Podcasts about Slavic

You may have heard of Tom Slick, the man who financed many early expeditions in search of Sasquatch both the in US and internationally. But did you know he was also a scientist, military man, inventor, philanthropist, and much more? Learn the strange, fascinating and tragically short history of Thomas Baker Slick Jr. with Heather Moser, Mark Matzke and guest host Aaron Deese.  Email - Monsteropolis@smalltownmonsters.com   SHOW NOTES Monsteropolis: Tom Slick   Welcome back, you lawless knaves.    READER MAIL - got at least one - HERE IT IS, from our friend Christine! — Hi Guys,   First of all, congratulations on the success of your 10th anniversary Kickstarter!  I can't wait to see your new films, especially The Siege of Ape Canyon and The Kinderhook Creature.   I listened with interest to the Monsteropolis episode where you described the changing nature of the appearance of the Wendigo in popular culture from an emaciated human being to one with antlers and a stag's skull. In the fall last year I became aware of the legend of the Leshy of pagan Slavic culture through an excellent YA novel called "Where the Dark Stands Still" by Polish writer A.B. Poranek. When I googled the Leshy I was astounded to see images of what I recognised as the Wendigo. So this got me thinking - is there a Slavic influence at play here too? Perhaps this is something you could look in to!    I am really looking forward to the book and film regarding the Wendigo which I understand may come out next year. I have been fascinated by the Wendigo since reading Algernon Blackwood's novella and there is one passage in particular that always sticks in my mind:   "And soon after he slept, the change of wind he had divined stirred gently the reflection of the stars within the lake. Rising among the far ridges of the country beyond Fifty Island Water, it came from the direction in which he had stared, and it passed over the sleeping camp with a faint and sighing murmur through the tops of the big trees that was almost too delicate to be audible. With it, down the desert paths of night, though too faint, too high even for the Indian's hair-like nerves, there passed a curious, thin odor, strangely disquieting, an odor of something that seemed unfamiliar—utterly unknown."   Christine   (your biggest Scottish fan who lives in Germany

Pre-order my Creepy Campfire Stories Book Now! https://a.co/d/eBLp4Yz Get a Darkness Prevails Plushie! Be one of the first 100 to verify your pre-order of CREEPY CAMPFIRE STORIES: https://www.quarto.com/campaign/creepy-campfire-stories-preorder Become an Eeriecast PLUS Member! https://eeriecast.com/plus GET MY WIFE'S ADORABLE STICKERS!!! https://ko-fi.com/ruffledragons/shop ORDER PHANTOM PHENOMENA: https://a.co/d/3hQAV7e ORDER APPALCHIAN FOLKLORE UNVEILED: https://a.co/d/iteR5xZ Get CRYPTID: The Creepy Card Battling Game https://cryptidcardgame.com/ SCARY STORIES TIMESTAMPS: 0:00 INTRO 0:58 The Stranger in the Forest from Brummer 18:55 Have you Heard of the Bauk? from anon 29:43 The Thing by the Creek from GlueBerry 36:12 Touch of the Likho from Magda 47:36 The Dorm's Live-In Ghost from B. G. Read our new wendigo horror novel https://eeriecast.com/lore Sign up for Eeriecast PLUS for bonus content and more https://eeriecast.com/plus Get our merch http://eeriecast.store/ Join my Discord! https://discord.gg/3YVN4twrD8 Follow the Unexplained Encounters podcast! https://pod.link/1152248491 Follow and review Tales from the Break Room on Spotify and Apple Podcasts! https://pod.link/1621075170 Follow us on Spotify! https://open.spotify.com/show/3mNZyXkaJPLwUwcjkz6Pv2 Follow and Review us on iTunes! https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/darkness-prevails-podcast-true-horror-stories/id1152248491 Submit Your Story Here: https://www.darkstories.org/ Subscribe on YouTube for More Stories! https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCh_VbMnoL4nuxX_3HYanJbA?sub_confirmation=1 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

This week on Hell On Heels, Bryce was busy handling all things mom life (because moms are superheroes), so Amanda took the reins — but she didn't do it alone.Amanda dives into the mysterious disappearance of Maura Murray, a case that continues to leave more questions than answers. Then, in a Hell On Heels first, Amanda's husband, James, steps up to the mic to take us on a dark and twisted journey into Slavic folklore with the terrifying legend of Baba Yaga.It's true crime, it's paranormal, it's a little chaotic — what more could you want?Stay Connected with Hell On Heels Podcast:

Aleksander faces a fierce dragon and must complete three impossible tasks. With bravery, cleverness, and a touch of magic, an unforgettable adventure begins!

How is God at work amid ongoing fighting since Russia's invasion of Ukraine? Eric Mock, from the Slavic Gospel Association, wants to remind us that the gospel is going forth as Christians stay faithful to serve the Lord in spite of difficulties and hardship. He'll share stories of Ukrainian pastors who kept up their ministries, even with Russian tanks outside their homes. The Slavic Gospel Association (SGA) started in 1934, built on a foundation of prayer with a heart to reach those behind the Iron Curtain with the gospel. One of the ministry's early effort was a dictation-speed recitation of the Bible broadcast over shortwave radio—allowing believers in Russia and other Soviet nations to create their own hand-written Bibles. (The Voice of the Martyrs has a similar broadcast reaching into North Korea today.) Hear more about SGA's history and how the Lord brought Eric to serve there in 2002 to support local churches and other ministries in 13 countries. He will describe how the fall of the Iron Curtain led to revival but then how consumerism later lessened revival fires. Eric challenges all of us to see the examples of our brothers and sisters in Ukraine who are ministering and risking their lives for the sake of the gospel. Pray that the gospel would continue to go forth in Russia, Ukraine and other nations in the region, and that Christians would stay faithful through hardship. The VOM App for your smartphone or tablet will help you pray daily for persecuted Christians throughout the year, as well as giving free access to e-books, audio books, video content and feature films. Download the VOM App for your iOS or Android device today.

Aleksander faces a powerful dragon and three impossible tasks, but courage and clever thinking light his path. With unexpected help, a magical adventure unfolds, full of surprises and challenges.

Can You Segway?Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.So exactly who was going to be sympathetic to their plight, who we cared about?Beyond my fevered dream of making a difference there was a pinch of reality. See, the Cabindans and the people of Zaire were both ethnic Bakongo and the Bakongo of Zaire had also once had their own, independent (until 1914) kingdom which was now part of Angola. The Bakongo were major factions in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) -(formerly for a short time known as the nation of Zaire, from here on out to be referred to as the DRC and in the running for the most fucked up place on the planet Earth, more on that later)- and Congo (the nation) yet a minority in Angola. Having an independent nation united along ethnic and linguistic lines made sense and could expect support from their confederates across international boundaries.The Liberation Air ForceThe Earth & Sky operated under one constant dilemma ~ when would Temujin make his return? Since they didn't know and it was their job to be prepared for the eventuality if it happened tomorrow, or a century down the line, they 'stockpiled', and 'stockpiled' and 'stockpiled'.That was why they maintained large horse herds and preserved the ancient arts of Asian bowyers, armoring and weapons-craft. That was why they created secret armories, and sulfur and saltpeter sites when musketry and cannons became the new ways of warfare. They secured sources of phosphates and petroleum when they became the new thing, and so on.All of this boiled over to me being shown yet again I worked with clever, creative and under-handed people. The Khanate came up with a plan for a 'Union' Air Force {Union? More on that later} within 24 hours, and it barely touched any of their existing resources. How did they accomplish this miracle? They had stockpiled and maintained earlier generation aircraft because they didn't know when Temujin would make his re-appearance.They'd also trained pilots and ground crews for those aircraft. As you might imagine, those people grew old just as their equipment did. In time, they went into the Earth & Sky's Inactive Reserves ~ the rank & file over the age of 45. You never were 'too old' to serve in some capacity though most combat-support related work ended at 67.When Temujin made his return and the E&S transformed into the Khanate, those people went to work bringing their lovingly cared for, aging equipment up to combat-alert readiness. If the frontline units were decimated, they would have to serve, despite the grim odds of their survival. It was the terrible acceptance the Chinese would simply possess so much more war-making material than they did.Well, the Khanate kicked the PRC's ass in a titanic ass-whooping no one (else) had seen coming, or would soon forget. Factory production and replacement of worn machines was in stride to have the Khanate's Air Force ready for the next round of warfare when the Cease-fire ended and the Reunification War resumed.Always a lower priority, the Khanate military leadership was considering deactivating dozens of these reserve unit when suddenly the (Mongolian) Ikh khaany khairt akh dáé (me) had this hare-brained scheme about helping rebels in Africa, West Africa, along the Gulf of Guinea coast/Atlantic Ocean, far, far away, and it couldn't look like the Khanate was directly involved.They barely knew where Angola was. They had to look up Cabinda to figure out precisely where that was. They brought in some of their 'reservist' air staff to this briefing and one of them, a woman (roughly a third of the E&S 'fighting'/non-frontline forces were female), knew what was going on. Why?She had studied the combat records and performance of the types of aircraft she'd have to utilize... back in the 1980's and 90's and Angola had been a war zone rife with Soviet (aka Khanate) material back then. Since she was both on the ball, bright and knew the score, the War Council put her in overall command. She knew what was expected of her and off she went, new staff in hand. She was 64 years old, yet as ready and willing to serve as any 20 year old believer in the Cause.Subtlety, scarcity and audacity were the watchwords of the day. The Khanate couldn't afford any of their front-line aircraft for this 'expedition'. They really couldn't afford any of their second-rate stuff either. Fortunately, they had some updated third-rate war-fighting gear still capable of putting up an impressive show in combat ~ providing they weren't going up against a top tier opponents.For the 'volunteers' of the Union Air Force, this could very likely to be a one-way trip. They all needed crash courses (not a word any air force loves, I know) in Portuguese though hastily provided iPhones with 'apps' to act as translators were deemed to be an adequate stop-gap measure. Besides, they were advised to avoid getting captured at all cost. The E&S couldn't afford the exposure. Given the opportunity ~ this assignment really was going above and beyond ~ not one of these forty-six to sixty-seven year olds backed out.No, they rolled out fifty of their antiquated aircraft, designs dating back to the 1950's through the mid-70's, and prepared them for the over 10,000 km journey to where they were 'needed most'. 118 pilots would go (72 active plus 46 replacements) along with 400 ground crew and an equally aged air defense battalion (so their air bases didn't get blown up). Security would be provided by 'outsiders' ~ allies already on the ground and whatever rebels could be scrounged up. After the initial insertion, the Indian Air Force would fly in supplies at night into the Cabinda City and Soyo Airports.The composition,14 Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-21 jet fighters ~ though she entered service in 1959, these planes' electronics were late 20th century and she was a renowned dogfighter. 12 were the Mig-21-97 modernized variant and the other two were Mig-21 UM two-seater trainer variants which could double as reconnaissance fighters if needed.14 Sukhoi Su-22 jet fighter-bombers ~ the original design, called the Su-17, came out in 1970, the first 12 were variants with the 22M4 upgrade were an early-80's package. The other 2 were Su-22U two-seat trainers which, like their Mig-21 comrades, doubled as reconnaissance fighters. The Su-22M4's would be doing the majority of the ground attack missions for the Cabindans, though they could defend themselves in aerial combat if necessary.6 Sukhoi Su-24M2 supersonic attack aircraft ~ the first model rolled off the production lines in the Soviet Union back in 1974. By far the heaviest planes in the Cabindan Air Force, the Su-24M2's would act as their 'bomber force' as well as anti-ship deterrence.8 Mil Mi-24 VM combat helicopters ~ introduced in 1972 was still a lethal combat machine today. Unlike the NATO helicopter force, the Mi-24's did double duty as both attack helicopter and assault transports at the same time.4 Mil Mi-8 utility helicopters, first produced in 1967. Three would act as troop/cargo transports (Mi-8 TP) while the fourth was configured as a mobile hospital (the MI-17 1VA).4 Antonov An-26 turboprop aircraft, two to be used as tactical transports to bring in supplies by day and two specializing in electronic intelligence aka listening to what the enemy was up to. Though it entered production in 1969, many still remained flying today.2 Antonov An-71M AEW&C twin-jet engine aircraft. These were an old, abandoned Soviet design the Earth & Sky had continued working on primarily because the current (1970's) Russian Airborne Early Warning and Control bird had been both huge and rather ineffective ~ it couldn't easily identify low-flying planes in the ground clutter so it was mainly only good at sea. Since the E&S planned to mostly fight over the land,They kept working on the An-71 which was basically 1977's popular An-72 with some pertinent design modifications (placing the engines below the wings instead of above them as on the -72 being a big one). To solve their radar problem, they stole some from the Swedish tech firm Ericsson, which hadn't been foreseen to be a problem before now.See, the Russians in the post-Soviet era created a decent AEW&C craft the E&S gladly stole and copied the shit out of for their front line units and it was working quite nicely ~ the Beriev A-50, and wow, were the boys in the Kremlin pissed off about that these days. Whoops, or was that woot?Now, the Khanate was shipping two An-71's down to Cabinda and somewhere along the line someone just might get a 'feel' for the style of radar and jamming the Cabindans were using aka the Swedish stuff in those An-71's. The Erieye radar system could pick out individual planes at 280 miles. The over-all system could track 60 targets and plot out 10 intercepts simultaneously. NATO, they were not, but in sub-Saharan Africa, there were none better.Anyway, so why was any of this important?Why the old folks with their ancient machines? As revealed, since the Earth & Sky had no idea when Temüjin would return, they were constantly squirreling away equipment. World War 2 gave them unequaled access to Soviet military technology and training.Afterwards, under Josef Stalin's direction, thousands of Russian and German engineers and scientists were exiled to Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, and Kyrgyzstan who were then snatched up (reportedly died in the gulags/trying to escape) and the E&S began building mirror factories modeled on the 'then current' Soviet production lines.So, by the early 1950's, the E&S was building, flying and maintaining Soviet-style Antonov, Beriev, Ilyushin, Myasishchev, Mikoyan-Gurevich, Sukhoi, Tupolev and Yakovlev airplanes. First in small numbers because their pool of pilots and specialists was so small.The E&S remedied this by creating both their own 'private' flight academies and technical schools. They protected their activities with the judicious use of bribes (they were remarkably successful with their economic endeavors on both side of the Iron Curtain) and murders (including the use of the Ghost Tigers).By 1960, the proto-Khanate had an air force. Through the next two decades they refined and altered their doctrine ~ moving away from the Soviet doctrine to a more pure combined-arms approach (the Soviets divided their air power into four separate arms ~ ADD (Long Range Aviation), FA (Front Aviation), MTA (Military Transport Aviation) and the V-PVO (Soviet Air Defenses ~ which controlled air interceptors).).It wasn't until the collapse of the Soviet Union and the independence of the various former SSR's that the E&S program really began to hit its stride. Still, while Russia faltered, China's PLAAF (Peoples' Liberation Army Air Force) began to take off. Since the Chinese could produce so much more, the E&S felt it had to keep those older planes and crews up to combat readiness. The younger field crews and pilots flew the newer models as they rolled off the secret production lines.Then the Unification War appeared suddenly, the E&S-turned Khanate Air Force skunked their PLAAF rivals due to two factors, a surprise attack on a strategic level and the fatal poisoning of their pilots and ground crews before they even got into the fight. For those Chinese craft not destroyed on the ground, the effects of Anthrax eroded their fighting edge. Comparable technology gave the Khanate their critical victory and Air Supremacy over the most important battlefields.What did this meant for those out-of-date air crews and pilots who had been training to a razor's edge for a month now? Their assignment had been to face down the Russians if they invaded. They would take their planes up into the fight even though this most likely would mean their deaths, but they had to try.When Operation Fun House put Russia in a position where she wasn't likely to jump on the Khanate, this mission's importance faded. The Russian Air Force was far more stretched than the Khanate's between her agitations in the Baltic and her commitments in the Manchurian, Ukrainian, Chechen and Georgian theaters.With more new planes rolling off the production lines, these reservist units began dropping down the fuel priority list, which meant lowering their flight times thus readiness. Only my hare-brained scheme had short-circuited their timely retirement. Had I realized I was getting people's grandparents killed, I would have probably made the same call anyway. We needed them.The KanateThe Khanate's #1 air superiority dogfighter was the Mig-35F. The #2 was the Mig-29. No one was openly discussing the Khanate's super-stealthy "Su-50", if that was what it was, because its existence 'might' suggest the Khanate also stole technology from the Indian defense industry, along with their laundry list of thefts from South Korea, Japan, Taiwan, the PRC, Russia and half of NATO.Her top multi-role fighters were the Su-47, Su-35S and Su-30SM. The Su-30 'Flanker-C/MK2/MKI were their 2nd team with plenty of 3rd team Su-27M's still flying combat missions as well.Strike fighters? There weren't enough Su-34's to go around yet, so the Su-25MS remained the Khanate's dedicated Close Air Assault model.Medium transport aircraft? The An-32RE and An-38. They had small, large and gargantuan transports as well.Bombers? The rather ancient jet-powered Tu-160M2's and Tu-22M2's as well as the even older yet still worthwhile turboprops ~ from 1956's ~ the Tu-95M S16.Helicopters? While they still flew updated variants of the Mil Mi-8/17 as military transports, the more optimized Kamov Ka-52 and Mil Mi-28 had replaced them in the assault role.Bizarrely, the Khanate had overrun several Chinese production lines of the aircraft frames and components ~ enough to complete fairly modern PLAAF (Peoples Liberation Army Air Force) FC-1 and J-10 (both are small multi-role fighter remarkably similar to the US F-16 with the FC-1 being the more advanced model, using shared Chinese-Pakistani technology and was designed for export,).They did have nearly two dozen to send, but they didn't have the pilots and ground crews trained to work with them, plus the FC-1 cost roughly $32 million which wasn't fundage any legitimate Cabindan rebels could get their hands on, much less $768 million (and that would just be for the planes, not the weeks' worth of fuel, parts and munitions necessary for what was forthcoming).Meanwhile, except for the An-26, which you could get for under $700,000 and the An-71, which were only rendered valuable via 'black market tech', none of the turboprop and jet aircraft the Khanate was sending were what any sane military would normally want. The helicopters were expensive ~ the 'new' models Mi-24's cost $32 million while the Mi-17's set you back $17 million. The one's heading to Cabinda didn't look 'new'.The Opposition:In contrast, the Angolan Air Force appeared far larger and more modern. Appearances can be deceptive, and they were. Sure, the models of Russian and Soviet-made aircraft they had in their inventory had the higher numbers ~ the Su-25, -27 and -30 ~ plus they had Mig-21bis's, Mig-23's and Su-22's, but things like training and up-keep didn't appear to be priorities for the Angolans.When you took into account the rampant corruption infecting all levels of Angolan government, the conscript nature of their military, the weakness of their technical educational system, the complexity of any modern combat aircraft and the reality that poor sods forced into being Air Force ground crewmen hardly made the most inspired technicians, or most diligent care-takers of their 'valuable' stockpiles (which their officers all too often sold on the black market anyway), things didn't just look bleak for the Angolan Air Force, they were a tsunami of cumulative factors heading them for an epic disaster.It wasn't only their enemies who derided their Air Force's lack of readiness. Their allies constantly scolded them about it too. Instead of trying to fix their current inventory, the Angolans kept shopping around for new stuff. Since 'new'-new aircraft was beyond what they wanted to spend (aka put too much of a dent in the money they were siphoning off to their private off-shore accounts), they bought 'used' gear from former Soviet states ~ Belarus, Russia and Ukraine ~ who sold them stuff they had left abandoned in revetments (open to the elements to slowly rot) on the cheap.To add to the insanity, the Angolans failed to keep up their maintenance agreements so their newly fixed high-tech machines often either couldn't fly, or flew without critical systems, like radar, avionics and even radios. Maybe that wasn't for the worst because after spending millions on these occasionally-mobile paperweights, the Angolans bought the least technologically advanced missile, gun and rocket systems they could get to put on these flying misfortunes.On the spread sheets, Angola had 18 Su-30K's, 18 Su-27, 12 Su-25's, 14 Su-22's, 22 Mig-23's, 23 Mig-21bis's and 6 Embraer EMB 314 Super Tucano (a turboprop aircraft tailor-made for counter-insurgency operations), 105 helicopters with some combative ability and 21 planes with some airlift capacity. That equated to 81 either air superiority, or multi-role jet fighters versus the 12 Union Air Force (actually the Bakongo Uni o de Cabinda e Zaire, For as Armadas de Liberta  o, For a Area ~ Liberation Armed Forces, Air Force (BUCZ-FAL-FA) Mig-21-97's.It would seem lopsided except for the thousands of hours of flight experience the 'Unionists' enjoyed over their Angolan rivals. You also needed to take into account the long training and fanatic dedication of their ground crews to their pilots and their craft. Then you needed to take into account every Unionist aircraft, while an older airframe design, had updated (usually to the year 2000) technology lovingly cared for, as if the survival of their People demanded it.A second and even more critical factor was the element of surprise. At least the PRC and the PLAAF had contingencies for attacks from their neighbors in the forefront of their strategic planning. The Angolans? The only country with ANY air force in the vicinity was the Republic of South Africa (RSA) and they had ceased being a threat with the end of Apartheid and the rise of majority Black rule in that country nearly two decades earlier.In the pre-dawn hours of 'Union Independence Day', the FAL-FA was going to smash every Angolan Air base and air defense facility within 375 miles of Cabinda (the city). Every three hours after that, they would be hitting another target within their designated 'Exclusion Zone'. Yes, this 'Exclusion Zone' included a 'tiny' bit of DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo) territory. The DRC didn't have an air force to challenge them though, so,Inside this 'Exclusion Zone', anything moving by sea, river, road, rail, or air without Unionist governmental approval was subject to attack, which would require neutral parties to acknowledge some semblance of a free and independent B U C Z. Worse for Angola, this 'Zone' included Angola's capital and its largest port, Luanda, plus four more of their ten largest urban centers. This could be an economic, military and humanitarian catastrophe if mishandled.The Angolan Army did not have significant anti-aircraft assets. Why would they? Remember, no one around them had much of an air force to worry about. The FAL-FA in turn could hit military convoys with TV-guided munitions 'beyond line of sight', rendering what they did have useless. It got worse for the Army after dark. The FAL-FA could and would fly at night whereas the average Angolan formation had Zip-Zero-Nadda night fighting capacity.Then geography added its own mountain of woes. As far as Cabinda was concerned, there was no direct land line to their border from Angola. Their coastal road only went as far as the port of Soyo where the Congo River hit the South Atlantic Ocean. Across that massive gap was the DRC where the road was not picked back up. Far up the coast was the DRC town of Muanda (with an airport) and though they did have a road which went north, it did not continue to the Cabindan border.Nope. To get at Cabinda from the south meant a long, torturous travel through northeastern Angola, into the heart of the DRC then entailed hooking west to some point 'close' to the Cabindan frontier before finally hoofing it overland through partially cleared farmland and jungle. Mind you, the DRC didn't have a native air force capable of protecting the Angolans in their territory so,In fact the only 'road' to Cabinda came from the Republic of Congo (Congo) to the north and even that was a twisted route along some really bad, swampy terrain. This had been the pathway of conquest the Angolans took 39 years earlier. The difference being the tiny bands of pro-independence Cabindan guerillas back then couldn't hold a candle to the Amazons fighting to free Cabinda this time around in numbers, zeal, training and up-to-date equipment.Next option ~ to come by sea. They would face a few, stiff problems, such as the FAL-FA having ship-killer missiles, the Angolan Navy not being able to defend them and the Unionists having no compunction to not strike Pointe-Noire in the 'not so neutral' Republic of the Congo if they somehow began unloading Angolan troops. It seemed the Republic of the Congo didn't have much of an Air Force either.Before you think the FAL-FA was biting off more than they could chew, Cabinda, the province, was shaped somewhat like the US State of Delaware, was half the size of Connecticut (Cabinda was 2,810 sq. mi. to Conn.'s 5,543 sq. mi.) and only the western 20% was relatively open countryside where the Angolan Army's only advantage ~ they possessed armed fighting vehicles while the 'Unionists' did not (at this stage of planning) ~ could hopefully come into play.Centered at their capital, Cabinda (City), jets could reach any point along their border within eight minutes. Helicopters could make it in fifteen. To be safe, some of the FAL-FA would base at the town of Belize which was in the northern upcountry and much tougher to get at with the added advantage the Angolans wouldn't be expecting the FAL-FA to be using the abandoned airfield there, at least initially.Where they afraid attacking Angolan troops in the DRC would invite war with the DRC? Sure, but letting the Angolans reach the border unscathed was worse. Besides, the DRC was in such a mess it needed 23,000 UN Peacekeepers within her borders just to keep the country from falling apart. Barring outside, read European, intervention, did "Democratically-elected since 2001" President (for Life) Joseph Kabila want the FAL-FA to start dropping bombs on his capital, Kinshasa, which was well within reach of all their aircraft?Congo (the country), to the north, wasn't being propped up by the UN, or anything else except ill intentions. In reality, it hardly had much of a military at all. Its officer corps was chosen for political reliability, not merit, or capability. Their technology was old Cold War stuff with little effort to update anything and, if you suspected corruption might be a problem across all spectrums of life, you would 'probably' be right about that too.If you suspected the current President had been in charge for a while, you would be correct again (1979-1992 then 2001- and the 'whoops' was when he accidently let his country experiment with democracy which led to two civil wars). If you suspected he was a life-long Communist (along with the Presidents of the DRC and Angola), you'd be right about that as well. Somehow their shared Marxist-Leninist-Communist ideology hadn't quite translated over to alleviating the grinding poverty in any of those countries despite their vast mineral wealth,At this point in the region's history, little Cabinda had everything to gain by striving for independence and the vast majority of 'warriors' who could possibly be sent against her had terribly little to gain fighting and dying trying to stop them from achieving her goal. After all, their lives weren't going to get any better and with the Amazons ability ~ nay willingness ~ to commit battlefield atrocities, those leaders were going to find it hard going to keep sending their men off to die.And then, it got even worse.See, what I had pointed out was there were two oil refineries in Angola, and neither was in Cabinda. Cabinda would need a refinery to start making good on their oil wealth ~ aka economically bribe off the Western economies already shaken over the Khanate's first round of aggressions.But wait! There was an oil refinery just across the Congo River from Cabinda ~ which meant it was attached to mainland Angola. That had to be a passel of impossible news, right?Nope. As I said earlier, it seemed the people of northern Angola were the same racial group as the Cabindans AND majority Catholic while the ruling clique wasn't part of their ethnic confederacy plus the farther south and east into Angola you went, the less Catholic it became.But it got better. This province was historically its own little independent kingdom (called the Kingdom of Kongo) to boot! It had been abolished by Portugal back in 1914.The 'good' news didn't end there. Now, it wasn't as if the leadership of Angola was spreading the wealth around to the People much anyway, but these northerners had been particularly left out of this Marxist version of 'Trickle Down' economics.How bad was this? This northwestern province ~ called Zaire ~ didn't have any railroads, or paved roads, linking it to the rest of the freaking country. The 'coastal road' entered the province, but about a third of the way up ran into this river, which they'd failed to bridge (you had to use a single track bridge farther to the northeast, if you can believe it). It wasn't even a big river. It was still an obstacle though.How did the Angolan government and military planned to get around? Why by air and sea, of course. Well, actually by air. Angola didn't have much of a merchant marine, or Navy, to make sealift a serious consideration. Within hours of the 'Union Declaration of Independence' anything flying anywhere north of the Luanda, the capital of Angola, would essentially be asking to be blown out of the sky.Along the border between Zaire province and the rest of Angola were precisely two chokepoints. By 'chokepoints', I meant places where a squad (10 trained, modernly-equipped troopers) could either see everything for miles & miles over pretty much empty space along a river valley and the only bridge separating Zaire province from the south, or overlook a ravine which the only road had to pass through because of otherwise bad-ass, broken terrain.Two.Zaire Province had roughly the same population as Cabinda ~ 600,000. Unlike Cabinda, which consisted of Cabinda City plus a few tiny towns and rugged jungles, Zaire had two cities ~ Soyo, with her seventy thousand souls plus the refinery at the mouth of the Congo River, and M'banza-Kongo, the historical capital of the Kingdom of Kongo, spiritual center of the Bakongo People (who included the Cabindans) and set up in the highlands strategically very reminiscent of Điện Biàn Phủ.Of Zaire's provincial towns, the only other strategic one was N'Zeto with her crappy Atlantic port facility and 2,230 meter grass airport. The town was the northern terminus of the National Road 100 ~ the Coastal Road. It terminated because of the Mebridege River. There wasn't a bridge at N'Zeto though there was a small one several miles upstream. N'Zeto was also where the road from provinces east of Zaire ended up, so you had to have N'Zeto ~ and that tiny bridge ~ to move troops overland anywhere else in Zaire Province.So you would think it would be easy for the Angolan Army to defend then, except of how the Amazons planned to operate. They would infiltrate the area first then 'rise up in rebellion'. Their problem was the scope of the operation had magnified in risk of exposure, duration and forces necessary for success.The serious issue before Saint Marie and the Host in Africa were the first two. They could actually move Amazons from Brazil and North America to bolster their numbers for the upcoming offensive. Even in the short-short term, equipment wouldn't be a serious problem. What the Amazons dreaded was being left in a protracted slugfest with the Angolan Army which the Condottieri could jump in on. The Amazons exceedingly preferred to strike first then vanish.There was reason to believe a tiny number could have stayed behind in Cabinda to help the locals prepare their military until they could defend themselves. They would need more than a hundred Amazons if Cabinda wanted to incorporate Zaire. The answer was to call back their newfound buddy, the Great Khan. While he didn't have much else he could spare (the Khanate was ramping up for their invasion of the Middle East after all, the Kurds needed the help), he had other allies he could call on.India couldn't help initially since they were supposed to supply the 'Peace-keepers' once a cease-fire had been arranged. That left Temujin with his solid ally, Vietnam, and his far shakier allies, the Republic of China and Japan.First off ~ Japan could not help, which meant they couldn't supply troops who might very well end up dead, or far worse, captured.. What they did have was a surplus of older equipment the ROC troops were familiar with, so while the ROC was gearing up for their own invasion of mainland China in February, they were willing to help the Chinese kill Angolans, off the books, of course.The ROC was sending fifteen hundred troops the Khanate's way to help in this West African adventure with the understanding they'd be coming home by year's end. With Vietnam adding over eight hundred of her own Special Forces, the Amazons had the tiny 'allied' army they could leave shielding Cabinda/Zaire once the first round of blood-letting was over.To be 'fair', the Republic of China and Vietnam asked for 'volunteers'. It wasn't like either country was going to declare war on Angola directly. Nearly a thousand members of Vietnam's elite 126th Regiment of the 5th Brigade (Đặc cáng bộ) took early retirement then misplaced their equipment as they went to update their visas and inoculations before heading out for the DRC (some would be slipping over the DRC/Cabindan border).On Taiwan, it was the men and women of the 602nd Air Cavalry Brigade, 871st Special Operations Group and 101st Amphibious Reconnaissance Battalion who felt the sudden desire to 'seek enlightenment elsewhere, preferably on another continent'.They too were off to the Democratic Republic of Congo, man that country was a mess and their border security wasn't worth writing home about, that's for damn sure, via multiple Southeast Asian nations. Besides, they were being issued fraudulently visas which showed them to be from the People's Republic of China, not the ROC/Taiwan. If they were captured, they were to pretend to "be working for a Communist Revolution inside Angola and thus to be setting all of Africa on fire!" aka be Mainland Chinese.There, in the DRC, these Chinese stumbled across, some Japanese. These folks hadn't retired. No. They were on an extended assignment for the UN's mission in, the DRC. OH! And look! They'd brought tons of surplus, outdated Japanese Self Defense Forces' equipment with them, and there just so happened to be some Taiwanese who had experience in using such equipment (both used US-style gear).And here was Colonel Yoshihiro Isami of the Chūō Sokuō Shūdan (Japan's Central Readiness Force) wondering why he and his hastily assembled team had just unloaded,18 Fuji/Bell AH-1S Cobra Attack helicopters,6 Kawasaki OH-6D Loach Scout helicopters,12 Fuji-Bell 204-B-2 Hiyodori Utility helicopters,6 Kawasaki/Boeing CH-47JA Chinook Transport helicopters and4 Mitsubishi M U-2L-1 Photo Reconnaissance Aircraft.Yep! 46 more aircraft for the FAL-FA!Oh, and if this wasn't 'bad enough', the Chinese hadn't come alone. They'd brought some old aircraft from their homes to aid in the upcoming struggle. Once more, these things were relics of the Cold War yet both capable fighting machines and, given the sorry state of the opposition, definitely quite deadly. A dozen F-5E Tiger 2000 configured primarily for air superiority plus two RF-5E Tigergazer for reconnaissance, pilots plus ground crews, of course.Thus, on the eve of battle, the FAL-FA had become a true threat. Sure, all of its planes (and half of its pilots) were pretty old, but they were combat-tested and in numbers and experience no other Sub-Saharan African nation could match.The Liberation Ground Forces:But wait, there was still the niggling little problem of what all those fellas were going to fight with once they were on the ground. Assault/Battle rifles, carbines, rifles, pistols, PDW, SMGs as bullets, grenades and RPG's were all terrifyingly easy to obtain. The coast of West Africa was hardly the Port of London as far as customs security went. They were going to need some bigger toys and their host nations were going to need all their native hardware for their upcoming battles at home.And it wasn't like you could advertise for used IFV (Infantry Fighting Vehicles), APCs (armored personnel carriers) and tanks on e-Bay, Amazon.com, or Twitter. If something modern US, or NATO, was captured rolling around the beautiful Angolan countryside, shooting up hostile Angolans, all kinds of head would roll in all kinds of countries, unless the country,A) had an Executive Branch and Judiciary who wouldn't ask (or be answering) too many uncomfortable questions,B) wasn't all that vulnerable to international pressure,C) really needed the money and,D) didn't give a fuck their toys would soon be seen on BBC/CNN/Al Jazeera blowing the ever-living crap out of a ton of Africans aka doing what they were advertised to do and doing it very well in the hands of capable professionals.And politics was kind enough to hand the freedom-loving people of Cabinda & Zaire a winner, and it wasn't even from strangers, or at least people all that strange to their part of the Globe. If you would have no idea who to look for, you wouldn't be alone.That was the magic of the choice. See, the last three decades had seen the entire Globe take a colossal dump on them as a Nation and a People. They were highly unpopular for all sorts of things, such as Crimes Against Humanity and 'no', we were not talking about the Khanate.We would be talking about Република Србија / Republika Srbija aka Serbia aka the former Yugoslavia who had watched all their satellite minions (Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Montenegro, Kosovo and Macedonia) slip away. Despite being reduced to a tiny fraction of their former selves thus fighting two incredibly brutal and bloody World Wars for nothing, Serbia insisted on maintaining a robust armaments industry.Mind you, they didn't make the very best stuff on the planet. That didn't stop them from trying though. Of equal importance was their geographic location and the above mentioned desire for some hard currency without asking too many questions. The geography was simple, you could move even heavy gear unnoticed from central Serbia to the Montenegrin port of Bar by rail and load them up on freighters and off to the Congo you went.The Serbians produced an APC called the BVP M-80A's which weren't blowing anyone's minds away when they started rolling off the production lines back in 1982, plus some over-eager types on the Serbian Army's payroll sweetened the deal by offering 'the rebels' some BVP M-80 KC's and a KB as well.Then they slathered on the sugary-sweet Maple syrup by upgrading a few of the M-80A's to BVP M-98A's. Why would they be so generous? The KC's and KB were the Command & Control variants, so that made sense (C = company & B = battalion commander). The -98A had never been tested in the field before and they were kind of curious how the new turrets (which was the major difference) would behave. 'Our' procurement agents didn't quibble. We needed the gear.Besides, these Slavic entrepreneurs gave them an inside track on some 'disarmed/mothballed' Czech (introduced in 1963) armored mobile ambulances and Polish BWP-1 (first rolled out in 1966) APC's which were either in, or could be quickly configured into, the support variants those ground-fighters would need. The 'disarmed' part was 'fixable', thanks to both the Serbians and Finland. The 'missing' basic weaponry was something the Serbians could replace with virtually identical equipment.It just kept getting better. Unknown to me at the time, the Finnish firm, Patria Hágglunds, had sold twenty-two of their 'most excellent' AMOS turrets ~ they are a twin 120 mm mortar system ~ then the deal fell through. Whoops! Should have guarded that warehouse better. Those bitches were on a cargo plane bound for Albania inside of six hours.The ammunition for them was rather unique. Thankfully, it was uniquely sold by the Swiss, who had no trouble selling it to Serbia, thank you very much! Twenty-two BWP-1's became mobile artillery for the Unionist freedom fighters, though I understood the ship ride with the Serbian and Chinese technicians was loads of fun as they struggled to figured out how to attach those state-of-the-art death-dealing turrets to those ancient contraptions.To compensate, the Serbians added (aka as long as our money was good) two Nora B-52 155 mm 52-calibre mobile artillery pieces and one battery of Orkan CER MLRS (Multiple Launch Rocket System) for long-range artillery, two batteries of their Oganj 2000 ER MRLS for medium range carnage and six batteries of their M-94 MRLS for 'close support' as well. More field-testing new gear for the "freedom fighters" We also managed to 'purchase' ten M-84AS Main Battle tanks plus an M-84A1 armor recovery vehicle. It should have been twelve tanks, but two had 'loading issues'.Not to be deterred, our busy little procurement-beavers discovered four tanks no one was using, in neighboring Croatia. Why wasn't anyone immediately keen on their placement? They were two sets of prototypes, Croatia's improvements on the M-84; the M-95 Degman which was a 'failed redesign' and the M-84D, which was a vast up-grade for the M-84 line which had been sidelined by the 2008 Global economic collapse, after which the project stagnated.It seemed they were all in working order because late one night 'my people' exited a Croatian Army base with them, never to be seen again, until two weeks later when an intrepid news crew caught the distinctive form of the M-95 sending some sweet 125 mm loving the Angolan Army's way. Whoops yet again! At least they hit what they were aiming at and destroyed what they hit, right?By then, millions of other people would be going 'what the fuck?' right along with them as Cabinda's camouflage- and mask-wearing rebel army was laying the smack-down on the Angolans. That was okay; over a million 'free Cabindan Unionists' were in the same boat. Over a thousand Asians with their mostly-female militant translators were right there to prop up their 'Unionist Allies', but then they were the ones with the tanks, armored vehicles, planes and guns, so they were less worried than most.To pilot these tanks, APC, IFV and man this artillery, they had to go back to the Khanate. Sure enough, they had some old tankers used to crewing the T-72 from which the M-84's and -95 Degman were derived. They'd also need drivers for those BVP M-80A's and Polish BWP-1's and OT-64 SKOT's... who were, again, derived from old Soviet tech (just much better). The Serbian artillery was similar enough to Soviet stuff, but with enough new tech to make it 'more fun' for the reservists to 'figure out' how to use.More volunteers for the Liberation Armed Forces! More Apple sales, great apps and voice modulation software so that the vehicle commanders would be heard communicating in Portuguese if someone was eavesdropping. As a final offering the Turkish Navy spontaneously developed some plans to test their long range capabilities by going to, the South Atlantic.On the final leg they would have six frigates and two submarines, enough to give any navy in the region, which wasn't Brazil, something to think about. This was a show of force, not an actual threat though. If anyone called their bluff, the Khanate-Turkish forces would have to pull back. These were not assets my Brother, the Great Khan, could afford to gamble and lose.If someone didn't call that bluff, he was also sending two smaller, older corvettes and three even smaller, but newer, fast attack boats, a "gift" to the Unionists ASAP. The frigates would then race home, they had 'other' issues to deal with while the submarines would hang around for a bit. The naval gift was necessitated by the reality the Unionists would have to press their claim to their off-shore riches and that required a naval force Angola couldn't hope to counter.As things were developing, it was reckoned since a build-up of such momentous land and air power couldn't be disguised, it had to happen in a matter of days ~ four was decided to be the minimum amount of time. More than that and the government of the Democratic Republic might start asking far too many questions our hefty bribes and dubious paperwork couldn't cover. Less than that would leave the task forces launching operations with too little a chance of success.Our biggest advantage was audacity. The buildup would happen 100 km up the Congo River from Soyo, the primary target of the Southern Invasion, in the DRC's second largest port city, Boma. Though across the river was Angolan territory, there was nothing there. The city of roughly 160,000 would provide adequate cover for the initial stage of the invasion.There they grouped their vehicles & Khanate drivers with Amazon and Vietnamese combat teams. The Japanese were doing the same for their 'Chinese' counterparts for their helicopter-borne forces. Getting all their equipment in working order in the short time left was critical as was creating some level of unit dynamic. Things were chaotic. No one was happy. They were all going in anyway.What had gone wrong?While most children her age were texting their schoolmates, or tackling their homework, Aya Ruger ~ the alias of Nasusara Assiyaiá hamai ~ was getting briefings of her global, secret empire worth hundreds of billions and those of her equally nefarious compatriots. She received a very abbreviated version of what the Regents received, delivered by a member of Shawnee Arinniti's staff.When Aya hopped off her chair unexpectedly, everyone tensed. Her bodyguards' hands went to their sidearms and Lorraine (her sister by blood), also in the room on this occasion, stood and prepared to tackle her 'former' sibling to the ground if the situation escalated into an assassination attempt. No such attack was generated, so the security ratcheted down and the attendant returned her focus to her Queen. Aya paced four steps, turned and retraced her way then repeated the action three more times."How many people live in the combined areas?" she asked."The combined areas? Of Cabinda and Zaire?""Yes.""I," the woman referenced her material, "roughly 1.1 million.""What is the yearly value of the offshore oil and natural gas production?""Forty-nine billion, eighty hundred and sixty-seven million by our best estimates at this time,""How many live in Soyo City proper?""Roughly 70,000.""We take Soyo," she spoke in a small yet deliberate voice. "We take and hold Soyo as an independent city-state within the Cabindan-Zaire Union. From the maps it appears Soyo is a series of islands. It has a port and airport. It has an open border to an ocean with weaker neighbors all around.""What of the, Zairians?""Bakongo. As a people they are called the Bakongo," Aya looked up at the briefer. "We relocate those who need to work in Soyo into a new city, built at our expense, beyond the southernmost water barrier. The rest we pay to relocate elsewhere in Zaire, or Cabinda."By the looks of those around her, Aya realized she needed to further explain her decisions."This is more than some concrete home base for our People," she began patiently. "In the same way it gives our enemies a clearly delineated target to attack us, it is a statement to our allies we won't cut and run if things go truly bad.""In the same way it will provide us with diplomatic recognition beyond what tenuous handouts we are getting from Cáel Wakko Ishara's efforts through JIKIT. Also, it is a reminder we are not like the other Secret Societies in one fundamental way, we are not a business concern, or a religion. We are a People and people deserve some sort of homeland. We have gone for so long without.""But Soyo?" the aide protested. "We have no ties to it, and it backs up to, nothing.""Northern Turkey and southern Slovakia mean nothing to us now as well," Aya debated. "No place on Earth is any more precious than another. As for backing up to nothing, no. You are incorrect. It backs into a promise from our allies in the Earth & Sky that if we need support, they know where to park their planes and ships."Aya was surrounded with unhappy, disbelieving looks."The Great Khan is my mamētu meáeda," she reminded them, "and I have every reason to believe he completely grasps the concept's benefits and obligations."The looks confirmed 'but he's a man' to the tiny Queen."Aya, are you sure about this?" Lorraine was the first to break decorum."Absolutely. Do you know what he sent me when he was informed of my, ascension to the Queendom?""No," Lorraine admitted."We must go horse-riding sometime soon, Daughter of Cáel, Queen of the Amazons."More uncertain and unconvinced looks."He didn't congratulate me, or send any gifts. He could have and you would think he would have, but he didn't. He knew the hearts of me & my Atta and we weren't in the celebratory mood. No. The Great Khan sent one sentence which offered solace and quiet, atop a horse on a windswept bit of steppe."Nothing.Sigh. "I know this sounds Cáel-ish," Aya admitted, "but I strongly believe this is what we should do. We are giving the Cabindans and Bakongo in Zaire independence and the promise of a much better life than what they now face. We will be putting thousands of our sisters' lives on the line to accomplish this feat and well over two hundred million dollars.""What about governance of the city ~ Soyo?" the aide forged ahead."Amazon law," Aya didn't hesitate. "We will make allowances for the security forces of visiting dignitaries and specific allied personnel, but otherwise it will be one massive Amazon urban freehold.""I cannot imagine the Golden Mare, or the Regents, will be pleased," the attendant bowed her head."It is a matter of interconnectivity," Aya walked up and touched the woman's cheek with the back of her small hand. "We could liberate then abandon Cabinda with the hope a small band could help them keep their independence. Except we need the refinery at Soyo so the people of Cabinda can truly support that liberty.""So, we must keep Soyo and to keep Soyo, we must keep Zaire province. There is no other lesser border which makes strategic sense ~ a river, highlands, a massive river, an ocean ~ those are sustainable frontiers. You can't simply keep Soyo and not expect the enemy to strike and destroy that refinery, thus we must take Zaire province.""But the Bakongo of Zaire cannot defend themselves and will not be able to do so for at least a year, if not longer. That means we must do so, and for doing so, they will give us Soyo and we will be honest stewards of their oil wealth. We cannot expect any other power to defend this new Union and if we don't have a land stake we will be portrayed as mercenaries and expelled by hostile international forces.""So, for this project to have any chance of success, we must stay, fight and have an acknowledged presence, and if you can think of an alternative, please let me know," she exhaled."What if the Cabindans and Bakongo resist?""It is 'us', or the Angolans and they know how horrible the Angolans can be. Didn't you say the average person their lives on just $2 a day?""Yes.""We can do better than that," Aya insisted."How?" the aide persisted. "I mean, 'how in a way which will be quickly evident and meaningful?'""Oh," Aya's tiny brow furrowed. Her nose twitched as she rummaged through the vast storehouse of her brain."Get me in touch with William A. Miller, Director of the U.S. Diplomatic Security Service. He should be able to help me navigate the pathways toward getting aid and advisors into those two provinces ASAP.""I'll let Katrina know," the attendant made the notation on her pad."No. Contact him directly," Aya intervened. "We established a, rapport when we met. I think he might responded positively to a chance to mentor me in foreign relations.""Really?" Lorraine's brows arched."Yes," Aya chirped."Are you sure, Nasusara?" the attendant stared. She used 'Nasusara' whenever she thought Aya had a 'horrible' idea instead of a merely a 'bad' one."Yes. He owes me. Last time we met I didn't shoot him.""Didn't?" the woman twitched."Yes. I drew down on him with my captured Chinese QSW-06. I didn't want to kill him, but I felt I was about to have to kill Deputy National Security Advisor Blinken and he was the only other person in the room both armed and capable of stopping me.""Why is he still alive?""Cáel Ishara saw through my distraction and then took my gun from me, asked for it actually," she shyly confessed."Would you have shot him?" the aide inquired."What do you think?" Aya smiled.And Then:So, given t

Get ready for an exciting adventure! In today's story, a brave hunter and a clever eagle make a surprising deal that leads to a magical egg. But magic can be tricky, and a mysterious dragon is watching closely! What happens when promises are made and dangers appear?

The last days before the Great Hunt.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.“Can the scorpion ever stop being a scorpion? “"Do we get our legally permitted weaponry back?" The bishop still held my hand."Sure. If it makes you feel better.""I would like to meet your people then," he gave my paw one last shake then released me. "Shall we go?""I will have someone take you to your car. I want to briefly meet with the President, of Havenstone, then I'll join you in the garage. We'll drive over to JIKIT and I'll make the introductions. Good enough?""That is acceptable," he nodded."What about you two?" I regarded the nun and the Swiss Super-soldier. The nun remained vigilant, and silent. The Swiss' eyes flickered to his boss before settling back on me."It is what I volunteered for," he stated firmly."Okay. Please never say I didn't give you a chance to take the sane way out. Also, Bishop Nicolö, circumstances have conspired to up my prospective wedding date to January 1st.""That will be more difficult. Why the change?" he remained grim."We are having twins. By March, this will be very visible.""That is, unfortunate," he shook his head."You have no idea," and then a brainstorm. "And I am curious about resurrecting the Order of the Dragon, the Societas Draconistarum." Technically that meant 'Society of the Dragonists' which was more appropriate than the literal Ordo Draconis."Precisely how do you plan to recreate a crusading Christian Order which was the purview of the Hungarian monarchs?" he didn't sound the least skeptical, just curious."I have billions of euros to fund such a thing," I winked. "Of far greater critical importance, I know where I can find the supernatural guidance and spiritual imperative for such an organization.""You are going to produce a dragon?" his eyes grew larger even as he fought down his fear. Good man. He was adaptive. He'd need to be."I never said such a thing. That would make me sound crazy," I smiled broadly. "Besides, when I say 'dragon', you think 'devil' and that's way too pedestrian for where we are going.""I am not a moral relativist.""Neither am I. I'm out to save lives and nurture the drive in the human spirit to reach for freedom, love and liberty. As you might imagine, I'm pretty freaking outnumbered.""I think you are crazy," he re-evaluated things."I just might be. In all honesty, you should back out now. Take your two compadres back to 25 East 39th Street (the Holy See's Permanent Observer Offices to the UN in NYC) and report 'Mission Failure'. You'll most likely live longer," I reasoned."I am not afraid to die," Sister Rafaela Sophia finally voiced an opinion."That's idiotic," I scoffed before the bishop could reprimand her for opening her mouth. "You should be.""My soul is in God's hands," she set her jaw."Does he talk to you?" I countered."His message is clear.""Not what I asked. I asked if he specifically directed you to toss your life fruitlessly away as an object lesson for the reckless, or careless?""This is uncalled for," Nicolö intervened."Nope. I bet you a phone call to my Brother to physically restore your bishopric that there are four people in this room who have murdered in cold blood," I kept eye contact with the nun, "and she's the odd one out. Right Juanita?""Yes, Ishara," Juanita slipped up. Her spycraft, like mine, needed work."You were in the military?" the bishop asked my bodyguard."Was? I am. Right now," she related. "I will be until I die."That earned me looks from the three Catholics."She is loyal," Nicolö nodded slightly toward her, referring to Juanita's declaration."Huh? To me? Nope. She's loyal to my office, which we shan't get into right now. Back to you, Sister Rafaela Sophia. Are you out to be a martyr, or has some saint, or angel, given you a directive the other two seem to be unaware of which causes you to devalue your life?""I am devoted to the One True God, Christ, our Savior," and Juanita snorted, "and the Virgin Mary," the nun stated firmly. "I don't hear voices in my head.""Juanita, that was rude. Apologize to our guest," I kept looking forward."No." Well, fuck you too."Gun," I commanded. I held out my left hand."What? No. I will not give you one of my guns," she resisted."Juanita, give me your primary weapon, or I will ask Pamela to beat you up the moment I depart for the Great Hunt. After yesterday's stunt, you know she will," I threatened. Fair, I was not. She drew a Glock-20 and handed it to me. I went through the routine, dropped the magazine then ejected the round before opening the door.Oh look, there were four SD chicks outside, ready to escort my visitors downstairs. I didn't even need to waste a phone call. It wasn't like the conference room wasn't being monitored."Excuse me," I took a half step out the door then hurled all three items down the hall. Looking back at Juanita. "Go fetch.""Fuck you," she snapped."And insulting her faith was as degrading to both her faith and her as me doing this to you is degrading to you right now," I lectured her. "It is important to her, therefore it is important to me because she is my guest in the same way it is important to me that I let my bodyguard do her job without being a total asshole all the time. Now go get your God-damn weapon," I barked. Off she went. I left the door open."Now Sister Rafaela Sophia, the point of all this is: I don't give a crap if you are willing to die for God. In fact, that makes you less than worthless to me and the team. I want to know if you are willing to put other motherfuckers in the ground so that Bishop Nicolá, or Mathias, might get to keep doing their jobs.""Murder is a sin," she declared."Go home," I sighed while shaking my head."She answers to me, the Church and God, not you, Mr. Nyilas," the bishop stepped forward."Then you can go home too," I shrugged. "I'm not asking for remorseless killers. I'm asking for people willing to kill to get the hard work done and best of all, for people who know the difference.""Everyone on JIKIT is a professional soldier, or killer?" he asked."No, but the ones who aren't don't carry guns and know to get down when things get funky," I bantered."I vouch for her," he insisted. Juanita came running back into the room."Cool beans. I don't know you either.""You apparently know my service history," he volleyed."Yeah. Ten years a foreigner in the service of France, then you went straight into a university which turns out Jesuits," I riposted."What turned your life around?" he evaded. That was okay. I'd gotten what I wanted. I was willing to bet he had read every bit of public information about me and it was rumored the heavy Catholic membership in the FBI had its benefits to the Church as well. Not so much as to give them insight into JIKIT, but,"Someone risked their life for me. It's been pretty much downhill from there," I confessed. It was the truth. After Katrina gave me the life line on Day Two, it had all spiraled to the revelation of my heritage, Dad's death, Summer Camp, the Hamptons, Romania and Aya's kidnapping."A person, a soldier, died saving my life," the bishop empathized. "Her story is similar. She seeks redemption. She is not suicidal. I am staking both our lives on it."Did he mean him and Mathias, or him and me? I wasn't certain. Still, it was good enough for now. I'd gotten a look at their emotional make up, even the relatively quiet Swiss."Very well," I agreed. "I have to go see the President about my new job description. I'll catch up with you at your car." To the SD team leader, "Take them to the garage. I will join the group of you very soon.""Yes Ishara," she nodded. I exited the room, Juanita in tow. Two SD entered. I was gone before the Papal team left. Upstairs we went, with one last chore to discharge. I had to check on Ms. French to be absolutely freaking sure it was Shawnee, because anyone else would spell disaster.{8:30 am, Monday, September 8th. Last day}A Room full of asistants:Well, there it was, the office of the Executive Director to the President, and not 'Executive Assistant', because this was Katrina's final 'fuck you, no, just her final 'fuck you' before the Great Hunt got underway. I shouldn't assume things, dang it!Anyway, according to the gray-haired matron running gatekeeper to the Office of the President, this was where I was supposed to show up. I shot Juanita a worried look. She glanced my way and shrugged, momentarily willing to not give me shit about the past 24 hours because where I was situated would determine how easily she could do her job.In we went. In the suite were three desks, the 'big' desk situated at the far end of the office space and two far more modest ones on either side of the entryway. The room expanded beyond the chokepoint formed by the two closest desks into a cluttered area. The walls were cluttered with inset bookshelves and portraits of women. Facing one another were a loveseat on my left with bookend plush chairs in an 'L' facing and a full sofa on the right. There were end tables at the ends of the sofa and the corners between the loveseat and each chair.As the door opened, I hadn't knock as this was my office, or so it seemed, the occupants, who had all been sitting in quiet conversation in the central section, began reacting. Oh look ~ Constanza! I nearly had a heart attack before I realized there were three other Amazons also in the room. Sadly, none were behind the 'big desk', so I couldn't tell who was in charge. Two of the other three choices weren't too much better. First off,"Ishara," Marilynn Saint John stood to greet me. I'd last seen her when I'd dedicated her grandmother's (Hayden's) spirit to the halls of my ancestors, not hers, after forcing the political crisis leading to Hayden's suicide ~ her taking herself to the cliffs and in doing so, destroying the Amazon Cult of Blood Purity. Marilynne was clearly still bitter with me. Umm, I could still incite passion in women I hadn't slept with, yet, woot?"Cáel," the senior-most and only friendly face in the room spoke next. Thank goodness it was Beyoncé Vincennes, Head of House Hanwasuit and House Ishara ally."Cáel Ishara," the third individual was deferential which I wasn't sure how to take as the last time I'd encountered her, yeah, things hadn't gone well either."Beyoncé," I started off with a smile. From there, I had to figure out, ah, Beyoncé's eyes flickered to Constanza then Sabia. I knew Marilynn, with her young age, had the least seniority, "Constanza, Sabia, Marilynn. How's tricks?"Glum faces by everyone except Beyoncé. I didn't ask about Sabia's particular well-being. It had been months since I'd beaten her into the mats of the Full-blooded gym. She'd attacked Yasmin, the Brazilian Hottie and my Brazilian Jujutsu sparring buddy, and I'd retaliated by ambushed her when she turned her back on us. Besides, she'd been giving me shit before I even could see straight.Constanza was minus her left eye because of her dire insult to me. If she wasn't capable of working, she wouldn't be here. If she appreciated my 'mercy' in sparing her life ~ her insult was worthy of her death ~ Constanza hid it well. I hadn't spared her expecting a change of heart. I hadn't felt words alone warranted anyone's death. I was a big boy and could take a few insults. House Ishara, as represented by me, could care less. These days, my sisters would be less understanding despite them knowing my heart."Constanza Landau of House Jaya and Marilynn Saint John of House Anahit are Assistants to President Shawnee French," Beyoncé eased things along, "so will be working closely with us, at least for the short term. Sabia Noel of House Guabancex, who I now think you know as well, has joined you as the other 'Assistant' to the 'Executive Director to the President', (that would make me an 'adept', but adept at what?), and since two of the three Regents are unfamiliar with the workings of Havenstone proper, Shawnee has asked me to perform in that role."Beyoncé was, or had been, Havenstone HQ's CFO (Chief Financial Officer). From what I was quickly piecing together, she would essentially be making all the day-to-day decisions concerning the running of Havenstone (how the Host made the majority of its money) until the Regents got up to speed.Only Buffy had actual experience with the New York office and, from what she had told me, solely within Executive Services. While ES knew 'who' did what inside Havenstone, they weren't aware precisely how those Amazons got their jobs done. That would have been an impossible task. Katrina could do it, but she knew it was beyond the ability of most of us 'mere mortals'. Since we were currently at war, the Host needed Katrina completely focused on her duties as Chief Spy-mistress, not baby-sitting the adults.Shawnee indeed had much gravitas among the other House Heads. Not only had she risen up to lead a First House, she had performed heroically during the final days of the last Secret War. Afterwards she had moved into the realm of Amazon jurisprudence and mediation. Until yesterday, she had lived in a House Arinniti freehold in Minnesota's Great Lakes region thus her desire for the 'Training Wheels' period.The Regency would not rule through telecommunication (the upper echelons feared being eavesdropped upon beyond the standard Amazon (read: paranoid) levels) and Havenstone: New York was the center best situated for the current war-fighting operations, so here she lived. I was sure a team from Executive Services was buying, outfitting/spy-proofing and fortifying a dwelling suitable for the President of a Fortune 500 company. Hayden's home would remain the domicile of Sydney thus Marilynn.The same rigmarole would be done for Rhada and Buffy (though I imaged Buffy would bitch endlessly). Publically, they were VP's of a company worth hundreds of billions of dollars and they had to present the public trappings of such leaders.Why did the Amazons do this ~ unmask their leadership to public exposure? Legal-simple: they could request and expect all levels of public and private security for their executives who happened to also be important officials of the Host. Certainly not all executives at Havenstone were officeholders, House Heads, or House Apprentices, but the high level of competence which permitted one often led to the other.Beyonce:As an example: Beyoncé wasn't the most 'bad-ass' lethal chick in House Hanwasuit. As she was preparing to be casted, her intelligence, creativity and diligence at her future craft, finances, was noted by the Host and the members of her House. In due time her name was circulated as Apprentice and the elders approved. When her elder cousin, the prior House Head, took herself to the cliffs, Beyoncé assumed the top spot. Beyoncé wasn't even one of that woman's three daughters.Mirroring her advancement in her House was her advancement in Havenstone's Accounting, Acquisitions and Banking Divisions until she was appointed CFO Havenstone HQ ~ the supreme financial authority inside Havenstone, though the individual regional branches had a greater degree of autonomy than you might normally expect from a 21st century conglomerate, or a Bronze Age autocracy.I had to constantly remind myself, despite the near-constant feuding, Amazons exhibited a phenomenally higher level of trust than I'd ever found in any other society I'd ever witnessed, or read about, before. Though technically Beyoncé could have gone to President Hayden to enforce her decisions ~ or now the Regency ~ she was far more diplomatic in her approach in dealing with the other 'continental' CEO's and CFO's.That meant she had to wrangle the aspirations and resources from:North America (including Latin America, the 'Canadian Arctic' and the North Pacific Ocean),South America (includes both the South Atlantic and South Pacific as far as Samoa),Europe (mostly Central Europe these days plus Antarctica, the 'Russian' Arctic and the North Atlantic),Africa (mostly West-central Africa),India (the subcontinent plus the vast expanse of the Indian Ocean) and,Southeast Asia (which includes Australia)All of which suggested Havenstone hadn't redrawn the Amazons' geographic demarcations since the late 19th century. As an example, an East African venture, say in Tanzania, was as likely to be under the purview of Havenstone: India (due to its control over the Indian Ocean) as Havenstone: Africa (which traditionally had no East Coast holdings due to their constant struggles versus the Arabic slave trade).Returning to Beyoncé: initially she had held the proper 'conservative' (aka man-hating) mindset. My behavior during that first Board Meeting began to change her opinion of me and the New Directive. After the Archery Range incident, Beyoncé became a vocal proponent of the New Directive and faced challenges within her ranks. House Heads do not have to accept challenges and Beyoncé didn't, reasoning with her detractors they had no alternatives save the 'Old Ways' which spelled doom for the Amazon Race.Bing-bang-boom ~ I became the Head of a resurrected House Ishara by the Will of the Ancestors and Beyoncé was vindicated. Not necessarily in the New Directive, but in her support of me thus the rebirth of a sister First House. The purge following High Priestess' Hayden's death was her ultimate absolution. The Ancestors and Destiny had spoken and shown Beyoncé had been piloting House Hanwasuit along the proper course all along.Back to my current circumstances:Oh, why was I Assistant to the Executive Director to the President? It gave me direct access to the finances of Havenstone which was a critical leg of the war-fighting stool ~ people, morale, money and equipment. As Chief Diplomat, I helped with all four of those in varying degrees, allied troops, allied victories, allied bank accounts and allied armaments.The Great Khan, my spiritual 'Blood-Brother', was ramping up his logistic support for my Amazons in Africa, Asia and the Americas. We were 'Allies in the Struggle' and he wasn't going to wait for the Condottieri to begin coordinating with the Seven Pillars to declare them to be his enemies. They were already fighting the Amazons and 9 Clans, his allies, so their fates were sealed.In Japan, my Amazons provided small yet highly effective strike groups which the Ninja families furnished all the support services for. Everything from food to bullets to medical attention as needed. Without reservation, we shared their death-grapple with the Seven Pillars.From the dispatches I was getting back from my family members and envoys in Japan, we were making serious diplomatic inroads with the Ninja. Once again, it was the Amazons shocking capacity for violence as well as their fanaticism, professionalism and proficiency which all impressed our hosts and terrified our enemies, and this from people of a philosophical mindset which had them historically battling samurai.The Black Lotus were running around like rhesus monkeys on crack cocaine unleashed in a China Shop and given RPG's. While the Amazons couldn't help them in China, Indochina & Thailand ~ the Khanate could and was. The Amazons were of more help in the Philippines, Malaysia and Indonesia, where the Black Lotus and Amazons were going everywhere on the offensive against the Seven Pillars while the normal tight cohesion and iron-clad confidence, traits which made the 7P's so dangerous ~ were shaken by their horrendous losses in the 'Homeland' aka Mainland China.Less we forget, the 'military intelligence' wing of their organization had been decimated by the Khanate's Anthrax attack due to members of the Earth & Sky sacrificing themselves by being injected with the toxin then allowing themselves to be captured, which always ended in torture and death.Furthermore, the People's Republic of China, while having a scary 18% of the population either captured, imprisoned, dead, or displaced due to the Khanate invasion, that had come with the loss of 63% of their landmass (they had lost all of Nei Mongol, Ningxia & Xinjiang Uighur Autonomous Regions, Qinghai and Gansu as well as 90% of Yunnan, 80% of Sichuan and 20% of Shaanxi provinces) to the Khanate and the 'abomination' that was a free Tibet.Then came the Russian 'stab in the back' which entailed the loss of another 10% of their people falling under foreign dominion as well as losing 8% of their most industrialized territory, Manchuria (Heilongjiang, Jilin and Liaoning provinces ~ the Nei Mongol portion of 'Manchuria' was in the Khanate's greedy clutches, from the viewpoint of a Seven P's warrior).Don't get me wrong, they weren't about to throw in the towel. If anything, they were becoming more dedicated to trying harder, digging deep into their knowledge of every atrocity, inhumanity and perversion now deemed necessary to re-chart history back onto its 'correct' path. It was this willingness to act in an even greater sociopathic manner which was being used against them. After all, the 7P's had plenty of proxy allies, who were starting to get really nervous about what their paymasters were now asking them to do,We Amazons were getting some extra special help too. The Booth-gan (Do not call them Thuggee ~ the confederate 9 Clan member based out of India though long since ensconced within various Hindi enclaves across the Globe) had created an all-female group of ultra-fanatical Kali-devotees ~ a gift for the upcoming battle fomented by the Will of the Goddess herself.While Aya was our Queen and the Regency would rule until she wished to assume command of the Amazon People, the nuts-and-bolts of the Host's activities were handled by Saint Marie as Golden Mare (our Minister of War) (technically she held the top spot due to our State of War, though no Golden Mare had ever exercised such authority over a Queen (and she definitely believed Aya was our Queen)), Katrina (as Minister of Intelligence and Security), Beyoncé (as Havenstone (the multinational corporation) ~ our Treasurer/Economic Tsarina) and me (our Foreign Minister).Saint Marie had decided to forgo a public face in order to better facilitate her moving around to various battle fronts and holding clandestine meetings with her junior regional commanders. Her Havenstone corporate title was 'Chief of Security Training and Certification'. As an extra level of deception, the head of Security Services wasn't even a Director-level position, instead being folded into the duties of the Office of the President.To my current circumstances ~ I had been given Constanza's house name which could only mean she wasn't currently assigned to the Security Detail; a fact that couldn't have made her bad attitude any better. Marilynn had completely lost her way as an Amazon when I first met her, burying her pain and confusion in endless partying and intoxicants. I believed only her grandmother's status as High Priestess kept her from the severest of reprimands, or death. I didn't even know what Marilynn's caste was. Sabia,"While I'm sure you are both far more qualified than I, precisely how did you two get these jobs?" I had to ask my two non-coworkers. Constanza glowered. Marilynn flinched."I have an in depth knowledge of Havenstone security procedures and resources," Constanza replied."Shawnee requested me," was Marilynn's comeback. "I also have intimate knowledge of the City of New York and its environs.""Actually, Buffy Ishara recommended you both to Shawnee," Beyoncé corrected their misconceptions. I knew the score. I'd be working intimately with the tight community around the President (Shawnee) and Vice Presidents (Buffy & Rhada). Buffy wanted me to be surrounded by women who hated my guts, so I wouldn't end up boinking them. It rarely worked that way. All too often ladies who hated my still-beating heart ended up punishing me with sex. I wasn't sure why that happened, but it did."Beyoncé, didn't the Chief Diplomat of the Host have her own office? I'm pretty sure Troika had one before her unfortunate collision with Saint Marie," I felt entitled to inquire."Do you feel you've earned that office space?" she riposted."Oh, fuck no!" I waved my hands one over the other to accentuate my denial. "I was just wondering where I could stick Juanita while I'm hanging around, here.""She has the desk right outside the door, Cáel," Beyoncé smiled knowingly. "So there is no way you can sneak past her.""Oh," I grunted. "Buffy again?""No. Pamela Pile put in that particular request.""Oh, Sweet Mother of God, now she is conspiring against me too?""Yes. Some of us realize the greatest hazard to your health is yourself, Ishara," Beyoncé chided me. "We'd like to keep you around, so we listen to those charged with that nigh impossible task.""Is she going to be hanging around the office often?" Constanza asked, either myself, Juanita, or Beyoncé; I wasn't sure. She = Pamela."Please, Constanza," I attempted to intervene, "don't make Pamela kill you. It will upset Mona." Constanza's scowl was accentuated by the eyepatch covering her ruined left socket, the one Pamela had carved out when Constanza had insulted me and House Ishara on our first day of rebirth. I didn't tell Juanita this, because Juanita might just shoot Constanza over the insult before Pamela got a chance to finish the job.The tension was palatable."Mona and I have talked, about Romania, and other things," Constanza grudgingly allowed. It took me a second to realize there was a hidden meaning to what she said. Mona was part of my personal Security Detail bodyguard unit. If she felt Constanza, the woman who had raised her after her birth-mother had died, was a threat to me, she'd feel duty-bound to snuff Constanza first. Amazons were hard-ass bitches alright and I think Mona had made that clear."I hope things can improve between us," I offered to Constanza. "Beyoncé, I just stopped in to say 'hey'. I'm off to JIKIT and I've got three of the Pope's people waiting on me in the garage so,""Vice President Varma requested a moment of your time," Beyoncé smirked. "She is in 2604.""Who?""Vice President Rhada Varma, a moment of your time, alone?" she clarified."Sure thing," I backed out of the office. Once I had some space, I turned to Juanita. "Give me three minutes then bust in and say, I don't know, a tsunami is about to overwhelm the city, or something. Otherwise, I won't get out for at least an hour and I think I've put the Bishop and his people through enough delays as it is.""Are you actually asking me to stop you from having an in-office liaison?" she studied me intently as we walked in the direction of Rhada's office."Yes. It's not likely to happen often, believe me.""Oh, I do, in that you won't ask me to do it often," she grumbled. I'd deal with Juanita's morale problem later. Right now, I had to gird my loins so they wouldn't do anything else with Rhada. I had work to do, damn it!Rhada was sitting at her desk, working on something, stylus raised up so she could chew on the end. Her hair was pulled back in a half-ponytail, the type that captured the rear half of the hair in a ponytail while leaving the front and bangs free to flow down. Rhada's blouse was white & billowy and, as I was soon to discover, her pants were ultra-tight and contour hugging."Mr. Nyilas," she greeted me. "I would like a moment of your time," she relayed what I already knew. She was more than a tad nervous to boot."Vice President Varma," I started off."When in private you may call me Rhada," she interrupted."Rhada, you look more ravishing than ever."That got up her and coming around her desk, which revealed her ultra-tight pants with no sign of her wearing underwear. Yikes! My cock was preparing to do what a cock was meant to do and I just didn't have the time, Really!"Do you have any time?" she let her bosom heave."Not today, ugh," I groaned. See, Rhada took the stylus and dragged it down her chin, throat and in between her bountiful mounds.All of which exposed the top of her black bra."Are you sure, Master?" she enticed me by turning around and then leaning over her desk, point that ass in my direction. My mouth began salivating and my groin ached. I found myself quick-stepping to her and giving those buttocks two firm slaps, one on each cheek."No, damn it, though I'm going to make you pay for this when I get back," I rumbled."Master will make me wait?" she taunted me."That will cost you even more," I growled. "I have business which simply won't wait and here is my captive teasing me with the treasures of her flesh. Bad, war captive," I spanked her yet again, hard. "Bad!" and I spanked her a fourth time. With each beating, Rhada gasped in pain and then exhaled in pleasure."If I've been bad, Master must be extra harsh with me when he returns in triumph from the Great Hunt," she gloated. Rhada had gotten what she wanted, which was another affirmation of my lust for her and our 'game'. I could provide her the release she so desperately craved while allowing her the safety of remaining in the Amazon fold. It was a perfect pairing, for her.I had other problems, such as all the other baby mamas in my life plus the extra-marital affairs I was contemplating. I still took the moments we had to snuggle with Rhada, her grinding that tush into my rod while I held both her arms tightly to her side while raining kisses down onto her neck and head."Sir! A giant tsunami is approaching the city!" Juanita exploded through the door."What?" I coughed. I had a face full of hair."Huh?" Rhada pushed up and away from me. I let her go."Right now," Juanita insisted. She really needed to stop taking me so seriously when I gave her such advice."Really?" from Rhada. She shot me a curious look so I shrugged. What else was I supposed to do with such a flimsy lie forcing our separation? At least I got out of there on time?{9:50 am, Monday, September 8th ~ Last day}(JKIT HQ)"Is this a common occurrence?" Sister Rafaela Sophia whispered to the closest woman, who happened to be Wiesława, the Polish Amazon. Since she hadn't arrived with us from Havenstone, the nun might have assumed she was with the 'Americans', or British."What?" Wiesława responded evenly."Weapons combat, they look real," the nun clarified."They are real. We always practice with real weapons.""Really?""Of course," Wiesława smiled at her. "We believe a few cuts and scrapes now will save lives when the true tests come.""Oh, you are with, Havenstone?" Rafaela clued in."Yes. I am Wiesława of House Živa. I am currently assigned to Unit L, Cáel's unit within JIKIT," she offered her hand to shake. Despite being a full-blooded Amazon from a freehold, her 'human' skills were progressing nicely. The nun shook it."I am Sister Rafaela Sophia of the Handmaids of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, that is a Roman Catholic Religious Order." Pause. "Do you hate Catholics too?""Yes. We have lived beside your people for many centuries and found your clergy to be much more dangerous than your pagan predecessors. Still, Cáel thinks you can be relied on and he's proven we can trust outsider women, which I was raised to believe was unlikely, and outsider men, which was basically anathema, so I'm willing to set aside my prejudices and judge you as an individual," the Pole imparted."Outsider men?" Rafaela mumbled."Well, yes," Wiesława smirked. "You are a nun, right?""Yes.""So you set aside the World of Men to live mostly among women, right?""Not entirely," the nun chose her words carefully. "We still rely on priests for religious rights and of course obey the life teachings of Christ and follow the leadership of his Holiness, the Pope, a man.""No one is perfect," the Amazon bantered back."Do you know the teachings of our Lord, Jesus Christ?" Rafaela ventured into dangerous waters."Yes. He was the semi-historical Son of your supposed One True God. We are not monotheists. We are Polytheists. Živa is my House's matron Goddess. It is also the name of the first woman to lead the House, her birth name surrendered to Destiny so all the daughters who came afterwards would be equals.""Oh, is Mr. Nyilas also pagan?" she inquired."I am unsure. From what I have been told, he has commended the spirit of his fallen father to your Jesus in a sacred ceremony then, in the presence of your Trinity and the Goddess Ishara, brought in new members to his House. I suspect he may be both," Wiesława reasoned. "Why don't you ask him?""Because he's fighting for his life?" Rafaela looked my way.See, the entire time their discussion had been going on, I had been sparring in a spare room at JIKIT HQ with Estere Abed, the Hashashin assassin (rather redundant ~ like saying the Sahara Desert). I had two tomahawks while she had a scimitar and curved dagger. While we sparred using the furniture as obstacles, Agent-86 was briefing me on various World events to get my input.Addison Stuart (CIA) and Lady Fathom Worthington-Burke (MI-6) were having a chat with Bishop Nicolé de Santis, verifying for themselves he was worth adding to the team. Juanita was having a similar discussion with Rikki Martin (US State Department) concerning my earlier encounter with the Papal team. Nicolé's buddy, Wachtmeister Mathias Bosshart of the Swiss Guard, was getting acquainted with the other security personnel.In comparison, those two had it easy. Both men were in their elements. Nicolé was a spook who pretended to be a diplomat for the Pope and was well acquainted with terms like 'deniable assets', 'plausible deniability' and your direct superior referring to requests concerning your identity/diplomatic status by saying 'I never heard of him and if I had, I have no idea what he was doing when you caught him doing what I don't know what he was doing', or something like that.Mathias was in the company of military-security specialists, brother professionals who were introducing him to his 'sister' professionals. Our Homeland Security gang were almost entirely former military by now. They got along with our JSOC folks and both had gained a limited acceptance with the Amazon security contingent.They bonded over the fact they were forced to work with really shady characters ~ the 9 Clans menagerie ~ who didn't always appreciate JIKIT operational security. Without going into particulars, the Wachtmeister was given the impression the abnormal was the norm and if you didn't think there was a 'down-side' to being able to carry your personally favorite bang-bang (the SG 552-2P Commando in his case) with some serious attachments (read: grenade launcher) around in downtown Manhattan, you probably didn't belong on this team.Back in the room,"He's not fighting for his life," Estere laughed. "He is fighting for mine.""Right," I responded sarcastically. We went through a flurry of exchanges, ending up with me kicking a chair at her. Estere stepped over it, colliding with me.I blocked her dagger, disarmed her scimitar and,"You are dead," she panted down at me, smiling. I was on my back, her straddling me. She had a belt-knife to my throat. I hadn't see her draw it. The scimitar 'disarm' had been a distraction."Woot!" I exhaled."But you're dead," Sister Rafaela misunderstood my good humor."He survived a minute and thirty-four seconds more today than his previous record," Estere responded. She slithered off of me, doing my arousal no good whatsoever, then offered me a hand up."And that's better?""He's a rank amateur with a few months on the job. I've been training to kill people for nearly two decades," Estere smiled. "Care to have a go?""With him, or you?""Either," Estere offered."I don't have a knife, or any hand weapons," she stated."We'll need to remedy that," Wiesława stated. "You should at least carry a knife.""Really? Why?""It is a nearly universal tool," I verbally stepped up. "Even if you are disarmed, you should be able to find one relatively easily, people are less likely to miss a stolen knife than a purloined gun, and a concealed blade could come in handy.""Do you train in knife-work?" Rafaela eye-balled me."Absolutely. It is part of my culture," I grinned."Okay. Can we spar, hand-to-hand?""Sure," I nodded. I put my tomahawks in their harnesses then put my harnesses aside. Estere gave me a wink before giving us the fighting space."So," Rafaela began to circle, "are you Christian?""By your definition, or mine?""By the definition of the Catholic Church."Oh cool, she went for a Savate stance. This was going to get ugly.My "no," was followed by her kick and my block, lunge and grapple. She wasn't nearly as good as Felix. I had her down and in a choke hold within fifteen seconds.Perhaps she thought I'd take it easy on her. She tapped out. I released her, retreated and flowed back to my boxing stance. It took her a moment to realize this was 'practice', not 'an interview'. She hadn't failed in anyone's eyes. We were both doing this to get better."See, I really, truly believe I have talked to supernatural entities ~ some who are considered divinities," I continued. This time she was more careful, trading jabs and blocks with me. "They don't claim to be the One True God. I believe in such a thing, but I also believe having been given the Message, Humanity has been left to muddle things out for ourselves."Whoops, she popped me one."The Woman-Thing this morning?""Yep," I evaded another flurry. She got cocky and I landed three blows, dropping her to the ground. I didn't help her up. Instead, I withdrew and let her get back up on her own before deciding if she wanted to continue. She did."I believe I've seen dragons and ghosts. I have felt legions of my ancestors give me quiet encouragement when I needed it. I know the dead have been brought back to life," I came at her. This time we both went for body blows, knees, elbows and fists. She was not SD-caliber and she needed to be. I grappled and she was forced to tap out again. After she regained her feet, she held up a hand for a pause."Do you believe any of that?" she addressed Estere."I am an adherent of Ismaili Islam yet nothing Cáel has encountered is contrary to my belief system. The Universe is a complex place and the Divine Light is often seen through a fractured lenses," she counseled the nun."Among the escapees were lawyer Francisco Luemba, Catholic Priest Raul Tati, economist Belchior Lanso Tati and former policeman Benjamin Fuca who are serving jail sentences of between three and six years each for supposed links to the rebel group FLEC (Frente para a Libertaé'o do Enclave de Cabinda), which carried out the attack on the Togolese football team at the start of the Africa Cup of Nations in January, 2010," Agent-86 read off yet another bit of global minutia."We need to get to them," I half turned. Sister Rafaela punched me in the gut and I folded up."Oh!" she gasped. "I'm sorry.""Okay," I mumbled. I had to keep with the plan. "Those men. We need to contact our Coils people in Kinshasa and the Warden of the Mountain Ways ('she' was the Amazon Host's leader of Africa ~ in the ancient times, the mountain ways had been the routes of southern vulnerability for the Amazon tribe thus the name).""Okay," both Agent-86 and Estere answered."Why?" 86 added."The Coils and the Host have had a serious problem with no nation in Africa giving them even back room recognition so we are going to take over our own country, Cabinda. It's been struggling to be free of Angola since 1975 and, by latest estimates, we've got strike elements of over 2,000 Amazons ready and waiting next door in Cameroon, Gabon and the Republic of Congo.""So you are going to go to war with Angola?" Estere frowned. "Don't we have enough enemies?""Au contraire," I grinned wickedly. "The resistance movement is genuine," I ticked off my points, "they have tons of offshore oil, and after we set off some spectacular explosions in the two main Angolan ports which are just down the coast, we allow global panic to bully the UN into intervening before the Angolan military launch an effective counter-offensive ~ considering the Angolan Armed Forces (I'd been reading up on a ton of CIA & MI-6 briefings) will most likely involve attrition warfare since they can't beat us in a stand-up fight.""They, the Angolans, have no overland access, they are separated by 60 kilometers of territory belonging to the Democratic Republic of Congo over some sad ass roads Plus the Congo River itself which is freaking huge by the time it gets that close to the Atlantic, Cabinda rests on the Atlantic Ocean by the way. No bridges. The Angolan Navy is anemic. Let me think."I began pacing."Hmm, they have no paratroopers though they have some Special Forces, we will need to hit as many of them in the barracks as we can. Their last invasion was from the north, overland, from the Republic of the Congo, in 1975, not likely to happen this time, though I may have my 'Brother' weasel up a battalion of Indian paratroopers to act as convincing peacekeepers after the initial take over.""Perhaps we can recruit some Vietnamese. I'm sure they'll love fighting in someone else's jungle for a change. We'll need some of 'our' guys to seize the port of Soyo, it is on the wrong side of the river, but has the major refinery the Cabindans will need. Since the entire surrounding province are the same ethnic make-up as the Cabindans, we'll have to take that too.""Man-o-man, I bet by the time this is over they'll really wish they'd given little Cabinda independence back in 1975. As for their other refinery, it is in their capital, Luanda, a few big explosions there too will get the markets jittery. Check that ~ the complete and utter destruction of their major petroleum facility will create a stampede for Peace," I continued. I walked over as our resident computer intelligence genius worked his magic."Blowing things up, you mean killing people," the nun blanched."Yes. This is what I do," I spared her a sympathetic glance. "I've got a madman roaming around in my head who provides me truly epic military advice which normally, but not always, means blowing shit up and killing folks. Welcome to the team," then as the data appeared, "Holy Shit! Did they build their oil refinery in the midst of their ghetto?" I was staggered. The refinery in Soyo was isolated from the town so it could be easily (and safely) seized. It was the one in Luanda which was the 'Holy Shit' site."It looks that way," Agent-86 agreed nonplussed. "Hmm, yeah, here is the port facility then your neighborhood of shoddily constructed one- and two-story dwellings between the refinery and the inland storage tanks, the perimeter barrier appears to be a chain link fence. I'd hate to be their Chief of Security.""Oh yeah," I choked. Estere slipped around to get a look."Whoops," she snorted."What are these people thinking?" I continued. "The whole shebang is exposed to the northern quarter of the city. The storage tanks have residential dwellings on all four sides with numerous side streets. Two teams with RPGs and four rounds apiece, Holy Crap. Sorry Sister.""But I want to save lives," she sputtered."Limiting the collateral damage could be pretty tough," Estere frowned. She toggled throw a series of maps to multiple pictures."Oh, look (dripping sarcasm); they light up the refinery at night. You can sit off the coast in a speed boat under cover of darkness and attack from there," she noted."Damn. Those are a lot of lights," Agent-86 agreed."24-7 operation," I suspected."We will need some experts," the government agent nodded."Or we are going to kill a fuck-load of innocent people. Not just the workers, but can you imagine a fire spreading to those neighborhoods? Shit," I muttered."You can't seriously be contemplating doing something like this," the nun sputtered. "It is inhumane. Think of the families, the children.""Lady, yes I am. Do you have any idea what the Human Rights record of the Angolan Army in Cabinda is? It is truly horrific and in case you missed it, one of the guys in dire need of rescuing by me, due to him being a huge rebel leader who has managed to escape, is also a Catholic priest. He's going to be part of the new government we are going to install once we kill a few hundred Angolans ~ mostly soldiers (more like well over a thousand).""We are going to kill a few hundred so a few hundred thousand can live free, democratic lives without worrying about the local police and political establishment torturing and murdering them. It is all part of the plan.""I think I need to talk with the Bishop.""Hang on. Let me finish," I forestalled her. "He'll get briefed along with everyone else. After all, it is a majority Roman Catholic country as is Angola, so I'm sure your guy can be of immense help.""The people you are putting at risk don't deserve this," she protested."They never do," I nodded in agreement with her. "It rarely stops terrible crap from happening to them though."I felt sorry for the Sister. She thought the Bishop was going to put a stop to this. Poor girl; he was going to do the exact opposite. See, the two competing forces at play here were a communistic kleptocracy (currently ruling Angola) and Catholic liberation theology united with a Cabindan national identity dating back to 1885. At stake was 900,000 barrels a day of petroleum. That was a bunch of funding for somebody. Last I checked, the state run energy conglomerate had misplaced $32 billion, in just three years.Mind you, the Coils of the Serpent and the Amazon Host didn't want to help the People of Cabinda out of the goodness of their hearts either. They wanted cover for the importation of weapons and other war-fighting material so they could kill the Condottieri in Africa. If the rebel leaders-turned-legitimate government didn't play ball well, the Coils were in the 'assassinating people' business and somewhere along the line the survivors would figure out keeping 'us' happy kept them alive. Problem solved.It was Bishop Nicolé de Santis' job to facilitate that understanding. If certain people with Vatican credentials explained the 'facts of life' to the new regime a lot more lives could be saved, Catholic lives. In turn, he could work to make sure the new group in power wasn't nearly as corrupt as the gang we were tossing out. Better education and quality of life, improved infrastructure & security and a nice shiny cathedral, or two.We, as in JIKIT and our component members, didn't want to rule the country and dominate the people's lives. We needed the ports and the airfields with a blind eye turned to our skullduggery. Sure, there would be future considerations. Amazons and Coil members would be fighting and dying for these people's freedom ~ public recognition definitely not required. No; the Amazons wanted to be left alone in their deep jungle homes which was an isolation they basically already had. This was a future chit which said 'don't come looking'.The Coils? Let's just say in the future Cabinda would have embassies around the globe and if occasionally they wanted someone to slip through under diplomatic cover ~ they were good for it. And if the Cabindans ever needed help in the future they knew they had friends in dark places who were now invested in Cabinda's survival. It was a win-win-win, unless you were an Angolan big-wig, or one of their foot-soldier currently serving in Cabinda. Amazons weren't big on taking prisoners, or even giving the opposition the option of giving up.For me, it wasn't lunch yet and here I was plotting to overthrow yet another government in yet another country ~ though in only two, small provinces this time. Thank the Goddess I had the rest of the week

Under the direction of Alexandra Bodnarchuk, Doma Dance Theater creates dance works for the stage and screen that explore the body as a tangible site of culture. Doma, the Carpatho-Rusyn word for “at home,” cultivates a sense of belonging, curiosity, and exuberant self-expression for its performers and audiences. Doma's cross-cultural approach creates powerful contemporary dance works that examine shared experiences of diaspora and displacement. Informed by Bodnarchuk's pan-Slavic cultural upbringing in Pittsburgh, PA, Doma's work incorporates cultural influences, circular spatial patterning, and intimate partnering. As the first Carpatho-Rusyn American choreographer to make contemporary work with a folk lens, Doma's works blaze a trail for Slavic representation in contemporary dance, demonstrating the enduring necessity of unearthing the cultural legacies each of us carry.Founded in 2024, Doma represents an evolution of Alexandra Bodnarchuk Dance Projects (ABDP), founded in 2017. Building upon Bodnarchuk's past focus on body identity and societal expectations of womanhood, Doma continues to unfold the embodied experience in an ongoing search for the elusive feeling of home.Doma'a inaugural season includes performances at Candy Box Dance Festival, and Thistle & Rose at Celtic Junction. For more information visit domadancetheater.org or follow them on Instagram @domadancetheater. Doma Dance Theater's new work for the 2025 Candy Box Dance Festival is set against an aural backdrop of Carpatho-Rusyn folk songs from the Šambron and Poloniny regions of Eastern Slovakia. Featuring dancers Alexandra Bodnarchuk, Non Edwards, Odessa Rain, and Yukina Sato accompanied by Mila Vocal Ensemble, the women weave in and around each other in syncopated harmony. 

Leyla Latypova is a journalist covering politics and civil society in Russia's regions and ethnic republics for The Moscow Times. As an ethnic Tatar hailing from the Republic of Bashkortostan, she is deeply passionate about advancing and protecting the rights of Russia's non-Slavic indigenous communities and ethnic minorities through her scholarly and journalistic work, as well as public engagements. OTHER VIDEOS: https://youtu.be/UDEgE_BHQV8----------LINKS: https://fromtherepublics.com/https://www.themoscowtimes.com/2025/03/19/for-russias-regional-journalism-rferls-closure-a-catastrophe-a88399https://twitter.com/LatypovaLeylahttps://www.themoscowtimes.com/author/leyla-latypovahttps://newlinesinstitute.org/people/leyla-latypova/https://foreignpolicy.com/author/leyla-latypova/----------Easter Pysanky: Silicon Curtain - https://car4ukraine.com/campaigns/easter-pysanky-silicon-curtainCar for Ukraine has joined forces with a group of influencers, creators, and news observers during this special Easter season. In peaceful times, we might gift a basket of pysanky (hand-painted eggs), but now, we aim to deliver a basket of trucks to our warriors.This time, our main focus is on the Seraphims of the 104th Brigade and Chimera of HUR (Main Directorate of Intelligence), highly effective units that: - disrupt enemy logistics - detect and strike command centers - carry out precision operations against high-value enemy targetshttps://car4ukraine.com/campaigns/easter-pysanky-silicon-curtain----------SILICON CURTAIN LIVE EVENTS - FUNDRAISER CAMPAIGN Events in 2025 - Advocacy for a Ukrainian victory with Silicon Curtainhttps://buymeacoffee.com/siliconcurtain/extrasOur first live events this year in Lviv and Kyiv were a huge success. Now we need to maintain this momentum, and change the tide towards a Ukrainian victory. The Silicon Curtain Roadshow is an ambitious campaign to run a minimum of 12 events in 2025, and potentially many more. We may add more venues to the program, depending on the success of the fundraising campaign. https://buymeacoffee.com/siliconcurtain/extrasWe need to scale up our support for Ukraine, and these events are designed to have a major impact. Your support in making it happen is greatly appreciated. All events will be recorded professionally and published for free on the Silicon Curtain channel. Where possible, we will also live-stream events.https://buymeacoffee.com/siliconcurtain/extras----------SUPPORT THE CHANNEL:https://www.buymeacoffee.com/siliconcurtainhttps://www.patreon.com/siliconcurtain----------TRUSTED CHARITIES ON THE GROUND:Save Ukrainehttps://www.saveukraineua.org/Superhumans - Hospital for war traumashttps://superhumans.com/en/UNBROKEN - Treatment. Prosthesis. Rehabilitation for Ukrainians in Ukrainehttps://unbroken.org.ua/Come Back Alivehttps://savelife.in.ua/en/Chefs For Ukraine - World Central Kitchenhttps://wck.org/relief/activation-chefs-for-ukraineUNITED24 - An initiative of President Zelenskyyhttps://u24.gov.ua/Serhiy Prytula Charity Foundationhttps://prytulafoundation.orgNGO “Herojam Slava”https://heroiamslava.org/kharpp - Reconstruction project supporting communities in Kharkiv and Przemyślhttps://kharpp.com/NOR DOG Animal Rescuehttps://www.nor-dog.org/home/----------PLATFORMS:Twitter: https://twitter.com/CurtainSiliconInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/siliconcurtain/Podcast: https://open.spotify.com/show/4thRZj6NO7y93zG11JMtqmLinkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/finkjonathan/Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/siliconcurtain----------Welcome to the Silicon Curtain podcast. Please like and subscribe if you like the content we produce. It will really help to increase the popularity of our content in YouTube's algorithm. Our material is now being made available on popular podcasting platforms as well, such as Spotify and Apple Podcasts.

Hana finds a place in Cáel's Amazon Life.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.You never really know what you can't do until you've tried to do it and failedI saw Iskender at least once a week, so I didn't know this was a bad sign. My superiors were wary to meet Iskender because intelligence types like their routines. When assets start acting strange, strange things happen. I knew this to be true. When your normally suspicious girlfriend suddenly acts all lovey-dovey,, she knows ~ she knows.Iskender's face showed that he didn't much like this change to our meeting schedule either. Introductions went around. Odette was the only one to say 'Glad to finally meet you' and mean it."Cáel Nyilas," he finally turned to me, "I bear a request from the Great Khan himself." No beating around the bush with this crowd."What do you need?" I replied. Irrationally, I found myself hoping 'please say you need a second for 'beer-pong''."Here is a flash drive with the particulars, but the basics are that we need the United States and the United Kingdom to lend diplomatic support to our efforts to obtain war material and other equipment from other aligned nations," he said."Things like?" Addison asked."Ships from the United States, tanks from Germany, helicopters from France and computer components for Japan and South Korea," he replied. "This is a list of roughly five thousand items we are attempting to procure.""Sure, we'll help," I volunteered."Cáel, before someone has an aneurism, why don't you find out what your team can do," Pamela burst my bubble."Sir, what exactly does your faction think we at JIKIT can do? We are a covert interim unit with limited authority and oversight," Addison stated."Wouldn't this be something you could accomplish through your own extra-ordinary resources?" Yum-Yum asked."We can only get so much through back channels and shell companies," he replied. "With the quantities the Khanate needs," he trailed off."You can't make that many purchases," I nodded. Even I knew an eighteen year old could buy a six-pack with little effort and a so-so fake ID. Buying five kegs was a totally different matter.There was a silence."Iskender, give the team 48 hours to go over this data. We will either return it as if we never received it, or act upon the information on your behalf," Yum-Yum spoke with finality."I understand," he bowed his head. "I will await your response.""I'll see you out," I told Iskender. "I get the feeling you knew this would be our reply.""I didn't, but the Great Khan did," he gave a weak smile. "Honestly, I don't know what to make of the request.""We do and I think we can get it done," I assured him. I escorted him to the elevator then returned to the room.I didn't have to be told what was wrong with this. If your girl finds out you ate fast food with another chick, you can explain it away. If you got take-out, or breakfast at some nice nook, then you had trouble by association. By giving us their Christmas list, Temujin had told us more than what he needed. He was telling us what he didn't need as well.This gave us incredible insight into Khanate economic and military policy over the next three years. See, you could go to Best Buy and purchase a 72" widescreen TV. It was what Best Buy did. You couldn't show up expecting to buy 500,000 TV's though. To get them you had to tell the manufactures they needed to build them because there was a market for that many systems.In turn, they need to buy the various components they didn't build themselves. That meant you would need to smelt more copper, produce more plastics and mine more cadmium, because they would be needed. Therefore, what the Khanate was ordering was stuff they expected to get three to thirty-six months down the line. This went beyond the war with China.As an example, the Khanate was ordering 265 Leopard 2A7 tanks from Germany to be delivered within two years. Germany didn't have those tanks lying around. They needed to build them. They had to expand the factories to build them and therefore produce all the components you needed for a brand new cutting edge tank at a faster rate than ever before.This also told us the Khanate didn't expect to build enough tanks for their own use, much less export to allies such as Vietnam. Maybe they didn't have the construction capacity, or maybe they were busy building something else. We could figure that out by seeing what else they were purchasing abroad, things like cars, trucks, tractors and locomotives.This was an excellent and powerful gift. It was also,"This is poison," Addison began the next phase of the meeting."I disagree," Mehmet Ali Sharif (our State department analyst) countered. "This will provide JIKIT with exceptional insight into what the Khanate's medium term goals are.""It is both," Yum-Yum nodded."The question is 'who are we going to share this with?'" I sighed. That was the critical juncture. After all, the UK and US had team of analysts whose sole job was to make forecasts like this."We decide that in 47   hours," Yum-Yum stated. "Mehmet, lets farm out 15% of this packet to different agencies and see what they come up with. Keep things compartmentalized.""Will do. Addison, let's burrow through this data to see what we can send to who," he got to work."Cáel, what is your insight into the Great Khan's thinking," Addison turned to me. "Are we being suborned?" I had to think that over."Yeah," I nodded. "He's got six months to figure out who is friends and enemies are and he might as well decide where we stand right now. If we share this data, he gets hurt, but it will mean the end of our taskforce and the end of real hard information about what the Khanate is up to as well.""Serving three masters never turns out well," Yum-Yum smirked. "Still, our regular intelligence agencies are months away from piecing together the inner workings of the Khanate and we have jack-off HUMINT on the ground. Our respective countries have 'back-burner-ed' Central Asia and now that's biting us in the ass. Barring an excessive NBC (Nuclear, Biological, or Chemical weapons) platform, I think we buy in."That meant becoming a true intermediator between our respective governments and the Khanate. That also meant continuing to work with the Amazons and 9 Clans, because if we betrayed the Khanate at this juncture, how much could the others really trust us? No, to keep JIKIT going, we were going to hide this information, thus becoming complicit in what the Khanate planned.We had already wandered past the point of intelligence-gathering and analysis to actual policy-making some time ago. This was the point of no return though. This wasn't plausible deniability. This was actively helping the Khanate achieve their national goals and meant moving beyond the realm of covert activities and into one of co-conspirators. I honestly thought we'd all buy in."So, what's next on the agenda?" I posed the question."Someone is late for their knife-fighting training," Pamela gave me a shark's smile. I smiled too. Finally I had something to do that I didn't understand, but didn't mind being ignorant about. If I fucked up, it would all be on me.{9:45 pm, Thursday, August 28th ~ 11 Days to go}Brooke Lee was many things, but being a cook wasn't one of them. What inspired her to cook dinner was almost beyond me. It had to do with that checklist women go through when seeing what a guy doesn't see in them. Brooke was gorgeous, fun to be around (if a bit snobby) and good in the sack. So, what made me closer to Libra and Hana than her? She wasn't trying to compete with the Amazons, thank God.She was better looking than Libra (true) and just as much fun, and if Libra was a better lay she would have hung herself, so it had to come down to womanly stuff ~ things like housecleaning, buying stuff and cooking. House-cleaning was a continuous menial effort and she had a maid service for that. Buying stuff? She had that down pat.Cooking? How hard could that be? very, but she hadn't accepted that, so here I was eating charred prime rib, rubbery asparagus tips, lumpy mash potatoes (made from real potatoes, I'd seen the peals in the trashcan) and some sort of Tomato salad. When she informed me she was cooking, I began looking for a reason not to come over for a late night rendezvous. Then she dropped the E-bomb."If you don't come over, it will be just me and Casper (Winslow) again.""Casper's still in town?" I asked. Since that horrible weekend where I first met Hana (good for my life), her father (hates my guts) and her cruel brother Brennan (now dead by my indirect intervention), Casper's life had been one of healing from the worst kind of treatment (by Brennan's now deceased posse) possible. I couldn't treat her like a pariah."I'm coming over to see you, but it will be great to see Casper again as well," I elaborated/exaggerated."Great," she gushed. "I'll see you at nine.""Make in nine thirty," I said. "I need to see a girl about a bed.""You are horrible," she chided me playfully, clearly not believing me."No I'm not. I'm tucking Aya into bed. She has an early start tomorrow and she's going to be gone all weekend, so this will be the last time I'll see her until Monday night. I'll be at your place as soon as possible after that," I told her. Aya was going to Doebridge and I was making a habit of steering clear of that Amazon municipality. Their security and I had a disagreement last time I was there."It is sweet of you to keep up with that little girl you were kidnapped with," she cooed. "You are a cool, great guy.""She's a special kid. We share a bond," I said. That was true and then some."I'll see you at nine-thirty. You won't be disappointed."And so I was at Brooke's at nine-thirty, getting ready to eat a largely indigestible dinner. Casper had stammered a greeting while looking at me happily. The smoke from the kitchen was warning enough of what was to come. I made light of the charred disaster. I didn't point out that two hours at 350 didn't equate to an hour and a half at 450. It just didn't.Brooke made up for her culinary inadequacies by looking good enough to eat off the plate, off the floor, or between the covers. She had on an Aqua tank top, black bra and khaki shorts with open-toed sandals on her feet. Casper was in the same general get up, except her tank top was white as was her bra.I carved up the beast while those two stood around drinking wine. The roast beast (original species uncertain) was as dry as leather, but the knife was sharp. We discussed Brooke's job hunting lack of success. The jobs she was qualified for didn't pay enough, required her to ignore too much leering and were generally an insult to her intelligence. Basic 'intern' stuff really.I mentioned Libra's job with Hana. She created some excuses about making her own way in the world then followed that up by asking if I could use my newfound influence to send some job offers her way. 'Surely not everyone at Havenstone was that way'. No. She had seem them being polite. They could be much, much worse."Why don't you become a consultant?" I suggested."That would be nice," Casper said. Brooke had become her closest friend."What would I consult in?" Brooke inquired."Employment," I mused. "You know networking and you know people who are looking for specific kinds of jobs. Start your own business.""I like that idea," Brooke grinned. "I could create a web page and get business cards, raise the start-up capital and start getting listings and finding clients.""I know some people who could help out," I offered, "as long as Central Asia is an acceptable location.""What kind of work do you think you can find?""Well, they need to build a government," I worked on my idea quickly because Brooke was literally dripping with sex. I was thinking 'tapping that booty all night long' sex.Women love sex, romance and sensuality. They also want to love their lives, feel successful and have just as much independence as they fantasize to be a good thing. I was coming through for Brooke yet again. I'd bolstered her when her former fiance's life imploded, casting her aside. I'd later given her the strength to make a moral stand for Casper and now I was helping her out of her career doldrums. God, she was going to let me fuck her silly. She was going to be freaking animal.But first we had to pretend to eat before we somehow shuffled Casper off to bed. The tomato salad was edible. It turned out to be Casper's contribution to tonight's festivities. I made sure to compliment her on it, while not mentioning the rest of this disaster. Brooke didn't mind. Midway through the meal, she stood up and paced about while calling her parents. Her Mom answered, so she gave that woman the good news first.My name came up, to her father, and not in a bad way, which was rather rare.'Yes, I was engaged to Hana Sulkanen. I was also her friend as well as Libra's.''I had friends in the Khanate, where business opportunities were aplenty.''Security concerns? No. She knew some people (my Amazons) who did that kind of work. Besides, it wasn't like she was going there.'"You might want to consider going there and meeting some of their people on the ground before sending your friends to that part of the world," I whispered.'Oh, I'll probably go to,'"Astana."'Astana, their capital. Father, there are extraordinary opportunities there. I'll be fine.'"I'll hire you some private security," I suggested. I wouldn't use the Ghost Tigers I had guarding Hana. That would be inappropriate. I couldn't use Amazons for that kind of work either.I was thinking about using Captain Delilah Faircloth of Her Majesty's MI-6. They had all kinds of contractors they'd used in China who would be looking for work now that the shooting had temporarily stopped. For all I knew, Lady Yum-Yum could use Brooke's new business as a cover to insert British operatives into the former capital of Kazakhstan.Now that I thought about it, that was a good idea. Brooke would have her hand in an espionage operation and not even suspect it at first. Later on, she'd probably love the peripheral risks and experience was experience.'Cáel can hire some private security using his government contracts.''I know you know people in the government Papa, but Cáel's people actually kill people.' Which went over like a bamboo hut in a tidal wave, but Brooke was irrepressible. Her parents wished her luck, Brooke did a happy dance and Casper snuggled close to me."Hey Casper," I put an arm around her. I was relieved she didn't flinch. I remained a good guy in her estimations of such things. I'd also hack my own hand off if it tried anything overtly sexual. "How are you coming along?""Better, day by day and my therapy group is good, very caring.""Glad to hear it. If there is anything personal that I can do, don't hesitate to ask. It is not a matter of debts to one another. You are worth it.""I'm glad you still think so," she stared up at me. I could easily dismiss her being needy. She was truly a damsel in need of a shoulder, a warm hand and a kind word. I didn't owe her because of Brennan and Anima. I owed her as a fellow human being."Isn't he the best guy in the world?" Brooke beamed. "We need to find ourselves one just like him." I couldn't see how that was going to happen. I was born in the wrong neighborhood, went to the wrong school and hung out with a different brand of friends. The convergence of me with Trent, which then led to Libra and Brooke, had been beyond bizarre.Felix was such an idiot for not buying into Brooke instead of stupidly trying to use her against me. Even that had backfired when I sucker-punched him in front of nearly a hundred Amazons. I'd knocked him out cold because he had shown more balls than brains in that one encounter. I wouldn't get that lucky again. I'd have to figure a way a new way to kick his Alpha-male ass."I'd argue with you, but I'm a hell of a guy. I'm a prince among men," I joked. "I mean that literally, I'm a Prince of Hungary and Transylvania.""Does that come with one of those cool sashes and lots of medals and ribbons?" Brooke teased."I'm sure the Hungarians are working on that right now," I chortled."Magyarorszag es Erdely Hercege" Casper murmured. "I read it in USA Today. They said it was something the Romanians gave you, but I wasn't sure what it was.""In Romanian it is "Prinţul Ungariei şi Transilvaniei", I clarified. "Prinţul is,""Is what?" Brooke said after a moment's lapse."When I went into battle with the Romanians, that is what they called me. It was a jest of sorts, not real," I sighed, recalling that dark day. Casper patted my hand."Is Magyarorszag the name for 'prince'?" Brooke requested." Magyarorszag is the name the Hungarians call their homeland," I clarified. "Hercege is their word for prince, but let's not buy into the hype. I'm just a guy with a job that entails greater risk than a pizza delivery driver.""A Jewish pizza delivery driver in downtown Gaza, Cáel. Every time I see you, you are sporting a new scar, or scratch. What do you have for me this time?" she gave me a sultry 'come-hither' look. I caught it and liked what I saw. Casper caught it and sighed slightly."I'm sleepy," she yawned. "I should be going to bed.""Oh no," Brooke protested. I almost believed her. "Are you sure?""Yes. I'll take an Ambien then be out like a light," Casper said before giving my hand another squeeze."You don't have to do this," I whispered into Casper's ear. "I'll brave another one of Brooke's home-cooked meals to spend time with her." Casper giggled."Hey now! What was that about?" Brooke pouted. She was definitely going to be wrapping those scrumptious lips around my sceptre in the next three hours, of that I was certain."He, ah, was wondering if we could do this again real soon," Casper babbled, caught between fright and comedy."Soon," Brooke shot me more of the 'sexy'. "He hasn't even made it out of the door yet.""I like the way you think," I winked to Brooke."What do you think is on my mind," she was provoking me. I didn't say a word. I chose to undress her with my eyes instead. She knew what I was doing too."Bedtime," Casper put both hands on the table then stood. "Thanks for coming over tonight." I stood as well, hugged her then briefly watched her walk away. Just because she was 'handle with care' didn't mean she wasn't a handful. My miniscule number of rules included not doing it with girls not in their right minds. I wanted them to be free to hate me when the time came.Brooke saw Casper off to the bathroom for her meds and the whole pre-bedtime ritual stuff while I cleaned up the dinner table. Five minutes of work now meant not waking up to the smell of ruined food later. The only thing in need of saving was the salad. I Saran Wrapped the rest of it. I was going to claim I was taking it into work for breakfast then dispose of it at our HQ ~ One MiMA Tower.Once I was finished, I puttered around noisily until Brooke came looking. I could have gone to her bed and stripped naked, eagerly waiting for sex. Since Brooke was trying to play in the same league as Hana, she might have misconstrued that as me taking advantage of her. If not tonight then in the morning when she replayed the encounter. Brooke liked to be 'in charge', so I fed that instinct.I had come here for sex. We both knew that, but we could pretend we didn't. Brooke could then want to have me and got to make sure I wanted her with or without sex, so we could have guilt-free sex together. Brooke was not overly complicated, for a girl, and she was hot enough to be worth having to go through these sorts of games."Whatchya thinking about?" Brooke said as she sashayed into the kitchenette."You," I met her gaze. She licked her upper lip."I've been thinking about you too," she moved within my comfort zone. I obliged her aggression by placing my hands first on her hips then, as I pulled her close, to the small of her back. We were groin to 'growing' and I was very aroused by her presence and her scent."Are you going to toy with me some more so that I go home tonight stiff and moaning with lust?" I groaned."I like toying with you," she snickered. "You are fun.""You are fun and sexy. We need to try another beach weekend with less drama before the season ends," I played to her amusement."I don't think I can wait for the weekend," she protested by shimmying her hips against me. "While you were out saving the world, I've been all alone.""Oh hell no!" I hissed. "What brought that on?""You are a hard act to follow," she teased. "I've missed you.""I've missed you too," wasn't a total lie. I hadn't been celibate by a long shot. That didn't mean I didn't miss her."How about we do a little bit less 'missing'?" she suggested."I'd like to have you on the sofa," I pressed into her."I'd like to have you in the bedroom ~ my bed is bigger," she grinned. My eyes shown with anticipation, which was what she was looking for. Brooke took my hand and led me through the living room and around the corner to her bedroom.She cat-crawled onto the bed while I hurriedly stripped down. She languidly lay back on the pillows, hair billowed around her in a dark halo while she hungrily watched my physique being revealed to her. Brooke's left hand traced a line down around her breast to her pubic mound where she started playing with herself. Her eyes fluttered, her lust blossomed into womanhood and I was beside her in a flash.Instead of falling in beside her (she was close to her side of the bed), or to her far side, I came at her from the foot of her bed. I spent only a few seconds kissing her toes, shins and kneecaps. While my kisses made moist lip-prints up her thighs, I unbuttoned her short shorts and undid the zipper. Brooke raised her hips so I could pull her clothing down ~ no panties.To change things up slightly, I finished the removal by turning her over onto her stomach, then pulling on her hips until she was in the doggy-style position. She looked back at me, her eyes framed by dark lashes and darker eyebrows on her tanned flesh. I pressed her shoulder blades down until her breasts were squeezed against the bed.After that, I slid down until I was on my belly. Using my shoulders and neck, I began licking her labia from the hood to the anus. That got her going and before long, I was drinking from her nectar and loosening up her asshole with some quality rimming. Brooke had prepped for me carefully and cleanly and this made me attack her nether regions with renewed gusto. Butt sex was in the offing.Not yet though. I got her all nice and gushing, but I wanted to try something more. I kept my tongue action going on while I coiled my body behind her. With a quick, graceful repositioning, I rose up on my knees, her thighs resting on my shoulders while I made furious suction actions onto her."Yep, Yeah!" Brooke exhaled. "This is, aha, new."True to my predations, while I worried and nibbled her accoutrements, Brooke took one hand (the other she was using to pull her hair aside) and began stroking me. Her tongue touched my spongy head several times before she stopped the outright teasing and placed her lips upon me. She didn't suck it in. On no. She sucked on my angry red helmet, running her lips right to the edge then back again, as if I was a Popsicle.I was leaning back on my haunches because of the awkward hold on hips with the weight I had to support. Not that Brooke was at all heavy."Crawl forward," I mumbled from between her legs. It took her a few seconds to figure out I wanted to return us to our starting position. She made a great display of slithering forward. My tongue stayed in her cunt until both her knees hit the comforter.At that stage she was ready to go and my forcefulness lifted her knees temporarily off the sheets.With my third lunge, Brooke reached back and stopped my rocking motion. I stilled which allowed her to reach over to the side table, open the drawer and pull out a designer bottle of lubricant."I know this is what you like," she panted in anticipation. I knew this was what we both wanted by the way she ran her fingers along my palm before making the hand-off.This was one of those bottles with the glass stopper, so it make a slight grinding sound as I opened it. Brooke want down onto all fours, her palms resting on the comforter. Her head was down and her waist-long black hair masked her features, but not her sounds of pleasure."Arch your back Brooke," I said as I inhaled her intoxicating aroma. She did so willingly. I let the oil pour down in a thin stream and rubbed it in with my thumb.I had to carefully aim my phallus because Brooke hadn't been lying about her lack of sexual attention. She was tight and hadn't been plundered by anyone in my long (for me) absence. Hell, this long and I was normally back to 'make-up' sex. I certainly wasn't going to be ramming my rod home with any great passion for a few minutes.I didn't want to cause her (too much) pain nor have her anal muscles constrict the skin off my love missile."Oh," she moaned. "I love it when you are gentle, Cáel. It reminds me how much you care for how I feel." She punctuated that statement by rolling her hips, driving in my entire length in her lubricated alternate option. Her body tensed up then bucked. I popped out."Put it back in," she gasped. There was so much to love about Brooke and her enthusiasm. Once back in, I rested my left hand on the small of her back to keep her back arched while I reached around with my right and began twisting and palming her right breast through her shirt and bra. As I was slowly twisting and thrusting, Brooke's arms gave out and she went face first into her pillow. Her breast pressed my hand down on the comforter and her repositioning drove a full inch of me suddenly into her.Brooke gave out a strangled sob followed by a whimpering sound. My left hand took my weight. My right came around and pulled her hair away from her face so she could breathe easier and I could judge her pain through her facial expressions."Oh God," she spat a strand of hair out of her mouth, "It feels like you are going to split me in half.""Too late to back out now," I teased her."I can, hiss, take anything you can give me, Cáel Nyilas," she taunted me through clenched teeth. I gave her another inch for her impertinence. She tried to crawl forward before she surprised me by thrusting up and back."God damn!" she howled. "You're huge!"I imagined that I would feel like a fucking Sequoyah shoved up my ass if I pulled off a stunt like that too. Brooke was game for more. I had enough in that now I could start a rhythm  without fear of popping out. Her hands bunched up the comforter around her head as she hung on for dear life. This felt so good that squeezing my last bit in felt rather inconsequential after all the physical and erotic ground we had covered up until then.Brooke's stomach clenched up as her spontaneous ecstasy jumped her and me. Every muscle in her body spasmed, including her rectal ones. I was shooting off into her bowels inside a second. My heat only made her climax come that much harder. I kept humping away like a chimp on crack while Brooke began to squeal out between baited breathe."Damn, that was intense," I remarked as I fell to her side. Brooke was still face down/ass up with her eyes squeezed shut, still riding through her own aftershocks of her sensual seismic waves."Oh, oh, oh," she panted hoarsely. "I want to, (pant), do that again, real soon."I spanked her ass loudly and prepared on shaky legs to remount her."No," she moaned. "Give my ass a minute's rest. Can't we do something else for a while?""How about I get cleaned up and get you a hot wash cloth?" I suggested as my nostrils flared."I'll just lie here and feel sated," she murmured. Her knees slid down until her stomach was down on the bed. I gave her abused backside another tender spank then slid off the bed. I quick-stepped it out of Brooke's room, and nearly tripped over Casper who had been out in the hall watching us."I," she stammered. I shut the door then crossed the hallway from her."No problems, Casper. I was hoping that we wouldn't wake you up," I coaxed her down the hallway to her door, and away from Brooke's room. I noticed her eyes constantly flicking down to my crotch. "Hang on," I held up my hand. When she nodded, I quietly sprinted down to the living room, grabbed up a throw pillow then sprinted back. Now I could be covered up."Why didn't you get a towel out of the bathroom?" Casper whispered."I'm an idiot," I shrugged. She sniffled then giggled."You make Brooke very happy, but,""But?""But you are engaged to Hana Sulkanen.""I'm a Love Monkey," I shrugged. "I find it difficult to be with just one woman. It is never that a woman isn't enough for me. It is that there is something wrong with me that is never truly satisfied so I keep roaming.""Don't you, worry about the women you are with?""I'm not a wonderful human being, Casper. That is all I can think to say.""You aren't like Brennan, not like that, hold on." Casper retreated to her room then came back with a folded up piece of news print. By the size it was one of those articles you found on page 17. "Here," she handed it over. "It was delivered here in an envelope with my name on it."I looked it over. A 'Jane Doe' had been found in Charleston harbor, SC, dead from an overdose."Three days before I got that, I got a call from Anima," she told me. "She told me," Casper gulped. "She told me that she was very sorry about all that had happened. She was sorry. That was it.""Oh.""Anima is dead now, isn't she?""Yeah, I think so," I noted sadly. "Does that change anything with you?""I don't know. I mean, Brooke told me that you would make sure none of those people would ever be around to bother me again, but, was this you?""No and yes. I told someone with the power to make a difference what happened to you and who was responsible. After that, I never heard about the matter again. Anima did stop by once, crazy with fear but unrepentant. I honestly feel that how she ended up feeling wouldn't have made a difference on whether she lived, or died. I don't know what to make of her call.""She, it doesn't help. I still have to take a sleeping pill to keep the nightmares away. I haven't told my therapist about the death, or how everyone else is either dead or disappeared. I don't know what to think. I was hoping you would.""I'm not normally the person people go for answers. I'll make up an answer, if that's what you want."She reached up and touched my forearm."I prefer honesty," she smiled. "I guess I was hoping for you to be more, perfect than you are. That was unfair of me.""You wouldn't be the first person to mistake me for a decent human being," I joked. "Usually that misconception only lasts a week or so. I promise you... I'll be living down to your expectations in no time.""Brooke thinks highly of you, and so do I. We've known you more than a couple of weeks," Casper feebly jibed."I've been behaving myself," I teased her.'"Brooke sounded," she trailed off. I waited. "You two sound like you enjoyed one another.""That's how it is supposed to be. You'll feel that one day too. You'll meet someone who thinks of your pleasure first. And, if he doesn't, you will have to train him to do it right.""You make it sound so easy," Casper sighed."Do you really think I'm that unique?""A prince, avenger, soldier-of-fortune, titan of the bedroom?" she lightened up. We'd crossed a barrier. I was 'joke-able'."We have union meetings every third Wednesday," I grinned. "We kick back, drink a few beers and figure out what hot spots and hotties we need to concentrate on for the next month.""I, thank you, Cáel," she smiled."For what?""For not disappointing me. You are a nicer guy than you give yourself credit for.""Thank you, Casper," I reached over and hugged her. She didn't flinch. "For treating me like I can make a difference.""I need to go to bed now," she yawned. I hugged her again then stepped back. She walked to her door and began to shut it. I swore I heard her whisper 'you do', but I wasn't sure. I had to hurry to the bathroom, heat up a wash cloth while cleaning up, before finally getting back to Brooke. I found her reclining on the bed, totally naked."Sorry I took so long," I told her."I know. It is okay. I heard most of it," she glowed happily. "Casper needs someone, someone who isn't me. I'm not the most patient friend in the world. I sort of feel responsible for her and she needs someone to talk to about normal stuff, but I miss going to clubs and hanging out with friends who talk back." I sat on the bed and began to run the warm cloth up her thighs."What was it like, that fight in Romania?" she asked as we switched off with the washcloth. She tenderly worked over her abused anal region."The battle? A skirmish really,""Yes," she paused. "Between that and being kidnapped, you've had a mentally draining time since we last spent some time together. You act like you haven't changed much, but,""It's okay. I know it sounds clich , but it is hard to explain those things unless you've lived thru them.""If you don't want to talk about it," Brooke gave me an out. I could tell this was a part of my life she wanted to be a part of; my manliness on display."I'm okay. I can't really say I was scared for myself either time. During the kidnapping I was concerned for Aya. All of the normal human stuff came later, after the crisis was over. During the kidnapping, there isn't much to talk about. As for the fight, at the time I had a plan and was waiting for the opportunity to implement it. Bullets were flying. Men around me were getting wounded. I can't recall seeing any of the men on my side getting killed.""Did you get shot?" she stroked my abdomen."Bruised, though my flak jacket had to do its job once or twice," I sighed. I could almost hear the sounds of the bullets whizzing around me once more. Wounded men hadn't screamed out when they were hit. They'd grunted. The cries would come later when the enormity of their pain sunk in."I made sure the main bad guy ~ the Boss ~ didn't get away. I think I wounded one guy. That was it; my contribution to the battle.""It was your plan that won the fight though, right?""Yes. I did what leaders are supposed to do, but that didn't mean I could save all my guys and gals.""You are very courageous," Brooke cuddled in. "You don't back down often, but you are not an ass about it. You are the least 'macho-asshole' macho-man I've ever met, and I'd like to see more of you," she purred."I'm already naked," I played naive. Brooke pushed me down and straddled my lap."I guess I'll just have to appreciate the naked you some more then," she chortled. Brooke took charge long enough for me enter her then we combined our efforts, her moving with her thighs and me with my hands on her hips, to engage in some serious love-making.This is not a political commentary, public personalities have been butchered in order to make the story light-hearted{4:45 am Friday, August 29th ~ 10 Days to go}"Hey," Brooke asked softly, "can I join?"I was halfway thru my clean up when she'd opened the shower stall door, but I had some time. "Sure. I'll wash your back if you wash mine," I offered.She gave me a sly grin as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. I signaled her to turn with her back to me (never a safe position), poured some liquid soap in my hands and began lathering her up."Did you think you could leave me with only a kiss," she said as she backed up against me."I thought you were asleep when I kissed you," I whispered into her ear."I was. You are such a romantic, I assumed you kissed me because that's what you always do. You have a light touch.""We were up late," I teased."You are up early," she let her left hand travel down between us until she could wrap her fingers around my cock."Being with you, it is hardly a surprise," I chuckled."Are you implying you like me?" she serpentined her body against mine."Me likey, me likey a whole bunch," I told her as I nibbled her ear. Brooke responded by pulling my phallus around like a clock arm until it was fixed between her thighs and rubbing up against her. We left it there a while, she rocking her hips back and forward while I soaped up her front the way I had lathered her back. After all, this was foreplay.This was kisses planted along her shoulders, neck, ears and, as I turned her head around, on her lips. Brooke was whining with need after our last French kiss, so I pushed my hips back and pressed her down with a hand on her mid-back. At the perfect angle, I let her slip me in."Ah, this is never going to get old," Brooke moaned. She punctuated her statement by rolling her hips back and forth. In the interlude, I cut off the water so it would cease to be a distraction. Then my hands went to her hips and the rhythm began. It was a slow steady wave-like motion.Brooke had one hand against the tiled wall while the other reached under to play, as I went in. This was an excellent symmetry we had developed.I pulled out suddenly."No," Brooke protested. She turned around to see me pull a condom from behind the shampoo and quickly apply it. Brooke giggled. "Thank you for that, but don't you think it is a little late in our night together?""Would you rather I went without?" I smiled."No," she sighed happily. "It is so you." I took that as a sign to slip back in. I felt her fingernails run over the condom as I pressed forward. This time around, I let Brooke do all the work. I placed my torso onto her back so I could worry her shoulders and neck (yes, I gave her a hickey) and fondled her breasts."No fair," she whimpered. "No fair, I wanted you to, cum first.""I'm working as fast as I can," I huffed. Her fingers were strumming furiously, I was picking up my pace, pounding her with growing ferocity, and her breath was coming in labored gasps."No!" she howled as her climax gripped her. She bucked up once, twice, then a third time, holding herself tightly against me."I'm cumming," I growled and I did. Brooke's groans became longer and lower. She wiggled her cute ass against me, urging out every spurt of my semen into the condom. As I was pulling out of Brooke, she stopped me."Wait, I want to try something," she told me. She turned around and went to her knees.Brooke rolled off the condom and made deep, meaningful eye contact before tilting her head back and draining the contents of my condom down her throat. Oh, that was so sexy."Yummy," she gulped down my seed."Wow, that was so, unforgettable," I stroked her cheek."I've been reading some porn and wanted to try, oh, it has an aftertaste of spermicide. At least I think that is what it is," she snickered."I wouldn't know," I shrugged."Let me find out," she gave me more of that sultry eye-contact. She put her hand around my turgid phallus, stuck out her tongue then slipped it past her lips."No," it was my turn to moan. She was getting me hard again and I had a date I couldn't be late for. Maybe. The moment her gag reflex kicked in, I pulled her up into a kiss. My hands cupped each ass cheek, I raised her over and impaled her in one rapid motion. Face to face, I began bouncing her hard and deep.{8:00 am}I wasn't late, but it was a close thing. I had arrived with three minutes to spare, only to find Hana and Libra waiting for me at Amy's Bread on 9th Avenue. Over some coffee and scones we soaked up the city's morning ambience. I was in my biker clothes with my bike locked up within sight of the counter."So," Libra started off after the initial hugs and kisses (Hana on the lips, Libra on the cheek, no titty snuggle for me at the moment), "how was dinner with Brooke last night?"I didn't believe Brooke had given anyone any details in the period between since we'd had our last round of high octane love-making at one a.m. and before I grabbed my shower, or the two quickies in the shower, or feeling her up at the door. I had kissed her before leaving and she had been out like a light, naked and curled up with my pillow while resting her weary head on the other one. I had whispered a farewell to Casper, but not looked in. After that, I had biked over to Havenstone for my six o'clock firearm's practice.There, I had picked up my current minder, Juanita Leya Antonio Garza. She was a mocha-skinned Dominican, twenty-nine years old and a brand-spanking new member of the Isharan House Guard. She came to me by way of Havenstone's Buenos Aires' Acquisitions department. Juanita had earned her spot as my guardian by qualifying for that office's Rapid Response Team. (She had been good enough to qualify for that team's lead. Since there were not enough Security Detail (SD's) to staff all the satellite offices, the offices made do with teams trained by the SD as part of their normal career training.)She had spent the past week as part of an ad-hoc training program addressing how to bodyguard from on top a bicycle. (The SD had actually been planning this since I had been kidnapped.) Juanita had been identified by Buffy and Halen as a Runner to be brought into House Ishara and she had a seal of approval from both Buffy and Rachel as a bodyguard, so I was more than willing to put up with an aggressive road buddy."Entertaining," I grinned. "Definitely something we are going to have to work on together next time.""Next time?" Hana regarded me studiously. "Was last night that good?""We are not going to go there, Hana. I'm doing my best within my limited Code of Sexual Misconduct. I'm trying to be discreet.""Hana," Libra added her voice, "when you first met Cáel, he was simultaneously dating me and Brooke. At the same time he was also seeing that police officer,""Nikita," I clarified, "and we are keeping it at the 'strictly friends' level right now.""I was hoping to have something more than just a part-time husband," Hana stated softly. Hana wasn't whining. She was testing our boundaries, for the long term control of my being. After all, wasn't that what marriage was all about?"At this point in my life, I'm not that guy," I pushed back. Most of the women I'd been with hadn't been happy about sharing my attentions, often violently so. Those who did found ways to emotionally blackmail me into spending more time with them. Up until now, that had never worked."When I saw you with  Annela, I realized that you are much more than some sort of playboy," Hana countered."I'm learning to like kids," I shrugged happily. "I never thought I would, quite frankly. I wasn't called 'Captain Condom' for nothing.""I'm not on birth control," Hana enlightened me. Oh shit!"Good thing we are getting married," I joked feebly. "So, does  Annela want a baby brother, or sister?""Would there be a problem with a boy?" Libra asked."Not anymore," I guaranteed them both. "I couldn't,""Couldn't?" Hana requested what I had let slip."What used to happen to Amazon boys?" Libra pressed."Not something that I feel at liberty to discuss," I hedged."That doesn't sound good," Libra mused."Would our child be at risk if something happened to you?" Hana worried."No," I reached over and squeezed her hand. "There are plenty of people that know how I feel and wouldn't let anything happen to my children," I didn't quite lie. Honestly I had never talked over such things, even with Buffy. Would my sons be okay? Would my daughters?I needed to reexamine my future plans, which is to say I needed a plan."So how would we deal with your grandfather?" Hana redirected my thoughts."Oh," I had been worried about my Amazons, not my family."I will find a way to deal with Alal," I promised her. What a bold-faced lie. I hadn't a clue how to counter the man yet. I was still playing catch up with several thousand years of what he had already accomplished, much less plumbed the depths of his future conspiracies."You big liar," Hana smiled warmly. "That man has your number, even though you don't see it yet. We will have to work on something together.""I'll help," Libra offered. "That guy weirded me out.""He did?" I looked her way. I'd been good at avoiding ogling her cleavage for Hana's sake. "I wish I could clarify how I feel about him.""That man is evil," Hana insisted. "Don't you see that?""It isn't that simple for me," I shook my head. "It is, I can get inside his head and figure out what motivates him, and sometimes it is scary. In a way, he's lost faith in humanity. His friends have all long since died and he has carried on alone. I get the bizarre sense he is even looking forward to having something he's never had before, a family.""What about your, umm, aunts?" Libra challenged me."They don't count because he," I couldn't say 'made them in a lab'. "He never knew them as children, only after the fact and they have always lived in his shadow and under his control. This time, with me, us, things can be different.""He doesn't deserve a family in my book," Hana shook her head. "Not my family."I had to think about Katrina and Aya. How different was Katrina, who purposely sacrificed Aya to achieve her long term goals of screwing over the Seven Pillars of Heaven? Aya would bear a permanent scar of that betrayal, and Katrina had an ironclad faith I would save us both, a faith I didn't have in myself. I liked Katrina and even trusted her somewhat. Could I afford to feel the same way about Grandpa Cáel?"Hana, I'm not looking to give you a sane reason for dumping me, but my family is more than a little fucked up," I began. "I have to face the fact that right now, I really can't stop Alal from doing what he wants. That doesn't mean I accept the situation, yet it is what it is. When I have a chance at putting him away, I'll take it and that decision goes beyond my family. He needs to be stopped. As you said 'he's evil'.""Will you let us help you?" Libra inquired. 'Yeah right, what can you do versus a 5000 year old criminal mastermind' wasn't the appropriate thing to say. The truth rarely is."What would you suggest?" I did say. "Considering the resource gulf between what we can bring to bear versus his legions of followers and unspeakable power, what chances do the three of us have?""Is that a concession, insult, or genuine inquiry?" Hana questioned."Genuine inquiry," I answered. "I hardly feel I know it all. And the more insight I can gather, the better my long-term chances are.""We can start by finding a way to get rid of my Irish 'minders'," Hana gave me a quirky grin. "They are very good at fitting seamlessly into the background, but I can spot them.""Keep them around for a while, because all we can accomplish right now is getting a few more we can't identify," I pointed out. "The Ghost Tigers?""Oh, they are out and about," Libra snorted."They stop by long enough in the morning to get my itinerary, then, I guess they are out there somewhere," Hana told me. "A few times they have acted on my behalf, so I know they are close by, and that people really are trying to kill me. But they work their way, and that includes not being seen with me, it seems.""They are assassins, so I guess I should have expected that," I shrugged. "Still, while they are on the job, you are safer than you realize. None of the others ~ groups ~ will bother you while they know those two are close by. It is two, right?""I've seen two. A young woman and an older man," she elaborated."They both come across as diligent sociopaths," Libra added. "I've never seen them emit a single emotion, and they don't like my sense of humor.""I'd rather have you two alive than have them chucking at your innate comedic talents, Libra," I smirked. "Besides, the things they find funny you might not appreciate.""Good point," Hana nodded. "Some of the Great Khan's people certainly have an odd sense of humor, things that don't translate over well."I had an alternative to telling what I knew about the Earth & Sky and why they were so grim: that they saw their father's lifetimes, their own and that of their children filled with warfare and struggle. They were geographically trapped between two of the world's greate

Send Catherine a text MessageThe final episode in a three-part exploration of the mysterious Baba Yaga, a scary crone in Russian and Slavic fairy tales. Who or what is she? The fairy tale "Finist the Bright Falcon" opens up some interesting possibilities.Support the showEmail Catherine at drcsvehla@mythicmojo.comPost a positive review on apple podcasts! Learn how you can work with Catherine at https://mythicmojo.comBuy me a coffee. Thank you!

Even before its rebirth as a nation in the 1990s, Serbia had acquired a reputation abroad as Russia's stalwart Slavic ally in the Western Balkans. Yet, as Vuk Vuksanović argues in Serbia's Balancing Act: Between Russia and the West (Bloomsbury, 2025), two centuries of history and the 25 years since the fall of Slobodan Milošević tell a more nuanced story. "When it comes to Russia's interests,” he writes, “there are no sacred cows in Serbia-Russia relations". Governments in Belgrade will be courted and then discarded depending on Moscow's needs, and they know it. For their part, the Serbs depend on Russian political support in their campaign for a face-saving settlement of the long-running Kosovo dispute but know their economic success hinges on their ties to the EU and the US. Belgrade must "manipulate the superpower rivalry to secure economic resources from both superpowers and its political strategic autonomy". Vuk Vuksanović is a foreign policy expert at the Belgrade Centre for Security Policy, an associate of the Central and South-East Europe Programme at LSE IDEAS, and a prominent media commentator on strategy in the Balkans. *His book recommendations were Rival Power: Russia in Southeast Europe by Dimitar Bechev (Yale University Press, 2017) and Why War? by Christopher Coker (Hurst, 2021). Tim Gwynn Jones is an economic and political risk analyst at Medley Advisors, who also writes and podcasts on Substack at 242.news. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/political-science

Wrapping up loose ends and moving forward.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.Love is like a crossbow quiver. You only have so many bolts to shoot before it runs outThere was a long pause. Pamela took another long breath then an impish grin came to her lips."With your luck you'll get those, then end up in the Artic," she scoffed."Not the Antarctic? I've got a soft spot in my dreams for penguins.""Nope. You get to be chased by polar bears," she nudged me. I nudged her back playfully. She gave me a Charlie horse."Ow!" I yipped. The two SD chicks from the front of the plane looked back our way. I didn't care about their misconceptions. My muscles needed some self-massages."I was pretty scared," I whispered to Pamela."Good for you. You were also pretty lucky and I'm sure pretty pissed with your 'Albanian' attackers," she replied quietly. "I missed you too."I liked the way she read my mind about that. I would have liked it some more if I hadn't glanced to my other side, then fallen straight to sleep.{1 pm, Monday, August 25th ~ 14 Days to go}On Tuesday night, Aya got one of her wishes fulfilled ~ sorta. I slept in Caitlyn Ruger's bed and I wasn't alone. The Sandman had dropped a Scottish sand trap sized load of sand on me and there was more than enough spillover to flatten little Aya too. Because I lived among Amazons, Caitlyn woke me up at 5:45 in the A M and only so much lollygagging was allowed.Aya got to sleep for fifteen whole minutes more than I did. She hugged me and kissed my cheek (which amused her three Fatal Squirt compatriots to no end) while I stuffed away my breakfast. Desiree showed up to take me to work minutes later. While Aya showed off her battle scar to the pre-caste Amazons and her Aunt D. (they had not been awake when we showed up the previous evening), I was chided for being late for weapons practice.Yes. Life and death battle successes meant nothing to the Amazons. If you had a spare moment you had better be training, or working out your mind and/or body. We had no 'weekends', though we did get an quarter day off in celebration for the religious festivals based on the sacred days of the various matron Goddesses. A full day off didn't happen.7:00 AM saw me with the intern group, just as if nothing had happened to change our relationship over the past two months. Oh, we were different. They teased me about my sunburn and wanted to see my latest scars. I couldn't work with Buffy anymore, since I was her spiritual leader. Due to my 'high risk' status, Desiree was the only other Amazon Katrina trusted me with, so I got to get beaten at her hands for the last three days of the week.To be fair, I teased Desiree incessantly. I made her smile when she thought I was doubled over in pain on multiple occasions. Beyond that seven-to-five schedule, I exercised after work until six and then managed to bike home in a manner that avoided the paparazzi.I was easy to track outside of the building by the members of the press (who thought I was still somehow newsworthy) and despite my persistent desire to not talk to any of them. Felix had 'vanished', so I was the only man left. What had happened to him? Katrina allowed me to take a glance. He was at an Epona Wyoming freehold training for the Great Hunt and reveling in his 'lone man in a household of twenty-two single women' status.Unlike the three other members of our 'first class', Felix got to choose his re-location location and communicated with me daily because he wanted us to create a battle plan for the upcoming Hunt. It was official; it was going to be a two man vs. thirty Amazons affair and there was no rule that we couldn't work together though only two Amazons could win by capturing us and holding onto us until sunset on Sunday, September 14th.No one except Krasimira, the Keeper of Records, knew what terrain we would be hunted on so we could expect anything from swamps to mountain ranges. The Amazons were in the same boat. Already the House heads had volunteered one member for the Hunt. The ancestors would be consulted for the half who would actually participate. Krasimira had also added her own twists.House Ishara couldn't compete because technically, I was already their participant. With 52 houses halved, that equaled 26. The final four? Runners. If a runner won, the Keeper would consult the ancestors to see which house they would automatically be inducted into. Eight runners were nominated by the department heads and four of those would be chosen by the Augurs as well.In a normal organization it would have been thought that Krasimira was abusing her station since there was no High Priestess to oppose her decisions. Not in the Amazons. No. She consulted the Augurs and the Augurs worked the will of the Ancestors and that was that. No Augur would lie about the sacred communications imparted to them. That was inconceivable sacrilege.What that did mean was that at sunset on Thursday, September 11th, Felix and I would be inserted with a knife, map and clothing into the hunting zone. When the sun rose on Friday morning, the thirty Amazons would be put into the zone. No Amazon could attack another unless they, or their targets, 'possessed' a man. They could team up but only two could win. It was promising to be a great 'get to know your buddies at work' moment for all of us,What was Felix getting out of this besides his freedom? (His freedom was no longer in danger. House Epona would protect him.) No, for Felix, if he survived free until the sun set on Sunday, he would become a Runner. If he lost, he would have to spend another year as an intern. This convinced me that Felix was totally dedicated to avoiding capture. I was good with that.Meanwhile for me, it was Brooke Wednesday night, Oneida on Thursday and Timothy and Odette going clubbing with me on Friday night. Saturday was my first House Ishara group activity. We gathered in the early morning at Doebridge, me with a hangover and Buffy giving me crap at every opportunity. Fortunately the rest of my 'sisters' treated me with a great deal more reverence.Now they all knew about my Summer Camp role, Romania and my kidnapping. Even in their 'man-hating' ideology, I was the exception to the rule ~ I was reliable, dedicated, smart, lethal and worthy of their trust and respect. On the council front, Buffy hinted to me that there was a way around the deadlock for who would be foisted onto the Regency Triumvirate, but she refused to tell me what it was. That was a cause for concern.Sunday, I worked with JIKIT, did some Amazon diplomatic stuff and discovered Desiree was my new bodyguard. Katrina thought a full SD team would be cumbersome and my best bet was to remain unconventional and mobile. I agreed because it allowed me to play the field a little more. Speaking of playing the field,This bright Monday afternoon, I was standing in a hangar at Stewart International Airport waiting on my fiancée, Hana Sulkanen. She had flown from Tibet to London with the Dali Lama. That exalted individual had passed on the mantle of national leadership to the Tibetan Constitutional Committee and left the country with the stern decision that the country would move forward toward democracy and not backwards toward theocracy.Now he was playing the role of goodwill ambassador, encouraging the Tibetan Diaspora to spend a few months to a year back in their homeland to help rebuild and teach. He also was rallying support for Tibetan recognition and financial support. Already the UN had voted to send a small international group to establish border security against both the Khanate and the PRC.With the PRC treaty-obliged by the ceasefire to not oppose Tibetan freedom, the UN acted rapidly. The UN Tibet Force(UNTFOR) combat elements consisted of the UK (+ Gurkha), Chilean, French (+ French Foreign Legion), Germany, India, Italy, Romania, Spanish and Thailand each sending one battalion each. Algeria, Denmark, Chile, the Netherlands, Bulgaria, Canada, Cameroon, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and Brazil agreed to make smaller contributions. The USAF would supply a serious level of logistics support for the mission.The UN also created the UN Tibetan Training Force (UNTTFOR) which provided a structure for giving access by Tibetan forces to German, Italian, Chilean and Romanian bases to train to E U standards over a five month period. The Khanate provided gobs of captured Chinese hardware to the creation of a tiny Tibetan Armed Forces, easing worries about adequately equipping the troops once they were trained.The Dali Lama was simultaneously arriving at JFK to public fanfare in order to thank the UN personally on behalf of the nation he loved. Hana was able to finally shed the limelight and was coming into a secure National Guard facility to finally take a step back to a 'normal' lifestyle. The last bit of oddity: the hangars used by the Marine Aerial Refueler Transport Squadron 452 of the Marine Corps Reserve was courtesy of JIKIT. No press was allowed, or expected.It was an odd grouping of us. Jormo Sulkanen (Hana's father), his chauffeur and Hana's daughter  Annela were in one car. Hana was traveling with Libra and Ms. Meacham, so they would need the limo he came in. My appearance was a simple moment for us to touch base in person, as opposed to over the internet, or mobile phone. The third group waiting was Sten Phillip M nnik (her ex-husband) and two unnamed associates.Sten was being a total jerk, which may have been due to me calling him Philip when we first met. Philip wasn't 'ethnic' enough for him, so he never used it. Because he hated it, Brennan (Hana's deceased step-brother) had used it constantly. I had overheard it and thus screwed up our first meeting. But Sten's current blistering hatred had two positive side effects: Jormo came over and stood by me, a suggestion of solidarity I hadn't expected, and since we were standing next to each other, we finally began the dialog that we needed if Hana was going to be family to both of us.We chatted about the thing that mattered most ~ Hana. He asked me if I had really hired a team of assassins to protect her, so I told him a little bit about the Ghost Tigers. He talked about how proud she was to be bringing peace to a suffering planet and I agreed that she looked spectacular doing so.Some things remained the same; I had set in motion the death of his youngest son who had paraded a raped lady in front of me. A bunch of other dilettantes had perished as well. Balancing that was the joy I brought to the child closest to his heart, his adopted daughter Hana. I also had proved to be my own brand of eccentric knight in tarnished armor. I meant well, and in Jormo's book that meant something.He also told me he would strangle me with my own intestines if I broke her heart. I looked him straight in the face and asked him how he felt about open marriages. He hit me. To be fair, I let him hit me. He didn't try to do me serious harm."Don't be an asshole," he grumbled."I'm not sure I know how?" I shrugged. I got another hard stare."She loves you," he said with surprising tenderness."I would rather face that typhoon again than break her heart. The thought of that scares me because I've never been all that good at romance," I confessed."That wasn't what I expected you to say," he harrumphed. "I recall those two ladies I first saw you with. Libra Chalmers and,""Brooke Lee," I said."Yes, her. Are you staying loyal?""She has never asked more than she thinks my current level of maturity can hope to achieve." He looked at me. "I'm discrete and mindful of her sensitivities.""You aren't trying to befriend me," he noted."I don't feel it is right to expect you to like me. I think we both know I'm supposed to be nice to you and you aren't going punch me again. I believe Hana would see thru any deception on our part."I paused. "I wouldn't mind us getting along. I'll try not to piss you off because that would be rude to you and cruel to her," I continued. "I'll never ask you to forgive me and I'll never feel like what I did was inherently unjustified. I am sorry that I caused you pain because I think you are a hard, courageous man, and she loves you.""That's her plane," he stated."Thank God," I muttered. And thank you Ishara. I was starting to blather. We remained thankfully silent until the plane had pulled into the hangar and the people started to deplane. The first out was a young woman with dark blonde hair and hunters glasses.No one else appeared until she had reached the bottom of the stairs and continued to look about for a moment. Hana came next, smiling at me, then her eyes were following Jormo as he moved to the car to retrieve little  Annela. Libra followed with Ms. Meacham on her heels. Libra still wasn't used to playing the second fiddle/personal assistant. A short Mongolian fireplug of a man was the last passenger down the stairs. He looked like, a wolverine with his feral, primordial energy and general hostility.I imagined the girl was his apprentice and he was the prime assassin. That was how the Ghost Tigers operated. They were doing me a deep personal favor by putting aside their normal role as hunters to take up body-guarding duties. According to Addison, they had also managed to get their fair share of killing people of various persuasions. Not only had the Seven Pillars tried to take her out more than once, Chinese Intelligence and some criminal cartels had taken an active interest in her too.The young woman scanned from me to Desiree, then to Sten. She had a good eye for threat assessment. Jormo was partially concealed, but would rather die than put Hana at risk. I was the ally of the 9 Clans, and she probably thought she could take me in a quick-draw contest. Desiree? She left Desiree for her mentor to worry about."Ms. Sulkanen?" Sten's closer minion walked her way. The bodyguards got in the way instinctively. The man reached into his coat and nearly died. The women did a palm strike to his windpipe then grabbed his tie, yanking him to the hard concrete floor of the hangar.(Russian) "He has a piece of paper," she stated in a detached manner"Sten, what is the meaning of this?" Hana worried. I moved toward the woman.(Russian) "I am Cáel Nyilas. Let me help."She did more than that. She retreated from the downed man and put her body between Hana and Sten.I was schooled enough now to realize that was the deception. I hadn't seen the older man draw a gun but I knew he now had one out. It was down by his side and he was using his body to shield it from view."Are these the kind of people you want around our daughter," Sten asked haughtily. I had an inkling suspicion. I wasn't alone.Desiree pushed past me and attended to the downed man. She had him standing, patted him on the back and frisked all inside ten seconds."He's a process server," she commented to the group."What he is here to do is serve you with papers, Hana," Sten grew angrier. "You are an unfit mother and have developed an unsafe environment for her to grow up in.""What?" Hana growled. "You don't like the fact that I've finally moved on and found someone new. You don't care a damn thing about our daughter.""We will let a judge decide that. Right now I have an order of detention for  Annela," he grinned wickedly."Ms. Sulkanen," the second of Sten's minions step forward more cautiously, "the Family Court in the State of New York has,"I laughed."Oh," Desiree looked my way then shared a sliver of a smile with me."There is nothing laughable, I assure you," the lawyer snapped."Really, what's your name?" I asked."Mr. Dornier, not that,""Where are we?""What does that matter?" then, "New York State.""Incorrect Dornier. You are on a Marine Corps base, dumbass. Look around you," I smirked."So? What does that mean?" Sten harangued us."This is federal property," I explained as I strode toward his car."Hey, what are you doing, I'm talking to you," Sten pursued me."Excuse me," I grinned. I flipped out my Amazon Honor Blade and slashed one of his tires."What?""Go for it," Hana simmered. "Touch Cáel and he will defend himself.""He has a knife," he countered. He didn't touch me. A second tire began to deflate. "That's assault with a deadly weapon.""It would be if he turned to face you, or anyone else," Desiree had her 'bored ~ don't press me' voice. "Right now he's being a vandal." She put her hand on the process server's shoulder and shoved him back toward Sten and Dornier. "You should know your jurisdictions, asshole," she told him."Hana, I will drive back with Cáel," Libra announced loudly. That was a cue for Hana to shoot me an apologetic look, which was odd, considering that even knowing me was putting her child custody at risk. It took me a second to realize what a bastard Sten could be. I also doubted he had three spare tires. I left one untouched as I headed for my car."Hana, I'll catch up with you after you talk with your lawyers," I called out. It was infuriating for me that this was her reception home. Sten had better be thanking his lucky stars we weren't alone or I would have pummeled his ass, and given him the nuclear wedgy of all times, jackalope."Let's go home," Libra tapped my arm. Desiree was watching Jormo's limo speed away. She didn't dawdle. The Marines would want their hangar back ASAP. We'd let them decide if they wanted to help Sten, or not. Desiree tossed me the keys. That was her way of telling me I need to blow of some steam, and not by getting frolic-ee with Libra on the hour long commute home.{11 pm, Monday, August 25th ~ 14 Days to go}{Late that night with Hana}"So, who was the guy who gave you this?" I looked over at Hana while running my hand over the silk scarf some lama in Lhasa had given her to give to me ~ a 'Thank You' gift for the liberation of his homeland and the aid package heading his peoples' way."I never got his name, but my translator said he had traveled for three days straight to be there for the celebration," she smiled warmly.I picked up my second gift and began to play with it. The object was a fascinating toy, all the more so because it was more than a child's plaything. It was a simple prayer wheel. I put the handle between my two palms and rubbed them back and forth, causing the two balls to beat against the drum heads."I think you find that thing more interesting than you do me," Hana pouted."Oh no you don't," I pounced on her. With one hand I tickled her while I placed my Tibetan gift aside. I didn't want us rolling over on it as we frolicked naked on her queen-sized bed. "You were a happy little camper ten minutes ago and you certainly drove your vigor home with this grand Lothario.""Eek!" she playfully tried to bat my hand aside. She began giggling hysterically.Even when I pulled away so that she could breathe, she kept snickering."What?" I worried. I had been ramping us up for a second round of sex. Round one had been 'comfort' sex, helping her compartmentalize her feelings for that bastard of an ex-husband and the threat he posed to her custodianship of her daughter,  Annela.Those were emotions she'd deal with later. Fretting about them tonight, her first night back in the States, was counter-productive. She knew that, which was why she'd accepted my dinner invitation. We had now been seen in public together for the first time since she became famous; afterwards we had traveled back to her place. How serious was I about cheering her up? I'd brought a spare suit, biking clothes and my bike. I was planning to spend the night and make my way to work my usual way come sunrise."I," she gasped, "asked Libra how you "compared" in her experience, which seems to be extensive, as a lover on the way over. And after several, very long, I must say, seconds of introspection, she told me you were indescribable and incomparable. I've been trying to put my thoughts together since Rome and, why are you scowling?""That was rude of you two," I now play-pouted. "I like to think I'm 'thunderous', though 'stunning' will do in a pinch."Hana helpfully pinched me. "Ow!" I squalled. And back to tickling I went. I quickly showed her my 'sheet-fu' was superior to hers, which meant I tangled her up in her sheets before she realized she was helpless before me. Or so I bragged. Hana played helpless well."Oh please, Mr. World-Conquering Wombat," she pleaded. Wombat?"Wombat?" I questioned her. "How have I become an irascible furry marsupial?""Well Honey, you need a shave," she teased me. "You are a little furry.""Romantically that is called a five o'clock shadow," I protested."It scratches my thighs," she murmured.I had a remedy for that. Sliding down to her hip, I turned my palms toward me, interlaced my fingers and positioned my thumbs pointing up. My chin rested on my fingers and the thumbs covered the sides, so when I stuck my tongue into the three-sided void created, my hands, but none of my scruffiness, touched her intimate flesh. Once I had this technique in place, I rolled over her thigh and got to work."I find," she gasped, "that you have the answer to that conundrum down pat. It makes me, ah, think I'm not your, ah, first girl." My dedication to my erotic task (and the carnal reward that waited) kept me from responding. Besides, my upper lip was busy rolling back and forth over her clitoris. There I let the bristles of my oncoming moustache teasingly tickle her. I was pleased when the pleasure I caused quieted her and she settled down to running her fingers across my crown as she ramped herself up toward a climax. 'Not my first girl' indeed.Forty-five minutes later, I was coming back to her room from the kitchen with a glass of tomato juice for her and rice wine for me (she was out of beer). I heard a noise from  Annela's room, so I deviated to make sure she was okay. I was in boxers, not totally naked.  Annela was out like a light, caught up in some sort of childish dream. By the cherubic grin on her face, she was having a good one.She was another delicate female issue in my life. I had made her existence harder by just being me. Hana let me know that nothing 'bad' had better happen to her ex-husband, Sten. I couldn't beat him up, threaten him, or sic any of my Amazons on him. Stupidly, I had asked if using the CIA was okay. She'd banned all of JIKIT intervening as well, negating the use of the best pest removal people on the planet, the 9 Clans."You are going to have to get used to children making sounds while they sleep," Hana surprised me. "You'll learn to tell the dreams from the nightmare.""In spades, I'm going to have to learn that in spades," I nodded.{4 pm, Tuesday, August 26th ~ 13 Days to go}My schedule had remained steady. I had firearms practice at 6 am every morning, was in Katrina's office by 7 and working my cue by 7:15. According to my regular morning briefings, I continued to be a menace to the foundations of freedom, civilization and the terrestrial biosphere. It was wonderful to stand there side by side with my fellow New Hires.At lunch, around 11 o'clock, I had a brief get together with the other members of the Amazon diplomatic corps since I was still Chief Diplomat of the Host ~ we were a small unit. Daphne, who now worked with JIKIT, would give me a brief briefing on what the 'office' was up to in my name. I gladly kept my distance from their regularly scheduled mayhem. The truce in China didn't stop the Secret War from raging on and on.My three o'clock knife training with Pamela was slowly evolving into a greater study of human fighting philosophy and anatomy. I still studied the techniques of a larger single bladed hunting knife as well as the hilt-less, double bladed Amazon Honor Blade. Pamela promised me she'd start teaching me how to do the 'long-distance' and 'short'/snap throw for the blades. She made it look so easy.Pamela also began educating me on the basics and basis of the Amazon personal hand-to-hand fighting style. The eight points of emphasis in Amazon combat were: the finger, fist, elbow, shoulder, foot, heel, knee and hip. It encouraged channeling both your energies and the energy of your opponents by using fluid blows and throws. It also worked well with the close-in knife fighting Pamela was teaching me. Working with her once more did her as much good as me. We had come to feed off one another's moods, which was a good thing.Tuesday, walking to the elevator at the end of the session, the door opened to reveal Rachel talking to an SD chick I barely knew, Meridian."Oh, it is great to see you, Rachel," I enthusiastically stated. Her hesitation as she replied worried me."It is great to see you too, Cael Wakko Ishara," she responded softly, compassionately."Ladies, can you spare Rachel and I some private time," I asked Meridian and Pamela."Come on," Pamela addressed the SD Amazon, "we have tons of nothing to talk about.""As you wish, Ishara," Meridian answered. She looked to Rachel. She stepped off the elevator as Pamela stepped on. Away they went."I heard you were back in New York," I told her."I heard you were off of JIKIT for the time being.""I was running on fumes psychologically and my body wasn't too much better. Javiera gave me a week off. I go back Thursday.""That was the right move, Cáel," she said. "You've been stuck sweating both the small stuff and being caught up in the big picture. That is a humongous burden to bear for someone with your training and background.""I know, I'm not ready for where my life has taken me.""No one is, Cáel. You have training that has let you get this far when most of us would be lost. You carry that weight, plus you've had to work the physical side of the equation. I get to focus on you. You've had to focus on all of us."Rachel was being both honest and kind. I felt a sudden renewed kinship with my primary guardian."Thanks for that, Rachel, can I tell you a secret? Something you can't tell another soul. Something I've never told another living person?" I could tell Rachel. I couldn't tell Katrina because she was so close to Hayden. Pamela, Pamela had already prepared herself for a miserable afterlife and wouldn't have connected with my pain for another.Since she was my 'sister' in Ishara, I couldn't really confide in Buffy, but only an Amazon would understand my thoughts on the matter. It had to be Rachel."I cannot betray the Host, but you know that. What is it you wish to share?""Hayden lived life as an Anahit, yet lives forever in the Halls of the Isharans." Since that was now well known, Rachel knew that couldn't be the secret."When I was trying to induct her, Dot Ishara refused her entry. I thought she was challenging me and I was right.""I recall that she wouldn't accept Hayden, even though her death was righteous in the name of the Host. Has no one ever asked you what changed Ishara's mind? Not Buffy, or Helena?""Neither one ever asked. I think it was because they sensed I didn't want to talk about it, nor insult them by not opening up. Ishara refused Hayden because of me. I was refusing to accept my place in the Host. I kept playing, pretending, I was not really one of you. I kept thinking I could divorce myself from the evil we did because I was special.""But you weren't special in the way I think you are using the word," she nodded. "You were chosen by the Ancestors to be one of us, man, or not.""Yeah. I stupidly put my life on the line because I wanted to be the 'good guy'. I've always wanted to be the 'good guy', even when I hurt people. I'd tell the girl it was my fault, yet I excused that behavior by thinking that I hadn't meant to hurt anyone, so I was okay. I have never blamed myself for any of the shit I caused.""That has always been a rather annoying quality of yours," she noted."When I was on the roof of Havenstone, daring Ishara with my life on the line, that's when I felt it. I owed and owned my Amazon heritage in that moment. I finally blamed myself for something, for not accepting sacrifices were being made for me and I was dishonoring every one of you by denying their purpose.""You are Ishara," Rachel stated firmly. That was her entire argument."I had to believe that. I had to believe I was nothing more than one Amazon in a long line of Amazons dating back to that first night of betrayal. I had to realize I was one of many, not someone special, with special rules. I wasn't getting to be the good guy, or even the bad guy. I was just, an Amazon. One more Ishara among the hundreds that stood in my place.""And it took that moment for you to realize what most Amazons know from the age of five," Rachel stroked my cheek. "It is easy for us to forget your bravery comes from a place that is uniquely you and you didn't grow up around the fires with tales of our mothers, grandmothers and all those who have come before. We see our honor is gold and sing the songs in the First Tongue. We live as Amazons.""I wanted you to know because," I faltered at the last memory."Charlotte. You want to make peace with me about Charlotte," she touched my cheek yet again. "Cáel, I told her mother and daughter about how she died. They want to meet Vincent when he is feeling better. They want to talk to you. They worry about you not understanding that Charlotte lives and will live on until the Sun dies and the stars burn out.""Charlotte was in the Warband that killed Ajax the Unconquered, Cáel. She fell on that ridge, looking down on Ishara's triumph over Ajax and her spirit took the news of that victory to the next life. She is a welcome exemplar to House Ska i. She will be remembered in the lists of the Security Detail, our Warrior Elite. Charlotte was my friend and I didn't wish her to die, but war is what we do. And she buried her enemies and saved our lives."Ska i was a j tunn and the Nordic goddess associated with bow-hunting, skiing, winter, and mountains. I had known her house. The SD didn't talk about their families much because of their devotion to the craft of war, so I had never known her mother was still alive, or that she had a daughter."She did much more than die, Cáel. She killed men so that when you finished with Ajax, none of them, left on that field, could avenge him," she added."I hadn't looked at it that way," I confessed. "I'd like to meet her family. You said she has a daughter. I didn't know.""You didn't need the distraction. We all knew you would have only done incredibly stupid things trying to keep us alive. If it helps, she is five and cried freely, deeply and long. Her mother is fifty-two and runs a freehold in Saskatchewan. She'll be around for a long time, trust me."Charlotte's mother had to be one tough D O B (daughter of a bitch) to see sixty. I did know she was the second of five daughters, with the middle one being in the Ska i House Guard."I am doing something for, well, for me, but for Charlotte too. Sakuniyas is leading seventeen House Isharans and two ladies from MI-6 in West Africa.""I'd heard about that," she smiled. "Charlotte's Fist." Four (the core of any war band) was a sacred number to the Amazons, as was five (the number of digits) so twenty was a classic warrior unit. It was also the number of the original houses. Normally these groups were referred to by their leader's name, but I wanted the Condotteiri to know they'd killed the wrong Amazon and Sakuniyas agreed to the naming convention.The Condos had sent Ajax to Hungary and Romania to kill me. Charlotte had died stopping them, but this was not a matter of revenge. This honored her and was a request for her to watch over those who sought inspiration from her when they went into battle. West-Central Africa was one of the three Amazon Homeland (Eastern Europe and Southern India being the other two) and was where the war was heating up.JIKIT (Joint International Khanate Interim Taskforce) became involved when the Condos and Coils of the Serpent (one of the 9 Assassin Clans) began killing local civilian and military leaders. The Condos did it to spread chaos for them to use as a smoke screen behind which they could hide the large numbers of mercenaries in the area hunting down the Amazons. The Coils attacked any official that was on the Condo's payroll.As the body count began to rise, the US and UK began having 'normal' covert agencies investigate the killings, yet they remained blind to the reasons behind the actions. It wasn't until a whole Condo 'training camp' ended up being extinguished that they realized there was a third player in the game (as opposed to the governments and the rogue mercenaries).The Coils of the Serpent were one step ahead of the intelligence agencies. And that allowed the Amazons to hunt down the Condos. We in JIKIT had estimated it was roughly 15,000 Condotteiri foot soldiers (consisting of mercs, local paramilitaries and the occasional regular army commander) versus the roughly 3000 Amazons and 1000 members of the 9 Clans. The Golden Mare was asking for Havenstone and the Freeholds in North and South America to raise up 'fists' to join the struggle in Africa. In Belize they would be trained for two months to ten weeks in jungle warfare before heading over."Are your people going to be ready?" Rachel inquired."We have done well in Japan," I replied. "The former 'Runners' actually do better moving through urbanized society than their Old School Amazon sisters.""I heard they are more prone to taking orders from the Ninja," she looked me in the eyes."I told them to. This is the Ninja's war and we serve them best by doing what we do best ~ taking the fight to the Seven Pillars when they expose themselves," I clarified. "And you got me off talking about Charlotte," I realized a second later."A long period of mourning is not our way, Cáel," she confided. "You were our friend, but you were our mission first and foremost. That hasn't changed.""Are you going to," I began to say 'remain my bodyguard'."Yes. I have a dozen House Guard members expressing a desire to join the Security Detail and be our new electronics expert. Eight of those I'm giving serious consideration to.""The other four?" I asked."Three are too young and are too interested in you for my taste. One is too old and a rather odd individual.""I like odd.""I will reconsider her then," she allowed."Are you saying that to make me happy?""No," Rachel grinned. "I admire your instincts. Do you know how soon you will be needing us?""I'm going to stay in town until the Great Hunt. After my stupendous victory, I'll see if I can get to Brazil, so mid-September.""It will take longer to integrate a member ~ the last week of November," she bargained. I really wasn't in the mood to argue. I was too much the boy who was glad to see his primary guardian standing before him. Pamela was by far the most loving and lethal one of the pack. Rachel was my rock. She kept me alive and I helped give her something to live for, even if it was a flawed 'me'."And Wakko, you don't need to give me a piece of your soul to replace Charlotte. What is hers is hers and what is ours is ours. I'll always miss her and I'm okay with that. She was a good friend and a proud compatriot and I loved her. I never had any sisters of the flesh. Mona, Tiger Lily and Charlotte have been the only real family I've had. I will find another sister and I can now accept that.""Is it alright if I still miss her?" I pondered."Of course, Ishara. Will you still be capable of taking my orders when required?""Yes. If I started ignoring your advice, I wouldn't have been worthy of leading someone like Charlotte into battle. I can honor her by letting you do your job.""Thank you. I still worry about you trying to save everyone, but now I'll worry a little less," she confessed."I still plan to do crazy stuff, hey, do you have a daughter?""No.""Want one?""I'm in the final drawing of lots for the Great Hunt," she smiled once more."You could just ask.""My way is more fun. This way I'll be sure you'll obey," she let her eyes sparkle with a mirthful fire."Don't think I'll go easy on you. I plan to win," I pledged."Of course not. Why would you change now?""I'd rather you bust my balls than mock me?" I pouted. "Instead of spending a moving moment, you are cheering me up.""It is my job to look after you, even now," she stroked my neck affectionately."Especially now," I added as I hit the elevator button."Let's catch up with the others. I need to tell Meridian that she's back in the running.""Oh, that is fortunate," I grinned. "Oh, we'll start our mission to Brazil on Thursday, February 12th.""Is there a significance of that date?"I laughed. I put an arm around her shoulder as the doors opened. There were two others Havenstone ladies onboard."Carnival in Rio de Janeiro!" I exulted. "Half a million tourists a day. Two million Brazilians. Everyone wears a mask. What's not to love?""You are so fortunate you waited until you had witnesses around," Rachel groused."Desiree says it's bad for my prestige to be beaten in public," I chortled. "I'm glad you agree.""Maybe we can spar on the mats today when you get off work?""Oh, I'd like to see that," one of the other Amazons remarked. "Weapons or hand-to-hand?""I'll let him use a weapon. I'll use my hands. I want him to think he has a chance," Rachel declared. My arm was still around her shoulder, so I knew she wasn't really pissed."Didn't you kill Ajax?" the other one noted."He tripped over his shoelaces and impaled himself on his own sword," I sighed dramatically.Since the two women looked at one another, then to Rachel, I knew I'd told the lie well."Cáel had an ally shoot a grenade overhead, Ajax died in the confusion, so whatever blow killed him is irrelevant. Cáel beat Ajax with his mind before a single blow was landed. He made his foe fight his battle and that was how Wakko Ishara won," Rachel responded."Like an Amazon," the first one nodded."With balls," I added."An Amazon with balls? I guess you are, but I don't think the testes mattered in that you beat our foe in a matter your ancestors can be proud of," the second one said."Well said," Rachel nodded."Thank you," I shook her hand. "I'm Cáel Wakko Ishara aka Nyilas.""Oh, I'm Wynona of Allatu," she answered. She shook my hand, I ran a finger over her pulse and got her to blush slightly. Allatu was the Goddess of the Underworld in Canaanite mythology and one of the First Houses."Behave," Rachel whispered."Not likely," I whispered back."Did I say something wrong?" Wynona worried."No. Rachel is my moral guardian. So, do you want to go fishing, I mean swimming tomorrow after work, say 5:15?" I inquired."Sure," her smile broadened. "I excel in the water.""Good, maybe you can teach me a thing or two," I answered. The door opened at the lobby and there stood Desiree."Here," Rachel shoved me out the door. "Take him before he fishes himself into more trouble.""I understand," Desiree grumbled. "Come on fisherman. Financial Investigations is working late tonight and we need to pick up Italian food for twenty-two.""Lead and I shall follow," I proclaimed."Why do you call him the 'Fisherman'," Wynona asked Rachel."Fish, barrel, I'll explain it to you on the way to the garage," Rachel sighed. The doors shut and off we all went.{7:10 pm, Wednesday, August 27th ~ 12 Days to go}"Will you still be having dinner with us once you return back to JIKIT?" Europa asked as Lorraine passed me some Cajun rice."Every Monday and Wednesday night and on Fridays early," I grinned."We are going to be spending some time in Doebridge over the Labor Day weekend," Europa griped. "Do you want to come with us and save Aya from retelling her ordeal to yet another band of pre-Amazons?""Aya, do you want me to run interference for you?" I asked."No," she smiled. "I want you to train for the Great Hunt. Aunt Katrina says Elsa is virtually a guarantee to be one of the thirty.""Ugh," I groaned. "That's the cherry on the top of a rather bizarre day.""Was today bad?" Loraine asked."Let me see, for starters I got to use a variety of weird weapons for firearms practice. I had a feeling I was part of a round-robin, the way they rotated their assistance to me. In the elevator, I was with Brielle and her buddy when we had a security drill. The elevator cut off, but the air handler went into overdrive, dropping the temperature. After a quick democratic vote, I lost my shirt to an impromptu fire to stay warm, alive," I chuckled. "Then we cuddled together for warmth. I was about to lose my undershirt and pants when the alert ended.""Security alerts last less than fifteen minutes," Caitlyn noted. "I doubt you were in any danger of freezing to death.""Brielle was under the impression security alerts could last hours, despite my questionable knowledge otherwise from the handbook I'd read. Since she had the seniority, I thought she knew better.""So now you are shirtless," Europe smirked."I had a spare shirt stashed in Katrina's office, but I was required to change during the meeting because we were running late. Oh, and yesterday I forgot to feed some genetically superior white rats at one of our labs. Apparently they gnawed through their cages, broke out and now are in the Manhattan underworld, plotting a rodent rebellion," I related."Oh, that was my idea," Loraine perked up."Do you sit around the table with Katrina thinking up this kind of crap!" I protested."Occasionally," Caitlyn admitted. "Most of those are pure Katrina though.""Glad to know my misery is a family bonding experience.""You should be glad to know we care about you," Europa beamed."Yeah, I'll remember that and once you are casted I'm going to absolutely abuse my authority in some serious payback," I faux-glared at her."I promise you we will make it fun," Aya pledged."You would betray your own sisters?" Caitlyn questioned."Sisters are sisters, Mother, but boon companions are for life," Aya countered."That's cool, Mom," Europa snorted. "We'll always be taller than Aya, and faster.""Only more proof she'll be smarter," Caitlyn shook her head. "So Cáel what happened next?""What makes you think the rest of my day wasn't mundane and boring?""According to Katrina, you are the best stress reliever at Havenstone since they put in the Jacuzzis. With it being open season on you today, I figured your day was one misadventure after another," Caitlyn smiled warmly."Fine, I had to go to Financial Investigations to discuss my expense account in Europe.""That doesn't sound all that exciting," Loraine said."We were in the pool swimming in the classic Amazon style, I swear, sometime I think I should go to work wearing nothing but a trench coat and a smile," I grouched."Did you make any babies?" Aya chirped."No, I can't have that kind of fun with any employees for another twelve more days. Anyway, they were quite cross with me not using their services and let me know for an hour and, thirty-six minutes. After that I had to get a reference physical.""You are as healthy as a horse," Europa neighed."Funny Epona," I sniffed indignantly. "You are a load of laughs, filly. After I had been turned into a prune they made me undress again. There was some nonsense about all the combat I had been in had made me shorter and given me muscle constriction.""That is a good one," Aya nodded. "I'm glad they were being as creative as you are, Atta.""Who is to say that I'm not being the creative one here?" I winked at her."Were your muscles 'constricted'?" Loraine snickered. Europa gave her a thumbs up for joining on the fun."Nope, all my reflexes are in working order and I can still salute on demand," I smiled. "Which was good because after that, I worked through lunch with Acquisitions discussing Khanate plans for Siberia." There was a pause."What was so horrid about that?" Loraine inquired, as if I had been tortured up until that point."We had to do the whole three hour routine on the practice mats. I was pinned grappled and I had something that was strangely reminiscent of a titty-snuggle. I mean, all that skin-tight clothing, close contact and sweaty bodies was murder on my concentration," I confessed."We aren't going to be investing in Siberia, are we?" Aya winked at me."I don't know. I spent three hours saying "I don't know" and "I haven't a clue.""You are good at that," Europa jibed. I flicked a pea at her, bouncing it off her chin. She was getting ready for a spaghetti & meatball counterattack when Caitlyn's cough brought her up short."He is the Head of House Ishara. He can act that way. You are Epona and we are better behaved."Europa stuck her tongue at me, I returned the gesture and this time Caitlyn's cough was aimed at me. She followed that up by rubbing her foot along my shin. I smiled at her, then caught Aya smiling at the both of us. Then I recalled Aya had set the table, damn it."I'll get us dessert," Aya beamed happiness my way. I was thinking about dessert alright, damn that girl.{Rhada Revisited}"I'm home gang," I exhaled. "Ready to go out?" and was promptly shot with a Nerf gun. "What did I do this time?"Timothy and Odette were getting off the sofa. Odette was taking aim while Timothy left his single-shot where he'd been sitting."We are going out. You are not," Timothy grinned. "You have company in the bedroom.""Man, I was looking forward to," then Odette shot me in the stomach with her six shot nerf repeater."You have company," Odette emphasized the 'company' part. To me this implied someone who I couldn't seduce with a few words, maybe get busy for half an hour then go out partying. That could only mean,I opened my door and there lay Rhada, completely naked, hogtied and bound. She had even been gagged. Her look of hate and loathing turned to, something else; part fear and part heartsick yearning. Could Timothy and Odette, really just Timothy, I loved Odette but she had the combat skills of a Tribble. Could Timothy defeat Rhada so thoroughly that she could be so bound?Not likely. I'd been neglecting her, What with being kidnapped, running off to Europe and generally doing my job, I'd neglected her well-defined physique, olive skin and athletic curves. I'd been a fool for letting her waste away while I'd been 'not' earning a paycheck. Hell, I was working too much. I'd played around in college and still managed to graduate with good grades, and it wasn't like I had been hired for my brains."Oh, I've been missing this," I relished her helplessness while rubbing my palms together."Mumph," Rhada protested. It was hard for her to move her body. Her legs were bound above the knee to her shins while her ankles were lashed together and then to the top of her thighs.Her elbows and wrists were tied behind her back, wrists to wrist. The ropes securing her arms crisscrossed above and below her breasts and looped around her neck. She looked tightly secured. A bit too secured. I couldn't see how to un-hog-tie her."Don't you dare go anywhere," I warned Rhada then backed out of the room hurriedly."I suggested the ass plug!" Odette smiled as I turned around. I'd missed that given the shapeliness of her buttock,"I color-coded the ends of the ropes for you. Pull the yellow, then green and then pink and she'll come undone just fine. I put some ointment by the bedside for after. It will help numb the burn and promotes healing without scarring," Timothy patted me on the shoulder. "Now that you've b

Even before its rebirth as a nation in the 1990s, Serbia had acquired a reputation abroad as Russia's stalwart Slavic ally in the Western Balkans. Yet, as Vuk Vuksanović argues in Serbia's Balancing Act: Between Russia and the West (Bloomsbury, 2025), two centuries of history and the 25 years since the fall of Slobodan Milošević tell a more nuanced story. "When it comes to Russia's interests,” he writes, “there are no sacred cows in Serbia-Russia relations". Governments in Belgrade will be courted and then discarded depending on Moscow's needs, and they know it. For their part, the Serbs depend on Russian political support in their campaign for a face-saving settlement of the long-running Kosovo dispute but know their economic success hinges on their ties to the EU and the US. Belgrade must "manipulate the superpower rivalry to secure economic resources from both superpowers and its political strategic autonomy". Vuk Vuksanović is a foreign policy expert at the Belgrade Centre for Security Policy, an associate of the Central and South-East Europe Programme at LSE IDEAS, and a prominent media commentator on strategy in the Balkans. *His book recommendations were Rival Power: Russia in Southeast Europe by Dimitar Bechev (Yale University Press, 2017) and Why War? by Christopher Coker (Hurst, 2021). Tim Gwynn Jones is an economic and political risk analyst at Medley Advisors, who also writes and podcasts on Substack at 242.news. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Even before its rebirth as a nation in the 1990s, Serbia had acquired a reputation abroad as Russia's stalwart Slavic ally in the Western Balkans. Yet, as Vuk Vuksanović argues in Serbia's Balancing Act: Between Russia and the West (Bloomsbury, 2025), two centuries of history and the 25 years since the fall of Slobodan Milošević tell a more nuanced story. "When it comes to Russia's interests,” he writes, “there are no sacred cows in Serbia-Russia relations". Governments in Belgrade will be courted and then discarded depending on Moscow's needs, and they know it. For their part, the Serbs depend on Russian political support in their campaign for a face-saving settlement of the long-running Kosovo dispute but know their economic success hinges on their ties to the EU and the US. Belgrade must "manipulate the superpower rivalry to secure economic resources from both superpowers and its political strategic autonomy". Vuk Vuksanović is a foreign policy expert at the Belgrade Centre for Security Policy, an associate of the Central and South-East Europe Programme at LSE IDEAS, and a prominent media commentator on strategy in the Balkans. *His book recommendations were Rival Power: Russia in Southeast Europe by Dimitar Bechev (Yale University Press, 2017) and Why War? by Christopher Coker (Hurst, 2021). Tim Gwynn Jones is an economic and political risk analyst at Medley Advisors, who also writes and podcasts on Substack at 242.news. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/world-affairs

Even before its rebirth as a nation in the 1990s, Serbia had acquired a reputation abroad as Russia's stalwart Slavic ally in the Western Balkans. Yet, as Vuk Vuksanović argues in Serbia's Balancing Act: Between Russia and the West (Bloomsbury, 2025), two centuries of history and the 25 years since the fall of Slobodan Milošević tell a more nuanced story. "When it comes to Russia's interests,” he writes, “there are no sacred cows in Serbia-Russia relations". Governments in Belgrade will be courted and then discarded depending on Moscow's needs, and they know it. For their part, the Serbs depend on Russian political support in their campaign for a face-saving settlement of the long-running Kosovo dispute but know their economic success hinges on their ties to the EU and the US. Belgrade must "manipulate the superpower rivalry to secure economic resources from both superpowers and its political strategic autonomy". Vuk Vuksanović is a foreign policy expert at the Belgrade Centre for Security Policy, an associate of the Central and South-East Europe Programme at LSE IDEAS, and a prominent media commentator on strategy in the Balkans. *His book recommendations were Rival Power: Russia in Southeast Europe by Dimitar Bechev (Yale University Press, 2017) and Why War? by Christopher Coker (Hurst, 2021). Tim Gwynn Jones is an economic and political risk analyst at Medley Advisors, who also writes and podcasts on Substack at 242.news. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/russian-studies

Even before its rebirth as a nation in the 1990s, Serbia had acquired a reputation abroad as Russia's stalwart Slavic ally in the Western Balkans. Yet, as Vuk Vuksanović argues in Serbia's Balancing Act: Between Russia and the West (Bloomsbury, 2025), two centuries of history and the 25 years since the fall of Slobodan Milošević tell a more nuanced story. "When it comes to Russia's interests,” he writes, “there are no sacred cows in Serbia-Russia relations". Governments in Belgrade will be courted and then discarded depending on Moscow's needs, and they know it. For their part, the Serbs depend on Russian political support in their campaign for a face-saving settlement of the long-running Kosovo dispute but know their economic success hinges on their ties to the EU and the US. Belgrade must "manipulate the superpower rivalry to secure economic resources from both superpowers and its political strategic autonomy". Vuk Vuksanović is a foreign policy expert at the Belgrade Centre for Security Policy, an associate of the Central and South-East Europe Programme at LSE IDEAS, and a prominent media commentator on strategy in the Balkans. *His book recommendations were Rival Power: Russia in Southeast Europe by Dimitar Bechev (Yale University Press, 2017) and Why War? by Christopher Coker (Hurst, 2021). Tim Gwynn Jones is an economic and political risk analyst at Medley Advisors, who also writes and podcasts on Substack at 242.news. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/eastern-european-studies

Even before its rebirth as a nation in the 1990s, Serbia had acquired a reputation abroad as Russia's stalwart Slavic ally in the Western Balkans. Yet, as Vuk Vuksanović argues in Serbia's Balancing Act: Between Russia and the West (Bloomsbury, 2025), two centuries of history and the 25 years since the fall of Slobodan Milošević tell a more nuanced story. "When it comes to Russia's interests,” he writes, “there are no sacred cows in Serbia-Russia relations". Governments in Belgrade will be courted and then discarded depending on Moscow's needs, and they know it. For their part, the Serbs depend on Russian political support in their campaign for a face-saving settlement of the long-running Kosovo dispute but know their economic success hinges on their ties to the EU and the US. Belgrade must "manipulate the superpower rivalry to secure economic resources from both superpowers and its political strategic autonomy". Vuk Vuksanović is a foreign policy expert at the Belgrade Centre for Security Policy, an associate of the Central and South-East Europe Programme at LSE IDEAS, and a prominent media commentator on strategy in the Balkans. *His book recommendations were Rival Power: Russia in Southeast Europe by Dimitar Bechev (Yale University Press, 2017) and Why War? by Christopher Coker (Hurst, 2021). Tim Gwynn Jones is an economic and political risk analyst at Medley Advisors, who also writes and podcasts on Substack at 242.news. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Is war about to break out in the Balkans? Thirty years ago this year, the Bosnian War formally came to an end. Or did it? The events that have been unfolding over the last several weeks suggest that the battle rages on, and it may be the next flash point to erupt into war in Europe!--Get Your Free Gold Report Now At http://turleytalkslikesgold.com**The content presented by sponsors may contain affiliate links. When you click and shop the links, Turley Talks may receive a small commission.*Go Beyond the Video—Get Exclusive Show Notes Delivered Straight to Your Inbox https://turley.pub/turleyrecapHighlights:“What appears to be emerging here from Bosnia is the beginnings of yet another clash between Western World Powers represented by the UN and NATO on the one side and Russia, Serbia, and to at least some degree China on the other.”“Srpska is increasingly embracing its civilizational identity rooted in Eastern Orthodoxy and Slavic brotherhood, and moving away from the western-dominated influences surrounding the Dayton agreement.”Timestamps: [00:21] How the crisis in Bosnia and Herzegovina started[05:33] The crisis escalated as Republic of Srpska President Dodik sentenced to one year in prison and a six-year ban on running by Bosnian High Court[07:01] The beginning of another clash between the West and the East (which has already exploded in Ukraine)[08:53] How this clash may be resolved according to Harvard scholar Sam Huntington --Join my new Courageous Conservative Club and get equipped to fight back and restore foundational values. Learn more at http://fight.turleytalks.com/joinThank you for taking the time to listen to this episode. If you enjoyed this episode, please subscribe and/or leave a review.FOLLOW me on X (Twitter): https://twitter.com/DrTurleyTalksSign up for the 'New Conservative Age Rising' Email Alerts to get lots of articles on conservative trends: https://turleytalks.com/subscribe-to-our-newsletter**The use of any copyrighted material in this podcast is done so for educational and informational purposes only including parody, commentary, and criticism. See Hosseinzadeh v. Klein, 276 F.Supp.3d 34 (S.D.N.Y. 2017); Equals Three, LLC v. Jukin Media, Inc., 139 F. Supp. 3d 1094 (C.D. Cal. 2015). It is believed that this constitutes a "fair use" of any such copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law.

Welcome back to Tiny Little Folk Lore Part II! If you haven't had a chance to listen to last week's episode, be sure to check it out, as we covered Duendes, Aluxes and Leprechauns. This week, we're taking a peek into Norse culture on a search for dwarves and elves. As well as getting into some lore behind Hawaii's Menehune, and closing things out with the Slavic tales of the Domovoi. We'll see you on the inside.. ----- TIME STAMPS: 0:00 - Tiny Little Folk Lore (Again) 0:27 - A Tiny Little Theme Song 1:46 - Welcome Back, Our Little Friends 3:26 - Dwarves & Elves of Norse Mythology 9:27 - STORY: Beckoned By a Dwarf 11:03 - A Lot Of Kids See Dwarves In Their Backyard.. 12:29 - We Are LIGHTYEARS In The Future Right Now 14:22 - STORY: Bad Guy In The Window 16:59 - Small Events That Effect Our Entire Lives 22:12 - The Menehune of Hawaii 22:54 - Don't @ Me If This Is Incorrect. Speak Respectfully, Jabroni. 28:23 - Shoutout Morgan Lauren 28:54 - STORY: It Looked Like a Gremlin 30:03 - Killer, Unintentional Nutty Professor Ref 34:12 - STORY: Old Pali Road 37:42 - The Domovoi of Slavic Culture 41:53 - The Importance of Rituals in Our Lives 43:23 - STORY: My Grandfather's Home 50:50 - TFD: The Musical Songs Get Stuck In Scott's Head 51:32 - STORY: Death In The Family 52:37 - Proof Scott Is a Psychic (But Can Only See 10 Seconds In the Future) 58:13 - Outro -------- If you want to become a producer, visit this link: http://bit.ly/3WZ3xTg Episode Producer: Eric Long -------- The Twilight Zone meets Mystery Science Theatre 3000 meets an uncomfortable Thanksgiving dinner conversation with your in-laws. TFD is a weekly paranormal comedy podcast featuring real ghost stories, Cryptid lore discussions, and true paranormal experiences catering to the week's theme. Fresh episodes drop every Thursday across all podcast platforms, and feature perspectives from both believer and skeptic sides of the aisle. So if you're a fan of haunted places, terrifying paranormal activity, and true ghost stories from real people, you're in the right place, friend. Recorded in an undisclosed location somewhere in the beautiful woods of Wasilla, Alaska.   ++SUBMIT YOUR STORY FOR OUR LISTENER STORY EPISODES++ Email: thegang@thefreakydeaky.com Voicemail: 801-997-0051 ++WEBSITE & MERCH++ Website: www.thefreakydeaky.com Merch: www.thefreakydeaky.com/store ++FOLLOW OUR SOCIALS FOR EXCLUSIVES++ YouTube: https://bit.ly/3goj7SP Instagram: https://bit.ly/2HOdleo Facebook: https://bit.ly/3ebSde6 TFD Facebook Group: https://tinyurl.com/tfdfb TikTok: https://bit.ly/35lNOlu

Hello Interactors,From election lies to climate denial, misinformation isn't just about deception — it's about making truth feel unknowable. Fact-checking can't keep up, and trust in institutions is fading. If reality is up for debate, where does that leave us?I wanted to explore this idea of “post-truth” and ways to move beyond it — not by enforcing truth from the top down, but by engaging in inquiry and open dialogue. I examine how truth doesn't have to be imposed but continually rediscovered — shaped through questioning, testing, and refining what we know. If nothing feels certain, how do we rebuild trust in the process of knowing something is true?THE SLOW SLIDE OF FACTUAL FOUNDATIONSThe term "post-truth" was first popularized in the 1990s but took off in 2016. That's when Oxford Dictionaries named it their Word of the Year. Defined as “circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief”, the term reflects a shift in how truth functions in public discourse.Though the concept of truth manipulation is not new, post-truth represents a systemic weakening of shared standards for knowledge-making. Sadly, truth in the eyes of most of the public is no longer determined by factual verification but by ideological alignment and emotional resonance.The erosion of truth infrastructure — once upheld by journalism, education, and government — has destabilized knowledge credibility. Mid-20th-century institutions like The New York Times and the National Science Foundation ensured rigorous verification. But with rising political polarization, digital misinformation, and distrust in authority, these institutions have lost their stabilizing role, leaving truth increasingly contested rather than collectively affirmed.The mid-20th century exposed truth's fragility as propaganda reshaped public perception. Nazi ideology co-opted esoteric myths like the Vril Society, a fictitious occult group inspired by the 1871 novel The Coming Race, which depicted a subterranean master race wielding a powerful life force called "Vril." This myth fed into Nazi racial ideology and SS occult research, prioritizing myth over fact. Later, as German aviation advanced, the Vril myth evolved into UFO conspiracies, claiming secret Nazi technologies stemmed from extraterrestrial contact and Vril energy, fueling rumors of hidden Antarctic bases and breakaway civilizations.Distorted truths have long justified extreme political action, demonstrating how knowledge control sustains authoritarianism. Theodor Adorno and Hannah Arendt, Jewish-German intellectuals who fled the Nazis, later warned that even democracies are vulnerable to propaganda. Adorno (1951) analyzed how mass media manufactures consent, while Arendt (1972) showed how totalitarian regimes rewrite reality to maintain control.Postwar skepticism, civil rights movements, and decolonization fueled academic critiques of traditional, biased historical narratives. By the late 20th century, universities embraced theories questioning the stability of truth, labeled postmodernist, critical, and constructivist.Once considered a pillar of civilization, truth was reframed by French postmodernist philosophers Michel Foucault and Jean Baudrillard as a construct of power. Foucault argued institutions define truth to reinforce authority, while Baudrillard claimed modern society had replaced reality with media-driven illusions. While these ideas exposed existing power dynamics in academic institutions, they also fueled skepticism about objective truth — paving the way for today's post-truth crisis. Australian philosophy professor, Catherine (Cathy) Legg highlights how intellectual and cultural shifts led universities to question their neutrality, reinforcing postmodern critiques that foreground subjectivity, discourse, and power in shaping truth. Over time, this skepticism extended beyond academia, challenging whether any authority could claim objectivity without reinforcing existing power structures.These efforts to deconstruct dominant narratives unintentionally legitimized radical relativism — the idea that all truths hold equal weight, regardless of evidence or logic. This opened the door for "alternative facts", now weaponized by propaganda. What began as a challenge to authoritarian knowledge structures within academia escaped its origins, eroding shared standards of truth. In the post-truth era, misinformation, ideological mythmaking, and conspiracy theories thrive by rejecting objective verification altogether.Historian Naomi Oreskes describes "merchants of doubt" as corporate and political actors who manufacture uncertainty to obstruct policy and sustain truth relativism. By falsely equating expertise with opinion, they create the illusion of debate, delaying action on climate change, public health, and social inequities while eroding trust in science. In this landscape, any opinion can masquerade as fact, undermining those who dedicate their lives to truth-seeking.PIXELS AND MYTHOLOGY SHAPE THE GEOGRAPHYThe erosion of truth infrastructures has accelerated with digital media, which both globalizes misinformation and reinforces localized silos of belief. This was evident during COVID-19, where false claims — such as vaccine microchips — spread widely but took deeper root in communities with preexisting distrust in institutions. While research confirms that misinformation spreads faster than facts, it's still unclear if algorithmic amplification or deeper socio-political distrust are root causes.This ideological shift is strongest in Eastern Europe and parts of the U.S., where institutional distrust and digital subcultures fuel esoteric nationalism. Post-Soviet propaganda, economic instability, and geopolitical tensions have revived alternative knowledge systems in Russia, Poland, and the Balkans, from Slavic paganism to the return of the Vril myth, now fused with the Save Europe movement — a digital blend of racial mysticism, ethnic nostalgia, and reactionary politics.Above ☝️is a compilation of TikTok videos currently being pushed to my 21 year old son. They fuse ordinary, common, and recognizable pop culture imagery with Vril imagery (like UFO's and stealth bombers) and esoteric racist nationalism, religious fundamentalism, and hyper-masculine mythologies. A similar trend appears in post-industrial and rural America, where economic decline, government distrust, and cultural divides sustain conspiratorial thinking, religious fundamentalism, and hyper-masculine mythologies. The alt-right manosphere mirrors Eastern Europe's Vril revival, with figures like Zyzz and Bronze Age Pervert offering visions of lost strength. Both Vril and Save Europe frame empowerment as a return to ethnic or esoteric power (Vril) or militant resistance to diversity (Save Europe), turning myth into a tool of political radicalization.Climate change denial follows these localized patterns, where scientific consensus clashes with economic and cultural narratives. While misinformation spreads globally, belief adoption varies, shaped by economic hardship, institutional trust, and political identity.In coal regions like Appalachia and Poland, skepticism stems from economic survival, with climate policies seen as elitist attacks on jobs. In rural Australia, extreme weather fuels conspiracies about government overreach rather than shifting attitudes toward climate action. Meanwhile, in coastal Louisiana and the Netherlands, where climate impacts are immediate and undeniable, denial is rarer, though myths persist, often deflecting blame from human causes.Just as Vril revivalism, Save Europe, and the MAGA manosphere thrive on post-industrial uncertainty, climate misinformation can also flourish in economically vulnerable regions. Digital platforms fuel a worldview skewed, where scrolling myths and beliefs are spatially glued — a twisted take on 'think globally, act locally,' where fantasy folklore becomes fervent ideology.FINDING TRUTH WITH FRACTURED FACTS…AND FRIENDSThe post-truth era has reshaped how we think about knowledge. The challenge isn't just misinformation but growing distrust in expertise, institutions, and shared reality. In classrooms and research, traditional ways of proving truth often fail when personal belief outweighs evidence. Scholars and educators now seek new ways to communicate knowledge, moving beyond rigid certainty or radical relativism.Professor Legg has turned to the work of 19th-century American philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce, whose ideas about truth feel surprisingly relevant today. Peirce didn't see truth as something fixed or final but as a process — something we work toward through questioning, testing, and refining our understanding over time.His approach, known as pragmatism, emphasizes collaborative inquiry, self-correction, and fallibilism — the idea that no belief is ever beyond revision. In a time when facts are constantly challenged, Peirce's philosophy offers not just a theory of truth, but a process for rebuilding trust in knowledge itself.For those unfamiliar with Peirce and American pragmatism, a process that requires collaborating with truth deniers may seem not only unfun, but counterproductive. But research on deradicalization strategies suggests that confrontational debunking (a failed strategy Democrats continue to adhere to) often backfires. Lecturing skeptics only reinforces belief entrenchment.In the early 1700's Britain was embroiled in the War of Spanish Succession. Political factions spread blatant falsehoods through partisan newspapers. It prompted Jonathan Swift, the author of Gulliver's Travels, to observe in The Art of Political Lying (1710) that"Reasoning will never make a man correct an ill opinion, which by reasoning he never acquired."This is likely where we get the more familiar saying: you can't argue someone out of a belief they didn't reason themselves into. Swift's critique of propaganda and public gullibility foreshadowed modern research on cognitive bias. People rarely abandon deeply held beliefs when confronted with facts.Traditionally, truth is seen as either objectively discoverable (classical empiricism) — like physics — or constructed by discourse and power (postmodernism) — like the Lost Cause myth, which recast the Confederacy as noble rather than pro-slavery. It should be noted that traditional truth also comes about by paying for it. Scientific funding from private sources often dictates which research is legitimized. As Legg observes,“Ironically, such epistemic assurance perhaps rendered educated folk in the modern era overly gullible to the written word as authority, and the resulting ‘fetishisation' of texts in the education sector has arguably led to some of our current problems.”Peirce, however, offered a different path:truth is not a fixed thing, but an eventual process of consensus reached by a community of inquirers.It turns out open-ended dialogue that challenges inconsistencies within a belief system is shown to be a more effective strategy.This process requires time, scrutiny, and open dialogue. None of which are very popular these days! It should be no surprise that in today's fractured knowledge-making landscape of passive acceptance of authority or unchecked personal belief, ideological silos reinforce institutional dogma or blatant misinformation. But Peirce's ‘community of inquiry' model suggests that truth can't be lectured or bought but strengthened through collective reasoning and self-correction.Legg embraces this model because it directly addresses why knowledge crises emerge and how they can be countered. The digital age has resulted in a world where beliefs are reinforced within isolated networks rather than tested against broader inquiry. Trump or Musk can tweet fake news and it spreads to millions around the world instantaneously.During Trump's 2016 campaign, false claims that Pope Francis endorsed him spread faster than legitimate news. Misinformation, revisionist history, and esoteric nationalism thrive in these unchecked spaces.Legg's approach to critical thinking education follows Peirce's philosophy of inquiry. She helps students see knowledge not as fixed truths but as a network of interwoven, evolving understandings — what Peirce called an epistemic cable made up of many small but interconnected fibers. Rather than viewing the flood of online information as overwhelming or deceptive, she encourages students to see it as a resource to be navigated with the right tools and the right intent.To make this practical, she introduces fact-checking strategies used by professionals, teaching students to ask three key questions when evaluating an online source:* Who is behind this information? (Identifying the author's credibility and possible biases)* What is the evidence for their claims? (Assessing whether their argument is supported by verifiable facts)* What do other sources say about these claims? (Cross-referencing to see if the information holds up in a broader context)By practicing these habits, students learn to engage critically with digital content. It strengthens their ability to distinguish reliable knowledge from misinformation rather than simply memorizing facts. It also meets them where they are without judgement of whatever beliefs they may hold at the time of inquiry.If post-truth misinformation reflects a shift in how we construct knowledge, can we ever return to a shared trust in truth — or even a shared reality? As institutional trust erodes, fueled by academic relativism, digital misinformation, and ideological silos, myths like climate denial and Vril revivalism take hold where skepticism runs deep. Digital platforms don't just spread misinformation; they shape belief systems, reinforcing global echo chambers.But is truth lost, or just contested? Peirce saw truth as a process, built through inquiry and self-correction. Legg extends this, arguing that fact-checking alone won't solve post-truth; instead, we need a culture of questioning — where people test their own beliefs rather than being told what's right or wrong.I won't pretend to have the answer. You can tell by my bibliography that I'm a fan of classical empiricism. But I'm also a pragmatic interactionist who believes knowledge is refined through collaborative inquiry. I believe, as Legg does, that to move beyond post-truth isn't about the impossible mission of defeating misinformation — it's about making truth-seeking more compelling than belief. Maybe even fun.What do you think? This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit interplace.io

From Lost In Eros – Book 1Don & Toshia wake up in strange circumstances. In 10 Parts By BradentonLarry.  Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.It wasn't an unusual dream for Don. He was chasing his best-friend and perpetual unrequited love interest Toshia through an ever shifting landscape of parking structures, Moroccan ruins and crowded shopping malls. This time there were no evil robots or monsters chasing them, only some kind of generally tag-like game they were playing. Ultimately, Don caught up to his elusive quarry. There was some nonsensical banter, and then the dream Toshia, who at that moment looked a lot like the actress Alyson Hannigan, grabbed Don's head and kissed him hard, almost painfully. This intense moment was followed by a chaotic flood of erotic sensations and images impossible to make sense of. This chaos gradually sorted itself out and Don was lying in bed watching Toshia undress. Toshia now looked like herself, fit and slim, with narrow hips and perfect small tits; honey brown hair, straight, falling to her shoulders in a tousled mess from the chase; pretty gamin face smiling at him mischievously. Don couldn't see her beautiful violet eyes in the darkness but he felt them dancing with playful wit. She slowly peeled herself out of the harlequin costume she was inexplicably wearing, and then, with supple grace and speed she slipped under the silk top sheet and snuggled up to Don, her back spooned against his front. She then promptly fell asleep.Of course, Don could not sleep, even in a dream, with Toshia's warm naked body pressed up against him. He could smell the floral scent of her hair, his hand could feel her tit pressed against his palm, and her feet were against the tops of his own. Not least, her firm ass was pushed back against his erection, which was rather insistent in its demand for attention. Don cautiously gave Toshia's tit a gentle squeeze, and then moved his hand to run up along her arm, which was crossed in front of her belly. He ran his hand down along the side of her body, caressing the curve of her hip. Raising his head, he kissed her round shoulder. His hand moved down to her upper thigh, as his lips moved slowly, lightly up her shoulder toward her neck. Reaching around a bit further, Don gently slipped his hand between her thighs. Toshia rolled back toward him a bit and parted her legs a little for him. His lips reached her neck, and he paused there, lingering, as he felt her moist sex with his questing fingers. Toshia pushed her behind back against him a bit, parted her legs a bit further, and let out a quiet sigh.And, that was when Don realized he was no longer dreaming. There was actually a naked woman lying up against him and responding to his touch. Moreover, he was sure it was actually Toshia. Confusion pushed itself to the forefront of his mind, shoving a loudly protesting arousal out of the way. Perhaps responding to a change in Don's caress, Toshia's body stiffened a little in his arms. Then she was twisting around and pulling away.“What the hell?!” she looked around in the dark, and then down at Don's own confused face. “Don?”“Yeah,” he croaked, appreciating for the first time that he had just been deeply asleep. In retrospect he would realize that he should here have taken the high ground, but Toshia got there first.“This isn't funny!” she exclaimed. “Where's Sarah?”“I'm not laughing, am I?” Don managed, “And I have no idea. How did you get in here?”“Me? What are you doing in my bed?”“Your bed?” Don frowned and then, for the first time since waking, looked at something other than Toshia. “Well, I don't have silk sheets, so it's not my bed, but is this really your bedroom?”He knew of course that this was not her bedroom, because this room was immense. The enormous four poster bed, which Don guessed must be about the size of four king-sized beds put together, was situated in the middle of the largest bedroom Don had ever seen in person. He imagined there must be palaces with bedrooms this big, but nothing that either Toshia or he could possibly afford to even rent. All about the room were small tables, and some bureaus with drawers, that had candles on them. The ceiling was at least fifteen feet overhead, and was paneled in the same dark wood as the walls.“Where the hell are we?” Toshia demanded.“Seriously, do you honestly think I have any idea?” Don asked.“Yeah, I guess not,” Toshia grudgingly admitted. “But still, what the hell is going on?”Don shrugged, and clambered over to the side of the bed and sat up, putting his feet down on the soft plush carpeting that covered the floor from wall to wall. He stood up and took a few steps toward the nearest bureau.“Yep, you're naked alright,” Toshia said from behind him.He looked back over his shoulder with a smile, to see her crawling across the bed to join him, and said, “I'm pretty sure you are too.”“Yeah, I noticed,” she scowled. “Do you see any clothes lying around?”“Not even a little,” Don admitted. “What's the matter? Bashful?”“Ha!” she laughed as she got out of the bed, and moved toward him. Don couldn't help but gape a bit at the sight of her body, which he was seeing naked for the first time. He was a little surprised that she looked pretty much as he had imagined, even down to the neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair. She frowned a little at his attention, and said, “I can see you're not bashful.”“Well, it's not like,  Oh!” he noticed that she was looking at the hard-on that was standing out proudly in front of him. Don laughed, “Well, what can I say? You're hot.”“It's not just that,” she said as she stepped ahead of him toward the bureau. “Don't think I didn't notice what you were up to when I woke up.”Deciding to change the subject, Don said, “I'm pretty sure these candles weren't lit a few minutes ago.”“You mean when you were groping me?” she scowled over her shoulder at him, catching him looking at her ass.“Um, yeah, then.”“Make it a habit of molesting any woman you wake up next to?”Don frowned for a second before saying, “Well, yeah. Should I be apologizing for that? Look, I was, at best, half-asleep. I stopped as soon as I realized I wasn't dreaming.”“You didn't take your hand away,” she observed with a wry smile.“You didn't give me a chance.”“Uh huh.”“Hey, you weren't exactly unresponsive,” Don pointed out.Toshia shook her head, and said, “Fine, we were asleep, and you didn't kidnap me and try to rape me.”“Exactly,” Don nodded. “But, really, did you need to throw ‘rape' into the conversation?”Toshia looked around the room angrily, “Well, somebody sure as hell is up to something like that. We've been kidnapped, stripped and put into bed together. This is either going to turn out very badly or we're the victims of some really elaborate and twisted practical joke.”“Yeah,” he nodded, “that does seem to be about the size of it.”“Now, let's see if we can find some clothes.” Toshia pulled the top drawer of the bureau open.“Well, we can't wear those,” Don observed.After what felt like a long moment, Toshia swallowed and said, “No, that one can be worn.”The black-felt-lined drawer had an interesting array of dildos of various types, colors and sizes lined up inside it. Toshia was right; the one furthest to the right was a strap-on.Toshia pushed the drawer closed emphatically, and then rather forcefully opened the next. This one held a variety of other sex toys, including a number of tubes of what were labeled as simply “LUBRICANT”.“What, no brand name?” Don wondered as he took one of the tubes to examine more closely.Toshia ignored him and opened the third and final drawer, only to find a number of whips, flogs and riding crops. She slammed this drawer shut angrily, and stormed off to the next bureau. Don trailed after her, still looking at the tube of LUBRICANT.“This really is weird,” he pointed out. “Not only is there no brand name, there's nothing else at all on this. No manufacturer, no ingredients list, no expiration date, no instructions or warnings. Nothing.”Toshia stopped, the handles to the next drawer in her hands, and looked slowly around the room. Don looked up, saw her, and also took a moment to look around the room. Almost simultaneously, they said, “No doors.”“This is less and less funny by the minute,” Toshia scowled. Opening the drawer in front of her, she snapped, “More fucking sex toys!”Don fought back the urge to point out that that was a bit redundant; Toshia was clearly in no mood for silly comments. Instead he said, “You know I really think what I said earlier about the candles was important.”“You really think they lit all by themselves when we woke up?” Toshia asked while continuing to open drawers in the dwindling hope of finding any kind of garment.Don, who thought their state of undress was the least of their troubles, stopped to look at one of the candlesticks more closely. He said, “Well, I had the distinct impression that it was very dark when I started ,  'groping' you. I'm certainly sure it wasn't this bright.”There seemed to be nothing unusual about the candle. He took the candle in hand and pulled it out of his holder. Tipping it to the side only resulted in a trickle of melted wax running onto the carpet. Don felt a pang of guilt for messing up someone's carpet, but quickly got over it. Whoever had abducted them, out of mischief or malice, deserved to have their carpet messed up, at the very least. He blew the candle out, and it stayed out. He put the candle back in place and it promptly glowed back to life.“Fucking hell,” he said. “Did you see that?”“Damn it, Don,” Toshia said from the other side of the room. “There's nothing but sex toys in this place. What the hell is going on?”“A couple of things come to mind. Probably the least alarming is some kind of Candid Camera thing,” Don suggested as he looked around a bit more carefully at the walls, peering into the dark corners.“Yeah! They must be watching us somehow,” Toshia began to glare at the walls, looking for any sign of a camera.Don picked up another candle and moved closer to the wall, working his way toward the corner. “The trouble is,” he said, “that if it's a webcam it could be extremely small, and if it's up near the ceiling we probably won't be able to find it. Of course, the video quality will suck, particularly at that distance.”“You've given this way too much thought, Don,” Toshia said from her side of the room, where she had taken a candle of her own and was examining the wall for lenses.“Not really; just now. The thing is that whoever did this went to a lot of trouble for a crappy video of us. I mean, look at this place. They must have piles of money; you'd think there'd be a big two-way mirror in here somewhere.”Toshia stopped and looked back at him, “Seriously, you're not helping.”Don shrugged, and then turned around to look at her. “I just thought of something else.”“What?” she asked, turning to see him.“I don't feel drugged at all.”“Me either,” she shrugged. “Oh, yeah. How did someone get us here, undressed and in bed together without drugging us? Or, at least one of us?”“Hey, you said you believed me!”Just at that moment, there was a kind of scraping sound from the direction of the bed. Tense from the strange circumstances of their predicament, both Don and Toshia turned quickly; in time to notice that one of the panels over the bed had slid open, and before three bodies tumbled out of the opening and onto the bed. This was all accompanied by at least a pair of high pitched shrieks and followed by a chorus of giggling laughter. An enthusiastic feminine voice said, “Look what you did!”Another said, “It wasn't me!”A third said, “Well, it wasn't me!”Three completely naked young women had fallen into their room, onto the enormous bed, without any obvious injury, and now were proceeding to boisterously tickle each other, in the apparent hope of soliciting a confession of some sort. Meanwhile, the panel over the bed slowly slid closed. Don and Toshia looked at each other with confused expressions. Don then Toshia blew out their respective candles and set them down on the closest bureau. Then, moving cautiously, as if afraid to draw the three new women's attention, they came together about twenty feet from the nearest side of the bed.“A psychology experiment of some kind?” Toshia suggested quietly.“A good one!” Don whispered with a grin.She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, and hissed, “Focus! We've been kidnapped, remember?”Before Don could respond, one of the three brawling young ladies caught sight of them and gave a delighted squeal. “Hello there!” she said, and then, “Look girls, we've got company!”There was a chorus of happy noises as the three bed crashers disentangled themselves and clambered for the edge of the bed. Don was surprised to feel Toshia's hand steal into his. He smiled a little as her fingers intertwined with his. He didn't think the three women coming toward them looked like sadistic cannibals, but this was a very weird situation, and he appreciated Toshia's concern. In any case, anything that made her hold his hand was a good thing in his book, at least as far as he was concerned at that moment.Don saw that the three girls before him seemed very young and were rather short. He had long ago given up guessing the ages of women in their late teens and early twenties, but he guessed that these three were in the former set. The fact that none of them had the slightest bit of pubic hair reinforced this impression. As to their height, Toshia was a couple of inches shorter than his own five foot eight, and none of these girls came up past her nose.“Hi there!” said a slender brunette with straight black hair that hung down the length of her supple back. She seemed completely comfortable with meeting two strangers in the nude. She made no effort to cover either her tiny rigid nipples or her bare nether region. She batted big brown eyes at both of them, and said, “You're new, aren't you?”“Um, yes, we're new,” Don said.“Oh! New playmates!” the other two girls exclaimed with delight in a somewhat off-putting unison.The brunette was looking both Don and Toshia over with blatant interest. She licked her lips, smiled and said, “Welcome! Introduce yourselves, girls.”At that moment, Don had to admit that the creepiness factor was a bit high, and feeling Toshia's hand squeezing his was reassuring.The buxom blonde took a step forward, and did a little curtsy, which was odd considering that she was stark naked. Her hair was very light and cut short, in kind of a pageboy. She had blue eyes and distractingly large tits. She smiled broadly and said “Hello, I'm Chastity.”“Chastity?” Don couldn't help asking. Then his innate sense of manners kicked in and he said, “Pleased to meet you.”The third girl, a leggy redhead, with long curly hair hanging down around her face and over her full, but reasonably medium-sized tits, leaned forward a bit. She flashed a warm smile and startling green eyes at them both and said, “I'm Modesty.”“Hello Modesty,” Don nodded.“And I'm Virginia,” said the thin brunette who seemed to be the trio's leader.“Of course you are,” Toshia said under her breath.If Virginia heard, she did not pay any attention. Instead she said, “And together they call us, ”“The Nymphets!” all three girls exclaimed together.Grinning at the absurdity of the situation, Don looked over at Toshia who was similarly amused. Shaking her head a couple of times to try to regain a straight face, Toshia said, “It's very nice to meet you girls. I'm Toshia and this is Ron. We were wondering if you might tell us where we are?”“You're right here,” Chastity laughed.“Yes, but besides that, where is here?”“This is a bedroom,” Modesty pointed out. She then slipped forward to stand next to Don. She put her a

Explore the captivating story of the Romanian revolution of 1989, a pivotal moment shaped by the country's rich history of resisting and embracing external influences. This intricate tapestry of events traces back to the second century AD when the Roman Emperor Trajan conquered the region, leaving an indelible mark in the form of plundered gold. Subsequent waves of invaders, including Goths, Huns, Bulgars, Magyars, and Ottomans, were met with fierce resistance, led by legendary figures like Vlad The Impaler. Each conqueror left behind a lasting legacy, contributing to Romania's unique heterogeneity in a region dominated by homogeneity. While neighboring Slavic countries followed certain paths, Romania charted its own course, embracing Orthodox Christianity while adopting the Latin alphabet. As a result, Romanian stands as the language most closely linked to modern Italian, setting it apart from the predominantly Slavic, Turkic, or Greek languages spoken in the Balkan nations. Join us in this episode as we unravel the complex historical threads that culminated in the Romanian revolution of 1989, shedding light on a nation's enduring spirit of resistance and its quest for a distinct identity. Originally Broadcast in 2022   Sound Effects: Pixabay BBC John Simpson BBC1 News English: Address from the Brandenburg Gate (Berlin Wall). Full text at Wikisource Date12 June 1987SourceUniversity of Virginia Miller Center for Public Affairs President Kennedy's “Ich bin ein Berliner” speech. Transcript available.[1] Date26 June 1963SourceKennedy Presidential Library[2]AuthorJohn F. Kennedy

Dave is joined by comic creators Drew Edwards and David Bowles to chat about their upcoming "The Matron" comic, a wild hybrid of Slasher meets Slavic myth in Central Texas. At the time of this posting, the project has a Kickstarter campaign, with very cool perks, below:https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/ipicomic/the-matron-slasher-meets-slavic-myth-in-central-texas?ref=project_tweet

In this episode, I sit down with Kris Spisak, author of Becoming Baba Yaga to talk all about this fantastic book and the lessons of Baba Yaga. Come hang with us for this fun chat!Music is from Epidemic Sound.Books mentioned in the episode:*Some links below are affiliated links and help me continue to keep producing content.Witches: A Compendium Amazon: https://amzn.to/4hFAs6UThriftbooks: https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/becoming-baba-yaga-trickster-feminist-and-witch-of-the-woods_kris-spisak/52382359/#edition=71023014&idiq=63539307The Baba Yaga Mask:Amazon: https://amzn.to/4hIRTngThriftbooks: https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/the-baba-yaga-mask/31761435/#edition=60889863&idiq=47391667More on Kris:Author Kris Spisak, a graduate of the College of William and Mary (BA) and the University of Richmond (MLA), fully believes that well-written words and well-told stories have the ability to change the world. She wrote her first three books—Get a Grip on Your Grammar, The Novel Editing Workbook, and The Family Story Workbook—to help writers of all kinds sharpen their storytelling and empower their communications. Her award-winning debut novel, The Baba Yaga Mask, was inspired by her family's experience in the post-WWII Ukrainian diaspora and has been called “A complex, poetic tale” by Kirkus Reviews and “edu-tainment at its best” by the Historical Novel Society. Her fifth book, Becoming Baba Yaga: Trickster, Feminist, and Witch of the Woods, is an exploration of the complex origins of this Slavic folktale character and her lingering lessons for empowering us all. https://www.instagram.com/kris.spisak/https://www.facebook.com/KSWritingJoin the Discord: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://discord.gg/wfsDsZtMrh Thank you to my subscribers!

Join Bree, Elliot, Luke, and Victor in this episode of Checkpoint on JOY where they bring mythology back to the conversation.   Catch the latest episode on Spotify:   Giving... LEARN MORE The post Mythology in gaming part 3 – Chinese, Persian, Slavic, and Celtic appeared first on Checkpoint.

Companions, History and Heroism.By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.There are two distinct phases of falsehood. In the first, you realize you can lie to those closest to you. In the second, you realize you shouldn't.(And the stars continue to shine forth)"Stop trying to save me," Pamela remarked, once she was sure we were alone once more."Ask me to do something I'd at least consider doing," I sighed. "Let's go back to the party, I'm not sure where we are.""You've been walking in one big circle, Dummy," she chided me.Why was she letting me off the hook for walking off with the Grand Villain in the scheme of things? Well, if she started hitting me, she probably wasn't sure she could stop."One of these days I'm going to screw up and not get out of it," I noted sadly."That is the epitaph of anyone who has ever taken up a weapon and a cause," Pamela smiled.Maybe she wasn't angry with me."Why aren't you more pissed off?" I wondered."You are a good guy, Cáel," Pamela enlightened me. "That means you are going to reach out to people you think you can save. Personally, I don't think Alal can be, but then I'm biased.""Guy coming back from the dead?" I inquired."Damn right. No more surefire way to anger an assassin than to come back from the dead," she related. "Did you take note of his body?""Not really. What did I miss?" I requested."It didn't look right," Pamela shook her head. "Nothing more specific than that. I was hoping, since you touched him, you might have picked something else up.""Nope. I was too busy slipping a GPS locator on him," I grinned."You don't have one and the technology doesn't work that way, ya numbskull," she play slapped my left bicep."Wouldn't it be cool if it did?" my grin broadened."Laugh it up, Monkey-boy," Pamela countered. "Buffy would have you tagged like a mule deer in Yellowstone.""Eek," I gasped. "Point taken.""Well, " Pamela huffed."He's going to kill my soul," I observed. "Now I'm sure of it. All of that discussion was just gauging my personality so that when he offs me, he can become Cáel Nyilas / Wakko Ishara." Pause."Good for you," Pamela let go of a tense breath. She didn't have to ask."The whole Condottieri situation is a scam," I passed on that bit of information I'd first put together with the Vizsla. "It never left Granddad's control. Currently he's going to use various other factions to kill off the Condottieri and Illuminati leadership that oppose him, then it is Unity Time.""If he takes your place, that gives him leverage on the Amazon Council plus your appeal to the 9 Clans and the Earth  and  Sky," Pamela helped me work things through. "He couldn't get his hooks into the Egyptians because they knew too much about him. Matters of race stymied his efforts with the Earth  and  Sky and Seven Pillars.""Except I saved Temujin and he's been supplying them with weapons and tech for over fifty years," I told her. "Even when he was dead, his plan was working, he had predicted the path that warfare would take, invested wisely and left orders to implement his plans. When the time came, they were ready to take out the Seven Pillars.""Without you saving Temujin, the E and S wouldn't have cared, but you," Pamela nodded. "If it comes down to his coalition of Illuminati, Condottieri, Amazons and 9 Clans, the Egyptians will join him, Global Unification has been their goal all along," she continued. "Besides, you made one hell of a positive impression on them the only time you've met. Bang up job, Stud.""Temujin will join as well. He's anything but suicidal," I finished the roll call of my fate. We were almost back to the rave by this time. "You know, you could kill me and short-circuit all of this mess," I reminded her."No way. I plan to win, damn it," Pamela patted me on the back. "Save the Dum-sel in Disrepute, slay the Evil Warlord and re-retire with a boatload great-grandbabies to spoil.""I gave the Vizsla a clue," I let Pamela know the possible complications to her plan. "In 1847, one General of the Condottieri tried to have the Italian Black Hand kill another. Unfortunately, the victim in question was a puppet for Grandpa and the assassin team attacked them both. Because they saw his face, he hunted them back to their base and slaughtered the entire Verona Chapter house of the Wolf.""He must have fucked up a few other times as well," Pamela assured me. Speaking of miscalculations, Anya, Katalin and Orsi broke from the thrashing mob and ran up to me."Your crazy ex-girlfriend called," Anya seemed steamed. "She insisted must she talk to you." At first glance, it would be 'which crazy ex-GF', except only one had Anya's phone number. I took her phone."Bonjour, ma petite amie méchante ," I greeted Anais, the Mountie, in French. Yes, I was calling her a 'meanie'."Cáel, how are you? Where are you?" she was truly concerned. I didn't doubt her sincerity. I also didn't doubt she was convinced she knew what was best for me, as well."I've talked with the Hungarian Police too," I let my pique come through. "You screwed me over. I asked you to let me handled this and you didn't.""You are still a Jerk," she snapped. "I've been trying to help. And from the sounds of it, you are at a party.""It's a rave. It is a rave brought about by the police keeping people penned up in the town all afternoon. Now, if you would stop treating me like a freaking child, you would realize that I'm actually safer in a crowd than I am alone, holed-up in some room without a weapon because you've made it so that the TEK is now keeping a sharp eye on me," I retorted."Can't you tell I'm trying to help you?" she got loud, on the cusp of becoming enraged."Yes. I called you, asking for help. I also called to apologize, without making it sound like some lame stupid stunt to get you back. I'm in real trouble here and I've put other people in danger at the same time," I told her. And yes, I planned to get some 'Anais' when I got back to North America."I'm telling you," she persisted, "let Hungarian law enforcement help you.""I'm trying to make you understand," I countered, "that this is a situation that the police can't help me with. I called you because I believed I could trust you, even though you hate me.""I'm angry with you, Cáel. I don't hate you," she grumbled. "I am trying to help.""If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't still be talking to you, Anais," I allowed. "What did Timothy tell you?""Is that all you care about?" she grumbled."Actually, this is me trying not to be a selfish jackass," I said. "People are in danger because of me and I need to make sure they are safe before I take care of myself.""That's, very unlike you," Anais sounded unsure."I've been doing some growing up since graduation," I replied. "I only wish I'd grown smarter.""I, I'm sorry about your Papa," she quieted down."They gunned him down in his own home," I told her. "Dad never touched a gun in his life and they shot him with an assault rifle.""Oh, well, I understand your Federal Justice Department is investigating the matter," Anais tried to comfort me. "I talked with your Prosecutor Castello. She wouldn't tell me much.""Pity," I mumbled. "I know they are having difficulties.""It is an American problem," she noted."Not really," I sunk in my hooks. "We've been working with MI-6 and the CIA. They are all part of that international task force I told you about {see last chapter}.""Yes, how did you get Irish diplomatic status? That doesn't make any sense," she perked up. Anais liked puzzles. Actually, she liked solving conundrums. It made her a great cop."We are missing the party," Monika protested, in German."That's right. Tell your EX-girlfriend good-bye, Cáel," Anya insisted loudly."Who is that?" Anais groused."It is Anya, the Bulgarian mechanical engineer. We've had sex since you and I last talked and I think she's feeling a tad possessive," I explained.Pause."Bastard," Anais seethed. I was sure her cunt was twitching already. "Fine. I talked with your roommate, he says you have my uniform in a dress bag and my boots in a sealed box, so I forgive you. Anyway, he said Odette called, and she gave him a number to give to you."Since it didn't have 555 in it, I had hopes it was genuine. This was not the time to give Anais the quick kiss-off."I appreciate it, Anais," I sighed with relief. "Have you decided which restaurant you want to go to when I get back?""I haven't given it much thought, Cáel," I could feel her defrosting further. "How can I keep in touch with you?""Ugh, I don't have my own phone right now. Tomorrow I'm going to steal some means of conveyance and, " I grinned."Don't tell me that," Anais complained. "I'm still an officer of the law.""Well, the new 'me' is trying to be more honest with you, Anais. I've got to get out of town tomorrow. Would you rather I lied to you, again?" I confounded her."Well, no. Try to be careful, prends soin de mon amour," she sighed."I will call you as soon as I'm able. Thank you again," I signed off."I still say, 'that one' is confused about her 'ex' status," Orsi teased me."Do you know what is worse than having one woman save your soul?" I tossed out to them. They could not divine an answer. "Having three women do it at the same time, for different reasons. Now I believe we have a party starving for our attention."(Reunions)Pamela had convinced me the motorcycle driver who belonged to our newly acquired BMW K1600 GT would be at least four hours regaining consciousness and getting himself untied. We had stopped at a petrol station along the 431, between Kiszombor, Hungary and the Romanian border. She wanted to fuel up before the border crossing, in case things didn't work out, you know, with our guns and this stolen vehicle.She was already peeved that I'd stopped in Szeged to pick up a few pounds of paprika. Rumor had it that the fields around that stretch of the Tisza produced the highest quality of that spice on the planet, especially the sweet kind. Pamela pointed out I knew 'jack' about cooking. I agreed. What I did know was cooks, the female variety.Fresh spice from the 'source' was way better than a dozen roses, even with a box of chocolates added. Did I have a cook lined up in New York? No, but I was sure I could find one. Wait! Yasmin, my Brazilian, ex-Super Cop, hottie should be back in town by now. If she didn't cook, she'd definitely have a friend I could seduce.Honest to Ishara, I was starting to believe this constant 'work-work-work' was ruining my normally poor judgment where sex and fidelity were concerned.Pamela was getting some lunch for us while I gassed up my crotch-rocket. My luck kept being, exceptional. Two Hungarian motorcycle troopers showed up; both were women and they apparently had decided that I was worthy of attention. Hey, I'm good-looking, and I was wearing a ballistic vest. (The durability of my long coat wasn't so obvious.) "Nice bike," the first one, the one directly confronting me, said. "Thanks. It is a KT1600 GT, 2009," I smiled. "What are you two on?" "Yamaha FJR1300A's," she answered. I put up the nozzle, capped the tank and walked over to her conveyance. It was a really sweet ride. "You have a gun," she noted calmly. She and her partner both had their hands on their holstered weapons. Since the flaps were still down, I wasn't panicking. "Yes. More than one in fact," I kept pretending to look over her bike while I was really scoping her out. I'd nailed all six boat girls and then had the Macedonian babe for breakfast. So I still had three good sexual bangs in me before dusk and these two were nice and pleasant enough. "Do you have permits for those?" she asked. Her partner was calling something in. "Are we still in Hungary?" I mused. The question was a joke. "I believe we are," she smiled. Sure, I may have been a dangerous felon, but I was a nice looking and engaging one."Nope. I'm afraid not," I sighed. She understood my English. "Why are you so armed?" she kept calm. "Are you law enforcement somewhere?" "Does a secretive, non-governmental, paramilitary organization count?" "No," she sighed. "That sounds rather criminal. So, what are you carrying?" That was a nice way of saying 'give me your gun'."Left, right, back, or ankle?" I replied. "Which one do you want first?" "Let's try this again. Can I see some form of ID?" she remained rather comfortable despite this having to be the most bizarre traffic stop of her career."I'm reaching around to my right rear jean pocket for it," I related. Something dating Anais had taught me was that you always tell an on-duty cop what you are doing before you do it.She nodded, so I pulled out my NY Driver's license, my US passport and my Irish Diplomatic ID. She began looking them over. "You are Cáel Nyilas?" she looked over my documents. "If that who it says I am, then yes," I grinned.For a second, she was P-O'ed, then she realized I was playing with her. She snorted in amusement and returned to looking over my stuff.   "Nyilas is a Hungarian name," she hummed. "Székely," I clarified. "My family emigrated to America at the end of World War II. I've actually come back here to look over the homeland." "You couldn't land in Bucharest?" she handed me my ID back. "What?" I feigned an insult to my intellect. "Hungarian women are far prettier.""You don't appear to be Dortmund Schuyler," her partner looked me over.

Not the welcome we expectedWhen your tour guide is an assassin, what can go wrong?By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.You can do wrong while trying to do right.FlashbackAlal's 'milk of human kindness' had finally run dry as the Visigoths sacked his Roman villa. While looters ran off with his latest trappings of wealth, and deserted by his servants and his slaves, Grandpa decided that he was tired of fucking around with the Human Race. He felt they were simply too stupid, venal and weak to make any positive, lasting changes in the world.Alal decided that he was going to make the key choices for them. Fuck free will. Fuck letting the vermin that floated to the top of the cesspool destroy everything good in the world, as he had witnessed them doing time and time again. He had lost count of the monuments destroyed, histories of peoples forgotten and benefits to mankind burned away by barbarism and ignorance.By the fading light of August the 26th, 410 CE, Alal found himself sitting back in the pergola (a sort of mini-gazebo) in his rear gardens, drinking through several amphora of wine all the while having a deep philosophical debate with the several dozen very dead Goths decorating his environs.As three or four looters would enter the garden, he would kill them. And then three or four more would show up looking for the earlier group,, on and on. This reinforced Alal's belief that something drastic had to be done. He seriously considered going to the coast, getting a ship and five solid stone anchors. He'd sail out two days, maybe three, wrap himself in the anchors and jump overboard.The problem, as he saw it, was that given a few decades, the ropes would rot and he'd bob to the surface to see again that none of the fundamentals had changed. Further complicating his current thinking was that every time he came close to throwing in the cosmic towel, some more GOD DAMN GOTHS would come around, calling for their buddies, the dead ones. Somewhere around noon on August the 27th, Alal vowed that he was tired of this shit.Right on cue, around twenty Goths came strolling through the rear of his villa and soaked up the carnage out back. Fifty-two of their brethren were in various states of dismemberment and defilement (Alal had been, as usual, angry). They saw this dark-skinned Roman and rightly asked 'where's the army that killed these fellows?' He walked up to them in his wine-splashed toga."Are you the one in charge?" he asked the meanest looking Visigoth in passible Goth."I am," the leader responded. With lightning speed, he killed the man with his own sword. The Germans weren't sure what to make of that, it had happened so fast."You can join me," Alal indicated himself, "or you can join him," he indicated the corpse of their former leader. He had his new band of followers and the rest was Illuminati history.End FlashbackFor me, this meant more to me than living with the memories of a very bitter, driven and pitiless man. Alal was essentially the anti-me. It gave me chills to realize that all of Alal's gifts were bestowed on me with a purpose. I knew it was part of his greater plan. Normally, to end-run an evil genius, you just find him and kill him. Not only would Alal not stay dead, I now knew how well he could fight.I knew only four people who might be in his league, and I wasn't one of them. Of the four, Sakuniyas wasn't likely to help Pamela, Saint Marie and Elsa get the job done. That meant I had to rev up the deception engine to comfort my Aunts with hope, while dispelling the knowledge of how little they mattered to their sire. Almost as bad, I had to ignore what horribly people they were while extending that portion of my soul.It was with some relief that I hugged, kissed, and forcefully separated myself from the Aunts in Dublin. We were going on to Budapest's Ferenc Liszt International Airport. My next action was to make my request to Selena for a contract with the Ghost Tigers to defend Hana when she arrived in Russia. (Of the three 9 Clan Assassin-Babes, Selena was the least impressed with me.) She informed me that the Ghost Tigers didn't do bodyguard work. I still wanted her to relay my request, so she relented. After that, I passed out.We left Dublin around 9:30 am Friday morning and landed in Budapest at 1:45 pm., still Friday. As Rachel rousted me so I could grab a quick shower before touchdown, I was gifted with the misconceptions of my fellow travelers:To put it nicely, Riki thought I was somewhat revolting, Virginia was disturbed and Chaz had lowered his opinion of my moral character. It was the incest thing. Vincent being polite was a pleasant surprise, Delilah's camaraderie less so and Odette was peaches with my most recent sexcapades. She was far too good to me. The Amazons uniformly didn't give a crap."So, is there going to be any other bizarre behavior we should be prepared for?" Riki sat down next to me as I was drying my hair. I was back to my 'jeans, t-shirt and wind-breaker' style."Fine, " I said loudly. "It is really none of your business what I did with and to my mother's clones. Yes, they are all clones of my mother, who died when I was seven." A lie."They are also the genetic creations of my grandfather, also known by many as Cáel O'Shea. They are sterile, they are wickedly evil, and two weeks ago I didn't know they existed. I do have a real aunt in Maryland. She's my Father's sister and is not part of the menagerie. Oh yeah, my grandpa is currently a disembodied spirit, back from the Netherworld and looking for a body to take over, if he hasn't found one already," I added."He was born roughly five thousand years ago, was cursed by an ancient Sumerian Goddess such that he can never just die and stay dead. I have his memories running around my head, which, along with denying me a good night's sleep, allows me to speak an assortment of languages, use virtually every weapon built before 1970 and know that he is a vicious criminal mastermind the likes of which you've never imagined outside of fiction.How does that sound, Riki? Shall I get more bizarre? Trust me, I can," I regarded her evenly. She was speechless, but not out of awe. No, she was certain that I was completely unhinged."Everyone who believes Cáel, raise their hand," Odette demanded. Her hand went up. Odette and the Amazons agreeing was expected by the outsiders. Delilah and Virginia joining in was not."Captain Fairchild?" Colour Sgt. Chaz Tomorrow requested clarification."You've all seen those five O'Shea's that left the plane in Ireland. Barring some cosmetic changes, they were the exact same woman. You can either go with Sean Connery's Tak-ne creating a female clone army, or you can believe there is an otherworldly plastic surgeon altering a cadre of super-rich bitches to all look alike," Delilah, who was a captain of something, put out there."Who in the Hell is Tak-ne?" Riki mumbled."Duh," I poked the State Department lassie. "Connor MacLeod's Egyptian mentor in Highlander, the original movie and in the less than stellar sequel, Highlander: The Quickening"."You are mistaken. Connery was that Spanish guy," Riki poked me back."Actually, the relevant quote is: 'I am Juan Sánchez Villalobos Ramírez, Chief metallurgist to King Charles V of Spain. And I'm at your service'," Vincent regaled us with his movie trivia. "He later reveals that he was born Tak-ne in Egypt in the 9th century BCE. Also, his Spanish name makes no sense, he has one too many surnames.""Agent Loire, I am beginning to find intelligent men to be attractive," Charlotte said."Umm, thank you," Vincent responded warily."This might be a good point to get something clear," Chaz inquired. "Mr. Nyilas, whose side are you on? It appears to be rather complicated.""Okay, Chaz, call me Cáel. Calling me Mr. Nyilas makes me miss my dad. I can also be addressed as Cáel 'Wakko' Ishara, Head of House Ishara of the First Twenty Houses of the Amazon Host. Or, you can call me what the Great Khan does, Magyarorszag es Erdely Hercege. Finally, those who love me, or find me amusing, may call me Fehér mén."Selena's snort indicated she'd failed to hide her amusement at my presumptiveness, both titular and physically."Do you want to explain what's so amusing?" Riki looked over to the Black Hand assassin."Your job should be exceptionally easy now," Selena mocked me, "Prince of Hungry and Transylvania, or do you prefer 'White Stud'?""Laugh while you can, Monkey-Girl," I sneered. "The guy currently making a run at erasing seven hundred years of Asian history gave me that title. As for Fehér mén, that means 'White Stallion' and is symbolic of my ties to House Epona, not a phallic reference." Riki's look had gone from disgust, to anger (because she thought she was being played) and lastly, to shock."No," I interpreted her fear. "I am not here as some vanguard to unite the Magyar people to their cultural kinfolk in Central Asia. If you know your Central European history, you might recall that the Mongols devastated my homeland. For the next 450 years, the Turks were unwelcome visitors, conquerors and overlords. My princely status is a pat on the head for a job well done and nothing more.""What job did you do?" Riki prodded."I saved a man's life," I looked pained to admit. She didn't get it."It must have been a major VIPs life," Chaz suggested."You can say that," Pamela nodded. "End of discussion time too."At Ferenc Liszt International, we were diverted to a private hangar once more, courtesy of the Republic of Ireland's diplomatic umbrella. Three grey Ford Focuses and a white panel truck advertising a furniture repair store awaited us. Security issues were immediately obvious. They wanted to separate us (in the Fords) from most of our luggage (in the truck).The five guy welcoming party hid under the cloak of 'don't speak any language you claim to speak' and Selena was of zip help. So, I spoke to them in Hungarian. They glanced my way, but didn't respond. Serbian? Nope. Romanian? Nope."Bows and doves," I commanded.That translated rather logically as 'guns/bows' and 'phones/doves'. Out came our pistols. The only Black Hand to react fast enough was Selena and Pamela had her covered. The Amazons were aiming at the locals while Delilah and Chaz had their weapons out and scanning. Vincent and Virginia hadn't been fast enough, this time. They also didn't have guns pointed at them.The lead BH flunky began talking calmly in German, heavily Slavic accented German."What do you think you are doing?" he inquired of me, in German."Disarming you, ya Moron," I grumbled. Then added in Hittite; "Go", and in my Amazons went to very roughly search, disarm and de-phone our not so friendly friends."Alright, gather up your luggage," I called out to my group. "We are walking to town." That wasn't truly accurate. There was a metro associated with the airport, a kilometer away max. Our guides didn't speak English so they were rather surprised when the bags came out of the truck and were distributed to their owners. Riki Martin and Odette were in some trouble.Girls and 'only packing the necessities', Well, we had some diplomatic lumber to toss at the security services, Vincent had web-searched our location and the route we needed to take to the metro, and Delilah had purchased week-long public transport passes for the group. Only when we started marching out of the hangar did the BH comprehend the totality of their error.The five guys in the hangar were chattering away, in Hungarian, and Selena was peeved."You are upsetting my superiors by blatantly disrespecting their courtesy," she reminded me. "They have guaranteed your safety.""Less than a day has passed since the shootout in London, Selena," I countered."This is the Black Hand's backyard," Selena persisted, "not London.""So, you are only going to help us if we do stupid shit we wouldn't do, even on our own home ground, is that it?" I chuckled. "Sweet," then, to my people, "I guess we are on our own."The airport security guards didn't know what to make of our group of over-worked Sherpa, but the US State department and the RoI (Republic of Ireland) vouched for us, so they let us pass.We hadn't taken the cars and the truck because that would have been theft. The confiscated guns and phones had been disassembled and tossed into a large iron drum of used aviation lubricant. Odette began shopping around for hotel reservations (I was carrying most of her gear). She was the logical choice because she sounded the most human of the bunch.Selena called her people back, explained the fuck up and engaged in a mutual ass-chewing that spilled over a half-dozen languages and ended up with Dick-head, the local BH chieftain providing us with quarters that would turn a blind eye to our arsenal. With that address in mind, we made for the bowels of modern Budapest.Dutifully, Riki contacted the US Embassy to Hungary's CIA mission head and Chargé D' Affaires, a.i., updating them on our arrival and movements. At the last moment, I had Riki relay the wrong address, on a paranoid hunch. I was right to be paranoid except I was looking in the wrong direction.We had just disembarked at the Kőbánya-Kispest M3 station when we walked into the rolling ambush. A 'rolling ambush' is like a meeting engagement, the difference being that one side (ours) is on the move, not knowing it is being hunted while the other side (our attackers) was rushing to catch up with us, not knowing where along the path they would find us.As we preparing to transition from the station to the attached terminal, looking for the bus line that would connect us to the BH safe house in the Kőbánya (X) District, our attackers were dismounting their vehicles from across the street as well as to our left and right. They were dressed like cops. Had they been armed like cops,"Oh look," I snickered to Pamela, "I see a whole bunch of heavily armed people coming our way.""Good for you," Pamela muttered. "Your eyes are still working.""Do you think they are here to raise me up on their shields and proclaim me 'Prince'?" I joked."I think they are here to kill us," Pamela grinned."I prefer to think positively," I grinned back."I am positive they are here to kill us," Pamela laughed. It had to be our relaxed demeanor that confused them.Had we been the droids they were looking for, we wouldn't have been chatting in the open with our bags in our hands. That would have made us crazy, and they would have been right. We were crazy alright and there was a method to our madness. It was mid-afternoon, yet there were plenty of average Hungarians wandering about.Sure, they saw the 'special cops' closing in. They didn't see the upcoming shoot-out because that was plain nuts. A gun battle in a modern metropolis in broad daylight? London yesterday was an aberration, not the new normal. Our impromptu plan was to let the killers get as close as possible to limit the collateral damage.This wasn't classic Amazon training. It was a concession to allies who did care about civilians killed in the cross-fire. The oncoming hit squad was finally putting faces to targets when Odette broke the calm before the storm. All she did was squeak when Vincent pushed her behind a kiosk. Riki took Virginia shifting her to cover in silence.Delilah took off at a dead-run to the south-east. They were raising their shotguns and assault rifles. We were drawing our pistols. Normally this would have been an unequal match, except that in the time period where, in their eyes, we had gone from bystanders to targets, they'd also covered a good deal of ground, to the point that they were out in the open while my fighting band was in close proximity to all kinds of cover.It started out as eighteen to twelve. Pamela, Chaz and Selena quickly cut down those odd by five. Me? I didn't try to shoot and run at the same time, so I made it to cover and was stuck there by our opponents use of fully-automatic fire.My lack of martial prowess could be forgiven by the reality I was the one they were trying to off. My greatest contribution to this skirmish was tossing my SPAS-12 to Chaz so he could use something more than his standard military issue Glock-17. I had barely gotten Chaz's appreciative nod when two grenades went off in close proximity to me.At first, I heard and felt nothing. My eyes were having trouble focusing. When my limbs began to orient themselves, I had to fight down the instinct to move. I was lying down, which was far safer than staggering around in the middle of this hail of lead. The twin grenades turned out to be their second and very fatal mistake on this mission.The first had been their delay in identifying my group. The second, using the stun grenades, did put me, Pamela and Selena out of commission temporarily. But their mistake was having misplaced my six Amazons in this mess they had created. They did have thirteen shooters versus Chaz, Virginia and Vincent. They rushed our position using the classic advance while firing rote.Two meters from me, the six Amazons revealed themselves with five P-90's and one big-ass bow. Four escaped the kill zone only to find themselves flanked by Delilah. Her .480, combined with their confusion, finished off the survivors. That wasn't the end of it. We still had to effect our get-away.I was still getting my head on straight as the ladies decided to hotwire some of the deceased men's rides and get us the heck out of Dodge. Recovery brought with it the knowledge that Virginia and Chaz had been shot. Pamela, Selena and me, we had some scrapes and bruises. Everyone else checked out. Mona let us know that she could handle the wounded. They wouldn't be doing jumping jacks for a week or two, but a hospital was not required. On the downside, no one believed that eighteen killers dressed as cops randomly rolled up on our transit point by accident. The only people who knew about our change in travel plans had been the Black Hand. We'd lied to the US.We broke into an abandoned factory to stash the vehicles and make our next plan. Selena was coldly furious. Not only did she come to the same conclusion we had, the Black Hand had set us up to be murdered, we weren't letting her call in. Wiesława and Charlotte kept their guns pointed at her, so low was our level of trust.Chaz was pretty much of the opinion that Selena should be coerced to provide us with the names and locations of the Black Hand involved so that we could do our own 'fact finding tour'. Oddly, none of the Americans asked to be pulled out. Vincent and Riki wanted to let the US Embassy know what had happened, yet were willing to wait until we were secure somewhere first.Rachel was on board with Chaz's idea, with the addendum that they kill every Black Hand they could get their hands on before fleeing the city. They had tried to kill ME after all. I was touched. It was Pamela who put things in perspective.1) The attackers were not Black Hand, they were mercenaries and that pointed a bloody finger at the Condottieri.2) Selena wasn't a fanatic and her life had been in as much danger as anyone else's. She wasn't part of our ambush. Her buddies had tossed her under the bus.3) It would have been far easier to catch us in that convoy they'd tried to stick us with. Caught in pre-planned crossfires and without our heavier weapons, we would have all died.4) Having failed to deliver us to the pre-planned ambush site, the Condottieri had to rush to our metro stop because, the safe house they had prepared for us wouldn't have worked. We had the numbers to allow us take total charge of our security once we were in place. No, gauging our numbers, this traitor had sent the mercs into a straight-up fight they'd just lost.