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Meth Lab Fuck Down


whthole4u

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Meth Lab Fuck Down: My phone buzzed. This was the text I had been waiting for. Tonight would be my big break. Had I crossed a few lines to get here? Yeah, sure, but once I made the takedown of the biggest meth cooker in the Mid-Atlantic region, no one would give a shit about that - if they even ever found out. I was careful, wicked careful, and knew how to cover my tracks. Fuck I learned from the best. My dad, one of my uncles and the guy next door were all Drug Enforcement Agents (DEA) and growing up that’s all I ever wanted to be. It was my destiny. Tonight was destiny too and in addition to making my career it would give me the way to get Chris out of the cluster fuck of a life he had made for himself. Chris was the son of the DEA agent who lived next door to us when I was a kid, and my best friend. All my childhood memories involved Chris and because his dad and mine were often gone, Chris was at my house more than he was at his. We were inseparable and when we became teens we learned the ins and outs of life together - always together - that is until he got caught up in drugs. Finding Chris on the back porch lying on his side, drooling, doped out, and a fucking mess broke my heart and no matter what I did or said, Chris would never stay clean for long. After graduation, for our 18th birthdays, we went camping and the tent had barely been set up before Chris had shot up, or snorted up, and was high as shit. Well that just pissed me off so when it came time to crash and time for us to fuck I was not gentle. I fucked him as hard as I could and let out all my anger, frustration, and disappointment into his ass - along with two huge loads of cum. Chris took it all and begged for more and that’s how we spent our camping trip, with him high and me fucking the hell out of him over and over.

 

Not much has changed the past several years. I went to college, got my degree, and followed my dad into the DEA. Chris continued to get deeper and deeper into drugs; his dad kicked him out; but I still looked out for him. I always made sure he had a spot at my place to crash, food, a little cash and in return I fucked him. Hard and rough and raw. I didn’t know if Chris fucked with other guys or not. I didn’t. Never even considered it, but with Chris it was the way things were. Did I ever feel guilty about it when he was fucked up? No. I had dealt with that stupid shit that first night. It just was. We both enjoyed it and in the midst of all the crazy shit it felt normal. Of course Chris was always grateful for the food and place to crash and kept promising he would pay me back, but until then, his ass was mine. My phone buzzed again. It was Chris.

“DEAL’S GOING DOWN TONIGHT BY THE OLD PIER. MEET ME THERE AT 11:00.”

My heart raced. Chris was my CI - my Confidential Informant. He had admitted one night he had gotten mixed up with a guy named Hawk, who I knew from my DEA briefings was reportedly the biggest meth cooker in the entire region. Every time I had Chris on his stomach and was fucking the shit out of him, I pumped him for info too. What was Hawk’s real name? Where did he hang? Who were his guys? Who did he sell to? And more. Chris seemed to be willing to talk, and even more willing when I would hand over a baggy of powder or a few needles filled with dope. I cared about Chris sure, but knew he was going to get fucked up no matter what, so why not help him out and help me too? He was always chatty when he was high and plus I loved feeling his ass open up for me and milk my cum out. There was nothing better than fucking his ass when he was high out of his God damned mind. His hole was wet, silky, and just sucked my dick and cum. Maybe it was seeing what drugs had done to Chris and his family is why I had never tried them. Yeah I was around the shit all the time, but had never been tempted, not even when Chris would leave shit laying around. Just wasn’t me.

 

At 8:45 p.m. I was down at the old pier, peering between a rusted dumpster and the chimney of an old factory. Chris had told me before that he often did pickups for Hawk where he would deliver Hawk’s meth to someone and then meet Hawk at some out of the way place to give him the cash. During one night when Chris was super high and I had already pumped a load into him, he confessed that he had lied and that he always met Hawk at the place where he cooked the meth. I couldn’t fucking believe it! Instead of being angry I gave Chris a reward - another nut sack full of cum in his punk hole and that’s when he agreed to text me when the next deal went down. A light rain had begun to fall, but that was OK. I had on my DEA windbreaker; my gun was still in my holster, and my phone in my hand so I could quickly call in backup. Chris said it was only ever him and Hawk and no one else. Yet, just in case, I wanted to be prepared. However my plan was take Hawk myself. I needed this. Over the past few hours I had seen only one person go in the door - the man I assumed was Hawk - my prey.

 

My watch showed 11:01. I heard a cough and saw Chris ambling down the alley towards a dimly lit door. He had on the same white shirt he was wearing two days ago when I last fucked him. I had tried to get him to spend the night after I bred him, but he was too wired and bolted as soon as I was done. Chris had flipped up the collar on his shirt I guess in an effort to try to stay dry. Little good that did. It just made him look like some cartoon character - all skin, bones, a head too big for his long limbs. He stopped at the door, knocked, waited, the door opened, Chris said something, then started to walk inside the old factory. My breath caught in my throat. Chris stopped, quickly glanced side to side and behind himself, then bent down like he was tying his shoe. That’s when he was supposed to stuff a wad of paper towel into the door latch hole so that the door would not click shut behind him. I waited until my watch said 11:09. I scanned the alley and confirmed no one was around. My cold, wet fingers found the snap on my holster and with a small click, I released it and eased my gun out. One more check to confirm I was alone and I quickly slid along the brick wall to the factory door Chris had gone in. At the door I paused, waited, listened. I never questioned that Chris would not have done what I had asked. I never even considered the idea that he might have betrayed me. I should have.

 

The factory door eased open on well-oiled hinges. I quickly stepped inside out of the casting of the light. I let my eyes adjust to the darker interior as I tried to calm my breathing and steady my hand. This was it. I replayed in my mind the various scenarios I expected and in each and every one I knew I would have Hawk in handcuffs very soon. I eased my way to the right, following the rough outline of the exterior wall. I heard no voices, saw no movement, but wanted to be sure. The darkness embraced me as I moved, silent, and sure. I continued to edge my way around the outer wall until I came to a cut in - a long, dark hallway with a faint light at the end and the distant echo of voices. I checked around me once more - all was still and silent. I crept down the hall, the light grew brighter. A door was open, an angry voice was saying, “YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU WHEN YOU TRY TO STEAL FROM ME?” I quickly peered through the crack and saw Chris on his knees and a big man - Hawk - standing over him. Compared to Chris, Hawk was a fucking monster. A good foot taller, a good 100 pounds heavier, and all the Aryan tattoos on his forehead and arms only added to the sinister monster look. Yeah this asshole was going down and Chris would be forever grateful. I eased my boot onto the edge of the door and gently pulled my foot back, slowly, to give myself enough space to slip into the room and take Hawk by surprise.

 

BAM! MY WORLD WENT DARK. I winced trying to decide which was worse: the splitting pain at the back of my skull or the slicing pain in my wrists. I moaned. I eased my eyes open and turned my head, which caused a new round of nausea and pain. My wrists were handcuffed and a large chain was threaded between them and connected to a pulley that dangled from the ceiling. I had been stripped naked and was hanging from the chain with my feet barely touching the floor. I assumed from the hot wetness still trickling down my neck that I had been hit and hit hard in the back of the head and that’s what had knocked me out. God damn it! My ears then picked up the moans and groans and sounds of carnal pleasure. I leaned back a little and looked to my right. There was a man - Hawk - naked and fucking Chris who was bent over facing my way. Chris raised his head, closed his eyes and smiled in total fucking ecstasy like he would smile when I had my dick up his ass. He opened his eyes, smirked, closed his eyes again as Hawk hit just the right spot up in his ass, and Chris started bouncing his hips up and down like his hole was in full orgasm. My mouth dropped open. Shit!

 

“GET THE FUCK OFF MY DICK!” Hawk spat as he shoved Chris off his still hard dick. Chris tumbled onto his knees and looked up at Hawk with awe, admiration, and adoration - disgusting! Hawk kicked him in the ribs, “WHAT THE FUCK YOU WAITING FOR? YOU GOT DELIVERIES TO MAKE AND DON’T FUCKING SHOW BACK UP HERE UNTIL I TEXT YOU. NOW GET!” A low growl rumbled in my chest. For Hawk or Chris I don’t know. Clearly I had been set up and clearly Chris was Hawk’s lover or whatever too, but it was the way he treated him. I loved Chris - in my own way - and always did right by him so seeing someone treat him like that just fucking pissed me off. I promised myself right then I would kill Hawk. Fuck the take down! Hawk picked up a plate of crystal meth – bright white lines of powder - that was sitting on the couch and sniffed a few lines using a tattered bill. He wiped his nose, licked his lips, casually sauntered over to me with his monster dick swinging back and forth and when he stopped he said, “WELL, WELL, WELL, AGENT. WE FINALLY MEET AT LAST.” This man - this drug dealer - this filth of humanity that stood before me curled my stomach. I wanted to lash out, but held my tongue as my brain worked to figure a way to escape. Hawk smiled, licked his right index finger, rubbed it around in the plate of white then slid it between the flesh of his gums and lips and hummed as the burning kicked in. His blue eyes flashed open, the pupils distant pricks of black as he eyed me up and down, “YES, I CAN SEE WHY YOUR LITTLE ONE IS SO PROTECTIVE OF YOU - ENAMORED IF YOU WILL. BUT TRULY NOW. YOU AND I BOTH KNOW IT IS NOT REAL. EVEN THE GRATITUDE IS FALSE. YOUR LITTLE ONE IS ONLY A BITCH KIPPE - FAG - FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A MEANS TO AN END. I ON THE OTHER HAND AM THE MASTER. THE SUPERIOR SPECIMEN OF MANHOOD. JUST LOOK AT EVEN HOW MY DICK - STILL SOFT - IS FAR BIGGER THAN YOURS. DO YOU WANT TO FEEL IT? I THINK YOU DO - I THINK YOU MUST!”

 

I twisted and jerked as Hawk stepped behind me. The heat from his body like a hot furnace on a cold winter’s afternoon. I heard the wet slurp of his mouth, then the piercing press of a pointed finger and nail at my sphincter. I tried to adjust my footing but the give of the chain snapped back, sending me onto his coated dart, “YES, SEE? YOU WILL LEARN WHY YOUR LITTLE ONE BEGS FOR MY DICK - BEGS FOR THE FEEL OF MY FORESKIN SLIDING BACK AS I POUND HIS ASS - BEGS FOR ME TO POZ HIS HOLE AND FILL HIM UP WITH MY AIDS. FRANKLY I AM SURPRISED YOU HAVE NOT TESTED POZ YET, BUT MAYBE BECAUSE YOU ARE ON PREP? OR JUST MAYBE BECAUSE YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A TOP? WELL, WE SHALL TAKE CARE OF THAT.” The clear toll of porcelain on concrete, and the pause of his finger assault on my ass, let me know he had set the plate of drugs on the floor. I wanted to beg and plead for him to stop. To tell him I never did drugs. To scream that I was not a bottom and didn’t get fucked. To tell him I was there only for Chris. All plans for trying to talk my way out of it quickly vanished though. My body arched, my veins pumped my blood faster and faster as my heart raced, my skin was scored bloody as Hawk aggressively pushed his dick into my drug coated ass hole. “OH YES AGENT! THAT ASS IS MUCH TIGHTER THAN YOUR LITTLE ONE’S. YOU ENJOY FUCKING HIM DON’T YOU? NOW AGENT, I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE A DRUGGED UP CUMP DUMP. YOU SHOULD BE HONORED. I HAVE COATED YOUR ASS WITH MY LATEST COOK - MY BEST PRODUCT SO FAR AND TOGETHER WE WILL ENJOY THE RUSH! AND AFTER - WELL AFTER WE SHALL SEE….”

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

 

 

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Part 2: Hawk aggressively pushed his dick into my drug coated ass hole. “OH YES AGENT! THAT ASS IS MUCH TIGHTER THAN YOUR LITTLE ONE’S. YOU ENJOY FUCKING HIM DON’T YOU? NOW AGENT, I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE A DRUGGED UP CUMP DUMP. YOU SHOULD BE HONORED. I HAVE COATED YOUR ASS WITH MY LATEST COOK - MY BEST PRODUCT SO FAR AND TOGETHER WE WILL ENJOY THE RUSH! AND AFTER - WELL AFTER WE SHALL SEE….” My plan to take down the biggest meth cook in the region had failed miserably. My career in the DEA was over! Not only was I chained, naked, in some warehouse but my best friend and fuck buddy Chris had betrayed me and set me up. All future regret and assessment of what had gone wrong were pushed aside as a fresh wave of drug high crashed over me and a new round of searing pain tore through me as Hawk pushed his raw, Aryan dick inside my previously unfucked hole. “YOUR LITTLE ONE WAS RIGHT ABOUT ONE THING AGENT,” Hawk said, “HE SAID YOU NEVER GOT FUCKED. OF COURSE I DIDN’T BELIEVE HIM, BUT LOOK - HERE IS THE PROOF - I HAVE POPPED YOUR CHERRY GOOD. PERFECT! I LOVE NOTHING MORE THAN CONVERTING A NEG BOTTOM AND FILLING THEM WITH MY MUTANT AIDS CUM. YOU KNOW METH DOES THAT RIGHT? IT MUTATES THE VIRUS AND METH AND LIQUOR ARE MY TWO MAIN FOOD GROUPS - ALONG WITH RAW ASS - OK SO THREE FOOD GROUPS. MY POINT AGENT IS THAT IT IS OK TO SCREAM, TO EMBRACE THE PAIN AND FRUSTRATION YOU ARE FEELING, TO FIGHT BACK. IT WON’T DO YOU ANY GOOD OF COURSE. IT’S FAR TOO LATE AGENT - OH YES FAR TOO LATE. YOU FEEL THAT AGENT? THAT’S MY DICK PUMPING YOUR ASS FULL OF MY SPERM. PUSHING IT INTO EVERY RIP IN YOUR ANAL WALL - CREATING MY OWN 4TH REICH OF CUM DUMP FAGGOTS WHO I BRAND WITH MY SUPERIOR DNA. YES - TAKE IT AGENT - TAKE IT ALL!!”

 

I looked down to see Hawk’s fingernails embedded deep into the flesh around my waist, small trickles of red creating meandering streams down my thighs as he dug as hard as he could while cumming inside me. I had to bite my tongue in order not to scream from the burning pain in my ass as he fucked me and bred my hole. I would not give this filth the satisfaction. The brutal pummeling paused like the final throes of battle before an armistice and I heaved a sigh of relief. The meth lord just laughed, “WHAT? YOU THINK I AM DONE? FUCK NO! WE HAVE JUST GOTTEN STARTED. I’M A POZ FUCK BREEDER AND CAN SEED THAT ASS OVER AND OVER. THERE IS NO END AGENT. NO SOLUTION TO YOUR CURRENT PREDICAMENT EXCEPT DOING WHAT I SAY, WHEN I SAY, HOW I SAY. RIGHT NOW, WHAT I SAY IS THAT I AM PACKING THAT SHIT CHUTE LIKE A COLOMBIAN MULE THEN RIDING YOU HARD AND PUTTING YOU AWAY WET. YOU READY TO GET SO FUCKING HIGH YOU CANNOT SAY YOUR A,B,Cs? I MIGHT CONSIDER STOPPING IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING BETTER TO OFFER ME AGENT? DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING BETTER? MAYBE THE LIFE OF YOUR LITTLE ONE? YOUR FRIEND? YOUR LOVER? OH YOU WANT TO SAVE HIM? REALLY? ARE YOU THAT FUCKING STUPID AGENT? YOU KNOW THIS WAS ALL HIS DOING. HE HAD A SIMPLE CHOICE. I’D CUT HIS HANDS OFF FOR STEALING FROM ME OR HE COULD OFFER ME SOMETHING BETTER. SO HERE WE ARE AGENT - YOU ARE THE SOMETHING BETTER AND HE GETS TO KEEP HIS LITTLE FAG HANDS ATTACHED - FOR NOW.”

 

My body shook as Hawk finger fucked me rough, hard, and burrowed trails of meth into my anal lining. I was gasping and drooling like some tweaked out idiot and wanted to just grab my head to try to slow down my thoughts. The handcuffs and chain made that impossible and when the meth cooker shoved his raw dick back up my dry, scabbed hole I barely flinched. Another Aryan load up my ass later and the chain was loosened from the ceiling and I crumpled to the floor. My legs burned, my body was on fire. Was that his AIDs virus of the drugs? The skin on my knees was ripped off entirely as Hawk looped the long chain around his forearm and dragged me behind him like a Sultan’s concubine. I managed to get my feet under me enough to stumble along after him. The hallway swayed back and forth with every step. Hawk stopped, my head was hit hard, I crumpled to the old factory floor as toxic rain poured from the heavens. “FEEL THAT?  SMELL THAT? THAT IS GOOD CHEM PISS RIGHT THERE. THAT’S HOW WORTHLESS YOU ARE AGENT - JUST A FUCK PUPPET FOR MY DICK, POZ LOAD, AND A URINAL FOR MY BODILY WASTE. OPEN THAT MOUTH - I SAID FUCKING OPEN IT! GAG ON THAT PISS AGENT - SWALLOW MY SALTY FLUID. YOU ARE MINE NOW - BODY, SOUL, LIFE. ALL MINE. DON’T WORRY. I BOTTLE MY PISS. CHEM MICRO-BREW. EVERY OUNCE I PISS OUT WILL GO INSIDE YOU FROM NOW ON ONE WAY OR THE OTHER.”

 

The pores on my skin opened to allow his Periodic Table of bodily fluids to seep inside me. Hawk was still naked as he dragged me onward. We approached a large, steel door that was guarded by two men in ski masks both dressed in black and holding automatic weapons. Fuck! What had I been thinking? There was no way I could have taken these guys on alone. The door was pulled back, bright fluorescent lights burned my retinas as Hawk dragged me inside, pushed me face first against a steel column, and casually wound the chain between wrists and around the steel. The meth cooker walked over to a large, plexiglass clean room that took up most of the interior of the warehouse space we were in. He hit the intercom, the light turned orange, and as he casually began to put on latex gloves he addressed the dozen or so workers inside - all of whom were men, and all of whom were naked except for their white underwear and face masks.  “LISTEN UP FOLKS!” Hawk yelled, “THIS HERE IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND. MR. DEA AGENT. NOW YOU MAY BE WONDERING WHY I BROUGHT HIM IN HERE - RIGHT IN THE FUCKING MIDDLE OF MY COOK - RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF MY FUCKING PACKING AND SHIPPING LINE. WELL, MR. DEA AGENT HERE NEEDS TO UNDERSTAND JUST HOW FUCKING TINY AND HELPLESS HE IS. NOW SOME OF YOU KNOW I HAVE A DICK THAT CAN BUST YOUR ASS WIDE OPEN. WELL I JUST PLANTED TWO HOT LOADS - HEAR ME - TWO FUCKING LOADS UP THIS DEA AGENT’S ASS. I POPPED HIS CHERRY GOOD. NOW AS A TOKEN OF MY APPRECIATION I WILL LEAVE HIM HERE FOR A WHILE. LET HIM STEW IN MY JUICES AND OF COURSE, LET HIM TAKE WHATEVER DICK ANY OF YOU FUCKERS WANT TO STICK UP HIS ASS. YOU HEAR ME? WHEN I COME BACK I EXPECT TO SEE HIS CHEEKS COVERED WITH SO MUCH POWDER I’LL THINK WE’RE IN THE ALPS AND I ALSO EXPECT - NOW PAY FUCKING CLOSE ATTENTION - I WILL ALSO EXPECT TO SEE PROOF THAT HIS ASS HAS BEEN FUCKED AND BRED BY YOUR RAW DICKS.”

 

I watched as Hawk walked past me towards another door that was guarded by two more men with guns. He paused, pulled an industrial apron off a wall hook, slipped it over his head, then gave me wave and said, “KEEP THAT ASS FILLED AND WET FOR ME MR. DEA AGENT. I’LL BE BACK AS SOON AS I COMPLETE THIS COOK AND THEN YOU AND I SHALL DISCUSS OUR FUTURE.”

 

Stay Tuned for Part 3

 

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

 

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Part 3: I watched as Hawk - the biggest meth cook in the region - walked past me towards a door that was guarded by two more men with guns. He paused, pulled an industrial apron off a wall hook, slipped it over his head, then gave me a wave and said, “KEEP THAT ASS FILLED AND WET FOR ME MR. DEA AGENT. I’LL BE BACK AS SOON AS I COMPLETE THIS COOK AND THEN YOU AND I SHALL DISCUSS OUR FUTURE.” I yanked on the chain that was looped between my wrists, attaching me to the steel column. As I watched Hawk leave - his Aryan dick making a large tent in the front of the industrial apron - I heard voices behind me and twisted my neck to see that a couple of his workers from the packing room had come out. They were standing by a metal table as they took off the masks they were wearing and leered at me with twisted smiles. One of them grabbed a mirror off the table, spilled a bunch of meth onto it, cut it in course lines with a razor, then the three of them walked my way. The largest man in the group, who looked like he could be a twin for Hawk down to the Aryan styled tatts, coated two fingers and started to roughly paint my broken hole with them. Tears filled the corners of my eyes as his buddies urged him to show me how a DEA bitch got fucked. First, he decided to tongue me and taste the mix of Hawk’s cum, popped cherry, and the new batch of meth. I let him get his tongue good and deep, then jerked, twisted, and brought up my right heel - BAM! I caught him square in the jaw! He fell back, swearing. One of the other guys stepped in to body press me against the column - BAM! I snapped my head back, caught him right on the bridge of the nose - it cracked like a chicken wing bone, blood gushed - and he let go. The third guy was much wiser and just punched me in the left kidney. My turn to drop, but the pain was worth it.

 

My victory was short lived of course since I was still chained up and the little scuffle drew the attention of the guards and the other men from the packing room. I tried to kick, punch, and use my head and body; all to no avail as I was quickly overpowered, held down, and my ass stuffed with big meth shards. It was like the guy had on a metal cock sheath when he slammed into my ass as all the meth shards cut, scraped, and gouged my guts. All I could see was a sliver of light underneath the black boot that was stepping on the side of my face, pinning my head to the floor as the men now took turns raw dogging me. I thought back to the times I had fucked Chris rough, raw, and hard and had the briefest moment of regret. Fuck that! The little shit had sold me out. He would get his too. Maybe there was nothing I could do right now, but there was always a way. The meth began to dissolve, my blood stream boiled and roiled, and my fuck hole was flooded with more Aryan cum. All other thoughts of anything besides that exact second slipped through my fingers like a greased pig. They could take my body, use my flesh as they wanted, but there was still a part of me no matter how fucked up I got that was mine alone. “AH, LOOK AT THAT,” Hawk admired as he stood over me, the shadow of his hard dick acting like a sun dial on my torso, “I AM DISAPOINTED AGENT THAT YOU WOULD TRY SOMETHING SO STUPID. YOU ARE A SMART MAN, VERY SMART, AND THAT IS ONE OF THE REASONS I HAVE CHOSEN YOU. SO, LET’S JUST CALL IT A MOMENTARY LAPSE IN JUDGMENT SHALL WE? YES? NOW BOYS, IF YOU CAN SIT HIM UP IN THE CHAIR PLEASE AND MAKE SURE THE CHAINS ARE TIGHT. I WOULD HATE TO HAVE TO END THIS DISCUSSION BEFORE IT EVEN BEGAN.” I was hauled up onto my feet, dragged off to the side and plopped down into a metal chair. Chains were wrapped around my ankles and the chair legs as my arms were pulled behind me and chained through the back of the chair. Hawk was standing right in front of me, his dick wet, slick, and forming drops of dew on the tip. I licked my lips and Hawk laughed, “OH YES AGENT. THE SEED HAD BEEN PLANTED SO TO SPEAK. I WILL CONTINUE TO TRAIN YOU IN ALL THE WAYS A GOOD AIDS PIG SHOULD PLEASE HIS BRUDER MASTER. NOW AGENT - REMEMBER I ASKED IF YOU HAD SOMETHING TO OFFER ME? I KNOW YOU HAVE THOUGHT ON THIS LONG AND HARD OF COURSE, BUT I SHALL TELL YOU ANYWAYS. I WILL SPARE YOUR LITTLE ONE, YOUR LITTLE FRIEND FOR NOW. HE HAS HIS USES FOR THE MOMENT AS I BELIEVE YOU HAVE YOUR USES AS WELL.”

 

I snarled, sneered, and did my best to heave a wad of spit at him, but all that happened was a large dribble running down my chin and onto my chest. Hawk laughed. “AGENT, AGENT, AGENT. I LIKE THAT FIRE. THAT SPUNK. BUT LET ME WARN YOU. DO SOMETHING STUPID LIKE THAT AGAIN AND YOU WILL PAY DEARLY. NOT DIRECTLY OF COURSE. LET ME RECALL. I BELIEVE YOUR FATHER IS ENJOYING HIS RETIREMENT FROM THE DEA AND PLAYS GOLF EVERY TUESDAY MORNING? YOUR MOTHER MEETS HER FRIENDS FOR CARDS ON THURSDAY NIGHTS? IT WOULD BE A SHAME IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO THEM BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPIDITY WOULD IT NOT?” Hawk then bent down and grabbed my chin hard with his right hand and squeezed as he looked me in the eye, “YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED AGENT. MY MEN WATCH THEM. THEY WATCH YOU. I HAVE PEOPLE INSIDE YOUR LIFE, YOUR WORK, YOUR WORLD YOU CANNOT IMAGINE. YOU TRY ANYTHING - ANYTHING AT FUCKING ALL BESIDES WHAT I TELL YOU AND YOUR FAMILY PAYS THE PRICE - AS WILL YOU AND EVERYONE YOU FUCKING KNOW. HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR? I CANNOT HEAR YOU - ANSWER ME - HAVE I? GOOD AGENT. GOOD. NOW TO THE BUSINESS AT HAND. Hawk laid out his initial demands for me. This would be a test of my ability to do what he needed, when he said, and of keeping my mouth shut. He warned me again of what would happen if I thought of trying to report this shakedown or what he was asking me to do and I agreed I would do what he said. Inside I still knew I was going to kill the mother fucker some day. Just not today. Once he was assured of my compliancy I was dragged to another room, Hawk wound a length of chain around my neck and pulled tight as he mounted me again like some filthy barnyard animal. The meth high was still going, but the pain was sharp, and his words stung as deep as his dick did. He told me over and over what a fag whore I was, how he was going to kill me one way or the other from his AIDs, and that I might as well embrace my new life and embrace being a POZ cum dump for him and his crew and that who knew - if I played my cards right I could move up in his organization. Oh I would move up all right, higher than he would imagine only so I could tear the whole fucking thing down!

 

Before Hawk left the room he handed me a plastic bottle full of golden brown liquid. It was warm and he said, “I TOLD YOU I WOULD FILL YOU WITH MY PISS. NOW DRINK UP AGENT. I CAN’T HAVE YOU GETTING THE SHAKES AT MORNING ROLL CALL. THIS WILL GET YOU THROUGH THE FIRST COUPLE OF HOURS AS A BOTTLE OF MY CHEM PISS IS LIKE A FEW GOOD LINES OF MY COOK. BUT, IF YOU LOOK LIKE YOU ARE BEHAVING, THERE WILL BE SOMETHING ELSE LEFT IN YOUR LOCKER.” I gagged, sputtered, and fought to keep from puking it all back up as Hawk videoed me with his phone. I licked my lips; he smiled, and left the room. With Hawk’s Aryan cum leaking out of my ass and his warm piss filling my stomach I was left alone. The door opened, Chris walked in, looked at me, looked away, mumbled, “I’m sorry dude….I…” then looked at me again as tears cascaded down his cheeks. He stepped closer, pleading like the traitorous bitch that he was. I wanted nothing more right then than to kick the living shit out of him. To ask him why, to tell him he could have come to me, to remind him of how I was the only one who had ever been there for him, to say to him that I loved….No. Too late. I would use Chris too when the time came. Hawk was right. Chris had his uses and he would pay - they would all pay - but for now I just smiled and said, “It’s OK buddy. I get it. I do. As long as hey don’t hurt you I will do anything.” Fucking little shit hole!  My clothes were brought in, I was uncuffed, unchained, and followed a big, masked guard back out through a maze of halls. We came to a locked door with a digital keypad and I tried to focus on the numbers he punched, but my mind would not cooperate. The morning air felt heavy, oppressive, the world had changed. My hand shook as I inserted the key into my car and was amazed I made it home without wrecking. I was wired, but had to focus. Roll call was in 2 hours. I quickly showered, downed some coffee, ate some toast even though I was not hungry, and poured about a half a bottle of Visine in my eyes. I got to my desk at 7:50, logged in, hunched over to try to make myself look small and punched in Hawk’s first request. He wanted me to pull the latest intel that the DEA had on one of his competitors - safe houses, likely meth lab locations, dealer names, everything. I hit PRINT, walked overly fast to the business center and hovered over the printer as page after page of DEA intel spit out. I was tapping my fingers on the edge of the printer like a drummer in a metal band. FUCK! Once the final page cleared the paper tray, I scooped them up, looked around, rolled them into a small tube and stuffed them in the back of my pants under my windbreaker. I hustled to my locker, avoiding a few of the chatty folks on the way, hid the papers inside a pile of dirty cloths at the bottom, slammed the door, and was the next to the last person in the briefing room for roll call.

 

I was the first out the door once the briefing was over and went right back to my locker. I flung the door open and it banged. I eased it semi-closed and there taped to the top shelf was a small brown envelope stamped with an Aryan eagle symbol. I opened the tab and inside was a plastic bag stuffed with meth. Shit! Someone not only brought drugs in, they had the key to my locker. I stuffed the baggie in my pocket and went to the handicap restroom. I tried to figure out how to crush and snort the shards and realized I was not at all prepared for this shit. I thought about stomping on it then just said fuck it, licked my finger, and started jamming them up my ass. The first few hurt like hell, but I figured this was the best way to be rid of any evidence and I knew from the night before it would work. The last thing I needed was falling out in the middle of the DEA from crashing off a meth high. My mind and body were racing as I sat back at my desk. Fuck if I was going to pull this off I had to learn how to manage this shit. I was lost in thought, tapping my desk with a pen living in my drummer dream when one of my co-workers stopped, “You OK man? You look wired? Is everything alright?” I stammered, “Yeah, yeah, thanks, just a buddy of mine. He’s um going through a rough breakup, late night, WAY too much fucking coffee this morning.” In sympathy my co-worker raised his coffee cup in salute and kept on going. Jesus. Time for the hard part. I slipped my DEA windbreaker back on, grabbed the papers from my locker, and took the stairs down three floors to the basement to the Evidence Locker. You might think that in today’s world, evidence we collect is all locked up, catalogued, tracked, and safe and sound. The reality is that pretty much anyone in the building can fucking walk into the evidence room, that there are boxes of drugs, money, guns and other shit that have been set on a bunch of old shelves and forgotten about for years, and that our ‘catalogue’ system is still a manual process of forms, triplicate forms, and more forms, which are then stacked in a box and collected once every couple of weeks before they are mailed - yes mailed - off to a regional office where they get entered into a computer system. That creates a window and while once in a blue moon you would hear a rumor about something going missing, generally it was just misplaced. Yet, Hawk knew all this and more and my next task was very specific.

 

I glanced down the hall and paused to listen over the thumping cadence of my heartbeat. I didn’t have to worry about cameras down here. Budget cuts and IT cluster fuck and all so none of them worked. Now that I was actually doing this I wondered why more shit didn’t go missing? Fuck. I hustled over to the counter where the box of intake forms was and fingered through the pile. I found the one Hawk had told me to get, ran around the corner to a shelf and started scanning for the evidence with the correlating number, no..no...no..no..there is - fuck someone is coming! I eased back into the aisle and quickly stuffed the slip in my pants pocket. Two of my fellow agents were laughing, chatting, and taking their sweet old time. One was dropping something off and mentioned, he would come back later after lunch to box the shit. I peeked around the shelf. Coast was clear. Back to the box. I opened the lid, reached inside and pulled out the plastic evidence bag. It contained several dozen bags of meth all stamped with the Aryan eagle symbol and a small caliber handgun. I unbuttoned my shirt, put the bag of evidence next to my chest, buttoned back up, zipped my coat and put the lid back on the box. I started to step away, then paused, looked at the label on the end of the box, stepped back, and using my fingernail teased the label corner up and SLOWLY peeled the label off. There. No ticket. No label. Just an empty box. Back upstairs I headed towards the back door and almost made it when Paulie grabbed my arm, “Where you going in such a rush man? Got that BIG BREAK? HA! You crack me up. Just like your old man. But seriously. Me and Patty are planning a barbecue on Sunday and….what... yeah sure, will email you the info. AND HEY - ASK YOUR MOM TO MAKE SOME OF THAT MACARONI SALAD OF HERS. YOU CAN’T COOK FOR SHIT BUT HER STUFF IS GOOD. SEE YOU SUNDAY!” Fuck. Luckily I had my shades on and Paulie was not the brightest crayon in the box so I got lucky. I knew now though luck would not get me through this. I had to get smarter, but right now I had to get to my place. I pulled into the space behind my building, took the back steps two at a time, tossed my shades onto the kitchen counter, locked the door, and slumped against the wall. Fuck Christ I did it. I actually did it. I stole from the DEA.

 

“CONGRATULATIONS AGENT,” Hawk said as he filled the doorway between my kitchen and living room. He stepped in followed by two masked men both holding guns. “I SEE YOU DIDN’T GET YOURSELF SHOT OR CAUGHT. THAT’S ALWAYS A GOOD THING, BUT YOU DO NEED TO WORK ON YOUR NERVOUSNESS. IF ANYONE AT YOUR OFFICE WAS ACTUALLY COMPETENT THEY MIGHT HAVE NOTICED. NOW, I BELIEVE YOU HAVE SOMETHING FOR ME?” My mind raced - fuck he had people watching me at the office? He said he did but I figured that was bullshit. Guess better to learn it for sure now and not later. I unzipped my jacket, pulled out the roll of papers, unbuttoned my shirt and hefted out the evidence bag and set it on the counter. Hawk walked over, inspected the bag and smiled when I handed him the evidence form with the box label stuck to the back of it. Hawk opened the bag, dumped a baggy onto the counter, grabbed a spoon out of a drawer, crushed it up, then sorted it into lines. He pulled a bill out of his pocket, handed it to me and said, “SNORT UP AGENT. YOU WILL FIND THAT SNORTING IT PROVIDES A - SHALL WE SAY DIFFERENT RUSH - THAN STICKING IT UP YOUR ASS. GO ON NOW. MY TURN. AH FUCK YES THAT’S GOOD. VERY GOOD. THIS WAS A TEST BATCH OF A NEW STRAIN OF COOK FOR A SPECIAL CLIENT. I REALLY HATED TO SEE IT LOST BECAUSE SOME DUMB JUNKIE WAS TOO STUPID NOT TO GET CAUGHT. SO HARD TO FIND GOOD HELP THESE DAYS. NOW AGENT, IT’S TIME FOR YOU TO GET OUT OF THOSE CLOTHES. I NEED SOME MORE OF THAT ASS AND YOU NEED TO BE REMINDED OF YOUR ROLE - WHICH IS TO BE MY CUM DUMP - ME AND MY GUY’S THAT IS. THEY MISSED OUT ON THE FUN LAST NIGHT SO I TOLD THEM THEY COULD EACH FUCK YOU TODAY. THEY WILL HELP ME TEACH YOU WELL HOW TO SERVE YOUR ARYAN MASTERS AS WE FILL YOU WITH RAW DICK AND POZ CUM.”

 

I gritted my teeth as Hawk’s dick punctured my rectum and a moan escaped my lips. Fucking drugs! I had to focus. He clearly liked knowing he was inflicting pain. Fine. I would let him think I was suffering as much as he wanted while I still figured out a way to kill the prick. Until then, it was time to take one of the pieces off the board. I just so happened to know a dumb junkie and having him removed from the equation would ease some of the pressure on me. The challenge now was how to get Chris arrested by the local police and locked up for more than a few days without the DEA becoming involved or without it being traced back to me. Hawk grunted as he deposited his cum in my ass and when he did, the seeds of a plan took root.

STAY TUNED FOR PART 4 

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

 

 

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PART 4: I gritted my teeth as Hawk’s dick punctured my rectum and a moan escaped my lips. Fucking drugs! I had to focus. He clearly liked knowing he was inflicting pain. Fine. I would let him think I was suffering as much as he wanted while I figured out a way to kill the prick. Until then, it was time to take one of the pieces off the board. I just so happened to know a dumb junkie and having him removed from the equation would ease some of the pressure on me. The challenge now was how to get Chris arrested by the local police and locked up for more than a few days without the DEA becoming involved or without it being traced back to me. Hawk grunted as he deposited his cum in my ass and when he did, the seeds of a plan took root. Once Hawk and his two Aryan goons had gotten what they needed and given me what they wanted - three raw dicks, three loads of questionable-status cum, a hole full of meth shards, and of course what I had stolen for them from the DEA evidence locker - I was ordered to get back to the DEA office to dig around for more intel for Hawk. He was vague about what intel and I asked, “You said you have other people there. Why can’t they get it?” That got me a good slap and a snarl from Hawk who said, “Like I said agent. You’re a very smart man and so far, you have done O.K. Remember what I said will happen if you don’t cooperate and that goes for asking too damn many fucking questions and not doing what I ask, when I ask. Understand?”

 

I showered, packed something to eat, and took a minute to crush up the baggies of meth Hawk had left. Too late to come off the shit now. I had to play my part, but also be smart about it, so I tucked the baggies into the top of my sock, secure inside my boot, and figured out I could use the small pen flashlight on my key chain as a metal straw to snort it up with when it was twisted apart. I wasn’t worried about being caught. Hell even if I walked close to one of the drug sniffing dogs, every agent in the place would set off his sniffer. We were around drugs all the time. The only other thing that might catch me up would be if we did urine tests, but that process was about as regular and current as the evidence locker - so again no worries. Back at the office I tackled a pile of paperwork on my desk and tried to focus on the task at hand and not how I was going to take down those low life animals. I about pissed myself when Paulie walked by and slammed his hand on my desk then pointed at me with a ‘don’t forget to ask your mom about her macaroni salad’ smile reminder. Yeah that was the last thing I was focused on right then. Then it hit me - was Paulie the one watching me for Hawk? I looked around. It could be any of them really - or none of them. How could I be sure? I couldn’t. I just had to keep my cool, do what he asked, and figure my way out of this. The meth helped me get through the stack of files on my desk in nothing flat. I then walked over to the intake desk and picked up the folder with the latest tips and call info. We would get rotated to that desk once every couple of weeks to review and handle any anonymous tips that had come in about drug dealers, sellers, or whatever. Most of it never panned out, but sometimes it did. Today however I was looking for something I could take to Hawk. I was flipping through the stack and had found a couple of promising items when my phone buzzed. “GET HERE - NOW.” It was Hawk. This time when I approached the warehouse where Hawk and his gang cooked and packaged and distributed their meth, I was clearly expected and being watched as the steel door swung open when I was a few feet away. I was frisked by two of Hawk’s masked, armed guards, who took my gun, my badge, my phone, but let me keep the papers I brought - and my DEA windbreaker.

 

I was surprised again at how large the complex seemed as I was escorted down hallways, up stairs, down stairs, and finally we came to a cool, wet corridor that had water dripping from large, overhead pipes. We entered a door at the end of the hall, and there was Hawk, strutting in all his Aryan self-glory. At least he had on pants, but no shirt and his muscles rippled as he finished wiping the worst of the blood off his hands. He smiled, “Ah agent. Good. You are just in time. I want you to meet my competitor. In truth he used to be my protégé. I gave him everything. Even taught him a few secrets of the cook. But then, he then disappeared. Just poof! Gone. I presumed he was dead. Imagine my surprise when we raided one of the labs from the intel you gave us and voila! He was one of many happy findings today.” Hawk circled the man like he was seeking an as yet unbruised part of skin which to abuse. I clenched my fists and fought the urge to try to kick the shit out of him right then and there. “AGENT - AGENT! NO WORRIES. THE METH HIGH WILL EVEN OUT IN A DAY OR TWO. YOU WILL EITHER LEARN TO MANAGE IT TO BECOME A FUNCTIONAL ADDICT, OR NOT. AND IF NOT...WELL...AS YOU CAN SEE I DO TAKE FAILURE AND BETRAYAL SERIOUSLY,” Hawk said as he stepped right up to me. He then finished his little tantrum with, “I want you to kill him agent. One shot. To the head. Here. You may use your own gun even. There is only one bullet in the chamber so you may be tempted to shoot one of my men - or even me instead - remember all those other lives that will be lost from your foolish action.”

 

I didn’t have to consider my response. “No,” I said. “I won’t do it. I will stick to the deal, but I won’t kill or hurt anyone. You might have people at the DEA, but clearly they are fuck ups or you would not need me. I got you more in a few hours than clearly anyone else has in a long time. I’m more useful to you alive but I won’t do this.” Hawk showed his teeth, his jaw muscles twitched as he controlled his anger. Clearly this was a man who not used to being told no. He then patted me on the arm, “Very well agent. Let’s you and I spend some alone time then.” Escorted to a small room that contained a filthy, used mattress on the floor and which was littered with liquor, drug, and smoke remnants, Hawk took off his pants, spit on his dick, and stroked it to it’s full hardness. “SHOW ME YOUR ASS AGENT. NO LEAVE YOUR JACKET ON. YOU ARE MY DEA BITCH. I TOLD YOU I WOULD MAKE YOU A CUM DUMP - MY AIDS FAGGOT - BUT FIRST LET ME SEE IF I CAN ADD SOME OF YOUR BLOOD TO THIS TOWEL TOO. I DO LIKE TO INSPECT MY HANDIWORK.” Hawk was rubbing his coated hands up under my shirt, marking me and cleaning himself off at the same time as the latest shards of meth burned into the cuts and scrapes he had created like a Blitzkrieg that was intent on erasing all resistance to his coming, viral invasion. “YOU READY FOR MY POZ ARYAN CUM AGENT? I WILL IMPREGNATE YOU OVER, AND OVER, AND OVER AND JUST LIKE TODAY, EACH AND EVERY TIME WILL BE AS I DEMAND - RAW, BLOODY, AND TO REMIND YOU THAT I OWN YOU LOCK, STOCK, AND BARREL. YOU AND I ARE ONE NOW, TIL DEATH DO US PART AGENT - YOU AND I ARE ONE NOW AGENT AS MY AIDS BUG UNITES US IN A VOW OF POISON!” I lay there and took Hawk’s probing fingers, the digging of his nails, the brutality of his raw dick, and his explosion of eggs inside me. What else could I do then? Nothing. While my logical mind reassured me that fighting back would not gain me anything, that I was outmatched, that I had to focus on surviving and the long game, I could not help but feel ashamed, weak, impotent. When he was done, Hawk spat on my prone body, then reached down and gently tugged my DEA windbreaker back into position, “I MUST LEAVE YOU NOW AGENT. EVEN AFTER ALL I HAVE SAID AND ALL YOU HAVE DONE I STILL BELIEVE THAT SOME PART OF YOU DOES NOT QUITE TAKE ME SERIOUSLY ENOUGH. FOUR OF MY GUARDS ARE OUTSIDE. THEY HAVE BEEN TRAINED IN CERTAIN TECHNIQUES TO ENSURE COMPLIANCE. BONES MAY BEND AND NOT BREAK. SOCKETS AND TENDONS MAY MISALIGN AND STRETCH THE WRONG WAY WITHOUT TEARING. THE BODY MAY BE HIT AND PUNISHED SO THAT ANY BRUISING IS ON THE INSIDE AND DOES NOT SHOW. THESE ARE SKILLS THAT MUST BE PRACTICED AGENT. USED. HONED. SO I HAVE OFFERED THEM YOU. OH YES OF COURSE THEY WILL FUCK YOU TOO AND FILL YOUR ASS WITH UNMEDICATED AIDS AND OTHER VIRUSES. NOT ONLY ARE THEY ANXIOUS TO FLEX THEIR UNIQUE SKILLS, THEY ARE ANXIOUS TO - AS THEY SAY - FUCK A DEA BITCH!”

 

The four masked guards entered the room and circled me. I said not a word, but I marked their eyes - eyes I would never forget - and then they began. While they had left their masks on to prevent me from seeing their faces, in addition to their eyes two of them seemed not to notice as the sleeves on their arms slid up during their ‘training’. The patches of skin showed parts of very distinctive tattoos on their forearms. They took my quietness as acceptance of what they were doing to me - it was not - I was using all of my energy to commit those tatts to memory, and filed them with the images of their eyes now burned inside my skull. I would take these animals down too. Meth burned my gut lining as more of it was shoved up my ass and fingered into my nose and gums by the masked assailants. I had lost track of time, of the numbers of connections of their flesh to mine - of their gloved hands to my limbs - of their booted feet to my body. My DEA windbreaker lay in tatters beneath me as it had been sliced off my body by one of the guards. He was now sitting in a chair, his mask rolled up enough so he could smoke. Another guard was kneeling over my head so I could suck on his dick while his cohort plunged in and out of my ripped ass ring. The door slammed open, Hawk strode in, “WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO AGENT? GOD DAMN IT WHAT DID YOU DO?” he screamed.

 

Hawk - in his rants and raves - disclosed that Chris, my former best friend/lover who had betrayed me, had been picked up by men driving a dark sedan about 30 minutes ago. One of Hawk’s guys who was watching him saw it all go down. Hawk’s guy also saw that Chris was carrying not only a full supply of meth he was supposed to drop off, but a large backpack of cash from one of the pickups. Hawk had immediately put the word out to the police on his payroll at the local precinct, but Chris never showed there. He never showed up anywhere. Where did the men go? Where was Chris? What had I done? Hawk was livid and spittle flew from his mouth as one question after another pummeled me. With the four guards’ DNA leaking from my bloody ass, the taste of their skin still on my tongue, I sat up, looked at Hawk and innocently asked, “HOW COULD I HAVE DONE ANYTHING AT ALL? I’VE BEEN HERE. FOR HOURS AND HOURS AS YOU KNOW. I HAVE NOT LEFT THIS ROOM SINCE YOU - WHAT DID YOU CALL IT? OH YES - MADE ME YOUR DEA BITCH. AND THEN OF COURSE I WAS JOINED BY YOUR MEN HERE FOR THEIR LITTLE GAME. HOW COULD I HAVE KNOWN WHERE CHRIS WAS? HOW COULD I HAVE TOLD THE COPS? DO YOU HAVE ANY WATER? I’M KIND OF PARCHED.” Hawk clearly didn’t believe me, but he also knew that what I said was true. He said to his men, “GET HIS PHONE. CUT HIS FUCKING FINGER OFF TO UNLOCK IT IF YOU HAVE TO. I WANT IT SEARCHED - ALL TEXTS, CALLS, EMAILS, EVERYTHING. THEN CHECK THE SIM CARD.”

 

As Hawk turned in frustration to leave the room I hollered, “So hard to find good help these days isn’t it?” Hawk paused, turned, and glared. I could see on his face and his eyes he wanted to hit me, kick me, fuck me. I knew I was pushing it, but I couldn’t resist. He had to feel unsure - they all did. Then they would make the mistakes I needed to take them all down. Hawk gave a wild sweep of his arm, “GET THEM ALL IN HERE. EVERY FUCKING ONE. I DON’T CARE IF THEY SWING THAT WAY OR NOT. I EXPECT EVERY GOD DAMN DICK WITHIN A MILE OF THIS PLACE TO FUCK MR. DEA AGENT HERE. DRUG HIM UP AS MUCH AS YOU WANT. DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT. SOMEONE NEEDS TO PAY FOR THIS FUCK UP SO UNLESS ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO STEP FORWARD, THEN IT’S HIM.” In the face of the flood to come I just smiled at my Aryan Master - Game on asshole!

 

Back in the evidence locker, in a corner far to the back, on a shelf covered in grime and dust, nestled at the bottom of a box that had seemingly not been touched in years was an old cell phone with a number that had never been traced, or logged into evidence. It vibrated - white letters appeared on the blue-lit screen:

“THANK YOU FOR THE TIP AND ACCESS CODE. IT PAID OFF. WE CAUGHT THE GUY AND GAVE A BLOW TO THOSE POISON PUSHERS. PERP ALREADY OUT OF TOWN IN SAFE LOCATION AND NO ONE OUTSIDE ME AND REGIONAL FBI OFFICE KNOW. NO ONE LOCAL IN LOOP. AND AS YOU SAID HE’S TOO MESSED UP TO KNOW ANYTHING OR PROVIDE GOOD INFO, BUT THE LOSS OF CASH AND PRODUCT COUNTS. ALREADY WORKING ON MIRRORING ALL OTHER TECH PINGS. ANYMORE INFO FALLS INTO YOUR LAP, YOU KNOW HOW TO REACH ME. - ASSISTANT D.A. MCLEOD”

 

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

 

 

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