Out at Platte Air Force Base, Nebraska — population: twelve, and every single one of them is here because someone, somewhere, decided they were a problem not worth solving — the highlight of the week is poker night. Folding tables. A TV from 1979. Sometimes the Major provides whiskey and cigars. It's not much, but it's the best thing going on any given week.
Then a van shows up. Men in suits and stormtrooper helmets. Orders say to let them do whatever they want and don't ask questions. The whole base watches them bake in the Nebraska heat from a respectful, not-technically-interfering distance, and starts a betting pool on why nameless government agents have come to Platte AFB.
Before the night is over, the craziest bet in the pool is the one that pays.