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Ron's workday wasn't going according to plan. He'd assumed he could easily extract the intel he needed from the FBI, but he'd never expected that car ride to be nothing but a wild goose chase.
The FBI had practically zero information on "Heisenberg." Apparently, intelligence agencies that spent their time making undercover adult films had no real future in law enforcement.
According to the FBI, they weren't interested in small-time drug dealers who hadn't yet established major operations.
Small-time drug dealers? Hearing that assessment, Ron was speechless. Did they have to wait until the US drug trade was completely monopolized before someone qualified as a major dealer?
The FBI was completely clueless. They had no understanding of the quantum leap in manufacturing efficiency when drug producers moved beyond extracting raw materials from local plants and started importing pure ephedrine.
Especially when the cook was a highly skilled chemist with a PhD!
He had no choice but to try his luck at several of LA's notorious underground information exchanges.
Unexpectedly, he encountered this scene on his way home. Was this the beginning of the Big Bang Theory storyline?
Sheldon remained skeptical. "How could anyone in this world possibly be foolish enough to have never attended even community college? Do you think everyone's as intellectually challenged as Forrest Gump? You must be trying to manipulate me again!"
Penny took a devastating blow to her self-esteem. "So I'm an idiot?"
"Let me correct you—Forrest Gump graduated from the University of Alabama, even if it was primarily due to his athletic abilities. Don't be so paranoid! Why would I mess with you? You know, in anime, it's always the younger brother who harbors resentment toward the older brother, like in Naruto or Inuyasha, while the older brother is typically the gentleman who looks out for his younger sibling."
Sheldon's eyes widened with a "What the hell are you babbling about?" expression.
Ron sighed with boredom. "You know, there's more to the world of comics than just Marvel and DC. There are plenty of fascinating Japanese anime series. Maybe you should broaden your horizons."
Leonard sensed a powerful threat from Ron—the unmistakable aura of a romantic rival.
Ever since Ron had arrived, Penny's beautiful eyes had been locked onto him. Leonard interjected, "Sheldon, how come you've never mentioned having a brother?"
"Brothers, plural!" Sheldon's eyes flashed with disdain. "One mouth-breathing moron, and this other slightly more evolved delinquent—a typical Texan with zero respect for scientific achievement. The only thing they share is their love of tormenting me!"
"Tormenting?" Leonard shuddered. As someone who'd been labeled a nerd since childhood, pranks and school bullying were all too familiar. "I feel for you. I know what it's like living with a bully."
"Your brother bullies you too?"
"No, I'm talking about you living with Sheldon. Never mind, forget it..."
Sheldon continued his litany of complaints against Ron.
"I spent my entire childhood being terrorized by him and George! When I was eight, I was dressing as my favorite scientist for Halloween, but Ron threw away my costume! I had to wrap myself in a bedsheet and pretend to be a ghost, which terrified me the entire night."
"He wanted to wear a dress and go as Marie Curie!"
Ron said defensively. The Big Bang Theory had been his favorite show in his previous life. It should have been George's responsibility to dispose of Sheldon's dress, but he'd happened to be on a date with Veronica that day.
So Ron had to step in and handle it himself.
While Sheldon was an endearing character on screen, he was insufferable as an actual family member, treating all assistance as his due.
Ron had dealt with this little brother from childhood to adulthood and had never gained a single useful skill from him, while the neighbor kid next door had provided two abilities!
Leonard rubbed his forehead. "Marie Curie?"
"I did it to protect him! Please, this is Texas we're talking about—if I'd let him go out dressed like that, he'd have gotten the crap beaten out of him!"
Penny rolled her eyes. "So you're absolutely certain your brother is intelligent?"
Ron replied, "Penny, I'm positive, but he's not smart in the way you're thinking. He's... academically brilliant but socially hopeless."
Penny glanced at Sheldon, who was glaring with fury and had the emotional range of a malfunctioning robot, and nodded in understanding.
"Hey, do we really have to have this conversation in the hallway? Why don't we all go into one of our apartments?"
Leonard attempted to mediate.
Ron shook his head. "Sorry, I still have work to finish. Penny, where did you put my suitcase?"
She wheeled it out from behind her door.
"Right here. What the hell do you have in this thing? It's got a biometric lock and weighs a ton! God knows how I managed to drag it up here—the elevator in this building is broken."
Leonard looked down guiltily.
"You're stronger than you look, muscle girl!"
Penny exploded. "If it wasn't for that ten-dollar tip, I'd show you my right hook!" She was about to launch into a tirade when her jaw dropped in shock as Ron opened his suitcase.
"What the hell did you make me carry up here?"
Ron's suitcase contained not a single article of clothing, bedding, or personal item. Instead, it was organized into two levels, meticulously arranged with handguns, submachine guns, rifles, and various accessories like magazines and suppressors—essentially a portable armory.
Ron extracted a pistol, spun it around his finger, and held it casually while the three onlookers stared in horror.
"As you can see, it's just a firearm—a Glock 22, .40 caliber, fifteen-round capacity. It's my favorite tool. Anyone want to try it?"
Ron flipped the weapon and offered it handle-first to Leonard, who immediately stumbled backward.
He didn't know if he wanted to try it, but right now he just wanted to call 911!
"Relax, I'm not some terrorist—I'm a member of the IRS Special Operations Division. I'd love to chat more, but duty calls. I'm sure Sheldon will be delighted to explain everything to you. But right now, Uncle Ron has to get back to work."
Ron concealed two handguns and several magazines on his person without any visible bulge in his clothing. Under the horrified stares of the group, he strolled down the stairs whistling.
Unlike peaceful suburban neighborhoods, public safety in America was completely hit-or-miss.
Security levels were directly tied to each area's property tax revenue. The wealthier the neighborhood, the better the protection. Meanwhile, impoverished areas were complete wildcards, with minimal police presence during daylight hours. After dark, they became playgrounds for criminals.
That's why some areas had earned nicknames like "the Hood" and been featured in notorious crime video games, though Ron had never encountered anything quite that extreme.
Even IRS agents were required to carry weapons.
Downstairs, his custom-modified Dodge Challenger was parked at the curb. Ron climbed in, fired up the engine, and headed toward downtown.
This was the opposite of suburban layouts. In America, wealthy districts were concentrated in the suburbs, while city centers were largely dominated by various low-income neighborhoods.
And it wasn't just the economically disadvantaged; alongside them came gang members, drug dealers, black market traders, and worse.
This mixture of legitimate and illegitimate elements also made downtown the perfect hub for gathering intelligence.
However, obtaining information wasn't particularly challenging. In any major American city, no one was better informed than the street racers, and Ron happened to be close friends with their leader, Toretto—even though Toretto himself might not necessarily agree with that characterization.
"Hey, Dom, yeah, it's only been half a day and I'm already missing our quality time together. Want to meet up?" Ron called Toretto.
"I'm guessing you don't want me dropping by your shop to chat with Mia?"
Toretto's strained voice came through the receiver. "Absolutely not—you are not coming to my shop. Meet me at the usual intersection and we'll go somewhere else."
This was exactly what Ron had been hoping for. He floored the accelerator, and the car responded to his control like an extension of his body, weaving through traffic with precision and arriving at the designated location in record time.
End of Chapter 3
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