These men are maniacs. They’re going to kill us all to keep an imaginary title.

Captain Chaos

30 Seconds Later - Brightside - Navy Barracks

“You’re with Domestic Terrorism?” Captain Chaos narrows her eyes. “Your response time has gotten better.”

“Not really. I’m not here to bust you.” Darkness drinks. “There’s no organized group trying to kill billionaires. If you whack a couple, it’s not terrorism, just murder. Not my jurisdiction. Also, I hate those guys.”

We watch her drink for a bit.

“Who is in your jurisdiction?” I ask.

“Incels and white supremacists.” says Darkness.

“Bust many?” asks Chaos.

Darkness shakes her head. “I’ve found a lot, but gathering evidence for prosecution takes funds. And the incels and white supremacists in Congress keep cutting my budget.”

“Damn.” I say.

“Yeah, so I’m drunk on a Tuesday.” says Darkness.

We drink.

“Anyway, I like your plan, but it won’t work.” says Darkness.

Captain Chaos stares at her.

“Let me guess - ” says Darkness. “ - there’s a small group of people bankrolling the denial of climate change. A handful of oil executives and a few Brazillian cattle ranching barons. There’s no need for these guys to be endangering life on Earth. They’re already billionaires. They could easily cash out, but they’re maniacs.

“You’re faced with personally executing the victims of their insanity. By the millions. So it makes sense to kill the maniacs instead. Morally, but also logistically. It’s a cleaner operation. Easy as killing baby Hitler.

“But, after they’re dead, there will still be a trillion dollar oil industry. Whoever inherits it will immediately start defending it - with more climate change denial.

“People are malleable. It’s not that bad people are in control of the oil industry. It’s that controlling the oil industry makes people bad. So, there’s no point in murdering assholes that will be instantly replaced.”

“You think people will rush to replace guys who just got murdered?” asks Chaos.

“For billions of dollars? Yes.” says Darkness.

“Yeah, you’re right.” says Chaos. “Fuck.”

“On the subject of pointless battles, why are we even trying to stop global warming?” asks Darkness. “Only 30% of the population are willing to pay more than $100 a year to fix global warming. The vast majority of people want it fixed, but won’t pay 2 bucks a week. Fuck it. The people have spoken. Who are we to force them? We’re all going to die anyway. Is heat exhaustion any worse than cancer? Alzhemiers? Suicide? Because the future is always terrible. If people have found solace in ignorance, why take it away from them? Rationality isn’t fighting the inevitable, it’s forgetting it for as long as you can.”

I put down my drink. “The future may be terrible, but the present is wonderful. It has beer, and potato chips, and fucking. I feel pretty healthy most days, I can almost pay my bills, and my dog loves the heck out of me.

“The future may be terrible, but we ain’t out of present yet. So let’s stop global warming, then cure cancer, then Alzhemiers, then suicide, then every other fucking thing. And let’s get drunk and laid while doing it.”

The Darkness laughs. “Just like that?”

“Just like fucking that.” I say.

The Darkness smiles. Stretches. “Alright. I’ll play. What’s the plan?”

Chaos and I look at each other. “You go first.” I say.

“Thank you.” says Chaos. She clutches her head. “Okay, global warming has us on the clock. I think we have to solve it first. We already know how to save the world. Which is good. But, we have enemies who don’t want the world saved. Which is weird. Also, these enemies have way more power and influence than we do. Which is bad. Am I being too simplistic?”

“No, this is good.” says The Darkness. “Keep going.”

“We’re in a war. It’s being fought with money. I mean, in theory, it’s being fought with ideas. But in practice, you can pay people to do your stupid ideas. So yeah, it’s being fought with money.

“I feel like all the rational first steps have been tried by people smarter than us. Corporate climate denial has been going on for 40 years. If we could reason with these maniacs somebody would have done it by now. Ignoring them doesn’t work either.

“That leaves us with destroying them. Bashing them down until we completely overwhelm them.” Chaos pauses. “But, I guess, we need not destroy the maniacs, just the assets that make them crazy. Then they won’t be able to afford their political protection and propaganda empires. Actually, instead of destroying their money, we should steal it. Then we can buy our own politicians, and media empires. That’ll take a lot of the guesswork out of saving the world. Awesome! There’s the plan.”

I rub my head. “I thought whoever ended up with the money turned evil?”

“Right.” says Captain Chaos. “We’ll have to do it fast. Seize the means of production, save the world, then destroy the means of production. If we do it quick enough, we’ll just end up a little evil. We can handle that.”

Captain Chaos goes up top. I high five her thoughtfully. The Darkness drinks quietly. Conceptually, the plan has an excellent concept, but it’s lacking a plan.

“How exactly do we rob these oil billionaires?” I ask.

“I dunno.” says Chaos. “Where do they keep their money? In a Swiss bank? Or, in Panama... papers?”

“Billionaires keep their wealth in business interests.” says Darkness. “They own companies. Jeff Bezos doesn’t have a bank vault full of diamonds. He owns $60 billion worth of Amazon stock.”

“Hmm… That sounds tricky to steal.” I say.

“Yeah, I’m not sure how you’d do it.” says Darkness.

“Identity theft?” says Captain Chaos. “I’ve got a Corporal that looks kinda like him.”

Darkness shrugs. “I’m not saying no - to what I assume is a kidnapping plot - but let’s see if we can come up with a better idea.”

“Okay.” says Chaos. “Mad Cow Disease. Let’s wipe out all the cows. Job done.”

“That’s the better idea?” I ask.

“It’s actually not bad.” says Darkness. “Brazil is burning down the rainforest so they can sell cheap hamburgers to North Americans. I bet those burgers are already laced with Mad Cow. The FDA has just been bribed to look the other way.”

“So, what?" I ask. "We buy stock in a fake meat company, then get regulations passed to test every cow for Mad Cow Disease? Then the beef industry collapses, we become alt-meat billionaires, and buy enough politicians to ban fossil fuels?”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” says Chaos.

“Buying stock and FDA officials requires money we don’t have.” I say.

“Okay, so this is Step 2 of our plan. Now all we need is Step 1. We’re half done.” says Chaos.

I open another beer. I need it.

"Is a billion dollars even enough to buy politicians?" I ask.

“Oh yeah.” says The Darkness. “Everytime a billionaire pays a bribe, he gets richer. It’s a positive feedback loop. A perpetual money machine. They’d be crazy to stop buying people.”

“Oh good.” I rub my head. “How evil are we getting?”

“A tiny bit.” says Chaos. “A dash of evil.”

I look at The Darkness. She shrugs.

I frown. “Why are you here anyway? At the barracks? You’re not in the Navy.”

“I got an email reminder from Project Lodestone.” says Darkness.

“To get drunk?” I ask.

“No, I got drunk on my own initiative.” says Darkness.

“Well done.” says Captain Chaos. She turns to me. “Okay, I’ve done my half of the plan. You’re turn, Brightside.”

“Right.” I clutch my brow. How the fuck do we steal a billion dollars from oil tycoons? Make a stealth oil rig and poach 400 million barrels of crude? That’s a logistical nightmare. Also, how do we crush the oil industry using assets from the oil industry? We’d be crushing ourselves. Romantic, but not a great tactic in a war of attrition.

“Uh. Do we have to rob oil tycoons? Or, can it be other billionaires? ” I ask.

Chaos and Darkness look at each other. Shrug. “Have at ‘er bud. Fuck over whoever you want.”

“Are there any billionaires who keep their riches easily stealable?” I ask. “Like, portable and untraceable?”

“Dictators.” says the Darkness. “The Russian President is probably the richest man in the world. $200 billion. It’s all in anonymous bank accounts in the US and UK. That’s about as stealable as billions get.”

“What?” asks Chaos. “Why is it in anonymous bank accounts in The West?”

“Well, he stole the money. He can’t really put his name on the accounts. So, on paper, it belongs to shell corporations.” says Darkness. “It’s in The West so other Russians don’t beat the shit out of him and make him hand it over. Your political enemies can’t just empty your bank account in the UK.”

“He’s protecting himself by stashing his loot in The West... Does that work?” I ask.

“Absolutely not. Rule of law protects Western public companies from being plundered, but his sham companies are being run by Russian proxies that can easily be taken.” The Darkness shrugs. “I mean, they’re secret proxies, but someone will beat their identities out of him at some point. He’s basically a $200 billion pinata.”

Captain Chaos’ eyes light up. I feel I should slow her roll.

“I don’t think we can kidnap a dictator. That sounds dicey.”

Chaos shrugs. “I’ll put it on the maybe pile. What else ya got?”

“Okay... What industry makes the most billionaires?” I ask. “Is it tech guys? Infotech?”

“Fashion.” says the Darkness. “The fashion industry produces the most billionaires.”

“Huh.” says Captain Chaos. She leans back, yells over her shoulder. “Corporal! I need you to set up a billion dollar fast fashion line!”

“Sir?” says a young soldier.

“It’s life or death, Corporal.” says Chaos.

“Okay.” The young soldier staggers to the bar. Asks the bartender for a sketchbook.

Captain Chaos turns back to us. Shrugs. “That probably won’t work. Go on with what you were saying.”

“There’s not much more to it. Selling luxury goods - fashion in particular - is the most common way to become a billionaire. Take a hat that costs $2, and sell it for $40.” says Darkness. “It’s all marketing.”

We mull it over. Drink a few beer. There’s still an intimidating amount of full bottles on our table. Corporal Fashionista has his squad sketching outfits. After a few rough attempts, they pull out their phones and google ‘fashion’. Their research is revelatory. The sketches get better.

A dispute breaks out. It’s respectful, but intense. Is there easier money in lingerie or streetwear? Or, are both oversaturated? Captain Chaos is called over to give a ruling.

I’m left drinking with The Darkness. I like her. She’s hot and intense. I remember that she’s a stranger, and a federal agent, and I’m planning crimes in front of her. Hmm. I suppose there’s no crime in planning a crime. Legally speaking, we’re just talking shit, blowing off steam. Until Captain Chaos executes one of these crimes. Which she totally will. Then I’m part of a criminal conspiracy. Fuck. We should not be talking like this in front of a federal agent. I need to disentangle her from this situation. Get rid of her.

“Do you want to get dinner?” she asks.

I look at the table. A fair amount of the bottles are empty. “Yeah, we should probably eat.”

“I meant dinner with me. Like a date.” she says.

“Oh.” I say. “Yes. Okay. That would be nice.”

“Awesome!” she smiles. “Do you want to skip dinner and just make out?”

“Uhh… yes. Yes, I do.”

“Thank goodness.“ She pops up. Sits on my lap. Leans in close. “I have no time for slow romance.”

She runs her hands through my hair. Pulls me in close. We make out. It’s awesome. We stagger to the alley behind the barracks. Make love. It’s like being saved by an angel.

We make out a bit more. Go back in the barracks. We’re parched. Also, the alley’s a bit scuzzy. There’s nowhere to sit.

The party has leveled up in our absence. Music pumping, soldiers dancing, fashion sketches thrown in the air. The tables are restocked with full bottles. It’s alright.

We find Captain Chaos. She explains what’s what. “We’re gonna rip off designers who are better than us. Only, instead of writing ‘Supreme’ on everything, we’re gonna write ‘Red Team’”

I freeze. Holy fuck. I know what to do.