Previously on Glibertarians.com

“Guten tag, zhe deposit box owner informed us you vould arrive today.  Specifically, zhat you are incapable of arriving on time for your appointment, but you vould arrive no later zhan ten minutes late.”

”Yeah that’s sounds like me.”  I replied.

”Zhen vhy not make ze appointment ten minutes from now!?  Switzerland you vould be vard of state or ve just toss imprecise ünterslagen likes you off Swiss railroad.”

”And you wonder why nobody cried when the Japanese neutered your watch industry.”

”GhaaaaaaaaaRrghghdghdghdghdghd…” The bank manager regained his composure and reset the knot on his tie.  “In zhe event bank master key must be used in lieu of deposit box owner key, bank protocol requires first present us vith ze security password assigned to deposit box 431.”

Swiss didn’t give me a password included with his instructions.

”The password…” Sugarfree said looking up ominously from his hoodie like a Druid, “…is Podesta.”

The bank manager opened up the envelope marked 431.  Glowering both at Sugarfree and I, he motioned for us to follow him into the vault.  The bank manager and the deposit box attendant stopped in front of safe deposit box 431.

“Auf mich. Eins, zwei, drei—drehen!”  The bank manger ordered, and both turned their key.

“He’s saying, one, two, three—turn”  Sugarfree whispered to me.

”Thanks, I got that.”

They yanked the deposit box out from the wall and set it on the counter.  Satisfied it was unlocked, the bank manager and the attendant left Sugarfree and I alone in the vault, and closed the cast iron security gate behind him.

I opened the box.  Inside we found two envelopes, a half disintegrated pastry covered with ants, and a Sphinx SDP pistol.  Sugarfree opened the envelope marked “read first.”

“In the event STEVE SMITH receives a Telefon call—take the gun and leave the cannoli?”  Sugarfree looked at me puzzled.  “That’s not how the line goes.”

”That was a literal cannoli?”  I asked.  “I thought the cannoli was supposed to be figurative?”

”I guess.”  Sugarfree walked over to the cast iron gate.  “Swiss bank man.”  He began whistling like the attendant was a dog. “We got a little snack for you…”

-16 hours earlier-

Brrrrrrrrt.  My phone began buzzing on my desk.  Brrrrrrrrt.   If I answer it I might get out of this meeting.

Brrrrrrrrt.  Oh no.  The call ID says Swiss Corp International Industries. Brrrrrrrrrt.

”Okay that’s all I have, have a great day everyone!”  The meeting organizer said and people began dropping off the call.  I have nothing else. Damnit.

”Hello”

”This Prathiba from Swiss Corps International Industries.  I drop you a solid and waited until morning to call this time.”

”Its DID YOU a solid.  Although I appreciate you not calling me in the middle of the night.”  I replied.

”I know we don’t get along, but you not have to revert to innuendo.  I call HR and file sexual harassment claim after I patch you through.  Swiss Corps HR is just …the worst.”

”Is that what happened to Nikki?  She works for HR now?”

”No…HR…is so much worse.”

Judas Priest.  

_____

“Mex!  We have a problem.  I need you to follow my exact instructions.”  Swiss said.

”Okay what’s the problem?”

”STEVE SMITH was activated.  Its a very long story but the short version was sometime in the 1960’s a US Army research lab operated by a defense contractor managed to capture what was then a young adult Sasquatch.”

“Let me guess his name was STEVE?” I asked.

”Don’t interrupt me.”

”Okay”

”You just did it again.”

”Did what?”

”Interrupt me, stop interrupting me!”  I remained silent for several seconds before Swiss started talking again.  ”This defense contractor conducted a series of psychological experiments on this captured Sasquatch.  Eventually turning him into a sleeper agent designed to crush competing defense contractors.  Can you imagine a defense contractor going to the Pentagon accusing a competitor of sending a Sasquatch to assassinate executives and destroy their company? It worked brilliantly…

…too brilliantly.”

”Is this why STEVE SMITH rapes hikers?”  I asked.

”No, that’s just what he does and he’s done it well since WW1.  They just weaponized his hobby.  Eventually this defense contractor was bought out by others over time.  Which makes perfect sense why he attacked the Boeing HQ, they were a competitor.  The Caterpillar plant in Peoria though is a new one.  Maybe he’ll scare them into moving out of state.”

“‘I’m sure they have a DOD contract somewhere down the line.”  I said.  “I operated CAT heavy equipment in Iraq.”

”Oh yeah?  I commanded a Stryker company, tough guy.  Stop interrupting me.”  Another period of awkward silence ensued. “So prior to the merger this company’s assets were raided in part by an entity incorporated in Switzerland who just happened to obtain the theoretical protocol to deactivate STEVE SMITH.  This entity was acquired by Swiss Corps in 1983.  Are you with me thus far?”  Swiss asked.

I said nothing.

“Good.”  Swiss said.  “This is held in a safe deposit box at the Swiss bank in Chicago.  The staff there are dutifully awaiting your arrival at 1630 just before closing time.  There are very simple, theoretical instructions inside Box number 431.  Sugarfree will meet you there but just be aware, Sugarfree is not a fan of banks.”

”Disgust with Federal Reserve and central banks that cartelized the banking and finance industry?”  I asked.

”No.”  Swiss said.  “He says banks are always really, really cold.”

”Which Swiss bank, are there more than one in Chicago?”  I asked.

“You can’t miss it, there is a Swiss cross on the front.”

“That’s not very helpful.”

”It wasn’t meant to be helpful.”

”You also said theoretical, in fact you said it twice.”  I said.

”Yeah …we don’t really know if this will work.”  Swiss replied.  “In fact, there is a non-zero probability he rapes you and Sugarfree to death, at the same time, but it will probably work! I need you to handle this one, while I go to Oktoberfest.”

“Wait, what?”  I asked.

”This call is over.”

“Why would STEVE attack defense contractors and heavy industry leaving Chicago?”  I asked Sugarfree while waiting on the El-Train.

“Boggles the mind.  STEVE is usually a pretty cutthroat capitalist.”  Sugarfree replied.  “This second envelope though.  If Robert Frost activates the Unit, one must de-Frost the Unit.”

”That’s just dumb.” I said. “Robert Frost?”  The El Train came to a stop and opened its doors.  Sugarfree and I got on the train and sat down.

”There are stranger things that pissed off STEVE before.  It’s probably better we try to figure out where he goes next.”  Sugarfree pulled out his cell phone and opened up a VPN app.  “There has to be something else linking the two companies.”

”Swiss said something about defense contractors, but that doesn’t make sense with Caterpillar.”  I said.  The train stopped at the next stop and a few people entered the car and sat at the corner opposite Sugarfree and I.

”They both use unionized labor.”  Sugarfree said.  “The local politicians are always pandering to those slimy turds.” He and I looked up at each other.

“Local politicians.”  We said at the same time.  We both began furiously looking up their exploits on our phones.

”Hey assholes.”  A scragly looking homeless man made his way over to Sugarfree and I.

”Can I help you?”  I asked.

”You’re um.  You’re um.  You’re in my seat.  Seat.  Seat my you’re.  My seat.”  The homeless man said.

”I was unaware you owned the seat.  It looks like public property and we’ll continue to treat it as such.”  At this point I no longer regretted taking the pistol from the safe deposit box.

”It has my name on it.”

I turned around slightly and saw the seat back did indeed say, property of Greasy Eddie Green scrawled in childish handwriting on the seatback.

”He did more to claim it than you.”  Sugarfree said.  “We can move over there where the seats are covered in dried puke.”

I stood up.  “Your chair your majesty.”  The homeless guy picked me up by my shirt collar and shouted in my face, revealing a mess of corroded dental appliances, missing teeth and meth riddled breath from deep within the bowels of his soul.  He tossed me a few feet away onto the floor. I slid back a few feet and hit my head on a balance pole.  I pulled the gun and held the sights up until the daze cleared enough to focus.

”Please.  I’m from Methlandia.”  Sugarfree said.  The homeless guy turned and gave Sugarfree a look.  Sugarfree revealed the collapsable baton hidden from within his cargo shorts.

…but this is not that kind of story…

Sugarfree kept beating the homeless man with rhythmic precision.  Even when the homeless guy stopped moving.  It occurred to me he was so lost in the moment we would miss our stop.

-bang-

I fired a shot into the ceiling.  Sugarfree looked at me in adrenaline laced exhilaration.

”Oh. My bad.”  Sugarfree put the baton away. “I found this story about Citadel Securities.  And another where Mayor Beetlejuice and Governor Lard Ass short of shrugged off the news they’re leaving town.  Its a long shot but a long shot is all we have.”

”I’m in.”  I said.

“We’ll have to get on a different train downtown…”

We arrived at Citadel’s Headquarters in downtown Chicago.  The streets were empty.  The air was still.  There was no sign of STEVE SMITH.

”If STEVE were here, what would he do to announce himself?”  Sugarfree asked.

”Throw a guy out the window without his pants?”  I replied.

We both looked up.

”Ahhhhhhhhhh”

We both stepped away and saw a random office worker bounce off the pavement.  He was missing his pants.

”STEVE SMITH GIVE HARNESS BELLS A SHAKE. THERE NO MISTAKE.”

”Do you think he took out the elevator?”  Sugarfree asked.

”Do you really think I want to bail out a hedge fund?”

_____

We both rode up the elevator in silence.  I had the Sphinx SDP from the safe deposit box at a low ready.  Sugarfree was looking up something from his phone.

The elevator doors opened to Citadel’s suite.  A mess of Xennials in slightly oversize office attire were waiting to get in.  All of them stopped and assessed the sight of Sugarfree and I.  Three of them tossed their wallet at me and backed away slowly, others threw themselves to the floor.

”What are they doing?”  I asked.

”You’re a Mexican with a gun. This is what people from Chicago are trained to do in this situation.”  Sugarfree replied.  We heard another window shatter, followed by another hollow scream.

“STEVE SMITH NOT STOPPING HERE.  WATCH WOODS FILL UP WITH SNOW”

“That must be it.”  Sugarfree said.  “Steve keeps reciting that Robert Frost poem about snowy trees.”  We stepped around the hedge fund bros and followed the sound of blood curled screams.

”Maybe to deactivate him he needs to hear a poem about getting warm?” I suggested.

”Worth a try.”

STEVE SMITH was standing athwart a conference room table, holding a hedge fund bro by both arms while he kicked and screamed.

“Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.”

Pretty good I thought, for a poem I haven’t read in years.

STEVE SMITH looked at Sugarfree and I with black soulless eyes—like a doll’s eyes.  He ripped out both the hedge fund bro’s arms from their sockets.

“STEVE SMITH THINK QUEER.  STOP WITHOUT FARMHOUSE NEAR.  HAVE MILES TO GO JACK.”

“Do me a favor and never mention Sam McGee around me again,”. Sugarfree said.

”You have a better idea?” I asked.

”Let’s try this.”  Sugarfree began:

“If it’s up, then it’s up, then it’s up, then it’s stuck
If it’s up, then it’s up, then it’s up, then it’s stuck, huh
Up then it’s up, if it’s up, then it’s stuck
If it’s up, then it’s up, then it’s up, then it’s stuck, bitch
Bitches ain’t fucking with me now and I can see why
Dirty ass dusty ass bitch you got pink eye
Bitches want smoke until I bring it to the doorstep
Tell that bitch bag back breath smell like horse sex
Put it on him now he will never be the same
Tatted on my ass cause I really like the pain
He nutted on my butt I said I’m glad that you came
If that nigga had a twin, I would let ’em run a train”

”What the fuck was that?”  I asked.

“STEVE SMITH CONFUSED.  WHY STEVE SMITH HERE?”

”Cardi B confuses everyone.” Sugarfree said.

“WHO STEVE SMITH, HOW, WHY?”

”Its a long story STEVE”. Sugarfree said.

We couldn’t find Swiss anywhere around the Swiss Corps office a few blocks away.  I guess the staff also celebrated Oktoberfest because there were several empty cases of Bitbürger Festbier stacked up nearly in the break room.  I did manage to find one unopened, slightly chilled.

”BROWN MAN.  THAT STEVE SMITH BEER”

“But it doesn’t have your name on it—you know what?  Please have it.” I replied.  I set the gun on the table.  “See you all later.”