Internal Affairs | Part 1

Hey everyone, this is Chris Off. And this is Robin. And welcome to the first of our special edition episode series. Our first episode we're going to be listening to is Internal Affairs. This was one of the first special editions that we wrote. And it is a deeper dive into the world of Black Door, exploring some of the ramifications of Jason Sterling's actions. Yeah, the special edition episodes are long form episodes that we made over a decade now at this point. And we've been talking about kind of refreshing and re-releasing them for a long time now. So like Chris Off said, the first one we're doing is called Internal Affairs. And we just had the chance to listen to this ourselves for the first time in quite a while. And I think we were both really struck by how much our style has evolved since we first made this episode. Yeah, when we first started, there were a lot of podcasters and there were even less fiction podcasters. And most of that were authors that were narrating their book. So when we went about creating Internal Affairs and the early episodes of Leviathan, we were really mirror, I saw myself more as a writer than an audio drama creator. And I think that's reflected in how the script is structured. Yeah, I mean, we've often said that in the early days of Leviathan Chronicles, we didn't really know what we were doing. And part of that was, I don't know if either Chris Offer I had really listened to an audio drama all the way through before. I barely knew what they were. And Chris Offer really saw himself more as a novelist than an audio drama writer. I really hear that when I listen to something like Internal Affairs. You'll see there's these long passages of description, which we try to avoid in the more modern episodes. And the other thing stylistically that I find really interesting is how much the pool of voice talent we draw from has has grown and how much our casting process has evolved. This episode, despite being very ambitious for us at the time, has a much smaller cast than we're used to working with nowadays. And you'll hear, especially in the beginning, we have these crowd scenes with all these bit parts. And you know, back then when we had stuff like that, we didn't bother casting them. That was just me, Chris Offer and our composer Luke doing those voices. And maybe whatever friends I had kicking around nearby when I was working on it. We did use a smaller cast for this, but we do have one cast member who's one of our favorites. I call him the Kevin Bacon of audio drama. I'm talking about none other than David Alt who's a wonderful British voice actor who, if you've listened to more than three audio dramas, you've probably heard his voice. But he in this episode, we forced him to phonetically slum it and put on an American accent, which I think looking back on, we might have taken a different casting direction, but it was a lot of fun to have him do that. Yeah, much like Kevin Bacon, David Alt is, you know, six degrees away from any audio drama podcast you're going to be listening to, usually one or two degrees. And yeah, I love David's voice. We've used him in a lot of different roles, big and small. But I agree. I think this was listening to this again, one of our rare miscasts with David. I chuckle a little listening to this kind of very British man trying to play a graph American drill sergeant in this episode. You know, I think if we were doing this again today, we probably would have done a deeper casting search for this part and got someone who's a little more appropriate for that role. We had no ability to find voice actors with the tools at that time because again, this episode was what, more than 10 years ago, right? Yeah, I think we did this in 2012 or 13. So we're very lucky today to work with a lot of really talented actors and to work with casting directors who can help us connect with actors who are right for the role. But I still love David. I hope you guys like him as the drill sergeant in this episode too. This was this was really one of my favorite of all the special edition episodes, specifically because of this part you're going to listen to today. There was a, the initial scene of transitioning from outside to inside. I thought you did such an amazing job on Robin and the fact that we got to use the band ATW's music for this really helped build the soundscape of what a rock club would in downtown New York would sound like. Yeah, in this episode and the next few special edition episodes you're going to start hearing in our feed. These were a place where we did really start experimenting with a technique and kind of moving away from the more, you know, authorly novel style that the Chris office talking about just a second ago, things like moving from the outside of the rock club to the inside of the rock club. And when I hear that now, it does sound maybe a little crude and I think of how I could do it better nowadays. But it's fun listening to the genesis of where these little stylistic flourishes came from. Totally. We enjoy listening to internal affairs and all the special edition episodes that are going to be coming out over the next few weeks. So for now, please enjoy this great blast from the past. We really enjoyed relisting to it ourselves. So this is part one of internal affairs. We're going to be releasing this in five parts. So you'll be hearing this story for the next five weeks across your feed and then we'll have a bunch more of these special edition stories coming after that. And I'm just really excited that a new audience gets listened to these all over again. They've been blocked away behind a paywall forever. And I think if you're a fan of ours from who started listening more recently, you've probably never heard this. You might not even know it existed. So I hope you enjoy internal affairs. Internal affairs. A Leviathan Chronicle story. Part One. The humid summer night air pulsed with excitement in New York City's Lower East Side. Crowds of young people wearing tight and short clothing buzzed with excitement as they speculated on their evenings outcome. It was just past midnight and the pitch of the evening was rising. Things outside the downtown bars and clubs stretched longer, snaking around street corners populated with eager young citizens of the night. Most of the dirty building signs were in Cantonese, hinting to Chinatown's location of few blocks away. The century-old five-story buildings were mostly tenement-style dwellings that had changed little since the 1860s when Jewish, Italian and Polish immigrants first occupied them. But since then, a visceral mishmash of hip night clubs and exclusive lounges now filled the trendy neighborhood at night. Some clubs like the Box charged over $800 for a single bottle of grey goose vodka and the privilege of having bored girls in tight black dresses sit with you. Others were so exclusive as to have no name on the door at all and require an obscure password to gain entry. But despite the new decadence, a few establishments still honored the old, gritty character of the neighborhood. One such club was a live music venue called Arleyn's Grocery that sat on the corner of Orchard and Stanton Street. It was known for hosting unsigned Indian punk bands. The modest $10 door fee remained in stark contrast to the inflated prices of the swank lounges that surrounded the Rockham Roll Club. Arleyn still retained the aluminum awning and tacky Christmas lights exterior from its bodega past. But inside the club was packed with the young and the hip, drinking and dancing to the latest sounds from the hardest bands. The walls inside were constructed of crumbling brick that still featured traces of fading murals from long ago. Stickers, old signs and graffiti covered the rest of it. Exposed ventilation hung loosely from the ceiling over the crowded thrums that swarmed the bar clamoring to place of drumcolding. Two bartenders in black t-shirts hussled franticly to pop beer bottles and poured liquor for the thirsty patrons in clear plastic cups. But none of the chaos saw the thumping base of the band in the next room mattered to the two lovers that were huddled over one of the few tables in the club. Their elbows rested on the sticky surface and their hands were delicately intertwined. The boy's dead incredulously at the go. Come on, you're totally kidding. I swear to God, the band was called Tiger Tail. I was the lead singer. We toured, hit South by Southwest, burning man. You're just saying you're an abandoned band because I'm an abandoned band. That's not true. The woman banged her fist on the wooden table. Okay, okay. One man put his hands up in a surrender pose and looked flirtatiously at his date. The man's arms were tight and scenery and both of his biceps were covered in tribal tattoos. While his left wrist was adorned with chunky leather bracelets, his curly mop of hair was naturally black and disheveled. But his icy blue eyes stared at the cunley woman across from him with blazing clarity. I really was an abandoned woman. Hey, just so you know, I'm not looking to find someone exactly like me. In fact, I'm looking for the exact opposite of me. So I suggest that way, is sexy like Brian? Why? You'd be astonished how much I'd like that. No, no, actually I wouldn't. The young woman who sat opposite Owen was clad in a tight tank top and blazoned with the logo for triumph motorcycles. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, a necessary concession to be overbearing heat in the club. But a few strands of hair escaped to her forehead. But Owen took particular delight in placing back behind her ears. The profile of her vintage wash citizens for all humanity genes cut a delicious silhouette that never escaped Owen's eye, nor those of most of the male patrons when they had walked in. Thank you for coming tonight, Samantha. It really means a lot. When do you go on? Right after this band ATW, their lead singer's crazy intense and their bass guitar has to say God. They just came out with this new album, so there'll be a pretty tough fact to follow. I'll follow you. I really am glad you're here. It means a lot to me that you came out. I've wanted to come for months. Ever since we started dating, how many times have I told you I really wanted to hear you play? But you wouldn't let me come before. I always wondered why. That's because it wasn't ready. What? The band? Bullshit. You playing me your demo. You guys sound so amazing. No, no, no. The song wasn't ready. The first song in our set tonight. I wrote it for you. What? For you. Look, we've been dating for six months and what's the point of dating a guy in a band if he doesn't write a song about you? You're kidding, right? You actually wrote a song about me? You are so fantastic. Let's just say that I think I'm the lucky one. Oh yeah? How's that? Come on, you know what I'm talking about. What are you talking about? Come on, Sam. You're a high class banker and I'm a broken tar player. You make more than a day than I do in a year. You're always on these crazy business trips to Hong Kong, Timbuktu, and I still haven't traveled to Delaware. I'm sure you've got guys with a lot more class than me chasing you down, trying to get you. You are the classiest, sexiest man I know. Fine. Then I'm sure that guys with a lot more money than me are chasing you down, wanting to be you. I promise you that there are no other guys chasing me. Oh yeah? What about that blonde guy with the long hair and motorcycle? He's a guy you're with the night I met you. You two seemed pretty chummy. I told you a million times. He's a friend from work. That's it. Since when does Goldman Sachs give male model street bikes to run spreadsheets? You're being paranoid. No, I'm being jealous and I really can't help it. It's a little sexy. Yeah? Yeah. Come closer, rock star. What? Because I'm going to show you you've got nothing to worry about. The woman removed her cellphone from her pocket, stared at the number, then stared at her and... Fuck. This is work. What? Come on. Seriously? What dipstick mankers? Honestly calling you at 1230 on a Friday night. There is nothing that could be so... I'll be right back. I swear. Really? You're going to take the call. We go on any minute. Right back. She stood quickly and then aggressive. He pushed her way through the crowd towards the ladies room. The line was five girls deep, but truthfully she didn't really have to go. She was only trying to get out of it, shot a nice sight of her own. How bright the angels look through the lens of our jeweled glass. Even the blackest wings glitter in the moonlight of truth. Code confirmed. Hello, Celeste. Hardwick, this isn't a good time. I specifically made arrangements to... To being activated. Impossible. I am inactive until October. I completed my last rotation in order to... Change of plans, Celeste. You're now activated. You don't understand. I'm not in a secure location. I know exactly where you are, Celeste. Have you forgotten that you've been imprinted with an encrypted GPS passive scan ship hardwired to the nervous system above your abdomen? I can find you anywhere on Earth. And right now, Black Door needs you. Why me? I'll explain during your briefing. I've sent an extraction team to your position. I need at least two hours. You can have none. Transport to the obelisk will arrive in 90 seconds. Hardwick. Celeste, did you forget who we are? I know who we are, Hardwick. Door number 20. Enforcement. What the hell was that all about? They just announced our band. I've got to go out to... Oh, I'm really, really sorry. But I have to go. You're kidding. Oh. Was it something I said? No, no, no. It's not you. It's... It's just complicated. Look, I don't want... Oh, like, another boyfriend with more cash complicated? Owen followed Celeste's gaze out of the bar. Their parked on Stanton with the engine idling was a red and silver envy or guster F-force sport bike. A tall man stepped off the bike and removed his helmet to reveal a thick mane of blonde hair and a ruggedly handsome face. He held an extra helmet in his other hand. So I guess you like bike. Owen, stop. It's not what you think. Listen, I have to go, but I promise I'll call you when. Yeah, yeah. Coming when the bike runs out of gas and you need someone to come pick you up. Trust me. I'll be waiting by the phone. Thanks a lot, Samantha. Thank you so much. Oh, Owen! But it was too late. Owen had already grabbed his beer and stormed away from the table. Celeste ate to go after him, but the crowd quickly filled in the distance between them. Oh, fuck. He doesn't even know my real name. She reluctantly turned to look at the man beside the sleek motorcycle who returned her stare along with a faint, rye smile. She clenched her eyes shut and waited a few seconds. When she opened them, she pushed her way out of the frenetic bar and into the humid night air. She approached the driver who stood motionless against the bike, staring at Celeste in a way that made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. Celeste. Where was the transgression, don't they? No kiss alone. The transgression. Beijing. That's door number three. They've never violated code. What was the theater? Sanctuary. Shit. You'll get briefed as soon as we get to the obelisk. I'll have you there in three minutes. Celeste knew more than to say anything. Celeste was pointless and secondly their location wasn't secure. Anyone could be listening. Not just Eve's dropping next to them, but monitoring their conversation from the rooftops or hidden behind a window curtain with a sound amplifier. Fine. Let's go. Gunnford pushed the ignition button on the Augusta F4, bringing all four cylinders of the Italian Superbike to life. Celeste smid the helmet over her head, failing to connect the buckle before Gunnford began speeding down Orchard Street towards Houston. The F4 made only the slightest of concessions towards passenger accommodation, forcing Celeste to reluctantly wrap her arms around Gunnford's wide chest. That's why he chose the Augusta. He could easily have taken the triumph, but he wanted me to close. Gunnford gave little deference to traffic signals as he ran several red lights speeding west on Houston. He turned right on 6th Avenue and opened the throttle wide when he saw he now had a full four lanes to explore. A very tall super highway within the island of Manhattan. But even at this late hour, Friday night traffic was dense, and for Gunnford to maintain his breakneck pace, several drastic maneuvers and severe lanes were employed, causing Celeste to clutch him even tighter. Are you playing a game Gunnford? Or are things really like that? Where did Harald return? Hang on. Gunnford continued his disregard for traffic lights, and viciously weaved back and forth between buses, cutting off cabs and generally terrifying any pedestrian who dared step off the sidewalk pavement. Celeste ventured her helmet over Gunnford's shoulder and saw the speedometer tap 85 miles per hour. They covered more than 50 blocks in two minutes, and soon Central Park was evident a few streets further north. You know the park will be closed at this hour when you... We've already called in a false 1199 to the NYPD. All the guards have left the gate. Don't worry, we're not going to have any police presence in the park tonight. The bike roared through the South Carried Entrance of Central Park. Typically the park was closed to road traffic during the early and late weekdays and entirely on weekends. This meant that Gunnford now had the park drive completely to himself and he took full advantage of it. The Augusta exploded in a further burst of speed, causing Celeste to literally dig her nails into Gunnford's side. The bike rounded the sweeping left turn at 61st. Forst Celeste pull up her knee to avoid scraping against the pavement. The final stretch was ahead and predictably Gunnford used this opportunity to nuke the throttle, taking the bike up to 140mph. Before locking up the rear tire and bringing your guster to a stop on top of Cat Huron and Central Park's east side drive. Celeste let go of Gunnford and both removed their helmets. Gunnford looked down at his Omega C-Master watch. Four and a half minutes, but we did hit some traffic. Celeste quickly popped off the bike and looked over her shoulder to see a 70-foot granite obelisk glimmering in the moonlight. Often referred to as Cleopatra's Needle. The Egyptian obelisk was brought to New York City in 1880 and carefully placed on Grey Wack-Nall, just east of the tree-lined mall in Central Park. It had been visited in a mire by millions of tourists and city dwellers alike over the past century. But what none of them knew was that it also served as the entrance to a black door base station over 800 feet beneath the park. You should hurry, you're hardwicks waiting for you. I'll still the bike and join you in a sec. Celeste turned and walked up the small hill to the base of the obelisk. Hey Celeste! What? It was a pleasure riding with you. I bet it was Gunnford. Celeste stared up at the obelisk towering above Cat Hill. The stone was covered in deeply carved Egyptian hieroglyphics. At least the original obelisk was. Many years ago, door number 20 was able to steal the original and replace it with a slightly more updated version of the monument. Celeste approached the base of the obelisk and traced her thumb carefully inside the five predetermined carvings. Exactly one second later. A large, flat slab of grey stone embedded within the obelisk pedestal. Slid back to reveal a steep staircase leading downwards into a faintly lit room. In fact, the only source of illumination was a red bulb inside the tiny elevator contained within the chamber. Celeste entered the elevator and quickly descended into the belly of door 20's base station. There were no buttons or switches within the elevator cab and Celeste's hand instinctively reached her nose to clear her ears. She had done this hundreds of times. Soon the door opened to reveal a sophisticated op center, manned by over 120 personnel, making it the largest of the 20 black doors. A few soldiers in fatigue sporting heavy firearms stood alongside white lab-coated technicians who sat next to computer experts in jeans and college t-shirts. A thin man wearing suspenders and tortoise shell glasses quickly approached Celeste. Celeste? Hardwick. You look well. I've only been away a few months. Seems like years. Okay heads up everyone. This is Celeste Harris. She is a D20 asset and we'll be running this investigation. All intel goes through her. All your orders come from her. Do I make myself clear? Yes sir. Yes sir. Come on. We have a conference room set up just over. Thanks. I actually know my way around here. Remember? A lot happened since you left. Hardwick had straight copper hair that seemed perpetually toned in a perfect never moving side part. He stood about 5.11 but his lean, wiry frame made him seem a few inches taller. Celeste had always regarded him as the consummate Wasp, Studios, Neat and utterly lacking in any human empathy. But he was a machine when it came to intelligence work and he took seriously the task of watch dogging the most elite spy network on the face of the planet. The shirt sleeps were rolled tight around his bicep, which usually only occurred when Hardwick was well into an all-nighter. Celeste wondered what exactly she was walking into. What happened in Beijing? Damn it. Gunther better keep his fucking mouth shut if he ever wants to be allowed to have a tap side again. He did it. It's not important right now. This way, you know where. Celeste followed the door chief to the end of the ops floor and made a sharp right up a set of metal stairs. She knew Hardwick would have her set up in the furthest conference room on the left, furthest away from anyone else on the ops floor. Always controlling the information. Always being Hardwick. I'll be right there. Celeste knew the base like the back of her hand, and she ducked inside the ladies room and walked back to her usual store. Second to the last in the row. When she finished, she washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face, instead at her own dripping reflection in the mirror. Welcome home. Ready to launch your business? Get started with the commerce platform made for entrepreneurs. Shopify, especially designed to help you start, run, and grow your business with easy customizable themes that let you build your brand, marketing tools that get your products out there. Integrated shipping solutions that actually save you time. From startups to scale ups, online, in person, and on the go. Shopify is made for entrepreneurs like you. Sign up for your $1 a month trial at Shopify.com slash setup. The world of Sonic the Hedgehog has been thrust into a not so dark, not so stormy, hard-boiled detective story that probably nobody saw coming. Follow Sonic and the intrepid chaotics detective agency as they take on their biggest case yet. The high-fly action-packed adventure will take them across the world, fighting for every clue they can find. It's one heck of a tale, which is good because this story might be the only thing that can save their lives. Well, if that's all I can just dispose of you. Wait, what? All will be revealed in. Sonic the Hedgehog presents the chaotics case files. Listen now, wherever you get your podcasts. The war is over, and both sides lost. Kingdoms were reduced to cinders, and armies scattered like bones in the dust. Now the survivors claw to what's left of a broken world, praying. The darkness chooses someone else tonight, but in the shadow dark, the darkness always wins. This is old school adventuring, and it's most cruel. Your torch ticks down in real time, and when that flame dies, something else rises to finish the job. This is a brutal rules light nightmare, with a story that emerges organically based on the decisions that the characters make. This is what it felt like to play RPGs in the 80s, and man, it is so good to be back. In the Glass Cannon podcast, as we plunge into the shadow dark, every Thursday night at 8 p.m. Eastern, on youtube.com slash the Glass Cannon, with the podcast version dropping the next day. See what everybody's talking about, and join us in the dark. Celested spent over nine months of her life inside Obelisk Station beneath Central Park, and had been one of the oddest periods of her life. On one hand, she had been euphoric about the elevation to Black Door status. She thought the group was a myth and couldn't help her relation at being chosen for such a selective assignment, but even more, Celeste was elevated to door number 20, Enforcement, a fancy name for internal affairs. Watching the watches, the highest level of access. For Celeste being an Obelisk Station was like giving a bus driver the keys to a Formula One car. The level of access she now had to information, the computing power to decrypt most of the planet's low to mid-level security databases, was utterly enthralling to a precocious analyst like herself. Since she was a child, Celeste had displayed an almost pretentatural talent for seeing patterns within chaos. Her early acceptance to MIT at 13 was based on her independent work correlating volatility in the precious metal market to the spread of infectious disease in West Africa. Her rise through CIA was equally expeditious. Her Black Door indoctrination period required her to spend over 9 months in Obelisk Station without any permitted respite to the surface. 9 months underground To be fair, the full extent of the facility was enormous and an impressive array of physical training equipment, as well as a strict regiment of advanced arms and hand-to-hand combat training kept Celeste from going stir crazy during those 9 months. But it was also down here where she met Gumpfus so many years ago. Black Door pulled its recruits from a myriad of different sources. Some came from within the CIA, others from universities or corporations. Some were even poached from other countries' own intelligence agencies, but a small number were brought over from the elite special forces units of the US military. There was not an overwhelming need to conduct paramilitary operations by Black Door, at least there was not supposed to be. Rather the nature of the work conducted by the various doors necessitated great discretion. Direct action was always the last resort. But Gumpfus, a former member of Delta Force, managed to slip through the cracks and always relished his role as being a hands-on operative. The bull in the China shop, the last resort. He took the same laissez-faire approach towards his relationship with Celeste. They met during their initial Black Door training. They were just to just been brought over from siops and Gumpfus had come from Delta Force. There were only six others in the class that would eventually be passed out among the various other doors. Celeste was clearly the most cerebral in the group and Gumpfus was clearly the most physical. During their orientation classes she often caught him staring at her, but when he found himself spotted he merely grinned instead further making Celeste feel uncomfortable. In one way it shouldn't have. After all, Gumpfus was six foot four, incredibly well built, and had a mane of shaggy blonde hair that seemed to have been grown the moment the army regulations no longer applied to him. All Black Door recruits had to pass basic physical fitness tests, as well as introductory combat instruction. Not only did Gumpfus predictably excel, but he took great pains to help and cheer on the other recruits. He seemed to cheer extra hard when Celeste had executed her first hip throw during basic hand-to-hand. He was obviously good, but he knew he was good, and that bothered Celeste. Their relationship took an odd turn during their marksmanship course. Deep and an East Central Park. C-Sfire! Weapons down people. Well done candidates. Alright, let's take a look at your shooting hole we feel. Not bad. The computer says you hit the target with an 89% accuracy rate, but Grinter Klein is still in the lead. The grand prize for a five-day leaf topside in New York City is still up for grabs. And we have... Oh god damn, just one shooter left. Candidate Harris. Step up to the shooter box, please. Yes, instructor. Now you're holding in your hand an X-30 RF maglev assault rifle. While you won't experience a lot of the traditional recoil you'd expect with a firearm of this caliber, we'll... I've read the manual in the test report, sir. I'm familiar with this firearms operation. Okay. Okay, candidate, and lighten us as to your proficiency with this experimental rifle. Yes, sir. Celeste leaned over the support bar to steady her weapon and placed her eye against the LCD sight scope, peering a thousand yards away to red target the size of an automobile tire. There was oscillating back and forth along a fixed track. A stream of numbers and figures raced inside Celeste's helmet visor, indicating speed of target, distance, and any detectable wind and interference. In turn, her mind raced with instantaneous calculations of speed, corrections in aim, and timing of the trigger. This is easy. Nice and calm. Be still, Celeste. Do the math. It's all just math. C-Sfire. Well, Miss Book Club, let's see how you did. I'll be goddamned. Agent candidates Celeste Harris, may I be the first in congratulating you on winning today's shooting competition with a score of 96%, beating the illustrious candidate client by over three points. Well done, Miss. You just got yourself five days on the surface for some R&R. The rest of you meat pies are still stuck under Central Park, reviewing Chinese encryption history and lockpicking. Back to barracks. Move out. The rest of the team scurried to the elevator, but because Celeste had shot last, she still needed time to get her kit packed up, gumped her stayed behind as well, and walked up close to Celeste. You shot well Celeste. Oh, thanks. You shot well too. Yeah, not well enough, apparently. Well, I think the wind simulators might have been blowing a bit stronger during your turn. Maybe. Maybe not. Yeah, well. Well, have you decided who yet? I'm sorry. Who? Who you're spending your short leave with? It wasn't my understanding that the winner got to take a date with them, Gunther. They can't, but that's not what I asked. You haven't spent much time in New York, have you? I'll find my way around. I'm sure you will, but if you do find someone to spend time with, make sure they take you to a bar called Milk and Honey. You'll like it there. How do you know? Because I think I know what you like. And before she could respond, Gunther walked away, turning to stare at her as his elevator door closed. The irony was that Celeste did actually go to Milk and Honey during her brief respite in Manhattan, and she did, against her better conscience, enjoy herself a great deal. There was a shadowy romantic bar with bespoke bartenders who spent over five minutes working each Patron's vintage cocktail, making sure each garnish was perfect. She didn't like liking it, because when she was there, she could only think of one thing, Gunther. Celeste had always led a sheltered life socially speaking. She was no war flower, but nonetheless the frenzied pace of her education and career didn't allow her the latitude to stumble upon meaningful romance. When she joined the CIA, her unprecedented aptitude was recognized early, and she was placed on a fast track to professional success. And then, within two weeks of completing her training, she met Owen to Moth's story slam on Bika Street. Owen, oh my god, you already feel so far away. Will you ever forgive me? You must be thinking that. Celeste. What? Whenever you're ready, George Sheephardwick is waiting to speak with you in Confort Room 4. Got it. That's all. Celeste walked into Confort Room 4, where George Sheephardwick sat at the head of the table, while Gunther stood and leaned against the far wall. OK, you've got me. Tell me what this is all about. Celeste, we're looking at activating a door lock protocol. What? A door lock hasn't been completed in almost two decades. Which door? Door 12. That's Jason Sterling's door. I don't understand. Gunther mentioned Beijing. That's door number three. Tell me what happened. Hardwick lifted his finger to gesture Celeste's attention at the 150-inch LCD monitor that made up almost the entirety of the left side wall. This is sanctuary four days ago. Celeste sat at the table, dumbfounded. She watched a close circuit video of Whit Roberts attacking a sanctuary nurse before entering into a violent firefight with an Asian woman, protecting a thin, bespectacled man standing behind her. Wait, I don't understand. How can he... Whit Roberts just discharged a weapon with him. He broke the rules of sanctuary. Of course, but doesn't that mean... My door lost 39 agents. 39 highly trained top value operatives. Most of whom were inserted in deep undercover positions. They were all executed by sanctuary as per their rules. We think the Asian woman could be my leave door three. We think she got away as did a few others. But... 39 agents. It was a massacre. All because of Whit Roberts. So... Door lock. Exactly. Door lock. So how do we... The rules of Black Door are clear. If one door intentionally kills the agents of another door, the enforcement door, that's us. Have the power to institute a door lock. They're by cutting off all access to funding, ability to marshal resources, and putting out a termination order for all agents of that door. We send in an assassin team. You're damn right. Look, clearly this is huge, but what does it have to do with me? Why was I brought in during... We have one problem. Door lock procedures stipulates that we need two irrefutable pieces of evidence before we can begin. I think that video tape is pretty irrefutable. I agree. But the problem is that we need one more. One more piece of evidence. Crovering door number 12's direct intention to knowingly kill another Black Door agent. And where do we get that? Take a look at this. Celeste turned back to the giant video monitor. I'm watched another grainy, close circuit video. Recognize the opportunity? Yeah. Isn't that Patrick Holyfield? He was in my Black Door training class. He went to door 14 telecommunications. Watch. This was taken at the D14 Proving Ground's laboratory. Marie saw tooth mount in Western Montana. In the video, three scientists as well as agent Holyfield were huddled around a Black Lab table, watching two sets of mice in cages set 10 feet apart. Each mouse had several sets of electrodes attached to their brains. After one of the scientists typed a series of commands into one of the nearby workstations, they each step back to watch the results. The two mice shuddered for a moment, and then amazingly, each mouse started to move in complete synchronization with the other mouse. As if they were both sharing the same mind, the scientists applauded and raised their hands in elation. Holyfield even grabbed one of the female scientists for a giant bear hug, lifting the petite woman off the ground. After a moment, they each stood back to continue observing the mice's unusual behavior. All of a sudden, one of the scientists abruptly dropped to the ground. There was no sound to accompany the video, but Celeste could see that the scientists were shouting desperately. The other scientists dropped to the ground, and then the small woman that Holyfield had hugged suddenly fell onto the lab table face first. Celeste looked closer and could see a trail of blood leaking from the woman's head. Three armed men wearing black combat suits and face masks sprinted into the camera's frame, and grabbed agent Holyfield and held a combat knife to his neck. The terrorist group forcibly threw him at the nearby workstation and started shouting at him violently. Holyfield typed furiously but then was abruptly stopped by a hard punch to his right eye socket. Holyfield was thrown off the chair and was rolling on the ground in pain. The largest of the terrorists unhulsed a massive handgun that was not any longer than a standard 9mm issue pistol, but appeared to be at least twice as thick. He brought the muzzle of the gun to Holyfield's temple and pulled the trigger, completely eliminating any trace of the man's skull. His headless corpse lay on the ground twitching twice before falling silent. The terrorist turned and snatched several of the computer hard drives before setting up five brands of timed explosives. They left the camera frame and moments later the inevitable flashbang of the explosives illuminated the screen. Generic static now filled the left wall of the conference room before hardwicks shut it off. Holyfield is dead. He and the scientific team that was working on a groundbreaking form of telepathic communication that would allow for a cerebral transference to bypass any security protocol or jamming mechanism. What happened? We can't be sure, but it appeared that the invading force was trying to get Holyfield to give them access to some of the most encrypted software in the lab. Were they successful? In the last few seconds of his life, Holyfield programmed the security cameras to send us this video before the entire facility was incinerated. He gave his life so you could see that. I don't understand. What does this have to do with sanctuary or door 12? The gun that was used to execute Holyfield was a prototype. Only one company in the world manufactures a firearm like that, Nankatsu Industries. They were trying to eliminate all evidence of this infiltration, but... They didn't know that we received this video. Exactly. It's unclear, but for some time we've had some circumstantial evidence that a hidden connection exists between Jason Sterling's door and Nankatsu Industries. But black doors prohibited from entering into formal contracts with civilian corporations for security reasons, especially a foreign conglomerate. I have a feeling that Jason Sterling no longer troubles himself with the stipulations of our charter. In fact, I think he's gone rogue. Door lock. Door lock. But we need the damn proof. We believe he hired Nankatsu to take out a hit on Holyfield and steal the technology this lab was working on. We need to break into Nankatsu headquarters and hack their most secured database to find some evidence of their connection to door 12. If we can find the bank account information that was used to effectuate payment, then we'll have what we need to initiate door lock proceedings against D12. Our intelligence shows that Nankatsu has one specific, highly protected mainframe, but it keeps isolated deep within the interior of its headquarters in Tokyo. It's surrounded by security and kept in the very heart of the building. We believe that the mainframe contains the bank account information and evidence that we need. Sir, anything with that level of security is going to be next to impossible to hack. That's why I have you. You're the best cryptographer we have. You want me on an infiltration mission? It'll be a team of two. You'll partner up with a more kinetic-operative that'll handle any resistance. They'll get you in. You handle the mainframe. Send Odland. He's better. I've seen him hack. He's dead. He was recovering from a gunshot wound in a sanctuary hospital in Luxembourg. Then send Jarman. As well. Cartagena. You're the operative we're sending Celeste. That's why you were recalled. If you don't complete the mission, then your colleagues and friends will have died for nothing. I'm just not sure that- Look, I won't lie. It'll be a challenging infiltration. Nankatsu headquarters is powerful security in place surrounding this mainframe. I think we have a plan to bypass almost all of it. Is your marksmanship still what I remember to be? Look, I'm not ready for this. You're trained, fit, and ready. Agent Klein clear the room. I want to speak to Agent Harris privately. Dump the stead at Hardwick and then Celeste before he dutifully left the conference room. This is important Celeste. I sense that a war is coming. Something evil is growing within door 12 and we need to stop it before it grows any further. I need your full commitment to this mission. You're the only one with a skill set needed to make this work. And I need agents that I can trust completely. I'm not sure I even trust everyone at this station right now. Spies are everywhere Celeste. I need your trust. Please. You have it, Dorcheef. Who's my partner? Who's getting me into Nankatsu? Gunther. Gunther? Sir, with all due respect. Agents, I can trust Celeste. Gunther is in. That's my final word on the matter. Celeste showed us slumped. It was only a few hours ago that she was getting ready for her date with Owen. The date-a-pad on the table has the complete schematics on the Katsu headquarters and all the specifics on the mission. Study it. In the meantime, use the full resources of this station to get ready. You leave for Tokyo in six hours. Ah, good. Come in, Manuela, please. This is Agent Harris. You'll be assisting her in an upcoming mission. A small diminutive Italian woman entered the room instead it Celeste intensely while appraising her carefully. In what role, exactly? Manuela is our seamstress. She'll be fitting you for a dress. You have been listening to Internal Affairs, a Leviathan Chronicles story. This episode was made possible by the generous support of our listeners to listen ad-free and get exclusive bonus content and behind the scenes footage. Become a subscriber at patreon.com slash Leviathan Chronicles. Internal Affairs was written by Christophe LaPucca, directed by Nobi Nakanishi, produced by Robin Shaw, executive produced by a... Johnny. Original music by Luke Allen, sound design and editing by Luke Allen and Robin Shaw. Starring Amanda Lichtenberg as Celeste Harris, Adam Royce Sonnet as Owen, Monty Bratton as Gunther Klein, Eric Dieter as Dorcheev Hardwick, David Alt as the drill instructor, and Samantha Parker as the narrator. For a full cast list and to learn more about our other audio productions, go to Leviathanaudioproductions.com or follow us on social media. Thank you for supporting Leviathan Audio and thank you for listening. The Leviathan Audio Production Of the Regency Era, you might know it as the time when Bridget Hentakes Place or the time when Jane Austen wrote her books. But the Regency Era was also an explosive time of social change, sex scandals, and maybe the worst king in British history. And on the vulgar history podcast, we're going to be looking at the balls, the gowns, and all the scandal of the Regency Era. Vulgar history is a women's history podcast, and our Regency Era series will be focusing on the most rebellious women of this time. That includes Jane Austen herself, who is maybe more radical than you might have thought. We'll also be talking about queer icons like Anne Lister, scientists like Mary Annning and Ada Lovelace, as well as other scandalous actresses, royal mistresses, rebellious princesses, and other lesser known figures who made history happen in England in the Regency Era. Listen to vulgar history wherever you get podcasts. Oh please, not that music. That music gives me nightmares from my childhood. Could we get something a little bit lighter, lighter music here? Are you a fan of True Crime TV shows? And what about unsolved mysteries, the show that jump started all of our love of True Crime? I'm Ellen Marsh. And I'm Joey Taranto. And we host I Think Not, a True Crime comedy podcast covering some of the wildest stories from your favorite True Crime campaign TV shows all the way to unsolved mysteries. Baby, you will laugh, you will cry, you'll think about True Crime in a whole new way, and you'll also ask yourself, who gave these people mics? New episodes of I Think Not Are Released every Wednesday with bonus episodes out every Thursday on Patreon. And every Monday you can listen to our True Crime rundown, where we go over the top True Crime headlines of the week. So come and join us wherever you listen to your podcast. Hi, this is Rob Benedict. And I am Richard Spate. We were both on a little show you might know called Supernatural. It had a pretty good run, 15 seasons, 327 episodes. And though we have seen, of course, every episode many times, we figured, hey, now that we're wrapped, let's watch it all again. And we can't do that alone. So we're inviting the cast and crew that made the show along for the ride. We've got writers, producers, composers, directors, and we'll of course have some actors on as well, including some certain guys that played some certain pretty iconic brothers. It was kind of a little bit of a left field choice in the best way possible. The note from Krypki was, he's great, we love him, but we're looking for like a really intelligent, decovny type. 15 seasons to explore, it's going to be the road trip of several lifetimes. So please join us and subscribe to Supernatural, then and now.