Nevada Carry - Home - m.realmoneygametop.xyz

Ok, forgive the formatting. This was originally a greentext post for all the /b/tards at 4chan. It's also a long read but if you can get past that then it is actually a quite interesting story that happened to me years ago.
be 22 active duty air force assigned to Nellis in Las Vegas not disclosing job, but no stranger to weapons and tactics get pulled in to supervisor's office one day told I've just been "voluntold" to participate in a training exercise with DOD no other information given other than reporting instructions pretty much any question I asked was answered with "I have no fucking idea " report to conference room at base hotel next morning per instruction see about 12 other guys from my unit also voluntold to be there five guys enter room in civilian clothes introduce themselves as the "WHITEBOX" Group Assume it's an acronym for something, but never explained told we will be upgrading our security clearances hours of paperwork, only told we are participating in a force on force exercise released back to our unit crack jokes about how the exercise is a lie and we will be experimented on return to regular job and time passes eventually assume that it was canceled and forget the whole thing
about 2 months later supervisor pulls me aside and tells me that I need to report to a briefing the next day says it’s about "some WHITEBOX exercise" has no idea what it is and doesn't seem to care. once again report to base hotel with the other 12 guys WHITEBOX guys show up and pick us up in a van driven off base to some random office building and escorted into the offices of the Department of Energy, WTF? mystery only deepens, what the fuck is happening? what if this actually is some evil experimental shit more hours of paperwork and security/safety briefings by random suits had to fill out and sign a non-disclosure agreement and that threatened arrest if violated required to turn in cell phones and any other electronic devices in our possession our cell phones get locked in a cabinet while the office phone in the room gets unplugged WHITEBOX guys finally return and fire up a power point briefing first slide just titled WHITBOX Exercise 0X slide also labeled in bold red letters "CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET / NOFORN / ORCON this is really starting to feel serious
WHITEBOX Exercise finally explained told that for the next two weeks we will be role playing as OPFOR (opposing forces) we will try to attack and penetrate a DOD facility and carry out a simulated act of sabotage facility is protected by a contracted privately owned security force security group is required by the DOD to carry out this exercise in order to audit their protection every couple of years if we succeed, security company fails the audit and looses the contract the exercise is the conclusion of a two week inspection of the security contractors and their procedures every exercise a random military unit is chosen as OPFOR "reminded that we are silent professionals and that this isn’t something we should be advertising shaving wavers granted and civilian attire only FUCKYEAH.jpg power point scrolls to a page with a google earth screenshot on it instantly recognize the picture it's Area 51 holyfuckingshit.exe are we are being told to break into Area 51? can't be real random unit bro pipes up out of nowhere "Is that fucking Area 51?" we are all fucking stoked later told not to call it Area 51 as that just makes you a total chode Groom Lake, Paradise Ranch, or Homey Airbase are the acceptable names many insiders simply refer to it as “The Base” also reminded of the possible legal action via UCMJ if we go around telling everyone about it One of the WHITEBOX guys is now our designated "insider threat" exercise is designed to simulate that someone inside has been comprised by a foreign government he will provide any information that we ask for that he has knowledge of or access to other WHITEBOX guys handle will handle exercise logistics they will provide any weapons or equipment that we request to carry out mission "within reason" told this is not a COD loadout screen
ground rules established... will only be provided with weapons that we are certified to carry weapons will be armed with blank rounds or completely empty also no vehicles will be utilized by us within the DOD property landmarkers simulating road chases are not authorized our insertion is simulated so we will already be escorted/processed through various checkpoints and dropped off near the base no impractical equipment requests, so no tanks, helos, surveillance drones, or scud missiles, lol any explosives we intend to simulate will be assessed by WHITEBOX so if we want to blow the perimeter fences we will tell them before hand, they will calculate the weight of the bang we would need, it would be simulated by rocks, and then someone would need to hump the weight number 1 rule established and stressed with a very serious tone we will be escorted by WHITEBOX evaluators at all times within the DOD landmarkers at no point are any of us authorized to be alone in the facility actual security is not laxed because of the exercise, nor is this a free pass to roam security personnel can still use real force in the event that we deviate from the established protocols shown various pictures within the airbase that most will never get to see a specific hangar is designated as our target building. we will need to gain access to that hangar and carry out an act of sabotage for our sabotage we will need to ///REDACTED/// obviously we won't be doing it for real so we will actually need complete a random task inside the hangar task will be designed to be as complex and time consuming as the real thing all while being hunted by the security force insider threat briefing continues, various elements of the base security procedures and day to day operations explained however, get the impression that the chosen source is someone with a generic admin position and is not actually involved with security we are also encouraged to do our own research and scour the interwebz for info about the base told to supply the URLs to WHITEBOX if we find anything of interest. sorry if we got your Alex Jones or Art Bell conspiracy blogs taken offline briefing finally concludes, we are reminded of our non-disclosure policy and taken back to Nellis and dismissed for the day
next day we all meet at Creech Air Force Base in Indian Springs, Nevada we will be using this location to build our plan of attack and do rehearsals/dry runs it's actually pretty cool because it's on us to plan our op, just a bunch of random Airmen periodically grill our insider with questions and start asking our other WHITEBOX guys for gear we tried to have our insider take pictures of the interior of our target hangar, but he got caught IRL he would be arrested and interrogated by the feds, and the whole op would be dead instead though the guys that caught him received kudos from the inspectors, and he just tells us nope have to rely on a whiteboard sketch of the inside decide to keep it simple, M4 riffles only however I am certified on the Barret M82 .50 cal. we decide that I will carry that heavy mother fucker as well as an M4 and provide overwatch from the distance kind of bummed out because im not going inside it will be on me to neutralize certain security positions that we have previous identified we remind our WHITEBOX guys that the M82 is an anti-material weapon with the ability to disable vehicles they tell us that I will just need to call my shots to the evaluator that I will be partnered with he will radio to the vehicles that they are destroyed and will need to stop driving guess I should mention that is also part of the disadvantage we have we will all be paired with WHITEBOX evaluators who will sort of act as referees during this simulated battle however they will all be wearing bright orange reflective vest identifying them as exercise officials that really fucks our ability to stay hidden and stealthy, but it is what it is also should mention that this is a daytime raid despite our objections sounds like they are setting us up for failure, but they remind us not to think of it like that this is all being done just so the evaluators can get a good look at the security's incident response procedures it's not an unannounced drill, the military doesn't really like to do that kind of thing especially with large scale exercises such as this everyone on the base know we are coming, there's no element of surprise here except with what kind of attack we prep it would be a real hot clusterfuck if the security contractors failed the audit heads would roll, people would get fired, and numerous officers would be relieved of command I still get to attack Area 51 so don't care as this is the coolest thing I've done in the military
our plan is starting to come together over the days decide to sacrifice one of us in a suicide bomb attack figure out which of us is the most "FNG" or lowest ranking and make him do it he will approach one of the ECPs (entry points to the base) on foot wearing a rucksack loaded with rocks (make-believe explosives) he will be wearing a uniform and will identify himself as Air Force and will franticly yell that he needs help we don't anticipate that he will make it that far or that the security will actually swallow this ruse however his goal is to get as close as he can to the ECP and yell allah ackbar and release his dead man's switch and try to take out what he can his evaluatoescort will drop a GBS (ground burst simulator) when he detonates GBS is a little miniature explosive device that just makes a really loud boom anyone who’s been through any type of military training is familiar with them, they are used to add stress and create excitement we are hoping this will be a distraction and will get as much security as possible to converge on that location the rest of us will assault from the other side of the base and try to breach the perimeter several of us will also be rucking explosive rocks for the breach chose a breach point that will have us crossing only a minimal portion of the flightline (place where aircraft operate) if we successfully simulate breaching the perimeter the exercise will be paused and we will be inprocessed through the ECP and brought into the base exercise will resume and we will continue to assault towards the target hangar I will stay outside in my sniper position and try to smoke what I can inside the hangar the team will cover the doors with simulated claymores and take up cover two guys will carry out the simulated sabotage act while the rest cover the doors WHITEBOX doesn't have any inert claymores to provide so the will be simulated with small weighted ammo cans the weight is really starting to become problematic so we abandon the claymores and decide to just cover the doors with firepower would really help if we had a vehicle, but not happening to be fair, vehicles wouldn't make it that close to the base if they tried to attack IRL armored or not
week one down, plan looking solid considering how much of our attack is simulated two weeks of planning is actually excessive not complaining though cause two weeks of hanging out and smoking and joking compared to normal work at Nellis only downside is the hour drive back and forth each day to Creech AFB casino right outside that base with awesome steak and eggs so not too bad though one of the WHITEBOX guys tells us he's actually employed by the Department of Energy he doesn't actually work at Groom Lake, he works at the Nevada Test Range the massive amount of Nevada landscape that is restricted and owned by the feds is actually impressive contrary to popular myth there is road access to Groom Lake via the adjacent test range, but not too many people actually make that drive. the 737 shuttle from McCarran Airport is how everyone gets there since the drive is long as fuck the main paved road through Rachel Nevada that all the tourist flock to doesn't really have any operational use anymore allegedly we will be driving there through the test range via a convoluted series of paved and dirt roads route is CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET, not kidding
DOE dude gives us a tour of the test range one day load cases of water in back of van drive to Mercury Nevada and stop at checkpoint inprocessed inside, get pictures taken and issued escorted visitor passes also required to wear radiation badges once inside get to see all that shit from The Hills Have Eyes, fake towns that were blown up with atomic bombs not as intact as they are portrayed in films though, they are pretty rekt or deconstructed show us a massive crater called the Sedan Crater in the 50's they experimented with using atomic bombs for mass excavation projects hoping they could just nuke the ground and build shit instead of fucking around with bulldozers pretty stupid and impractical but they didn't know any better back then they buried an atomic bomb a half a mile underground and blew it up Sedan Crater left behind as a result and the fucking thing is huge. they allegedly herded cattle down to the bottom of the crater afterwards to test the post fallout effects pretty fuckin savage, and it was actually stunning to look at two hour drive to Groom Lake though endless desert roads now see why we loaded the water, we’d be pretty fucked if the van broke down or got stuck get first distant look at the base without having to enter their checkpoints holyshit.mp4 very few people get to actually see what we are seeing to be honest though, looks like any other air force base I've ever seen except smaller besides the obvious fact that it is in the middle of bum fuck nowhere and its main runway is long as fuck also realize one of the reasons they didn't want us operating vehicles most roads are dirt and the entire lake bed is surrounded by "moon dust" everywhere moon dust is the ultra-fine sand found in certain parts of the desert with the consistency of flour it's also a total bitch to drive in and the security patrols getting stuck is a somewhat frequent occurrence told that they even have some of the AAFES fast food joints there that you find on any other base imagine working at a Burger King that you need a Top Secret security clearance for, how the fuck does that work??? noticed that despite being authorized to be here, we are still being watched by distant security patrols wonder if they know we are the bad guys that are going to be attacking the joint make some minor adjustments to the plan since the google earth pictures lack some detail conclude tour and take the 3 to 4 hour drive back home, most of us slept in the van
arrive at Creech next day and see that more WHITEBOX guys have been added to the mix, now there's like 20 of them for the past two weeks they have been inspecting the security contractors and its procedures you can tell a lot of them are ex-military based off of language and the people that are dipping and spiting in empty water bottles the mood is light, all of the exercise planning is finished, nothing to do the last two days we managed to borrow an empty hangar at Creech and used it as a mockup of our target hangar to run rehearsals no longer asking our insider questions about security, instead start asking completely ridiculous questions about conspiracies for lulz accuse some of them of being reptilians to see how they react, some of them get legit uncomfortable before you go sounding off, doubt they are hiding anything, some folks just don’t get military humor one does, however, and shows us a velcro patch that he wears on his rucksack it's one of those standard patches you spot on a pilot’s flight suit that has the name, rank, branch, and blood type his blood type seriously says reptilian it's obvious that they embrace and poke fun at the reputation this base has, in fact they thrive off of it
the day finally fucking arrives, time to attack this bitch wake up at 0400 and drive an hour to Creech dressed to kill decide to wear DCU "desert combat uniform" pants and a sand t shirt with my personally owned Blackhawk tactical vest to carry spare M4 mags sometimes the military issues some real shitty gear so our unit is somewhat lax and allows us to personally buy our own better equipment if it has command approved use and doesn't break SOPs also wear my empty gas mask pouch attached to my hip and use it to carry spare M82 .50 cal mags also wear a black turban for lulz that I bought off an ANA (Afghani Northern Alliance) dude downrange used to have a guile suite but it got lost on a deployment so that's a no go unfortunately arm up with an M4 with M68 red dot sight and attach a BFA "blank firing adapter" to the muzzle, and load six mags of .556 blanks also provided with my trusty Barret .50 M82 and five mags there is no BFA for the Barret that I'm familiar with so carry that with empty mags, guess I get to cheat with the weight load up in the vans with WHITEBOX team and drive another hour to Mercury get inprosscessed through security checkpoint and receive visitor badges for the test range drive another 2 hour on random roads passing more checkpoints /// REDACTED /// forced to surrender cell phones, personally owned electronic devices and CAC cards (military ID cards) again receive our escorted visitor passes for Groom Lake and now continue down some of the most forbidden roads in American history start unloading as close to our start point as the terrain allows and hump the rest of the distance on foot with our escorts suicide attack bro hangs back in the van with other escorts and is driven to his start point the terrain is favorable and allows us to set up out of sight hence why we chose the spot I break off and try to set up my nest at my chosen OP "observation point" as discreetly as possible not really stealthy cause I'm being followed by a guy wearing an orange reflective vest that says STAN EVAL and he's just casually walking he tells me to set up the Barret, but just simulate your shots by firing the M4 blanks now in a spot where I can observe base activity and provide cover fire for the breach, but I am also the most easy to spot sniper ever now wait for confirmation that our distraction on the other side has happened, taking a real long fucking time
my escort's radio chimes to life and starts talking "attention all WHITEBOX, we now have proper authentication via CASTLE ROCK for initiation of a detachment level exercise" voice on radio proceeds to spit out a long winded exercise safety briefing realize it's been about 40 minutes and we are just now fucking starting another 10 minutes and finally get word that suicide bro is approaching his target escorts all inform us that the security force is responding to reports of an explosion outside of the ECP later find out that suicide bro was stopped and challenged at gun point about 50 meters outside of ECP by a mounted patrol he then just fuck it and started sprinting towards the ECP until they opened fire with blanks and his escort set off the GBS he actually managed to take out the vehicle that stopped him and create several casualties (we gave him the heaviest explosive rocks loadout) overall our distraction was pretty fucking successful give it a another minute or two and finally start shooting and calling my shots to my escort/evaluator he's talking on his radio and relaying my simulated violence, "inform Merc-17 that they are dead from sniper fire" etc... I have predetermined targets to engage based off of what poses the biggest threat to the breach team I actually do some damage and get confirmation of casualties from my escort it's about a 600 meter run to the base perimeter in the open desert so it's on me to try and clear their path as much as I can the plan is to try to lure some security vehicles to our position then eliminate them with the Barret while they are en route the dead vehicles can then serve as points of cover for the breach team as they assault towards the base breach team was also aiming to see if they could snag any security radios from the dead patrols so we can monitor their comms didn't really work out that way however, in the end we simply didn't have all the info about the anticipated security response without giving away too many sensitive details, we all got ambushed by the security from unexpected locations forced to abandon my nest and the Barret to start moving towards another location to back up the breach team that was under fire trade some shots with security until my escort finally announces "ok dude, you're dead. go ahead and lay down" that's it, game over
play dead for about 20 minutes while security cleans up the area breach team gets rekt, we managed to get within 100 meters of the perimeter couple of security dudes approach me and perform a dead combatant body search on me it's a specific type of search designed to search a dead body while also checking for possible explosive booby traps pretend to be dead and let security dudes run my pockets finally one of the evaluators shouts "PauseEx" (pause exercise) we got fucking annihilated, no chance this attack was going to be successful our evaluators tell us that everyone did a great job, HOWEVER.... we are going to continue the exercise because they didn't get the chance to observe much of the internal security components we are going to resume the exercise assuming that we were actually able to get inside that target hangar this will give the evaluators the opportunity to observe the security's recap and recov procedures (re-capture and recovery) we all get magically resurrected from the dead I realize that I am actually going inside Groom Lake! Fucking Awesome...
spend about 15 minutes policing up the area for brass which means wandering around and picking up spent cartridges board vans and get driven around to ECP. realize that only half of the security force is playing in this exercise the rest are still armed with live weapons and are still performing regular protection duties forced to show our visitor passes, names and badge numbers are compared against a master list that the security has /// REDACTED /// /// REDACTED /// notice a homemade sign hanging on the wall at the security center it’s got a picture of an alien with a red X through it that says "no extraterrestrial entities or relics beyond this point" like I said earlier, everyone enjoys the reputation this base has drive to our target hangar, holy fuck! I am now inside Area 51 use of blanks not authorized indoors, everyone is told to clear out weapons rest of the exercise will use simulated firing, the equivalent of pointing your empty weapon at someone and yelling bang sadly not the first time I trained like this, military does it all the time it’s ridiculous and awkward every time, looks like a bunch of kids playing backyard soldiers with sticks security has already reset its posture, they know we are attacking but doesn't know the building we are hitting we all enter the hangar, get the impression that it doesn't actually get used IRL anymore reeks of mildew and no power inside, dust everywhere in the center there is a pickup truck covered with a tarp and roped off with red rope and stanchions, signs posted identifying it as a controlled area told that this is a simulated military asset and this is what we are sabotaging WHITEBOX evaluator pulls a box out of the bed of the truck remember when I said we will have to do a complex and time consuming task to simulate our act of sabotage? it’s a fucking Star Wars Lego kit! I shit you not! evaluators tell us we will need start building it and reach page 12 in the instructions without errors or mistakes kind of wish we went with our earlier plan and brought claymores cause I spotted some sweet chokepoints outside the building to set them up also wish we had the idea of bringing padlocks and chains so we could lock down the hangar and make life more difficult for the security force set up our spots to cover the doors, we are well versed with building clearing tactics so we know what spots to cover to make it hard
WHITEBOX evaluator authenticates over the radio with someone by passing letters and numbers back and forth, process known as sign/countersign voice on radio announces that the detachment level WHITEBOX exercise has resumed showtime! Two unit bros start opening the Lego kit and sorting parts me and the suicide bro weren't supposed to be in this hangar or even on the base to begin with so we don't have points to cover inside come up with idea and ask one of the escorts if we can go out the back on to the flightline plan to walk to two separate buildings in opposite directions and see if we can create distractions evaluators approve the plan, but tell us we can't approach or enter other buildings, nor approach any parked aircraft decide to leave firearms and my tac vest behind for clever reasons if we are unarmed the security will most likely apprehend us, and search us this is more time consuming than just shooting us and will keep them away from the hangar longer exit the back of the hangar on to the flightline and just start casually walking down the tarmac with my escort eventually hear the sound of police sirens in the distance getting louder, hear they come! get the urge to start sprinting but decide not to since it would most likely result in me being tackled on the pavement, fuck that later realize distant sirens are actually responding to hangar after reports of a silent alarm being received so much for the distraction plan
decide not to return to hangar since there is not much I can do unarmed, and continue walking down flightline all the parked aircraft I see are just normal military aircraft, although some do seem to have “enhancements” or cosmetic features that I haven’t seen before ask my escort where they keep all the flying saucers, he smirks and just replies "underground" wonder if there are actually any subterranean levels to this base, suppose a lot of these buildings could support that ask my escort if there are really underground levels, he facetiously says “who knows” white pickup truck with police lights approaching fast pretend not to notice and keep walking voice starts barking at me over a loudspeaker "stop right there! do not move! get your hands up! security mercs climbing out of vehicle with rifles drawn, don't see magazines in the riffles, they are part of the drill they actually try to challenge both of us, escort has to remind them that he is out of play security goons bark at me, "face away from me NOW! keep your hands up!" they are actually pretty intimidating, I comply proceed to have me lay on the ground face down with my arms and legs stretched out yell at me to put my hands in the small of my back, palms together, fingers up big black guy approaches me and actually puts his knee on my neck George Floyd style "don't fight me, don't resist me, or you are gonna get hurt" he says puts me in zip ties and picks me up, see other guards still have weapons drawn on me overall whole thing similar to a gangbanger getting rolled up by the cops black guy puts me in some weird and uncomfortable arm hold tells me to start walking while he steers my body with the arm hold and walks me off the flightline taken to a grassy area, get put back on the ground and searched and questioned /// REDACTED /// I try to bluff and say that the hangar will blow if anyone goes inside, see if that stalls them he tries to question me about it, but I can tell he’s not biting, I decide to tone it down and stay quiet cause the dude really looks like he’s going to fuck me up actually overhear his partner talking on the radio, he’s telling others to exercise caution and beware of possible explosive booby traps lights out, realize that someone put a bag over my head evaluator calls out "EndEX" (end exercise) all portions of the exercise are terminated, it's all over
black security guy cuts my zip ties, takes off the hood and sets me loose later find out that security retook the hangar with no problems my guys inside struggled with the Legos since it was so dark and hard to see instead of immediately going in, security tossed inert CS gas canisters inside none of us brought gas mask since it was something our insider failed to mention evaluator let us build legos for another 30 seconds then yelled “GAS, GAS, GAS” unit bros in the hangar were told to lay on the ground and pretend to be incapacitated security swarmed the place with gas mask and guns, kicked away weapons they got a similar treatment to what I received on the flightline and got hauled out of there we all regroup at the base's main visitor center for the AAR (after action review) overall security responded quite well, only some points were critiqued, nothing failing smoke cigarettes and crack jokes back and forth with the security dudes, finally get to see the human side of the guy who snagged me on the flightline tell him he’s one scary mofo, he smiles and we shake hands security dudes leave, head to base theater for full debrief WHITEBOX guys thank us for our participation, time to head home wait a sec, let’s see some fucking aliens WHITEBOX guy smirks and says he’ll give us the dollar tour another day drive back to Mercury knowing full well that we are not going to hear back from them, especially about a tour return radiation badges to the Mercury office told that if we never hear back from them that it’s a good sign told that if they do call us then our Tricare (military health coverage) will get put to good use whole experience was cool as fuck one of the evaluators hands out business cards for ///REDACTED/// and tells us to look them up when we separate from the military starting pay for the security force is pretty fucking dope and only certain military backgrounds are considered for it return to Indian Springs and hit up the casino for drinks with the original 5 WHITEBOX guys ask if any of the prior OPFOR units actually pulled it off and broke in told that a group of CCT guys from the 24th STS was the closest anyone’s ever gotten but even they still failed makes sense, I’ve heard that those dudes are legit operators tell war stories and get drunk actually receive a letter of appreciation from the Air Force Test Center Detachment 3 from Edwards Air Force Base, California about a month later it thanks me for my participation in an exercise but makes no mention of Groom Lake my participation in a vaguely worded “DOD exercise” actually gets mentioned as a bullet in my annual performance report mfw I attacked Area 51
tldr - me and my coworkers "broke" into Area 51 with automatic weapons so we could put together an X-wing starfighter out of Legos
Thanks for reading. I should mention that I have intentionally withheld a lot of details and even altered a few. I'm not trying to blow up anyone’s spot and compromise shit. Just wanted to share a true story about some cool shit I got to do in my youth. For example WHITEBOX is a completely fabricated name while the whole operation actually went under another random weird name. It still ranks as some of the most cloak and dagger shit I got to do in the military. I actually don’t really tell too many people because it is no one’s business and no one would believe me anyways. I finally figured that enough time has passed and like I said, I have specially tailored this story to avoid leaking any sensitive shit. Overall the base was actually kind of underwhelming. I didn’t really see any earth shattering secrets there. All of the alien and reptilian conspiracy theories were openly mocked and made fun of there. It’s really just a base that gets an extra layer of discreetness and physical security for more sensitive assets and projects to be kept there. The CIA, JSOC and other intel gangs from Washington even have offices out there because it’s just a quiet tucked away place to do business. I will say that their security is no joke and that they have some truly fascinating techniques to detect and deny intruders. Hope you enjoyed.

Why the Legion is Doomed to be Destroyed in a Total War with the NCR.

Even if the Legion were to win the Second Battle of Hoover Dam and conquer the Mojave Wasteland, they'd merely be buying themselves a little extra time and simply stall their inevitable demise. Note that the following analysis assumes that the Legion won the Second Battle of Hoover Dam and that the Courier died in Goodsprings.
To start off this analysis, let's begin with a run-down of the respective weapons, equipment and gear of the respective ranks of the NCR and the Legion going into the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. Beginning with the NCR garrison at Hoover Dam. The NCR Trooper comprises the core of the Republic's colossal armies and is the prime component of the NCR Army. A superb combination of volunteers and conscripts whose degrees of training, motivation, combat experience and access to equipment vary across the ranks, they're some of the most disciplined, most professional soldiers in all of the Wastes.
They're outfitted with modern military-grade ballistic vests that offer excellent protection against small arms fire, shrapnel and melee weapons alongside steel helmets. The NCR Army battalion that's stationed at Hoover Dam in particular is fully comprised of battle-hardened, fully-trained volunteer veteran NCR Troopers that are armed with 5.56 × .45mm NATO Marksman Carbines, 5mm Assault Rifles, 12-gauge Riot Shotguns and .308 Sniper Rifles to supplement their standard-issued 5.56 × .45mm NATO Service Rifles.
The NCR Patrol Ranger is one of the finest, most elite warriors in both the NCR military and the Wastelands, overall. Having survived a brutal training regimen that's so ludicrously difficult that 8-out-of-10 aspiring recruits wash-out, these purely volunteer harbingers of death have little to no equals in terms of skill, fighting prowess and strength.
They're outfitted with a suit of hand-made First-Generation Combat sporting a knife sheath, a hydration pouch and spiked spurs for unarmed combat that is impervious to any and all small arms fire, shrapnel and melee attacks. They're armed with 5.56 × .45mm NATO Marksman Carbines, .308 Sniper Rifles and .44 Magnum Trail Carbines.
The NCR Heavy Trooper is not only the elite heavy shock infantry of the NCR Army, but is also the proverbial sledgehammer through which the Republic may crush its enemies and obliterate all that may threaten its values.
Having earned their distinctive armor through immense sacrifice in blood, sweat and most of their young lives, they're the absolute best-trained, best-equipped, most battle-hardened, most professional, most skilled, most fanatically-devoted warriors in the whole of the NCR Armed Forces (rivaled only by the legendary NCR Veteran Rangers). Warriors that are more than willing to fight to their absolute last breath in defense of the Republic and all that it represents.
They're outfitted with NCR Salvaged Power Armor, suits of T-45d Power Armor that were captured from the Brotherhood of Steel during the Brotherhood War that have had their joint servomotors removed and their back-mounted power cylinders replaced with custom-built energy modules and built-in air-conditioning units so that Power Armor Training wouldn't be needed to wear them.
And while they're no longer legitimate suits of Power Armor in that they're no longer powered, they're still some of the absolute best and most protective suits of armor within the Republic's entire mammoth arsenal. Completely invulnerable to all but the most powerful conventional firearms, highly-advanced energy weapons, specialized ammunition and high-powered explosives, they can truly absorb Hellish amounts of punishment. They're armed with 5.56 × .45mm NATO Light Machine Guns, 5mm Miniguns, Heavy Incinerators, Flamers and Missile Launchers (albeit rarely).
The NCR Veteran Ranger is a living, breathing legend walking amongst the ruins and ashes of the Old World, drawing inspiration and hope from soldiers and citizens of the Republic as well as fear and terror from enemies and all those who dare to oppose the NCR.
Fabled for their unmatched fighting prowess, envied for their flawlessly unequalled marksmanship technique, feared for their unrivaled warfighting skills, awe-inspiring for their unsurpassed pugilist talent and legendary for their innate mastery over hardcore survivalist skills, the NCR Veteran Rangers are the absolute finest, best-trained, most battle-hardened, most professional, most skilled, most-elite and all-around most bad-ass warriors in not only the entire history of the Republic military, but also the whole of the Western Wastes, as well.
Centurions and Praetorian Guards of Caesar's Legion, Knights and Paladins of the Brotherhood of Steel and even the Republic's very own NCR Heavy Troopers have learned to shudder in terror and fear at the mere mention of the mythical phenoms of the Wastelands that are the NCR Veteran Rangers
These fabled guardian angels of the Republic are outfitted with the equally legendary Black Armor, a hyper-advanced suit of Third-Generation Combat Armor consisting of a highly-flexible vest of incredibly-rigid high-impact armored plating with adjustable straps on both the sides and the shoulders and a built-in throat protector that's mounted on the vest.
Combined with the state-of-the-art rounded-shell ballistic helmet sporting built-in lamps and infrared/visible light projectors as well as the complimentary highly-sophisticated armored mask with built-in low-light optics, an incorporated locking mechanism that joins the mask itself with the helmet shell, ear covers with built-in membranes that confer additional protection without inhibiting the wearer's hearing and built-in air filters, the mythical Black Armor is well-deserving of its stellar reputation.
As you can see, the NCR's forces are extremely heavily-armed, well-equipped and armed to the teeth with the absolute latest in top-of-the-line, high-powered firearms and state-of-the-art, highly-sophisticated energy weapons as well as superbly well-protected with an abundance of different varieties of military-grade body armors with varying degrees of effectiveness and even Salvaged Power Armor.
Now it's time for an evaluation of the Legion's weapons and technology. The Recruit Legionary is the primary foot soldier of Caesar's army and comprises the vast majority of the Legion's ranks. Trained and conditioned from before they could walk to become the perfect warriors, Recruit Legionaries are incredibly well-conditioned and in phenomenal physical shape, owing to a savagely intense training regimen that even the NCR Rangers would envy. Despite said conditioning, however, they're still the equivalent of literal cannon fodder with little-to-no actual skill in firearms usage and maintenance.
They're outfitted with a suit of makeshift featherweight armor that consists of sports equipment with bits and pieces of scrap metal atop a cloth tunic that's all lashed together with leather straps. An armor that's so weak that it couldn't even protect its wearer against the likes of a straight razor.
They're armed primarily with a "Machete" (what's really a lawnmower blade that's lashed to a stick) and "Throwing Spears" (what's really even bigger sticks with pieces of sharpened scrap metal fastened and jabbed into the tips), though they can rarely get their hands on firearms (albeit damn near broken ones) such as .357 Magnum Revolvers, .357 Magnum Cowboy Repeaters, 9mm Pistols, 20-gauge Single Shotguns, 20-gauge Caravan Shotguns, 5.56 × .45mm NATO Varmint Rifles and 10mm Pistols.
The Prime Legionary is the centerpiece of the Legion's fighting force and the core component of any Legion formation. Having survived 5 years in Caesar's forces, a remarkable accomplishment in and of itself, Prime Legionaries are no longer mere cannon fodder but are now the main frontline fighting force of the Legion. With the accompanying improvement in weapons and equipment as well as adequate firearms skills to make the promotion that much sweeter.
They're outfitted with the exact same armor as before, only with a slight improvement in protection. It still can't protect the wearer from shit, however. They're armed with the standard-issued "Machetes" and "Throwing Spears" though they also have much better access to more advanced weapons than before.
Melee weapons, such as Machete Gladius', Power Fists and Chainsaws, and firearms (of decent quality), such as 10mm SMGs, 12-gauge Sawn-Off Shotguns .44 Magnum Revolvers and .308 Hunting Rifles are all available to them in significant quantities.
The Veteran Legionary is the oldest, most experienced, most elite warrior within the lesser ranks of the Legion and is also the precise scalpel to the blunt, destructive warhammer of the Recruit and Prime Legionaries.
Having survived a full decade in Caesar's service, a monumental achievement in its own right, Veteran Legionaries are the elite rapid reaction force of the Legion that's tasked with neutralizing particularly tough adversaries that their lesser counterparts can't defeat and typically remain in reserve until otherwise needed for tipping the scales of a pivotal battle or campaign in the Legion's favor.
As they're the oldest Legionaries (a lot of whom have been with Caesar since day 1), they're also the most experienced, most capable Legionaries who are in their absolute prime in regards to martial prowess and physical resilience. They're second only to Centurions in terms of skill and experience, which is reflected in their improved access to superior weapons and equipment. They can also use and maintain firearms with frightening levels of efficiency.
They're outfitted with the same armor as before, though with even better protection. Still couldn't protect you from anything meaningful, though. They're armed with the usual standard kit in addition to melee weapons such as Fire Axes and Power Fists as well as firearms (of mint condition and with virtually unlimited access to) such as .44 Magnum Revolvers, .308 Hunting Rifles, 5.56 × .45mm NATO Marksman Carbines and 12.7mm SMGs.
The Decanus of the Legion is the lesser officer beneath the Centurion and is responsible for tactical small-unit operations and squad-level leadership. While not too different from ordinary Legionaries in terms of skill, equipment and even appearance, they still have slightly better access to weapons hence they deserve a separate segment.
Recruit Decanii can get access to 9mm SMGs and 10mm SMGs unlike Recruit Legionaries, Prime Decanii aren't any different from Prime Legionaries and Veteran Decanii can get access to 12.7mm Pistols unlike Veteran Legionaries (not a real improvement, I know). Everything else is exactly the same.
The Centurion is the absolute apex of the Legion's strength and the top field commanders of Caesar's armies, second in authority only to Legate Lanius and Caesar himself amongst a tiny select few of other superiors.
Having survived 15-20 years of a long, arduous life of fighting in Caesar's name (a completely unimaginable phenomenon, indeed) before finally earning the treasured armor of the Centurion (which they can decorate with the trophies of their fallen enemies at their leisure), Centurions are the absolute most elite, most skilled, most battle-hardened and ultimately the most dangerous warriors in the entirety of the Legion.
To even BEGIN to qualify for Centurion status, one must have fought in and survived numerous Legion campaigns as well as slain countless opponents in battle alongside the time requirement. All to ensure that only the finest of Caesar's warriors ever reach that level of authority in his Legion.
As the oldest, most experienced warriors in Caesar's army, the Centurions comprise the old guard of Caesar's army, most of them having served their lord since the very beginning. Their status all but ensures that they're reserved for only the absolute deadliest, most lethal of assignments that even Veteran Legionaries can't handle. They're ultimately only deployed if absolutely necessary.
In order to ensure that his Centurions can both accomplish their missions without even the slightest chance of failure and protect themselves without difficulty, Caesar has granted them unlimited access to the absolute finest weapons in his Legion's arsenal and has seen to it that they have acquired the absolute sharpest firearms skills that money can buy as a corresponding reward for their reaching Centurion status.
They're outfitted with Centurion armor which, while legendary amongst the Legion, really isn't that special. It's actually just Veteran Legionary armor with some cool decorations on it at the end of day.
Pieces of T-45d Power Armor on the right arm, the sleeve from a suit of NCR Ranger Patrol Armor and the pauldrons from an Armored Vault Suit on the left arm, the boots and shin guards from a suit of First-Generation Combat Armor on the lower legs, the crotch/thigh guards from a suit of NCR Ranger Patrol Armor on the upper legs, gloves from a suit of Leather Armor on the hands and a Super Mutant Brute chestplate on the torso, to be exact.
Realistically speaking, Centurion armor would be just about useless against virtually any weapon in the NCR's arsenal. Even a single 5.56 × .45mm NATO round fired from a basic Service Rifle would most certainly do the job, flawlessly.
They're armed with basic melee weapons such as Machete Gladius' and Chainsaws as well as high-tech melee weapons such as Thermic Lances (which are actually just repurposed metalworking tools) and Super Sledges in addition to powerful firearms such as .308 Hunting Rifles, 12-gauge Hunting Shotguns, 5.56 x .45mm NATO Marksman Carbines and even .50 BMG Anti-Materiel Rifles (albeit rarely).
Now we must now examine what will inevitably be a huge problem for the Legion even if they were to win the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. The Legion, even though it does in fact have access to some top-of-the-line weapons, only has them in an extremely limited capacity and strictly reserves them for only the highest-ranking, most elite Legion forces and field commanders.
The overwhelming bulk of the Legion's troops have little-to-no real firearms and what pitifully little that they can get their hands on are in extremely piss-poor condition. Not that it would matter, considering the fact that they don't have the proper training that's necessary to actually use them, much less maintain them.
The vast majority of Caesar's troops rely almost entirely on primitive makeshift melee weapons and their own martial prowess to fight their battles, which inevitably means that the Legion has to avoid direct engagement with NCR forces, instead relying on subterfuge and guerilla warfare to combat the Republic.
And it gets even worse for the Legion when one considers that the higher that its troops advance up the totem pole, the fewer Legionaries that it finds at the higher levels. A direct consequence of the Legion's overprioritization of quality and individual skill in combat is that it inevitably results in an extremely small cadre of elite warriors and field commanders surrounded by a sea of lesser soldiers and officers.
Combined with the fact that the Legion is only 34 years-old by the events of F:NV (meaning that even if one were to ignore things like inevitable attrition all throughout the Legion's war-filled history of expansion and conquest, they still wouldn't have that many Veteran Legionaries/Decanii and Centurions) as well as the fact that attrition over the years must be taken into account (the First Battle of Hoover Dam and the Legion's invasion of Colorado alone absolutely devastated their elite ranks), it's only obvious that the Legion's elite forces are relatively puny.
Furthermore, we know for a fact that there's enough Veteran Legionaries/Decanii for them to form a few of their own exclusive Centuria (a Century is 80-men-strong, I might add), with the Red Okie Centuria being a prime example of this. This definitely suggests that the Legion has at least a couple hundred Veteran Legionaries/Decanii at its disposal. As for Centurions, it's a little known fact that they're so incredibly rare in the Legion that they're actually explicitly ordered to not enter combat until absolutely necessary (i.e self-defense or if they're ordered into battle by a superior).
This, along with the fact that they're never really seen in any meaningful numbers in-game until the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, strongly suggests that there might only be at most several dozen Centurions in the whole of the Legion (there definitely wouldn't be over 100 of them). Either way, however, the Legion's elite forces are so pathetically tiny that they couldn't possibly justify the Legion having any meaningful amount of high-end weaponry.
The NCR, on other hand, doesn't have these problems as 1. the NCR prioritizes protection and firepower above all else for their forces and 2. even their most basic troops have exclusive access to essentially unlimited supplies of all manner of firearms and explosives as well as highly superb protection in the form of military-grade body armor.
Meaning that the NCR not only has a hopelessly insurmountable edge in firepower, technology and protection over the Legion, but that soldiers of the NCR also have a far higher life expectancy than their Legion counterparts, as well. All but ensuring that the NCR has a vastly higher volume of surviving battle-hardened combat veterans relative to the Legion that enables for the Republic to easily distribute extremely invaluable, ultimately irreplaceable combat experience and lessons learned in battle across the entirety of their military to a far greater extent than the Legion.
Scores of battle-hardened NCR Troopers that distinguish themselves on the battlefield go on to enlist with the NCR Rangers upon receiving an invitation to do so (fun fact: the vast majority of NCR Ranger recruits and even NCR Rangers themselves are/were NCR Troopers who earned their new status while serving in the NCR Army), earn the coveted Salvaged Power Armor and become NCR Heavy Troopers or earn promotions to positions of authority in the NCR Army (prime examples being Colonel Cassandra Moore and Colonel James Hsu). All of the above information will have colossal long-term consequences for the Legion, at the end of the day.
With that out of the way, let's move on to the main argument itself. The most positive estimates of the Legion's total numbers and military strength would be at best 5,000-8,000 troops. Then we must take into account the fact that the Legion is going to suffer massive losses (easily numbering into the thousands) taking Hoover Dam from the NCR as the NCR garrison here is extremely well-defended, well-supplied and heavily-fortified by both an entire battalion of elite, battle-hardened NCR Troopers and God only knows how many NCR Patrol Rangers, NCR Heavy Troopers and NCR Veteran Rangers.
Combined with the fact that General Oliver's Compound is extremely well-defended with force fields, a turret system, NCR Veteran Rangers, NCR Heavy Troopers, elite NCR Troopers and an absolute labyrinth that's filled to the brim with all manner of booby traps ranging from rigged shotguns, bear traps and mines of all types to grenade bouquets and overhanging objects (and given that you see a pile of fresh Legionary and Centurion corpses at your feet whenever you enter the Compound during the "Veni, Vidi, Vici" quest it's more than safe to assume that Legion casualties will be extremely massive just securing this area alone), this only serves to bolster my claim that thousands of the Legion's troops will perish at Hoover Dam even if they were to take it.
With only a mere fraction of their original number (that 5,000-8,000 will have been massively depleted after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam), now the Legion has to set out and secure the rest of the Mojave Wasteland, which will prove to be completely impossible over time. The Legion will find next to no tribes to assimilate as they exterminate the Powder Gangers, Fiends, Vipers, Jackals and the Kings in all of their endings.
And while the Legion still has the Great Khans and the Boomers, they won't help much. The Great Khans are down to little more than a pitiful rag-tag band of holdouts after both their ass-whipping at the hands of Mr. House and their decimation at Bitter Springs by the NCR. A fact that only gets worse when we subtract the women and female children (breeding stock), the elderly, the sick and the disabled (killed off immediately) as well as mention the fact that the Frumentarius Karl does say in his journal that the Legion would have to decimate most of the tribe, anyways. Meaning that the Legion will at most get a couple paltry handful of warriors from them.
As for the Boomers (assuming that the "Volare!" quest isn't completed) will prove to be more than a huge cost than a real benefit to the Legion. The Boomers' artillery alone would kill hundreds, if not thousands, of Legionaries with the Boomers themselves, armed to the teeth with Missile Launchers, Fat Mans, Grenade Machine Guns, Grenade Launchers, Grenade Rifles, 5.56 x 45mm. Marksman Carbines and 5mm Assault Carbines in addition to Mr. Gutsy combat robots and Sentry Bots, killing hundreds and even thousands more before the Legion finally conquer them.
Also consider that the Boomers, who worship their artillery and weapons with a near religious reverence, will by no means let their weapons fall into the hands of savages. Thus we could easily see them sabotaging their artillery (how hard would it be to load an artillery shell and lob a frag grenade down the barrel, after all?; and given that the Boomers only have 3-4 artillery pieces it wouldn't take long to do) and munitions stockpiles (just a few bricks of C4 could easily destroy all of the Boomers' weapons and ammunition supplies) to keep them out of Legion hands, which only adds insult to injury.
Even worse for the Legion is that when we subtract those Boomers that died in battle (most likely all of the adult males), the women and female children, the elderly, sick and disabled the Legion will have only a handful of male children to their name (remember that the Boomers are a really puny tribe that depend entirely on their firepower to survive) which means that they will have achieved nothing despite their massive losses incurred from conquering Nellis Air Force Base.
Then we also consider the fact that the Legion doesn't enslave civilized communities or Independent Towns unless under extraordinary circumstances (as evidenced by Siri over at the Fort who hailed from an Independent Town in New Mexico and was a medical student there prior to its destruction by the Legion).
Of course, it wouldn't matter as even if they did, the entire New Vegas area is completely evacuated by the NCR in the event of a Legion victory at Hoover Dam as evidenced by Arcade Gannon's Legion ending where he's convinced to remain in Freeside (all of Freeside, North Vegas, Westside, East Vegas and the Strip, which is really just a resort for NCR tourists rather than an actual community, are evacuated with those few that don't make it out, Arcade included, being killed by the Legion).
And when we consider that Nelson was butchered, Camp Searchlight irradiated and Nipton destroyed by the Legion with Goodsprings being left alone and Primm just falling under Legion authority (no point in enslaving the town anyways considering how it's just one big retirement home alongside Goodsprings which is also evacuated by all save a few old, stubborn folks) then it's blatantly clear that the Legion will have very few civilized people left to enslave.
With an even smaller fraction of survivors thanks to their conquest of Nellis AFB (in addition to hundreds more casualties against the Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, the Kings and what's left of House's Securitron police force and the Chairmen) the Legion will soon realize its folly and discover that both holding the Mojave Wasteland and continuing their advance West is literally impossible.
The Legion's logistical situation and acquisition of supplies will soon prove to be an insurmountable nightmare within mere weeks of their occupation of the Mojave. The loss of Nipton, Camp Searchlight and Nelson will serve to severely hamstring the Legion's logistics with the eventual deaths of New Vegas, Primm and Goodsprings only complicating the Legion's supply lines even further.
As 99% of the Strip's revenue comes from NCR tourists and soldiers on leave and given how the Legion will most likely tear down the casinos and ban whores, booze, chems and gambling under Caesar's law, the Strip will eventually shrivel up and die due to loss of revenue. North Vegas, East Vegas, Westside, Freeside, Primm and Goodsprings, which are entirely dependent on Republic trade and commerce for survival, will eventually suffer the same fate as NCR trade and business abandon the region out of both fear and hatred for the Legion.
Especially after the Legion's successful assassination of President Kimball which will see him martyred and ensure that the NCR will cut off all ties to the fallen Mojave Wasteland. With all of the Mojave's communities and towns dying off, the Legion's supply lines will crumble and face imminent collapse within only a few months time (Hoover Dam isn't a viable supply route as while it does allow the Legion to cross the Colorado River in force it's just too far to provide adequate, long-term support) which will only serve to doom the Legion's occupation of the Mojave Wasteland.
We must also take into account that the Legion will need every last man, Denarius and resource at its disposal if it so much as hopes to hold the region and continue the advance West. Which will force Caesar to relinquish the Legion's entire empire East of the Colorado in order to do so. In Legate Lanius’ own words, the Legion's expansion campaigns in the East have been faltering badly as Caesar's obsession with Hoover Dam, New Vegas and the West has seen the Legion's full strength syphoned off towards Hoover Dam as part of Caesar's plan to overrun Hoover Dam, conquer New Vegas and eventually invade the West.
Imagine the Hell that the Legion will have trying to secure the Mojave Wasteland, which will prove to be so bad that the Legion heartlands will have to be left defenseless, lawless and chaotic just to even begin to make such an ambitious feat even remotely feasible. Some would probably argue that Caesar would surely never abandon the East just for the tiniest, southernmost tip of Nevada and just one little city but I'd advise you to reconsider.
Caesar explicitly states that while the Legion does have their own cities back East, NONE OF THEM are ANYTHING like New Vegas. Why is that such a big deal, one might ask? It's simple, really. While the Mojave Wasteland was relatively untouched by the nuclear holocaust that was the Great War, thanks to the quick and decisive actions of Robert Edwin House, New Vegas is at best a total dump and at worst an absolute shithole.
Filled to the brim with disease, essentially overrun with Raiders, bandits and common criminals of all stripes, absolutely crushed beneath the iron heel of a colossal drug-addiction crisis, bursting at the seams with abject misery and poverty and rampant with starvation, New Vegas is without a doubt little more than a massive dumpster fire.
Things are so bad in that cursed place that you actually have children chasing rats in the streets just to survive, locals constantly complaining about hunger pains and withdrawals and scum ranging from the Fiends to random little hooligan punks constantly ransacking the place.
Westside, the South Vegas ruins, East Vegas, North Vegas and Freeside are all Hellish nightmares that are almost completely hopeless causes, at the end of the day. Even if one takes into account the diamond in the rock, the New Vegas Strip, you still wouldn't find many reasons to be impressed.
What you have is a tiny wealthy resort community that still looks like a dump (though it's still a major improvement from the rest of New Vegas), has highly dilapidated infrastructure (the Tops Casino still has a giant hole on the side of the building) and is surrounded by a wall that's held together with spit, grit and a whole lotta' duct tape.
And while the Strip is safe, orderly and prosperous by the standards of the Mojave Wasteland (a very shit standard, I might add), it's ultimately a very terrible place by the standards of the rest of the post-apocalyptic world (i.e. NCR territory and lands under Legion control). If Legion cities can't even match the standards of that shithole, what does that say about Caesar's willingness to hold them? Especially in light of what he'd be gaining in return?
Furthermore, Caesar often tends to view himself as a mere barbaric king of the Gauls, with his Legion being nothing but one big nomadic tribe of savages without a true home or purpose in his eyes, which is extremely depressing. Caesar sees New Vegas as a true city, a true capital, a true home for both himself and his Legion, a true Rome that he can rule over and could preside over a true empire in. And the West as that very true empire that he so desperately relishes.
Do you honestly believe that Caesar wouldn't trade his current empire (which he clearly holds in very low esteem and almost regrets ever conquering it) for his new Rome and a stepping stone towards eventually conquering his new Roman Empire (the stepping stone being the Mojave Wasteland)? He'd trade the whole of the East for New Vegas and the Mojave Wasteland in a heartbeat and in doing so will seal the Legion's fate and imminent doom.
With the Legion having completely relinquished the East (and therefore cutting themselves off from their resource base, source of revenue/income and escape route, in the process) their supply lines and logistical network in chaos and having absolutely no source of replenishment and reinforcements for their ranks, the Legion will slowly but surely disintegrate, trapped in a permanent holding pattern in the Mojave that'll bleed them dry and drain them of all their resources.
The NCR, meanwhile, will have simply dug in at the Mojave Outpost and fortified their defenses there. They'd have most certainly brought in the 3 VB-02 Vertibirds (which are armed with Gatling Lasers, Missile Launcher racks and Mini Nuke Launchers and outfitted with heavy armor) that were conducting combat air patrols of the NCR military base just a few miles away from the Mojave Outpost.
Far from stopping there, however, Colonel Royez (who's outfitted with the Scorched Sierra Power Armor which is a fully-operational suit of heavily-modified T-45d Power Armor upgraded with onboard medical systems capable of healing any injury and an improved back-mounted power pack from a suit of T-51b Power Armor that will be capable of resisting nearly all of the Legion's weapons and armed with a Plasma Caster chock full of overcharged Microfusion Cells so incredibly strong that it can kill a lvl. 50 Courier in Power Armor with just 2-3 hits!) and his men (NCR Heavy Troopers armed to the teeth with Gatling Lasers, Plasma Casters and Tesla Cannons as well as NCR Troopers armed with Tri-Beam Laser Rifles, Multiplas Rifles, Laser Rifles and Plasma Rifles) will also redeployed there from the same military camp, as well.
Republic artillery pieces can also be deployed there to help bolster the outpost's defenses, as well. A massive network of bunkers, pillboxes and trenches all along the hill below the outpost as well as machine gun nests, sniper nests, minefields and razorwire can also be established to further enhance the impregnable defensive perimeter of the new frontline. Once all of this is done, the NCR will then proceed to flood the outpost with tens of thousands of NCR Troopers, NCR Heavy Troopers, NCR Veteran Rangers
And when coupled with the fact that the Mojave Outpost is atop a high hill, is flanked by mountain ranges on both sides (which will completely prevent the Legion from attacking its flanks and rear), is right on the border with fully-controlled Republic territory (which will make it impossibly easy to keep well-supplied and will also ensure that Republic reinforcements are plentiful and easily available) and the fact that one could see everything up to Primm and Nipton from the Mojave Outpost (that particular area is also wide-open, completely exposed and lacks any real cover which means that any Legion force of any meaningful size would be spotted from miles away day or night which in turn will prevent Legion surprise attacks), the Mojave Outpost will truly become a 100% impregnable fortress.
To make things even worse for the Legion, there's absolutely no bypassing the Mojave Outpost either as the only areas that can allow such a short cut around the Long 15 are completely and literally impassable. The Big Empty is often described as a wall to any living thing approaching it, the Divide is little more than a death trap and is completely avoided by the Legion for obvious reasons and Death Valley is so inhospitable that even the NCR, with its fleet of military cargo trucks and Vertibirds, flat out avoids that area out of habit.
Any army stupid enough to try and cross through these areas will not return alive under any circumstances. Which in turn ensures that only through the Long 15 can the Legion hope to invade the West and given that the Mojave Outpost is purely impenetrable and that the Mojave Wasteland is completely entrapped with mountains and the Colorado River, the Legion will be completely trapped in the Mojave Wasteland and will never be freed from their holding pattern there.
The NCR simply bides its time and let's the Legion wear itself out and tear itself apart trying to hold the Mojave Wasteland, occasionally fending off Legion assaults on the Mojave Outpost whilst inflicting heavy losses on the Legion, launching several limited-scale offensives here and there so as to deplete the Legion's ranks even further and deploying NCR Veteran Rangers into the Mojave Wasteland so as to ambush Legion supply caravans and patrols to worsen the Legion's logistical nightmare.
After almost a year, the Legion will finally be vulnerable, it's forces stretched absolutely thin down to their absolute breaking point, their supply lines and logistics completely exhausted and expended alongside their supplies as a whole, the Legion's ranks reduced to little more than a tiny skeleton crew, the Legion completely scattered across the entire Mojave Wasteland unable to guard it or defend it any longer and the Colorado River at its back, with absolutely no way of escaping their inevitable demise.
At this moment, the NCR finally attacks with a full-scale assault across the entirety of the Mojave, completely and utterly destroying the Legion in its entirety and killing/capturing Caesar himself as Republic forces swarm across New Vegas and wipe out his Legion all around him within mere hours, days if the Legion is lucky. And so the NCR-Legion War finally draws to a close, with the back of the Legion broken forever and ceasing to exist.
Either way the Legion is fucked with a Legion defeat at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam being a mercy killing at best for the Legion.
(Sources are down below in the comments section).

What is the future of Gun Control, Gun Rights and the 2nd Amendment in 2020 and beyond?

DEMOLITION DAYS, PART 86

That reminds me of a story.
After that last one, I thought you might all enjoy a short follow up.
After Al, Chuck, Leo, returned to their other lives back in the world, they kept getting requests from various Agencies and Bureaus for more mine closure data, mostly focusing upon lines of documentation. The various Bureaus desired monographs, road guides, technical reports, and most importantly, detailed step-by-step “How To” manuals.
My guys, now my fully credentialed doctored colleagues, were predictably reticent to write up “How To” manuals for something that was obviously not of their authorship nor inception.
“Fuckin’-A, Rock,” Leo tells me in a phone call, “They want me to fuckin’ basically claim-jump you writing up mine closing procedures. What’s with these goatfuckers? They figured they paid you enough and are now trying to run a goddamned end around? Collective shitheels. No fucking way I’d even think of crossing, even accidently, the Motherfuckin’ Pro from Dover.”
I replied that I had no idea, as after the initial contacts after the field season, I had heard precisely dick from any of the bureaus. Which is fine, as I’m busier than a one-armed paperhanger in a windstorm getting ready to shift the family some 12,700 kilometers east.
I thanked Leo for the intel and told him not to worry, it’s just bureaucracy misfiring at its finest.
“Fuckin’-A, Bubba,” replies Leo as he hangs up.
It suddenly goes all dusty in my office. “I’ve trained that boy well,” I sniff and chuckle heartily.
A short while later, Al wrote me that he’s been contacted by the Bureau/Agency and they are desirous that he lead a field trip with a gaggle of professors from various universities. They are also not all geologists, but Environmental Scientists, Hydrologists, something called an “Environmental Engineer,” and other forms of societal detritus.
He tells me that they wanted him to lead a group of these characters out into the desert for a couple of weeks and show them the mine closure procedures which he developed.
He was most adamant in assuring me that they contacted him, and that the terminology was also theirs. He was already otherwise engaged, so he naturally had to decline. However, he made it abundantly clear that he would never even entertain such a notion like the one they had posited.
I wrote him back, as he was down in Patagonia doing something more or less interesting and/or exciting, thanking him for the information and wishing him well on his expedition. Since he was in the field, I also included a couple of the recipes we enjoyed back in the Nevada desert.
He later tells me that the Gauchos he was working with down there have never heard of Pineapple Upside Down Cake and they absolutely were delighted by it. Come to find out, they also like potato juice and citrus drinks as well.
“Good ol’ Dr. Good-deed. Aide to all men.” I pondered.
I talked with Esme about all this and she was of the opinion that either they knew I was headed east or they wanted me to have some time off. I had been doing a lot of ad hoc work for both Agencies and Bureaus over the last few years.
“Of course,” I replied, “Never ascribe to malice what can best be defined by governmental bureaucracy and officiousness.”
So, time puttered on.
We were holding weekly ‘GROJ (Get Rid Of Junk) sales’ on our weekends. Since everything electrical we possessed was 120 VAC, and the rest of the world, it seems, is 220 VAC, I had to part with all my antiquated electronics. My Fisher Studio-Standard stereo system, Akai reel-to-reel 16-track tape machines, EMI TG12345 MK IV recording console, and Harmon-Kardon turntables and amplifiers.
It was painful. However, I rationalized, if I were to stick them in storage for a decade or two, I’d have re-paid for them via rental fees a couple or three times over. Plus, and all that sitting unused in a storage locker certainly wouldn’t be good for these vintage electronical gizmos.
Still, it was a painful time to pack them into the back of someone else’s vehicle.
I had to take all my firearms to my Brother-in-Law for safekeeping. Since he’s in Kentucky, he was both happy to accept and vowed to give them regular workouts. Even though he’s some form or another of mechanical engineer, I guess I could trust him.
One day, the home phone rings. It’s Chuck and he’s livid.
“Rock!” he hollers, “You know what those chapped bastards at the Bureau want from me? They want me to step in on your turf, and take a clan of idiot pseudo-geologists out in the field for a couple of weeks and train them in mine closing. Can you fucking believe that?”
“Chuck,,” I say, “Whoa. Cool down. Leo and Al report the same, so it just looks like you were next on the list. So, going to take them up on their offer?”
“Don’t make me laugh, Doc!” Chuck asks, “First: I’m busy. Second: I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea how to handle logistics, camping, explosives, and all that other bureaucratic horseshit you somehow put up with. Third: I really don’t want a midnight visit from you and your bag of tricks because I’ve pissed you off by taking credit for what’s rightfully yours.”
“What is the fucking deal?” I ask Chuck, “I’m not like that at all. Everyone thinks I’m going go out and frag them because the Bureau asks them to do a job I did previously. Damn, I’m the most laid-back, gregarious, and even-tempered person on the planet; and I’ll mutilate the miserable manky motherfucker that says I’m not.”
Chuck laughs nervously.
“Hyperbole aside,” I continue, “It’s just that they know I’m headed out to the Middle East and don’t want to bother me right now; I suppose.”
“Umm, Rock,” Chuck clears his thought, and gulps, “That’s not the reason they told me.”
“Is that a fact?” I ask, “What did they give as a reason?”
“Now, Rock, don’t take this wrong. This is Bureau-speak, not me,” Chuck wants to make the point vodka-clear, “But they felt you were the wrong person to lead this group of ‘scholars’. They were concerned with your…”
Hesitation.
“Spill it, Chuck,” I say.
“Demeanor,” Chuck says, “Your conduct, your deportment, your behavior…”
“I see someone got a Thesaurus for Christmas,” I said.
“Rock, that’s them, not me,” Chuck continues, “They said you are too ‘wild and wooly’ to conduct this field expedition of ‘noted scholars’.”
“Is that a fact?” I ask, rhetorically.
“Just reporting to you what they told me, Bossman.” Chuck offers.
“I appreciate it, Chuck. Thanks.” I reply, “Don’t sweat it. I’ll take it from here.”
You could hear an audible expression of relief when we broke connection.
After a couple of cocktails, I had simmered down a bit. Esme says that I need to call my Agency buddies and get the lowdown on the situation, as they’ll know what’s going on.
For once, Esme is also very, very pissed off about the whole situation. Mama Bear’s claws were getting sharpened.
“You are gone for months,” Es exclaims, “Train a bunch of greenhorns, exceed project requirements by over 200%, supply crucial scientific data on forensic activities, and take out a disaster they didn’t even know existed in that mine with the locker full of explosives!”
“Yeah,” I reply, “Does seem a wee bit unappreciative.”
“And then they pull this kind of shit!,” Es yells further, “Those ungrateful bastards. Fuck ‘em. Let them stew in their own futility. They call and you tell them to get stuffed. After all you did for them…”
“Now, now, Dearest,” say, “Let me call Rack and Ruin. If anyone has the skinny on all this, they’ll have all the latest dope.”
“Bastards!,” Es cries, “You damn near get killed several times over and this is their thanks?”
“Yeah, I know, Darling,” I say, “Does seems a bit ungrateful and duplicitous.”
Esme hands me the phone.
“Phone. Call. Now.” She orders.
Looks like I just got my marchin’ orders.
“Yes, my love,” I reply. Even I know when I’m out-matched.
RING RING RING
Agent Rack answers and we go through the usual pleasantries…
“What the flying fuck you mean ‘I’m too dangerous’?” I question Agent Rack.
“Well, Doctor,” Rack tries to explain, “Your ‘cavalier’ attitude towards explosives. More of your ‘relationship’ with them. Not showing the proper deference…”
“WHAT?,” I roar, “Ask anyone that has worked with me in the field! ‘Safety first, last, and foremost’. Just that I don’t fret and quail around explosives like a bunch of phonophobic, jumped-up, wet-pantied shuddering schoolgirls, when I have to demolish something, doesn’t mean I’m anything other than a goddamned consummate professional.”
“Plus, Doctor, ” Rack continues, “It’s not the 1880’s any longer. A Stetson? A sidearm? A .454 Casull Magnum at that…”
“You have got to be yanking my crank here, Rack.” I angrily reply, as I really hate it when someone calls me Doctor like that, “The hat keeps the sun off my head so I don’t get addled like those fuckers you’re talking with at the Bureau. The sidearm is for safety. Oh, yes; there’s that word again. It’s a fucking tool, just like my Estwing hammers or my galvanometer.”
“Can’t kill anyone with a galvanometer,” Rack replies.
“But I could with a hammer, myriad ways” I reply, “And give me five minutes, I’d figure out a way to ‘extract’ someone with a galvanometer...”
“Doctor, do let me let you talk with Agent Ruin; I’m needed elsewhere,,” he tells me.
Agent Ruin takes the phone. It’s the old Agency Two-Step.
“Doctor is distraught,” he observes.
“No, ‘Doctor’ is just plain damned mad.” I reply, “They contract me for a job that has never been attempted before and I complete it beyond their wildest expectations! This is my recompense?”
“Well, Doctor,” Ruin continues, “I’m sure it’s strictly a business decision. It’s obviously nothing personal.”
“It sure as fuck sounds personal,” I gripe back, as now I’ve gone from annoyed to genuinely pissed off, “I’m surprised they didn’t say something derogatory about my Hawaiian shirts.”
“Oh, they did,” Agent Ruin lets slip.
“Oh? OK, Fine. That’s is then,” I reply, “The joyfulness of this whole experience has left the building. Tell them to strike me from their fucking list. I’m done with them. I wash my hands of them. I’m off east anyways. Fuck that bunch of paper-pushing, deskbound, pencil-necked dickheads. Fuck them. Fuck them solid. Fuck them ‘till they bleed.”
“Strong message to follow,” I add.
“Doctor,” Agent Ruin reminds me, “Do I need to remind you that all our conversations are recorded?”
“Oh, fuck no. I know that. So fucking what?” I growl, “Like I’m going to get tossed in Guantanamo for expressing a personal opinion? I can still do that in this fine country. Or has the First Amendment been repealed in my absence?”
“Doctor, you’re obviously agitated,’ Ruin adds, “Perhaps we’ll talk again later when you’ve calmed down before you head to the Middle East.”
“Yeah, about that,” I reply, “You shady characters can cross me off your fucking list as well. You’ve done nothing for me on this latest concern. Nothing! You couldn’t even give me the courtesy of a motherfucking heads-up. Guess that tells me all I need to know about the future of our relationship. Goodbye, Agent Ruin. Give Agent Rack my ‘Da Svidonya. I won’t be answering your calls any longer.
“Doctor, I, um, wait…”Agent Ruin sputters.
I continue: “And as long as I’m at it, tell that other Bureau to go hang as well. They want more data or shit from me, tell them to go find it elsewhere. And also tell them good luck with that. The three experts that exist in the world apart from me already told them to get bent. At least they possess loyalty and a dollop of comradeship. I’ll be shipping your phone and other items back via parcel post. Hasta la vista, Herr Ruin. Have a day.”
CLICK-KER -FUCKING-SMASH! I hang up in the rudest way possible.
“Clapped-out assholes,” I muse. “All those years of working together. All those years of building relationships around the world. It’s all kyboshed over a fucking Hawaiian shirt. I guess it was inevitable. Either I became too specialized or evolved myself out of being useful to them. Ah, well, their loss. Can’t be helped…”
I take a healthy swig right from the prime vodka bottle. OK, several.
“FUCKERS!” I scream at the wood-paneled ceiling, shaking my fist in vehement rage at the clouds coolly cruising by outside my window.
Esme doesn’t come running. She doesn’t have to. She knows the score.
I ship the Agency’s toys back to them with a terse note: “Thanks for all the nothing. Here’s your shit back. Dr. Rocknocker. PS: Get stuffed.”
Not my best effort, I’ll agree. However, I was really pissed at that point.
Now I have the time to devote solely to relocating my family and I overseas. Gad, there’s so much crap one must go through. What to sell, what goes in storage, what to trash, what to give away…the lists are endless.
First to go are all my power tools. Fuckbuckets. It took me decades to amass that collection. I got a good price, sure, but now I’m more or less without a hobby. We decide to put all Esme’s lapidary equipment in storage. It’s too specialized to generate much interest, much less a decent price. Besides, they won’t rot in our absence.
I can ship my fishing gear and golf clubs overseas. They’re American, but at least not 120 VAC.
Our house goes on the market and we have to get it spiffed to within an inch of its life. Got to have that ‘curb appeal’. Good, let someone else do it, I’m busy. More unexpected expense.
I give our house contractors out in New Mexico their marching orders. It’s going slow and will be a seasonal thing, but they guarantee me the house will be ready by next summer if they can source the slabs of Baraboo Quartzite I want. Splendid, that’s something I don’t have to follow up on every day.
Then there’s our aquarium. 250 gallons of treated Houston water, loaded with native Texan fish and a couple of cranky Jack Dempseys. All the gear, filters, pumps, water polishers, heaters, treaters, all of it. Has to go.
My ex-Utah Mormon drinking buddy down the road expresses interest. I basically let him have it gratis on the one condition he takes everything, fish included. He has to keep the fish alive and happy their entire lives. I’ve raised some from minnows and have grown attached to a couple of the gaspergou and a certain smallmouth bass with those big brown eyes…
Digger, my stalwart mechanic, is going to purchase my truck. It’s a bittersweet parting, but at least I know it’ll have a great home. Digger is going to use it as both his personal truck and his company’s hot-shot vehicle for pick-up and delivery of everything from batteries to full drivetrains. I know the vehicle will be in good hands.
Our Land Rover is up for grabs. Few are interested, though; buyer’s market. It’s a couple of years old and has lots of miles, due to Houston being so stupid-big. I order an extra-large bottle of AstroGlide as I know I’m going to be taking it up the ass on this one…
Finally, our pets.
Reluctantly, I’ve agreed to take the cat. It’s a stupid little feline that I figure we can just toss in a suitcase and drag it with us overseas. No, I guess we’ll get a cat-carrier and figure it out with the airlines.
Then there’s Lady. 135 kilos of dopey puppy. She’s getting up in years, as well, especially for a giant breed. Luckily, overseas we’ll be living on a Western compound. So if we go through all the rigmarole of quarantine, getting her a ‘pet passport’, and shipping via a specialist service, Lady can bark at the tenets of pre-Islam (dogs really aren’t haram), and actually join us in our new home.
This is going to cost a fortune, but I don’t care. She’s an integral part of the family, she is going to join us.
I find a Pet Relocation Service and begin the masses of insane paperwork. It’s an ‘all-in’ service, basically door-to-door. But do not be deluded, they charge every micrometer of the way.
Vaccinations, chipping (she already was fitted with an RFID chip), booking, boarding, securing vet services, obtaining health certificates, securing import permits, dealing with all issues related to customs clearance, interacting with foreign agents, supplying IATA approved crates, and obtaining Municipality tags registration for new arrivals.
Gonna cost me a couple-three-four kilobucks. Worth every penny.
Esme, the kids and I are working on beginning packing, tossing this, wrapping that, sentimentalizing over the other thing when we get a ring at the door.
It’s a bonded courier. He has a package for me.
It’s of the size that would contain about 6-months’ worth of Playboy magazines, and has no external address. I sign for the thing and walk back to the kitchen.
“What you got there, Rock?” Es asks.
“Not sure,” I reply, “But it came via bonded courier.”
“Well, open it,” Es smiles. She loves surprises.
I do so and it’s a series of articles, re-prints, and other information regarding Nevada, mine closures, and the Mine Closure Act. There’s also a number of newspaper and magazine clippings that had been photo-copied into a dozen-page document. All of them, write-ups and reviews from different newspapers, house organs, and journals citing my work with the guys out in the field.
I open it further and there’s a personal note from Dr. Sam Muleshoe, and a certified check, made out in my name.
Seems I was correct. After exhausting their leads with Al, Leo, and Chuck, they have spent near a month trying to find someone to take over the project. “To fill my shoes,” as Dr. Sam Muleshoe notes.
They came up totally empty.
“Told ya’ so.” I gloated. Esme smiles a wide schadenfreude-fueled smile.
I look at the check. It’s plenty healthy, but not superhero strength.
I show Es and she laughs out loud.
“So,” Es whoops, “They think they can get back in your good graces by buying you off? Hah! Fat chance,” she says and regards the check, “Hell. They’re not even close.”
I agree with Esme passionately.
I write a quick, hand-scribbled note to Dr. Muleshoe, thanking him for the information. I give several options, some admittedly anatomically impossible, regarding what he can do with the check and the Bureau’s offer.
I wrap it back up with duct-tape, call the courier service, and return it to Reno, COD.
A couple of days later, I receive a phone call. Surprise, surprise, it’s from Reno.
“Rock, it’s Reno!,” Es tells me.
I shake my head “no!” slicing my hand through the air in the head-chop mime.
“Tell him I’ve gone bush in darkest Outer Albania and you have no idea when I’ll be back,” I say.
Esme looks a bit sheepish, as we can hear the phone remark: “I can hear you, you know.”
“Fuckbuckets,” I think, “OK, hand me the rap-rod.”
“Yeah?” I growl, very grizzly-like into the infernal communication device.
“Hello, Rock. This is Sam Muleshoe,” the phone reports.
“Damn,” I exclaim, “I guess you characters can’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Which word fucking confused you?”
“Rock, what’s the god damned deal?,” Sam asks innocently, “Why all the bloody hostility?”
“Oh, double-fuck me!” I say metaphorically, “Don’t act like you don’t know. Try and snake the latest field mine closing job out from under me and try to snag my guys. Then, when that fails, give some sort of bullshit report to Rack and Ruin. You think I’m ‘too cavalier’, too “wild and wooly’, and think I’m some goddamned 19th-century throwback that loves horrible Hawaiian shirts…”
“Doc?,” Sam asks, “Are you currently fucking drunk? What the actual fuck are you rabbeting on about?”
“Sam, I’m stone-cold fucking sober,” I reply, “Yeah. I know, that’s a first. But listen here Scooter. You must have balls of brass trying to sweet-talk me into running another field course after all you did…”
“Rock,” Sam pleads, “Please, believe me, I have no idea what you’re on about. Can we talk and maybe figure this thing out?”
“No!,” I holler, “I’m done talking with the likes of your Bureau. Nothing you can do or say to rebuild the bridges they’ve burned with me.”
“OK,” he says, “Doct…, err, Rock, buddy. Calm your tits. Give me the Reader’s Digest version. I’ll look into it, because I have absolutely no idea what this is all about. This really sounds serious, with fuck-up overtones. Trust me, I’m serious as the last cold can of beer on a field trip.”
“Marvelous.” I say, “I guess I owe you that much. Professional courtesy. At least one of us has the grit to employ some.”
So, I run through the tale of the travails of Al, Chuck, and Leo. Then my little difference of opinion with Agents Rack, Ruin, and the Agency. Plus my severing of ties with both that Agency out on the east coast and the Bureaus in the great American Southwest.
“Doctor,” Sam says intently, “I know it’s going to be difficult, but I swear on a box of your finest cigars with a vodka chaser that I didn’t know anything about all this nor did it come from this office. Por favor señor, let me do some digging. I’ll be back in touch.”
“Sam,” I say, thinking over the situation, “Yeah…I must apologize for my previous outbursts. I should have known you’re not behind this idiocy. Yeah, go do some fossicking. Let me know what you dig up. Again, sorry. I was a bit…animated.”
“Rock,” Sam chuckles, “Do you think that I’d dare anger someone like you? You must think I’ve got a serious case of cranial lithification to cheese-off the Motherfucking Pro from Dover!”
At this point, I knew that Sam was also only collateral damage; he too was caught in the crossfire. Ground zero for the original attacks lie elsewhere within the Bureau.
Esme and I go back to preparing for our trip coming up in 2 months. But Jesus Q. Christwagons, there’s so much to do. Everything you own; it gets packed, stored, or trashed.
It’s the decisions that get so tiring. Keep. Toss. Sell. Burn. Leave on someone’s doorstep.
I propose to Es that we just do the basic necessities. Then we hire some firm to finish up for us. It’d be worth the cost since just think what we’d be saving on aspirin and Ace Bandages.
Esme readily backs the idea that we should turn the job over to someone else. Plus in the interim, we can take a trip back home to Baja Canada so the kids could visit their grandparents, we visit our family, and all of us could cool out a bit before the big trip east.
I need to drop by Big Ray’s Tap for a few hours/days anyways.
Old commitments.
We’d go the beginning of our last month here in the States, spend a couple of weeks visiting family at home, leave the kids with the grandparents to get spoiled rotten. Es and I would return to Houston to finalize everything.
Then Es and I would fly from Houston to that damn sprawling annoyance of an airport on the big lake in Illinoise. The family would meet us there, handover the kids, and we’d all haul ass eastwards to the Middle East.
I readily agreed. Anything has to be better than dealing with this crapola.
Lady and the stupid cat would go to the pet schleppers a little early. Sure, it’d cost a few more dinars, but that’s one big headache sorted.
So, late one afternoon, I’m sitting in my office, trying to figure out exactly what reference works I couldn’t live without.
Compton’s? Save. Field Guide to Fungus? Toss. No, wait a minute. Could prove useful.
That’s why this is taking forever.
The phone rings.
It’s Sam.
“Hello, Sam,” I say, “What news?”
“Goddamn it all to fucking hell and back,” Sam roars.
“That’s a unique greeting,” I reply.
“I finally drilled down to the bottom of all this horseshit.,” Sam replies, “And it’s a real bowl of fuck all the way south.”
“I’m listening,” I say, “Actually, Sam, hold on. I need a drink. Moment.”
I give Es the high sign, note it’s Sam on the phone, and that I’ll be in my office if she hears any screaming.
I amp up my drink and return to my office, closing the door behind me.
Lady is here, waiting to keep my feet warm.
“OK Sam, your nickel,” I say, “What’s the scoop?”
“Would you believe?,” he begins, “That all batshittery this came from accounting and bookkeeping?”
“Well,” I reply, “I’ll have to admit that I’m not overly surprised.”
“Yeah,” Sam continues, “I was off on holiday. My first two weeks off after 5 years. My very temporary replacement received a memo from the head of the Bureau that there was great interest in you leading a shortened version of your last trip to demonstrate to a bunch of different university PhDs in the care and feeding of abandoned mines. Seems the Bureau Chief was very impressed with what you and your team accomplished.”
“OK,” I reply, “With you so far. So, where did things get wrapped around a tractor’s nuts?”
“Right,” he replies, “Here’s where things first went off the rails. Whoever vetted the list of potential attendees sorted the list alphabetically, not by field of expertise. Of course, the obvious first choice would be for geologists; especially those with mining, field, and blasting experience.”
“Ah,” I replied, “No wonder it was such a miscellaneous bunch of baloney-loaf whole-grain enviro-types that Al had mentioned.”
“Yep,” Sam agreed, “But before anyone with any brains got sight of that list, some fucknuts in the Bureau’s University Liaison department sent out invitations.”
“Invitations?” I asked, “To what?”
“That’s just the thing,” Sam continued, “They sent out invites to a program that didn’t yet exist, run by someone who had yet to be contacted, much less secured.”
“Oh, hey! That’s some good work you guys do down there.” I snort.
“Indeed,” Sam agrees, “So once that hit the mail, we started getting back replies and acceptances.”
“And there was no project, no leader, no logistics…?” I asked.
“No shit,” Sam scoffs. “So, what did these idiots here do? Contact the attendees and explain the problem. Take a little flack, but get it sorted out then try again?”
“Let me guess,” I said, “No?”
“Nope,” Sam sighs, “By that time, it was in the works and in the hands of accountants.”
“Oh, fuck,” I commiserated. “I feel your pain.”
“Yeah,” Sam continues, “They see that you’re the hookin’ bull on the last one and they dig into your contract. They figure, ‘Whoa, he’s way too expensive, just look at these expense accounts’, so they do an end-around and contact your colleagues.”
“Al, Chuck, and Leo. They’re damn good guys,” I said, “Fine field scientists, all. But I don’t think any of them have the moxie or experience yet to run a whole field course.”
“These accounting shitheads never bothered to find out,” Sam groans, “It was all ‘bottom line’, so you got caught in the squeeze.”
“OK,” I reply, “I see how that happened, but what about all the shit about me being a 19th-century throwback, that I’m unsafe, wear horrible Hawaiian shirts, and all that shit?”
“Comedy of bloody errors,” Sam says, “Actually, the Bureau Chief likes your fashion sense; you should see some of his shirts. But your slime campaign was based on unreliable evidence, tall tales, folklore, and outright fabrications. It was easy to pimp someone with a personality like yours, it’s been said. Someone was trying desperately to cover his ass. However, we have identified the perpetrator.”
“Next time I’m in Reno,” I said, “I’ll pay him a friendly little visit and arrange his transport to Neptune. One way. Y’know, it’d be easy for someone with a ‘personality like mine’.”
“Ah, yeah. He won’t be here,” Sam says, “In fact, we don’t know where the hell he went. He was immediately sacked, as were a couple of the more boneheaded accountants.”
“That’s redundant,” I smirk, “They really don’t want to talk with or see me anytime soon.”
“Right, then Rock,” Sam says, “We green again?”
“Yeah, Sam,” I reply, “Sure. Green as a New Saigon. But you’ve got to call Rack and Ruin for me. You have to let them know how this whole clusterfuck came to be. We had some words a while back.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sam remembers, “I talked with them the other day. They said they’ll be in Houston in a couple of days.”
“Cor! Just what I fucking need right now,” I lament. “Ah, it is what it is.”
“OK, Rock. Now, back to reality. You interested?” Sam asks.
“Send me a JD (job description) and the project particulars. The price of poker’s really going up this time, Sam. Stratospheric. Sorry, it’s all just business.” I relate.
“Yeah…,” Sam sighs, “I figure we’ll really owe you if you can drag our ass out of the campfire on this one.”
“You have no idea,” I chuckle. We exchange farewells and ring off.
Now I have some talking to do with my significant other.
Since we were all set to go back to Baja Canada, I could use those two weeks to go to Nevada, if necessary. I can be back in Houston with Es for the last two weeks before we’re slated to travel, and we can sort out the house.
“This won’t be an easy sell,” I muse, before chatting with my darling, brilliant, and ever-so-forgiving partner.
“I’ll need a drink first”, I declare.
Esme notes that it would be nice to have a little spare cash with us when we move overseas.
You could have dropped me with a Claymore. Es never fails to flummox me.
So, provisional OK from the powers that be. Now all I have to do is wait on Sam’s prospectus.
The next day, the doorbell rings. It’s Agents Rack and Ruin.
One is holding a box of very expensive cigars, and one is holding a bottle of very expensive bourbon.
I turn to Es and remark, “Look here, darlin’. Geeks bearing gifts.”
“Hello, Doctor,” Rack says, bristling, “We need to talk. “
“Why?” I ask, “I do seem to recall that I’m no longer associated with you people any longer.”
“Doctor,” Agent Ruin cocks his head contritely, bowing ever so slightly, “May we please have a moment of your time?”
I look to Es. She shrugs her shoulders. Luckily I’m partial to Es’ opinion. I am also partial to good bourbon and cigars, especially when someone else is paying for them. So I shrug my shoulders as well and tell them to make entry.
“My office, “ I say, “You know the way. Mind the boxes.”
Once in my office, the Agents stack their offerings and go on in great detail, basically collaborating Sam’s story. I remain steadfast and stony as the Harney Peak Granite of Mr. Rushmore fame. I’m not giving anything away any longer.
“Well, Doctor,” Agent Ruin finalizes, “That’s the story, warts and all.”
“Yep, it is pretty warty,” I agree, “So?”
“We would like to rekindle our relationship,” Agent Rack reports, “These are for starters.”
He hands me the cigars and booze; plus another box.
“Thanks,” I say, “But just because I accept your peace offerings, that doesn’t mean we’re going to turn back the clock.”
“What are you suggesting?” Agent Ruin asks.
“No more consulting,” I reply, “I want in. The ‘Full Monty’, as it were. If I’m going overseas and work for some twitchy Middle Eastern sandpit’s national oil company, I want perks, tabs, and my ass duly covered.”
“Work two full-time jobs simultaneously?” Agent Rack asks.
“However you want to structure it,” I say, “No more consulting. From here on out, you want me, you’re making me a full-fledged full-timer.”
Agents Rack and Ruin look at each other, enquiringly.
“Doctor,” Agent Rack replies, “We are prepared to offer you an ad hoc Agency appointment. You will be fully attached but you will be also doing your full-time job in the other country.”
“I’m listening. Tell me more,” I ask, “What exactly are you offering?”
“Full access to all pertinent information,” Agent Ruin continues, “Full entrée to appropriate facilities and, um, assets. Security for you and your family in case of, well, shall; we say, ‘difficulties’. Monthly minimum payment of [$$$] to any non-US bank of your choice. Extra duties would be duly compensated. Top clearances. An enhanced potential payment package, bonus possibilities, and full benefits for you.”
“Full benefits for me and my family,” I say, “Or there’s the door. Non-negotiable” I point out.
“Very well. That had been anticipated.” Agent Rack replies.
“Gentlemen,” I say, “Let us shake on what I hope turns out to be a beautiful relationship.”
We shake hands and I sign my life away. I’m really in it now, up to my neck. I have to learn to shut up more and just listen.
“Now, gents,” I say, “In order to seal the deal, let us break out the drinking stuff you’ve brought along. We will also smoke together so that we will know there will be no lies or deceit between us.”
“Also anticipated, Doctor,” both agents agree.
My ‘new’ old colleagues prepare to leave a while later, after a cigar, and far too much of what was a full bottle of expensive gift booze. They always get you in the end.
Contained within the other small box were my new Agency credentials, updated version satellite phone, secure codes, and a nifty new Swiss Army Knife, with a built-in cigar cutter.
With renewed dedication and expectations all ‘round, Agents Rack and Ruin take their leave.
They hope to be able to meet me and the family, remember, they are Uncles Rack and Ruin, overseas one day in the not too distant future. My information, further updated cards, registration, and all that official business guff will come to the specific Middle Eastern country’s US Embassy for me once we arrive and get settled.
“Marvelous,” I muse.
I receive an Email from Dr. Muleshoe explaining what we talked about and his hopes for my stickhandling a ‘quick’ 2-week field excursion for the approximately 15 Ph.D. types from around North America. Seems there’s a couple of Canadians and one Mexican professor that expressed desires to join. They had actually forwarded funds to be included in our number.
Sam suggests I drive out in my truck and proceed as per the last trip. Get the trailer, fill it with noisemakers, and the Bureau would sort out transportation and lodging for the attendees. Seems some want to camp, like real geologists, and some want to lodge in hotels, like real non-geologists.
I write Sam back:
First item: this is a 2-week sojourn into the desert. It’s a field meeting, emphasis on the field, not a tour of Nevada’s many fine hotels, resorts, and casinos.
Item two: I no longer possess my truck. The Bureau will provide me with the appropriate vehicular equivalent. No passengers, this will be the Camp Chief truck from the onset. Besides, I am the only one licensed to drive the vehicle when coupled to an explosives-laden trailer.
Item three: I will be flown to and from Reno from Houston. No buses, trains, or automobiles. It’s business class or zilch.
Item the fourth: the Bureau will source the necessary support logisticians to provide food, drink, and toilet paper for the 16 professionals while we are in the field. They will also need to provide cooks, dishwashers, camp tidiers, and the like as I don’t have time to deal with 15 potentially field-fresh, whiny waterhead PhDs.
Item the fifth: The Bureau will provide for all pre- and post-trip handling of participants. They can handle hotel rooms for the early arrivers or late-stayers. They can manage arrivals, registration, signing of necessary documents, and assuring vaccination records are up to snuff, waivers are signed, etc. They will also handle the transportation of participants to/from and during the field project, when and where necessary.
Item the sixth: I include a new version of my contract. Force Majeure, ‘Take or Pay’ clause. Door to door coverage. Plus my, ahem, augmented day rate. Absolutely non-negotiable.
Item seven: I have final say over what is done in the field. I am in command, the boss, the head cheese, the head honcho, and I require absolute discipline, especially where explosives are concerned. “My way or the highway” will be the theme of the trip. Gain, non-negotiable.
To be continued.

The entire script of Paul Blart Mall Cop 2.

OVER BLACK: BLART (V.O.) The road of life is always under construction... FADE IN: SUNRISE.* (* fromthe first movie) BLART (V.O.) ... thejourney is hard, but once you reach the top, the view is amazing. Amy and Blart getting married.* BLART (V.O.) And that view is even more beautiful when you have someone to share it with... Blart and Amy DANCE ON SEGWAYSat their reception.* INT. BLART’S MOM’S FRONT DOORWAY - DAY22Blart opens the door and is handed a LETTER by a STERN MAN. BLART (V.O.) ...forsix days. INT. BLART’S MOM’S HOUSE - LATER33Blart sits in his Mom’s living room, holding the letter. She rubs his back as he CRIES HYSTERICALLY. BLART (V.O.) My beautiful wife of almost a week let me know by letter that she had, what I like to call “some regrets.” Her doctor called it, “uncontrollable vomiting.” Her lawyer... “dissolution of marriage.” He looks up at his Mom, cries a little more... and then RUNS out of the room. BLART (V.O.) That’s okay, I needed a little time to myself. Like the song says: I’ve been to paradise, but I’ve never been to me. (MORE) David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALSPE CONFIDENTIAL // That’s okay, when life knocks Page 2/88 you down, calmly get back up, smile, and very politely say, “you hit like a small boy.” And... (then) At least I still had the one thing that never seemed to let me down... security. INT. WEST ORANGE PAVILLIONMALL - DAY3A3AWe see Blart at the mall, throwing himself into his work. He rides through the mall, UP-NODDING to passing customers. BLART (V.O.) I spent the next two years losing myself in the sweet escape of keeping the West Orange Pavilion Mall safe. Blart spies a SMALL CHILD who appears lost. He rolls up to him on the segway and takes his hand, leading him to find his mom. Seeing the MOM, Blart reunites her with the boy. The mom is overjoyed. MOMThank you! (then to boy) Now give the fake cop a hug Andy. Blart is flattered and leans in for the hug. Andy is having none of it. Blart goes in again -- nothing. MOM (CONT’D) (getting agitated) Andy... hug him. BLARTUh... he doesn’t want a hug that’s okay. Blart is now frozen in the hug lean position. MOM(still to son) You are embarrassing me. Blart back away and leans in one more time, but the kid just BELTS HIM and runs away. The mom runs after him. Blart awkwardly gets on his segway and rides away. BLART (V.O.) (CONT'D) Salmon (05/02/2014)2. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLART (V.0) And, on the home front... I always had Mom. Page 3/88 EXT. BLART’S MOM’S HOUSE - MORNING44Mom, in a fuzzy bathrobe, walks out into the street... BLART’S MOMOh, here’s the paper. ...and is DRILLED by an old-fashioned MILK TRUCK. BLART (V.O.) That is until she got drilled by a milk truck. Didn’t know they even had those anymore. INT. BLART’S MOM’S HOUSE - DAY55Blart once again sits in his mom’s living room looking at a FRAMED PHOTO of his mom... CRYING, uncontrollably. Maya, who is now 19 years old, rubs his back. He once again gets up and RUNS out of the room. BLART (V.O.) Besides my Maya, it didn’t seem like I had very much to look forward to. // INT. BLART’S MOM’S HOUSE - MORNINGBlart once again sits in his mom’s living room looking at a FRAMED PHOTO of his mom... he begins to CRY, uncontrollably. In the picture, we see: His MOTHER standing in a sun dress and big, floppy CHURCH HAT, surrounded by AFRICAN HUNTERS on SAFARI in AFRICA. Salmon (05/02/2014)2A. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLART (V.O.) That is until her church group travelled to Africa, where she went on safari, and while snapping pictures, and getting a little too close, caught the business end of a Dicerosbicornis... a black rhino. Maya, who is now 19 years old, rubs his back. He once again gets up and RUNS out of the room. INT. WEST ORANGE PAVILLIONMALL - DAY66We see a melancholy Blart as he rides through the mall. BLART (V.O.) I guess I was the last one to get the memo -- Paul Blart had officially peaked... INT. DINING ROOM - DAY77Blart is opening mail at the table, he reads a LETTER that Page 4/88 has SECURITY OFFICERS TRADE ASSOCIATIONletterhead. INSERT LETTER: selected to join us for an all expense paid trip to the Security Officers Trade Association Expo and Award ceremony in Las Vegas, Nevada.” BLART (V.O.) ... orhad I? INT. MAYA’S ROOM - CONTINUOUS88Maya reads a different LETTER with UCLAletterhead. INSERT LETTER: accepted to the incoming freshman class.” BLART (O.S.) Maya! Come down here! I have some great news! MAYAMe too! Maya excitedly runs out of her room. INT. DINING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER99Maya bounds in. Blart can’t contain himself. Buff (04/30/2014)3. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLARTHoney... we’ve been invited to the Security Officers Trade Association Expo and Award ceremony, in LasVegas, Nevada! MAYAVegas? Wow! BLARTI think they’re finally recognizing me for getting the mall out of that jam. MAYAJam? Dad, you savedthe mall! They shouldhonor you. I’m so proud of you. Maya hugs him. BLARTThank you honey. Blart breaks the hug and then holds Maya by the shoulders. BLART (CONT’D) I’ll tell ya, times have been tough, but no matter what happens as long as I have you by my side, I’ll be okay. (then) Alright, enough about me... what’s Page 5/88 your great news? Maya realizes it’s not the time to tell her dad about UCLA. She secretly tucks the letter into her back pocket. MAYAYeah, umm... BLARTWell, c’monSweetie, you got me on pins and needles here. // yougot me on top of the roller coaster here. MAYAI just remembered that... we have left-over baked ziti. Blart stares blankly at Maya... Is he on to her? Then... BLART(even bigger smile) What a day!! // Weeeeee!! What a ride!! 4. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL The heroic MALL COP SCORE kicks in and we... CUT TO: CREDITS wiping behind the dented and worn SECURITY OFFICER 1010BADGE rotating through space. Finally settling on... TITLE: FLY-OVER1111The resort is bathed in golden sun, surrounded by the beautiful Las Vegas strip. EXT. WYNN HOTEL SOUTH VALET AREA - DAY1212Blart and Maya slam the trunk on their tiny RENTAL CAR. Blart, struggling with four bags of luggage, is dressed in tourist civvies and has a large laminated SECURITY OFFICERS TRADE ASSOCIATION EXPO pass hanging around his neck. A sweet faced valet, LANE (18), approaches. LANEMay I help with your bags, sir? BLARTNo, no. That’s how they get’cha. I’ll be fine on my own, thank you. LANENo problem, sir. Lane notices Maya and gives her a slight smile. Maya BLUSHES. INT. WYNN HOTEL SOUTH ENTRANCE LOBBY - DAY1313Blart and Maya enter the spectacular lobby. Blart drops his bags in AWE. For Blart, this is like going to the SUPERBOWL. BLARTTake it in, cupcake... 400,000 square feet of casino and retail Page 6/88 space, sitting atop 215 luxurious acres... all protected by the finest security this side of the//Uh... I got nothin’. Top notch security though. // Mississip... andthe other side, actually. Both sides. (then) Welcome to the show. // Showtime. 5. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLARTYeah, I definitely would stand down for Robocop. DONNA ERICONEHe’s not real. BLARTNo, I knew that. Wow, glad I packed my dress whites. DONNA ERICONEGood thing. Just don’t tell anyone I told you. BLARTTell anyone what? DONNA ERICONEAbout the keynote -- (realizing) Oh, you got me... She punches Blart in the arm, hard. DONNA ERICONE (CONT’D) ... You done gone and gotme! I’ll see you tonight. BLARTRoger that, Officer Ericone. Donna exits. Blart turns to Maya, rubbing his arm. BLART (CONT’D) You were right princess... things just keep getting better. MAYA(feeling guilty) That’s great dad. An energized Blart strides up to a male RECEPTIONIST. BLARTYello-ha. RECEPTIONISTGood afternoon sir, welcome to the Wynn Resort. Blart hands him his ITINERARY. He reads it. Taps on his computer. BLARTChecking in. Page 7/88 7. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL RECEPTIONISTAbsolutely... Mr. Blart. BLARTMr. Blart... (chuckles to himself) I’m sure you were thrown by the travel wear. It’s actually Officer. People often forget there’s a human face to law enforcement. Maya’s horrified. RECEPTIONISTOh. Okay... sorry about that. (then) Oh, yes... “Officer” Blart, I see we have you in a partial mountain view and you requested a “bottomless” bowl of Peanut M&M’s... BLARTI didn’t... my doctor probably... it’s strictly medicinal. Unfortunately, I am cursed with hypo-glycemia. “The hidden hell.” Sugar level drops and so do I. RECEPTIONISTOkay. BLART(not letting it go) It is okay because... fun fact for ya... Author Stephen King and comedian Sinbad, // R&B diva Patty LaBellealso have hypo-glycemia. So, I’m in pretty good company. RECEPTIONISTOf course. (taps a few more keys) Ooh... I’m sorry, but your room isn’t ready yet. In fact, we don’t have you checking in until three. But you can leave your luggage and I will have it delivered to the room. MAYADad, I’m starving. Can we just get some lunch? BLARTWhoa! Hold the mayo. (to receptionist) Page 8/88 (MORE) 8. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL I’m sure you didn’t know this, uh... (reads name tag) Heath, but if you check the Grand ballroom and see what group’s booked there tonight, I think your tune might change a wee bit... The receptionist HITS A KEY, reads the screen. RECEPTIONISTMini-Kiss... the cover band. BLARTWow, they’re good. RECEPTIONISTYes, they are. BLARTYeah, I’m not with them. Is there a manager, I could talk to? RECEPTIONISTI’m sorry she’s not available right now. Blart makes a decision... SIGHS. BLARTAlright... I hate doing this. Blart reaches in his SHOULDER BAG. MAYAOh no, Dad... not the maga-- BLARTSorry dumplin’, got no choice. MAYA(to receptionist) Terrace Cafe open for lunch? RECEPTIONISTYes it is. MAYAI’m out. Maya goes. Blart drops the MAGAZINE on the counter and then with GREAT FANFARE turns it to face the receptionist and SLOWLY SLIDES it towards him. BLART (CONT'D) 9. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL RECEPTIONISTI’m sorry sir, what am I looking at? BLART“Perimeter Check,” the official trade journal of the security industry, Feb. ‘09. RECEPTIONISTDid you print this yourself? Page 9/88 BLARTAbsolutely not -- it’s published biannually. Big seller in Canada. (then) Take a gander at the inside of the back cover, I think it should clear things up. RECEPTIONIST(reading) “Say goodbye to toenail fungus...” BLARTOpposite page... toward the bottom. RECEPTIONIST : Oh. (then) Is that you? BLARTIt is. (leans in) This is not public information, but it seems I’m going to be delivering the keynote speech at the Security Officer convention, tonight. RECEPTIONIST(remembering) Oh you know, I think they cancelled that... (checks computer) Wup, no, they didn’t. But it was downsized to conference room “C”. Nope, “F.” The Receptionist retrieves a MAP, and opens it. RECEPTIONIST (CONT’D) Okay, here’s a map of our property. Blart looks at it quickly and slides it back. 10. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLARTThank you. RECEPTIONISTNo, that’s yours to keep. BLARTDon’t need it. It’s been scanned. (re: It’s all in here. Locked and loaded. Time for lunch. Blart exits. After a beat: RECEPTIONISTSir, your daughter and the Page 10/88 restaurant are that way. He points in the opposite direction. BLARTYup... themap was upside down when I scanned it. Blart exits the other way. OMIT 1515INT. TERRACE CAFE / (EUROPEAN POOL) - DAY1616Blart arrives at an outdoor table to find Lane talking to Maya, who is already in the middle of an appetizer. LANEWas I lying about the conch fritters? MAYAYou were not! They’re amazing! With just the right amount of zip! LANEGotta love the zip! MAYAOh, I do... I was born to zip! LANEPut my hand up on my hip, whenI zip... MAYA...youzip, 11. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL MAYA (CONT’D) ...we zip. LANE...we zip. They share a LAUGH. There’s obviously a little connection between them. Blart clocks this. Lane turns to him. LANE (CONT’D) Oh, you forgot your valet ticket sir. He hands Blart the TICKET and then turns back to Maya, smiles and exits. Maya blushes once again. Blart plops down and stares at Maya. MAYAWhat? BLARTYou were bornto zip? Since when do you use the word “zip?” MAYAI always use the word zip. BLARTI don’t like it. Hipster talk. Maya shakes her head. MAYALook, Dad... you’re gonnahave to get used to the fact that I’m a big girl now. BLARTOkay, first of all, we’re all big... we’re Blarts. Wide hips, thick ankles and a low center of Page 11/88 gravity, that’s how the good Lord made us. That’s why we’re so good at moving furniture. Blart pulls something from his pocket. It’s a MECHANICAL VIBRATING FORK. He begins to pick at the conch fritters. MAYAWhat is that? BLARTMy vibrating fork. It forces me eat slower. You think I eat fast at home? On vacation, I’m like a greyhound chasing a bunny. Blart takes a QUICK TWO BITES and it indeed VIBRATES and a RED LIGHT light FLASHES. 12. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLART (CONT’D) See? Blart waits for it to STOP vibrating, and the light to turn GREEN. He then takes another bite. This time slower. BLART (CONT’D) There we go. (quietly to himself) It’s just fuel. Just fuel. VOICE (O.S) Mr. Blart? Blart turns around WAY TOO FAST for the situation. BLARTSHANGHAI! But it’s only the smoking hot general manager, DIVINA MARTINEZ, who has two ROOM KEYS in her hand. DIVINAOh. Sorry to startle you, sir. BLARTIt’s okay, sometimes it’s just hard to turn off. // You hit the trip wire is all. Divina has no idea what he is talking about. DIVINAOkay. Well, I’m Divina Martinez, the hotel’s general manager. I wanted to apologize about the confusion regarding the convention and let you to know how happy we are to have your group staying with us. (beat) And good news -- I upgraded your Page 12/88 room. It has a view of the strip, it’s ready right now, and I wanted to give you the keys personally. Divina sets the keys down on the table and accidentally BRUSHES HER FINGERS against Blart’s. DIVINA (CONT’D) Oh, sorry about that. (having fun) Although, I must say you have very soft hands. Blart immediately reacts. 13. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLARTWhoa. Pump the brakes. // Whoa, pffffffffft... airbag! DIVINAExcuse me? BLARTI sense what you’re doing... (off her name tag) Divina. DIVINAWhat am I doing? BLARTTruthfully? Being a bit transparent. DIVINA(confused) I’m sorry. I don’t follow-- BLARTLook, I understand it’s the 21st century and a woman can go after hers just like a man. Maya is now dying a slow death. MAYADad, I really don’t think she was-- BLART(puts his hand up) This is grown-up stuff, tadpole. (back to Divina) Look, it takes two to tango and my dancing shoes are currently out for repair. DIVINASir... I’m sorry if I -- BLARTApology not needed, just know I’m working my way through a maze of personal fire and until the flames of chaos subside... I’m just not ready for public consumption. Divina decides it’s best to just let the customer be right. Page 13/88 DIVINAUm... I understand, sir. Have a great stay. 14. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL Divina walks off. BLART(to Maya) It’s not just me, right? She was relentless. Divina, still totally confused, turns back to look one more time. EXT. WYNN HOTEL SOUTH VALET AREA - CONTINUOUS 1717A custom Harley Davidson MOTORCYCLE blows into the valet area and comes to a stop. The rider takes off his helmet to reveal... EDUARDO FURTILLO, HEAD OF SECURITY for the Wynn Resort and Casino. He is immaculately dressed in a GREY SUIT, with an EAR PIECE inconspicuously tucked into his collar. Two AGENTS from Casino Security join his side as Eduardo confidently enters the hotel. One wears a BLACK SUIT, AGENT PARSONS The other wears a PURPLE SUIT (like the one Henkwore,) this is AGENT JENKINS. EXT. TERRACE CAFE (EUROPEAN POOL) - MOMENTS LATER1818Divina stands there, lost in thought. Eduardo strides up. EDUARDO : Hola, mi amor. Divina, still a tad thrown, gives Eduardo a little kiss. He senses something is off. EDUARDO (CONT’D) What troubles you, my pet? DIVINAI just had the strangest exchange with that guy over there. Divina points to Blart. P.O.V: EDUARDOEl Gordo? DIVINA(this is absurd) Yeah -- he accused me of hitting on him. 15. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow Page 14/88 SPE CONFIDENTIAL EDUARDO(chuckles) Funny -- they say overweight people use humor to achieve affection. DIVINAYou know what? Okay, yes -- I also heard that. // -- that makes sense. They share a laugh, as they both look at Blart. P.O.V: VIBRATING and the LIGHT to turn off. A VIP RECEPTIONIST arrives and clears her throat. VIP RECEPTIONISTExcuse me, Ms. Martinez, our VIP guest has arrived. INT. WYNN VIP RECEPTION AREA - MOMENTS LATER1919Divina and Eduardo enter. Divina extends her hand to... VINCENT SOFEL, 40’s, TWO DIFFERENT COLORED EYES, a three piece suit, sits in a chair, sipping an espresso. A BRIEFCASE sits at his feet. Behind him is ROBINSON, mid 30’s, African American and Vincent’s bodyguard, SCOTT, tall, black suit. Vincent stands. DIVINAWelcome back to the Wynn, Mr. Sofel. We have the accommodations you requested all ready for you. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call either myself or our head of security, Mr. Furtillo. Divina points to Eduardo, who nods. VINCENTYou guys took me for a lot of money on my last visit. DIVINAWell, I hope you’re able to turn that around this time. Vincent smirks. VINCENTOh, I plan to. 16. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL INT. WYNN BASIC SINGLE ROOM -- LATER2020Blart finishes unpacking and notices that there is one QUEENSIZE BED and one folded ROLL AWAY. He calls to Maya. BLARTI don’t know how this is an upgrade. You take the bed, I’ll Page 15/88 take the roll away. MAYA (O.S.) Dad, this is your convention, you can’t sleep on the roll away. BLARTI certainly can. I once fell asleep in a hurdler’s stretch. // climbinga fence. // rakingleaves. // duringa snowball fight. MAYA (O.S.) We’ll figure it out later. I gotta get going. Maya comes out wearing a ONE PIECE BATHING SUIT, with puffy flowers. She’s holding her beach bag, and heads for the door. Blart panics... BLARTWhoaaa, okay, thanks for telling me, Victoria’s secret! (averts his eyes) What do you think you’re wearing young lady? MAYAUm, a bathing suit? BLARTMaybe for an elf // maybe for a cabbage patch doll... how about leaving a little to the imagination. // leavinga little for your wedding night. MAYAI was going to hang out by the pool. BLARTNot in that. Maya rolls her eyes, grabs a COVER UP and puts it over her bathing suit. MAYAFine. Then I’m going exploring. 17. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL Maya starts for the door. BLARTHold up. You got your extra phone battery? MAYAYup. BLARTFlashlight? MAYAAlways. BLARTHot pepper spray? MAYACheck. BLARTPocket knife-key chain, window Page 16/88 smasher? MAYAI do. BLARTBaby road flares? MAYAYes! I’ve got it all! Finally, Blart produces a small consumer WALKIETALKIE. BLARTHere take this. It’s set to monitor, so I can hear everything that’s going on. MAYANo way -- I already feel like a SWAT unit! BLARTMaya, security is a mission, not an intermission. Blart looks long at Maya, until this sinks in... Yellow (04/22/2014)18. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLART (CONT’D) Okay. Head on a swivel. She exits. INT. WYNN PRESIDENTIAL SUITE - DAY - HIGH CEILING2121We are in a beautiful, two story suite. There is a flurry of activity as several people (NADIA, CARLOS, KIRA, and Scott) move DIFFERENT SIZE WOODEN CRATES into the suite. Vincent hands Robinson the BRIEFCASE he’s been carrying. Robinson opens it and places it on the coffee table. He then unfolds three pencil-thin COMPUTER MONITORS from the case, revealing a KEYBOARD. We see that the briefcase has now become an elaborate COMPUTER SYSTEM. Robinson looks impressed. Vincent leans over Robinson’s shoulder. VINCENTLet’s see if I bankrolled the right NSA agent. Robinson hits a few keystrokes, then a PASSWORD and we see that he’s hacked into the entire Wynn surveillance system. ROBINSONHow’s that? VINCENTSo far, so good. Suddenly there is a knock at the door. All activity stops dead. Scott pulls a SILENCED PISTOL, puts it behind his back and opens the door. A Wynn security agent, HENK, enters. He wears the signature WYNN, PURPLE SUIT with a NAME TAG and an EAR BUD. HENKWe had a complaint about the noise. Page 17/88 Robinson stands and approaches the security guard. He looks him up and down for a tense beat, then... ROBINSONThat’s why we have you. Vincent steps up. VINCENTI gotta say Henk, -- nice uniform. 19. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL And Henk, the fake security agent, smiles wide. HENKYou don’t want to know what it took to get the real deal. VINCENTI don’t -- The activity once again starts. Henkwinks and... HENKGotta get back to keeping the Wynn Resort safe. Henkshuts the door behind him. Nadia, the art expert, holds up her phone as she approaches Vincent. NADIAThey’ve moved several of the pieces in the last few days. Here’s the new locations of all thirteen. On the screen is a hi-tech “3DRENDERING” of the entire hotel with RED DOTS marking the locations of the art. She hits send on her phone. Vincent then gathers his troops. VINCENTPerfect. I want to be in and out in less than nine hours people. Robinson holds up his phone next to Vincent’s, a timer is CLICKING DOWN from 9:00:00... 8:59:59... 8:59:58, etc. Robinson hits a BUTTON and the TIMER on Vincent’s phone perfectly syncs up. We now see the crew start to change their clothes into Wynn “EMPLOYEES: Even Robinson puts on a PURPLE security coat and EAR PIECE. INT. WYNN CASINO (ENCORE CASINO) - DAY2222Blart strolls through the casino, when he hears an ERUPTION of CHEERS at a nearby CRAPS TABLE. He weaves his way over. BLART(to gambler) What’s all the hoopla friend? GAMBLER # 1(re: This guy’s crushing! I’m literally running out of room for my chips! Page 18/88 20. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL WAITRESSIt’s complimentary, sir. BLART(keeps getting better) Complimentary? (signaling for all) Then root beers around the horn! She stares at him. BLART (CONT’D) (sotto) Just one. She exits. BLART (CONT’D) I have never felt more alive! The High Roller THROWS the dice. CRAPS DEALERSeven! Craps! A HUGE GROAN from the crowd. Gambler # 1 GLARES at Blart. GAMBLER # 1Boo. The dealer turns to Blart. CRAPS DEALERYou lost everythingBLARTBut, don’t I get -- CRAPS DEALEREverything. Devastated, Blart stares straight ahead and slowly backs away from the table. Just then his complimentary ROOT BEER arrives. Blart blankly grabs the mug, CHUGS the entire thing and slowly walks away in a daze. EXT. WYNN SOUTH ENTRANCE LOBBY - DAY2323Still stung, Blart walks through the lobby when he sees Maya talking to Lane at the Valet stand! He stealthily makes his way to get a better look, when Maya notices him. Busted, Blart tries to get away but he just slams into a LUGGAGE CART. 22. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL INT. WYNN HOTEL SOUTH VALET AREA - CONTINUOUS23A23ALane notice Blart, struggling with the luggage cart. LANEHey, is that your dad? MAYAI wish I could say “no” right now. Page 19/88 (then) I’ll be right back. Maya leaves and approaches Blart. MAYA (CONT’D) Dad, are you spying on me? BLARTSpying? No, I’m -- I just wanted you to know something... MAYAWhat? Beat. Thinks. BLARTThe door to safety swings on common sense. MAYAGo. Please. BLARTMaya. MAYADad! You are embarrassing me. BLART(heartbroken) Sorry you feel that way. I’ll leave you alone. MAYAPlease. Maya returns to talk to Lane, as Blart walks away, crushed. Just then, Blart is approached by SAUL GUNDERMUTT, a poorly dressed man with a mouthful of huge VENEERS, a thick Afro of RED HAIR and sporting large GOLD FRAMED EYE GLASSES. 23. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL SAUL GUNDERMUTTBlart. Saul Gundermutt, head of the Security Officers Trade Association. I catch you at a bad time? BLART(recovering) No, no, it’s a pleasure, sir. SAUL GUNDERMUTTPleasure’s mine and I just want you to know, I got you sitting at my table tonight. Blart can barely contain himself. This confirms it! BLARTWow, I’m just so excited. I heard rumblings.... Saul looks CONFUSED. SAUL GUNDERMUTTRumblings? BLART(leading) About the keynote... SAUL GUNDERMUTTOh... with good reason -- NickPanero’sgiving it. Great guy. Great guard. Page 20/88 Blart looks gut punched. He quickly tries to cover. BLARTYeah, no. NickPanero. Those were the rumblings. That’s terrific. That is SO good. (then) Love to meet him sometime... pick his brain... SAUL GUNDERMUTTLooks like your lucky day, here he comes. Saul nods in the direction of.... Officer NICKPANERO, 40’s, GOOFY, JITTERY wearing a MALL OF MIAMI T-SHIRT, and Officer GINO CHIZETTI, 50’s, wearing an ill-fitting TANK TOP. They approach Blart. Pink (04/21/2014)24. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL SAUL GUNDERMUTT (CONT’D) Blart. Officer NickPaneroand Officer Gino Chizetti. BLARTOfficer Manero. Nice to-- NICKPANEROHold the applesauce, hot shot. I heard‘ayou. Rumor has it, you thought youwere giving the keynote tonight. (turns to Chizetti) He thought he was giving it. GINO CHIZETTIYou thought you were giving it? BLART(covering) No. I didn’t -- NICKPANEROMan. You gotta stop bringing up that Black Friday thing, Blart. It was six years ago. GINO CHIZETTIGotta let it go. BLART(confused) I never brought up Black Friday. GINO CHIZETTIYa did... ya just did. SAUL GUNDERMUTTActually, the Black Friday thing’s why you’re here, Paul. BLARTHmm? SAUL GUNDERMUTTTo show some appreciation. Let you check out the latest in security technology and sit at the table of honor when Nick gives the keynote. Page 21/88 BLARTAnd what an honor it is. (to Nick) I’m sorry, what did you do again? Pink (04/21/2014)25. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL NICKPANERO(incredulous) What’dI do? GINO CHIZETTI(incredulous) What’dhe do? NICKPANEROLast year I thwarted a ring of frozen yogurt thieves. You know those punch cards where if you hit a certain amount you get a free yogurt? BLARTSure. SAUL GUNDERMUTTWe got ‘em in the mid west. NICKPANEROWell, these animals made their own hole-punch, and next thing you know the place is hemorrhagingyogurt. I had no choice but to take ‘em down. GINO CHIZETTITake ‘em down. NICKPANERO(to Chizetti) You gotta stop that. GINO CHIZETTIYup. SAUL GUNDERMUTTPretty impressive, huh? BLARTYeah, bad day to be a yogurt thief. NICKPANEROThat’s right, slingshot. Well, no hard feelings. Tell you what. After I bring down the house tonight... Chizetti and I’ll take you out for a cold one. BLART(through the pain) I don’t drink. That’s when a Segway EMPLOYEE rides behind them and pulls up to a Segway RENTAL KIOSK. Pink (04/21/2014)26. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL Blart’s eyes GO WIDE. Gino Chizetti leans in... GINO CHIZETTIHeard you’re pretty good on one of Page 22/88 those. BLARTI’ve been known to dabble. Blart jumps on the Segway... BLART (CONT’D) (trying to appear humble) I really shouldn’t. SEGWAY EMPLOYEEActually sir, you can’t. I would need a valid driver’s license if you want to take it for a test drive. Blart holds his LAMINATE in front of his face. BLARTI think if you peep the laminate, you’ll see I’m all access. Let me just nudge her out of whisper mode. Blart hits a BUTTON and the Segway gives off an acceptance CHIRP. SEGWAY EMPLOYEEOkay, well I see you know your way around a p133. BLARTI do, but this old gal’s a bit tired... I have a modified i2commuter myself. SEGWAY EMPLOYEEWow, that’s really cool... still gonnaneed a valid license though. Blart easily does a couple of quick moves. Growing in confidence... BLART(re: Whoa... THAT just took place. // Whoa... THAT was valid. SEGWAY EMPLOYEESir, please be careful. It’s about weight distribution. Make sure both hands are firmly on the grips. 27. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL BLARTOh, really? So I’m guessing you wouldn’t want me to do THIS! Blart takes BOTH HANDS off the Segway and leans forward taking off towards the Valet stand and Maya. Blart WINKS at Maya, she’s horrified. MAYAPlease don’t... Blart aggressively executes a series of impressive, ONE-ARMED SPIN MOVES, gaining speed and confidence. Blart takes off BACKWARDS into the driveway. Page 23/88 The crowd is impressed, until a SHUTTLE VAN pulls up and everyone GASPS... It’s going to DRILL Blart... But NO! Blart pulls off the move of the century and avoids certain disaster!! Just as he looks over to the impressed crowd and cracks a sly smile... he backs the Segway directly into a moving CONVERTIBLE! Blart back flips into the back seat and the car pulls away. Maya’s mortified. Lane is stunned. After a beat... LANEWell, I better get back to work. I’m off in a half hour. Maybe I’ll see you around. MAYAI’d like that. As Blart drunk-walks his way back into the valet area... BLART(mumbling) Shuttle van...// Still got the laminate... INT. WYNN BASIC SINGLE ROOM - AFTERNOON2424Blart, still in pain, lays on the ROLL AWAY. Maya enters from the bathroom wearing a Wynn robe. BLARTLottafun today... great fun! MAYADad, you okay? You should really get checked out. 28. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL Blart musters the courage to tell her. BLARTPumpkin, my body’s fine... it’s my ego that took a hit. Turns out I’m not giving the keynote tonight. Maya feels terrible. MAYAWell you know what? You should call a cop, because you got robbed. BLARTThanks kitten... but technically I wouldn’t need a cop -- MAYAIt’s a figure of speech, daddy. BLART : I know, it’s just, cops think they’re all that. Don’t like it. Do not... like it. Blart checks his WATCH. BLART (CONT’D) Page 24/88 Whoa, we got a meet-and-greet in fifteen... we should get a move on. Blart painfully gets off the roll away. MAYAAs exciting as that sounds, I think I’m just gonnatake a bath and a nap. I’m kindatired. BLART(a bit hurt) Sure. Right. You should get some rest. (beat) I’ll come back to get you for dinner at Bartolotta. We have reservations at six. It’s supposed to be the real deal. MAYA(short) Gotcha. Blart deflates, opens the door. MAYA (CONT’D) Hey dad... Yellow (04/22/2014)29. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL MAYA (CONT’D) Sorry about the speech. I’ll see you later. I love you. She gives Blart a KISS and heads into the bathroom. He can’t help but SMILE. EXT. EUROPEAN POOL/ CABANA BAR - AFTERNOON2525Blart stands with Gino and Donna listening to Nick. They all hold FRUITY DRINKS. NICKPANEROSo I got this one kid against the wall and I turn to the other and say, “hand over the yogurt.” It was over that fast. Lights out. GINO CHIZETTILights out. (turns to Blart) Hey, how much you pay for your belt? BLART(confused) Um... I don’t know it was a gift. GINO CHIZETTIYou gotta guy? ‘Cause I gotta guy. Page 25/88 BLARTA belt guy? No, I don’t have a belt guy. Just then an older, Indian man, KHAN MUBI, joins the group. As he greets each one of them, he HUGS them... KHAN MUBIKhan Mubi. Nice to meet. (hug) Khan Mubi. Nice to meet. (hug) Khan Mubi. Nice to meet. Blart takes the hug. BLARTThank you. It’s been one heck of a day. That embrace helped. Khan pulls Blart in for ANOTHER hug. BLART (CONT’D) Yup. First one warmed me up... but this one brought it home. Pink (04/21/2014)30. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL Khan releases the hug. BLART (CONT’D) We should probably go... They all make their way into the... INT. ENCORE CONVENTION HALL - MOMENTS LATER2626Where many KIOSKS are set up under banners...“NON-LETHAL WEAPONS... ETC.” Blart is impressed. BLARTWow... INT. WYNN BASIC SINGLE BATHROOM - SAME2727Maya lights a CANDLE and sets it on the edge of the tub. She takes out her acceptance letter, sits and reads it again. She is interrupted by her phone BEEPING. It’s a text from Lane. ON SCREEN: EXT. WYNN ASIAN SCULPTURE HALLWAY - SAME2828An incredible ASIAN SCULPTURE is being admired by two TOURISTS. Nearby, an attractive WOMAN drops her PURSE, scattering her belongings onto the floor. We’ve seen her before in the presidential suite, her name is Kira. KIRAOh, no! As soon as the tourists move over to help her, Robinson, dressed as purple coated security, takes out a REPLICA DOME and hits “play.” Page 26/88 ON SCREEN: He quickly moves under the SECURITY CAMERA and ATTACHES the replica dome, so it’s broadcasting what’s playing in a 360 degree field of view. He then holds out what looks like a hand held metal detector. A BLUE LIGHT emits from the device and SCANS the glass case. A light on the back of the device turns GREEN. Robinson then NODS to Kira. She nods back and Robinson moves off. 31. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL INT. ENCORE CONVENTION HALL "F" - SAME2929Blart, Khan, Gino and Donna move to the first kiosk where REP #1 lifts up what looks like a SAWED OFF SHOTGUN. Nick heads off in a different direction. REP #1I’d like to introduce you to “The Big Sticky Mess,” a sawed off shotgun that shoots glue foam. You get this on you and it’s stickier than a work shoe in an IHOPbathroom. The group moves to the NEXT KIOSK: Blart greets REP #2. BLARTWhat’s the latest, friend? REP #2Marbles... you release this tie, and two hundred marbles are at your disposal. It’s your best answer to crowd control. You can’t run with these under your feet. Heck, you can’t even stand. THE NEXT KIOSK: BLARTFlashlight? REP #3Nope. The VitruSonic Taser. Renders your assailant incapacitated for five seconds at a time. The group walks along, when Blart notices... THE KIOSK ACROSS THE WAY: Saul Gundermutt attends to a large CURTAINED BOX. Blart drifts away from the group and up to Saul. SAUL GUNDERMUTTHey Paul. BLARTHey Saul. What’chagot there? Page 27/88 SAUL GUNDERMUTTIt’s getting revealed tomorrow at the luncheon. It’s a prototype. Not supposed to show anybody. (looks around) (MORE) 32. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL But since you’re into gyroperformance vehicles.... takea gander. Saul peels back the curtain. We don’t see what Blart sees. SAUL GUNDERMUTT (CONT’D) Things will never be the same. Blart is shaken to the core. NEXT KIOSK: rejoins the group. REP #4When it’s time to make them pay the price, reach for “The Finisher,” * the most effective, non-lethal bean bag firearm on the market. The officers are impressed. The Rep turns to Blart. REP #4 (CONT’D) Why don’t you take her for a spin. BLARTMe? Um... sure. The Rep hands the gun to Blart who takes careful aim. There are FOUR TARGETS set up. Blart fires off four quick shots... MISS. MISS. MISS. MISS. We hear a CHUCKLE off screen. The group turns to reveal... Eduardo, Agent Parsons (black coat) and Agent Jenkins (purple coat). EDUARDOPaul Blart, Mall Cop. BLARTYes sir. EDUARDOEduardo Furtillo, Headof Security for the Wynn Resort and Casino.. BLARTOh, nice to meet a fellow brother in arms. (then, to his group) Fun fact for ya. You may notice that Mr. Furtillo here, being the head of security is in a grey coat. While... I’m sorry son, I didn’t Page 28/88 get your name. SAUL GUNDERMUTT (CONT'D) Cherry (05/13/2014)33. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL The security agent next to Eduardo speaks. AGENT JENKINSJenkins. BLARTWhile Jenkins here is wearing a purple coat. See, they have a hierarchy of coat colors based on their security responsibilities... Grey, black, pine, and then finally... purple. (to Jenkins) Sorry. No offense. AGENT JENKINSYou’re wearing a polyestershirt with spanxunderneath. BLARTYep. Good catch. // Today I am... yes. (then, to Eduardo) By the way, as a professional courtesy, happy to keep my eyes peeled for any irregularities while I’m here. JENKINSOh, I think we’re good. BLARTYou’re great, the best -- just honoring the code of the badge. If you’re ever in my barn, I hope you’d do the same. EDUARDO(to Jenkins) He’s adorable, right? Jenkins and Parsons share a laugh. EDUARDO (CONT’D) (back to Blart) I see you admiring the “non lethals”. Guess they don’t trust you with the real stuff. I mean what are you really “guarding” anyway? Cell phone covers and Cinnabon? BLARTWell, there’s also three ATM’s and a Dave and Buster’s, so -- Pink (04/21/2014)34. Page 29/88 David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL EDUARDOHey. (motions to Blart) Closer. Gonna let you in on a little secret. Since I was named head of security five years ago, we have not had so much as a towel go missing. The Wynn hotel is the most secure place in the entire world. Without breaking eye contact, Eduardo GRABS the bean bag gun and fires off FOUR SHOTS with one hand, KNOCKING DOWN all four targets. EDUARDO (CONT’D) We don’t need your help, amateur hour. But please, have fun at your little get together tonight. Eduardo drops the bean bag gun and walks away. Blart turns to the group. BLARTWow, that was impressive. And is it me, or did he smell like tobacco and vanilla? INT. WYNN BASIC SINGLE ROOM - AFTERNOON3030Blart enters his hotel room. BLARMaya... you still in the bath? (knocks on door) Sunshine? Concerned, Blart opens the door to find... the BATHTUB FILLED, candles STILL LIT, her ROBE lying on the floor. BUT NO MAYA! He grabs the phone in the bathroom. BLARTGET ME SECURITY! EXT. ENCORE BEACH CLUB POOL BAR - AFTERNOON3131As several youngpeople hang out, wefindMayaand Lane each enjoy a SODA. LANEIt’s so cool you got into UCLA. You must be stoked. 35. David Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIALDavid Kaminow SPE CONFIDENTIAL MAYANot really. I haven’t been able to tell my dad. Page 30/88

nevada casino firearms video

Nevada Casinos on Alert with State Counter Terrorism Center as Biden Inauguration Approaches. Posted on: January 18, 2021, 03:44h. Last updated on: January 18, 2021, 04:21h. A woman was hospitalized after sustaining injuries in a shooting at a Laughlin, Nevada, casino this weekend. A man identified as her boyfriend was taken into police custody, authorities said. The incident occurred before 7:20 am on Sunday in a hotel room at the Aquarius Casino Resort, according to the... Casino carry It is legal to carry openly or concealed inside a casino, on the Las Vegas Strip, or at the Fremont Street Experience. Most casinos will ask you to leave or disarm if they observe you are armed, but only refusing to comply is illegal (trespassing). Some casinos have begun to install metal detectors. You do not have to consent to any search. School carry Firearms are prohibited on ... A Las Vegas casino will almost certainly ask you to leave if you enter displaying a firearm, but the Nevada Carry organization says the majority of Nevada businesses are friendly to firearms. You may carry a weapon openly in a bar if the owner does not object, but it is illegal to be in possession of a firearm and have a blood alcohol content (BAC) of .08 or more. Nevada law permits the concealed carry of firearms (NRS 202.350) in casinos. However, casino staff may legally ask gun-carriers to leave the property. People that refuse to leave could then face misdemeanor charges for trespass (NRS 207.200). The penalties include up to six (6) months in jail, and/or up to $1,000 in fines. A shooting that erupted during a brawl between rival motorcycle clubs at a high-rise Nevada casino overnight killed a biking enthusiast and wounded two others, police said on Saturday. Nevada law does not regulate open carry of weapons. This means patrons are free to wear their weapons on their hips, legs, or bodies, unconcealed by clothing. Anyone 18 and older can carry a firearm openly anywhere in the state, as long as he or she has a permit. Only in state-prohibited places like those listed above is open carry prohibited, and establishments that ask you to disarm. Most casinos fall into the latter category. Nevada Gambling Nevada has been synonymous with gambling since the first gaming license was issued in 1931 for $1,410. The original license was only good for three months, but eventually, Mayme Stocker and J.H. Morgan opened their Las Vegas Casino in 1936. There was also an earlier period of legal gambling in the state between 1869 and 1910 with most of the action occurring in rough and tumble ... A shooting that erupted during a brawl between rival motorcycle clubs at a high-rise Nevada casino killed a Hells Angels chapter leader and wounded two other motorcycle enthusiasts, police said on ... Let’s take Nevada as an example. Although the state has a liberal open-carry policy, you cannot carry in a casino or establishment that has gambling. Likewise, most casinos, but not all, do not ...

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