CINCO DE MAYO-S.E.A. #1

 

Writing not being my primary occupation, I find it difficult to match the pace of my co-author in this endeavor. I will do my humble best to somewhat keep up, and would like to say that I am also unwilling to rush for the sake of simply posting a story (not that the pressure doesn’t encourage a certain positive brevity). My apologies to any frustrated readers. 

05 May 2025

Norfolk, VA

“YOU RUINED IT!” Susy screamed as she slammed a wooden spoon onto the pan, splattering the kitchen with corn and hot mayonnaise. 

“I was trying to fix it.” Niel pleaded with the Irish-Italian fireball. 

“Maybe if you used your fucking BRAIN for once!” She continued as if he hadn’t said anything, “Just THINK. God damnit!”

Niel walked away. He knew there was no reasoning or consoling her once the rage started, only time would calm her down. He walked into his office and ignored the tirade of clattering pans and expletives coming from the kitchen. Sitting at his desk he opened his laptop and scrolled through some emails, all worthless. He didn’t feel like working anyway. 

“I worked ALL DAY on this special cinco de mayo dinner!” Susy growled from the other room, speaking mostly to herself,  “And it's RUINED. Who wants hot mayonnaise?”

Niel knew she was right, he had ruined it, and she worked hard on it. He felt bad for that, but deep down he just didn’t care. Life had become too domestic lately, he was spending too much time at home and work wasn’t much better. The ‘special unit’ he was assigned to was going nowhere, dead end deployments and the shoothouse and range days were the only break to the drudgery of admin. The story was the same from every guy he talked to, rangers, special forces, SEALs, Marsoc, BORTAC. Only Delta and Devgru do anything real after all. 

He suddenly recalled a strange envelope that had been sent to him that day at work. He walked out to his car and picked it up from the passenger seat. Manilla, no postage, only ‘TO BE OPENED BY ADDRESSEE ONLY’ stamped on the sealed flap. ‘ATTN: NEIL DARE’ was stamped on the back in generic stencil lettering. No title, just his name, how had it been delivered? He cracked open the flap and pulled out a crisp piece of letterhead. Presidential letterhead. 

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON

MARCH 20, 2025

MR. NEIL DARE

You have been identified as a possible candidate for a new agency recently created by executive order. Opportunities and authorities will be extensive. No information has been released outside of need to know circles, any attempt to leak this information will be denied and you will be prosecuted. 

Selection begins 1 June 2025. More information provided at selection. You have until 10 May 2025 to decide. We will contact you for your decision.

SIGNED 

Donald J. Trump PRESIDENT United States of America

This 20 March 2025

“A selection, this is just what I need.” Neil thought, “This will be the perfect break. Give me something to focus on.” He looked back up to the apartment where the culinary battle had just occurred, started the car, and drove straight to base. 

One of his teammates, Max, found him in the teamspace with all his gear laid out on the central table. 

“Early today Niel.” He remarked. 

“Susy was mad, better to let her cool off.” Niel responded while checking the function of his helmet light. 

“The mighty warrior is powerless before the angry girl!” Max said and laughed his deep hearty laugh. 

“Truly” Niel joined his laugh, “Hey did you get anything in the mail lately?” 

“No man, why?” Max cocked his head at the question. 

“Nothing dude, just curious if they’re slacking down in supply.” Niel brushed off the question, “Hey what happened to that anti-smuggling mission? We sending dudes?”

“Nah I heard command canned it, too much risk you know. They get a whiff that we might actually get some work and shut it down! Same as always.” Max responded while rummaging in his locker. 

“Yeah man, same as always…” Niel thought while re-packing his gear into his kit box. The decision was made. 

_______________________________________________

May 10 came with partly cloudy skies and a hot and humid Virginia spring day. Niel kept his phone near him and made sure it was on, surely it would be a call from a protected number. He went about the day as usual, range day, gym, nothing. The sun went down and he was almost frantic, the fear that he had somehow missed it or not followed the instructions correctly pulsed in his head. He poured over the letter over and over again, but there was nothing he missed.

 “We will contact you for your decision.”

His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. “1 for yes 2 for no”. Niel pressed 1 and sent the text. Nothing. Must have been spam.

 Another buzz “Thank you Niel, your orders will be cut and sent to your command tomorrow. Standby for further instructions.” It was on. 

Niel’s command was shocked and didn’t take it well that they were getting big-dicked by some federal entity, but it was all legit; they couldn’t do anything to stop it. Niel’s team likewise was full of questions he couldn’t answer, not because they were classified, he just had no idea. 

“Funny stuff man, have fun fighting aliens.” Max said with a chuckle. 

Niel turned in his weapons and sensitive equipment, packed his locker, and headed home to pack for selection. The orders came with flights to Denver, leaving from ORF at 0600. Instructions were to pack uniforms, workout clothes, a few civilian outfits, and toiletries. No gear, no ruck, everything will be issued at check in. 

Susy wasn’t thrilled either, her rage over the corn incident finally subsided, but just like his command there was nothing she could do. 

“So it’s a training?” She asked for the fifth time. 

“No a selection.” Niel responded as he rolled another shirt to go into the duffel. 

“So you’re switching branches? Will we have to move?” She asked for the third and fourth time respectively.

“Yes, and I don’t know.” 

“They didn’t tell you? You didn’t mention this!” 

“Who knows if I’ll even make it, and I thought we could use some alone time.” 

“Alone time? At a selection? You didn’t tell me we’re moving!” The Cinco de Mayo rage was boiling again. 

“They didn’t say. It’s a big step up.” 

“That you don’t know anything about!”

“We’ll just have to see.”

“You’re lucky I Love you.” She said with a huff and finally went to bed. 8 months Niel would be gone. The demands of government girlfriends and spouses. 

In Denver Niel waited at arrivals. The dry mountain air was refreshing and a nice change from the humid south. The orders were not specific about who would get him from the airport, just to wait on the curb and ‘you will be brought to training’. He scanned the crowd for other men who might be there for the selection; only a few military aged males, and with a wide array of baggage. One was picked up by his wife and kids. Was Niel in the wrong place?

Just as his doubt peaked and he was about to go back inside, a white sprinter van with permanent tags pulled in front of him, driven by a young man in Multicam fatigues. No nametapes, no rank, no identifying patches.

“Mr. Dare, please get in through the back.” The young man said straight to the point. 

Niel got in the back, and before he had even shut the door the van lurched forwards, speeding away from the airport. The interior of the van was bare except for a few jump seats, Niel’s luggage bounced and slid across the smooth metal floor. 

“So, you work at the base?” Niel asked the driver. 

“Yes Mr. Dare”. Came the curt reply. 

“Any info on what we’re doing here? How many other guys have shown up?”

“All information will be passed at the debrief Mr. Dare”. 

A very polite way to tell him to shut up. Niel sat back and watched the Colorado landscape out of the tinted back windows. They drove for two hours into the remote Rockies, the roads becoming rougher and steeper with every mile. Niel checked his phone to see where they were; no reception, of course. They dropped into an alpine valley and drove along its length, coming to a stop at a gate built in a gap between natural mounds in the valley floor. 

“Mr. Dare, your orders”. The driver held out his hand. 

Niel handed him his orders, and glancing out the driver’s side window saw that the guard had no markings on his uniform, save a flag on his right arm. His rifle setup and the way he wore his gear showed him to be much more experienced than the average soldier, and better equipped. 

“If this is how the gate guards look…what have I gotten myself into?” Niel thought. 

They rolled through the gate and drove for another 30 minutes through rocky wilderness before coming to a stop. 

“Please step outside Mr. Dare.” The driver got out. 

They were in a very well camouflaged compound, every building covered in earth, bristling with grass and wildflowers. It would be impossible to spot from above. Yet it was expansive, just around them Niel noted at least 10 hidden buildings. Each one several hundred square feet at surface level, potentially much larger underground. Niel grabbed his bags. 

“The barracks are that way Mr. Dare, the debrief will be tomorrow morning at 0800 in the training room, over there.” The driver motioned sharply each time he indicated a direction. 

“Is there a galley?” Niel asked, “A gym?”

“There are comestibles in the barracks for tonight, I have to pick up more candidates, goodnight Mr. Dare.” The driver got back in the van and rolled off up the valley. 

Niel paused and drank in the crisp mountain air, admiring the sheer walls of the mountains bathed in the purple and gold of sunset. He was dying to know what the hell was going on, but simultaneously at peace with the beautiful surroundings and his growing suspicion that he had made an excellent choice. 

He made his way to the barracks and entered through a heavy weatherproof door. The interior was immaculate. Polished concrete and steel. Everything was brand new and top of the line, it was illuminated by steel light fixtures on the walls, casting an even glow down a hallway Niel estimated to be at least 100ft long. 

“Not even fluorescent lights, this is 5 star.” Niel thought, certainly not what he was used to for government living arrangements. There was a roster on the wall with room assignments:

NIEL DARE 137

No rank? No roommates? Niel walked down the long corridor to his room, hearing the first signs of life and activity other than his own emanating from the other rooms. The wheels of his kit-box whirred as they rolled on the smooth concrete. The door to his room was solid, light skin metal, marked only with the number 137 and his name slid into a sign holder. It swung inward silently, revealing a spartan but top-notch interior. He had a window which looked out at the mountains over a steel frame full size bed, made up with sheets and a wool blanket. There was a small side table. At the foot of the bed was a metal desk with a drafting lamp and a metal chair. There was a large locker with shelves and heavy-duty hangers. Next to the locker, to Niel’s utter disbelief, was a pocket door leading to a private bathroom. Floor-to-cieling concrete with a ledge around the shower, a toilet, and a steel sink below a mirror. Private bathrooms? In barracks? 

There was an MRE on the desk next to a key to his room and a sheet of paper, the top of which read, “WELCOME TO ZULU FACILITY”. So this place does have a name. It listed the basic amenities of the barracks, laundry room (and the service which washed the sheets and towels), lounge, and a fire/emergency escape map.  Niel picked up the MRE, chili mac, nice. He heated it up while unpacking and ate at the desk. Saving a few of the snacks, he showered and changed, and made his way out into the hallway. 

“Now let’s see who else signed up for this.” Niel thought as he made his way to the lounge. The sound of voices grew as he rounded the corner, and sure enough there were a dozen or so certified dudes hanging out on the modern furniture, performing the ancient masculine ritual of sniffing out the competition. At first glance there were shirts, hats, and hoodies from Ranger Battalion, SEAL teams, Green Beret units, BORTAC, PJs, US Marshalls SOG, FBI HRT, MARSOC, and a dozen other top shelf tactical teams. 

Before Niel could say anything, a short hispanic man who made up for what he lacked in height with biceps approached with an extended hand. 

“Nate, I’m a SEAL.” His voice was steady and a skelefrog hat superficially confirmed his claim. “Who are you and who are you with?” 

“Niel” The handshake was firm, if a little over-hard, “I’m with all of you now aren’t I?” 

“Ohh smart guy Niel huh?” Nate laughed, “Well welcome Niel, none of us know anything about this either!” 

Niel smirked at the comment, so they were all just as lost. They had all received similar mysterious letters, the same texts, commands were confused but could do nothing to stop them. Everyone was anxious for the in-brief. 

They stayed and talked for a few more hours and a few other guys trickled in. Same stories. It turned out there were even a few guys from Delta and DEVGRU there. They all parted at a reasonable hour and Niel went to bed wondering what the Hell he was doing there among such serious company. Whatever the reason, the only way he would leave was in a bodybag. His mind was fixed, success was the only option. 

The morning came. 0745 everyone was in the training room murmuring and setting out notebooks. Anxiety was thick in the air like lightning. There were just enough tables and chairs for each of them, no extras. At the back of the room was a window, all the chairs faced a plain podium next to an American flag on a stand. There was a blank projector screen. The single set of doors opened. All eyes shifted to a stocky man in his 40s, balding and not trying to hide it, with a stern look wearing multicam fatigues. 

“Goodmorning everyone.” He said in a firm no-nonsense tone, “I am the Commissioner of this agency, Bill Blinkam. Welcome to Zulu Facility.”

His gaze was returned by raised eyebrows and scribbled notes. 

“This is the first day of training for the S. E. A. or Special Executive Agency.” Bill hit a button and the projector turned on, showing the acronym spelled out on the screen behind him. “There is no logo, or seal, or symbol. We won’t need one.”

More raised eyebrows, less note-taking. 

“This agency reports directly to the president. No other authority restricts or commands us. It is beyond top secret, and any attempt to spread this information will be denied. If any of you wish to leave, say so now.”

Bill paused, not one raised hand. 

“Very well. Before we begin training in earnest, your commander would like to speak to you all.”

A video began to play, Donald Trump addressed the camera in the oval office, “You’ve all chosen to be a part of my new agency, and you won’t regret it. We’re going to do great things…amazing things…things that you’ve only dreamed of. The leash is off, and we’re running wild for America. A bunch of real rough guys I hear…just what we need…willing to do whatever it takes.

You’re in tremendous hands with Bill, he’s a real-deal guy, good luck, gentleman!”

“Any questions”. Bill said nonchalantly. 

Not one hand, Niel’s mind was swimming with questions, and he was sure the rest of them were too, but he was also sure they would be answered during training. 

“Let’s knock out this admin then”. Bill continued. 

The training was both grueling and the greatest training Niel had ever done. The other candidates agreed, even the tier one guys said they had never done such a thorough selection. 

There was of course an obligatory screening portion, two weeks of physical torture in the mountains to weed out the weak. No one dropped and only a few were injured, the pre-screening had been thorough. 

Then they broke down critical skills with top instructors in every field, shooting, fighting, diving, jumping, land nav., explosives, tracking, climbing, driving, sensitive sight exploitation, drone, piloting, they were the most skilled operators anywhere on earth by the three quarter mark. 

Then they specialized. Breaching, CBRNE, snipers, dog handlers, pilots, among many other critical roles. They were self contained, able to handle any challenge internally. A completely self sufficient force which answered to only one authority. 

The final week they were called into the classroom for a final brief before being tasked with their initial mission. Bill walked in the same way he had on the first day. 

“Gentlemen, before we proceed I am going to announce your deputy chief who will report to me, your third in command.”

Everyone looked around curiously.

“After careful deliberation with the President, Niel Dare has been chosen as your deputy chief.”

Niel was more shocked than anyone, him? He hadn’t even been an officer. He couldn’t ask now but he was determined to find out why. 

“Thank you, sir.” Came his reply. 

“Very well then,” Bill continued, “Your first assignment, gentlemen, is in Virginia Beach Virginia”.

Niel’s mind was reeling behind his skull.