Nightmare #253 – Secret Agent Shoot-out

“…This was somehow supposed to comfort the general populace…”

It didn’t feel like Washington D.C. – It felt like my hometown but everywhere you looked there were Secret Service Agents. Black suit and tie. White pressed shirt. Dark sunglasses. Just standing on street corners and walking down streets. These agents were everywhere. Both men and women. And that’s where the nightmare part came in.

These agents were observing the pedestrians around them and they each were armed with some kind of semi-automatic hand gun that they wore just under their suit coat pocket in a holster. They were so heavily armed that it was also important to monitor THEM so they didn’t go crazy and start shooting up places full of citizens for no good reason. Each of the Secret Agents was wired to check their heart rate and blood pressure remotely and I gather, if these numbers went out of bounds, the other Secret Agents were supposed to shoot them dead. This was somehow supposed to comfort the general populace.

I was learning all this as I was walking down the street through this voice-over that sounded like a TV news show. That part was kind of funny. This guy’s voice sounding so safe and contemplative off in a TV studio somewhere, while I’m walking through this urban gauntlet.

The trouble was that women for some reason could control their heart rate and blood pressure. Those checks and balances were shown to be totally false and useless. This day way the day right after this report had come out. There had already been several gun battles open up where male Secret Agents “just knew” that a female associate was going to go crazy, so they started shooting at the female agents pre-emptively. Bloody, bloody gun battles followed with the general populace being generally terrified. I was walking through this park, at least there were lots of trees and green grass. There must have been a dozen civilians and at least as many Secret Agents. All of a sudden I hear gun fire – a deep, repetitive gunfire – putta-putta-putta. I dive for cover near the base of a tree.

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