airport author:deadweight cartel drugs mexico michigan questionable smuggling tsa weirdbox-ish

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´╗┐Narc

By Deadweight

The Gerald R. Ford International Airport in Grand Rapids is a huge center of travel and commerce, the second largest airport in Michigan. Hundreds of commercial and freight flights pass through here every day carrying thousands of passengers and tons of cargo, the TSA is always busy manning the terminals. Derek Schultz has worked for the TSA for seven years and finds it mostly a humdrum line of work, not much happens these days. But he does occasionally get to help with illegal cargo busts, today they have intercepted a crate bound for china. Derek moves into the holding area and finds several others gathered around an unassuming wooden box, Paula Reyes works the nails open with a crowbar. The dogs had alerted on the box as it was being brought in for loading and the others are ready with pistols as the side opens and falls to the floor.

PEEP!

“Nu wike bwighties! Huuhuu, fwuffeh nu wike meanie sowwy bawks!”

Dozens of fluffies tumble out of the crate and babble as the dogs bark and strain at their leashes.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!

“Nu wet bawky munstahs huwt fwuffeh!”

Shipping fluffies out of country is illegal, the Federal Government has put a no flight hold on exporting them as they can be a menace to crops and wildlife.

“Great, get em to a holding pen while we process the prick who owns this.”

Derek draws the short straw and has to escort the fluffies to holding, most of them look rather sickly or lethargic.

“Huuhuu, nice mistuh nu huwt fwuffies pwease!”

Derek sighs and shakes his head as he wheels them into the holding pen. The holding area is a series of cells to contain criminals until the authorities come to get them.

“Just shut the fuck up and stay here, somebody will come deal with you soon.”

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An hour later, the interrogation of the suspect is over. Lin Tong was trying to ship the fluffies to China to sell as counterfeit traditional folk remedies, but now he is facing smuggling charges. The fluffies are to be disposed of and Derek is sent to retrieve them to meet animal control officers who will euthanize them, Derek walks to the holding cell and gags at the smell.

“Gah! Oh what the fuck?”

Most of them had been sickly to start with and several lay dead in pools of shit, many more appear on the brink of death and one green and red earthy sits in a corner sobbing.

“Huuhuu, fwiends haf biggest huwties an foweva sweepies!”

Derek goes and grabs a trash can, stuffing the dead fluffies inside and setting the sickly ones on a cart. He sets the earthy with them and begins walking past the other cells, the earthy sniffles and whimpers and then sneezes as they pass a cell, wrinkling his nose.

“Dat man smeww wike siwwy weaf, su stinky!”

Derek stops dead and blinks, he looks over at the man in the cell who is being held on a possession charge.

“Wait, you can smell the weed on him? We confiscated an ounce off him earlier and it was triple wrapped, even the dogs barely smelled it!”

The earthy blinks at Derek and then looks at the man again, sniffing the air.

“Mistuh stiww got siwwy weaf, it am weaw stinky!”

Derek is really confused now.

“What? What do you mean he still has weed on him?”

Derek grabs his radio and calls for his supervisor to come down to the holding cells, the two of them enter the cell and the man looks at them nervously as they begin to search him and find a small bag of weed wrapped up in tape and laundry soap stuck to his thigh with latex body paint to look flesh colored. It’s even got hair stuck to it to make it look like real skin.

“Holy shit, that fluffy could smell that through all that crap! He’s got a better nose than the dogs!”

Derek looks at his supervisor, Jim and the two of them silently consider the same idea. Jim shrugs and shakes his head.

“Why the fuck not?”

Derek smiles and crouches to pet the earthy gently.

“Good work lil fella, we may have use for you if your good at smelling other stuff. I think I’m gonna call you, Pablo.”

The earthy looks up at Derek with sparkling orange eyes and wags his tail.

“Fank yuu daddeh, Pabwo wuv nyu name!”

------------------------------------

A few days pass and Pablo is put through some training, he is surprisingly good at finding drugs, animals, chemicals and other illicit substances with his keen nose. Derek is starting his shift and turns to smile down at Pablo in his official TSA vest.

“Ready to work, Pablo?”

Pablo smiles up at him and wags his tail, nodding vigorously.

“Yus daddeh, Pabwo weady fow wowkies!”

Derek ruffles his mane and they make their way out onto the floor, they take their post at terminal six and Derek begins wanding people as they pass through the metal detector. It is slow going for a few hours, a lot of people give an odd look at Pablo, surprised to see a fluffy in an official TSA vest. As an unassuming middle aged woman passes through, Pablo taps Derek on the leg and points at her.

“Daddeh, dat wady smeww wike sweepy stuff.”

Derek looks at the woman as she sets her purse on the x-ray belt and he radios for a female officer to come assist and confronts her.

“Excuse me ma’am, you’ve been randomly selected for additional screening. If you would please follow me, we can get this over quickly.”

The woman looks surprised and nervous as the female officer approaches and Pablo sniffs at her.

“W-what? Did I do something wrong? What's going on?”

She grows increasingly nervous as they usher her into a room and Dawn, the female officer puts on some gloves.

“You sure about this, Pablo?”

Derek looks over at the fluffy questioningly and Pablo smiles and nods.

“Pabwo suwe, daddeh.”

Derek shrugs and nods to Dawn before leaving the room, ten minutes later she has the woman taken into custody and steps out with an evidence bag. The fabric of the woman's bra had been laced with a layer of pure black tar heroin, at least four ounces. It is a solid bust and gets some proper praise for Derek and Pablo.

“Good work, Pablo! Let’s get back out there and bust some more crooks!”

Pablo wags his tail as he follows Derek back to work. The rest of the day is fairly slow, but for the next few weeks the two of them become the leading agents for busts. They intercept heroin, cocaine, meth, opium, mindbender and even a man smuggling Pangolins. Two weeks pass like this and one day, Derek is passing through the cargo area with Pablo in tow. As they pass a large shipping container, Pablo stops and sniffs the air. He moves along sniffing the ground and walks up to the container, sniffing intensely as his fluff bristles.

“Daddeh, big bawks smeww wike meanie boomsticks and huwty stuff!”

Derek eyeballs the large shipping container, it’s marked as avocados coming from Mexico. The Mexican cartels have muscled in on the avocado trade south of the border in recent years due to the shift in legality of marijuana in the states, they often use shipments to smuggle more illicit things. Derek calls a team in to breach the container, inside they find box after box of avocados and begin digging through them. Pablo walks around inside sniffing intently, he alerts on a stack of boxes towards the back and after some investigating they discover the stack is a false wall. Inside the hidden space they find crates of guns and explosives, dozens of them.

“Holy shit, look at all this! This is enough to supply a small army!”

The rest of the day sees the ATF arrive and catalog the haul, backtracking the shipping address leads to false titles and a dead end. The bust makes the news and turns Derek and Pablo into local celebrities.

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Across the border in Guadalajara, Hector Maldovar sits chewing a cubano as he seals envelopes of cash to be delivered to his associates. Hector has been busy trying to rebuild his empire after fleeing his busted brothel in Argentina and returning to Mexico, branching out into guns and protection rackets. Mateo bursts into his office carrying a newspaper and sets it on his desk.

“We got a problem, Hefe.”

Hector sits up and unfolds the copy of the Grand Rapids Herald, the headline an expose on the gun bust a few days earlier.

“Mierda! Those guns were going to the MS-13! Fucking pigs!”

Hector reads the article and scowls at the TSA officer and his fluffy.

“This fucking fluffy cost me a lot of money, get ahold of Javier and tell him we will make this right. And get someone to Grand Rapids, I want this pig and his shit-rat dead, now!”

Mateo nods and leaves to make the necessary preparations.

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Weeks pass, Derek and Pablo continue their good work and incident levels have dropped dramatically at the airport as word of the keen sensed fluffy spreads. They enjoy a bit of minor celebrity, being asked for pictures by the occasional tourist in line.

“Next, step up to the line and remove your shoes, electronics and any metal you have.”

Derek goes through the motions as Pablo sniffs the air, searching for any elicit scent he can detect.

“Got anything, Pablo?”

Pablo looks at Derek and shakes his head.

“Nu daddeh, nu bad smewws. Dem aww gud hoomins.”

Derek nods but is a little disappointed, he craves a little action to break up the monotony. He waves more people through and suppresses a yawn, just counting the minutes until they can go on lunch break. A man enters the terminal in saggy jeans and a flannel shirt, looking around with shifty eyes until he spots Derek and Pablo. He gets in line and clutches his duffel bag while fiddling with his waistband, he looks around as he draws closer with every person cleared through. Derek is wanding a middle aged woman as Pablo sniffs the air, his fluff suddenly bristles as he makes eye contact with the man five people back.

“Daddeh! Man haf boom stick!”

Derek looks up just as the man draws a pistol from his waistband and drops the duffel bag, pushing an elderly couple out of the way and firing.

BANG BANG BANG!

The terminal erupts in panic as three rounds ping off the x-ray machine and the carpeted floor near Pablo.

PEEP!

SCAWY!

Derek dives for Pablo and scoops him up, the man trying to aim as people run past him.

BANG!

AAAAAAAAAAH!

MY LEG!

A round goes into a fleeing mans leg as he runs in front of the gunman, Derek whips the metal detecting wand at him and causes him to fire a round into the ceiling before he tries to flee with Pablo.

“Muere cerdo!”

BANG BANG!

One round narrowly misses Derek's head, but the second pegs him in the shoulder and he crumples to the ground. Pablo rolls from his arms and twists his back leg.

SCREEEEEEEEEE!

HUWTIES!

Derek’s head is swimming as searing pain fills his arm and blood stains his uniform, his vision is blurry as he tries to reach Pablo who is limping on a sprained leg. The gunman steps over them and prepares to finish the job he was sent here for, taking aim at Pablo.

“Freeze! Don’t you fucking move!”

The gunman whips around to find four officers drawing a bead on him.

“Vete a la mierda, cerdos!”

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!

He draws his gun on the police who all open fire and riddle him with round after round, the crowd screams in terror as he flails and collapses in a pool of blood. His eyes go glassy and lifeless as blood oozes from his mouth, Derek groans in agony while dragging himself over to Pablo and clutching him close.

“I got you buddy, I’m here. The bad man is gone, we’re safe now.”

He holds the sobbing fluffy before he passes out from the pain.

------------------------------------------------

Weeks pass as Derek and Pablo recover, the bullet went through and through and after some surgery he is nearly back to full strength. Pablo is hailed as a hero for alerting Derek to the danger before things ended up worse than they did, the man is identified as a cartel hitman from Tijuana who was suspected in several murders. Well wishes, cards, flowers and other gifts come pouring in for the duo and after a month the team is ready to head back to work. Derek stands in the locker room, wincing slightly as he puts on his shirt. Pablo limps a little as his hairline fracture is on the mend quickly, Derek smiles and kneels to help him put on his vest.

“Ready to get back out there and do some good, lil buddy?”

Pablo is still a little shook up by the whole incident, a little jumpy and on edge around a crowd, but he is eager to make a difference and puts on a brave face and a smile.

“Yus daddeh, Pabwo weady to do gud wowk!”

--------------------------------------------------

Back in Guadalajara, Hector is furious as he reads the Grand Rapids Herald headline about the heroic duo that cheated death.

“Fucking Hime! Never trust a fucking coke head to get the job done!”

Mateo waits patiently before handing Hector a copy of the Detroit Free Press.

“You should see this too, Hefe.”

He opens the paper to see an article about The SFCB based in Lansing, the article has a picture of the head of the bureau. Mateo points out a blonde and white satyr in the background and Hector’s eyes go wide.

“No fucking way, is that Lupita’s little niña? It looks just like her and the age seems about right. Is this for real, Mateo?”

Mateo nods as they look closely at the picture of the skittish satyr, Hector strokes his chin and thinks.

“Find me another man who won’t fuck up the hit this time, and send some men to bring little niña back to me.”

Mateo nods and grabs his phone.

“Ci, hefe, we’ll get her back.”

He leaves as Hector pours over the article and marvels at the fortune that's fallen into his lap, sipping some mezcal and grinning.

END

Comments

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deadweight: Another new story for you all, I hope you enjoy! This is a loose sequel to an old story of mine linked in the source, stay tuned for more!
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Fluffnut: Interesting. I like it. With the weird amalgamation of DNA they are, it makes sense that some could have have interesting talents. I also like that the people are pragmatic, and will use something so long as it's useful, rather than being psycho abusers.

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fairyfloss: Bless Pablo, what a champ.
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Anonymous1: @Fluffnut: Dunno about other talents, but a common head-canon seems to be that fluffies have a strong sense of smell. It's probably the only thing they have that is almost better than real animals.

As for the their DNA, I think that is more about form than function. There is probably some shetland pony for shape, cats and dogs for size and playing behaviour, birds for colour spectrum and chance at wings and so on, but I doubt the scientists making them added an animal with the intention of giving them heightened abilities.

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babbehteef: Pablo is such a good boi. :') loved the subtle nods to Narcos and Breaking Bad haha!!

Wait, is that satyr Cybil? Didn't she die?
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deadweight: @Fluffnut: @fairyfloss: @Anonymous: Glad you all enjoyed it, was a fun one to write

@babbehteef: Thanks, and yes Cybil did die. This is her genetic clone, Celia revealed in Barbarians at the Gate https://www.fluffybooru.org/post/view/51660 Hector is unaware of Cybil's fate, only that her and Lupita got away from his brothel.
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Fogfactor: Your spanish needs some work, Ci should be Si and Hefe should be Jefe.
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deadweight: @Fogfactor: oh well, nobodies perfect

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babbehteef: @deadweight: Oh! I'm catching up with your stuff and I haven't read BatG yet. I'm at Ranger Danger now. :D I don't mind the mild spoiler though.
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Anonymous2: nice work
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Anders_Breivik: I disapprove. Fluffies are not supposed to be useful for anything, except TORTURE, MUTILATION, BRONYSLAVING, PILLOWING and an HORRIBLE DEATH!
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deadweight: @babbehteef: sorry, didnt mean to spoil@Anonymous: thanks
@Anders_Breivik: blah blah blah, murder boner this murder boner that. I have never seen anyone simultaneously love and hate my stuff as much as you, cept maybe Nocturn
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NottooFluf2: Deadweight, good work as always. If it is about a reason for the fluffies having a great smell sense you can say it is due to the pig DNA, but of course not all of them are that good and ofcourse they are so dumm to take advantage of it. Also your Spanish is pretty good just some errors here and there, apart from Fogfactor's there is the "Valla a la mierda"
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NottooFluf2: is me again, damn posting from the cel. I meant the "Vete a la mierda, cerdos" the "cerdos" change the verb to plural "vallance". By the way I really loved the " Muere cerdo" good one.