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During the 1970s and '80s, thousands of Chilean babies were illegally kidnapped, trafficked and adopted. The practice was widespread during the rule of General Augusto Pinochet, who encouraged overseas adoptions to reduce poverty. A network of adoption brokers, hospital staff, social workers, judges, priests and nuns facilitated this trafficking. Today many of Chile's ‘stolen children' are trying to trace their birth families and their mothers are also looking for them. A small Santiago-based NGO called Nos Buscamos has helped hundreds of them reunite with their families using DNA testing kits, and a range of other techniques and technologies. We meet Constanza del Rio, the founder of the project and hear from the families they have helped to bring back together.
During the 1970s and 80s, thousands of Chilean babies were illegally kidnapped, trafficked and adopted. The practice was widespread during the rule of General Augusto Pinochet, who encouraged overseas adoptions to reduce poverty. A network of adoption brokers, hospital staff, social workers, judges, priests and nuns facilitated this trafficking.Today many of Chile's ‘stolen children' are trying to trace their birth families - and their mothers are also looking for them. Hundreds of them have been successfully reunited with the help of a small Santiago-based NGO called Nos Buscamos. Using DNA testing kits, and a range of other techniques and technologies, they help track down families separated for decades. We meet Constanza del Rio - the founder of the project - and hear from the families they've helped to bring back together.People Fixing The World from the BBC is about brilliant solutions to the world's problems. We'd love you to let us know what you think and to hear about your own solutions. You can contact us on WhatsApp by messaging +44 8000 321721 or email peoplefixingtheworld@bbc.co.uk. And please leave us a review on your chosen podcast provider.Presenter: Myra Anubi Reporter: Jane Chambers Producer: Viv Jones Editor: Jon Bithrey Sound mix: Hal Haines(Image: Jimmy Thyden-Lippert González embraces his mother Maria Angelica González, credit: Nos Buscamos)
En este episodio, converso con Constanza Villalobos (abogada & fundadora de Alpha Prima) acerca de cómo crear una comunidad potente.Ella comparte su historia, como pasó del mundo tradicional de abogacía a crear su propia empresa y marca personal. También, ella comparte tres pasos para crear una comunidad vibrante para apoyar la estrategia de tu negocio y/o emprendimiento. ¡Estoy seguro que te encantará!RECORDATORIO: El 6 & 7 de junio tenemos nuestro primer Storytelling Bootcamp. Es un taller intensivo de dos jornadas (4hrs c/u) para acelerar tu aprendizaje y desarrollo en Storytelling Estratégico. Aprovecha esta instancia de participar en una formación en vivo conmigo. Para reservar tu cupo: www.cesarcastrov.com/bootcamp¡Mucho éxito!
Recomendados de la semana en iVoox.com Semana del 5 al 11 de julio del 2021
Entre 1386 y 1387 el Reino de Castilla tuvo que resistir un intento de invasión por parte de un ejército anglo-luso encabezado por el Duque de Lancaster y Juan I de Portugal. El duque decía ser el verdadero rey de Castilla por su matrimonio con la infanta Constanza, hija del depuesto y asesinado Pedro I. Una reclamación que resultaba preocupante para los reyes castellanos, pues su posición en un trono recién usurpado aún podía ser débil. Para su fortuna durante años la reclamación no fue más allá de palabras, negociaciones fallidas y el uso de las armas y título castellanoleoneses por parte de un noble inglés más ocupado en los intereses de su familia que en hacer efectiva la reclamación. Todo ello cambiaría con el desastre castellano en la Batalla de Aljubarrota. En ese momento, el duque consideró que había llegado su momento y se embarcó hacia las costas de la Península para iniciar una desastrosa campaña que a priori sólo logró un dominio precario de Galicia. Podría parecer un acontecimiento aislado, que no va más allá de la mera anécdota. Sin embargo, en el confluyó toda la política europea del momento. De un lado, se trataba de un episodio más de la Guerra de los Cien Años que mantenían los reinos de Inglaterra y Francia, pues el castellano Juan I era fiel aliado del galo Carlos VI, y el duque de Lancaster, como resulta lógico, se posicionaba junto a su sobrino Ricardo II de Inglaterra. De otro lado, junto a la reclamación del trono por motivos dinásticos, el duque encontró un pilar ideológico en el Gran Cisma que dividía a la Iglesia Latina por aquellos años. Alzándose como defensor del pontífice romano Urbano VI, su empresa obtuvo bulas de cruzada contra un rey considerado cismático al apoyar al aviñonés Clemente VII. A todo ello se debía sumar la tradicional enemistad entre Castilla y Portugal, aprovechada por el duque para tener un aliado en las tierras peninsulares.
Entre 1386 y 1387 el Reino de Castilla tuvo que resistir un intento de invasión por parte de un ejército anglo-luso encabezado por el Duque de Lancaster y Juan I de Portugal. El duque decía ser el verdadero rey de Castilla por su matrimonio con la infanta Constanza, hija del depuesto y asesinado Pedro I. Una reclamación que resultaba preocupante para los reyes castellanos, pues su posición en un trono recién usurpado aún podía ser débil. Para su fortuna durante años la reclamación no fue más allá de palabras, negociaciones fallidas y el uso de las armas y título castellanoleoneses por parte de un noble inglés más ocupado en los intereses de su familia que en hacer efectiva la reclamación. Todo ello cambiaría con el desastre castellano en la Batalla de Aljubarrota. En ese momento, el duque consideró que había llegado su momento y se embarcó hacia las costas de la Península para iniciar una desastrosa campaña que a priori sólo logró un dominio precario de Galicia. Podría parecer un acontecimiento aislado, que no va más allá de la mera anécdota. Sin embargo, en el confluyó toda la política europea del momento. De un lado, se trataba de un episodio más de la Guerra de los Cien Años que mantenían los reinos de Inglaterra y Francia, pues el castellano Juan I era fiel aliado del galo Carlos VI, y el duque de Lancaster, como resulta lógico, se posicionaba junto a su sobrino Ricardo II de Inglaterra. De otro lado, junto a la reclamación del trono por motivos dinásticos, el duque encontró un pilar ideológico en el Gran Cisma que dividía a la Iglesia Latina por aquellos años. Alzándose como defensor del pontífice romano Urbano VI, su empresa obtuvo bulas de cruzada contra un rey considerado cismático al apoyar al aviñonés Clemente VII. A todo ello se debía sumar la tradicional enemistad entre Castilla y Portugal, aprovechada por el duque para tener un aliado en las tierras peninsulares. Escucha el episodio completo en la app de iVoox, o descubre todo el catálogo de iVoox Originals
El director de migración ofreció ayer unos números que son la mejor evidencia de la cháchara nacional frente al problema de la migración haitiana.Que un general uniformado ofrezca del dato de que en once años han sido deportados 1,177, 813 haitianos dejan muy mal parados a los generales que debieron evitar que cruzaran la frontera o que han hecho negocio dejándolos cruzar.Si usted divide un número entre otro le dará que en promedio cada año se han deportado 107 mil haitianos. Eso indica que el numero de deportaciones por mes ha promediado los 9 mil.Hay preguntas que nadie quiere hacer y yo preguntaría cual es la proporción de haitianos que ingresan al país en relación a quienes salen.También preguntaría cuánto ha aumentado la migración en proporción a la crisis de seguridad pública del país vecino.Aquí en Costa Rica el presidente de la República dice exactamente lo mismo que el dominicano y que la mayoría de sus pares en el mundo que ante la falta de respuesta a los problemas de la gente le echa la culpa a la migración. En este caso a los nicaraguenses. Aunque por lo que he visto, pedigüeños e indigentes que andan por la calle son locales.Aquí no hay paramilitares escoltados por policías y el tema de los derechos humanos es difícil de cuestionar en un país con uno de los mejores sistemas de educación y salud de la región.La diferencia es que hay políticas definidas, por ejemplo, no se puede obtener un documento de presencia legal en el país, hay varias categorías, sin cotizar a la caja del seguro social.Los Nicas y los indígenas panameños que están aquí con permiso de trabajo cotizan en el sistema y por tanto no son una carga para el estado.Sin quererlo el director de migración nos ha desnudado en la hipocresía pero ese es el problema de los números.El profesor Cesar Pérez ha dicho lo que todos saben: que las medidas migratorias del presidente Abinader son un viaje a ninguna parte, pero el turco se siente cómodo con las hordas que lo alaban, que disfrutan del maltrato de un niño o de una mujer gestante y que sobre todo estigmatizan a quienes pedimos sentido común.Felipe Neri escribió hoy en el Listin Diario algo curioso para algunas mentes:Ahora me entero de que trabajando como obreros –mal pagados y sin seguridad social– construyendo edificios en la avenida Anacaona, sembrando arroz en el Bajo Yuna, plantando café en las montañas de Cambita, Barahona y Ocoa, sembrando y picando caña por cien años en los ingenios, cultivando hortalizas en los invernaderos de Rancho Arriba, Constanza, Jarabacoa o San Juan, se pone en peligro la soberanía.Por cierto los sin oficio del congreso crearon ayer el día de la soberanía, una nueva jornada de cháchara para en el camino ellos hacer sus negocios.
Constanza Novillo, diretora de marketing da Asics na América Latina, explica como a Asics se diferencia no competitivo mercado esportivo. Erich Beting e Gheorge Rodriguez debatem com a convidada como a Asics, uma marca de mais de 75 anos de história, vem inovando e se reinventando sem perder sua tradição e excelência. Constanza detalha as diversas parcerias e ações realizadas pela marca, entre elas a grande parceria com a Senna Brands, marca de Ayrton Senna, com o patrocínio da 20ª Edição da Senna Racing Day, que acontecerá agora, no dia 01/05 no autódromo de interlagos. Constanza demonstra que a parceria da Asics com o maior piloto e um dos maiores ícones do esporte brasileiro vem dando muitos resultados positivos na estratégia de marketing da empresa.A diretora de marketing da Asics na América Latina também comenta sobre o relacionamento com os japoneses executivos da marca, e a expansão da Asics para outros esportes. Além das históricas parcerias da marca com o running e o tênis, a Asics tem parcerias com o skate e com os comitês paralímpicos de Brasil e Japão. Constanza demonstra o cuidado especial que a marca tem com o esporte paralímpico e, acima de tudo, com os atletas paralímpicos brasileiros. Ao longo do episódio a convidada detalha sua visão de negócio, as perspectivas do marketing esportivo para o futuro e como a Asics, através de parcerias e da excelência de seu produto, se diferencia no mercado, e se mantém extremamente relevante para as novas gerações. 00:00 A estratégia de marketing da Asics na América Latina02:50 Patrocínio da Asics ao Ayrton Senna Racing Day e o sucesso global da coleção da marca com o piloto05:45 Como surgiu a parceria com a Senna Brand e com o ator Nicolas Prattes06:32 A expansão de público através da relação e do patrocínio com a Senna Brands09:29 A história e experiência de vida de Constanza Novillo, e sua visão de negócios e liderança11:50 O necessidade de adaptação no relacionamento com os japoneses executivos da Asics15:20 Como a marca trabalha no mercado brasileiro e a expansão da Asics no Brasil e na América Latina19:40 A diversificação da marca no investimento em outras modalidades além de running20:32 Quais são os processos para a criação e o lançamento de um novo tênis23:41 Como a Asics se diferencia das outras marcas em um mercado competitivo28:34 Patrocínio com o comitê paralímpico brasileiro e o cuidado da marca com atletas paralímpicos35:28 A estratégia da Asics para se conectar com as novas gerações41:48 Como a Asics define as modalidades que vai patrocinar45:52 A ligação de Constanza e da Asics com startups por meio de mentoria50:00 O que é inovação para a diretora de marketing da Asics na América Latina55:18 As perspectivas de futuro para o marketing esportivo com a Inteligência Artificial e a integração da Asics com as novas tecnologias01:02:46 Momento Gheorge
Em conversa com a diretora de mkt da ASICS América Latina, falamos sobre produtos, lançamentos, ações, mercado e muito mais.
Constanza Duhalde (Psicóloga Especialista en Teoría del Apego) Nueva Economía y Bienestar Sustentable
Hace ya tiempo hablábamos de Leonor de Plantagenet, un personaje muy importante de la Edad Media, y también han pasado por el podcast dos de sus hijas: Berenguela y Urraca. Hoy nos visita la tercera, Leonor de Castilla, que acabaría siendo reina de Aragón por su matrimonio con Jaime I el Conquistador. Leonor de Plantagenet tuvo dos hijas más, Blanca y Constanza, de las que hablaremos más adelante.
This month's Good Patron Challenge is to REALLY listen to a concept album! Plus Garret brings you the scoop on the latest crowdfunding campaigns.- - - SPOTLIGHT CAMPAIGN - - - * The Lost Dogs - Trick of the Light* https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/thelostdogs/the-lost-dogs- - - OTHER CAMPAIGNS - - - *Slugs & Bugs - Sunday Songs https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/slugsandbugs/slugs-and-bugs-sunday-songs*Constanza Herrero - Home https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/constanzaherrero/album-home*Alisha Eich - 6 song EP https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/alisha-eich-i-m-making-a-new-short-album#/*Jered McKenna - 2nd Worship Album https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/jeredmckenna/jereds-2nd-worship-music-album*Adam Whipple - 5 Hills https://www.gofundme.com/f/5-hills-an-album-for-the-smoky-mountains*Christian Fambrough - Devotion https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/christianfambrough/devotion-a-new-worship-album-0*Various Artists - From Dayton With Love...From Others: A Tribute To Morella's Forest https://pacifico.bandcamp.com/album/from-dayton-with-love-from-others-a-tribute-to-morellas-forest*Focused - Devil's Kiss https://focused-sfhc.bandcamp.com/album/devils-kiss*Kings X & Swirling Eddies & Rev Edward Daniel Taylor https://boonesoverstock.com/collections/pre-orders*Morgan Cryar - Fuel on the Fire https://girdermusic.com/products/morgan-cryan-fuel-on-the-fire-cd-button-bundle-remastered-collectors-edition-8-page-booklet-sleeve-ltd-collector-card*Joshua Leventhal - Tapiseri Vol 1 https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/joshualeventhal/tapiseri-volume-1-a-new-album-from-joshua-leventhal*Sower Project - I Want to See Clearly https://www.sowerproject.com/USA Tariff impact for creators - https://updates.kickstarter.com/navigating-tariffs-and-shipping-costs-tips-for-kickstarter-creators/- - - CREDITS - - - * Host/Producer - Garret Godfrey* Executive Producer - Dave Trout*Playlist of over 100 great artists all with under 10K monthly listeners - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4kVNh7DVpO5eoMssGS2Lmi?si=eb1bb0f5aa5c487c * UTR's Critics' Picks Playlist - https://utrmedia.org/cp0225* Good Patron's email newsletter - https://utrmedia.us14.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=85113034823cd07c83d277cad&id=ca2fe47e5d *All the socials - https://linktr.ee/goodpatronpodcast * Email: goodpatronpodcast@gmail.com * All songs used are with permission or under fair use provisions(c) 2025 UTR Media. All Rights Reserved. A 501(c)(3) non-profit org - info at https://utrmedia.org
The last days before the Great Hunt.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.“Can the scorpion ever stop being a scorpion? “"Do we get our legally permitted weaponry back?" The bishop still held my hand."Sure. If it makes you feel better.""I would like to meet your people then," he gave my paw one last shake then released me. "Shall we go?""I will have someone take you to your car. I want to briefly meet with the President, of Havenstone, then I'll join you in the garage. We'll drive over to JIKIT and I'll make the introductions. Good enough?""That is acceptable," he nodded."What about you two?" I regarded the nun and the Swiss Super-soldier. The nun remained vigilant, and silent. The Swiss' eyes flickered to his boss before settling back on me."It is what I volunteered for," he stated firmly."Okay. Please never say I didn't give you a chance to take the sane way out. Also, Bishop Nicolö, circumstances have conspired to up my prospective wedding date to January 1st.""That will be more difficult. Why the change?" he remained grim."We are having twins. By March, this will be very visible.""That is, unfortunate," he shook his head."You have no idea," and then a brainstorm. "And I am curious about resurrecting the Order of the Dragon, the Societas Draconistarum." Technically that meant 'Society of the Dragonists' which was more appropriate than the literal Ordo Draconis."Precisely how do you plan to recreate a crusading Christian Order which was the purview of the Hungarian monarchs?" he didn't sound the least skeptical, just curious."I have billions of euros to fund such a thing," I winked. "Of far greater critical importance, I know where I can find the supernatural guidance and spiritual imperative for such an organization.""You are going to produce a dragon?" his eyes grew larger even as he fought down his fear. Good man. He was adaptive. He'd need to be."I never said such a thing. That would make me sound crazy," I smiled broadly. "Besides, when I say 'dragon', you think 'devil' and that's way too pedestrian for where we are going.""I am not a moral relativist.""Neither am I. I'm out to save lives and nurture the drive in the human spirit to reach for freedom, love and liberty. As you might imagine, I'm pretty freaking outnumbered.""I think you are crazy," he re-evaluated things."I just might be. In all honesty, you should back out now. Take your two compadres back to 25 East 39th Street (the Holy See's Permanent Observer Offices to the UN in NYC) and report 'Mission Failure'. You'll most likely live longer," I reasoned."I am not afraid to die," Sister Rafaela Sophia finally voiced an opinion."That's idiotic," I scoffed before the bishop could reprimand her for opening her mouth. "You should be.""My soul is in God's hands," she set her jaw."Does he talk to you?" I countered."His message is clear.""Not what I asked. I asked if he specifically directed you to toss your life fruitlessly away as an object lesson for the reckless, or careless?""This is uncalled for," Nicolö intervened."Nope. I bet you a phone call to my Brother to physically restore your bishopric that there are four people in this room who have murdered in cold blood," I kept eye contact with the nun, "and she's the odd one out. Right Juanita?""Yes, Ishara," Juanita slipped up. Her spycraft, like mine, needed work."You were in the military?" the bishop asked my bodyguard."Was? I am. Right now," she related. "I will be until I die."That earned me looks from the three Catholics."She is loyal," Nicolö nodded slightly toward her, referring to Juanita's declaration."Huh? To me? Nope. She's loyal to my office, which we shan't get into right now. Back to you, Sister Rafaela Sophia. Are you out to be a martyr, or has some saint, or angel, given you a directive the other two seem to be unaware of which causes you to devalue your life?""I am devoted to the One True God, Christ, our Savior," and Juanita snorted, "and the Virgin Mary," the nun stated firmly. "I don't hear voices in my head.""Juanita, that was rude. Apologize to our guest," I kept looking forward."No." Well, fuck you too."Gun," I commanded. I held out my left hand."What? No. I will not give you one of my guns," she resisted."Juanita, give me your primary weapon, or I will ask Pamela to beat you up the moment I depart for the Great Hunt. After yesterday's stunt, you know she will," I threatened. Fair, I was not. She drew a Glock-20 and handed it to me. I went through the routine, dropped the magazine then ejected the round before opening the door.Oh look, there were four SD chicks outside, ready to escort my visitors downstairs. I didn't even need to waste a phone call. It wasn't like the conference room wasn't being monitored."Excuse me," I took a half step out the door then hurled all three items down the hall. Looking back at Juanita. "Go fetch.""Fuck you," she snapped."And insulting her faith was as degrading to both her faith and her as me doing this to you is degrading to you right now," I lectured her. "It is important to her, therefore it is important to me because she is my guest in the same way it is important to me that I let my bodyguard do her job without being a total asshole all the time. Now go get your God-damn weapon," I barked. Off she went. I left the door open."Now Sister Rafaela Sophia, the point of all this is: I don't give a crap if you are willing to die for God. In fact, that makes you less than worthless to me and the team. I want to know if you are willing to put other motherfuckers in the ground so that Bishop Nicolá, or Mathias, might get to keep doing their jobs.""Murder is a sin," she declared."Go home," I sighed while shaking my head."She answers to me, the Church and God, not you, Mr. Nyilas," the bishop stepped forward."Then you can go home too," I shrugged. "I'm not asking for remorseless killers. I'm asking for people willing to kill to get the hard work done and best of all, for people who know the difference.""Everyone on JIKIT is a professional soldier, or killer?" he asked."No, but the ones who aren't don't carry guns and know to get down when things get funky," I bantered."I vouch for her," he insisted. Juanita came running back into the room."Cool beans. I don't know you either.""You apparently know my service history," he volleyed."Yeah. Ten years a foreigner in the service of France, then you went straight into a university which turns out Jesuits," I riposted."What turned your life around?" he evaded. That was okay. I'd gotten what I wanted. I was willing to bet he had read every bit of public information about me and it was rumored the heavy Catholic membership in the FBI had its benefits to the Church as well. Not so much as to give them insight into JIKIT, but,"Someone risked their life for me. It's been pretty much downhill from there," I confessed. It was the truth. After Katrina gave me the life line on Day Two, it had all spiraled to the revelation of my heritage, Dad's death, Summer Camp, the Hamptons, Romania and Aya's kidnapping."A person, a soldier, died saving my life," the bishop empathized. "Her story is similar. She seeks redemption. She is not suicidal. I am staking both our lives on it."Did he mean him and Mathias, or him and me? I wasn't certain. Still, it was good enough for now. I'd gotten a look at their emotional make up, even the relatively quiet Swiss."Very well," I agreed. "I have to go see the President about my new job description. I'll catch up with you at your car." To the SD team leader, "Take them to the garage. I will join the group of you very soon.""Yes Ishara," she nodded. I exited the room, Juanita in tow. Two SD entered. I was gone before the Papal team left. Upstairs we went, with one last chore to discharge. I had to check on Ms. French to be absolutely freaking sure it was Shawnee, because anyone else would spell disaster.{8:30 am, Monday, September 8th. Last day}A Room full of asistants:Well, there it was, the office of the Executive Director to the President, and not 'Executive Assistant', because this was Katrina's final 'fuck you, no, just her final 'fuck you' before the Great Hunt got underway. I shouldn't assume things, dang it!Anyway, according to the gray-haired matron running gatekeeper to the Office of the President, this was where I was supposed to show up. I shot Juanita a worried look. She glanced my way and shrugged, momentarily willing to not give me shit about the past 24 hours because where I was situated would determine how easily she could do her job.In we went. In the suite were three desks, the 'big' desk situated at the far end of the office space and two far more modest ones on either side of the entryway. The room expanded beyond the chokepoint formed by the two closest desks into a cluttered area. The walls were cluttered with inset bookshelves and portraits of women. Facing one another were a loveseat on my left with bookend plush chairs in an 'L' facing and a full sofa on the right. There were end tables at the ends of the sofa and the corners between the loveseat and each chair.As the door opened, I hadn't knock as this was my office, or so it seemed, the occupants, who had all been sitting in quiet conversation in the central section, began reacting. Oh look ~ Constanza! I nearly had a heart attack before I realized there were three other Amazons also in the room. Sadly, none were behind the 'big desk', so I couldn't tell who was in charge. Two of the other three choices weren't too much better. First off,"Ishara," Marilynn Saint John stood to greet me. I'd last seen her when I'd dedicated her grandmother's (Hayden's) spirit to the halls of my ancestors, not hers, after forcing the political crisis leading to Hayden's suicide ~ her taking herself to the cliffs and in doing so, destroying the Amazon Cult of Blood Purity. Marilynne was clearly still bitter with me. Umm, I could still incite passion in women I hadn't slept with, yet, woot?"Cáel," the senior-most and only friendly face in the room spoke next. Thank goodness it was Beyoncé Vincennes, Head of House Hanwasuit and House Ishara ally."Cáel Ishara," the third individual was deferential which I wasn't sure how to take as the last time I'd encountered her, yeah, things hadn't gone well either."Beyoncé," I started off with a smile. From there, I had to figure out, ah, Beyoncé's eyes flickered to Constanza then Sabia. I knew Marilynn, with her young age, had the least seniority, "Constanza, Sabia, Marilynn. How's tricks?"Glum faces by everyone except Beyoncé. I didn't ask about Sabia's particular well-being. It had been months since I'd beaten her into the mats of the Full-blooded gym. She'd attacked Yasmin, the Brazilian Hottie and my Brazilian Jujutsu sparring buddy, and I'd retaliated by ambushed her when she turned her back on us. Besides, she'd been giving me shit before I even could see straight.Constanza was minus her left eye because of her dire insult to me. If she wasn't capable of working, she wouldn't be here. If she appreciated my 'mercy' in sparing her life ~ her insult was worthy of her death ~ Constanza hid it well. I hadn't spared her expecting a change of heart. I hadn't felt words alone warranted anyone's death. I was a big boy and could take a few insults. House Ishara, as represented by me, could care less. These days, my sisters would be less understanding despite them knowing my heart."Constanza Landau of House Jaya and Marilynn Saint John of House Anahit are Assistants to President Shawnee French," Beyoncé eased things along, "so will be working closely with us, at least for the short term. Sabia Noel of House Guabancex, who I now think you know as well, has joined you as the other 'Assistant' to the 'Executive Director to the President', (that would make me an 'adept', but adept at what?), and since two of the three Regents are unfamiliar with the workings of Havenstone proper, Shawnee has asked me to perform in that role."Beyoncé was, or had been, Havenstone HQ's CFO (Chief Financial Officer). From what I was quickly piecing together, she would essentially be making all the day-to-day decisions concerning the running of Havenstone (how the Host made the majority of its money) until the Regents got up to speed.Only Buffy had actual experience with the New York office and, from what she had told me, solely within Executive Services. While ES knew 'who' did what inside Havenstone, they weren't aware precisely how those Amazons got their jobs done. That would have been an impossible task. Katrina could do it, but she knew it was beyond the ability of most of us 'mere mortals'. Since we were currently at war, the Host needed Katrina completely focused on her duties as Chief Spy-mistress, not baby-sitting the adults.Shawnee indeed had much gravitas among the other House Heads. Not only had she risen up to lead a First House, she had performed heroically during the final days of the last Secret War. Afterwards she had moved into the realm of Amazon jurisprudence and mediation. Until yesterday, she had lived in a House Arinniti freehold in Minnesota's Great Lakes region thus her desire for the 'Training Wheels' period.The Regency would not rule through telecommunication (the upper echelons feared being eavesdropped upon beyond the standard Amazon (read: paranoid) levels) and Havenstone: New York was the center best situated for the current war-fighting operations, so here she lived. I was sure a team from Executive Services was buying, outfitting/spy-proofing and fortifying a dwelling suitable for the President of a Fortune 500 company. Hayden's home would remain the domicile of Sydney thus Marilynn.The same rigmarole would be done for Rhada and Buffy (though I imaged Buffy would bitch endlessly). Publically, they were VP's of a company worth hundreds of billions of dollars and they had to present the public trappings of such leaders.Why did the Amazons do this ~ unmask their leadership to public exposure? Legal-simple: they could request and expect all levels of public and private security for their executives who happened to also be important officials of the Host. Certainly not all executives at Havenstone were officeholders, House Heads, or House Apprentices, but the high level of competence which permitted one often led to the other.Beyonce:As an example: Beyoncé wasn't the most 'bad-ass' lethal chick in House Hanwasuit. As she was preparing to be casted, her intelligence, creativity and diligence at her future craft, finances, was noted by the Host and the members of her House. In due time her name was circulated as Apprentice and the elders approved. When her elder cousin, the prior House Head, took herself to the cliffs, Beyoncé assumed the top spot. Beyoncé wasn't even one of that woman's three daughters.Mirroring her advancement in her House was her advancement in Havenstone's Accounting, Acquisitions and Banking Divisions until she was appointed CFO Havenstone HQ ~ the supreme financial authority inside Havenstone, though the individual regional branches had a greater degree of autonomy than you might normally expect from a 21st century conglomerate, or a Bronze Age autocracy.I had to constantly remind myself, despite the near-constant feuding, Amazons exhibited a phenomenally higher level of trust than I'd ever found in any other society I'd ever witnessed, or read about, before. Though technically Beyoncé could have gone to President Hayden to enforce her decisions ~ or now the Regency ~ she was far more diplomatic in her approach in dealing with the other 'continental' CEO's and CFO's.That meant she had to wrangle the aspirations and resources from:North America (including Latin America, the 'Canadian Arctic' and the North Pacific Ocean),South America (includes both the South Atlantic and South Pacific as far as Samoa),Europe (mostly Central Europe these days plus Antarctica, the 'Russian' Arctic and the North Atlantic),Africa (mostly West-central Africa),India (the subcontinent plus the vast expanse of the Indian Ocean) and,Southeast Asia (which includes Australia)All of which suggested Havenstone hadn't redrawn the Amazons' geographic demarcations since the late 19th century. As an example, an East African venture, say in Tanzania, was as likely to be under the purview of Havenstone: India (due to its control over the Indian Ocean) as Havenstone: Africa (which traditionally had no East Coast holdings due to their constant struggles versus the Arabic slave trade).Returning to Beyoncé: initially she had held the proper 'conservative' (aka man-hating) mindset. My behavior during that first Board Meeting began to change her opinion of me and the New Directive. After the Archery Range incident, Beyoncé became a vocal proponent of the New Directive and faced challenges within her ranks. House Heads do not have to accept challenges and Beyoncé didn't, reasoning with her detractors they had no alternatives save the 'Old Ways' which spelled doom for the Amazon Race.Bing-bang-boom ~ I became the Head of a resurrected House Ishara by the Will of the Ancestors and Beyoncé was vindicated. Not necessarily in the New Directive, but in her support of me thus the rebirth of a sister First House. The purge following High Priestess' Hayden's death was her ultimate absolution. The Ancestors and Destiny had spoken and shown Beyoncé had been piloting House Hanwasuit along the proper course all along.Back to my current circumstances:Oh, why was I Assistant to the Executive Director to the President? It gave me direct access to the finances of Havenstone which was a critical leg of the war-fighting stool ~ people, morale, money and equipment. As Chief Diplomat, I helped with all four of those in varying degrees, allied troops, allied victories, allied bank accounts and allied armaments.The Great Khan, my spiritual 'Blood-Brother', was ramping up his logistic support for my Amazons in Africa, Asia and the Americas. We were 'Allies in the Struggle' and he wasn't going to wait for the Condottieri to begin coordinating with the Seven Pillars to declare them to be his enemies. They were already fighting the Amazons and 9 Clans, his allies, so their fates were sealed.In Japan, my Amazons provided small yet highly effective strike groups which the Ninja families furnished all the support services for. Everything from food to bullets to medical attention as needed. Without reservation, we shared their death-grapple with the Seven Pillars.From the dispatches I was getting back from my family members and envoys in Japan, we were making serious diplomatic inroads with the Ninja. Once again, it was the Amazons shocking capacity for violence as well as their fanaticism, professionalism and proficiency which all impressed our hosts and terrified our enemies, and this from people of a philosophical mindset which had them historically battling samurai.The Black Lotus were running around like rhesus monkeys on crack cocaine unleashed in a China Shop and given RPG's. While the Amazons couldn't help them in China, Indochina & Thailand ~ the Khanate could and was. The Amazons were of more help in the Philippines, Malaysia and Indonesia, where the Black Lotus and Amazons were going everywhere on the offensive against the Seven Pillars while the normal tight cohesion and iron-clad confidence, traits which made the 7P's so dangerous ~ were shaken by their horrendous losses in the 'Homeland' aka Mainland China.Less we forget, the 'military intelligence' wing of their organization had been decimated by the Khanate's Anthrax attack due to members of the Earth & Sky sacrificing themselves by being injected with the toxin then allowing themselves to be captured, which always ended in torture and death.Furthermore, the People's Republic of China, while having a scary 18% of the population either captured, imprisoned, dead, or displaced due to the Khanate invasion, that had come with the loss of 63% of their landmass (they had lost all of Nei Mongol, Ningxia & Xinjiang Uighur Autonomous Regions, Qinghai and Gansu as well as 90% of Yunnan, 80% of Sichuan and 20% of Shaanxi provinces) to the Khanate and the 'abomination' that was a free Tibet.Then came the Russian 'stab in the back' which entailed the loss of another 10% of their people falling under foreign dominion as well as losing 8% of their most industrialized territory, Manchuria (Heilongjiang, Jilin and Liaoning provinces ~ the Nei Mongol portion of 'Manchuria' was in the Khanate's greedy clutches, from the viewpoint of a Seven P's warrior).Don't get me wrong, they weren't about to throw in the towel. If anything, they were becoming more dedicated to trying harder, digging deep into their knowledge of every atrocity, inhumanity and perversion now deemed necessary to re-chart history back onto its 'correct' path. It was this willingness to act in an even greater sociopathic manner which was being used against them. After all, the 7P's had plenty of proxy allies, who were starting to get really nervous about what their paymasters were now asking them to do,We Amazons were getting some extra special help too. The Booth-gan (Do not call them Thuggee ~ the confederate 9 Clan member based out of India though long since ensconced within various Hindi enclaves across the Globe) had created an all-female group of ultra-fanatical Kali-devotees ~ a gift for the upcoming battle fomented by the Will of the Goddess herself.While Aya was our Queen and the Regency would rule until she wished to assume command of the Amazon People, the nuts-and-bolts of the Host's activities were handled by Saint Marie as Golden Mare (our Minister of War) (technically she held the top spot due to our State of War, though no Golden Mare had ever exercised such authority over a Queen (and she definitely believed Aya was our Queen)), Katrina (as Minister of Intelligence and Security), Beyoncé (as Havenstone (the multinational corporation) ~ our Treasurer/Economic Tsarina) and me (our Foreign Minister).Saint Marie had decided to forgo a public face in order to better facilitate her moving around to various battle fronts and holding clandestine meetings with her junior regional commanders. Her Havenstone corporate title was 'Chief of Security Training and Certification'. As an extra level of deception, the head of Security Services wasn't even a Director-level position, instead being folded into the duties of the Office of the President.To my current circumstances ~ I had been given Constanza's house name which could only mean she wasn't currently assigned to the Security Detail; a fact that couldn't have made her bad attitude any better. Marilynn had completely lost her way as an Amazon when I first met her, burying her pain and confusion in endless partying and intoxicants. I believed only her grandmother's status as High Priestess kept her from the severest of reprimands, or death. I didn't even know what Marilynn's caste was. Sabia,"While I'm sure you are both far more qualified than I, precisely how did you two get these jobs?" I had to ask my two non-coworkers. Constanza glowered. Marilynn flinched."I have an in depth knowledge of Havenstone security procedures and resources," Constanza replied."Shawnee requested me," was Marilynn's comeback. "I also have intimate knowledge of the City of New York and its environs.""Actually, Buffy Ishara recommended you both to Shawnee," Beyoncé corrected their misconceptions. I knew the score. I'd be working intimately with the tight community around the President (Shawnee) and Vice Presidents (Buffy & Rhada). Buffy wanted me to be surrounded by women who hated my guts, so I wouldn't end up boinking them. It rarely worked that way. All too often ladies who hated my still-beating heart ended up punishing me with sex. I wasn't sure why that happened, but it did."Beyoncé, didn't the Chief Diplomat of the Host have her own office? I'm pretty sure Troika had one before her unfortunate collision with Saint Marie," I felt entitled to inquire."Do you feel you've earned that office space?" she riposted."Oh, fuck no!" I waved my hands one over the other to accentuate my denial. "I was just wondering where I could stick Juanita while I'm hanging around, here.""She has the desk right outside the door, Cáel," Beyoncé smiled knowingly. "So there is no way you can sneak past her.""Oh," I grunted. "Buffy again?""No. Pamela Pile put in that particular request.""Oh, Sweet Mother of God, now she is conspiring against me too?""Yes. Some of us realize the greatest hazard to your health is yourself, Ishara," Beyoncé chided me. "We'd like to keep you around, so we listen to those charged with that nigh impossible task.""Is she going to be hanging around the office often?" Constanza asked, either myself, Juanita, or Beyoncé; I wasn't sure. She = Pamela."Please, Constanza," I attempted to intervene, "don't make Pamela kill you. It will upset Mona." Constanza's scowl was accentuated by the eyepatch covering her ruined left socket, the one Pamela had carved out when Constanza had insulted me and House Ishara on our first day of rebirth. I didn't tell Juanita this, because Juanita might just shoot Constanza over the insult before Pamela got a chance to finish the job.The tension was palatable."Mona and I have talked, about Romania, and other things," Constanza grudgingly allowed. It took me a second to realize there was a hidden meaning to what she said. Mona was part of my personal Security Detail bodyguard unit. If she felt Constanza, the woman who had raised her after her birth-mother had died, was a threat to me, she'd feel duty-bound to snuff Constanza first. Amazons were hard-ass bitches alright and I think Mona had made that clear."I hope things can improve between us," I offered to Constanza. "Beyoncé, I just stopped in to say 'hey'. I'm off to JIKIT and I've got three of the Pope's people waiting on me in the garage so,""Vice President Varma requested a moment of your time," Beyoncé smirked. "She is in 2604.""Who?""Vice President Rhada Varma, a moment of your time, alone?" she clarified."Sure thing," I backed out of the office. Once I had some space, I turned to Juanita. "Give me three minutes then bust in and say, I don't know, a tsunami is about to overwhelm the city, or something. Otherwise, I won't get out for at least an hour and I think I've put the Bishop and his people through enough delays as it is.""Are you actually asking me to stop you from having an in-office liaison?" she studied me intently as we walked in the direction of Rhada's office."Yes. It's not likely to happen often, believe me.""Oh, I do, in that you won't ask me to do it often," she grumbled. I'd deal with Juanita's morale problem later. Right now, I had to gird my loins so they wouldn't do anything else with Rhada. I had work to do, damn it!Rhada was sitting at her desk, working on something, stylus raised up so she could chew on the end. Her hair was pulled back in a half-ponytail, the type that captured the rear half of the hair in a ponytail while leaving the front and bangs free to flow down. Rhada's blouse was white & billowy and, as I was soon to discover, her pants were ultra-tight and contour hugging."Mr. Nyilas," she greeted me. "I would like a moment of your time," she relayed what I already knew. She was more than a tad nervous to boot."Vice President Varma," I started off."When in private you may call me Rhada," she interrupted."Rhada, you look more ravishing than ever."That got up her and coming around her desk, which revealed her ultra-tight pants with no sign of her wearing underwear. Yikes! My cock was preparing to do what a cock was meant to do and I just didn't have the time, Really!"Do you have any time?" she let her bosom heave."Not today, ugh," I groaned. See, Rhada took the stylus and dragged it down her chin, throat and in between her bountiful mounds.All of which exposed the top of her black bra."Are you sure, Master?" she enticed me by turning around and then leaning over her desk, point that ass in my direction. My mouth began salivating and my groin ached. I found myself quick-stepping to her and giving those buttocks two firm slaps, one on each cheek."No, damn it, though I'm going to make you pay for this when I get back," I rumbled."Master will make me wait?" she taunted me."That will cost you even more," I growled. "I have business which simply won't wait and here is my captive teasing me with the treasures of her flesh. Bad, war captive," I spanked her yet again, hard. "Bad!" and I spanked her a fourth time. With each beating, Rhada gasped in pain and then exhaled in pleasure."If I've been bad, Master must be extra harsh with me when he returns in triumph from the Great Hunt," she gloated. Rhada had gotten what she wanted, which was another affirmation of my lust for her and our 'game'. I could provide her the release she so desperately craved while allowing her the safety of remaining in the Amazon fold. It was a perfect pairing, for her.I had other problems, such as all the other baby mamas in my life plus the extra-marital affairs I was contemplating. I still took the moments we had to snuggle with Rhada, her grinding that tush into my rod while I held both her arms tightly to her side while raining kisses down onto her neck and head."Sir! A giant tsunami is approaching the city!" Juanita exploded through the door."What?" I coughed. I had a face full of hair."Huh?" Rhada pushed up and away from me. I let her go."Right now," Juanita insisted. She really needed to stop taking me so seriously when I gave her such advice."Really?" from Rhada. She shot me a curious look so I shrugged. What else was I supposed to do with such a flimsy lie forcing our separation? At least I got out of there on time?{9:50 am, Monday, September 8th ~ Last day}(JKIT HQ)"Is this a common occurrence?" Sister Rafaela Sophia whispered to the closest woman, who happened to be Wiesława, the Polish Amazon. Since she hadn't arrived with us from Havenstone, the nun might have assumed she was with the 'Americans', or British."What?" Wiesława responded evenly."Weapons combat, they look real," the nun clarified."They are real. We always practice with real weapons.""Really?""Of course," Wiesława smiled at her. "We believe a few cuts and scrapes now will save lives when the true tests come.""Oh, you are with, Havenstone?" Rafaela clued in."Yes. I am Wiesława of House Živa. I am currently assigned to Unit L, Cáel's unit within JIKIT," she offered her hand to shake. Despite being a full-blooded Amazon from a freehold, her 'human' skills were progressing nicely. The nun shook it."I am Sister Rafaela Sophia of the Handmaids of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, that is a Roman Catholic Religious Order." Pause. "Do you hate Catholics too?""Yes. We have lived beside your people for many centuries and found your clergy to be much more dangerous than your pagan predecessors. Still, Cáel thinks you can be relied on and he's proven we can trust outsider women, which I was raised to believe was unlikely, and outsider men, which was basically anathema, so I'm willing to set aside my prejudices and judge you as an individual," the Pole imparted."Outsider men?" Rafaela mumbled."Well, yes," Wiesława smirked. "You are a nun, right?""Yes.""So you set aside the World of Men to live mostly among women, right?""Not entirely," the nun chose her words carefully. "We still rely on priests for religious rights and of course obey the life teachings of Christ and follow the leadership of his Holiness, the Pope, a man.""No one is perfect," the Amazon bantered back."Do you know the teachings of our Lord, Jesus Christ?" Rafaela ventured into dangerous waters."Yes. He was the semi-historical Son of your supposed One True God. We are not monotheists. We are Polytheists. Živa is my House's matron Goddess. It is also the name of the first woman to lead the House, her birth name surrendered to Destiny so all the daughters who came afterwards would be equals.""Oh, is Mr. Nyilas also pagan?" she inquired."I am unsure. From what I have been told, he has commended the spirit of his fallen father to your Jesus in a sacred ceremony then, in the presence of your Trinity and the Goddess Ishara, brought in new members to his House. I suspect he may be both," Wiesława reasoned. "Why don't you ask him?""Because he's fighting for his life?" Rafaela looked my way.See, the entire time their discussion had been going on, I had been sparring in a spare room at JIKIT HQ with Estere Abed, the Hashashin assassin (rather redundant ~ like saying the Sahara Desert). I had two tomahawks while she had a scimitar and curved dagger. While we sparred using the furniture as obstacles, Agent-86 was briefing me on various World events to get my input.Addison Stuart (CIA) and Lady Fathom Worthington-Burke (MI-6) were having a chat with Bishop Nicolé de Santis, verifying for themselves he was worth adding to the team. Juanita was having a similar discussion with Rikki Martin (US State Department) concerning my earlier encounter with the Papal team. Nicolé's buddy, Wachtmeister Mathias Bosshart of the Swiss Guard, was getting acquainted with the other security personnel.In comparison, those two had it easy. Both men were in their elements. Nicolé was a spook who pretended to be a diplomat for the Pope and was well acquainted with terms like 'deniable assets', 'plausible deniability' and your direct superior referring to requests concerning your identity/diplomatic status by saying 'I never heard of him and if I had, I have no idea what he was doing when you caught him doing what I don't know what he was doing', or something like that.Mathias was in the company of military-security specialists, brother professionals who were introducing him to his 'sister' professionals. Our Homeland Security gang were almost entirely former military by now. They got along with our JSOC folks and both had gained a limited acceptance with the Amazon security contingent.They bonded over the fact they were forced to work with really shady characters ~ the 9 Clans menagerie ~ who didn't always appreciate JIKIT operational security. Without going into particulars, the Wachtmeister was given the impression the abnormal was the norm and if you didn't think there was a 'down-side' to being able to carry your personally favorite bang-bang (the SG 552-2P Commando in his case) with some serious attachments (read: grenade launcher) around in downtown Manhattan, you probably didn't belong on this team.Back in the room,"He's not fighting for his life," Estere laughed. "He is fighting for mine.""Right," I responded sarcastically. We went through a flurry of exchanges, ending up with me kicking a chair at her. Estere stepped over it, colliding with me.I blocked her dagger, disarmed her scimitar and,"You are dead," she panted down at me, smiling. I was on my back, her straddling me. She had a belt-knife to my throat. I hadn't see her draw it. The scimitar 'disarm' had been a distraction."Woot!" I exhaled."But you're dead," Sister Rafaela misunderstood my good humor."He survived a minute and thirty-four seconds more today than his previous record," Estere responded. She slithered off of me, doing my arousal no good whatsoever, then offered me a hand up."And that's better?""He's a rank amateur with a few months on the job. I've been training to kill people for nearly two decades," Estere smiled. "Care to have a go?""With him, or you?""Either," Estere offered."I don't have a knife, or any hand weapons," she stated."We'll need to remedy that," Wiesława stated. "You should at least carry a knife.""Really? Why?""It is a nearly universal tool," I verbally stepped up. "Even if you are disarmed, you should be able to find one relatively easily, people are less likely to miss a stolen knife than a purloined gun, and a concealed blade could come in handy.""Do you train in knife-work?" Rafaela eye-balled me."Absolutely. It is part of my culture," I grinned."Okay. Can we spar, hand-to-hand?""Sure," I nodded. I put my tomahawks in their harnesses then put my harnesses aside. Estere gave me a wink before giving us the fighting space."So," Rafaela began to circle, "are you Christian?""By your definition, or mine?""By the definition of the Catholic Church."Oh cool, she went for a Savate stance. This was going to get ugly.My "no," was followed by her kick and my block, lunge and grapple. She wasn't nearly as good as Felix. I had her down and in a choke hold within fifteen seconds.Perhaps she thought I'd take it easy on her. She tapped out. I released her, retreated and flowed back to my boxing stance. It took her a moment to realize this was 'practice', not 'an interview'. She hadn't failed in anyone's eyes. We were both doing this to get better."See, I really, truly believe I have talked to supernatural entities ~ some who are considered divinities," I continued. This time she was more careful, trading jabs and blocks with me. "They don't claim to be the One True God. I believe in such a thing, but I also believe having been given the Message, Humanity has been left to muddle things out for ourselves."Whoops, she popped me one."The Woman-Thing this morning?""Yep," I evaded another flurry. She got cocky and I landed three blows, dropping her to the ground. I didn't help her up. Instead, I withdrew and let her get back up on her own before deciding if she wanted to continue. She did."I believe I've seen dragons and ghosts. I have felt legions of my ancestors give me quiet encouragement when I needed it. I know the dead have been brought back to life," I came at her. This time we both went for body blows, knees, elbows and fists. She was not SD-caliber and she needed to be. I grappled and she was forced to tap out again. After she regained her feet, she held up a hand for a pause."Do you believe any of that?" she addressed Estere."I am an adherent of Ismaili Islam yet nothing Cáel has encountered is contrary to my belief system. The Universe is a complex place and the Divine Light is often seen through a fractured lenses," she counseled the nun."Among the escapees were lawyer Francisco Luemba, Catholic Priest Raul Tati, economist Belchior Lanso Tati and former policeman Benjamin Fuca who are serving jail sentences of between three and six years each for supposed links to the rebel group FLEC (Frente para a Libertaé'o do Enclave de Cabinda), which carried out the attack on the Togolese football team at the start of the Africa Cup of Nations in January, 2010," Agent-86 read off yet another bit of global minutia."We need to get to them," I half turned. Sister Rafaela punched me in the gut and I folded up."Oh!" she gasped. "I'm sorry.""Okay," I mumbled. I had to keep with the plan. "Those men. We need to contact our Coils people in Kinshasa and the Warden of the Mountain Ways ('she' was the Amazon Host's leader of Africa ~ in the ancient times, the mountain ways had been the routes of southern vulnerability for the Amazon tribe thus the name).""Okay," both Agent-86 and Estere answered."Why?" 86 added."The Coils and the Host have had a serious problem with no nation in Africa giving them even back room recognition so we are going to take over our own country, Cabinda. It's been struggling to be free of Angola since 1975 and, by latest estimates, we've got strike elements of over 2,000 Amazons ready and waiting next door in Cameroon, Gabon and the Republic of Congo.""So you are going to go to war with Angola?" Estere frowned. "Don't we have enough enemies?""Au contraire," I grinned wickedly. "The resistance movement is genuine," I ticked off my points, "they have tons of offshore oil, and after we set off some spectacular explosions in the two main Angolan ports which are just down the coast, we allow global panic to bully the UN into intervening before the Angolan military launch an effective counter-offensive ~ considering the Angolan Armed Forces (I'd been reading up on a ton of CIA & MI-6 briefings) will most likely involve attrition warfare since they can't beat us in a stand-up fight.""They, the Angolans, have no overland access, they are separated by 60 kilometers of territory belonging to the Democratic Republic of Congo over some sad ass roads Plus the Congo River itself which is freaking huge by the time it gets that close to the Atlantic, Cabinda rests on the Atlantic Ocean by the way. No bridges. The Angolan Navy is anemic. Let me think."I began pacing."Hmm, they have no paratroopers though they have some Special Forces, we will need to hit as many of them in the barracks as we can. Their last invasion was from the north, overland, from the Republic of the Congo, in 1975, not likely to happen this time, though I may have my 'Brother' weasel up a battalion of Indian paratroopers to act as convincing peacekeepers after the initial take over.""Perhaps we can recruit some Vietnamese. I'm sure they'll love fighting in someone else's jungle for a change. We'll need some of 'our' guys to seize the port of Soyo, it is on the wrong side of the river, but has the major refinery the Cabindans will need. Since the entire surrounding province are the same ethnic make-up as the Cabindans, we'll have to take that too.""Man-o-man, I bet by the time this is over they'll really wish they'd given little Cabinda independence back in 1975. As for their other refinery, it is in their capital, Luanda, a few big explosions there too will get the markets jittery. Check that ~ the complete and utter destruction of their major petroleum facility will create a stampede for Peace," I continued. I walked over as our resident computer intelligence genius worked his magic."Blowing things up, you mean killing people," the nun blanched."Yes. This is what I do," I spared her a sympathetic glance. "I've got a madman roaming around in my head who provides me truly epic military advice which normally, but not always, means blowing shit up and killing folks. Welcome to the team," then as the data appeared, "Holy Shit! Did they build their oil refinery in the midst of their ghetto?" I was staggered. The refinery in Soyo was isolated from the town so it could be easily (and safely) seized. It was the one in Luanda which was the 'Holy Shit' site."It looks that way," Agent-86 agreed nonplussed. "Hmm, yeah, here is the port facility then your neighborhood of shoddily constructed one- and two-story dwellings between the refinery and the inland storage tanks, the perimeter barrier appears to be a chain link fence. I'd hate to be their Chief of Security.""Oh yeah," I choked. Estere slipped around to get a look."Whoops," she snorted."What are these people thinking?" I continued. "The whole shebang is exposed to the northern quarter of the city. The storage tanks have residential dwellings on all four sides with numerous side streets. Two teams with RPGs and four rounds apiece, Holy Crap. Sorry Sister.""But I want to save lives," she sputtered."Limiting the collateral damage could be pretty tough," Estere frowned. She toggled throw a series of maps to multiple pictures."Oh, look (dripping sarcasm); they light up the refinery at night. You can sit off the coast in a speed boat under cover of darkness and attack from there," she noted."Damn. Those are a lot of lights," Agent-86 agreed."24-7 operation," I suspected."We will need some experts," the government agent nodded."Or we are going to kill a fuck-load of innocent people. Not just the workers, but can you imagine a fire spreading to those neighborhoods? Shit," I muttered."You can't seriously be contemplating doing something like this," the nun sputtered. "It is inhumane. Think of the families, the children.""Lady, yes I am. Do you have any idea what the Human Rights record of the Angolan Army in Cabinda is? It is truly horrific and in case you missed it, one of the guys in dire need of rescuing by me, due to him being a huge rebel leader who has managed to escape, is also a Catholic priest. He's going to be part of the new government we are going to install once we kill a few hundred Angolans ~ mostly soldiers (more like well over a thousand).""We are going to kill a few hundred so a few hundred thousand can live free, democratic lives without worrying about the local police and political establishment torturing and murdering them. It is all part of the plan.""I think I need to talk with the Bishop.""Hang on. Let me finish," I forestalled her. "He'll get briefed along with everyone else. After all, it is a majority Roman Catholic country as is Angola, so I'm sure your guy can be of immense help.""The people you are putting at risk don't deserve this," she protested."They never do," I nodded in agreement with her. "It rarely stops terrible crap from happening to them though."I felt sorry for the Sister. She thought the Bishop was going to put a stop to this. Poor girl; he was going to do the exact opposite. See, the two competing forces at play here were a communistic kleptocracy (currently ruling Angola) and Catholic liberation theology united with a Cabindan national identity dating back to 1885. At stake was 900,000 barrels a day of petroleum. That was a bunch of funding for somebody. Last I checked, the state run energy conglomerate had misplaced $32 billion, in just three years.Mind you, the Coils of the Serpent and the Amazon Host didn't want to help the People of Cabinda out of the goodness of their hearts either. They wanted cover for the importation of weapons and other war-fighting material so they could kill the Condottieri in Africa. If the rebel leaders-turned-legitimate government didn't play ball well, the Coils were in the 'assassinating people' business and somewhere along the line the survivors would figure out keeping 'us' happy kept them alive. Problem solved.It was Bishop Nicolé de Santis' job to facilitate that understanding. If certain people with Vatican credentials explained the 'facts of life' to the new regime a lot more lives could be saved, Catholic lives. In turn, he could work to make sure the new group in power wasn't nearly as corrupt as the gang we were tossing out. Better education and quality of life, improved infrastructure & security and a nice shiny cathedral, or two.We, as in JIKIT and our component members, didn't want to rule the country and dominate the people's lives. We needed the ports and the airfields with a blind eye turned to our skullduggery. Sure, there would be future considerations. Amazons and Coil members would be fighting and dying for these people's freedom ~ public recognition definitely not required. No; the Amazons wanted to be left alone in their deep jungle homes which was an isolation they basically already had. This was a future chit which said 'don't come looking'.The Coils? Let's just say in the future Cabinda would have embassies around the globe and if occasionally they wanted someone to slip through under diplomatic cover ~ they were good for it. And if the Cabindans ever needed help in the future they knew they had friends in dark places who were now invested in Cabinda's survival. It was a win-win-win, unless you were an Angolan big-wig, or one of their foot-soldier currently serving in Cabinda. Amazons weren't big on taking prisoners, or even giving the opposition the option of giving up.For me, it wasn't lunch yet and here I was plotting to overthrow yet another government in yet another country ~ though in only two, small provinces this time. Thank the Goddess I had the rest of the week
This week's podcast is presented by Jacqueline and Stephen. We hear from:· Michelle in Dorset who has a plot prediction about the Snells;· Globe-Trotting Richard who is outraged by Helen and cricket team shenanigans · Katherine who is disappointed with the Joy story denouement and doesn't believe in Lynda, shock horror! · Marie from Winchester‚Ķ.is loving the Archers and is loving Lynda!· Theo who thinks she's been proved right !· Tim, a first time caller-innerer (Hooray!) who has a plot prediction, · and finally Jade in Australia, who has questions about redundancy.We also have an email from Chris in Indiana.Plus: we have the Week in Ambridge from Suey, a roundup of the Dumteedum Facebook group from Vicky and the Tweets of the Week from Thoe.Please call into the show using this link:www.speakpipe.com/dumteedum Or send us a voicenote via WhatsApp on: +44 7770 764896 (07770 764896 if in the UK) – Open the WhatsApp app, key in the number and click on the microphone icon.Or email us at dumteedum@mail.comHow to leave a review on Apple podcasts: https://support.apple.com/en-gb/guide/podcasts/pod5facd9d70/mac*****The new Patreon feed for Dumteedum is at www.patreon.com/DumteedumPodcast and the subscription rate is £5.00 per calendar month plus VAT. And don't forget to cancel your existing Patreon subscription if you have one, as we will continue to put the podcast out on that feed through February to give Patreons time to transfer over.*****Also Sprach Zarathustra licenceCreative Commons ► Attribution 3.0 Unported ► CC BY 3.0https://creativecommons.org/licenses/..."You are free to use, remix, transform, and build upon the materialfor any purpose, even commercially. You must give appropriate credit."Conducted byPhilip Milman ► https://pmmusic.pro/Funded ByLudwig ► / ludwigahgren Schlatt ► / jschlattlive COMPOSED BY / @officialphilman Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
Hana shines and Aya rises.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.“It is selfish to believe that your family will always love you. At some point you will be asked to earn it.”My equilibrium decided to cut me some slack and not invoke the reflexive vomiting. "It is only me, Hana, Imogen, Deidre, Mom, Buffy, hi Juanita," I hadn't spotted my designated bodyguard standing behind Chaz."Don't talk to me right now," she seethed. "I'm furious with you." Yep, she was the Caribbean Buffy."Perhaps she's pissed about the five extra Illuminati bodyguards added to the regular two around Hana plus the two circling Ghost Tigers having not a fucking clue what those other armed parties are doing in Hana's company," Pamela joked. She could. Everyone else was giving me crap about my social gaff."Hey now. This meeting is important. Imogen and I are going to have a child," I enlightened them. The door chimed open and we piled in with two Amazons whose 'fresh' look indicated a use of the showers within the past ten minutes."You consistently maintain particularly low standards," Chaz dryly remarked."I sent her here for a check-up and that gave Buffy a chance to meet Mom, Deidre and Imogen, plus two unarmed bodyguards," I kept bailing out the Titanic."Chaz, I am happy we aren't going to miss this one (lunch)," Pamela smiled at her two grandsons."Cáel, are you going to tell your fiancée you've impregnated your aunt?" Chaz was back to being mildly sympathetic to my 'totally fucked-up' life."Yes. I figured Buffy shooting death rays at me from her eyes will garner me enough confusion to get the words out of my mouth without her throwing her drink in my face, slapping me, then storming out," I envisioned.I got no more shit until I reached the garage for my vehicle. There an armed FBI Special Agent Virginia Maddox (did you know when a Federal Agent adds 'Special' to their title it means they have a gun?) stood next to my chariot. She'd drawn the short straw, meaning she had been given the chore of driving today.I found myself wondering when Yasmin would finally finish her orientation. Her training involved some serious mental challenges including a crash course from the FBI at Quantico concerning modern judicial theory & practice as well as whatever pre-Iron Age jurisprudence the Host practiced.Javiera promised me (and Katrina) that she would not-so-subtly remind those scholastically-groomed legal minds that a (couldn't use the word 'Amazon') legal code they followed had existed, with minor tweaking, as a successful social instrument for over 3,000 years. If they truly behaved in a respectful manner, the owners of the code might even show those people the Codex on the original horse-skin, written in Hittite cuneiform.Anyway, everyone assumed I had a good reason for heading to my apartment (aka need to retrieve a sleepy Odette.) Had I repeated 'the Bitch stole my fortune cookies', they might have simply taken me to an Asian-inclined grocery store. As we hit the second story landing, Chaz in the lead, we heard a passel of folks come down toward us from the fourth level.I didn't think there were that many people on the entire floor. Chaz and Pamela each went for their holstered pistol, while keeping them hidden in their jackets. Wiesława, who went for her PDW, backed up so she could fire through the stairs from beneath.Juanita, bless her heart, and Virginia had remained in the S U V because sending in more people would have left us piled into one another. If a firefight did break out, Juanita could bring in some serious hardware to back us up while Virginia called the appropriate authorities before rushing in herself.Around the corner on the third floor landing came a number of women, early/mid-twenties, physically fit, foreign clothes and downcast expressions. A few looked like they were about to cry. They were all in shirts and jeans, with no obvious weapons. Not looking lethal didn't ratchet down Chaz's vigilance. Me? I was instantly reminded how much sex I had been missing."Prince Cáel! You are alive!" spilled out of the first one, a fiery red-head with a billowing, thick mane, porcelain skin and adorable freckles. Her Irish brogue was enchanting. I had to wonder if she cried out in Gaelic during orgasm. Wasn't I about to meet my future bride plus numerous other love interests?She was fit, curvy and wearing an aqua shirt which exposed her midriff with a belly ring bearing a pearl drop, the requisite tattered skin-tight jeans and soft leather calf-boots."Why wouldn't I be alive?" I grinned, like a pirate discovering an all-girls school oceanographic classroom in need of plundering."How do total strangers know how unlikely it is that you would still be alive?" was Chaz's spin on things."We talked with your roommate. He said you had moved to Svalbard where you suffered an excruciating painful, yet richly deserved, death in a lemming stampede," she pouted, "and then the UN had your ashes exiled to Pluto because the Sun was too good for you."9, 10, 11 --12 of them looking, 3 with pale blonde hair that eerily reminded me of my fiancée, another red-head, two russet and five with deep, dark brown, or black hair. They were all fit, fit, fit! With an air of 'I graduated college only to discover: 1) no one was hiring Saline Soil Scientists, or 2) I no longer want to do any of the things I wanted to do when I picked this major. I was familiar with both types.Timothy would have been at work and Odette would have invited the troupe in to regale them with all sorts of tales, which would have included a tour of my bedroom. They clearly had missed Odette so, now I recalled; that particular excuse was one of the ten I had given the guy in 4B should anyone suspicious come calling.I imagine twelve hot, English-as-a-Second-Language girls might be considered, a bit odd. See, his was my address of record. I lied about my actual apartment, so random people who came looking for me went to him instead. This arrangement had been made prior to my understanding of the nature of my employment at Havenstone.I'd neglected, telling him to move out and go far, far away? Poor guy. I'd find a way to make it up to him later."Actually it was a southern vole immigration incident that was set off by the Bulgarian consulate offering repatriation for the first 10,000 applicants," I frowned, clearly traumatized by memory of the incident."These poor southern vole, native to the vacationer-friendly Black Sea resorts, were accidently introduced to the coldest inhabited place in the Northern hemisphere and they've been trying to get home ever since, that would be the equivalent of a century and a half in 'vole-years.""Despite the UN trying to quarantine any news of this Cricetidae catastrophe, I decided to evacuate the six most critically injured vole using a Bortolanza Pluto ultralight, which he must have confused with the UN sending my ashes to Pluto," I explained.Mind you, the 'southern' voles are native to, among other places, Norway, the owner of Svalbard. They were also native to the Bulgarian Black Sea coast so, The Pluto ultra-light, once built in Italy, is now called the 'Puma' and made in Canada, has a maximum range of 675 km, which would leave me crash landing into the Barents Sea, 260 km north of the northernmost airport in Norway, rendering me and my voles so much frozen food."You are an animal rights activist too?" several of the girls gasped. Yes. Yes I was. I was an animal and I was all for me having rights."Please, don't tell anyone about this," I grew serious. "I don't want my philanthropic efforts to be publicized. What I do, I do for the Earth's endangered ecosystems because it is what everyone should do, not because we suddenly feel bad about neglecting it.""E haere koe ki te whai kia nui ai," Pamela snorted. I'd ask her why she knew Maori later, right after I figured why Grandpa knew it."Ko toku mahere whānui," I replied. The girls looked confused."I'm also trying to revitalize endangered languages and revive dead ones. It is more of a hobby than life pursuit," I informed them."You really are a modern-day noble warrior-poet," the red-head leader sighed."Nah. I'm just a guy," I shrugged. "Besides, Ba ch ir fear a bheith ar eolas ag a gn omhais, n a oidhreacht." (A man should be known by his deeds, not his heritage)."Sa ch s go bhfuil misneach, t s il agam," she replied using my 'family' motto."Jos on jalot on toivoa,", "Ahol van b tors ga, van rem ny," and "cesaret olduğu yerde umut vardır," all followed. 'Where there is Valor, there is Hope' in Finnish, Hungarian and Turkish. I got the sneaking feeling this wasn't a college field trip gone awry. These chicks were coming at me with a purpose that included more than sexual gratification and a kiss good-bye. Ugh."Thank you," I genuflected, paying honor to their reciting of my personal vow. "Anyway, you appear to be looking for me, but I am afraid I don't know any of you. Taking into account that I have a late lunch date with my fiancée in a half-hour and will be taking notes at a feminist convention at 8, what can I do for you?" I was establishing my escape plan."We have come here to join you," an assertive, dusky-skinned one smiled. I had to think about this. I was a bit tired. Taking all twelve of these girls on in one orgy was currently beyond me. I'd do eight tonight and the last four before breakfast tomorrow. Ah, happy thoughts of the Lacrosse Finals."What exactly do you plan to do with Mr. Nyilas?" Chaz interrupted."We are the (Irish) 'Na conairte soith an S aghdha ar', (Hungarian) 'A szuka kuty kat Herceg Nyilas', (Turkish) 'Prens ok u Kaltak K pekleri' and (Finnish) 'Narttu koirista prinssi jousimies'," they chorused.Pamela snickered. All of those fancy sounding names were variations on 'the Bitch Hounds of Prince Archer/Nyilas (with the Irish going for O'Shea)."You want to be my bodyguards?" I gawked. Lacking lions, the Irish choice of the 'fur-balls of death' were hounds. Being women technically made them 'bitches'. I had to move fast. Any second now Wiesława was going to figure out these over-anxious non-Amazons were trying to replace her."You do realize I've left piles of dead bodies in my wake, right?" I nearly choked. Pamela slapped me on my back."Of course," they sounded so chipper. Fuck you Internet and 'First Person Shooter' games. This wasn't a fucking game! Trained combatants who joined my retinue met grisly ends and this was their freaking profession!"Can I think about it? I mean, do any of you have any combat experience at all? Attacked someone in anger? Send off a blistering instant message?""Some of us have (combat experience I was assuming). We won't let you down.""You do realize Ms. Dubois is going to kill them, don't you Sir?" Chaz sent me a chilling look."Ms. Dubois?", "who is that?" and "kill us?" floated around."Ms. Dubois is my blood-hungry ferret who wears a 'naughty berserker' human suit to trick the masses.""Three of us have military training," one of the Finns spoke up.By that they meant they had volunteered for military service in their native countries, then left after their first term because they found military life to be boring. On the 'plus' side, all but one had martial arts experience and six of the twelve had been a member of a Gun Club of some kind. Yep, Buffy was going to kill them, all twelve at once by herself."I'll make you a deal," I offered. Chaz was giving me his 'I'm a stone yet clearly unhappy with you' face. "At 7:15 tonight, you will show up at Havenstone. I will sign you in, we'll go upstairs to one of the gyms and then warm up for fifteen minutes. When you are ready, or 7:30 rolls around, we are going to the sparing mats. If I lose, you can stay. If you lose, you will write this off as one of a legion of ideas that look good in print yet are foolish in practice. Do you accept?""How many of us do you have to beat for us to join with you and your Crusade?" the lead Irishwoman asked."All of you. I will fight you all at once. The mat space is quite extensive.""You mean all twelve of us against you at the same time?" one of the Turks blinked in disbelief."Yes. I am not disrespecting you, any of you. You've shown initiative, courage and a spirit of adventure. I found all three to be both admirable and worthy of reward (i.e. I will gladly have sex with you). What I am also telling you is of the three people with me, the only one I can most likely defeat in single combat is her," I motioned to Wiesława, "and I'm only saying that because she is 19 and relatively new to the art of killing."Their eyes flickered to Pamela. Chaz was scary without even trying. Pamela could be threatening, or appear harmless, as she wished."Chaz is a professional military man from a long line of diligent warriors and in a branch of service that requires close contact with hostile individuals, teams, tribes, clans and nations.""The woman behind me is much, much worse. I've met precisely three people who could possibly kill her and I killed one of them. Would you agree, Chaz?""Absolutely," he concurred."We know who you two are," a Finn spoke up. She had a dazzling smile and cleavage that had to obscure her toes when she stood."You do?" Pamela played nice. For once, it was technology biting her in the ass, not me. Yay?"You are Rhingyll lliw Siarl Yfory," the Irish lass looked at Chaz. That was Welsh, and meant Color Sergeant Charles Tomorrow, I imagined his superiors in the British military weren't going to be happy with any of us, him being a 'secret military operator', emphasis on the 'secret'."And you are Sverkhsekretnykh Shpiona Vsemed Svaya," the Turkish girl pointed at Pamela. Pamela snorted. In Russian that meant 'Super-secret Spy Pamela Pile'. Since Pamela in Russia was pronounced 'Pamela' they had gone back to the origin of the name of Pamela, a fictitious 17th English novelist creation using mangled Hellenic, which translated as 'all-honey'.'All-honey' in Russian was Vsemed. Pamela snickered. Oh yeah, those twelve had combed through millions of articles and pictures to figure out who Chaz was and who Pamela claimed to be. Actually, one of my Hungarian admires back when we were all in Eastern Europe had suggested Pamela was a remorseful ex-SMERSH agent turned Princely-sidekick. Pamela jabbed me, the unspoken 'sidekick' thing.(For those who don't know, in Russian SMERSH loosely means 'Death to Spies', it really existed from 1943 to 1946 and was resurrected by Ian Fleming as a foil for James Bond.)"Chaz, since Cáel is, without a doubt, already having a stupendously wretched day, we must insist he inform Addison of all three of these developments, in person. I want to see the look on her face," Pamela plotted with the man who had thrown himself between me and an explosive vest, probably out of some psychic impulse that I would suffer far, far worse later, like in today, within less than 24 hours of said act."Why am I here again today?" I lowered my head and groaned."Are you okay?" a dozen innocent voices cried out."We are here to pick up Odette," Wiesława reminded me."Oh yeah, fortune cookies," I mumbled."Is 'Fortune Cookie' a nickname for one of your other operatives? Many of them are real enigmas. We can't find out anything about her," one of the Hungarians said. Yeah, because SD doesn't have a Facebook page, or Twitter account. Odette, she was protected by a completely unremarkable lifestyle, but I had a feeling that was fading fast."Excuse us," I asserted myself. "I need to get something on the third floor. Chaz began pushing forward while Pamela had my back."What are you doing?" to me and "Hey, is that a gun?" to Chaz, then Wiesława. Pamela was too sneaky to get caught."I'm here to pick up Agent Fortune Cookie then head out to a meeting with some really shady characters and my fiancée," I informed them."Agent Fortune Cookie," Chaz mused. "She's going to love that,""And then," Pamela continued."She is going to want a gun," I groaned.Oh goddess! No! Chaz had joined Pamela and my 'group think'."No, I have not," Chaz corrected me, about my mental ruminations."I've been coaching him," Pamela faux-consoled me. As my new prospective bodyguards parted for my current bodyguards,"Do you have psychic powers?" "Where is your android?" and "Is it true you can have sex up to ten times a day?""Yes, but we can't talk about it," then, "Which one? We have six models," and finishing up with, "Yes, I can have sex up to ten times a day with each session lasting at least an hour, though I do need breaks for food, drink, quiet romantic conversations and showers, cause shower-sex is so damn fun."While they mulled that over, I unlocked my door in time to see a nicely-dressed (as if she was about to go out on an expensive lunch date) Odette spring off the sofa. Looking at the crowd behind me, she blessed me with an incredibly happy smile."Oh cool! Do we really have enough time for an orgy?"I wanted to cry.(A Family FUNction, minus the 'fun' part)My fiancée giving me a congenial and contented look. Good.My fuck-buddy/friend Libra giving me a salacious 'you and me are going to hook up soon' smile while dressed in a red, 'business suite/slinky number' combo with a plunging neckline. I put her invite on my mental day-planner. Fellas, if you can't keep it in your mind, forget about it. Print equals pain, believe me.Brooke had joined the lunch group, sharing a smile and wink with Libra with the secret agreement for a three-way. Sweet! I could do this, hmm, lunch break Friday, yum-yum-yum. She was wearing a beige business suit with slacks, minus the shirt. Only her cunningly cut jacket kept her goodies from exposure.Hana was a saint for putting up with those two, and me.Buffy was studying me with the clear desire to put me in a dog cage for the rest of the week. Technically she had to produce my body for work Monday. As for the hot, sweaty, intense Brooke-Libra-Cáel m nage trois, Buffy was reading the undercurrents and setting up a breakwater. At least her attire suggested well-paid, successful international assassin. I wondered if I had paid for her clothing as well. I'd given Chaz's wardrobe a serious upgrade courtesy of Pamela faking my signature.The gathering was rounded out by Mom, Imogen and Deirdre. Thank God they all had different hair styles and forms of dress. Mom was in 'casual-durable' attire, Imogen was going with the military-chic and Deirdre's get up was in the same style as Hana.I was pleasantly pleased that Hana had reserved two adjacent tables for what she assumed would be my support network, Pamela, Odette, Chaz, Wiesława and Juanita, plus Imogen's five and her (Hana's) two Illuminati minders. That made me squeezing my twelve newest over-eager admirers into the mix doable, if not comfortable. Better yet, none of the new girls was dressed for a restaurant this exclusive.Hana was quietly amused. Buffy was volcanic. Thankfully she was being a volcano on the mid-Atlantic ocean ridge ~ submerged."Chaz, Pamela, explain," Buffy seethed."I don't work for you," Pamela playfully bantered back, "Sweet-Cheeks.""They are part of a clandestine operation to provide cooperation and assistance from the European Union," I offered up in such a sincere manner. I almost had them. Buffy looked to Chaz who opted to channeled his 'inner- Cáel'."I can neither confirm nor deny their status as operators from four European nations," he nodded.Buffy forked a helpless appetizer shrimp then catapulted at one of my Finns, I thought it was Oili. It bounced off her bosom. She couldn't even claim to not have seen it coming."What?" Oili gasped."Operatives?" Buffy sizzled at me."Prince Cáel," Flannery asked, "why did that strange woman throw a, shrimp at Oili?""It was a hand-eye coordination test," Odette informed her. "Had Oili been a real spy, you would have snatched up a nearby napkin, deflect the item with the napkin and all while drawing down on her. It is what they do all the time. It is pretty neat to watch.""Why use a napkin?" Oili asked Odette while eyeing Buffy in case another decapod was coming her way."You use a napkin because the shrimp might have a contact poison on it," Odette rolled her eyes. "Buffy used a fork to flip it at you. She didn't use her hands, so the possibility existed." Pamela gave Odette an 'atta girl' high five."Prince Cáel?" Brooke giggled. "What have you been up to?""Okay. I got this. Ladies, may I introduce Annikki, Belgin, Berit, Flannery, Gizi, Ilkay, Kato, Neve, Nuray, Oili, Pirkko and Zsuzsi. These fine women have decided to put their productive lives on hold so they can be my bodyguards," I made the introductions."They have volunteered to be, basically the 'Hounds of Prince O'Shea/Nyilas/Archer'. My Hounds, please let me introduce Hana, my fiancée, Brooke, my close friend, Libra, a sweet & sincere childhood acquaintance, my Mother, Sibeal, my O'Shea aunts, Deidre & Imogen and Kalmarasērmi Buffy."Despite the absurdity of the situation and my clear irresponsibility, Buffy let a smile crease her frown. 'Kalmarasērmi' was my term for her in the Amazon language = my Mountaintop."I will volunteer my facilities to train them," Aunt Imogen offered me drolly. She was the primary trainer for all O'Shea guardians/Special Forces."Train us?" a half dozen voices murmured."Yes Child. I am Imogen O'Shea, Cáel is the greatest treasure in my life and I have serious doubts any of you can be anything more than distracting bullet-catchers for my favorite (and only) nephew. It annoys me to think you are yet another walking advertisement showing him to be both big-hearted and soft-headed.""I will offer prayers upon the mounds of my ancestors (lie, her only 'ancestor' refused to stay buried) for Cáel's safety. You should invoke whatever supernatural entity you place faith in to keep Cáel safe as well, because if he gets so much as a scratch defending any one of you, I will exercise my nearly endless knowledge of human pain to make you pay.""Is she Ms. Dubois?" Flannery asked Odette."That would be me," Buffy showered fury their way."Do you really want to kill us?" Neve tried to stare Buffy down."Until ten seconds ago, Yes. Now I want to hand you over to these two," she motioned to Deidre and Imogen with her fork."Prince Cáel, why are they all so hostile?" Flannery requested understanding from me. "We have come here to help you. We have skills. All we are asking if for a chance to prove ourselves to you.""To Us," Buffy snapped. "Cáel's vote doesn't count.""Chill, Buffy," I snapped back. "I'm dealing with this, and your lack of trust is pissing me off.""Buffy," Hana intervened. She placed a hand on Buffy's thigh out of sight, yet not outside of my notice. "When was the last time Cáel failed to take your advice on something life-critical? These young ladies appear to be honest and diligent. If not, Pamela and the Color Sergeant wouldn't have let them come here, or near Odette."If I dated dumber women I would have less explaining (lying) to do, but I'd miss the challenge both inside and outside the bedroom. Hana's deft touch and gentle words calmed Buffy more than anything (outside of a righteous cocking) I could have accomplished. I was suddenly seized with the realization there was a goodly number of Katrina's positive attributes in Hana. How had I missed it?"Marrying you is going to be Hana's first step toward mortal beatification," Brooke teased me. Normally only dead people were made saints."A Servant of, probably not Jehovah. I think everyone at the table can agree she has interacted with supernatural forces," Sibeal hid her joking well."Martyring her hopes of monogamy?" Deidre's fey gaze flickered over the women of note (the women at the main table)."Her Heroic Virtue is Prudence?" Buffy added. Buffy had been Catholic?"Ladies, I'm Lutheran. We don't normally venerate saints. Joking aside, I was given a reason to believe this lunch date was important on a social level between myself and my fianc . Food would be nice too."Brooke and Libra's presence regulated Pamela and Chaz to an adjacent table. A waiter slipped in, took my order, I decided to forgo an appetizer because I was late, then the conversation began."Hana, this is my Mother, Sibeal Nyilas. Imogen and Deidre are my family from Ireland," I made the introductions, most definitely unnecessarily. I was buying time to get a better read on the women around me."I know," Hana showered me with mature compassion."Get to it, damn you," Buffy huffed."Wow, I'm thinking of the best way to tell you this," I barely could meet Hana's eyes."I am pregnant with your fianc 's child," Imogen cut to the chase. What she said was delivered on purpose. Imogen wasn't as socially maladjusted as Rachel. The fewer women in my life, the easier the O'Shea would have roping me in. Imogen's words were meant to hurt Hana and drive a wedge between us."You too?" Hana's sad eyes studied Imogen. She hid her anger-disappointment-disgust well. In this crowd her efforts to obfuscate her feeling only worked on Libra and Brooke. Those two ladies were less astute at concealing their surprise."She's your aunt, right?" Libra's look settled on me instead of a blatant Imogen, or a pained Hana."No," Mom answered for me. "My sisters and I were born sterile. It is impossible that our paternal heritage has been passed along. Whatever Imogen's maternal contribution was, it is not from our DNA. My sister does have a child inside her, Havenstone verified it and will have the precise genetic make-up within 24 hours," she persisted (lying)."If Cáel has a failing, it is that he was seduced by my sisters who played upon his very confusing Mother-Son relationship. I faked my death when he was seven. I 'died' in a quite painful manner and he had to watch helplessly as he witnessed me wasting away. I did such a horrible thing to a young boy because the people who were hunting me down, the two O'Shea before you and the nine who aren't here, would have used numerous means of torture to verify my death."(Until they realized 'what' I was. Then my imprisonment would have begun)"My wonderful husband would have died without giving them the truth. It was too much to ask of our son. For fifteen years he believed me dead. He learned the truth at his Father's funeral. I believe every woman at this table knows my son doesn't handle emotional pain well.""Imogen's statement was a thinly-veiled stab at Hana's heart and a kick to my son's sense of responsibility to both Hana and his unborn child. How could this not hurt Hana? How could Cáel possibly respond, torn between the woman who has already sacrificed so much of her happiness for a man barely aware of his own maturity, and the woman bringing his child into the world?""Good one, Imogen. Those two are better than you, or I. By all means, make a mockery of my son, your nephew, who has pledged to fight for your life when he should clearly walk away and let the rest of you die. He asks nothing of you yet you feel no remorse at sullying his happiness.""There are ten good reasons for you getting up and walking out of here intact right now. There are six better reasons for making you pay for your cruelty," she threatened."Ten?" Brooke whispered."The sisters' five bodyguards, the two body guards they gifted me with, Deidre, Imogen and Cáel. You don't think he would let the woman bearing his child take a beating, do you Brooke?" Hana enlightened her."No.""The Six?" Libra scanned the room."My other two bodyguards won't act unless I am directly threatened. They won't be out to hurt anyone. If anyone tries to hurt me, they will jump straight to the making them dead option. The 'Six' are Buffy, Pamela, Chaz, Juanita, Special Agent Maddox and Sibeal.""We'd help," Libra insisted. Brooke was onboard with that proclamation."No," came forth from Hana, Mom and me."Brooke and Libra; you two, Odette, the other twelve and the wait staff will only confuse the issue. My sisters and their soldiers will use you and the rest to distract Cáel. Except for Ms. Maddox, the rest won't give a fuck so your best bet is to hit the deck and let the professionals deal with things," Mom clarified."Brooke, Libra, this is a wacko chicks with guns moment," I put things in perspective."Hana?" Libra put a hand on Hana's shoulder."Don't mind me," she patted Libra's hand. "I'm diving for cover and not getting up until you, Brooke, Cáel, or Buffy tell me to get up. Sorry Sibeal, but I don't know you that well yet.""I understand," Mom agreed.To punctuate the awkwardness of the moment, Aisha (the Arabic swimsuit model) and three other SD ladies waltzed into the place and took a table. When the maytre dee tried to impede them, Aisha threatened to exterminate his entire extended family with a look alone. Been there, done that, and the maytre dee was nowhere close to being in my league.I had to think that through. Had Buffy called them, the SD would have been here before I arrived. Pamela was a possibility, except the SD still hated her over Constanza's maiming. If she told them my life 'was' in danger, they would still show up. My life wasn't in danger and Pamela wouldn't yank their chain.It had to be Juanita. The head of my bodyguard telling Elsa that I was in an exposed position with 9 armed Illuminati would have elicited this level of response. Pamela prodded Odette. Odette had a 'what do you want me to do' non-verbal exchange with Pamela then got up and went over to Aisha.Odette even remembered to navigate the room in such a manner Aisha and her team could keep an uninterrupted view of the threat. Pamela and Chaz's lessons were paying off. They weren't training her in the lethal arts. They were showing her how to not be an obstacle, which was better, given our current circumstances."Hana, don't hate Imogen. The only parent she's ever known was Granddad," I returned my attention to the crisis at hand."Oh, I'm sorry," Hana sent sympathetic waves Imogen's way. If there was a hint of 'you bitch' hidden within those words, none of us would admit it."Yes, yes," Imogen smiled back. "Father was a real troll.""That's not true," Hana responded. "I've met him and he has always been very nice to me. It was easy for me to look past the nations of dead he's murdered, his propensity to rape his daughters and his plans to destroy my Cáel.""I don't hold you to blame for not protecting Cáel more than you have. He's a handful and reminds you of your Father, the mass-murdering rapist. And Imogen, don't try to hurt Cáel using me again, you Bitch. I'm not a part of your circus. That doesn't render me powerless. I love more than I hate. I count a person great by the lives they save, not those they take. Where there is Valor, there is Hope and my fianc has both in spades. Do we understand one another?""Proving you are smarter than Ms. Sievert is not something which equates to being a threat," Deidre countered."Cáel, why aren't you saying something?" Brooke whispered to me."Because he knows better," Mom grinned. "This is a battle Hana has to win, or lose, on her own.""Cáel has plenty of women willing to go behind his back and kill people, Brooke. Now, if Hana asks for such a favor, we know it is not over some petty bullshit," rolled menacingly forth from Buffy as her feral countenance made a few of the Illuminati at the next table nervous."That won't be necessary," I broke up the tension. "We are as dysfunctional a family as they come, but we are family and we will all treat one another as such by the standards of the only one who matters. Clear?""You?" Deidre soothed me."No. Ferko Nyilas', my Father and the best man I've ever known. He taught me to never make excuses for your own behavior. Surrendering our control over our lives is a cop-out. If you want to continue acting like the creepy-ass bitch daughters of Cáel O'Shea, so be it. That is your choice to make. I care for you.""I care enough for you to fight Granddad over your futures. I hope all of you know I mean what I say. Whatever you decide to do, no matter how you act, I will always love you. I've made my choices and I am going to hold you responsible for yours. Let's eat lunch. It has been a rough fucking day and it isn't over yet."If there was ever any doubt, I destroyed those twelve hopeful bodyguards on the mats. They possessed neither the skill nor the savagery necessary in a warrior culture. We Amazons didn't recoil from pain. Our sisters' lives were on the line. That was why you practiced no-holds-barred fighting with, or without, weapons."We can learn," the lead Finn protested. The rest were getting over the physical and spiritual pain of being so easily beaten."My normal bodyguards go through three years of intense 24/7 training. Being a member of that elite body means you train in all forms of weapons as well as hand-to-hand combat techniques.""Once you've mastered the core physical and skill baseline requirements, and this core training never stops, no point is considered 'good enough', you begin learning at least two specialties. Those are disciplines such as close-protection, sniping, small unit tactics, infiltration, battlefield medicine, electronics, computing, communication systems, linguistics and 'training' expertise.""In my current team, the ones who fought at my side in Hungry and Romania, all have three specialties. Discounting their regimen since the age of five, each had been on the job in a professional capacity at least six years. The leader had eleven years in.""Finally, when you are at that level of excellence, you need a specific mindset. What you need to do is think why you shouldn't kill someone, not if you should. If there is any doubt, you strike. If you hesitate, someone close to you might be killed, not just me.""Look around you. If you aren't ready to kill for any of your companions, you will never cut it. Now, I'm going to have you shown out. I will have taxis take you back to your hotel. Think about it. Seriously, think about dedicating yourself to more than some stranger you've met on the internet.""You will be dedicating yourself to the other elven women in your group, to the death. That is the level of spiritual dedication it takes to be at my side. Go, take a rest, talk it over, search your souls. Call me if any of you want to continue and we can have lunch Sunday and make plans. Questions?""Do the other women around you do this, make those choices?" one of the Turkish women frowned while nursing a bruised jaw."No. They have it worse. They have thrown their old lives away, never to return. Each and every one has either murdered a human being, or attempted to, before they are even considered for the task.""Under normal circumstances, we wouldn't be having his conversation. You would never be given the chance. You are woefully unqualified in every way except spirit. Your willingness to cross the Atlantic to make your offers resonates with me, so I am both warning you this is horrible, horrible path you are taking and I am explaining precisely how slender any of your chances are of accomplishing your goals.""I, I don't know," whispered one of the Hungarian lasses."At the Seven Skulls, I led three such women into combat (Rachel, Charlotte and Saku) against a group of warriors who were fighting free of 500 elite Romanian Mountain Troops. Of the Romanians, nearly 200 were either dead, or wounded. The FBI Special Agent we took with us was badly wounded."One of the three was killed, a head shot, and the remainder left her body where she had fallen because the enemy were still out there and they had to protect me. The world will not bend to your sensitivities. Life around me is exceedingly dangerous and unforgiving," I finished.No immediate consensus united them. Fear and disbelief were the major vibes I was picking up. None of them were angry, insulted, or overly terrified."Time for you to go," Buffy concluded our meeting. "Tigger Maeve and Dora Farānak, would you please see Cáel's guests to the lobby." A new pleasure of Buffy's was using the House names of the Full-bloods she interacted with.I have taken a few mystic liberties:Maeve was a Celtic War Goddess ~ the Enslaver of Men.Farānak was a Scythian Goddess also known as the Lynx Goddess and the Silent Huntress.As for the other new hires:Daphne was, as explained earlier, of House Cotyttia (Thracian Goddess of Sex, War and Slaughter)Fabiola was of House Minerva (Roman Goddess of War & Strategy)Violet Maza was in House Oshun, the Yoruba Goddess of Love, Sexuality, Beauty and Diplomacy; Lady of the Orisha ~ life spirits.Paula Wadena was of House Cybele (Phrygian Earth Mother, Guardian of the Lion Throne)}They were dismissed and smart enough to know that was the best possible answer to their current predicament, learning your romantic adventure was actually a gory supernatural battle for survival. A growing number of Isharans had been gathering while I dealt with the wannabes. A few were amused, perhaps even understanding, of my actions.Soon enough, using her position as Record Keeper of House Ishara, Helena cajoled the other Amazons into giving us peace and quiet. Not all left. Watching a jury-rigged House Ishara work through its business in a semi-public setting was an event both unlooked for and possibly enlightening.For this gathering, we had 122 of the 159 members. The missing members were not close enough, or were providing a critical function that wouldn't allow them to be in New York on this night."Sisters, a moment of personal prayer for each of us to seek guidance from our Ancestors as we seek to continue their legacy," I intoned softly, calling the meeting to order.I had barely opened my eyes, failing to get any inspiration from Yakko, when the struggle began."Why are we including them in a House Ishara meeting?" Madori pointed out the three 'new hires' who were sticking around."Memasant (Amazon for to speak true)," I answered her. Since Daphne, Paula and Violet had clearly been sitting among us before the meeting began, I gave Buffy a disappointing frown. "Ishara respects these three for teaching the rest of you the Amazon language so that we can teach it to others, thus all of you becoming able to engage all our sisters in our native tongue.""I doubt any other House would extend this honor to others. Thankfully, we are not like any other House. We know better. We have all been outsiders. We aren't a 'normal' House and I am working toward us never being one. We have to be kind and just when necessary, and forgive when it is what the Host needs.""We will do this because we Isharans alone will decide on the prestige of our sisters. If the other Houses make an issue of it, who cares? None of them have made the sacrifices necessary to be Isharans. I know that you have not all gathered here tonight to hear me pontificate. Who wants to be first?""Will you accept a challenge?" Madori stood up. We had spread out in a ring, two Amazons deep, along the edges of the mats. I had never sat down."Put forth your complaint," I responded."You emphasize duties other than that of a House Head. You don't take the time to show up at initiation ceremonies. In essence, you ignore your sisters to advance your own prestige.""Yes, I am not showing up at the initiation ceremonies.""Yes, I prioritize other activities over running the day-to-day operations of our House.""Yes, you are utterly ignoring the two Amazons sitting at either side of me. I chose Buffy Ishara and Helena Ishara to lead this House because I knew I would have others issues coming up in my life concerning the Host.""Buffy, are you challenging me?""No, Wakko Ishara," she responded angrily. She wasn't angry with me. She had chosen the majority of the assembly and they were turning on me, thus her."Helena, are you challenging me?""No Wakko Ishara. I am intimately familiar with your work and the dangers you constantly confront for the greater Host," she answered in an equally hostile tone."Now that the issue of relevance has been dealt with, I will accept any challenge from any of you selfish, bigoted, power-hungry cunts who wish to put your own self-interest above that of our House. By all means, stumble over one another for the top spot," I mocked them. I'd played nice. No more.It was telling that my classification of any challenger was completely ignored. Madori and five supporters stood. In theory, challenges were the rare 1-on-1 Amazon experience. Another Amazon, Arianne, stood with another supporter."Cool beans," I nodded.I backed up, stepped off the mats and picked up the four axes I had pre-prepared. Back on the mat I went past my handful of supporters, brandished two weapons and advanced a quarter way onto the sparring area. The mass of my opponents muttered in confusion and resentment."Ishara, we have not trained in archaic weapons. Most of our facilities never had then," Madori protested."Amazons don't play fair," I glared. Several migrated to the walls to pick out whatever looked the least daunting. Buffy, Helena, Marsha, Daphne Cotyttia, Violet Oshun and Paula Cybele did likewise."Is this how you want to answer a challenge for leadership?" Madori glowered. "Cheating, utilizing a clear advantage in a farce of equality and justice?""No. Please step back and call every member of JIKIT," my eyes narrowed. "How about this, call the Amazon's contact with the Earth & Sky? Can't do that either? How about convince the 9 Clans to help us pursue a House obligation?""You duties as Chief Diplomat are not that of Isharan House Head and actually make you less of a House Head," she countered. She had chosen a short spear, using it two-handed. And that made Katrina what precisely?"I should fucking kill you," Buffy snarled."Madori Ishara, Dot-Ishara is not the Goddess of Scrabble. She is not the Goddess of," and Madori tried to catch me flat-footed with a spear-thrust. I was appalled at how easy I dealt with her. My right axe diverted her spear enough so when I twisted my stance, she missed. I placed the head of my left axe on her shoulder, blade against her throat."Madori, you lose. Sit back down and contemplate that you were beaten by a 22 year old man," I seethed. There was no 'you didn't give me a chance' bullshit. She had struggled for advancement in the Amazon way. Such people weren't crybabies. "Next."Arianne approached me with a shield and short sword. My read on the situation was she was going to use acrobatics to compensate for my superior reach. I readied myself."I don't suppose you would accept a suggestion we fight unarmed?" she put out there. I took two steps toward her then dropped my axes."I trust you," I looked down at her. I could see the 'oh, fuck me' written all over her face. The unfairness had been tossed in her lap. She put the point of her leaf-shaped blade under the left side of my ribcage, close to my kidney."Yield.""Never.""Yield, or I will kill you."I took a quarter-inch penetration when I clamped down on her right wrist and slammed my elbow into her face. A quick exchange of footwork ended up with both of us on the mat, Arianne on her back, sword pinned to the mat and her shield trapped between us. Head-butt followed head-butt until she was unresponsive.I stood up, blood oozing down my side."Water!" I barked. A bottled water was rolled my way. Three more Amazons were sizing me up. This challenge phase was far from over. I splashed water down on Arianne's face until she sputtered into wakefulness."Pathetic," I sneered at her. "This House is worth any and all of our lives. If you were the best candidate to lead this house and I refused to yield, then why did you spare me? Not only could you not kill me when you clearly could, you failed to do so even when it became an unequal contest of arms."Arianne was shamed and furious. I was treating her like a presumptuous, outsider woman."I'm feeling particularly generous in victory, Arianne, don't you dare stand up," I growled when she tried. "I will not kill you for your disrespect. I will not exile you from our House because doing so would show both of us failing to grasp one of the key principles of our People, learn. Learn and keep learning. A loss is nothing more than a temporary setback. Learn, don't repeat the same mistake twice and never stop striving for success until you take yourself to the cliffs."One of the two newes
Sibeal Pays A Visit.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.It is selfish to believe that your family will always love you. At some point you will be asked to earn it{Right where we left off}It was H-hour plus four. A Thai soldier fired another burst from his T A R 21. The other four soldiers around him did the same. They were using an overturned car as cover. He saw movement at a building across the street to his right. He fired off another few rounds. The figure fell to the ground. By hard-earned experience, he realized the enemy soldier had probably dived for cover, not been hit."Time to fall back. One block back," he hoped he didn't sound too shrill. "You two go first," he indicated the two townsfolk. His battalion major had drafted them minutes after the attack began. Any organized supply depot had been an open invitation for an artillery strike, so he had called for civilians to help carry the ammunition loads instead. These two had been attached to his platoon. Now they were with him.They nodded, hefted up the crate of 5.56mm and sprinted toward the rear while his men gave them cover fire. They made it. He named off two of his other men. It was their turn to go. After their sprint to safety, it was time for him and the last two to go. They ran past some terribly close flanking fire, but all made it.This Thai soldier wasn't the squad leader, or even the squad's second in command. He was a lowly Phon Thahan (Private, not 1st Class). Those two men were already dead. No, he was a common soldier who found other men listening to his orders so, by default, he was in command. His initial squad of ten had shrunk down to three. The fourth man had been part of the regimental staff, a driver, sent into the firefight to replace losses. He still could point and shoot, which was all that mattered at the moment.At the next block he found the two civilians. His men dumped their empty clips on them, then positioned themselves for the next enemy rush. The leader of this ad hoc force took the driver over to the far corner of the building they sheltered behind. Too often, going inside buildings was a death trap. The enemy would corner you then call in their artillery."Guard this corner," he told the driver. "I'll be checking up on you." The frightened soldier nodded, then took up his post. Now he had a few seconds to consider his position. He was running out of town to retreat through. Behind him lay open fields. Just then he saw the tale-tell site of a Dragon Anti-Tank missile firing from the next raised roadway to his rear-right.He couldn't see if it hit anything. There was no huge explosion. Still, it indicated that other elements of his battalion were in the fight. From what little briefing he had been given when the attack started, the major had placed his heavy machine guns and recoilless rifles on each flank to stop the enemy's mobile forces from getting around his command and surrounding them.Little did the soldier understand he was involved in a textbook defense by foot-bound infantry versus armored opponents. His two townsmen were busy shoving bullets into the thirty round magazines. His men had already engaged the enemy to the front. Gone were the cries of 'got him'. No one gave a damn anymore. They were too exhausted to care. Now they counted the comrades they had left, not the possible number of enemy out there.Six minutes later he heard the sound of death coming his way."Everyone down," he screamed a second before an artillery round flattened their shelter. For a few moments all he could do was gaze up at the heavens. His body hurt, his ears were ringing and the belief that he could stop now, he had given it his best shot and his part in this battle were over.He pulled himself and examined what he had left. He wasn't hurt if you didn't count the blood coming out his ears. He couldn't say the same for his companions. One of the townsmen had the top of his head torn off, his soulless eyes gazing up to the forever. One of his men had a smoking chunk of meat where his spine should have been. A second one was nursing a bad leg wound.The third soldier? He was already up and firing. The second townsmen was a bit dazed, yet looked like he could carry on. The soldier crouch-ran to check on the driver. He was laying on his belly. For a second he mourned for that fellow then the man got off a burst, then scooted back. He had been 'playing possum' in order to draw some enemy out. He was alive and fighting."We have got to get out of here," he told the man. "Get to the elevated road across the field then provide cover fire for the rest of us." The driver acknowledged the command, fired off one more burst then bolted for the field. The Thai made his way back to his other survivors. He gave them the same order, the civilian first.The wounded man? He couldn't make it with that leg wound and if any of the others carried him they would most likely die too."Cover us as long as you can," he ordered. The wounded shoulder crawled to the corner to relieve the only standing soldier."Go," he ordered that man. Off he sprinted. The leader placed two spare clips next to the wounded man, wished him luck, then it was his turn to sprint to safety. Close to the end, a few bullets hurried him along. He found the others had made it unwounded as well. The townsman was already shoving more bullets into the empty magazines.To his right was the remnants of the squad with the recoilless rifle and a light machine gun. To his left was a group of six Thahan Phran, paramilitary border guards. He rejoined the firing line. The enemy had overrun the buildings closest to them and were faced with the same quandary he had just overcome, the open field. When a man tapped his shoulder he nearly jumped out of his skin.It was his company commander."You've been doing well. I'm placing you in command of this section. We have a Carl Gustav (another version of a recoilless rifle) in the trees over there," the Captain pointed to the right. Hold this position as long as you can. Help is on the way."Before this fight, the soldier had dreaded this officer. He had been so pompous, so spit-and-polished and arrogant. Now he saw different qualities in the man. He was cool under fire, had his mind on the bigger picture of the fight and the discipline he had instilled in his men was paying dividends the private soldier hadn't appreciated at that time."You are Sip Tho (corporal) now," the officer told him. With that declaration, the common foot soldier had inherited 13 more men, the squad of seven to his right and the six Thahan Phran to his left. Combined with his two that made something more like a combat command. The Captain made his way back up the line. The Thai didn't have long to appreciate his promotion. Smoke shells began detonating between his position and the town, obscuring the place."Remember," he shouted. "Short, controlled bursts and only shoot at something that you know is out there!" With that, he had established his command of the situation. Several explosions detonated in the wooded position. Half a minute later, a tank appeared and pumped another H E into the position. In doing so, it exposed its side to Thai's section.The two men manning his Dragon launcher looked his way. It was a shot at a 45 degree angle and any heavy weapons fire would bring about all kinds of hate."Fire," he ordered. The man aiming the device took a few seconds then let loose. The rocket didn't penetrate the side, but it did knock a track out."Now we are going to get it," the Thai mumbled.A few heartbeats later, a larger TOW missile slammed into it from a position to his command's rear. This time the tank blew up. Of equal importance to the soldier's mind, there were men behind him and that could only mean, the second regiment had finally arrived. He was sure he wouldn't be falling back any further, giving the invaders one more inch of sacred Thai soil. It also meant his men would most likely live to see the end of the day. That mattered too. It was H-hour plus six. Two hour earlier, elements of the Vietnamese People's Army's 314th Mechanized regiment and 206th Tank Regiment with the Mobile battalion of the Laotian 1st Division and the Khanate's Laos Force Command slammed into Khon Kaen. By that time, the small city had already seen its share of hell. Khanate forces had stormed the regional airport with an aerial assault at 4:10 AM that morning.There were no dedicated combat troops in Khon Kaen. It was the HQ for both the Royal Thai 3rd Division and its component 1st regiment. That had resulted in a see-saw battle until the relief force arrived from the north. After that, resistance had collapsed. Over three hundred men surrendered. A hundred miles to the north forces in the town of Udon Thani, battalions of the 1st and 2nd regiments of the 3rd Division were still in combat with Laotian and Vietnamese forces. The final outcome of that battle had yet to be decided.What did matter was that the entire command structure of northeast of Thailand had been neutered. There were five more battalions out there that had no idea what to do next. They suffered from sporadic air attacks, but nothing serious was coming their way.What none of them were aware of was that a Far North Force out of the Laotian highlands had broken a battalion of the Royal Thai's 6th Infantry Division, taken Roi Et and severed the communications between the two formations. At Roi Et, the Khanate armored spearhead had left elements of the 2nd Regiment of Lao's 4th Division to hold the airport and was blazing a trail westward along Highway 23, to the south/rear of those five battalions.South of Roi Et, two other Thai battalions were grudgingly giving ground to a regiment of Vietnam's 305th Division plus the 270th Combat Engineers and 16th Artillery Brigade. What mattered was that those forces were drawing off the efforts of the 6th Divisions to counteract the invasion.The 6th Division had its own litany of woes. It was the subject of a dozen pinpricks. The division's commander had lost contact with the other two divisions under the 2nd Army's command. He had enemy forces to his north around Amnat Charoen, he'd lost contact with this 1st regiment HQ at Roi Et.His second regiment, at Ubon Ratchathani, was heavily engaged with the Alliance's North Force. His 3rd regiment, spread out along the southern approaches to his life line, Highway 24, had discovered small teams of Special Forces at every bridge and crossing, making every attempt at creating a unified front costly and ultimately futile.The 2nd Army's HQ and supply hub were at Nakhon Ratchasima. They were under attack, the airport had fallen and the sole mechanized regiment (minus one battalion) was having a terrible time retaking it. They were presently incapable of coming to his defense, since their third battalion had already been called to the capital to put down unrest/enemy forces.He finally made his decision. The remnants of the 1st regiment were to retire westward over the back roads towards the division headquarters at the Si Sa Ket Railway Station. The second regiment was to hold in place until sunset. Using all of the division's remaining assets, he was going to secure Highway 24 so that his command could retire using that path before they were cut off and defeated one regiment at the time. It was H-hour plus seven. For one of the drivers in a Khanate Heavy Mountain Supply Zuun, there wasn't much to love about this mission. He was a truck driver with a weapon, not a true foot soldier. He was content with his role in logistics, which was why his current mission scared the crap out of him. He wasn't in an armored vehicle and was accompanied by only one Fast Zuun ~ by its very nature a lightly armored unit. Now he was driving deep into enemy territory with a truckload of Karin freedom fighters, who also were lightly equipped.He had already reached the first goal, the town of San Buri, 270 kilometers behind enemy lines and only 60 kilometers from downtown Bangkok. There was a fear that his own air force would mistake then for an enemy supply column and shoot them up. Then there was the fear that some rear echelon troops would find the convoy suspicious and fill his unarmed vehicle with holes. His luck held, the enemy were looking to the north and east, not at a group of trucks heading south.Soldiers from the rebel faction of the Thai Royal Army were stationed in each vehicle to cover any conversation with the local constabulary that might come up. The cover story was that the unit was driving with a purpose ~ the capital was under attack and they were reinforcements using back roads to avoid airstrikes ~ the phone network was a mess and the fact that the plan was so audacious, the normal police officers didn't feel the need to slow the military trucks down.The last phase was pure madness. They rolled down Road 304 at 80 kph. Every time they approached a checkpoint, the unit's commander called in a hopefully faux airstrike, on both them and the Thai soldiers. That made it plausible for the convoy to race forward as the troops around them were too busy diving for cover to stop them. If anything, the defenders thought those truck drivers were the bravest men they'd ever seen.At the end of the journey, they rolled across the Road 304 Bridge over the Chao Praya River, then dispersed. Each truck disgorged 16 Karin fighters, for a total of 560. To that was added the 100 members of the Fast Zuun and 35 drivers, three Tigr's and 59 combat troops. Miracles of miracles, they found the capital to be in total chaos. It was H-hour plus 6 and a half. The Turkish Khanate commander of 100 looked south in the direction of In Buri. He was already in the 'spread chaos' phase of his operation. The central part of In Buri was the junction of Highways 11 and 32. Somewhere to the far north, friendly units were fighting their way to him. Forces retreating south, or reinforcements from Bangkok would have to pass through his position. He commandeered some passing civilian vehicles and created barricades on all three sides of the T-cloverleaf.Before long, the ground elements of an Airmobile Zuun had joined him. That allowed him to deploy several two-man observer teams over the surrounding countryside. He left two AFV's on the bridge and camouflaged the others in the best ambush points he could think of. Then, he waited. It was H-hour plus eight. For Julia Atwood, this was the culmination of twenty-five years working in Asia, covering a host of military conflicts and both natural and man-made humanitarian disasters. She'd gotten a tip two days earlier that Bangkok Thailand was going to be the place to be. Since she wasn't a known anti-government reporter, her entry into the country had been easy enough.She had spent the previous day picking a city guide, luckily finding one she knew well, and looking around for sources of information about 'trouble'. What she found was a quiet city on the edge of an explosion. The police, paramilitary forces and the military had everything battened down tight. At the same time, the population was extremely anxious over the upcoming loyalist offensive against the rebel northwest.The military had clamped down on all information coming out of the prospective war zones while exhorting on all forms of mass media the sacred traditions of Thai national identity and the need for law and order. That made the hairs on the back of Julia's neck tingle. It spoke of an upcoming shit storm. Still, Day One had been a bust. Few people wanted to talk about what was going on; all known opposition leaders were in prison or in exile.She had awakened early in the morning to the sound of heavy weapons fire. She had been in enough war zones to know the difference between grenades exploding, or pistol, assault rifle, machine gun, and tank fire. She was hearing tank fire, which made no sense. The Thai army didn't need to use their tank's big guns to fire at anything the opposition could bring to bear.She slipped out the back of her hotel to avoid any possible police minder, gathered up her guide and went hunting for the story. Twice she barely avoided roving army patrols. What immediately occurred to her was these soldiers didn't seem to know what was going on. They were jumpy (not good) and nervous (great for a story).Her trained ears and years of instinct led her to one of the eyes of the storm. Julia's jaw nearly dropped open. There were Central Asian men riding around in Russian equipment surrounded by throngs of hundreds, possibly thousands, of Thai 'Red Shirt' protestors marching on a police barricade. Several leaders of the movement had bullhorns and were communicating with the police. It was a tense situation.Julia forced her way to the BMP-3M, then shouted up at the commander standing in the copula. She tried Uzbek. The man looked her way."No. I'm Kazak. My Uzbek isn't very good," he replied. Julia's Kazak wasn't the best in the world, but she endeavored to make it work."What are you doing here?""I could ask you the same thing," the man smiled. "We are part of the Alliance effort to bring about democratic change in this country." Julia knew he was spouting the party line."What are you really doing here?" she pressed."I have no idea," he chortled. "I don't speak this language, don't know who these people are and only found out where Thailand was two days ago.""Are there a lot of you here?""Not really.""How did you get here?""We landed at the airport. We are a portion of an airmobile Zuun."Just then one of the protestors tried to get the unit leader's attention. He kept repeating something."He wants you to advance on the police line and look menacing," she translated."Okay," the Khanate officer shrugged. "That I can do."He spoke rapid fire Kazak, which Julia couldn't quite follow. Her ride lurched forward, the crowd parted and she could see the blood drain out of the police commander's face. Without looking her way, the Kazak spoke to Julia."Tell them they have thirty seconds to put down their arms or I'm going to shred the lot of them."Julia thought about it for a second. She was recording this exchange on her camcorder. She knew this was straying dangerously close to becoming a participant, not a reporter. She translated to the Thai young man. He sprinted toward the police and relayed the message. She had no idea what a 100mm fragmentation shell would do, had an idea how bloody a 30mm auto-cannon could get and had great familiarity with the effectiveness of 12.7 & 7.62mm machine guns.The lead protestor had a rapid discussion with the lead policeman, bowing and begging for this situation to be resolved peacefully. The countdown reached eight when the officer indicated his acquiescence. The mob didn't surge forward victoriously. Julia slapped the turret to get the Kazak's attention."You don't need to fire.""I understand that," the man acknowledged. It wasn't over though. Another protestor, a woman, waved for the Kazak's attention. Since she wasn't alone in doing so, the man hadn't noticed her. What she was saying did get Julia's attention."She is saying that tanks are on the way!" she shouted at the man in the copula."Which direction?" he inquired. Julia confirmed the information relayed by the girl, who double checked with the person on the other end of her phone, worked out the terrain in her head, then drew a quick map on her palm."They are coming up the road one block up. They are heading north toward us.""Clear out the crowd," he responded evenly. He once more ordered his unit to action. One of the Tigr's raced forward and disgorged its men close to the next corner then the vehicle withdrew."What do you plan to do?" she asked."Do what I came here to do, kill the enemy.""But they have tanks.""Fortunately I have things that kill tanks," he grinned."Do you mind if I stick around?""It is your life," he shrugged. The BMP moved forward to the point where, with its barrel turned sideways, the vehicle was just short of exposing itself. He was busy talking to someone else.Seconds later, one of the Khanate soldiers at the corner launched a grenade up the street, then two others opened fire with their assault rifles. They ducked back around the corner right as a larger caliber machine gun chewed up the wall as well as the street in front of her. Two other soldiers fired off flares into the sky."You might want to get down," the Kazak advised her. Julia nodded, jumped off and ran to the corner to join the other troopers. She edged around the corner, leading with her camcorder. Sure enough, up the street was an honest-to-God tank, with others behind it. One of the foot-bound Kazaks was busy shouting at the others. Once more, a soldier fired a grenade at the tank, to no visible effect. This time he apparently got the response the Kazaks wanted.The tank's big gun fired. One of the troopers, mindful of Julia, grabbed her as they propelled themselves to the ground. The world exploded. Julia was doing a quick check of her well-being when she heard the BMP race forward, barrel turned perpendicular down the street and then it fired. Julia barely caught it all on her camera. The IFV had fired an anti-tank missile out of its main gun. The oncoming tank was a Ukrainian made T-84 Oplot.It exploded; the turret flying away in a curtain of flame. This time it was the blast that blew Julia to the ground. A Kazak soldier hefted her up and pulled her to safety. He was truly pissed when she dodged back into the danger zone to retrieve her camcorder. She sighed happily when she found it undamaged. The BMP rolled back behind cover."Get down," the Kazak ground pounder growled. "It is about to get a whole lot worse.""How?" she looked at him."Well, now that we have stopped the column from moving," he grinned like a maniac. That wasn't much of an answer. Then she noted all the Kazaks clutching at the concrete sidewalks. She did likewise. Seconds later, she heard the jets. 'Oh God', she gulped. She'd seen more than her fair share of airstrikes. She had never been this close to one.Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the Thai crowd moving closer."Get down," she screamed in Thai. "Get Down!"Others repeated her warning and the crowed went down to their knees. Then came the thunder. Julia could barely make out the whoosh of missiles before the detonating rockets and missiles shook her world.A stubby-winged jet raced past her vision. The pilot had gotten so damn close to the building tops she could make out every feature of his aircraft. This level of caution where civilians were concerned was surprisingly unlike the Khanate. She tried to stand, but the soldier next to her had wrapped an arm around her."They come in twos," he cautioned her.Sure enough another series of explosions rocked her surroundings. No sooner had she gotten to her feet, the Kazak commander shouted,"They are coming around for another pass, then we go!"A series of passes followed with the jets using auto-cannons on whomever was left out there.Julia pushed away from her guardian and rushed up to the BMP officer."Wait," she called to him. Stunningly, he waited, looking at her. "Let the crowd save the survivors. This is their struggle too.""If the soldiers fire on them there will be little I can do," he responded."Give them a chance."Against all her expectations, he did. The crowd moved to discover the carnage visited on their oppressors, and fellow countrymen. It was H-hour plus eight. The Thai tank commander was close to the end of his rope. He'd been fighting since sunrise. Defend, attack, withdraw to a defensive position then wait for the order to counterattack. His platoon had dwindled down to his sole surviving tank. His company no longer acted as a separate entity. Now his battalion, barely a company in strength, operated as a fire brigade, shoring up his beleaguered battle group.The last attack, backed by air power, had shattered his unit. He fell back, literally backing into a second story building to avoid the ever-present Alliance attack helicopters. From his vantage point he could see a column of armored vehicles rolling down Highway 11. He was debating which one he would fire on first when he noticed a jeep coming his way. Onboard were three Thai soldiers, rebels.The jeep rolled right up to his hiding spot. The man in the back dismounted and he walked right up to the tank."Can we talk?" the man inquired. The tank commander kept him covered with this machine gun."What do you have to say, traitor?" he barked."I come to request,""We will not surrender," he growled."We are not asking you to surrender," the man corrected him. "We are asking you to let the war pass you by.""Why should I?""If you fight, you will be destroyed. The Thai army will need to rebuild when this is over and we must be strong. If you throw your life away, we will all be weaker."The tank commander had to think that over. If he began firing on that armored column he would be striking a mighty blow for his country. He would also be sentencing him and his men to death."There will be no surrender?""No sir," the man insisted.The rebel soldier made some sense. The Thai military would have to rebuild when this catastrophe was over. He and his men had done their part."We will stay here for a while," the tank commander informed the rebel."Very well," the soldier bowed. He remounted his jeep and drove away."We are going to stay here a while," he addressed his crewmen. "Get a bite to eat and a drink of water."His men hesitated for a moment."Now, while we have the chance."The men hopped to. They had their orders. They would worry about the morality of their actions later. It was H-hour plus nine. The men in the Royal Thai Army's high command were finally getting ahold of the big picture. The good news was the Third Army's offensive was grinding to a halt along a line stretching along Highway 1 from Tham Pet Tham Tong Forest in the east to Chai Nat on the Chao Praya River in the west. It was accepted as fact that the 3rd Cavalry and 11th Infantry divisions could hold the line.West of the Chao Praya was a chaotic mess of small garrisons involved in raids and counter-raids. It was deemed unlikely the Alliance forces could push forward any further in that direction either. It also meant that they couldn't pull units from that region to reinforce any of their other trouble points and they had a few.That was most of the good news.Another piece of good news was the1st Army's 2nd Infantry Division had stopped the invasion force they were facing only a few kilometers over the frontier in the area of Watthana Nakhon District. As soon as they had gathered the majority of the division together, they would be mounting a counter-offensive with the intention of overwhelming that force and destroying it.After that, it only got worse.In the area of the 2nd Army, the 3rd Infantry Division and the 2nd Cavalry Division had virtually ceased to exist as cohesive forces. Two battalions of the 3rd Division were retreating south into the 6th Division's area. The 2nd Cavalry division had been reduced pre-battle to one mechanized regiment. That regiment was gone and with it, the supply routes for the 2nd Royal Thai Army.Inside that zone, the 6th Infantry Division still existed, but it was in a world of trouble. They had lost control of Highway 24, their primary supply/evacuation route, and were relentlessly being driven out of Ubon Ratchathani. Even with the slowly arriving battalions of the 3rd Division, the 6th could barely muster two combat-effective regiments and those were running short of fuel and ammunition. The 6th had become a static force, too large to be overwhelmed, too immobile to press the enemy out, or save themselves from a slow strangulation. Had they their assigned tank battalion, but they didn't.The 1st Army's 9th Division was in the worst shape. They had gathered into one elliptical shaped perimeter centered on Chanthaburi and were down to four battalions and two tanks. Technically, they had another battalion, except the 1st Army command had ordered that into Bangkok to aid in suppressing the rebel movement. The 9th Division was surrounded, under attack from the land, sea (the Indian Navy had joined the fight) and air. Their commanding general expected to be wiped out before sunset.And Bangkok?It was turning into a typhoon scale disaster. They had finally determined that there were eight small Khanate platoons roaming the city, seemingly at will. The 1st Division had finally located and destroyed one of those, along with a dozen protestors who chose to fight by their side. The others were still at large and causing trouble.That wasn't the worst of it though. The plan had been to pacify outlying neighborhoods and work their way in to the worst areas. That had started out effectively, then suddenly they had lost the northwestern and southeastern sectors. In the northwest, there were Karin fighters killing, or capturing police and paramilitary strongpoints.In the southeast, it was much worse. Unknown armored troops from the 9th Division's rear area had come seeping in along the riverfront. They seemed to be everywhere at once, surprising roadblocks and checkpoints then ambushing the forces sent to restore order. They were a cancer pushing into a city already short on reserves.There were public displays of defiance going out over the international news, surgical air strikes and a growing sense among the rank and file 'Guardians of the Public Order' that they were on the losing side. There were reports of police turning their backs on the unrest, directing traffic and arresting petty criminals instead.The Royal Thai Army in Bangkok still had over 50,000 men under its command. They were sure they were facing less than a thousand hardcore militants, yet they were losing control of the streets. Part of that was caused by the military being tied down to certain strategic areas they had to hold. They had to protect over a dozen buildings and, as they had painfully learned, a platoon wouldn't do.The Government House had been temporarily overrun and Parliament had been shelled. Channel 3 had been hijacked and the forces sent to take it back had been subject to intense helicopter attacks and driven back. They'd killed two such craft, but that only seemed to make the Alliance troops angrier. This was what a death by a thousand cuts felt like. This was worse than bad, because it looked bad on media going out all over the world. It was H-hour plus twelve. The commander of the MARCOS had finally taken the time to eat. He was in the Maleenont Towers section of Khlong Toei, Bangkok. It had been his masterstroke, seizing the Channel 3 station. He wasn't sure who the eight shady characters who showed up with the VIPs were and he didn't really care. What did matter was while the VIP's fought like wildcats in private they were putting on a unified front while on TV.One of the VIPs was the former civilian Prime Minister of Thailand. The other guys seemed to hate her guts, but were willing to work with her to overthrow the generals. What he did care about was the nearly five hundred men under his command plus a dozen helicopters and jets somewhere above, waiting to swoop in and help when the next government attack materialized.He had to give them this much, the police forces had guts, not a lot of brains, but plenty of guts. Their counter-terrorism unit had known their stuff, but they didn't have any effective anti-tank weapons and he had a half dozen tanks. Whenever the army got feisty, he called up 'Shiva's Fist' ~ his men's joking reference to the Khanate air support. Those bastards not only killed you, they came back around and killed your corpse too.He got a call from the perimeter. Some of those Karin fighters had crossed half the city to join them. The Indian officer had thought that part of the Khanate plan was utter madness, yet here they were, shooting up the place in a manner only highly experienced insurgents could. Those guys didn't even want to hang around. They were asking for more ammo. The locals were giving them all the food and water they needed.At nine, once it was truly dark, the Khanate was promising to drop off a few tons of whatever they need plus some more medivac units. He was down nine men dead and twenty-seven wounded badly enough they need to be removed. The Khanate had lost four times as many. All in all, the overthrow of a military regime was turning out to not be as difficult as he thought it would be. He was waiting to be surprised. It was H-hour plus fifteen. The fighting had died down and now the main activity was the Thai civic authorities fighting the fires burning in Saraburi. The Khanate Commander of 1000 looked over his shoulder at the burning city. It hadn't been much of a fight, mainly a few rear echelon forces from the Royal Thai 2nd Army and some paramilitaries.He wasn't in the town. The majority of his troopers had already rolled down to the junction of Highways 1 and 33. He had communication with other elements farther west on Highway 32 at Ang Thong and to the northwest at the junction of Highways 1 and 32. The offensive operations was essentially over for his command. That was just as well. He was running low on petrol. He still had plenty of ammunition though.They were sitting on the lifeline for the 1st Army's 3rd Cavalry and 11th Division to the north and the 2nd Division to the east. The 6th Division was too far in his rear to matter and the 9th Division was facing annihilation along the coast. It was very dark now, but the air force was still active. Some pilots were flying their sixteenth mission of the day.For most of the day, the Khanate Air Force had concentrated on his axis of advance and the battle in Bangkok. The Vietnamese Air Force had concentrated on the hapless 9th Division. In reality, the Alliance was almost at the end of its tether.His combined Laos and Far North Task Forces were spent. The North and Cambodian Task Forces had the 6th Division pinned down. The South Task Force had done the same with the 9th. Only the Central Task Force facing the 2nd Division appeared to be in serious trouble.None of those formations were actually near defeat, though many of them wouldn't realize that until morning. Only the 3rd Army's two task force had consisted of more than 5,000 hastily gathered troops and most of those were Cambodians, Laotians and Vietnamese. To that the Khanate had added 50 mobile Zuuns spread over ten task forces and another 50 airmobile, parachute and airlifted units ~ less than ten thousand men and women spread over all fronts.The cold, hard reality for him was that not a single loyalist Thai unit had been destroyed. The 3rd and 9th infantry divisions has been battered, that was true. The majority of their mobile forces, the 2nd and 3rd cavalry divisions, still existed as a potent force. The 11th and 2nd infantry divisions were also out there, but they were all cut off from the capital. And in this elegant global play, the one theater that mattered was Bangkok.In the morning, if they came for him, the loyalist Thai's were going to discover that offense was a lot more painful that defense. Only the 2nd Division bothered him. The forces to the north were too heavily engaged with the rebel Thai 3rd Army to dispatch more than a battalion his way and he would gobble up a battalion.It would be too much to ask the battered Alliance Center Task Force to keep the 2nd Division occupied. From what he had heard, they were on the verge of disintegration after a powerful Loyalist counterattack. He did have patrols on the 304 and 359 Roads in case their commander got creative. What those few men lacked in vehicles, they would compensate for with air power.The Khanate Air Force was a 24/7, all-weather operation. They had lost 40 aircraft to enemy action and a further forty to mechanical malfunction. Losses in helicopters was also high. But there were still enough of both to get the job done. Now all he had to do was wait for the Americans to arrive. It was H-hour plus seventeen.There were only three major acts left in this macabre play before the eyes of the world. A squadron of 12 Tu-22M bombers found two of the 2nd Division's regiments sneaking to the west. The Thais had done this with as much secrecy as they could. Unfortunately, their move was one of only two option left to the Loyalist Royal Thai Army.Option One, the most likely one, had the 2nd Division attacking the Khanate troops south of Saraburi. It would not only give the 2nd Division freedom of movement, it would establish supply lines to the divisions currently holding the rebel Thai Third Army at bay. It was the predictable choice.The Khanate U A V were out there, scouting for them and when they spotted the three columns using the backroads to approach their attack positions, they relayed that information to a not-so-distant A-50E/I. The squadron of waiting bombers had incredible endurance and had been circling the suspected target area for three hours. They broke up into groups of six then into groups of two. The first two lined up on their targets then unleashed their lethal cargo.Each plane dropped sixty-nine 250 kg bombs. That was138 bombs with a combined explosive power of 75,900 lbs. spread out over three-quarters of a mile. The A-50 assessed the damage for 7 minutes before sending the second set of two in. Another 138 bombs. Another 75,900 lbs. of death. The third group wouldn't be needed. In ten minutes the fighting power of the 2nd Royal Thai Infantry Division had evaporated.Option Two? That called for the 1st Infantry Division, with her added units, to sally forth from Bangkok and rescue the trapped elements of their other divisions. That would have entailed abandoning large areas of the capital to the protestors and the tiny groups of invaders that were helping them. No one thought they would do that and they were right. Had they been wrong, there was another squadron of bombers waiting for them. It was H-hour plus nineteen. The Thai Phon Thahan-turned-Sip Tho looked out into the darkness. Four hours ago he was anticipating crossing the Cambodian border and burning down their town for a change. Now, now it was wait-and-see. The majority of the division had withdrawn for a long night march to the west. From what he had gathered, the 2nd Army had been pummeled and it was once again the time for the 2nd Division to save the day.He spotted movement in front of him. He glanced over to his 'sniper', a Thahan Phran who was the best shot in his unit and had a taste for the task. The man had the target in his sights."I come to parlay," the voice in the darkness shouted in less than perfect Thai. The Thai soldier had to think what that meant. His instinct was to shoot the man. His training taught him to not make choices above his pay grade."Advance. Don't do anything stupid," he called out. To the man next to him he whispered, "Go get the Captain." The man slunk away. No one alive in the unit stood up to do anything. You even pissed crouched down. The man coming toward him was a Cambodian. It was evident in both his gear and accent. "What do you want?""We want a truce," the man replied. He remained very erect, his hands in the air and only made slow, careful movements."I should shoot you," he growled."That would be unfortunate for both of us. I would, of course, be dead, and my allies would open up with our artillery."The conversation was truncated by the captain's arrival. They went through much of the same routine, absent the 'I should kill you part' and the counter-threat. The captain turned to the Thai soldier."Blindfold and bind this man's hands then take him to the Phan Ek (Colonel). Let him figure this out."Without the soldier saying anything the Captain added, "This could be a ruse. I must stay here. Hurry."He nodded, took a shirt from one of the civilian volunteers, cut it into strips then blindfolded and bound the man."If you so much as sneeze, I'll put a bullet in your head," he warned the man."I understand," the Cambodian replied. The soldier took the Cambodian one block behind the lines, spun the man around several times, then led him toward the command bunker. He spun him around twice more before making his final approach. A wounded junior officer met him at the entrance."Come on," he took custody of the man. Having nothing else to do and not having been ordered to release the prisoner, the soldier followed along.The Regimental Commander had the man un-blindfolded. His hands remained bound."What do your masters want?" the Major snapped."They want a truce," the Cambodian blinked in the sudden bright light."You invaded us without a declaration of war. That makes you criminals, not combatants.""We attacked at the request of the legitimate authority in Thailand, the Commanding General of the Royal Thai Third Army.""Those men are rebels and you will not refer to them as anything but," the Phan Ek insisted."Very well. My Commander wishes to let you know that our mobile hospital has arrived. We wish to exchange prisoners and place our facilities at your disposal as well.""The Royal Thai army will be there soon enough," the Major glowered."Unlikely. Our Khanate allies have informed us that most of your division was destroyed on the road. You have one battered regiment and a handful of tanks. You are not going anywhere."The soldier wanted to slap the smug smile off the man's face."I do not have the authority to hand over prisoners until their status as POWs or criminals has been established," the senior officer countered."If you consider our men criminals, we will treat your men like traitors.""Are you threatening me?""Yes. A fact you should be aware of is that the Khanate has been flying in reinforcements since noon and we have five more armored, mechanized and artillery Zuuns to attack with. Come sunrise, we will be coming at you again unless we have a truce.""Now you are threatening us again," the Phan Ek pointed out."I am explaining the realities of your situation, nothing more," the Cambodian countered. "Our task force commander believes that further violence will be futile. You have done your job and we have done ours.""And your job was to keep us occupied so you could rape and pillage other parts of our country?""No sir. The Alliance forces have been operating under very strict guidelines. The Thai people are our allies and we are a liberating force," the Cambodian replied."You consider this town 'liberated'? You've destroyed it," the Phan Ek noted."It was unfortunate that you chose to fight us here."The Colonel studied the man silently for thirty seconds."I will agree to a two hour truce. That should allow me to contact my superiors for further clarification on my mission. We will hand over any critically injured 'invaders'. You will return any POW's you are holding in exchange.""Agreed," the Cambodian immediately responded."Just like that? It is really within your authority to make such a deal?""As I said earlier Phan Ek, we believe the fighting is over. We don't need your captured men. We would like to see as many as our comrades live as possible. No matter what your commanders say, the fact remains that if you come out of these ruins, you will be slaughtered. You know that. I know that. Peace is the only avenue that leads to any level of success. Today, today, both our forces did what our commanders told us to do. The dying should stop.""Go. The truce will take effect in, fifteen minutes ~ 12:12 am. We will transfer prisoners and wounded at your point of entry. We will both give a warning whistle fifteen, ten, five and one minute before the truce ends at 2:12 am. Do you understand?"The Cambodian repeated the terms of the truce. He was bound up then sent back with the Sip Tho."Do you really think this is the end of the fighting," he asked his blind captive."On the lives of my children I hope so," the man sighed. "I led 88 men into battle this morning and now I'm down to 46 effectives. I have lost too many already for a battle that wasn't in my nation's best interest. I am tired of the killing.""Me too," the Thai said a moment later. After he delivered him to the Captain on the front lines, the man was unbound."Good luck," he found himself saying."Good luck for both of us," the Cambodian gave a weary smile. "May we not meet again.""If I see you again, I will kill you.""I feel the same way," the man chuckled. "We are both soldiers doing what more powerful men have commanded us to do. I don't know about you, but I have had enough." Several Thai soldiers nodded. They had driven the enemy off Thai soil. Continuing the fight didn't seem to have much of a point.
Lynda's concerned for Khalil after the loss of Constanza yesterday. Khalil assures her he's okay. They take Salieri for a walk, the start of a regular thing and Khalil loves it. He admits he sometimes feels stupid and his mother has low expectations of him. Lynda assures him this isn't true. He tells Lynda about a boy whose funeral he attended. Seeing the boy's mum's face put him in mind of his own mum and how she might feel if he died. He knows his cancer could return. He apologises for the dark conversation and Lynda comforts him. She knows his mum's just thrilled he's alive and thriving, and has complete faith in him. Joy checks in with Mick, making sure he's still happy for Rochelle to stay with them. Mick confirms it's all good; he's pleased for Joy that Rochelle's around. Joy declares him a good man. Mick raises the delicate topic of what's really going on between the two women. He needs Joy to be straight with him. Joy gradually opens up, disclosing the extent of her ex husband's betrayal as he conducted a string of affairs. She thinks Rochelle might blame her for her father leaving. Joy worries she leaned on Rochelle a bit too much at that time. She confesses she left for a few days, acknowledging Rochelle was probably too young for this. It was a dark time in their lives; they've never really got over it. Mick understands, relieved Joy's been honest with him. He promises things will be better from now on.
In today's episode, Mark takes inspiration from George Constanza, the perpetually underachieving and romantically inept character from Seinfeld, to confront his negative business habits. In the episode "The Opposite," George realizes that he's always followed his intuiton, but every decision he's made has turned out to be wrong -- he's dissapointed in where his life has ended up, and in his failures with women. So, he decides to do the opposite, that is, everything his intuition tells him to do, he does the opposite. The result is predictably hilarious, and leads to George talking to women previously out of his league, and eventually landing his dream job managing the New York Yankees. Mark has started employing the "Constanza Protocol," as he calls it, in business, as a way to break negative habit loops. As he has stated on multiple episodes, Mark struggles with the idea of having and managing employees (even good ones!) and his urge is to retreat to work he can do on his own -- like automating tasks or building new software tools. Under the Constanza Protocol, however, he has to do the opposite and instead run toward the manager/employee relationship, schedule calls and check ins, talk about hours and whether his employees are feeling happy about their workflow. Maybe he won't be as successful as George, but it is a useful way to recognize your negative patterns and break out of them. Mark Butler The Money School: https://moneyschool.works https://markbutler.com https://letsdothebooks.com Jesse Mecham YNAB https://www.youneedabudget.com
En Espiral la autora recuerda cómo fue publicar su primer libro hace 10 años, de qué manera se vive la censura moral en Chile, sus inicios hablando sobre sexo, qué es para ella el sicoanálisis y cómo se lee el inconsiente. En su reciente libro ahonda sobre la escritura y edición, su propia terapia de psicoanálisis, su mirada sobre el feminismo, la historia de su padre y las consecuencias que le ha traído, cómo se sintió huérfana después de varios incidentes familiares, y cómo ser mamá le cambió la vida.
Girl Power con Fernanda Varela y Constanza Alvial, 13 de marzo del 2025 by TXS Plus
La psicóloga y psicoanalista chilena, además de escritora, Constanza Michelson está hoy contestando el Cuestionario Espiral. Acaba de publicar “Nostalgia del desastre” por el sello Seix Barral el que fue catalogado por muchos críticos de mi país como la novela revelación del 2024 y obtuvo el premio de Círculo de críticos en categoría no ficción. Con “Hacer la noche” obtuvo el segundo lugar en la categoría ensayo del Premio Mejores Obras Literarias 2023. A Constanza le gusta morder lápices, su deporte es el trote y uno de sus mayores miedos No poder volver a comenzar después de algo.
Rockstars con Gabriel León y María Constanza Flores, 7 de marzo del 2025 by TXS Plus
Amielynn Abellera talks making the decision to switch from doctor to actor, her breakout role in "The Pitt", and shares the audition that got her the role! About Amielynn: Amielynn Abellera is a Filipino American actress whose journey from a suburban upbringing in Stockton, California, to the bright lights of television and film is marked by resilience, passion, and an ever-burning creative flame. Born to immigrant parents who worked as medical professionals, Amielynn grew up surrounded by a strong work ethic and a deep appreciation for the arts. Her parents' love for theater, film, and travel exposed her to a world of storytelling, planting the seeds of her future career. Despite a natural inclination toward the arts, Amielynn initially pursued a Bachelor of Science in Psychobiology at Santa Clara University. However, her passion for performance proved undeniable, leading her to earn a Master of Fine Arts from the University of Southern California and fully commit to acting. Since then, she has built a dynamic career spanning television, film, and voice acting. She has guest-starred in hit series such as Bosch: Legacy, Shrinking, The Cleaning Lady, and NCIS, bringing authenticity and nuance to every role. One of her most significant moments came on The Cleaning Lady, where she portrayed a Tagalog-speaking head surgeon in Manila—a role that deepened her connection to her Filipino heritage. She took on the challenge of learning and perfecting her lines with the help of her mother, embracing the responsibility of representing her culture on screen. In 2025, Amielynn stepped into her most high-profile role yet as Perlah Alawi in Max's highly anticipated medical drama The Pitt. As a seasoned nurse working in the high-stakes ER alongside Noah Wyle's Dr. Robby, her character embodies the resilience and expertise that define frontline healthcare professionals. Beyond television, Amielynn will return to the stage in HIDE & HIDE at Skylight Theatre. In this play, she will portray Constanza, an undocumented Filipino immigrant navigating survival and identity in 1980s Los Angeles. Theater remains essential to her artistic journey, offering a space for raw, immediate storytelling. Amielynn is passionate about representation in media and continuously strives to bring depth, complexity, and authenticity to her roles. She is proud to have endured the unpredictable rollercoaster of an acting career and maintained her love for the craft despite its challenges. Off-screen, she is a devoted partner and a loving mother to their daughter, Sampaguita, named after both the national flower of the Philippines and a character that holds special meaning in her theatrical career. Follow the show on social media! Instagram: https://instagram.com/thanksforcominginpodcast/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/tfci_podcast Facebook: http://facebook.com/thanksforcominginpodcast/ Patreon: patreon.com/thanksforcomingin YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCXj8Rb1bEmhufSBFSCyp4JQ Theme Music by Andrew Skrabutenas Producers: Jillian Clare & Susan Bernhardt Channel: Realm For more information, visit thanksforcominginpodcast.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Cáel saves a spirit and risks losing his soul.By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.Life gives you two chances to get it right; be who you want to be, or who you need to be.(Making choices we can live with)"Trouble," Wiesława relayed to our vehicle. Velma had an 'issue' at my apartment. She'd gone ahead in order to see to my security. My GL-550 had come within a block of the apartment when Wiesława's call came."Tell me what the problem is," I demanded. Wiesława relayed my request."Your roommate won't let them search your bedroom," was the answer I got back."Fuck that," I grumbled. "Tell Velma I'm coming up. Wiesława, take us to the front of my place." She gave me a cautious look, testing my resolve. Sensing that I'd jump out if I had to, she spoke over her blue-tooth to Velma. She wisely didn't pass on Velma's vitriol at me poking my nose into my SD's business, protecting me.As we pulled up and double-parked, everyone piled out."Are we going to need any "extra" assistance?" Delilah suggested. Considering the flock of 'follow-up' cars and SUV's tailing us, I wasn't overly worried about the law enforcement angle.What was I worried about? It wasn't dark yet on a weekday and Timothy was home. Since Velma would have informed me if he was toting around the Black Death, this had to be a crisis of a personal nature, most likely my personal nature. Wiesława struggled to keep pace with me as I took the stairs three at a time. She'd given up on me letting her go first.At the third floor landing we came across one of Velma's team covering that approach. A second member was at the door and from inside, I could hear Velma cursing in Hittite under her breath. But first,"I really don't think you'll need your sword, Saku," Delilah advised. "Timothy's not that kind of trouble.""Hey Velma, Crewe (who, together with Constanza, I'd sparred with, way long ago) and Timothy," I loudly announced myself just as I stepped in. "What seems to be the problem?" Timothy sighed and gave a head-toss to my closed bedroom door. Since I didn't want to be an asshole, I turned to Velma. "Let me send a neutral party to check things out." I had so many to choose from, Miyako, Selena, Vincent and Delilah.Saku might kill on general principle. Buffy and Wiesława were Amazons and I was beginning to think that Amazons, shit. I sighed, groaned and lowered my head. I looked to Timothy and clapped my wrists together (slave-like). He nodded. Rhada. Mother-puss-bucket! What was I going to do?"I've changed my mind, Velma, the room is fine," I started off. "I know for a certainty that my life is not imperiled by my visitor. Everyone else, I am about to have sex, so could you please head out to a restaurant and give me an hour, or two?" I took in the rest. Timothy coughed and pointed to the ceiling. "Three hours, " another cough, "four hours." No more coughing."Who is it?" Buffy snarled, lest I forgot that I was her scratching post. She was resenting the lack of scratching going on between us. I was about to tell her I needed some private time,, or just not tell her anything. But I was working on not being a jerk. I pulled Buffy to Timothy's room and gave her the lowdown. She mulled over the information. Her wrapping a hand around the back of my head and pulling me into a steamy kiss was unlooked for."Okay," she smiled. "Please don't think I'm not righteously pissed with the two of you, but I know you are doing the best you can with your limited survival instincts.I'll take care of everyone." Off she went and in moments, the room had cleared out until it was just Timothy and me."She stopped by work this afternoon looking pretty badly beaten up, emotionally," he explained. "I doubt she's slept in three days and she's really confused about all kinds of things. I was in the process of letting her know you weren't going to be back for two more days when the Welcome Wagon arrived.I figured the last thing she needed, before seeing you, was public exposure," he said."Thanks buddy," I hugged him. "A few hundred guys tried to kill me and Aya last night, so we came back early. Now," I steeled myself, opened the door and entered my room. Rhada was at the head of the bed, her knees pulled up to her chin and my pillows stacked up around her in some sad effort at a visual barrier.Her eyes had a sunken quality to them that suggested someone two steps past hopelessness. She was waiting for me to say something, which was an added truckload of bad news in my book. I began to undress in an unhurried manner. The shirt came off. Working the belt free came next."I've missed you," I said in a calm, yet positive manner. No response.I finished undressing while she remained frozen and emotionally clouded. I made some semi-educated guesses. Her mind was probably an incomprehensible cyclone of clashing upbringing principles and adult desires. She didn't need to be built up, Rhada needed to be rescued. That kind of emotional crisis was something I didn't need, or want, at this moment in my life.Rhada had nowhere else to go. Her martial bravery was of no use in the matter of her heart's insistent call. Her fear was of a different nature. She was looking down that unholy, dark corridor that was the last walk of all failed Amazons. She craved her personal slavery to a man and master. It was tough to move farther away from her native culture than that, or so she thought."Have you missed me?" I asked with authority. I ran two fingers along her left jawline. Rhada nodded. It was a rather feeble effort. "I asked you a question.""Yes," she sniffled."I am curious why you are hiding your body from me, Rhada," I prodded her. I wasn't 'curious'; I was peeved and she knew it"I don't know why I'm here," she moaned."Oh, " I mused. I was on her like lightning.She struggled weakly as we rolled around until she was ass-up on my lap. I had her right arm pinned to her back. Two sharp blows rained down on her covered posterior. Just two for now."I asked you a question. We both know your answer was inadequate," I spoke softly. Two more stinging, open-handed slaps to her buttocks. "I have defeated you in battle," two more smacks. "I have repeatedly taken you by force as my captive," two more with her accompanying moan."What makes you think you can defy me now, Rhada?" The promised blows did not fall. "I own you, don't I?" She moaned wantonly from anticipation of the spanking that wasn't coming. The lesson was simple: punishment and reward were mine to dispense, not for her to demand."I'm sorry," she mumbled."The incompetent are sorry, failures are sorry, useless people are sorry," I stated, followed by two more loud, cupped-hand blows on her ass. "People apologize when they commit an error. People apologize if they plan to learn from their mistakes. Now, are you someone else's miserable excuse for a human being, or are you MY person who learns from her lapses in judgment?""I bring shame to my people," she whimpered. Two more smacks fell upon her backside."Why do you insist on insulting me, Rhada?" two more, far harder, spanks landed causing her to gasp in pain. "Of all the Amazons I have defeated, I picked you to be mine, captive, no other. I thought you had the fierce spirit worthy of my fighting prowess.Your crawling up and dying inside disappoints me," I continued. It didn't disappoint me; it scared me. Rhada was so fiery and feisty. Seeing her mentally ground down into a crippled state ate at my mind."I'm afraid, Cáel," she choked out between her tears.The emotional riptide she was going through caused her to shake uncontrollably. I telegraphed my intent to move her, face down, to the middle of the bed. As I straddled her, I dragged her hands over her head and crossed her wrists. I nuzzled her shoulder, the crux of her neck, and ear."What are you afraid of, my captive?" I murmured.The term 'captive' along with the gentle affections brought forth a pleasurable response from her."I am perverse," she whispered. "I want you to take me as I cry and scream. I want to feel your body pressing down on me as you are doing now.I beg to be spanked, lashed, tease and tormented by you. Steal my sight and hearing. Render me helpless and utterly at your mercy, my Cáel," she pleaded. I'd allow the 'my'."And?" I mused."And?" she was confused."I was waiting for you to request something perverse, something I wouldn't do to you," I explained. I punctuated that by pulling her shirt aside and biting down on her shoulder strong enough to leave deep indentations on her flesh."Aha!" she yelped. She still wasn't making the connection, how incredibly stubborn of her."Do you doubt my bravery?" She didn't respond, so I bit into and worried her left earlobe. "Do you doubt my dedication to the Host?""No," she moaned. "You are an excellent warrior.""So we both agree I have earned the right to take you as my captive," I teased her."This is why I find your insolence to be so confusing," I kept up my routine. "It is almost as if you would rather be bound, whipped, beaten, spanked, bitten, lashed, covered with hot wax, blindfolded, and gagged instead of giving me my due obedience." Rhada's deep sensual moan was what I had been looking for. She spread her legs slightly then pushed her ass against my crotch."I am yours," she sniffled slightly. "You defeated me in battle and I can expect no other fate.""Dates take off their clothes. Slaves strip before their masters," I related. Not true. I had enjoyed multiple stripteases in my time and even give a few. What Rhada wanted to know was that I hungered for her naked flesh."You are on top of me," she protested. I pulled her braid to the side and chomped down her right shoulder. That earned me another squeal. Rhada's initial efforts were frantic, inspired by her pain. Within seconds she recalled our shared moments and slowed down. She knew I liked to watch her clothes come off and go back on. I'm odd that way.I rewarded her obedience with alternating kisses and nips to her freshly exposed flesh. As we progressed, Rhada became more insistent for sexual attention. Her finely honed thighs and abdominal muscles ground her buttocks against my cock in a continuous, circular motion. In our current state, she couldn't get her pants and panties off.When I rolled off, Rhada shot me a worried look. First she flashed up fear because she mistook my look for one of anger. In a second, she keyed to my real mood. I was going to own her, stretch her to her limits and then take it one step further. I was going to use my war captive as I saw fit, rip my pleasure from her passion and break her doubts down to their foundations.She shimmied out of her remaining clothing. I rummaged up the appropriate toys with a bit of an amused snort. Odette had organized the 'toy box' (including a bill for 'modernizing and updating' of my equipment.) What girl does that for a guy, categorize sexual aids she knows you are going to use on other women in your life?"Loosen your braid," I directed her after I turned and soaked in the view. She was in the center of the bed, kneeling with her buttock resting on her heels. Rhada's hands rested just above the knees, her great brown eyes had more of their old spark to them. Part of that was caused by my words sinking into her psyche. The rest was her love affair with my physique.Me and all my scars, plus I had a new one for her to judge and appreciate."Small caliber round from a Seven Pillar's QCW-Type 05," I informed her. Amazons loved their weaponry and their martial exploits."Did you kill him?" she asked with her intensity overcoming her attempt at a demur nature."Him and a bunch of other guys," I chose to answer as she unbraided her silky, black hair that cascade down to the small of her back. I was the son of a Chicago working stiff, not some super-soldier."You fought for the Host and killed our enemies," she tried to ease my mind.I wanted to feel bad about what had happened. The horror I had inflicted would never go away."Most of them were burned alive," I enhanced her experience by ripping open my own, fresh mental scar tissue. For Rhada, ruthlessness, martial valor and battlefield accomplishments were their own aphrodisiac.In her translation of events, her captor had proven yet again he was a fearless, masculine champion, a lion-heart. I put one knee on the bed and waited. Rhada had to shuffle to me. It was interesting to see the magnetic effect of the three items I held in my casual grasp, a leather collar, a thin silver-coated chain and a pair of leather handcuffs. I motioned with the cuffs first.I left it for her to discern my intention. I wanted her to put her wrists forward, yet I wanted to train her to know my wishes. Not only would it keep her mind and perceptions occupied, it would give her a needed sense of learning and broadening her education. It was a very subtle narrowing of the eyes that I used to tip her off.She half-turned with her wrists at her back, caught my 'displeasure' and then extended her arms toward me. I cuffed her right wrist, then her left wrist and finally cinched them together with their two bronze links, all the while demanding she retain eye contact with me. With our silent measuring of our true grit, we established our positions.Without that clash of wills, everything else would be tawdry trinkets of no value. As she accepted those bonds, she set aside her willingness to challenge me and embraced our new sense of harmony. A corner had been turned. Submission became the only outcome her destiny allowed. Mamitu; the Amazon belief that the Goddesses put nothing before the sisters that experience hadn't prepared them for.Out of arrogance, she had struck me. Destiny had prepared me for the fight and I had won. In tribute to destiny, Rhada had acknowledged the lesson and was finally learning from it. I yanked her wrists up roughly until they were extended high over her head. Rhada kept them there, as I intended, because now was time for the collar.This time she couldn't keep her eyes from flickering to the device until it passed beneath her chin. With the cuffs, I had been deliberate and relentlessly purposeful. The collar was an easy gesture, me exerting my rights as her captor and master, nothing more. I spared her a smile. Her dark brown-olive complexion, nearly black around the areola and nipple, was extended by the raising of the arms overhead for my viewing pleasure.Lastly, there was the chain. It had clasps at both ends, so I hooked it around the single ring on the collar and pulled Rhada toward me. I feasted on her lips, touched tongue to tongue inside and outside our mouths, and ended up chewing her lower lip. As I pulled and plucked it with my teeth, my fingers began to coax a stiffening of her teats.Gentle caresses turned into vigorous touching that evolved into painful pinches between the thumb and forefinger and energetic plucking. I let my kisses migrate from her lips to nose (briefly) then her cheeks and the underside of her jawline. Rhada made a gasping-choking noise as I nibbled her flesh.My distraction must have worked because she missed my hands moving down. The middle and forefinger of my left became a wedge working between her buttocks. With the right, I led with my middle finger, using my fore- and ring-fingers to part her labia. The clip-rings of the chain were secured on each thumb.Her fluids turned her sex into warm molasses coating folds of molten tenderness. My solo probing finger didn't penetrate, not yet. I ran the length of her vulva vestibule, rubbing her vaginal and urethral openings. Rhada expressed a piteous whine as I stoked her sexual frustrations. I ratcheted up my torture when my left twin fingers reached her sphincter.Tap the opening, tease her with false penetrations. My lips reached her neck right beneath her ear. I pulled in the flesh with a powerful suction, grabbing the tiny tip of taut flesh with my teeth. Her dolorous pleading ramped up as I delved my fingers in simultaneously. Rhada's anal ring pulsed, alternating between ushering my forefinger inside and resisted my progress.I was breaching her defenses without lubrication. It was wiggling, tentative advancement on my part and sensations of extreme sensitivity on her part. By comparison, her vagina virtually sucked me in. Having been denied sex for so long (if you counted two weeks as long) all the while fantasizing to the point of tripwire anticipation, she was quickly rising to orgasm."Do not," I cautioned her. Rhada trembled. Her groans became guttural as she reached down into her physical conditioning to exhibit some control over her racing heart rate and labored breathing. Had I stopped my assault, she might have held out. I didn't. The task for us both was to push her past the point of control. She was going to lose, that was given.How she lost was the lesson. What level of stimulation was going to be too much? She fought it with every fiber of her being. She fought it for me. Rhada sweated profusely and vibrated like a gypsy tambourine. She could not win. She knew I never intended for her to win. But I wanted her to reach down deep and fight.She would fail and I would punish her for her failure, but it would be a punishment that she felt was well-deserved, and she craved that. Even her failure was part of our dynamic, captor and captive. Pain with a purpose. Pain as a thread that united us. She could not wound herself the way I could. Everything she could inflict, she would sense and prepare for.I provided torment from unexpected angles and stimuli in a myriad of forms. Everything faded until only the touch and the pleasure of the messenger remained."Urah, " her opening declaration of the overwhelming tide was animalistic and desperate.For fifteen seconds I continued to play with her as her climax turned upon itself, building and becoming more chaotic. In the back of my mind, I realized my sex play was being cruel to my neighbors. I had to hope the anonymous death threats would keep Mr. Fiennes at bay.I'd deal with my 'friendly' female neighbor later, once I figured out how to repay her for her patience and the cookies she'd sent over when I was ill. For Rhada, it was a temporary cessation of my sexual attention and allowing her to rest her body against mine. I admired her ability to hold her arms aloft. Still,"You failed," I whispered into her ear. Rhada hiccupped. I dragged my fingers covered with her cunt juice up her pubic mount, abdomen, around the belly button and between her breasts. At the conclusion of the trip was the resounding 'click' of that end of the leash being attached to her collar. "I don't think you have been humble before me."I looped the chain around her shoulder, then dragged it over her left breast. She shivered. My next stop was beneath her right breast. Her nipple seemed to swell up as I rubbed the other loop all over her areola. Next under the right mammary, then looping the chain around her right arm before reaching around the back and securing the second clasp.It was both a symbol of her captivity and body ornamentation. The shiny silver links contrasted with her dusky, sweaty flesh.
The sparks before the ignition of war.By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.Time is not your enemy any more than breathing and your heartbeat are inconvenient."Aya, Why don't you go help Saku," I rechanneled Aya's boundless energy. "Back in the day, every noble was attended to by squires who took care of their gear and served that noble as body servants. In turn, she taught them the art of war." Sakuniyas shot me a nasty look.Aya poked her head between Pamela and Miyako."That sounds like fun," she met Saku's glacial chill with a warm spring breeze."I don't want their help," she grumbled."It sounds like free labor," Pamela smirked."I said I don't want their help," Saku snarled."Okay," I rolled my eyes. "Aya, Fatal Squirts, attention!" They all looked at me. "I command you, as your Celestial Potentate Poohbah, to stare at Sakuniyas until she gives you a task of a personal, to her, nature to do. Get at it."Four sets of precocious, will-eroding cuteness assaulted the Assyrian Queen, victor of a hundred battles and skirmishes."You are despicable," was Saku's chosen acidic barb."I second that motion," Pamela patted me on the back. "I keep finding myself being prouder and prouder of you, every day. Stop it," she teased me.None of those words dampened my mood, or my plan."How much longer is this flight going to take?" Saku groused."Four hours," I lied. It was way closer to two.To my way of thinking, it wasn't like she could get much angrier with me after she discovered my ruse. (I was wrong. She could and did. I'm an idiot.) Saku shook her head, and the task-mastering began. An hour and forty-five minutes later, the pilot alerted us that we were ten minutes from our final approach. Bits and pieces of her armor were all over the front seats and the floor of the exit-way space.Diligent little fingers were still polishing and checking straps for signs of excessive wear or fabric fatigue. Their 'noble' hovered over them, pointing out the right way to do things and what they were doing wrong. Her congratulating them for doing a good job was rather non-Amazon of her, but the kids ate it up.With the ten minute warning still hanging in the air, my duplicity inspired Saku to finally flip out. I was pretty sure she didn't think through what she was doing. She simply drew her 22cm/9in blade and threw it at my face. Miyako caught it between her hands, an effortless clap, fuck."Four hours!" Saku howled at me. "You said we had four hours, I could have held them off for two!""Why do you think I lied to you?" I kept my amusement out of my tone because I was rather attached to the idea of my wagging tongue not being cut out of my mouth.It wasn't lost on us that every member of my SD team was alert and had blades drawn (firefights on planes in mid-flight is severely frowned upon) and were staring at her. I wanted to tell Rachel to 'stand down', except that would be unfair. I wasn't 100% sure Saku was done being furious with me.Telling Rachel to set aside her instincts was something I tried to keep a minimum, only to be used when it I was forced to take in the bigger picture."What is going on here?" Rachel asked with professional calm. So, I told her the truth, the real truth."Oh," Rachel grunted. She gave a motion for her team to rest easy then came my way."Knife," she held out a hand to Miyako who instantly gave it over, pommel first. Rachel deftly flipped it over so she was holding the razor sharp blade then smacked me on the top of my head, hard."Ow, " I whined. "That hurt.""It was supposed to," Rachel glared. She walked down the aisle to Saku, returning her blade."Did you just smack him in the head?" Saku was trying to make sense of what she'd seen."Yes," Rachel nodded."He screwed up and I impressed upon him to not do it again. As you might guess, this is a fairly regular occurrence with him. We all take wicked-fine pleasure in that part of his education.""But you are his bodyguards, is he really the Head of House Ishara, or was that a lie as well?" Saku was still confused by her prideful arrogance and how I was misplacing my own."Sakuniyas, Cáel was not raised in our culture. He has only been a member of the Host for a few weeks. This is not to belittle his impressive education," Pamela intervened. "Both he, and those of the House who know him, agree that the occasional physical chastisement works better than words alone.""You could reward me with sex," I muttered. "Positive reinforcement, ""Forty-six days, Bitch," Rachel growled."You are ferocious in battle, fearless and clever," Saku turned back to me. "Why do you put up with this constant degradation?""Degradation? I'm not insulted by what Rachel did or said," I retorted. "She is trying to teach me things I need to know if I'm going to survive. I respect her superior knowledge in her professional capacity," I continued. "I don't get upset when people tease, taunt, or challenge Cáel 'Wakko' Ishara, that's me, if you are confused.I save my indignation for those who scorn Dot Ishara, Yakko Ishara and all members of House Ishara, past and present. Quite frankly, being disrespectful to me is actually rather difficult because I only care about the sensibilities of a handful of people.""How can any warriors follow a leader into battle if that person has no pride and never shies away from shame?And besides, what is this Wakko/Dot/Yakko nonsense," Saku persisted. "Fatal Squirts, start assembling my armor." Her attention was split between me and her panoply."Hello," I snickered. "I'm a male Amazon. The fact that I haven't run for my life way before now is all the heroic background check anyone should require.Doubting my common sense actually makes sense. Doubting my courage, or loyalty is idiotic in too many ways to count. As for revealing the hallowed and revered enigmatic occult appellations of my House, " I started."Get him!" Tiger Lily showed some faux-outrage."Shit!" I cried out as Delilah, Tiger Lily and the rest of the SD swarmed me. Pamela and Miyako were of no help whatsoever. I could not express my joy more at the resulting physical abuse and humiliation aimed my way. I was tickled. Yes, my Kick-Ass, full-blood, natural born killers pinned me down and tickled me until I nearly peed on myself.In a very short period of time, we'd shared some really nerve-racking moments. Dad dying, my showdown with Hayden, being mugged by Carrig and the rest of the crap that rained down blow after blow once I came out of my coma. They had taken me numerous times to the hospital and had to sit back helplessly while I suffered. Yet, I refused to be repressed by circumstance.I fought for our people, OUR people now, both with the Earth and Sky in shared counsel and the Seven Pillars on the battlefield. Rachel hadn't given me word-one of a reprimand for leaving Charlotte to raise the alarm while I rushed into danger. I was an Amazon in her eyes. Charlotte could fix the phone. Miyako and I could not. The bridge had to be secured immediately.We couldn't wait on Charlotte. I didn't even act as if what I did was all that brave. Rachel knew me far better now; she wouldn't make that mistake. Had I been able to fix the phone, I would have stayed and sent Charlotte. Had the whole team been there and Rachel told me to stay, I would have stayed while they ran into the fight.No. The situation hadn't allowed that, so I had killed a number of men and been wounded. The backside of my right thigh had merely been grazed (which my normally mangled left side found to be grossly unfair.) That was another scar to add to my 'sexy'. I had fought in my own insane manner and was alive solely because Saku had decided to shoot another man instead of me.Even after I knew who she was, I had allied with her and charged the rear of the enemy troop convoy. In the after-battle analysis, they weren't sure how many Seven Pillar Special Forces I had killed, both in the gulch and when I annihilated the back section of the attack column, and took my impromptu flying lesson.Credit for destroying the bridge jacks, thus making the BBQ a carnal cookout featuring Chinese 'Long-Pig', was still hanging out there as well. Rachel and company were still pissed with me despite all that. Why? On a purely personal level, they realized they would miss me if I got myself killed. They were not supposed to feel that way about their protectee.I certainly wasn't their first protective detail, though they were starting to believe I'd be their last. No, I had done everything right, by going into harm's way, and they were furious with the universe for placing us in that situation. Since the universe wasn't offering itself up to be punished, it fell on me to soak up their pique.Delilah was simply picking on me because she could get away with it this time."You are all embarrassments," Saku remarked bitterly once my screams began breathless pleas for mercy. "The Host has fallen a great way since my day." What a killjoy. I finally got my breath back."And the Queen on the floor of the Royal chambers, pushing around toy chariots with her two eldest sons and a child-playmate, was the height of decorum."Well, if looks could kill, I would have never made my nineteenth birthday, so Saku's glare was just another walk in the park."That was a personal moment with my family. It was a very private moment," she sizzled."My Mother's line is, it is what it is. My Father was murdered. My Father's sister and I were never close. These people are my family and my choice of kin.""English," Pamela chided us."Having no family to call your own, you welcome so many that 'family' has no meaning," Saku angrily mocked my words.There was a hushed moment then everyone but the three other Squirts and Saku started laughing. The three kids didn't know me either."By what metric do you measure family by?" I snickered."On his third day on the job, Fehér mén (Aya's pet name for me, White Stallion in the Magyar tongue, it is complicated) threw his body over my sisters and me to protect us," Aya said."He spared my foster-sister when she gravely insulted him," Mona volunteered. "He didn't know me. The Amazon, Constanza, would have died by anyone else's hand, except his. You may look down your nose at his mercy. As you do so, consider that it is his mercy that allows you to feel that way about him, and us right now." Whoa,"I have never seen him fight out of pride, or take joy in any combat," Rachel stared down Saku. "My only fear is that Cáel will get himself killed saving my life, or the life of any member of my team. He knows it is wrong. He knows I will be absolutely furious with him, and he accepts that. He is like no other Amazon I have ever known.We have limits. We follow orders. At our best, we put the welfare of the Host over our own survival. Not Ishara, Wakko Ishara. He follows the dictates of his house and those are to seek mercy and peace where appropriate. He is like no Amazon I have ever known, and I have zero doubt that he is one of the best Amazons I will ever know," she finished with a chuckle."I'm speaking my mind, aren't I?" she asked me."Afraid so, sorry about that," I apologized for corrupting her social skills."Saku, your mistake is that you confuse his caring about you and caring about your opinion of him," Pamela finished things up."Sakuniyas, I will work to honor my pledge to you. I will try to keep you alive because you can be a powerful ally of the Host, but also because it is the right thing to do," I enlightened her. "That doesn't make you all that special though. Personally I think you are a horrible, bitter bitch and lousy company for any non-masochist.I'm going to help you in the same way I'm going to help everyone else here. This is despite me feeling confident that not a single Amazon on this planet has a living father. They've never had brothers because their mothers murdered them. Your crappy attitude doesn't influence me one way, or the other. You are a horrible fucking person born to a horrible fucking race, my race, the Amazon Host.""You kill your fathers and sons," Delilah mumbled as she looked from face to face, finding not a single bit of denial, or shame. "I thought that was so much Greek bull's buttocks.""Nope," Aya shrugged. "Before I left for camp, Momma told me they put Daddy, my other Daddy, down when I was two." Kind of like Old Yeller, or Benji. "His name was Paul Twelve."Delilah looked at me with downright worrisome eyes."Yeah, I figured that out on day two on-the- job," I relayed to her. "For the past 2500 years, every male child of the Host has been tossed off a cliff to his death, or left out in the wilds for predators to devour. Every male they have kidnapped has been under a death sentence from the moment of capture.They tried to genetically breed their captive male population with Amazon females, but something went wrong. The males began passing on genetic defects that poisoned the race. In response, they have begun recruiting men, such as myself, and exterminating their old male breeding populace.Initially, I didn't run because I was sure they would hunt me down and kill me. Later, later I came to like enough of the Host to decide that knowing what was going on meant I couldn't let it slide. I couldn't leave this issue for someone else to tackle. I know I'm facing long odds, yet I'll never succeed if I don't try," I wrapped up my little my 'Cáel's Amazon Primer' lecture."Okay, okay, Cáel you are blood nuts, and hellishly brave. The rest of you are just hellish, killing your own kin as infants or if they get too old," Delilah sputtered. "That's plain wrong.""I had sons," Saku stated. "They grew into fine, strong warriors. My daughters married into the nobility.""Delilah, we don't expect you to understand our culture. Twice in our people's history, men have tried to eliminate our society, stealing our homes and property, and enslaving our children and sisters. We let down our guard once, and that nearly destroyed us, except we now have Cáel and a better understanding of what happened that second time," Tiger Lily educated Delilah."It turned out that not all males betrayed us. No, when we needed them the most, they sacrificed themselves for the welfare of our people and we repaid that loyalty with anger and barbarism. That is a burden we have carried all these centuries without understanding it. Only within the past month has the real truth about the Second Betrayal become known.Many of us are now re-evaluating the dictates of our faith concerning men and sons. After all, Cael is the descendent of Amazons of a First House, dating back to the Trojan Wars. He has been welcomed by his ancestors and his goddess, Dot Ishara," she completed."What is it with the Dot, Wakko and, ""Everyone buckle up," the pilot announced over the intercom. "We are on our final approach." Saku and the Squirts had her armor in some kind of order, we buckled up and let the plane coast on down to earth."Delilah and Cáel, since our 'vacation' was cut short, we haven't been able to bring your personal effects back from Africa yet," Rachel told us."Also, there will be four of Javiera's people meeting us in the hangar," she added. "We have been told to view them as non-hostiles.""Oh joy," Pamela muttered then, "There is nothing to worry about folks.""What? Me worry?" I goofy grinned her way.(Governments, horrendous enemies and ruthlessly evil friends)Four SUVs waited for us in the wide-open hangar. No sooner had the pilot given us the 'green light', than Rachel released the door/stairs mechanism and Charlotte began her decent. We had the camp FN P-90's, not the older Havenstone UMP 40's, so that was the weapon whose sights she was looking down as her eyes scanned the room. Five people. Four SUVs.Rachel went next with me right behind her. My SD's precautions turned our guests from a rather annoyed-casual to alert-angry. Standing with our two standard Mercedes GL550's was Wiesława of House Živa. A sole guardian indicated to me that an ass-kicking was in the offing elsewhere. The Golden Mare, Saint Marie was gathering the Havenstone Security Detail for some purpose, which meant she could only spare one more warrior for me.I was fine with that. Not only did I feel bad about denying her the four ladies I had, I knew we were going into this global conflict outnumbered and out-financed. The Seven Pillars had gotten at least one blow in by striking at the Amazon summer camp. I had every reason to believe other unexpected attacks had occurred all across the globe.In the closest black Tahoe SUV (didn't anyone use sedans anymore?) were two men in modestly tailored, off-the-rack suits. One with buzz-cut gray-white hair, was closer to fifty than forty, was as tall as me (a bit over six feet) and close to my weight and build. That guy was pissed off.His partner was smaller (5ft 10in.) and lighter. He was also cocky with that 'I know more than you schmucks' air about him. Beside the farther SUV, a Range Rover (black, of course, I swore in that moment that if I ever got to have my own fleet of House Ishara SUV's, I was going with baby blue, just to fuck with people's heads), were two other men, one cultured and the other a bad-ass.
Épisode consacré à l'actualié: une date limite des échanges complètement survoltée dans la NBA que l'on aborde avec Émilio Constanza, retour sur une fin de semaine des étoiles sous le respirateur artificiel. De plus, un événement 3x3 qui promet à Montréal, Keyvohn Grondin de 3X Québec vient nous en jaser. Bonne écoute!Voir https://www.cogecomedia.com/vie-privee pour notre politique de vie privée
On the Road to Aya.Cael becomes the Amazon's Unorthodox Global DiplomatBy FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.For me, the diplomacy revolved around Delilah and Virginia, I had already fallen on my knees and begged Odette to let me go see Aya 'alone'. A few sexual-charged hours later, she agreed. That left four choices for the role of my two agents. They wanted to go 'as is'. Rachel informed them they would be murdered in-flight and their bodies tossed out over a convenient body of water.Rachel felt that the only reasonable course of action was for them to not come. That way the two could live a few more weeks. However, she would settle for stripping them down, doing a full body scan and then sealing them naked in airtight coffins (with a suitable amount of oxygen) for the journey. I suspected they might still slip out the baggage compartment somewhere between takeoff and landing.I cut through the clash of egos and made the final decision. Delilah and Virginia would be stripped and thoroughly examined. Initially I had the chore. Rachel was deeply suspicious of my true intentions. Freed of any electronic devices and with their weaponry in my keeping during the trip, they would be blindfolded as we made it to Aya without bloodshed.They applauded my wisdom by roundly refusing my decision. Pamela was of no help. Ten minutes into it, I informed them I was going alone, completely alone. They laughed, snorted and chuckled. Rachel reminded me that I didn't know where to go. I lied and told her that Katrina had given me the coordinates for the super-secret juvenile, all-feline [yes, I meant cats], survival training school.Fine, they would just keep me under constant surveillance. I responded by assuring them that despite my lack of spy-like abilities, I would escape and get to relive my Summer Camp experience with the only woman who respected my Demigod-like combat status. Their laughter hurt my feelings. Pamela stepped up and told the room they could either respect my compromise, or she would help me evade them.It was even more depressing to see the room full of women who had previously been mocking me suddenly 'snap to' and quickly agree to my earlier suggestions."It is okay," Pamela told me softly as the actual mechanics of my vacation were figured out by others. "I didn't want to play Bill Munny to your Ben Logan."Pamela's eyes flared brighter than any phoenix's rebirth. She'd stumped me."The Unforgiven, my Son," she patted my cheek. "It is a western made in 1992 starring Clint Eastwood, recast masterfully by 'Yours Truly' and, we need to work on you making a convincing Morgan Freeman.""Doesn't Freeman end up in a pinewood box in the first third of the movie?" Virginia mused."I didn't want to dishearten him," Pamela grinned. To me. "He ran off alone and got himself killed.""I was what, not even a year old when that movie came out," I responded with indignation."You've never heard of Block Busters, Netflix, Redbox, Dish, Hulu, or late night, Spanish language television?" Pamela snickered."I only watch Univision for their sports coverage," I countered."You mean for those sexy female sports announcers," Delilah chuckled. That earned her a 'well duh' look from all the other women."Before I consent to the strip search and inevitable follow-up anal probe, are we really going to be in a situation that requires us to fight this time?" Virginia asked."We should be perfectly safe," Rachel responded."Check, bring extra ammo," Virginia nodded."Good for you, Ms. Maddox," Pamela winked. "One day there is hope your life will have some meaning to me.""Great," Special Agent Maddox muttered, "now I have to think of what to get her for Christmas." We all laughed. Christmas was such a long way away.We packed up, rode to a private airfield near Doebridge, learned that SD was smarter than the rest of us, boarded our flight, and then finally entered US airspace from there. Around Ohio, a thought occurred to Maddox."If we were somehow forced to land and have the plane searched, how bad would it be?" she requested of Rachel."Bad enough that we have a better chance of fighting our way free than seeing freedom before dying in prison," Rachel answered calmly."Hmm, Rachel, if something like that happened, how many parachutes do we have?" Delilah joined in."Enough. Mona rides down with Cael because he's a virgin," Rachel stated."Oh! Come on Rachel," I fell down on my knees. "Can't I bungee jump it?""Luv," Delilah snorted. "If the drop didn't kill ya, the bounce back would snap you in two.""Cáel, we are at thirty thousand feet," Tiger Lily giggled. "You are more likely to end as a streamer than a pancake." An Amazon giggle, a most joyous noise."Rachel, I have been unkind," Virginia confessed. "Cáel is so personable and so dead set on getting himself killed. I had no idea your assignment was so herculean.""Acknowledged," Rachel said, "and we don't use 'that' word." Hercules was Greek too."We have it worse," Delilah patted Maddox on her shoulder. "We must obey some sort of legal code that doesn't allow us to preemptively save him.""We must too," Rachel gave a depressive sigh. "Her," she pointed at Pamela."Hey," Pamela pouted. "I'm more a force for vigilante justice than a team player. I ride alone.""Alone?" I took a quick headcount and added our Amazon pilot. "I count ten, Lone Phaser.""Am I included in that count?" Miyako yawned from under her blanket. "This jet lag is killing me.""Where did she come from?" Virginia hopped up."She was here when we boarded," I told her. "I searched her, I swear.""Yes he did," Miyako gave a sleepy, Hello Kitty smile. She'd 'searched' me too."I bet you did," Rachel glared at me, then Pamela, then me again since I was the titular boss.Thankfully we all 'bought a vowel', played a card in Clue, and shared an Inspector Clouseau moment. The gang settled down for a nap. Sleeping was not complicated. Rachel, as my bodyguard, slept beside me. The airplane's touchdown was so flawless I had to be shaken to alertness. Did I fall asleep? More on that later.It would have been better if Virginia hadn't figured out our pilot had violated numerous FAA regulations, like dropping below radar at one remote airport then sailing along for an unknown number of kilometers at nape of the Earth until we reached our final destination (This is great in date flicks, btw. It convinces the girl that we should 'live in the moment'/screw as much as possible.)We weren't there yet, of course. That level of un-convoluted thinking would have been an Amazon indicator of senility. Being a male Amazon, I was immune to such considerations, that meant I was always nuts in their regard, but they chose to humor me. Our plane had to park in a camouflaged hangar before we were allowed to disembark.I concluded we must be getting close to our desert gulag/re-education center as the sharp glare of sunlight was accompanied by an equally heartless glare of hostility rolling forth from our waiting all-terrain vehicle caravan. Thank goodness Rachel had the foresight to bring sunscreen for the passel of us. I swallowed the bitter realization I'd lost a $1000 bet concerning our landing zone with Virginia (a Temperate Rainforest) and Delilah (the American Southwest). In retrospect, betting on the site of 'Camp Rock' wasn't my smartest wager.The Brit made off with $2000 of our money and she wanted to be paid in Euros. That's €778 from me, you offspring of those who didn't have the courage to cross the Atlantic 100 years ago. Neither Virginia nor I really cared. With the level of violence about to escalate, it was all looking like 'funny' money to us. I didn't share my misery. Our Welcome Wagon ladies hardly looked sympathetic, or all that opposed to utilizing scalping as a valid debating tool.They didn't view this moment as just a bad thing, me showing up. My arrival was apocalyptic: #1, a man. #2, with a member of another secret society. #3, #2 was a professional assassin. #4 and #5, two more outsider women. #6, an unscheduled visit, as in 'the camp guardians hadn't been given six months to plan out all contingencies'. And you think your daycare takes its security seriously?"Cáel Ishara," the curt, mega-harsh bitch addressed me in English. As the other seven women dismounted from the four Jeep Wranglers (Delilah enlightened us), it was obvious they were well armed and armored, right and ready to provide some extra-curricular para-military fun. "Welcome," and 'oh please tear out one or two of my fingernails you Ginormous Pain in my ass' she greeted the exalted me. We spoke in Hittite;"I am”, then I used a phrase which I hoped meant 'I had shed blood in battle with sister Aya'. "No other name means more to me right now." Ah, the lovely jerk that full-blooded Amazons gave the first time they heard a male speak their tongue. The slot machine of her intellect kicked into high gear. No arm grasp was coming my way. I almost forgot."The outsiders are to remain armed as guests of House Ishara." That command was crucial. When/if I got my way with my first request, I was going to be rendered 'one of the girls'."If that is your wish. (Evil grin) Grab your bags and make it snappy," the woman ordered. "I don't like any extended activity at this airfield.""Ladies, let's hurry up and get our bags," Pamela barked in English. "You too, you hairless ape." That would be me, if there was any question. The Super-friendly camp counselors, with their slung FN P90's, didn't lift a finger to help us. Miyako flounced around without a care in the world. Pamela, eh, there were only eight of them. Three of my SD group were cautious while the pilot was already effecting her refueling and departure.Rachel shot one of the guardians a look I perceived to be friendly. A double-take elucidated things. She was Rachel's younger sister and had already been updated on my bona fides. Then in Hittite;"Male, you are agreeable to the eye," Rachel's sister fired off. Three whole seconds."Why thank you. I run faster than you would think, thankfully heal even faster and have the venerated outdoor skills of Bigfoot," I smiled.The seven other ladies weren't sure what to make of that jocularity."A very, very young Bigfoot," Rachel corrected."There is nothing wrong with the size of his feet," Tiger Lily added to the fun. And then all the homicidal fanatics chuckled.Pamela's whispered translation brought a subdued, yet similar reaction from the non-Amazon contingent. Sure, the new group knew about the New Directive, my fun encounters which I equated to my life and death struggle in those earlier days, my rise to house leadership, Constanza's blinding, the grenade launcher episode and the totality of my last confrontation with Hayden. Amazons are some hard-ass bitches.As we were loading up the jeeps, the leader tapped me on the shoulder with some force, in the same way a teacher catches an unruly student's attention."What was sex with an augur like? My name is Caprica Mielikki.""Out of respect for your authority, I will answer this personal question that is really none of your business," I looked down a good ten centimeters at her. No fear."It was beautiful, like every other woman I have had the treasured pleasure to have sex with," I continued. My reply's undercurrent was simple: I am not a House Head while I'm here. I am an Amazon, not a slave, or outsider male."Did you suffer stigmata?""Yes. To be fair, I was also having intercourse with her personal guardian at the same time. I'm not sure where to lay the blame, or importance," I inhaled her rugged fragrance."Both?" a different camp counselor questioned."As I told you, he has a really big and craftily-wielded foot," Tiger Lily teased, then Pamela said in Hittite;"And he is banned from having sex with any Amazon women for fifty more days," Pamela reminded them. Miyako, Delilah and Maddox weren't involved so were left uninformed of that detail. That bludgeoning innuendo dealt with, off to camp we went. Our journey was a pleasant diversion, punctuated by our trail, or lack thereof.The jeeps split up once we hit the aerial cover of the desert pines. At that point, every rock, shrub, tree and loose bit of debris revealed its God-given mission in life was to kill us. I kept telling myself that surely our Amazon driver abhorred suicide as much as I frowned on vehicular manslaughter as a means of me dying.Failing to believe that left me with tuck, duck and roll and that death-defying move would leave me lost and waterless, somewhere. I would have thought 'somewhere without cell reception', but none of our mobile devices had made the trip, despite a valiant effort at skullduggery by Special Agent Maddox and some highly creative types back at the Hoover Building.See, after we dutifully packed all our gear, the troupe got to watch Rachel's team toss everything into a cargo bin set to be loaded onto a flight to, the ticket said Banjul, Gambia. Woot! My ten ton armored long coat was going to Africa without me. It would have undoubtedly have tried to kill me in this heat. I was lured into acceptance by hoping this was going to be a 'birthday suit' flight.Yay! (Sarcasm) We got all new undies, shirts, shoes, pants, shorts, jackets, ponchos (I was beginning to suspect duplicity on that one), and a variety of other gear, including guns. They were nice enough to replace our weapons with the exact same production models. The sole exceptions were my trusty axes and I trembled at the scrutiny they must have endured.Meanwhile, back to my archaic, misogynistic inspiration that women shouldn't be allowed to drive: after the third skirting of what must have been a ten meter drop, I realized I was looking at this journey in the wrong light. I raised my hands over my head and began screaming like a fool. I was on the best rollercoaster ride ever!!The hobnail boot was on the other foot. My driver really wanted to know what the fuck I was up to, but couldn't take her concentration off the terrain. One massive lurch planted us in an arroyo (that's a dry riverbed for those of us who aren't freaked out every time it rains). Rachel and I were sitting in the back. Turning around in the front seat, Pamela grinned at me."I dare you to surf the hood," she laughed. Sweet Mother Ishara, that was the best mixing of 'you must be a redneck'/'immortal high schooler madness' I'd ever heard. I unbuckled milliseconds before Rachel could stop me. Her look said it all. 'Please, you Moron, don't do this to me. I've been a good little guardian and really don't deserve this, now do I?'I gave her a deep French kiss. She moaned, just not in a sexual manner. One of these days Rachel was going to start running around with a needle and fast acting sedative to keep me safe from myself. Understand, my driver was racing down this dirt, well, "pathway" was being generous. Her first warning that something wasn't right was me hand-standing on the roll bar and flipping onto the dashboard.Considering I was up against a 70 kilometer headwind, I felt I pulled off that maneuver rather well. She grabbed my closest ankle with one hand while keeping the other on the wheel. Our eyes were masked with goggles, but my smile said it all. No, I hadn't been thrown forward, and no, I wasn't running away from something in the back seat.I shook free, stepped over the windshield, braced my right heel against its base and leaned into the torrent of air. I was surfing a jeep. Then I was flying above the jeep, but only for a second. We'd hit a rock the size of an armadillo, or maybe it was an actual armadillo. I wasn't looking back to check. Why was I doing this? It was a tad complex. I gave Psych 101 a shot.My life was not where I had envisioned it would be when I kissed Dr. Kimberly Geisler, and my last two Bolingbrook girlfriends, who had been unaware of each other until that moment, good-bye before leaving college forever. I proudly considered myself amoral. No social contract would keep me from some good cunt, and since I found all cunt to be good if you worked at it, I slept with every girl I could, married, committed, bored, desperate, I didn't care.I held no relationship sacred. I had already proved I could do any girl's mother, daughter, aunt, roommate, childhood friend and total stranger. I hadn't cared. I knew I was going to cause multiple women emotional pain and I did it anyway. Sure, I regretted the agony I left in my wake.I never considered myself a sadist, but I had been a pretty horrible person by ignoring the inevitable consequences of my actions. Then Havenstone. Suddenly people were doing bad stuff to people I didn't know and it mattered to me. I was talking to women without the end goal being a sexual encounter.Hell, I had been honest to women without them using pain, or the threat of pain, on me. I didn't stop being me. I nailed four women at Loraine's, Europa's and Aya's school. I nailed Nicole while waiting for Trent to toss me his social table scraps, Libra. A whole army of women engaged in murder, slavery and infanticide on a regular basis, and I cared for them.I cared for them in a way that confronted damnation, not sexual adventurism. I had graduated from 'Dude, don't do that to the lady' at some bar to 'do this and I'll have you killed' and meaning it, and making it happen. I hadn't learned my lesson. I'd gone on to kill Hayden and Goddess-knows how many other women who Hayden had placed on that list.Yep, dead, dead, dead and it was all on me. Worse, I would do it all over again because deep down, tearing up my insides, was morality. To me that boiled down to caring about someone else without reward. And all that led me to surfing the hood of a jeep on my way to meet my lodestone of this transformation, Aya.My laughter was drowned out by the noises of the engine, tires, rocks, wind and sand. It resonated all the more. The driver didn't slow down. I sincerely doubted she understood my lunacy. That was okay. Pamela did and Aya would. She'd want to go jeep surfing too. Man, for a jackass and dastardly betrayer, I was accumulating a sizable heart-load of people I could honestly say I loved.Kimberly had once told me that the pain of knowledge is never being able to forget it. Good, or bad, it is an affliction for which there is no cure. That was where I was, pained by the creeping advancement of my soul and unable to turn back now that the door to familial affection had been opened.My thoughts of Dad dying and of a thunderstorm burst in my noggin weren't being terribly helpful to my mental state either. The horn blew and I snuck a quick peek back. The driver was making a sharp, forward jabbing motion with her right hand, then thrusting to the left. We were getting ready to exit the arroyo and that probably required some hellish footwork far beyond my ability.I made a hasty, less dignified, yet safer return to my seat. Rachel quickly buckled me in before a rapid turn up and over the bank of the river bed had us heading for another forested area."What was that all about?" Rachel asked once we were back into the tree cover. She'd have asked earlier but she was too busy clenching and unclenching her jaw in frustration.
Escucha la emisión número 700 de El Cocodrilo, para celebrar, Sergio Almazán te lleva a un recorrido por el barrio de Tepito, ubicado en la parte norte del Centro Histórico de la Ciudad de México. Camina junto a Sergio Almazán, y nuestra anfitriona, la diputada María Rosete, por las calles de este afamado barrio que se caracteriza por su comercio, por su carácter bravo y por su cultura. Tepito también forma parte de la historia, por ello, partimos de la calle Tenochtitlán y Constanza, punto en el que Cuauhtémoc fue hecho prisionero para llevarlo ante Hernán Cortés y donde también inició la evangelización de sus habitantes, comenzando así la esclavitud. Únete a la comunidad de El Cocodrilo con Sergio Almazán en su sitio web y redes sociales: www.sergioalmazan.com X: @salmazan71 https://x.com/salmazan71 IG: @ElcocodriloMVS https://www.instagram.com/elcocodrilomvs/ Facebook: El Cocodrilo MVS https://www.facebook.com/ElCocodriloMVS Escucha El Cocodrilo con Sergio Almazán todos los sábados de 16:00 a 17:00 horas y los jueves de 22 a 23 horas. Por MVS 102.5 FM.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
El Tribunal Constitucional de Rumanía da marcha atrás y finalmente anula las elecciones celebradas hace casi dos semanas. Conocemos la última hora de lo ocurrido con Isabel Dólera desde Bucarest y analizamos la decisión y sus posibles consecuencias con Victor Pantalimon, politólogo de la Universidad de Constanza.Escuchar audio
Living the nightmare; hungering for a normal life. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “If your heart starts the fight, you can lose without regret.” (Thursday Night) It was well past the descent of Night's veil when the Havenstone jet landed outside of New York City. Naomi and team gathered us up and led us to the main building downtown. An unlooked for conflict developed. Naomi's team was there to present me to Hayden. Rachel's team was still focused on securing my wellbeing and they didn't like the attitude Naomi's squad was giving off. With Buffy (Helena was in a different car), there was no concealing Rachel's hostility toward the latest group of SD ladies. The new group was treating me like a 'package', not a Head of House, and that infuriated my First too. All of that ill-will simmered as we made our way to Havenstone. The situation was compounded by the elevator ride. Naomi, her team, Buffy, Rachel and I went into the first elevator. By the time we made it to the top few floors, it was clear that the rest were not immediately following along. The situation ratcheted up to nasty when Naomi demanded Buffy's firearm. Buffy looked ready to use it. "Buffy; gun," I held out my hand, palm up. Buffy reluctantly handed it over. I walked over to the nearest trash can, dropped out the clip, chambered out the first round then dumped the entirety into the trash receptacle. "If they touched it, the weapon would be fouled and not fit for a true Amazon," I explained to Buffy. "Best to save your noble tool the indignity and dispense with it instead." Buffy snorted with amusement, Naomi's crew pretended not to care while Rachel was deeply disturbed. It took a perfunctory gesture to stop Buffy outside Hayden's office. In I went to face Hayden, Katrina, Saint Marie and Troika of House Šauška alone. Šauška was the 'sister goddess' of Ishara; together they formed Ishtar in later incarnations. I didn't believe Troika was here for any sister solidarity this time around. "Why did you do this? Start a war; is this your hatred of Amazon culture shining through, trying to get us all killed in some global struggle against the other Secret Societies?" Hayden opened up with in an even tone. "No," I kept it succinct. They waited for more of an explanation. "Do you have anything you can say to defend your actions?" Troika glared. "I don't need to defend my actions," I regarded her as if she was of alien origin. "The actions speak for themselves." "Why don't you explain it to us, Ishara?" Saint Marie rumbled. Insulted yet again. As an equal, I warranted the use of my first name. "Do I have your permission to fully and completely lay out my reasoning without everyone closing in like a pack of hyenas on a leopard?" I looked to Hayden; not happy. She gave a curt nod. It wasn't like running away would get me far. "I will speak slowly because all of you appear to have become incredibly stupid," I started. "My parent and carrier of my Amazon ancestor's genetic heritage was murdered. The leader of the Amazon Security Detail identified herself, Then they were fired upon. Somehow you do not see those actions as Casus Belli. [cause for war] There are three possible reasons for your blindness: you are all cowards who bully behind closed doors, but fold up like gutless wonders when a true challenge presents itself. Or, the male penis renders you incapable of intelligent thought and induces irrational and unsustainable hostile deductions in your though processes. Or, you want me and the line of Ishara dead and are willing to accept any accident of fate that will render us so," I laid things out for them. "Or, you were in pain over your father's loss and used Havenstone as a tool to lash out at your perceived foes without concern for what price the other houses would have to pay for your personal vendetta," Hayden suggested. "Your gender bias is appalling, High Priestess Saint James," I shook my head. "Have I been such an out of control, emotional male that yours is the logical assumption for how events unfolded?" I smirked. "Except for the meeting where I learned your secret; only Katrina caught that. I've risked death three times for Amazons; yet I hate all of you enough to kill those people and myself. Besides, Saint James, your opinion has been rendered irrelevant." "You will call me Hayden," Hayden simmered. "I will when you and your lackeys get around to calling me Cáel," I countered. "I don't like being insulted any more than you do. I could keep up this childishness forever, but, as I was pointing out, we don't have forever. War is coming. Between my father's murder and my threats to the Condotteiri and Seven Pillars' emissaries, I've guaranteed that. Apologizing won't do any good. They won't believe you. Offering me up won't do any good. They think you hold male life to be worthless; the truth of which I am personally witnessing here and now. They are coming for you no matter what you wish. The best chance for an alliance rests with me. I can establish truly good will with the Nine Clans, Illuminati and the Earth and Sky. Without me, they don't trust you enough to do any good. I'm sure only Katrina believes this; I did all that alliance-building for Havenstone. I am House Ishara and the fate of the Amazons is my fate. Yet here I am, being insulted, being treated like a traitor; an infantile traitor at that, and being informed you will not honor your oaths and obligations to me," I shook my head. "Are there any other issues to discuss, or can I go home now? I'm beat." "You will be housed downstairs for your own safety," Hayden informed me. "Unless you arrest me, I'm going home," I shrugged. "Not only do I not want your protection, I have ceased to trust you. You do not treat me like a sister. Instead you accuse me of atrocities against MY people and layer on the petty insults. Goodnight." I made to leave so Saint Marie interposed herself. "That wasn't a request, Ishara," Hayden murmured with menace. "Beat me up," I chuckled, "and you will be more screwed than you know." The Golden Mare and I locked gazes. I tried to move around her so she put a hand on my chest. "Welcome to the consequences of being known liars and bigots, ladies." "I am tiring of your insolence," Saint Marie growled. "Runners'," Katrina sighed with melancholy amusement. "What about them?" Troika mocked. "The majority of the 'Runners' aren't going to see this as the Council punishing Cáel for starting the upcoming conflict," Katrina chided her cohorts. "They are going to see the Full-blooded shutting down the Only House letting them in. Going to war? They are willing to fight and die for our cause. They assume we are too," Katrina regaled her unwilling audience. "Pleased with yourself, Ish; Cáel," Hayden's eyes narrowed. "He has almost nothing to do with it, Sisters," Katrina chortled. "We were the ones who promised to let the 'Runners' join the houses then reneged on that promise. The worst you can say about Cáel was that only after we picked out, loaded and handed him the gun, did he use it for what it was intended for." "We are not punishing him for this 'Runner' insult," Troika spat. She meant my 'hasty' inductions. "Then why are we punishing him; and thank you for making Cáel's point for him; 'Runner' insult indeed. Since your disgraceful attitude is overwhelmingly common, the 'Runners' are not going to believe your excuse for dealing with Cáel." "Katrina," Hayden cautioned. "Hayden, as your 'First Bearer of the Sun Spear through the Halls of Night and Death', I am required to give you this news," Katrina bowed her head in reverence. "I tell you Cáel's actions have been a lightning rod for the 'Runners'. He gives them hope where there was none. Putting Cáel down will have repercussions you do not understand. They will then 'Know' for a certainty we look down on them and treat them little better than slaves; which is the truth," Katrina responded to the others. "Not only are we going to war, we are successfully convincing half our population that they Cannot trust the Council to spend their lives wisely." "How dare you?" Saint Marie seethed at me. "Are you seriously blaming me for keeping the oaths the rest of you made in my name; while Ishara was dead to the Council?" I laughed. "The 'Runners' are your idea, Saint Marie, not mine. You promised to bring them into the Houses ; and didn't. You lied and I chose to not perpetuate that lie, thus honoring my ancestors, my founder and my Goddess." "Do I need to remind you who Ishara is? The Goddess of Oaths; particularly military oaths," I added. "In case you missed it, I am implying that you have failed your ancestors;” and I went flying. Damn, Saint Marie was fast. I rolled as best as I could, ending bumping into Hayden's desk. No one said a word which I found tragically consistent. My follow-up pain wasn't 'Mare' induced. Spiritual flames consumed me internal organs, causing me to cry out in torment and vomit copious amounts of something. I was cradled inside a horror film as first my esophagus, then stomach and finally my intestines seemed to flush forth from my lips. The stench was beyond horrid; putrid and corrupt combined with the atrocious odor of bloated flesh left to rot in the Sun for weeks. Considering the minimal amount I had eaten on the flight home, I was even more baffled by what felt like 100 liter quantity of discharge. When the ordeal eventually ended, I half-rose then flopped backwards into darkness. I hurt. I hurt in the same way you have 'pins and needles', except mine were industrial capacity and giving it 110%. My head was resting at a slight incline and someone was flipping a lock of my bangs on and off my forehead. I opened my eyes into infinity; seriously worse agony consumed my brain pan. "That is too much for you to know, Cáel," she murmured. Those eyes had been feminine, just not in a human way and definitely filled with more joy and suffering than could be granted by a thousand lifetimes. The pain faded, so I tried the whole eye thing again. At the top of the lap that cradled my head was a really nice pair of boobs clothed in thin wool; lush, mature, yet firm like a young virgin's. "Thank you," she lilted. Mind-reading? "Do I want to know what has happened to me?" I groaned. I reached for a boob because if it was a toxin-induced delusion, what was the worst that can happen? "Careful, I haven't been with a male in 1800 years, my Preciously Odd Amazon," she laughed. "I like challenges," I bantered with my mental conjuration. Definitely mind-reading. "I am not the creation of your fevered dreams, my Cáel," she flicked my nose. "I have pushed you near death to place a curse on the Host. As a side benefit, I am able to have metaphysical contact with you." "To date you, I have to have a near-death experience? I don't know if I should admire 1800 years of male common sense, or that last guy who risked everything for one night with you," I shrugged. "So much compassion; and so little fear," she petted my scalp. "Since you clearly aren't getting into the name game and I am more than happy to doubt everything I've experienced in the past five minutes," I smiled at her, "what am I supposed to do?" "You know," she smiled back. "No, I don't," I insisted. "Something extra-concise that doesn't come from a fortune cookie." "I've always wanted to eat a fortune cookie," she looked away. "I'll start walking around with one in my pocket so next time you nearly kill me, you can indulge," I offered. "Save my people, Cáel," she placed her hand over my eyes. "Save their spirits." "A bit of help would be nice," I pressed forward blindly. "I've given you help," she whispered on my lips. Since I didn't consider that to be helpful, I opted to give a gentle twist to her nipple. Either something was really going on inside my head, acting as a conduit between me and something else, or I was experiencing a psychotic break with reality. If it was the former, I was a Class-A idiot. If it was the latter, it was me being me, rolling the dice with the pretty girl. "I wanted you to be brave," she laughed melodically, the echo of every woman I'd ever given a reason to sing out with joy, "yet now I find myself wishing you would expend a tiny bit more caution on my behalf." Sensing my dissatisfaction, she added "I cannot give you 'the' truth, so I will give you 'a' truth. Nothing is set in the future while much is foreseen." "As long as you know I've disappointed every women I've ever been with," I reminded her, my eyes still shielded and her lips tantalizingly close to mine. "Oh, you like to think you are selfish, Cáel Nyilas of Vranus and Ishara, but you justifiably take pride in the sensuality you bring to so many women's lives," she pointed out. "Many lovers are far more truthful yet far less giving," she said. "Pain heals while an education is forever," I countered. Another joyous note. "It is time for you to wake up, my Cáel," she sighed. "Go now." Wakefulness required a return to the putrid qualities of my current surroundings. I forced myself to my knees. No one did anything; no reaction, or assistance, so it fell to me to save myself. "What; what was that?" Troika nearly retched at the stench. Katrina stood, visibly pale and shaken. "Hayden?" Katrina requested of her leader. "Cáel, what have you done?" Hayden snapped. She also stood up so she could look down at me from her desk. I mumbled something. Even I wasn't sure what I was trying to say. The last touch of a lady far chillier than the one in Chicago caressed me and I knew the gist of what had happened. Why was I the one suffering at the hands of my Goddess? I was the easiest to get at because I was already devoted to her, her chosen children and I was Patron and Head of the house dedicated to her honor. The forecasted ass-kicking wasn't aimed at me, though. I was the necromantic shotgun barrel into this reality. Too many bitches had spat on me, her hand-picked patsy and punching bag, and her temper was beyond sending some vague signs and portents to the Host. I didn't know the particulars of this curse, yet I didn't doubt for a second it was both fiendishly evil and well-deserved. My jacket, shirt and tie were goners. The lower part of my tie which had been thoroughly drenched in my vomit was already decaying into filth, soon passing into nothingness. I tried speaking again. "Having exhibited no faith in me, you have committed apostasy to Ishara," issued the words from my acid-scared throat. "You are condemned to live with that choice. Good night." I fumbled and stumbled to Hayden's door, weakly opened one of the two double doors and left. The confrontation I had departed outside remained in force; Naomi and detail versus Rachel and Buffy. Helena, and a former 'Runner' named Madori who worked at Havenstone HQ with us, had not been sent up. "I am going home," I rasped. With no orders to keep me there, Naomi let me pass. Rachel and Buffy closed in. "Boss, you smell like;” Buffy searched for words. "A red tide," Rachel said. "All those dead fish floating on the water for days and days; it is that level of horrible smell." "Rachel," I stated as we got on the elevator, "thank you for the loyalty, intelligence and understanding you have given me in this trying time." "I am a member of the Host, Ishara. I would do no less for Hayden herself; but you are welcome," she sighed. "How about we postpone our date night until I've cleared up a few things with the Council and Ishara?" I suggested. Rachel nodded. I briefly talked to Helena over the phone, went with Buffy to the basement where she checked out a car then sat back as she drove me home. I must have looked like a disaster because Buffy didn't give me an ounce of grief. Home was home now. There was a house with my name on it now, but it wasn't my hearth; this mid-town, 'just above the poverty line' apartment was definitely home now. I would suspect that business travel was like a clothes dryer; you mystically pulled out less clothes than you put in. I was coming back with twice the amount of luggage I had departed with Odette would be home in an hour, so it was me and Timothy for a bit. "Hey Bro," Timothy greeted me. He set down one of those fanciful Asian vegetable mish-mashes that he liked from time to time, stood up and gave me a hug. "How bad was it?" "Let's just say I finished it up this evening by vomiting all over the Big Boss's rug, and that was the highlight of the trip," I mumbled. "That would explain your bare-chested look," Timothy snorted. I had been so out of it, I had spaced on the need to put on clothes like a normal human being. "Something to eat?" "Nah, my insides were spewed forth, so I'm foregoing food for a while," I mumbled. That reminded me. I went to the bathroom and gargled repeatedly with mouthwash. I could still smell the aromatic abomination, but at least I couldn't taste it anymore. "Do we want to go down the lists of women who have called you?" Timothy was trying to cheer me up. I wanted to be cheered up so I told him to go right ahead. Brooke and Libra; an immediate call back with the briefest of details; no weekend date for Brooke and I yet. Jason, the bar-back I had met chasing down Katy Lee, had called. I dialed his number and we had a short chat. He and his buddies were coming along well, I was invited back any time, and the Latin Kings had gotten the message because they hadn't been around since. I requested he and his friends keep their eyes open just in case and I'd be around for another pick-up game soon enough. Since most of those LK's were dead and the remainder scattered, I wasn't worried about Jason. Nikita; I called and she 'agreed' to come over. I was too fatigued to fight her off. Ulyssa called and I had to inform her that this weekend didn't look good for me; funeral and all. I initiated contact with Nicole. She was still wrapping up some of my business in Chicago and would be gone until Saturday morning. Timothy crashed for the evening, I was nibbling on some of his fodder and the doorbell rang. A check at the peephole revealed Nikita. She came in, hugged and I could sense something was definitely wrong. We were back to first date material. We hadn't been separated long enough; crap. I gave us space on the sofa. "That was incredibly fast," I groaned. "What tipped them off?" "What do you mean?" Nikita tried to scoot down the sofa to me. I held her off with one hand. "I am hardly one to uphold honesty in a relationship, but I normally consider it a selfish endeavor and not done for the benefit of a third, unrelated party," I sadly met her eyes. "Cáel, what do you?" Nikita stammered. "You are not a very good liar," I pointed out. "You are wearing a wire of some kind?" "Have you done something wrong?" Nikita evaded. "My loss," I moped. "All I wanted was the semblance of a normal life and now that's gone down the tubes." "Nikita, what do you want to drink?" I restarted the whole fiasco. Drinks were served and we kept to our separate ends of the sofa talking about mindless shit until Odette showed up. Then I could politely show Nikita the door and be with someone who did care about me. We made slow, passionate love. I gave her orgasms and giggles with the added benefit I felt more human when we finally fell asleep. (Friday) The morning started out with the same routine. I pulled up various routes for my bike ride into work, chose none of them and off I went in the pre-dawn dark blue/grey sky. I came within 20 seconds of my best time, so I was feeling pretty positive about what lay ahead. Security was a full 180 from their normally sour selves. "Good morning, Cáel Ishara," the security team (not Security Detail) leader greeted me. That was part 'thanks for letting my sister 'Runners' into a house' and 'maybe pick me next time.' "Good morning, Wilma Draper," I nodded back. I went to the counter and leaned in. I needed to fortify my supportive base and I knew how to do it. "You do realize I don't choose who joins House Ishara, don't you?" I addressed her softly yet loud enough for the two closest security women to hear. "You do not?" the woman appeared perplexed. "No," I shook my head in the negative. At that moment she wondered if this was a trick of the Council. Good girl. "The senior Amazons of House Ishara chose the next candidates. I make the ritual appeal to Ishara, of course. Selection remains in the hands of former 'Runners' who nominate the 'Runners' who have proven themselves. I was inspired to initiate Buffy and Helena because I had enough faith in them to believe they knew Havenstone and what House Ishara needed. The Amazons in the second ritual were all Buffy and Helena's choices. I think those two and the latest group Ishara has approved of, will make the perfect judges for picking future 'Runners' of accomplishment and worth; not only for House Ishara, but for the new Amazons who have risked everything for our People," I piled on the propaganda. She nodded. The two closest security guards nodded as well. Off I went to the gun range. With less than a minute worth of words, I had reinforced my perfection. I wasn't a male. I was a male with a passel of hardcore, praiseworthy Amazons working around me, insulating me from committing any errors and making all the important decisions while I behaved like a bobble-headed doll. The range was back to 'normal' except I could smell the chemicals this time out. Whatever concrete and surface coating substances they had used to repair my grenade-inspired damage left my nose with a terrible itch. I had a gun selection today. I had no instructor yet was hopeful. I packed up my 40 caliber, my back-up 3 80, the combat shotgun and my Personal Defense weapon then headed out. I patiently waited behind one of the stations, soaking up the view of medium gray yoga pants worn by a woman who presented a meticulously crafted, awesome bubble-butt to the world. After she finished off one magazine, the Amazons looked over her shoulder at me. Horn-dog time. The woman smiled as she motioned me forward. We put my weapons on the stand and prepared for school. "I am Wiesława of House Živa," she smirked playfully. By the Almighty, she had a thick Polish accent, rich lips, russet hair and 'come hither' eyes. I was prepping for some early 'nookie' time. "Hello, I am Ash Ketchum and I have an unhealthy relationship with free-roaming, anthropomorphic creatures," I replied as we clasped forearms Amazon-style. As Wiesława was trying to puzzle that out, an Amazon from an adjoining booth came over and punched me in the arm. I couldn't even recall this one's name though I knew that face and physique. "Stop that, Cáel," the woman chastised me. "She's new here." "I thought he was bringing me more weapons to use. Was this male being insolent?" Wiesława tried to put things in their proper place. "Should he be disciplined?" At least she wasn't taking me being beaten as her Goddess-given right. "No, Wiesława. This is Cáel Ishara, Head of House Ishara, he brought those weapons for His use and most likely came to your station looking for instruction," the unnamed Amazon stated. "Does this mean we are passed that whole 'grenade launcher' thing?" I inquired of the women. "We are not sure. For now we have decided to not pre-judge you since you remain consistently combative no matter what. Constanza is recovering," she tacked on. "Good," I grinned. "How soon can she return to duty? I imagine she makes a lousy patient." Pause. The 'Constanza' bit had been a test. I had a feeling that my emotional tendency to spare lives and show mercy was getting around. It wasn't the Amazon way, though it did mean Constanza would remain alive for a while longer when it was generally accepted she should not. "She will have to retrain her vision. Her doctors are hopeful," the woman responded. "That is for the best. I do hope there are no ill intentions toward Pamela," I warned her. "Such a vengeance would be personal and I would feel no obligation to treat those criminals as I would my fellow Amazons; are we clear?" "It has been made expressly clear that this issue is at an end," she bowed slightly. "Let us commit this to the 'nothingness'," was my suggestion. The two Amazons twitched. That was a phrase straight out of their cultural playbook. Both nodded, the familiar Amazon left and I turned back to Wiesława. "Do you still want a go at training me?" I asked the Pole. "Yes; yes, I would like that," she gave me a bright, toothy white smile. "I find you interesting." Off I went again. Wiesława was diligent and definitely 'hands-on'. Twenty minutes into the training one of my familiar SD firing partners showed up. "Don't let him take his clothes off," Felicité teased me. Her Congolese French contrasted erotically with Wiesława's Polish. "His clothes come off?" Wiesława seemed puzzled. "How is that accomplished?" "A deeply scientific, psychological process," Felicité teased my latest friend/fish in the barrel. "Cáel, take off your clothes," she commanded me. I gave her a haughty, condescending glare. "Please." My biking shirt came off first then my biking slippers and finally the shorts. "Your turn," I regarded Wiesława. She shot a look to Felicité. Her sports bra was millimeters from exposing her goodies when my Congolese tormentor stepped in. "You don't have to take off your clothes for him," she intervened. "But I like seeing you ladies naked," I protested. Felicité patted my package. "We like seeing you naked too. Now put on your pants before a hot shell casing creates yet another incident," Felicité teased me again. A great chasm of misunderstanding had been bridged since Friday. The grenade-launcher was part of it, yet I think Rachel and Velma were far more constructive than I could have been. Velma had seen me in crisis mode. I hadn't panicked. I had seen to my partner (though she was an inconsequential female) and been cool throughout the process in Katrina's office as Velma and her four team members had overheard. Rachel, Charlotte, Mona and Tiger Lily had probably given a different story; less professional and more human. That must have worked in my favor. A stone-cold bad-ass would have been more worrisome; a challenge. No, I had been shaken, irrational, brave and grieving. I had fought an assassin of the Nine Clans and not lost (thus not an embarrassment to a culture I didn't really belong to; until that moment). I had insulted the Condotteiri and the Seven Pillars, who were universally hated. I had been nice to the Earth and Sky and Illuminati, who they didn't like much, but could be handy if a war did break out. I had been 'friendly' to the Egyptians and Nine Clans, who the Amazon rank and file did approve of. The SD had no doubts; they were looking at a war. Unlike their leadership, the Security Detail was anticipating this, even anxious for the test. Fighting is what they spent their whole lives training for. Thirty years had passed since the last major clash between Havenstone and the others. For the youngest, this was the ultimate chance to prove their training had been perfect. For the oldest members of the SD, this was the culmination of a lifetime's devotion. 'Take themselves to the cliffs'? Not now. Now came the chance to make every burn, bullet hole, stab wound and piece of shrapnel worth it. Their Host lavished care and resources on the Security Detail; their Warrior Elite; and they were about to reward that glorification with a fervor only female's with 3000 years of martial tradition could match. Like me? Allowable yet not required. Respect me? Constanza was their lesson on respect. Obedience? No. Rachel had most assuredly related my contact with the 'Runners' and Buffy, so they could hit me like they could no other Head of Household; as long as it was 'appropriate'. Since they were not forced to give me full equality, they could stomach my 'almost' equality. Think of it as being able to punch your manager at work in the arm whenever you thought they were doing something stupid. Imagine how much worker morale would benefit. By stepping up and taking a punch, or two, I bought myself and House Ishara much more respect than a snippy insistence on etiquette would have ever done. Bringing 'Runners' into a First House? The SD wasn't jumping for joy. Here, the SD's sense of superiority worked in Ishara's favor. What did it matter to them that a few 'Runners' had been exalted to Full-blooded status? SD was the best of the best. That they were the best of the 'best available until now' hadn't occurred to them yet. All that circled back to Felicité playing with me, no one taking exception to me making a play for Wiesława and the return of the firing range to an educational platform for me. As I had told Oneida, 'defeat starts in the mind'. Along with that came 'Victory starts with a plan', and 'seize the moment'. I was aiming for seizing victory in the flesh. I bent over to put my pants back on. Since Felicité was departing for jobs-unknown, I ran the pants, and my hand, along Wiesława's inner right thigh. By the look in her eyes when I was finished, she didn't mind in the slightest. At the end of my allotted time period, my marksmanship had improved and Wiesława was mine for the taking. What bothered me was that it felt too easy somehow. Weird huh; that 'easy' would bother me. "You don't hang around men much?" I questioned the Pole as the weapons were being put away. "No," she sighed. "The last male in my hold died eight years ago. That is one reason I was re-assigned here," she informed me. "What department are you with?" I asked as we waited on the elevator. "Security Detail," she answered. "Fantastic," I murmured. "Elsa is a great boss. The two of us get along great." "Really? That is good news," Wiesława sounded upbeat. "How close are you?" Hint, hint. "Like the Cobra and the Mongoose," I grinned. Into the elevator we went. "I'll let you figure out which is which." "You are the Cobra," she patted my thinly covered cock. Yay! No personal boundaries. Less I forget I was still on the list of approved prey animals the door opened on the first floor and Brielle, her buddy, and Oneida stepped onboard. I had no clue where Wiesława was supposed to go. I guessed she was along for the ride. "Good morning, Cáel," Brielle greeted me before licking my left nipple. Wiesława was confused; could she have been licking me, and getting licked by me, half an hour ago? "What are you doing?" Oneida squawked. "Yum; someone has been to the gun range this morning," Brielle smiled at me. "Oh, and; sorry about your paternal person," she hastily added. "They are called Fathers," I sighed. To defuse Oneida, I slipped a hand to the small over her back then wiggled three fingers between the top of her skirt and panties. It was 'dangerous' enough to give her pause before going after the other women. "It is good to see your new, exalted status hasn't gone to your head, Cáel Ishara," Brielle looked very naughty. "Sisters first, last and always," I responded. "I'm not going to take credit for my ancestors being kick ass." "They must have been very courageous women," Wiesława stated. I snorted. "Wiesława, my Ishara lineage goes down the male side of the family, so those lethal ancestors were all male," I chided her. "When the Dacian-Thracians moved into the region, they joined with those tribes fighting the Celts. Later, they joined with the Dacian kings and fought against the Romans. Germans, Avars, Bulgars and finally the Magyars came their way; my ancestors impressed them all enough to be accepted. I know this because my Father's name was Nyilas, which means Archer in the Magyar tongue. We were fighters under the Arpad dynasty the same way we had gone to war with our Amazon War leaders thousands of years earlier. I also know this because of my bloodline; if the female folk had been raped, the bloodline would have perished," I explained. "Where exactly was your family from?" Wiesława inquired. "My grandfather said we Nyilas' were from Székelys Lands in Northern Romania," I replied. "My great-grandfather grew up under the Romanian King, hated it and died fighting as a Hungarian soldier against the Soviets in World War II," I continued. "That is why my great-grandmother took her children and came to America. They had lost their homeland in her opinion. Dad said she was bitter until the day she died," I sighed over my forerunners intransience. "She even wanted to be buried at her home town of Szászrégen," I let them know. "That never happened." The elevator door opened, I waved good-bye to friends new and old then raced to Katrina's bathroom. Katrina was at her desk, working away. "Cáel," Katrina acknowledged my passage with a wave of her hand. "Hayden and I have been examining a list of possible; " "That boat has sailed, Katrina," I cut her off. "I'll take care of my business without Hayden's help, thank you very much. I know you tried to warn her. I should have known there was no use dealing with the Council in any way, shape, or form. There isn't." I paused. "Tell your allies that there will be many in House Ishara and Warrior-Fathers too." "Aren't you worried in the least?" Katrina requested. "We both know that some of these bitches want to face their end like the lead characters in a Wagnerian opera. All we can do is remind them they are traitors to their Race, not patriots to some modern day concoction of a cult of gender blood purity," I stated, "as we work to save our people." "Those 'Old Guard' broads have forgotten what an Amazon is supposed to be," I explained. "And a man is going to show us the way?" Katrina studied me with emotionless intent. "Yes," I muttered. "A man who prefers love over hate and counts his worth by the lives he saves, not the one's he takes." "Do you ever fear this 'softness' will weaken your masculinity?" Katrina mused. That hurt; not because of her words, which could be true for any man. It hurt because the bastion against such thinking had just died. "My only fear is that I won't live up to my father's example," I responded. "Not only as a man and a father in my time, but as a human being," I delved into the wounded portion of my soul. "He never went to college, served in the military, or even got into a fight until that last minute of his life. He covered for co-workers with family issues, never failed to answer a call out to work in inclement weather, and did all that normal boring shit few here even understand. He let me be weak and let me be strong. His greatest lesson was that no matter where my life led, I had to take responsibility for it. The strong ask for help. The weak ask for someone to do the task for them. Love is not a word. Love is the star you chart your life by. The worst weakness is letting fear stop you from pursuing what you want. That is what I have to measure up to," I finished. In the interim, several of the new hires showed up and were observing the spiel. "I would think he would be happy if you measured up to what you wanted out of life," Katrina said. "I aim to do both," I grinned. I went to the bathroom and quickly changed into my work attire. The meeting started on time with the additional of a gnat-bite; Dora was two minutes late. At the time, nothing seemed out of sorts to me. It was a day on the job with Rosette. Around 3:30 pm, Pamela stopped our knife training (her with her wand and me with my weighted, wooden blade). She went to the corner of the room, ran her finger along the central point and drew back a finger with dust on it. She raised the finger so I could clearly see it. "It's dust?" I shrugged. "Normally they do a much better job," Pamela noted and back to training we went. The nightmare became real with one phrase in common usage: 'I'll get to it when I can', one Runner told Desiree when Desiree gave her a task. One of the most fascinating things in my book about Havenstone was that it hummed along like a well-oiled, organic machine. Tasks were completed, back-ups were always on call, and promptness wasn't a virtue; I was the absolutely expected. "What did you say?" Desiree asked for confirmation. "I said I'll get right on it," the woman sighed. I caught the look in Desiree's eyes. Something was wrong, but she couldn't put a name to it. Oaths and obligations; the lubricant for patently lethal Amazon society. Those words tossed out without too much consideration were now fraying around the edges. This wasn't the Plague, boils, lesions, leprosy, rickets, or the Home Loan bubble bursting. Those you could fight. How did you counter the devaluation of someone's word? Ishara's curse was crawling toward a very bad end unless I did something, but what? Personal respect would remain. Hierarchy? Amazons would begin to question why they were prioritizing their lives around someone they didn't know, or knew and didn't like. We weren't at that final destination, yet it was coming, and best of all, every woman in the company had a weapon, or quick access to one. A phone call grabbed me before I went in for the 'end of day' meeting. It was Brooke. "Christopher Cáel-umbos," I murmured. "Economy Class Oriental tours. How may I help you?" Laughter; and more than Brooke's. "Libra and I were getting ready to head out to the Hamptons and wanted to give you one last chance to come along," Brooke pleaded. An impressive dicking indeed. Thousands of reasons not to go; safety, responsibility, risk for other; "Sure, I'd love to come along. Can you pick me up at Havenstone at 6:10 pm? We'll make a quick run to my place to pick up some stuff and then head out, unless that's too late?" I offered. "See you then, Cáel," Brooke purred. "See you," Libra called out as well. It was a loathsome indicator of how out of control my life was ; that me, a working class kid, was going on a romp with two rich, high society girls to some mansion for a weekend of hedonistic fun; because that was more 'normal' than my week had been. I entered the meeting, took my teasing and made for the gym. This hour was devoted to a hardcore workout and nothing but. Rapid repetitions, quick shifts, rolling through the muscle groups. Even a few of the dedicated lifters gave me appreciative looks. I didn't have the time today. I hit the showers and made the doors before I hit a snag. Security held me up yet again. They seemed nervous, so I asked and got a bottled water and made some jokes. These ladies were going to be my allies, damn it, before I was done. Troika caught up with me a minute later. She extended a handful of round, brownish-yellow balls in a necklace. Each ball had a symbol inscribed on it. "We received this and a message this morning," she snapped. "We have decided to reject it." "It is horse-hoof," Pamela whispered in my ear. The gears went spinning. There was one person I knew who would send me keratin scrimshaw jewelry. Those nasty bitches were piling on the stupid. I looked it over; it was old, maybe going as far back as Timur aka Tamerlane to the English-speaking world. The 'cord' was made of hair; probably horse tail hair. I had no reciprocal gift to offer; absolutely nothing this valuable. But wait, I did! Somewhere there was a Havenstone bureau, department, or office that hung on to the artifacts ALL the Houses had accumulated over the passage of years. Some of that shit was mine; Ishara's. Our house had expired before the colonies became states. That still equated to a long period of pack-ratting. I'd put a minion on it right away! I'd pray that they didn't have plans for the weekend; later. "It arrived this morning and you are only giving it to me now?" I grumbled. "That message was meant for me, not for any of the rest of you. Where is the rest of it? Oh, and you're on the list." "It was consumed in its examination," Troika blatantly lied. "You have a visual copy," Pamela sounded bored. "Give it to him." "I do not carry such things around on a handheld device," Troika parried. "Ah; that's theft," Pamela gave a slender grin. "Just so we are clear." "If Cáel Ishara wished to put forth such an accusation to Hayden, I will be prepared to defend my actions," Troika gave a hostile glare right back. "That won't be necessary," I snorted. "I'm good. Pamela, I'm out for the weekend. Have fun." I turned and walked away. "Count the days, Troika," Pamela menaced. "I'm not afraid," she countered. "I don't care, but in 21 days, Cáel's ban on internal conflict will be at an end. Like me, he will not go to a corrupted Hayden for justice. We will be exacting it in our own way and in our own time. That you should worry about," Pamela gave a tilt of the head, a feral grin and joined me in departing. In Hittite, she said; "A matron, 21 Runners and one archaic mistake," Troika joked. In Hittite, she said; "But how many more 'Runners' can he recruit between now and then?" one of Troika's bodyguards worried. "More than enough to raise your daughters after you are all gone and forgotten," Pamela shouted over her shoulder. (Starting Friday Evening in the Wrong Damn Place) Waiting outside for me were two beauties and a small car. I hefted my bike, detached the front wheel for easier storage and climbed into the Lilliputian backseat. "Sorry," Libra in the passenger seat sounded embarrassed. "I'm not sure Brooke and I thought this through. Do you have a seat belt?" She was referring to the rear-mounted cup holder I was sitting in. "This is not rated for human occupation," I grinned back. What that really meant was there were three conflicting emotions pulling events along. Wanting me to fuck them; the easy one. Loyalty to your social/sorority sister; the relationship under stress. Me being a 'suitable' human being; the one that they were both stumbling toward which made the second emotional force such a problem. Had I solely been a fuck toy for either one, the other could have gracefully exited the field (with the occasional sharing). I was far from 'husband' material yet I was closing in on being the 'crossing a crowded club to greet me' kind of guy; already passed the 'not embarrassed to introduce me to their friends' phase. "You can sit in my lap," Brooke offered. With her driving and our height differential; we'd be lucky to be pulled by the PD before we wrecked. "How about you drive, I sit in Libra's seat and she sits in my lap?" I offered. "That's no fun," Brooke shot me a pout. "It sounds like fun for me," Libra giggled. "Now Libra remember, for the seat belt to be effective, you will have to sit facing me;” I sighed. "Facing you?" she winked. "Yes; facing me naked," I assured her. "Hey!" Brooke protested. "How come she gets to be naked in your lap?" "Otherwise me being naked would be pretty pointless," I explained. "Libra," Brooke demanded, "you get to drive." Petty arguments and playful exchanges followed. I left a message for Timothy and Odette, letting them know I was heading out to some address on the far end of Long Island. I even shot myself in the foot with the Nerf gun and told Timothy so he'd feel better. Brooke and Libra were dressed similarly. Red and khaki almost 'short-shorts', white/yellow bikini tops under white wife-beaters covered with a denim shirt (sleeves rolled up) and white cargo short-sleeved shirt, tennis socks and canvas shoes. In a way, I was a victim of my own success. Both ladies wanted to fuck me bad, but their desire to prove to me I was more than a fuck toy meant I didn't get sex at my place. If you are a girl, that will make much more sense. The car ride out was an issue. If I drove, Brooke and Libra promised to put on a Sapphic display for the ages. If Libra drove, I promised to publically molest Brooke at every stop. The reverse went for Brooke driving. The solution was that the girls would take turns driving and I would be a truly diligent cunnilinguist, with a strong background as an anatomically astute Braille harpsichord player. Our destination turned out to be the hamlet of Sagaponack, aka the most expensive place to live in the United States. Why was I doing this to myself? For starters, Brooke thought our host, Brennan Sulkanen, lived in one of those $50+ million homes; funny, I thought those were called estates. The girls laughed when I told them that. My utter lack of forethought, underutilized intelligence gathering capabilities, and even not acting my age were coming back to chew a huge hunk off my heine now. Brennan was a fraternity brother of Trent; warning indicator #1. Brennan didn't actually do anything, but his father was loaded; situation getting worse. Brennan was the youngest of the three sons from the first marriage with three other children from two other marriages waiting in the wings. A quick search revealed that the third and current Mrs. Sulkanen, was very elegant for a thirty-two year old lady. His current Mom being the same age as his oldest brother could be an issue. I was living proof how good parenting could help build up a child. Improper parenting; could do the opposite. Nothing was guaranteed though. "So, why are we going to Brennan's?" I hazarded to inquire as we cruised down Highway 27 through East Patchogue. In the back of my mind, I realized I was due south of scenic Doebridge and their frisky policewomen/Stasi law enforcers. "Oh, we met in college when I came up for one of Trent's; that loser; frat functions," she told us. "He was very drunk and tried to hit on me," the tale continued. "How and where did he 'hit' on you?" I prodded. "He stumbled into the Ladies' room, knocked my drink over and tried to give me his, but I was insulted by his inebriated pawing and left," Brooke said. Lone drunk men DO stumble into Ladies' rooms; usually to vomit. Frat brothers hit on each other's girls; men are pigs. Greeks are pigs with tie pins and secret handshakes. Drunk people do not demolish another person's drink then offer up their own. The spilling of alcohol is a drink-worthy event which you can't do if you have given your drink away. Man math: Brennan stalked Brooke, ambushed her in the bathroom and tried to roofie her with his drink because our host was a dirt bag and a total ass-bandit. How had I failed to do some basic 4 1 1 on this bastard? Oh yeah, brought an extinct First House to life, multiple threats to my well-being, treated like crap by most of my co-workers and then my father was murdered. "I repeat; why are we going to this guy's house?" I asked. "He's been persistent ever since Trent bailed and he sounds so worried about me," she answered. "Oh, I don't want you to think I'm using you as Brennan-deterrent, Cáel," she added. "I wanted to get out of the city and be with you; and Libra." I was more than Brennan-deterrent alright. I was a 'Highway Closed Indefinitely' sign for his edification. This was okay with Brooke (and me) because of all the sex we were going to have. "Thanks," Libra teased her pal. My dilemma was that despite all the positive emotions wafting my way, I wasn't one of 'them' yet. I couldn't simply say 'this dude is a scumbag. Let's go somewhere else.' This was going to take some tact and pretty much annihilated my hopes for a weekend to unwind. I had to play nice and at the first opportunity pull our host aside and politely inform him that I was going to floss his teeth with his still functioning intestines if any of us partook of something we hadn't asked for, ended up in some spot we hadn't wanted to go to, and/or doing something we didn't want to do. My diplomatic approach was from some movie that was way before CGI. It was ('you' meaning 'me': 'I want you to be nice; until it is time; to not be nice.') I was going to give Brennan's survival instincts the benefit of the doubt. I felt certain he wasn't enchanted with the idea of personal pain and I was going to let him know there wasn't a bank account deep enough to protect him from my wrath. If there was ever any doubt; I'm an idiot. We pulled up to the gate right before eight. Yes; one of those nice wrought-iron, automatic opening double gates. Brooke answered the security screen and in we went. Two people, definitely staff, met us as we parked. There was six cars present already, all variations of the high-performance, turbo-charged, 'Daddy/Mommy don't love me so they gave me this deathtrap instead' ideal. Cargo space? Fuel efficiency? Excessive safety features? Not a concern for this crowd. There was a momentary bout of confusion as the male staffer came for my baggage. I thanked him. He looked at me funny. Brooke insisted the female staffer give directions to where her/Libra's luggage was going so I did the same with the guy. My stuff was not only not heading to Brooke's room, I was being banished to another branch of this sprawling villa. "Take my stuff to their room," I directed the man. "Sir, a different room has been set aside for the gentleman," he insisted. "Oh; okay," I nodded. I took my bags from him, much to his surprise, and followed the 'maid'. Brooke and Libra laughed at my obstinacy and tagged along. Our introduction to the 'pack' was delayed and, by his look, Brennan wasn't happy with my detour. I wasn't happy either, but for a different reason. "Brooke; Libra, right? Cecil?" he clearly was disrespecting me straight out of the gates. Brooke and Libra said 'hi'. I was a little less diplomatic and I was staring down the barrels of a serious crimp in my main battle plan. There were two dissipated young ladies, three men of the same caliber and two guys I identified hangers-on. Most likely rich; just not rich enough to be treated as equals by the majority. Then there was this one girl who was certainly the unsuspecting party favor. You can learn all kinds of thing about the darker side of male-female relationships at Spring Break if you pay attention. The vacation can be wonderful, but seeing fuck-head bottom-feeders getting girls wasted for the eternal glory of Girls Gone Wild and the ability to stick their prick into someplace it doesn't belong, and they haven't earned the right to be in, truly sucks. For the moment, I had to look past her. The focus of my anxiety was a couple, both African-American and from a different mold than everyone else there. I knew the guy because he was somewhat famous. "Hey Bitch," I replied in an off-handed manner. "What?" Brennan hammed up his confusion. The 'Home Alone' gasp. What had he done wrong? "What?" I responded. "Did you just call me a 'bitch'?" he clarified. "No," I lied. "I didn't even know you were talking to me. Hi, I'm Cáel Nyilas. Who are you again?" "I think you called me a bitch," Brennan watched his whole weekend plan to dispose of me coming gift wrapped here in the opening round. He looked to the 'famous' guy. I am an idiot. "Well, with your family money, I'm sure you can hire top notch Otolaryngologist to handle that hearing problem of yours," I grinned. "Orlando, what do you think Kibble here said?" Brennan indicated the guy. "Orlando Keyes," I smiled. "Man, you are one mean son of a bitch. That fighter from Ecuador; missed his name; you broke his left cheek with one hit during that MMA bout in New Orleans last Thanksgiving. The only thing almost as impressive was that guy managed to stand up afterwards." No, I wasn't buttering this guy up. There was no point. I only knew about him because the whole 'martial ardor' doesn't have to be yours to get some tail. Girls who like watching physical combat; MMA, Kick-boxing, Boxing, and the NHL (WWE if they are somewhat gullible); will jump on your bones at the completion of that match. "I think this cunt called you his bitch," Orlando came my way. I gently pushed Brooke and Libra aside to give me space. "You are mistaken," I kept smiling at Orlando. "I was calling that lady over there," I pointed at the lady he had been talking to, "my bitch for tonight. The acoustics in this place must suck." Outdoor pool; the Atlantic Ocean crashing less than 100 meters away; this place rocked. "You are going to die," Brennan laughed at me. Keyes kept coming. "Right, or left?" I asked him in a pleasant tone. He glared yet hesitated. "What does it matter?" Orlando studied me. He had stopped being a hired thug and returned to being a modern day gladiator. "I'm packing so I wanted to know which knee you can live without," I stated. "He's got a gun?" one of the other males mumbled. "Gun?" Orlando's eyes narrowed. "Knife," I corrected. At this point, everyone but Orlando and I felt better. In that snippet, Orlando and I exchanged a vital piece of information; I was going to hurt him. No matter what he did, I was going to put a knife into him. How did he know? I had warned him and I laughed at Death. I wasn't bluffing and Orlando made his life's work piercing his opponent's deceptions. "That's my fiancé," Orlando grumbled. I extended my hand. "I apologize then," I said as he shook my hand. "That was rude of me and uncalled for. Not only is she one of the classiest ladies here, she was hanging out with you, a man not known for accepting anything short of the perfect match. Besides," I whispered, "we both know who I was truly talking about." Orlando wasn't happy with me, or forgiven me. What he did accept was that I'd given him an out. I had backed down and apologized. Brennan was frowning. Orlando and I didn't care; we were both fighters and we'd both ponied up on the promise of pain. If there was to be a conflict, he wasn't going to do it for Brennan. He was going to do it because he always wanted to know how tough the other guy really was. Names floated around. The only people that mattered to me were Anima and Casper. Anima was Brennan's 'girlfriend' which I translated as a debauchery enabler. She was under the delusion that life was boring and pointless, so she should punish the world for her ennui. Her life's cup had been emptied at twenty-three? Bitch, I worked with real women who couldn't even consider such nonsense. Casper; Casper was going to be a problem. For starters, Anima had taken Casper under her wing; was going to show Casper the 'ropes'. Casper proudly proclaimed that. Casper was also not as rich as the 'in crowd' and not a hanger-on; she was the weekend's amusement, or would have been if Brooke hadn't shown up. And, of course, she couldn't see the danger, she was so eager to be with the super-rich. After the name game came the initial party shuffle. Who was aiming for whose bedroom tonight and how would they get what they wanted. Brennan sent two backup boys cruising for Libra while he angled in for Brooke. Anima and Casper were supposed to keep me busy. Libra promptly showed she'd thumbed through my Book of Social Fugliness. "I only date real men," she shredded the 'second-stringers' to pieces. The blast socially staggered them. "If you have to think about it, boys, you are not a man. Don't strain yourself trying to be something you can't even comprehend. Now one of you go get me a drink while I think about what Cáel and I are going to do to Brooke tonight." In social parlance, that was shooting someone with both barrels of a shotgun then using the stock to tenderize the remains. That was one flank secure. Next, Casper and Anima. Anima had the feeling I didn't like her; good for her. "Would you really have cut Orlando?" Casper asked me softly while she ran a fingernail over my right forearm. "Casper, to begin with, call him Mr. Keyes. There will come a time when you can freely use his first name, but you ain't there yet," I cautioned her. "To answer your question: yes, I would have sliced down and across, cutting his right hamstring." Keyes heard me, as I had intended. "Brennan says you are a co-worker of Trent," Anima cooed. "Kind of," I shrugged. "Trent is a big-shot with the Far East Unit while I remain in Personnel in the city (Manhattan)." They both looked disappointed then Casper handed me a plum. She wasn't stupid, just willfully blind. "Where did you learn to use a knife then?" Casper tried to 'salvage' me. She was doing herself a favor by trying to make me look better to the rest; doing me a favor. Nice. "I'm with the Records Redaction Unit of Havenstone's Executive Services," I lied. Blink. "That doesn't make any sense," Casper's brow furrowed. "You delete records?" "No Casper," I returned her arm rub, "someone creates a list with names on it. I am part of the team that reduces the number of those names on that list to zero." Blink. "You fire people?" she remained uncertain. She had to believe I was playing with her, which I was. "No," I shook my head. "That implies extra paperwork. We take a more ergonomic approach. No termination rigmarole; no traceable termination at all." "That sounds vaguely like you murder people," Anima murmured. "Murder is a crime. Converting all the data of a given person into one, misplaced file is a way of circumventing the whole 'exit interview/providing references for other jobs/pension' process." If you believed that this nation, nay, the whole world, was run by soulless corporate monsters that made scary sense. "What do you do with the people?" Anime was showing the tiniest bit of enthusiasm for this conversation. "What people? People have names," I smiled. "Bodies with no records are normally handled as John and Jane Does and are buried in Potter's Field, or used at medical schools." "Do you enjoy sex with multiple partners?" Anima smiled; veering the conversation off in a different dir
Constanza Nuñez es una diseñadora chilena que trabaja en una cooperativa de artes gráficas. En esta cooperativa se dedican a crear productos con bajo impacto ambiental y con contenidos sociales o ecológicos, principalmente ilustrando flora y fauna nativa. También trabaja en una ONG, FIMA, desde donde promueve el derecho a un medio ambiente sano, el acceso a la justicia ambientaL. En esta entrevista nos cuenta de un juego que diseñó Se llama Siempreverde: Es un juego de mesa educativo sobre el ecosistema de la zona central de Chile que desarrollamos junto a un equipo de científicas y artistas. La idea del juego es que los participantes colaboren para restaurar el ecosistema y enfrentar las amenazas socioambientales que acechan al bosque. También hablamos del proyecto de constitución ecológica y de la transición energética. Esta es el 7mo episodio de una serie de 10 episodios sobre #juegos. Les voy poniendo diferentes nombres a las series sobre juegos para que se distingan unas de otras, pero las encuentran en la misma lista: Juegos y diseño. En esta serie hay episodios con diseñadores y otres, que vienen de otras disciplinas y también diseñan juegos, hay juegos sexuales, videojuegos, juegos para aprender sobre cambio climático, o para integrarse a un nuevo país después de inmigrar. Hay proyectos de México, Francia, España, Argentina, Perú y Chile. Esta entrevista es parte de las listas: Diseño sostenible, Juegos y diseño, Chile y diseño, Colectivos y cooperativas. Las listas las encuentran en nuestra página web, en la sección de recomendados, en Spotify y en Youtube.
Of Funerals and Families; Part One In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Victory is neither pointless, fleeting, nor soon forgotten. It is yours.” I have been warned that my Uncle wants me dead. My Aunts want me for; other things." "What do they want?" E asked. It was the whole 'men as a true asset' problem for her. "The whole repository of nefariousness;” Pamela started to explain, but then, "Double Word Score!" Pamela and I exclaimed excitedly then 'high-fived'. Yes, you spiteful Cosmos, I had found my soul-mate and she was a near-octogenarian with a macabre sense of humor; who also had a telepathic ability to know my mind. E looked totally lost in the exchange. "Yes; the whole repository of nefariousness was created to be sterile," Pamela picked up the conversation. "Which makes the very existence of Cáel here very noteworthy; virtually inexplicable," she mused. "What have the labs at Havenstone think of this?" Rachel worried. "I refused to go back in for any more tests," I met her gaze. "But it could be important," E joined in. "I will make it easy on you both; I'm a horrible person. I'm the Head of House Ishara and I elect to not put my fate in the hands of the same people who leaked my very existence to the Illuminati during the first set of tests," I stated. "Which is why I'm here in Chicago burying my Father, in case any of you missed it." "Certainly knowing what is going on is more important than the risk of further exposure," E persisted. She got kudos for sticking to her guns. "Esmeralda, I work for Katrina Love, Head of Executive Services," I responded. "By that I mean I have this nifty little glass table in a corner of her office. Me stressing over my genetics isn't really important. Katrina is on the case and I haven't been out of college for two months yet. If the difference between Havenstone getting in a fight with the Illuminati and keeping the truce is my blood sample, she'll let me know," I added. "As far as Ishara is concerned, Havenstone had an information leak that got a house member killed." "Do you have other family?" E inquired hesitantly. "Blood kin? Not in this country and certainly not anyone I could name," I sighed. "I case you are wondering, there are a grand total of three members on Ishara's roster." "Is the rest of your family safe?" E was trying to sound upbeat. "Safe? Of course they are not safe. They both work for Executive Services, Esmeralda. They were 'Runners' who I inducted into Ishara. They are Amazons of the Host and that means never being safe this side of the cliffs. Friday morning I presented them to our ancestors and they were welcomed as equals; as sisters to those who have the blood of Mycenaeans on their hands," I turned to look out the window. "What was it like?" Tiger Lily inquired. "The induction." "If you are looking for a vision of a stone hall with thousands of war-like Amazons holding me in judgment, you'll be disappointed," I recalled. "I had to create the ceremony from scratch; ash, tears and blood. "I felt strong enough about that instinct I let Desiree slap me until I cried enough tears. With Desiree's knife, I cut myself, they cut themselves and our blood mixed," I finished. "That is not how it is done," Rachel corrected me. "No," I stopped. "It is not how you do it. House Ishara has come back from the void that waits for all those who are dead and have no one living to recall them," I explained. "We are not the other Houses. We are both Love and Oaths and there is a lack of respect for each of those virtues in this World." "I never considered Amazons as overly romantic, but we are true to our oaths," Esmeralda was starting to bask in the openness of the exchange. "I do not doubt the integrity of anyone in this vehicle, except for me," I gave her a weary grin. "The failure of oaths is mine. Ishara was bound by an Oath and has failed in her pledge. You are wrong about the romance and I am sure you have misunderstood my definition. I live for the day when no sons are sent to the cliffs as newborns; Love, Esmeralda. Love." The hush pressed upon us until Tiger Lily pulled up in front of the Hotel Burnham. Rachel, E, Charlotte (from the second GL) and I went in. I wave the others back as I went to the desk. Rachel and Charlotte had grey duffel bags with 'stuff' inside. E had my minimal kit. "Cáel Nyilas with Havenstone," I introduced myself. Yes, I was in 'prison' gear. "Director Nyilas; welcome to the Burnham," he recovered quickly. "Which rooms do you wish to use?" Thank you, Helena, no I'm a damn Director. He twisted the screen so I could see the list. Eleven doubles and a Lakeview Executive Suite with two adjoining Deluxe Suites. "We'll use those," I indicated the Executive/Deluxe/Deluxe. "Very good, Sir," he nodded. "Will you be ordering room service? I'm afraid the Atwood restaurant has closed for the evening." "Sounds like a plan," I looked at his name tag, "Steve, or do you prefer Mr. McCabe?" "Steve will do fine, Director;” Steve started. "I will make it easy on you Steve," I sighed. "Call me Cáel. All this Director crap is for the benefit of people I barely know. I am here, in my hometown, to bury my Father; who was murdered yesterday." Steve paled. "The FBI gave me these spiffy duds. If any law enforcement shows up asking for me, give me a ring first." "Nyilas; from Burnham? I read about that," Steve seemed bemused. "The day shift Assistant Manager is from Burnham too." How wonderful, I thought sarcastically. Steven sensed my waning interest. "Your keycards, Sir; Cáel and my sympathy for your loss." "Steve, never miss a chance to tell your loved ones how you feel," I took the cards. "That is my biggest regret with my Dad. I didn't think about it the last time we talked." Steve gave a final nod. I rejoined my group and headed for the elevator. The rest was a tired blur. The rest of the group showed up, including Pamela. I called Nicole to tell her the situation then called Timothy despite the late hour to make sure he was okay. Timothy informed me that two 'psycho-chicks' stopped by as a kind of 'meet and greet'. I hit the small hotel fitness center with Mona, the fourth member of Rachel's team. It helped. What helped more was the constant reminder that I worked with smart people. Mona's mother was dead as well, killed on an undisclosed mission with the SD when she was ten. She could understand my sense of grief and confusion. We didn't cry and hug. It wasn't something she could do with a man. Give a decade, or two and she might come around. Instead, "Thank you for Constanza," Mona said quietly to me as we exited the center. "I measure a person's life in the lives we save; as well as the ones we take," I enlightened her. Before that moment, I didn't really consider killing people to be all that praiseworthy an endeavor. Today I had been in a situation where my life had been in immediate danger. I was glad the other guy ended up dead. Since I was prepared to keep acting stupidly, I was grateful for those who would murder people so that I could remain both noble of purpose and alive. "She is close to me; she helped me grow up after Mom was gone," Mona opened up a tiny bit. "Aren't you a bit angry with me?" I asked. "Initially, I was very angry. Then I heard your words and I knew you spoke the truth of the matter," Mona exhaled. "She should have died. She deserved death for what she said." "No one;” I started to comfort Mona. "For a member of a Faith that exults in the harshness of martial conflict, you spend an inordinate amount of energy struggling to keep people alive," Mona noted. "I'm glad I helped deal with those Latin Kings now. It was a mission worth doing." "What?" I stumbled. "Didn't Buffy tell you?" Mona regarded me. She smirked. "Yeah, we hunted them down late Sunday night and into early Monday morning. I doubt the few who escaped will ever be back." "Why haven't I; anybody heard about this?" I worried. Mona looked at me somewhat perplexed. "Cáel of Ishara, we always take the bodies of murder victims, cut them up, place them in large drums of acid and ship them to Canada," Mona informed me. "Ah; thanks for telling me that. Let's both agree to not let Buffy know that I know, okay?" I requested. "She'll get an inordinate thrill thinking she knows something I don't." "As you wish, Cáel of Ishara," Mona nodded gravely. (Tuesday Morning) Sexual addiction is somewhat like military service. It requires you to be alert to your surroundings, think on your feet, follow procedures and; most crucial to me; shows you how to remain functional with minimal sleep. In this case, five hours sufficed to clear out my cobwebs and make me incredibly horny. All of that was despite the layers of upsetting news being placed before me. Executive Services had gone over the feed from the four SD members. Inadvertently, Dad had fought on the 'right' side. The team leader died first. Her back-up put two men in the grave and wounded a third before they tossed a grenade on her. I looked at Charlotte as she gave me the news. We both had a 'what the' expression on our faces. Grenade? I kept doing my calisthenics. The second two-Amazon group killed three attackers on their side of the building then charged the back door. I wondered if Mom's Garden Dragon was okay. It was like a Garden Gnome, except it was a Dragon. Mom was odd that way. The attacking group had blown the front door and entered the first floor. The Amazons in the back decided to shoot out the lock instead. While transiting the kitchen moving forward, the second group took fire; from a Zastava M 21. I was confused. "It is a modern Serbian weapon," Charlotte filled in the blanks. "Dad was killed by Serbians?" I muttered. "No," Charlotte sighed. "No he wasn't." Another look from me as I started my standing push-ups. "That team member was wounded. The shooter was taken down by both of our teammates. At this point, three other attackers moved from your front room to the dining room, pinning our team down. That was when your father broke cover and assaulted the attackers. He had this large lamp and cracked it over the right shoulder of the closest man," Charlotte stated. I knew that light fixture Charlotte was talking about. It was a floor lamp, nearly two meters tall, made of glass and bronze. My physique was from my Father; broad shoulders and powerful arms. That 'large lamp' weighed over 30 kg and, powered by my father's upper body strength, I was betting the guy who was on the receiving end had have some of his bones snapped. "The man screamed in Bulgarian, his two companions turned to see what was happening and the Amazons advanced by fire toward your father," Charlotte continued. "Your father swung again," she looked at me, "connecting with the man's chest. In response, the other two shot him three times. He fell. The second team pressed forward, killing the man your Father wounded and wounding another. The last unhurt Amazon was killed trying to get to your Father while the survivor was concussed by the use of a second grenade. We don't have the video of what happened in the interim. When the last Amazon began moving again, the two remaining attackers had dragged your father out the front door. She pursued and fired. She wounded the undamaged attacker; and one of her bullets ended your Father's life. She was wounded in this last exchange of fire. The two men helped each other to a vehicle and left." I kept working out as I made an acceptable collage of my misery. "Does she know?" I whispered. "Does she; the Amazon? Her name is Sabina. I don't think she's been informed yet," Charlotte answered. "Unless it becomes necessary, don't tell her that her bullet killed my Father," I sighed. "The only thing that is important to me; to Ishara; is that she gave her all as did her sisters. My Father was killed by the men who first shot him. Had they escaped with my Father, they weren't taking him to a hospital, so he was as good as dead anyway. That is all that matters." "Yes Ishara," Charlotte responded with quiet reverence. Knowing nothing of Security Detail's procedure and tradition, I had tossed out an excuse to spare a valiant woman a terrible piece of news. Charlotte's demeanor suggested to me that it would be a kindness conveyed. A few minutes later, Rachel and Tiger Lily came in from their suite. Mona had been my guardian while I slept so she slept now. This was our signal to shower and put on some clothes before the group went downstairs for breakfast. Pamela presented herself as I was getting dressed. Esmeralda's arrival signaled our migration to the ground floor Atwood restaurant. As everyone glided into the elevator, I had a nostalgic moment for Odette. A normal, non-lethal, happy young lady. This all-encompassing seriousness around me was crimping my efforts to find the silver lining in this personal calamity. Ten seconds after exiting the elevator, Nicole angled toward us then we proceeded to breakfast. It took a little jockeying and refereeing by me to get the seating arrangements set. Nicole was on my left then Pamela. Rachel and E were on my right. Charlotte and Tiger Lily were across from me as orders were taken. "How are you holding up, Cáel?" Nicole put a hand on my lap. I had no immediate reply. "Lonely. Sad. Alone. Bereft of anger; it is pointless. I want to scream, rage, tear things up, throw things across the room and hear them shatter; but not really," I confessed. Suddenly, a strange essence infused my core. "No, that's wrong. I am not alone. We have suffered more, lived through worse and never wavered even in the face of death," I said in a ghostly whisper. That was really the last thing I wanted to say. Its origin was from an enigmatic corner of my mind I was resisting venturing into. 'Taking oneself to the cliffs' made a whole lot more sense suddenly. The Amazon prepared her daughters and granddaughters for her absence. She volunteered to make that trek. In her heart, she called out to her Ancestors to prepare them to accompany her on that final journey. That all sounded like comfortable spiritual mumbo-jumbo, safely quoted by a rational man under duress. The abyssal rift in that psycho-babble, makeshift patch over my emotional pain was I felt Vranus and Ishara standing at my shoulders. Vranus because his seemingly endless quest was finally resolved and he and his descendants would at last be welcomed into the halls of their kin. With me, he had succeeded and brought his people home. There was still the matter of the rest; the three sons of Arinniti and the elder warrior. Holy Crap; they were still out there, waiting to be shown the path home. My 'Evenly Holier Crap' moment was feeling the weight of the eyes of Ishara upon me. Not Ishara, the matron goddess of this; my House, but that ancient Amazon who had surrendered her personal name to oblivion to give her followers a sense of unity. No female was solely 'her' daughter; all the women of the house were equal in birth and station. It was that Ishara who stood at my shoulder and, beyond some perverse desire to look behind me to see how sexy she was, I felt I had her; not approval; her mandate. We had to be held to our oaths and would die to a woman (and man) for them. We were to give the Host a second chance to make things right. There would be no retreat. It was not in the Amazon psyche to fight the relentless, remorseless and bloody battle; to risk everything on victory with no thought of failure. It was not something guys were accustomed to, but had been the doom of men down through the ages. Whether too romantic, too stubborn, or too bound to our brother's in arms, men had embraced hopeless causes before; mostly perishing without fanfare yet with the exceptional impossible victory to give us hope. From time immemorial, male kin of the flesh and spirit had piled their corpses one upon the other, refusing the verdict of combat for the sake of brotherhood and every imaginable ideal. It was hardly a trait worth sharing with the sisters. They would understand the pieces; not the result. My lack of political ability would not be disability. I simply had to learn to fight; a lot better than I did at that moment. The echoes of this message inside my head, the chilled air that filled my lungs and balance restored to my heart was bizarrely unfrightening. It would be an affirmation of the 'first directive' oaths all the houses had sworn. It wasn't my place to raise all the 'Runners', or even a single one. It was my duty to initiate the 'Worthy', no matter their number. My actions were mine. I would not shame the other houses. I would not consider their prestige at all. It was not my place in the same way it was not their place to tell me what I could and couldn't do. It was a divine 'Go get 'em' and it felt pretty, freaking awesome. "Cáel, are you okay?" Nicole asked in a worried tone. She squeezed my thigh. I looked down at my hands. I was okay. "Nicole, I have the blood of Ahhiyawa champions on my hands. I feel it's sticky, sickening ichor and smell the copper-laden, metallic odor," I smiled. "I think I'm going to be just fine." "Who?" Nicole was even more concerned. "Someone who screwed with me a long, long time ago. They are all dead, but don't worry about the bodies showing up to bother anyone," I grinned. All the full-blooded Amazons had been very still. The word 'Ahhiyawa' appeared to scare them even more than my haunting actions. To the Amazons, the Ahhiyawa were the Mycenaeans in the time of the Iliad. The problem seemed to be that I had never heard any member of the Host use that term and I was suddenly curious as to why. "You seemed to have went away for a few seconds," Nicole joked lightly. "You do appear better rested, which is good. What is on the agenda for today?" "Get my Father's body, prepare for his cremation, arrange for the last Roman Catholic Church we attended to send somebody to the service and prepare my parent's plot," I ran down. "I imagine the police and feds will want to contact me again," I piled it on. "I want to see my home if the forensic guys let me. What do you think will be aimed at me?" "We'll check up on any family attorney you may have had along with probating your father's Will, if he had one," Nicole assured me. "As for the authorities, let's see what kind of warrants they are asking for before we move beyond a 'denial' defense." "Denial, as in me claiming I didn't do anything because, ya know, I didn't do anything," I gave her a sleepy smile. "How about we eat first?" We ordered, drank our coffee, tea and juices while remaining largely non-communicative. It wasn't until the food began arriving did I realize I'd 'misplaced' Pamela once more. As I tore into a big slab of ham, I looked over my surroundings for the first time. I gave myself a mental pat on the back when I spotted Pamela then the 'big picture' kicked me in the nuts. Pamela was dressed as a server, coasting about the room, filling drinks, getting appetizer and performing the tedious little chores that waiters and waitresses had to pull off flawlessly. The other wait-staff noticed Pamela, but since she was making their jobs easier and not taking their gratuities, they ignored her. They probably thought she was some industry expert. The plates were being cleared away when Pamela returned, back in normal clothing. She dumped a pile of ID's on the table. Nicole picked them up. "Chicago PD; Organized Crime Taskforce," Nicole read off then glanced to Pamela. "ATF, Homeland Security, FBI, FBI, Chicago PD; Homicide, Federal Marshall and Federal Marshall." "What?" Pamela said between bites of her veggie omelet. "I took their identification, not their wallets. Do you want me to go back for those too; and their keys?" "No. We have risked Mr. Nyilas' freedom enough for one meal," Nicole shot back. She took Tiger Lily's empty plate, dumped the ID's on it then covered the pile with her handkerchief. "Hello," this officious young lady greeted us. I'd been distracted by Nicole's malfeasance so I missed the hotel's new Assistant Manager's approach. It was turning out to be a great morning for visitations from my past. This ghost was much younger than the last ones. Our eyes met. It was easy to see that I was the man in charge being the only man at the table. "Director Nyilas, I hope everything is going well for you and your staff this morning," she smiled. "I would also like to convey the Hotel Burnham's condolences at the passing of your father. I too was born and raised in Burnham." I already knew where she'd lived most of her life. Most critically, I very strongly recalled where she'd gone to school; all 12 grades plus K. "Cameron Sanders," I stood and extended my hand across the table. "You look familiar." Of course she looked familiar. Cameron had publically ground my soul into the grit that ants stepped upon. Her verbal rejection had been a pivotal moment in my life. After that day, I had taken responsibility for my life both anatomically and academically. Recall how I had said I was once a 'nobody'. Here was living proof. Cameron and I had gone to the same schools from Kindergarten through our senior years. We'd even shared classes and it wasn't like I could be confused with all the other 'Cáels' we'd gone to school with; because there weren't any. The same goes for 'Nyilas'. I'd been shifting the boner in my pants for three solid years because of Cameron. She had been hot in high school and she was even better looking now; Brooke hot. For a second, my confidence wavered. In that heartbeat, I realized she was just another woman and I was no longer that guy. "Where you an upperclassman at Thornton Fractional North High School?" she queried. "Hmm; do you recall Jenny Forrester?" I countered. Cameron knew her African-American rival, no doubt. The tweak in her smile said as much. "I'm going out on a limb; you look like a DePaul girl." Cameron's eyes twinkled. Her eyes flitted down to where her class ring normally held court. She had taken it off for work neutrality. "How did you guess?" Cameron tilted her hip suggestively. Sex. "So I'm right?" I reposed. I had 'guessed' right because Cameron crowed about her decision to go to DePaul over all her other offers. "I have some family business to take care of, Cameron," I nodded. "Can we catch up later today and figure out where we've intersected before this morning?" Translation: I'm going to screw you. Not 'I want to', but 'I will'. I could normally figure out a woman in an evening. I had a three year backlog of data on poor Cameron. My Pivotal Goddess was an 'upfront' girl. Her façade was bravado backed by the fear of not measuring up; not being good enough. My mistake in High School was approaching her, hat in hand. Cameron felt best when someone took the tough choices away from her. If she didn't lead, she couldn't fail by her way of thinking. Dad had stood by me that night when he came home from work. I was a broken wreck of a teenage boy. Dad hadn't told me to toughen up and he hadn't been sympathetic. All he wanted to know was what I was going to do about it. What was 'I' going to do, as if I could be the master of my own fate. That was my Dad. The next day I started working out, eating better and taking better care of myself. He was dead; still dead yet my feelings over that had evolved. He was with my ancestors now, waiting for me and my sons and daughters. Looking at it that way, he wasn't really gone at all. "I'll see what can be done," Cameron smiled. I was going to eat her up. "Oh yeah, this plate was mistakenly delivered to my table," I indicated Pamela's illegal haul. "Could you see that it gets where it needs to go after we are gone?" Cameron shot me a sultry smile without even giving her task a casual glance. A hideous tip (kudos to Odette) was added to our over-priced bill and the ladies and I retired to our rooms. It was routine heading to our room. Mona waved us to silence. Then the 'bug hunt' began. Like every Amazon persecution of opposing 'life forms', they didn't play fair. The Amazons had placed electronic surveillance in the room before they left so when unwelcomed guests showed up while we ate and Mona 'slept' we could watch where they placed their goodies in our rooms. This was not a matter of throwing a fit and tossing the electronic devices down the garbage disposal. Oh no, not in Amazon battle lore. They found out what frequency your device was broadcasting on and backtracked it. According to Tiger Lily you can use a source point and a handheld device to triangulate the receiver. Then the fun begins. First, keep the original signal going. Put a subroutine of; oh, all kinds of credit card fraud in this case with the video file then call the appropriate law enforcement agency to bust the place. The subroutine would have no point of origin, so the Amazons would be safe. The spying agency would have a headache on their hands. Credit card fraud would require them to confiscate all the equipment because the threat posed was real, even if the tip was now suspect. This was the Amazon equivalent of fixating the enemy at one point; surveillance; while making their real move on another; the funeral. The average Amazon funeral was a private affair. My Security Detail was modifying plans for an Amazon dignitary's attendance of another Society member's funerary rites. Halfway through the deception plan, Special Agents Brock and John showed up at our door. With two law firms (Pratt's and Nicole's) dancing on their foreheads, they were being polite today and inviting me down to be questioned. I asked for Detective Lisa and Investigator Horace to be there. One: I didn't dictate who investigated me. Two: they were under Internal Affairs review. I agreed with 'one'; I would say 'nothing' to any number of highly qualified law enforcement operatives. I might give answers to the two I had mentioned. 'Two' was none of my affair. They could hope for some answers when they chose the review would be over. I was more than happy spending a lifetime not talking to them. Legalize was tossed around to the point Nicole yawned, pointed out none of them were attorney's with the United States District Court of the Northern District of Illinois; damn, that's some letterhead, and they could make no deals, grant no immunities, on their own. There was no talking to be done except for the ass-reaming the Court of Appeals was going to give both the Federal attorney who applied for the surveillance warrant and the judge who signed it. Low and behold, phones began ringing. As a patrol unit was making a raid on a room three floors down, a series of shots rang out. A gun battle ensued between the three armed men in the room, the two patrolmen (women actually) and the entire misfortunate event was caught on NBC Channel Five news. Occasionally I forget I work for fundamentally viciously sick fucks. My 'team' had sent the cops and the news crew to the spot and even supplied the ignorant housekeeper with the room card-key for the cops to break in with; a hotel room is not a private dwelling. Cops break in, do their 'freeze, we are the police' thing, but before the three feds in the room could reply, 'their' computer audio equipment let off a sound of bullets firing and ricochets echoing across the room. Nature took its course after that. The feds drew and both sides began shooting. No one died, but one ATF guy was going off to surgery. They would have all earned Purple Hearts if they had been in the military and a commendation no matter what; had two law enforcement agencies not shot each other up. The chase was on for the news crew who was desperately trying to get their station to show the footage before the feds grabbed the memory cards. Despite having had no part in that fiasco, Nicole immediately clued in that the moment our two feds ran off to help their comrades it was our time to leave. Did we go to the vehicles we came in? No. That would have exhibited a lack of paranoia my guardians would have found appalling. Two new car waited a block away. Had I been better at this game, I would have noticed the lack of functioning traffic cameras around us. Instead, I went begging to the local diocese of the Catholic Church. I plead my case. Mom and Dad were devout, raised me to be a devout Catholic yet when my Mother died, my father had never gotten over the trauma and me, being a young man, hadn't explored my spirituality yet; but I promised I'd get right on it when I returned to New York. The priest who handled the end of life stuff for the Church was sympathetic. He gave me the name of a local priest near my home I could talk to on my return. He also told me that he'd received a moving letter from a nun in Uganda about a deeply spiritual moment she had shared with me years ago, so he was onboard with giving my Dad a Catholic send-off. I wasn't sure if that was a sign to never touch a wannabe Nun again, or a reminder that nun's gave incredibly positive feedback on their sexual misadventures. I went with the latter. A few more calls, the choosing of the proper crematorium and I was through with the first part of that ordeal. Next came the funeral notification and invites. The Union would send some of Dad's closest co-workers and several neighbors said they'd show up as well. Flowers, clothes, wake; well, it couldn't be in my family home. The forensic team was gone and it was free for me to wander through, but the bullet holes and blood might put a damper on the ambience. In the midst of my worries, I got a call. A polite man named Winchell Sokolowsky offered me the Marshal Fields Jr. Mansion for my personal use. If there is any doubt, Chicago is Not the city of good Samaritans, the overly polite, or even the casually kind. Chicagoans pride themselves on being tough. We have plenty of good people who help out, volunteer and try to make life easier for their fellow man. That does not encompass giving a random stranger use of a multi-million dollar mansion. If I hadn't already been living in fantasy land, I'd have been busy figuring out which one of my few male friends was pulling this prank of on me, but no. "Can I inquire about the source of this largesse, Mr. Sokolowsky? Take in mind the incredible likelihood of a government agency most foul listening in," I cautioned him. "A family friend," he responded with an amused snort. Yeah, cause my Father's funeral was all chuckles for me. Since crab-women weren't likely to know owners of mansions, this had to be my aunts. Woot. "Thank you sir. My security people will be over to sweep the place before the city, state, or federal governments can crank out another search warrant. Thank you again." "That is not unexpected," Sokolowsky replied. "Until then." Rachel looked at me as if I'd done something absurd. She may have been right. "Did you just accept shelter from an individual we do not know; except that he is certainly part of the Protocols?" she stared at me. "Come on now," I chastised her. "It's for a funerary wake. I'm not taking three hundred of the lads out for a stroll, chasing savages up the Little Big Horn, or an Irishman deciding that Oliver Cromwell is a man of his word." I leaned in and winked to Rachel. "Besides Charlie; I got an angle." Pamela, who just happened to be walking by, gave me another high-five. Rachel was really learning to hate/dread those moments of synergy between Pamela and I. "I am not allowed to kill you and I am afraid I can't kill Pamela, but please don't think I don't want to do both," Rachel ratcheted up her displeasure. "Torn into itsy-bitsy pieces;” Pamela started. "And buried alive!" I finished. Another high-five. "You two are both insane," Rachel despaired. "That's the spirit," Pamela and my comeback to Rachel was in synch once again. To prove I wasn't heartless, I hugged Rachel. She froze, arms at her side, caught between warring impulses. I maneuvered her arms around until her hands rested on the back of my hips then rested mine on the small of her back. "Rachel, I cannot go back to a safe, faceless existence," I whispered as I planted tender kisses on her forehead. "To do so would be a betrayal of; me; Ishara." Rachel let go of her emotions and rested her head against my shoulder. "Why couldn't I be tasked to do something sane; like fight drug cartels, Maoist insurgence, or corporate hit squads in the Amazon?" she sighed. I moved my hands to her ass and gave them a nice fondle making sure to slowly grind her waist against my hips. Humping her would have been a mistake. That was sexual. I was giving her a bit of physical appreciation and nothing more. Rachel tilted her head up, I brought mine down until we were nose to nose. "Promise me you will try to stay alive, Cáel," she sounded almost mournful. "I will make a deal with you," I stated. "If I make it back to New York alive, you will consent to have sex with me." Rachel was confused, suspicious yet aroused. "None of this 'one hour' in some dormitory, or nunnery cell. I want everything; a light meal, some quality touching time and a minimum of two rounds of orgasmic sex." "Ah; not a scratch," Rachel counter-offered. I nodded, kissed her nose and she felt as if she'd won something. Rachel got ready to take us to our next stop. Pamela slipped past me. "Like shooting fish in a barrel," she whispered. I had never used that term out loud before. "That's what I would say," she clarified. She was my evil psychic twin grandmother. It was through a tireless group effort that I made it back to the Hotel Burnham at 4 p.m. Cameron made a show of being busy when I first came back. I was willing to be patient. While she puttered around, I flirted with the desk clerk and one of the baggage attendants; pale skin, blonde hair with freckles and light brown skin, black hair in a Nubian weave. This was the 'professional' lure. By presenting myself as a 'Man's Man' and garnering female adoration, I was clearly not (yet) that into her. The pressure was on her and Cameron didn't like pressure because pressure equated to the possibility of failure. Her advantages which were obvious to every other observer were not certainties to her. Contest time. "Director Cáel Nyilas," Cameron interrupted my joke to the two ladies, "I'm finished up for the day." I gave a quick smile to the women I was about to leave then turned on my personal demon. "Should I wait in the lounge until you change?" "No," I waved off her objections. "You can come up to my suite and then we can go to your domicile for you to change for a night out." Quick visual clue update: she lived at home with her parents yet dated enough that it wouldn't be awkward. It also showed me that she was uncomfortable about going to my room. She wasn't so enchanted she would do something stupid. I had the answer to that. I had made it a public declaration. Not only did my hovering troop had the news, so did her front desk. Nothing bad could happen to her if everyone knew where she was; right? On the elevator ride up it was just me, Cameron, Pamela and Esmeralda. The rest travelled on ahead. She took one rear corner so I took the other. I then let my leather-soled shoes slide down the carpet, lowering my overall height compared to Cameron. At some point, I began back-spinning my feet, pretending to be on the edge of falling on my ass. I smiled at Cameron and her eyes sparkled at the vaudevillian gesture. Know your prey and I knew way more about Cameron than was healthy for any girl. For instance, she loved Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton; more of a Keaton girl. She giggled then came to my rescue. She was wrapping me up in her arms while mine stayed safely away. "You are a bit of a joker," she teased me. "Your beautiful smile makes all that effort worthwhile," I truthfully pledged to Cameron. She sighed so contentedly. Behind her back, Pamela was loading a two-barreled hunting device, aiming at some surface-based, above ground structure with an open top and gave it both barrels while avoiding the imaginary back-splash. 'Looks like herring for dinner,' she mouthed with a wicked grin. Esmeralda was soaking it in. Hadn't I pounced on Rachel a few hours earlier? I was definitely hooking Cameron and reeling her in for some sexual deviant purpose; and Pamela was mocking the whole situation. E turned and faced the doors. "You seem like a really nice guy," Cameron murmured. "I mean that in a good way." "I can't see you as any way, but truthful and kind," I met her cherished countenance. "I imagine even harsh lessons are difficult for you to deliver." There; she had one last chance to figure out the poor schlub she'd crushed at the start of our senior year was me. "Being a leader can be very tough," she moped as she pressed into me. My mumbled offerings of affection and her savage reprisal had never registered with her. I was going to eat her alive. "How about I take care of you tonight?" I requested. She hesitated, not out of fear, but confusion. "Completely relax and I'll make the decisions for this one night. Your mind will be free to enjoy and discard at your pleasure." On most levels, Cameron was seeing this as a date. She was a 'dating' girl. She didn't give up the goodies until date three, if I was exceptionally good; date four, or five otherwise. I was about to dispose of that with a clever case of role reversal. My two staffers vanished as I entered my lakeside executive suite. A splendid view I thought I'd never be able to afford the last day; The 28th of December. I had enough money for a flight and a date picking me up at the airport. Bolingbrook had an inordinate amount of students stay the holidays and, by tradition, the graduating class hosted a New Year's Eve party for those students and the staff. I had told Dad about Havenstone and my infinitesimal chances of that kind of job. That was it. He patted me on the shoulder. There was no pressure to come back to Burnham after graduation if I didn't have a job lined up. It was my home if I needed it. So much was unspoken between us. I could tell he was proud; college; good grades; popular; happy. I shouldn't have taken for granted we'd get a chance to talk later. Back to the joy at hand. "So, what's it like working with your Dad?" I dropped into our causal conversation. I was in the bedroom, door open; really? Why do they put doors on those things? The 'Daddy' question could be taken two ways and I trusted Cameron to take it the worse way; and to be pissed. "My Father didn't get me the job here!" Cameron stormed in and insisted with a nice spirited mare stomp of the foot as emphasis. I 'just happened' to be naked, half turned away and a nice, highly suggestive pair of men's underwear in my hands. "What do you mean?" I was clearly confused. I turned a bit more toward her. Now she could almost see everything. "You; you have scars all over your body," she moaned. "I am a warrior, Cameron. This is the kind of man I am," I gave her a fierce, dominating gaze. "I fight for what I want and I brutally defend that which is mine. Who did you think I was?" Had Cameron been a fighter, that would have been the point she left the room. She was all up-front, bravado and a superior façade over an insecure, parentally driven trophy for their mantel place. My anger faded. It wasn't her fault I couldn't read her signs four years ago. I was still going to fuck her to the afterlife and back, but this time I'd be doing it as an informative journey. "I don't know anymore," Cameron tried to rally some sort of coherent rampart. "Come here," I beckoned her with one hand (the one without the underwear). Cameron shook her head. "Cameron, please believe me, there are things my staff would let me get away with; rape is not one of them. I won't touch you anywhere unless you give me permission." If you are a girl in the room at this point, you are toast. I just made it safe to touch my naked body. Sure, you have clothes on; for now, but not for long. Why? Women desire sex about as much as men do. Unless you are a vapid fashion model with substance abuse issues, men with non-disfiguring scars are an aphrodisiac. Add to that a hard-forged physique and men, sex is there for the taking. "I; uh;” she kept taking baby-steps forward. "I; Pam; Pamela is it?" "Yo," Pamela answered in a bored manner, knife in hand, then, "Whoa now!" she pointed her knife at my equipment. "Sheath that, young man. Put it under wraps right now." "I'm grown man, Pamela," I griped. I also put on my underwear. "Pluck the freaking pebble out of my hand, bitch, and then I'll call you an adult," Pamela sneered. Looking to Cameron, "Anything else Miss?" "No, thank you; no, wait. What do you do for Mr. Nyilas?" Cameron asked. "I'm his psychic medium," was Pamela's sage reply. That supernatural bogusness made Cameron happy. It shouldn't have. "Yeah, I kill his enemies then interrogate their souls," Pamela added with a nod. "It is highly rewarding work." Cameron's mouth gaped. "How about I shut the door and give you two kids some privacy." "What does she really do?" Cameron whispered to me. Part of me wanted to say 'she told you'. "She's my masseuse," I lied. I started putting my pants on (forgetting my socks) then fell/sat on the bed. Cameron came to my bedside. I rolled on my back and highly exaggerated the effort it took to pull them up. Cameron began giggling. "Hey, these are my 'skinny' slacks. I wouldn't laugh at you if our positions were switched." "Really?" she teased me. I laughed and she laughed along. "Cameron, think about it. I'm shirtless and definitely bra-less. I'm pretty sure I'd be too distracted by a multitude of your other assets to snicker," I countered. Cameron blushed and smiled. Ah, the visual image in Cameron's head was her, with jeans, racy panties and nothing else on while I hovered over her, relishing her attempts to conceal her charms. I shuffled back on the bed and resumed pulling my slacks up. Cameron followed, right into the danger zone. "Wait;” she put a hand on my abdomen. "What caused that scar?" So I told her. Okay, I gave her an abridged version of the truth. Fine, I lied like a big dog. I had the amazing habit of stumbling across women in need of saving. I bled for their virtue and honor, racked with intense pain before a violent victory was seized by my masculine hands. I was sure that Pamela and Rachel were hiding just outside the door, retching into waste baskets over the layers upon layers of my tripe. Around wound twelve, I was sure if I had asked Cameron to wear little lamb ears and a bell around her neck, she would have; had one been handy. To be fair, I wasn't fighting off legions of Green Beret. I was doing one better. I was using thinly-veiled caricatures of her High School enemies and nemeses. I was revealing their wickedness and pummeling them for their evil ways. There is a precious look a woman has when she miraculously discovers she is going to have the intercourse she's wanted yet somehow not recognized that need for until that moment. Cameron had that look, straddling me, skirt hiked up to her waist and vulva riding my cock (two layers intervening). We were out of wounds. "The rest are covered up," I explained in a predatory voice. Yes, Cameron was going to have sex and she had no control of events whatsoever and I hadn't even laid a hand on her yet. "Where?" she was suddenly baffled. "Pants," I kept it short and to the point. Cameron looked over her shoulder She reluctantly started to dismount so she could get to them so I made my move. I grabbed her hips in mid-dismount and rotated her around to reverse-cowgirl. Cameron began tugging off my pants with my legs raised high. My stomach crunches kicked in and I leveraged my torso up as well. I deftly moved her skirt up and went straight to the ass massage. Cameron's head shot around, eyes fearful. I had broken my word to not touch her without permission. Yes, I had lied to a girl; Now, I kissed her right on the lips, expertly delivered a delving French kiss and moved one hand to her right breast for an aggressive fondle. Cameron was really getting into it. Her nipples were highly sensitive. Her ass was humping like an over-eager sorority girl pole-dancing on Amateur Night. On cue, Cameron broke free and flew off the bed. "What; you; I thought we were going out?" she whined. She was horny as hell and didn't want to be held accountable at it. "Why are you running away?" I reclined back, solely in my underwear now. I was using my 'I'm disappointed in you' voice. Yes, I was 'guilting' a girl into having sex. Duh. I would never coerce a woman, or take one not in her right mind; that's using forces beyond her control. Guilt? Guilt has a foundation squarely in a woman's mind, just like humor, romance, common interests (feigned or not) and horniness. Girls can control guilt just like any other psychological trigger. It is called being shameless and I ought to know. Remember guys, it cuts both ways. Don't think so? You've had a girlfriend three whole months to the point she's staying over a night or two a week. One night, after your (hopefully) second round, you both discover it is that time of the month. 'Babe (or whatever pet name she has saddled you with), can you run to the store and get me some tampons and pads?' That, by the way, was not a question. She, for hygiene reasons, can't put her clothes on and go out herself. So, you go out to the Quick-Mart at 2 a.m. praying to God that none of your buddies are on a late night beer run and see you with your; stuff. You are not doing this for sex. She's not feeling 100% at the moment. Why are you? Guilt. She was at your place, making your Baloney Pony happy and this happened. You could send her out to the store. Not only is she not the only woman out there, many women understand guys getting freaked out about menstrual products. No, you feel guilty and risk the ridicule of your peers because it is your fault and you are not a dick-wad. And why did she ask you to do something that has nothing to do with you? Women are equally aware that guilt works, Baby. Back to our tale; "I'm not running away," sounded empty coming out of her mouth. "You said; touching." "I think you gave that option up when you crawled on top of me," I leered. "I clearly want to be with you, Cameron. You have given every indication you want to be with me, so I ask you again, why are you suddenly running away?" I kept after her. "I don't want to have sex; right now," again, she sounded weak. "Whatever happens, I go back to New York in two days," I met her shaky gaze. "You can set a time table if you like. The actuality of my life is relentless. I have things to get back to. If you are going to go, then go. I'll head out alone tonight, get a few drinks, come back early and grab some shut-eye," I shrugged. I went searching for my pants. See, she wasn't some random fuck. I wasn't leaving to replace her; making her a failure. I was hemming her in. I had the timeline. I had made my desires clear. There was no negotiation so while she appeared to have choices, she didn't and she knew it. For a girl who had spent so much effort working hard to not disappoint the main masculine figure in her life there was only one thing to do. "I don't want you to think I ever do anything like this," she propped up her morals while stutter-stepping back to the bed. "I feel I have a connection with you." Ah; the 'I have a connection with you' excuse. It would have been so appropriate if she actually remembered me. I pulled her onto the bed, went through the obligatory trying to push me off then we were back to the kissing and humping. Cameron turned out to be a 'use me' girl. That does Not mean abuse, it means she gets off being a responder to her partner's sexual directions. Caress her cheek, jaw and throat and she'd cup my chin, or massage my chest. Cameron was smart and a quick-learner. Her problem was a lack of a sense of adventure and an aversion to taking the lead. With the phantom applause of a hundred other male 'losers' who went to Fractional North High School, I ‘did' the queen who had been beyond us all only four years ago. The erotic twist to all that was with every sense of triumph and pleasure, Cameron mimicked me. Certainly we were both having a memorable time. I had to touch, lick, knead, and fondle every inch of Cameron's body. We both explored our nipple fetish, sixty-nined and engaged in some anal play; no penetration. I completed my first sojourn with the removal of the condom and the blowjob that had been the fantasy of countless hours in my home's upstairs bathroom. Cameron didn't just swallow; she savored and looked like she wanted more. Normally I cuddle beside my partner post-coitus. With Cameron, I lay on top of her at eye level. I put enough weight on her to let her feel pinned without real discomfort. "I have a confession," I gave her a sweaty-faced grin. "What?" she asked then gave me a peck on the lips. "We went to school together; same grade and everything," I enlightened her. "We even talked once." Cameron didn't know what to make of that. "I'll put that in perspective though. Do you believe that if you do something you do your best? Do you believe in craftsmanship?" "Cáel, you are scaring me," Cameron frowned. "Fifteen seconds and you can go," I conveyed with as much calm as I could. "Answer my question." "Okay; yes, I believe in doing your best. I believe in craftsmanship," Cameron played along. "Your words; 'never in a million years'." I related and waited. First there was the uncertainty and fear of the odd course our relationship had taken. It took a few seconds because so few pieces of the puzzle fit. "Cáel Nyilas; it was you; start of senior year; I had been," she muttered. Then came the real fear. "You must hate me." "I thought about it," I said, "but that isn't really me. See, you helped create me. Truth be told, you were only the catalyst. I did all the work." "A great many women helped. They were never a replacement for you. I was taught better than that by my first lover," I continued. "Still, I would be totally different if you hadn't casually annihilated my self-worth that September day." Pause. "Do you like the results?" "You really don't hate me;” Cameron was coming around. "It was high school. We all screw up in high school. According to a few studies, if you don't make a mess of high school, you are destined for failure," I related some real information. "You are getting hard again," Cameron gasped back to being okay with things between us. "Perhaps I should have warned you," I grinned wickedly. "I'm a sex addict." "Hey, Sex Addict!" Pamela shouted into the room. "There are some people out here to see you." "Good people, or bad people?" I shouted back. "Worse," Pamela replied. "The kind of people that want something from you." That was vaguely unpromising. "Cameron, take a shower and we'll talk about dinner when you get out. I think I need to take care of this," I sighed. Off went Cameron to the shower and on went my robe. In the main room, with a variety of levels of sexual tension, were sixteen women I didn't know. The Hotel Burnham has very nice suites, but they are not ballrooms. The room was pretty crowded, with not enough chairs and wall space getting sparse. They were all Havenstone women and I was willing to bet the average age was thirty-five; not my normal crowd. At least I knew why they were all there. Pamela suspected. Rachel and her team were clueless. "Hi, I am known as Cáel Nyilas," I greeted them. "A short history lesson and things will make a great deal more sense, so please be patient." The crowd was not pleased. I was a male and to a woman, the ladies had repudiated the world of men. They were all 'Runners'. It was the presence of Rachel's group that was keeping them civil at this point. "Twenty-five hundred years ago, as the Second Betrayal was ending, there was a small group of males who had proven themselves to the Amazon Host, taken into houses and their names were written on the Amazon Rolls," I started off. "Two of those males and three male children of one of the houses survived the massacre the female Amazons inflicted on their kin." That bought me a moment. Slaughtering your own babies, even male babies, wasn't something they would shrug off. "Well, if you know your Amazon politics, you know that the children of an Amazon who dies while in service of the Host becomes a member of the Host; so on and so on." The implications were sinking in as was the nervousness. "One of those men was a young warrior named Vranus of House Ishara. I am the sole surviving heir of Vranus. We are also here for the burial of my Father, who was murdered Sunday night. The next bit of Amazon politics. House Ishara was an extinct First House," I continued. "Oh shit," was uttered from half-dozen lips as they moved to the next, obvious step. "The succession to the Head of House for any House is elevation by your peers, accepted ritual combat and; the oldest surviving member of the House," I added. "By the Seven Martial Goddess; don't you have to be female? I mean; We are Amazons!" one of the 'Runners' yelled in disbelief. "Do you plan to add more males to your House?" one of the senior members growled. "Two things; it should not bother you one way, or another, and it is not MY House. It is the House of my Ancestor, Ishara. If this is going to be a problem, you are in the wrong room," I met her hostile glare ember for ember. That one headed for the door. "Wait," a fellow 'Runner' grabbed her arm. "You can't be going along with this Marsha?" the departing Amazon snapped. "I don't know this one, but I trust Buffy," Marsha countered. "Ok ladies, so that we are clear," Pamela sighed. "The next one of you to insult the Head of House Ishara, I am going to drag into the other room, kill you and cut you up into giblets for room service to take away," Pamela sounded positively disinterested. "I am not afraid of you," the departing one glared. "That would be a serious mistake," Rachel interjected quietly. Deep breath from me. "Listen, this is a highly improbable incident. I am not asking anyone to embrace the society you have rejected. In fact, I admire you for the strength it took to transition. I also ask you to accept the fact that I DO NOT want to be here, doing this, with any of you," I made one last effort. "Quite frankly, you man-haters scare me; being a man and all. You seem to think I have a choice in any of this. I don't. I am the heir of Vranus. I am the last known living descendant of the Amazon who chose the name Ishara for the sake of her house's unity," I stated. "I don't want to do this, but I'm not the kind of human being who runs away from my responsibilities." "Okay; Cáel of Ishara, why are we here?" Marsha said as she kept the other one from leaving. "Sixty years ago, the Amazon Houses swore an oath to the women who joined their cause. They lied to you. They have not kept up their side of the bargain. They have refused virtually all of you entry into the status as true, full-blooded Amazons," I explained. "And now you are going to rectify that; injustice?" the senior one kept mocking me. "Fine; you and me; one last chance," I sighed. "Look around you. Who do you see? The prettiest, the most pliable, the most power-hungry? If you can point out one woman in this room that doesn't deserve to be a Full-Blooded Amazon, leave now." "You didn't choose any of us," she responded. "Exactly!" I shouted. "I didn't choose any of you to be in House Ishara. Buffy Ishara and Helena Ishara did. Why? Because I don't know any of you, or your sacrifices and worth to Havenstone. I gave that duty to the two; and only two; member of House Ishara who would know who was the most worthy to be in a First House." "We are here to be inducted," one of the silent Amazons voiced with a dream-like quality. "Yes. Barring being rejected by Ishara, you will be inducted at my Father's graveside tomorrow morning," I stated clearly. "How many?" Senior questioned. "This time; twenty," I answered. "I have no agenda and no set number of 'Runners' to be inducted into House Ishara. It doesn't work
If you cannot compromise; Challenge! In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Every person is alone. That is the definition of Free-will.” The gift from Grandpa that keeps on giving. I almost miss not killing him myself." "That man was an eternal foe of the Amazons, Cáel. His death was necessary for peace with the Illuminati, thus peace with all the other factions," Pamela related. I began laughing. "So my misogynistic family heritage comes from my Mother and my misandristic lineage comes from my Father," I clued Pamela in. She found it to be hilariously ironic too. "We still have to be careful," Pamela nudged me. "After all, your Grandfather had plans for your body. Whether we choose to believe it was to be a vessel for your Grandfather's essence; or, if you prefer, he put something in your Mother's DNA that, when combined with the machinery he used to store his memories, would bring him back to life; Cáel O'Shea always was thinking three steps ahead." "Why didn't you kill me when you figured this out?" I stared at her. "You hold the fate of House Ishara inside of you," Pamela smiled warmly. "Besides, I like you. No one really understands me like you do. Everyone else thinks I have a sick sense of humor." "I wish you had been my Grandmother," I nodded. "Wait; wait," Pamela held me back from continuing. "Because if I had been your Grandmother, you would have known to avoid a nut-ranch like Havenstone." "Are you like my psychic twin?" I teased her. She was right, of course. "I had a twin brother," Pamela turned sad. "I have always wondered what path his spirit traveled once they took him to the cliffs." "The fact that you still recall him with empathy speaks volumes for you, Pamela," I hugged her. "I felt the same way, you know," Pamela drew comfort from my warmth. I was uncertain of her meaning. "When they told me what happened to boys; I couldn't accept it. Their reasoning rang hollow and I saw their denial of their own blood to be self-defeating." "I have always wanted to believe my brother waits for me in the Hall of Ancestors so I can finally see his face and tell him I'm sorry that I was the one that was spared," she confessed. "You weren't spared, Pamela," I comforted her. "You had children and grandchildren so that way your brother will have grand-nephews and great grand-nephews whose actions are recorded in the deeds of your house and their names inscribed in the roster of the Host." "That's my hope anyway," I added. "Let it be so," she whispered. (A Step back in time: that Weekend, between Oneida and Nicole) The weekend; I'd had plenty of relaxing sex over the weekend, bonded with Oneida somewhat while we biked Saturday morning, had sex with Gael, junior of House Bendis (the woman who let me borrow her phone so I could invite Buffy, Helena and Desiree to my little induction ceremony), then had a late afternoon date with Nikita. Escorting Yasmin and her son to the airport for the start of her Havenstone training after dinner was unsettling. The boy, Braulio, seemed worried, Yasmin was glad to see me, really glad to see me then finished if off by commenting that she could tell 'something had changed'. I affirmed her hunch without going into the details. As Yasmin's mood improved, so did her son's. I wished her luck. She told me I'd need it more. Late Saturday night I was invited to a party by Libra. Brooke showed up date-less (she wasn't jumping into a new relationship) so she glommed onto me; us. Marla and Libra had a huge phone fight about her (Marla) not being 21 yet, thus not invited to the party. Felix was there having reconnected with Gina because he had both a glib tongue and an awe-inspiring sexual arsenal. Felix's attempts to recoup any ground with Brook failed miserably. She had her own bitterness toward Trent, her memory of me handing her panties under an outdoor cafe's table as a trophy Felix had taken the night before and displayed openly in my office, and my own masculine support to draw strength from. Felix and I did not verbally, or socially, spar. He accepted the verdict of our first contest and, for all his faults, he acknowledged that my victory had worth and obeyed his conscience on the matter. If anything, he was visually more respectful than ever before. I wasn't his equal; no man and definitely no woman was; yet I was now a competitor he would have to give his very best to defeat. Sunday morning had been just me and Odette. We'd cuddled on the sofa, watched some TV and then I took her to Havenstone for time in the pool. I kept the overly-aggressive Amazons at bay while getting Odette used to the idea of regular exercise; hanging out with Timothy and I required greater endurance than her sedentary youthful stamina provided. An early afternoon invite to a 'pick-up' basketball game at the community, two-court, outdoor lot with Jason, the bar-back from the Yuppie bar, brought me back in contact with Katy Lee Baker, aka Delivery Girl. Odette tagged along. It also brought me in contact with the local 'wild-life'. A Latin King clique was starting to operate in the area and Jason's crew were the native inhabitants who took exception to this. We played for about half an hour were everyone learned I was a big, fat liar. I was actually good at basketball, despite my earlier claims at ignorance. The Kings showed up, drove off the younger teens playing on the other court. A few more of those jokers showed up and it was now 'our turn' to make space. That went over like a shit brick. The Kings outnumbered us a good two-to-one, but Jason wasn't backing down. I was struggling to convince Jason that discretion was the better part of valor when some of the new Latin King arrivals tried to play with a few of the local ladies who had come down to watch their menfolk pull off their shirts and get sweaty. Poor Odette; she had been in the company of so many powerful, confident and lethal women she'd forgotten she wasn't one. A King grabbed Katy Lee's breast. Odette hit the asshole in the stomach, put a shin to his nuts and finished him off with grabbing his head and driving it into her upward moving knee, dropping him like the sack of shit he was. But wait, he had five buddies. Poo was being served up and the electric switch was about to be flipped. "I'll be back to help in a moment," I growled to Jason as the gang members jumped Odette. Katy Lee and a slightly older woman rushed to Odette's aid. The Kings didn't ignore my approach, peeling off two to 'deal with me'. They really shouldn't have hit Odette because now I was angry. The feces hit the rotary wind machine. With their last shows of bravado, I lay into the closest bastards. The sixteen year old was hesitantly pulling out his 32 caliber ACP while reconsidering his poor life choices as I hit his buddy so hard he went airborne, two teeth and a fountain of blood coming from the ruin I'd made of his face. Gun guy was next. I clamped my left hand on his right, gun-toting wrist then drove my knee into his elbow. The elbow snapped upward with a sound reminiscent of a car backfiring. His screams drowned out the thud of his gun dropping to the court surface. For the three remaining Latin Kings I was closing with, a terrible social reality came crashing in. Gangs rely on several tools to exert power; a propensity for violence, illegal finances, a fierce reputation, and superior numbers. By the look on my face, they discovered that their numbers didn't bother me in the least. I knew exactly who they were and didn't give a damn. My desire to destroy them was motivated by something far stronger than any currency, and I was clearly better at this whole violence thing than they seemed to be. They had their pride and the fidelity with their gang, plus their intimidation tactics were going wrong so fast, they couldn't process the disaster quickly enough to alter course. These guys were not professional warriors by any stretch of the imagination. 'Warriors'; perhaps. 'Professional'; definitely not. Their ability to rapidly adapt to a changing situation was woefully under-developed. In gang hand-to-hand combat, you bunch up your members, overrun a foe and beat him to the ground. Fighting a practitioner of Brazilian jujutsu, standing close to one another is the Last thing you want to do. I was a whirlwind of destruction, fed by the understanding that Jason's bunch needed me back real soon. The asshat who tried to use a knife on me got his hand pinned to the court for his audacity. I repeat, threatening Odette had infuriated me. At center court, Jason had his hands full and then some. The Latin Kings had the edges in both numbers and ferocity. The only other hometown boy holding his own was this thick, solid Puerto Rican guy named Bennie; the rest were in trouble. I started with the four-on-one stomp-down on one of Jason's friends; I'd missed the guy's beat down. My inner Amazon was leading the charge. Unlike all my previous encounters, I was intentionally causing pain. I wasn't trying to drive them off, or render them hors de combat. No, my desire was to strike terror in their hearts, inflicting suffering in order to eradicate my foes' resolve to fight. Knees snapped, bones broke, faces were stomped into the court and internal organs ruptured. Even my erstwhile allies were aghast at the wickedness with which I treated our enemy. "Ah; Cáel; are you okay?" Jason mumbled when the last King went down. He'd have a shiner on his left eye soon and his lip was split and bleeding. I hadn't come through unscathed either. Havenstone had seriously upped my pain threshold. Jason wasn't really asking about my physical well-being anyway. I had to get ahead of this; predicament. "Let's get this trash off the court," I commanded. The boys hesitated until Jason picked up one of my semi-conscious victims. "Come on 'Pendejo', leave and don't come back," Jason yanked the man up and began shoving him toward the gate he and his buddies had arrived by. The rest of Jason's friends joined in and we began cleaning up the place. One gangster decided he was too hurt to be moved. I'd rammed his shoulder into the goalpost, breaking his collarbone. He was crying about the pain he was in. I pulled him up. He was around 7 foot 2 inches tall and 275 pounds. I wrapped my hands around his thick bull neck and slowly raised him up off the ground. His face was reddening, his good hand was trying to break my hold and his legs were flailing about in the open air. [In Spanish] "Pain, Asshole? No, pain is me having to come back here and hunt you and your vermin buddies down," I seethed. "I don't live here. These men are not my friends. You touched my girl and I am God Almighty when it comes to defending those of my household. I am not in a gang. I am not a criminal. If you, or your gang, come within a block of this place, I will become Death. Today, there are too many witnesses. This is your reprieve; your moment of grace," I snarled. "Use it wisely. It will not happen again," I finished in a fury. I dropped him to his wobbly feet, catching his good hand before he fell over. That act of compassion after my dire threat confused the guy. "Go," I returned to English. The rest of the Latin Kings walked, stumbled, were dragged from the court. "Who are you again?" Bennie inquired. "Cáel Nyilas," I grinned. "I'm an Aerospace Engineer working on the feasibility of having hamsters running on their wheels being used to recharge batteries on manned flights to Mars." "Hamster wrangling has to be one tough profession," Katy Lee snickered as she and Odette came up. "Come on now," Jason winced as he licked his lip. "Brawling is about panic, anger and the management of those two forces," I told them. "I was the only one in this fight in control of himself, so my actions look out of proportions to what really happened." "They were kicking our asses," Bennie chuckled. "Not as bad as you guys think," I consoled them. "None of you guys ran, or curled up in a ball. That allowed me to pick my fights. I clearly have more hand-to-hand combat experience, but none of that would have mattered had you guys freaked out." There was some truth in what I said. Had they panicked, I would have grabbed Odette and Katy Lee then fled as well. Since they toughed it out, and the Latin Kings exerted virtually no command and control, I was able take on the gang members in small, bite-sized chunks. My training and experience took care of the rest. This also made the somewhat traumatized ballplayers feel proud about the cuts and bruises they'd received. Now they realized they had 'won' this scuffle, they'd played their parts courageously and had all been instrumental in a successful stratagem. The fact that none of them knew that when the blows were raining in it meant nothing. The women who'd come out to watch the game then witnessed the beat down knew their men had been brave, taken their licks and routed their enemies. Martial ardor, baby! 'Defending' a woman does not diminish her. It increases her odds of dealing with insults and threats in a positive manner. Women who look down on women who use their pussies to better themselves are being stupid. It is the equivalent of having a complete toolbox and only using the hammer. The women were going to give up some level of sex to reward the men. The men, in turn, had an example of the kind of behavior that would get them what they wanted; defending your ladies equated to feminine reward. That did not mean penetration; life was far more complex. It did mean she would hang around you, talk to you and trust you (most likely more than she should). Guys still had to seal the deal, figure out what she wanted and deliver. That had been the working arrangement between men and women for most of the last 80,000 years. What I didn't know at the time was that I was being spied upon, that this spy called Buffy; my 'spear and shield'; and Buffy would gather up some Security Detail chicks. Why would SD help? Some morons had tried to murder the Head of House Ishara and that wasn't something the Amazons would tolerate. That Latin King clique was contemplating revenge. They were about to get schooled by the Grand Mistresses of that brutal and unforgiving Art form. I could never let Odette know. After all, to her they were someone's sons, brothers and husbands. My chilling rationalization was that, for whatever reason, the Latin Kings had redefined themselves as carnivores, preying on the rest of mankind. They should have studied what nature was really like. Predators had predators of their own. They'd been big, bad caimans, snatching all that came to the water's edge. In nature, the caiman was careful because jaguars hunted and ate caimans. In the urban jungle, there were things far more dangerous than gang-bangers living in the shadows that jealously guarded their spot as apex predator. Odette and I exited the field. I'd have to catch Katy Lee another time. I was to get the bad news from Ulyssa and her sister about the death in her family. Timothy, Odette and I worked out some more as Odette and I took turns relating the fight to Timothy. He reminded us that the Latin Kings were a powerhouse in the city as well as nationwide. Nicole called at the point I was ready for bed and the rest was family history. (Monday morning) I locked my bike up as normal. When I saw the security guards eyeing me funny, I grew cautious. "Is there a problem?" I asked the woman scanning my ID. She was fearfully hesitant. "Wait, are you worried that I'm pissed about Friday morning?" "We were only doing our jobs, Cáel of Ishara," she told me. "Oh," I chuckled. "So that is what is bothering you." I smiled at the group. "Of course you were doing your jobs. I would have been surprised if you hadn't and I'm certainly not angry about what went down. You acted in defense of Havenstone and I never saw it any other way." That gave them some relief. My next problem. "Has anyone from the Security Detail called about me?" I asked. "I don't see anyone here to pick me up this morning." "I'll call them," she offered. The answer was that they weren't expecting me, but I could come down if I desired. That was promising. My ID card worked for the lower levels now. Walking past the Armory was intriguing; in that they barely noticed me. In the prep room for the shooting range there was; nothing. No guns for me to try out, or even look at. I went to the firing range looking for one of my 'friendly' SD ladies. They were all giving me the cold shoulder. Naomi told me why; Constanza. The SD were very angry with my interference in justice for Constanza versus Pamela. Since Naomi had been there when the entire incident went down, I didn't laugh in her face. I got coldly furious instead. If I wanted a firearm, I could go to the Armory and check one out, so that's what I did. The guards there weren't helpful either. Inside was; well; everything. I called up SD and asked them to send an armorer to help me make some selections. Ten minutes later, the lady had still not arrived. That made me laugh. They were tit-for-tatting the wrong guy. Glasses and ear protection came first. I left the Armory with my weapon of choice for the day, a full bandolier and a crate of ammo. I could see the SD chick's guarding the Armory eyes bug-out. I grinned and headed for the shooting range. They surreptitiously called somebody. Knowing that, I hurried myself along, passing straight through prep room for the firing line. I was a man on a mission. See, I could be a raging prick when I wanted to be. Those SD babes should have talked with any number of the Amazons who already knew me. I had made it clear; make my life difficult if you wished, but accept whatever payback I could imagine. Respecting House Ishara wasn't even a question. For pummeling me over Constanza, they were about to get a whole new kind of Righteous Pricking, courtesy of the house they refused to treat with equality. An Amazon finished firing off a clip for her personal defense weapon and was checking her pistol's slide action. "Excuse me," I said as I stepped up. She was about to scream something. Most likely 'stop!' Since I had no intention of complying, I didn't wait; or stop. For me, I was suddenly wondering what the precise blast radius of a 40 mm grenade was. I pulled the trigger anyway. I swear by Ishara-turned-Ishtar, I hit that target right in the 10 ring. The explosion the grenade caused when it hit the back wall rendered my claims moot. Even with eye and ear protection, I could barely hear anything because of the ringing echo, or see anything because of the dust. The flashing yellow lights and klaxons going off indicated something bad had happened. Bad wasn't done yet. I walked to the next stand where the Amazon had ducked down while she oriented herself to the threat. "Good morning," I yelled at her. Then I aimed and prepared to squeeze off my second round. With all the dust in the air, I could barely make out the outline of the target I was shooting at. Accuracy at this point was unnecessary. This bitching toy seemed to kill everything. Third station; third shot and the Amazons were starting to figure out what was going on. Some moron was firing a grenade launcher within an indoor firing range. Before the fourth shot they figured out it was me. Now those bitches had a problem. The lead Amazon tried to get my attention despite my constant attempts to ignore her. I resolved the issue by tapping my six-shot bang-bang and indicating I had two shots left; and I used them. Only when I stopped to reload did the ladies screw up the courage to exhibit some kind of physical resistance. Naomi pulled off my ear protection. "What are you doing?" she shouted at me. She wasn't being rude. All our ears were ringing. "I'm being left to my own devices, you 'failures' to every concept of loyalty, respect and faith," I replied to the entire group. "Constanza called House Ishara an abomination, insane and diseased," I spat out my hate. "I spared her life when I should have had her stricken from the roles of her house and butchered her like some beast. I showed mercy and this is how the Security Detail responds? Congratulations, you have earned my contempt." "But why are you using a grenade launcher; indoors?" Naomi struggled to understand. "Oh," I smirked. "Because I can. I'm superior to all of you here so I can do what I want and you have to suck it up. I am the Head of a First House so none of you have a choice. Every one of you chose to show me no respect and, out of respect for your lack of respect, you get no respect." They were trying to figure how to work around that when I upped the ante. "I'm also going to direct the other members of House Ishara to come down here at random times and fire off grenades, use flamethrowers, or; how about tear gas; tear gas sounds good." "That would degrade the readiness of the Security Detail," the first Amazon protested. "Not my problem. Take your complaints to Elsa or Saint Marie. Make sure to start your complaint with exactly how you behaved toward me; but use the names Beyoncé, Ursula, Katrina, or Messina instead of mine," I glared. "Now excuse me. I have a box full of high explosives to work through." And off I went. There were 25 shooting lanes. I had fired off my 22nd grenade when Elsa showed up. "Cáel of Ishara, why are you destroying this training area?" she inquired calmly. "Working through a crate of grenades. I thought that would be obvious," I joked. "Is there something wrong we should talk about?" Elsa was keeping her anger in check. "Your underlings were chronically disrespectful. Since positive reinforcement failed; being nice to any of your weakling-bullies was counter-productive; I decided to employ the stick treatment," I met her gaze. "Stop destroying the firing line; please," Elsa ground out through clenched teeth. "You are right," I nodded. "I need to take a few of these upstairs to the pure-blood gym. There is a lot more damage I could do there. This place is already a mess." Desiree's voice broke the silence. She must have come in with Elsa. "Cáel," Desiree yawned. "How do you want to resolve this crisis? That doesn't involve setting off seismic sensors all over New York City, that is?" "Hmmm; fine, every member of the Security Detail is to write a romantic poem then read it aloud to a 'Runner' while at that 'Runners' workstation," I invented a punishment. "Ishara is the Goddess of Love as well as Oaths. It is a fitting tribute to her that romantic verses from the heart be created and spoken aloud." "It is also fitting that the recipients be 'Runners', since it will unite them in both their appreciation of love and their anger with me for throwing my weight around like every other Full-Blood who thinks they are better because of some quirk of birth," I concluded. "It will be done," Elsa intoned. That part of the matter was settled. Elsa looked at my grenade launcher. An unhappy sigh escaped my lips as I handed it over. "Elsa, I'm coming for weapon's practice again tomorrow," I informed her. Now I was going to burn off some time in the pool then get to work, or so I hoped. I hadn't gotten away with this because I was Cáel Nyilas, or the Head of House Ishara. I got away with it because Elsa didn't want to see the faces of the Council when she explained what her people had done. The Council members treating me like offal was their business. Other Amazons deciding that they could treat ANY member of the Council that poorly wouldn't fly; reference to the fate of Leona. Why had SD treated me poorly? Constanza. If they repeated my conversation with Constanza that cost her an eye, the outcome was known by all. Constanza would cease being an Amazon right before she died. I made it to Katrina's office four minutes before seven only to find Katrina absent while Daphne, Brielle and Pamela were hanging around. Dora and Fabiola followed me in. Everyone made it before the deadline, Katrina last of all. As Katrina began the meeting, Brielle left. Pamela and Katrina ignored one another. My work review was far better than normal. I'd sold Anthrax to a terrorist cell, but it had turned out to be a mislabeled Anthrax antidote instead, so all was good. Daphne was trying to figure out how her glowing report over my efforts had been so misconstrued. My assigned boss for the day was Rosette, one of the senior members of Executive Services. "Katrina, I need a moment of your time; in private," I requested as the meeting broke up. "As Cáel, or the Head of House Ishara?" she asked. "Neither," I replied. She waved the others away with Tigger shutting the door. Pamela remained seated. Katrina shot me a look concerning Pamela's presence. "I don't control her," I shrugged. "She hangs around me for her own reasons." Katrina nodded. I walked to the edge of Katrina's desk, put my palms on its cool surface. "Katrina, I am the Grandson of Cáel O'Shea, I met Brianna O'Shea earlier this morning, she knows who I am and was brought to town because some genetic research done on me." "Brianna knows where I work and who I work for, as in you. Pamela said the word 'Protocols' and Brianna backed off, but I'm sure she wants to see me again. I've warned my Dad about what happened and to destroy everything associated with my Mom. By the way, Brianna looks exactly like my Mother did when I was first born; exactly," I emphasized. Had the situation not been so completely screwed up, I would have treasured the steamrollered look on Katrina's face. "She is with something called the Illuminati. She doesn't know about me and House Ishara. When Brianna tried to figure how this Protocol/Truce thing involved me, Pamela stonewalled her," I added. "Pamela, I can understand Cáel not immediately bringing this to my attention," Katrina's cool exterior reasserted itself. "He doesn't know what's going on. You do." "I didn't feel inclined to do your job for you, Katrina," Pamela gave a rapier-thin smile. "Besides, you are part of the brain trust that sent him home Friday night cloaked in ignorance, not I." "Cáel," Katrina turned back to me. "How did you meet Brianna O'Shea?" "I met a lawyer, screwed her to multiple orgasms in the Women's room of some bar, met her again plus her lawyer buddies and Sunday night she called me to her downtown office to screw her into enlightenment; which I did," I sighed. "She was working on a case involving DNA ownership, which is oddly germane to my current predicament," I grinned. "Cáel, we need you to report to medical for more testing," Katrina ordered. "I apologize, but House Ishara does not believe that would be in its best interest so Cáel must decline," I nodded. "Will there be anything else?" Will battled Will to no outcome. She nodded and I left. Pamela ghosted along behind me. Rosetta intersected my path and off we went. I was given no clue as to my assignment; no surprise. I texted Buffy: 'Nothing new happening. Pick me up at 5:30 Wed. morning.' That meant there was no new development on the committee to help House Ishara pick 'Runners'. I had played nice. Katrina and Hayden had dodged me on Friday afternoon. This morning, she owed it to me to show some kind of progress. That wasn't what she offered. I had made a concession, they refused to reciprocate, so now I was free of any obligation to consider their wishes. I wanted more 'Runners' and come Wednesday morning, I was adding twenty. Working with Rosette (and Pamela) was a triple-barreled experience. Errands were the largest bulk of our time, but the rest was other mundane tasks of the most basic sort. Within the workload were instructions in the craft of being unseen. Executive Services was more than laundry and daycare; it was about not disrupting the lives of clients. A side benefit of that was learning how to move through any group and not be memorable; to not give off the subtle clues that you were an outsider. Not only could a group of executives hold a conversation without an ES person disrupting their trains of thought, people trained to look for threats wouldn't be tipped off to your presence either. It was peon-craft for beginners. Executive Services personnel weren't ninja; they were inconsequential. As I had bubbled to Katrina on day one, Executive Services got to go everywhere and learn how everything worked. What I didn't appreciate was that was how Counter-Intelligence worked too. From what I wedged out of Rosette, Counter-Intelligence had never uncovered a successful internal conspiracy. They had ferreted out multiple peripheral programs meant to gather information on Havenstone, but no Amazon had been critically compromised; which meant several Amazons had been blackmailed yet gone to ES before doing any damage. Rosette appreciated that fanatic devotion, but she'd never hold complete faith in it. Her job was vigilance. (What is really going on?) The third barrel was the real unhappy news. For all their illegal activities, Havenstone was not the Sinaloa Cartel. There were not a global criminal organization that invited international law enforcement scrutiny. So why did they devote so much time and energy to security? They weren't alone in the shadows of world-wide civilization. At the top of the pile was the Illuminati. They were a hydra controlled by a ruthless, cutthroat conclave; membership uncertain. They were a Darwinian meritocracy until the top tier of leadership, where a group of smaller secret societies and families monopolized the real influence. Their biggest strength, and weakness, was that most of the people in the organization didn't even know they were part of the Illuminati. After that was a mishmash of groups with different abilities that made rating them difficult. The Condottieri were rather simple; they sold mercenaries and weapons to anyone with the coin with the sideline of promoting conflict by any means necessary. The Nine Clans; that sounded familiar; were assassins in the truest sense of the word. Hashshashin, Ninja, Thuggee, Black Lotus, Coils of the Serpent, Brotherhood of the Wolf, the Black Hand, Cult of the Jaguar and the Ghost Tigers. They were not just murder for hire, but murder to advance their cause. Harmonious existence was bad for business, so they stirred up rivalries and conflict in every corner of the globe. The Egyptian Rite Masons sounded sublime. They weren't. They may have been a secret order older than the Amazons, claiming descent to the days of Imhotep. The Egyptians were the oldest enemy of the Illuminati. The Egyptian Rite's goal was a global autocratic government, were the Illuminati wanted a capitalist oligarchy in charge of global commerce; with the Illuminati pulling all the strings. The Egyptian Rite were not restricted to Egypt anymore; membership was open to all races and genders. The Earth and Sky Society were not New Agers. They were the descendants of Genghis Khan and were devoted to the reincarnation of the Greatest World Conqueror of all time. Before tossing them into the rubbish bin of bad ideas, know that Genghis was the largest single genetic contributor (via rape) to the human gene pool since the mystical Eve. To be a member you had to have a genetic link to ole Genghis. The Seven Pillars of Heaven were an ancient Chinese Secret Society out for; you guessed it; World Domination. To be a true member of this group you had to be Pure Han Chinese and a man, or bound to one. Needless to say, Havenstone and the Seven Pillars did not get along. The final bit of information; these groups were what was left of the Great Secret Societies; the survivors. Havenstone's place in all of this chaos was complicated. By mid-5th century BCE, the Egyptians were aware of the Amazons. The Amazons were not causing problems for the Egyptians, so they parted on decent terms and that was that. By the first century ADE, the political landscape had changed. Amazons had penetrated Roman society and brought Latin houses into their structure. Amazingly, the Egyptians contacted the Amazons again, figured out the Amazons only wanted co-existence so co-existence they got. In the late 4th century, the Amazons returned the favor. The Amazons told the Egyptians something horribly bad was coming across the Eurasian steppes and the Egyptians better batten down the hatches. A few decades later, the Huns were pressing on the Roman Empire's frontier. What is not generally know is that in the ranks of Hunnish horde were the Sarmatians, successors to the Scythians, who had allied Amazons in their ranks. This gave the Amazons, thus the Egyptians, contacts on both sides of the Roman-Attila conflict. By the mid-5th century the two secret societies parted ways once more. Their relationship had been useful, but not close. From the Amazons viewpoint, it was the equivalent of getting good gossip at the fish market. The Egyptians appreciated the intelligence, but wanted, and didn't get, military assistance in propping up the Roman Empire. For the Amazons, the fall of the Western Roman Empire was the trigger for a massive Diaspora. A few houses decided to tough it out in Western Europe and its packs of warring Germanic tribes. Others travelled to Egypt and from there, down the Nile to Ethiopia and Central Africa. A third group travelled farther East than ever before, eventually settling in Southern India. Of course, the World never stands still. In the late 8th century, the Illuminati was founded as a mercantile society trying to restructure the shattered Western and Central European economies. It turned out that there was a major pass over the Alps between eastern Italy and southern Germany that was a safe transit region. The Illuminati decided to seize it. The Egyptians popped up, revealed to the infant Illuminati that they didn't want them to do that, but were ignored. The Egyptians were out to rebuild European civilization, which meant, in their eyes, you didn't go around butchering those who were restoring law and order. The Egyptians went to the mountain pass and warned the Amazons there what was coming their way. The Illuminati convinced a local Lombard warlord that the pass would be a nice addition to his territory and off he went. Two months later, their bully boy hadn't returned. Neither had any of his men. Never ones to retreat from failure, the Illuminati sent another force and those guys were never seen again as well. This time the Egyptians showed back up to warn the Illuminati that those people whose land they'd been trying to steal were sick of their meddling and were coming to settle matters. Would the Egyptians help the Illuminati deal with this threat, now that it was out of the mountains? The Egyptians politely declined stating 'better the sitting stone you know than the rolling one that sets things around it on fire'. The Illuminati fled from their first base and that is the reason why they hate the Amazons and Egyptians to this day. Mind you, the Illuminati had no idea who lived in that mountain pass at that time. A few decades after the incident, the Amazons relocated northward. Being good stewards over their lands had given up unwelcome rewards; namely people came to them seeking sanctuary. Amazons can be rather cold-hearted. That does not mean they kill you for knocking on their door. When the number of refugees became too great, the houses voted for migration over slaughter. The Amazons travelled to the Black Forest, dispersing from there, and left the people behind to become known as the Swiss. Everywhere, Europe was tough for the Amazons in the Middle Ages. Heavily male-dominated Germanic cultures in the North, Islamic culture in the South, piracy in between and an epidemic of warfare all around. It was in Sub-Saharan Africa where the Amazons prospered the most. There, migrating populations worked in their favor, as did the style of warfare generally practiced. Perversely, the increase in the East African Arabic slave trade worked in the Amazon's favor. Not only could they 'liberate' captured populations; males for breeding and women for recruits; it encouraged local tribes to temporarily ally with the Amazons to fight off the slavers. The Subcontinent turned out to be a mixed bag. In the South, Amazons prospered and grew in numbers and houses. The problem was that they became too strong. Normally they would have spread out, but Eastern India proved more hostile than acceptable and further East looked like a crap-shoot. China didn't look welcoming at all. So, the Indian Amazons were caught up in a series of wars when Northern powers tried to move South and the Southern lords were in some serious need of aid. The issue was there were multiple players in the shadows pulling the strings. One day, the Egyptians came knocking. The Egyptians knew the Amazons well enough to not try to draft them into their cause. They simply told the Amazons who the key players were and what they were trying to do. Why would they do this? It was obvious. Amazons existed for two reasons; live free and make baby Amazons. Those other asshole Secret Societies were threatening both of those goals. Warfare is doubly hard on a female population and women spending years in combat aren't making babies. Take into account that during this time period a massive amount of the world's population lived in India. Add to that the Amazon numbers were respectively tiny (invisible) and Every Secret Society they were fighting didn't think much of women. A few thousand gurgling last breathes later and two of India's oldest Secret Societies were gone, or eviscerated. Why had they left the other, Islamic, secret society alone? The Islamic society operated in the populous North, not the jungle-covered South. Why did they leave the Amazons alone? The Amazons exhibited a shocking capacity for violence. The Muslim group was a 'secret' Secret Society. The Amazons were a 'hidden/don't screw with us' Secret Society. A side effect of the war in India was the creation of another Secret Society; the 9 Clans. They weren't nine back then, but thanks to the Amazons and Egyptians, this East Asian group picked up the Thuggee and, within a century, the Hashshashin. Things were about to get even more interesting. For the Amazons in India, life existed off the beaten path so it took a year for the Amazons to realize those 'dirty little men' who had shown up in some western Indian ports were, in fact, Europeans; in a European-built ship. They didn't know Portuguese, but they knew Latin and with a little bit off effort, they got an updated history of Europe. Amazons had been meeting regularly every thirty years, or so, to choose the next High Priestess and exchange notes. These meeting did not include studies of technological, political, or social improvements. Stealing the twenty-first ship to show up, the Amazons sailed home; Europe, that is. They stopped off in East Africa to spread the good news then, upon landing, went to tell their European sisters that their pilgrimages were no longer a matter of torturous overland travel. They could use nifty ships like these instead. With that came even better news; some Genoese, nut-job, failure of a mathematician had discovered a brand new land and they were going to check it out. The decision was made. The Indians were going back home. Their Europeans sisters were going to 'acquire' some instructions on how to sail a ship then 'obtain' some ships and divide them up among the three strongholds. Europe would be heading to the west, Africa would sail around the Cape of Good Hope (not yet named that), back toward Europe to link up their communication network (and in time, bump into Brazil), and India would head east to the South-east Asian archipelago, sailing around the hostile Asian kingdoms. Hopefully, the fleet sailing west and the one heading east would meet one day. Unfortunately, North and South America stood in the way of that dream. The 'little' hitch in this plan was who those ships belonged to. Nearly half the commerce of Europe at the time was either controlled, or influenced by, the Illuminati. The Amazons were running off with their equipment and profits; whoops. A cherry on top to that 'whoops' was that the Illuminati were only starting to come out of a bloody war with the Condottieri. The Condottieri had started out as a business venture/strong arm of the Illuminati. In classic Illuminati fashion, the leaders of the Condottieri didn't know precisely who they were working for. In fact, they thought they were independent. When the Illuminati yanked that leash, it snapped and the blood-letting began. The Illuminati had more money than the Pope and the subtle ability to call upon the kingdoms of the Mediterranean World. What did the Condottieri have? A small cadre of loyal, professional fighting men and the best strategic and tactical minds in the West; the ones the Illuminati had recruited into the Condottieri in the first place. Whoops yet again. The Illuminati had every resource under the Sun. The Condottieri knew they were screwed, but they'd been in screwed up situations before and battled through. They needed to stay alive until the path to victory presented itself. Re-enter the Egyptians and the 9 Clans (still not 9 yet). The Egyptians? The Egyptians made a butt-load of money on the silk and spice trade's overland routes. The Western Europeans/Illuminati were about to cut them out of that. The Egyptians needed time to reposition themselves. The revolt of the Condottieri was a gift from the Divine and suddenly the mercenaries had funds and ships. The 9 Clans? The Illuminati was a 'Does it All' organization. If the Illuminati won, who would need assassins? This was class warfare, pure and simple. Even with three-on-one, the Illuminati fought back and fought well. The Amazon predations were not the deciding factor in the war. It wasn't even their war. Soon enough, the Amazons were buying their own boats and going elsewhere. The Illuminati doesn't forgive, or forget. For some reason, they took the Amazon thefts personally, despite its negligible impact. Maybe it was that all the other players were regionally invested while the Amazons seemed to be dog-piling them. The fact that Amazons had existed in Europe for nearly 2500 years either didn't occur to them, or they didn't care. Flash forward to the start of the 20th century. Through the discrete use of marriage-assassination, land grabs and the basic lawlessness in the Western United States, rural South America, Australia and the islands of Southeast Asia, the Amazons had grown vastly in numbers and economic influence. The Egyptians come knocking once more. Unlike past encounters, they were bringing an offer of alliance. The Illuminati controlled key assets in the British Empire and were using those chokeholds to eliminate their rivals. This was not news to the Amazons. Their holdings in India and the Dutch East Indies had been under pressure of the Illuminati for a century. Ever since the Illuminati nearly ground out the Thuggee (one of the 9 Clans), the Egyptians and Amazons have been constantly harassed. This was not the first warning the Egyptians had brought. The Amazons hadn't want a war with the Illuminati and they certainly didn't trust the Egyptians. This time they agreed to go to war though. Why? Two things; totally unrelated. First, the Illuminati and the Seven Pillars of Heaven had agreed to carve up Asia. Amazons lived in Asia and they were no man's chattel. Secondly, the Women's Rights movement was in full swing. The Amazons had nothing to do with it. Those were outsider females. What interested the Amazons were the legal ramifications of Women's Equality. The Amazons were poised for a massive increase in their financial footprint. With the Illuminati out of the way, or at least, preoccupied, they could seize assets and have time to fortify before they could be attacked. Women's Equality would allow this to take place. Basically, the Amazons were going to exploit the blood, sweat and tears of women to advance their agenda. From all accounts, the only groups that recalled the Amazons last foray into Secret Society politics were the Amazons and Egyptians. Certainly no one had enlightened the Condottieri. They started smacking around some Amazon bases in Europe and unleashed 'Hell on Earth'. With the help of the Egyptians, they got to it in Amazon fashion. A General of the Condottieri and his family were eating at a Naples eatery when five women dresses like nuns walked in and shot up him, his entire family plus some bodyguards. When the response team showed up, they killed them too. A few police were added to the obituary column as the Amazons escaped. Welcome to Amazon warfare. The Condottieri were furious over such a public breach, as well as the losses. They swore a vendetta. The 9 Clans happily informed the Condottieri that a 'War of Extermination' was the Amazon default setting. The Condottieri were not afraid; not yet. See, there was another secret society called La Solidaridad. Working on intelligence from the Illuminati, La Solidaridad overran an Amazon compound in Argentina. They thought it would be funny to take the survivors as sex slaves. Maybe the Illuminati was experimenting to see just how pissed-off Amazons could get. Maybe La Solidaridad hadn't read their Homer, especially those parts concerning Ancient World vengeance. It took the Host six months to start things rolling then the carnage began. They made damn sure the men knew they were being hunted by women. They weren't there to out-macho the men, or make a point. Every night, they attacked the men and their families in the cities and towns. For safeties sake, La Solidaridad retreated to their country estates. Huge mistake. A good number of them had to have hunted at some point in their lives. How they missed being 'flushed out into the open' was beyond me. Out in the countryside, there was nowhere to hide. Walls meant little because Amazons were incredibly fit and trained to fight at night. Most of the families the Amazons killed. They were the lucky ones. The survivors? By using a new Edison device, they took some home movies of the fates of those men. The Amazon's favorite tactic was to shove lit sticks of dynamite in the men's asses then steer them toward the closest river. One guy actually made it. His relief didn't last long. The Amazons had done something to turn the normally safe caiman population into rabidly aggressive swarmers. Bitches; insanely, sadistic bitches. In eighteen months, La Solidaridad had ceased to exist as an organization and never recovered. The Illuminati used that time wisely to beat down the Egyptians, Earth and Sky, and the 9 Clans, aided by the Seven Pillars. Having concluded their first order of business, the Amazons sent their home movie to the Condottieri. It wasn't mercy toward the Condottieri. I was psychological warfare. The Amazons needed the Condottieri off-balance so they could go after their real enemy. It seemed the Illuminati had instructed La Solidaridad on how to 'intimidate' the Amazons; through rape, torture and enslavement. Specifically, it was Cáel O'Shea who set the tragedy in motion; Granddad. Beyond Granddad being impossibly fucking old, he had possessed some seriously out of control animosity where Amazons were concerned. Before the Amazon's could implement their hunt, the 9 Clans intervened. The Illuminati had been giving them real problems and they saw a way to gain some breathing space. Had the Amazons and 9 Clans been in communication, the World might be a very different place today. Instead, the heir to the Austria-Hungarian throne was wacked by the Black Hand, some Serbian numbskulls took the fall and the rest of us got World War I. Oddly enough, this one murder accomplished the goals of the 9 Clans, Amazons, Egyptians and Earth and Sky Society. The British Empire still stood, but was wrecked. China was much worse off than that. Before the Amazons could gain their vengeance, the Egyptians negotiated a cease-fire between groups. The Amazon Council was furious yet unwilling to fight the Illuminati alone. They kept down their bile; and waited. In the post-War period, the Amazon/Illuminati feud ate much of their resources (probably the Egyptian's intentions all along). A truly dark side of this struggle was the Amazon support for the Nazis. Did the Amazons switch course? Yes, but not for the reasons most people would think. Jews, gypsies, communists and homosexuals going into camps didn't worry them one bit. What did? Let's go back in time to those women in the Swiss Alps who headed north. A great many of them went North then East; to places like Poland, Belarus, Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. It wasn't so much a matter of whimsy as one of terrain and population. All the best farmland was in western Germany, the Low Countries and France. That's where the Germanic peoples settled. Behind them, to the East, were the Slavs. The Slavs had three things the Amazons liked; low population density, weak social hierarchies and crappy land. That meant they could live in relative isolation, not be subject to an all-powerful king and not be inundated with migrating hordes wanting to steal their dank swamps, deep forests and isolate meadows. Sometime in early 1939, right after the Third Reich snatched up Bohemia, some Amazon augur decided to open up Hitler's Mein Kampf to see what was going on i.e. to see when Hitler would get around to jumping on England; the whole reason the Amazon were supporting him. What she found out was bad, bad, bad! The genocide of a bunch of people they could care less about? Not a problem. Invading the Slavic lands? What? Russia/Soviet Union hadn't been the big foe in WWI and they certainly were not Germany's greatest enemy at the moment; Britain was! Drang Nach Osten? That was an undefined migration of Germans back into Slavic lands that ended over 600 years ago? Their Eastern European sisters were in grave danger from a lunatic. The common sense response (for Amazons) was to kill the Hitler. They couldn't get close, so they took their problem to their old allies, the Egyptians and 9 Clans. Those two saw nothing wrong with the way things were developing. The Amazons swallowed their pride and went to the Illuminati who seemed rather enchanted with the idea of the fascists and communists annihilating one another. They had no way to safely approach the Soviets. Pulling their sister houses out of Eastern Europe was no longer an option; the other Secret Societies would be looking for that and try to figure out where the Amazon home bases were. The Amazons decided to make a fight of it. They were not going to charge panzers with spears. No, they started setting up caches of supplies and weapons in the most inaccessible places imaginable. The hope was that as Nazi Germany was grinding Communist Russia to dust, they could smuggle out their people in the chaos to Sweden then points west. The problem was WW II didn't work out that way. Great Britain got spanked at Dunkirk and Poland, France, Belgium, Denmark, the Netherlands, Luxemburg and Norway all surrendered to the Nazi blitzkrieg. Then the Germans invaded Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union. Yugoslavia went under, but the Soviet Union didn't fall. Much to the Amazon Council's horror, resistance units began to interact with the local Amazons in an effort to improve their mutual survivability. Tales of mysterious female fighter, appearing to slay their enemies then disappearing into the wilderness filtered to both the Stavka (Russians) and SOE (British). The SOE discovered an answer to the mystery in mid-1942, by way of the fledgling US OSS. The Americans 'found' three female Army recruits who volunteered for such a mission. A month later, the partisan bands with those agents found the 'Forest Women' and all the lights came on. Unknown to the public World, the Amazon Council decided that the best hope for their kinswomen was to bring down the Nazis and ride out the Allied conquest. All of that might have been a happily little footnote except for what happened next. Hundreds of Amazons fought; no surprise; yet they didn't fight alone this time. Men and women of the local populace fought side by side with these lethal warriors. They shared battle plans, food, fire and medical care. That huge cultural barrier created over two and a half millennia began to erode. They bled together and were forced from time to time to place their lives in each other's hands. They witnessed one another's courage and sacrifice. They watched them bury their dead, nurture their young and weep at their pain. Whenever things looked darkest, the Amazon would turn to their partisan partners and say with utmost confidence 'we have survived worse; so can you'. The seminal event happened on the night of February 17th, 1944. For two years, the fractured, wounded women that are ever-present wherever there is war began to attach themselves to the Amazon bands. At first they were little more than annoyances. In time, the Amazons tried to turn these women into something 'useful'. Later, a few earned the right to follow the Amazons into battle. On that February night, two ladies were inducted into House Živa. This was hardly the first time outsider women were brought into the Host, but this circumstance was unique; induction in the middle of a war, having proven themselves in battle before their now-sisters. From that action; not the last in that conflict; was born the concept of the 'Runners'. With the end of WWII, the Amazons emerged more powerful than ever. The three strongest groups in the United States were the Egyptians, Illuminati and the Amazons. The Amazons profited the most; having started with the lowest profile and having infiltrated both the government and business sectors during the war effort. Using the Freemasons, the Egyptians reaped great benefit from the US war effort too. Always forward-looking, the Egyptians helped the Amazons as well. Still, not everything was rosy. For the Public World, World War II ended in September of 1945. That was barely a blip in the Secret Societies' radar. The calamity came on the 10th of December 1949. Using their pawns in the Chinese Communist Party, the Seven Pillars had re-unified China and were back on the world stage. Earth and Sky and the 9 Clans were dealt a setback. A fourth secret society involved in the Chinese struggle was absorbed by the 7 Pillars. The problem was that all the societies were locked in a bitter struggle yet devastated and over-extended. The 9 Clans, fearing the ratcheting up of Cold War intelligence-gathering services by multiple national governments asked for a global truce. The Amazons were dangerously exposed and over-extended. The Illuminati decided this was their time to strike and nothing could deter them. Into this backdrop, came the news to the Amazons that they had serious genetic issues. That led to the First Directive; the recruitment of 'Runners' as an established program as well as the explosion of what I knew as Executive Services. In a truly bizarre twist, U.S. and Soviet agents found themselves engaged in cat-and-mouse games with European NATO agents. Amazons had penetrated the proto-CIA during the war in an effort to reach their European sisters. In Eastern Europe, many of those partisans went over to the Communists when the Soviets overran their countries and looked favorably upon their erstwhile allies from the War. They couldn't match the influence that the many of the other secret societies possessed. Instead they pulled upon existing, personal relationships. I worked with a negative result of those days; Desiree, or more accurately, Desiree's parents. I was also walking with the final resolution of that crisis. The Secret Societies proved they could work just as fast as the UN. In three decades they had resolved nothing and were spending more and more time on damage control. Three events converged. The Illuminati had figured out the full-blooded Amazons were dying out so they knew they could win a game of attrition. The rest of the groups were coming to the conclusion that wiping out the Amazons was the easier course of action. The Amazons had, without a doubt, located the leader of the Illuminati, Cáel O'Shea. O'Shea was in sight of his goal; the extermination of the Amazons; when a lone Amazon got to him first. O'Shea's death sent titanic shockwaves through the Illuminati. There was a scramble for the top spot, fear over how much the Amazons knew about their inner workings, and how the other secret orders would take this bit of news. The Illuminati recoiled from the event, agreed to a truce and that led to the protocols that kept Brianna from dragging me off; gunshot wounds and all. That had been the state of affairs for the last thirty years. Again, the World had not stood still. China was an economic powerhouse, the EU grew stronger, and wars of political ideology had been replaced by religious-based terrorism. The Amazons were at a critical juncture in their history. The 'New' Directive was their best chance at staving off extinction and the Houses were fighting it kicking and screaming. The First Directive wasn't being implemented properly. If nothing changed, the Amazons would be dragged under by the weight of their own bigotry. But wait! There was this idiot with no conception of history getting in the way of Amazon extinction; the decline toward oblivion that six murderous factions were waiting for. In this epic there were no 'friends', only 'allies of convenience'. The Egyptians weren't buddies. They simply preferred others to fight their battles for them. The Amazons fit that bill nicely, but if they were dying out, the Egyptians would be more concerned in filling the Amazon void than mourning over the Host's grave. The Illuminati and Seven Pillars were enemies. Though there was little animosity between the Earth and Sky and the Amazons, the E and S were based on perpetuating the legacy of the World's greatest rapist. The 9 Clans were the 9 Clans and their business was all about the precise application of death. They had no friends and if they pretended to be your friend, it was only so they could position themselves to kill you. It was only business. They rarely played with debts, obligations and vendettas. Still, if a member of the 9 Clans said they owed you, it was worth the assassin's weight in Iridium. As a bonus, the 9 Clans were gender-neutral. Outside of the Amazons, they had been using females in their numbers the longest. Because of this, the 9 Clans tried to interact with the Amazon using women from their own ranks, minimizing the sexual tension between the groups. The Condottieri had also began recruiting women into their ranks over the past twenty years. Their leadership was still all-male with the added complications of the unresolved Naples killings and the brutal destruction of La Solidaridad. Also, while the Amazons were not business competitors, they didn't employ the Condottieri either. All these micro-wars had been very good for the Condottieri, allowing them to build up quite a stable of talent and a huge war chest. If the Amazons recovered, the global map would change. How so? Madi and Rhada weren't from Cleveland, but from India where unresolved crimes against women were too common. Palli Chandra, the VP of International Finance and Ngozi from my sparring match were from Central Africa and I'd gathered from
If you cannot compromise; Challenge! In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Every person is alone. That is the definition of Free-will.” The gift from Grandpa that keeps on giving. I almost miss not killing him myself." "That man was an eternal foe of the Amazons, Cáel. His death was necessary for peace with the Illuminati, thus peace with all the other factions," Pamela related. I began laughing. "So my misogynistic family heritage comes from my Mother and my misandristic lineage comes from my Father," I clued Pamela in. She found it to be hilariously ironic too. "We still have to be careful," Pamela nudged me. "After all, your Grandfather had plans for your body. Whether we choose to believe it was to be a vessel for your Grandfather's essence; or, if you prefer, he put something in your Mother's DNA that, when combined with the machinery he used to store his memories, would bring him back to life; Cáel O'Shea always was thinking three steps ahead." "Why didn't you kill me when you figured this out?" I stared at her. "You hold the fate of House Ishara inside of you," Pamela smiled warmly. "Besides, I like you. No one really understands me like you do. Everyone else thinks I have a sick sense of humor." "I wish you had been my Grandmother," I nodded. "Wait; wait," Pamela held me back from continuing. "Because if I had been your Grandmother, you would have known to avoid a nut-ranch like Havenstone." "Are you like my psychic twin?" I teased her. She was right, of course. "I had a twin brother," Pamela turned sad. "I have always wondered what path his spirit traveled once they took him to the cliffs." "The fact that you still recall him with empathy speaks volumes for you, Pamela," I hugged her. "I felt the same way, you know," Pamela drew comfort from my warmth. I was uncertain of her meaning. "When they told me what happened to boys; I couldn't accept it. Their reasoning rang hollow and I saw their denial of their own blood to be self-defeating." "I have always wanted to believe my brother waits for me in the Hall of Ancestors so I can finally see his face and tell him I'm sorry that I was the one that was spared," she confessed. "You weren't spared, Pamela," I comforted her. "You had children and grandchildren so that way your brother will have grand-nephews and great grand-nephews whose actions are recorded in the deeds of your house and their names inscribed in the roster of the Host." "That's my hope anyway," I added. "Let it be so," she whispered. (A Step back in time: that Weekend, between Oneida and Nicole) The weekend; I'd had plenty of relaxing sex over the weekend, bonded with Oneida somewhat while we biked Saturday morning, had sex with Gael, junior of House Bendis (the woman who let me borrow her phone so I could invite Buffy, Helena and Desiree to my little induction ceremony), then had a late afternoon date with Nikita. Escorting Yasmin and her son to the airport for the start of her Havenstone training after dinner was unsettling. The boy, Braulio, seemed worried, Yasmin was glad to see me, really glad to see me then finished if off by commenting that she could tell 'something had changed'. I affirmed her hunch without going into the details. As Yasmin's mood improved, so did her son's. I wished her luck. She told me I'd need it more. Late Saturday night I was invited to a party by Libra. Brooke showed up date-less (she wasn't jumping into a new relationship) so she glommed onto me; us. Marla and Libra had a huge phone fight about her (Marla) not being 21 yet, thus not invited to the party. Felix was there having reconnected with Gina because he had both a glib tongue and an awe-inspiring sexual arsenal. Felix's attempts to recoup any ground with Brook failed miserably. She had her own bitterness toward Trent, her memory of me handing her panties under an outdoor cafe's table as a trophy Felix had taken the night before and displayed openly in my office, and my own masculine support to draw strength from. Felix and I did not verbally, or socially, spar. He accepted the verdict of our first contest and, for all his faults, he acknowledged that my victory had worth and obeyed his conscience on the matter. If anything, he was visually more respectful than ever before. I wasn't his equal; no man and definitely no woman was; yet I was now a competitor he would have to give his very best to defeat. Sunday morning had been just me and Odette. We'd cuddled on the sofa, watched some TV and then I took her to Havenstone for time in the pool. I kept the overly-aggressive Amazons at bay while getting Odette used to the idea of regular exercise; hanging out with Timothy and I required greater endurance than her sedentary youthful stamina provided. An early afternoon invite to a 'pick-up' basketball game at the community, two-court, outdoor lot with Jason, the bar-back from the Yuppie bar, brought me back in contact with Katy Lee Baker, aka Delivery Girl. Odette tagged along. It also brought me in contact with the local 'wild-life'. A Latin King clique was starting to operate in the area and Jason's crew were the native inhabitants who took exception to this. We played for about half an hour were everyone learned I was a big, fat liar. I was actually good at basketball, despite my earlier claims at ignorance. The Kings showed up, drove off the younger teens playing on the other court. A few more of those jokers showed up and it was now 'our turn' to make space. That went over like a shit brick. The Kings outnumbered us a good two-to-one, but Jason wasn't backing down. I was struggling to convince Jason that discretion was the better part of valor when some of the new Latin King arrivals tried to play with a few of the local ladies who had come down to watch their menfolk pull off their shirts and get sweaty. Poor Odette; she had been in the company of so many powerful, confident and lethal women she'd forgotten she wasn't one. A King grabbed Katy Lee's breast. Odette hit the asshole in the stomach, put a shin to his nuts and finished him off with grabbing his head and driving it into her upward moving knee, dropping him like the sack of shit he was. But wait, he had five buddies. Poo was being served up and the electric switch was about to be flipped. "I'll be back to help in a moment," I growled to Jason as the gang members jumped Odette. Katy Lee and a slightly older woman rushed to Odette's aid. The Kings didn't ignore my approach, peeling off two to 'deal with me'. They really shouldn't have hit Odette because now I was angry. The feces hit the rotary wind machine. With their last shows of bravado, I lay into the closest bastards. The sixteen year old was hesitantly pulling out his 32 caliber ACP while reconsidering his poor life choices as I hit his buddy so hard he went airborne, two teeth and a fountain of blood coming from the ruin I'd made of his face. Gun guy was next. I clamped my left hand on his right, gun-toting wrist then drove my knee into his elbow. The elbow snapped upward with a sound reminiscent of a car backfiring. His screams drowned out the thud of his gun dropping to the court surface. For the three remaining Latin Kings I was closing with, a terrible social reality came crashing in. Gangs rely on several tools to exert power; a propensity for violence, illegal finances, a fierce reputation, and superior numbers. By the look on my face, they discovered that their numbers didn't bother me in the least. I knew exactly who they were and didn't give a damn. My desire to destroy them was motivated by something far stronger than any currency, and I was clearly better at this whole violence thing than they seemed to be. They had their pride and the fidelity with their gang, plus their intimidation tactics were going wrong so fast, they couldn't process the disaster quickly enough to alter course. These guys were not professional warriors by any stretch of the imagination. 'Warriors'; perhaps. 'Professional'; definitely not. Their ability to rapidly adapt to a changing situation was woefully under-developed. In gang hand-to-hand combat, you bunch up your members, overrun a foe and beat him to the ground. Fighting a practitioner of Brazilian jujutsu, standing close to one another is the Last thing you want to do. I was a whirlwind of destruction, fed by the understanding that Jason's bunch needed me back real soon. The asshat who tried to use a knife on me got his hand pinned to the court for his audacity. I repeat, threatening Odette had infuriated me. At center court, Jason had his hands full and then some. The Latin Kings had the edges in both numbers and ferocity. The only other hometown boy holding his own was this thick, solid Puerto Rican guy named Bennie; the rest were in trouble. I started with the four-on-one stomp-down on one of Jason's friends; I'd missed the guy's beat down. My inner Amazon was leading the charge. Unlike all my previous encounters, I was intentionally causing pain. I wasn't trying to drive them off, or render them hors de combat. No, my desire was to strike terror in their hearts, inflicting suffering in order to eradicate my foes' resolve to fight. Knees snapped, bones broke, faces were stomped into the court and internal organs ruptured. Even my erstwhile allies were aghast at the wickedness with which I treated our enemy. "Ah; Cáel; are you okay?" Jason mumbled when the last King went down. He'd have a shiner on his left eye soon and his lip was split and bleeding. I hadn't come through unscathed either. Havenstone had seriously upped my pain threshold. Jason wasn't really asking about my physical well-being anyway. I had to get ahead of this; predicament. "Let's get this trash off the court," I commanded. The boys hesitated until Jason picked up one of my semi-conscious victims. "Come on 'Pendejo', leave and don't come back," Jason yanked the man up and began shoving him toward the gate he and his buddies had arrived by. The rest of Jason's friends joined in and we began cleaning up the place. One gangster decided he was too hurt to be moved. I'd rammed his shoulder into the goalpost, breaking his collarbone. He was crying about the pain he was in. I pulled him up. He was around 7 foot 2 inches tall and 275 pounds. I wrapped my hands around his thick bull neck and slowly raised him up off the ground. His face was reddening, his good hand was trying to break my hold and his legs were flailing about in the open air. [In Spanish] "Pain, Asshole? No, pain is me having to come back here and hunt you and your vermin buddies down," I seethed. "I don't live here. These men are not my friends. You touched my girl and I am God Almighty when it comes to defending those of my household. I am not in a gang. I am not a criminal. If you, or your gang, come within a block of this place, I will become Death. Today, there are too many witnesses. This is your reprieve; your moment of grace," I snarled. "Use it wisely. It will not happen again," I finished in a fury. I dropped him to his wobbly feet, catching his good hand before he fell over. That act of compassion after my dire threat confused the guy. "Go," I returned to English. The rest of the Latin Kings walked, stumbled, were dragged from the court. "Who are you again?" Bennie inquired. "Cáel Nyilas," I grinned. "I'm an Aerospace Engineer working on the feasibility of having hamsters running on their wheels being used to recharge batteries on manned flights to Mars." "Hamster wrangling has to be one tough profession," Katy Lee snickered as she and Odette came up. "Come on now," Jason winced as he licked his lip. "Brawling is about panic, anger and the management of those two forces," I told them. "I was the only one in this fight in control of himself, so my actions look out of proportions to what really happened." "They were kicking our asses," Bennie chuckled. "Not as bad as you guys think," I consoled them. "None of you guys ran, or curled up in a ball. That allowed me to pick my fights. I clearly have more hand-to-hand combat experience, but none of that would have mattered had you guys freaked out." There was some truth in what I said. Had they panicked, I would have grabbed Odette and Katy Lee then fled as well. Since they toughed it out, and the Latin Kings exerted virtually no command and control, I was able take on the gang members in small, bite-sized chunks. My training and experience took care of the rest. This also made the somewhat traumatized ballplayers feel proud about the cuts and bruises they'd received. Now they realized they had 'won' this scuffle, they'd played their parts courageously and had all been instrumental in a successful stratagem. The fact that none of them knew that when the blows were raining in it meant nothing. The women who'd come out to watch the game then witnessed the beat down knew their men had been brave, taken their licks and routed their enemies. Martial ardor, baby! 'Defending' a woman does not diminish her. It increases her odds of dealing with insults and threats in a positive manner. Women who look down on women who use their pussies to better themselves are being stupid. It is the equivalent of having a complete toolbox and only using the hammer. The women were going to give up some level of sex to reward the men. The men, in turn, had an example of the kind of behavior that would get them what they wanted; defending your ladies equated to feminine reward. That did not mean penetration; life was far more complex. It did mean she would hang around you, talk to you and trust you (most likely more than she should). Guys still had to seal the deal, figure out what she wanted and deliver. That had been the working arrangement between men and women for most of the last 80,000 years. What I didn't know at the time was that I was being spied upon, that this spy called Buffy; my 'spear and shield'; and Buffy would gather up some Security Detail chicks. Why would SD help? Some morons had tried to murder the Head of House Ishara and that wasn't something the Amazons would tolerate. That Latin King clique was contemplating revenge. They were about to get schooled by the Grand Mistresses of that brutal and unforgiving Art form. I could never let Odette know. After all, to her they were someone's sons, brothers and husbands. My chilling rationalization was that, for whatever reason, the Latin Kings had redefined themselves as carnivores, preying on the rest of mankind. They should have studied what nature was really like. Predators had predators of their own. They'd been big, bad caimans, snatching all that came to the water's edge. In nature, the caiman was careful because jaguars hunted and ate caimans. In the urban jungle, there were things far more dangerous than gang-bangers living in the shadows that jealously guarded their spot as apex predator. Odette and I exited the field. I'd have to catch Katy Lee another time. I was to get the bad news from Ulyssa and her sister about the death in her family. Timothy, Odette and I worked out some more as Odette and I took turns relating the fight to Timothy. He reminded us that the Latin Kings were a powerhouse in the city as well as nationwide. Nicole called at the point I was ready for bed and the rest was family history. (Monday morning) I locked my bike up as normal. When I saw the security guards eyeing me funny, I grew cautious. "Is there a problem?" I asked the woman scanning my ID. She was fearfully hesitant. "Wait, are you worried that I'm pissed about Friday morning?" "We were only doing our jobs, Cáel of Ishara," she told me. "Oh," I chuckled. "So that is what is bothering you." I smiled at the group. "Of course you were doing your jobs. I would have been surprised if you hadn't and I'm certainly not angry about what went down. You acted in defense of Havenstone and I never saw it any other way." That gave them some relief. My next problem. "Has anyone from the Security Detail called about me?" I asked. "I don't see anyone here to pick me up this morning." "I'll call them," she offered. The answer was that they weren't expecting me, but I could come down if I desired. That was promising. My ID card worked for the lower levels now. Walking past the Armory was intriguing; in that they barely noticed me. In the prep room for the shooting range there was; nothing. No guns for me to try out, or even look at. I went to the firing range looking for one of my 'friendly' SD ladies. They were all giving me the cold shoulder. Naomi told me why; Constanza. The SD were very angry with my interference in justice for Constanza versus Pamela. Since Naomi had been there when the entire incident went down, I didn't laugh in her face. I got coldly furious instead. If I wanted a firearm, I could go to the Armory and check one out, so that's what I did. The guards there weren't helpful either. Inside was; well; everything. I called up SD and asked them to send an armorer to help me make some selections. Ten minutes later, the lady had still not arrived. That made me laugh. They were tit-for-tatting the wrong guy. Glasses and ear protection came first. I left the Armory with my weapon of choice for the day, a full bandolier and a crate of ammo. I could see the SD chick's guarding the Armory eyes bug-out. I grinned and headed for the shooting range. They surreptitiously called somebody. Knowing that, I hurried myself along, passing straight through prep room for the firing line. I was a man on a mission. See, I could be a raging prick when I wanted to be. Those SD babes should have talked with any number of the Amazons who already knew me. I had made it clear; make my life difficult if you wished, but accept whatever payback I could imagine. Respecting House Ishara wasn't even a question. For pummeling me over Constanza, they were about to get a whole new kind of Righteous Pricking, courtesy of the house they refused to treat with equality. An Amazon finished firing off a clip for her personal defense weapon and was checking her pistol's slide action. "Excuse me," I said as I stepped up. She was about to scream something. Most likely 'stop!' Since I had no intention of complying, I didn't wait; or stop. For me, I was suddenly wondering what the precise blast radius of a 40 mm grenade was. I pulled the trigger anyway. I swear by Ishara-turned-Ishtar, I hit that target right in the 10 ring. The explosion the grenade caused when it hit the back wall rendered my claims moot. Even with eye and ear protection, I could barely hear anything because of the ringing echo, or see anything because of the dust. The flashing yellow lights and klaxons going off indicated something bad had happened. Bad wasn't done yet. I walked to the next stand where the Amazon had ducked down while she oriented herself to the threat. "Good morning," I yelled at her. Then I aimed and prepared to squeeze off my second round. With all the dust in the air, I could barely make out the outline of the target I was shooting at. Accuracy at this point was unnecessary. This bitching toy seemed to kill everything. Third station; third shot and the Amazons were starting to figure out what was going on. Some moron was firing a grenade launcher within an indoor firing range. Before the fourth shot they figured out it was me. Now those bitches had a problem. The lead Amazon tried to get my attention despite my constant attempts to ignore her. I resolved the issue by tapping my six-shot bang-bang and indicating I had two shots left; and I used them. Only when I stopped to reload did the ladies screw up the courage to exhibit some kind of physical resistance. Naomi pulled off my ear protection. "What are you doing?" she shouted at me. She wasn't being rude. All our ears were ringing. "I'm being left to my own devices, you 'failures' to every concept of loyalty, respect and faith," I replied to the entire group. "Constanza called House Ishara an abomination, insane and diseased," I spat out my hate. "I spared her life when I should have had her stricken from the roles of her house and butchered her like some beast. I showed mercy and this is how the Security Detail responds? Congratulations, you have earned my contempt." "But why are you using a grenade launcher; indoors?" Naomi struggled to understand. "Oh," I smirked. "Because I can. I'm superior to all of you here so I can do what I want and you have to suck it up. I am the Head of a First House so none of you have a choice. Every one of you chose to show me no respect and, out of respect for your lack of respect, you get no respect." They were trying to figure how to work around that when I upped the ante. "I'm also going to direct the other members of House Ishara to come down here at random times and fire off grenades, use flamethrowers, or; how about tear gas; tear gas sounds good." "That would degrade the readiness of the Security Detail," the first Amazon protested. "Not my problem. Take your complaints to Elsa or Saint Marie. Make sure to start your complaint with exactly how you behaved toward me; but use the names Beyoncé, Ursula, Katrina, or Messina instead of mine," I glared. "Now excuse me. I have a box full of high explosives to work through." And off I went. There were 25 shooting lanes. I had fired off my 22nd grenade when Elsa showed up. "Cáel of Ishara, why are you destroying this training area?" she inquired calmly. "Working through a crate of grenades. I thought that would be obvious," I joked. "Is there something wrong we should talk about?" Elsa was keeping her anger in check. "Your underlings were chronically disrespectful. Since positive reinforcement failed; being nice to any of your weakling-bullies was counter-productive; I decided to employ the stick treatment," I met her gaze. "Stop destroying the firing line; please," Elsa ground out through clenched teeth. "You are right," I nodded. "I need to take a few of these upstairs to the pure-blood gym. There is a lot more damage I could do there. This place is already a mess." Desiree's voice broke the silence. She must have come in with Elsa. "Cáel," Desiree yawned. "How do you want to resolve this crisis? That doesn't involve setting off seismic sensors all over New York City, that is?" "Hmmm; fine, every member of the Security Detail is to write a romantic poem then read it aloud to a 'Runner' while at that 'Runners' workstation," I invented a punishment. "Ishara is the Goddess of Love as well as Oaths. It is a fitting tribute to her that romantic verses from the heart be created and spoken aloud." "It is also fitting that the recipients be 'Runners', since it will unite them in both their appreciation of love and their anger with me for throwing my weight around like every other Full-Blood who thinks they are better because of some quirk of birth," I concluded. "It will be done," Elsa intoned. That part of the matter was settled. Elsa looked at my grenade launcher. An unhappy sigh escaped my lips as I handed it over. "Elsa, I'm coming for weapon's practice again tomorrow," I informed her. Now I was going to burn off some time in the pool then get to work, or so I hoped. I hadn't gotten away with this because I was Cáel Nyilas, or the Head of House Ishara. I got away with it because Elsa didn't want to see the faces of the Council when she explained what her people had done. The Council members treating me like offal was their business. Other Amazons deciding that they could treat ANY member of the Council that poorly wouldn't fly; reference to the fate of Leona. Why had SD treated me poorly? Constanza. If they repeated my conversation with Constanza that cost her an eye, the outcome was known by all. Constanza would cease being an Amazon right before she died. I made it to Katrina's office four minutes before seven only to find Katrina absent while Daphne, Brielle and Pamela were hanging around. Dora and Fabiola followed me in. Everyone made it before the deadline, Katrina last of all. As Katrina began the meeting, Brielle left. Pamela and Katrina ignored one another. My work review was far better than normal. I'd sold Anthrax to a terrorist cell, but it had turned out to be a mislabeled Anthrax antidote instead, so all was good. Daphne was trying to figure out how her glowing report over my efforts had been so misconstrued. My assigned boss for the day was Rosette, one of the senior members of Executive Services. "Katrina, I need a moment of your time; in private," I requested as the meeting broke up. "As Cáel, or the Head of House Ishara?" she asked. "Neither," I replied. She waved the others away with Tigger shutting the door. Pamela remained seated. Katrina shot me a look concerning Pamela's presence. "I don't control her," I shrugged. "She hangs around me for her own reasons." Katrina nodded. I walked to the edge of Katrina's desk, put my palms on its cool surface. "Katrina, I am the Grandson of Cáel O'Shea, I met Brianna O'Shea earlier this morning, she knows who I am and was brought to town because some genetic research done on me." "Brianna knows where I work and who I work for, as in you. Pamela said the word 'Protocols' and Brianna backed off, but I'm sure she wants to see me again. I've warned my Dad about what happened and to destroy everything associated with my Mom. By the way, Brianna looks exactly like my Mother did when I was first born; exactly," I emphasized. Had the situation not been so completely screwed up, I would have treasured the steamrollered look on Katrina's face. "She is with something called the Illuminati. She doesn't know about me and House Ishara. When Brianna tried to figure how this Protocol/Truce thing involved me, Pamela stonewalled her," I added. "Pamela, I can understand Cáel not immediately bringing this to my attention," Katrina's cool exterior reasserted itself. "He doesn't know what's going on. You do." "I didn't feel inclined to do your job for you, Katrina," Pamela gave a rapier-thin smile. "Besides, you are part of the brain trust that sent him home Friday night cloaked in ignorance, not I." "Cáel," Katrina turned back to me. "How did you meet Brianna O'Shea?" "I met a lawyer, screwed her to multiple orgasms in the Women's room of some bar, met her again plus her lawyer buddies and Sunday night she called me to her downtown office to screw her into enlightenment; which I did," I sighed. "She was working on a case involving DNA ownership, which is oddly germane to my current predicament," I grinned. "Cáel, we need you to report to medical for more testing," Katrina ordered. "I apologize, but House Ishara does not believe that would be in its best interest so Cáel must decline," I nodded. "Will there be anything else?" Will battled Will to no outcome. She nodded and I left. Pamela ghosted along behind me. Rosetta intersected my path and off we went. I was given no clue as to my assignment; no surprise. I texted Buffy: 'Nothing new happening. Pick me up at 5:30 Wed. morning.' That meant there was no new development on the committee to help House Ishara pick 'Runners'. I had played nice. Katrina and Hayden had dodged me on Friday afternoon. This morning, she owed it to me to show some kind of progress. That wasn't what she offered. I had made a concession, they refused to reciprocate, so now I was free of any obligation to consider their wishes. I wanted more 'Runners' and come Wednesday morning, I was adding twenty. Working with Rosette (and Pamela) was a triple-barreled experience. Errands were the largest bulk of our time, but the rest was other mundane tasks of the most basic sort. Within the workload were instructions in the craft of being unseen. Executive Services was more than laundry and daycare; it was about not disrupting the lives of clients. A side benefit of that was learning how to move through any group and not be memorable; to not give off the subtle clues that you were an outsider. Not only could a group of executives hold a conversation without an ES person disrupting their trains of thought, people trained to look for threats wouldn't be tipped off to your presence either. It was peon-craft for beginners. Executive Services personnel weren't ninja; they were inconsequential. As I had bubbled to Katrina on day one, Executive Services got to go everywhere and learn how everything worked. What I didn't appreciate was that was how Counter-Intelligence worked too. From what I wedged out of Rosette, Counter-Intelligence had never uncovered a successful internal conspiracy. They had ferreted out multiple peripheral programs meant to gather information on Havenstone, but no Amazon had been critically compromised; which meant several Amazons had been blackmailed yet gone to ES before doing any damage. Rosette appreciated that fanatic devotion, but she'd never hold complete faith in it. Her job was vigilance. (What is really going on?) The third barrel was the real unhappy news. For all their illegal activities, Havenstone was not the Sinaloa Cartel. There were not a global criminal organization that invited international law enforcement scrutiny. So why did they devote so much time and energy to security? They weren't alone in the shadows of world-wide civilization. At the top of the pile was the Illuminati. They were a hydra controlled by a ruthless, cutthroat conclave; membership uncertain. They were a Darwinian meritocracy until the top tier of leadership, where a group of smaller secret societies and families monopolized the real influence. Their biggest strength, and weakness, was that most of the people in the organization didn't even know they were part of the Illuminati. After that was a mishmash of groups with different abilities that made rating them difficult. The Condottieri were rather simple; they sold mercenaries and weapons to anyone with the coin with the sideline of promoting conflict by any means necessary. The Nine Clans; that sounded familiar; were assassins in the truest sense of the word. Hashshashin, Ninja, Thuggee, Black Lotus, Coils of the Serpent, Brotherhood of the Wolf, the Black Hand, Cult of the Jaguar and the Ghost Tigers. They were not just murder for hire, but murder to advance their cause. Harmonious existence was bad for business, so they stirred up rivalries and conflict in every corner of the globe. The Egyptian Rite Masons sounded sublime. They weren't. They may have been a secret order older than the Amazons, claiming descent to the days of Imhotep. The Egyptians were the oldest enemy of the Illuminati. The Egyptian Rite's goal was a global autocratic government, were the Illuminati wanted a capitalist oligarchy in charge of global commerce; with the Illuminati pulling all the strings. The Egyptian Rite were not restricted to Egypt anymore; membership was open to all races and genders. The Earth and Sky Society were not New Agers. They were the descendants of Genghis Khan and were devoted to the reincarnation of the Greatest World Conqueror of all time. Before tossing them into the rubbish bin of bad ideas, know that Genghis was the largest single genetic contributor (via rape) to the human gene pool since the mystical Eve. To be a member you had to have a genetic link to ole Genghis. The Seven Pillars of Heaven were an ancient Chinese Secret Society out for; you guessed it; World Domination. To be a true member of this group you had to be Pure Han Chinese and a man, or bound to one. Needless to say, Havenstone and the Seven Pillars did not get along. The final bit of information; these groups were what was left of the Great Secret Societies; the survivors. Havenstone's place in all of this chaos was complicated. By mid-5th century BCE, the Egyptians were aware of the Amazons. The Amazons were not causing problems for the Egyptians, so they parted on decent terms and that was that. By the first century ADE, the political landscape had changed. Amazons had penetrated Roman society and brought Latin houses into their structure. Amazingly, the Egyptians contacted the Amazons again, figured out the Amazons only wanted co-existence so co-existence they got. In the late 4th century, the Amazons returned the favor. The Amazons told the Egyptians something horribly bad was coming across the Eurasian steppes and the Egyptians better batten down the hatches. A few decades later, the Huns were pressing on the Roman Empire's frontier. What is not generally know is that in the ranks of Hunnish horde were the Sarmatians, successors to the Scythians, who had allied Amazons in their ranks. This gave the Amazons, thus the Egyptians, contacts on both sides of the Roman-Attila conflict. By the mid-5th century the two secret societies parted ways once more. Their relationship had been useful, but not close. From the Amazons viewpoint, it was the equivalent of getting good gossip at the fish market. The Egyptians appreciated the intelligence, but wanted, and didn't get, military assistance in propping up the Roman Empire. For the Amazons, the fall of the Western Roman Empire was the trigger for a massive Diaspora. A few houses decided to tough it out in Western Europe and its packs of warring Germanic tribes. Others travelled to Egypt and from there, down the Nile to Ethiopia and Central Africa. A third group travelled farther East than ever before, eventually settling in Southern India. Of course, the World never stands still. In the late 8th century, the Illuminati was founded as a mercantile society trying to restructure the shattered Western and Central European economies. It turned out that there was a major pass over the Alps between eastern Italy and southern Germany that was a safe transit region. The Illuminati decided to seize it. The Egyptians popped up, revealed to the infant Illuminati that they didn't want them to do that, but were ignored. The Egyptians were out to rebuild European civilization, which meant, in their eyes, you didn't go around butchering those who were restoring law and order. The Egyptians went to the mountain pass and warned the Amazons there what was coming their way. The Illuminati convinced a local Lombard warlord that the pass would be a nice addition to his territory and off he went. Two months later, their bully boy hadn't returned. Neither had any of his men. Never ones to retreat from failure, the Illuminati sent another force and those guys were never seen again as well. This time the Egyptians showed back up to warn the Illuminati that those people whose land they'd been trying to steal were sick of their meddling and were coming to settle matters. Would the Egyptians help the Illuminati deal with this threat, now that it was out of the mountains? The Egyptians politely declined stating 'better the sitting stone you know than the rolling one that sets things around it on fire'. The Illuminati fled from their first base and that is the reason why they hate the Amazons and Egyptians to this day. Mind you, the Illuminati had no idea who lived in that mountain pass at that time. A few decades after the incident, the Amazons relocated northward. Being good stewards over their lands had given up unwelcome rewards; namely people came to them seeking sanctuary. Amazons can be rather cold-hearted. That does not mean they kill you for knocking on their door. When the number of refugees became too great, the houses voted for migration over slaughter. The Amazons travelled to the Black Forest, dispersing from there, and left the people behind to become known as the Swiss. Everywhere, Europe was tough for the Amazons in the Middle Ages. Heavily male-dominated Germanic cultures in the North, Islamic culture in the South, piracy in between and an epidemic of warfare all around. It was in Sub-Saharan Africa where the Amazons prospered the most. There, migrating populations worked in their favor, as did the style of warfare generally practiced. Perversely, the increase in the East African Arabic slave trade worked in the Amazon's favor. Not only could they 'liberate' captured populations; males for breeding and women for recruits; it encouraged local tribes to temporarily ally with the Amazons to fight off the slavers. The Subcontinent turned out to be a mixed bag. In the South, Amazons prospered and grew in numbers and houses. The problem was that they became too strong. Normally they would have spread out, but Eastern India proved more hostile than acceptable and further East looked like a crap-shoot. China didn't look welcoming at all. So, the Indian Amazons were caught up in a series of wars when Northern powers tried to move South and the Southern lords were in some serious need of aid. The issue was there were multiple players in the shadows pulling the strings. One day, the Egyptians came knocking. The Egyptians knew the Amazons well enough to not try to draft them into their cause. They simply told the Amazons who the key players were and what they were trying to do. Why would they do this? It was obvious. Amazons existed for two reasons; live free and make baby Amazons. Those other asshole Secret Societies were threatening both of those goals. Warfare is doubly hard on a female population and women spending years in combat aren't making babies. Take into account that during this time period a massive amount of the world's population lived in India. Add to that the Amazon numbers were respectively tiny (invisible) and Every Secret Society they were fighting didn't think much of women. A few thousand gurgling last breathes later and two of India's oldest Secret Societies were gone, or eviscerated. Why had they left the other, Islamic, secret society alone? The Islamic society operated in the populous North, not the jungle-covered South. Why did they leave the Amazons alone? The Amazons exhibited a shocking capacity for violence. The Muslim group was a 'secret' Secret Society. The Amazons were a 'hidden/don't screw with us' Secret Society. A side effect of the war in India was the creation of another Secret Society; the 9 Clans. They weren't nine back then, but thanks to the Amazons and Egyptians, this East Asian group picked up the Thuggee and, within a century, the Hashshashin. Things were about to get even more interesting. For the Amazons in India, life existed off the beaten path so it took a year for the Amazons to realize those 'dirty little men' who had shown up in some western Indian ports were, in fact, Europeans; in a European-built ship. They didn't know Portuguese, but they knew Latin and with a little bit off effort, they got an updated history of Europe. Amazons had been meeting regularly every thirty years, or so, to choose the next High Priestess and exchange notes. These meeting did not include studies of technological, political, or social improvements. Stealing the twenty-first ship to show up, the Amazons sailed home; Europe, that is. They stopped off in East Africa to spread the good news then, upon landing, went to tell their European sisters that their pilgrimages were no longer a matter of torturous overland travel. They could use nifty ships like these instead. With that came even better news; some Genoese, nut-job, failure of a mathematician had discovered a brand new land and they were going to check it out. The decision was made. The Indians were going back home. Their Europeans sisters were going to 'acquire' some instructions on how to sail a ship then 'obtain' some ships and divide them up among the three strongholds. Europe would be heading to the west, Africa would sail around the Cape of Good Hope (not yet named that), back toward Europe to link up their communication network (and in time, bump into Brazil), and India would head east to the South-east Asian archipelago, sailing around the hostile Asian kingdoms. Hopefully, the fleet sailing west and the one heading east would meet one day. Unfortunately, North and South America stood in the way of that dream. The 'little' hitch in this plan was who those ships belonged to. Nearly half the commerce of Europe at the time was either controlled, or influenced by, the Illuminati. The Amazons were running off with their equipment and profits; whoops. A cherry on top to that 'whoops' was that the Illuminati were only starting to come out of a bloody war with the Condottieri. The Condottieri had started out as a business venture/strong arm of the Illuminati. In classic Illuminati fashion, the leaders of the Condottieri didn't know precisely who they were working for. In fact, they thought they were independent. When the Illuminati yanked that leash, it snapped and the blood-letting began. The Illuminati had more money than the Pope and the subtle ability to call upon the kingdoms of the Mediterranean World. What did the Condottieri have? A small cadre of loyal, professional fighting men and the best strategic and tactical minds in the West; the ones the Illuminati had recruited into the Condottieri in the first place. Whoops yet again. The Illuminati had every resource under the Sun. The Condottieri knew they were screwed, but they'd been in screwed up situations before and battled through. They needed to stay alive until the path to victory presented itself. Re-enter the Egyptians and the 9 Clans (still not 9 yet). The Egyptians? The Egyptians made a butt-load of money on the silk and spice trade's overland routes. The Western Europeans/Illuminati were about to cut them out of that. The Egyptians needed time to reposition themselves. The revolt of the Condottieri was a gift from the Divine and suddenly the mercenaries had funds and ships. The 9 Clans? The Illuminati was a 'Does it All' organization. If the Illuminati won, who would need assassins? This was class warfare, pure and simple. Even with three-on-one, the Illuminati fought back and fought well. The Amazon predations were not the deciding factor in the war. It wasn't even their war. Soon enough, the Amazons were buying their own boats and going elsewhere. The Illuminati doesn't forgive, or forget. For some reason, they took the Amazon thefts personally, despite its negligible impact. Maybe it was that all the other players were regionally invested while the Amazons seemed to be dog-piling them. The fact that Amazons had existed in Europe for nearly 2500 years either didn't occur to them, or they didn't care. Flash forward to the start of the 20th century. Through the discrete use of marriage-assassination, land grabs and the basic lawlessness in the Western United States, rural South America, Australia and the islands of Southeast Asia, the Amazons had grown vastly in numbers and economic influence. The Egyptians come knocking once more. Unlike past encounters, they were bringing an offer of alliance. The Illuminati controlled key assets in the British Empire and were using those chokeholds to eliminate their rivals. This was not news to the Amazons. Their holdings in India and the Dutch East Indies had been under pressure of the Illuminati for a century. Ever since the Illuminati nearly ground out the Thuggee (one of the 9 Clans), the Egyptians and Amazons have been constantly harassed. This was not the first warning the Egyptians had brought. The Amazons hadn't want a war with the Illuminati and they certainly didn't trust the Egyptians. This time they agreed to go to war though. Why? Two things; totally unrelated. First, the Illuminati and the Seven Pillars of Heaven had agreed to carve up Asia. Amazons lived in Asia and they were no man's chattel. Secondly, the Women's Rights movement was in full swing. The Amazons had nothing to do with it. Those were outsider females. What interested the Amazons were the legal ramifications of Women's Equality. The Amazons were poised for a massive increase in their financial footprint. With the Illuminati out of the way, or at least, preoccupied, they could seize assets and have time to fortify before they could be attacked. Women's Equality would allow this to take place. Basically, the Amazons were going to exploit the blood, sweat and tears of women to advance their agenda. From all accounts, the only groups that recalled the Amazons last foray into Secret Society politics were the Amazons and Egyptians. Certainly no one had enlightened the Condottieri. They started smacking around some Amazon bases in Europe and unleashed 'Hell on Earth'. With the help of the Egyptians, they got to it in Amazon fashion. A General of the Condottieri and his family were eating at a Naples eatery when five women dresses like nuns walked in and shot up him, his entire family plus some bodyguards. When the response team showed up, they killed them too. A few police were added to the obituary column as the Amazons escaped. Welcome to Amazon warfare. The Condottieri were furious over such a public breach, as well as the losses. They swore a vendetta. The 9 Clans happily informed the Condottieri that a 'War of Extermination' was the Amazon default setting. The Condottieri were not afraid; not yet. See, there was another secret society called La Solidaridad. Working on intelligence from the Illuminati, La Solidaridad overran an Amazon compound in Argentina. They thought it would be funny to take the survivors as sex slaves. Maybe the Illuminati was experimenting to see just how pissed-off Amazons could get. Maybe La Solidaridad hadn't read their Homer, especially those parts concerning Ancient World vengeance. It took the Host six months to start things rolling then the carnage began. They made damn sure the men knew they were being hunted by women. They weren't there to out-macho the men, or make a point. Every night, they attacked the men and their families in the cities and towns. For safeties sake, La Solidaridad retreated to their country estates. Huge mistake. A good number of them had to have hunted at some point in their lives. How they missed being 'flushed out into the open' was beyond me. Out in the countryside, there was nowhere to hide. Walls meant little because Amazons were incredibly fit and trained to fight at night. Most of the families the Amazons killed. They were the lucky ones. The survivors? By using a new Edison device, they took some home movies of the fates of those men. The Amazon's favorite tactic was to shove lit sticks of dynamite in the men's asses then steer them toward the closest river. One guy actually made it. His relief didn't last long. The Amazons had done something to turn the normally safe caiman population into rabidly aggressive swarmers. Bitches; insanely, sadistic bitches. In eighteen months, La Solidaridad had ceased to exist as an organization and never recovered. The Illuminati used that time wisely to beat down the Egyptians, Earth and Sky, and the 9 Clans, aided by the Seven Pillars. Having concluded their first order of business, the Amazons sent their home movie to the Condottieri. It wasn't mercy toward the Condottieri. I was psychological warfare. The Amazons needed the Condottieri off-balance so they could go after their real enemy. It seemed the Illuminati had instructed La Solidaridad on how to 'intimidate' the Amazons; through rape, torture and enslavement. Specifically, it was Cáel O'Shea who set the tragedy in motion; Granddad. Beyond Granddad being impossibly fucking old, he had possessed some seriously out of control animosity where Amazons were concerned. Before the Amazon's could implement their hunt, the 9 Clans intervened. The Illuminati had been giving them real problems and they saw a way to gain some breathing space. Had the Amazons and 9 Clans been in communication, the World might be a very different place today. Instead, the heir to the Austria-Hungarian throne was wacked by the Black Hand, some Serbian numbskulls took the fall and the rest of us got World War I. Oddly enough, this one murder accomplished the goals of the 9 Clans, Amazons, Egyptians and Earth and Sky Society. The British Empire still stood, but was wrecked. China was much worse off than that. Before the Amazons could gain their vengeance, the Egyptians negotiated a cease-fire between groups. The Amazon Council was furious yet unwilling to fight the Illuminati alone. They kept down their bile; and waited. In the post-War period, the Amazon/Illuminati feud ate much of their resources (probably the Egyptian's intentions all along). A truly dark side of this struggle was the Amazon support for the Nazis. Did the Amazons switch course? Yes, but not for the reasons most people would think. Jews, gypsies, communists and homosexuals going into camps didn't worry them one bit. What did? Let's go back in time to those women in the Swiss Alps who headed north. A great many of them went North then East; to places like Poland, Belarus, Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. It wasn't so much a matter of whimsy as one of terrain and population. All the best farmland was in western Germany, the Low Countries and France. That's where the Germanic peoples settled. Behind them, to the East, were the Slavs. The Slavs had three things the Amazons liked; low population density, weak social hierarchies and crappy land. That meant they could live in relative isolation, not be subject to an all-powerful king and not be inundated with migrating hordes wanting to steal their dank swamps, deep forests and isolate meadows. Sometime in early 1939, right after the Third Reich snatched up Bohemia, some Amazon augur decided to open up Hitler's Mein Kampf to see what was going on i.e. to see when Hitler would get around to jumping on England; the whole reason the Amazon were supporting him. What she found out was bad, bad, bad! The genocide of a bunch of people they could care less about? Not a problem. Invading the Slavic lands? What? Russia/Soviet Union hadn't been the big foe in WWI and they certainly were not Germany's greatest enemy at the moment; Britain was! Drang Nach Osten? That was an undefined migration of Germans back into Slavic lands that ended over 600 years ago? Their Eastern European sisters were in grave danger from a lunatic. The common sense response (for Amazons) was to kill the Hitler. They couldn't get close, so they took their problem to their old allies, the Egyptians and 9 Clans. Those two saw nothing wrong with the way things were developing. The Amazons swallowed their pride and went to the Illuminati who seemed rather enchanted with the idea of the fascists and communists annihilating one another. They had no way to safely approach the Soviets. Pulling their sister houses out of Eastern Europe was no longer an option; the other Secret Societies would be looking for that and try to figure out where the Amazon home bases were. The Amazons decided to make a fight of it. They were not going to charge panzers with spears. No, they started setting up caches of supplies and weapons in the most inaccessible places imaginable. The hope was that as Nazi Germany was grinding Communist Russia to dust, they could smuggle out their people in the chaos to Sweden then points west. The problem was WW II didn't work out that way. Great Britain got spanked at Dunkirk and Poland, France, Belgium, Denmark, the Netherlands, Luxemburg and Norway all surrendered to the Nazi blitzkrieg. Then the Germans invaded Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union. Yugoslavia went under, but the Soviet Union didn't fall. Much to the Amazon Council's horror, resistance units began to interact with the local Amazons in an effort to improve their mutual survivability. Tales of mysterious female fighter, appearing to slay their enemies then disappearing into the wilderness filtered to both the Stavka (Russians) and SOE (British). The SOE discovered an answer to the mystery in mid-1942, by way of the fledgling US OSS. The Americans 'found' three female Army recruits who volunteered for such a mission. A month later, the partisan bands with those agents found the 'Forest Women' and all the lights came on. Unknown to the public World, the Amazon Council decided that the best hope for their kinswomen was to bring down the Nazis and ride out the Allied conquest. All of that might have been a happily little footnote except for what happened next. Hundreds of Amazons fought; no surprise; yet they didn't fight alone this time. Men and women of the local populace fought side by side with these lethal warriors. They shared battle plans, food, fire and medical care. That huge cultural barrier created over two and a half millennia began to erode. They bled together and were forced from time to time to place their lives in each other's hands. They witnessed one another's courage and sacrifice. They watched them bury their dead, nurture their young and weep at their pain. Whenever things looked darkest, the Amazon would turn to their partisan partners and say with utmost confidence 'we have survived worse; so can you'. The seminal event happened on the night of February 17th, 1944. For two years, the fractured, wounded women that are ever-present wherever there is war began to attach themselves to the Amazon bands. At first they were little more than annoyances. In time, the Amazons tried to turn these women into something 'useful'. Later, a few earned the right to follow the Amazons into battle. On that February night, two ladies were inducted into House Živa. This was hardly the first time outsider women were brought into the Host, but this circumstance was unique; induction in the middle of a war, having proven themselves in battle before their now-sisters. From that action; not the last in that conflict; was born the concept of the 'Runners'. With the end of WWII, the Amazons emerged more powerful than ever. The three strongest groups in the United States were the Egyptians, Illuminati and the Amazons. The Amazons profited the most; having started with the lowest profile and having infiltrated both the government and business sectors during the war effort. Using the Freemasons, the Egyptians reaped great benefit from the US war effort too. Always forward-looking, the Egyptians helped the Amazons as well. Still, not everything was rosy. For the Public World, World War II ended in September of 1945. That was barely a blip in the Secret Societies' radar. The calamity came on the 10th of December 1949. Using their pawns in the Chinese Communist Party, the Seven Pillars had re-unified China and were back on the world stage. Earth and Sky and the 9 Clans were dealt a setback. A fourth secret society involved in the Chinese struggle was absorbed by the 7 Pillars. The problem was that all the societies were locked in a bitter struggle yet devastated and over-extended. The 9 Clans, fearing the ratcheting up of Cold War intelligence-gathering services by multiple national governments asked for a global truce. The Amazons were dangerously exposed and over-extended. The Illuminati decided this was their time to strike and nothing could deter them. Into this backdrop, came the news to the Amazons that they had serious genetic issues. That led to the First Directive; the recruitment of 'Runners' as an established program as well as the explosion of what I knew as Executive Services. In a truly bizarre twist, U.S. and Soviet agents found themselves engaged in cat-and-mouse games with European NATO agents. Amazons had penetrated the proto-CIA during the war in an effort to reach their European sisters. In Eastern Europe, many of those partisans went over to the Communists when the Soviets overran their countries and looked favorably upon their erstwhile allies from the War. They couldn't match the influence that the many of the other secret societies possessed. Instead they pulled upon existing, personal relationships. I worked with a negative result of those days; Desiree, or more accurately, Desiree's parents. I was also walking with the final resolution of that crisis. The Secret Societies proved they could work just as fast as the UN. In three decades they had resolved nothing and were spending more and more time on damage control. Three events converged. The Illuminati had figured out the full-blooded Amazons were dying out so they knew they could win a game of attrition. The rest of the groups were coming to the conclusion that wiping out the Amazons was the easier course of action. The Amazons had, without a doubt, located the leader of the Illuminati, Cáel O'Shea. O'Shea was in sight of his goal; the extermination of the Amazons; when a lone Amazon got to him first. O'Shea's death sent titanic shockwaves through the Illuminati. There was a scramble for the top spot, fear over how much the Amazons knew about their inner workings, and how the other secret orders would take this bit of news. The Illuminati recoiled from the event, agreed to a truce and that led to the protocols that kept Brianna from dragging me off; gunshot wounds and all. That had been the state of affairs for the last thirty years. Again, the World had not stood still. China was an economic powerhouse, the EU grew stronger, and wars of political ideology had been replaced by religious-based terrorism. The Amazons were at a critical juncture in their history. The 'New' Directive was their best chance at staving off extinction and the Houses were fighting it kicking and screaming. The First Directive wasn't being implemented properly. If nothing changed, the Amazons would be dragged under by the weight of their own bigotry. But wait! There was this idiot with no conception of history getting in the way of Amazon extinction; the decline toward oblivion that six murderous factions were waiting for. In this epic there were no 'friends', only 'allies of convenience'. The Egyptians weren't buddies. They simply preferred others to fight their battles for them. The Amazons fit that bill nicely, but if they were dying out, the Egyptians would be more concerned in filling the Amazon void than mourning over the Host's grave. The Illuminati and Seven Pillars were enemies. Though there was little animosity between the Earth and Sky and the Amazons, the E and S were based on perpetuating the legacy of the World's greatest rapist. The 9 Clans were the 9 Clans and their business was all about the precise application of death. They had no friends and if they pretended to be your friend, it was only so they could position themselves to kill you. It was only business. They rarely played with debts, obligations and vendettas. Still, if a member of the 9 Clans said they owed you, it was worth the assassin's weight in Iridium. As a bonus, the 9 Clans were gender-neutral. Outside of the Amazons, they had been using females in their numbers the longest. Because of this, the 9 Clans tried to interact with the Amazon using women from their own ranks, minimizing the sexual tension between the groups. The Condottieri had also began recruiting women into their ranks over the past twenty years. Their leadership was still all-male with the added complications of the unresolved Naples killings and the brutal destruction of La Solidaridad. Also, while the Amazons were not business competitors, they didn't employ the Condottieri either. All these micro-wars had been very good for the Condottieri, allowing them to build up quite a stable of talent and a huge war chest. If the Amazons recovered, the global map would change. How so? Madi and Rhada weren't from Cleveland, but from India where unresolved crimes against women were too common. Palli Chandra, the VP of International Finance and Ngozi from my sparring match were from Central Africa and I'd gathered from
Ash Men, Sins, and the Will of the Ancestors. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. ‘Do you think you know who you are? Step outside your comfort zone.' 11:00 p.m. Thursday Night. Rhada stood by the Lily Pond. She'd looked at her phone once. A couple had walked past, causing me to delay my approach and heightened Rhada's unease; an unexpected bonus. It wasn't too difficult of a shot with my air pistol. The only light functioning in the area went out in a crash of light. She jumped slightly then crouched and scanned the surrounding overgrowth. The light had robbed her of her night vision which allowed me to get close. I snapped the air pistol off into its three parts. Running around with any kind of gun in NYC wasn't wise. In the same vein, the 'stun gun' I now brandished was all light and no shock. It was all theater for Rhada's imagination. With the flash of my weapon, Rhada's eyes bore in on my location. Her small knife was now over-matched, so her only option was flight. A smart 'victim' would race for the well illuminated road close by. Hunters who hunted hunters did what Rhada did; she raced into a geographic feature in Central Park called the Ravine. It was tough, uneven terrain off the beaten path. I had walked it once before, in dim light. This night I was aided by a half-Moon and the faintest clue of where the chase was leading while Rhada was having to figure things out as she ran. At the last second, she sensed she had lost the race. She spun around to slash at me; she was playing for keeps. I swung down, losing my false stun device while I knocked her knife free. I had lashed downward so that I could find her knife later; it was important to her. My tool cost $3 and I could live without it. We struggled. Rhada tried to scream so I covered her mouth with my sweater-covered forearm. Dutifully, she bit down. More close body wrestling ensued and I could tell Rhada was truly famished for the attention. I cuffed her hands behind her back, slapped some Christmas tape over her lips; I swear that stuff has no adhesive; and retrieved her knife. ‘What is it going to be, little Sweet-meat?' I taunted her softly as I caught my breath. I had Rhada pressed face-first in the loam. Despite her strenuous efforts to keep her legs together, I rubbed my hand between her legs. ‘Fuck it,' I mused. ‘You are a real whore. You are soaking wet over some guy running you down and making you a fuck-hole.' I wasn't sure she was wet and being called 'fuck-hole' really excited her. ‘You are probably so loose I couldn't feel a thing if I did fuck you,' I kept up the pressure. ‘Maybe I'll strip you down and leave you tied to a lamp post; write 'Free Slut' and see who is desperate enough to screw you. If I said '$5 per hole', do you think anyone would leave some sort of payment?' She whimpered. Soon enough, I located her knife. Without warning, I slipped it past her waistband and began sawing/cutting her pants down past the crotch. She was wet alright. I loudly unzipped my pants. After slapping against her molten labia a few times, ‘What? You don't want to be used by every diseased homeless deviant and drunk rapist roaming the park?' Rhada shook her head rapidly in the negative. ‘Do you really think you can do a damn thing to make me want to keep you?' I egged her on. Rhada thrust her ass back. Rhada whined, repositioned and managed to capture on her second attempt. She wept with rapture as I began pushing. All I had to do was lean forward slightly and let Rhada do all the work. She hammered with a voracious yearning. I was rather concerned what she would have been like if it had been a whole month. Rhada was sobbing and shuddering as pleasure wracked her body. I almost missed the soft crunch of leaves right behind me. I snatched up Rhada's knife and rolled halfway over. Oneida, tears in her eyes and her face etched in horror, was poised to strike me. ‘No,' Oneida groaned in a small, devastated voice. Yeah, this was going to be hard to explain. Rhada, on hearing the noise, rolled on her side so that she was mostly shielded by me. Do not scream 'this is not what it looks like', or 'let me explain' to a traumatized girlfriend. Wait until they are not traumatized to escape the disaster. ‘What are you going to do?' I whispered. Suggest that she make a decision because, guess what, she needs to make decision, not stew in the madness of the moment. ‘How could you?' Oneida lowered her attack stance and took a half-step back. ‘There is no way I can explain this,' I sighed. My legs came up to shield my exposed crotch plus I dropped Rhada's knife. ‘Even if I could make this sound rational, I wouldn't put you in that spot. This is an impossible reality.' Okay, that last bit was bullshit. ‘Is Rhada okay?' Oneida began to focus on the immediate and relegated the past five minutes and the forthcoming repercussions to 'things to do later'. I freed Rhada's hands and then removed the tape. Rhada picked up her blade and readied it. ‘Ask her yourself,' I suggested. Sensing Rhada's insanity rising up. ‘No Rhada, you cannot stab her. I won't allow it.' Rhada glared pure, un-distilled hate at Oneida, something the poor girl couldn't understand. ‘Rhada, I came here to save you,' Oneida gasped. She also prepared to fight. ‘You came to take my Cáel for yourself,' Rhada spat. Oneida was back to not understanding anything. It would come soon enough. Women are women after all. ‘I need to; get something from my backpack,' I warned them both. No one attacked me so I pulled out a set of black jeans and black panties for Rhada. ‘You brought a change of clothes for her?' Oneida was still playing 'kinky games' catch up. ‘Of course he brought me clothes, you insipid fool,' Rhada seethed. ‘How could we bind our souls into one if I had to walk around; ?' Rhada stopped. The idea of walking around naked in my presence appealed to her. ‘None of this makes any sense,' Oneida protested. It didn't matter. ‘Oneida, are your guardians close by?' I asked. I knew the answer, but getting that information out to these to ladies was relevant. Oneida nodded. ‘Rhada, get dressed and go home. Oneida, go home. I'll try to have this make sense to you one day,' I said. ‘No!' Rhada yelped as if I'd stuck her. ‘I cannot wait any longer.' ‘Rhada, unless you want Madi to find out and then have ringside seats as starving dogs tear me to pieces, you have to go,' I insisted. I wasn't afraid of hungry dogs. The Amazons wouldn't waste the time when they could slit my throat and be done with it. We all three heard a rustle of footsteps maybe fifteen meters away. Rhada looked at me as if she'd witnessed the murder of every kitten on the planet, then shot venom Oneida's way and finally snuck off, new clothes in hand. Oneida gave me a different look, one etched in sadness and unspoken heartache. She went off to bump into her bodyguards. I holstered my 'junk' and sat back, wondering why I dated crazy women. The answer was always the same; the sex was fantastic. I'd pay the bill later. (Friday Morning) I was damn tired getting into work. I locked my bike, walked into the lobby and realized something was horribly wrong. A dozen pairs of eyes riveted me with their aggression. The security chicks were in their usual places and unsettling in their nervousness. The dozen sets of eyes; those were Full-Blooded killers, not the standard 'Runner' security types. Adding to my discomfort, there was no Constanza, or even Naomi. A few of the normal ladies from the Security Detail where there; sadly, I had never caught their names, but they didn't look like they were waiting for me specifically. I walked up to the security booth, took out my ID badge and offered it up. What followed was mere formality. Of all of the hundreds of males in biker clothes coming into this masculine version of the Sixth layer of Hell, they needed to be absolutely sure it was me. ‘Cáel Nyilas,' the women at the guard station intoned and in they swarmed. Armed with personal defense weapons (read: SMG's) with hair-triggers, I had a split second to decide who I really was. A few were clearly SD. The rest; House Guard for families I didn't recognize. ‘Have I just won Publisher's Clearing House sweepstakes, or what?' I grinned foolishly. I'm sure you can be very cool, calm, collected and rational while you laugh at death. I'm not that guy. One of the brutes tried to run off with my valise, a quick tug of war developed and four gun barrels were pushed into me. ‘Let go,' one of them hissed. ‘Do I at least get a claim check?' I countered. What I got was a gun barrel slammed down on the back of my hand. My fingers automatically flexed and my carrying case was taken away. The remaining seven members of the Welcome Wagon hustled me to a stairwell; not an elevator and down I went. Two proceeded me into a moderately sized conference down two levels with the rest following behind. We were doing fine until the coffle chains came out. That was my 'screw it' moment. It took me two seconds to realize they were no longer going to shoot me. I came to this revelation when I smashed the face of the guard right behind me. She stumbled into guards four through seven behind her. Guards one and two, already in the room, holding my chains, rushed in. One came in with a low sweeping kick. I went even lower, caught her leg and whipped her into the wall. I was on my back as number two advanced. Our legs tangled up, we both grappled, but I had strength and leverage. I pounded her temple against the corner of the table twice; hard. Then came the pain. The rest flooded the room. Number two was down, number one was momentarily stunned and the other five were deadly serious and coming on fast. To all our credits, they didn't try to overwhelm me with numbers. They closed in from both sides of the table, backing me against a wall. I was pretty good at fighting. I had damaged three of them striking from surprise. Surprise was gone now, as was their sloppy arrogance. This was all business and there was no way I could take on even two of these skilled warriors at the same time. Any advantage I gained over one, I'd lose to the other one so down I went. I was chained up before I could stop seeing double. Collar, hands cuffed at the back, leg shackles and all linked by twin chains. I wasn't going anywhere fast. I wasn't done yet. I tried to squirm around to a sitting position. ‘Stop that,' one of the guards stated. ‘I'd like to sit up, please,' I requested. With barely a pause, two guards came up, put my back to a wall then went back to their positions. ‘Thank you,' I responded. Several guards looked at me and smirked. Huh? ‘They all said you would fight,' the leader grinned. ‘We were getting a little disappointed then you chose that chokepoint to make your stand. That was clever,' she informed me. ‘Actually it was the sight of the chains that set me off,' I said. ‘Against seven of you I had no realistic chance. If I let myself get chained up, I knew I was completely out of options.' Several of the women nodded. Were any of them pissed? Apparently not. Even the one I'd cold-conked rubbed her temple and smiled at me. I worked in an insane asylum. ‘Is there any way I could make a video message?' I inquired. ‘No,' was the reply. ‘Please. Aya of the Epona is at Summer Camp and I want her to know that I'm okay, but won't be able to see her for a while,' I pled my case. ‘You will never be able to see her again, so why bother?' another asked. ‘I love her. Better to give her the illusion I may one day return than the harsh reality that she is doomed to end up like the rest of you,' I explained. ‘Save some of that defiance for your relocation,' the leader snickered. ‘You'll need it.' ‘Thanks. I will,' I sighed. There was a pause. They were being rather gregarious. ‘You've accepted your fate?' the one I'd knocked out questioned. ‘The fate you want for me? No. That this will mean my death; yes,' I shrugged. ‘Bravado,' a different Amazon snorted. ‘You think so? Once I am relocated I have nothing left to live for. Every ounce of my being will be devoted to ending the hollow parody of an existence I'm left with,' I stared at her. ‘I've beaten your ilk enough times to know I'll escape that life before too long.' That earned me some silence. They began talking amongst themselves. The group was a mixed group of House Guard and Security Detail reinforcements from other facilities. They either knew each other, or knew someone in common. An hour in, this had become incredibly boring. ‘When is the meeting?' I asked a women temporarily not in a conversation. She didn't look surprised. She hid it well. ‘What meeting?' she countered. I lowered my chin to my chest. ‘Do you know where I work, what I did yesterday, or how easy it was to figure this out?' I looked up. ‘What do you know?' she prodded. The others were now watching. ‘I work for Executive Services, I spent much of yesterday making housing arrangements for a ton of emergency visitors, and since I've been doing so many stupid things, plus my reception this morning, I assume the New Directive is under attack,' I laid out my case. ‘If you figured all that out, why did you show up today?' the leader wondered. ‘I work here. I have a 6:00 am session on the firing range. Work starts at 7:00 and normally goes to 5:00 with a 3:00 pm break for knife training. Then I either bike home, or work out in the gym, or the pool. Barring being called back to work on a special order, I get a date, a meal and then sex until midnight,' I mused. ‘I came to work today for the same reason I came in yesterday and last week; I work for a bunch of homicidal lunatics, a few of whom I care for,' I answered. ‘Their friendship and affection is pointless. I'm good-looking and amusing, a passing distraction in their lives and none of that matters one iota to my survival. I face my condemnation alone and I am okay with that.' ‘You sound angrier than your words indicate,' an Amazon noted. ‘I am angry. I don't desire death,' I shrugged. ‘I don't think I deserve this fate yet here we are. Personally, I know I put my hope in karmic rewards for all of us.' ‘What would that be?' the leader said. She was making small talk to alleviate the boredom. ‘Today; today I think you deserve a lingering, 24 hour torturous death. Starting with the very youngest followed by the next youngest and the next youngest proceeding in quick succession so that the oldest of you watch your lineages waste away. I want you gripped with hopelessness and despair as you are rendered powerless to control your futures. That's a fitting ending for the Amazon race today,' I stated. ‘Does that fantasy make you feel better?' she pressed, somewhat amused. ‘Of course not,' I laughed. ‘That is surrendering to hate and that would make me as bad as all of you.' ‘You know nothing of us,' she said and the others laughed. ‘Yeah; right. So, how many of you have murdered your paternal unit? Did you herd them into gas chambers, shoot them in the head, or slit their throats?' I grinned. ‘Do you dump those men and your sons in a massed unmarked graves, or burn them like rubbish? Those poor bastards have gotten the last laugh,' I chuckled. ‘Sterile females, deformed babies; you taught those men a lesson alright.' ‘You are all such epic bad-asses, you've butchered your way to extinction. But, hey, you've got your racial superiority, right?' I chortled. ‘You should shut up now,' the leader's eyes narrowed. I shrugged. This time, I had killed the mood so we sat in silence. An undetermined time later, Constanza stormed in and threw my clothes at me; no sign of the rest of my gear, or valise. ‘Get dressed,' she ordered. ‘Why?' I asked. She kicked me. The kick was aimed at my ribs, but I able to set up a knee block up in time. ‘You will do it because you've been told to do it,' Constanza snapped. I stayed where I was. ‘Help me get him dressed,' she addressed the room. I lost the fight if there was any doubt. I looked like a re-dressed corpse. No one would think I'd dressed myself. A few minutes later, the whole troupe plus Constanza frog-marched me to the elevators. I was shackled up thus taking small steps. I ended up farther down that I'd ever been before. Along the way I was given several quick examinations before being taken to two massive wooden doors with two SD guards, one being Naomi. She looked at my chains speculatively. ‘He has been summoned,' Constanza informed the door guards. One of my initial capturers began unlocking my restraints. I debated putting a knee to her head. That seemed rude so I refrained from violence. Naomi took me by the elbow while the other guard opened one of the doors. She led me into the nearly empty, cavernous room. Eight SD troopers were along the walls and Elsa stood at attention close to what I reasoned was Hayden's chair. ‘Stand there,' Elsa pointed to a large piece of slate with a rune upon it. ‘Sure,' I did as I was instructed. ‘Why am I here?' ‘Your only real hope is to be quiet and well-behaved, Cáel,' Elsa told me, resuming her statuesque stance. I honestly figured this was it for me. My jacket came off. I threw it to the closest chair. The tie came off next, looping it through my belt; because it looked weird. I kicked off my shoes and removed my socks, stuffing the socks in the shoes and tossing them to the chair with my jacket. Then I started my morning warm up routine. Sure enough, groups of paired women began entering the room, giving me odd looks before taking their seats. I was doing some handstand push-up (thanks Yasmin) when Katrina walked in with a woman I didn't know. ‘Good morning Cáel Nyilas,' she said. ‘This is my cousin, Arwen.' The push-up, tuck, flip and finishing up with landing on your feet ain't easy. I added to the difficult by successfully landing on my designated piece of slate floor. ‘Did your clothing magically fall of, or did they fail to finish dressing you?' Katrina smirked. ‘Cut me some slack, Boss. I'm three insults away from slinging poo,' I grinned back. ‘Nice to meet you, Arwen,' I offered my hand. She looked at it, but didn't shake. ‘She's your apprentice?' I groaned to Katrina. She nodded. ‘That is so not good for me. What did I do wrong this time?' ‘She thinks I have invested too much of our House prestige in this New Directive and you in particular,' Katrina enlightened me. ‘What is her survival stratagem then?' I ignored Arwen while addressing Katrina. ‘Have her cake and eat it too,' Katrina mused. ‘She thinks we recruit males then kidnap them and make them our slaves; because that has worked so well for us until now. To be fair, she favors genetics while ignoring such things as spirit, courage and loyalty.' ‘I'm about to die so any insight I might provide is pointless,' I shrugged. ‘Take care Katrina.' ‘Male, we are not here to kill you. You will be taken to a facility for breeding,' Arwen 'clarified' things for me. Katrina and I both broke out in laughter. Arwen didn't get it. More and more women came in. With them arrived more House Guard. Soon the once vast room seemed to not be big enough. Among other fans of yours truly was Ursula, the woman who sent Leona to kill me with her bow. It didn't take me long to determine there were four distinct groups. The smallest group hated my heart for daring to beat. The largest group seemed uncertain that me having a functioning cerebral cortex was a good thing. The second largest group was worried; about their very existence, but weren't sure I was the answer. The final group, nearly as big as the next largest group, was Hayden's pro-New Directive faction. As a plus, they also weren't afraid to show me some affection personally. When there were only seven chairs left unfilled, Hayden rose for the opening prayer. The 'junior' members started the chorus as the last 'senior' joined the main intonation. When the chanting ended, everyone but Hayden sat back down. ‘A small number of issues necessitate this unheralded meeting,' Hayden began. ‘A male knows our language, our nature and the secret. I seek guidance.' And then the shit-storm began. The only people not involved were Hayden, Saint Marie on Hayden's right, and an unknown older Amazon I didn't know. My life was being debated and I was losing in a bad way. Beyoncé rallied support for me. She was sadly outnumbered but persistent. Among the oldest houses I saw Oneida sitting junior with house Arinniti. Her house was the only one silent, which seemed rather odd. A consensus was reached. I would get to live, but I would be imprisoned for the rest of my existence; not even a breeding male. That was my 'reward' for channeling the ancestors thus saving Oneida's life. Hayden rose once more, took a hand count and raised her hand for quiet. ‘I will consult with the ancestors on this matter,' Hayden announced. ‘Does anyone have other salient points to add?' That was perfunctory. Everyone had already spoken so when the head of House Arinniti stood up, everyone around her whispered in confusion. She lightly slapped her hand on the table for attention. ‘I do, High Priestess,' the woman stated. Even Oneida looked worried and confused. ‘I recognize Shawnee, Head of House Arinniti,' Hayden nodded then resumed seating. ‘My sisters, I seek your agreement that you refrain from comment before I have made my three key statements,' Shawnee requested. She looked around the room, getting nods; some reluctant. (1)'First, I must confess to a crime against the Host and the Council,' Shawnee began. There were hushed murmurs. ‘At the end of the Second Betrayal, my house argued tirelessly for the salvation of the males who remained loyal. The Council voted against us so the head of my house defied the council and spared three of our sons.' Murmurs became shouts of outrage. Hayden used a subtle voice of menace to restore order. (2) ‘Second, Two Ash Men arrived after the rest; a veteran fighter of three and a half decades and a young man of twenty years. Knowing there was no hope for our sons, we took these two aside and instructed them to take our sons south, to a dubious future. That was our crime and it might never have been revealed if it wasn't for the New Directive.' ‘As you now know, Oneida, my granddaughter and heir, gave her Death Pledge. Cáel Nyilas intervened and, acting as a vessel for the Ancestors, he showed Hayden that her pledge had been rejected; for the first time in 3000 years,' Shawnee looked around the table. ‘At first I was simply grateful for my granddaughter's life.' ‘As that euphoria faded, I began to ask why he acted as he had. I began wondering why, while in dire pain, Cáel refused water and comfort, instead asking for songs in our tongue? That made no sense; unless,' Shawnee's face deepened in thought as she let the implications of that thought hang in the air. ‘Thus I had Cáel's genetic identity tested, to see if; ‘ ‘To see if he was one of your bastard male offspring returned after all these centuries,' Ursula stood and seethed. Hayden slapped her palm on the table for order. ‘Oh Ursula,' Shawnee smirked, ‘the ancestors are wiser than you, or me. Had I received my heart-wish and had one of those boys return, they would be condemned by Arinniti's sins and the Council's decision.' ‘But;' Shawnee persisted. Several Amazon's looked my way, clearly bewildered. ‘We had to check the skulls of the ancestors for that,' Shawnee stated. ‘We took a tooth and it confirmed his lineage. He is the descendent of the young man. He never broke faith with the Host. He was unaware when ordered by the Arinniti what the Council had decided, thus he was guiltless.' ‘Who?' Hayden demanded. Shawnee looked down the table, but not far. (3)'Cáel Nyilas is of the blood of Ishara,' Shawnee stated. I waited to see which house leader freaked out. None did. Then I realized they were all staring at an empty chair and it just happened to be one of the chairs closest to Hayden. Not good. The screaming, shouting and yelling began. The house leaders were standing up, shaking fingers and launching threats at one another. Me? I was trying to recall who Ishara was. She eventually became Ishtar, Goddess of War. In the Old Kingdom Hittite she was also the Goddess of Oaths, Love and Medicine. The only three people at the table not going nuts where Saint Marie, Hayden and the woman at her side. That woman was looking at her tablet intently. Once more the group reached consensus and I was still boned. I was still a male, so my lineage meant nothing. I wasn't part of the Host. Hayden took another deep breath, acknowledging this second decision. ‘You are all incorrect,' the unknown tablet-reader spoke. Everyone looked at her and nobody was yelling. ‘Elsa, who is that?' I whispered. ‘Krasimira, Keeper of Records,' Elsa quietly informed me. ‘What; what do you mean?' Messina, Fabiola's Mom stammered. ‘Only nine males went unaccounted for at the end of the Second Betrayal. The rest are recorded meeting their deaths in battle, or death by our hand. Of those nine, only one was of House Ishara and he would have barely been of mating age,' Krasimira related. ‘So?' Ursula remarked. ‘He's still a male.' Krasimira looked at Ursula as if she was talking to a five year old. ‘He was a member of the Host. If Shawnee of Arinniti is to be believed, Vranus, Cáel's ancestor, lived and died in service to the Host. He was never removed from our records, so he died a member of the Host, so his descendants are also members of the Host.' ‘He married without permission of his house, thus he is illegitimate,' an old enemy from Egypt chimed in. ‘Perhaps,' Krasimira nodded. ‘That is a matter he must take up with the Head of House Ishara.' ‘There is no Head of House Ishara!' Ursula stated the obvious and pointed at the empty chair. ‘Again, you are incorrect,' Krasimira shook her head. She half turned in her chair. ‘There is a Head of House Ishara and he's standing right there.' Even Hayden had a problem with that. ‘But he's male,' Hayden declared. ‘That is Irrelevant,' Krasimira said. ‘To be the head of a house, one must either be elected by the peers of your house, succeed in accepted ritual combat, or, in extremis, it shall be the eldest surviving member of the Host of that house. Cáel Nyilas is clearly the oldest member of House Ishara currently in the Host,' she quoted Amazon law, ‘so he is House Ishara's head.' Silence reigned. ‘Gun,' I extended my hand to Elsa. She looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. ‘Don't make me repeat myself.' I growled. Elsa didn't look for guidance. She wasn't that type. She drew her 45 automatic and put in in my hand. ‘The safety is engaged,' she enlightened me. I left my spot and began rounding the table to 'my' seat. ‘One more step and I'll shoot you where you stand,' Ursula threatened. ‘No you won't,' Saint Marie stood. ‘I'll kill you first.' ‘Ursula of Marda, you have no justification to attack House Ishara,' Hayden explained. ‘I don't like this anymore than you do. We do not pick and choose which laws to follow. Accept the will of our ancestors.' There were between fifteen and twenty women close by aching to put bullets in me. I didn't stop because that wouldn't be me. I ended up by the chair and absorbed the essence of this tiny shard of reality. Was I the son of some lost 'First' House? Without a doubt, the placement of this chair was in the top ten on this side. The ones across from me were all clearly 'First' Houses as well. The chair was old; maybe two hundred years. It held a sadness to it; no one had ever sat in it. It had been built knowing no one would ever sit on it. I thought about Pamela. I thought about holding Oneida up and refusing to let her die. That effort was me, physically conditioned over years, but I had never discounted willpower. It was possible that man could indeed be found back somewhere in my ancestry. Few invaders wipe out all the indigenous inhabitants. Usually they intermarry with the invading culture overwhelming the previous one. I couldn't forget my present and future while examining my past. I put the gun down. Hostility washed over me in palatable waves. I pulled back the chair. The room was about to explode. I kept moving it back, farther and farther until it was clear I wouldn't be sitting in it. ‘I will stand for House Ishara,' I announced. ‘I will not vote though I will speak my thoughts on matters. I will hold this spot until I have a daughter of age.' ‘No man of House Ishara has ever voted in the Council of the Host and no man will now,' I kept going. ‘Outside of those concessions to my Mothers, I am House Ishara. I am right here. If you have a problem with me, I will be easy to find. I have never hidden from you bitches and I'm not going to start now.' ‘You insult us,' Messina stood up. Five other women joined her. ‘By all means,' Katrina stood, ‘we eagerly await your challenge.' Eight other women joined her. I hadn't suddenly become more popular. Between my refusal to vote, the bizarre revelation of Shawnee and the gravitas of the 'First' Houses, the more conservative women were retiring to regroup. Messina's backing down lasted only seconds. She immediately proposed that no male be allowed to be a member of the Host; disqualifying me by fiat. Krasimira wasn't going for that. Amazons could not legislate a member of the Host, or a House, out of existence. That's why they had killed the Ash Men in the first place. Technically, they had been Amazons. They couldn't make them 'not-Amazons' and there was no exile in this society. Eminently practical, they made them dead instead. That was coming back to bite them in the ass now, because they killed them; they'd never taken them off the rolls. Poor, young Vranus had loyally led his charges away on orders. Had he fled, they would have put him under a death sentence; which I would have to fulfill. No, my ancestor was unsurprisingly pig-headed. One senior warrior and three children; sure, let's walk off into the wilderness with hostile tribes all around. Why? They told him to and like a loyal little mutton-head he'd obeyed. If I believed in magic, or mysticism, I'd worry about how I ended up in that first board meeting speaking this screwed-up language. I'd re-examine how Leona had missed that crucial first shot because Aya had missed hers. Aya herself and the same spiritual twist that caused Oneida to hurl her life into my unsteady hands. I'd like to put that to accident and genetic abnormalities. Then there was Pamela. I'd like to think she was delusional, suffering from an acid flashback, or whatever. Shawnee slid a wooden box; a meter by 70 cm; to me. Whatever parliamentary etiquette Amazons followed was unknown to me. I opened the box. Inside was what looked like a lamb, or sheep, skin pressed in some kind of glass. The artifact looked horribly old and was faded to the stage where it was barely legible. I let the buzz die down around me as I squinted at the picture. There were five figures; from the left was a tall one with a shield and spear, three small figures, and another tall man; with two axes. That was; no I couldn't accept that, not right now. Along both sides and the top were prayers of some kind, though they were too faded to make out accurately. On the bottom were five names. The right-most was Vranus. Oneida hadn't been trapped by madness and pride. She'd been a slave to destiny. She had seen this skin, I was sure. She'd seen me with my two axes and when it turned out to be more than show, she'd had to save me and she couldn't tell anyone why because of the Arinniti sin. Perhaps she had some delusion we were distantly related. Now wasn't the time to ask. I closed the box and slid it back. In my absence, the verdict for House Arinniti was narrowed down. Some wanted Shawnee's head because she was the inheritor of those lies. Others wanted Oneida's head because it would be a more terrible lesson for her house. I didn't like those ideas. ‘Are you seriously arguing about the paint on the doghouse while your home is burning down?' I mocked them. ‘You don't; ,' a different, yet still hostile, Amazon choked out. ‘They didn't sell your sisters to the Roman coliseum,' I glared. ‘They valued bravery and loyalty over conformity. Did they defy the Council? Yes. I think we all agree with that. Put in context though, the rest of you screwed up.' Tons of 'how dare you' and descriptive insults to my family, gender, species and intelligence. ‘Answer me this; Ursula, can you turn around right now and slit your 'apprentice's' throat?' I posed. I could see the 'no' forming on her lips before the Great Wall of Implications fell on her head. ‘Everyone in this room that voted for the slaughter of the Ash Men broke your own laws,' I explained. ‘You had every right to kill your sons. They were legally and physically helpless. The Ash Men; they were members of the Host; and there is every indication you butchered them without trial, or attempt at redress. Correct me if I'm wrong, but those men did not break the law; you did.' ‘You are correct,' Krasimira said. ‘All members of the Host must be informed of their crimes and seek trial if they disagree. Any sentence of Death can be appealed to the High Priestess, who can commute the sentence, assign an ordeal of some kind, or have it carried out.' What doomed Leona was the obvious nature of her crime in front of the High Priestess. The only person who protested was Ursula, the Mistress of Leona's house. Looking back on things, Ursula had acted insanely sending Leona to kill me. Yes, she would have derailed the New Directive for a few years. She would also have alienated every neutral member of the Council. The vote for the New Directive was distasteful yet deemed necessary by enough houses for it to pass. The vote at the end of the Second Betrayal; that was the issue now. Miss Senior Egypt made one last end-run around the process. ‘What is to stop him from bringing more men into the Host?' she muddied the water. Me? I pulled out my shirt and looked down at my chest. ‘Is someone making fun of my A-cup sized breasts?' I appealed to Hayden. A tiny smile crossed her lips. ‘I am not sure Cáel,' Hayden responded. ‘Fatima, be precise with the nature of your worries.' ‘He should not be allowed to recruit into his house until his status is decided,' Fatima stated. ‘His status is not in question,' Hayden purred. That was the 'I'm about to lose patience with you' purr. ‘I would never recruit anyone into House Ishara who was not qualified. It is insulting to think otherwise. Is there a specific male you are worried about?' I inquired. ‘I don't know you, or your ways,' Fatima spat. ‘You need to think about what you just said, Fatima,' I snorted. ‘So, not knowing anything about me you are making assumptions about what I might do? As you said yourself, you don't know me.' ‘If you did, you would know that while I wish virtually every Amazon alive would drop dead, thus making the world a much better place, I would never embarrass Katrina, or betray her. Now, are you going to keep looking stupid, or are you going to accept that House Arinniti not only acted in accordance to Amazon law 2500 years ago, they continue acting so today,' I stated. ‘After all, they risked everyone's anger for the restoration of one of your eldest houses. When I turned out not to be one of Arinniti's long-lost sons, they could have kept quiet. They did not. Arinniti bravery means one day a daughter of Ishara will bring her voice to this council once more. They certainly didn't do this for themselves. Ask yourself if you would have the courage to bring such possible shame to your family prestige,' I challenged the Host. ‘You trained your monkey well,' Messina mocked Katrina. ‘Ah;' I mused as I picked up my pistol. ‘Safety.' I got a feel for the weapon. ‘Messina, what's the name of your 'apprentice'?' ‘You wouldn't dare,' Messina hissed. ‘You dare to insult me and my House, Whore-Bitch,' I smiled insanely. ‘Why do you think I'll let you get away with that? I'm not going to kill her; just gut-shoot her.' ‘Pull that trigger and you will die,' Messina spat. Her junior looked far less pleased with the turn of events. ‘Not relevant. My House Prestige is too great to suffer such an insult. You did call me, the choice of a hundred generations of House Ishara ancestors, a monkey,' I pointed out. ‘Cáel of Ishara, put the gun down; please,' Saint Marie sort of asked. I clicked the safety and put the gun back down on the table. Messina was looking terribly pleased with herself, ignoring 'The Golden Mare' coming around her side of the table. The hair-yank Saint Marie inflicted made me recoil in shock and I was some distance away Messina. Slap-backhand-slap-backhand. Saint Marie released Messina's hair. Messina stumbled back, fearful and furious at the same time. ‘Are you going to exert some common courtesy, or shall we continue?' the Marshal of the Amazon Host glared at Messina. ‘I don't like him, or where he stands, but I am far more embarrassed by your behavior. At least the male exerts some restraint. The rest of you are acting like he is a weakling-idiot. He is not. Know your opponent dammit.' ‘Wait! Hayden, now that I'm;' I got all excited. ‘No, Cáel, you still may not refer to the Marshal of the Amazon Host as 'Pony-Lady',' Hayden scolded me. I snapped my finger over the lost opportunity. A pregnant pause was suddenly vacated by a snicker and then several more until half the table had to hold their hands over their mouths. ‘Did you really call (dead word spoken) Saint Marie, 'Pony-Lady'?' this unknown House Leader asked. She wasn't one of my fans. ‘Only after she kicked my ass, totally humiliating me,' I revealed. ‘I got one punch in. Next thing I knew I was wondering how regularly they changed the fluorescent lighting in the Firing Range while I was on my back, soaking up the cold comfort of the concrete floor.' It took them a second to figure out what I meant. Saint Marie was already marching back to her chair. ‘You are very poetic,' another commented. ‘That is how I learned your tongue; I was taught Old Kingdom Hittite erotic and love poetry. I know the same in nine other forgotten languages, as well as four current languages,' I informed them. ‘Hayden, you would not dare chastise any other Head of House the way you treated; him,' Ursula griped. ‘In what possible universe would Cáel Nyilas be considered normal?' Hayden countered. ‘He is not like any other Head of House. He forgoes voting because He values our traditions.' ‘He does not sit in his designated seat at our table because he takes into consideration our sensibilities. This from a man we all decided to imprison forever not five minutes ago. If any of you think he does this out of fear, you are sorely mistaken. He is a person of many failings without question yet he is courageous to a fault,' Hayden lectured the room. ‘Saint Marie, what was the first thing he said to you after you crushed him?' ‘He said 'What. Had enough already?'‘ she snorted. ‘Those were his exact words, lying on his back, looking up at me. I thought I had concussed him.' ‘This is not a humorous matter,' Egypt Senior was still cranky. ‘I don't know about that,' Saint Marie reposed. ‘I found it to be fun actually.' ‘Even the part where he had the gun pointed at me was interesting. I was certain he was about to shoot me,' Saint Marie continued. ‘Pity he missed you,' Messina glared. ‘He didn't miss me, Messina,' Saint Marie sneered. ‘I told him to give me the gun and he gave it to me. He's not disloyal, just pugnacious.' ‘What of Arinniti's crime?' Beyoncé prodded. She wasn't feeling self-righteous. Quite the opposite; the mood had shifted away from bloodlust to uncertainty. Amazons liked decisiveness. They also liked only having to do something once and being done with it. That was the riptide of the New Directive; some houses couldn't let go of the fact they'd lost. That constant pecking away at the plan were the half-measures Katrina was complaining to Hayden about. From my experience, the Ash Men was Katrina's goal all along. Had she been open and honest with this desire, there was no way any aspect of the New Directive would be implemented. If you believed in conspiracy theories, Katrina had groomed me for some time. If you believed in luck, Katrina was cosmically lucky our paths collided. If you believed in mysticism, I was screwed. Let's not forget that there were three millennia of bad ass bitches on the other side of the spiritual divide who thought nothing of guiding me into a life full of fear, heartache and pain. A lengthy debate ended in a classic Amazon compromise; they forgot about it. Literally, they erased the crime against the Ash Men and Arinniti's 'omission' of sparing three of their sons. What had happened to all my 'Ash' brethren? Whoops; they were misplaced. They weren't erased from the rolls; that would make my existence inexplicable, so we remained honorary Amazons. I was sure their angry ghosts were totally mollified. I was sure me and the first female Pope would get it on too. As the meeting was breaking up, one of the 'unfriendly' Amazons shot me a remark. ‘I supposed you are elated,' she grumbled. ‘Really? You think so? Here, let me sell all your underage daughters to Romany gypsies so that you never see them again and you'll have an inkling of how I feel,' I smiled serenely. ‘You should be happy you are allowed to stand in our presence,' she got truly pissy. ‘Lady, I won't be happy until I get to hunt hate-filled monsters like you for sport,' I kept smiling. ‘Until then, I'm afraid we are both going to have to live unsatisfying lives,' I added. ‘Perhaps we should handle this with a blood feud?' she salivated at the prospect. ‘Sure. I'll get the Neutron Bomb we have in the Armory. You chose whatever you like. I'll meet you downtown at noon,' I proposed. It is much better to make a nuclear weapon joke and not have every authority figure in the room glance at you nervously. Did we really have a nuclear warhead in the basement? Fuck if I knew. They'd have never told me if there was. I felt a hand on my shoulder and recalled the touch. "Cáel Nyilas, you are forbidden from engaging in blood feuds - in your case, feuds of any kind until one lunar cycle is completed," Hayden instructed. "Thank you. I appreciate that," my honesty, heartfelt reply slipped forth. "My judgment wasn't for you, Cáel. You've caused catastrophic trauma to our society as an outsider. I tremble to think what you can do now that you are one of us," Hayden gave me a truly serene response. "Give me a little time to prepare." "Oh! Great idea," I exclaimed. "Gotta go!" and I raced for the door, tossing Elsa her gun. "Should I shoot him?" Elsa suggested. "Only to slow him down a bit." I made it to the elevator carrying my jacket and shoes. With me were four sets of Amazons that wanted me dead and one set who were rather ambivalent about the whole matter. I caught one of the 'hater' juniors looking at me. I turned my head enough so we could make prolonged eye contact. I smiled. Reluctantly she smiled back. I leaned in slightly. "Can I borrow your phone? SD beat me up earlier and stole all my stuff," I innocently requested. I was pretty sure she was as surprised as every other man-hater in the box that she handed it over. Like shooting fish in a barrel. I began making a few quick texts to the three crucial people in my scheme. "What did you do that for?" her senior hissed. With my brand new Stinky Pooh-Bah status, she couldn't knock the device out of my hands. "I don't know," she pleaded to her superior. I finished up then handed it back. "Your 'apprentice' has rendered House Ishara an important service that shall be entered into our records of boons and debts," I nodded gravely. "What is your name?" "Gale," she batted her eyelashes. "What did I do?" "What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?" I magically conjured up her hand in mine with my fingertips coursing over her palm and wrist. "I'll explain it then." "You may not spend time with this...person," Senior insisted. "We should not overlook an opportunity to make an alliance with a First House," Gale countered. Bang! Looking like trout for lunch. Gale won, I won and we were meeting at my place so we could figure out where to eat - yummy. Somewhere in the episode, I'd introduce Odette into the mix. It was only fair. I was asking her to hide in Timothy's room until I got Gale warmed up after all. I was the first one of the 'team' to arrive. I was nervously pacing Katrina's office when Desiree and Paula showed up. Desiree took a casual seat on the sofa while Paula hovered around my desk. "Is this going to be really bad, or really good?" Desiree mused. "Why should you have to choose?" I laughed. "Besides, we are aiming for epic status today." "Why are we here?" Paula worried. I stopped. I had a 'Eureka!' moment. There probably was a Bible for what I was planning to do, but they hadn't given it to me. I ran to the bathroom and came back with a glass. "Desiree, I need two things. I need your sharp, pointy thing and for you to slap me until I cry," I looked at her expectantly. "My pleasure," Desiree rocked up from her seat. "Slapping then knife?" I nodded. I was still in the painful smacking process when Buffy and Violet entered. "Can anyone join?" Buffy asked Paula. "I...I don't think so," Paula shook her head. "He's got a plan. I don't know what for." I dodged Desiree's final swing. I had gathered enough tears - I hoped. "That was truly therapeutic, Cáel," Desiree stated. "Let me know if you need a repeat performance." She handed me her small knife. Helena and Daphne finally strolled in. I wove past them, retrieved a piece of paper which I tore in two and two pens. "Helena and Buffy, please write your names down on these pages," I requested. "What the hell?" Buffy growled. "What is this about?" "Trust me," I met her gaze. "Buffy, Cáel is an ass, but he's not crazy. He's up to something," Desiree intervened. Helena stepped up and wrote her name. Buffy followed suit. I took the pages to Katrina's desk. "Come forth and kneel before me," I commanded. This was the point in the ritual when I figured my death was most likely. Buffy shot an evil look at Desiree then very reluctantly complied. Helena followed. Hmmm...Amazons kneel with both knees on the ground. That puts their mouths almost...I had to keep with the program. I burned the two autographs and scattered the ashes. "There is no Buffy DuBois. There is no Helena Shultz," I began. I dipped a finger into the shallow pool of my tears. I ran one down under the left eye of each lady. "With this, I open your eyes to the joys and sorrows of our ancestors." That brought on a hush and the anger in Buffy's eyes evaporated. I cut my left forefinger then motioned them to do the same. First Buffy: I linked our bloody digits. "With this, our blood is mixed. You are Buffy of House Ishara from this moment forth. You are the first of this House. You are our spear and shield," I met her gaze. She started crying. "You are Helena of House Ishara from this moment forth," I continued on. "You are the second of this House. You keep the records of our Host, keep track of our deeds, sins and accounts." Helena began weeping too. Had I said 'just joking', the cleaning team would have been finding torn pieces of me weeks later. "House Ishara is dead," Daphne stated the obvious. "Suffice it to say, long ago, House Ishara brought a male into their ranks as a member of the House," I started. I motioned for my two House-mates...members to rise. "The Second Betrayal," Violet interrupted. "Yes. During the Second Betrayal, some males remained loyal. My descendent was sent on a mission for the Host. The mission took him past his lifespan. His offspring continued on until you end up with me - being here - today. Suffice it to say, he was never removed from the rosters of the Host, thus every offspring was a member too," I recalled recent edited events. "By Amazon law, House Leaders are selected by their peers, victors in a challenge for leadership, or..." I continued. "The eldest of the house," Daphne gasped. "Since Ishara is...since all the female members of the Host are dead, you are the eldest member of the Host." "You don't have to be a female?" Desiree muttered. "That's insane. We are Amazons." "There hasn't been a male in the host for over 2500 years," I explained. "It never came up. Back when they had them, there simply weren't enough men to worry about. Afterwards, there were NO men to worry about. Apparently your ancestors thought writing down 'eldest female' was redundant." "That had to have gone down like a mouse passing an elephant turd," Paula muttered. We all looked at her. "What? Since I met Cáel, I've been writing down little phrases to use in situations like now. This was the first one I could recall." "Actually, they wept tears of joy, lifted me up on their shoulders and sung paeans to my glory," I lied. "So, when do you think the first assassination attempt will be?" Desiree shook her head. This was a lot for her to take in. Not only was my tale fantastic, Buffy was her friend and Desiree knew that Buffy bled for a chance to join the Host and had done so for years. "Why do you think I called Buffy first?" I snickered. "I won't let you down," Buffy declared with grim determination. "Calm down, Buffy," I assured her. "I don't think me being casually snuffed out is on their agenda. They've already gone through a torturous compromise to end up with this screwed up situation." "So why did you pick me...and Helena?" Buffy studied me. "Buffy, you are the most amazon-Amazon I know," I told her. "You like Helena and she said nice stuff about Daphne which showed her character, so I chose her next." "Hey, this means I can finally slap Fabiola around," Buffy's eyes grew bright. "Which reminds me - can I get any volunteers for Old Kingdom Hittite lessons for these two," I begged my 'new hire' companions. "I'll take two nights a week," Daphne offered. "I'll take one night," Paula added. "I'll take a fourth," Violet completed the set. "Damn it," Desiree cursed. "This means Buffy must be taught the Prayer of the Ancestors." "You are right," Buffy gasped. "I accompany Cáel to Council meetings now." "One note - I don't vote," I informed them. "I made that decision. House Ishara has never had a male vote for it and I'm keeping that tradition. I can speak, but not vote. When my daughter comes of age, she will have full rights." Desiree, Buffy and Helena were confused. Daphne, Violet and Paula, on the other hand, were enraptured. This was the only life - only traditions - they had ever known and I had sacrificed something of importance to them out of respect to their sensibilities. "Cáel's decision makes it easier for you, Buffy and Helena," Daphne explained. "This allows the other Heads of House to get used to him being there - less of a culture shock," she continued. "In a few years he may end up getting a vote anyway as they learn to respect him and House Ishara. You are one of the First Houses - reborn, I imagine." Buffy's eyes grew wide and her mouth gaped open. "Yeah Buff," Desiree shook her head. "One of the first twenty war leaders of the Host. You have the blood of Mycenaean warriors on your hands." "Cáel, I..." Buffy began. "I gave you nothing, Buffy. If you think there is someone more deserving than you, please point them out," I touched her tear-drenched cheek. "I do want something from you," I said compassionately. Buffy was attentive. "I want you to undergo a sex change operation and become a real woman." Ow! Buffy punched me. "Buffy, you might not want to damage your House Head in public. It is bad for his prestige," Paula pointed out. "Good point," Buffy frowned. "Cáel - bathroom - now." "Uh-oh, no way, no how," I back-pedaled. "Today has been painful enough. I had a run in with some Security Detail and House Guard on the way to the podium." "What did they do to you?" Helena inquired. "For starters, they haven't given me back my valise," I complained. "Also, who do I report these additions to House Ishara to? Finally, Buffy promised me she'd wear a thong and those little, circular Band-Aids if I got her into the Full-blooded gym again." "Decorum, Buffy," Desiree stopped Buffy from punishing me. "Decorum." "Why don't you have to behave?" Buffy glared at me. "I'm the ghost of a man dead for over 2500 years," I winked. "I'm allowed to be eccentric." "I'll start calling around to find out who gets told what and where your stuff is Cáel," Helena grinned. She was full-blooded now; the goal of every Runner who joined. "What is next for you now?" Daphne questioned. "I imagine I have a job to do," I replied. "I mean, Katrina works and she's head of House Epona. I'm an intern, just like I was yesterday. That hasn't changed." "Oh goodie," Buffy smacked her hands together, "you can still work for me." "Oh - yay," I groaned sarcastically. "What's wrong now?" Katrina said as she waltzed into the room. I caught sight of a few SD chicks hanging around outside. "There are for your protection if you feel you need it." "Nah," I shook my head. "I have that taken care of. I brought Buffy and Helena into House Ishara." Katrina stopped and looked at me. There was definitely some tension between us. "You might want to consult with - others before you do something like that again," Katrina cautioned me. "I'll definitely consider your offer. For now, I chose the best for the future of Ishara," I said, "as is my duty and responsibility." We locked gazes once more. Things had changed between us. They had to have. "I seem to have missed my Firing Range practice today as well as the morning meeting," I reminded Katrina. She'd known what fate awaited me when I walked in the door and not warned me. I didn't blame her. That was what she was looking for - the anger. Before, I couldn't have acted on it. "Cáel, get dressed. I saw Helena running off on some sort of errand which I imagine is your fault, so you are working with Daphne for the rest of the day," Katrina resumed her pace to her desk. She examined the nearly empty glass. "My tears," I answered. "It is part of my ritual for induction into House Ishara." In case you missed it, I never said 'my house'. This was on purpose. As long as I made no open claim to such a lofty spot, they could ignore me hanging around a bit better. "You may want to talk with House Arinniti, or Šauška about such rites," Katrina advised. "He burned their old names to ash, scored their left cheeks with his tears to remind them of his ancestors and mixed his blood with theirs so they would be known to all as members of House Ishara from this day forth," Daphne related. "It was very touching - simple and to the point." "That's Cáel for you, simple and straight to the cultural jugular," Katrina shook her head. "He did nothing wrong," Buffy protested. I was getting dressed. "Buffy, I have wanted to initiate you into House Epona for years. Family politics have prevented that. Sixty years after the First Initiative, fewer than a fifty 'Runners' have been brought into the Host. Mutual condemnation has kept each house in check - restrained from recruiting new blood into the Host." "And now we have Cáel," Desiree groaned. "Who does care not one bit about social ramifications of bringing a hundred runners into one of the oldest houses of the Host," Daphne sighed. "But, we deserve this," Buffy proclaimed. "That, Buffy, is the point and the problem - you and others like you do deserve it," Katrina fondly regarded her 'now-Full-blooded' friend. "Most of the other houses would disagree though, but they won't be able to convince Cáel of this - thus begins the next quagmire of Cáel's creation." It was the prejudice laid bare. The 'Runners' knew they had very little chance of being accepted into a House. They had a long history of neglect to look back on. The few who had graduated had been virtually superhuman to be accepted. Then I came along. Suddenly, for some of the best and brightest of the 'Runners' there was a serious likelihood they could be brought into a highly prestigious House, because its leader was a nutjob. This morning, when the meeting adjourned, House Ishara had been a tiny blip on the Council's radars. Those women so disregarded the 'Runners' they hadn't even thought about my reaction to the dilemma of the miniscule size of my house, despite the answer being all around them (though safely contained upstairs in their minds). House Ishara with a lone member, a male at that, wasn't a threat - not really. The specter that Katrina foresaw was something different. She saw a House Ishara with a thousand members, and all hardened, dedicated and trained Amazons - formerly 'Runners'. Loyal to me?
Back with Libra; but first some nonsensical news. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Just as echoes pollute sound, the echoes of our histories pollute our view of the World.” Katrina Explains the ‘Ash Men' "Amazons keep rather accurate histories, basing everything on lunar cycles. Our records, with minor gaps, date back to the Great Betrayal," Katrina began. "By modern parlance, around 1000 BCE, our ancestors stopped a millennia of a nomadic existence to settle in the land between the Váh, Hron rivers and Danube rivers." "You bitches know who the Magyar are," I interrupted abruptly. Sure, that region was in current day Slovakia, but it bordered Hungary, my ancestral homeland, even though our residency was separated by over 1500 years. "Of course I know who the Magyar are," Katrina shook her head mirthfully. "I simply can't resist busting your balls." I muttered angrily while avoiding using actual words. "Our numbers were enough to seize and hold the land," Katrina continued. "For centuries before that, we raided for men from tribes whose land we were moving through. After a few seasons, we disposed of the men and took some more." "When we chose to settle down, our Council decided to raid distant tribes and steal boys to be raised among our people. At first the males were virtual slaves yet in three generations, our people began seeing males as fathers, brothers and sons. We trained them in crafts. A few generations later, we voted to train them to be guardians; protectors of our hearths while the Host made war." "For eighteen generations things went well. We prospered, grew rich and strong. The tribes around us feared our wrath which made us proud yet was our undoing. New, stronger tribes migrated into the region from the West; we now know them to be Celts. The genesis of House Epona is from those first meetings. Many Celtic women embraced the Amazon lifestyle." "Though they knew of our strength, the first of these new tribes quickly went from peaceful coexistence to warfare. The Host crushed them. The problem was that new tribes kept coming and coming. Dirges of Mourning replaced the sweet taste of victory around our fires. We were always winning the key conflicts but our numbers were diminishing." "The males came to the Council and begged for the opportunity to join the Host in battle. Twice we rejected them. The third time, we relented and allowed a select few males to join us in the fight and for a time the balance was restored. Our doom crept upon us. More conflict resulted in more men taking up arms to fight." "What the Council could not perceive was the insidious influence of our enemies and it swept upon us on the wings of ravens by night; druids. Masculine deities, ethos and egos combined with our own blind arrogance to bring about our downfall. Constant contact with the Celts brought a different cultural view to our men. They began to question why women should rule." "Somewhere around the year 680 BCE, it began. It was not a calamity over in a night, or even a week yet once it began there was no stopping it. Most of our males, never fighters, were taken as slaves by their former brothers and their new Celtic masters. Not all fighting males betrayed us. Those males risked their very lives to sneak into fallen towns and villages to rescue their daughters." "The penalty our enemies exacted on our remaining fighting males was meant to keep the rest in line. They burned those brave men alive, in public. They burned them slowly, in much agony; the druids showed them how it was done. There is no record of any of our fighting males switching sides, or failing to undertake any mission for the Host. We survived as a people because of them." "When all hope of remaining in our new homes faded, we fled east into the mountains. My ancestors were furious, frightened and shamed. They decided they had let down their guards around men and swore to never do it again. The only obstacle to this way of thinking was the handful of men who risked all for the Host's survival and still lived." "They sent those male survivors on one last, suicidal mission. They were to return home and incite the Celts' wrath against the traitor males. For the Hell they unleashed, the druids were chosen for this final act vengeance. Amazon males slew the druids. The angry Celts fell upon their former allies, slaughtering the lot. "Somehow, a tiny band returned to their mistresses. Their return was unexpected. In their absence, the High Priestess and Council decided to rectify their centuries' old error in judgment. Only a few Houses; Arinniti among them; knows how each Council member voted yet the final decision is something we are dealing with today." "The 'valiant' Host went to their defenseless sons and butchered them. When the last Amazon males made it back they were rewarded with death as well. It is recorded that they didn't even resist, loyal to their last drop of blood. In less than ten minute's time, the last of the male line of Amazons perished." "These are the 'Ash Men' Oneida mentioned. Burned to death by our enemies for their devotion to us, burned to ash by the Host to hide our shame after we killed them for the crime of never betraying us. All full-blooded Amazons are taught about the Second Betrayal; except that last, pathetic and tragic addendum," Katrina educated me. "Oh shit," I interrupted. I was sure Katrina had more to tell me but I felt the hideous weight of this; now shared; past. "You believe that when this gets out, as all secrets do, it will undermine everything you have built. You did more than utterly betray those loyal brothers, you murdered your own sons." "That is one of the most serious issues the Council is dealing with," Elsa finally spoke. "That makes sense, but you are forgetting something," I shook my head. "Times change, people change, circumstances change. The Host misses the point." "That point would be?" Katrina studied me. I believed this was more of a case she wanted me to make the logical next step. "You betrayed us," I stated. "The lesson is not that men were lured away from the Amazon cause, it was that despite every reason to save themselves, men stayed loyal to the grisly end. If the Host is mindful and respectful, we males would rather be 'Ash Men' and safeguard our sons and daughters." "Men volunteered to fight, they did fight and fought well yet the Host refused to acknowledge anything had changed," I then paused. "Which is why I'm learning how to shoot, and knife-fight and why Elsa is here. Katrina, with the upmost respect; you are a manipulative bitch." "Cáel, I let you get away with a great deal," Katrina smirked. "Don't take advantage of it." "You seem to forget that I consider being murdered by your ilk highly more desirable than slavery," I retorted. "I hope it doesn't come to that, but if it does, you know you can't win," Katrina pointed out. "I have more invested in the fight than you do," I stated. "I'm fighting for the future of my people. You know that," Katrina bantered. "I'm fighting for my sons to be allowed to live free of bondage, or thrown from the cliffs, and for my daughters to not be a plague on the human soul," I grinned. "You would turn my daughters into Fabiola and; you can't even agree on letting the other half of your own offspring live, as if that was something 'normal' mothers would ever discuss." "Fabiola? Not Aya?" Katrina prodded. "I ignore the reality of Aya because I love her. There is no saving her. Your reach makes it hopeless, she wouldn't understand and she is already too poisoned by the rest of you anyway," I explained. "Watching her inevitable slide into madness is another reason for me to seek death in battle." "I enjoy these chats," Katrina smiled as she stood up. "You are a very complex individual and crossing wits with you has been an unexpected pleasure. Good night." Elsa moved to follow Katrina to the door. "Elsa?" I called out. She half-turned. "Try going with French cut instead of boy shorts tomorrow." There was a fey light in Elsa's eyes. I continued to creep closer to having status in her eyes. Not a sentient; I was that already. Amazons didn't have a glorious rival. Strong rivals you killed as soon as possible. Cáel Nyilas had become a nebulous entity treading down unexplored pathways in her until-now internally consistent World. "I won't let you win," she gave me a molten, hungry look. "I bet you say that to all the guys," I shot back. "Only the ones I care about," she gave me one more promissory fuck-note, turned and left. I didn't have time to mull over my bleak future forecast. Yasmin was coming over and we were definitely not going out to eat. (Wednesday Night) Yasmin had a kink I hadn't really had to deal with before. She liked having sex standing up; anywhere. Sure I had made love in hallways, showers and against a refrigerator once, but Yasmin took this to a whole new level. The most horizontal I got her was fucking her on my bedroom dresser. She was also an aggressive nibbler which is a kind way of saying she bites down hard without breaking the skin. The scars would fade by morning, but I was going to catch Hell from Timothy and Odette later tonight. Our experience was; enhanced by yet another reality I was unaware of. Yasmin's ex was an 'intellectual'. In Brazil that must translate as a small penis with limited stamina, but don't hold me to that. Since the birth of her son and the 'incident' with her husband, Yasmin hadn't much 'personal' time; read: not much finger, or vibrator usage. Yasmin was tight, famished and extra aroused by me kicking Felix's macho ass an hour earlier. I ushered Yasmin into my place, she was looking smoky yet contained, so I gave her the ten cent tour. When I turned around, her sandals, pants and shirt were off. Silky violet was a good color on her. Yasmin didn't rush the removal of her final items, using their skimpy allure to draw me in like a striker to the goal. My Brazilian MILF loved being appreciated for every nuanced curve, scent and taste. She let me slip off her bra first then she pulled off my shirt. She didn't let me get behind her. This allowed her to pace her own aggression. Cáel was along for the ride. This wasn't fem domination, just a very hungry lady looking for some first-rate sportsmanship. Lucky for me, I was a full service arena with overtime expertise. Every little 'Give and Go' and 'tackle' was received, or dodged to keep our game in play. Here I was thinking of swinging a little more upper body workout later tonight. Yasmin's gymnastics made that redundant. My first insertion was welcomed by her. Yasmin repaid my diligence with lip services, strong hands massaging my back and arms, plus timely input concerning what was good and bad without running over the passion. Yasmin was not at Buffy's level of competition. Instead she brought her own torrid spirit that was new and exciting. I had no idea how Yasmin's husband ever found the energy to cheat on her. Yasmin would seek breaks in our activities. The rest of the hour-plus she was either at a vivid simmer, or a full-on blowtorch. Half the time I didn't even have to direct our intimacy; Yasmin was happy to manage all of the movements using her thighs, stomach muscles and arms to make it a highly memorable performance. As we staggered down from the peak of my climax, a sweaty, panting Yasmin informed me that she was glad she had started doing handstand push-ups once more. For those not in the know, imagine doing a handstand facing a wall. Now push your body up the wall which is occasionally done with your fingertips if you are a true bad-ass; like Yasmin and Timothy. That is another exercise I'm going to have to work on. Jacking-off and squeezing stress balls wasn't going to cut it anymore. "Ora, ora, meu bombom precioso ; muito bom," Yasmin purred as I put her legs down; I had been holding the back of her knees with my elbows. "I'm the bomb? Sweet!" I sounded as energetic as I was able. My Brazilian Nitro-girl began laughing. "What did the rest of it mean?" "With every orgasm you give me, I'll give you a word," she taunted me. I looked at the ceiling. "I'm looking for a downside to that challenge," I met her gaze. "I can't see one." "We'll see about that when I leave. I have a sitter until 11:00 p.m. so you have good deal of bravado I want you to back-up," Yasmin looked carnivorously-aroused. We did get around to getting cleaned up then hoofed it to a local Egyptian cuisine eatery. On the way back, I screwed her against a streetlamp with the light burned out. You see a good deal of humor about girls in super-tight pants and all the contortions they go through to get into them. Peeling them out is much, much easier. Maybe it is the inspiration that makes the difference. Best of all, the reactions of people walking around us, or across the street. Overt disgust, ignoring the whole situation, and, my favorite, the running commentary. (First couple) #1 Girl: "Why don't we ever do that?" #1 Guy: "Do you bend that way?" (Second couple) #2 Girl: "Do you think she's hotter than me?" #2 Guy: "Let's go down to the next lamppost and find out." (Third couple) #3 Guy: "Don't they have a bed, or are they homeless?" There was no way we were dressed like homeless! #3 Girl: "You have all the romance of a rhino." Somebody wasn't getting some tonight. And because we were in a major metropolis, (Fourth couple) #4 Girl (1): "Are you practicing safe sex? If not, I have a condom," she touched my shoulder. Me: "We are good. I use Durex normally, though I'll use Trojan too." #4 Girl (2): "Are you okay, Miss?" Yasmin: (unhappy): "I'm fine. Now either let my man get back to slaking my every lust, or join in." #4 Girl (2) "Are you serious?" to Yasmin. #4 Girl (1) "Are you okay with this?" she addressed me. "She's my girlfriend." A few seconds of grunting, gasping sex ensued. Yasmin: "Yes, I am serious and you two are killing the mood. Mount up, or get off my horsy." The two ladies looked at one another. #4 Girl (1): "She's very ho; attractive. What do you say? It is safe sex," hint, hint. And thus I had a lesbian four-way. The first girl, Evie, was bi- and worked at Planned Parenthood, explaining the condom lore. Girl two, Samantha, was a lesbian, but having a strong sex drive, decided that Yasmin was as luscious as I thought she was. Back at my place, it took Samantha thirty minutes to get used to sharing her bed with a man. By then she decided I wasn't the enemy, despite my penis and hunger for the female form. Evie and Yasmin had zip inhibitions and let the lesbian and the straight guy work our differences while they basked in each other's femininity. Yasmin insisted she wasn't a lesbian, or bi-sexual. She had no sexual hang ups and found American's confusing because they did. We had wrapped up the first round with Evie giving me a quick blowjob because I had been a good boy and kept my sperm holstered for the entire encounter. Samantha threw on one of Odette's t-shirts (I didn't explain) and went to the bathroom. I got washed up; Samantha gave me a dirty look from the toilet then I reminded her I'd just seen her naked. We both exited to the living room and took up spots on the sofa as we waited for our prospective partner. I heard my roommates keys jingle in the lock. He walked in, taking in the now familiar scene of me with a new girl on the sofa. "Timothy Denver!" Samantha squealed when my roommate showed up. "Sammy; what are you doing in my apartment; with him?" Timothy meant me. They (Timothy and Samantha) hugged each other, Timothy lifting her off the ground. "Me and Evie are sharing his girlfriend," Samantha explained. "Which one?" Timothy put her down. Samantha shot me a semi-hostile look. Yasmin and Evie came out of the bedroom; having found Evie's clothing. That was their story and I wasn't going to argue with it. "Hi Timothy!" Evie ran up and hugged him too. Up she went. "Timothy, this is Yasmin," I made introductions. "The Brazilian Hottie," Timothy noted. "Yasmin, is Cáel sleeping around you on you?" Samantha inquired. "No. Cáel has sex with far too many other women to cheat on me," she informed them. Samantha didn't know what to make of that. "That means she's aware that I date a lot," I explained. I would have asked how Samantha, Evie and Timothy knew each other except now all their body art made sense. "Timothy, are you and Cáel;” Samantha asked. Timothy rolled his eyes. "God, I wish," Timothy sighed dramatically. "The dick on this guy is phenomenal." "Sammy, I know you would never, ever, ever go that way, but if you did, do it with Cáel here," Timothy told her. "He is the most sensitive, skilled and empathic lover I've ever seen. He's not at all possessive and totally confident in who he is." Sammy didn't look like she was contemplating a gender-preference switch. She was getting between me and Evie. "As long as you understand you, me and Evie," Sammy warned me. "Sadly, fidelity is not one of my virtues," I shrugged. "I could lie to you about it. You seem to be Timothy's friend, so I should treat you better than that." "You can trust me around Cáel," Evie insisted. "No, we can't," Timothy, Sammy and Yasmin all spoke simultaneously. I wasn't trustworthy, but at least I was consistently untrustworthy. "Listen to your friends and the woman you barely know," I met Evie's gaze. "I know I couldn't control myself around you and we'd both regret it." No we wouldn't. I could see that fire deep in her eyes. We were going to have sex again, just me and she. I was a lowdown dirty dog who gave an incredible dicking and I'd already made an insertion into Evie's body and mind. Not that it was terribly important to me; she was okay at sex, though not great. My words were for the listening audience. Timothy knew me better. "Cáel," Timothy stated firmly. "For me, man; don't fool around with Evie." I'd lied to roommates all the time. Like the women in my life, I wanted to keep them happy, or happily neutral. That attitude suddenly didn't work for me. "How?" sort of spilled out. No one expected my plaintive cry for relationship help. "What?" Sammy gulped. Yasmin snickered. She knew the score. "Sammy, Cáel's nailed a girl who was making a food delivery to us. In around an hour and a half, a waitress he met for a minute and gave his number to, will be here. She moved into his room. They are not a couple," Timothy tried to explain. "She lives here to hang out with me and bangs Cáel when he doesn't have anyone else over, yet, I swear on Buddha's Belly, I've never seen him abuse a girl," Timothy continued. "It is the strangest damn thing I've ever seen. He's stacked them up like jets at LaGuardia." "He's a shit-head player," Sammy glared. "Do you feel used?" Yasmin pointed out. "You don't because you weren't. He's not trying to out-dick your vagina. He's not out to steal Evie. He is admittedly hormonally unbalanced. That doesn't make him a bastard. I'm not here looking for a boyfriend and if I was, it would never be Cáel." "If you can get past the fact he might have sex with your girlfriend from time to time, he's really a great guy," Yasmin added. "Cáel is fearless and as long as sex is not involved, completely reliable." Sammy was clearly not believing any of this, finally turning back to Timothy. "He gives an incredibly good dicking, he's a dog, and he's one of my best friends," Timothy shrugged. I had been 'one of the guys', a 'buddy' and 'dude'. I had never been considered a man's best friend before and I had never heard Timothy toss that term around about anybody. I went up and hugged him. "Dude, you have lousy taste in friends," I patted his back. "Cáel, I have plenty of friends who wouldn't abandon me in a fight. You are the only person I know who took an arrow for a little girl you barely knew," Timothy patted my back. "You don't find that dedication often. In the past two months we've been through more freaky shit than I've experience in the past ten years. Faults and all, this has been the best time of my life." I stepped back until we were at arm's length. "I take that back. You don't have lousy taste in friends; you are delusional," I blinked. "He got shot; took an arrow; for a little girl?" Sammy gulped. "How come this is the first I'm hearing about it?" "That would be the bandage on your leg?" Evie pointed. "I have a dangerous job," I regarded the new girls. "I test poultry for signs of intelligence. Let's just say that a sleeper cell got past me and chaos ensued." "Translation: he can't talk about it," Yasmin smirked. "What do you do you really do?" Sammy pressed. "I'm working on a special project. We are taping strobe lights to Garden Gnomes then, using hobby store-bought rockets, my corporation is going to sell them as a Developing World-friendly alternative to the current GPS system," I looked grim. "Really?" Sammy looked uncertain. "I work for a really sleazy corporation," I confessed. "There is nothing they wouldn't do for a buck." "That's heartless," Sammy protested. "Men like that are raping the planet and exploiting the poor." "Sammy, I work for Havenstone Commercial Investments. I am one of three men in the entire workforce; that is well over 10,000 women; undoubtedly more," I smirked. "If it is any consolation, I am treated as little more than a pin-up model by my co-workers." "Oh wow," Evie snickered. "Were you hired for your looks?" "Hardly," I declared with authority. "I majored in Business with a minor in Philosophy from Bolingbrook College in New Hampshire, an institute of higher learning renowned for its 70% female student population and nothing else. Still, I am working for a Fortune 500 company at a job I am totally unqualified for, earning an unheard of starting salary and constantly required to work shirtless, or naked." "Personally, I think it was my creative writing skills that won them over," I nodded sagely. "You are a jerk," Timothy snorted. "I hate it when you tell the truth and make it sound unbelievable. It is a skill I've never seen wielding so cuttingly." No one said anything for a few seconds. "It is really annoying that no one believes I earned my position because I'm actually intelligent and hard-working," I grumbled. "Welcome to the world of a Carnival dancer," Yasmin laughed. "I was going 'a blond bimbo'," Sammy agreed, "but that works too." That broke down the social ice. Letting yourself soak up a bit of ridicule can pay huge dividends. I was going to be back in bed with every single woman in the room; even the lesbian, though I'd be sharing a girl with her, wait and see. For some reason, Sammy remained convinced I was an asshole, so she dared me to kiss Timothy. I shrugged, Timothy shrugged, so we kissed. Seriously, I have no clue what I Won't do for sex. When Timothy slipped me some tongue I nutted him. As he doubled over, I told him I wasn't the kind of guy who went beyond second base on the first date. The group informed me that second base was touching my cock; whoops. Then Evie reminded me that I had sex with her within fifteen minutes of our initial meeting. I replied I hadn't had anal sex with her yet, but if that was the case, I was sure Timothy would be a good sport about it all. Timothy had finally gotten back to his feet. Again, he nodded. This time he snatched me up, bench pressed me over his head (man, we need to re-spackle the ceiling) and bounced me off the sofa. Timothy is really strong too. I hit the floor, face down, but with my knees and palms catching my weight. I quickly summersaulted and regained my footing. I trusted Timothy. Still, talking about anal sex with a big, buff gay man then assuming the doggy-style position; let's not tempt fate. My antics earned me another round of sex. After Evie exploded (figuratively) all over the place with her; third euphoria, I looked over Yasmin's shoulder to Sammy, who was sexing up my Brazilian from the other side. "I have totally and completely re-evaluated having a lesbian in bed with me, Sammy," I testified. "You rock!" Sammy shot me a look, realized I was expounding true praise and picked up her ravishing of Yasmin. After we demolished Yasmin, Sammy mounted me. She wanted a 'test drive' more than anything else; the experience of feeling the differences between the masculine and feminine skeletal and muscular textures and nuances. "Can I touch your breasts?" I requested. Sammy thought it over, eventually giving me an 'okay' look. She had those nice, banana-cone shaped breasts with huge areolas and sizable nipples. I started off by lifting and weighing each teat, taking it nice and leisurely. Sammy decided I was doing a passable job so she stopped studying me and got into the sensation of the moment. That little gasp cued me in that I had earned the right to move a little farther. Her nipples were already engaged. A half-dozen grazing passes and they were definitely joyous. Lesbians, bi-sexual and straight women all have the same physiology, yet different visually, audibly, and olfactory stimuli were specific arousal cues. Most lesbians didn't like Old Spice, The Firemen of New York calendars and Enrique Iglesias. At the very least they aren't throwing their panties at Enrique. Touch and taste tend to be unisex. Baring you having big, calloused man-paws, fingers are fingers and hands are hands. Taste is taste and more individual specific than gender-related. Sorry ladies, your sweat can stink as much as a men's does. It is more a matter of diet. Both sexes should clean up 'down there'. It is common sexual courtesy, so use it. When I can, I use a subtle cologne though I've used women's Secret deodorant on rare occasions. It earned me curious looks every time, but it never stopped them. Sammy was already taking quick gulps of air when her worried eyes looked down at me again. She wanted to tell me to stop. She was caught in a double bind; she was getting gratification and the only reason to refuse it was because I was a man; a man she had allowed to touch her. That would make her either sexist, or a bigot. Never ignore the allure of the female orgasm. Add to that, never ignore the power of friendship. As Sammy struggled to master her 'lesbian outrage', Evie sneaked behind her, wiggling two fingers. "Evie," Sammy moaned in protest. "Sammy-love, he's not trying to fuck you," Evie murmured to her companion. "You are liking what he's doing and you know you have dynamite nipples. Let him have a sample." To me, "She likes a whole lot of suction and a tiny bit of teeth." Sammy attempted some kind of protest. Yasmin stroking Sammy's upper thigh, hip and stomach breached the dam of her inhibitions. So, I had a lesbian lowering her body toward mine. First her palms rested on my shoulders. Sammy's body flowed up mine until her elbows replaced her hands. As advised, I applied a wet vacuum seal. I twirled my tongue around her savory flesh, bringing Sammy to the point she embraced her tantric titillation. "You should have longer hair," she purred as she ran one hand through my locks. "I don't normally go for butch girls." You guys go be indignant if you wish. These were some sweet teats I was indulging in and I had zero regrets about 'girling-up' for a lesbian. Sammy finally climbed to the mountaintop of her orgasmic quest and howled out her victory. She cascaded down on me, my lower stomach syrupy with her juices and her bosom muzzling my face. Yasmin went to her knees, leaned over Sammy's prostrate form and began seriously making out with Evie. I lived in a vortex of unexpected pleasure and fulfillment. I had taken part in making a lesbian sexually complete. "You are the best guy I've ever been with," Sammy murmured. "He's the only guy you've ever been with," Evie teased. "Fine. He's still the best. Cáel, have you ever thought about becoming a post-op transsexual?" Sammy giggled. "No!" Yasmin protested. "That's where I draw the line. Cáel keeps his tender bits." "Mmm Mmm," I added my voice against that proposal. To punish Sammy for even bringing that up, I latched onto a breast like a starving lamprey and went to town. Damn right that put her in her place. Fifteen minute later, she finally let me come up for air. Ten minutes after that, we stumbled out of the apartment. I was going to see Yasmin safely home; she snickered then, seeing my hurt feelings, told me I was very brave and could take her home. Evie and Sammy lived close by. They had known Timothy from his days working at an ink place in Queens, but had lost touch when he opened his own place on the East Side. They promised to stay in touch. Sometimes I don't even have to try. Maybe that's why Timothy got so pissy with me at times. As for Yasmin and me, I fucked her in the hallway right outside her domicile because she still had twenty minutes left on her babysitter and there was a convenient vertical surface. We both went home with smiles on our faces. I met up with Odette walking up to my; now our; place. She wanted all the juicy details, helped me change our sheets, promised to do our laundry tomorrow morning and then we had sex. I was set up on my feet, shins and knees, Odette facing away from me and grinding her lush tight end on my rod when the door opened and Timothy Nerf-shot me; cause I definitely deserved it. (Thursday) Thursday was good. I inspected artificial wood products for artificial termites. Actually, I started out with Constanza; really Naomi and her Merry Band now; and learned how to actually fire a personal defense weapon. No more 'spray and pray' for me. They told me they had a special surprise for me on Friday. Color me concerned. According to Medical, I was a lousy lab monkey. Then Katrina informed me it was Brian's turn today to get poked, prodded and forced to cough up millions of little Brian-lettes for Havenstone's perverse pleasures. I e-mailed Brian my best wishes. I was seriously starting to question those 'so-called' medical experts ethical integrity. I worked with Buffy, teamed up with the Daphne/Desiree combo. Why? Because there was an emergency board meeting on Friday. I wasn't told this, but Daphne and I figured it out. To put some extra butter on my hell-bound soul, an agent of Rhada's gave me a private note informing me she wanted to talk. Keeping to Amazon Princess Rape Fantasy Bondage protocols, I ate the message before Buffy could pry it from my hands. Bad enough was all these crazy females trying to kill me, I also had to keep track of which ones hated the other ones. It reminded me of dating sorority sisters, except this time out, I could never leave the sorority house and they almost never went to classes. Oh, and they are all related to Jason Voorhees (that's the maniac from the Friday the 13th movies for those who had lived constructive lives) and we were adjacent to an Ace Hardware store. Plus I had a date with Libra and I was dedicated to 'tapping that ass' at least once more before I died. And, there was more! Deena, the swimming, 'fingers in her cunt' buddy dropped me a line telling me she was 'expecting' me this afternoon. There was no way I could swing that, despite her request that could be only construed as an order. I simply didn't have the time. I e-mailed her back, pleading for her to be in a bikini with several suggested sites for her to visit. Before my designated knife training, I had a fucked-up brainstorm about what to do with Rhada. I wrote a letter in Old Kingdom Hittite, sealed it in wax with the imprint of the symbol 'Lowest' on it, representing me, though Rhada's submissive side could easily misinterpret that. To get it to her, I went to the only one who could meet her face to face who I could trust. Katrina? Laughable. She could do it but she wouldn't touch this disaster with a three meter pole made out of male vertebrae. The only other person who met all the criteria; Oneida. Yes, I was a fucktard, fuck-nut and a waste of human potential. "Oneida, I need a favor," I asked the moment I hunted her down in Acquisitions. "Of course," her eyes lit up, her lips moistened and breathe quickened. She wasn't wanting a quick tussle in a side room. The chick wanted to be held closely while I whispered love poetry into her ear for her to hear alone. I was letting her down abysmally. "I need this message hand delivered to Rhada," I pressed the missive into her hands. She didn't know how to wrap her mind around that. Rhada? She knew we had fought, but what contact had we shared since then? She made the sane 'girl-logic' assumption. "Cáel, are you in trouble," she worried. Oh, I wish it was only trouble. "Not that you can help me with. If you can't do this, I'll find another way," I sighed. Yes, I was playing her. Oneida would run over hot coals for me. "No, no; I'll do it; why? Why Rhada?" Oneida pleaded. "I can't say and you cannot look at the message. It is critical that she, and she alone sees this," I impressed on her the importance of saving my life without saying 'please save my life'. By asking her to not look at the message, I increased the odds she'd look. I had no choice. If I didn't say anything about it, she'd make an excuse to look and tell herself that I hadn't forbidden her to look. Add to that, she was my racial superior. In her case, this meant she had to look out for my best interest. Oneida nodded and watched me leave. Training with Pamela was hands on this day. I had a wooden blade with a lead core to give me a better feel for the proper weight. Pamela had a meter long wooden rod. She had a miraculous ability to move her baton in a blur yet not hurt my fingers, hand, or wrist. It was very instructional. I was practicing stabbing and a bit of slashing. I left with a sense I'd added something useful to my repertoire. I wasn't calling out Elsa anytime soon; heck, I wasn't calling out Europa, Aya's 13 year old sister either. As we were cleaning up, Pamela noticed my uncertainty. "What is it?" she asked. "Oh, it is that you've resisted the urge to cause me pain," I mused. "Normally, I find Amazons to be very harsh." "That is certainly a common training style here," Pamela nodded. "I chose showing a student how to do things right as opposed to reminding the student what they did wrong." "Good enough. Thanks for treating me like I matter," I grinned. "What makes you think that?" Pamela and I started to leave the little dojo. Note, she didn't say 'assume'. "Trust me, I'm a sperm donor with sex appeal to virtually every other screwy dame in this place," I smirked. "I know the difference between what I see in their eyes and yours," I winked. "Ash Man," Pamela remarked. She zinged me, alright. "My granddaughters talk of you and not in a way I would expect Amazon women to talk about a male." "That and an Egg McMuffin;” I shrugged. "Means you won't die hungry," Pamela shrugged along with me. "This is why I volunteered to teach you; you deserve every chance to go out unconquered." "Do you think I have a chance; of that?" I questioned. "Not really. I didn't think I would ever be talking to a man in my native language again either, so who knows," she added. "Do you think I'm an Ash Man?" I wondered. Male; OKH; again? "I haven't a clue what one is," she rolled her shoulders. "I am neither my House Leader, nor its Keeper of Records." "Oh; what are you then?" I asked. The response she gave didn't make sense. "Cliff-walker? I don't know;” I furrowed my brow. "I am past my useful life yet refuse to take myself to the cliffs," Pamela told me. "I have unfinished business to attend to in this World." "What is that; if that isn't too rude?" I inquired. "A dead man spoke to me. He told me I would never find my way to the halls of my ancestors until I replaced a life for a life," she related. "That's; umm; odd," I suggested. "Cáel, I severed his throat to the spine. Even had he somehow been alive, he could not have spoken. Then there is the matter of speaking the Amazon tongue," Pamela continued. "Did he tell you anything else?" I played along. "No." "How will you know what life you should save; to replace a life for a life?" I searched her out. "He had the most unforgettable emerald green eyes," she filled me in. Just like my eyes. We had stepped into the elevator when she told me that. There were five other Amazons with us. I didn't know any of them. I reached out and put my hand on Pamela's stomach. "Whatever happens to me, and I don't want you to die, or anything; I want you to know you've done what needed to be done," I assured her. Pamela's laugh was so loud, deep and resounding, I was stunned that it came from such a thin frame. "That, my friend, is what being an Amazon is all about," Pamela slapped my back. What she said was wrong in so many ways and the Amazons around us knew it. I wasn't an Amazon and equating me to one of them was insulting to their feminine martial ardor. Also, no Amazon had ever called me a friend and meant it in a non-sexual manner. Things were getting uncomfortable. "Matron," one of the Amazons spoke up, "are you feeling well?" That was a polite way of saying 'have you lost your mind?' "Do you know why there are twenty 'First' Houses?" Pamela addressed me and ignored the others. "Not really. It wasn't in the Havenstone Handbook," I tried to sound innocently curious. "The first Amazon to escape capture came back for the rest," Pamela related. "She was free and if she was recaptured she would have certainly been raped again and most likely killed. She came back because no risk is too great for one's family. Like the first of the Unconquered, you risk everything for the spiritual and physical safety of your sisters." "He is not one of us!" a different Amazon insisted. "How bizarre that none of these crazy bitches can see it," Pamela smiled. "Who are you again?" I gave Pamela a worried look. "A discarded heroine, Cáel," Pamela answered. "I am an embarrassment, an anachronism and an arrogant warrior humbled." Clearly this was part of Havenstone's history I wasn't supposed to be privileged to hear. "You don't date much, do you?" I changed things up. Pamela snorted. "This whole scarred scholar-warrior with a tragic past works better with your moping, 19th century literature-reading college types. Cavemen like me prefer slinky clothing and feigned idiocy." "I'll keep that in mind," Pamela snickered. By the bug-eyed expression of our fellow travelers, Pamela was indeed some kind of heroic figure. She held no position, but her status was undeniable. "How about this: I will forgo taking myself to the cliffs until you give me my first great-granddaughter." "As long as we agree that I'm never going without a condom for the next five years," I counter-offered. "By the way, which two am I going to be surreptitiously avoiding?" "Brielle and Daphne," Pamela appeared amused with my expression. "Holy crap!" I exclaimed. "I really like those two. This is going to be tougher keeping you alive than I thought." "How many more days?" Pamela teased. "67," I groaned as we stepped out onto the Executive Services floor. Technically, I had an hour left of my work-day. "Look on the bright side, our first great-grandchild could be a Son," Pamela joked. Pamela clearly enjoyed 'freaking out' the Normals; the normal Amazon population that is. "That would truly suck," I remarked. "You ladies have zero experience with male names and no boy of mine is going to be named Shirley. Picking the baby boy names is going to be all on me." "How about Augustus?" Pamela suggested. I looked stunned. Buffy, having heard my voice, hopped up from her station and came blazing my way. I hadn't done a damn thing wrong yet she was angry with me. She didn't know Pamela and I hoped to hell I wasn't hitting on; okay, Pamela was a bit odd-looking. I'd still do her. "Cáel," Buffy snapped. "What is going on? Don't you have a job to do; with me?" "Buffy, this is Pamela. She's my knife instructor," I said. "Pamela, this is Buffy DuBois, my (dead word spoken)." Literally in Old Kingdom Hittite that meant 'mountaintop'. Pamela clearly got the implication. Buffy's fury about me slipping into OKH was mitigated by Pamela's appraising look. "Okay," Buffy grumbled. "What was that?" "Pinnacle, peak, highest point, mountaintop," Pamela answered for me. "I would wager it is a term of endearment and praise, but feel free to be offended despite him using the word for my benefit as opposed to yours. He might have incorrectly thought you knew how much he cared for you." Verbal beat down! "Who are you, anyway?" Buffy struggled to be polite. "Pamela Pile," my instructor stated. "I am not employed by Havenstone anymore." "That's not; possible;” Buffy questioned. "She is Brielle's and Daphne's Grandmother, Buffy," I explained. "That's nice," Buffy was less than impressed. "Cáel, take care. Buffy, I know nothing of men, but I know camaraderie and I know you can throw that away as quickly as you earned it," Pamela gave an even stare. "By the way, Pamela, you clearly have never been a kid on a playground," I joked. Buffy was irritated while Pamela was amused. "With a name like Augustus, he's either going to toughen up really fast, or get flattened. Trust me. My name was Cáel aka Cabbage Head all through elementary school." "What did they call you in; middle school? It is middle school, correct?" Pamela inquired. "Yes; middle school. By 6th grade, I was firmly a 'nobody'," I enlightened her. "Hell, my teachers could barely recall who I was. I stayed that way until I graduated high school." "I had asthma as a child," Pamela related. "I barely made it through my 12th year." "What did you do when you; is the term 'casted', or 'choosing a caste?" I posed. "It varies. Sometimes we choose and sometimes the caste chooses us," Pamela answered. "I ended up here, in what is now known as Executive Services." "Great," I grinned. "I bet you were enticed by our intensive training in marshmallow juggling. Am I right?" "Not really," Pamela grew serious. "I came here so I could build obstacle courses for kittens. It is an unappreciated melding of animal conditioning and engineering." I was really liking Pamela. She was like a kindred spirit in this madhouse. "Speaking of 'animal conditioning', Cáel, we need to get to work," Buffy huffed and off I went. We finished up, had our after-work meeting and began to head-out for the day. "Daphne, I met your grandmother; nice lady," I told my 'new hire' buddy. "Really, what was she doing here?" Daphne smiled affectionately. I need to wear a dead rat around my neck; the deader the better. "She is teaching me how to knife fight," I told her. Her not knowing that was odd. "Oh; I didn't know she did that," Daphne frowned. "She worked in Executive Services," I said. That appeared news to Daphne as well. "I thought that was why you joined." "Katrina," Daphne looked to our boss, "was my grandmother in the (dead word spoken) service?" That word roughly meant 'darkness of night' in OKH, but like so many things in a 'dead' language, interpretation could be sketchy. "She was before my time," Katrina nodded. "I do recall her legacy though." "What did she do? Normally I wouldn't care, except Pamela is a laugh riot," I smirked. "She was the most lethal Amazon assassin of the 20th century," Katrina stated deadpan. "Grans?" Daphne gasped. "She's always been so odd; I mean nice." "What happened to her?" I muttered. "I don't know," Katrina mused. "She came back from her last mission then took herself to the cliffs. A few weeks later she returned with no explanation for that either." "Well crap," I groaned. "She's never going to forgive me for that 'wet willy' (getting a fingertip slick with your saliva then sticking it in an opponent's ear). I'm a goner." Daphne play-punched me. We all heard the subsonic rumbling from the door. According to Buffy, she was the only one allowed to cause me physical discomfort and resented Daphne horning in on 'her turf'. Buffy had a new weapon in her arsenal this afternoon. "Your (dead word spoken) wants you to come here," Buffy snapped. Even Katrina looked at her in some confusion. "I was told that was a good thing," Buffy sizzled. "It most likely interpreted as 'most prized', or 'most esteemed'," Tigger translated. "Precisely it means 'mountaintop'." Buffy stuck out her chin proudly. "Cáel, I believe I made my desire clear," she commanded. "No can do McGiggles Sissy-pants," I grimaced, "I have a date tonight that precludes me from me being overly bruised; again." I was heading for the door, leading the 'new hires' out of Katrina's office. "I know you like laugh at death, Cáel," Dora snickered, "but I'm not sure the rictus of death counts." "I've got that covered, Dora," I actually brushed up against Buffy. "I'm having a laugh track installed in my urn." "Who says they'll ever find your body?" Buffy moved rapidly at my side. "Whoa; cannibalism. Where I come from, normally the guy eats the girl," I joked. "With you, Buffy, I'm never quite certain of our gender roles. I'm still terrified of letting you snuggle up from behind." "I hate you," Buffy growled. She wasn't upset. Her eyes were dancing with laughter. "What are you going to do when he is relocated?" Fabiola murdered the mood. "Blame you," Buffy glared at Fabiola. "I'm so scared," Fabiola mocked Buffy. "Fabiola, don't be like that," I moped. "You have such full, plump lips that clearly know how to take hold of a problem and work it through. Your thighs are the product of diligent effort on your part and I'm sure that when you grapple with an opponent, no one can break that fearful hold." "I'm sure anything your hands touch, you don't release until you've milked every ounce of life out of your target. You are truly a complete woman," I concluded. The elevator doors opened and we flooded out. Oneida was waiting for me. Buffy began laughing so hard she couldn't keep up. "What is it?" Oneida looked to Buffy. "That is the most obtuse description of fellatio, fucking and a hand job I've ever heard," Buffy wheezed. "Fabiola, he called you a whore and you can never prove it." Okay, I didn't call her a whore; money was never mentioned. Oneida looked distressed. "Oneida, Fabiola insinuated that Cáel would be relocated soon," Daphne came to the rescue. I still had something to take care of. "I knew I forgot something," I realized. "Buffy, can you hold my jacket?" I handed it to her. She examined it then dropped it to the ground. I shrugged then kept stripping. "Cáel?" Oneida worried. "I don't have my biking clothes on," I pointed out. "We can't go biking unless I'm dressed in my biking clothes." Was Oneida still upset about me stripping in public? No. She was about to spend time with me because she mistakenly perceived me to be a good guy. My bike trip with Oneida to a neutral halfway point proved that while Oneida was in good shape, she wasn't a cyclist. Cycling emphasized an unusual muscle sequence, so if you don't cycle much, it shows. I stuck close to her. Not only did it endear me to Oneida, it kept our two shadows at a safe distance so they didn't impinge on their princess's joyful mood. I sent Oneida on her way, got home and immediately started making adjustments to my night's plans. First I had to deal with Libra. I got into an argument with her. I insisted she should wear only jeans, a t-shirt with no bra, and comfortable shoes. Libra was furious. She wanted to go clubbing and look hot; preferably enticing some guys to make me jealous. She certainly wasn't going to come giftwrapped for an easy screw. She wasn't that kind of girl. She didn't like that I was that kind of guy. I insisted that I was the kind of guy who was fascinated with her. I was also happy that Brooke had gotten us back together; you know Brooke, the girl I had fucked to help her get over Felix then refused to sleep with so I could be with Libra. I was blistered and lambasted. I also got my way. I also got to see Libra embrace the ogling her attire earned her in my working class neighborhood as we walked around and talked. "Everyone is staring at my breasts," Libra whispered to me after a bit. She wanted to make me think she was unhappy while her nipples were excited and she was relishing the turning heads. Brooke was better looking, in my opinion, but Libra was definitely a girl who shouldn't walk around without a bra. Her breast are really shapely, large and firm, possibly her best attribute. We were hanging around an authentic Italian pizza joint, Libra against the wall, face to face with me. Without warning, I slipped my hand down, popped her jeans button open and unzipped her pants. "Cáel!" she hissed. Yum, Libra had gone panty-less as well. "Cáel," she repeated. Libra tried to stop my fingers from exploring. She was hampered by her desire to not make a scene while I was insistent. Nice sexy jeans are not only nice and sexy, they hug the hips. This meant I could peel the front of her pants open and work two fingers past her pubic hair to her puffy lips. "Stop," she whimpered. I didn't. I slipped a finger between her labia and she was moist and steamy. I wiggled a finger inside with no effort. "No one will see us," I murmured into Libra's ear. I wiggled my finger in deeper. "You are horrible," she moaned quietly. Her hands started out on my shoulders. A few seconds later, she migrated her arms down. I wasn't positive where she was going with that until she hooked her thumbs into her pants and slid them farther down. "Get it over with," she mumbled. She followed that up with tender kisses to my neck. Her moving her pants down allowed me to move a second finger in. All of that was a prelude. With my two slick fingers, I searched up for her clitoris. She (a clit is definitely a 'she') was hungering for my contact and offered up her tenderness to my attention. Libra's hand began clawing my abdomen through my shirt. Her nasal breathing was becoming ragged, so I eased off on the tempo my stimulation. I wasn't going to bring Libra to an embarrassing public display of sexual release. It took her a few seconds to figure out I wasn't teasing her, but shielding her from an uncontrolled release. "You are mean," her eyes blazed with lust as I sucked my fingers clean of her vaginal secretions. "Kiss me, or I swear to God I'm going to take you on one of these tables," I referred to the small tables the pizza parlor had for diners. Now Libra looked sultry and in charge. She rubbed her hips against my erection, appeared to contemplate her options and deigned to give me a kiss. It was barely a French kiss. Just enough to remind me I had taken advantage of her person and was being punished with pleasure. The box with the pizza slices barely made the toss to the sofa as Libra and I grappled with one another, yanking off our clothes and staggered to my bedroom. "You are going to fuck me so good for all the hell you've put me through," Libra erotically demanded. Ma'am, yes Ma'am. Prepared to do my duty, Ma'am. I decided to do something new for Libra. Trust me, you develop a sense for what sexual deviancies your sex partner has broached. This helps you figure out what they'd like to explore. That leads you to worrying about your partner's sexual history, but is a story for another time. "Hey!" Libra squawked as I handcuffed her left wrist. I wasn't done. With her right wrist beside her left, I looped the chain around a bar in the headboard and snared her other limb. "Motherfu;” she got out before I smothered her with a lip-lock. She put her teeth on my tongue then decided not to chew it off. I broke off the kiss. "Now you are going to do whatever I want you to," I gloated. "Scream, the cops come and you end up splashed all over the society page." Most likely a lie. "I'll never," she snarled as I rammed my dick in to the hilt. "Ah; you bastard," she grunted. Now I picked up my pace. Except having her hands bound, Libra was clearly getting into it. Right before climax, I eased off. Libra whined piteously. "Not yet," I murmured. When I repositioned her in doggy-style, my cock got back to work. This time, I alternated seriously deep cock-thrusts (not pounding) with spanking. Libra went wild; one of her most intense orgasms yet. Libra should have realized two things: my neighbors knew by now and the screams my bedmates generated, and Libra herself was truly an Angelic choir of erotic gratitude. "That; that; that was intense," Libra gasped. She was all sweat and electric; tired yet begging for more. "It gets better," I promised her as I freed her up. Given two minutes to rebound, I rolled over onto my back at her side. The cuffs were handed over and I placed my hands over my head. Libra's countenance was an explosion of thermal desire and numerous unanticipated opportunities. She straddled me, strung me up then; left. Huh? Libra didn't go far. She noticed my 'goodie' box which I had left nonchalantly available when we first tumbled in. What she pulled out didn't make me jump for joy; an ostrich feather, lube and a body wand (imagine a small mace, except the head is actually a vibrating ball). "So, you've done this before?" I questioned. "There is a ball-gag in there. Shut-up, behave, or I'll put it on you," Libra gave me a saucy threat. I nodded. Libra settled in beside me, worked the wand controls then rolled it along my stomach. "To answer your question; no, I've never used anything like this before, but I've wanted to. Now I have a delectable, helpless male with tons of stamina laid out before me." "This is going to be so much fun," she squealed with delight. "Maybe I should call Brooke?" She wasn't soliciting my opinion, just thinking aloud. She called Brooke who begged Libra for the chance to come over and help out. Libra promised Brooke could 'next time'. After that came the feather tickles, lubing up my cock, a hand job and finally using the wand on my cockhead until she shattered my resolve and I ejaculated. Libra licked all my creamy cum up, keeping eye contact through most of the process. For thirty seconds she left me with the sneaking suspicion she was going for round two. She freed me, gave me a good series of kisses then dropped down to bring my penis back to attention. That accomplish, Libra rolled my condom on, mounted me and slowly squirmed down my rod while mesmerizing me with her eyes. "Oh," she purred, "you are so, so bad." I sat up so that I was eye-level with her chin. Libra laid her forearms languidly over my shoulders, while mine deftly cupped each ass. "Does this mean you are breaking up with me?" I gave her my best puppy dog eyes. Libra made that squichy-angry play face. I was teasing and she knew I was teasing. "Do I have to hand-cuff you again?" Libra snickered. I slipped my right hand farther back and down. Using the liberal amount of lube Libra had lavished on my penis, I slicked up my forefinger and picked her sphincter. Libra gave a quick intake of breath. "For the sake of your backside, that might be wise," I teased right back. Libra pouted. "Are going to ream my poor, abused Henie?" she moped deceptively. Rule One plus the addendum; make the girl happy. If you make the girl happy, she'll figure out what makes you happy and do it for you. I lifted Libra up until my cock flopped out of her. It didn't take her two seconds. Her hand found my cock, pointed it up and steered it into her asshole with zero need for encouragement. "I can't believe you are making me do this," she groaned as her sphincter parted and my glans slipped in. I wasn't rushing things. I certainly wasn't coercing Lira in anyway either. She certainly relished my upper body strength that allowed me to match her pace in penetrating her. Once Libra was fully impaled, I rocked us over so that she lay on her back with her knees touching her breasts. A casual, relaxed screw followed. Yes, I could have pounded Libra and she would have loved it, except she was here for more than a series of orgasms. She wanted some kind of confirmation there was an 'us'. She hadn't wanted a relationship when we first met, or even after our first fuck. I was a hook-up; nothing more. The post-Felix episode with Brooke had changed that. I was far from acceptable, but more than a random fuck. Our status had become an enigma to her thus my approach with the soft anal fuck. I could certainly be a late night booty call, salvaging a bad night and making it good. This was a 'take him out for a weekend as a friend' change of events. I was still not in the clubhouse. Thirty minutes in bedroom while 'changing to go down to the pool with her other friends' they'd all know why she'd brought me along. Had Libra forgotten I was a Pound Puppy of the worst sort? Yes, but I felt no desire to remind her. We'd revisit the issue during that first weekend; guaranteed. Libra kept up a quiet bit of banter for a few minutes. Her words were meaningless. Her tonal quality was what I was paying attention to. I kept up a conversation which I would never recall. It is an art form; coherent babbling. My partner's words faded away into groans and grunts. "Ready?" I rumbled my hunger for her wantonness. Libra nodded once, hesitated then nodded several times vigorous
Insults, Felix and Ash Men. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Caring is a curse you dare not go without.” Saint Marie opened the door and went in with me following along. The meeting was in process. We were flashed concerned looks for multiple reasons; Pony-Goddess Saint Marie in her sports bra and boy shorts, me in biker pants, biking shoes and nothing else, and me being late. Katrina gave the two of us a momentary notice then proceeded with her meeting. "Katrina," Saint Marie interrupted. Katrina responded with an icy stare. "You are interrupting; make it quick," Katrina stated calmly. "Then I'll wait until you finish," Saint Marie responded with her own false politeness. She randomly meandered around Katrina's office making a nuisance of herself. I resumed my place in the line-up in time to get my work-review from Katrina. I rocked at my job. Apparently I was purloining corporate resources for a prototype gravity device that would crash the Moon into the Earth. My crime was that my project was over-budget; oh yeah, and I'd end all life on Earth. "Cáel, I am unsure if I should order you to work harder, or not to try so hard," Katrina worried. "First off, I apologize for being late and under-dressed today. I meant no disrespect and I have no excuse. I'm being stabbed repeatedly with a knife at three o'clock if that helps?" I offered. "Really?" Katrina arched an eyebrow. "Really," I confirmed. "Then I get to carry around one of those cool knives like the rest of this merry band here." "My breast implants; I'm going for a respectable 'B'; go in next Wednesday. Two weeks later and I'm off to Denmark to get my 'franks and beans' cut-off and tucked," I tried to sound serious. "A few hair extensions and I'll be one of the team for real," I grinned. "Katrina, why do you put up with this?" Saint Marie seethed. "Saint Marie, it is not your station to question me, or my orders," Katrina countered. "Still, a lesson is in order." "Daphne, do you like working with Cáel?" Katrina regarded her female 'new hire'. "He is more than funny; and very attractive," Daphne responded. "He provides insight into life that a normal Amazon wouldn't have access to. He instructs with humor and bravery in equal measure." "Fabiola?" "He is a waste of resources best put elsewhere," Fabiola insisted. "He is a source of dissension. We would be better training him and others like him to replace our diseased stock." I took some small level of comfort that the other 'new' hires were almost as offended as I was, though I couldn't show it. "Tigger?" "He was a vessel for the will of our ancestors," she replied. "What more proof do we need that he is necessary around here?" "Does anyone have anything different to add?" Katrina gazed over the others. No one spoke. "That's why (dead word spoken) Saint Marie," Katrina assumed a dark goddess-like aura. "Now apologize." "Apologize for questioning you?" Saint Marie snorted. "Hardly. You are using my people and my facilities to train a male in a manner not approved of by the Council." "I have Hayden's permission, but feel free to follow your convictions," Katrina nodded. "You have a daughter in outdoor training right now, Saint Marie. It would be utterly tragic if she experienced a crippling injury," Katrina sighed. "You wouldn't dare," Saint Marie took a few steps toward Katrina who stood up from her desk. "Dare? Hayden and I have tolerated your intransigence until now," Katrina glared. "Keep to your beliefs. Now you know the cost of standing in the way of progress," Katrina continued. "We cannot afford to remove you, but we can end your counter-productive thinking at this generation." "When the Council finds out you've overstepped your bounds it will be the end of you," Saint Marie kept coming. "We are a dying people, Saint Marie. Hayden and I are willing to kill as many of you as necessary so that our daughters will have daughters of their own," Katrina stated. "If you want to see who is truly overstepping, recall our oaths. We obey the High Priestess, the Council, our Houses and our duties. I am the Spear in Night and Death. You are the Golden Mare." "You wage war upon our many enemies. I ferret them out, within and beyond our society," Katrina educated us. "If I determine an Amazon is an enemy, I bring their name to Hayden for a final adjudication of the Ancestors. If the Ancestors deny you, then I must remove the enemy. You know how that goes." "My daughter is not the enemy," Saint Marie spat. "That is not our place to decide," Katrina gave a feral grin. "You should have been an Augur if you wanted that kind of knowledge. Besides, neither you nor your daughter are under sentence of death. She can live a long full life without an eye; or an arm." Saint Marie fidgeted, contemplating violence. "Everyone, but Cáel leave," Katrina ordered. Saint Marie was staying as clearly intended. After Dora shut the door, Katrina added, "Touch my male again, and I'll do something worse to you." "What I do to a male shouldn't matter," Saint Marie growled. "The New Directive matters to us all and I think Cáel Nyilas will be the only one to pass the first round of the program, so Hayden thinks he matters; as do I," Katrina glared right back. "He hit me," Saint Marie grumbled. "After you grabbed his jaw like you would an unruly child," Katrina countered. "He was a rebellious male," Copper Horse chick kept coming. "Saint Marie, where did you confront him? It wasn't a basket weaving class; it was a firing range," Katrina sighed in exasperation. "Cáel being on the range was the reason you came here. Why did you manhandle him?" A pregnant pause followed. "I was an hour late so I missed his practice time," Saint Marie admitted. "Cáel, I blame you," Katrina looked my way. "Yes Ma'am; Katrina," I nodded. What did I do now? "Cáel's presence makes normally controlled, rational women act in an abnormal fashion," Katrina informed Saint Marie. "I prefer to believe that than think we are incapable of accepting a lone outsider male amongst us," Katrina added. "If we treat him the way we treated our old male population we would be perpetuating our mistakes. He doesn't submit because that was the type of male we selected. Why is he learning how to fight? That should be obvious to you." "Care to enlighten me?" I requested. "No," the two women replied. Ah, what the fuck. "That's okay. I figured it out," I shrugged. "I was checking to see if I warranted the truth." Katrina put her face into her upraised hands. She may have wept a single tear. "You know nothing," Saint Marie stated dismissively. "He knows enough," Katrina shook her head. "Who would have told him?" Saint Marie looked back to Katrina suspiciously. "Why don't you ask him?" Katrina chuckled. Saint Marie turned back to me. "Was it Katrina?" Saint Marie threatened. "No and no 'one' person. It was two unrelated slip-ups by two unrelated Amazons," I said. "One referenced a previous time when the Amazons let men bear arms, which led to disaster. The other was the use of the term 'Ash Men' as a positive moniker." "That's all I know. I suspect there was a time when the Amazons let down their guard and allowed men to be equals, or semi-equals, in their society. There was a rebellion that left a bitter taste on the Amazon racial psyche. Somehow the Ash Men played a positive role in Amazon society. For some reason, you exterminated them," I concluded. Saint Marie flinched. "Why do you say that?" she studied me. "They are not around today and you are all hateful psychopaths," I explained. "Again, you know nothing," Saint Marie insisted. "Katrina, unless you are not finished insulting my intelligence, can I use your bathroom so that I can get dressed and go to work?" I looked at my boss. "Insult to your intelligence duly noted. When you are finished, report to Medical. They want to test a variety of gene-therapies on you," Katrina told me. I stumbled and stared. Katrina laughed. "Get to work." From the bathroom, I heard Saint Marie question Katrina. "Is he afraid of Medical, or is he worried about being a test subject?" she posed. "Neither; he's surprised that he had his job explained to him before he actually got there. It has never happened before," Katrina replied. "You send him on missions without him knowing what he's going to be doing?" Saint Marie grunted. "Yes. It makes him think on his feet," Katrina noted. "That is probably why his work is so substandard," Saint Marie remarked. "Cáel's work is not substandard. He may be the best new hire in the batch. I give him crappy reviews to keep him on his toes," Katrina snickered. "He knows what I'm doing, but he still keeps trying harder despite that," Katrina sounded amused. "Cáel is one of the few joys in my life; and if he doesn't finish getting dressed in the next 30 seconds I'm going to assign him to babysitting Marilynn at the hospital next." I hoped out of Katrina's bathroom; mostly dressed. "Is Marilynn okay?" I worried. "I didn't get the call last night, but I never imagined anything bad happened to her." Saint Marie appeared confused. "Someone gave her a bad drugs and she nearly overdosed," Katrina brought me up to date. "That is where Desiree is. Now go to work." Off I went. "He is enamored of Marilynn St. James?" I caught Saint Marie inquiring. "Oh no," Katrina answered. "He has rather a low opinion of her, but Cáel would run into a burning ammo dump to save Constanza. He is stupidly enchanting that way." I had one last hurdle. There were the 'new' hires talking with Felix. They were captured in his orbit and he was having a blast soaking up the attention. He was making real inroads with the ladies but he missed a fundamental aspect of his environment; who hunted who. "Cáel," Felix parted the women as he came my way. "How did you do last night? Didn't you and Gina hook-up? I'm done with her, so it isn't like you'd be poaching," he grinned. I sensed the emotional tidal shift. "Nah, both Gina and I were of the opinion you dumped her to have a one-night stand with Brooke, break her heart then toss her back to me," I shrugged. Felix glared. This wasn't how the 'game' was played. Where was my outrage? "Are you going to take her back?" Felix went all alpha-predator on me. Bad move. The only predators around here had to have tits; bulging pectorals didn't count. "If you do, go easy on her. She's sore," he kept grinning like the wolf he was. "Besides," he fished something flimsy and back out of his pocket, "he can return these to her." He tossed me Brooke's panties from last night. In Havenstone, Brooke was a 'nobody'; an outsider. She didn't matter. Felix taking a trophy from a woman did matter. I was different because I knew the score. Felix didn't have that luxury. I actually held them up, displaying Brooke's rather daring choice in evening lingerie. A little bit of education was in order. "Pretty clever; the old hiding the panties trick so you can exhibit them later," I chuckled. "I use it to get a call back. You clearly get off on mailing them to her parents, boyfriend, or husband as if having sex with you wasn't humiliation enough." Felix moved to the very edge of my personal space. "Now you are being a poor sport," he sneered. "What do you mean?" I remained cool. "I went over to Brooke's this morning. We critiqued your sexual performance. She found you truly impressive; just a little weak down the closing stretch." "She said that to make you feel less inadequate," Felix reposed. "Nah; she said that so she could have sex with me," I sighed. "I fought her off as long as I could, but she wrestled me down and rode me like the pony express. If you wore her out; well; ah, she recovers quickly and vigorously." "You are so full of shit," he laughed. "You got a pity fuck. Accept it." "Think what you will," I smirked. "I left her smiling. You left her in tears and isn't the woman's pleasure what it is all about?" Pandering to my audience. "I agree," Felix took back in his surroundings. Nice recovery except for; "So that's why you stole Brooke's panties and chose to publicly hurl them at me," I met his gaze, the bastard, "because she matters; most?" Felix could feel the room temperature dropping by the Kelvin. "It is how the game is played," he snarled. He was starting to clue in that things had gone wrong. How had they gone wrong? For starters, the only Alphas allowed in Havenstone didn't have dicks. Treating women, even outsider women, as if they were game pieces on a male's only board wouldn't wash here. I had coughed up the name of every woman I'd ever had intercourse with; but that was for the job, not for general consumption. Felix, by idiotically seducing all the new hires in Executive Services had showed them EXACTLY what he thought of them; outsider women to be taken as prizes. Reference the Greeks in the Trojan War for how the Amazons felt about that. This was not sympathy for world-wide femininity. This was terrorists attacking a school. When the Amazons found those terrorists, they killed them; not to save outsider children, but because the terrorist were fucking dangerous. Since Felix treated all women like trophies and conquest, he, by definition, would treat Amazon women the same way. Good job, Pinhead. Felix was a pretty smart guy. He finally realized I'd kicked his ass without lifting a finger. Felix couldn't figure out why he'd lost, only that he'd lost. Then we were back to Felix being the man who always has to win. He couldn't let go. He couldn't let me have my moment and depart in peace. This was made all the worse for I was the Bumpkin; the guy he'd dissed from Day One. "I guess I need to have another go at Brooke to set the record straight," Felix hissed quietly. "I'll make it easy on you," I laughed loudly. "I am tired of you hiding behind my acquaintances to get at me. I have a friend coming over at 5:10 pm, so give me an hour and I'll meet you on the mats." "Why should I?" he sneered. "What's on the line?" "Normally I fight for a cause, even if it is my own self-respect. I'm making an exception in your case; I'll fight you solely to kick your ass. Just cause you are a lousy human being. I know you are because I'm one too. Fight, or cluck; your choice." "I'll fight you," he smiled confidently. "I'll break you for everyone to see and then I'll take that luscious blonde." I had to laugh. "Good luck with that," I chuckled. I could see it now. Felix: 'You are now my prize'; Elsa: 'You are now in Intensive Care'. Woot! I couldn't lose. (Somewhere in the midst of this nightmare, Cáel needs to earn a paycheck) Felix had the physical confrontation he wanted. Somewhere in the back of my mind was that I had to do something inane yet again; like consumer test Ginsu Spatulas, or the equivalent. Felix noted the open hostility directed his way, but had neither the knowledge, nor the empathy to give a fuck. The elevator closed on his smug face. Work time. "That didn't take you long at all," Saint Marie chortled from behind me. I jolted. "If I wasn't doing this, I'd be hand-feeding polar bears, so cut me some slack," I groaned. "I was under the impression that your pugnacity was more of a defense mechanism, not male bravado," Saint Marie probed. "I am as much surprised as you are about this. I don't even like the girl involved. I've never fought over a woman before, but Felix used that woman to get at me; ineffectively," I mused. "My emotions don't; you don't want to be hearing any of this, do you?" "No," Saint Marie said. I stared at her. She stared at me. "Yes?" "Have you ever done any bikini wrestling?" I blurted out. She blinked. "Gotta go. Work to do," and I fled. In the elevator I recognized one of the ladies from International Finance though I didn't know her name. "What happened to your face?" she asked. "Do you know who the Golden Mare is?" I replied. She nodded very respectfully. "Well, she hit me." The woman studied me. "I guess I shouldn't have hit her first." "You hit (dead word spoken) Saint Marie?" She gulped. "I'm stunned you are still alive." "You and me both," I sighed. "I'm starting to regret suggesting she take up bikini wrestling." Blink. "Tell me about it. I was looking into her eyes and that was the first thing to come to mind," I shrugged. "I repeat, I'm stunned you are still alive," she shook her head. "What do you mean? I think she'd look good in a bikini," I stated. The door opened to Medical. "Have a good day at work now," I smiled. "I'm off to crush marbles with a sledgehammer." My real job was to be a genetic guinea pig. I had to sit naked on a gurney and let them take blood and tissues samples. The sperm sample was fun. First I insisted that I'd been in a fight earlier in the morning and my elbows weren't up to the job. After confirming this, they had some poor 'new hire' jack me off. I held out as long as I could, to the point she gave me a blowjob; her first. Sadly, when senior medical technician informed her of the extinction of her oral virginity, they were both less than pleased yours truly. I reminded them that I didn't shoot off into her mouth, or anything so crude. Next I informed them of a little known fact that my first ejaculate of the day (no mention of Brooke by me) was sterile and we had to repeat the process. No such luck. Damn microscopes. To prove I was a lousy patient, I feigned a collapse and a lack of breathing. I didn't grapple with my CPR specialist. I very slowly and tenderly wrapped her up in my embrace. I told her that at the moment of utter darkness, her heartbeat brought me back to the light. I was a the point of penetration when a real doctor showed up and pulled the struggling Physician's Assistant away; she hadn't finished saving me, the young Amazon protested. At this point the team threatened to give me a sedative. I responded with 'is it chemical, or a blow to the head'. They smiled and said they'd give me both if I misbehaved again. My counter-offer was a request for some Neapolitan ice cream. They conceded the issue, I got my ice cream and stopped being a jack-ass. At 11:30 am, the first battery of tests concluded. As we were wrapping up, I asked why I had to be naked for the entire thing. They stared at me. Strangely, the Amazon who had prepped me for this nonsense had made herself scarce. Damn it. The doctors then gleefully informed me that I had to be naked for the second half of the test, after lunch. I asked why. They smiled. Bitches. As I was fixing my tie, my phone rang. "Hello, Android Cáel Nyilas here," I answered. There was some giggling; Brooke. "Hey, Android Cáel, this is flesh and blood Brooke Lee," she snickered. Man, I had turned her around emotionally in only a few hours. Screw Felix. "Have you eaten lunch yet?" she asked. I bit back my automatic response; asking if she was on the menu. We'd talked about Libra as I was leaving this morning. "You, me and Libra?" I suggested. Brooke put her hand over the phone; the dearth of background noise was the giveaway. "She may not want to see you," Brooke hedged. That meant Libra was listening in. "We talked about this earlier, Brooke," I sighed. "I want a chance to at least talk with her." Not totally false. I wanted to fuck her again. That necessitated some amount of conversation so I was willing to put forth the ergs of energy. "I'll make the effort," Brooke promised. Making Libra a deal-breaker might have been sugar-coated chocolate for Libra. It would have also made them both suspicious of my suspicions. "Please do your best," I said. "Where do you want meet?" "My place?" she teased. "Libra plus I would only have forty-five minutes with you, which is not nearly enough time," I reminded her. Sex. "Libra doesn't have to know," Brooke was now pressing Libra's buttons. "We are not going to go there," I insisted. They didn't own me and I didn't own them. We were bantering back and forth, playing with sexual innuendo of the relationship kind. A good aphrodisiac is a woman thinking you are foregoing sex with another woman to have sex with her. Best of all (for me) for hooking Libra and me back together, Libra was going to let Brooke fuck me yet again. Win-win-win. "We'll meet at Stanhope's," Brooke finished. I agreed to meet her there in ten minutes and off I went. Aisha, the Arabic swimsuit model/SD hottie called for me as I was heading out the door. I asked why. She didn't say so I ran for it. Screw them all; it was my lunch break. I made it to Stanhope's. I was fleet of foot and was getting the hang of hailing taxis. Libra was with Brooke at an outdoor table at Stanhope's. I didn't fake surprise. My cover was that I had faith in Brooke. I kissed Brooke while Libra gave me the cold shoulder. "Libra doesn't believe we've talked about her," Brooke opened up. "You are the one who keeps shouting out her name during orgasm," I sighed. "That's not a joking matter," Libra snapped viciously. "It made you talk to me," I winked. Libra growled. "I hate you," she seethed. "That is a perfectly normal, if heart-rending reaction to our past two encounters," I admitted. "I hope it hurt," Libra seethed. "Besides, I went out with Brian Fung last night." She was stating the obvious. I was okay with that. It left her open to my lie. "Have you moved on?" I moped. Libra not seeing me anymore made me want to cry. Missing her was utter anguish; it was written all over my face. Non-verbal deception is as important as the verbal kind. I was not beating a dead horse, I was coaxing a thoroughbred to the Triple Crown. Give the girl what she wants; verbally, sexually and, if you can pull it off convincingly, emotionally. "I don't know," Libra stated which meant 'no, she hadn't moved on'. "Let's go out tomorrow night," I suggested. Be bold enough to make the first move, but not so aggressive she feels pressured. Being a man isn't beating your chest; it is stepping up to get your ego battered by the girl. If it wasn't for my first, failed romantic attempt, I wouldn't be where I am today. It hurt like Hell when she publically rejected me. These days, my bed was always warm so the pain was well worth it. "Why not tonight?" Libra got combative. "Felix and I had a disagreement at work," I grinned. "We are settling the issue tonight at six." "What happened?" Brooke leaned in close to me, hungry for details. I was a bastard. "He loudly presented me with these," I slipped Brooke her panties under the table. "In the middle of my office and co-workers. Even my Boss heard it," I added. Brooke's deeply tanned complexion paled. Libra didn't see the panties, but she knew the score. "What did you do?" Libra pressed. "I told him Brooke was a grown woman and could make her own decisions about who she was with," I started. "Brooke is a wonderful lady and she should be courted based on that. Felix had this bizarre idea that I felt possessive about her and thought he was using Brooke to hurt me over a slight at work," I wove forth the basic truths. "I'm not going to fight Brooke's battles," I affirmed which meant that 'yes, I was going to fight Brooke's battles'. If you are a guy and you assume that the woman is actually hearing the words coming out of your mouth, you are deluded. The reverse is also the same. "If a man has a problem with me, he comes after me, not my friends," I grew stern. This meant Felix was not a man. It also meant that I considered Brooke, thus Libra, my friends. They were okay with that. This didn't mean they thought of me as a friend. It was similar to the family butler. I had to memorize every detail of their lives. If they remembered my birthday, I should feel blessed; symbolically speaking of course. I'd make an abysmal butler. "Did he hit you?" Libra leaned across the table and stroked my cheek right below the place Saint Marie had clocked me. "That? Nah. An Archer fish tried to shoot my eye out so now he's fish sticks," I replied. "With all your wounds," Libra hesitated, "Are you in the military?" "Libra, I'm a disaster as a civilian," I chuckled. "I'd make an impossible soldier. Half way through basic training I'd start showing up in a kilt; 'cause it makes me feel free and breezy down there'." "When they tried to make me change, I'd charge them with cultural insensitivity," I smiled. "What would you do if they let you get away with it?" Brooke snickered. "Take up horse archery; because you never know when you'll be without fuel and bullets on the modern battlefield," I postulated. "If they let me get away with that, I'd stay, but I'd join the airborne." "I like parachuting," Brooke nodded. "Have you ever done it?" She bet I hadn't and she was right. "Never before in this lifetime. I really want to see if I could get my horsed trained to do it first," I chortled. "Lord knows, nobody else has. The first Airmobile Horse Archery unit. That would be pretty cool." "The horse would break her legs," Libra frowned. "Use an air mattress platform for the horse to stand on, sort of like those air bags stuntmen use, but smaller," I reasoned. I wasn't sure if Brooke and Libra were more stunned about the plausibility of my suggestion, or that I had created it off the cuff. We ordered lunch and drinks. Service was very efficient so I had only pushed my salad aside to have my grilled shrimp replaced it when a shadow fell across our table. It was a stormy Aisha. "Cáel Nyilas, you are coming with me," she spoke with deceptive calm. "No," I replied then ate a shrimp. She put her hand on my shoulder. I brandished my fork. "Listen up," I grumbled. I tapped my wristwatch with my fork, "I've got 35 more minutes on my lunch break. I'm eating with friends; okay, almost friends; " "I'm Cáel's friend," Brooke rallied. Aisha bore down on my collarbone, so I stabbed at her hand with the fork. She moved it out of the way first. "Come now," she growled. "Very well," I sighed. "Since you certainly have never heard this from a man before meeting me, I'll clarify. NO, I'm not coming with you. Go away you annoying twit. If that was unclear, let me add; no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no and no." Aisha looked over her shoulder. There were two more SD chicklets. Woot! "Last chance to keep this simple," Aisha threatened. "Brooke and Libra, you need to stand up and back away," I instructed them as I stood up as well, "I'm going to need your chairs as weapons." The girls grabbed their food and backed up. "Don't make a scene," Aisha whispered. "Ex-squeeze me? I'm eating lunch. In thirty-five minutes I'll be back at work. You are the one being a total bitch for annoying the fuck out of me here," I glared. "All you had to do was tell me why you wanted me back at Havenstone, but you didn't feel the need, so now we have this stand-off." "It is not a stand-off and I don't explain myself to you," Aisha glared back. She even showed me she had a gun. I laughed, pulled out my phone. "What are you doing?" Aisha made a swipe for the phone. "Making me late for work," I chuckled. "I'm dialing 9 1 1." "Do that and you will be in a world of trouble," she threatened. "You haven't thought this out, have you, Aisha?" I snickered. "If it was important to my job, Katrina, or Medical would have called me. If it was a calamity, Hayden perhaps. Barring that, I can't wait to hear your excuse for starting a public brawl." "I told you to come with me and you had best obey," Aisha hissed. That was the tipping point. Recycling old, failed arguments is the sign that your opponent has lost. "Yeah; right," I shrugged. I sat back down and began eating. A second later, Brooke and Libra joined me. Aisha retreated to the curb and waited; and got ticketed because it was a No Parking Zone. "Who was that woman? I've seen her before," Brooke commented. "She's that woman from the first night we met," Libra answered. "She's not my boss so I don't care," I tried to recapture our earlier mood. It was only partially successful. The three SD ladies kept their eyes on us until dinner was cleared away and it was time to go back. I kissed both Brooke and Libra goodbye with a promise of a date the next night. When I tried to walk past Aisha, she grabbed my arm. From my point of view, a ride to work was a ride to work and this one was free. I travelled in silence. Miraculously, they didn't answer my request to go to Medical, though we were at least going up; and up; and up. Crap. They deposited me in Hayden's office then departed. It was Hayden, Katrina, Saint Marie, Elsa, and Tessa. The door shut ominously behind me. "Cáel, I like you," Hayden began. "Unless you are working on an assigned task, you are not allowed to defy a woman of Havenstone who gives you a clear concise order, especially one from the Security Detail." It didn't take me a second to formulate my treatise on the Rights of Man. "No." That didn't go over well. Into the emptiness, I forged ahead. "You can't expect for me to be given conflicting orders and expect me to succeed. You people have a chain of command for a reason. I follow that chain like every other member of Havenstone." "You are not a member of Havenstone," Hayden pointed out. That I had to think about. I scanned each impassive face in the room. I wanted to cry; not out of fear; out of frustration because I really had tried so hard to make this work. "You are all a bunch of cowards and I regret ever wanting to be part of this place," I spat. "Your opinion of us does not matter," Hayden started. "Cowardly act number one," I interrupted. Hayden's gaze hardened. "It is your time. You publically defied a Havenstone employee on a mission concerning you," she continued. "Cowardly acts number two and three," I growled. Now Saint Marie and Elsa closed in. I turned to face them. I wanted to go down swinging, no matter how futile the gesture. "Cowardly act number four; suddenly, when you desire, my insolence matters," I set myself for what was to come. "Don't fight," Tessa commanded softly. Katrina kept her own counsel. "That's your fucking problem, right there," I shouted. "This isn't the Sunshine Scouts. This is a martial society. I fight, because that is what every bitch here is broadcasting. I didn't hit Rhada when she hit me. I called for help, like any sane individual. When no help was forthcoming, I called for someone to get the police. Again, you did nothing." "Fuck you all. Rhada attacked me, so I put her down. Madi attacked me, so I put her down too; and it all your damn fault and not one of you has the courage to face that fact," I shouted. "You attack me for fighting back at the same time you tell me to fit in. Now which is it? Am I to fit in to a martial culture, or am I not? Make up your damn minds!" "You do not get to talk to us like that," Saint Marie murmured. "Somebody better talk to us like this," Katrina finally spoke. "Face facts: Cáel is here because he resists. He resists because that is the lesson we are teaching him, Sisters." "What do you mean?" Elsa regarded Katrina. "When Cáel is challenged physically and resists successfully, or even unsuccessfully, he grows in the estimation of our Sisters. No one admits it, but it is the truth. The harder he fights, the more he is valued. It is a very simple principle. He has never believed he is a member of the Host, a Runner, or even a recruit. He does not strive to be an Amazon of any kind," Katrina lectured. "Then we expect him to do ridiculous things like walk off with an Amazon he barely knows who doesn't even explain where he is going, or what he is supposed to do," Katrina shook her head. "Somehow we forecast his desire to be treated with a modicum of respect to be a threat? Respecting him does not make him an Amazon; it makes him a warrior in our cause." "The Council has not decided on that portion of the New Directive yet," Saint Marie stated. "Warrior-Fathers," Katrina declared firmly. "My niece, Aya; you all know of her; she went to camp this week and SHE formed her own war band with her fellow students. Fuck you all very much; It works!" "Katrina," Hayden cautioned. "Hayden, I am tired of this half-measure bullshit. There is no being half-alive. We live, or we die. We made a mistake then we made another one. Let's not make it three." I raised my hand. "Yes?" Hayden finally acknowledged me. "Can I go back to work now? Sitting here is like commenting on the rain. I have a lot to say, but it won't affect the rain one iota," I reasoned. "You are not going to run?" Tessa asked. I knew she was joking. "Well, I can't get past the front door. I can't escape out the garage and I left my diamond-tipped glasscutter and 150 meters of rope in my other jacket," I informed her. "I guess I'll have to use the 15 kg of C-4 I have stuck in my shorts. I know it makes me look like I took a colossal dump in my underwear, but trust me, it is only a weapon," I grinned. I tried to get around Elsa. She brushed her hand over my chest. "You are special," she purred. "You scare me," I mumbled. "I know," she grinned happily. "Bye Pony-Lady," I waved to Saint Marie. "Cáel," Hayden called out. I halted, but didn't turn around. "You will stop referring to the Marshal of the Amazon Host as 'Pony-Lady', is that clear?" "Yes Hayden. Good-bye Saint Marie," I said as I departed. "Are you sure he is not mentally defective?" Saint Marie questioned. "He is," Elsa replied. "He laughs at Death." See, what did I tell you? Now you can run out and pick up an infatuated female psychopath of your very own. (Later in the day) Knife-fighting class was taught by this painfully thin yet tall Amazon with mostly grey-white hair. There was nothing wrong with her reflexes, or sight. She regarded me, her only student, with passionless eyes. She had me sit down cross-legged, she did the same opposite me, and we spent an hour talking about the philosophy of knife-fighting. Knives were hardly ever the first weapon of choice. That was part of the lesson; knowing when to choose a knife to fight with. We talked about all kinds of blades, focusing on the short, hilt-less blades every Amazon carried. I had to get one special-made. It was the size of my palms. If the blade was too small, it would cut up my hand when I used it. Except for a few hand motions, it was verbal instruction. Knife from an advantage, knife from the front, and knife at a disadvantage. Each had its own set of rules to follow. It was cool. Me having a penis didn't bother her in the least. At the end of the lesson, I asked if I could call her Zen Master. She said 'no', her name was Pamela. I then asked if I could call her Zen Mistress Pamela. Smiling, she said 'no' again. My last attempt was 'Blossoming Petals of Death Pamela' at which point she laughed and told me to give it a rest. I found myself with a free hour so I raced down to the pool and took in a few laps. It was a crime against nature that all the Amazons were one-piece bathing suits. Here I was in my Speedo and no one to play with. That wasn't really true. After my first lap, two Amazon lasses tried to engage me in a race without actually talking to me. As they were turning back they realized I was keeping to my same strong, casual strokes in my own little World. That annoyed them so the next time around, one got into my lane, turned to face me and stopped. Right according to plan, or if you prefer, like stealing candy apple kisses from a lady. I almost ran into her. At the very last second, I pulled up, letting my body coast up against her. She was treading water and looking vibrant. Her treading water meant I didn't have to. One hand settled on her mid-back (friendly enough), but the other one cupped her right ass and immediately probed along her cleft and to her wet tunnelfrom behind. Her 'Happy Choice' pop-up indicators went off and I had a winner. I was sure I could have pointed a shotgun in this woman's face and she'd have spit on me. With my pelvice bumping up against her crotch, my finger wiggling around her suit for her tunnel, and my other arm keeping her close, she looked totally flummoxed. "What are you doing?" she whispered. I was sure she wanted to have that sound authoritative, not like plea for an instruction manual. "How about this," I replied quietly, "you keep your hands moving and I'll kick so that you can wrap your legs around my waist?" "Why would I want to do that?" she asked; while her legs wrapped around my waist. A little positon altering with my hand and I was having her pulse against me. "Deena?" the other Amazon called out. She was swimming in close proximity now. "I;” Deena responded to her comrade. "You are taking liberties," she chastised me even as an erotic smile graced her lips. "Please don't turn me in," I murmured to her. My lips were a few millimeters from hers. The other woman could clearly make out our physical relationship between us. "Stop that," the unnamed woman demanded. "Ah;” Deena moaned as I slipped two fingers past her swimsuit and into her slickness. The stranger tried to separate us, but Deena shook her head. "No; we are okay." "Stop it," I whispered. "Don't make me; don't make me; don't," and kissed. Total lie for the sake of our voyeur. Deena wasn't currently capable of making me doing anything. Why was I doing this? Out of control libido plus stress plus I still had Yasmin and Felix to deal with. Oh yeah, Deena being cute, firm and just curvaceous enough to be Grace Kelly feminine didn't hurt. "Why are we doing this?" Deena murmured sexily. "Am I making you happy?" I posed. She thought about it then nodded. "I thought being with a male would be more difficult," she countered. "Stop looking so athletic," I teased her, "and it will be easier for me to get away." Calling an Amazon 'pretty', or even 'beautiful' would have limited, if any affect. Better words were 'impressive, swift, healthy, fit and athletic, because that's what they valued in one another. Even 'scary' and 'frightening' were turning out to be good words to use. They never got enough male input to matter. "You are very healthy for a male," Deena purred back. "How healthy?" the other one asked. She was now more curious than offended with my audacity. "He's VERY healthy, Sharona," Deena smiled. "He has strong fingers as well." I knew the look Sharona shot me. It was the 'why her and not me?' The answer was clear to her; Deena had been bold, thus won. It was traditional Amazon culture. I was easier to blame me because I was the guy. All three of us knew the score. More kissing and kitty-petting ensued. It became even more rewarding when I eventually bumped into Deena's clit. I didn't have to do much. My finger rubbed against her nub, Deena really liked that and started humping my finger before I could do anything. Public sex had never been a stimuli for me. I didn't mind it and by the number of Amazons circling, or watching from poolside, they didn't mind what Deena was 'doing' to me either. There was no screaming, thunderclap of joy, or even a violent physical spasm. Deena pressed tight, made several yipping noises and came down whimpering happily. She was a truly content little camper; that was for sure. "You had sex!" one of the bystanders called out. I looked into Deena's eyes. "If you say 'yes', I'll wake up tomorrow morning in Baku Faso," I whispered. "No; no we weren't," Deena gave me a sultry look. "We were practicing lifeguarding techniques. Did I save your life?" "I'm Cáel," I breathed on her lips. "Yes, I feel like a whole new man." "We will have to hone your skills; real soon," Deena winked. That was not a request. That was 'come back, or I'll hunt you down'. "I normally cannot make it before five," I informed her. "That works for me," Deena pulled away. She gave a warm sigh as my fingers slipped out of her. I made for the side. As I pulled myself out, my equipment straining at the seams, several wonderful ladies surrounded me. "Do you think you are leaving?" they confronted me. "I have a five o'clock end-of-day meeting with Katrina," I calmly explained. Katrina was my 'Get out of Jail' free card that allowed me to escape the pool and the shower without becoming a scratching post. Amazons aren't animals; I'm just that sexy. Yes, I could pick up almost any girl at a club. I also had various Amazon pre-ordering collars with my name on it. By now my neck size was common knowledge. (Wednesday Evening) The stuff of my nightmares: I walk out from the end of day meeting with Katrina and the new hire ladies two see a gaggle of other women waiting for me, I assumed. I knew them all. Farah Winters recruited me from Bolingbrook, Umami Lhasa who was Tessa Carmichael's right-hand woman, Tessa herself; and Yasmin Palhavã, my Brazilian hottie and workout date. "Hi Cáel," they all greeted me. "Hey ladies," I did my best to look happy. "What's going on?" "Havenstone has offered me a job," Yasmin grinned. How could this possibly go wrong? Yasmin thought this place was run by a crazy cult, so why did she look at ease? She could be trying to infiltrate Havenstone; bad idea. She could have had a conversion; I hope her son would be okay. She was; high on drugs; okay, the last one was weak. "What department?" I kept going. "We are trying to convince her to start out in Security Services (the guards) then move her up to Financial Investigations due to her expertise with the Policia Federal in her homeland," Tessa said. "Cáel, by the look on your face, I know you are concerned. Ms. Carmichael; Tessa, has told me some things that put the situation in perspective," Yasmin gave me an all so sexy look. "You are far braver than I thought you were." "What? That I invested the entirety of my 401K on the comeback of Baleen Oil?" I joked. "My Son will be okay," Yasmin patted my hand. Was I that much of an open book? "Do you have an instinct to protect children?" Umami inquired. "Not before I got here, but then I didn't know anyone who would casually kill children either," I responded. I had to ask the next question. I couldn't be me and not. "Tessa, can I ask you a serious question?" I began. Tessa nodded. "Why was Yasmin 'read in' to Havenstone? I don't doubt for a second she's a qualified as an investigator, but this strikes me as highly unusual and even reckless for your; people." "It was this, or kill her," Tessa answered. "By the way, that was Yasmin's first question too." "Precisely, my question was 'are you going to kill me for that crazy cult stuff that went down last week?'" Yasmin corrected. "She said I had to answer two questions to decide that." In a bizarre, Amazon-style way, that made sense. Yes, Yasmin would beat her husband nearly to death for cheating on her; and shooting her, and she would willingly have sex again. I knew this because Buffy told me her backstory and it had Katrina asking her the two questions as well. "Yasmin, let me clarify this right now," I held my ground. "I'm cheating on you. Please don't hit me. It has been a bad day and the pain has just begun." And all the psycho-bitches laughed. "Let's go practice, É o meu P.A.," Yasmin chuckled. No one was going to tell me what the damn phrase meant. I dare not look it up on-line because if I did, and Yasmin saw that flicker of understanding in my eyes; bad things would happen to me in the bedroom. No, I needed an alibi witness. To be honest, I thought the bedroom was Paradise until some ladies (I'd cheated on; surprise, surprise) tied me to one. Having my body waxed by sadistic amateurs was only recently exceeded by being shot with an arrow on my pain meter. It is not something I like to talk about. They dyed my hair bright pink too. I ended up nailing the new assistant at the College infirmary, so it wasn't a total loss. Oh, and less I forget, they both took me back later, at the same time, without telling each other. It is a wonder I'm still alive. In an effort to keep that going, I took us to the non-blooded gym this time around. It wasn't as nice as the full-blooded one, but it was still very full service. The biggest difference I had noticed earlier was the lack of archaic weapons on the wall near the training mat. Yasmin and I decided on a 40/20 split; forty minute of working out and twenty minutes on the mats. Around 5:30 pm, Felix showed up. Like me, he automatically drew attention and he'd clearly been cultivating his aura. He barely spared me a glance, being absolutely confident he had the advantage in every aspect of our contest; both physically and socially. Within minutes a subliminal ripple moved through the crowd. I was spotting Yasmin so it took me a bit to figure out what was going on; full-bloods had entered. One by one, I picked out Daphne, Paula, Dora, Tigger, Violet and Oneida. They weren't coming at me; that would have kept things calm. No, 'my' ladies were circulating and I didn't need ESP to figure out what they were saying. In the ladies' wake, evil looks where shot Felix's way. Once more, he felt the undercurrent but misunderstood it. He thought I was seeding the crowd against him. One Amazon 'Runner' cleared up the nature of the disturbance, if not reason for the outrage. "Did you really take a woman's underwear to use as a trophy to throw in Cáel's face?" the disbelieving woman asked. Felix was fearless. "Of course not," he assured her. "One of Cáel's many one night stands stopped by my place, slept and forgot; something. That's all." Good play. Since I wasn't in on sabotaging Felix, I had no counter and I wasn't going to get into a he-said/he-said contest that would leave me looking petty. Poor Felix, he kept forgetting we worked for some really smart women. Around thirty women into Felix's counter-propaganda campaign, Daphne struck. She was confronted by a pro-Felix lady. "Really?" Daphne announced loudly. "Let's clear this up why don't we." She pulled out her phone, hit one number and said, "Please project that footage to the 'Runner' gym." Ten seconds later, Felix and my conversation was projected to every TV suspended around the room. Yes, even Felix's boast and getting in my face. This wasn't solely Daphne's doing. She didn't have that kind of weight. Oneida on the other hand; Felix barely missed a beat. "Nyilas, you pulled that all out of context," he growled. The best defense is a great offense. "Felix, I'm a guy. No way in Hell I have the kind of access to security tapes," I held up my hands, proclaiming my innocence. Felix missed the 'I'm a guy' part. The women didn't. Most of them know I skated the rules, but never broke them. Yes, Katrina liked me. Would she give me access to security? That was laughable. Felix was about to pack on the stupidity. "Fine, you had one of your cheerleaders do it," Felix counterthrust. Cheerleader was not a 'positive' Amazon role model. Cheerleaders were women who promised sexual reward to male warriors that defeated their enemies (a bit of a biased view). The bipolar normal world reaction to cheerleaders aside, I knew cheerleaders were athletes who worked hard to pull off relatively complex routines. Telling the Amazons this was pointless. If any woman in this room had known a cheerleader before surrendering their old existence to become lethal man-killers, they probably didn't like them. If they had been a cheerleader, they were keeping their mouths shut. "Are you implying we have lied and altered the official record of events?" Daphne sizzled. See, lying to me and Felix was expected. Lying to their fellow Amazons, despite the Blood Prestige rift, wasn't going to happen. Trust and loyalty were fundamental virtues here. I imagine Felix had read that passage in the Handbook. I hadn't believed it for the first two days either. I'd been educated since then. "I wouldn't put it past you," Felix glared right back at Daphne. Foolish; stupid. "Yasmin, I gotta go," I hissed to my Brazilian MILF then rushed to get to Felix. I wasn't doing it for Felix, the douche. I was doing it for Katrina and her New Directive. Felix had not officially fucked up; he was just being a jerk. Daphne sent Felix a wicked smirk. She'd kicked his ass. Felix knew his ass had been kicked yet still couldn't grasp the underlying principles behind his defeat; he was in a Woman's World. "Felix, let's warm up," I urged him once I was close enough to be heard. "After that stunt; you can go fuck yourself," Felix glowered. "Dude, it wasn't me, I swear," I met his gaze. "I'm here. You find your own space," Felix indicated another portion of the mat. "Felix, these ladies are about to kill you. You do not want to send me away," I whispered. Felix formed a rebuttal then looked around. "Why?" Felix whispered back. Felix was finally acknowledging he'd lost. Now he wanted to know why. "I can't explain it right now, but let's say 'cheerleader' was the wrong descriptive to use," I continued. "Calling them liars only dug the hole deeper. It is the way it is." Felix didn't understand my words, but understood the intent. He was in Oz without any knowledge of the tornado that had taken him there. We didn't spar together. I did stay close enough to make my intent clear; there would be no ambushing of Felix. You had to understand Amazon psychology to figure out why they weren't angry with me. I was exhibiting loyalty; especially to a person I hated. Amazons had blood feuds, the specifics I hadn't figured out. You could probably kick your opponent's ass. If you stabbed them in the back, there was no rock on the face of the Earth you could hide under. "He practices Muay, Thai, and Savate," Oneida snuck up on me. "I lend you my spirit," she added with deep compassion. I turned on her and placed my hand between her breasts. "No. No cheating in this fight," I insisted. That drew many stares. "Hold your spirit for the battles that matter, not for the resolution of male grievances. Your heart is fierce and I appreciate that, Oneida. No one's spirit is infinite, so marshal your resources carefully." Yes, I was lecturing Oneida; bad move. Yes, I was safeguarding her spirit, as would any of the other Amazons in the room; good move. Cloaking my lecture and concern in mystical terms; the win. "I care deeply for you too," Oneida gave me a demur look, "my Ash Man." Kill me. Kill me now. This culture didn't have a 'ready-set-go'. When one person was ready, they attack without warning. I almost forgot that and blind-sided Felix. I didn't hold back for him. I held back because I didn't want him to be a whiny baby about this whole thing. I gave him a nod, he nodded back then he attacked. Two piston kicks by Felix backed me up. He switched up with a reverse roundhouse. That was his mistake; I slipped inside his kick range. I came at him; left jab, left jab, and a right cross in such a rapid blur the audience later told me their brains didn't register the hits until after the fact. It was lights out for Felix. His body made a wet, thumping noise at it hit the mat. There was a hush. Everyone expected this fight to go the distance. I was more renowned for my stamina than punching power. Welcome to the world of light heavy-weight boxing. My problem with Madi had been I couldn't touch her. I hadn't even gone all out with Rhada and I dropped her with two jabs. A good number of 'martial artists' think of boxing as a primitive fighting form. It is. It has also been around forever because the principles are rather simple and effective. Either don't get hit, or soak up the hit (particularly for heavier fighters), set your opponent up and clobber then. Felix had meant to control me with his powerful kicks. Both Savate and Muay Thai have excellent fist and elbow blocks and strikes. It is simply difficult to switch your focus from kicking to blocking in the blink of an eye. That was less time than what I gave Felix. Most people think of boxers as freight trains, not snipers. In truth, we are both; locomotives approaching the speed of light (somewhat). Double back to all the options Savate and Maui Thai boxers have. They would never be afraid to take a risky kick because they can block in so many ways. Suddenly the issue became one of distance and balance. The boxer was at the kicker's ankle at the moment of supposed impact and closing. By the time the kicker realized the kick's over-extension the boxer was at his knee. The kicker still had a plethora of elbow, arm and hand blocks and grapples; except all his power has gone down that kicking leg, leaving him with on point of balance; his other leg. Sure he could get an arm up, but it only had the strength and weight of that limb to call upon. The upcoming hit? It had the mass times acceleration of the boxer's body coming at him. Good luck. Felix could have beaten me, except it would have taken time. Closing would have allowed him to use all those nifty elbow, palm and hand strikes. It would have also allowed me to do what boxers to best; box. This wouldn't give me an advantage, just leveled the playing field a bit. He didn't want to grapple. I had an entire school devoted to grappling while it was an addendum to what he did. Felix's saw me go to a boxing stance, and like most practitioners of Savate and Muay Thai, he laughed inside. He was going to make a mockery of me because my style sucked and his styles were the ones that best broke your enemies and caused them pain. He was going to knock me back with his kicks then close in and pummel me with every part of his body before I could slip into jujitsu. It would be lightning fast and bloody. Nice in theory; bad in practice. He should have worn me down with his stronger legs. Things fell apart when I stopped running away after the sec
Women making bad decisions. Cáel to the rescue? What? In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “There is nothing wrong being a Lucky Bastard. It is wrong to rely on it.” They were all psychopaths and murderers after all, so death was becoming a vocational hazard. Me refraining from having as many sexual liaisons as possible wasn't realistic. I wasn't going to be willingly castrated and that was the only way out. The one benefit I could see was me working in a target-rich environment. "Now that I have had my turn stymieing Cáel's chaotic yet well-meaning attempts to educate us in the dangers and rewards of free-ranging masculinity," Tessa regarded the assembly, "I am getting out with my victory intact. Good luck, Sisters. You'll need it." Tessa exited, order was restored and; oh yeah, Elsa had brought me here for a sadistic love-fest, sans the sex. "I don't know what to make of you," Elsa smiled warmly, "I don't understand you and I find you to be very interesting." Let me make this clear; all three of those statements can be very bad, or very good. 'I don't know what to make of you' means I want to make it with you. 'I don't understand you' is 30% bad and 70% good. When bad, it is a prelude to a break-up. What she means is 'you aren't trying to understand me', thus the end of the relationship. On the beneficial side it means 'I've totally bought into your seduction and I'm ready to screw'. Ah, 'interesting'. Two types of women find a man 'interesting'; women who have to have you, and stalkers. Somewhat redundant. The main difference is how they respond to the Restraining Order and how much fun the erotic side of the relationship will be. The first kind of woman has a public screaming fit if you take out a RO on her. Let them build up to an incinerating level, then fuck them; it's so worth it. Stalkers ignore ROs. That's okay. Now you can legally trap them. They'll do whatever you want. Not because they are afraid of you. It is an RO for God's sake; one night in jail, maybe. No, they'll do whatever sex act you request because that's why they are stalking you in the first place; the sensual/emotional connection. When she starts making bizarre requests of you, subtly direct her to another 'more interesting' guy. Try not to use a friend. That's kind of cold. For the next few weeks, make sure the latest victim doesn't end up as a Missing Person. After that, you've done your civic duty so you can move on guilt-free. "Elsa, I need ten minutes to stretch first," I requested. She nodded. Off came the shirt. I retreated to a gymnastics mat and began stretching out my kinks. Five minutes in, I did one of my favorite maneuvers; the backwards human bridge completed when your wrists touch the Achilles tendons. Not only does this extended your abdominal muscles, it exhibits your hard-on and suggest all kinds of pages from the Kama Sutra are, in fact, possible. My performance highlighted my musculature, flexibility and numerous scars. My left thigh still had a light bandage wrapped around it. Whatever the Amazon medics were using was working gangbusters on me. Elsa had retreated to her end of the mat so I glided to my axes then promptly got off the mat. I didn't trust any Amazon, not even Aya and I'd let my heart be cut out if it would save her life. I got the feel for these axes, spun them around a few times then made to get back on the mat. "Put the loops around your wrist," Elsa directed. "Why?" I retorted. We were back to 'why are we letting a male question our orders.' "You are not allowed to throw them," Elsa allowed. I nodded. I didn't loop them. No, I walked onto the mat, weapons held axe-head down. I walked in five steps, knelt and placed the axes on the mat by my side. "Cáel, defend yourself," Elsa stated firmly. "Which is it? Do I defend myself and I act in a manner allowed by axe-work, or do I accede to your demands and be automatically defeated?" I responded. "Do you believe my spear technique is that superior to your own, made-up style?" Elsa smirked. "I think you are cheating. Worse, I think you are being a bully. If you want this to be the 'Elsa is a Bad-Ass' show, congratulations, you've won. I'm not going to fight you. I kneel before you, weapons on the mat, acknowledging that your cheating ways have defeated me," I mocked. "Savor this magnificent victory." "Your opinion of my martial prowess is not what is at question here today," Elsa spoke. I stood up, turned away and walked off the map, interrupting the rest of her speech. She was coming for me this time. I opened my towel, took out my phone and began texting away. "What are you doing?" Ngozi rumbled. *Buffy; job complete. Need to shower before next mission in queue* I hadn't hit 'send' yet. "Please correct me if I'm wrong. This was supposed to be a weapon's exhibition. That implies a study of your opponents training and capabilities. Elsa's prowess, along with my own, are the question here to today," I insisted. "Otherwise it is a waste of time for every non-sadist here." "Is it absolutely crucial that you throw an axe at Elsa?" Traska questioned. "No. It is absolutely crucial that Elsa fight under the handicap that I might throw an axe," I instructed her. "It changes the range dynamic. If I can hit her from; oh, five meters out, she has to keep close. If she has to keep close, my axes can engage her hand-to-hand." "Since Elsa chose a long spear, throwing it is clumsy, thus reducing her options," I stated. "Any range over six meters and she can probably dodge, or deflect, my throw. So we are both range limited, as it should be for a good exhibition." "I bow you reasoning," Elsa gave me a respectful nod of the head. Fucker; she liked me more, not less, despite my verbal reticence. We went to our corners. I charged first. Oh God; Elsa was super-great at spear. Less anyone forget, the spear has not only a sharp point; it also has a 20 cm bladed surface on each side plus a sold, oak shaft for blocking, poking and smacking. Elsa swung the spear around her body in lightning quick arcs. She could fight long shaft, or short shaft, as the range dictated. Long shaft was like fighting a dagger on a stick; cut and thrust. Short shaft was mainly thrusting, but was good for holding me back if I got inside her 'long' guard. Elsa's advantages were life-long experience, tons of natural talent, and being quicker than me. Our staminas were evenly matched. The drain of Elsa's fluid style equaled my two-weapon use. I had her in bulk and brawn. Elsa and I were at the top of the spectrum for our respective genders; physically and mentally better off than the majority. This meant I had her on brute strength and reach. That was genetics talking. My only other advantage was the uniqueness of my style. Elsa hadn't faced it before, though I'm sure she'd watched Constanza and Crewe's fight with me on video. Elsa figured out quickly that a left-handed battle axe made a poor shield. It covered far less area and took more energy and concentration for the assaulted to defend themselves. As soon as she put that bit of knowledge into her arsenal of tricks, I showed her another one. An axe is an axe, and when she slapped that spear against my guard one too many times, my right-handed axe chopped into the shaft, severing the spear blade from the rest of the spear. This was the point where an Amazon would have pressed the attack. I was deciding to take as little of a beating as possible. I fell back, knelt and put my axes down. There was a hush. "Elsa, do you wish to retrieve another spear?" I inquired. This was an exhibition after all. Actually, this was Elsa proving she was better than me, but she a script to stick to. "To your starting place," Elsa commanded. "Get some water." I picked up my axes and withdrew; backwards. Oneida had crept around to my side. "I know what you did this morning," Oneida gave me some water to drink. "It was very clever of you to send me away for my safety. It makes me adore you even more." I reached out with one finger and poked her nose. "You're silly," I sighed. "No," she giggled like a school girl. I was going to Hell for this one. "You are an 'Ash Man' reborn. I read about it." I had no clue that was and Elsa was waiting. The rest was pre-ordained. I got a few light cuts while not leaving a mark on Elsa. I scored major points by disposing of Elsa's second spear though I lost both axes in the endeavor. She swept my feet out from under me, I rolled away from her follow up kick and quickly went to my knees, palms flat on the mat and head lowered. Only the mentally handicapped would have thought I'd won any part of the martial contest. I'd drawn the first time. My ability to defeat Elsa with the equivalent of a staff was undecided. I had been disarmed and disarmed Elsa the second time; technically a draw, but it wasn't. Why? Because Elsa had been trying NOT to kill me, or even injury me (too much). I had been doing the same. If by some calamity I'd killed Elsa, I would have been lucky to fall on my own axes before the crowd butchered me. No, mine had been an amateur effort. I had missed Elsa mostly because I never got close. Elsa had to hold back from slicing me up and running me through. Elsa walked right up to me; I mean Right up to me. She tapped my head, indicating I should look up. There was her cunt maybe 2 inches away with only her skintight shorts between us. "As this demonstrates, we need to continue to work and update our styles," Elsa addressed the throngs. "Cáel put forth his usual exceptional effort; for the gifted amateur that he is." "Thank you for your attention today, my sisters," Elsa concluded. End of lesson. Traska picked up her medical kit and came my way. Oneida and a half dozen other Amazons closed in as well. Elsa didn't move a millimeter. Her fragrance wafted in my face. When Traska tried to shift me around so she could better access my wounds, Elsa stopped me with her hand on my head. Traska found it odd for a second then they all clued in. Elsa was making a statement. This wasn't Amazonian mannerisms coming to the fore. This was throwing down a gauntlet; Elsa's intention to win this competition; me. Amazons were inherently competitive, being tested and testing themselves against previous achievements and each other. Before Buffy opened her big mouth an hour ago, any contest for me had been a joke; the whole 'hunt me down in X-number of days'. Buffy had beaten Elsa to me. You don't get to be a 3000 year old secret society by letting one setback force you to admit defeat. No; Elsa was stepping up her game. The amazing transformation that had confused the women around us was that, according to Elsa, my opinion suddenly mattered. Buffy had made a point of me finding a way to be with her. My choice. Better yet, I'd made my choice to be with her while my life was on the line. Once again, 'I laugh at death' is an incredible turn on. Elsa hadn't changed her stance about men being armed. She was letting me train so she could summon me whenever she wanted me; unless Katrina put her foot down. Katrina wasn't going to do that often. Elsa was a useful subordinate and Katrina finally had her test dummy; me; on the firing range, which she had wanted all along. Katrina is scary-smart. You don't think so? Who kept throwing me and Buffy together knowing of the Buffy/Elsa rivalry? Who approved my sex weekend with Buffy? Who approved my firearms training once she had Elsa's endorsement? As you might recall, that was something Elsa swore she'd never do, yet here we were; a male being trained with firearms at Havenstone. Katrina didn't know when I'd figure out a way to sleep with Buffy, but she had faith in me that once I got to know Buffy, I'd figure something out. I'm far easier to read than the US Tax Code, or the Affordable Care Act. I liked sex with women, I liked being seen as a good guy, I liked trying to be a good guy; roughly in that order. Katrina knew that. I didn't particularly mind being used by her either. That was her job; to protect the security and integrity of Havenstone. Now Buffy was happy, Elsa was letting me train and by dint of my outrageous behavior, I was assisting Katrina in her plot to restore stability to the traditional Amazon bloodlines. Traska slathered this synthetic goo over my lacerations. It stung, but it aided in the healing process and was flexible enough to barely restrict movement. I winced and 'stumbled' forward face-first into Elsa's crotch. My nose ridge pressed deep into her camel toe, certainly pushing down on her clit. "I apologize," I said softly. I didn't move. Elsa didn't see fit to move me, even with her hand still in the hair on the top of my head. "Finished," Traska sighed. "Let me help you up," Oneida jumped to my aid. She helped me stand, but Elsa didn't seem to mind. Getting out of the gym alive was easy. My heartfelt pledge to myself to never return was futile. Sweaty chicks hang out at gyms. As a kid, I played D and D. If I was a Ranger, gyms would be my favored terrain. Okay, maybe bars then gyms. Fine, rock concerts, bars then gyms. I almost made it to the locker room. Coming from the other direction; the non-blooded gym; was Felix. "Hey Felix," I greeted him. Here I was with several fresh wounds and ten steamy ladies who all appeared to have a definite interest in my physique, if not my well-being. Felix was alone. That would not do, not for a man like Felix. "What happened to you?" he asked. "Figure-skating accident," I lied. "It seems I'm clumsy on ice." He didn't buy if for a second. "Oh; maybe Brooke can help patch you up tonight," he grinned. Asshole. The only flaw in his game plan was that the chicks around me didn't give a rat's ass about outsider women. They certainly weren't going to be jealous of them. "Good idea," I nodded. "Where are my manners? This is Oneida, Elsa, Traska and; well, I can't say I've been able to catch everyone's names yet." The unknown women didn't bother introducing themselves. Why? Felix was only a male. They had no immediate need of him, so they didn't bother being civil. Felix was an Alpha's Alpha. He didn't give up that easily. We made it to the showers. Buffy, having not worked out, waited by my locker. Mystically, Elsa appeared in the showers at the exact same time as me. Felix was right behind her. "Felix Melena," he offered his hand to Elsa. She shook it then went back to showering. "I'm better than Cáel." Elsa gave him a quick sneer. "What gives you that idea?" she murmured. "Why don't you let me prove it," he turned to face her, giving Elsa the complete Felix Melena aesthetic. He was a centimeter, or two taller, I was maybe three kilograms heavier and we both lavished attention on our bodies. He was perhaps a bit longer, but narrower down there. As long as it wasn't aimed at my mouth, or ass, I didn't care. By the lack of reaction in Elsa's body tempo, she didn't care either. "If you were a team bodyguard and an assassin appeared to be trying to kill myself and Hayden, who would you protect with your life?" Elsa posed. "I'd kill the assassin," Felix came back immediately. Felix was a winner. "Cáel?" Elsa said. "Hayden," I responded. "I'm a bodyguard. From the top down; protect, secure, return fire." "Cáel, you are trained as a bodyguard?" Felix smirked. "Nah. That was the common sense answer to the question she asked," I shrugged. Shampoo time. Felix was going to make me pay for that comeback. "Felix, would you ever work at Havenstone; off the clock?" Elsa continued. "Yeah," he grinned. I know what he wanted to work on; off the clock. Good luck, you bastard. "Cáel?" "I'm never off the clock, damn it," I snorted. "This job is a 24/7 crimp in my sex life." "Bro," Felix coughed. "Be careful. That's close to sexual harassment." Btw, Felix was serious. He was actually cautioning me. See, me being deported meant he couldn't crush me. "Elsa, would you please shoot me in the head?" I replied. "No," she smiled warmly at me. "I love you too," I said, dripping with sarcasm. Felix's eyes bugged out for a second. "That, Felix Melena, is why Cáel is a better man than you," Elsa looked like an angel sitting in judgment of Felix, finding him flawed and substandard. "Cáel joking around makes him better than me?" Felix mocked. The mistake here had to be Elsa's. "Your lack of understanding is not my problem," Elsa dismissed him. "Cáel, wash my back." "Fine, I'll do it, but I'm massaging your ass too," I groused. "Get it over with," she sighed with exasperation. "Damn. Felix; day in, day out. Always washing naked women. This job is killing me," I muttered. Felix wasn't one to give up easily. By the time I had totally soaped up her back, ass and upper thighs; back and front, he had exited the field. He caught me exiting the locker room. "Cáel, why don't we go out for some drinks after work?" he offered. Ah, he was going to beat me up with Brooke. "Sure," I agreed. I'm a dog. Felix was going to sleep with Brooke to show me he was the superior male. He was going to rub it in my face. I hadn't told anyone about knocking boots with Brooke. It wasn't their business. Felix would crow it to the Heavens, because pissing me off was what mattered, not how Brooke felt. I couldn't even save Brooke because Felix was in her socio-economic group and she'd make the same mistake with him she'd made with Trent; thinking they cared about her. (Monday later) Buffy had finally dismissed me when Katrina summoned me to her office. Ignoring me getting into an altercation; in the Full-Blood gym; yet again, I had a good day. No property damage, lost items, or physically damaged employees. Ragged by most people's standards, but a good day for me at Havenstone. I still had a chance to walk out under my own power. Katrina motioned me to come to her desk. Upon my arrival, she slid a tablet over to me with a single icon on the screen. I tapped it. Aya's face appeared as the vid-mail began. She was glowing. There was tent fabric in the background so I had no idea of her geographic location. I didn't care. "Hey!" she squeaked. "I'm doing great at camp. I met three girls who are as small as me and we've formed our own squad; the Fatal Squirts." I chuckled. I had encouraged her to steal strength from her perceived weaknesses. She had to believe in herself then take that as she built up her skills. I had faith in her when no one else did. "I showed some of my councilors a picture of you. I think you would get into trouble if you came here. I want you to come, but I thought it was only fair to warn my favorite bed-buddy," she giggled. "Send me a message when you can. I understand there will be a delay as the messages have to be physically delivered. I know you are doing okay. If not, hold off your vengeance until I can return and guard your back. I love you, Cáel. Be well," she smiled as her picture faded into darkness. "Ah damn," I whispered. Aya looked good; confident, upbeat and spirited. "Katrina, can I make a message for her right now?" I begged. "Of course," she gave me an approving tilt of the head. "I think the courier is still in the building." "Cool. What do I do?" I urged. "Use the webcam; make a message and forward it to my computer," Katrina told me. "I'll take it from there." I made the message, pretty much updating her on my latest exploits with limited editing. Aya was a surprisingly innocent yet worldly 9 year old. Much of that came from being Katrina's and Desiree's niece; mainly Katrina's. It gave her access to tidbits of sensitive data from time to time. Not so much she was a real security threat. Enough so that she got some things confused; like what sex was truly about. I felt in my soul she'd be a great Amazon one day. I didn't remind her of that much. She had enough pressure for a kid her age. "You are seeing Oneida now?" a frosty voice unnerved me. It was Buffy. "Fuck," I jumped up. "Damn Buffy, stop sneaking up on me like that, or I'm going to start thinking you are a stalker." "I am stalking you, Einstein," Buffy menaced. "I'm glad we got that out of the way," I rolled my eyes. "Oh look! It's Daphne coming to my rescue. I am so out of here," I exulted. I edged passed Buffy, slipped her attempt to grab my arm and raced for the 'new hires' at the elevator. "Get back here, you Cock-sucker!" Buffy howled as she chased me down. May miracles never cease. Daphne, Violet and Tigger formed an Amazon (I wasn't sure if I could consider them 'human' yet) shield between my frail form and the hulking brute that was Buffy. "Calm down, Buffy," Daphne pleaded. "He fought Elsa today; again." "Get out of my way," Buffy snarled. "Thank God you stopped her," I huffed to Dora. "I hope to she never finds out that I soaped up Elsa's entire body while we were sharing a shower together." Daphne turned and gave me an incredulous look. "Cáel, you are a Dumb-ass," Daphne sighed. Looking to Buffy as she stood aside. "Have at." "Are you mental?" Fabiola chimed in. The elevator doors finally opened, Buffy shoved me in and the rest of the posse followed. Helena joined us at the last second. "He's taunting me," Buffy responded to Fabiola while using her middle finger to poke my chest. "At this rate I am going to have to devastate a dozen male escorts so I can make it the remaining the 69 more days until he's mine again." "Is he really that good?" Paula wondered. Buffy twisted around to confront her. "He hammered me so hard, I thought he'd dislocate my hips. Later, we spent an entire hour, naked, wrapped up in each other's bodies with no actual penetration; touching, tasting and whispered affections," Buffy curled her lip. "He's better than you could possibly imagine." "You realize we have 27 seconds left, right?" I reminded Buffy. "Really?" Buffy's head snapped back to me. I nodded and she jumped my bones. She had her hand down my pants, pulling on my rod, and the other grabbing the back of my head to deepen our kiss. For my part, I had my left hand on her breast and the right down the back of her pants, fondling a panty-covered ass cheek. In a culture where you summoned a male, ordered him to perform and he did so the same exact way he'd done a dozen times before, what Buffy and I were doing didn't make sense. The two of us didn't give up an ounce of control yet meshed perfectly. Our pleasure was obvious, vocal and we didn't give a damn about the crowd around us. Buffy and I had created our own little lust-bubble. The chimer went off. We settled down and straightened up our clothes. "Fuck it all; that's some good dicking," Buffy mumbled. That was an inside joke between me, Timothy, my big, gay, buff tattoo-artist roommate, and the few women he chose to share that descriptive with; 'a good dicking'. We tumbled out of the elevator. "Is he always like that?" Fabiola mumbled. "He's a whole lot better with his clothes off," Buffy sneered at Fabiola. Sometimes I'm a super-selfish bastard; I want life to cut me some slack. Waiting for us was Oneida; in biker clothing. That would have merely been bad, dangerous and creepy except I was dressed in work clothes. I was planning to meet some of the guys (all two of them) for some after-work drinks. The encounter went from not-good to horribly awkward. Oneida had checked up on me, been told how I got to and from work as well as when I left. Unfortunately, she hadn't checked my social calendar; mainly because I didn't keep one; sophomore year mistake. If a girl is in your apartment, she will find the thing you don't want her to find; every single time. I burned my diary and unfriended everybody after that final, hospital-resulting episode. "Hi," I greeted Oneida. She'd figured out she'd screwed up something fierce. "What bike do you use? I have a Specialized STSE hybrid. Maybe we can use some paths one weekend." I was trying to diffuse her embarrassment. We were two bikers talking about bikes. Nothing wrong with that. "I have a Specialized Source;” she got out then realized how BAD that sounded. She had the exact same bike as me; how bizarre? Unless you had somebody come down and take a look at what I bicycle I used. Time to save the day. "Do you want to make a date for 6:30 am on Saturday?" I suggested. "Provided this wacky place hasn't offed, or misplaced me by then." "Ah; that would be nice," Oneida rebounded happily. "The date, that is." "Whoa Oneida, what are you doing with this guy?" Brian derided me as he walked up. I wanted to say, 'Brian, you've insulted a princess of the Amazon people. Please continue making an ass of yourself and give Trent and Khalid my regards'. I didn't. "This is Cáel Nyilas. He's a real player," Brian smirked. "You can do better than him." Oh yeah, Oneida and Brian were co-workers; 'new hires' in Acquisitions. "Brian, it took you three days to even use my name," Oneida gave Brian a neutral stare. "I love Cáel. He saved my life and he sees the real me." For the love of all that's holy, someone shoot me in the head right now. I could hear the nearly subsonic growls emanating from Buffy. Brian looked at me, laughed and went to put an arm around Oneida's shoulder. After all, if I could pick her up, it should be effortless for him to take her away, right? Dumb-shit. Laughing at me was okay. Laughing at; then I noticed the two chicks in black leather standing about doing their best (until a second ago) to go unnoticed. Cáel had gotten away with such familiarity because Cáel had risked his life to save their Princess. Brian Fung? He barely knew her name and they worked together. These weren't even SD chicks; they were something else. My guess was Arinniti House Guard. Did Katrina's House Epona have a house guard? Sure, I imagine they did. They were probably with the rest of House Epona where ever they lived. It wasn't like the whole kit and caboodle was here in NYC. That would have been foolish. If Caitlyn, Aya's mom, had a security issue, she called us at Havenstone HQ, less than four kilometers away. Without a doubt, Elsa would stop by and kick ass for her. I gave Brian this much; he had a working set of eyes. The second those two harbingers of death began closing in, Brian back-pedaled. "Hey Brian, let's go grab some drinks," I offered him a graceful exit. "Sounds good," Brian tried to sound cool. "Oneida, take care," I nodded to my new romantic stalker. "Ladies," to my 'new hire' crew. "Buffy," to my sometimes boss, "remember you are still hot for a; mature chick." "You are going die a long, torturous and extremely painful death," Buffy sizzled. "What? Are you going to make me eat your cooking?" I laughed. Buffy didn't articulate a counter before Brian and I slipped outside. "Cáel, who was that woman?" Brian whispered. "Which one? You need to be more specific. My erotic malfeasances are terribly confusing." "The one you insulted," Brian said. "The last one you insulted," he clarified. "Buffy. She's one of my bosses," I grinned. "She loves me. She's even promised to play the bagpipes at my funeral. Personally I think that's because she doesn't want to risk anyone hearing me pounding on the coffin lid, trying to get out." "You are not going to make it the full 84 days with that attitude," Brian lectured me. "Trent has already been promoted," Brian continued. "I am regularly referred to as indispensable in my work reviews. Felix works closely with Ms. Pharos at all times. You seem to be the only one of us having; issues with Havenstone. Hell, they even shot you and you sat back and took it. I doubt your complacent attitude impressed anyone much." No mention of poor Khalid. How quickly they forget. Trent had been 'promoted' to Southeast Asia alright. I looked it up; there are around 10,000 islands between Indonesia and the Philippines. Sure some were small spits of land with a few trees. I had little doubt one of the good-sized one was a jungle of a different sort. Certainly Executive Services sent Trent's belongings somewhere. I'd never tried to find out. What would I have done with the knowledge? Brooke didn't care and I didn't know his family. Brian and I went to the same yuppie bar as last time. I was with Brian this time, so I abandoned him as quick as I could. Why? At the far end of the bar, talking the bar-back was my Delivery Girl; aka the person who did the home liquor delivery to Libra's place. Half way down the bar, she sensed me looking at her. The bar-back followed her gaze. He wasn't happy with me. DG simply didn't recognize me so I held up my valise over my groin. Confusion; surprise; acknowledgment that despite our surroundings, I wasn't worried about being seen with her. She had her hand truck; she had to make a front door delivery this time. "Remember me?" I smiled. "Cáel Nyilas; the Pillow Guy," she snickered. "How did that work out for you?" The bar-back was broadcasting his displeasure at some upper class shmuck cutting in on his action. DG caught that. "Jason, this is Cáel," she introduced me. "We last met under unusual circumstances." "What kind of name is Cáel?" Jason remarked. "An unfortunate one," I snorted. "You try explaining to your kindergarten teacher that it is 'c-a-e-l'. Of course, I wasn't 'Bomophoto' either. She had it worse than I did." Jason searched me out to see if I was pulling one over on him. I wasn't. Bomo and I bonded over our linguistic misfortune. She moved to Santa Fe in the third grade. I wonder if she grew up to be hot looking. Oink. "I'll give you that," he chuckled. "Why did you get branded?" "Mom was Irish, my Dad was in love with her so I got the cultural emersion, minus the Guinness," I shrugged. "By the way;” I looked back to the lady. "Katy Lee Baker," she batted her eyelashes. We shook hands. "How did it go?" I picked up her question. "Sex, chopped fruit, your drinks, more sex and back to the clinic before eleven." "Have you talked to them since?" Katy inquired somewhat seductively. "Perhaps. I don't like to kiss and tell," I evaded. "I'm curious because two of the three arrived five minutes before you did and they appear somewhat unhappy with you right now," she smirked. "You can look over your shoulder if you don't believe me." Sure enough, there was Felix, Brian, Brooke, Libra and; I think her name was Gina. I waved then turned back to my current two conversationalists. "So Jason, what do you like to do?" I asked the guy. "Huh; what? I work," he replied. "I mean bike, try ethnic food, go to the gym; stuff like that," I teased him. "I work six days a week; but usually one or two are afternoon shifts. Me and some buddies play some pick-up basketball," Jason told me. "Great. You'd pick a sport I suck at," I set the bait. If Jason thought I sucked, he'd invite me to play. That's how it worked. I was pretty good at basketball considering I'd spent the last four years playing with girls; on the court. Girls play some mean ball. They also didn't shy away from putting an elbow into my nuts if they felt like it. "I'm not sure I live in a neighborhood you'd be comfortable visiting," Jason threw up a roadblock. I had him on this one. I showed him my ID. It had the right address; wrong apartment number. "Shit dude, that place is about as rough as my home turf." "I get paid a quarter million a year to taste test for hexafluoride in Chinese imports," I joked. "Really?" Katy chuckled. "It's a growth industry; if you consider tumors to be growth," I was faux-serious. "Mr.; Cáel," Jason looked over my shoulder. "I think one of those chicks is about to come over here and kill you. You best hop to it." "Which one? The brunette, or the russet-colored (Libra)?" I inquired. "The brunette wants attention and the russet wants to push a red hot poker up your ass," Jason gave me his experienced opinion. Heading over there was going to be 'fun'. "Give me a call some time, Jason. Nice to see you again, Katy Lee," I waved good-bye. "You know the staff here?" Libra spat. "That was the girl who delivered the liquor to your place, Libra," I sighed. "I said 'hi'." "It takes you an awful lot of words to say 'hello'," Brian gave a false smile. Libra was positioned next to Brian. Her anger with me plus his 'sexy' put her there. Brooke shifted as I joined their chair-less center table. She was putting enough distance between us to show everyone she was independent yet close enough to give warning signs to other woman that I was in her sights, if not her outright possession. I was better looking than Brooke had counted on. More 'fun' was coming down the pipeline. Gina was here on another date with Felix, or so she thought. Poor Gina. Felix was most likely an excellent fuck. What she didn't appreciate was that Felix was not only a competitor, he was the kind of athlete who had to win. Second place was what you called the first loser. Gina was about to be educated in this personal idiocentricity. Now that I was on stage, Felix made his move on Brooke. Gina? He'd let her in on a three-way if he was feeling personally Hernán Cortés-like. Felix had to have Brooke. I hadn't dumped Brooke, according to Gina, so he wasn't getting my castoffs; he was stealing my prize. The flaw in this plan was my whole viewpoint on monogamy. I didn't much care for it. Brooke was a grown woman and could make her own choices. Felix made his move. Damn, he was smooth. He had Brooke wrapped up and pulled tight without Gina even being aware she'd been dumped. Enter the train wreck named Nicole. She was the criminal defense attorney who I'd fucked in a stall in the women's bathroom of this place. She hadn't tried to contact me and I hadn't worried about her. Hook-ups were like that. She'd been close by, respecting Brooke's signs and not stopping by to say hello. Then Felix launched his master plan and I was suddenly freed up. Nicole had gotten a rough fucking and liked it, I could tell. "Cáel Nyilas," Nicole swooped in. "How have you been?" "The normal. Menace to society, disrespectful of authority and being annoying to random strangers," I teased. "You?" "I'm a lawyer fighting the irresistible lure of evil. The usual," she joked back. "What have you been doing wrong? As I recall, last time you were doing everything right?" Yes, a good dicking indeed. I was going to relate this encounter to Timothy just so he could shoot me with his Nerf gun. He'd shoot me anyway, but it was nice of me to give him an excuse from time to time. "I've been sending sexually suggestive letters to ADA Feinstein," I offered. "Does that count?" "Oh really?" she seemed surprised. "Why don't you come by my table real quick and let me introduce you to some of my colleagues." I wasn't going to be rude. "Gang, this is Nicole," I introduced her to my table. "She's an attorney at a prestigious law firm that probably has more dead partners than living ones and offices in Papua New Guinea and a few dozen other places you've never heard of. I'll be right back." "You are a nut," Nicole bumped me as we weaved our way to her buddies. "Ladies, this is Cáel Nyilas. I think I mentioned him once." By the looks on their faces, once had been enough. "This is Zelda, Marsha, Phyllis, and Rivka; Rivka Feinstein, ADA for New York County," (that's Manhattan for us hicks). "Ah crap," I exclaimed. That wasn't what they expected. "I confess," I looked at Nicole, "I saw the name in an article on the back of the Village Voice. Sadly, they had R. Feinstein and I stupidly assumed it was a guy." "Oh my God! You're gay?" Zelda and Phyllis despaired. "While my life would a whole lot easier if I was, I'm straight; not even bi-curious. My roommate, Timothy; never Tim; is and he was reading it while I was working out. It sort of stuck in my mind," I admitted. "How did my name come up in conversation?" Rivka inquired. "Cáel is a pathological liar," Nicole teased me. "Not true," I protested. "I'm allergic to excessive honesty. That's totally different." "I'd like to put you on the witness stand," Zelda gave me those bedroom eyes. "You and about a 150 other women," I groaned. "150?" Rivka choked. "Yep. The rest already know I'm guilty," I muttered. "Are you of weak moral fiber?" Phyllis joined the game. We were all having a blast. "Sorry, but no. I'm saving up for some. Currently I'm without morals; or scruples. Any suggestion which one I should purchase first?" "You are a great guy," Rivka snickered. "Why aren't you dating somebody?" "Shall we revisit my lack of morals and scruples?" I answered. "So you are a player?" Nicole nudged me. She wanted to play alright. "How to put this; I'm a wonderful lover and a lousy boyfriend," I told them. "I was an eighteen year old virgin. In the past four years, I have betrayed every woman I've ever dated, save one; my first love," I explained. "Why didn't you betray her?" Phyllis prodded. "Don't tell me she's dead." "No, she's fine," I replied. "She was the one who told me to date other women." "That's harsh," Zelda commiserated. She thought Kimberly had dumped me. "Oh no," I corrected her. "We stayed together until I graduated last month. Four of the best years of my life. When she told me to date other women it was because I was killing her. I have a voracious sexual appetite and she was desperate for a full night's sleep." "Do you ever go home alone?" Marsha joined in. "Does leaving a woman's house at 1 a.m. count?" I requested. "Did she throw you out?" Rivka interrogated. "No. She and her sister were exhausted so I picked up my roommate and left," I exaggerated. "Wait!" Nicole held up her hand. "Sisters; and you told us your roommate was gay?" "Morals and scruples," I repeated. "See, I was dating one sister and the other sister wanted a date so I talked my gay roommate into being my wingman so I wouldn't end up sleeping with them both. It didn't work out so well. The second, older sister was horny, so my guy pretended to pass out." "Have you ever considered you are a horrible person?" Marsha studied me. "Yes. Not only have I thought about, I've been told that a few dozen times. It usually is accompanied by 'I'm going to kill you', or 'you had better make it up to me'." "Have you ever been hurt?" Phyllis appeared concerned. "My body is a roadmap of poor decision making," I responded. "What was the worst thing to ever happen to you?" Rivka grinned. Her ability to be deceptively pretty had to have made her a frightening lawyer. "When they were happening, I was a bit more concerned with what might happen to me as opposed to rating them," I informed her. "Except for being shot with an arrow, being chased around naked with a hot poker and having my bed dowsed with lighter fluid while I was still in it were probably the worst," I nodded. "I've been stabbed a few times, tasered, occasionally thrown out of a window not on the first floor and had bookcase dropped on me once, so I consider myself a connoisseur of ex-girlfriend vengeance." "Have you ever been involved with a police proceeding?" Rivka became a tad bit more intense. "Nah," shook my head. "I had it coming. As you said, I'm kind of a horrible guy." "Domestic violence is no joking matter," Nicole also became serious. "That's unfair," I countered. "I'm not so slavishly devoted to the law that I'd ruin some girl's life because I was a total bastard." "Domestic Violence laws are supposed to protect the innocent from the abusive," I added. "I haven't lied to you about my misadventures, but you should understand I chose to handle most of my problems myself. By the looks on your faces, you are about as disappointed in me as the policewoman I am currently seeing. This is who I am and I'm not going to apologize for it." "Mind you, I'm not some gun-toting, roughneck Libertarian," I clarified. "I believe in law, order and the justice system. If someone pulls out an AK-47 on me at a corner bodega, I'm making 9-1-1 my bitch on speed-dial. I don't want to be a hero, or fulfill my organ donor card. I just don't equate that to a girl kneeing me in the nuts because I slept with her best friend in her lingerie." There was a pause as the ladies looked around. They were making an assessment of how much trouble I'd cause versus how much fun I would be. They all smiled at me. They always do. "Who was wearing the lingerie?" Zelda smirked. "I've worn women's lingerie before, but it really wasn't my thing," I mused. "I'll go through a lot for good sex," I winked. "It was my girlfriend's lingerie on her best friend." "Wait," Rivka noted. "Didn't the best friend know you were dating the first girl?" "Yeah. I'm not sure why that never stops them," I shrugged. "Around the fifth time I stopped worrying about it." "Wow, do you have any idea how many women you've been with?" Rivka asked. "Do you always use protection?" Phyllis piled on. "Yes; 223 as of Friday. I'm hoping to break 300 before work replaces me with those guys from 'Hamster Dance'," I told them. "And yes, I always use protection." "I may not know where my partner has been, but I know where I've been and it scares me," I snickered. "That's why I always carry ten." "Ten?" Nicole snorted. "Do you regularly check the expiration date, or are you that ambitious?" "Ambitious? I'd carry more except it's hard to hide more than ten in a wallet; I've tried," I sighed. "Have you ever run out?" Marsha snickered. Our snickering, chuckling and laughter were drawing stares. "Run out? Hell, I've gone door to door in a women's dormitory at 2 a.m. trying to find some," I related. "Ran into an old girlfriend doing that." I slipped into a dreamy smile. "Why do I think that despite it being 2 a.m. in her dorm with you seeking a condom for use with a different woman, she wasn't pissed?" Rivka giggled. "Oh God no," I waved off. "She was freaking furious. That was some of the most intense 'I'm lonely and it's all your fault' sex I have ever been through." "You have names for different kinds of sex?" Nicole was almost crying from laughing so hard. "Oh yeah. The first time I run across a different sexual experience, I slap a name on it so when it happens again, I know what to do," I explained. "Isn't every woman unique?" Zelda sniffled. "That sounds nice in a love song, but 'no'," I smiled. "Women, and men, have a finite number things; needs and responses. Women can have different erogenous zones, but there all on the human body. Admittedly, it can be a bit like predicting the weather at times. It is not a perfect system by any means." "What's my 'thing' then?" Nicole taunted. She didn't think I could do it. "Sex has to be an accomplishment with you, Nicole," I informed her. "You need to be engaged mentally as much as anything else. You need a poet who runs marathons. Otherwise you end up staring at the ceiling after sex wondering what better use you could have made of your time." Silence. That was the norm for that kind of revelation. Women hated to be laid bare. They hated being misunderstood even more. "Nicole?" Rivka prodded her friend. Nicole remained silent. I knew that look. "Nicole, I'm bad news. Wouldn't you prefer to keeps thing simple?" I hoped. I was wrong to hope. I kept praying they would go 'hey, great, mindless sex; let's not blow it', but they never did. I hated giving lame erotic encounters, despite the guarantee of anguish that always followed. "We could go out on a date and see how that works?" Nicole offered. Doom. "Cáel Nyilas; I'm in the book and I work for Havenstone Commercial Investments," I stupidly replied. "You probably have a killer workload were as I spot-check children's toys for WMDs. Give me a call when you have a night free." How was it going to turn out? Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex; let's make a commitment; you cheating fuck-nut! I hate you. Girls weren't predictable; I was. "Cáel, we are going out to dinner, if you remember who you are supposed to be with," Libra seethed as she and the others passed Nicole's table. "Yup, gotta go where I'm not wanted. Nice seeing you again, Nicole," I grinned. "Ladies, I hope it was a pleasure. It was for me. Good night." Dinner; was; bad. Felix, hemorrhoid that he was, squashed Gina's feeble attempts to draw him back to her as he made crystal clear that he was taking Brooke home; to fuck her into Paradise; instead of letting her go home with me. Problem being; Brooke wasn't mine to take; never had been. For the first time in his life, I thought Brian was about to be screwed. Libra was past uber-bitchy by the fifth glass of wine. Brian held a pair of Jokers and thought he was the boss, like always. Libra had four Queens and would be screaming my name when she orgasmed; Brian was sexually proficient. He was also a misogynist, I was now sure, and Libra was going to make him squeal. Then she was going to grab up her clothes, storm out of Brian's place and never want to talk with him again. It wasn't that I was that unforgettable. I was that I knew what she wanted and had given it to her and not getting it Saturday afternoon while Brooke did was frosting her ass. What did that mean for me? For the first time in a long, long time, I was pissed with another guy. Trent really wasn't worth my time, but Felix was about to cross my here-until-now unforeseen line of what guys did to girls. It was dawning on me that this was the result of me. Someone was doing something wrong to a girl because of me. It wasn't my fault. Felix was being a jerk. That would be of cold comfort for Brooke. We split up after dinner. I didn't have the heart to pick up Gina, who was easy prey right then. It was too much like what Felix thought he was doing to me. I took a cab to Havenstone, changed clothing and biked home. I barely had dinner ready for Timothy when he came through the door. "That's not a look I'm used to seeing," he remarked. "I should have beaten someone up," I frowned, "but I didn't and now some girl; Brooke; is going to have her heart kicked because of it." "Was it something you did?" Timothy asked. "No. There is this guy at work who is using her to alpha-dog me," I muttered. "Brooke?" Timothy was confused. "You hardly like her. What a sleaze (Felix). If it was Odette, first I'd slap you around for still being here. Then we'd go get him." "I'm not even sure why I feel bad about this," I grunted. "As you said, I hardly like her." "It is called a conscience, Dimwit," Timothy snorted. That didn't help much. Conscience? Man, I'd stop my bike to run across a highway to move a tortoise off the road. I used to feed some of the Bolingbrook wild hares during the winter. I did humiliating crap for charity. I was never mean to a girl; only dishonest and unfaithful. Introspection got me nowhere. I was a cad. I'd been happy to be a cad for four years. I was going to be damned if my post-college life was going to be any different; all 68 remaining days of it. In my bedroom I discovered Odette had moved in during my absence. I doubted Timothy had been ignorant of all the stuff she deposited. What was going on with my life? I woke up when I heard keys in the door. It was a bit past eleven. I got up to check and sure enough, it was Odette. Timothy had given her a key. Odette had lived through a harrowing night, her boss was a dick and some of the customers were pure hell. I cuddled with her on the sofa while she unwound then we went to bed together. We didn't have sex; (Tuesday) Around 1 a.m. I miraculously found myself awake and alert in bed. Odette was happily dreaming away. Something was gnawing at the back of my mind. I put a name to the emotion and a face to the fear. I called Brooke. "Hey Brooke," I greeted her eight tries later. She was tired of sending me to voice mail. "What do you want?" she answered in a voice devoid of soul. "Fuck if I know," I replied. "I suddenly woke up from a sound sleep thinking of you." "I'm not interested," she sighed. "I'm going to go out on a limb here. You don't want to talk to anyone yet you want someone to help you understand what you are going through," I gambled. That created a tiny tear in her shroud of depression. After five minutes, I got her to give me her address. She told me she wouldn't answer the door. I told her I at least had to try. That got me to her place, 90 seconds of knocking got me inside and four minutes later, we were lying in bed with her sobbing on my chest. Half an hour later, she offered me sex. I told her to stop tempting me and if she only wanted me for sex, I wanted to be paid in chocolate. She giggled, took a few deep breaths and fell to sleep. Wow, I was in two different women's beds in one night and not having sex in either. My watch alarm went off at 4:50 a.m. That meant no 'Marilyn' call tonight. "Mmm;” Brooke moved toward wakefulness. "Work?" "Afraid so," I yawned. "We haven't had sex," he reminded me. I couldn't stop being me. "That's not why I came over here, Brooke," I rolled onto my side so that our bodies were very close. "Never think I don't want to have sex with you, but that's not why I showed up last night," I continued. "Why did you show up then?" she worried. "I have no clue. I'm like Felix; a player. Listen Brooke, I don't consider you my woman," I stated. "We had sex; we are lovers, but we've been thrown together by dire misfortune, not out of any common thread," I reminded her. "I don't expect you to have any sense of loyalty to me." That phrase freed her up philosophically. That meant she could fuck me and not feel obliged to consider and discard any future for us because there was no realistic future that socially glued us into any acceptable form. "So I needed a shoulder to cry on and you showed up," she mused. "Brooke, you are independent and strong-willed. The next guy you chose will be your choice," I led her along. "Felix though; Felix is a serious player and he felt the need to add you to his list of conquests. I saw it happening and did nothing. Now I feel like crap for sitting back and ignoring the consequences." "You knew Felix would turn me into a hash mark?" Brooke seemed depressed, not angry. "I knew he was trying to get at me," I confessed. "He didn't accept that you and I aren't an item. A blonde co-worker; a high ranking supervisor actually; treated him like a bug in the communal showers yesterday while keeping close contact with me. Felix had to win. He had to show me he is the top dog." "And I was the prize?" Brooke moped. "Not to me," I whispered. Brooke looked hurt. "You are a woman. While you would look delectable in a big red ribbon, that's not who you are. I don't keep hash marks. I have a thing called a heart cord and it is solely for my use. Each binding represents a liaison; like a Quipus; an Incan memory knot." Brooke really didn't care. It sounded neat, it was romantic and the act was not demeaning to her. I could savor the memory of our encounter as long as I didn't share it with my buddies. She wasn't one of 'those' girls. "You are very intelligent," she murmured seductively. She didn't care if I was the reincarnation of Benjamin Franklin, or some schmo in Afghanistan who made his living digging up (hopefully) spent ordinance of battlefields. Smoking hot, sexy, well-educated debutantes like Brooke could fuck finely-sculpted, 'smart' guys like me. She could delude herself that I was rapidly upwardly mobile. My turn. "Brooke, I don't want to get mixed up about us," I evaded. 'Us'? There was no 'us' and we both knew it. "If I caved in right now, I'm not sure I could forgive myself." Yes I could. "I just want to feel like someone gives a damn about me," Brooke whimpered. Good acting. We wrestled around; me trying to leave, but clearly not wanting to, while she physically enticed me. We ended up, me on top, pinning her wrists to either side of her head. Her legs were trapped between mine. "Make it up to me; please," she pouted. She humped her pelvic bone playfully against my cock. "I know you want to help me out." Good word usage on her part. "Brooke, this isn't going to happen," I gritted my teeth in frustration. Yes, it was going to happen. Her right leg began exerting steady pressure against my 'weak' left leg. It slowly 'surrendered' to her advance. Now she had on leg on the outside. My right leg held out a little longer yet Brooke was persistent. Now she could ground her finely groomed landing strip against my pulsating rod. I really, really wanted to fuck her now. I took my hands off her wrists, turned them into fists and placed the beneath each of her underarms. "Damn you," I cursed her. Brooke was gyrating her crotch all over mine. With her hands released, Brooke could leverage her body up and trap my cockhead between her labia. They were thoroughly soaked with her honey so after my 'capture' she drew more and more of my length in until I was completely incased. Brooke had won! She knew she'd won. Fuck Felix and his hash marks. I didn't care so why should she? I made on last energetic yet futile effort to get away. Oddly, Brooke somehow end on top at the end of my exertion. I must be an awful wrestler; "No you don't," Brooke purred only millimeters from my lips. "You are not getting away." That was Brooke tossing good ole Felix under the emotional bus. Felix the Player? She'd chalk it up to too much to drink and the hype being more than the man. How was this possible? Look at her. She'd thrown a known sexual dynamo down on her bed and was working his shaft over every G-spot in her vagina. Brooke still preferred a long, rough fucking to get her off. At the moment, she need reassurance more. Felix most assuredly made Brooke ride him. He kept her perpendicular to his hips and came up to suckle her teats when he wanted to, or watch them bounce as he lay back. He was great at sex, no doubt. The girl had to scream and howl; forgetting every other male she was ever with and making every other guy she'd be with later an automatic failure. To him, that was how he rated success. This resulted in me keeping Brooke close so I could make quick kisses to her very close lips. She'd playfully pull away; to put me in my place and remind me she was in charge; then she'd initiate the kiss. Our love-making was more rhythmic; less frantic. She was getting close. "Next; next time you fuck Felix," I gasped. "Tell him; " "What makes; makes you think I'd; every sleep with him; again?" Brooke got feisty. "I bet he was good in bed and now that you have his measure," I assured her. "You can take what pleasure you want and leave." Brooke liked that. It was the whole independent woman thing. "Won't you be jealous?" she panted. "I cannot constantly keep up with your sexual desires, Brooke," I grunted. "I've been neglecting Libra." Oh yeah, Libra. The girl she, Brooke, initially set me up with. Her Vassar classmate. "What about Felix," she huffed and huffed. She was real close. "Off-handedly comment that he's developing male pattern baldness," I grinned. "Just to fuck with his head." Felix was gorgeous. Better yet, Felix knew he was gorgeous. Hit him where it hurts. Brooke tried to giggle, but the surge of triumph overcame her and off she went. The problem was I was getting close and I didn't have a condom on. "Brooke," I inhaled deeply. She'd come to rest on my chest. "I'm about to; " "Oh," she sighed happily. She reversed to the side as she slithered down my body. My cock went down her throat and I started petting her flank. Brooke wasn't the very best, but, man o man, she was going to town on my dick. There was no doubt in my mind that her vaginal secretions didn't bother her. I had to rush the experience because if I was late to work, Constanza make me stand beside the targets while she shot at them. If she was really pissed, she'd have me hold up targets in front me instead. I shot off, Brooke caught it all in her mouth then spit it into two tissues before tossing them in the trash. I caught her look. Trent and now Felix made her swallow. I didn't care; which was yet another choice Brooke was free to make when making love to me. I jumped her. We had a little, tickle-nibble fight that ended in some kisses. I had to leave and Brooke made sure she was poised extra-sexy the last time I turned around to say goodnight and cut off the lights. "Ah damn," I moaned before I left. I didn't really like Brooke yet, by choosing to engage her in sex, I had accepted the task of making her happy. That was the reason Felix and I were going to fight. He'd use another human being to strike at me instead striking at me directly. To me, this was more than low character, it was an insult to my lifestyle. Felix should have checked his baggage at the door. Competing for the same lady was fine; even fun. Picking one to punish another; not cool. I had to think about my response as I barely made it in for my Constanza time. Wisely, I left my baggage at the door. These were firearms we were dealing with; a danger to me and the people around me. I was in my biking outfit today. More looks. The decision was that I'd go for my Glock-22, a 38 Ruger LCR back-up, a South Korean-made shotgun that looked like an M-16 and a very unhealthy looking device called a Heckler and Koch UMP 40 (which I had never even heard of). Wait; it got worse. I was scheduled for knife fighting training at 3 p.m.; every day for the foreseeable future. Constanza didn't w
Becoming something of value has its downside. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Live fast, die young and leave a; No. Enjoy life and die when it is your time. Your corpse will the least of your concerns if there really is an Afterlife.” (Monday) For some God-unknown reason I was showing up to work at 6 a.m. Monday. I swear, one of these days I'm going to show up to work naked. If asked why, I'll claim that it wasn't in my brilliantly scripted orders. I would then beg forgiveness for 'assuming' I was allowed to breath, or even be conscious. We'd all laugh. Nothing would change. They were never going to give me advance warning of what my latest errand entailed. I don't think it was in them. "You've made to Week Three," Buffy sneered as we entered the garage beneath Havenstone's skyscraper. "I'm flabbergasted." "So am I; flabbergasted that is," I nodded sagely. "I had no idea you knew what flabbergasted meant." Punch. Definitely back to the old Buffy. "You need a haircut," she commented. My phone beeped. I had data packet. I had received them before; just not from this place. I opened it up as we exited the car and made for elevators. "Holy Bat-shit Bat-Bunny!" I gasped. "Hayden's written me a letter." "Really?" Buffy was momentarily non-psychotic. I showed her my screen. Hayden had made an official declaration; something that would be in the records of the Amazons from now until forever. Any and all males of Havenstone; specifically one Cáel Nyilas; were to forthwith and immediately stop spiritually assassinating any and all Amazons and Amazon recruits. Furthermore, I was admonished for murdering Fabiola Dobrani and, under penalty of an unmentioned punishment, I was to publicly rejoice at her resurrection. Life was relentless. Buffy's phone rang. She got the same message I did; as did every freaking Amazon in the building. I didn't think the guys would be getting this memo. "I wonder how the Chicklettes are going to take this," I mused. The doors opened before Buffy could formulate her comeback. Relentless may have not been a strong enough word. Waiting for us in two distinct groups were Constanza with two SD Playboy Bunnies; opposite them was Oneida. Oneida looked; enamored. This wasn't curiosity about what my meat would feel like as it made her weep tears of rapture. This was a weekend binge of watching some of the best received, twenty-something, romantic movies of the past ten years. It was hard for me to decide which group was more divorced from reality; the Amazon man-haters, or the 'Hollywood was real' babe. "I'm going to get a bite to eat," Buffy announced. Entering the garage had completed her bodyguard duties. Oneida had the higher prestige so she came first. "Hi Cáel Nyilas," she stepped up and greeted me. She extended her hand; for me to shake. Amazons clasped forearm to forearm. I greeted her Amazon-style. "It is good to see you again, Oneida of House Arinniti," I replied. She looked upset. "You know who I am," she sighed with disappointment. "Please believe me," I stroked the side of her left cheek to the top of her ear, "had I known Friday, I would have finished up by impaled myself on your spear and cleared up a whole manner of things. Why does it matter to you that I know who you are?" "I; I didn't want to be treated as anyone special," she gazed up at me with innocent eyes. "That's not going to be a problem," I chuckled. "To me, you are nothing but another psycho-bitch that's trying to kill me. You are a black-hearted, soulless creation of Hell and I hate your guts, Oneida." "But you saved my life?" she whimpered. She was a bit more unbalanced than the normal babe employed here. Yay me. "And? See, this is why my description of you and your sisters is so accurate," I smiled while I explained. "I would try to save almost anyone because it is the right thing to do. The only reason saving you was a mistake was that it caused me to fall further into Hayden's favor. Now she's going to expect that shit on a regular basis solely because you are of House Arinniti." "Ah; I like you," Oneida pleaded. "Why?" I asked. "You risked so much for Aya. You made her laugh and smile. You; you acted as if you cared for her; as if you were her own mother," Oneida told me. "Was that a deception too?" "Hmmm; not what I expected," I mused. "Fine, realizing that I was with Aya for her sake and hers alone raises you up a step in my estimations. I'm not being deceptive about how I feel about this place, Oneida. Here, let me prove it." I looked to Constanza. "Constanza, do I hate your guts?" She glared at me. "Constanza, if I thought I could get away with it, would I shove a fragmentation grenade up your ass and pull the pin?" No response. "See," I grinned to the gawking Oneida, "I'm not being deceptive about how I feel about this place. My opinion matters not at all to these women yet they know I'll never act on my hate because of my own, perverse Code of Conduct. I'm not going to run away and I'm not going to stop being me. I'm certainly not going to fall in love with anyone here." "Oh," she muttered. "I have to go to work now. Have a nice day," I turned to Constanza. "Are you my work buddy today?" "Male, come with us," Constanza snapped. Off the four of us walked; right back to the elevator. Down we went, past any level my ID card could have accessed. Devo's Working in the Coal Mine sprang to mind, so I hummed it. I was feeling completely at ease. Constanza stood behind me, while the other two stood at either side, but half a step back so they were right at the edge of my peripheral vision. I felt like a team player; an interregnal part of my imminent demise. The group marched past the Armory. I waved to my old friend, the Kindergarten Cop. She glowered. Amazons were not martinets. They were clean-cut and proud, but vigilance meant much more than a scuff mark on a boot, or a gaze locked on the farther wall. Our trip deposited in yet another room I could never access. I was the first one through the door. I almost froze. For starters, the room was around 15 meters wide and 6 meters deep. In the center of the room was an 8x2meter table. On the table where a wide variety of firearms and ammunition. Automatic pistols, revolvers, shotguns and submachine guns plus multiple clips, or speed-loaders for them all. They hadn't brought me here to murder me with Death by multiple calibers. If they wanted me dead, they would have blown my brains out already then put a gun in my hand in a hopeless attempt to fool Katrina. The number of guns didn't even impress me. The far wall was transparent and through it I could see multiple ladies in sports bras and boy shorts shooting away on a firing range. Holy Mother of God! I was here for weapons training. What the Hell had gone wrong? As I moved deeper into the room, one SD Femi-Nazi moved down the left wall, the other moved down the right and Constanza remained two steps behind me. "Please clarify my task for this time period, Constanza?" I requested. The look she shot me was lethal. "The weapons present are ones you have stated you have a familiarity with as well as others in common usage here at Havenstone. All the rounds are hollow points, or slugs. Chose which weapons you wish to qualify in, load your clips and inform me when you have completed this part of the assignment." "Thank you," I nodded then set to the task at hand. Constanza clearly had expected me to be a smart ass. I had used learning about guns to get tail. That didn't mean I disrespected the weapons. I picked up several side arms, testing their weight and grips before deciding on the 40 caliber Smith and Wesson Glock 22. I felt the ammo, making sure I wouldn't be running around with blanks this time. This shit was real. Elsa had claimed she'd rather be skinned alive than let any man bear weapons in her Havenstone. Maybe I shouldn't have felt her up, or given that massage to that med tech, or stripped in the elevator. I was a really, truly naughty boy. Most women spank naughty boys. My tormentors tend to fuck with my mind because, ya know, it's harder to defend against that crap. Also, there is not a hand lotion made that will soothe the ravaged psyche. I began loading the clips. "Is that the only one you are taking?" Constanza eventually broke down and asked. "I don't want to waste your time," I replied. "This is my favorite pistol. I've shot 22, 38, 9 mm, and 45, but I'm most comfortable with this one. Maybe later I can work with the shotguns. I haven't a clue how to handle anything else." I could see it in her eyes; 'damn him; he's making sense.' There was one final way I could fuck up. I didn't. I knew firearms etiquette. Don't load your gun before taking your station at the range. Sure, all the crazy chicks could do it, but that was part of their jobs; killing things. I was a novice. I picked out some ear protection and an adequate hip holster in case Constanza wanted me to fire from the draw. I was clearly not making her day by not screwing up. "This way," she barked. She accessed the door leading to the range and out we stepped. All around, the firing slowly died. For each of the women, there was a second of disbelief followed by several more seconds of outrage. Lust was where the emotional landslide ended. I was 'That' guy. I wasn't something they could codify. I made meaningful, defiant eye contact, I dressed to impress, and I was known to be courageous. Having Hayden decide that she wanted to mate with me didn't hurt my appeal one bit. I could already tell they were figuring out where to shoot me so that I could still have sex an hour later. I was a man in Havenstone with a gun after all. I was the equivalent of the Pope in Mecca; it just didn't happen. My booth was nice and comfy. After placing my gear on the table, "What do I do next?" "Ear guards; check weapon; load, chamber, announce your preparation to fire; fire as quickly and accurately as possible. Reload and fire until you have uses all rounds," she commanded. Hmm; six meters. Standard human-scored target. I hadn't done this in a year. I shook my limbs out to get ready for the shock and recoil then steadied my breathing. Fifteen rounds, starting at the ready stance. "Ready," I pronounced. "Begin," was Constanza's muffled command. The report of the first shot, the sting of the recoil, the pull on the arm and the shell ejecting; all of those rolled over me before I could count. I almost missed the automatic slide staying open. Down went the old magazine even as my left hand retrieved and leveraged the next one in. A problem presented itself. The girl who first taught me was pretty good; in the 'if you couldn't find the prerequisite number of bullet holes in the target, everyone assumed the missing bullet had passed through one of the previous penetrations' kind of way. I was pretty lucky. She took a red hot poker to me and was thankfully far less accurate. She was so incredibly beautiful; so furious with me, naked and chasing me around a cabin lit solely by the fireplace, with that firebrand in her hand. Maybe it was wrong of me to take her English professor up to the girl's cabin for a sexual rendezvous; or stick the professor in the closet when the poor lady absolutely had go to the bathroom. Or fucked the girl on her bear skin rug until the professor had to come out of said closet before she urinated. I know; I'm an idiot. Fifteen bullets into the first target had made a mess of it. Since there was no one in either station around me, I started shooting at the target to the left. I put the last magazine into the one on the right. It took me well over thirty seconds to get all 45 shots off, but I did it. "Done," I stated as I put the gun down and took a half-step back. "Do you shoot pistols a lot?" one of my other guards asked in amazement. They had undoubtedly seen better speed and marksmanship. It was their cosmically low opinion of me that made my effort so impossible to believe. "No, I'm a Natural Born Killer," I grinned at the three of them. "Males are arrogant and take things for granted. They are sloppy," Constanza sneered. "It never fails to surprise me that you don't accept that your ancestors were some of the toughest bitches to ever walk the planet," I muttered. "What does that mean?" Constanza growled. "Warriors so tough they are remembered thousands of years later and your founders escaped with their lives; as opposed to all those Trojans, Hittites and Lydians who ended up decorating graves with their bones," I glared back. "What I mean is; why does me having a weapon really bother you? I'm am totally out-numbered, out-classed and out-gunned." "I don't want to die. I'm definitely not suicidal. I'll even take bullets, arrows and blades for you people," I snarled. "Quite frankly, all of this paranoia is really starting to get on my nerves, so fucking Cut it out!" "You do not tell us what to do," Constanza ground out. She'd grabbed my chin with one hand. "I'll keep that in mind next time an Amazon's life is in danger and a simply warning from me could save their life. Be assured I'll put your directive down for the reason they croaked," I countered. "If it was up to me, you would be killed for your insolence," she growled. "Does it ever occur to you it is the other way around?" I touched her wrist. "What?" Constanza was both irate and uncertain. "You are where you are because you have a habit of making poor decision on a strategic level," I explained. Apparently I wanted to die. "Why does anyone like you?" Constanza muttered. "Like me? Most people who know me, hate me; like you. The difference is they get to know me first then they hate me. You haven't gotten the full Cáel experience yet. You hate me on a purely generic level. Real hate comes from knowing me," I grinned. Like so much that comes from my lips, that was a lie. To be truthful, most of the women I had wronged over the past four years forgave me; eventually. Most of them figured out that I hadn't cheated on them; I cheated on EVERY girl I was with, but one; my mentor. She was the one who tossed me out among the female population in the first place. Some ladies did hold a grudge. There is one chick who burns me in effigy every year on the date of our break up. I should have known better. It was my freshman year and she was a Psychology teaching assistant. Most psych majors are wacko; more wacko than most pissed of women, I have learned from experience. I'll still date them. I also take more care about what I eat and drink around them too. "I'm glad to know you will be gone soon," she seethed then removed her hand from my chin. "Constanza, you really need to stop trusting me so much," I chuckled. "I don't trust you at all," she countered. "But you are taking my word for it that women hate me," I snickered. "More importantly, you are ignoring the facts. The majority of the women at Havenstone who like me, do so for reasons totally devoid of any intimacy. We both know I can be a jerk. I'm being a jerk right now; to you. What separates us is that I have no doubt that if you were in danger, I would come to your aid. That is the kind of person I am," I related calmly. "That would never happen," Constanza insisted. "I don't care what you think," I shot back. "I don't make decisions based on your whimsy. I follow my leadership. I know I'm loyal. Now, can we please get back to the reason we are all here?" The scoring indicated that I was so lucky that girl came at me with the poker. I missed six shots out of 45, which I thought was awesome. I even managed to badly tear up the chests of the front and left targets. The target on the right was still 'dead', but he could be buried in a tuxedo. I had one head shot; it wasn't on purpose. We went back to the gun room, reloaded my Glock, a 38 Colt and a Mossberg shotgun. One guard went with me while Constanza and the second guard scored my first round. Back in the firing lane, I lost all firearms ability what so ever. I was saved by three shooters who volunteered to help. See how easy that was? They helped me with my stances, reload techniques and argued the merits of hip holster, ankle holsters and shoulder holsters. To reciprocate their hospitality, I stripped off my annoying jacket, tie, shirt and undershirt. We got into a discussion of spent rounds bouncing around and maybe scaring the shooter. For the Amazons, it was training to ignore painful distractions. I stopped; leveled by an epic brainstorm; and fired off an order to Executive Services; care of Daphne. "What are you doing?" one of the new lethality-engines asked, somewhat piqued. "Oh, I have to celebrate Fabiola's resurrection; Hayden's orders; and that is going to require supernatural aids," I replied. I was back on track in their eyes. "What was it like to feel the strength of the Ancestors flow through you?" the second one whispered. This Ancestors and Goddess crap; mysticism was real to them. I've never claimed to be a deity though I've insinuated that I was the blood descendant of the Goddess Ishtar; reference the Wiccan Priestess; and her circle of naked female celebrants. The answer, not a total lie, was pure Amazon. "I didn't feel anything," I could sense their disappointment. "You know, all I felt was the spear and nothing else. Absolutely nothing else mattered. All other burdens and pains were lifted from me so I could devote myself entirely to the task at hand; hold the spear aloft." They ate it up because the 'stillness' was at their core of martial mystique. Bushido had it too except they called it 'No Mind', or something like that. To be honest, I had come by that state of being through sex. My focus narrowed down to my partner and all of her actions and reactions. For a lowly male, like me, to possess that quality must have been divine intervention. "You did a wonderful thing; channeling the Ancestors that way," the third stated. "Oneida is precious to the Host." "I beg to differ," I regarded her with a quirky smirk. "Every life is precious. When you start weighing a person's life before you chose to save it, you have lost much more than that split second; you have lost a piece of your soul." Oh look. I was lecturing them and they didn't like it. "Try looking at it from my viewpoint for a second," I knew they couldn't. "I'm a lowly male caught up in your fiendish experiment. I don't know who any of you are beyond the reality that you would casually harm, or even kill me for any number of reasons." "You clearly think I should cower and cow-tow to your whims and wishes," I took in their negative reactions. "I'm not. That's not me. Instead, I'm going to run errands, learn to fight, laugh, play and have a great time. If it matters; I know it doesn't to you; I am Cáel Nyilas, son of Ferko, son of Árpád of the Magyar. 'Where there is Valor, there is Hope'," I added. That wasn't my family motto. We were from poor, immigrant stock. My grandparents spoke Hungarian. I knew a little of it, just not enough to be considered fluent. I knew some Vlach (Romanian) too. When your neighbors are screaming insults at you, it pays to know exactly what they are saying. Again, I'm not fluent in Vlach, but I could get in a bar fight over what I did know. "Your lineage is inconsequential," Constanza snapped. She'd come back; yippee! "How did I do, Jefe?" I beamed happiness her way. "I hate you," she said through clenched teeth. I must have done better than I thought. "Well, that's good. Maybe, under your instruction, I'll almost be a match for the other fine ladies down here one day in the distant future," I nodded happily. "That your heart still beats is an insult to everything I stand for," Constanza spat. "I'm cool with that in the same way I'm cool ignoring this whole 'blood prestige' thing. You gals aren't respecting mine and you certainly aren't explaining your rules to me, so I'm opting out of this whole 'my old lady was better at dodging arrows than yours'." "You should not insult us this way," my closet, newest gun-buddy cautioned me. "I agree. Do you even know who the Magyar are?" I inquired. "No," she shrugged. "Go find out and then we can talk," I grinned. "Until then, you are disrespecting the aim of a sniper you don't even know exists yet is stalking you." As they were struggling to figure that out, I groaned. "You are insulting my people without knowledge of who they are. You are asking me to show respect to your people without explaining to me why. I'm sure they were wonderful, fucking women, but I don't know anything about them," I related. "If you want blind obedience, go have fun with sterility," I smirked. "I've got better and more far-sighted women I'd rather be with." "Most likely you will be milked of your seed, joined with our eggs thus creating the next generation of the host," the third girl got all riled-up. Sex. "Man," I laughed. "Am I the only one here to have figured out that I, and the other new male hires, aren't the only ones being tested? Really? Come on. If Katrina wanted to train me to use a gun, she could have sent me with Desiree to a private gun range and handled this stuff off-site. No. She had to put me here; with all of you." All those smug, superior, horny chicks just realized they'd taken a philosophical snap-kick to the cranium. Tested? Amazons were tested all the fucking time. It was their culture to keep them fit, firm and alert. Best of all, the male had to be the one to bring this to their attention. I wrapped my arm around the waist of the closest Amazon and pulled her groin to my hip. "That's okay though. I'm in this for all of you," I murmured while looking deep into her eyes; as if we were the only two people in the world. "With your aid, I think we can do this; make it work. Don't you?" She nodded. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Shotguns, pistol-grip shotguns and an MP-5 joined my list of weapons I knew the basics of afterwards. Once more, I was rendered even more attractive by the fact that I could hit a man-sized target at 6 meters with a gun I had only then picked up. I had been joking about the whole 'natural born killer' comeback. I wasn't convinced that my ancestor's ability to fight all their neighbors, sometimes all at the same time, made me kick-ass. Frankly, my people had lost wars to every European empire of the middle ages and modern times. You just couldn't keep us down. Maybe resistance was genetically based. That was crazy talk; but Grandpa was a tough SOB, as was my Dad, now that I thought about it. Gramps Old Man died fighting the Russians in world war two, which was why he fled his homeland as a child. Mom's people; they were Irish; the Irish, when not fighting for their own homeland, were fighting for some else's. Mom didn't get the time to teach me much, but I do recall this: The greatest lie the Irish ever tell is that they only hate the English. The Irish hate anyone they can get their hands on, even other Irish. If you don't believe that, look at every ethnic neighborhood in the US that border an Irish enclave. They fight with them all. I got my twisted sense of humor from my Mom. I miss her so. Knowing Mom, she wouldn't be ashamed of my infidelities. She'd probably say 'he's test-driving until he finds the one that can keep him in line'. I hoped she wouldn't be ashamed of me. My time was up. I had to go to Katrina's office. Constanza banished me with a grumpy face and a dismissive wave of the hand. The chick I had put on my hip volunteered/elbowed her way to showing me out. My ID card wouldn't open any stairwell, or elevator. She felt comfortable walking around in her underwear, plus a shoulder holstered 10 mm. Ten steps out, from her left, I snaked my hand around her back to her right hip. She looked to me and smiled. "Can you give me some advice?" I inquired. "I'll try," she hedged. "Well, you are clearly in excellent physical condition. I've been trying to put together a regimen that will get my left thigh in shape," I started. She nodded. "I've a quadriceps exercise in mind, but I'm unsure about one for the gluts," I mused. She looked uncertain. I moved my hand off her hip, over to her left hand then placed her hand force on my left ass. We were now really close. "I'm afraid of losing my muscle tone. Can you help?" "Umm;” she hesitated. "I could think of a few things." She worked herself up to giving my ass a good squeeze. This was not the first male ass she'd handled yet it was most likely the firmest and most sexually promising one she'd felt. Promising something she couldn't quite envision but felt deep within her loins. She dispensed advice. I nodded appreciatively. When I asked for some kind of confirmation, she kindly put my hand on her ass which I promptly began squeezing. Like shooting fish in a barrel. We were comparing stomach and shoulder techniques on the elevator. Her name was Naomi and she was with the Security Detail and a member of House Rajah; ally of House Arinniti. Sweet! Like clockwork, Brielle and her buddy joined me in the elevator on the ground floor. They had to know somebody to track me this well. Me shirtless with an Amazon in her undies. It must be Monday morning. "This is new," Brielle commented. "Good morning, Naomi. Forget something?" "I'm on the job," Naomi retorted. It was the whole 'going without clothes' thing. "Are you protecting a bare-chested Cáel from us, or us from a bare-chested Cáel?" her companion joked. Naomi's mouth opened then shut. "I cannot talk about it. Neither one of us can," Naomi declared with authority. "That's right, Ladies," I nodded. "What happens in the laundry room, stays in the laundry room." All those who felt I'd gone to the laundry room, raise your hands. No takers. "I smell gunpowder residue," Brielle commented after she took a close whiff. "The Dominicans, Latin Kings, and the Redneck Posse have all started fighting over that little block of paradise I call home," I sighed regretfully. Silence. "Redneck Posse? That's not one I've heard of before," Naomi commented. Here we go! "Oh yeah," I looked contemplative. "Ten years ago, several linguists studying Appalachian dialects paid for some native speakers to come to the city to help in their research. The hillbillies got paid, got jobs and brought their families down." "When the grant money for the study ran out, the bumpkins had to find another way to support their kin that their minimum wage jobs couldn't providing. Enter the Redneck Posse. Guns, meth, moonshine; they do it all. They are kind of like Afghan tribesmen except instead of being half a world away by sea, or air, they are a four, or five, hour drive down the interstate," I concluded. The three women exchanged confused looks. The doors opened on my floor. "Oh my Goddess!" Brielle exclaimed. "That's almost possible to believe." I winked and left. "You mean that was a lie too?" Naomi gasped. The doors shut on that conversation as I swept through the office. I had 90 seconds to spare. Only Dora wasn't here yet, but there was a pile of boxes on my desk. They were all looking at me as if I'd just stepped out of a pool, or a French cologne commercial. I set my clothing and valise on my tiny, now over-stacked, desk then joined the line-up. "Good morning Cáel," Katrina looked me up and down. "I certainly hope it will be. Good morning to you too, Katrina," I beamed. Pause. "Forgetting something?" Katrina prodded. I sniffed the air. I didn't sense it. "Yes Ma'am, Katrina. I'm missing one thing. I hope it gets here soon," I confirmed. Pause. "Very well, let's get started," Katrina began. Fabiola lost it. "What! He doesn't have a shirt, tie, or jacket on. As far as we know, he's not even wearing underwear," she screeched. "Cáel, is your attire, or lack thereof, necessary for the performance of your duties?" Katrina politely inquired. "Yes it is Katrina," I nodded. "Very well;” Katrina started over. "What possible reason could you have for being half dressed," Fabiola ranted. "Are you going to cover yourself with oil and slither down the stairs like the snake you are?" No one said anything for a while. The rest of the 'new hires' were coming around to the fact that Katrina and I were mocking Fabiola. Otherwise, Katrina would have shut her down. I held up my hand. "Yes Cáel," Katrina acknowledged me, "despite the meeting having already begun and not being directly addressed by me, you may speak." Slap! "Fabiola, I find your desire to see me oiled up a bit perplexing," I grinned in her direction. "I would like to point out, despite the evidence you have presented today, I am not an idiot and our boss; Katrina; is not a fool. Hate me to your heart's content, but don't insult Katrina by thinking she doesn't already know what I'm up to." "She does not explain herself to me, or you, and I'm pretty sure even Hayden gets an edited view of what goes on here in Executive Services. I don't know and I don't care. That's not in my job description and I'm already way out of bounds as it is," I said. "For your sake and your sake alone, I will tell you why I'm am dressed the way I am today." "It is part of your ritual apology," Violet blurted. "It's obvious. This has to do with what Hayden told him to do." That wasn't truly fair to Fabiola. The rest of the ladies had been rushing around getting the items I decided I needed for my public apology. Dora came bolting in right then. "I'm sorry I'm late, Katrina," she panted. "Did I miss anything?" "No," Katrina returned events to their proper order. "First off, for today, I'll start with Cáel's work review for Friday. I never thought I would say this about his on-the-clock performance. Cáel, your work output on Friday was stellar. There, I said it. Next; " That would have been a far greater treasure had that been my work report instead of Aya's. Everyone else did well, save Tigger. She had forgotten a security sequence and had half a floor locked down for 15 minutes. At the conclusion, Buffy came in, slammed a flimsy, but aromatic, box into my chest then stormed away. "Cáel?" Katrina questioned. "Yes. Thank you," I then turned to Fabiola. "Do you wish to have the ceremony here, or out on the main floor of Executive Services?" "I; what are you going to do?" Fabiola grew suspicious. "This is a trick to make me look foolish again." "Fabiola, it is Hayden's wish you hear him out," Paula spoke. "He's troublesome, not stupid. I don't think he's stupid enough to defy Hayden on this." "Swear to me you are not going to make me look bad," Fabiola stared at me. "What do I possess that you believe is valuable?" I countered. She had to think about that. It couldn't be Aya. Fabiola was stumped. She had been so busy looking down her fine Roman nose at me, she had neglected to notice everything I had done and said. "Your mentor," Daphne offered. "She has forbidden me to see her again, but thank you," I winked at Daphne. A quick list of less than helpful suggestions followed. It turned out the only thing I valued was my freedom and I couldn't give that up to Fabiola because that decision lay with Katrina. I would rather defy Hayden than give up sex, I lied continuously for little, or no reason. Fabiola wasn't looking for Lent, she wanted something concrete. It simply didn't exist. Out we went with a very distraught Fabiola and me with a bunch of small boxes. I didn't worry about expensing all this crap. I wasn't spending my own money anyway. I had Fabiola stand in the largest open area ES had. Even people who only had business on this floor were joining the growing body of my co-workers here to witness the spectacle. Three small brass bowels and one small oil lamp went to the four compass points; I even had a compass. I put sand in one, water in another and dry ice in the third. I lit the lamp. "This symbols me calling the four corners of Terra to bear witness: Earth, Air, Fire and Water," I explained. Next I wrote down Fabiola's name on a slip of paper in Old Kingdom Hittite. I burned it. Fabiola frowned. She was the only one. I dropped the ashes into a glass of water. "With this, I take back my curse. I swallow it, thus swallowing my words," I explained to Fabiola. I drank the whole thing. That accomplished, I pulled a small silver owl out of an unopened box to a series of murmurs. "This is a gift to your house. Minerva (the Roman Athena) is your patron Goddess. I do honor to her for bringing you back." I handed her the owl. Her expression told me she was still waiting for the trap to be sprung on her. I wrote out my name, in Magyar then held it up to Fabiola. "This is my name, Cáel Nyilas, in my native tongue," I told her. I burned it, ground up the ashes with my fingers. With a little bit of coordinated effort, I drew the word 'forgiveness' in Old Kingdom Hittite over my heart. The last box. It was Dobos Tortas, a sweet treat from my native land; Hungary, not Chicago. "Please accept this gift as a symbol of my apology and my desire to seek your forgiveness," I looked into Fabiola's eyes. The weight came crushing down on her. Virtually all the women around her wanted me to be forgiven. Not because they hated her. Most barely knew her; or me. It was the ceremony. Simple, relatively quick yet individualized by the giving of gifts designed for each participant. Deep in her twisted little soul, Fabiola still expected a trap, trick, or joke at her expense. She probably thought the 'cookies' were poisoned. "I forgive you," Fabiola stated. She put her hand on my shoulder. "Share a treat with me." I even let her pick out the one to stick in my mouth. Maybe she thought I had the antidote, or maybe she decided I was on the up-and-up. The crowd of Amazons made happy, communal noises and we all parted as friends; okay, friends and their dancing bear; me. Katrina snuck up on me as a handful of woman thanked me for the insightful ceremony. I told them they were welcome while neglecting to inform them that I made all of that up. Part of it was Wiccan. Part was some 1960's Italian movie I'd seen. A few things I pulled out of my ass, like normal. "Put on your clothes," Katrina handed me my things. "You did well. I am sure Hayden will be equally pleased." "No problem," I looked at her appreciatively. I felt a cerebral connection evolving between us. "Put on your shirt before I start licking your nipples," Katrina demanded. Damn it. Wait, things got better. As I looked away from Katrina and started getting dressed, Buffy appeared before me. I bet I could have melted an ice cap with the head of steam she'd built up. "Do you like dressing as a male stripper? Do you like women drooling all over you?" Buffy sizzled. "No; yes," I responded. "I hate you," she snapped. "I admire the fact that you can pull off the lead in Madame Butterfly," I bantered back. "Let's get to work," Buffy growled. Off we went. (Elsa Round Three) "Hello Stanica," Buffy greeted the SD guard at the gym facility door. That was new. Normally it was a card-swipe and in you went. Buffy and I were dressed for a workout; per orders. "Full-bloods only," Stanica stopped Buffy. Ah, racism was raising its ugly head. "How am I supposed to get in?" I countered. This appointment was in our queue for 11 a.m. "You have been summoned," Stanica clarified. "Cool; I'll be back in 70 days. Good job Chuckles," I grinned. "You have been summoned," she threatened with a great deal more menace. "He works for me today," Buffy yawned. "That means he goes where I go. Cáel doesn't have a queue today, I do. He's my intern. If you won't let me in, then he doesn't go in. Let's go Cáel." Stanica grabbed my arm. "He goes in. You stay," she insisted. "Cáel; resist," Buffy ordered. To Stanica, "Knock yourself out." Stanica briefly tried to move me. Then she went for some kind of control-hold/lock. Brazilian jujitsu, Baby. It is not some kind of 'super' martial art. As far as I knew, none of them were. If you were trying to break, or establish physical control over another person, it was pretty spectacular though. Along with the Amazon 'house' style, she knew something akin to Krav Maga. Stanica was hampered by her unwillingness to do me serious harm, as was I toward her. The difference was, all I had to do was stay in the hallway, while Stanica had to get me through the doors. The stalemate was broken by two fresh full-bloods coming from the changing room to the facilities. "Sisters, assist me," Stanica called out. "Help me wrestle him to the ground without undo damage." They came forward and jumped me. "Are you on official Havenstone business?" Buffy politely inquired as they dog piled on me. "Shut up," Stanica yelled. "Failing to adequately explain the situation," Buffy quick drew her pistol and pressed it to the temple of one of the two new Amazons, "informs me you are willingly interfering in official Executive Services business." "By all means, give me an excuse to file an incident report," Buffy grinned feral. "Do it and you die, 'Lost Blood' (Old Kingdom Hittite)," the threatened woman responded. "Boss, may I suggest an alternative?" I ground up. They had me pressed down in the hall. "I'm willing to accept you were hired for your intelligence," Buffy allowed. "Trust me. I got this," I snickered. Buffy didn't trust me, yet she knew my tone well. Buffy holstered her weapon and stood back. "This isn't over, Buffy," the Amazon she'd pulled down on snapped. "Go for it," Buffy chuckled. "You are running off with Katrina's male. I was trying to assert her rights and you have defied her. I gleefully await her judgment." The woman snarled then grunted as my three captures pulled me up. Buffy was on her phone, typing away a text when the women realized my feet weren't planted under me. I started to topple over. "Stand up, damn you," Stanica demanded. I looked to Buffy for confirmation of that order. She smiled while indicating nothing. "Stand up," the third Amazon insisted. She backed that up with a jab to my left kidney. Damn, this place was hellishly unlucky for the left side of my body. That did not encourage me to stand. "Fine, we'll drag him in," Stanica changed up. I didn't resist one bit. I acted like dead weight. This scene was made all the more precious by the audience Elsa had gathered for whatever exhibition she had planned for me. The whole sparring area was surrounded by Amazons clearly waiting on me. Most were cross-legged though a few knelt behind the first rank. I could see Elsa, spear in hand, watching those three lugging me in from her position in the Southwest corner of the mats. "What's wrong with him?" Elsa inquired calmly. "He is afraid," Stanica answered. I would have replied, but I knew silence would be far more cutting. See; everyone expect me to have a comeback. My quiet unsettled them. The three unceremoniously dumped me next to the Northeast corner. I lay there. I had noticed two axes about a meter in on the mat. I pulled myself into a position where my ass was resting on my heels. "My Sisters," Elsa began. "There has been some interest in Cáel's two-axe style as well as various theories on how to defeat it. Today, I will display the long spear technique's ability to overcome this problem." "Cáel, pick up the axes and prepare yourself. I will wait until you indicate your readiness," Elsa nodded my way. Very friendly. I looked around a bit, rather bored. "Cáel?" she repeated. I looked at Elsa. "Oh, were you under some delusion that you could tell me what to do, Elsa?" I replied. There was a hush for so many reasons. Elsa being denied, a man denying anything to any of them, and my cavalier, even dismissive attitude toward the Full-blooded assembly. "Under what delusion do you think you can safely defy me?" Elsa smiled shark-like. "Hmmm," I mused, "let me think. You are not Hayden, Katrina, or Buffy; my chain of command. You are not Aya, who I love. You are not acting in my best interest as it relates to Havenstone. Yeah, that should about cover it." "I am a woman of Havenstone and I am giving you, a male, an order. There is no acceptable reason to disobey," Elsa countered. "You are incorrect," I began. The ladies around me didn't like that. "I cannot betray my Amazons. You do not possess the power to force me to disappoint them." "Your Amazons?" A chocolate Amazon with a shaved pate jumped up. "We are not 'yours', filth." "Were you born stupid, or has education made you that way?" I spat back. An ass-whooping was in the offing. "If you came at Hayden, or Katrina, do you think I'd sit idly by and let them fight alone?" I kept at it, though I remained kneeling. "If you threaten any member of Executive Services, or House Epona, make peace with your Ancestors because I will fight, bleed and die for MY Amazons. I've already proved that oath. Your opinion on the matter is less than rat-piss to me." I'm sure arrogance has a use. I haven't found one yet, but I don't ignore the possibility. Chocolate chick grabbed for my hair, ready to slit my throat the moment she tilted my head back. This would have been appropriate if I was one of their old male population. Only total arrogance had kept her from actually listening to the words of defiance coming out of my mouth. I caught her hand, flipped her over and drove the top of her skull into the mat. That shoots a numbing jolt right up the spine, I can tell you from experience. I snatched the knife from her helpless fingers as she finished flipping over, her head closest to me then pressed the blade to her jugular. "Not a single person in this room matters to me. The only person that should matter to you, is me," I stated calmly and quietly. "That being the case, chose your next words carefully and with due consideration of everything I've said before this moment." I was going to die if I killed her. That wouldn't save her life from her own, small, razor-sharp blade. Almost a minute passed. "Cáel, give me my blade," she replied in a rather brave voice. I pulled my hand up, spun the blade around and pressed it into her palm. She slowly sat up and swiveled around until we were face to face, her cross-legged and me, back to my kneeling pose. Her eyes were ice cold. "I was never in any danger, was I?" the woman half-asked, half stated. "Of course not. I would never shame Katrina that way. I'd kill for her. Killing an Amazon to save my own life would not be something she'd allow," I explained as much to the room as the woman. "Don't lie," another Amazon teased me; thankfully. It was Traska Maza; from the Medical Center. "I heard you murdered an Amazon on Friday; end of business." "Yep," I confessed. "Hayden has admonished me from repeating that method of assassination. I swear that if Fabiola keeps calling 'Runners' 'Lost Bloods', I'm going to figure out another way to get her." "The term 'Lost Blood' is the term we use. Accept it, Male," Stanica growled. I had to think about that. I stood up, so I had a good view of the SD bitch. I also had to work up the proper insult. Anything I directed at Stanica would be useless. I knew their weakness though. "Hey," I addressed my African opponent. "Stanica's mother mated with her own paternal male to give birth to Stanica. I read it in an inner-office e-mail." Total lie, but the 'lie' wasn't mine. It was from an unnamed Amazon and it insulted her bloodline, something she truly valued. I glared at Stanica. "That is why it is insulting. In a blood-conscious culture, you are rubbing their noses in a fact beyond their control." "I agree," Oneida spoke up. "'Lost Bloods' is insulting. I had never questioned that before. 'Runners is a better term. I will ask my house to use it from now on." "That's not going to save him," Stanica seethed. "Do you want to know where the memo came from?" I inquired of Stanica. "There is no memo," Stanica snapped. I shrugged. "Why would I make it up? Such a deadly insult?" I pressed the point. Oh, I had made it up because I hate bigotry, especially when it is aimed at someone who was almost a friend. "Who?" she glared. "I don't know, but I know who does," I offered. "She's right outside that door," I pointed to the main entrance. Now, do people recall that divide I was talking about way back in Chapter Two? It worked both ways. Full-bloods were aware of the oppression they exerted on their 'Lost Blood/Runner' sisters. Creeping around in the back of some of their minds was the worry that those newcomers resented their superiors. Had the two groups been truly united, Stanica wouldn't have given my bluff a second glance. Here was the backlash of being a bigot; the idea that those you hated, hating you right back. In short order, Buffy was by my side and listening to Stanica's grievance. Finally we were speaking English again. "Man, Desiree is going to be so sorry she missed this," Buffy looked down at me. I was kneeling again so she was able to appear lofty and run her hand through my hair the way she liked to do when she was extra horny for me. I also liked the way her boobs nearly obscured her face from my view. Very nice tits. "Stanica, he lied to you," Buffy revealed. "I knew it! Stand aside, I'm going to gut the little shit," Stanica started to come at me. "No you don't," Buffy interposed herself. "See, Cáel was following his instructions and he used your idiocy against you, Dumbass," she gloated to Stanica. "He was ordered to serve at my side today, so that is what he did. Who in the right mind would commit anything about blood prestige to an office e-mail anyway? It wasn't even up to his normally superb level of deception." "Then he should be punished for lying to me," Stanica seethed. "I told him to," Buffy wasn't even lying. She'd approved my plan the moment she agreed to 'trust me'. "When?" Elsa requested. She was coming our way. Buffy looked over her shoulder. "Funny, you don't look like Katrina, Elsa," Buffy guffawed. "Make an official request through the proper channels. You don't get to tell me what to do." "Do we need to clarify our positions?" Elsa menaced. I jumped up and took up a boxing stance. With Stanica on one side, Elsa on the other and the preference of Amazons to gang up on opponents, I had to have her back. "Kneel," Buffy tapped my shoulder. I knelt. "Honestly Elsa, Cáel fucked me so hard and long this weekend that even your pettiness doesn't annoy me today. Now, why are we here?" "He's not allowed to have sex," Traska seemed a bit distressed. Me having sex outside the office had never occurred to her apparently. "Strangely, I have all of you to thank for that," Buffy smugly regarded the room. "While you let Constanza and Crewe ambush him then sat back uselessly while he kicked both their asses, gazed on as he refused to take advantage of Constanza once she was clearly incapable of resisting and let her put a blade to his throat, he found a way to legally sleep with me." "Afraid? With a blade to his throat, he couldn't care less about any of you," Buffy regaled them. "Oh, we know you don't care what he thinks; or what I think. Well, welcome to the world you've created. I don't care what you think. Blood Prestige? I'll only give as much respect as I'm given. I am embarrassed I ever thought any of you were better than me." "My prestige is that I volunteered for this lifestyle. I made a choice that no one else in this room ever had the courage to make; to abandon my old life for another, unknown one. From here on out, I'm going to be like Cáel. One of you bitches puts a hand on me, be ready to back it up," Buffy challenged them. Not the best move as far as I could tell. "Be prepared to be put in your place," Elsa grinned. "Go right ahead. Don't get too worked up. There are around a hundred of my fellow; 'Runners' at the door," Buffy smirked. "It is best to end this rebellion right now," the chocolate opponent stood up. "Over what?" I looked up. I hated Buffy making me kneel. "The 'Runners' are doing the exact same tasks you are doing. They want to be awarded respect for that." "This is not your place," the woman stated to me. As an afterthought. "Ngozi." "Thank you," I acknowledged her consideration of giving me her name. "Ha," Buffy snorted. "Oh; rebellion? Let's just say when we realized that (dead word) meant Lost Bloods, we were; unhappy. All this weekend, this petty insult had been spreading out to all our non-Full-blood sisters. Actually, we have come up with two alternatives. One was to approach Hayden with our grievance." "The other was to start calling the rest of you (dead word) (which meant 'Poison Bloods')," Buffy stared down the festering crowd. "After all, we are all fertile and the few children we have been allowed to have are born without defect." Amazons don't threaten often. Normally they simply go straight to the punishment. I was somewhat of an exception for reasons that somehow alluded me. I tried to stand again, but Buffy pushed me back down. Pain was imminent then the muttering began. Around us, small clumps of Full-bloods began pushing for space. That could only mean they were getting ready to fight and since they weren't close to us, they were getting ready to fight their own sisters. I doubted they were enamored with me, or the 'Runner' cause. This was a common sense reaction. They recognized a no-win contest when they saw it. 'Runners' were demanding respect; same recognition for taking the same risks. They weren't even asking for admission into the 'Host'; the true Amazons and their House structure. The tipping points in this protest had been Fabiola and the loyalist opposition led by Helena, the only 'Runner' close enough to my struggle Friday afternoon that could have started it. Remember, the Old Kingdom Hittite language was a closely guarded secret. So secret that Buffy, despite her years of loyal service, hadn't been taught it. There had been decades of small slights that led to this. It wasn't me, except for the definition thing. Fabiola was hardly an aberration. The other female 'new hires' were more the exception than the rule. That was probably why Katrina had chosen them. In her profession; internal and external security; creative thinking and flexibility were as important as blood lines. "Excuse me," a soft voice penetrated the chaos. The noise died down. Tessa Carmichael moved through the crowd to the mat. "Oh, by the Seven Sister Goddesses, of course Cáel Nyilas is here." Then, in English, "Buffy, pardon me but I think this needs my attention." See, a good ass-reaming is done in a target's native language. Tessa went back to Old Kingdom Hittite. "Why are there a 150 sisters outside in the hall milling around?" Tessa began. She held up her hand to truncate the various responses. "Why does it look like you are all preparing for a general melee? Lastly, why are Buffy and Cáel even here? You would think that after his last episode, he'd be avoiding this place." "The 'Lost Bloods' outside are part of a rebellion of their kind, a few of our sisters don't appreciate the threat this poses and; Cáel is here because Elsa invited him here," Ngozi explained. "I'm not exactly sure why Buffy is here?" "Cáel, have you inflicted this building with a histrionic-inducing vapor?" Tessa looked at me with exasperation. I blinked. I had to recall what 'histrionic' meant then I knew what to do. I held up my hand in front of my face, exhaling into it to see if something was 'bad' with my breath. Next, I sniffed my underarms. Lastly, I peeked down my tight shorts to make sure that wasn't the cause. "Nope," I reassured Tessa, "I'm good. I mean, I've been good; this time." "Will miracles never cease," Tessa muttered. The comedy was bleeding the tension and hostility from the room. "Let me try this again. Since top down doesn't work, let's start in the dirt beneath the basement. Cáel, what is going on?" "Okay; give me a second to make this sound reasonable and convincing," I furrowed my brow. "For starters, Buffy and me were working the queue which currently indicated that I was to come here and participate with Elsa in a weapons exhibition," I began. "Buffy became confused by the flickering ceiling lights so I persevered alone. While we waited, Elsa and I engaged in a discussion of corporate etiquette." "The conversation migrated into matters of close combat techniques and mat thickness, which Ngozi assisted with. Clearly satisfied that we were all becoming fast friends, the discussion traveled to Old Kingdom Hittite terminology, background and the ambiguity of some definitions," I continued my literary conjurations. "Buffy discovered she hadn't made me her bitch in the past ten minutes, so hunted me down to this place," I grinned at Buffy. "Since Buffy was hankering for a bit of cuddle time, we were wrapping up the matter of 'Lost Bloods' only being used by total Prom Queen Wannabes while 'Runners' was growing in popularity because it was a word actually used at your people's genesis." Pause. "Was any bit of that the truth?" Tessa looked to Elsa and Ngozi. "No," they both responded. "But, it makes the mess that happened sound far better than the reality," Ngozi added. "That I will agree with," Elsa said. "Buffy," Tessa addressed my boss in English, "the Council will discuss this matter of terminology at the next meeting. Have our sisters outside disperse." "Yes Tessa," Buffy nodded then weaved her way to the entrance. Tessa walked up, patted me on the head as she shook hers. "We really should poison, strangle, stab, shoot and finally throw you off the highest available peak," she smiled warmly at me; psycho. "If you added 'rolling me in a carpet and tossing me in a frozen river' we could call it 'pulling a Rasputin," I grinned back. "I love you," she looked all affectionate. I wanted to cry on the inside; and the outside. "Damn! Now you tell me," I grumbled. "I sent away for a mail-order bride from the Ukraine on Sunday and you know there is no money-back guarantee." "You are enchanting," she chuckled. I wanted to die. "You'll get used to us, I promise." Yes, the head of Human Resources could read my mind. "Tessa, before I get back to Elsa demolishing me, can I ask you something?" I inquired. "Yes." "During that last interview process, you were seriously throwing out the 'let's do it on the table' vibe, weren't you?" I posed. "Very much so," she beamed utter joy. "I was truly impressed that, with your history with woman, you constrained yourself." "If I had come on to you, would I have lost this job opportunity?" I asked. "Oh Goddess no," Tessa laughed. "Someday I should let you read the sheaves and sheaves of transcripts our investigators gathered on your sexual exploits." "That's why you've never encountered anyone from Human Resources in the building. They are forbidden to be alone, or only in the company of other Human Resources employees, with you out of fear they'd rape you," Tessa informed me. "Is he really that good?" Traska asked. "His college years don't read as a triple X rated movie; they read as top shelf erotic fiction," Tessa enlightened the masses. "Oh, Cáel, the nun hopes you're are still seeking spiritual fulfillment." "Cool. How is she doing?" I responded. "She's in Uganda, working at a Catholic school for war orphans," Tessa answered. "You slept with a nun?" Oneida gulped. "Oneida, if there was no intern program, and this wasn't an Evil Empire, I'd never leave this place. I'd move my bed into a spare room, set up a mini-bar and spend every second off the clock seducing each and every one of you," I stated. Even the ones who didn't terribly like me chuckled, snorted, or laughed. "To answer your question: sort of Oneida. I slept with a woman who was about to take Holy Vows, not truly a nun," I confessed. "I've slept with a Wiccan Priestess too, if that matters." "Why do you think you can treat us like those lesser women?" Ngozi looked angry. "You have tits, a vagina, are straight, or bisexual, and between the ages of 18 to 70," I shot right back. "I have no desire to sleep with men, or lesbians. Outside of that, given somewhere between five minutes and five days, I could nail every women in this room. It is not that I'm better than any of you." "I can do it because you all are hopelessly arrogant, thus unable to put forth an effective defense because you don't believe I can seduce you. Add to that, I can figure out what you want in an erotic encounter. End of story," I sighed. "Frankly, having lived lives devoid of romance, you Full-bloods are too easy." I could see Tessa smirking. Not only had I seduced all kinds of women, apparently all of them had been willing to relate those encounters. I'm a great lover and a lousy boyfriend. "We would never submit to your predations," yet another Amazon jumped in. Sex. I told them, they are simply too easy; except Katrina, Tessa and Hayden. They were scary. I'd still sleep with them because I had no common sense. "Hey Lady, if you want to be on top, I'm okay with that," I smiled disarmingly. Plant the idea of erotic positions early. It can be as easy as pushing up against a girl from behind, or a hug. "If I ever consented to have sex with you, you would do what I said," she persisted. "That sounds like fun; 70 more days and its Hunting Season," I winked. I repeat,
With all the fighting and sex, my work reviews should suck. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Saving a life isn't about worthiness. It is about instinct and guts.” (Friday) Since I liked to think that life encouraging me with bruises, punctures, cuts and concussions made me smarter, I had scheduled some eleven o'clock gym time most of the week so to avoid the whole lunch and after-work crowds. Aya and I went to the 'Others' gym, which was nice, but wasn't as complete as the Full/Pure-blood one. Most notable was the lack of weapons. Aya's and my trip to the 'Other' gym on Friday hit a snag. Aya clued in on the fact that I was avoiding the Pure-blood facility. We talked about it. I explained I wasn't a Pure-blood. Her counter-argument was she was and I should confront my fears. Yes, I lost an argument with a nine year old. I have talked a nineteen year old, promise-ring virgin into nameless sex in an airport stall. Aya was an unassailable wall of resolve that dashed all of my ploys into so many useless words. I found myself entering the real 'No Man's Land' twice in less than a week. Not only was I hard-headed, I was also obviously soft-hearted. At the last moment, I imagined I had a reprieve. I didn't have to tell Aya how I got in the first time; grabbing an open door. I could swipe my card, have it rejected and move on to safer pursuits. Sure enough, my card failed. Aya's didn't; mother-puss-bucket! Upon entering, the twenty, or so women in the place looked at me; and Aya. I recognized somebody. It was Constanza, Elsa's chief evil henchwoman. Our eyes met. She smiled in a way that assured me she vividly recalled our last encounter. It should be of no surprise that I insulted her somewhere in the process. It's how I roll. I smiled back at Constanza and gave her a nod before setting up Aya and me for our workout routine. Constanza was not mollified in the slightest. She was patiently waiting; for something. I decided that Aya would be my sole focus and banished the other women from my mind. The munchkin could tell the difference and relayed that to me with her happiness. After twenty minutes, she decided her time with the machines was done and her minutes were better spent resting against, or sitting on, me. My cock was reminding me that it was approaching 36 torturous hours without sex. It was also pointing out that there were thirty available, sexually inquisitive women achingly close. I reminded my penis that being relocated was probably as fun-less as it sounded. That bought me some time. We finished up our sojourn by walking the wall, going over the weapon racks. Mainly we went over the ones various members of her family were proficient with. Aya still had problems with even the most basic ones. The words 'let me help you' spilled out of my mouth. There were two problems; Aya's tiny size and the fact that all the weapons were very dangerous. Even the leaf-shaped short blade was too heavy for her so we ended up screwing around instead. I picked up two Iron Age style axes. The blades were more of a thick wedge than the broad axe heads of medieval fame. They were less effective in delivering damage, compensating somewhat in their reduced weight. I've convinced a Jewish girl to have sex in a synagogue despite me not being Jewish yet this child was twirling me around her pinkie finger. I was entertaining her with some exotic, flamboyant moves wielding two axes while Aya clapped her hands and giggled when I felt a stranger approach me on the sparring mat. I had been hopping around keeping all my weight on my right leg until that moment. I turned to face the woman, putting my left behind me yet while keeping it firmly on the ground. I also drew my axes up, crossing them over my chest, blades pointing past my shoulders. "I have never seen that technique before," she addressed me. That and what followed was all in the Amazon tongue. "It is more of a fantasy creation. I had a love affair with pseudo-archaic movies that always do the crazy, two-weapon stuff so my mentor helped me create this method," I explained. "Has it ever been tested?" she continued. "I am Cáel Nyilas," I answered, "and yes, my mentor preferred using a poleaxe, or a mace/shield combo against me." "Oneida," she seemed amused. "We will see how well you have been tested." "May I request a favor?" I tried to keep my cool. She pulled out one of those damn spears. "Yes," she seemed intrigued. "Can you call someone over to sit with Aya? I don't want her to accidently set foot on the mat," I beseeched. "Drusilla, please aid me," Oneida summoned an observer. The woman had heard my appeal and settled beside the nervous, kneeling Aya. "Cáel, please be careful," Aya pleaded. "Who me?" I chuckled. "I'm impervious to all man-made contrivances." "Every weapon in this room was crafted by women," Oneida snorted. "That would certainly explain my full-body bruising and the hole in my leg," I grinned back. I caught Oneida trying to sneak closer to me. My axes came to a ready position and I charged. I was sure some sort of medic would punish me for this later. She got off two jabs then I was all over her. I knew how to fight a two and a half meter spear. She had no clue how to plot out two incoming weapons with an extra meter of reach. The first time I drove her off the mat. The second time, I got inside her guard and clocked her in the temple with the back end of an axe head. I quickly hopped back three paces, knelt and put my axes on the mat. The rush to get me was stillborn. A few did come to stand over me while two others checked on Oneida who quickly came around. "What happened?" were Oneida's first, shaky words. "He hit you," one of her companions answered. "With what; the Moon?" Oneida mumbled as they helped her up. "My ears are still ringing." "My turn," Constanza announced. She went for a spear, blade, and round leather-covered, wicker shield. "Give Cáel a moment to rest," Aya appealed. "He has been fighting longer." No such luck. I was halfway to exhausted as well. Fighting with two weapons pretty much means just that; twice the fight. Kinetically speaking, I was burning around 80% more calories than my one weapon opponents. I was wielding axes, not fighting sticks after all. In my favor was a deep wellspring of stamina and my Will reinforced by my desire to not upset Aya. What little time I was given wasn't out of charity. A second Amazon was joining the struggle. I could back off, but I felt Constanza would enforce an intense level of groveling solely to grind up Aya emotionally. She didn't hate Aya. Aya was an avenue to really hurt me and we both knew it. For a second, when I hobbled off the mat, there were chuckles. I had fled. That ended as I began retrieving some select weapons from the wall racks. Sword harnesses came in two varieties; belted and shoulder slings. I took two shoulder slings and two more axes. I affixed my two 'spare' axes with leather straps. As I turned to the mat, Constanza had decided to be clever. She and her buddy had closed to within three meters of the edge. They would box me in as soon as my second foot touched down on the mat. "Please back up," I requested. Constanza smiled with supreme confidence. I smiled back. This was going to be dangerous, agonizing and unorthodox; totally me. I began backing up. "Cáel," Aya murmured. "Don't let them hurt you." "Running away?" Constanza sneered. "Aya, wickedness is the expedience of the weak," I nodded her way. "Do you think I can win?" "Of course," Aya sighed happily. "I am by your side." I laughed. I charged. The Amazons did the precisely wrong thing; the stepped up to meet me. You keep thrusting weapons, like spears, aimed at the central part of the body. This allows you to deviate your projection anywhere from the thighs to the face. This does imply you know where the central part of the enemy will be. This was not playschool. Real weapons; real damage; real death. They didn't have to kill me. It didn't mean they wouldn't. I leapt. I didn't leap at them, I leapt over them. Let's not forget I'm pretty freaking strong. My left leg shot-gunned pain straight to the brain but held it together. I sailed over their thrusting spear points, flipped my axes down so that they would impact the mats first. The flat tops of the axe heads impacted the mat and my body rose up and then flipped over them. This gave me an extra meter and a half on my back flip. I turned that maneuver into summersault, giving three more meters of space. I rolled over to my side and rode the momentum to my feet, facing my adversaries. Now they were the ones in the corner of the mat with their enemy pinning them in and I wasn't done yet. With all my might, I hurled my right-handed axe at Constanza's companion. She did exactly what I thought she'd do. She saw the throw halfway in motion and raised her shield up; right where I wanted it. Amazon shields aren't what most people think shields are today. They think medieval knights, or more appropriately, the shields of the Greek hoplites. The Amazons date back 700 years before those Greeks and they weren't heavy infantry anyway. Amazons moved light and fast. Consequently, their shields were light; wicker constructs with layers of leather stretched over the frame. Great for deflecting light weapons; not so great for what I was about to do. The steel axe head shattered the top half of the wicker frame. It saved her life, but now she had this useless object strapped to her arm. It also had the added bonus of knocking her back while Constanza engaged me alone. Her first jab forced me to jump back, but I still was able to draw my first spare axe. My luck with women held up a little longer. The other Amazon hesitated just long enough to remove her shattered shield. Alone with Constanza, I attacked. She thrust, I captured her spear head between my axe handles and yanked her forward. We kicked out simultaneously. Her off-balanced strike brushed past my abused left leg. My right kick hit her shield and knocked her down. Her grip on the spear slipped and I propelled it somewhere behind me. Constanza pulled off a reverse summersaulted while drawing her short blade. A really nice move. Unfortunately, it moved her away from the chick with the spear, who hesitated again. This time she took the thrown axe straight to the head; back end impacting. I didn't want to kill her. Constanza anticipated my next action. It came down to position, distance, and stride length and they all favored me. We raced to the downed companion. My left-handed axes flat side slammed into her forehead, rendering her unconscious, and I kicked her spear off the mat; out of bounds. I slowly backed away from Constanza and readied my second spare axe. "Retire from the field," I panted. I was physically failing fast. "Why should I?" Constanza glared. "You are about to fall over." "Aya won't let me fall," I stared her down. "You couldn't beat me with a companion and a spear, Constanza. Do you really think a shield and sword will work any better." "Let's find out," she charged. I really needed the short breather to recover somewhat. The short Amazon blade was an excellent close-in weapon. I never let her get close enough to use it. Tandem axes allowed me to shred her shield while keeping her at arm's length. My axe bit into her upper left arm right above the elbow. Constanza hissed instead of screaming. She did stagger back. I hopped back three steps, knelt and placed my axes on the mat at my side. "No!" Constanza howled. She came at me while I remained still. Her hand drew back for a killing thrust. I waited. Sparing my life didn't stop her. The looks of her fellow Amazons held back her wrath. They wouldn't stop her from slaughtering me, but that was exactly what it was; a butchery. Two things occurred to me: Aya was showing remarkably better control today than on Saturday, and I figured out a way to sleep with Buffy tonight. Being killed? Nah, worry about the things you have control over. "Constanza, he was instructing me," Oneida stood up. She took up Constanza's discarded spear and stepped toward us. What disturbed the gathering was how Oneida held it; sidewise, not ready for combat. "You do not intimidate me, Oneida," Constanza growled. "You misunderstand," Oneida intoned. "I would do this out of shame and despair." "I will shear my hair, burn it and take myself to the cliffs to die childless," she continued. "I leave whatever contempt you might possess for me to be conveyed to my House when they learn your actions have killed one of their last breeding females. The death of some male will not concern them. My death will. The shame I bear for killing a teacher will certainly interest many of our people." "You wouldn't dare," Constanza scoffed. The spear dropped. Fuck that noise. I snatched the last quarter of the shaft before it hit the ground. No one seemed to understand what to do about that. Apparently my reaction was unique. "Yay!" Aya cheered. "He's the best Daddy ever," she loudly announced to the crowd. "Oneida, my apology, but Katrina has put her faith in me and the New Directive," I adlibbed. "I am here to aid the recovery of your people, not diminish them. For the sake of Katrina's honor, please reconsider." "Cáel Nyilas," Oneida smiled sadly, "this is not a pledge that can be retracted." "Ah; doesn't it only take effect when the weapon hits the ground?" I struggled. "I mean, otherwise dropping the weapon would be pointless; right?" I repeat, apparently this had never come up before. "This is kind of awkward. Can someone take this?" I meant the spear. I was worn to the bone and holding a long spear from one end, with one hand. Quickly calls went out to Hayden as well as a few department heads. "Constanza," one of the Amazons spoke up, "if you attack the male, you will be actively sealing Oneida's Death Pledge. Far fewer of us will understand that." "How is it that you are so damn lucky?" Constanza growled at me. "You are asking this of a man, on his knees before you with your sword at his throat?" I countered. "Lucky isn't you sparing my life. Lucky is me never having heard of this place; Except for Aya. She makes the rest of this hellish experience worthwhile." "Best Daddy ever," Aya chirped. "Hayden is on her way," a different Amazon called out. Already a passel of newcomers were swarming the scene. Truly curious was the group looking mournfully at Oneida. One stepped forward. "Male, do you need something? Water?" she asked. I gave it some thought. "Could you sing?" I requested. "A nice soothing song of hope would be nice." Blink. Like all panicked moments, nothing came to mind for several seconds. Oneida's people rapidly bantered about some names then the questioner began singing. By the third song I was crying and shaking like a leaf. Constanza had fallen back enough to get her arm tended to. Twice Aya had tried to get me, lending me the tiniest bit more strength. Wisely, her minder kept her away from the possible conflict. There was a whole different level of commotion when Hayden arrived this time. "To bear a weapon in my presence is Death, Cáel," Hayden stated. "I apologize for being a disappointing Male," I grunted. "Pass on my regrets to Katrina." "Drop the weapon and you will be spared. You will only be beaten," Hayden gave a hint of a smile. "If I drop it, she dies," I hissed. The ache in my right arm was exceeding that in my left leg. "I'm afraid I will have to decline," I concluded. "If I kill you, the spear will drop and she'll die anyway," Hayden pointed out. "Sucks to be both of us, I guess," I gasped. "Oneida, step on the spear. Push it down," Hayden ordered. Hush. Oneida raised her foot. "You are stepping in the wrong place," I huffed. She looked at me. My eyes flashed to the short side between my grip and my side. "Do you really think you can hold it up?" she questioned. "I know I'll fail if you step anywhere else," I tried to grin. "No matter what happens, you will die," she murmured. "Not my chief concern right now," I grunted. "Hurry." Oneida put her foot on the short end. "It will help your balance if you place a hand on his shoulder," Hayden noted. We both flashed Hayden a shocked look. Oneida stepped on the spear. It trembled and sunk down, barely millimeters off the mat. Her hand came to rest on the crux of my neck and shoulder. I felt my body about to tip over. I was at my limit. I almost missed the gasps whispering around the assembly. Oneida had her body off the ground. Hayden lowered herself so that she could witness there was a distance between the spear and the earth. "The spirits have not heard your pledge, Oneida," Hayden declared as she regained her regal posture. "I suggest you weigh your words with greater care in the future. Retrieve your spear." She turned and started to leave the gym. Oneida dismounted and snatched up her spear. "What of the male?" one of the spectators inquired. I didn't care. I had fallen on my back. "At a moment of such great spiritual significance; the ancestral rejection of a Death Pledge, the action of any one male does not concern me," Hayden remarked coldly. It wasn't praise. It was a 'don't fuck with him'. Around me a cultural conundrum was taking place. Not only could Oneida's house not thank me because I was a male, they couldn't thank me because, by Hayden's decree, there was no life to be saved. Oneida bent over me on one knee. "You really shouldn't be so eager to toss your life away, Cáel," she smiled warmly. I was essentially immobile. "You have the most gorgeous blue-grey eyes," I moaned. "You are thinking about that at a time like this?" she snorted. Her relatives were shockingly amused as well. "No time like the present. Besides, in 75 days you can all go out to some nature preserve and hunt me down with non-lethal weapons. Great way to spend a weekend." I heard an authoritative cough. I looked up from my still prone position to see Katrina. "Cancel that Oneida. I'm about to get relocated to Antarctica where I'll be tasked with teaching penguins how to arm wrestle," I sighed. "Cáel, why do you think I'd be so nice to you after all the hell you cause me on a daily basis?" Katrina looked all menacing. "You recall how much I like winter sports?" I pleaded. "Hey; wait. I was good on Friday. Wasn't I good on Friday?" "I don't recall you having a good day yet, but I may double check. Can you stand?" Katrina asked. "Is that a question, or veiled order?" I muttered. "If the former; no. If that latter, I'll die trying." Using a combination of my right leg and left arm, I managed to struggle my way upright. By that time, Aya had circled the practice mat and was at Katrina's side. "He was very brave," Aya insisted. One of Oneida's senior women coughed. "Nothing happened so nothing has changed," Katrina stated. It was a lie and both sides knew it. It was the whole loyalty/martial valor thing. Inside their closed little minds a balancing act had taken place; my worthlessness as a male against Oneida's value to her people. Aya was easy to discount as she was of Katrina's house. I had no clue who Oneida was yet still rallied to her when she desperately needed help; Hayden's obfuscation be damned. Yeah, Oneida had been young and foolish. Her challenge had been given to make Constanza back off. When Constanza called her bluff, pride took over. Oneida had been foolhardy and overly status conscious. Constanza had played Russian roulette with their House's future and almost 'won'. She'd be wise to avoid darkened corridors for the next few weeks too. There was not only Oneida's house but the houses allied to it to worry about despite Hayden's expunging of the official record. For me, it was time to be dragged over to my cute doctor friend. I had been slashed twice by the spears during my jump and not noticed it; adrenaline no doubt. "Congratulations, you and Aya are forbidden to work. I thought keeping you in the building would be safer. I'm mature enough to admit I was wrong," Katrina conceded. "No place is safe for you, or from you. I'm sending you home, under guard." "Can I choose Buffy?" I perked up. Katrina arched an eyebrow. "I also need something," I kept slaloming down toward Hell. "I need a six hour dispensation from you on the whole sex thing with employees." "Oh Goddess," Katrina laughed. "What part of me wanting you to stay alive have you missed?" "Are you going to sleep with my Mommy now?" Aya grinned. "No," Katrina answered for me, "he's going to play with Buffy." Right on the money. One scary-smart woman without a doubt. "Best of all, I'll let you assign Buffy to be your security for the night and you can tell her the good news when you get home. Aya, that means Cáel does, not you." "Yes Aunt Katrina," Aya moaped. She wanted me to be banging Caitlyn; her Momma. We would make love, Caitlyn would take me as her mate and I'd be Aya's Daddy for real. She'd kill me a month later for my twelfth indiscretion. I'm not a fortuneteller. I'm a bookie and I knew the odds of me staying faithful were a sucker's bet. The only questions were how many and with which one Caitlyn would kill me with. I wasn't sure how to break that reality to Aya. After getting bandaged/tortured my doctor, cleaned up and redressed, I managed to survive the rest of the day without catastrophe. (Later) "Cáel, do you realize that you've been wounded more than most Security Detail recruits do during their basic training?" Violet teased me. Buffy was too furious for coherent speech. "It isn't his fault, Buffy," Aya pleaded. "He wasn't seducing a woman, or anything like that. Oneida tried to sex him up all on her own." Huh? "Constanza's nipples were very aroused and we all know what she wanted." I really was worrying about the twisted sexual education Aya was getting. She knew the terms, but was missing out on the complete meaning of what she was saying. "Oneida? Who the hell is Oneida?" Buffy growled. "She's one of the new hires with Acquisitions," Violet answered. Brian Fung's group. "What were you making eyes at her for?" Buffy snarled possessively. "He didn't," Katrina swept into the office. "She made a Death Pledge and Cáel, acting as a vessel for our Ancestors, refused it; so the youngest breeding female in House Arinniti gets to keep living." I grunted because I knew who Arinniti was, or had been. "Vessels for the Ancestors?" Violet gasped. "Arinniti; that name rings a bell," Buffy mumbled. "She's one of the twenty founding bloodlines," Aya gladly provided. Katrina took her seat behind her desk and regarded me with something between amusement, annoyance, and pride. Oh, and sex. "Violet, Cáel held a weapon in the presence of Hayden; the spear that Oneida had dropped to seal her pledge. If he was a male acting alone, he would have to be killed. Is that the course of action you wish to recommend to the High Priestess?" Katrina suggested. "Ancestors work for me," Violet gulped. "You can't take back a Death Pledge," Buffy turned to Katrina. "It is a Death Pledge." "It appears you can if Cáel is in the room," Katrina smirked. "Best Daddy ever!" Aya yipped. "He caught the spear before it hit the ground and held it until Hayden came by and read the signs from the Ancestors that Cáel was supposed to retract Oneida's words. Hayden even had Oneida stand on the spear, but Da; Cáel didn't let it fall." "Maybe the Ancestors think Cáel is sexy too," Aya added. Groan. "They had better not," Buffy spun back to me threateningly. Fine, if some undead man-haters thought I was hot; sigh; that might entail there would be no rest for me even in the afterlife. "Buffy, do you have plans for this weekend?" I glared. "Why?" she snapped. "Great. Katrina, I want Buffy to be my bodyguard for this weekend," I looked to my boss. Aya almost slipped up, but bit her lip to hold herself back. "Fine," Katrina grumbled. "I promised you that you could choose your guardian. I was truly hoping you would pick among the candidates from SD I suggested, but so be it." "I have to be around him all weekend?" Buffy howled. "Yeah," I exhaled happily, "and I plan to have sex all weekend long." From the look on Buffy's face, she knew she was going to die. She was going to see me having sex with someone else, snap, kill me then kill herself out of shame and grief. Yep, she was going to die. It turned out Aya was off to Amazon Summer Camp for Squirts. We quickly arranged a series of smoke signals she could use to send for me if she was in danger. Desiree rolled her eyes, hefted Aya's luggage and left with my tiny boon companion. I sobbed. "Katrina, can I go see her when she's at camp?" I turned to my boss. "Cáel Nyilas, this is a place where we send our greatest treasure; our children," Katrina smirked. "We will not discuss the abuse of power it would be for me to reveal the location to you." "Cool; Daphne, where is it?" I turned to my closest female new hire. "I won't tell you and it changes every year," Daphne smiled. "But you know where it is this year," I persisted. "I didn't say I didn't," Daphne beamed. "Fine. Come home with me. While my ogress henchwoman holds you down, I'll tickle the truth out of you," I menaced. "Buffy don't!" Tigger shouted. Buffy was about to brain me with my reading lamp. I was fearless. "Okay, Bubbles," I beamed vindictively. "Go get us a car and make it snappy." There was a hush. "What? Did I use any words that were too big for you to understand?" Buffy's screamed caused people to reach for their sidearm three floors away. She stormed out, thankfully not running over anyone. "Do you want to die?" Violet tugged my sleeve. "Let the 'Lost Blood' (Old Kingdom Hittite) deal with him," Fabiola sneered. "They are both annoyances." I took a deep breath. "Fabiola, your laws regulate what I can and can't say to you," I stared at her. "Instead, I beseech you to never insult a 'Runner' (Old Kingdom Hittite) in my presence again." "Buffy is a 'Lost Blood' (Old Kingdom Hittite)," Fabiola defied me. I took another deep breath then hobbled over to Katrina's desk, retrieved a pen, piece of paper and a nice, soapstone-encased lighter. By the time I got back to my desk, I certainly had the new hires' attention. Since Fabiola was a Latin name, I had to guess at what it would look like in the Amazon alphabet. "Daphne, is this right?" I asked. She shook her head. She wouldn't give me the answer. I got it on the third try. I showed Fabiola her name on the paper then burned it. I rubbed the ashes between my palms then showed Fabiola my blackened palms. "What does that mean?" Paula inquired. She was worried. I was both flamboyant and hardcore at the same time. "Who cares?" Fabiola mocked me. "'Ghost'" I said in Old Kingdom Hittite. It took them a few seconds to realize it had a second definition; invisible. I had no doubt Katrina fully understood the implications of my actions. "Cáel, I will have to consult with Hayden over this," Katrina mused. I gave a nod, collected my stuff and headed for the elevator. "Katrina, what did he do?" Dora chimed in. "He murdered Fabiola," Katrina enlightened them. "In his mind, she no longer exists." "Can he do that?" Violet wondered. Fabiola took after me. "Cáel," she called out. I ignored her. She caught up. "Cáel." Ignored. Then she shoved me from behind in the shoulder. I kept walking. "Don't you ignore me!" she seethed. Daphne was coming up fast. "Leave him alone," Daphne insisted. Fabiola shoved me again. I was almost at the elevator. "Don't," Helena came up. She was aiming for Daphne because Daphne was about to kick Fabiola. "She's insulting you!" Daphne reacted to Helena while pointing at Fabiola. "He is a man," Helena explained. "We don't fight over men." Meaning that couldn't be the primary excuse, not that it never happened. "Katrina, make me Cáel's boss," Fabiola shouted. Well, I would never dare shout at Katrina unless her life was on the line. Also, technically Fabiola couldn't be my boss, being a 'new hire' and all. "Cáel Nyilas, Fabiola is your boss for the next five minutes," Katrina intoned. Oh fuck. "Cáel, to my side," Fabiola gloated. I looked past her to Katrina, sighed and punched the elevator button. "Don't turn your back on me," Fabiola snarled. A tug of war developed. She kept trying to turn me away from the elevator doors and I refused to be budged. Fabiola drew her blade. Shit. "You cannot run far enough away that I will let you get away with that," Daphne seethed in Old Kingdom Hittite. Fabiola was about to meet that challenge. "What are you doing?" Katrina had been coming out of her office when she caught the exchange. "I;” Daphne stammered. She'd screwed up. "Apologize," Katrina commanded. Daphne apologized grudgingly. The doors opened. "Cáel, hold the door." I did. "Cáel, to my side," Fabiola repeated. She thought she was about to win. I stayed where I was. "Fabiola, he can't hear you," Katrina pointed out. "Of course he can hear me," Fabiola rebutted. "No; no he can't," Katrina remained calm. "You have rendered yourself dead to him. Since he is not a priestess, or augur, he cannot hear the voices of the dead." "He cannot willfully decide he can't hear me," Fabiola demanded. "Oh, I agree. That would be wrong for him to willfully ignore any Havenstone female. Conversely, he can't allow any of our women to be harmed either," Katrina explained patiently. "So, when he witnessed an assault on the spirit of our women, he attempted to address it." "He approached the perpetrator and politely asked them to refrain from that activity. He was rebuffed. It wasn't like he could physically resolve the issue. To resolve that internal conflict; to defend his sisters but not attack a sister, he symbolically killed the problem. This allowed him to constantly and continuously forget the cause of this disruption." "He can't do that," Fabiola persisted. "Actually, it is pure Cáel," Katrina smirked. "I personally unaware of any scripture, bylaw, or statute that forbids him from doing this. I have given you a reasonable argument that explains his actions. He is essentially working through two conflicting orders." "Now Fabiola, as a perspective leader, what do you suggest he do? Let you force him to be relocated when he breaks your jaw? Let you insult half of Havenstone's staff until one day, one of them snaps and you end up in a Newark landfill? That would be wrong of him to do as he is supposed to lay his life down for us," Katrina kept at it. "What do you suggest?" "How do you resolve the crisis? Before you answer that, consider the fate of Leona," Katrina gave a predatory twist of the lips that would make a Momma T-Rex proud. "This male is making us fight amongst ourselves," Fabiola complained. "I'm not fighting just for the male," Daphne growled. "I'm fighting to have offspring that are strong in both body and mind." "Hey," Helena snorted, "can you imagine how much tougher the women in Acquisitions and Business Management have it? We get to talk about the New Directive without fear of weirding Cáel out." "Please believe me," I chuckled. "I'm still weirded out. There is simply nothing I can do about it so I get on with my day." "I don't understand any of you," Fabiola protested. "Fabiola, will Aya die?" Katrina asked. "Yes." "Why?" Katrina continued. "She is small, weak and hyperactive," Fabiola explained. "Cáel, will Aya die?" "No." "Why?" Katrina gazed at me. "Isn't she small, weak and hyperactive?" "Sure, she's small now, but she's only nine. Look at the size of all the other women in her house. None of them are super-tall either," I answered. "She's not hyperactive. She is very bright with a very active imagination. Once she finds her 'stillness'; her center; she'll do fine. If anything, she's too smart. She figures out that her guardians are worried, why they are worried and has to fight against their disappointment every time she does anything." Fabiola snorted, proving yet again she was clueless to her surroundings. "After all, Katrina, she's related to you and you are one of the scariest-smart people I've ever had the pleasure to know," I smiled. I could reply to Fabiola while not replying. "Cáel, go. You are unlikely to survive Buffy as it is," Katrina directed. Buffy was indeed apoplectic. She did manage to let me retrieve my bike before driving me home. Since I was dragging both all my business clothes, toiletries and my bike upstairs with crutches, it was painfully comical. A furious Buffy relented and took a few of my things. We had barely made it in the door when my phone rang. Buffy dumped my belongings in the center of the living room. "Hey," I answered the phone. "Hey, it's Odette," she greeted me happily. "Are you still in the HQ?" "Nope Odette," I grinned at Buffy. "I'm home. Do you want to come over?" "Sure; it's not going to be a problem, is it?" she asked. "I have a good friend over, but if you can stand my illicit behavior, you are more than welcome," I informed her. "Cool," she chirped. "I'll be over in about an hour." "See you soon. Until then Odette," I said. "Now I have to watch you fuck a whore?" Buffy stared at the ground. I wasn't going to go after for the 'whore' thing. She was at the end of her endurance. I knew that. I limped in front of her and pulled out her phone. She was too angry to look up at me so I knelt down. "Buffy," I showed her the text from Katrina about my six hour sexual exemption. She looked up and read it. "So? What does this mean?" Buffy looked ready to explode in tears and fists. "It means that when Constanza had her sword aimed at my throat I figured out a way to ease some of your fears," I stated. She blinked. "You worried that I'd be dead by the end of the month, and I did promise to try and make you the first Havenstone woman I made love to," I explained. "Constanza was about to kill you and you were thinking of me?" is what Buffy got out of all that. "Yeah. I also realized that Aya was far calmer than she was last Saturday, but the major thing was how to ask Katrina for the exemption and lure you here for the weekend," I told her. "Weekend?" Buffy studied me intently. "Yeah," I grinned seductively. "See, I figure we time everything. When we start something naughty, we flip on the timer and the moment we are done, we flip it off," I met her gaze. "That way we squeeze as much out of the six hours as possible; if that's what you want to do?" Buffy hugged me suddenly. "You were about to die and I was the one you were thinking about," Buffy wept. By that, I meant she fell apart emotionally. I had always seen Buffy so fierce that I was caught off-guard by this open vulnerability. I hugged her back and snuggled her close. She sniffled for several seconds. "This doesn't count, does it?" she hiccupped. "This is purely platonic. I'm bonding with my supervisor; team-building," I stated firmly. "Oh Goddess, you are crazy, you are crazy, you are crazy," she murmured into my shoulder. "Okay, I'm crazy. I also really want to have sex with you," I pushed her back so we could look eye to eye. "Or, are you going to make me beg like a big baby?" "I really want to have sex with you too," Buffy smiled; romantically. The fiery freakiness was gone to be replaced by a deeply sensual, gentle spirit. What the hell? "Let's go to the bedroom," I suggested. "We can try out the sofa later." "Is your leg going to be okay?" she suddenly worried. "Which one? Two of the three are working fine," I teased. No anger. "I love your sense of humor," Buffy snickered. I repeat; Huh? We stripped down then crawled under the sheets. Buffy was demure, calm and at peace. "Buffy, I don't want to ruin the mood," I said as I pulled her close. "But you are not acting normal and I don't know what to make of it," I completed. "I won," Buffy stroked my cheek lovingly. "I beat out everyone else for you. I gave it everything I had, you recognized that and came to me. This is me being happy, Cáel. Would you prefer me to be combative?" "I prefer you," I teased. The 'thank you' hovered right on the other side of unspoken. It wasn't in her. She was starting to get amorous. I pulled away to Buffy's momentary confusion then the condom came out, I ripped open the packet, slipped on the prophylactic and returned to my lover. I was about to slip into Buffy, missionary style. "Wait!" she stopped me. She hit two buttons on her wrist watch. "Timer," she explained. In I went. Buffy gasped slightly then began moving her legs up along my thighs. Years of experience made this a slow, gentle screw. This wasn't me wasting time; Buffy wanted savagery later. For her triumphal moment, she wanted to savor every second of this first time with her prize; me. Tender kissing and nuzzling were the signs of our affection. She ran her hands over my shoulders, back and ass. I would balance on my right arm while I coaxed delightful hums from Buffy. This was not Buffy's first time. By the level of stimulation she was giving me, this was unlikely to even be her 100th time. She knew her stuff. She had mentioned me physically and cerebrally engaging her being a reason she was so desperate to 'have' me. I had misinterpreted that. Buffy wanted a sex partner that could keep up in a way that went far beyond stamina; she hungered for matching skill and maturity. She could give me subtle clues with her body and I'd pick up on them, folding them back into my own actions and signals. There aren't too many that can meet me orgasm for orgasm. Buffy did. She crested first, but I was only seconds behind her. Before my final blasts, I rolled us over so that she was on top. I tried wiggle out of her. Buffy resisted. "Don't pull out yet," Buffy requested. "If I pull out, we can stop the clock," I insisted. "Oh," she giggled, "me lying naked on top of you in your bed isn't 'inappropriate behavior'?" "I won't tell if you won't," I snickered. Buffy cut of the timer on her wristwatch. Buffy was bringing her breathing under control and getting comfortable with our sweatiness. "If you hadn't been as good as your hype," Buffy whispered after a minute, "I think I would have fallen apart; and killed you; then probably myself." "Whoa," I reacted. "Explain that. Girls wanting to kill me is fine. Girls killing themselves for anything remotely involving me isn't." She mulled that over. She wasn't going to apologize yet felt a need to share something. I had to be patient. I've been with a lot of girls and a few guys who didn't take rejection well. That rarely had anything to do with the actual rejection. It was some festering wound much deeper and older than their encounter with me. "In high school I discovered the wonders of sex. I loved it. Not the lover, but the carnal act. I'd screw anyone, as long as it was something new and different," Buffy confided. "After a few bad incidents, my parents; my stepfather and my mother; threw me out because they thought I was a bad influence for my two younger sisters. I went to a city and did the only thing I was good at. I met this guy; you know the story. He would protect me, love me, blah, blah, blah," Buffy recalled painfully. "Slowly the sex stopped being fun. It was money and not my money at that. One night I got sick of it. 'He' wanted me to perform, I told him I was leaving so he and two buddies raped me. They raped me a lot over the next two days while they smoked meth and drank," she continued. "Finally, when they all passed out, I went to the place where he had his gun." "That wasn't going to be good enough for me," she tilted her head up to study my eyes. "I got his baseball bat instead and knocked them all out real good. I found a few garbage bag twist ties, tied their hands behind their backs and went at all three with a knife. I gutted them a bit so they were awake and in a shitload of pain; then I hacked their cocks and balls off." I was less revolted than I thought I'd be. I still felt my dick shrivel and my balls trying to retract into my bodies. I certainly wasn't going to joke about it; this was a serious sensitive moment for her. I stroked her hair. I could live with this revelation. I wasn't sure why I could, but my heart and mind weren't freaking out, so I went with my instincts. "I had barely finished up when the cops came bursting in. I had taken far longer torturing them than I imagined and their screams had been heard all over the housing complex. They Tasered me, I went to jail and finally to trial. My defense attorney argued an 'Insanity' Plea and I ended up in a mental facility," she was clearly relieved that I wasn't terrified. "A few months later, Katrina showed up," Buffy continued. "She wasn't where she is today. We talked a great deal, but there were only two crucial questions for her. 'Do you regret killing those men?' and 'Can you have sex again?' I answered 'no' and 'yes' after some thought. Two weeks later, I was transferred to a Havenstone facility, they cleaned me up, trained me, and I was stationed here." "What is with you and Elsa?" I prodded a handful of minutes later. "Don't go there, Cáel," Buffy muttered. "Do you seriously want me to confront her not knowing the whole score?" I countered. "She is a complete and total racist Bitch," she grumbled. "Please don't tell me it was a sex contest," I groaned. "If she is better than you, I'm going to die." Her grumbling lack of an explanation allowed me to crack a joke. Buffy 'punished' me by kissing my chin. "No, it wasn't a cunt-thing. If she can fuck you better than me, you have my permission to die," she smiled playfully. Scary. I was so used to her being scary, Buffy not being scary was scaring me. Push? "Well, the only thing I can do then, is a Buffy-Elsa-Cáel three-way," I sighed. "Okay," Buffy murmured. "Stop it!" I shouted. "You are freaking me out." Buffy giggled. I was howling off into madness on the inside. "I think you have company coming soon. We should get clean and put some clothes on," she exhaled joyously. By dressed, Buffy meant putting on my dress shirt; unbuttoned. She was like that, cross-legged on the sofa, eating Cheese Puffs and watching 'Real Housewives of Mumbai' when Odette arrived. It took Odette a second to realize this Buffy was the same firecracker from the last time they met. "Hi; um," Odette started. "We are fine. He fucked me. I'm in a state of grace," Buffy explained pleasantly; without a hint of menace, or fury. "Buffy; Odette Sievert," I made introductions. "Odette; Buffy Dubois." Odette strode right over to the sofa and plopped down beside Buffy. I had to struggle to not flinch. "He gives an incredible dicking, doesn't he?" Odette bubbled. "Yes," Buffy purred, "Yes, he does that and more. You are new to this whole 'love-making thing, aren't you?" "Pretty much," Odette openly admitted. "He gave me my first orgasm. I didn't realize how good sex was until I met Cáel." "I didn't realize how good sex was until I met me either," I joked. "Trust me," Buffy patted Odette's thigh, "I know a great deal about sex and I can assure you he's really, really good." "You are not wearing underwear," Odette noted. Life only got more bizarre. "Why don't you go into the bedroom, get one of his used dress shirts and put it on; and nothing else," Buffy advised. "It is a wonderful experience." "Oh God, don't I know it," Odette exulted. She jumped up and skipped into my bedroom. "Don't play with her," I cautioned Buffy. Buffy studied me then gave me a glowing look. "I'm trying to be a better companion Cáel," she told me. "I know I've put you through hell. I'm not going to apologize. I like the look of fear in your eyes. It is only matched by that look that says 'I'll get you for this'," she chuckled. "Just for that, its reverse cowgirl for you the next time we make love," I threatened. "How is that a threat?" Buffy teased. "I am absolutely positive you like my ass." "I bet he likes all of you," Odette sang out as she came out twirling in another one of my dressed shirts and nothing else. Odette had change really quick. I knew she came over bra-less. I was suspecting no underwear, or socks too. She sat down tightly next to Buffy. "So, how is this 'sharing' thing going to work?" Odette looked back and forth between us. "Have you ever been with a woman?" Buffy asked. "Don't be embarrassed about curiosity." "Ah; well, a little," Odette stammered. "Here is how it works," Buffy patted Odette's nervous hand. "I can only have sex with Cáel for five and a half more hours for the entire weekend. Since I like sex and you are here, I'm certainly interested in you." "Odette," she reassured my bed-buddy, "there is no pressure. I have gotten the most important thing; quality time with Cáel. Everything else is a bonus." "Oh; I'm okay with that," Odette nodded. Then she leaned in to kiss Buffy; maybe I should create a 'Sex for Beginners' CD. I was working gangbusters on expanding Odette's sexual horizons. Buffy wrapped a hand in Odette's hair and drew her into a steamer kiss. I settled in behind Odette, switching kisses between the back of Odette's head and Buffy's hand. "Wow," Odette panted. "You taste different than any guy I've kissed. I like it, but I like Cáel better." Before anyone thinks this never happens, or 'only in Hollywood (West Hollywood, that is), please understand I went to a rural college with a 70% female student enrollment. Convincing a girl to engage in a little girl-on-girl action to 'get me extra aroused' is insanely easy. The few times a lady has asked if I'd kiss a guy to get her 'extra aroused', I said 'for her and only for her'. Works every time. I've kissed a few guys, but only for charity. Fine; I've kissed a few guys in gay bars because Timothy intimated that we'd get our asses kicked if I didn't. He may have been playing me, but for all the shit I put him through, I can live with that. Back to the story: we had Odette in my bed in no time. I was on the bottom, Odette was lying on me, back to my chest and I was using my hips to piston into her while she moaned on top of me. Buffy was alternating between tantalizing Odette's clit and teasing her nipples. Using a very liberal definition for 'touching me', we decided that this wasn't consuming any of our 'exemption' time. Three orgasms later, Buffy poured an uber-contented Odette into her/my shirt and I carried her to the sofa. I put Odette's head in Buffy's lap, Buffy twirling Odette's forelock and Odette humming a happy tune. I was getting some apple and orange juice when Timothy's keys jangled in the door. He walked into the apartment and soaked up the scene. I took in that it was barely 8:30 and Timothy was in his date clothes. A seriously not-good situation. I diverted to him, drinks in hand, and hugged him. "Sorry Bro," I murmured. He hugged me back. "Buffy DuBois, this is Timothy." "Buffy? The crazy chick who wanted a hug?" Timothy chuckled. "She's not;” Odette mumbled. "Yes, that would be me," Buffy grinned sedately. Timothy looked down and shook his head. "That is some dick," he groused. "Damn Bro, "Timothy regarded me with some amusement, "did you bother to get her panties off, or was the mere thought of sex with you enough to cause a complete personality reversal?" "Cáel," Odette raised a shaking arm and commanded loftily, "put the drinks down and get us some ice cream. It is Bonding Time." She meant commiserating with Timothy over his dating failure. Timothy trundled off to his bedroom muttering something about 'getting into something more comfortable' and I delivered the drinks then doubled back for the ice cream and four spoons. Timothy ended up on the floor with his head resting against Odette's stomach. I offered to take the bottom spot. Timothy accepted the gesture then pointed out I was the guy with the bum leg. I ended up with Odette's feet in my lap. The flavor of the night was Cherry Vanilla and we were all making inroads into the supply quickly. Timothy dialed up Ninja Assassin on Netflix. Ten minutes in I realized why. There was this Asian actor who was really hot and extremely physically fit. Odette agreed. "You two can't believe any of this is real," Buffy commented shortly after. "This is absurd. Nothing and no one kills like that." She had professional pride after all. It hadn't taken me three days to figure out that the Executive Service babes' main purpose in life was not laundry delivery. They went everywhere and saw everything; just like a secret police force. Odd, huh? "Speaking of absurd and unreal," Timothy snickered. "Cáel, two ladies screaming Extreme High Maintenance showed up this morning. Apparently you weren't answering your phone, work said you were out of the office, and some spooky chicks at Havenstone showed them the door with something akin to a threat of lethal violence," he continued. "From long experience as your roommate, I could tell you'd fucked them to Nirvana and they wanted more." "From long experience'?" Buffy wondered. "You haven't known him two months yet." "Lady, this happens at least once a week with this guy. You are playing with the hair of one of those women right now," Timothy told her. "Yeah," Odette sighed happily. I was still wrapping my mind around the fact that Buffy hadn't threatened me with violence in the past four hours. Not even a glower. "So, what did you tell them?" I asked my bud. "I looked terribly put out then informed them you'd decided to become a Dominican and gone to a monastery in Italy to train," Timothy smirked. "What did you really say?" I thumped his head with my spoon. Before anyone goes 'iew, don't eat with that', I would remind you how pervasive hair is in a bachelor pad. Vacuum and you'll find out. "I told them you work in Looney Tunes Central; which they bought surprisingly easily; and that you would give them a call the moment your destiny was returned to you," Timothy said. I was willing to bet he used those exact words too. "What has Cáel told you about Havenstone?" Buffy prodded. "No way, Buffy," Timothy shook his head. "You are still one of those crazy bitches. Cáel hasn't told me the real deal, but when he looked me in the eye and said you ladies might kill me, I knew he wasn't playing around. He was afraid for my life." "Do you really think we would hurt you?" Buffy persisted. "You put an arrow in my boy; and he's got the magic dick. Since I'm not likely to put out for you ladies, I pretty much believe you'll put one through my heart without batting an eye," Timothy countered. "What would you do if he simply stopped showing up one day?" Buffy mused. "Not ask," Timothy snapped off his reply. "I trust Cáel enough to heed his warning and get on with my life." "Cáel has a big heart," Buffy regarded me warmly. "It is one of the many things that makes him a great prize." "Salmon; Angel Falls," Timothy taunted me. Before I even started at Havenstone, he had warned me that I had no chance of making it in that women-dominated Hell. He was right and he loved rubbing it in; the Bastard. To clarify: a salmon is a stupid fish who follows his penis to his death and Angel Falls in Venezuela is the Earth's longest, continuous waterfall; that's 807 meters for those who don't want to use Wikipedia. "Timothy, if there was any doubt, there will be no mention of Tuesday night and what came afterwards," I urged my guy. "Way ahead of you," Timothy chuckled. That was Rhada we were talking about. "If you are going to hang around Cáel, you will have to get used to all the other ladies," Odette sighed comfortably up at Buffy. "I know," Buffy stroked Odette's ear. "Also, if you see me outside of Cáel's home, be afraid of me because if you aren't, bad things might happen to you. Do we understand each other?" "No," Odette hesitated to respond. "Don't worry about it; just do it," Buffy warned her; affectionately. I was going mad. For the rest of the movie, everyone behaved. We emptied the ice cream container. Timothy went for beers. He bought back three. "Where is mine?" Odette inquired. "I don't think you are old enough to drink," Timothy told her. "Odette, if you give Buffy a kiss steamy enough to curl her toes, I'll give you mine," I offered. Odette weighed the offer, rolled over and crawled into Buffy's lap. The kiss was classic me; teasing contact; light tongue; full kiss; re-arrangement of tonsils. I was so proud of my girl. "That was exceedingly pleasant, Odette," Buffy grinned once the French kiss eventually ended. I handed Odette my beer. She remained straddling Buffy's lap, perfectly at ease. "Dude, do you have any guy friends you can bring over and make gay?" Timothy pleaded with me. We knew that didn't happen. "Fine, bi will do," he grinned. "I'm not a lesbian," Odette wiggled in Buffy's lap. "I just like Buffy." "Buffy likes you," Buffy placed a light kiss on Odette's lips. "Let's go to the bedroom." Acid test time. "Sure," Odette hopped up. She took Buffy's hand and pulled her up. Hand in hand they went to my room. I rose to follow. "We'll call you when we are ready," Buffy teased me. They went into my boudoir and shut the door. "Now you know how I feel," Timothy sighed. "Not really," I patted his shoulder. "In thirty, or forty minutes, I'm going to go in there and do some serious boning. Personally, I don't know how you take sleeping alone so often." Timothy and I sat down on the sofa. "You are an asshole," he grumbled. "Considering what you do to assholes, I don't know how to take that," I joked. He hit me. "Being gay would be the only thing that would make you more fun," Timothy laughed. I wondered how Katrina would take my sexual conversion. I deciding telling her would be unwise. I had another rescue flare about how out of control my life had become; Odette had seen my latest series of bandaged wounds and hadn't forced me to create some lie to explain them away. Damn. To be continued in Part 11 By FinalStand for Literotica.
Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..
Dane Mizutani on the Vikings/Rams & Wild, Steven M. Sipple on the Huskers getting throttled & Trent goes Constanza on his Circa Sports Plays of the Day
Dane Mizutani on the Vikings/Rams & Wild, Steven M. Sipple on the Huskers getting throttled & Trent goes Constanza on his Circa Sports Plays of the Day
Philipp, Elena www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de, Fazit
YaParatianos, apenas es martes y nosotros ya ... ¡Abandonamos el Chat!, ¿Cómo van ustedes?, por supuesto tuvimos muchísimas historias que compartimos con nuestra comunidad en donde nos contaron todas las veces que se han visto obligados a abandonar el Chat, tuvimos también a nuestra mini columnista, Constanza quien nos habló para darnos sus consejos de emprendimiento y finanzas, también, nos visitó en cabina Mariana Ochoa para hablarnos de esta etapa que está iniciando como solista y por supuesto, nos compartió sobre su próxima presentación en La Maraka,¡Te recomendamos que no se lo pierdan!, Nos escuchamos de lunes a viernes de 06:00 a 10:00 por Los40
Despite the enriching aspects of constantly moving and living in different places, one may still feel the need for a stable home! Join Deborah as she engages in a heartfelt conversation with Constanza Ontaneda about the importance of rooting oneself in a place to achieve personal growth and fulfillment. Constanza explores the transformative power of finding and embracing one's true home! Stay tuned! Here are the things to expect in the episode:Why is it essential to establish a sense of belonging in the community where you put down roots?Factors one should consider when searching for a place to put down roots.The importance of effective language teaching methods.Constanza's soap business and the story behind it.And much more! About Constanza:Constanza Ontaneda was born in India and grew up in Perú, Brazil, Romania, and the United States. Enthralled by language acquisition from a young age, she studied eight languages formally—Spanish, English, Portuguese, French, Mandarin, Russian, German, and Quechua. She has been a World Language Educator for over a decade.She believes that Compelling, Comprehensible, and Communication-Enhancing materials are the cornerstones of a research-based, proficiency-oriented, and input-focused world language education. Connect with Constanza Ontaneda!Website: https://igivesoap.com/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/constanzaontanedaInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/constanzaontaneda/ | https://www.instagram.com/inputwand/YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@inputwand Book Recommendation:Sacred Contracts: Awakening Your Divine Potential by Caroline Myss Connect with Deborah Kevin:Website: www.deborahkevin.comInstagram: www.instagram.com/debbykevinwriterLinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/deborah-kevin/Book Recommendations: https://bookshop.org/shop/storytellher Check out Highlander Press:Website: www.highlanderpressbooks.comTikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@highlanderpressInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/highlanderpressFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/highlanderpress
Aviation, welcome back to the Pilot to Pilot podcast. Today is episode 313 with Joe Costanza aka Bananasssssssss. In this episode we do a deep dive of why Joe decided to leave Spirit Airlines. And although it might seem like a no braininer to leave Spirit, it's tough when you have spent 12 years of your life there.Dont forget to enter our Hat giveaway on our website! All you have to do is subscribe to our future newsletter (it's going to be epic!)
Chilean director and playwright Constanza Hola Chamy directs a professional cast and a community cast for her new play Mad Women, which highlights bipolar disorder. It is inspired by the lives of three outstanding Latin American artists: the Mexican painter Frida Kahlo, Chilean singer-songwriter and visual artist Violeta Parra and Columbian painter Judith Marquez, and their struggles with mental health. Felicity Finch follows Constanza as she and her international creative team collaborate and face the challenges of working with the two casts.