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Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 2 A Quick Execution Plan In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels.             If my life is a mirror, why does mine have to be one-way with me on the wrong side.     Christina was waiting for me when I came out, minus her servant (classes had just been let out so she hadn't snared one yet), but she'd gained three sidekicks who looked upon me with varying degrees of amusement and contempt. The shortest of them, a sexy brunette with a foxy-like face glared at me with ill-disguised hate, over what I had no idea. "Come on, Zane," Christina said as she handed me her book bag, "time to face judgment." "Face judgment?" I mused. "Are we really going there? I made an honest mistake and besides, isn't forgiveness of sins the prime Christian virtue?" Angry Girl grabbed my arm and yanked but the sad facts of physics and my contrariness kept her from moving me. The girl ground her teeth, on the cusp of rage. "Zane, come," dictated Christina calmly. "Heaven, release him before he starts crying to the liberal media about physical abuse." Heaven? Seriously, who names their daughter Heaven, I thought, then I remembered where I'm standing. I meekly went to Christina's side when Heaven released me, then we started making our way to the Administration Building. My phone went off and I checked the message and had to snicker. It was Iona and apparently the girls are starting to use my time as some sort of currency. "What was that all about?" another sidekick asked. This one was actually friendly. "I'm Chastity," she identified herself. "Hey, Chastity," I grinned back to her. "That was an enterprising freshman who is keeping track of which lady has requested my Handmaiden services, and now I'm apparently being swapped around." "You are a whore," snarled Angry Chick Heaven. "Listen," I shot back, "this is your crazy tradition, not mine. I'm only doing what my upperclassmen are demanding of me. I'm acting like any other incoming freshman. But I have to admit, I haven't actually read the handbook yet." "Let it be, Heaven," advised Christina. "This will all be over in thirty minutes and he'll be gone." On that note, I turned to the last unnamed senior. "So what's your name, if you would be so kind as to tell me?" "Faith," she replied cautiously. I kept grinning. "I swear, if you ladies have a girl named Hope in your close circle of friend we should form an all-girls 80s-style punk rock band. I'll be the manager, constantly clashing with Christina over artistic differences," I rambled on. "You are kind of a nut," Chastity pointed out. "I'm on the verge of the shortest college career in history so I admit to being a bit nervous," I confessed, and surprise of surprises, Chastity placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Somehow that made Heaven angrier with me, which I didn't think was possible. Before I could delve into the psychoses of Heaven, we arrived at the Chancellor's office. I gave Christina her bag as the girls abandoned me once the secretary ushered me in with a disdainful sniff of her nose. Inside were six women but I only recognized two: Chancellor Doctor Melrose Bazz and Ms. Goodswell, who also happened to be my assigned Spiritual Advisor. "Come in and sit down, Mr. Braxton," commanded Doctor Bazz. Since the only open chair was directly in front of her desk and flanked by the other chairs (so I'd be doubly flanked), I took my seat. "As you must now understand, there has been a horrible error," the Chancellor continued. "To rectify this situation you will withdraw from Freedom Fellowship University effective immediately. Your tuition will, of course, be refunded." She slid some papers in front of me. "I take it everyone knows who I am, ma'am, but who am I in the room with?" I inquired. "Sign the papers," insisted Doctor Bazz. "Can I think about this?" I inquired. "No," she answered. "Are you sure?" I persisted. "Yes," she snapped angrily. "Okay, then, I'm not signing," I decided. Everyone stirred restlessly. "You don't have a choice," one of the unnamed women in the room declared. "Security will hand you over to the Sheriff's Department as we remove you if you don't leave sensibly." "That sounds like a lawsuit," I noted. "You are mistaken, Mr. Braxton," the Chancellor glared. I noticed the unnamed woman farthest from me looked less than convinced; that made her the college's lawyer. "Chancellor, I have a deep respect for you and for the school you so expertly shepherd. I'm not out to embarrass this institution." I tried to relate to all of them. "The problem for you is that at no time in the registration process was I ever asked if I was male," I began my argument. "I entered my first name in as Glenn; your computer system transcribed that over to Glenda. At no time did I attempt to deceive the administration. I also can call forth witnesses from my dorm floor that will testify that I clearly didn't understand this was a woman's institution of higher learning." "You are being highly disruptive to the school and you've already been in one fight in your first four hours of school," another unnamed member announced. "Pardon me, but I don't know who you are," I asked the woman. "Dana Gorman, Head of Security and Dean of Athletics," she snipped. "Coach Dana, I was not aware that anyone was hurt and since I wasn't supplied my Handbook until yesterday afternoon when I went to my dorm room, I had no idea about the Handmaiden's Duty. I did find my roommate pinned to the ground with three girls sitting on her while she screamed and cried. I pushed/kicked them away and picked her up. I acted with charity and compassion," I put my best spin on the case as possible. "Doctor Josephine Sergeant, Dean of Sciences," the other unnamed woman introduced herself. "I'm not sure how I can fit you into my program, Mr. Braxton. The corpses Advanced Biology students work on are all female." "Doctor, I would imagine if I do become a doctor, I will have to work on women from time to time," I countered. "Mr. Braxton, nothing good can come of your intransience. Sign the papers, take the fall off, and find another school more fitting to your nature and gender," the Chancellor spoke. "I'll fight," I replied. We had a still moment, then Ms. Goodswell cleared her throat. "Zane, why do you want to stay?" "Short answer: this school has nine hundred women and one me; what's not to love? Long version: my inheritance is based on me being eighteen and in a college of my Aunt's choosing. It is too late for me to get into another program this year so if I don't fight, I go broke. I have nothing to lose." "Ms. Lane," the Chancellor addressed her lawyer, "is there any reason we can't escort Mr. Braxton to the gates right now?" The attractive young lawyer brushed a stray strand of her lovely light brown hair before responding. "There does seem to be a flaw in the administration software. There is no sexual differentiation key. Medical files were submitted as required and they clearly identify him as being male so there was no indication of evasion on his part, we missed it. FFU can expel him if he doesn't leave of his own accord but he definitely has a lawsuit against us." That gave people food for thought. It took Ms. Goodswell to save the day and I didn't really expect that. "Mr. Braxton, do you promise us to be an exemplary student if we allow you to stay out the semester?" "Of course," I promised. "Well, we can't keep him where he is," insisted Dana, shocked and angry. "We can keep him in his residence hall but place him in the Solarium. We can fix up something for him by tonight, and we have him cleared to use the fifth floor showers as schedules allow," Ms. Goodswell suggested. "The place is a mess," Dana grumbled. "I'll work to make it better as time allows," I volunteered. "Mr. Braxton, wait outside while we discuss this," commanded the Chancellor. I took my cue and left quickly. Christina and clique were sitting patiently waiting for me. She stood and made to leave. "I was told to wait here," I informed her, which brought the whole troop up short. "What are we waiting for?" Christina inquired. "Oh, I have them over a barrel so I insisted they assign one of you to be my bed warmer for the rest of the week. They are debating on which one of you gets the honor," I teased. "You bastard," spat Heaven, getting in my face. "You are a vomitus piece of filth!" "Just for that, you are next," I grinned devilishly at her. "Huh?" she looked far angrier than uncertain, "Next for what?" "Oh, during the upcoming sex orgy I host, you are 'Next'. See," I sighed dramatically, "I'm not likely to remember your name so when I call out 'Next,' I mean you." I had a split second to decide whether I'd duck or not. Training was screaming at me to half-step back while bringing up an arm to block but, Pow! I staggered back to the wall and slumped halfway down to the floor. Heaven kept coming and kicked me twice in the shin before Chastity and Christina pulled her off me. She was still sputtering and growling when the Chancellor's door opened up and Ms. Gorman stepped out and closed it behind her. "What is going on here?" she hissed. "There was a misunderstanding," Christina answered. "Actually, Heaven punched me after I deflected one of her insults," I countered. "Now I have to ponder civil litigation." "What?" Christina asked cautiously. Heaven was less diplomatic or restrained. "You provoked me," she accused me. "Do you know word one about my sexual habits? Could you prove a believable threat to you or someone around you? Barring that, you just committed assault," I informed Heaven. "You are willing to gamble we would betray Heaven to someone like you?" Faith threatened. "No," Dana answered for me. "I have little doubt that Mr. Braxton has noted that all classes and administration rooms have cameras." She seemed bitter about her own security procedures. The rest of the girl posse seemed equally unhappy except for, "Come on," Chastity told me as she offered me a hand up. I took it and quickly was upright once more so that we were chest to chest. "Please don't do this, Zane," she said evenly. Heaven scoffed. "Very well, Chastity, because it was you who requested it, but I do ask for one thing in return," I told her. "Of course he wants something," Heaven snarled sarcastically. "Actually, all I want is five minutes with Heaven," I explained, and when Heaven rolled her eyes and Chastity looked uncomfortable, I added, "no physical contact at all, only sitting down and talking." "She'll do it," Christina agreed. "No!" balked Heaven. "You'll do it or be expelled and face possible jail time," Ms. Gorman stated. "No," it was my turn to say. "I was joking; I won't press charges against Heaven." "She can still be expelled," Dana insisted. "For what?" I asked. Dana looked at me cautiously. "Hell, we were just fooling around; right ladies?" No one said anything because to speak was to court the sin of falsehoods. "Yes," said Christina, taking the plunge; the others nodded. Dana bored me into place with her gaze, weighing her options. "Keep it down out here," she snapped to the room, "especially you young ladies. I expected better from you four." The implication was that my cock exempted me from mature behavior. "Thank you," Chastity told me. "It took the grand total of one word, please," I explained. "I know it must be hard to believe but I'm not a total scumbag." "Are you still going to make me pay for insulting Rio?" Christina mocked. "The week isn't over yet," I pointed out. The resulting silence was interesting. Five minutes later the door opened and the women filed past. The second to last one out was the lawyer, Ms. Lane. "Mr. Braxton, we will have to get together to discuss some of your unique legal issues and liabilities next week," she informed me. "I await you at your leisure, Ms. Lane. Whatever you need, I'll do my best to comply," I smiled. "It will certainly be easier if you are compliant," she smiled back before turning and heading into the hallway, my eyes watching the line on her stockings going from where her skirt's hemline revealed her shapely thighs down her muscular calves to her four-inch heels. "Temptation comes in many forms," Ms. Goodswell said, interrupting me from the distraction of Ms. Lane's luscious posterior, a look that Ms. Lane caught as she smiled and turned out of sight. "In my admittedly limited experience, temptation is a result of dissatisfaction with one's circumstances, not a weakness of character," I offered as an explanation. "As your spiritual counselor, I feel it is my duty to keep you on the straight and narrow," Ms. Goodswell sighed with faux sufferance. "I don't mean to make things hard for you, Ms. Goodswell," I jibbed. "Enough sexual innuendo for the moment, Zane; you've been given an opportunity so don't blow it, don't disappoint me," Ms. Goodswell warned me while stabbing me in the chest with a well-manicured cherry gloss fingernail. I gave her a funny look. "What is it, Mr. Braxton?" she asked. "Oh, it is the fact that you are attempting the impossible, restoring my faith in organized Christianity, I answered while fishing for her name. "Virginia," Ms. Goodswell filled in the void of my unsubtle inquiry. "You are going to be trouble," she said, but her smile belied any worry on her part. "Well, I must get to lunch. I have a deserving Mistress who demands that I spoon-feed her," I told her as I moved to Christina and her cohorts. "Your room, seven o'clock, Zane. We'll be moving you to your new lodgings then," Virginia instructed. I nodded my acknowledgement then headed off to my late lunch. As we crossed campus, we remained relatively quiet until we approached the Dining Hall. "You remain intriguing, Mr. Braxton," Christina allowed. "I am equally drawn to you, you sanctimonious twat," I bantered back, and the girl posse jerked in response. "I hope they house you in a deep, dark hole," snapped Heaven. "I hope they do too," I beamed at Heaven, "and I hope you have the only key." "Why is that?" asked Chastity. "I'd let him starve to death," Heaven grinned viciously. I kept my eyes on Heaven. "Well, if Heaven had the key, she could come down and torture me whenever she wanted," I explained, and when Heaven licked her lips in anticipation, I added, "and she'd look so fetching in nothing but thin strips of black leather, high heels, and a whip in her hand as she scourged the sin out of me again and again, ." I licked my lips sensually at Heaven, "and again." Now all movement stopped; even the normally homicidal Heaven was caught up in the imagery (which she liked) and the other girls were wrapping their minds around the implications of either me on my knees, Heaven in leather, or us together. "You have a very sinful mind," accused Faith. "I have never denied that," I responded. "I'm a flawed creature in need of redemption, I admit that. Thankfully, I've chosen a religion based on forgiveness and second chances, then, eh?" Any further comments were interrupted by a girl running into me, more like almost running over me. "Zane! They didn't transubstantiate you into communion wafers," Rio squealed, showing more womanly affection than I would have given her credit for. Rio didn't do a great job of being 'surprised' when she noticed the girls around me. Heaven glared at Rio and I tried to shift myself between them but Christina intervened before anything happened. "Felon, I am in need of a stool to sit on; I'm tired," Christina said. As she used the word 'felon,' she smirked at me. Rio flinched too. "Wouldn't you rather have me lie on my back so you can sit on my face so I can get you off? That way we could both eat lunch," Rio sneered back. Christina didn't bite. "Make a seat, little felon," Christina smiled. I had a sudden desire to miss lunch. "I've got this, Zane," Rio told me as she touched my upper arm and pushed me toward the door. As I grudgingly walked away, I saw Rio get down on all fours on the grass and Christina take her seat. The best thing I could say about the situation was that Queen Christina didn't bounce up and down. Before I could come up with some rescue strategy, Iona corralled me and led me to the Handmaiden Mistress of the moment; Dove. Dove's food had grown cold and Iona had kept assuring her I was on my way so I set to my latest exercise in humility. Dove expected me to sit with her. I brushed her shoulder-length auburn hair aside and fed her mouthful after mouthful, using a napkin to tantalize her lips after every few bites, which Dove found enticing and the surrounding tables found romantic. I was getting the feeling that the girls were looking at this whole Handmaiden thing differently than I was. At three o'clock I made it to Soccer tryouts, forgetting one little gigantic complication, this was Christina's team. She and the coach decided that since they couldn't outright deny me the chance for a place on the team, they could make me target practice (aka goalie). I blocked eleven shots from established members of the team (they have Soccer/Football in Thailand) but number twelve got past me, I was off the team. At four came Archery tryouts and I was starting to feel the weight of being the true outsider here, and it got worse when I saw our Team Captain was Chastity Adams, aka Chastity of Team Christina. I turned to put my equipment up when Chastity called me over. "What are you doing, Zane?" "I've just finished having Christina use me as a crash test dummy," I admitted. "I figured I'd save us both some time so that you could concentrate your efforts on people who might actually have a chance to be on the team." "Zane, why don't you think I'd give you a chance?" Chastity asked quietly. "Will you give me a chance?" I wondered. "Not if you quit right now," she pointed out. So, I gave it a shot and I leaned that I sucked at archery, but clearly not as bad as most of the other girls so Chastity tapped me as a competitive alternate, which meant I was to carry equipment and practice a lot, the newbie. "Why did you do this, let me on the team?" I inquired after the team announcements. "You aren't half bad," she explained, then smiled and pointed out, "plus you will distract the other all-female teams." "Thanks for the chance, Chastity," I said as I shook her hand. "You are good-looking and funny, Zane, and the other girls will work harder so they can stick around you," she responded while looking at me intently. "Now go, you have another team to try out for." Sometimes I needed to be reminded that there are things a twenty-one-year-old could teach an eighteen-year-old. I barely made it to Karate tryouts (Marksmanship and Orientation were on Tuesdays and Thursdays). I didn't recognize our Team Leader but our coach was Dana Gorman, Head of Security. She eyed me with suspicion but it was nothing compared to the looks I got from the Team Sub-captain. I thought I recognized the face but I definitely recognized her ass and the hair weave, I'd put a foot in it when I kicked her off Rio, yeah me! I told them I knew some kick-boxing but Dana was not impressed so I was placed with the beginners group, which I proceeded to dominate utterly. Ten minutes of that and the Team Captain Wilhelmina Spellman put me in the second tier, where I went undefeated in our little sparing matches yet again. Willie wanted to put me on the first team but the girl whose ass I'd kicked vocally opposed her on it. Willie relented but only partially. After class, the sub-captain would judge my performance and get the final say if I was first-team material. I figured if I ripped out her still-beating heart and showed it to her, I had a fifty-fifty chance of making the squad. We squared off after the last girl left, the sub-Captain didn't want any witnesses. She was more skilled and had more emotional investment but I'd actually been in some real fights and was faster and stronger. As far as matches went, it was pretty intense. We went back and forth with no real advantage until she threw me by grabbing and tearing off my ghee. Before she could capitalize I got in a kick to her gut and when she unfolded, I head-butted her, causing her nose to bleed. I pulled up and she rubbed her nose and looked at the blood. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. Let me go get someone," I urged. "You hurt me," she muttered. "Lord Jesus Christ, you hurt me," she said angrily as I stepped forward. I was so overwhelmed with human compassion I didn't see the kick coming. I was dreaming of running errands to a close village which was something I got away with from time to time. It was a pleasant day if a little cold for daytime in the Thai uplands. The young widow I spent some time with was attending me and I was clearly lying back and enjoying some of our intimate foreplay. Her mouth felt warm and comforting on my little helmet, her tongue didn't twirl like it normally did, but I wasn't in Thailand anymore either. My jaw hurt but that was far less relevant than the pressure of the body I was feeling on my thighs, the warm, wet sensation around my cock, and the feel of hands on my shaft and stomach. I propped myself up and looked down at my crotch were our sub-captain looked up at me while keeping her bobbing rhythm going. "Stop," I ordered her. She reluctantly agreed, her eyes warring with anger, shame, and lust. I imagine she was wondering about what kind of academic hell I was about to bring down on her or if she could get away with crying rape as she pushed herself back and rested on her haunches. "Take off your clothes," I ordered next. That command staggered her but my gaze fixed her in place. "What are you going to do to me?" she said with a shaky voice. "I'm going to reciprocate what you've been doing to me. You gave me a great lesson and I want to return the favor, now strip." She thought about it a moment, then did a quick striptease which brought me to my knees. "What's your name?" I inquired as she finished. "Cappadocia Davis," she murmured as she met me at knee level. I started kissing her, drifting into chest contact and letting our hands roam free for several minutes. Cappy had a very passive-aggressive style and often mirrored what I did, all the signals of a confident virgin. Getting us down head to crotch took little effort as Cappy went back to administering her blowjob and I started working over her own sexual center. She only asked me to hurry once when I was spending time getting to know her thighs with delicate kisses. Though it was a bit rough, Cappadocia worked me furiously with strong hands, plump lips, and a fighter's stamina. On my end, I did all I could. I mapped out the pleasure lines along her thighs, across the groin, and farther along the stomach and sides, passing the breasts to the throat, ears and lips. Cappadocia expected a quick fuck and an equally quick departure. As it was, we missed dinner and I would almost be late for my room meeting. Before then, I explored Cappy fully. I kissed every ebony inch of her, from kneecap to navel; I took gentle tongue strokes to her lips, cunt, and especially the clit while not forgetting a little tantalization of her ass which drove her over the top to an orgasm by itself. Cappy was good enough to take my seed not once, but twice, though the first time she took most of it on her face. I sat there with two fingers stretching her lips apart while my tongue languidly worked on her labia and clitoris. I tickled the clit, sucking it with my lips, then blowing on it coolly. She learned how to swirl with her tongue once my cock was inside her mouth for a stronger sensation. Cappadocia liked a contest and we had the best of kinds; neither side won and a rematch was in order, definitely. "Cappadocia," I began as I was getting my outdoor clothes on, "I don't think I'm ready for first team yet." "Neither do I," she responded after a few moments of thought. "I'd like to keep training for it, though. I'm not going to give up trying, no matter how many private sessions it takes." "I have to agree, Zane. You are not yet ready and it is going to take a whole lot of private lessons to get you into 'first team' shape," she nodded. I left with a sore jaw but thinking good thoughts. I'd made two teams and had a shot at two others, as long as no one shot me or sent me to get lost in the wilds with a false map. The Solarium Why am I Living in a Glass House? I raced across campus to my dorm only to discover a sad looking girl in a short terry cloth robe sitting on the outside steps with a half-full trash bag. She perked up when she saw me. "Zane," she hailed me, "I want you to take out my trash." Okay, that seemed kind of lame to me because the dumpster was thirty feet away so I had to think quickly. "Umm," I looked her over. "Jolene," she provided. "Jolene, this doesn't seem quite fair," I pointed out, and I watched her deflate before me. "See," I said as I took her bag of trash and headed for the dumpster, her tagging along, "maybe I should come by your place tonight around nine thirty and clean up your room for you. Does that sound like a more appropriate Handmaiden's duty?" The little lights went off in her eyes. "Yes," she bobbed her head. "Yes, it sounds, amazing." Without telling me her room number, she skipped off through the doors and went off to do God knows what. I went looking for Iona who, as I guessed, hooked me up with the girl's location. Gliding into my room after that was less satisfying. "You are late, Mr. Braxton," Ms. Goodswell informed me. "Handmaiden's Duty," I countered. "We've moved all your furniture to the Solarium on the top floor," Dana rumbled. Solarium, top floor. Wasn't I on the top floor already? What was I getting into? That wasn't the most important thing at the moment, though. Rio sat on her bed, knees up, hugging a pillow and looking decidedly unhappy at the world. I turned to the two teachers and asked them for a minute with my old roomie. Dana grumbled but Virginia made her give us the space. "What's up, Rio?" I asked as I sat down at the foot of the bed. I knew what was wrong; I was abandoning her and I was not the first guy to do so. The only problem was, I wasn't those other guys. "Nothing's up, asshole," she shot back. "I'm looking forward to not having you snore all night long. Plus, I'll be able to shower whenever I want," she sniffled. "Oh, well, dealing with you has been a total pain in my ass too, Rio. It will be a relief to not have to wake up looking at you, your tattoos and all those body piercings," I stated evenly. "Hey, I don't have any piercings anymore," she pouted, hurt by the comment and its accuracy. "Well, I don't believe you, Rio. Sometime you will have to come up to the Solarium and show me just how wrong I am. I'll leave out a sleeping bag in case your city-bred ass gets lost and you can't figure out how to get back down after dark," I joked. "Zane, if they find you sleeping with a girl, you'll get expelled," Rio whispered. "Thank God you are not a girl, then, ya freak," I grinned so she hit me with her pillow. Rio was sneering at me playfully as I left; we were still friends. Outside my room, I'd picked up an old friend, Barbie Lynn Masters, and with Virginia, Dana, and Iona, we trekked to the fifth floor, then up to the roof. Now, when they were designing this kind of dorm in the nineteen seventies, the architect was on a 'Retro Victorian' kick. He envisioned a safe green haven for the girls to go to where they would be free to partake of nature's bounty without risking pesky urban menaces like rapists, thieves, and murderers. The Christian Elders liked the design so much, they transplanted it to the Virginia countryside. Of course, there aren't a lot of muggers in rural areas so the roof escapes weren't totally necessary or welcome by the student body and when the school built its twelve-foot-tall brick wall with security cameras around the entire facility, the need evaporated. Soon, all the Solariums were abandoned, the plants died, and not all the window panes were replaced. It was a pretty freaking miserable place at first glance and there was some suspicion that this was an indirect way to drive me out. But they clearly had avoided the Developing World and my long experience in it when thinking this through. I loved it. I had roughly eighty percent of the dorm building's floor space to play with. It would be a lot of work to fix it but I had been accidentally supplied with a ready and willing work force. Thank you, freshmen and Handmaiden's Duty, because amongst its other virtues, the Solarium was my room, and a freshman in a dorm room was immune to being summoned for Handmaiden Duty while in any such room unless required by a duty to go there. All I had to do was have Iona get the word out to our fellow freshman that my room was sanctuary and I was set. All that was tomorrow; tonight, I had a cold room with squirrels, maybe a raccoon or two, birds, spiders, roaches, and an assortment of other pests, plus my bed, dresser, and a wardrobe from the drama department. I had also secured the choice time of five forty-five to six as my bathroom time in the morning, and ten to ten-fifteen in the evening. How I would actually piss during the day was swept under the rug. Ms. Goodswell suggested I get a hall pass during class periods for safety's sake. College, hall pass, Did they think I should make up for missing high school? It was lights out in my domicile. The moon was waning and the sky was clear when I heard someone working the lock to my door at the bottom of the stairs. Five people had keys: I was one, Dana Gorman was another, Virginia Goodswell, and Chancellor Bazz were two others, but none of them, I suspected. I spotted the faint moonlight playing across golden locks as my intruder drew close. "Hey," Barbie Lynn whispered as she came to a stop by my bed. "I thought you might get cold so I brought you a quilt from storage." "You are a life-saver, Barbie; I'm freezing in here. Why don't you put the quilt over me and climb in so it will warm up here faster and we can both get to sleep sooner," I responded softly. It was a weak lie but it was really all Barbie needed; it was late summer in Virginia, after all. She spread out the quilt and started to get in. "Wait, you'll get your skirt wrinkled," I cautioned her before she sat down. She nodded and stripped out of it, then completed the process by stripping off her shirt, (no bra), socks, and shoes. As she snuggled up against me, she realized I was naked. "Oh, that doesn't seem fair," Barbie giggled, so she wiggled around under the covers and tossed out her undies. "That's better." I pulled her into my arms and I caught her stealing glances up at me as she pressed her hands against my chest. "We have all night," I assured her, and that earned me a kiss. "Oh, and I have your missing panties in my book bag, courtesy of Rio." I returned her kiss and soon we were wrapped around one another, engrossed in one another's erogenous zones (ear lobes, nipples, lips, and throats) as well as tempting fate with a little penal vaginal contact. After she wrestled me against the headboard and took my member deep into her mouth we had a little session of 'try doing this and watch him squirm' until I finally lost control and erupted several times into her mouth. "Umm, Barbie Lynn murmured as she rolled some semen over her tongue, eyes lighting up as I smiled at her talent. "Jesus bless me, you taste nearly as good as you look. I want more!" "Next time we can swap cum," I suggested to her. Barbie wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't that make you a homo?" she questioned. I forgave her ignorance due to cuteness. "You've tasted your juices on my lips but you are not a lesbian," I pointed out. After a moment she nodded so I continued with, "all I want to do is taste it on your tongue, not someone else's on my tongue." Telling her I'd given more than one blowjob didn't appear to be helpful at this time; I'm decidedly not heterosexual. "Oh, you're pretty smart for someone so young," she smiled seductively. I cupped her face in one hand. "I may be young and smart, but you are far more beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful, than me and one heck of a teacher because you keep me wanting to learn more," I heartily complimented her. I must have struck a chord because Barbie Lynn glowed from the inside out and virtually poured like tanned molten gold into my lap. "Fuck me," she begged with sensual need. "What about your Pledge?" I questioned. "Fuck my ass," she moaned, "it's not really cheating." Yeah, right. "Okay, Barbie Lynn, but teaching you to like it isn't easy. I'm going to have to break you in all night long," I warned her, but all I got was a violent trembling of anticipation which caused her to make my lap damp and my cock rebound to duty. We kissed deeply and with longing for over a minute, Barbie rocking in my lap, her labia brushing my cockhead. "Is it going to hurt?" she panted into my lips. "Yes. The first time you are going to scream, but I promise you I'll show you how good it can be," I assured her. She gulped in fear but smiled with wanton lust in her eyes. I played with her cunt and my cock, doing tiny penetrations until Barbie lost it in a screaming, ear-splitting orgasm, "God loves me, God loves me, God Loves ME!!!!" She followed that up by collapsing against me and burying my face in her ample bosom. I couldn't help myself; I took an overly sensitive nipple into my lips. "Oh, oh, oh, baby, that hurts; that hur, she whispered hoarsely until I relented. That didn't stop her from hugging me tightly to her chest though. "Barbie Lynn, go over to my kit and get the Vaseline," I ordered her after a bit. "Why do I have to do it?" she teased me. "I love to watch your ass wiggle when you leave and the way your bare breasts bounce when you come back," I confessed. Once more she came on with this deep kiss and a winning smile, then she did as I asked and the view was definitely as delicious as I'd hoped. She quickly resumed her position over me, shimmying to the point I was afraid I'd actually press my cock too far into her cunt. Barbie was biting her lip while we played with her virginal fire; I knew I had to do something and that was to pop the top of the lubricant and rub two fingers deep into her back door. "Here we go," I cautioned her, "I'll be slow and gentle. We are taking our time so don't worry about tensing up, I'll deal." She gave me a nod, then went back to tempting fate. I was finding more and more to lust over with Barbie. When my right index finger brushed her pink star, she didn't flinch one bit. She kept her rotation going and I slipped in a finger without much protest or resistance. I let this finger slip in and out for a minute, sinking in deeper every few thrusts. To distract her, I moved my left hand between us and slipped two fingers into her cunt. That, along with the touch of my cock, got her off. Barbie bounced harder so I was forced to put a third finger in the way of my cock penetrating her, plus I pressed the knuckle of my thumb against her clit. For a second Barbie Lynn seemed at a loss of what to do, but one look at my parted lips, panting from the excitement, convinced her to feed one magnificent nipple into my mouth while she played with the other one before my eyes. She teased me so I stuck a second finger up her ass. Barbie bucked and moaned but if she was in any pain, she hid it well. "Do you want to know something?" she struggled to say, hovering over me. I nodded. "It took a grand total of seven minutes for the last two boys I was with to cum all over my tits. I don't know how long we've been going at it but Lord Almighty, I'm so happy I was given this dorm. This is going to be the best year ever." "I'm working on it," I gasped as I twitched and pushed my fingers around. "I'm glad you are my Dorm Mother." "Oh, oh, oh, oh, the other girls are so jealous that I have you," she panted. "They wanted to know what it would take to steal you away." "I hope you understand that I want to stay here with you," I groaned. Barbie Lynn stopped moving for a moment, accepting me and my honest desire. "Put it in," she begged. "It will hurt," I assured her. "I don't care," she looked at me hungrily. I pulled my hand out of her cunt and rolled her to my side while still keeping my other fingers pumping in her ass. Maneuvering around so that I had her head on my pillow and ass sticking up took some thought. I pushed a third finger in quickly. Barbie gasped audibly, pulled away instinctively, then caught herself and pushed back against my hand. She whimpered and choked back a sob. I withdrew my fingers and covered my cock with some hastily scooped glob of Vaseline. Barbie looked back to me in quivering anticipation. Before she spoke I lined my cock up with her anus and started pushing. Barbie Lynn shut her eyes, bit her lower lip and smiled lustfully. "Oh!" she groaned, as I slipped past her anal ring. I knew enough to hesitate before the next push, then the next. "Please," she whimpered. I stopped moving. "Please give me all of it," she completed. "Don't hold back." I pushed harder not waiting for her to adjust. "Ah!" she cried out. I stopped and she responded with a, "No, no, no, Zane, please don't stop." "I don't want to hurt you," I groaned. "It hurts a lot but I like that you are the one doing it to me. Please, I want you inside of me, all the way in," she whimpered. I pushed all the way in steadily until my crotch pushed her scrumptious ass cheeks apart. As I rested for a moment, I felt Barbie Lynn's fingers reach between her legs and start to massage my balls. I pulled back while she moaned loudly, her cries echoing throughout the massive glass covered chamber. Despite the low lamplight around my bed, I realized now that we could be seen from the solariums on the roofs of the other dorms. There wasn't much I could, or would, do about that now. I started a slowly intensifying pace in and out of Barbie's ass and she met me with the thrust of her hips and a sensual moaning from her throat. I could tell she was pushing one set of fingers into her snatch while the other worked over her clit. Once we were in total symmetry I slapped her playfully on one ass cheek. "Oh, God, Zane, do it again. I've been bad," was Barbie's lusty declaration. I smacked down across the other cheek. "Harder, Zane, I've been really bad." Another spank and, "I've been much worse than that," she panted. SMACK! and a yelp. "That's it!" she gasped. I kept up the spanking and each blow made her anal muscles contract, virtually grabbing and twisting my cock inside her. "Ah, Jesus Loves Me!!!!" Barbie Lynn squealed as her strongest orgasm to date overwhelmed her and then me. I'd never felt that kind of empathy with another lover like I was feeling with this blonde enchantress. Barbie bucked up against me, slamming her ass against my crotch with painful ferocity as my seed plunged into the depths of her bowels. Barbie Lynn, now virtually sitting in my lap, crested orgasm after orgasm as the heat of each burst of my semen burned new pathways of ecstasy inside her rectum. "Oh, oh, oh, oh," she stammered as her fluids flowed down our legs in a slow steady stream. "Please, Zane , " "Yes?" I panted. "Promise me, promise me we'll do this again," she gasped as she now pressed her sweat-slick back against my upper body. "Again," I thrust into her, "and again, and again," I promised. Barbie Lynn put one hand around to the back of my neck and the other, leaning forward. She drew me into her and we slowly arched forward until the weight of our bodies tumbled us to the bed. Barbie's outstretched arm touched the mattress first and absorbed most of our momentum. Still, I ended up pressing on her and I soon propped myself up so my weight wouldn't suffocate her. As I stationed myself there, panting along with her from our mutual exhaustion, Barbie rolled over so that we were once more face to face. She had this beatific happiness about her that I doubt I'll ever forget. "I, I was afraid I'd regret this, and you," she grinned lazily. "Do you?" I questioned. "Yes. I regret I didn't take you back to my room and do this yesterday. I regret that we have to go to early classes tomorrow. I regret having to share you with nine hundred other women. And I regret you weren't here with me two years ago," she murmured heartily. "I'm going to sit here and bask in my over-stuffed sense of accomplishment," I faux-gloated. "You do a guy's ego good." "Speaking of over-stuffed, can I please, please have one more, please?" she begged playfully. "You are my Dorm Mother and I really should try to keep you happy, so, I related with feigned reluctance. "That's right," she giggled, "you really need to keep me happy. Please show me how you plan to do that." After another serious exploration of our sexuality, Barbie Lynn curled up against my chest, making this deep cat-like rumbling noise. "Do you always talk to Christina over breakfast?" I inquired. "Yes, I always do. If she asks about you, I, I'm going to tell her the truth," she answered. I didn't ask what that would be so she did. "Aren't you worried about what I will say?" "No. I trust you, Barbie. You'll tell her what you need to tell her; truth, lie, or evasion, it is all your business, not mine," I explained. "Well, I'm going to tell her in every minute detail what you did with, to, and for me tonight, and I promise you she's going to race back and change her panties," she sighed happily. From a morning shower to a Heavenly night. Sharing Umbrellas Tuesday: My schedule which the Chancellor had been set in stone, had me in sole custody of the fifth-floor bathroom from five forty-five until six, so I was grateful that only six girls were waiting for me when I arrived. At some level I was sure they expected me to say something and I was pretty sure they hadn't really articulated what they wanted. I said nothing and edged past them. The bravest one, Opal, followed quickly after me, though I had that special moment of taking off my robe in front of her as I readied for my shower. Somehow the blood of Homer's Amazons had entered this school's student body because Opal met my bluff with her buff (body) and crawled under her own water stream once the water was steamy. As I started washing my hair, I caught sight of another girl moving in on my far side. I did my best to remain nonchalant and managed to get my hair clean before they made their move. "Zane," Opal asked innocently, "would you wash my back?" I smiled, nodded, and took the bottle of liquid soap from her hands. I poured some into my palms before placing the bottle on the closest shelf. I started rubbing it onto her shoulders and down her back. The placement of our bodies was complicated by my emergent erection. I worked my way down her back until I touched, then parted and cupped, her ass. I pressed my body against her back with my cock taking a few moments decide on whether it would go up, in, or in between. Finally it slipped up until my cock rested warmly on her back. Opal was totally overtaken by events and simply stood there as I slowly rubbed my body up and down against her back. She looked over her shoulder speculatively as I reached past her for more liquid soap and poured some into my hand. Bottle put aside, I shared the soap with the off-hand before starting to rub down the front of her shoulders. "Put your hands behind your back," I whispered into Opal's ear. She was initially hesitant, then started putting them behind her back where she brushed against my cock, and again before she wrapped her hands around it and began slowly stroking it with a soapy grip. While she was working on my morning wood I made slow circles down to her breasts. Her nipples came alive under my fingertips. I first coaxed them, then plucked them, and finally pinched them tightly as I handled the rest of her breasts roughly. Opal began panting, moaning, and undulating her whole body against mine. I couldn't stop myself from kissing her on the crux of her jaw and neck. "Oh, Oh, Oh, Opal began to gasp. I felt her body start to tremble under my touch so I hunted for that most sensitive place with my tongue and bit into that spot on her neck sharply. Opal slammed hard into me, bouncing up and down on her toes like some sudsy, hot vibrator against my cock, if only I had the time. "Ah, she sobbed in joy. Even after the orgasm settled, Opal kept gyrating against me. "This wasn't what I had in mind," Opal moaned. Whoops! "My apology," I told her, and started separating from her, but she held firm. "Oh, no, you don't. Maybe you misunderstood me. This was more, much more than I expected. I'm glad you are superior to your hype. Can we do this tomorrow morning?" "Hmm, how about we see what comes up then?" I evaded. As I backed away, the girl on the other side held out her soap bottle expectantly. "Sorry, but I need to get out of here before girls, other girls show up," I explained to her. "Brigit; my name is Brigit," she filled me in. "Can we do, that, tomorrow?" By 'that,' I assume she meant my version of the soapy body rub. "Okay," I said, "how about calling Iona and figuring out how you ladies want to handle my shower visits, though I would like to point out the Administration believes I'm in here alone." "Do you want us to stay away?" Opal asked cautiously. "Opal, Brigit, I would rather go through life minus one testicle than miss spending time with any of you ladies but I don't want anyone unwittingly getting into trouble because of me," I answered. "Since you need to be going," Opal teased, "let me help." "I'll help too," Brigit insisted. I'm going to be a while deciding exactly how I rate being shaved by one girl while getting a blowjob from another at the same time. My facial expression caused Rio to laugh at me as I came back down to answer the door. It was around six thirty and I had only recently gotten back and put my school uniform on. "Either you've been hit by the world's softest two by four or you've already had sex at least once this morning," she chuckled. "Hey, Rio, Iona, come on in. It isn't like I could stop you," I joked. "So, did you take her temperature, kick up her heels, or give her an attitude adjustment?" Rio teased as we headed up. Iona looked confused and expected me to be either equally confused or give her an explanation. I was confused, which made Rio laugh louder. "Taking her temperature equals blowjob; kicking up the heels is straight-up fucking, and attitude adjustment is anal sex, jeesh, people," Rio berated us. Once we came to my island of civilization in the wilderness of the Solarium, Iona looked around curiously; this may have been the first men's bedroom she'd ever seen. Rio walked over to my bed, was about to plop down in it, then studied it for a second and gawked at me. "Damn, Zane, what happened last night? How many girls did you have up here?" she grinned maniacally. I sighed and rolled my eyes. "One," I admitted. "How did you know?" "Peach lip gloss and teeth marks on the pillow, several sets, so, You Go Boy!" she explained. "Plus, your bed smells of Vaseline, baby oil, sweat, Secret deodorant, and a good deal of fuck juice, the female variety. Then there is the matter of, she drew forth a long blonde hair, "you not being blonde." "This was not on the list!" squawked Iona. "Lip gloss, teeth marks?" "That means he fucked her ass long and hard, Iona," Rio explained to her far less experienced classmate, "and she came back for more, and more." Iona stole a look my way, hoping I'd deny everything, but I made eye contact with her and nodded. She looked disappointed in me, which oddly made me feel bad inside. "Snap out of it, Iona," Rio snorted. Iona still looked hurt. "What is more likely, Zane went trolling the lower levels for a girl to sex up, or a girl snuck up here and jumped him in his bed?" "Oh," Iona gasped, now more pleased. Apparently, me being nearly raped in my own bed was okay with her. From my point of view, I can try to understand women or I can appreciate them for what they willingly offer me. If a woman wants me to treat her like a Sphinx, I'll leap at the challenge. One day I'm sure I'll find a woman not worth this kind of effort but I'm not there yet. I had finished getting dressed and was making toward the stairs when the door at the bottom opened and Barbie Lynn came bounding up. She took in my two companions without missing her stride before bouncing up to me. "Hey, Zane," she purred. "I wanted to make sure you hadn't overslept." "Thanks, I appreciate the concern, but I slept great last night. Waking up feeling that good is always a pleasure. How did you sleep?" I responded. "I tossed and turned," she pouted. "I was missing something I couldn't put my hands on. If I can't figure out what that is I'll be up pacing the halls well past midnight tonight." Rio stepped behind Barbie and made a gagging motion. "So, Barbie Lynn," Rio requested, "do you have any lip gloss I could use?" Barbie turned around and pulled a micro-jar that she handed to Rio. "Umm, peach flavored," Rio revealed vindictively. At some point I am sure Rio will show restraint; my challenge now is living long enough to see it. Rio spanked Barbie Lynn hard on the ass and the Dorm Mother yelped in surprise and pain. "Ow," gasped Barbie Lynn, glaring at Rio. I moved an arm around Barbie and pulled her close, a gesture she comfortably molded into. "I'm sorry," Rio snickered, "but you have such a wonderful posterior BLT, I know it is a sin if no one appreciates it." "BLT?" I cautioned Rio, and by that I intoned that the next spanking was likely going to be administered to her by me. "Barbie Lynn Tease," Rio grinned, daring me to step up. As I handed my book bag to Iona, Rio squealed in delight and raced down the stairs. I was right behind her and I would have undoubtedly caught and punished her on the fifth floor if not for one thing. "Zane, I'm here for your breakfast duty," a sophomore I was to learn was named Emanuela commanded, Handmaiden's Duty. Technically she should wait until I was outside, but, eh. They nailed Rio seconds before she could turn and gloat at me. "Front or back?" I politely requested of Emanuela, who was thankfully on my schedule. "Front or back?" she wondered. "Do you want me to carry you like this?" I asked, as I swept her up in my arms. She was light enough, including book bag, for me to make it to the Dining Hall without too much effort. "What is back?" she gasped. "Piggyback," I explained. "Oh. I like this way much better," she informed me. I started making my way through the crowd when I caught sight of Barbie Lynn and Iona coming down the stairs. Seeing my situation, Barbie put an arm around Iona and whispered something to her. Iona was already carrying my books and I had the feeling that Barbie knew I liked Iona so she was going to look after the small freshman for me. Breakfast came and went and I found myself cornered and 'forced' to escort another girl to Assembly. She asked me if I'd prefer being covered with whipped cream or honey. I reminded her that whipped cream was cold but honey left a sticky residue, I suggested trying icing. At Assembly, the heavens broke and a hard rain set in as we got ready to disperse. The problem came when it was realized that many girls hadn't packed an umbrella. The answer for most was to take an umbrella from a freshman, which I found unsatisfactory. I had a sudden burst of insight as the first freshmen girls paled at the thought of being soaked through to the bone. I grabbed Iona and then made a beeline for Christina. None of what followed would have been possible without the understanding of a girl I didn't know, Pandora Jaspers. Her plan was for me to take my umbrella and cover us both as we went to class, but when I told her 'I have a plan,' she nodded and went along for the ride. Certainly we were a strange group that approached Christina Buchanan. "Yes?" questioned Christina with her bemused expression as I came to a halt before her and her court. Chastity smiled, Heaven seethed, Faith looked uncertain, and the fifth girl was a cipher. "I think I can do something about this rain," I said urgently. Christina didn't laugh but I had a feeling Pandora wanted to strangle me. "Go on," Christina commanded. "We make a covered walkway of umbrellas, held by freshmen, to protect everyone go

In the weeks since Chinese President Xi Jinping announced the new Global Governance Initiative (GGI) during a speech at the SCO summit in Tianjin, Beijing's propaganda apparatus has been working overtime to build support for the new plan, particularly in Africa, Latin America, and other developing regions. The GGI is the latest in a series of Chinese global initiatives that also focus on development, human rights, and security, which it's using to stake a larger claim for international leadership at a time when the U.S.-led system is collapsing. Brian Wong, an assistant professor at Hong Kong University and a leading scholar on Chinese global governance, joins Eric to discuss what Beijing is hoping to accomplish with the GGI and its other governance initiatives. SHOW NOTES: Routledge: Moral Debt: Defending a New Account of Reparative Justice by Brian Wong Hong Kong University Press: Towards a Future for BRICS+ edited by Heiwai Tang and Brian Wong  JOIN THE DISCUSSION: X: @ChinaGSProject | @eric_olander Facebook: www.facebook.com/ChinaAfricaProject YouTube: www.youtube.com/@ChinaGlobalSouth Now on Bluesky! Follow CGSP at @chinagsproject.bsky.social FOLLOW CGSP IN FRENCH: www.projetafriquechine.com | @AfrikChine JOIN US ON PATREON! Become a CGSP Patreon member and get all sorts of cool stuff, including our Week in Review report, an invitation to join monthly Zoom calls with Eric & Cobus, and even an awesome new CGSP Podcast mug! www.patreon.com/chinaglobalsouth

Guest Host Saroja Coelho speaks with The Globe and Mail's Shannon Proudfoot, Angus Reid Institute's Shachi Kurl and Joël-Denis Bellavance from La Presse about Prime Minister Mark Carney's first 100 days since being elected, journalist Megan Reynolds unpacks our love-hate relationship with the word "like," CBC News senior correspondent Susan Ormiston brings us the latest on Israel's plan to take over Gaza City, Foreign Policy's Ravi Agrawal and Eurasia Group's Graeme Thompson discuss how U.S. tariffs will affect developing countries, and writer Roland Allen shares why physical notebooks still endure in our digital age.Discover more at https://www.cbc.ca/sunday

Bob Freling has been the Executive Director of the Solar Electric Light Fund (SELF) since 1997. Its mission is to design, fund, and implement solar energy solutions to benefit those in poor communities without access to the electricity grid, helping others to overcome energy poverty. SELF provides energy access in the developing world and has an impressive track record of providing more than 750 solar systems in over 20 countries. Bob Freling was born and raised in Dallas, Texas and was educated at Yale University where he earned his degree in Russian Studies. He has an intense appreciation of linguistics having studied Spanish, French, Russian, and Mandarin. After colleage, and when on assignment in Taiwan, he joined the antinuclear movement, and came upon clean solar energy and SELF. He never looked back, realizing the life-changing value of solar in the developing world.Bob discusses SELF's evolution from providing small household, 50-watt solar solutions -- which powered a few lights and a radio -- to the "whole village development model" which provides a broader spectrum of benefits including community water pumping, power for health clinics, streetlighting, and microenterprise centers. One memorable project was in the Valley of a Thousand Hills in South Africa. There, SELF installed a satellite dish and 2.4 kW solar array that powered a school which received 20 personal computers donated by Dell Computers. All of a sudden, that community had access not only to energy but to "the universe of information." Another project was in the African country of Benin where SELF supported water pumping and drip irrigation, and hydroponics, fostering solar market gardens run by women's farming cooperatives.Recently SELF has been promoting new forms of agriculture in Masai villages in Kenya... using water most judiciously and effectively. SELF is also focused on e-cooking using advanced electric cooking devices. Bob discusses the great value of the sun in supporting the energy-water-food nexus and is thankful for the support SELF has received from foundations, philanthropists, corporations, and international aid agencies. For his dedication and important works, Bob was honored to receive the King Hussein Leadership Award which was presented to him by Jordan's Queen Noor. For more information and to support SELF, please visit www.SELF.org.

In this episode, we feature Michael Parenti, a prominent political scientist and cultural critic, as he delivers a powerful lecture at the University of Colorado Boulder from 1986. Parenti discusses the intricacies of US interventionism, the dynamics of capitalism, and the historical exploitation of the developing world. He challenges conventional narratives about poverty in the Global South, asserting that these nations are not poor but rather over-exploited. Join us as we unpack his insightful analysis of imperialism, capitalism, and the ongoing struggles for social justice that our oligarchs and their political class have not seemed to learn the lessons from 40 years ago, as the stature of the U.S. erodes daily on the world stage, supporting endless war in Ukraine and Palestine, disastrous trade policies, and ongoing hegemonic and regime change operations in multiple countries. Support the Podcast via PayPal https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=LBGXTRM292TFC&source=url For an extended interview and other benefits, become an EcoJustice Radio patron at https://www.patreon.com/ecojusticeradio Sources: Michael Parenti speaks at the University of Colorado, Boulder: "US interventionism, the 3rd world, and the USSR" April 15, 1986 Yellow Lecture: https://youtu.be/W10QEs-TkhU?si=ZP_D5JNOWpJ_xvuC Michael Parenti Library: https://www.youtube.com/@themichaelparentilibrary/videos Michael Parenti [https://www.michael-parenti.org/] is a U.S. political scientist, academic historian and cultural critic who writes on scholarly and popular subjects. He is the award-winning author of twenty-four books, including The Face of Imperialism (2011) and Democracy for the Few originally written in 1974 with a 9th edition published in 2010: He has taught at universities and has also run for political office. Parenti is well known for his Marxist writings and lectures, and is an intellectual of the U.S. Left. Jack Eidt is an urban planner, environmental journalist, and climate organizer, as well as award-winning fiction writer. He is Co-Founder of SoCal 350 Climate Action and Executive Producer of EcoJustice Radio. He writes a column on PBS SoCal called High & Dry [https://www.pbssocal.org/people/high-dry]. He is also Founder and Publisher of WilderUtopia [https://wilderutopia.com], a website dedicated to the question of Earth sustainability, finding society-level solutions to environmental, community, economic, transportation and energy needs. Podcast Website: http://ecojusticeradio.org/ Podcast Blog: https://www.wilderutopia.com/category/ecojustice-radio/ Support the Podcast: Patreon https://www.patreon.com/ecojusticeradio PayPal https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=LBGXTRM292TFC&source=url Executive Producer and Host: Jack Eidt Engineer and Original Music: Blake Quake Beats Episode 263 Photo credit: Michael Parenti

Public Health Careers podcast episode with Amanda Spence, MPH

Public Health Careers podcast episode with Amanda Spence, MPH

Trade, defence and Ukraine are not the only areas in which the EU is facing a massive challenge from the Trump administration. The US president's "America First" agenda is having a huge impact on the developing world. In March, it was announced that 83 percent of USAID programmes and contracts were being terminated. These programmes "don't serve US interests", members of the Trump government say. But critics – including some MEPs in Brussels – say the de-funding is costing lives, for example when it comes to treatments for HIV.

The Cognitive Crucible is a forum that presents different perspectives and emerging thought leadership related to the information environment. The opinions expressed by guests are their own, and do not necessarily reflect the views of or endorsement by the Information Professionals Association. During this episode, Tom Kent returns to the Cognitive Crucible to share his concerns related to the United States recent withdrawal from international broadcasting. Topics include: US soft power, abandoning pro-democracy initiatives, impact on international relations, international broadcasting structure inefficiencies, and language services cost and logistics Recording Date: 25 Mar 2025 Resources: Cognitive Crucible Podcast Episodes Mentioned #10 Tom Kent on Striking Back #105 Tom Kent on Persuasion in the Developing World #177 Tom Kent on How Russia Loses US agency for Global Media (USAGM) Link to full show notes and resources Guest Bio: Thomas Kent teaches and consults on Russian affairs, journalism, and the problems of propaganda and disinformation. President of Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty until 2018, he now teaches at Columbia University and consults for governments, NGOs, and news organizations. He is a senior fellow for strategic communication of the American Foreign Policy Council and an associate fellow of Slovakia's GLOBSEC. Previously, he was Moscow bureau chief for The Associated Press, head of AP's international news coverage, and editor for standards and ethics. His first book, Striking Back: Overt and Covert Options to Combat Russian Disinformation, was published in 2020, and his second, “How Russia Loses,” in 2023. He is now working on a new book, on the propaganda lessons of the Ukraine war. About: The Information Professionals Association (IPA) is a non-profit organization dedicated to exploring the role of information activities, such as influence and cognitive security, within the national security sector and helping to bridge the divide between operations and research. Its goal is to increase interdisciplinary collaboration between scholars and practitioners and policymakers with an interest in this domain. For more information, please contact us at communications@information-professionals.org. Or, connect directly with The Cognitive Crucible podcast host, John Bicknell, on LinkedIn. Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate, 1) IPA earns from qualifying purchases, 2) IPA gets commissions for purchases made through links in this post.

In PX129 our guest is Jeffrey Mason of the Charter Cities Institute. Jeffrey joined CCI as a Researcher in 2019. His research interests include urban economics, structural transformation, special economic zones, and technology ecosystems. He has worked on policy advisory projects in Nigeria, Tanzania, Zambia, and Honduras, among other countries. Prior to joining the Charter Cities Institute, Jeffrey worked as an MA Fellow at the Mercatus Center at George Mason University. He holds a BA in economics from the University of Maryland and an MA in economics from George Mason University. His writing has been featured in publications including City Journal, Works in Progress, Investment Monitor, Quartz Africa, and The American Mind. The Charter Cities Institute is a nonprofit dedicated to creating the ecosystem for charter cities, founded on the idea that a fresh approach was necessary to tackle humanity's most pressing challenges, such as global poverty, climate change and rapid urbanisation. CCI believe charter cities—new cities granted a special jurisdiction to create a new governance system—are that solution. By improving governance through deep regulatory and administrative reforms, charter cities can help accelerate economic growth in developing countries and lift tens of millions of people out of poverty. Details at https://chartercitiesinstitute.org In podcast extra / culture corner, Jeff recommends the book ‘Outsourcing Empire: How Company-States Made the Modern World' by Andrew Phillips and JC Sharman https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691203515/outsourcing-empire Jess recommends the TV series Ted Lasso https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ted_Lasso Pete recommends the book ‘The Diaries of Fred Williams 1963 - 1970' https://www.amazon.com.au/Diaries-Fred-Williams-1963-1970/dp/0522871208 Episode PX129 was released on 31 March 2025. PX is proud to be a member of the Urban Broadcast Collective.

In PX129 our guest is Jeffrey Mason of the Charter Cities Institute. Jeffrey joined CCI as a Researcher in 2019. His research interests include urban economics, structural transformation, special economic zones, and technology ecosystems. He has worked on policy advisory projects in Nigeria, Tanzania, Zambia, and Honduras, among other countries. Prior to joining the Charter Cities Institute, Jeffrey worked as an MA Fellow at the Mercatus Center at George Mason University. He holds a BA in economics from the University of Maryland and an MA in economics from George Mason University. His writing has been featured in publications including City Journal, Works in Progress, Investment Monitor, Quartz Africa, and The American Mind. The Charter Cities Institute is a nonprofit dedicated to creating the ecosystem for charter cities, founded on the idea that a fresh approach was necessary to tackle humanity's most pressing challenges, such as global poverty, climate change and rapid urbanisation. CCI believe charter cities—new cities granted a special jurisdiction to create a new governance system—are that solution. By improving governance through deep regulatory and administrative reforms, charter cities can help accelerate economic growth in developing countries and lift tens of millions of people out of poverty. Details at https://chartercitiesinstitute.org In podcast extra / culture corner, Jeff recommends the book ‘Outsourcing Empire: How Company-States Made the Modern World' by Andrew Phillips and JC Sharman https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691203515/outsourcing-empire Jess recommends the TV series Ted Lasso https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ted_Lasso Pete recommends the book ‘The Diaries of Fred Williams 1963 - 1970' https://www.amazon.com.au/Diaries-Fred-Williams-1963-1970/dp/0522871208 Episode PX129 was released on 31 March 2025.

In PX129 our guest is Jeffrey Mason of the Charter Cities Institute. Jeffrey joined CCI as a Researcher in 2019. His research interests include urban economics, structural transformation, special economic zones, and technology ecosystems. He has worked on policy advisory projects in Nigeria, Tanzania, Zambia, and Honduras, among other countries. Prior to joining the Charter Cities Institute, Jeffrey worked as an MA Fellow at the Mercatus Center at George Mason University. He holds a BA in economics from the University of Maryland and an MA in economics from George Mason University. His writing has been featured in publications including City Journal, Works in Progress, Investment Monitor, Quartz Africa, and The American Mind. The Charter Cities Institute is a nonprofit dedicated to creating the ecosystem for charter cities, founded on the idea that a fresh approach was necessary to tackle humanity's most pressing challenges, such as global poverty, climate change and rapid urbanisation. CCI believe charter cities—new cities granted a special jurisdiction to create a new governance system—are that solution. By improving governance through deep regulatory and administrative reforms, charter cities can help accelerate economic growth in developing countries and lift tens of millions of people out of poverty. Details at https://chartercitiesinstitute.org In podcast extra / culture corner, Jeff recommends the book ‘Outsourcing Empire: How Company-States Made the Modern World' by Andrew Phillips and JC Sharman https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691203515/outsourcing-empire Jess recommends the TV series Ted Lasso https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ted_Lasso Pete recommends the book ‘The Diaries of Fred Williams 1963 - 1970' https://www.amazon.com.au/Diaries-Fred-Williams-1963-1970/dp/0522871208 Episode PX129 was released on 31 March 2025.

The first Ishara open  House Challenge .Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.Odd Happenings{8:58 am, Wednesday, Sept. 3rd ~ 5 Days to go; the Final Salvo ~ at this time}I had deposited my Mother in the place I felt was safest for her   with OT (Oyuun T m rbaatar) at the Kazakhstan's UN mission. Her being my family was what mattered to them most. I picked her up on my way to work, which made my entrance into the lobby all that much more cataclysmic.I was traveling light with only Wiesława Živa providing me with security. Chaz, Pamela and Juanita were catching up with their sleep, with a promise of taking me out for a late lunch. That was really them telling me to not leave JIKIT until they came for me around 2:00 pm.So anyway, me, Mom and Wiesława walked into the ground floor of the Mil Ma Towers to find eleven people waiting on us. We were in downtown Manhattan in a part of town the NYPD paid particular attention to. What could go wrong, right? Two of the people were Amazons from Havenstone. With them were two fine young men from the US 'don't make me kill you' Department. By this time in my life I was sure they had one   which no one talked about.Five of my expectant visitors were of the same mold as those who protected Hana for me. Not the Ghost Tigers   that would have put me at ease. Sure, they were a gang of assassin and in this circumstance; I would have preferred them. As it was, ten sets of highly-trained Illuminati operative eyes kept me, my party and the four guardians of JIKIT in their overlapping fields of vision.The last two, were doing an impromptu family reunion. They were Aunts 'X' and 'Y', and neither of them smelled like fish, or crab."Aunt Deidre," I tossed out there. "What brings you here today?"It looked like clobbering time! No. Wait. Neither Mom, nor my aunts, were saying anything and they were normally so verbose."Sibeal.""Imogen.""Sibeal, you are looking surprisingly well for a dead woman," the other one said."Deidre, you are looking surprisingly alive for someone who deserves to be dead," Mom bantered back."How long have you known about this?" Imogen's eyes flickered my way."Not long, a while, more than a day, ah, take your pick," I mumbled. I decided to turn that frown aka 'my gut wrenching terror that my Mother was about to die' upside down aka ramped up my sexy, 'glad to see you in a totally incestuous way'."So, what brings you here today and why aren't you waiting upstairs with the rest of my band of cutthroats, malcontents and ne'er do-wells? Oh, and I'm happy to see both of you." Karma was about to bitch-slap the shit out of me and it was so well deserved."I'm pregnant," Imogen studied my reaction. Yeah, I had banged her after Deidre, but before Baibre because I am a fucking reprehensible human being and sometimes, I feel I am utterly irredeemable."Great news," I exhaled. I so wanted to ask 'so, who is the father?' except that was too cruel, even for an O'Shea.No one stopped me from stepping up and hugging her. Everyone in the lobby had heard her loud and clear. Anyone who knew me, or even about me, knew she wasn't passing on the information because Imogen liked sharing good news. I kept my hands on her hips while I leaned my torso back until we could make eye contact."Does Granddad know?" It occurred to me in that second that Pamela was going to kick herself for missing this and the opportunity to kick me as well."I told him over the phone. His reaction was neutral," she responded."Whoa, girl? Boy? How are you doing? When are we going to sit down and figure out a name? Is there anything I can do for you?""Come home with me," she suggested."No," Mom snapped. "Next time he steps into your custody, we all know you won't let him get away." She meant the plane trip to Ireland."No, Mom," I countered. "I'm a grown man now and I make my own decisions. That being said   no, I'm not going home with you.""Not only am I still in love with the concept of my personal freedom, I have important work to do. People are counting on me.""We are counting on you too," Deidre stated. "In fact, that is the other reason we came here. We need you.""Why do I feel that has to do with something besides sex?""Can we talk to you in private?" Imogen requested. There were a thousand and one reasons to say 'no'. Things like 'common sense', bad behavior   they had murdered my homicidal uncle   and the fact they were as morally twisted as their creator. Oh   and they were hot and I hadn't been laid in forever."Sure. Let's go upstairs. You can have your people sweep the room to ensure our privacy then the four of us can sit down and have a family chat," I offered."We don't want her in the room," Deidre indicated Mom."We are a package deal," I denied her. "Like her, or not, she is as much family to me as you both are."They consented far too fast. Either I was falling into their masterful trap, or something horrible had happened. Neither options was palatable to me. The bodyguards departed, Wiesława last of all."What's gone wrong?" Mom preempted me. Her sisters glared."Father's body is not his own," Imogen told us. I was trying to figure out the relevance of that when Mom gasped."Oh fuck," she said in a small voice. "No serum?" Oh yeah, the refinement of those addictive pheromones Grandpa Cáel had gifted me with. Whatever flesh-form he currently inhabited wasn't one containing his genetic make-up meaning,"Oh shit," I mumbled. "What can I do?""Yes," Deidre replied to Mom."Let them die," Mom insisted (to me). Less I forget, she was raised by Grandpa Cáel too. Her being a loving mother to me didn't translate over to her being a humanitarian of any kind."The Hell you say," I jumped up and stared down at Mom. "You hate them. I don't. Letting them die makes me worse than him." Grandpa."So you will help us?" Deidre moved to the edge of her seat."Okay. This is the point where I threaten you into making some concessions, we argue then you eventually cave in because no matter how terrible your futures look, you aren't willing to give up on living. None of that is going to happen. What do you need from me?""Come back with us to Ireland so we can finish our experiments," Imogen joined me in standing. Unwilling to give her sister any physical advantage, Mom stood as well."No. That isn't even a believable lie," I scolded her. "You don't need to blackmail me into helping you. I'll do it gladly. That doesn't mean I'll let you trick me into doing something stupid. I do 'stupid' all the time. I'm accustomed to it and I know it when its ugly head rises up before me. Try again.""We could pick a neutral location," Deidre suggested."How about Havenstone?" They didn't look like that plan was even worthy of their consideration. "Imogen, inside you is growing a possible heir to House Ishara. An attack on you would be an attack on Ishara. Barring you betraying the Amazons, you would be perfectly safe.""Wonderful," Mom's sarcasm dripped off every word. "I'm going to be a grandmother to my nephew while my son is bringing a child into the world that can double as his cousin.""That sound pretty horrible, Mom. It is the truth, but it still sounds pretty terrible."While those words tumbled out of my mouth, I did a little soul back-searching. How in the fuck was   outside of the actual fucking   was Imogen pregnant? My existence was a freaking fluke of nature. A few words were bandied about the room while I was lost in deductive reasoning and turning hunches into assumptions and turning those into reasonable mystic hypotheses.I created the Mojo-Little Engine that thought it could. Specifically, the legacy of Vranus. Legions of little Vranusian sperm had been jumping hurdle after hurdle to keep the faith alive   that Vranus would meet his Ancestors with his mission accomplished. I was already half way there.Still, the legacy of Vranus and the hopes of Dot Ishara hadn't stopped in their struggle just because I had been born. They were still trying to restore the mortal descendants of a Dead House. They were also still spiritually pushing me on to fulfill his last command   to save the Arinniti sons.I was halfway there by returning the offspring of Bolu, Vranus' fellow guardian, back to the fold. It remained for me to round up the purpose of the whole mission in the first place. My semen weren't taking a chance that I could get gakked before that was accomplished. Having knocked up an augur despite the toxic soup she called blood should have been a dire warning to me, I'm an idiot.When the curse of Sarrat Irkalli clashed with the actions of Dot Ishara, Ishara had won. Sarrat Irkalli sought to deny Alal any children of his own. Dot was insisting the male line of Vranus Ishara continue on. The end result was Alal received his long-denied grandson, who just happened to also want him dead because of a feud that stretched back over two millennia.As an added insult, his grandson then knocked up one of Alal's genetically manipulated daughters, again giving him something he couldn't accomplish on his own   heirs   grand-sons and  daughters, most who would also want to kill him, being Amazons and members of the 9 Clans after all. Why? Cause Goddesses are bitches, that's why.That got me to wondering when would be the next time I was going to meet Ishara. I hadn't suffered severe head trauma in while and she was overdue for some snuggle time, witty banter and a fortune cookie. I'd try to be careful. It wouldn't do any good, but I had to try."Why are you crying?" Mom touched my arm."No reason," I lied."Why don't we make plans for tonight?" Deidre insinuated herself next to me. "We'd like to meet Hana. From what I understand, Father likes her.""No can-do," I sniffled. "I've got an orgy with 159 women at 8 o'clock, except there won't be any sex, or fun of any kind. Basically, I have to convince a roomful of women to not beat me up and take my stuff.""You don't have to go," Imogen had finished boxing me in   I had a chair behind me and Momma-clones all around."For the same reason I'm going to take care of our child, Imogen, I have to go to this meeting. People are counting on me to do the right thing without telling me what the right thing to do is.""That's unfair," Deidre empathized by stroking my chest."Not so. This is just another day in the life of a new hire at Havenstone Commercial Investments. Every day is like this and in five more days, the real fun beings." That wasn't entirely accurate. I had one good, stress-free week. It was when Carrig put me in a coma. That week I had done pretty well for myself.{9:28 am, Wednesday, Sept. 3rd ~ 5 Days to go}I trundled my latest 'Assistant-in-Charge of keeping the hopes of future Isharans alive' (I didn't want to call Aunt Imogen, or any other woman, my 'Baby-Mamma'), along with Mom and Deidre, for a meet-and-greet with Buffy. I had spelled out in no uncertain terms that Buffy was the power behind the Ishara Throne and thus making 'her' believe they were playing on the up-and-up was their best hope for easing relations between the O'Shea and the Amazon Host.After they left me (with the assurance we'd be getting back together for lunch, with Hana), I made three calls. I needed to make a formal request to Katrina (any Illuminati member(s) entering any Amazon facility was her purview) and another to Elsa (as a sign of respect) that Aunt Imogen and two unarmed bodyguards, max, needed to see our medicos about a delicate issue.The third call was to Buffy to enlighten her as to both the arrival of another one of my aunts (so we needed to get along peacefully with her) and that Aunt Imogen was carrying yet another potential heir to House Ishara. I suggested it would be a symbolic gesture if a member of House Ishara could hang around for the visit, as it might impress upon Imogen our House had a vested interest in keeping her alive."Another one?" Buffy sizzled. "And this one is your aunt?""It is a date then," I stumped her."You are going to take your pregnant aunt out on a date?" Buffy's sizzle meter was rapidly climbing to Krakatoa proportions."Nope. I'm setting up a date for us. You, me and a quiet location at 12:01 am Tuesday morning, my First. Later in the morning, I'll be heading out to wherever they have stored Felix so we can work on some cooperative strategy.""And if I say 'no'?" She was terribly grumpy."Ugh, I guess I'll go bar-crawling with Odette and Timothy, Gay and Lesbian bars only. That way I know I'll behave.""And if they say 'no'?" she was slightly less hostile."I'll know you threatened their lives, and then you and I will finally find out who is better on the mats. Trust me, it will not be an experience you will enjoy.""I don't know. I think I'd like that.""No. You start threatening the other people I love and you will not be happy; I guarantee that, Buffy."She realized I was both serious and angry. She had stepped out of bounds, the 'bounds' I had set up two hours earlier during our elevator ride."Is the meeting still on for the night?" she evaded my disappointment."Yes. Will you be there?""Of course," she grumped."Buffy, don't bother showing up if you can't separate 'us' as friends, 'us' as Wakko Ishara and my First, and you as my apprentice."Making me miserable in the first relationship doesn't help the latter two one bit. I try not to be an irresponsible asshole as House Head. More than anyone else, you know what I will sacrifice to be Ishara and one with my Isharans. I'll also step out and be plain ole 'Cáel Nyilas' when events permit.""But I am sick and tired of people not taking my desire to be foolish and care-free seriously. Being a dogmatic ass-hat isn't in me, but if you can't work with that, from here on out we are Wakko Ishara and Buffy Ishara and nothing more. I will still trust you as an Isharan, but not as a friend. Your choice.""Don't be such an asshole!" she snapped."Screw you!" I fired back. "I made a fucking effort to plan out some personal time with you, disguised as a joke; you knew it and you still decided to be a ball-buster. Like I need another fucking ball-buster right now, with all the other shit on my plate. You know better!" I was screaming. The people in JIKIT were working overtime at not staring at me."I'm under a ton of stress here too," she snarled. "I have to deal with the Council, keep our House growing and fulfill my obligations with Executive Services.""Do you want to quit? No longer by my 'apprentice'? Go back to working for Katrina full time?""Really?" she whispered."Of course the fuck not!" I shouted. "I didn't pick you for the job because of your sterling personality, or your bedroom excellence. I picked you because I had, and still have, utter faith in your ability to do whatever is necessary to overcome the landfill-sized colossal ill-fortune the Ancestors have dumped in our lap.""I'm just asking you to stop being a whiny, over-sensitive cunt and remember: it was the psychotic bitch who I chose for the top spot," I rumbled."I'm going to kick your ass," she seethed."Nice to know. We on for Monday night?"Pause."Yes," and she hung up. Two seconds later my phone rang again. "Buffy?" I answered. "And don't be late!" she menaced, then hung up again."So," Addison turned my way, "are you praying for World Peace to break out, or Nuclear War?""Hardy-har-har," I griped."Now that your personal drama is temporarily derailed, we have something for you to look at," Mehmet motioned for my attention. "Ever heard of Kōfuku no Kagaku?" I shook my head. "It translates over as 'Happy Science' and it is a cult-like organization in Japan.""Cool beans. Why do I have a sinking impression it is not a front for the Ninja?""That is what we want you to find out," Addison took over. "Of critical importance is the news conference their leader, Ryuho Okawa, gave earlier this afternoon/morning (~ 3:17 pm Tokyo time = 2:17 am East Coast time ~), especially a very relevant part of his interesting public announcement."He claims to be the Earthly manifestation of the Supreme Being. That is old news. Today he claimed that Temujin of the Khanate was the reincarnation of the original Genghis Khan and, with him, Ryuho, as the unifier of theological forces and therefore serving as spiritual advisor to Temujin, they would usher in a new period of Peace throughout Asia.""I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop," I exhaled."He also claims that Japan is in the midst of an epic struggle, both spiritually and in the physical sense. The 'ancient guardians' of Japanese purity, the 6 Ninja Families, are at war with the depth of all Evil, the Chinese Seven Pillars of Heaven by name, who are determined to drag all of Asia away from the Light and into the Darkness of pain, degradation and slavery."In fact I quote: 'Alone among the nations of the Earth, only the Japanese cultural identity can stand firm against this global menace. Only the Japanese can keep the torch of true Enlightenment aloft. Only the Japanese can guide the development of the Khanate into the Supreme Empire it is meant to be'.""I'm going to go out on a limb here and say this guy is pseudo-religious, a Japanese ultra-nationalist as well as anti 'all things Sino'," came out of my mouth."Correct.""None of the Secret Societies would do something so public. Temujin's background is a mystery, but no one in the Khanate is calling him a reincarnated spirit, and they know the truth," I continued."This guy is pretty nutty," Mehmet confirmed. "He also claims to channel Buddha, Mohammed, Christ and Confucius. His followers worship him as the Earthly manifestation of the 'Supreme Being' named El Cantare, which is yet another name for any number of ancient supreme deities. And he claims to consult with the 'spirit guardians' of national leaders and aids in their mystic defense, with the aid of the Five Sacred Sisters' Spirits."Clearly this man was insane. Unfortunately, insane didn't make someone wrong,"Ah Hell," I muttered.Mehmet and Addison perked up; after all, figuring out the bizarre was my position on the team."He probably is insane, and I can't blame him," I sighed. "He isn't El Cantare; he is in touch with the Weave.""I have a feeling this is 'not good'," Addison murmured. "How bad is it?""The Five Sacred Spirit Sisters are most likely the five augurs who died in order to save Temujin, which, in turn, allies the 9 Clans with the E&S and Amazons to 'save' Japan, though it is not 'saved' yet.""Technically, the Weave IS the Supreme Being. It's largely indifferent, yet capable of doing both good and ill in response to outside (aka mortal) stimuli. If you can observe the Weave, you might be able to see the most likely path destiny is taking as well as the key players screwing with that destiny."That would include the Gong Tau sorcerers and the ninjas use of their own brand of magic; and God only knows what other mystic tricks the others have been attempting.""How do we get them to stop?" Captain Delilah Faircloth muttered."Not that easy Delilah. Everyone in this room has intersected because of a magic experiment that happened before any of us were born (Mom).""The fight at Summer Camp was flipped on its head because I saw the ghost the 7 Pillars sent to scout the area. My freeing of one of those trapped and tortured souls led to the calamity at the Barbeque Pit. I didn't use magic. I countered it. Still, my actions were interfering with the Weave."All four people the augurs, those Five Sisters, told me about had been dead at some point in time, some for thousands of years. Ajax didn't kill anyone using magic. Neither has Saku, yet both of them are products of disruptions in the Weave. 'Me' being alive and breathing is yet another disruption, since I shouldn't exist because of another mystic curse from five thousand years ago."Being alive and killing people means I've killed people who shouldn't be dead. Do we need to go into all the millions that have died in the Khanate war? Which was a combination of a resurrected Temujin and the 7 Pillars hunger for World Domination, if we do nothing, the rippled of those other disruption will still carry on."Except for me, no one on this taskforce has used an iota of magic, yet we are all dedicated to combatting mystical forces," I related to the group. I wondered where Rikki (Martin) and Beatrice (Ya Konan) had gotten off to. Lady Yum-Yum being absent only made my 'Scooby' senses tingle more."You use magic?" Agent-86 tilted his head in curiosity."I talk to a Goddess on a semi-regular business. I see ghosts. I've been the conveyer of messages from dead people and I've killed an un-killable man. Do we need to go back over my kidnapping by the 7 Pillars? The memories of my undead Grandfather floating around in my head?""I'm not calling thunderbolts out of the sky and shooting fireballs out my ass, but what I am doing is magical, nonetheless.""So, what do we recommend to our allies and benefactors (i.e., our sovereign governments)?" Mehmet inquired."Hmm, we tell our governments this crackpot is a Prophet of Doom who could be turned into an asset," I rubbed my brow with all four fingers and a thumb. Rikki, Beatrice and Lady Worthington-Burke quietly entered the room. They were all highly pleased in a 'I just won the lottery' kind of way. I was curious, but had to carry on with my train of thought."Quietly start seeking out other mystic societies, preferably low-key, quiet types who avoid the limelight, and start looking into other forms of magical insight and, quite frankly, protection. If the Weave has let this happen, we can expect worse. Lastly, I'll ask my 'Brother' to meet with this guy and get a feel for his personality.""That will only increase the believability of his ramblings," Addison protested."The boat called 'Denial' has already sailed. The World is in crisis. People are going to look for non-conventional answers. It is better to get ahead of this and bring Ryuho Okawa on board as a 'consultant'. Don't give him the whole picture by any means. The guy is definitely a loose cannon. Even worse, he is also a loose cannon the Weave has touched.""Besides, the Seven Pillars are going to figure this out pretty quick, their Weave sensitivity, ya know, and either kidnap him to be their own spiritual seismic sensor, or kill him for being both a loose cannon and yet another person screwing with their 'best laid plans'. Keeping him alive has the added benefit of making the Seven Pillars expend resources trying to get at him. Japan needs every bit diversion they can get."Let's not forget to tell our Secret Society allies of our plans, lest they kill him too. His babblings aren't going to make the 9 Clans or the E&S happy with him. They both have an established habit of making perceived enemies dead. Let's keep him alive and utilize this opportunity.""I like this plan," Addison nodded. Mehmet was clearly on board as well. Agent-86 clearly was playing the best on-line mystic MMORPG ever! (And with the added bonus that his team's action had real-world consequences.) The three 'ladies' new to the room received an abbreviated version of our discussion and my 'suggestions'. They weren't really suggestions. Barring a few insanely criminal endeavors, JIKIT treated me like a true asset."Something else big?" Addison looked to her British counterpart (Yum-Yum)."The Japanese Diet has voted for a public referendum on a Constitutional Amendment to repeal/revise Article 96 of the Japanese Constitution.""Oh fuck," was echoed, either verbally or subliminally, by everyone in the room except for me, Delilah and Agent-86.'Cáel' knew Jack and Shit about the Japanese Constitution. Hell, I barely knew about the US one and I was a native. However, Alal did know it, and knew both what Article 96 was and what its amendment really meant. Good-old 96 was the rolling dark cloud across the political Great Plains that heralded a swarm of tornados. Clouds were clouds and their arrival could mean anything.Article 96 dictated how the Japanese Constitution could be amended. The current process was a 2/3rd vote in both the House of Councilors (the 'Upper House', roughly equivalent to our Senate) and the House of Representatives (the 'Lower' House) followed by a public referendum. The proposed amendment to Article 96 would transform the process to a mere majority vote in both Houses.Imagine the shit-storm which would be unleashed if the US Congress tried to pull that shit. The biggest political issue was that the Japanese Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) held 294 of the 475 seats in the lower house (a clear majority) and 115 of the 242 in the Upper House (7 seats short of a majority). If the amendment passed next month (October 14th to be precise), the LDP could pretty much do as they pleased.And what was the first thing they were going to do? They were going to put to rest another part of the Constitution, namely the far more globally important Article 9. And what was that?Real World Stuff: WarningsArticle 9:(1)Aspiring sincerely to an international peace based on justice and order, the Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes.(2)To accomplish the aim of the preceding paragraph, land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential, will never be maintained. The right of belligerency of the state will not be recognized.If Article 9 was repealed, the Japanese nation could exercise diplomacy by military means, aka declaring an offensive war against a foreign power. Currently Japan had a modest budget military budget of $48 Billion a year (Earth's 10th largest). It was modest when you considered it was a mere 1% of the Japanese GDP. Great Britain, France and South Korea's smaller economies all functioned nicely with double that percentage for their military budget.Regionally, every other nation was increasing their military expenditures, except Japan's protector, the US and (perhaps) North Korea, who's spending on anything was a closely guarded state secret. Right now, China and the Khanate's military expenditures were running roughly even at $180 billion each, but this was an arm's race the PRC would eventually win, they had too great an advantage in the size of their workforce and a far larger industrial base.The truth was, if the PRC couldn't win this race fast, she was facing a long, grinding war reminiscent of the Communists' Long Rise to Power that wrecked their country a century ago. The monetary dynamic was shifting badly against them because the Khanate wasn't alone.India, Taiwan and Vietnam were also ramping up their war spending to a combined tune of $34 billion and now allied with the Khanate, equating to an additional $90 billion the PRC had to overcome. South Korea was already adding $8 billion to their military and Russia was taxing the fuck out of Manchuria to both pay for their 'Peaceful Intervention' and to increase the 'Readiness' of their other forces.All of this military spending was bad for both the regional and global economies (unless you were Israel who was turning out hardware 24/7/365 for the Khanate and Indian war machines). So at this point, Japan doing 'nothing' was possibly more disastrous than doing 'something' else.They were already spending $50 fucking billion on glorified policemen while the future of East Asia was being decided without them. Doubling the military budget would place a huge burden on the largely pacifistic population. It would also put Japan in the position of deciding the Fate of Nations.With the repeal of Article 9, Japan could utilize 'proactive means' to keep the naval supply routes to China open, not even the Indian's had the naval presence to confront the Japanese. Such a policy was a nice, friendly gesture to the Asian Colossus, who wasn't likely to show a shred of appreciation for their efforts.No, China had spent the last 60 years stoking the hatred of the Land of the Rising Sun among their people. (Many Japanese forgot current Chinese hatred was based on the Japanese butchering their way across China for nearly a decade between 1937 to 1945).(The Cornerstone) There was a truism which had guided American, Chinese, Japanese and Russian political thought for 150 years: 'There could only be one supreme power in East Asia and the Eastern Pacific'. Japan had followed the logical expression of that paradigm by invading Taiwan (1895), Korea (1910), beating up on Imperial Russia (1904), taking Manchuria (1931) and going to war with China (1937) while that country was trapped in a bloody civil war.To stop the Empire of Japan's rise, the US had attempted to cripple the Japanese economy before the Empire could harvest their just-acquired Asian natural resources. In response, Japan had thrown its soldiers and sailors into a futile effort against the British Empire, the United States and China and lost.With Imperial Japan crushed and the Soviet Union preoccupied in Europe, China had risen. The irresistible force of China's rapidly increasing population, natural resources exploitation and extensive land mass took hold. Japan couldn't compete in a 'fair' fight. Since 1945, the Japanese government had lived with the fear of aggression from Russia and/or China aimed their way.The US felt the same way, or they had. The fear produced by the broad acceptance of 'Only-One-Shall-Rule-Asia' had led to the Korean War, the half-century cease-fire along the Demilitarized Zone in Korea and the Vietnamese Civil War. The Communists in China and Russia had feuded until the Soviet Union collapsed under its own economic inadequacies.A reborn Russia, even with the ultra-nationalist Putin at the helm, couldn't stop China's growing domination. Asia was China's for the taking, until the Khanate rose up like some desert mirage in the Western Steppe, one that turned into the Mother of All Storms. So now, miraculously, the dominion of Asia was up for grabs once more.Japan could not overcome China; that was a given. The Dragon had more people, more resources and an almost three-fold larger economy. Given a decade, the PRC would grind the Khanate down. Once more it was the tyranny of numbers. Even India, Taiwan and Vietnam could only slow down the inevitable.India's subpar economic output marginalized the power of their citizenry. Taiwan had the proportional economy, but not nearly enough people. Vietnam had neither and had always had a rough time defending themselves, much less been successful confronting powers beyond her homeland. Putin's Mother Russia had a host of other problems, internal and external, so she had already contributed as much as Putin dared.Until Thursday morning, Tokyo Time, the undeniable Destiny of Asia remained in the hands of those men in Beijing. The dominoes were falling in a way those rulers had not foreseen and now fumed over. But on Wednesday night, there was no industrial power (with the population to back it up) which could threaten the People's Republic of China.Europe and the US wouldn't intervene. Much like the leadership in Japan, the Communist Chinese Politburo believed Putin had wagered as much as dared. No other nation on Earth mattered. Japan? That was laughable. Their Constitution bound the hands off their military behind their backs with a pledge of eternal pacifism.The Chinese weren't blind to the 250,000 men and women of the Japanese Self Defense Force. Without the political will, those troops might have well have been in Brazil. A hostile Brazil was actually a greater worry because Brazil was the powerhouse of South America, a G-8 economy and hungered for a Permanent Seat on the UN Security Council. The PRC was dedicated to denying their desire as it would have diluted the PRC's burgeoning diplomatic power.Japan? Ha.Thursday morning, in what was essentially an undetected (by anyone except the Ninja and JIKIT) coup d' tat, pacifism was sacrificed on the Altar of Nationalism. Article 96's demise was pre-ordained. A poll taken on July 1st, 42% of Japanese felt positively about the repeal of Article 96 while 46% opposed it.The same agency took a new poll on August 28th. The economic-political situation of Japan was going through a titanic tidal shift. If Buddhism moved you toward devout pacifist, the Khanate had liberated Tibet and was clearly withdrawing as the UN troops' boots hit the ground.If you were a Nationalist of any kind, you were seeing a whole lot more people at your rallies, accessing your websites and signing up to join your formerly fringe parties. If you were a Socialist, you were scared. Why? The PRC was in the process of nationalizing all of Japan's (and South Korea's and Taiwan's) business interests in China, for the 'Duration of the Emergency', or so they said.That meant plenty of Japanese workers were losing their jobs and looking to blame someone. You couldn't blame the centrist LDP. The LDP had been working alongside the Japanese Communist Party for months. They had done nothing wrong and had worked tirelessly for a peaceful diplomatic solution. It was their 'comrades' in China, their Marxist confederates, who were costing the hard-working Japanese workers their jobs.If you were in the Establishment, all of the above worried the crap out of you. Japan's economy had been limping along at barely-positive growth for a decade. Your aging population needed more and more from their public services and, worst of all, you had nothing in your political and economic tool box to escape the obvious oncoming national catastrophe.The possibility of a Global Recession loomed on the horizon, if they were lucky. Highly respected economists in Japan and elsewhere were examining all the key indicators over the past three months and were suggesting hording as a viable policy for middle class households to consider. If you were in the Developing World, worse was heading your way.The word being bandied about on those esteemed academic internet websites wasn't 'recession', it was depression. Global prosperity thrived on nations investing in both their own economy and the economies of other nations. The governments representing a third of the World's population were not investing in their economies.Unless you were a war profiteer, you could expect fewer consumer goods on the shelves; and what was there would cost more. Your income wasn't going up; your expenses were. If you were an Atheistic homeowner in the Western World with a secured 3.25% fixed rate home loan, you took up religion. The prime interest rate would be racing for the 20% mark and that was only if your economy was stable.If you lived in a country in the Developing World, your trade goods didn't compete with those created in the G-20. Your competition was with other Developing World businesses and the prize was the pocketbooks of those consumers in the G-20, which was a shrinking purse.It wasn't like you were being paid all that much to begin with; and now those once poor-paying, but at least plentiful, jobs were drying up. You needed your government to help you out. It wasn't like those governments could raise money by taxing the unemployed and under-employed. They didn't have money. And the rich in most of those same nations had a long and successful legacy of avoiding paying.Those growing economies had a few tried and tested 'solutions' for getting their countries through these rough stretches.The IMF? 'We are out to make 'positive' capital investments and your economic outlook doesn't look promising. We suggest 'austerity'.'The BRICS? Since India and China were basically in an undeclared state of war: 'we won't be loaning anyone anything for a while.'The BIS? 'As soon as the People' Bank of China, the Reserve Bank of India, the Central Bank of Ireland, the Bank of Israel and the Central Bank of the Republic of Turkey get back to us about their sudden, serious lack of transparency, we'll call you back.'World Bank? Holy Shit! 'The world's going down the toilet, we will do what we can.'F Y I, I (as in Cáel) had been wrong. The 6 Elders of the Ninja families didn't talk to Japanese Prime Minister, Shinzō Awbee. They talked with another, far more immediately important man. So sue me (Cáel) for not knowing the inner workings of various world governments, and creatively interpreting events surrounding all those people I (Cáel) didn't. I'm a freaking Liberal Arts major with a fertile imagination, not a superspy, or even a competent Intelligence Analyst!}The Japanese government had appealed to the U.S., U.N., P.R.C., A.S.E.A.N., India; and (through back channels aka JIKIT) the Khanate for an end to this madness; all with typical results:The U.S.A: We are working on it (without letting them know what precisely they were working on)Japan: Well, do something fast. Our Government Bonds are about to be more useful as wallpaper.The U.N.: We are working on it (with their long-established tradition of not doing anything until the crisis had passed)Japan: You are preparing to pass a Resolution to move this matter from the First Committee to the Fourth Committee, gee, thanks guys. Will they be meeting sometime before Christmas?The PRC: We are too busy right now, so shut up, keep the trade lanes open, and was that your submarine we detected sneaking into our territorial waters?Japan: What? What do you mean you are 'too busy?' You are one of our biggest trading partners, your economy is going down the toilet, and, No! That was not our submarine in your territorial waters. That accusation is absurd.(Note from Japanese Prime Minister, Shinzō Awbee, to Admiral Katsutoshi Kawano, head of the JMSDF {the de facto Japanese Navy}), The PRC has made this outrageous claim that one of our submarines has been sneaking around their territorial waters. There is no truth to that rumor, right?Kawano: Which time?Prime Minister: Oh My God! What have you people been doing and why is this the first time I'm hearing about it?Kawano: Sir, if you are just now getting around to asking us, you don't want to know.Prime Minister: What do you mean 'I don't want to know?' I'm the head of the damn government and, you are right. Fine. There is no way I'm going back to the Chinese Ambassador and apologizing for any this. Is there any way this can come back to screw us over?Kawano: With all these US and British submarines helping us out, not very likely, Prime Minister.Prime Minister: Oh, very good. You are correct, I don't want to know what you 'haven't' been doing. I am ordering you to destroy all transcripts and recordings of this conversation.Kawano: It has been my distinct honor not having this conversation with you, Prime Minister. Sayōnara.ASEAN, What do you expect us to do about this? Have you seen the unimpressive combined sizes of our members' air forces and navies? Did you see the smack-down the Khanate has inflicted on the PLAN's South China Sea Fleet?Besides, the PRC is claiming that the Khanate launched covert attacks against the Parcels and Spratly islands which originated from Indonesian and Filipino waters. We are investigating the issue. If you are asking us for help, you are truly screwed. Don't call us. We will call you.Japan, {muttering} Investigating the attacks that came from your territory, bullshit! You are covering your own asses, damn it!(Note from Prime Minister, Shinzō Awbee, to Shotaro Yachi, Japanese National Security Advisor), I've heard an ugly rumor that the Khanate has forces secreted in the Philippines and Indonesia. Do you happen to know anything about it?Yachi: Yes Sir. We had advance notice of the organization, composition and destination of those forces.Awbee (while muttering 'no one tells me anything anymore'): What the! Would you please tell me what is going on.Yachi: We have made critical steps toward future alliances which will guarantee Japanese security for decades to come.Awbee What does that mean, and since when have you been creating and implementing foreign policy? We have a Minister for that, in case you somehow over-looked him at the last cabinet meeting. Wait! Does he know about this too?Yachi: No Sir, Foreign Minister Kishida is currently unaware of the Kinkyū tokushu sakusen tasukufōsu (Emergency Special Operations Task Force). Admiral Katsutoshi knows the basics of our operational policy, since we need to borrow some of his assets from time to time. Director-General Kitada (of the Public Security Intelligence Agency) and key personnel from the Foreign Ministry's Intelligence & Analysis Service and Security Bureau make up the majority of the task force's operatives.Awbee: What have you been doing?Yachi: You don't want to know, Mr. Prime Minister. It would make things, awkward.Awbee: 'You don't want to know', of course, I don't. I'm only the elected head of this government. Why would I possibly want to know what acts of espionage and war my deputies are executing?Yachi: I am glad we are on the same page, Sir. Will there be anything else?Awbee: No, wait. Do you have any intelligence on what the Khanate is up to?Yachi: Yes Sir. Is there anything in particular you want to know?Analysis Services: Can you contact someone in their leadership willing to discuss regional affairs?Yachi: I can put you in touch with the Great Khan himself if necessary.AS: What!Yachi: Sir, I would hardly be acting in our nation's best interests if I couldn't divine the intentions of the key players on the stage. Shall I initiate the necessary communications to facilitate that level of clandestine diplomatic contact?AS: No. Yes. No, I need to think about this. Hmm, have you been conducting any domestic espionage missions?Yachi: You don't want me to answer that, Sir.Awbee: of course I don't, I'm only the damn Prime Minister. Shotaro, I'm still Prime Minister, aren't I?Yachi: Yes Sir. We have been working overtime to ensure that. We've foiled two enemy assassination attempts and one attempted kidnapping so far. We remain vigilant.AS: How come this is the first I'm hearing about it? Is the head of my security in on this conspiracy of yours too?Yachi: No Sir. These particular guardians wish to avoid notoriety at all costs.Awbee: Okay. Good to know. Ah, keep up the good work and destroy any trace of this conversation.Yachi: Way ahead of you, Sir. Have a good night.India, Yes, we are more than willing to work with you toward regional stability. Care to acknowledge the Khanate's legitimacy first? We'd really appreciate it. Sure, get back to us when you've done that. Until then, the South China Sea Awaits! Yes, we plan to keep what we've earned. Later now. We think there is going to be further instability in Southeast Asia.Japan, Ya think? It is your damn warships sailing around the freaking South China Sea enforcing your utterly un-secret alliance with the Khanate. Why are you doing this to us? What have we ever done to you?The Khanate, We are not out to damage your national interests. We apologize, but there is now way we will call off this war with the Communist Chinese. It is them, or us, to the death. We have already received and agreed to your request to allow all Japanese flagged ships safe transit through the South China Sea. We really wish to be your friends this time, to make up for those two invasion attempts seven hundred years ago.(Note from  Prime Minister to Self) Great. The only reasonable people who aren't out to kick me in the nuts are also the ones I can't acknowledge talking to. I've got to do something a

EV sales in the US continue to grow. Learn what needs to happen to spur further adoption.     Roughly 20% of US passenger vehicles sold in 2024 were battery electric or hybrid vehicles. What's next for the EV industry, especially in the face of a changing regulatory environment and tariffson key materials such as lithium?     Join Steve Odland and guest Dr. Alex Heil, senior economist in the US Economy, Strategy & Finance Center, to explore the future of EV growth in the US, whether EVs are price competitive with fossil fuel vehicles, and what's happening in countries such as Norway, China, and India.    (00:29) Understanding Electric Vehicles (02:15) Trends in EV Adoption (03:47) Challenges of Range and Cost (06:27) Impact on the Electrical Grid (09:10) Charging Infrastructure Developments (14:06) Commercial and Freight EVs (17:33) Global EV Market Insights   For more from The Conference Board:  Charging Ahead: Taking Stock of the Electric Vehicle Market in the US  Global EV Insights  Charging Ahead: Is India's EV Adoption Plan a Model for the Developing World? 

The Global South is a term that covers a broad swath of developing countries and emerging economies in Africa, Asia, Latin America, and Oceania. It is a grouping of over 130 heterogenous countries that is pushing to enhance its voice in global decision making. China, which self-identifies as a leader of the developing world, has a long history of engaging with the developing world. Under Xi Jinping, Beijing has deepened its ties with Global South countries through economic investment, diplomatic engagement, and security cooperation.  Meanwhile, developed countries from the wealthier and more industrialized Global North are stepping up efforts to counter Chinese influence and win support from Global South countries.  What are China's interests in the Global South?  What are the key strategies and tactics that Beijing utilizes to influence and engage with those countries? How have countries in the Global South responded to China's influence?  And how will intensified Sino-American rivalry impact developing countries in the future? To discuss these issues, host Bonnie Glaser is joined by Mr. Masaaki Yatsuzuka, Senior Research Fellow at the China Division of the Regional Studies Department at the National Institute for Defense Studies in Japan (NIDS).  He is the co-author of the recently published report titled “The Rising Global South and China.”  Timestamps[00:00] Start[01:55] Resurgent Interest in the Global South [04:28] Engaging Developing Countries[06:51] Economic Tools and Mechanisms to Exert Influence[08:55] Motivation for Expanding Military Presence [12:33] Perceptions of China in the Global South [15:07] Why does China's involvement in the Global South matter? [17:39] US-China Competition Impacting the Global South[19:00] India, Brazil, and Other Rising Powers[20:35] Tokyo's Concerns Over China's Influence [22:41] Response to Increased Attention Paid to Developing Countries[24:37] China's Reaction to the Trump Administration 

Promises To Keep. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. Note to readers: There is a bit of mangling of the Iliad going on. My apologies to Homer and the countless singers before him who carried the Iliad down through the dark centuries until the Greeks figured out how writing works. “Never judge a friend by what they give, but of how much of themselves they give.” (From the floor of Katrina's office) First thoughts,  I was on the floor where I had fallen, surrounded and being manhandled in the tenderest way. That was a romantic means of relating to my mummification. Those little Band-Aids that had been applied when I woke up from my coma had failed the 'Cáel is a Smeckle-head' test. All the crud they had pumped into my system and amperage they had channeled through my muscles was not the same as eating and exercise. Having a sexual romp with two ladies? My Goddess made plans for my body that my caloric bank account couldn't afford, thus me passing out. Unlike my time with Miyako and Estere, I had a feeling my two sofa-buddies were ovulating. Fatherhood was on the way. How my infant would survive the continuous poisonous assault on the augur's lymphatic system was beyond me. Her guardian, let's just say I dealt with sneaky bitches/Dot on a regular basis and leave it at that. "He is awake," Tadêfi alerted the room. "You must leave so I can deliver my message to him in the privacy he requested." "I am almost done," a different Amazon voice stated. She was the medico dealing with my wounds. By the aroma, she had slathered on two coats of the healing goo that was becoming as comfortable to my nostrils as my soap-on-a-rope. A few more rounds of adhesive tape and the exodus from the room began. I hadn't opened my eyes because I was unprepared for the looks of anger, disappointment and concern surely leveled my way. The door shut and my eyes opened. "The Conqueror, the Champion, the Friendless and the Foe have all escaped the Land of the Endless Black Sands and returned to the Sunlit Realm," Tadêfi whispered upon my lips. Huh? That was it? Seriously, four freaking titles without, And here came the rest, faces. Faces with eyes and eyes with a purpose. Names, not names I wanted to hear at the moment. Bad fucking news all around. It couldn't be something helpful like the identity of the next High Priestess, No, that would be good fucking news. Okay, time to turn this frown upside down. I could make this work for me. How, I wasn't sure. "Thank you," I responded to Tadêfi's plea of understanding. Outside of having impregnating sex with me, the Sex-Master, Timothy was going to Nerf-shoot me for that, she'd endured spiritual, mental and physical grief and torment to be with me here today. She waited, kneeling beside my head. "Kiss me," I requested. It was a moist act, full of compassion and understanding. I racked my mind for the names and their importance. "Who was Shammuramat?" "I don't know, but this helps, right?" Tadêfi expressed her need to make the reward for the sacrifices to make sense. Five dead sister-augurs. They had to find that son-of-a-bitch! "Tadêfi, we are back in the fight," I grinned. "You and your sisters have given the Host a mighty weapon in the upcoming struggle." I knew that to be true because I knew who and where the Conqueror was, I knew he wasn't ready to be revealed, his enemies were closing in and he was ignorant of that fact. I was going to have to rain on his parade to save his life. The five augurs hadn't died futilely. The Weave of Fate had shielded the man and it took the augers' fanatical devotion to cut the threads and expose the truth the Host needed most. The Champion, hell, I knew who he was. I chuckled. Tadêfi was confused. The Champion was coming to kill me, me and a bunch of other Amazons, because blood feuds tend to run both ways. The Foe. He was easy enough. Granddad. The Bastard just wouldn't stay dead. I had a clue to what was going on now. I wasn't sure how useful that knowledge would be. Still, knowledge is knowledge. That thing crawling around inside my brain? No help there. That left Shammuramat. That name was familiar. Even when I finally placed it, I didn't understand her role in things. Why her? "Krasimira," I called out. I struggled to sit up and with Tadêfi's help, I did so. The Keeper and two guardians entered as well. One, Sikia, hovered over her companion/augur. "What is the link between Shammuramat and the Host?" I inquired. I saw no recognition in the Keeper's eyes. "She was the first ever "independent" queen of a nation-state, Assyria." Krasimira sat on the sofa and retrieved her tablet from inside her robes. She began working with the electronic history of the Amazon race. "9th Century BCE," I added. Slowly others migrated back into the room. Buffy, Katrina (not good and not happy), Elsa (really not good) and Desiree. Pamela leaned against the door sill, neither in nor out. Katrina sat behind her desk. The phone came out and whispered conversations began in earnest. I had shoved us straight into a war which looked like a free for all at the moment. No one trusted anyone. No one could afford to. I had to change that. The only saving grace was that it appeared no Secret Society had planned for the Protocols to abruptly end a week and a half ago. "Ah, I found it," Krasimira spoke up. Because I'm me, it was at that moment I finally realized that someone had put me in my biking shorts in an effort to provide me a modicum of modesty, with the benefit of blood being smeared on the inside. "She abandoned the Host, she was put under a death sentence for killing her twin sister who was chosen to lead House Anat over her." "Anat?" I queried. "The other dead First House," Krasimira sighed. "They were renowned for their berserkers. Some would drape themselves in the entrails of their enemies in the midst of battle to increase their ferocious appearance." "Oh, how sweet, what was Ishara known for?" I was surprised I'd never asked. "Ishara were the emissaries of the Host," Krasimira informed me. With the Amazon practice of killing embassies sent their way, the extinction of my house made much more sense. "What does this mean?" Desiree took charge of matters since Katrina was still busy on the phone. In a few short weeks, Desiree's prestige had definitely increased. Katrina was her sister in more than name now. "Where to begin,  Fine, why don't we refer to the Mycenaeans by their proper Amazon name?" Everyone but Buffy was glancing about nervously. "You used the name, didn't you?" Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose, dreading the response. "Yes, " I answered. "Because no one warns him of shit," Pamela huffed. "You assume an Amazon education with no basis in reality. You act like he grew up with our fairy tales and phantasmal histories. Everyone in this room, but Buffy," she acknowledge my First, "knew he spoke our language and the accompanying risk. Still, no one warned him." "You didn't warn him," Desiree skewered Pamela with a glance. "Not my job, Buttons," Pamela chuckled. "I relish the rest of you being made to look like idiots too much to be useful to Cáel unless it really matters. So he invoked an ancient malediction. What is the worst that could happen?" "I'm going to make a huge deductive leap, am I the reason the Achaean hero Ajax and his boys are back from the dead and coming after us for some Ako-level vengeance?" I groaned. (That's the 47 Ronin for us Westerners) Silence. "That's not your fault, Sport," Pamela snorted. "Mano-man, was I a dumbass for doing nothing. I'll take the blame for that one ladies. Damn Cáel, you would have to pick the Unconquered One, wouldn't you?" "Who is this guy and why does he hate us?" Buffy interjected. Pause. "Our ancestors poisoned his wine so that, in his angry haze, he mistook his own men for his enemies and slaughtered them all, back during the Trojan War. Afterwards, he committed suicide in anguish over his crime, Death opened his eyes at the last, he saw our treachery and managed to curse us as he died," Krasimira informed the lot of us. "And my using that word brought him back? That sounds, weak," I grunted. "The word would not have been enough," Tadêfi comforted me. "There must have been some sort of rift in the curtain of Reality that allowed the others to slip through. I don't understand how, oh no," she gasped as the pieces came together. "I'm willing to believe that was the price of doing business," I petted Tadêfi's cheek. "Please enlighten us," Elsa grumbled. "I need to find the Earth  and  Sky ambassador and set up a new meeting. Using what Tadêfi has gifted me with and the sacrifice of her fellow augurs, I can secure an alliance for us if only I can make up for the whole stunt Troika played," I grinned. "Any ideas?" "We could call them," Pamela produced my phone. "Seems some lady named Hana Sulkanen has been trying for days to get in touch with you. She hunted down the owner of the necklace, they talked about your current physical state, courtesy of Odette, and the owner of the necklace has expressed a continued interest in meeting you, and only you. It would appear that they really don't trust the rest of our merry little band since your first disappearance." Hana, and here I had killed her step-brother, the one she despised. An unexpected benefit of civil discourse, my People's chance of survival had doubled. Pamela lobbed my phone and I caught it. "What of the other two?" Tadêfi pushed down on my euphoria. "Was the Foe dead as well?" A quick look at Pamela told me she knew the answer to that. "The Foe is complicated," I lied. "His return was an inevitability, so we count that as a draw. The Champion, bad news. Let's put Shammy in the 'maybe' column and the Conqueror is a win for our side." A Berserker Queen, fresh from the Underworld, who we were honor-bound to kill,  or the 'other lost heir to a dead House' that was going to make us cobble together some nonsense to bring her back into the fold. If I wasn't the male leader of a spiritually significant All-Girls social club/paramilitary outfit, I might have been daunted by my prospects of achieving the latter. "The thing going on inside your head?" Elsa asked. That explained her presence. My mental capacity was still suspect. Was I still me? Could I flip out with no warning? "It is still there. I still have no idea what happened to me, or what the results might be. This means I'm going into battle wounded and that's that," I stated. "Are you acting in the best interest of the Host," Elsa studied me. "I am not sure," I confessed after half a minute's introspection. "So many of you are fuck-nuts; I'm not sure what acting responsible is for this set," I added jokingly. "As it stand, you lack the authority to pass judgment on me, Elsa. I promise you that if I feel I'm losing control, I will turn myself in." "Saint Marie would feel better if you stayed here," Elsa insisted. "Is the SD declaring war on House Ishara?" Buffy rose to the challenge. "We (by that she meant my fellow Isharans) have discussed the matter and talked to our best neuroscientist. She cannot definitively tell us Cáel isn't Cáel, so there is no reason to constrain him." Whoa. In our best prospect's educated opinion I was not-not me. Legions of English teachers weren't going to like that. "I have the answer for that," Katrina spoke up. "I owe Cáel and I would pay that debt now. He expressed a desire to see my niece, Aya. Do you still wish that Cáel Ishara?" "More than ever, but the Council is meeting," I sighed. "Buffy is your (dead word spoken), your apprentice," Katrina suggested. "Appoint someone to stand with her." That was more than good advice. Buffy was a woman and, to those who knew of her, as fierce an Amazon as ever lived. That was what Katrina was telling me without telling me. "I choose Daphne Pile, if she will accept, to stand by Buffy's side," I announced. Buffy would need someone who was passionate for my cause and who spoke Old Kingdom Hittite. Buffy still didn't, and the chance of the Council speaking English on her behalf was non-existent. "That is Daphne of House Cotyttia," Pamela corrected me. Who Cotyttia was? I had no idea. I was stupid to think Daphne's actual Amazon surname was Pile. Daphne wasn't even around. Executive Services was functioning fine without me and that meant Daphne had a work queue. "The Thracian Goddess of Sex, Orgies, War and Slaughter," Krasimira gracefully filled in my ignorance. Another whoa, why wasn't she my matron goddess? Tadêfi hauled off and slapped me. The action seemed to take everyone, Tadêfi included, by surprise. "I don't know why I did that," Tadêfi wailed out in despair. I did. It didn't take telepathy to figure out what I had been thinking. To prove my point, Pamela laughed. I cupped Tadêfi's jaw. "Worry not," I cooed. "I had that coming, Dot Ishara," I dodged another one, "isn't happy with me right now." Recall, Tadêfi was hooked up to an old-fashioned party line with the Beyond. "Animaniacs," Pamela snorted. "I so love you. It is my deep and abiding pleasure to have you as my Grandson." "I'm not your grandson," I countered. "Well, I say you are. Now be quiet and accept the shame," Pamela's eyes danced with amusement. "That makes me, Daphne and Brielle incest," I pointed out. "Amazons don't have an incest taboo," Pamela retorted. Duh. They are all women, no chance of seven fingered, Cyclops babies. "Ah, women, misunderstanding and pain, Buffy, would you check out Quebec and see if I'm still wanted in that province for bestiality. It could be important later," I commanded. "Bestiality?" only one woman failed to mutter, sputter or exclaimed. "The complainant in question is not that pissed at you anymore," Katrina's rolodex mind kicked in. "I believe she expressed a desire to question you about some missing accoutrements though." My splitting headache meant I had to think about that, ah yes, her dress uniform. It was/had been Canada Day, thus her having an official function and thus me cheating with the girl from across the hall in the Mountie's bed. I'm an idiot alright and my ability to keep an eye on the clock needs improvement. My last image of her, frothing at the mouth (she was a tad more possessive than I had anticipated) as she screamed out insults in Quebecois French concerning my lineage, personality failings and the treasured parts of my anatomy. She punctuated various parts of that deranged episode by hurling articles of her clothing over the border at me as I turned (once I had good Ole US soil/pavement under my feet) and tried to get us back together. Yes, I had them, just not in my Box of Failed Romances. Acting on hopes of reconciliation, I had the uniform dry cleaned, placed in a dress bag, and the boots polished; both currently occupying space in my closet. At least the Alburgh-Noyan Crossing guards (it is a dual Canadian-American post) appreciated me evading/begging forgiveness long enough for them to see her in only her bra and panties. I imagine they didn't normally get much excitement there. "Katrina, " I began. "Yes, Maya forgives you too, though she scored an 'At Risk' for reliability. Anais sounded genuine," Katrina related. Anais was the Mountie. Maya was the Guyane Française university student from across the hall, the one I was caught cheating with. I had told her I was Anais's brother. Maya was also a super-exceptional cook. "Cáel Ishara, who are these women we are talking about?" Sikia demanded. 'We', that didn't take long. We were now a 'we', which in Amazon meant 'male, you're my property'. "I have a sideline job as an Amway distributor," I replied. "I give crappy customer service." "You give awesome customer service," Katrina riposted. "That's the problem." "Sikia, you are not the first Amazon Cáel has stuck his dick into. You are probably not the tenth," Elsa dripped with frustration. Quick count: Rhada, Buffy, Oneida and Gael, I was only going to count the penile-vaginal penetrations. "They are only numbers five and six, thank you very much," I defended myself. "So much for your 'intern, no sex' policy," Desiree muttered. "Cut me some slack, I work with stone-cold, Olympic level athlete foxes 24/7," I griped. "I am a sexual being too, I have needs." "What about the 'End of Internship' hunting shindig?" Desiree pulled a flawless 'Katrina'. "Oh, it is still on. With my 'do or die' learning curve, it is going to be so much more fun," I grinned. "And, okay, no more Amazon sex until then, sorry Rachel." "Except for house members," Buffy insisted. "No exceptions," Elsa demanded. "I'll keep an eye on him," Pamela resolved the issue. "No more Amazon boinking for him." She was such a liar. She was also a highly accomplished liar because everyone bought it. On with my life. Stage one: exit Katrina's office. Done deal, no problems. Stage two: set up meeting with the Earth  and  Sky. They wanted to meet on their ground. Since I was the uncertain factor in these negotiations, I agreed. I was bringing one, Pamela raised four fingers, four people with me. Who? Outside of Pamela, I had no idea. Stage three: going to medical and putting on my business suit, it was a new one and very, very nice. I was moving up into serious majestic magnate territory. I also picked up buddy number two, FBI Special Agent Virginia Maddox. Why had I chosen a federal agent to accompany me to a meeting between two secret societies? I hadn't a clue. Sometimes you have to roll with these things. In the lobby, I picked up number three, Delilah, Mom's MI-6 operative/baby-sitter. Compassionate, caring people were surrounding me all the time. It gave me this sensation of a 'down home' environment no matter where I went, if down home was Gaza, or Donetsk. I think my entourage/lifestyle observation teams had grown to encompass six cars. I was in no condition for riding my bike, so that recourse was denied me. Taxi? One, most were hard-working stiffs like my family who didn't deserve to be caught in a noontime, drive-by assassination attempt. Besides, with my luck I'd meet the guy from Qatar again, the one with the sister with cute eyes. That reminded me, I gave Nicole a call. "How are you doing?" she quickly inquired. "Good," I lied to a past master of shattering perjury. Pause. "I'm surrounded by girls with guns, tailed by your clients, some part of a Federal Task force and some people who I don't know yet. Hold on." I put my hand over my phone. "Delilah, are you packing heat?" I asked softly. She opened her jacket revealing paired revolvers in shoulder holsters. I didn't recognize them so the Brit gave me the 4-1-1. "Ruger Alaskans," she grinned. Bing! Now I recalled them. The girl who taught me to shoot once read some reviews of that beast on her laptop while I gave her a slow, passionate screw from behind. She became all hot and bothered, wiggling, squirming and generally having a grandiose time with my cock deep within. I repeat, this girl really loved guns, a huge cerebral G-spot for her. Oh yeah, the Ruger Alaskan is what you get if you are worried about Grizzly bears popping their heads through the tent flaps late at night. Delilah was probably packing 4 80's. Her guns would turn 250 kilograms of pissed off ursine into an excellent throw-rug in about two shots. In an urban environment,  well, maybe she thought the New York Giants were actually giants, or something like that. Two were overkill, unless you expected someone needing to borrow one. "Just checked. I remain the only one unarmed in my personal carnival of carnage, " my words trailed up to an unintelligible mumble. I was mumbling because suddenly four handguns were casually offered up for my use (Tiger Lily was holding one over her shoulder as she drove), in the same way you'd offer up some Nicorette to a man jonesing for a smoke. Rachel was kind enough to hand me my familiar Glock-22 and Ruger 38 caliber with their accompanying holsters. Two spare clips followed, then I stashed the lot. I scratched my calf. It took me a second to realize I was reaching for my pistol. No, not the one at my hip, or my ankle, but the one, in my boot? "Now that you've been handed firearms of dubious origin, can I get back to questioning you," the FBI agent intruded upon my ruminations. "We were discussing that list of people that are visiting a morgue instead of a court room. What can you tell me?" "Bye Nicole. Miss you. Being interrogated by a blonde FBI lady with a whips scar on her eyebrow and eyes that could scare a badger back into its hole. Later," I cut of my lawyer's fierce demand that I keep my mouth shut. "Nothing useful that wouldn't implicate myself and others in a criminal conspiracy," I answered her. "There is no way I'd name anyone else I suspect of involvement. I feel no guilt over what has happened, so no remorseful confession, and that is based on my belief that cosmic justice has been achieved." "You can't create lists of people for execution," Maddox persisted. "That negates the whole justice system and the principle of innocent until proven guilty." Wow! Except for the two of us, every other person in the car snorted their derision of Maddox's presumptive naiveté. "Do you even believe the tripe spilling from your pie-hole?" Delilah mocked Maddox. "I'm in law enforcement. That means I enforce the laws, not interpret them, or choose which ones I want to obey and which ones to ignore," Virginia fought back. "Love, that's crap and you know it. You are an agent of the US government. You bomb, drone-strike, overthrow lawfully elected governments and assassinate in your nation's best interests," Delilah countered. "You selectively enforce your Constitution when it suits you." "I'm law enforcement, not the military or foreign affairs. Know the difference," Maddox glared. "The pay master is the same,  you willingly collect your thirty pieces of silver; get off your high horse because you are in the shat now, Agent Maddox. I haven't known this crowd an hour and I know for a fact that you are the only US citizen onboard," Delilah chortled. "I don't know their bleeding nationality, but I doubt it is on the UN Charter." Maddox turned to me. "That was succinct and rather accurate," I murmured. "Special Agent Maddox, I have the sneaking suspicion that you are with us because FP (federal prosecutor) Castello feels you can handle this, Umm, unusual set of circumstance. I promise you this, it is going to get worse." "Why don't we test this quaint theory?" FBI Lass challenged us. "Jail, bail, and I'm waking up in Rio de Janeiro in two days," I sighed. "I have a few thousand in the bank, live in a hole and own my father's home, when it clears probate. Only you know I'm flight risk. A dozen people will vouch/lie about my character and that's that. All you've succeeding in doing is making enemies when you need friends." "There is still a matter of multiple people dead under suspicious circumstance," she said. "Imagine for a second that Cáel admits to creating a hit list," Pamela began. "He would never give up the names of the other people involved. He didn't kill anyone, or say 'kill them'. Now what? You still have an abysmal case to put before a judge. Add to that, the mitigating factor of a raped girl. You get to break her down until she's a cooperating witness because she's the only one who can provide you with Cáel's motive," my mentor continued. "Good for you and your team. She gets to betray the man who tried to save her. Cáel promised horrific retribution if any of those in the now-dead crowd hurt her. That is rather unlike him, he normally forgives when given the least excuse. I don't give a damn about women's rights, or the rights of rape victims. I really could give a shit about human rights for that matter. Wronging me is the surest way to early retirement. It is not a matter of strong versus weak, or right versus wrong. What matters to me is who I can trust. I don't know you, thus I don't trust you. I trust your government to be so much chicken shit. I base this on the lack of public torture and execution. I want the families of dying criminals paraded in front of those cock-suckers before the condemned finally perish in agony. I want to see thieves get their forearms hacked off, trial by combat, and respect for your elders. I want to see public officials being sacrificed upon the altar of Jehovah when they leave office. I want to see a system of justice with a soul, not law books thicker than an aircraft carrier's hull. A government 'of the People, by the People, for the People' should be the sole guiding force for your culture and we both know that's never going to happen. I admire your soldiers; not because they are brave and combat effective, they are. I admire them because they are fighting and dying for elected officials and a population that can't locate Afghanistan, or Iraq on a map, can't tell the difference between a Sikh and a Muslim, and thinks 'Pashtun' is an exotic piece of furniture. I admire them because they are better human beings despite you, not because of you," Pamela was coming to her crescendo. "Basically you people, by that I mean most of the human race, are dangerous in your idiocy, arrogance and pride in your ignorance. Not one of you should be allowed to use weapons, or play with fire. For you, unrestricted voting is a crime right up there with inventing, disease prevention, bilingualism and anything that perpetuates your educational system." "Lady, why are you so angry with the world?" Maddox studied Pamela intensely. I wished her luck with divining and then unwrapping that lady's mind. "I hold dear to my heart anyone's hunger to learn, honesty when it hurts and love no matter what the cost, so I find myself alone most of the time," Pamela grinned. "Above even those, I adore humor in the face of ridicule, condemnation and adversity. You can dodge bullets and parry knives. Humor always strikes home," she finished. "It is the perfect weapon." "Liar," I smiled. "You like high performance automobiles too." Did she? I didn't know. "Only with a 2X4 pressing the accelerator as it races toward the lip of a canyon," Pamela bantered back, "with Ursula K. Le Guin strapped in the back seat." "Who?" I inquired. "She's an author. I take exception to some of her work and unwillingness to appreciate the fusion of exceptional feminine characteristics with power positions," Pamela answered. "And your critique of her life's work is an exploding car at the bottom of a cliff?" I smiled. "Starting uncontrolled wildfires and littering, two of my favorite activities," she laughed. "I'll stick with blondes and brunettes, and red- and raven-haired, bald has its own appeal, green and purple have their own kink going on, " I joked. "Wait! We were talking about people being murdered and you two are cracking jokes?" Maddox rumbled. "I had a dream about tying them together with nylon cord and tossing them off the back ramp of a transport aircraft, and watching them fall, and fall," Rachel sighed dreamily. "Atta girl," I play-punched Rachel's shoulder. "What is your part in all of this?" Maddox turned to Rachel. "I'm the head of his bodyguard detail," Rachel gave her confession of the damned. "And you want to kill him, " Virginia struggled to keep up. "Given time, you will too," Rachel promised. "According to his pre-employment records, only one woman he's had a sexual relationship with hasn't wanted to at least hurt him," glaring at me, "badly." "The nun doesn't want me dead!" I vocally protested. "It is so wrong that you are proud that of over 200 women you've slept with, TWO have not, at some point in knowing you, wanted to maul you and one of those is in the 'forgiving' business," Rachel chastised me. Virginia had an answer for my madness. Her phone came out and she hit speed-dial, work. "Ms. Castello, this is Special Agent Maddox, do you have a moment?" Virginia calmly asked when she finally wrangled my current-favorite fed's attention. "You do now? Thank you. I'd like to know what the fuck have you done to me? This assignment is nuts. Either I'm part of some elaborate prank, or I'm in an S U V with escapees from the looney bin." Ten seconds later Maddox gave me the phone. "Stop it. I've upheld my end of the bargain, so behave," Javiera ordered. Man, she'd shot me straight to the core and we hadn't even slept together yet. Clever, clever girl. "Yes Ma'am," I swore. "I'll do my best to buffer Special Agent Maddox from the truth." "I'll have to accept that," Javiera conceded. "Give Maddox the phone back." A brief conversation later and Maddox was no better off than when she started. Thankfully we parked in front of the Kazakhstan Consulate in New York, giving us all an excuse to face facts. Maddox was feeling compelled to ask questions she didn't want the answers to, and that we didn't want to answer. Saved by work. "Kazakhstan Consulate? Why are we here?" both Virginia and Rachel asked. "Oh! This is going to be good," Pamela leaned forward excitedly. "Change the course of human history," I answered with a great deal of confidence I didn't feel. See, I had knowledge critical to the Earth  and  Sky. That knowledge was also something they wanted kept compartmentalized, so they might take exception to it being possessed by an outsider. Oh,  so that's why Pamela earlier insisted on four ladies being with me, so we could shoot our way out if things turned ugly. I hugged my mentor. "Thank you, Pamela." "You are coming along nicely, Mr. Potter," Pamela patted my cheek. "Your praise leaves me suspicious, Professor Snape. Besides, if I'm going to die, it helps me to know you'll go first ." "That was uncalled for," Pamela chided me. It was the 'Snape' role she rejected. "Snape gave up his life for Harry, Dumbledore died for Draco," I countered. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Pamela shone with joy and pride. "You act like I have a choice," I sighed. "Touché," Pamela nodded. "I see what you mean about these two," Maddox addressed Rachel. "Oh my God," Delilah laughed. "You wove Harry Potter into a life and death conversation and it made sense. I am probably going to die, but I'll die knowing I have lived." "Not you too?" Maddox glared at Delilah. Rachel just shook her head. We exited the car, settled ourselves out. Rachel took point, Delilah took one flank while Pamela took the other. By happenstance, I ended up in the middle, yeah right, with Virginia covering my back. "You stay here," Pamela put a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "You'll need to lead the team in if someone 'pumps up the volume'." Interesting euphemism for 'when people start killing people'. "What are we doing today?" Miyako 'appeared'. She'd been walking down the sidewalk toward us, the Kazak Consulate was a townhouse, but her presence hadn't registered. "I require your pledge of silence on what is to transpire. No death is intended," I stated calmly to Miyako. "I didn't know you were versed in ninja contracts, much less spoke Japanese?" Miyako responded. Blink. "I didn't know I spoke it either, " I mumbled. "No sweat," Pamela tried to hustle us along. "He's a quick study." Yeah. I didn't feel it apropos to point out I hadn't heard myself speaking Japanese, or understood that my words had some secret meaning. "How important is this to my people?" Miyako asked. Now that I was paying attention to it, I could make out that she was speaking in her native tongue. "If they don't think we can be trusted to not speak of what is to transpire for a week, they are going to kill us," I related my suspicions. "My mind and heart are joined in this decision." "I give you my pledge," Miyako nodded. She looped her arm in mine. "Does anyone care to enlighten me?" Maddox prodded. Whoa. It seemed that, beside me and Miyako, only Pamela spoke Japanese. "Special Agent Maddox, no matter what, don't give up your gun, when we say run, run, and shoot to kill because they will be trying to kill us," I informed her. "Does the term 'extraterritoriality' mean anything to anyone here?" Maddox snapped. Her nervousness was totally understandable. I stopped at the top of the steps, looking over my shoulder. I nodded. Pamela, Delilah and Miyako nodded as well. "Hold on, I can't believe I'm saying this. Does anyone have a back-up I can use?" Maddox groaned. Rachel quick-stepped forward and handed over a 22 automatic pistol then a spare clip with a smooth, practiced motion that suggested that SD swapped weapons all the time. Maddox didn't miss the casualness of the gesture. The firearm and magazine disappeared. "Fine, we will never discuss the laws we just butchered, ever, and if I die and any of you make it out alive, I will seek revenge at whatever cost FROM WHEREVER I AM," FBI girl growled. "One of us," Pamela smirked at me as I touched the doorbell. It opened promptly. We weren't on a crowded street, we were on their stoop and a security camera was pointed right at us. We were invited in and two rather Caucasian-looking gentlemen (Kazaks are a mixed bag of Turks and Cumans) were waiting with the doorman. They looked tough in that they took personality lessons from saddle leather. "You will place your weapons there," the more charismatic of the two spoke up. He was pointing to a side table that looked large enough for the task. "No," was the most courteous response I could muster. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look much like he was breathing, or blinking either. "Go," he pointed to the door. I looked to Pamela. "Well, that didn't take long," I grinned. I felt out the necklace under my shirt and pulled it over my head. "Please return this to its owner in the spirit it was given." He took it. The doorman opened the door and out we went. Rachel was back in our GL550, using the door as possible cover. She said we could take our seats and away we rolled. Maddox looked apoplectic. She had prepared herself for the Wild, Wild West, not a doe-see-doe at the door. In her mind, I had wound her up for nothing. My phone rang. "Cáel Ishara, there seems to have been a diplomatic miscommunication," a male native Turkish-speaker said in heavily accented English. "The person you are meeting must be approached in the spirit of peace." "No, I understood you perfectly," I assured him. "We aren't the Brownies, or the Girl Scouts, Buddy. I don't know, or trust you and you don't know, or trust me, yet. I will compromise though. I will respect your traditions. I will enter your home unarmed. In turn, everyone in the building will line up outside on the street except for the person I'm supposed to meet. Is that acceptable?" Pause. "Do you hate these people, or like them?" Maddox grumbled. "With you, I can't quite tell." "That would not be acceptable," the man finally responded. "Perhaps an alternative. You come in, alone yet armed." "Nope. Due to the efforts of people far smarter than me, I know pretty much who I am meeting, so I am either very rude, insane, or bear a message that is worth my life," I countered. "Your personal safety is guaranteed," was the counter-offer. "That is a false promise, not because you lack honor, or respect for me, but because you are from a wise and noble lineage with a historical propensity of cutting to the heart of any problem." By that, I meant they'd cut my heart out. "What I expect is for every one of you to hold the future of the Earth  and  Sky above any such concepts as personal promises, hospitality, and honor. I am even putting my faith in your willingness to put the survival of the Earth  and  Sky over your own well-being," I riposted. "If the message is so crucial, you should be willing to come alone," back at me. "It isn't important to me," I stated. "Listen, a war is about to break out. Unless we both want to be found all alone in the outhouse masturbating when the headsman comes, one of us has to blink. Today, it is you. Tomorrow you may be able to return the favor and mess with my head." Pause. "Your koumiss is getting warm." "We'll be right there. We apologize for the delay. Traffic is murder these days, or a close facsimile thereof," I gave a little back in the humility department. "Tiger Lily, " "On it, Ishara, Wakko Ishara. I've been circling the block," Tiger Lily had anticipated my antics. Sure, I acted like I had no game plan, but I never wasted people's time. Maybe if I developed an actual game plan I could do even better. "Wakko Ishara?" it was Delilah's and Maddox's turn to share a 'what the?' moment. "May I explain the sacred names?" Rachel requested of me. "I have a feeling these two might become a fixture." "By all means, Rachel. Our trust runs deep," I trusted Rachel with more than my life; I trusted her with my future. "Wakko, as in you're the nutty one?" Delilah made a stab at our arcane nomenclature. If you use small words does that make it gnomenclature? Pamela winked at me, psychic twin grandmother powers activate! "We need complementary rings," Pamela remarked. Sweet! "Cáel Ishara is differentiated as Wakko Ishara, Ishara, first of House Ishara, is Yakko Ishara, and, " Rachel began. "The Animaniacs? Your code names are the Warner Brothers and their sister Dot?" Maddox gasped. "You are beyond nuts." "And the Goddess Ishara is named, by House Ishara and House Ishara alone," Rachel made some warding appeal against divine punishment, "as Dot Ishara." Maddox's face shown with disbelief. "Following Cáel Ishara into battle has been one of my greatest pleasures," Rachel stared at Maddox. "I never knew insanity could be so liberating, or that laughing at death could be such an aphrodisiac." "When did you two go into battle?" Delilah wondered. "In a morgue, fighting to retrieve the body of his fallen father so that our enemies could not desecrate it," Rachel explained. Ah, the walls of Troy, fighting over the spoils of the dead. "You mean when I face-planted?" I grinned at Rachel. "Even without a weapon, your instincts were good, forcing our enemy to commit to multiple angles of coverage even though your efforts were foiled by a footing failure. Your rushing their leader was even more heroic in that you were unarmed and using your body as a decoy, knowing your enemy's superior skill would stop him from shooting you," Rachel smiled my way, sex. "Let me get this straight," Miyako finally spoke up. "You charged an enemy unarmed then stumbled and failed. They were armed?" "Yes, with a 3 57 Magnum revolver and a 10 gauge sawed-off automatic shotgun, in tight confines and close range, oh, and no cover." Maddox replied, then to me, "I read the report." "Then you repeated the action a few minutes," Miyako. "Less than a minute later," Maddox clarified. "A minute later, wow! You are as fearless as we've heard. Please don't die before we have a baby," Miyako gave me a quick hug. If you cover a zeppelin with uranium paint, can it still fly, or does it sink to the center of the Earth? Ninja babies, We had returned to the stairs at the Consulate. This time the door swung open upon our approach. "Is there some drug you are all taking to bask in this shared fantasy life?" Maddox mumbled. "One of us," Pamela retorted. "One of us." "One of us," I joined in. It helped cut the tension. The bodyguards were present right where we'd them last time. They ushered us up the stairs to a second floor sitting room that ate up half the floor. There were two men there; radiating that subtle assurance that a half-dozen killers were close by. The man standing was Iskender, the E and S emissary from Dad's funeral. I broke all decorum, strode to the man, locked arms, hugged him tight and patted him on the back. "Thank the spirits you are here," I whispered, "all this lack of dick is making me a bit stir-crazy." "Ah, yes, it is good to see you again too," Iskender imparted as we broke our embrace. His boss, the guy on the sofa, shot me and my Kyrgyz buddy a sharp look. The Main Man was clearly Mongolian and must have thought blank, white walls exhibited too much empathy. "Koumiss," the boss offered. I sipped it from a simple, yet regal drinking mug that probably hit the kiln 200 years ago. "Mare, or yak?" I inquired as I handed the cup around. Iskender came first, but it was clearly my intention that we all partake. It was more a matter of the host's pledge of sanctuary than me wanting to share the koumiss. It tasted like thin, lightly chilled, bitter beer with a vanilla-almond milk shake-chaser. "Mare, of course. Please sit," he offered. He defined the suggestion by slipping off the sofa onto the layered carpet rug. He was semi-reclined, so we followed suit. "We should pray for the protection of the spirits," was the suggestion that wasn't a suggestion. It was his itinerary. He clapped his hands and from beyond a curtained partition came this really sensual Mongolian chick carrying a large brass bowl. She flicked her eyes at me and an instant connection was formed. She liked to bark like a dog under the full moon, okay, I'm not sure where that came from. "Nice woman," I told the leader. "She looks like she has seen many winters." Whoa! Where the fuck did that come from? I got a shocked reaction from Iskender. The Leader looked pissed, if a flake of paint on the white wall indicated anger. The girl blushed like what I said was an incredible turn on. "She is my daughter," the Leader pointed out. Way past swallowing my foot. My ankle was tasty. "My name is Oyuun Tömörbaatar. My faithful Iskender, you know. This is my daughter T. Sarangerel. She is studying at N Y U and is not entertaining marriage proposals at this time," he slapped down his boundaries. Somehow 'I only want to sleep with her' didn't sound like the right response. Wait! Saying his 'daughter had many winters' was a marriage bargaining opening move. What the fuck! "What I meant was that surely many men have died trying to come before you," I back-pedaled. More happy looks from the daughter. More paint peeling from the dad. Pamela made sure more koumiss was going around. Getting drunk could hardly hurt at this juncture. Sarangeral placed the bowl between us. It was filled with clear, cold water undoubtedly collected from a mountain-fed glacier. "Let us cleanse our hands in the water so that we may speak with clarity," O. Tömörbaatar said. We dipped our fingers and, for a second, I saw him. Not 'O', but HIM. "It is good to finally meet you Ferko Ishara Cáel Nyilas," the man said. My Spidey senses told me he was feeling less 'good' about this meeting every second. "How can your people and mine better get along?" 'Let me impregnate your daughter', would probably get my skull split open. "No time for that," I replied. "I know where HE is. The Seven Pillars have found a way to search the Weave and are closing in. You must act with haste." Whether it was disbelief, or old schooled Ku Chun in the art of gambling, the older man gave no outward reaction. "Where is he?" O. Tömörbaatar asked in a gentle tone. "I can do you one better," I steeled myself for the unknown forces I was invoking. I put my hands on the bowl's lip and looked in. Several seconds later, he did as well. For a moment, nothing. It was like a ripple in reverse. The first earth tremor I barely noticed. The ripples grew and grew until I felt the whole row of townhouses would come crashing down. Wind snapped the locks on the windows, flinging them wide open and tearing at the curtains like streamers in a hurricane. Then we saw HIM clearly. HE stopped driving this old, beat-up Peugeot and was pulling to the side of a desolate stretch of highway. HE could sense something yet couldn't pinpoint the source of his unease. We definitely got the impression this wasn't his first taste of this experience, the Seven Pillars. He was young, maybe my age. He looked like an educated man turned vagabond/boundless traveler. HIS eyes, his eyes had a depth that were a microcosm of what I'd glimpsed in Ishara, Dot Ishara's unshielded glance when we first met. All lingering doubts vanished in my mind. "I know that place," O T muttered, his eyes fixated on the only feature in the vacant expanse, a road sign, in Chinese. Yikes. "I know that place." The image faded. Our meeting venue was intact. Whatever I felt transpire, I had shared with O. Tömörbaatar alone. "You have work to do," I stated as I cleared my throat. "I will leave you to it." I stood. "What do you wish for this gift?" O T reached out and touched my sleeve. "When the time comes, maybe you can help us," I replied. "A man who asks for nothing can expect anything," O T smiled for the first time. "Go." I did not take a fear-free breath until the cars started up and we pulled away. He'd let us live. Even with that priceless piece of magical insight, he'd let us live. "I'm still stunned we got out alive," I sighed. "I wasn't really sure he'd take the news as well as he did." No one said anything for a minute. "Why would he have killed us?" Delilah inquired. "You, I understand. I don't know what you communicated to that young lady, but the old guy wasn't happy about it. He was going to kill us over that?" Pause. "What did the rest of you see and hear?" I looked around the cabin. Pamela appeared worried. "I didn't know you spoke Chagatai," Miyako smiled at me. "You are full of surprise. I only caught a word, or two, and none of it made sense." "MRI," I groaned. "Magnetoencephalography," Pamela said in the same breath. "Mine is better, Boyo." "What is going on?" Rachel upped her alertness level. "We need to take Cáel to a hospital that has a Magnetoencephalography device," Pamela insisted. "He's spontaneously speaking languages he didn't know moments earlier, " Maddox put things together first. The rest nodded at her assessment. "We'll need to have his records from Havenstone sent over as a baseline." Poor Virginia, the absurdity of my life was sucking her in. "I'll call Katrina," Rachel informed us. I was a mental case once more. At least my input was still being solicited. "How many guns do you have on you?" Pamela zinged me. The answer was obvious, two. My Glock and my back-up. That didn't seem right. "Ah, two?" I responded. "Yeah, something is happening to your muscle memory as well," Pamela shook her head. "What exactly does that mean, and what's wrong with Cáel's brain?" Delilah studied the group. "It means he could spontaneously pull out his gun and start shooting us?" Pamela confessed her uncertainty. "I don't know. We'd better figure out which impulses are his guiding light right now before that happens." "I don't even know how to begin reporting this," Maddox muttered. "Cheer up. Our Cáel is still currently in charge. Did you appreciate how he lured in that young Mongolian girl? That's classic Cáel," Pamela comforted the crowd. I was saved from a straightjacket because I was a 'Playa'. (Meadowlands Medical Center in far off New Jersey) I'm not political. For me, that means I am completely and utterly dedicated to whatever doctrine that the cutest political campaigner in front of me endorses. Fifteen minutes on the internet and you can fake it like a pro. Be careful to be with the winning team when the results come in. Nothing makes a political chick go wild like sneaking into the candidate's office and screwing her on the newly elected/re-elected figure's desk. Let her scream out her idol's name. Odds are neither of you will be welcomed back afterwards anyway. Why politics now? Javiera called some people. I had a sneaking suspicion that someone I knew and trusted got in touch with my 'Aunts' as well. All I knew for sure was the Hospital's Administrator's phone began ringing off the hook and I'd become the hospital's number one priority. The hospital staff was visibly irritated with the clout raining down on their heads for about an hour. Once they digested my Havenstone records, all of that changed. Holy 'Published in The New England Journal of Medicine', someone had drilled a micro-surgical hole in my skull in the middle of a wrestling match with no resulting cerebral scarring. THEN this unknown device shot into my skull with pinpoint accuracy and pumped a ghastly amount of energy into my cerebrum. They were fascinated. They were so fascinated I heard two medical technicians mutter about where the Zombie Survival Guide could be found. They triple checked my vital signs, again. I was still as much alive as when I checked myself in. There was a rumor that a fire ax disappeared from a stairwell close by, but not one confessed to the deed. I was speaking in languages I had no reason to know? They were surprised I could contain my mouth drool. It was somewhat disheartening to hear three seasoned physicians discuss what probable scenarios could explain me still being in a non-vegetative state,  or alive for that matter. Some poor nurse had to ask. "Do you feel an unnatural, interest in human brains?" she whispered when she though no one was close by. "I'm not sure what you mean," I whispered back. "I always respect a woman's intelligence. Sex is a cerebral passion. What's the point if you can't communicate with your partner?" Pamela slapped me upside my head. That disturbed just about everybody else in the vicinity and my mentor was promptly exiled from the room. I was curious about what havoc she was perpetrating on this establishment. My condition had gotten her past all the heavy security and I knew without seeing that someone high ranking had misplaced their ID badge. Maybe Pamela was the love-child of Batman and Cat woman. Before you think that's comic fanboy talk, recall what my life was like at that moment. Tests ensued. The staff decided that Havenstone employed a bunch of quacks and snake charmers. Two hours later, they found out they were wrong. Larger battery of tests, same results. I was the second coming of Christ, back from the dead, or a zombie living in a convincing state of denial. Some folks wouldn't let that go. Pamela had proved to be prophetic. Her pet gizmo finally provided a new picture of what my neural pathways were up to. If there is any doubt, 'I've never seen that before' is not what you want to hear one of North America's experts in the field of neuroscience say. The first educated opinion was that I suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, that meant I was hit in the head a lot. Normally that diagnosis comes in the midst of an autopsy. I was having paralytic seizures. They had me juggle a squeeze-ball, then two and finally three. My perfect performance frustrated them. Women find relatively simple carnival tricks to be seductive. Pluck a card from a girl's bra gets you both to some dark corner, hungrily looking for the rest of the deck, I speak from experience. Next up at bat: 'I was possessed', I shit you not. Holistic medicine was right on board with the team. Was I influenced by a supernatural power? Yes I was. So claimed the majority of people on Earth. Did I receive specific instructions? Yes, and so did practitioners of Voodoo/Vodun on three continents. I added that I attempted to evade said instructions when I could. Did I have 'evil' impulses to hurt myself, or others? Huh? For starters, my matron goddess was more of a 'fucker' than a 'fighter' and her instructions were always suitably vague, the same way a Philosophy professor would give you a ten word pointless sentence on Friday and expect you to have a 250 page doctrine on Monday morning. That hit home. Too many normally smart people take a philosophy class in college hoping for an easy-A. Some teachers love dissolving those delusion, sitting back and watching your hopes and dreams of task-free weekends go down the drain. The more obscure the discipline, the more perverse the desire. That is why you always pick a teacher of the opposite gender (if in doubt, use a gay/lesbian test) and keep 'sex for grades' on the menu. Was I suffering from optical illusions, or phantom noises? Straight to the point, yes, I saw and talked with ghosts. So did the Long Island Medium, the casts of Ghost Hunters, Paranormal Witness plus George Anderson and Chip Coffey. To my credit, I didn't do it for profit, or in order to influence people. Was I seeing ghosts now? I was in hospital, so odds weren't bad. I had every non-ghost raise their left hand. No ghosts. Was my paranormal dementia pre- or post-brain trauma? Did seeing a college student being called before his class and successfully accused of plagiarism on his senior thesis, turning him into one of the Restless Dead count? No? My 'disputed' abilities were all post-college employment, thank you very much. Did the ghosts possess me/tell me to do things? I was not possessed and, discounting sexual bondage and my current work venue, had never been possessed. From my limited exposure, ghosts wanted to not be alone in the afterlife, to be guided to a final resting place with others of their kind/family/friends. None had taught me languages, asked me to steal something, or kill anyone. Had any done so, I would have denied them. Such actions were immoral and I could still freely differentiate between right and wrong. I preferred to commit wrong on my own initiative and making me do good was a chore most sane people abandoned after a few days. I took a Rorschach test. The results were predictable because I had taken old 'R' several times before. Just like every other time, I'd mixed up sexual innuendo with a psychological test to seduce the test-giver,  everything reminded me of intercourse. I changed it up with this girl. I gave her numbers. Sometime after I was long gone, they were going to figure out the ink blots were numbered after whichever erotic positions from the Kama Sutra I was reminded of at the time. I knew that wasn't being helpful and I was certain I wasn't a brain specialist. I also knew Rorschach wasn't the key to solving my woes. Final remaining hypothesis, I was utilizing 30 % of my brain capacity with three independent patterns emerging, not the usual 5 %. For that to work, my brain had to be oozing out my ears because brains generate a terrific amount of heat. My temperature was a steady 37.3 C (99 F) and my ear channels were free of obstruction. Hey man, cleaning your ears is quick and easy. Don't risk turning off a date with misfortunately located ear-hair and wax. How was my brain shedding the heat? Their solution, let's do a Spinal Tap. No way. I'd seen that band and they were all extremely fucked up, even for old guys. I wasn't going down that road. They insisted. I suggested that I consent to the procedure with the condition that I received no pain killers/sedatives of any kind and I got to grab and hold onto the testicles of my two, current, least favorite doctors. When they realized I was deadly serious and immovable on the issue, they came up with a new plan, no Spinal Tap. Gutless sissies. Into this vacuum of information, a brainstorm emerged (besides my inexplicable one). They would talk to me, no more interrogations, an actual verbal exchange. They couldn't come over and start flapping their gums like some punk rock band with no talent. They were suddenly worried about 'concerning' me and 'agitating my unstable state'. I pray to Goddess Ishara that one day soon they play back the tapes of their early hours working on me and pay close attention to my facial expressions of shock, horror, fear and depression as they clearly and openly talked about me as if I was the Fiji Mermaid. But hey, a few of them were kinda cute, so in the final analysis all that emotional trauma worked its way out. Hospital highlights: (Understand, I was lying on a table while various specialists prodded and talked about me as if I wasn't there. To strike back at reality, I throbbed my penis every time this cute Parasitologist looked at it. Finally ) Female Chief of Neurosurgery: "Did anyone think to study changes in is body's nervous system?" (Guilty looks all around) Neuro Surgeon: "What are all these needle marks?" Havenstone Medico, "Those are muscle stimuli insertion sites. They kept his musculature from atrophying while he was in a coma." Neuro Surgeon: "Let me get this straight. This man had a lightning bolt go off in his head and part of your healthcare regimen was to run a constant current of electricity throughout the rest of his body." (Scathing looks at the Medico from everyone else, jackals) HM: "He has retained excellent muscle tone." Neuro Surgeon: "Have you even taken the Hippocratic Oath?" HM: (offended) "Of course not, he's Greek." Neuro Surgeon: "What does my patient being Greek have to do with anything?" HM: "Not him (pointing at me). Hippocrates, he was a Greek. Cáel is Magyar/Irish Gaelic." Neuro Surgeon: "Helpful, that's not. He seems to have a great deal of bruises and scarring, some of it certainly received over an extensive period of time. Is this your work?" HM: (in a positive note) "No. It has not been my pleasure to spar with Cáel yet." Neuro Surgeon: "Isn't he a bit, big for you?" &

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

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..