Saturday, May 10, 2025

The Butterfly Dragon: We Who Stand On Guard - Episode 12 (Updated May 10, 2025 11:30 PM EST)





Chapters

  1. Belfountain, Brimstone And The Grange
  2. Just Like Old Times
  3. Suburban Radicalization
  4. Jimmy's House
  5. Workshop Wrest


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Opening Notes And Dedication: This story is being written ahead of Episode 11, where Stanton is situated 150 kilometers from Tel Aviv as he transports two prisoners to the city off the coast of the Red Sea. This story takes place back in Stanton's home of Canada and continues from where Episode 11 ends, perhaps a week or two after it finishes.

We can assume that Stanton lives through his experiences after the failed attempt to prevent the detonation of a nuclear warhead and spur World War III. However, that story is far from over, and will be prevalent in this one as well.

This story, is dedicated to the Veterans of the armed forces, all of whom need a voice most when nobody will come to their defense.


Shhhh! Digital Media Presents:

The Butterfly Dragon: We Who Stand On Guard - Episode 12


Belfountain, Brimstone And The Grange


The morning sun stood at a height of thumbs up from Stanton's measure, which he estimated to be roughly ten o'clock in the morning as he held up his fist with his thumb pointing high, the blade of his hand at chin height and a foot out from his face. The sun with his hand's position was perched atop his thumb, indicating the time to him.


He looked down at his dash as he drove and checked it, finding it to be ten o'two exactly.


"Big deal," he said aloud as he drove, reaching over and turning the up the radio.


"...now here's a classic for all of you out there setting up for the May Two Four..." the DJ announced, sounding to be in his mid-twenties, causing Stanton to both laugh and smirk, though it was hard to tell if it was out of admiration or jealousy.


"...I'm sure you're dreading having to play this, but thank you all the same 'cuz its a classic. Us old timers will give you your radio station back after this one..." Stanton said aloud in response, tapping his hands on the steering wheel as he drove.




The dash-phone began ringing through the speakers.


"Hi honey," Stanton answered the phone via voice recognition, already knowing who it was.


"Hi Dad. Look, Anthony and I are lost..." Jennifer told him, sounding somewhat panicked.


"Even with the GPS?" Stanton asked her, perplexed that his daughter whose math and geometry average surpassed his own had somehow become lost.


"...Anthony had it uninstalled. Said it interfered with the natural biofield of Mother Earth," Jennifer told him.


"And did it?" Stanton asked her.


"Dad. He's my fiancé. If he says that it interferes with the Earth's biofield, I support him entirely," Jennifer replied to him.


"Alright honey. That's fine, but tell me? What does Mr. we should build houses with living walls think now that you're lost?" Stanton asked her.


"Look Dad. I know you better than that. I think you know a way we can get unlost and even without the extra hardware that interferes with the biofield," Jennifer said, turning to Anthony who sat in the passenger seat, as she reminded Stanton that she knew him just as well as her mother.


"Look. I don't know anything about Anthony's biofeelers, but I can tell you this honey. Find the sun. If its to your left, you're driving south. If its to your east, you're driving north. You're looking for Belfountain, just west of the conservation area. If you see a sign for Brimstone, you've got to head back west a bit, so that means taking a right turn..." Stanton explained to her.


"We just passed the Grange..." Jennifer told Stanton.


"Was the sun on your left or right?" asked Stanton.


"My right..." Jennifer responded quickly.


"Then you're going the right direction honey. Take the next left, and then the next right, and continue until the second driveway on your right. I'm a few clicks behind you honey. If you get lost again, just stay put and I'll find you and your biofeeler loving fiancé," Stanton assured her.


"You're awesome Dad. Thanks. See you soon!" she said to him, blowing him a kiss through the receiver before hanging up.




"What are Dads for?" Stanton replied, intending it for her as much so as his deceased wife.


Just Like Old Times


Stanton stopped his F-150 of a monster truck just behind his daughter's Equinox. Ahead of their vehicles were several others, perhaps six in all. A few pickups. An SUV and two sports cars, stretching up a vast driveway leading up to a large house. trees 


When he stepped out of his truck, his daughter got out of her Equinox and Anthony out of the passenger side, Jenny by that time running to greet him.


"How are you love birds anyway?" asked Stanton, looking to Anthony in a most intimidating manner.


Jennifer gave him a peck on the cheek, then ran back to grab Anthony's hand.


"Good to see you Mr. Stanton..." Anthony greeted him, not quite as intimidated as he had been the last time they'd met.


"How are your biofeelers?" Stanton held out his hand, gripping Anthony's firmly but cautiously so as not to break any bones.


"...Uhhh. Its biofield, and its important, but it might take some time for some dinosaurs to catch on..." Anthony responded to Stanton, drawing a smile from him.


Stanton tapped the shoulder of Anthony's black blazer firmly with his hand, clearly amused that he'd risked such a remark.


"That's the spirit. Now just a word of warning Anthony. These guys? They're the real deal. We go back a long way and we've seen stuff together. A lot of it. You have my respect. You've already earned it, but be careful with these guys. They gave a lot for their country, and some of them weren't appreciated the way they deserved to be. Remember that when you're speaking with them," Stanton reminded Anthony, more with insight than intimidation.


"Wait... wait! Let me get a picture of you guys... together," Jennifer pulled her phone and coaxed Anthony and Stanton together.


Stanton's solid frame dwarfed Anthony's, but he shrunk himself just enough and threw his right arm around his daughter's fiancé, then holding his left hand above his brow, effectively cutting off the details of his face from the photo, without ruining the moment for either his daughter or Anthony.


Jennifer gave him another peck on the cheek, for she knew the value (and risk) of such photos. She remembered similarly how difficult it was for her mother to get them when she was a little girl. If her mother had gotten just one photo with her father depicting even just the tip of his nose alone, never mind the rest of his hidden face, she'd be elated.


They ventured up the driveway and to the house, hearing music from around the other side and towards the backyard. They rounded the side of the house and then found their way into the backyard, where a number of tents were setup, most of them covering tables for food and drink, the remainder for those who slept in them.


It was Stanton who rounded the corner first, and upon recognizing the squad leader of fireteam Canuck, his best friend while in boot camp, he threw out his hand for a shake, but was greeted by a hug from a bear.


"You have not aged a day since the last time I saw you Ray," Stanton backed away from the giant man's paws long enough to breath.


"And you've grayed every day since the last time I saw you!" Ray responded to Stanton.


"A compliment coming from you. Graybait," Stanton responded.


"Ahhhh! You still remember that?" Ray patted the back of the man who'd had his many times.


"How could I forget?" Stanton replied.


"Sandy? This is Bradley Alexander Stanton. This is the man who single handledly took out the entire battalion OPFOR* during a training exercise without firing a single round," Ray told his wife with a big smile on his face.


"One and the same. A pleasure to meet you Sandy. This is my daughter Jennifer..." Stanton stepped forward greeted her.


"Pleased to meet you," Jennifer smiled as she nodded.


"And this is her fiancé Anthony," Stanton introduced his son-in-law to be.


"Nice to meet you," Anthony added nervously.


"So how did Stanton take out the battalion?" asked Sandy, now curious about story.


"Well, he added a few hot peppers and some magnesium he scraped from a Willy Peter into the battalion morning coffee supply," Ray explained to his wife.


Anthony suddenly shifted uncomfortably. Jennifer then nudged him lovingly to help him regain his composure.


"Who is Willy Peter?" asked Sandy.


"Willy isn't a person. Its a type of grenade," Ray explained to her.


"He put a grenade in their coffee?!!!" Sandy looked at them in shock.


"No honey! He scraped some magnesium from the thermal fuses into it, effectively turning the OPFOR's entire supply of morning coffee into a laxative," Ray laughed as he told the story.


Sandy's expression contorted into a mixture of amusement and horror as the rest of them laughed, with the exception of Anthony who instead shifted nervously once again.


"Those were the good old days," Ray smiled as he recalled.


"Honestly, I should have thought that one over more carefully because when they caught me, the CO put me on latrine duty for two months. The first week of that was pretty rough let me tell you on account of the fact of all the ammunition I gave them with the laxative..." Stanton smiled, shaking his head as they laughed.


"Would you like some coffee...?" asked Sandy awkwardly of them.


"That would be great," Stanton responded.


"Thank you, we'll get it," Jennifer added.


"Its in the coffee urn. The cups are there. There's some sugar and cream beside it. Help yourself. Breakfast is going to be ready in a few minutes," Sandy assured them.


"And don't let Stanton near the coffee..." Ray told Jennifer, who burst out laughing.


Shortly after they got their coffees, they were joined by the three occupants of the tents who after having cleaned themselves up in the basement shower, sat beside them at the table as breakfast was served.


"Stanton. Long time no see partner," a large burly muscular man with a thick beard and short cropped hair offered his hand.


"Richards. Good to see you again. How's Betty doing?" Stanton asked him.


"She's a lot better, thanks for asking. A bit sore every so often, but she's a tough and spirited girl, that one," Richards took a seat beside his old squad mate.


"Stanton old buddy. Look at you... still the same old clean cut poster boy of a soldier," a man with a slicked back head of long gray hair tied in a pony tail sat across from Stanton after they shook.


"Now you're gettin' dirty Hank. How've you been keeping?" Stanton greeted the loader for their squad's fireteam.


"Same old, same old for an old vet like me. Sandy, you didn't let Stanton near the coffee, did you?" asked Hank, examining his cup of coffee very carefully, rousing laughter from the table.


"Give me a hand, will ya?" asked a third arrival, a handsome fellow with a brush cut and a real hombre mustachio.


"Sure thing Denver," Stanton responded, sliding his chair out and standing beside the man, who then slid an empty chair beside them to sit down, leaning against Stanton as he did.


"Where's your leg?" asked Stanton.


"On the cooler just outside of my tent," Denver said to him.


"I got it partner," Stanton responded, quickly dashing over to the cooler and grabbing the prosthetic from it.


He handed the prosthetic to Denver, who then went about fastening it to the socket and joint situated just above his missing left knee.


"I hope you cleaned that thing, cause it was certainly stinky when you took it off last night," Richards remarked to Denver, then smiling at Hank and winking.


"Its funny you should say, 'cause I did happen to clean it, with that bottle of fifty year old Scotch you brought with you... Great disinfectant let me tell you," Denver responded with a smile.


"That wasn't Scotch. That was my urinal..." Richards laughed.


"Do you mind?!!! We're trying eat here and there's ladies at the table. Besides, you should know better than to try to one up Richards," Stanton summarized their sentiment as the table chuckled, Anthony more so uncomfortably than anything.


"Thank you Stanton, but I think we're all on the same level here..." Ray added, drawing a smile and a light slap on the wrist from his wife.


"So is someone going to introduce us to the rookies?" Richards asked before taking a sip of his coffee.


"Gentlemen, this is my daughter, Jennifer..." Stanton introduced his daughter.


"I've heard so many stories about you guys. Nice to meet you," Jennifer said to them as all three men stood to greet her.


"None of them were true. Unless they were flattering of course..." Richards responded.


"And then even less so..." Denver came back.


"...if they're about Denver that is..." Richards added.


"So who's the strong silent type beside you?" asked Richards, who often did most of the speaking.


"Gentlemen, this is my fiancé, Anthony," Jennifer introduced her beau, who then stood up and shook hands with them.


"Whaddaya think? A pencil pusher?" asked Hank.


"Naaaa. His index finger is too weak. A computer guy maybe?" Denver added.


"An artist perhaps?" Richards did his best to help Anthony save face, though Anthony became more and more flustered.


"I'm an architect. I design living, breathing spaces," Anthony explained to them.


They sat silently for a moment, and then slowly, their laughter rose in volume as Anthony stood somewhat defensively.


"...what the heck is a living breathing space anyway?" Denver said.


"...he designs tents for crying out loud!" Hank added, nearly in hysterics.


Stanton knew fully well what was going on, but he had to keep silent. This was something that Anthony had to deal with himself.


"I design the interiors of a whole new breed of condominiums and I'm one of the most sought after such designers in the region! I certainly don't make little of what you do or did for a living, so kindly don't do so that to Jennifer or myself!" he responded, actually raising his voice substantially as he faced them.


Stanton looked to them and nodded.


"Anthony, it is a pleasure to meet such an architect as yourself. I humbly apologize for my behaviour and the behaviour of my fellow soldiers here. I guess we were just rrying to make a point," Richards stood, apologizing for their behaviour after which he seated himself.


"Where's Jimmy?" asked Stanton.


"Honey? Why don't we take Jennifer and Anthony on a tour of the house?" Ray suggested, his wife catching on quickly, standing up with her husband.


"That's a great idea! Are you up for that?" asked Jennifer and Anthony, who was still on edge.


"Sure! Come on honey. Lets go see the house," Jennifer grabbed Anthony's hand and the four of them left the table, venturing over to the house, leaving Stanton and his old unit mates to talk.



Suburban Radicalization


"So what happened?" Stanton asked again.


"He's... gone, Stanton," Richards replied.


"What do you mean... gone?" Stanton pressed Richards.


"Exactly what it sounds like. He's gone. Six feet under. Fertilizing the garden. Gone," Richards said as a solemn silence invaded the table.


"Jimmy was the toughest of the bunch of us. Nothing could stop him. What happened to him? Cancer? Heart disease?" asked Stanton, completely in shock over the news.


"None of the above..." Denver shook his head negatively.


"You know how the song goes. His kettle boiled over. They pressure cooked him, just like we pressure cooked poor Anthony there, though that is certainly not our style, nor is it how we do things. We take that oath we swore when we signed up very seriously. I had to make sure he wasn't one of them..." Richards explained to them, then looking to Anthony who like Stanton was in shock.


"One of who?" Stanton asked Richards, now completely puzzled.


"They. Them. They're the only pronouns we have to go on at this point in time, Stanton, and they're taking us out, all of us, one at a time," Richards explained to Stanton, doing his best to remain calm.


"The news kept it quiet on account of the fact he was a former Tier 1, like you. Retired, but he was one of their former heavy hitters," Richards continued.


"We only found out on account of the fact that we still have contacts. One of ours gave us a copy of the official report," Hank told Stanton.


"It was bad Stanton. He blew up. Lost it totally. Took out four civilians. Three of them with rap sheets a few clicks long, but civilians nonetheless. The fourth victim was an innocent bystander. No record. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Denver told Stanton.


"You're telling me that the most solid guy of our team went ballistic?" Stanton could still not believe his ears.


"That's what the report said. A clean record for years, without any problems or hiccups on the mental health front, and then from a year ago, he suddenly started having issues. Hearing voices. Talking to himself. That kind of thing. He got checked out both physically and mentally and passed with flying colours. Its even on his report that his physique was like that of a thirty year old athlete. We're talking about a sixty three year old man... the guy was freakin' tough as nails..." Hank continued explaining the situation to Stanton.


"The report says that in the community suburb he lived, that people in the community started reporting his strange behaviour. Talking to himself when he was out shopping or generally in public. Occasionally, loud rants. Most wrote it off as mental illness, but again, he passed every test they threw at him, but this is where things start getting really strange," Richards told Stanton.


"There were several unauthorized changes made to his records. With his health record for instance, somebody had changed his blood type from AB, what it had originally been, to A. Some of his other records simply disappeared, including civilian records of his service, which DND sometimes does for discretion's sake, so we can ix-nay that one... sort of. Records of his blood transfusions after his injury during Operation GREENSTRIKE. His records of activity at the library, not to mention a few of his social media accounts and emails, both of which were allegedly secretly monitored by an unknown party. They even altered records of his family history and religion, apparently falsely recording in his record that he was a Jehovah's Witness, which strikes us as strange seeing as they don't allow their members to join the military," Hank told Stanton.


"We're talking about a former Tier 1 operator here, Stanton," Denver leaned forward with his elbows on the table.


"If there was anything strange going on, he would have reported it. There'd be a trail," Stanton suggested to them.


"That was our first thought too. So we looked into it. We called up a buddy in the courts, who drew up a subpoena to gain access to Jimmy's internet and phone records. That's how we found out about the email and social media account tampering, but to even get that, we had to jump through hoops with both his internet ISP and his phone carrier. In both cases, his file numbers were swapped with that of another customer, meaning that his phone activity seemed to originate from someone else's phone, and vice versa. Same with his internet activity. They essentially gave us someone else's records and history of activity, but with his client contact information. The old switcheroo," 


"We eventually managed to gain access with another subpoena, this time the feds taking the ISP's and phone carrier's hard drives, in order to get at their client record and figure out what was going on that led to a former Tier 1 operator's records being switched with that of a forty-two year old man receiving disability benefits on account of mental illness," Richards explained to Stanton.


"Someone was messing him up, very seriously, and sweeping the evidence under the carpet. Swapping the records was definitely a smoke screen," Hank told Stanton.


"One day, three months and two days ago, he woke up. Donned his kit, and never came back. He left his home at five in the morning, packing a nine and a SMiG. He drove a suburban block away and entered a lowrise known for being very troublesome in the community, then gaining access, pretending to be a  security guard. He then verbally confronted his victims in the hall and went weapons free on their asses. One of them was packing his own modified Glock, and managed to plug Jimmy twice. Near fatally once in the neck, and once in the chest, breaking one of his ribs on account of the fact of his kevlar. Jimmy finished him and then bled to death in the hall," Denver finished the story.


"Did he leave a note or message? A social media post? A statement of why he did it?!!!" Stanton pressed them even further.


"No. Either that, or whoever was monitoring his accounts stripped all the data clean, picking the bones dry, and leaving nothing for anyone to go on," Denver shoved the last piece of his toast into his gullet.


"We did some checking with the local legion, backtracking some of their records and managed to find other similar cases, most of them involving Special Forces and other specialized mission critical operators. Vets who died under the same or similar circumstances, but that trail was way too big for us to follow, with our limited resources. I mean we know a lot a guys, but even that has limits," Richards told Stanton.


"They changed the records of his religion? Why the heck would someone do that?" Stanton seemed perplexed.


"I don't know. We were hoping that you, with your cushy one-twenty a year job might be able to tell us. Help us find out. If not for us, then for Jimmy," Richards pleaded with Stanton.


Stanton looked over to their tents for a moment and then back to them. They looked like they were well attended to, but had bags under their eyes and it was easy to see that the stress was wearing on them.


"How long have you guys been living here?" he asked them.


"We moved here a week after getting the news about Jimmy. We've been here ever since," Richards admitted to Stanton.


"Money troubles? Rent? I could throw you guys a few grand each if you need it. To get on your feet? Its the least I could do for you. Brothers and armed," Stanton looked to them.


"Brothers and armed," Richards, Hank and Denver closed their hands around Stanton's, in a four man shake.


"Wouldn't help Stanton. I think this is where our story ends. Right here, living in tents in Ray's back yard," Richards looked to Stanton, then looked down.


"What's up guys?" Stanton pressed them again.


"The day we got the news about Jimmy, we started experiencing the same thing. Hearing voices, at first, only at night. Our neighbours verbally harassing us with our secrets. I mean, secrets that only we knew. People following us," Richards looked to Hank and Denver.


"You guys too?" asked Stanton, looking to each of them in turn and then back to Richards.


"They're hunting us, and sweeping us under the carpet. One person at a time," Hank told Stanton.


"How've you been since moving here?" asked Stanton.


"Much better in some aspects, but there's still the fact that every time we go into town to resupply, we get the follow us everywhere treatment," Hank told Stanton.


"Not only that, but at night, even out here, we still hear the voices..." Denver's voice drifted off, tired and weary, having fought a battle they were obviously losing.


Jimmy's House


As they opened the door, the sound of heavy machinery broke free from behind the door. Dave opened the door for Elena and they walked into the utility room, one after the other. Stanton had been repairing one of the transformers and was closing up his toolkit when they'd arrived.


"The first May Two Four you've spent away from us, and you didn't even have the courtesy to come speak to us this morning and let us know you were alright. I mean, for all we know, you could have been trapped under your pillow, rendered unconscious by a killer hangover and unable to move!" Dave scolded Stanton as he stood up from the cement floor, brushing the dust from his pants.


"We were worried sick about you!" Elena said to him, putting her hands on her hips for effect.


"Is that so? I could just as easily say the same thing you know. How are you two? Was it a good one for you?" asked Stanton.


"Good would be a huge understatement. We had so much fun without you, that we're already making plans for next year without you," Dave told him.


"Yeah, I had a good time as well. Got to see some old friends and do some catching up. I think that sometimes when we get caught up in our own lives, we fail to remember from where we came. I got a chance to address that, and even brought Jennifer and Athony with us to boot. A good time was had by all," Stanton smiled at them as he wiped his hands with a rag.


"You have time for cold one?" asked Dave.


"Yeah, a few of us are going over to the Fox And The Forest, to help us with our Tuesday evening blahs," Elena added.


"Carol's coming. So's Hanna. She aced her exams apparently so we're taking her out for a beer. Come on hotshot. Whaddaya say?" Dave asked him, patting him on the shoulder.


"I'd love nothing more than to join you two, but I have a prior engagement," Stanton replied.


"Is it a side job? I could help you with it, if it would make it possible for you to join us. I think Carol and Hanna would love to have you there," Dave seemed perterbed that Stanton wasn't going to join them.


"No, this is something I have to do on my own. Can I take a raincheck on that?" asked Stanton, giving them his favourite line.


"This is a once in a lifetime deal that you won't want to miss. I'm buying... Going... going..." Dave counted down, though Stanton seemed unamused.


"Gone! I guess you're out," Dave shrugged, looking to Elena who also shrugged.


"Can't blame us. We tried," Elena added, both of them still trying to sway him.


"You have fun tonight, and give Carol and Elena my best," Stanton said to them.


"You got it hotshot. Good luck with your prior engagement... I guess we'll catch up tomorrow. Come on Elena, let this lump on a log lay low," Dave led them out the door and back to the employee change rooms.


Stanton in the meantime packed up his tools and stowed them in his locker before washing up. He then headed out to his truck and drove off, heading over to the highway.


The trip took about forty-five minutes in all, and brought Stanton down to the Lawrence Avenue East and Markham Road area and into a quaint suburban development, where he found Jimmy's split-level bungalow home.


He parked down the street a bit from the house, taking off his golf shirt and replacing it with a black button down and a red tie. He then walked down the street to a local strip mall, where he ran into the corner store and grabbed himself a pack of gum and a real-estate newspaper. He then walked back down the street, continuing past his car and onward to Jimmy's house.


Miraculously, the house was still wrapped in police tape, though there was nobody to be found on site. It would likely remain in that state for another few months given the complex nature of the case. Stanton rang the doorbell, just to make it look good, keeping the real-estate listings prominently his hand, even pulling a pen from his pocket and making a note on them. He then examined the front window and walkway carefully before walking around the house and examining it from the outside to test the waters.


He gave it a few more minutes and when no neighbours came out to inquire of his presence, he made his way over to the back door, where a police lock had been placed on the door. He pulled his keychain and retrieved his master key, using it to unlock the police lock, then quietly slipping into the darkened home. When he was inside, he pulled an LED light from his pocket and used it to illuminate his surroundings.


The first thing he noticed was the smell of dust, much of which had accumulated over the course of three months, despite the forensics work that had gone on inside. There were several tracks through the dust, maybe one or two people having returned to the home in the last week. Probably fulfilling special requests by the forensics team.


He knew that the forensics unit was very efficient, and that they likely got every piece of evidence there was to be scraped from the home. However, Stanton had a distinct advantage. He too was a Tier 1 operator at one time, not to mention being one of Jimmy's closest friends twenty years earlier. As a result, Stanton knew exactly how Jimmy thought and hence what to look for and where to look for it.


The first thing he noticed was that the house had two water heaters, one of them quite large for a home this size and that the investigators hadn't gone near either of them. He knew something was amiss.


He made his way to the larger water heater, examining it thoroughly and finding that it was powered but there was no heating element in it. He also noticed that it was poised on a casket and bearings, and found that it could be rotated quite easily, which is exactly what he did. He turned the water heater, around and on the second pass, he noticed that it had a handle and a large door. He used a tool from his keychain to unlock the door and opened it, searching the contents within.


There were a series of shelves, each of which were stacked with computer hardware, including four hard disks on a magnetic medium of 8 terabytes each, and two SSDs of 2 terabytes each. There were several other pieces of specialized hardware that he'd seen before, including two modified SDR* dongles, a folding high gain antenna, a series of three military class radio direction finders and a laser range finder. On the bottom shelf, was an old CRT based fourteen inch flatscreen, and equally as old, a fifteen inch LED screen.


"What the hell was he doing?" Stanton asked himself aloud.


Stanton lowered himself to the bottom shelf and examined the safe, feeling around the top of it until he found what he was looking for. A sticky note on top of the safe, which he retrieved carefully without ripping it.


There were a series of numbers written across the page:


2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 
17, 23, 29, 31, 37, 41, 
43, 47, 59, 61, 67, 73, 
79, 83, 89, 97, 101, 103, 
107, 109, 113

R1, L2, R1


"Primes..." Stanton examined them, recognizing the pattern immediately.


He looked to the safe, and then to the numbers, realizing that the safe's last possible number was 113, the highest prime listed on the page.


"113, that should be the thirtieth prime if I'm not mistaken..." Stanton contemplated aloud.


He then counted the whole numbers on the page, finding that there were only twenty seven.


"I'll be darned... what are the missing primes?" he asked himself quickly looking through the list and figuring them out one at a time.


"19... 53... 71... That should be it. The ones at the bottom are the turns I need to do to open the safe..." he said aloud, then trying to numbers from lowest to highest.


He pulled the handle on the safe and had no luck with it.


"Let's try descending..." Stanton tried again with the same numbers and once again, the safe wouldn't open.


"Middle low high..." he said to himself, turning the dial for the last number and feeling a distinct click from within the safe.


He pulled the handle and the safe opened.


"Jimmy... you old devil you..." Stanton smiled as he examined the contents.


There were two flash drives, each 256 gigabytes. There were several notepads with a series of what looked like navigation points commonly used by the military while orienteering, including elevations.


Stanton pocketed the notepads and the flash drives, also grabbing the SDR dongles and the folding antenna.


"What's with the old monitors?" Stanton asked himself, grabbing them both, one in each hand and walking over to an electrical receptical and plugging them in.


They were both extremely bright, having the contrast and brightness nearly cranked. On each of the screens was a test pattern that Stanton immediately recognized.


"These are TEMPEST honeypots... What the heck was he doing with these?" Stanton asked himself aloud, now extremely perplexed by this mystery.


"I've got to get all this kit back to my workshop and figure this out there..." Stanton said, leaving the utility room and heading to the stairs to the main floor.


When he arrived at the top of the stairs, he checked the laundry room, and then the adjoining garage for a something he could use to carry everything. He was delighted when he found an empty dufflebag in the garage, and brought it with him back into the house, throwing it down the stairs, then going down the hall to examine Jimmy's office.


The computer and laptop were both gone, Stanton clearly seeing the dark patches on the desk they'd previously occupied, the rest of the desk bleached by the sun. They'd likely been taken by the digital forensics team to be thoroughly scraped for any and all data. Even deleted and orphaned files could be found and they might still be on the disk and holding information pertinent to the investigation. 


Their absence however, did nothing to help Stanton, so he instead searched the drawers, finding an address hand written on another sticky note, in Jimmy's own hand writing, and a note with another series of numbers, this time not the code for a safe, but a series of frequencies, one of which Stanton immediately recognized as the phone line carrier signal of 2600 hz.


When Stanton was confident he'd found everything in the office, he searched the kitchen, the living room and then the main floor bathroom, finding nothing of consequence and much the same in the bedroom, though Stanton knew he'd find little there. He himself spent little time in his own bedroom and Jimmy assumedly would have been the same.


Satisfied with his efforts and the material evidence he'd found, he then returned to the basement and loaded the dufflebag with all of the contents he'd taken from the hidden water heater cache he'd uncovered. He then cleaned the scene of fingerprints, and returned the water heater to its old position, keeping the door hidden from any prying eyes.


The dufflebag, had managed to fit both monitors, the hard disks and the rest of the hardware that didn't fit in his pockets. He lifted it, and carried it over to the back door, exiting through it and returning the police padlock to where it had been.


He then made his way around the house (cautiously) and then to the front of the house, miraculously not drawing the attention of the neighbours. When he arrived at his truck, he observed that someone across the road had been watching him as he deposited the bag in the truck.


Stanton quickly waved to the man who'd been walking his dog, flagging him down as he ran over to him.


"I'm so sorry to bother you, but could you tell me if there have been any other real-estate agents canvasing on this street? Perhaps you're in the market to sell?" he asked the man, being very insistent.


The man, somewhat older than Stanton adjusted his steel framed bifocals on his face as he eyed the younger man.


"No. I'm happy with my home. Did you check down the end towards South Leeds Crescent?" asked the man, seeming to have remembered having seen a few for sale signs one street over.


"Its different zoning there and I'm looking for something that is zoned as commercial/residential. The home office market it booming right now so if you want to make a load of money, perhaps you might change your mind about selling?" Stanton really pressed the man.


"No, no. I'm quite alright. I've still got a few good years left you know. I was just curious to see someone poking around here. There's been a lot of that over the last few years, with this world getting so darned bizarre and all. Just me and McDougal here, our one television. A book case and a stove for a good smattering of cream of cauliflower soup every once in a while..." the man said to Stanton, now seeming to be enjoying having someone with whom to talk.


"You've seen other people poking around?" asked Stanton.


"Well yes. With that fellow and the shootings and all. But there was some pretty nutty stuff going on here before that. You know, these communities have changed a lot over the years but there's something that's makin' all kinds of younger people nutty I'll tell you. Anyway, it was nice talking to you. I've got to get McDougal here back home and get him fed before he gnaws at my ankles," the man laughed at his own joke, a smile stretching across his face as he gestured to the plump and buggy eyed Chihuahua on the end of his leash, the dog looking nearly as old as he.


"You have a good night Sir, and thanks for the help," Stanton said goodbye to the man, feeling somewhat saddened to know that the poor guy probably had nobody with whom to speak.


He returned to his truck and got in and started his journey home.


Workshop Wrest


Stanton got out of his truck and used the remote to open the garage door, leaving the second door closed. He then went to the passenger seat and grabbed the dugglebag, hauling it to the side of the garage that contained his workshop after which he closed the door.


"Now, lets see what we can uncover here. What the heck were you doing old friend?" Stanton laid the hard disks out across a work table, then setting up the monitors beside them. He examined the SDR dongles and found that they were both USB 3.2 based.


"Lets see if I have something I can use to get these going..." Stanton ran into the house and into his office on the main floor. He though about using the laptop from his desk, but decided against it given the fact that it had most of his important information despite the fact he'd gone to lengths to protect it. Instead, he chose to rummage through the closet, where he found two older laptops from the previous year, both of which being more than capable of utilizing the SDR dongles and with the right cables, the hard disks too.


He brought the laptops to the garage and from there, plugged them in. He then went through his cable drawer and found enough USB cables to hook up everything he'd need to in order to get the whole rig working. After about ten minutes of fiddling with the cables and various configurations, he managed to get everything plugged in and working.


His first order of the day was to examine the contents of the hard disks, which he went through one by one, examining the files within. What he found in the larger disks was that they had been used as some sort of multimedia drives, storing high-res video information, most of which seemed to be gotten from the output of one of the SDR dongles. 


The recording was that of another computer monitor, though the image looked slightly grainy and occasionally was scarred by interference.


"What's this? Was he doing Van Eck Phreaking?" Stanton asked himself, looking closely at the video.


When he got frustrated by the laptop's relatively tiny screen, he once again rummaged through his cable drawer, retrieving an HDMI cable, connecting it to the laptop and then to his large screen television in the garage, which he'd use during hockey season. He setup the display and a few moments later, the laptop display appeared on the eighty-five inch screen on the wall and in 8K.


"That's better..." Stanton remarked, happy with his progress thus far.


He could see now that the image from the SDR dongle was clearly the intercepted emissions of a computer monitor that had been within range of the high gain antenna when Jimmy had recorded it.


The image on the screen however was that of another SDR and corresponding software. It too was eavesdropping on the electromagnetic field of another monitor somewhere else. Stanton examined the screen carefully and realized that the second SDR was eavesdropping Jimmy's own computer, other than the one he was using to eavesdrop.


The screen had Jimmy's email client open, and a list of his most recent emails were on screen. Whoever was using that second computer, was actually spying on Jimmy, and unbeknownst to the him, Jimmy was spying on him.


"Alright... this is starting to make sense. So Jimmy starts to suspect that someone is eavesdropping him. Maybe keeping him under surveillance. A valid concern given the fact of his having been a Tier 1 operator. There's probably a lot of people who'd pay dearly for information linking him to the operations in which he took part, and his real identity," Stanton reasoned, given the unique circumstances of Jimmy's situation.


"What if these guys surveilling him are cops?" Stanton had to examine that possibility.


He went to his bookshelf and looked through it for a specific file folder where he'd stashed the operations and service manuals for various surveillance tools used by the Police forces of the world. When he found it, he searched through it and found a Stringray, and then a REAPER operating and service manual.


"STINGRAY is strictly for monitoring cellular data... Not really applicable here..." Stanton filed the manual and began looking through the REAPER manuals.


"REAPER is used for WIFI and CAT-5/COAX/RJ-45 cable eavesdropping... Again, not applicable and from the looks of it, I'd say this second spy isn't a cop. Or a fed. This is a civilian or possibly a security contractor or private investigator..." Stanton reasoned, once again examining the video image for signs of anything that might indicate the identity of the spy. 


The one who was spying on Jimmy's devices. 


The one who had no idea that he was being spied upon by Jimmy.


Stanton fast forwarded through the video until he arrived at a point where the video image changed substantially. On the screen now was Jimmy's accounting software. What he'd used to keep his books, for he was running his own business as a digital communications consultant. He'd started his military career at the age of eighteen, training in SIGINT, signals intelligence and had earned a degree as a communications specialist from the Armed Forces. He was then contacted by JSO and TACCOM who scouted him as an operator, given his exempliary record of performance, rivaling even Stanton's and from there, he was running operations at the age of twenty-three.


Jimmy had taken his skills and qualifications and recycled them into a lucrative career by the time he'd retired from the Armed Forces, banking most of his money for his future retirement.


Stanton thought about calling Richards, but then opted against it, given the fact that he had no way of knowing how secure Richards' devices were. If this group, whomever they were, was tracking them, if he contacted them from his phone, said group might latch onto him which might compromise his entire unit, not to mention JSO, no matter how secure his own phone was. 


Encrypted or not, if the phone carriers were already compromised, that made all the encryption in the world useless, especially if some punk working for the company was feeding information about clients to contacts outside of their company, much the same as with ISPs. They were only as secure as their employees, and that was the weak point in any communications infrastructure and perhaps a tall order to expect given the pressure of the scope of today's problems. How secure is an employee that's paid eighteen dollars an hour Stanton reasoned.


The worst case scenario though was that the carriers and ISPs were already compromised by ideological groups of some form. People who'd share client information, and information on enemies of their ideology with other members outside of the company, which given what Richards, Hank and Denver had explained about Jimmy's situation, lined up very well with the facts, but that did not answer who the guy spying on Jimmy was. Was it even related Stanton asked himself.


Stanton then focused on some of the other video files, scanning through them hoping to find anything linking the person spying on Jimmy with an identity. It was after scanning the eleventh video that Stanton discovered something that put more of the pieces of this extraordinary puzzle together for him.


The video taken of the one spying on Jimmy, was now focused on the output of the TEMPEST honeypot monitors. The test pattern very, very clear in the video and image, and it was at that moment that Stanton realized what Jimmy was up to.


He checked other parts of the screen and found that the radio direction finders had triangulated on a location and given the fact that there were three of them, that was enough to narrow down the location of the eavesdropper to within a couple of meters. Jimmy had used the honeypots to locate the eavesdroppers, because he'd added a plugin to his SDR software that included image recognition, meaning that he could scan tens of computers per minute in an area, and know which of them were utilizing Van Eck Phreaking, simple because the plugin would recognize the test pattern image on the TEMPEST honeypot monitors.


Once he had a match, the radio direction finders and the laser range finder could be used to locate the eavesdropper. Both their grid location, and their altitude and that would have been enough for Jimmy to know their exact address. Given a Tier 1 operator that information, and that would pretty much signal the end for them.


However, that still didn't account for the anomalies on his case file. His having heard voices. His talking to himself. His apparent mental breakdown, despite his having passed both physically and mentally.


"Jimmy, being a former operator, had access to protected medical facilities, licensed and approved by the Armed Forces, so nobody could tamper with his tests, but that might not be the case with the others..." Stanton examined the situation.


"For instance, what if they had used a medical facility, or blood clinic for blood tests, such as testing for the presence of narcotics or disease. If this group, whomever they were had infiltrated a privately run lab, the infiltrator could selectively switch lab test results between clients. They could return false results to discredit their enemies or detractors or even obscure their clients' identities on the fly to keep the authorities at bay or from catching on to the real issue at play," Stanton put another piece of the puzzle in place and realized that this might be much wider spread than it at first appeared.


"Broken telephone. If the authorities were keeping overwatch for Jimmy, and this group managed to get in between, and obfuscate their ability to keep track of him, he'd have been cut off without even knowing it, while they could have misled them, while the group conducted their psyops against Jimmy, secretly breaking him down until... No matter how he tried to signal his overwatch that something was wrong, they'd never get the message because of the interference of the group obfuscating the channel being used for the message..." Stanton once again found another trail, though he realized that he was speculating far too much and not validating what he'd surmised thus far.


For this progress, he needed to start narrowing things down. Then, he remembered the note with the address on it.


He pulled his phone and activated hi-security mode, and then searched anonymously for the address on the note.


"That's the address where the shootings occurred. Where Jimmy went ballistic," Stanton said as he realized that it was the lowrise building around the corner from Jimmy's house.


"What's the connection?" Stanton asked himself as he sat on his favourite stool, then slowly leaning over and falling into a troubled sleep.



To be continued...

* SDR - Software Defined Radio

* OPFOR - Opposing Force

Credits and attribution:

Artwork: Amy Wong, Wendy Pusey, Ghastly, Birdman, Brian Joseph Johns, Daz3D, Unreal Engine...

Tools: Daz3D, Corel Painter, Adobe Photoshop, Lightwave 3D, Blender, Stable Diffusion (Easy Diffusion distribution), InstantID, Sadtalker, Google Colaboratory, Microsoft Copilot (Windows 11), Hitfilm, Borderline Obsession...

Invideo.IO which was used to produce the ENERTRINSIC INTERNATIONAL INVESTOR PRESENTATION.

Rutherford model representation of Deuterium and Tritium: By Dirk Hünniger; Derivative work in english - Balajijagadesh.

InstantID by: Wang, Qixun and Bai, Xu and Wang, Haofan and Qin, Zekui and Chen, Anthony. Research Paper Title: InstantID - Zero-shot Identity-Preserving Generation in Seconds.

Sadtalker by: Zhang, Wenxuan and Cun, Xiaodong and Wang, Xuan and Zhang, Yong and Shen, Xi and Guo, Yu and Shan, Ying and Wang, Fei.
Research Paper Title: SadTalker: Learning Realistic 3D Motion Coefficients for Stylized Audio-Driven Single Image Talking Face Animation.

Gratitude: Our Mentors, Senseis, Sifus, Sebomnims, lifetime inspirations, family, friends, the Nomads (ask Stanton about that one), the Music, the Movies, the Theatre, the Arts, ASMR, (both YouTube and Bilibili and the many other creators on those platforms), the Gaming and Developer communities and of course, the audience.

Martial Arts (in the words of real experts and at least one comedian): https://brucelee.com (home of the real Dragon and an entire family of inspirations), http://iwco.online International Wing Chun Organization (International presence of a very scalable intensity martial art, protected and developed by Shaolin Nun Ng Mui) and the alma mater of Jinn Hua's own specialized variation thereof, https://iogkf.com International Okinawan Goju-Ryu Karatedo Federation (even Hanshi had his teachers), https://itftkd.sport International Taekwondo Federation (Here there be Taegers), https://tangsoodoworld.com Tang Soo Do World (the path of Grandmaster Chuck Norris), https://www.aikido-international.org International Aikido Federation (how else would Navy Chef Steven Seagal liberate a Nimitz Class Aircraft Carrier from a team of hijackers?), https://www.stqitoronto.com Shaolin Temple Quanfa Institute (The City Of Toronto's own Shaolin Temple), https://www.enterthedojoshow.com Master Ken's Ameri-Te-Do presence (If we can't laugh at ourselves, then we can at least laugh the loudest at others, and other Zen)

Jesse Enkamp: Karate Nerd

Sensei Rokas: Martial Arts Journey

Iaido: Train For Katana Mastery Like Samurai

Special thanks to Aitrepreneur, Mickmumpitz, Hugging Face and the YouTube educational content producers, including those catering to the AI content production pipeline and of course AlphaSignal.

Something to give you perspective: The very first teacher had no formal education, didn't graduate and was self taught, but only because they had no other choice. We do.

Very Special Thanks to our Armed Forces and Federal and Provincial Police Services, who really do Stand On Guard, especially when it comes to the Charter of Rights And Freedoms and the Human Rights Act, and often without being self righteous zealots secretly protecting religious law. True keepers of the peace.

This content is entirely produced in Toronto, Ontario, Canada at 200 Sherbourne Street Suite 701 under the Shhhh! Digital Media banner.

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