventilation shaft and swung forward, now dangling from the ceiling of the elevator a couple feet above the elevator floor. Connolly quickly grabbed Dilbert’s wrists and pulled him up into the shaft.

“Whoa!” Ramon and Marv simultaneously shouted as the lights suddenly became a lot brighter in the elevator and the selection buttons inside lit up. “What’s goin’ on down there, guys? What is it?” Dilbert yelled down at them, oblivious to this change in the dark shaft above. “I think they got the power going again.” Marv explained to him, Ramon nodding in concurrence. “Aw, crap. You two had better hurry up and get up here. If someone calls or opens the elevator while you’re still in it, we’re dead meat.” Connolly told Ramon and Marv. Ramon quickly leaped onto the railing and reached for the two in the shaft above. Dilbert grabbed him from under the arms as Connolly reached way down and pulled Ramon up by his midsection. With everyone else up in the elevator, the older Marv stumbled up onto the railing and put his hands up, taking a deep breath, probably quoting Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon in his thoughts. Finally reaching for the shaft, Marv leaned a little too far forward and began a forward drop to the elevator floor, only to be caught from above by the neck of the turtleneck he was wearing by Dilbert. “Ok…” Marv said in a constricted voice, “Thanks for catching me, Dil, but you’re kind of choking me a little.” Ramon and Connolly reached around Marv’s torso and pulled him up like a human harness. (No, Tom Six, don’t you dare get any bright ideas.) With all four men above the elevator, Connolly began to reach for a cable going around the side of the elevator and use it as a makeshift rappel. The other three men quickly grabbed on to other cables, doing the same thing, despite having no experience rappelling. Soon, Connolly got below the elevator and yelled up at the other three men, “We’d better hope someone doesn’t call or use the elevator while we’re doing this. The cables’ll start moving and we’ll either be knocked off and fall to our deaths or be crushed by the elevator. Take your pick.”  

The other three men soon descended below the elevator, catching up with Connolly. With another 20 feet to the bottom, they continued downward. “Hey, hold on to the gears if you lose *cough, cough* your grip, *hack* guys.” Dilbert advised the others, taking his own advice after losing his grip. Ramon nodded in acknowledgment, losing his footing on a gear for a moment, due to it spinning when he stood on it. “Okay, maybe 15 feet to go, for me. Less for you guys, since you’re further down.” Marv conveyed to the others. “Yeah, not too *cough, cough* much further to the bottom. Stay-- woah!” Dilbert was interrupted by an unexpected surprise. As he placed his foot on some outlying electrical wires, mistaking them for a gear in the dark, the wiring suddenly sunk in below Dilbert, causing him to drop downward slightly. Being a large bundle of coiled up telephone-like wire, it wrapped around Dilbert’s leg as he sunk into it. He grabbed onto the elevator cables that were now slightly above him with one hand, attempting to use the other hand to free himself.

“Dilbert, what’s going on up there? You alright?” Ramon called from a few feet below, not able to see very well. “I accidentally got caught *hack, cough* on some wire… but I’m okay… just gimme a *hick, yuck* moment to free myself. Think I’m losin’ my *cough, cough* coordination, man. Haven’t had any *cough, hugh* nicotine since this afternoon.” Dilbert responded, fiddling with the wires. “Wait,” Connolly began, as he reached the bottom of the shaft, “Hear that, up top?” “What?” Ramon and Marv asked as they also reached the bottom. “Listen closely.” Connolly clarified. Faintly, they could hear the ding of the elevator door opening up top, accompanied by soft footsteps and chatter. “Crap! Someone’s getting into the elevator up there. Dilbert, we’re safe down here, ‘cause there’s room for a person to the side of the shaft, even with the car there, but you’re right in the path of the elevator! You’re dead unless you hurry up and get yourself outta there!” Ramon warned Dilbert, already struggling intensely with the wires. “Okay… uh… *cough, cough* I see… maybe if I… or… no… wrong one… damn it… no… it’s *hack* like tangled frickin’ earbuds!” Dilbert screamed as he fidgeted with the wires, trying to maintain his usual calm demeanor. He looked up, terrified to see the gears start as the elevator began to descend. “Come on… I just stepped on it! *Cough, yuck* How tangled could it have gotten?!” Dilbert cried. The elevator drew nearer, threatening more and more every second to make a Dilbert Pancake. “Oh, I know!” Connolly thought aloud in a moment of epiphany, attracting the attention of Ramon and Marv. Meanwhile, Dilbert let go of the cable so he’d drop down a little more and buy himself more time. Connolly picked up the rifle he obtained from the guard and forcefully jammed it between two spinning gears at the bottom of the shaft. The rifle slowed down the gears gradually, eventually bringing it to a total halt. “Phew,” Dilbert began, making more progress on the cables, “Thanks for that, Conno-” Before Dilbert could finish, the gears started up again, breaking the rifle in half like a toy and allowing the elevator to move again. Just as the elevator descended to less than a foot above his head, Dilbert untangled the wires from his leg and plummeted 12 feet to the bottom of the shaft. “Hoooooh! Oh mama, *cough, cough* that’s gonna leave a mark.” Dilbert muttered as he drifted into unconsciousness from the fall. “Ok, guys, let’s get outta here before we get squashed!” Ramon told the others, picking up Dilbert fire-rescue style and running out of the shaft for the exit. Marv and Connolly followed and soon caught up. Reaching the exit, the three men darted out of the door, with Ramon carrying Dilbert, and sprinted for the Mexican border. Meanwhile, the elevator in the wall complex reached the ground level and two oblivious NSA agents emerged from it.

“Ya think Kobrine’s onto *pant, huff* us?” Marv asked Connolly, his old legs barely keeping up with the slightly athletic, younger guy that Connolly was. “Nah… they heard those gunshots, for sure, *pant* but I think we’re two steps ahead of them!” Connolly replied.

Ramon was slightly further behind, having to carry Dilbert, but was still running as fast as, well, there’s no good simile for this, so as fast as a Best Buy manager with adrenaline in his veins carrying an incapacitated tobacco chewer could possibly run. Which is moderately fast, mind you. “Hey *huff, huff* Connolly, where are *pant* we even running to?” Ramon requested. “Um, up ahead, *huh* pulled over on the highway, there’s an RV parked about a quarter mile in front of the border. *Pant, pant* That’s where we’re going.” Connolly replied as an alarm siren from the wall went off. “Okay… um… gotcha… *pant, huff* the alarm in the wall just went off… I think they know we escaped… we gotta hurry!” Ramon shouted. “Here, I’ll carry Dilbert for ya!” Connolly told Ramon, slowing down slightly to let Ramon catch up and hand over Dilbert. “Thanks so *pant, huff* much, man… I’m… a bit outta shape…” Ramon said, exhausted, but still moving forward as Connolly slung Dilbert over his shoulder. “I see the RV!” Marv called out, running faster, as did Ramon and Connolly.

Making a mad dash toward the RV, the men nearly crashed into it when they finally reached it. Stepping around the side, huffing and puffing so much that it sounded like a symphony, they walked up inside the RV. Ramon and Marv walked in first, as Connolly lugged Dilbert up inside a few seconds later and set him down on an air mattress deployed on the floor. “He’s a little banged up, but he’ll be alright.” Connolly told the other two, who nodded in response. Ramon and Marv were surprised when they looked at the driver seat and saw someone sitting there, a young Hispanic woman. “Who’s that” Ramon inquired, as Marv asked, “Who are you?” “Okay guys,” began Connolly, “I know you’re confused about who I am, why I saved you, and a whole bunch of other stuff right now, but we’re not out of the woods yet. We almost are, but not yet. We will be once we get past the Mexican border.” Connolly paused, looking at Ramon and Marv as they nodded “Let’s go. Hit the gas, babe!” He requested of the woman in the driver seat.

The woman nodded, started the RV, and zoomed to the nearby Mexican border at a barely legal rate, reaching it even faster due to the relatively low midnight traffic. Showing their passports and proof of vehicle registration at the border, it wasn’t long until they arrived in Mexico. The woman drove about two miles into Mexico and took the first exit she saw into a small town and pulled over, as Ramon and Marv sat puzzled. “Ok, guys… I won’t waste any more of your time. I was one of the attackers on the news this morning. I was detained here all day, but when you guys caused the fire alarm evacuation, I was able to escape in all the confusion, and free the others. Pretty soon, though, we had to avoid some NSA agents and I got separated from them, don’t know where they are now or if they made it, but I hope they did.” Connolly paused, giving Ramon and Marv a moment to let this sink in.

“I then broke into a security locker room where my stuff was taken and got my phone and wallet back. I also found a maintenance worker suit and a taser in a supply closet, and just put it on because I thought it’d help me blend in. I just wrote my name on the nametag with a Sharpie, not really thinking about it. I called my friend Terry, who I believe you guys have met, and told him I escaped in the fire alarm, because I knew he escaped and thought maybe he could help me. He told me that he couldn’t come in time because he was all the way up in north New Rubio, but then he told me about you guys and how the fire alarm was probably caused by you. He also told me about how you guys saved him from the NSA back at some rest stop. I realized that you guys were probably in trouble because I overheard some guard radio chatter talking about how they apprehended three suspects, and their description fitted the description Terry gave me. I figured that since you guys allowed me to escape with the fire alarm, I’d return the favor. This woman here is my internet girlfriend, Valeria. I called her and asked her to pick me up from the border, and use a vehicle capable of transporting several people since I knew I was gonna break you out. She lives here in Mexico near the border, and told me she’d come in her RV. You know the rest.” Connolly finally finished, as Valeria waved at Ramon and Marv. “Hola, Señorita.” Ramon said to Valeria. “Hola, Señor Juarez. Buenas noches.” Valeria replied, walking over to the back of the RV, presumably to go to bed for the night. “Buenas noches.” Ramon said in response. “Get some sleep, guys. Cots laid out for ya in this main area over here,” Connolly said, pointing to two cots in the corners of the main portion of the RV, “Terry told me about your father’s problem with his restaurant deed in Santa Ana. So that’s where we’re going first thing tomorrow.” Connolly walked off into the back room with Valeria before Ramon could thank him, so Ramon turned out the light and lay down on his cot, as did Marv. After lying still for a few minutes, Marv finally asked Ramon, “Why is Connolly going back to sleep in the same room, and probably bed, as her? Isn’t she just his internet girlfriend?” “Some people move fast, I guess.” Replied Ramon.

“Hey-oh! Innuendo!” Shouted Dilbert suddenly, awakening from his mini-coma.

End of Chapter 11.

Chapter 12:

“...And that’s how Connolly broke us out.” Ramon recapped to the recovered Dilbert the next “morning”, though it was already afternoon. “Wow, *cough, cough* that’s pretty intense. Seems like *cough, hack* Terry’s still got our back, even up in *hick* New Rubio. This calls *pugh* for more tobacco!” Dilbert shouted in an excited tone, gladly scooping a handful of tobacco into his mouth from his mix bag. “Oh, *chomp, chomp, hack, squish, gurgle, cough* this is long overdue. Long overdue indeed.” He continued, closing his eyes in enjoyment of the tobacco. Meanwhile, Connolly drove the RV down the highway as Marv and Valeria were still asleep in their respective beds. It was already two o’clock in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, as the night before was a late one, causing everyone to sleep in a little later.

A few more minutes passed, as Dilbert, sitting in the passenger seat, spit some of the excess saliva in his mouth into a styrofoam cup he took off the dash. “Dang it, man!” Connolly shouted as Dilbert did this, “That’s my lucky styrofoam cup! Ya just ruined it!” He continued, snatching it from Dilbert and throwing it in the small trash bin beside his seat. “Well… who *slosh, hack* in their right mind keeps a lucky styrofoam cup in *cough, cough* their internet girlfriend’s RV?! That’s the stupidest thing *chomp, chomp* I’ve ever heard!” Dilbert rebutted. “Well, hey, I’m not the one who has a crush on a psychopath.” Connolly roasted. “Whoa! Dilbert, man, you just got cooked!” Ramon interjected as Dilbert frowned, trying to hold in laughter at the same time. After a few moments of no noise but the RV rolling down the highway, Connolly finally broke the conversational silence. “It’s a lucky styrofoam cup ‘cause one time I was eating dinner at home by myself and I started choking on Ramen since it was too hot to swallow properly. I quickly took a sip ‘a water from this cup and it stopped me from choking. It saved my life. Now, mind you, this is only notable because there was another time before this when I choked on Ramen at home, also because it was too hot. I had an actual glass made of glass that time. I took a sip to help myself out, but I accidentally just bonked myself in the face with it, spilled it on my lap, and passed out. Then I woke up in the E.R. the next day. Boy, sure is a good thing some guy from Craigslist was comin’ over to pick up a sofa from me, or I woulda died from noodle asphyxiation.”

“Uh huh…” Ramon muttered as both he and Dilbert gave a weird look. Ramon’s attention was suddenly grabbed by Connolly’s ridiculous story, and yet again there was an awkward silence as they drove down the highway. “Uggggghh…” Marv finally rose from his bed, breaking the silence with a disturbingly loud back crack and old man morning groans. Having slept in the same black cargos and turtleneck from the night before, as did Ramon and Dilbert, he fiddled with the turtleneck collar which was weirdly twisted around his neck. Finally repositioning it to its rightful place on his neck, Marv fiddled through his pockets for his travel toothpaste and toothbrush. “Afternoon, how was your *chomp, cough* hibernation, uncle?” Dilbert sarcastically asked. “Pretty good until you idiots started blabbering.” Marv replied, getting up to go to the RV restroom and brush his teeth with the toiletries he dug out of his pockets.

“We’re 30 minutes outta Santa Ana. We should stop for lunch at the next exit, looks like there’s a Mexican Arby’s, sound good?” Connolly asked, hoping they’d say yes due to his profound hunger. “That’ll be fine. They got mostly the same stuff as American Arby’s. Just think of it like Arby’s with Taco Bell.” Ramon replied as Dilbert nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Marv shouted from the bathroom in a muffled voice as he brushed his teeth. “Ok, cool. I’ll take the next exit then.” Connolly confirmed. “Just be sure *cough, squish, slosh* not to choke on your food this time.” Dilbert remarked.

The town containing the long-foretold Arby’s was nothing out of the ordinary for a Mexican suburb; it was not too shabby compared to an American town and was by no means a hovel, but there were enough stained-jersey-wearing kids in the street playing soccer that it was subliminally depressing. A few other shops, with their names in Spanish, stood by the Arby’s, which was frankly indistinguishable from an American restaurant aside from the food it was advertising on the posters. And no, the sign was the same as in America, too. There’s no Spanish word for “Arby’s”.

“Alright,” Connolly began as he killed the RV engine on the curb beside the Arby’s because it would not fit into the parking lot, “Valeria’s still sleeping, but we can go in there now, I’ll just order something for her. Let’s go.” Still all wearing black turtlenecks and trousers, Ramon, Dilbert and Marv felt a tad bit self conscious walking into a public place, but soon, they realized that it was a free country. Freer than America, now. The four men stepped up to order, with Ramon going first, then Marv, then Connolly, and finally Dilbert, all ordering what appeared most similar to American Arby’s food. Just before they could find a table and sit down, a random Mexican guy standing around in the Arby’s tugged on Dilbert’s sleeve, garnering his attention. “Eeey, maaan. You look like you know your tobacco, eh?” He asked. “Sure, *cough, cough* why do ya ask?” Dilbert questioned in response. “Well, how about you spit out that there laaaame American tobacco and try some of this real stuff I made, ah?” The Mexican man, now seeming to be an entrepreneur, asked as he pulled out a bag of tobacco. It looked as black as people whom Trump wants lynched from a tree. Oh yeah, I went there. Fight me. Or deport me ‘cause I’m Indian.

“Highly acidic, hard for the rookies to stomach, but, boy, does it get you off. It stings in your mouth for a second, but it’s because of the pleasant herbs I ground up in there like Aloe Vera, which gives it a real, uh, unique flavor. The nicotine should ease the pain real quick, though. Interested? I accept American cash, just $6 a bag!” The man continued. “Hmmmmm… does *cough* sound interestin’,” Dilbert began as he spit out his tobacco into a nearby trash bin, “Ah, what the heck, I’m an open minded fella, I’ll take a bag.” Dilbert took out his wallet and gave the salesman a couple of crumpled up bills, a five and one. “Eeey, thanks man. You won’t regret it.” The salesman said, handing Dilbert a bag of the tobacco and pacing away, grinning. “You sure that’s safe, man?” Ramon asked as Dilbert scooped a handful into his mouth. “Sure, *chomp, chomp* why not? I paid for it, doesn’t seem like a scam to me… *cough, cough* dang, though, this stuff is pretty strong. *Hack, splush* I like it, *cough* though!” Dilbert replied. “Dil, why’d ya start chewing it now? You’ll have to spit it out before eating.” Marv pointed out. “I’m *cough, cough* sure it’ll be a while *chomp, chomp* before the food’s ready.” Dilbert assured his uncle. Marv sat down at a booth near the back of the restaurant, with the others soon sitting down beside him, with the exception of Connolly. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom real quick, guys. Be right back.” He said, strolling over to the building’s lavatory as Ramon, Marv and Dilbert nodded. Just as Connolly reached the bathroom, something unnerving grabbed Ramon’s attention. “Dilbert, Marv, see that guy across from our table reading the newspaper? The white guy in the buttoned down shirt down and khakis.” Ramon nonchalantly asked Dilbert and Marv, describing the figure in question. “Yeah. Uh… *chomp, chomp* what of him?” Dilbert cross examined, raising his eyebrows. “He… keeps looking over his newspaper, taking glances at us. Pretty wierd.” Ramon explained, lowering his voice. “Yeah, now that you mention it, he is deliberately looking over here. You don’t think maybe he’s with the--” Marv was suddenly interrupted. “NSA? That’s exactly right.” The man from behind the newspaper began, standing up and drawing a handgun in a covert fashion. “Ramon Juarez, Dilbert Whittaker, Marvin Whittaker, you’re coming with me.” The man commanded as he quietly pointed the gun in their direction.

“Well, let’s not *chomp, chomp* do anything rash here, we wouldn’t *cough* wanna cause any-- *SPLOOSH*!” Dilbert stopped talking mid sentence as he spit his tobacco at the man, nailing him square in the face with the acidic mixture. “Ahhhhh!” The agent screamed in blinded agony as he stumbled back, his eyes shut by the caustic, stinging stuff. “Run!” Ramon exclaimed, as he and his associates at the table darted for the exit of the Arby’s. *BANG! BANG! BANG!* The agent fired a few shots from his pistol at the men, missing them narrowly, which immediately caused panic in the restaurant. “Crap! They *hack, cough* figured out we escaped and they’re already *hich, yuck* on our tail. All I can say is, *cough, hugh* tobacco can sometimes save your life!” Dilbert exclaimed as he and the other two exited the Arby’s. The parking lot now had two NSA trucks with guards in them, who somehow were oblivious to the men. Seeing this, they ran for the dumpster beside the Arby’s and hid behind it. “Guys, Connolly is still in the restaurant bathroom, so we can’t take the RV! But we gotta get outta here!” Ramon informed the other two, as they nodded in acknowledgement. Abruptly, the door to the Arby’s swung open as the agent sprinted out of the building, scanning the parking lot for the men. Seeing no one of interest, he ran over to the side of the restaurant opposite the dumpster to check for the men. “He’s searching for us, we need to move!” Ramon whisper-yelled as he snuck out from behind the dumpster and started running for the street, being out of sight of the agent and trucks. Dilbert and Marv soon followed, seeing no alternative.

Moving swiftly to the intersection of the street, they were stopped dead in their tracks by what they saw before them. Parked by the curb was a small NSA truck with an agent inside of it. “Stop!” Marv snapped as he held the other two from wandering carelessly into his line of sight. “These frickin’ b******s are everywhere!” Ramon lamented to the others as he crouched down and advanced forward towards the truck, staying below the truck’s windshield and therefore out of the agent’s view. “What the hell are you doing?” Dilbert quietly but sternly asked Ramon, his voice once again fading in an attempt not to cough. “His keys are still in the ignition. If I can lure him outside and away from the vehicle, we can take his ride.” Ramon explained, moving to the back of the truck and ignoring Dilbert and Marvs’ critical comments. Now right behind the vehicle, Ramon boldly kicked the back bumper, creating a boisterous crash, garnering the attention of the agent inside the truck. He darted his gaze, stunned. Dilbert and Marv raised their eyebrows, surprised at this, and motioning at Ramon to back off from the truck. Seeing that the agent did not emerge from the truck like Ramon thought he would, Ramon kicked the truck extremely hard a second time, causing it to rock slightly. The agent opened his door and exited the truck, starting for the rear of the ride. Ramon quickly snuck around the passenger side of the truck and grabbed the door handle. He prepared to pry on it, gritting his teeth, desperately hoping the door would be unlocked. The agent moved to the back of the truck and called out, “Hey! Who’s screwin’ around back there?” Ramon realized he had just moments to execute his plan if he wanted to avoid capture. He yanked the door open, relieved that it wasn’t locked. Stepping up into the truck, Ramon signaled Dilbert and Marv into the truck silently. As the other two approached the truck stealthily, Ramon slid from the passenger seat to the driver seat. Dilbert took shotgun and Marv took the back once inside the truck. Next, Dilbert slammed the passenger door beside him. The agent heard the the slam and came running to the passenger door, only to see the very suspects he was after inside. He began furiously pounding on the side of the door. Ramon grinned and started the truck, zooming away from the agent, which knocked him down forcefully seeing as how he was touching the truck as it zoomed away. The agent jolted down and face planted into the pavement, causing him to drift off into dreamland. Ramon then turned the truck back towards the Arby’s. “We gotta go back for Connolly, no matter how many NSA are crawling around over there. At least we’re in an NSA vehicle, so we’ll blend in with them as long as we’re in here.” Ramon told the others, as they bravely nodded in agreement. However, upon arriving at their nearby destination just seconds later, they saw something surprising, which caused Ramon to pull over onto a curb to observe. The RV was gone.

“Connolly must have heard the gunshots in the Arby’s and made a dash for the RV and escaped with Valeria, probably after he noticed we were gone.” Ramon deduced. “Think he’s lookin’ for us or just tryin’ to get away?” Marv asked. “I wouldn’t blame him if he were just trying to get away, the NSA are everywhere. At least we know he’s not in any immediate danger. We can focus on getting to Santa Ana first and linking back up with him later. Santa Ana is our prerogative anyway, not his.” Ramon replied, starting the truck’s ignition back up. “Hold up.” Dilbert told Ramon. “What?” Ramon asked in confusion. “Don’t start driving *hack, hick* yet. This is an NSA *cough, cough* vehicle, so it must be trackable *slosh, cough* via radio signal for NSA agents.” Dilbert explained as he opened the glove compartment and took out the expected first-aid kit. He opened it up and took out the obligatory pair of scissors and exited the truck. He then approached the antenna on the front of the NSA-mobile and snipped it off with the scissors, reentering the truck afterwards. “There. We’re safe from *cough, cough* tracking, now.” Dilbert asserted, putting away the first aid kit and scissors. “Darn it, Dil, I wanted to listen to Mexican radio as we drove!” Marv complained, mourning the loss of the antenna. “Boo hoo.” Ramon responded in a very unsympathetic tone, starting the car and heading for the highway.

End of chapter 12.

Chapter 13:

“Gentlemen, I give you Santa Ana, a city formerly of California that is now in the great country of Mexico!” Ramon boasted to the others as they cruised into the decorated streets of the city that it had been their goal to reach for so long. “Right… it used to be a big city, now it’s just a small town. Guess Trump wasn’t even okay with having a city named after a non-American dude in the states.” Marv told Ramon, bursting his bubble. Ramon shook his head at this, disappointed, but knowing it was true. “Yeah, because Trump knows that *cough, cough* isolating your country from other cultures *hack* is totally the way to make a great nation. Just *hack, cough* look at North Korea.” Dilbert remarked sarcastically, causing the other two men to laugh hysterically. However, as their vehicle drifted further down the road, what they saw in front of them quickly killed their joy.

Placed in front of the stolen NSA truck the men were driving was a devastatingly large convoy of armed NSA agents and trucks blocking the path, with Kobrine at the center. “STOP WHERE YOU ARE, AND EXIT THE VEHICLE WITH YOUR HANDS UP!” Kobrine yelled through a megaphone. The men stuttered for a second, remaining in the truck, only for kobrine to snatch an M60 machine gun from one of the agents beside her and start wildly spraying at the bumper of the truck with it, screaming, “NOW!” The men were intimidated immensely by this psychotic fit of violent rage she let out and the look of pure hatred on her face, as well as her menacing agents. With no other choice, the men exited the vehicle and put their hands in the air. “You didn’t think the agent whose truck you stole informed everyone else in the NSA over the radio after he woke up? I knew what was going on pretty damn soon. I just decided not to send my men after you as soon as I did.. I thought I’d set a little trap, since you’d be expecting trouble if I sent agents after you for a car chase. I’ll give you this: You lot are a little too smart for my agents, but not for me.” Kobrine mocked. “Wha- but… how’d you even know we were going to Santa Ana? That’s not… we didn’t… how?” Ramon questioned, stuttering. “Oh, a very helpful friend of yours was kind enough to supply me the information.” Kobrine replied, as Connolly, restrained by two NSA agents, was escorted out of one of the trucks, visibly roughed up and bleeding. “I’m sorry, Ramon! Valeria left with the RV without me when she saw the NSA show up, and I got captured. They tortured me… beat the livin’ s**t outta me ‘cause they wanted to know where you guys were headin’... I had to talk… I didn’t wanna die… I’m so sorry!” Connolly yelled over to Ramon and the others in an extremely apologetic tone. “It’s okay… It’s not your fault, Connolly… It was our fault for leaving you to be captured.” Ramon said meekly in response, with Marv and Dilbert nodding in agreement. “You *cough, cough* suddenly seem a lot less sexy, Kobrine.” Dilbert muttered at her, causing her to laugh. “What? Am I too tough for a dork like you?” She mocked in response, making Dilbert laugh even harder than her. “Nah, you have *cough, hack* too many Y chromosomes and testicles for a dork like me, sir.” Dilbert insulted in rebuttal. Upon receiving an insult like this, Kobrine grabbed another weapon from an agent beside her- this time, a tactical shotgun, pointing it at Dilbert’s head. “Whoa,” Marv began, “Don’t shoot, he didn’t mean--” *BANG!*

Time slowed down for Ramon and Marv when Kobrine pulled the trigger, but Dilbert was face down on the ground before they could even absorb what had happened. “Dilbert!” Marv and Ramon screamed in unison, running over to his face down body. “He’s alive. It was a non-lethal rubber slug. I’m not gonna let you all die that easily.” Kobrine interjected. Dilbert stood up slowly, his nose bleeding and swollen, moaning. “That’s all ya got?” He asked sarcastically, too tough to cry. “You’ll see what else I’ve got for you when you’re detained again in a moment, here.” Kobrine replied, tossing cuffs over to the men. “Put them on-- or I’ll put them on for you, which is much less fun.” Kobrine commanded. Just as the men bent over to put the cuffs on, terrified, they were interrupted by something simply unbelievable.

*Rrrrrrrrrrrrrr!* A helicopter suddenly flew into view overhead, flummoxing Ramon, Dilbert, Marv, Connolly, Kobrine and all the agents. Before they could even register that a helicopter was overhead, it touched down on the wide street, in between Ramon and Kobrine. Both parties stood speechless as the helicopter blades came to a stop. Emerging from the helicopter were two men, one black and the other white, wearing suits and black sunglasses. They turned around and faced Kobrine, pulling out badges. “Alana Kobrine.” began the black agent, he and his partner drawing their sidearms with their free hands and pointing them at her, causing the NSA to point their guns as well, “I’m agent Theodore Wesley. This is agent Seamus Murdock. We are with the FBI, and you are under arrest by the Federal Bureau of Investigation for the violation of the U.S. Constitution’s eighth amendment in the law enforcement field.” Finished the FBI agent. “What?! On what grounds?!” She demanded to know. “On the grounds that we have video evidence submitted by a Mr. Erik Connolly of you gladly and brutally torturing detainees at the wall. Order your men to stand down and come with us. Resist and you will be pursued by the Bureau until you are in our custody.” Agent Wesley explained.

Kobrine stood still for a moment. Reluctantly, she ordered her men to stand down, unsure of what Connolly had done. A smug look took over Connolly’s face, as Kobrine shamefully paced over to the FBI agents. The agents placed her in handcuffs and Seamus escorted her into the helicopter. “You haven’t seen the last of me.” She muttered in a psychotic, soft voice as she was pushed inside.

“Yes, it’s true.” Began an NSA agent from the crowd. “Kobrine did torture detainees and abuse her staff. It’s high time she be exposed. But these men, Ramon, Dilbert, Marvin, and Erik are all guilty of federal offenses that include the assault and battery of federal agents of the NSA, illegal trespassing, and grand theft auto. They still must be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.” “Wrong.” Said a hoarse voice from within the helicopter. Suddenly, emerging from the chopper was a man in a black suit. Not just any man in a black suit. This man was yuge. It was Donald Trump. Everyone’s jaw dropped as Trump faced the NSA blockade, now totally outside the helicopter. “I have granted these men a presidential pardon for their crimes. They stood defiant in the face of something which challenged their goals and exposed corruption in the process, in this case, Kobrine. Though I disagree with what they were defiant towards, I agree with why. They were brave. And that’s the American way. So back off.” Trump asserted. The NSA agents stood motionless for a moment, eventually releasing Connolly and stepping up into their trucks and driving away hesitantly.

“Godspeed, gentlemen.” Trump said reverently, as he stepped back into his helicopter, the pilot taking off soon after. In a few minutes, Trump’s helicopter was out of sight and the four men stood shocked and speechless in the street, which was long devoid of any bystanders due to the NSA occupation.

“See what I did?” Connolly asked, finally breaking the silence. “I get it.” Ramon replied, as Marv and Dilbert still stood confused. “Don’t you guys see?” Connolly began. “When I got outta the bathroom, I saw that you guys were all gone and that the NSA were everywhere, but I knew you guys would come back for me. However, I saw an opportunity to expose Kobrine- her second in command agent, Holmes, was here, storming the Arby’s for us. I texted Valeria and asked her to drive away in the RV without me so you guys would think I escaped safely when you came back for me. She said she wouldn't leave me at first, but I eventually convinced her when I said I had a plan. I snuck into one of the NSA trucks by luring the agent out of the driver seat and going around to get in the passenger seat--” Connolly was interrupted by Ramon, “Hey, that’s exactly how I got this truck, too!” He yelled. “Right.” Connolly continued. “Anyway, uh, once inside, I got on Holmes’s computer, which he left open and unattended, probably because he didn’t expect anyone to break into the truck. I knew, from being tortured earlier, that he was the one who records the torturing for Kobrine while she does it, so I figured it must be on his computer so he could email it to her for her sick pleasure. When I found the correct video files, I logged onto my personal email and sent the video file as a tip to the FBI. I knew sooner or later, they’d come and arrest her, though it was sooner than I had expected. As such, I deliberately exposed myself and got captured by the NSA and got interrogated. I gave up the info on purpose pretty quick because I knew it’d be a foolproof way to link up with you guys again, and the only bad part was getting roughed up. It was all an act. I must admit, though, Trump coming down here to authorize a presidential pardon took me by surprise; I hadn’t planned that.” Connolly finished, smiling. “I see… thank you so much! Hmmmm… I guess Trump ain’t so bad, after all. Maybe he knows what real American values are all about after all.” Ramon said in an optimistic tone. “Nope. *cough, cough* He’s still an idiot. *Hack* Anyway, let’s take a cab to your parents’ house and deliver that deed, man. It’s *cough* only ten minutes away.” Dilbert declared happily.

End of chapter 13.

Resolution:

“So, the trip over here was totally fine? By the way, I thought you were only bringing two friends over, and why are two of them so beat up?” Mia, Ramon’s mother asked, as Pablo, his father, happily caressed the deed to his restaurant. “One… yeah, the trip was fine. Two… I accidentally misspoke over the phone. I have three friends. Three… bicycle accident.” Ramon explained, lying through his teeth for his mother’s benefit. “I... see.” Mia replied, not really believing the bicycle accident, but realizing she shouldn’t ask anything else because Dilbert and Connolly were strangers to her and that would be weird AF. “Well, in any case, Merry Christmas everyone! What do ya say we all head down to my restaurant, which now has a new lease on life, for drinks on the house? We can get to know you three!” Pablo cheerfully proposed, referring to Dilbert, Marv, and Connolly. “Hell yeah!” Everyone yelled, their spirits high.

Everyone headed outside to the Juarez family’s car, prepared to head to Pablo’s eatery. Ramon, however, placed his hand on Dilbert’s shoulder and stopped him from going outside for a moment once everyone else was outside. “Yeah, man?” Dilbert asked, puzzled. Ramon spoke slowly, “Dilbert, there’s just one question left I gotta ask you before we leave for my dad’s restaurant: Considering the voicemail Shawn left… what the hell did he do to the Best Buy?”

THE END!!!

Hope you enjoyed, and thanks so much for reading!

Author's Note

There may be a few minor typos. Written over 2015 holidays, so certain political developments since then are left out. I was 14 when I wrote this, and it's my first written work.