~ A Vignette ~
The captain glared into the screen. Eyes impounding wild shots. A thousand faces from one.
"There's so much synchronicity wrapped up in this thing it could kill a dead horse!" Muttering, "... Whatever that means."
There it was, popping up to meet him: He had been quoted in that statement nearly 4 years ago. As if this moment had already happened; echoing into eternity.
The FBI stood around scratching their heads.
"...Well, she doesn't seem like a threat, per sé..."
"BULLSHIT!" The red faced general slammed. "This bitch is blowing the whole system!!"
"Yea, what do you got for me, Johnson?"
"There's nothing we can do. She hasn't actually broken any laws."
The generals face grew crimson, hissing cusses.
Johnson leaned in, "You have to admit, bitch has put together quite the tidy dossier."
The general grunted. "Who's this 'Rico'...?"
"He appears to be her hit man", a technician called out.
"You're fired." Crimson now flaming. The general flipped through the file now in his hands. "Mild mannered seamstress, my ass." He got right up into the computer monitor, sizing her up like a boxer. "WHOO DO YOU WORK FOR?!?! WHOOOOOOOO DOOOO YOOOUUUUU WOOOORK FOR?!?!"
You hear me?!
It was true. Rosey Jaimes had been whistle blowing every conspiracy from JFK to Charles Manson. ... All through taking photos on her phone. Stream of consciousness photography of a very Gonzo nature.
Though deeper than that, she was healing her mind and body from years of psychological torture and biological warfare. She had cracked the Collective Consciousness with soul screams from the 12th Gate.
Now they all could hear her.
Especially the Dead.
"Why are you assholes laughing?!" The general stormed over to the agents huddled around one of the many monitors.
"It appears several politicians owe her a bottle of scotch. And old at that!"
"YOU'RE ALL FIRED!!!!"
"No disrespect, Sir, but you don't have that authority."
"Who the F^CK is in CHARGE AROUND HERE?!"
Johnson, scratching behind his left ear, "I believe she is."