ARC's 1st Law: As a "progressive" online discussion grows longer, the probability of a nefarious reference to Karl Rove approaches one

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Secret mission report

FROM: ARC: Brian
TO: Co-conspirators
Crypt-method: Kilo-Romeo-Xray-5-0
Subject: Operation "Something to Be"

Begin Decrypt

I've successfully made it back to conspirator HQ. Let me say that it was very dicey at various parts of the mission. Let me also say that Penelope has a zeal for her work like none other. She was not fazed at all. When I was sweating bullets, and I fealt that at any moment I was going to be crushed, never to be heard from again, I would look over at Penelope and she would have a smile on her face! A smile! As if she was oblivious to the danger all around. She is a true operator.

Anyway, back to the mission. Penelope told me that she would fill me in on the details during the trip. The drive was some 4 hours westward along I-70 to the largest city in Missouri. During the trip she detailed the mission, as well as provided background info. The mission was to survey an event attended by some sort of cult like group. She warned me that they could be semi-religious in their zeal. We arrived somewhat early, secured a safehouse at a hotel downtown, and then went reconnoitering.

The event was to be held in what appeared to be a somewhat rundown theater nearby. During our reconnoitering, I was astonished to discover lines of people already waiting outside the venue. This despite the temperature below freezing. Penelope mentioned that the people at the front of the line had likely been there since the night before, or at least early that morning. I was flabbergasted. Such dedication to be just 15 spots further up in the line.

I was able to park the car in a secluded spot, close to the venue, yet easy to make a getaway if required. I inquired as to whether weapons were recommended, and if so, what sort of caliber would be appropriate. When Penelope stated that we would have to complete the mission without so much as a set of tweezers, I almost made my escape immediately. Something about her cool demeanor though, made me pause, and reluctantly go along.

I followed Penelope as she deftly made her way to the line. She immediately was able to strike a rapport with the zealots already in line. She confirmed we were in the "special" line reserved for something called the "fan club". I nervously kept my scan going. Pacing up and down the sidewalk. I was to have to keep this up for several hours.

During that time I would catch glimmers of conversation such as, "Did you see the show at Milwaukee?," and "I was at Memphis and they let the fan club members in 10 minutes before. You need to make sure you have your wristband, though." I immediately began to worry. Did we have the magical wristband? Was all lost? Not to worry though, as Penelope had it all in hand. She disappeared into the crowd leaving me alone. After nodding, and doing my best to make small talk to such questions as "So how many have you been to?" Penelope reappeared with two of the coveted wristbands and what appeared to be tickets for admission.

Later, I took inventory of the people around me. I quickly realized that I was one of the few men in the area. And of the men not in line they appeared to have some sort of official duty, security, or laborers of some sort. This crowd had a definite high estrogen quotient.

Shortly after dark, there was a feeling of anxiety among the crowd. It seemed that something must be happening soon. People were checking their watches, peering into windows and shuffling their feet with renewed interest in the freezing cold. With that the door flung open. we were finally admitted into the inner sanctum. As soon as the outer doors opened the masses around me surged forward. We had to present our wristbands and tickets, but other than that, we were not searched in any manner. I immediately had wish for the familiar weight of some sort of weapon hidden in my clothing, but alas it was too late, we were inside.

Penelope didn't look back as she seemingly navigated the corridors of the place as if she had lived there all her life. I did my best to follow. We came into a large room with a few seats in the back, a large flat area in the center, and a raised dais with people all in black milling about with flashlights and wires. Ah, a stage!

I felt more and more people streaming into the room, and I knew we would quickly be surrounded. I decided that I might be there for a while, so I quickly moved to the side to purchase some liquid courage in case we were to be stuck there for a while. Even though I was only gone for 2 minutes by my watch, there were already scores of additional people around Penelope by the time I got back. I choked back my claustrophobia, and dived into the throng of people. I was able to slither past them to get back to Penelope, liquid courage in hand, to resume my duties.

As people continued to fill past, everybody was looking at the stage. Apprehension filled the room. The people in black milling about had a quiet look of indifference as they attended to their tasks. Occasionally one would step up to the various microphones set up at the periphery of the stage and issue terse and cryptic messages ("check 1,2,3") to the screams of the onlookers. I thought to myself that it must be some sort of hidden message. A call to the faithful.

Then the lights went dark, and a even larger scream erupted from the crowd.

Strange men appeared on stage and picked up musical instruments, and then, a true siren appeared from behind a curtain. She was young, lithe, fit, who walked on her tiptoes like a dancer. Her face looked to be that of an teenager, but the body was that of a playboy bunny. Her eyes glittered as they glided over the crowd and she began to dance and sing. I felt the energy of her washing over me and being drawn into her siren song. A quick glare from Penelope made me realize the error of my ways, and I quickly went back to the mission at hand. The crowd around me seemed interested in the woman, occasionally shouting instructions to her, such as , "Breathe!," but they seemed to have their mind on something else.

After 40 minutes or so she had finished her efforts, and the men in black reappeared. The group rearranged the various boxes, instruments, microphones, etc on the stage. I heard snippets of conversations among the women (and a few men) around me. Things like, "I post under 'Got_RT_Love'" and, "'I wanted to watch it, but my husband erased the DVR I had of it, I could have killed him'." It was a strange language and all the more cryptic by their zeal as they spoke in hurried tones. I heard mention of something like "Sexy Rob shots," but I'm unsure I heard it right. 30 short minutes later the lights went off again and the place erupted in a cacophony of noise. Middle aged women around me were screaming as if they were pre-teens.

And then he appeared. He cavorted around the stage talking with the various musicians with him. Every time he had his back to the crowd it would erupt in screams, as if they wanted him to face them and deliver his message to them personally. Either that or they liked the way he shook his ass.

The crowd seemed especially lively any time he uttered a curse word, with the screams erupting as if on cue with just the first syllable of the F-word. He attempted to exhort to the crowd that he was a mere mortal, but judging from the faces of the group around me, they weren't buying it. They hung on every word, every syllable, every gyration of his hips.

For 2 hours the place swayed and jumped and moved. I feared for Penelope at various times during the night as her face had become a glassy stare. I figured she was going into a trance in order to not become overcome by the psychic energy this messianic figure was obviously delivering to the crowd.

I blacked out at some point, the pain in my legs from standing in one place too long. When I awoke, I was back at the hotel we were using as a safehouse. Unfortunately, there was some sort of teenage convention going on nearby and the place was overrun with what appeared to be agents in pink frilly dresses and diamond tiara's. I quickly scanned each figure up and down to try and determine if any of them were armed. I wasn't sure if this group was somehow involved with the previous group, but I wasn't going to take any chances. Penelope glared at me with a look that she was having none of it, and quickly grabbed me and squeezed us onto an elevator.

In the morning, I drove back to St. Louis at breakneck speed, sure that we were being followed. I stopped for fuel and a beverage, and when I returned Penelope was no longer in the car. I searched all over for her, but there was no evidence of her presence. She had simply vanished. I surely didn't dally in a vain search though. Better to get back to HQ to issue this report.

I think about her now, is she trapped with the pink frillies? Do they have her tied down while they fit her with some diamond crown torture device? Or in the RT cult group in a music inducded coma at some undisclosed location? One thing I am sure of, she will come out ok. Penelope can hold her own with the best of them.

Your Co-Conspirator,
ARC: Brian

Comments (3)
Monterey John said...

I'm sitting here in a puddle of my own sweat after reading your harrowing account.

And you did this unarmed?

Your Silver Star has been authorized by The Boss.

Brian said...

I still wake up with night sweats.... with some sort of chant going on in the back of my head....

"This is how a heart breaks..."


Monterey John said...

Pass the valium!