zero hour

The Incorrigible Mr. Zeppo's Reign Of Terror (IV)

Part 1 / Chapter 1 / Scene 4

Establishing shot- Fly over of The Pentagon in Langley, Virginia.

[Text in the lower left corner of the screen- The Pentagon, Langley Virginia]
[Music: a spoof mash up in the style of Mission Impossible, James Bond, Jason Borne series]

Zooming into and through various hallways and layers of the maze-like building commonly known as the Pentagon, until we arrive at imposing double doors of the Office of Director of National Security Investigations. A brief pause, and then we zoom in through the doors, rejoining the conversation where we left off in the last scene.

Dir: Ok... Everyone, back the fuck up and explain to me what's been going for the past week and a half.... NOW!!!

None of them responded to the Director's invitation. They all sat, pensive, and not entirely sure of how to start, or where to begin. The prolonged silence was clearly irritating the Director, who was not accustomed to being cut out of the loop on anything going on in his own agency. He stared them down, giving them his best 'professional intimidation scowl'. The three agents looked at each other, as if each expected the others to take the lead on this explanation.

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Now... this may be, how ever awkward it may seem, a good moment to pause... and share with you some back story on each of these individuals. You see, while none of them had ever met each other before the recent course of events revolving around the Snyder brothers had drawn them all together, and despite the fact that none of them knew it- they had each already crossed paths with me once before. In Agent Lana's case, multiple times, over the course of three very interesting weeks.

But let's begin with the Director. Though he does not remember it at all, he and I met briefly, back in 1999. Back then, he was just a mid-level field agent at a different agency. This was before the various security agencies were all bundled together under one umbrella. Agent Richard A. Priggy, was at fundraiser for the Clinton Foundation, hosted by the First Lady herself! This was quite a lavish event, which was being held at delightfully exclusive and luxurious hotel that my family just so happens to own. At that time, Agent Priggy was just beginning to work his way up the ranks in the security community, and had been posted in plain clothes at the fund raiser for "observational purposes". Bored by the key-note speaker, he situated himself for 'observating' as he called it, at the open bar in the lounge adjacent the ballroom where the funds were being raised. To his credit, he had found the perfect spot that afforded him a strategically sound view of the important people in attendance. I was there purely on a lark, having been curious about the Foundation and it's agenda, and coincidentally was in town at the time. Luckily neither the bartender, nor any of the wait staff working the event were familiar with me at all, thus, I was free to putter about the place like any other invited guest and not be called out on the fact that I was son of the hotel's owner.

Agent Priggy's preferred poison was (and still is) 12 year old single malt Scotch, which the hotel kept several different labels of in stock at all times because the owner was also a huge fan. He repeatedly called it 'the drink for a real man's man'...whatever that was supposed to mean. Agent Priggy's deep dark secret, I found out during the course of the evening, was (and still is) under-aged old boys... or extremely young and androgynous looking professional ladies of the night, dressed up as under-aged boys, which he would often resort to when he could not get his dirty little hands on the genuine article. Needles to say, Director Priggy is not a decent human being, by any stretch of the imagination.

Although I was not quite as young as he would normally have preferred, being a baby faced 23 at the time, he did indeed take quite the fancy to me that evening. The fact of which he announced in no uncertain terms after our fifth round of scotch, which we were enjoying later that evening, at the executive rooftop lounge of my family's hotel. It would be exaggerating to say that he made a pass at me.... but it was painfully obvious by that that fifth round, that he enjoyed taking in and admiring my youthful appearance quite a bit. Nothing inappropriate happened, but he did open up to me conversationally speaking. I do believe that in his mind- we "bonded". I was simply taking notes of his many character flaws, for future reference. After failing to talk me into joining him in his suite on the second to top floor for a sixth round of scotch on the rocks with a twist of lime, Agent Priggy promptly passed out in his seat, half full drink still in his hand. It was his good fortune that at the time, I was not inclined to take advantage of his debaucherous and lecherous state, and instead discreetly arranged for hotel staff to deliver him to his suite.