Capítulo 10: In Deep Sh*t
The next day, Jean left Room 209 at his hotel and went to Brezzeli's. Earlier, he injected his arm with a syringe of poison for his daily dose of Mithridatism. Jean's stomach grumbled uncomfortably and he felt acute pains spreading from the cobra venom.
Brezzeli's had purely Italian-style dishes available, from pastas, like Fettuccine Alfredo, to Macaroni soup. Jean curtly greeted the waitresses with a nod and proceeded to the bathroom. He took the second stall and crouched over the dirty toilet.
Like a released pressure bomb, waves of horrendous stench filled the small space and rapidly expanded. Jean's stomach rumbled and he felt a kick from the asparagus and prune juice he had. Plunk noises resounded from the toilet.
A minute later, the bathroom door creaked open as another man entered. The man removed an envelope from his pocket and tip toed over to the sink counter. He opened the small cabinet underneath and slipped the paper in a slit on the side. Jean's bathroom situation made its presence well aware to the man.
The man thought, "People these days! What do they eat!?"
So, after securing the envelope, the man turned and ran to the door. The strong scent of urine bothered his nose at the moment, but if the stink waves gained enough ground… he would be a goner!
The man pulled out a handkerchief and covered his nose, but it was too late! The overpowering stench slammed into his nose with a concentration comparable to a chemical weapon!
"What is he?! A skunk?!" the man's mind reeled.
He dropped to a knee, feeling too nauseous to take even a single step further. The malodorant caused him to involuntarily cry and he choked on his own vomit. Through sheer will, the man stood up.
He stumbled over to the door. Each second passed like a painful eternity! His lungs burned and his throat felt his stomach acid start corroding the lining of his esophagus. Tears streamed down his face like miniature rivers!
By some miracle, he swung open the door and fell to the side. The man hunched over and violently threw up. Unluckily, a woman was in the way, as she just left the bathroom at the same time.
The greenish yellow slop ejected from the man's mouth like a hose! It stained the white pantyhose and the Versachi high-heels the woman wore. The malignant odor from the man's stomach and the lingering smell from the bathroom slammed into the screaming woman!
She fell backwards, slamming her head against the metal corner of the doorway. The woman promptly passed out, like the man who face-planted into his own mess.
One teenage busboy checked up on the screams. His acne-ridden face shrivelled up in disgust. He saw a long-haired woman laying against the bathroom door with a man in the middle of vomiting and rubbing his face on her shoes.
The busboy held in his emotions and sprinted over to call for the manager. He wasn't paid enough to deal with these kind of weirdos.
Jean finished using the toilet and cleaned up. The smell curdled into an almost physical presence. Fortunately or not, he had plenty of experience stemming from his long struggle with a unique gastrointestinal system. This provided him a resistance, but sadly left prominent traces of his existence.
Jean went over and extracted the envelope from its slot. He quickly freshened up a bit with a spray bottle and left for his apartment through the window in the bathroom.
After making it back to his apartment, Jean pulled off his hoodie and hung it from the coat rack. He opened up the letter and read its contents. As expected, the next stage of his plan began.
Jean invested in Rob Golspie specifically because he was Jewish. Rob needed a proper standing to operate as a proxy for the Israeli-Zionist expansion in the United States. Through the power of money, the Jews could buy up positions of power.
Bankers, sure enough, stored people's money, and even garnered interest. But who paid attention to how a bank invested the money they received? The dividends received by shareholders? The increasing amount of financial control on the market by a few?
This is what divided everyday life and those clashing for control at the top. Normal people focused on immediate issues, like bills, homelessness, starving children, taxes, abortion rights, discrimination, political corruption, gang violence, drug trade, insurance rates, homosexuality, humanitarian crises, and education.
They had yet to see the futility of their struggle, as people split apart because they refused to relent their ideology. Nothing could be sufficiently accomplished to solve those problems, which chronically pained the United States.
Those who had popularity, positions of power, wealth, or enough connections exploited the American dichotomy of interest. By pandering to audiences on enough fronts, achieving sufficient or apparent progress, and maintaining a public connection, these individuals ingrained themselves into society.
They became a steadfast icon of America, and thus, usually remained uncontested in their positions. They largely benefitted, whether it be from corporate "donations", skewing regulations, or advertising political and economic viability to other like-minded individuals. There was always another deal to make.
The Deep State was, in short, elaborate scammers: a tangle of competing corporate entities, celebrities, military figures, politicians, religion, and heads of their respective fields. Usually, they funneled their activities through their patsies, affiliated or freelance mafias, strong gangs, or particular individuals. The end goal was to profit and command power over their jurisdiction, be it vacuums or nuclear warheads.
This is what made the Deep State a reality, rather than an unbiased government, legislature, and judiciary. Everyday life moved as these underhanded dealings went unheeded, since public figures, advertising, and the media painted any skeptical thought as a crazy conspiracy theory.
Most of the control stemmed from manipulated news and control over the judicial, executive, and legislative branches. Laws passed in favor of the biggest pockets and the strongest alliances. The appearance of legitimacy was enough for bribes, corruption, nepotism, lies, and intermittent failure to slip by unnoticed.
The Deep State quietly dealt with any dissenters or traitors, keeping a quasi-oligarchy in the form of a constantly shifting shadow government. Business ran on as usual, so long as everyone worked their jobs and didn't act out of line.
Particularly, Jean leaned towards the financial control of the Deep State, which led him towards the Jews. The Jews of today benefited greatly by utilizing the Holocaust in the times of post-World War II. The reparations they received were tremendous— it was enough for the major Western powers to assent to their power grab of Palestinian land through business and property buyouts.
No Westerner questioned the Israeli-Zionists that bought guns and segregated the Jews from the Arab population. Excessive use of force was excused when the Arab League intervened in Palestine. In the years after 1948, with the establishment of the Israeli state, the region experienced guerrilla fighting, massacres, exodiuses, betrayals, bombings, and occupations of the Gaza Strip and West Bank.
Right now, peace talks took place, but Jean wouldn't be surprised if an Israeli radical even assassinated their own Prime Minister to prevent their finalization. He predicted an Israeli ultranationalist to kill him within the next two years, give or take some time.
Eventually, insufficiencies of the Palestinians' independence, wealth, and arable land left them spiraling into poverty and helplessness. The Arab-Israeli War, and fighting drained their power. Meanwhile, the Jews advanced leaps and bounds, enticing the rich Palestinians to spend their wealth on Jewish goods.
In the end, the Palestinian economy crashed because their money no longer circulated in its own markets, but the Jewish market! The Palestinian people were left with low wages and high unemployment. Clearly, Jews used money to legitimize their takeover. It didn't end there.
They took in Palestinian workers and paid them minimal wages, with no protected workers' rights. The Jews basically gained disposable employees to further their economic advances. Jews effectively created a paradise for their own people as the discrimination against the Palestinians prevented them from living or even working in Israel at the same level as a Jew.
This diabolical level of manipulation filled Jean with glee. It was no wonder that the mostly unemployed Palestinian youth became outraged and joined attacks on the Jewish. This helped reinforce the Jews' position as a victim and authorize their use of lethal force, even if civilians were caught in the midst of their shots.
Jean laughed. The power struggles of the Deep State were vast and global. If Jean could control Christians when Arabs and Jews caused this much damage… The possibilities were endless!
Still, it was time for him to move to leave this small-time area and continue his apprenticeship in religious studies elsewhere. Too much deviated from his original takeover, so it was best to let the heat simmer down. He already noticed Jimmie didn't leave a slip of green paper hanging out of one of the P.O. boxes this morning. Undoubtedly, a crackdown began and he didn't need keep an aggravating facade when he could use his alibi to prevent further suspicion in the first place.
Jean discussed his departure already, and his influence was unnecessary for now. Stability was ensured by the mostly loyal and dedicated remaining. It wouldn't matter either way, since Jean got the invitation from Rob Golspie's higher-up.
It was also morning when Vinnie took a sip of cognac from his metal flask. His new name was Antonio Verra, a clean-shaven Italian instead of the burly bearded American war vet. He rushed the paperwork and process to change his identity, as well as his friends Benjamin and Thomas.
The case against Alan Cathwright and his similarly motivated friends moved along in the courts. It take at least a year for the investigation to be completed, as well as the charges and verdict to be inevitably addressed.
Likely, only Alan would be sentenced for years as he arranged the premeditated murders and carried out the flagrant abuse of police power. His friends, who discovered the failure of the operation and ceased shortly afterwards, at least would face probation, if not a few months of jail time.
Although the public hated what Alan did, Alan had enough connections and achievements as an outstanding officer that this was the most punishment he faced. It was a one time pass, but Alan would most definitely learn from his mistakes by then. His small-mindedness held him back all this time, ever since Vinnie taught him how to use a gun.
In the meantime, Vinnie accepted his new identity from the Witness Protection Program so he could continue his investigation. The culmination of his efforts, along with Benjamin and Thomas, resulted in the capture of Jimmie "The Kid", a dangerous murderer.
Benjamin, now named Benito Sergio, hocked a loogie in the dumpster by them. His chronic issue with excessive phlegm bothered his every waking moment, but the irritation withheld itself from expression on his face.
Thomas, now Tomas Claudio, anxiously bit his thumb. He was tired of waiting, so he glanced around the corner.
"Are you sure we can trust that kid?"
Vinnie put away his flask and grunted.
"I've seen kids like him in 'Nam. They're pushovers if you pressure their family, but you gotta make sure not to go too far, or else they snap. I don't want another crazy kid hunting for me. There's probably at least a dozen orphans after me by now, and I don't want unlucky number thirteen on my *ss."
Benjamin scratched his nose and grumbled, "Who gives a sh*t how many people wanna kill you? Learn to be less of an *sshole and people will warm up to you."
Vinnie retorted, "Hey, I got you both of you hot on my *ss. I don't want to be catch fire."
"I don't see anyone who could be our guy. I think he lied to us. We should've grabbed the black kid," Thomas complained.
Vinnie snorted, "I trust my instincts as much as you trust your luck. Remember everyone that leaves this hotel because they're all suspects. If we identify Jacque, their whole operation gets easier than drinking."
"Easy for you to say when you've got the cognac," Thomas complained.
"I wrote down all the people who've left. You're gonna have to draw them later, Tomas," Benjamin replied.
He scribbled in a notebook with a pen.
"So far, just twenty-five people. Great. Just great," Thomas whined.
"Stop being lazy. We're all hungry, so pay attention," Vinnie snapped.
"Yeah, but I never wanted to act like a hobo again. We stink and it's cold here."
"We have to do our jobs. Another two hundred people could go missing if we don't. Keep that in mind," Benjamin told Thomas.
"Yeah, but when I left the military, I wanted to stay as a normal man. Pay my taxes. Marry a nice and pretty woman. Have two kids. Live in a small but comfy house. The American Dream we served to protect, you know?"
"That dream ended when we were almost killed in our own homes by SWOT teams. We have to do this for our future," Vinnie sighed.
"If those b*stards won't leave us alone, we just have to f*ck them before they can f*ck us."
The three men sat around with cardboard signs and panhandled for the rest of the morning.
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
PettyOfficer
PettyOfficer Note: this is a work of fiction that strives to build an exciting narrative. Please don’t be offended because most of it is built on exaggerations and absurdity. Thank you.
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