Podcasts about suffice

It's that time of year again! And for this rare holiday equinox which sees Easter, Passover, and 4/20 overlapping, we endeavor to cover some weed-tacular winter holiday songs with more of a religious connection than in previous years. We find great joy in the sincere silliness of "Little Dealer Boy" performed by Willie Nelson and Stephen Colbert. Then, unfortunately, we really fucked up by listening to "Angels We Have Heard on High" by a band that we're not even going to mention by name here because we don't need that kind of heat. Suffice to say, they are definitey, definitely not Rastafarian, even if their t-shirt that says "Not a Rasta" in green, yellow, and red letters with a big lion winking on it is raising a lot of questions answered by the shirt. (Note: there's also another artist featured on the song who we confused for a member of the band because she isn't credited well on the youtube video, so we're just going to go ahead and leave her out of this too.) We would like to formally apologize for our failure. We promise next year to properly blaze it and keep the vibes chill and tight. The ranking music in this episode is "Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy" performed by Bing Crosby and David Bowie.

Read the full shownotes on Dr. Aimee's website: click here. Do you think you can put botox in your ovaries? You know, plump up those older eggs to regain their youthfulness? Nope, sorry. Not possible. Or have you thought that because you can take a youthful looking selfie, and feel great, that your fertility must be picture perfect too? Nope, sorry. Good selfies don't equal good fertility. But you're not dumb. You know that. But there may be some tricky information out there that you're not entirely sure if it's true. Fertility isn't surface level. It's not skin-deep. It's biology. It's what's deep inside, and yet impacted by what's outside of you too. Suffice to say, it can be complex. Which is why I'm here. I'm certainly a fertility doctor with over a decade of training and advanced degrees that have gotten me to the point where I finally know how to make a baby. And I want to share what I know with all of you. Do you have questions about IVF?Click here to join Dr. Aimee for The IVF Class. The next live class call is on Monday, April 21, 2025 at 4pm PST, where Dr. Aimee will explain IVF and there will be time to ask her your questions live on Zoom. Click to find The Egg Whisperer Show podcast on your favorite podcasting app.   Watch videos of Dr. Aimee answer Ask the Egg Whisperer Questions on YouTube.  Sign up for The Egg Whisperer newsletter to get updates  Dr. Aimee Eyvazzadeh is one of America's most well known fertility doctors. Her success rate at baby-making is what gives future parents hope when all hope is lost. She pioneered the TUSHY Method and BALLS Method to decrease your time to pregnancy. Learn more about the TUSHY Method and find a wealth of fertility resources at www.draimee.org.

Obviously we had to talk the two big stories — the resurrection of Coyote vs ACME and all this ChatGPT Ghiblification nonsense — but we also have a go at another Live-Action-with-CG-Character-Hybrid-Disney-Remake trailer and of course... what's going on with A.I. lately. Suffice to say this is definitely an explicit episode so expect the swears. Timestamps: 2:12 How You Doin' 6:46 Trailer Talk 7:28 Lilo and Stitch 2025 25:21 Animation News 25:56 Ketchup buys Coyote vs ACME 43:19 AI Watch 44:19 ChatGPT Ghibli 56:53 Ember 1:17:59 RAPID FIRE!!!!!!!!! #RubberOnionPodcast@RubberOnion everywhere Patreon iTunes

In every believer's faith journey, life presents events that necessitate a higher force than is available at the time. They can range from hunger and thirst for more of God or events such as death, illness, loss, grief, wars, failure and so on. Sometimes the issues show themselves defying every known and already deployed sacrament. When navigating such crossroads, the wise thing to do is to press deeper into God, to access the needed wisdom and power. If the call is heeded and a separation is made. This can be by denying self some pleasures of life just so the spirit can be in tune with heaven's demands. There is no telling what the resultant effects would be. Suffice to say, if done right, there would be revelations of dimensions of God as He works in and through man and creation.

Recorded March 29, 2025   With a quick schedule this week we go over two game--both losses--with out sharp observations in both. Suffice to say with both games there was plenty to be unhappy about. Even with our Caps doing relatively well this season. Our final segment is this month's Young Blueliner's memories. This one takes to the Spring of 1986 where a younger Blueliner gets rudely introduced to the exquisite torture that is Washington Capitals playoff hockey.   Be sure to join Our Captain in donating to the V foundation for the remainder of his career:  https://v.org/GR8chase     #ALLCAPS #JenayaTalksCaps #SucramsCapitalsOffTheirChainPodcast #LockedOnCapitals #ThatsDCHockey #TheOfficialCapsChirpPodcast #SportsOTHP

It was a scary day in the Guys of a Certain Age studio, and it wasn't just because Art was on hiatus.  Jay led off with his Geek of the Week, reporting on the legit Star Wars droids that made their debut at a recent Nvidia conference, giving Robbie flashbacks from Terminator.  But these droids are cuter.  Then Robbie told of the upset AppleTV+ cart and how much they were losing every year - and it's not a small number.   But as long as they keep pumping out the content, The Guys will keep watching, and today the focus was on Severance, Season 2.  The finale..finally…and Jay watched it almost as soon as it was dropped.  That's news right there, right?  Spoilers abound in the episode, but not in these lines.  Suffice it to say that Jay and Robbie have high praise for it, and it's not just because of the soundtrack - but that certainly played a role.  And a drum. And a trombone.  And…well, we'll stop here before that “no spoiler” promise is spoiled.  Look for fascinating transitions in the characters' lives, a significant color scheme variant, and an ending that may or may not surprise you.   If you're severed, you won't remember it tomorrow, anyway.  

It's all about tax... specifically the health levy and the consultation about the new proposed tax. Suffice to say there were opinions a plenty.

Diplomatic Hell Hole.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels."Are we in the right place?" the stranger worried."I'm afraid so. Anais, you need to leave.""Not until you tell me what is going on here," she sizzled."She's not here to have sex, if that's what you worried about," I retorted. "Wait, are you here to have sex with me?""I barely know you.""That rarely stops me," I muttered."He's a master of bedroom antics," Pamela praised me. "He's pretty much at a loss at doing anything else.""Thanks Grandma," I griped."Your welcome, Grandson.""We, are here to meet someone," the stranger hedged."You came to the right place," Pamela preempted me. "He's definitely someone.""Fine, redo. I'm Cáel Nyilas," (deep breathe), "NOHIO, HCIESI-NDI, U HAUL, Magyarorszag es Erdely Hercege plus a bunch of other honorifics that have yet to be confirmed. I am single-handedly bringing back medievalism to the center of Europe and the Near East. The woman to my left is Pamela Pale, and she really is my bodyguard. The woman to my right is Sgt. Anais Saint-Amour, RCMP, my ex-lover and the person that needs to leave   right now.""I'm not sure I should leave at this moment," Anais shifted possessively. I had to recall earlier this morning, the part where we'd broken up by mutual consent. Yep. That had really happened. I had thought I was whittling down my current list of paramours. Why do the Goddesses hate me so?"Told you, she can't give up that cock," Pamela whispered."As you can see, I have limited control of my life," I told the strange woman. "I know you are here to meet somebody who isn't me. Now you know who I am. Who are you and your companions?""I'm Ms. Quincy.""Sorry; I'm on a first name basis with everyone I meet," I interrupted."What's your rank, Honey?" Pamela added."What makes you think,?""She doesn't think. That's what makes her so dangerous." I explained."Hey now," Pamela faux-complained."Okay. She's a fledgling telepath, or medium," I shrugged."Captain, Zelda Quincy.""In case you are mesmerized by her tits," Pamela tapped me, "she's packing some serious hardware.""One of those personal defense gizmos?" I leaned Pamela's way."Close, but no cigar. She's my kind of girl, big 'bang-bang', back-up at the small of her back and knife in her boot.""What!" Zelda gulped."She's his knife-fighting instructor," Anais answered drolly."Are you Special Forces?" Zelda regarded my mentor."Nah, I got kicked out for a consistent failure to observe even the loosest Rules Of Engagement. I'm a free-spirit.""Oh, you're a sniper," Zelda nodded."I like this one," Pamela smiled."Ah, thank you." Then, over her shoulder, "I think we are in the right place." Zelda entered the room, followed by a Hispanic panther of a man (kind of like a tanned, slightly shorter Chaz without the cool accent) wearing a long coat, and a Subcontinent-cast woman who looked at everyone as if she expected us to sprout fangs, or start quoting the Koran any second now. She obviously was a brain seconded to this mission very much against her will.The fourth person had that cagey 'when my lips move, I'm lying' look while seemingly unhappy with her current assignment. The heavy implication was that the lady was a career diplomat. Considering our current company and who we were talking to, she was State Department. She was in her late 30's or early 40's and giving off the sensation she had devoted so much to her career that she was starting to wonder if that was all that life had to offer.The fifth member was a military man clearly uncomfortable about what he was doing here, thus not a spook. His off-the-rack suit wasn't terrible, so he expected to socialize somewhat while performing his duties. He also looked like a man who expected other people to speak half-truths and obfuscated lies as easily as they breathed. Numbers three, four and five were dressed for the weather and unarmed.All of this meant they were good at what they did, though they probably didn't know the particulars of what was expected of them. They had their marching orders. Those orders were about to be made irrelevant in the company they would be keeping. The latter weren't the 'doing it by rote' kind of people they would normally be dealing with."I bet you she's a doctor," I murmured to Pamela, "she's with State and he's some sort of Foreign Service type.""I bet the first guy is Air Force," she countered."Like one of those Para-rescue guys?""No. More like one of those Battlefield Air Operations guys, I'm guessing," she corrected me."That guy?" I nodded to the final guy. "Pentagon wonk?""More likely he's one of those embassy guys. I'm going to take an educated leap here, Office of Military Cooperation, Mongolia?""That is pretty clever of you. Kazakhstan. Major Justin Colbert.""I bet some people in the White House, Pentagon and Langley are disappointed with you right now," I reasoned. His jaw grew tight."Don't worry, Major," Pamela grinned. "We consider that a good thing. We don't like the people in charge and have a low opinion of their opinion on just about everything, including their habit of blaming the blameless for their government's fuck ups.""Who are these people?" the first man whispered to Quincy."She's a telepath." That was Zelda"She's a psychic-medium." That was Anais."She can see through time." That was me. "Nice to meet you. Who are you?""Chris Diaz. Lieutenant Colonel, USAF.""Dr. Saira Yamin," the second woman introduced herself. "Asia Pacific Center for Security Studies. Are you the man from Johnston Island?""Why yes, yes I am," I beamed."The APCSS is in Waikiki, Hawaii," Pamela educated me. "Your arrival probably cost her some prime surfing time.""I was more interested in the fact that he survived a plane crash in a Category Four Cyclone," she admitted."Mother Nature hates me. No matter how hard I try, she refuses to kill me," I confessed. "My suffering is an endless source of amusement to that bitch.""That, that wasn't the helpful answer I was looking for," she stammered."So, Lt. Colonel Chris Diaz, you must be with JSOC, I have a deep and abiding respect for you guys. If you need something, just ask," I greeted him. "Captain Zelda, you are not with JSOC.""She's with the DCS ~ that is the Defense Clandestine Service," Pamela kept going. "Zelda, you love being in your uniform, you're proud, yet happy with the concept of dying in an unmarked grave for Constitution and Country. You are too old to have been in the first female class at Ranger School, so that means no 'in the field' JSOC for you. You've gotten around that stone wall by joining the US Defense Department's own little pack of killers.""Also, you felt it was necessary to bring a Benelli M4-11707. That's a close-in action shotgun, but a bit over-kill considering the paper-thin walls in this building. That tells me you are used to being in the kinds of places where such a tool is a necessity. Or in other words, since you think you are meeting a band of terrorists, you brought along your favorite toy.""Your personal weapon is a SIG Sauer P229R DAK in .357 which is a new weapon still under trial by the US Army and Air Force. Your boot dagger is ceramic so it will pass a cursory exam, or scan. You hate the idea of being trapped on a public aircraft weaponless. You have also given up killing power for a proper balance for throwing. I like a forward-thinking gal.""Air Force ~ you've recently come back from Asia, most likely Tibet. It shows in your breathing brought about by a close call with Altitude Sickness. The only reason for an Air Force guy to be here is because he's familiar with the Khanate military and you are not US Army, or Marine Corp Special Forces. I know the type.""You went with the MP5K in the standard 9mm, so you are more interested in sending bullets down range than looking into someone's face as you kill them. You may be a 'light' Colonel, which means you are almost somebody. What your higher-ups haven't appreciated is that our guests will respect you because they are like that ~ remembering past friends and comrades in arms. Of greater importance, you have Cáel's gratitude which will count for more than you currently believe."I pledged then and there to be as good as Pamela at determining that kind of stuff before I died. She had assured me it was as much a matter of psychology as eagle-eyed perception. People were often a type that gravitated to various forms of destruction, be they old school, or going for the latest gadget."I told you all that firepower was excessive," State softly chastised her associates (what they really were, not the underlings she saw them as)."So, you appeared to have forgotten to tell us your name," I regarded the State lass."Nisha Desai Biswal. I'm with the government.""Oh, Assistant Secretary of State for South and Central Asian Affairs, I've examined your website," I told her. It clearly pissed her off somewhat that I so swiftly disregarded her crude attempt at subtle manipulation."Hey. I've got some real enemies at State, so it pays to know who might be the next suit trying to cock me over," I explained. I had to prioritize. It would take some serious effort to convince Zelda to have a MFF three-way straight out the gate and she was definitely the hotter number."Major, you came here unarmed," Pamela noted. "That won't do. They expect you to be armed because you are a warrior, damn it. Cáel get him one of your Glock 22's.""Gotcha," I nodded. I went to my room, tipped away the false back to my closet (that Havenstone had installed recently so Odette wouldn't accidently fire off one of my weapons) and retrieved one of my spare Glocks, but not the one with the laser sight. Such over-the-top fancy gear would be inappropriate. I only gave him one mag. If he couldn't get the job done with 15 rounds, he wouldn't have a chance to reload.Mind you, I took two in a twin-rig shoulder holster and four 22 round magazines, because I tend to shoot two-handed which doesn't exactly give you a bullseye every time. I returned to our crowded living room, handed the Major his weaponry, and then directed the US group to the far side of the room (towards Timothy's bedroom. Saira and Nisha took the couch.Because this tiny space wasn't crowded enough, there was a knock at the door. I checked. It was Juanita, oh yeah, my real bodyguard."Listen up everybody," I announced to the room. "This is my other bodyguard, my official one. Her names is Juanita Leya Antonio Garza, she's from the Dominican Republic via Buenos Aires and she is armed, so don't freak out." I opened the door."What is going on?" Juanita hissed."I'm having a private meeting with a few heavily armed friends. The other side to this party hasn't arrived yet. Why don't you come in?" She came in."Why didn't you warn me?" she whispered her complaint."Long night, worse wake-up, needed to do some soul-searching. Pamela was looking after me, then this came up and I forgot. I apologize," I lowered my head in shame. Juanita was only trying to do the job she'd been entrusted with and by not thinking of her, I was making that so much harder.I made the introductions, first names only."Juanita, Anais, Pamela; please slip into the kitchenette," I suggested.Anais "Why?"Juanita "Where are you going to be?"Pamela "Sure. I'm starving. I'm going to raid the fridge.""Anais, because I need my faction in one place. Juanita, I will be refereeing this meeting, so I will have to remain in the living room, roughly six feet from you." It was really a small apartment. "Pamela, if it is edible, it isn't mine and you'll have to replace it."Great Caesar's Ghost! No wonder Big Wigs had their personal assistants handle this pre-meeting crap. I was on my last two fucking nerves and one of those was already stressed and tender. And the real reason for being here hadn't even arrived yet."Why am I in your faction?" Anais mulled over threateningly."Because you haven't walked out that door. There are going to be three sides to this meeting, not three plus Anais. That is the way it is going to be. Now, are you going to behave, or are Juanita and Pamela going to toss you out?""You are threatening me!""Finally catching on to that, aren't you, Sweetie?" Pamela chimed in."I'm only staying because I believe you are in trouble," Anais grumped."Why is she (Anais) here?" Nisha inquired heatedly. "This is supposed to be a very, very private encounter.""I know Anais. I don't know you. I trust Anais with my well-being despite the fact she has numerous reasons to distrust me. She's staying because she is a straight arrow. That's good enough for me.""But is she going to keep her mouth shut about what happens here today?" Nisha pressed."Anais, this is a clandestine meeting that isn't going to be recorded by anybody so, barring a crime being committed, you can never discuss this with anyone who isn't already in the room. Agreed?"Pause."I agree," she nodded. I really was going to have to fuck her again. Not today. Well, maybe not today; I had to keep my options open. Her investigator mind was going into overdrive. Give it a week and she'd be knocking on my door late one night. Inquisitive, truth-hungry dames are like that, trust me. Then it would be 'bask in my genius' sex. It had been a while since I'd experienced that, with Lady Yum-Yum.There was another knock at the door. I checked before Juanita could do the checking for me, in case someone was going to shoot me through the door. Fuck it. I was going to talk to Timothy about moving. Him, me and Odette. I couldn't give those two up. It was Kazak bookends. I opened up and invited them in. It turned out they had names besides Bookends #1 and #2, Nuro and Roman.Nuro (I think) checked out the rooms while Roman (I was pretty sure) kept an eye on my guests. I made introductions, first names only and specifying who was with who. Technically, they could trust my side because I was the Great Khan's brother and thus my servants were his servants. Technically.Iskender came next followed by OT. A woman I didn't know (sadly, not OT's daughter) came in behind him while the other two quintuplets stayed in the hallway. Iskender and I hugged."Ulı Khaan s yikti ağası," he smiled. That was 'Prince-something'. My Kazak was a bit rusty. He then whispered into my ear. "OT bows to you first. His title is Hongtaiji." What?"Ulı Khaan s yikti ağası," OT bowed."Hongtaiji Oyuun T m rbaatar," I bowed back. I remembered I had to rise first. It was an etiquette thing. In retrospect, Iskender had stretched the bounds of tradition by hugging me, his titular superior. "Welcome to my humble abode.""I thank you for your hospitality," he 'grinned'. His face wasn't made for that gesture so that faint gesture came across as rather unnatural.My mind finally finished translating what Iskender and OT had called me. It wasn't 'prince'. It was 'beloved brother of the Great Khan'. Mother fucker!"Wait," Justin, the military attach  guy muttered, "we are here to meet this guy?" indicating me."What do you mean?" Saira questioned."The title Mr. Nyilas was identified with means 'beloved brother of the Great Khaan'," he explained. "The Kazakhs don't go tossing honorifics like that around. This guy," again pointing at me, "is a really important somebody.""Thanks for dropping this grenade in my lap, OT," I joked. "I'll get you for this, and your little yak too.""Odette is going to be so miffed that she missed this," Pamela chuckled."Mr. Nyilas," Zelda began."Please, call me Cáel. It is how I roll.""Cáel, can I ask you a stupid question?""Go right ahead," Pamela snorted. "Cáel does stupid real well. It is a critical part of his skill set. It makes him adorable instead of annoying. Trust me, you'll learn that soon enough."Too much 'trust me' was flying around in a room where nobody trusted anybody."Thanks for that encouragement, Teach," I grumbled. "Ask away, Captain Zelda.""Why are you playing this game with us?""I wasn't. Until thirty seconds ago I was sure I was here totally as a spectator," I gripped. "My buddy," the word dripped with sarcasm, "Temujin likes dumping these kinds of surprises on me.""Did you mean what Ms. Pale said about you feeling you owed me?" Chris asked."Absolutely.""We need help defusing this Thailand crisis before a shooting war begins.""What do you suggest?""We want the Khanate to back down," Chris stated firmly."I thought we had agreed that I would spearhead this delegation," Nisha reminded Chris."I think the situation had evolved and we need a different approach," Chris insisted."You should listen to the Lieutenant Colonel," I advised. "He knows a whole lot more about what is going on than you do.""Why don't you explain it to us?" she began her weevil-ling."You are engaging in linguistic niceties with men who have bled together, Ms. Biswal," I instructed. "Not that Chris and I have bled on the same battlefield, we have shed blood in the same cause; and that cause has been bringing our two nations, the Khanate and the US, together. The Khanate owes Chris for his efforts on our behalf and we pay our debts.""How so?" Nisha asked."National Security stuff," I evaded. "If you don't know, you shouldn't know and you probably don't want to know. Suffice it to say, the Khanate is willing to listen to Lt. Colonel Diaz's request as a friend.""But he doesn't speak for the United States Government," she corrected."Why not?" I riposted. "He's dealt with the Khanate longer than you have. He has a clue about the mindset of their rank and file.""But does he know their leadership?" she persisted."I don't know. Chris, do you think you have a handle on me?""Are you really capable of talking for the Khanate government?" Nisha preempted Chris. What she left unsaid was 'are you culpable in their atrocities?'"Let's find out," I then looked over my shoulder. "Hongtaiji Oyuun T m rbaatar, will my words and wishes reach my brother's ear?""That is why I am here," he replied."Don't you have the authority to speak for your leader?" she grilled OT. Nisha was relentless trying to stay in the limelight. "Aren't you a diplomat?""There is no need to insult the man," Pamela snidely commented."I am one of many voices that provide information to the Great Khan. I am not his brother. Cáel Nyilas is and has already proved his familial affection by proposing Operation Funhouse and brought whole nations as gifts," OT schooled her. "He is gifted with both tactical and strategic insight as well as sharing the Great Khan's love for his people and his hopes for their eventual freedom.""I didn't think you were a soldier," Zelda looked me over."Oh no," I wove off that insinuation. "I've never been a real soldier and am unworthy of that distinction. I know quite a few who have earned that title and they scare the crap out of me. I mean, they go looking for trouble. In my case, trouble comes looking for me. I'm damn lucky to still be alive and that's the damn truth.""Bullshit," Pamela coughed."What was that, Artemisia?" I winked at her."Bitch," she laughed "My men have become women, and my women men. At least you didn't call me Cassandra.""Well, she's Greek (a deadly insult to all Amazons), but you could be her Evil Twin because everyone believes whatever you say.""Can we get down to business?" Chris inquired."Damn," Pamela shook her head. "They haven't been paying attention.""What does that mean?" Zelda griped."Iskender, you know what I'm talking about, don't you?" I asked."Not a clue, Exalted One," he stood there like a stone statue. Note, the Khanate contingent really were standing there like the Altai Mountains, doing nothing. You had to carefully examine them to see that they did indeed breathe and blink."Use small words," Pamela advised."You really are a rude misanthrope," Anais told Pamela."Do you know what's going on?" Pamela volleyed."No.""Then sit back and watch how the madness works," she snickered. "It is all you, Cáel.""Okay. One; how did Artemisia escape the battle of Salamis?" I began. Nothing."Oh," Justin nodded. "She rammed an allied ship to make the pursuing Athenians think she was an ally. What does that have to do with our current predicament?""Achieve your ends by using violence as a distraction," I sighed. "The Khanate will invade Thailand in," I looked to OT, "tomorrow?" He nodded."How does that help us?" Nisha complained."Second example, Cassandra. She saw the truth through all illusions and falsehoods and no one believed her. Now, reverse that."Pause."We are waiting," Saira finally joined the conversation. I could hear those little microprocessors inside her noggin firing electrons at light speed."We fight a phony war. The Khanate and their buddies invade in a lightning campaign that appears to be successful. Shit like attacking the opposition where they ain't. Things that look epic on CNN where some retired colonel, no offense...""None taken," Chris responded."Where some colonel talks about seizing resources, severed supply lines and encirclement. We, the Khanate, bomb shit like bridges and supply dumps, things with no civilians to get killed. On the downside, to make this work the Khanate needs to put some level of force into Bangkok.""That will get civilians killed," Nisha reminded me, unnecessarily."Civilians are getting killed right now by their own government. This time they will get a chance to strike back," I stated firmly. "The Thai protestors aren't cowards. They are just grossly outgunned. We can change that.""How does that help the United States?" Nisha queried."The US gets to come in and save the day," I sighed. "The US can t get there until the day after, so you don't look bad about letting the first 24 hours of brutality happen.""Oh," Zelda blinked."The US gets to end the fighting that the Khanate has no desire to continue. The US brings peace, while whomever takes over owes the Khanate. Both sides look good. Both sides claim victory. The President gets a second Nobel Peace Prize (psychic, aren't I?). The US gathers some regional allies like Malaysia, the ROC and the Philippines along with our Marines to ensure free and fair elections. The Khanate isn't seen to be backing down against the Titan of Western Civilization. They are working with them to bring about a better world.""Win-win," Saira nodded in agreement."The Khanate is still an autocratic tyranny," Nisha commented."As opposed to the People's Republic's oligarchical tyranny?" Chris countered."Agreed," Saira said. "I now think we should work with the Khanate to bring stability to Central Asia which which was impossible while those member nations were being squeezed between Russia, Europe, China and India.""What are you a doctor of?" I asked."I specialize in 'failed states', among other things," Saira grinned."This could still turn into one bloody cluster-fuck," Zelda mused."My peopled don't have the resources to devastate Thailand," OT finally spoke. "If you, the US, agrees to intervene on our timetable, you will have our thanks, off the record, of course.""How do we know this isn't some ruse to allow the Khanate to overthrow Thailand's existing government?" Justin questioned."You have my word," I replied. No one said anything for several heartbeats."Really?" Nisha balked."Mr. Nyilas, Cáel, do you give me the Great Khan's word?" Chris studied me intently."Without reservation," I answered. "For what you have done for us and more, the Great Khan will honor this deal. We and the Thai's will do the bleeding. You will get your accolades. We avoid a pointless clashing of forces, which is why we are all here today.""I will give you my written recommendation in a few hours," Saira told Nisha.Chris stepped forward to shake my hand. He was an alpha-type alright. I gave as good as I got. His eyes bore into mine, looking for a faltering of will."What did you do in Romania?""I got a lot of good men killed.""Okay.""Okay?" Nisha squawked. "A handshake, a pat on the back and the deals done? Since when did our democratic republic do business this way? He admitted he got men killed in Romania. What is to say this won't be Romania writ large?""Ms. Biswal, he told the truth. He got good men killed and he isn't happy about it. I would be worried if he claimed one bit of glory from that episode. He didn't.""Nisha," I took a deep breathe, "When you unleash men with weapons, nothing is assured. Maybe the Thai government will see the hate coming their way and back down. Maybe the people will resist the intrusion. Maybe the Khanate's forces will get slaughtered at the starting line. It isn't like they have enough time to deploy enough forces to win a protracted war.""What happens if the Khanate decides it won't go?" she continued."Then they get destroyed on the ground in a war of attrition," Chris answered for me. "He's right. They can't bring enough in the time allotted to completely overwhelm the roughly 120,000 members of the Royal Thai Army that have remained loyal to the regime.""In three days they will be out of fuel, shells, rockets and bullets. It is logistics, Ms. Biswal," Zelda piled it on. "The Khanate war-fighting systems are not NATO compatible. That means they can't simply capture more material as they penetrate the frontiers. If they overstay their welcome, we can launch missile strikes against their fuel depots. The combat devolves back to World War I and that's a style of war they can't afford to fight.""What about stopping the Khanate from invading in the first place?" Nisha wouldn't give up."Had the US acknowledged the Khanate, none of this would have happened, Ms. Biswal," I became snappish. "Neither superpower talked to the other until other commitments had been made.""If you think you can come in and start dictating Khanate policy, you are dreadfully mistaken. The US doesn't have the power, or the resolve," I glared at her. "Don't try convincing the Khanate that isn't the case. We know better.""You don't know what the US is capable of," she snapped back."Abandoning Iraq with a fractured pseudo-democratic process? Abandoning Afghanistan without destroying the Taliban? The Syrian Civil War? The Donbass Crisis? The collapse of Libya? Boko Haram? Somalia? Yemen? Exactly how has the US's power and resolve solved any of those issues?" I countered."Ms. Biswal," OT spoke again. "We are willing to create a desert and call it 'Peace'. Our enemies know that. Your unwillingness to do so is neither a strength nor a weakness. It is a hallmark of your society in the same way that 'Total War' is a hallmark of ours. We are more than willing to leave you to manage the Peace. Let us manage the War against the forces opposed to civilized discourse.""As ugly and disagreeable as it is, we are willing to keep creating pyramids of skulls on every street corner until either they learn their lesson, or we kill them all. Let us do that and you will have your global stability and reap the economic benefits and accolades of Pax Americana. We are not your enemy. We are precisely the ally you need to keep the peace and we will do that, if you let us.""To allow barbarism is to become barbarians," Saira mused."That is complete fiction," I scoffed. "The United States didn't become communist because it allied with the Soviet Union in World War II. Truman didn't become Stalin. The enemy of my enemy is my friend is older than recorded history.""It is the Carrot and the Stick on a Global basis," Justin agreed. "Listen to the gentle words of the West, or you will end up feeling the wrath of the East.""As long as the Khanate accepts the limitations of is role," Saira added, "this might work. Please understand there will be factions in the Western Democracies who will not accept that status quo. It is not in the nature of our societies to stifle dissent.""Is it possible to get any political concessions from the Khanate's leadership?" Justin requested. "A pledge to hold some level of democratic elections? A Constitution with some strong provisions to protect individual rights and liberties would be nice.""Justin, in case your bosses missed it, the Khanate is still at a state of war with the PRC," I shook my head. "With their limited experience with democratic government throughout most of the Khanate's territories, that would be madness.""With limited concessions to the Imperial State, we have not interfered with the politics of Albania, Armenia, Georgia and Turkey. We are never going to become a Western-style democracy. We have had limited rule by consensus long before White Men arrived in the Western Hemisphere," OT informed them."Discounting the Irish Monks, Vikings and Knights Templar," Pamela interjected."If you say so," OT gave a minuscule bow to Pamela. "Long before your nation was anything more than the scribbled history of a long-faded Greek city-state, we had meritocracies, oligarchies of senior statesmen & warriors, thinkers and religious leaders, and we had codified judicial moral equality into the political arena. We have a far superior record of religious and minority freedom, of genuine multi-culturalism plus a deeper understanding of the arts and crafts as a means of uniting disparate peoples. We find your claims of cultural superiority to be childish.""Oh, snap," I snickered. "You get'em, OT.""I bet the boys in Foggy Bottom felt that pimp-slap," Pamela agreed."I bet the bronzed skull of some Harvard dean just fell off its pedestal.""They are called 'busts'," Anais groaned. "With a name like that, how could you forget it?""So true," I concurred. "All this responsibility must have clouded my normally hedonistic vocabulary.""That doesn't change the fact that you have employed biological warfare and genocide in this current day and age," Justin pointed out."Tell that to our Native Americans," I snorted. "They are easy to find. They live in trailer parks in whatever blasted Hell Hole we stuck them in, or in their casinos where they are buying back their country, one rube at a time. Ask them if they've gotten over it.""We don't claim to be perfect," Justin insisted."No, we merely claim to have the only correct form of government, economic policy and schools of philosophical, political, scientific and educational thought," I pointed out."We definitely should revive ethical utilitarianism," Pamela slapped a fist into her palm. "Oh, and the guillotine. Work houses for orphans and grist mills for the disabled, and A Modest Proposal for those chronically unemployed and terminally homeless, yes, and,""Pamela, what is it with you today?" I snickered."It is nearly sunset,""Ah, and you haven't killed anyone yet.""You know how cranky I get when I don't get my daily dose of homicide.""Are you two done?" Anais frowned. She did that a lot around me."And you don't hand out Mini-Uzi's to your preschoolers," Pamela glowered. "What is wrong with you people?"Pause, waiting for that punch line that was never coming. See, it was more difficult to sense Pamela was an immediate threat to your health if you thought she was completely off her rocker."Hmm, well, on that note, ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have a deal. Chris and Justin, I will leave you with my loyal Iskender to work out the gory details. Who wants to grab dinner?" I inquired."Are you serious?" Nashi gasped."Oh yeah. I had the Russian invasion of Manchuria figured out in this amount of time and Manchuria is way bigger than Thailand." Was it? I didn't know. Geography was not one of those subjects which gets you laid."What do you have in mind?" Zelda inquired."Whatever you want."{1 am, Sunday, August 31st ~ 8 Days to go}"How did I end up in bed with you?" Zelda sighed happily, her body splayed halfway over mine and her head resting on my chest, listening to my heartbeat."You aren't the first girl to ask me that question."On the other side, Anais moaned in her sleep. Yeah, she was over me. Abso-fucking-lutely. If you recall, she'd try anything once. I convinced her the military babes were totally different than that Goth chick we'd blown the mind of back in Montreal.Zelda was with me because I had caught her in a lie. She claimed to be a lesbian when I first hit on her. She was adamant. I destroyed her with incontrovertible evidence.A) She hadn't scoped out Anais when she came in. A glance didn't count and Anais oozed sexy when she was angry, which was most of the time.B) She hadn't scoped out Juanita's figure when said worthy went to the kitchenette. I look for such things and Juanita has thighs to die for.C) When I told her she had a wicked sense of humor, she blushed. Honestly, lesbians rarely care about strange men complimenting their personalities.D) Then I double-downed by asking her if she preferred a shower, or bath. She said shower (because that's the butch thing to say). When I asked her 'when was the last time she'd had a bubble bath', she blushed again. Lesbians don't like it when a man imagines them naked. Straight chicks, unless you are a creepy, stalker guy, like it when men fantasize about them swathed in bubbles, thus semi-clothed, thus not creepy.E) In a final and fatal act of evasion, she asked a grumpy Anais what she liked about me. Anais was blunt."He can fucking hammer you all night, sneak in a romantic quickie in the shower, cook you a delicious breakfast then give you another round of mind-numbing intercourse up against the wall before you have to go to work. And still find the time and energy to fuck your neighbor."Woot!"So, this happens to you often?" she mused, it was a trap. She really wanted to know if I was an egotistical scumbag who took advantage of every woman I came across. At the same time, she wanted to know if I considered her a 'whoe' ~ a woman who gives up the goodies for free."Do you mean 'am I taking advantage of you'?" I replied."That is not what I asked," she persisted. That meant 'yes'."Let me see," I laid back and looked up at the ceiling. "I have a fiancée, six women I am close enough to to spend quality time with, a fuck-buddy who is a sweet girl and trusts me too much and a passel of ex-girlfriends who have found my infidelity to be reprehensible.""Six women?" she frowned."Four co-workers (Rhada, Oneida, Yasmin and Buffy), the girlfriend of a co-worker who dumped her in a very public fashion (Brooke) and that woman's friend (Libra). She was the wing-chick who was stuck with me on a quadruple-date and was underwhelmed with me when we first met."I didn't count my 'hook-ups' and I wasn't sure how to qualify Nicole."Ex's?""'No' is not a word in common usage in my vocabulary. I've dated a best friend's girl, a mother, sister and aunt of the same girlfriend, basically, I'm either highly immoral, incredibly loose, or a letch.""Don't you take responsibility for any of those, relationships?""Hell yeah," I tilted her chin up so that we could make eye-contact. "I've never blamed a woman for taking out her frustrations on my flesh, ran away from a screaming fit (Big Lie!), or blamed them for any failing in our relationship. It is always my fault because I can't stay loyal.""That's depressing," Zelda moped."Don't get me wrong. I don't find fault in any of the women I have spent time with. That is my problem, I find women fascinating; never boring, or bland. Quite frankly, it is a gift that I don't regret having. I may be a fuck-up, but I'm a fuck-up who will give you the very best attention.""Full of yourself, much?" her attitude shifted. I had short-circuited her fears; I was a cheater, I confessed to it without shame because I was inexorably drawn to her beauty, personality and charm. With Anais around, I couldn't claim to be solely enchanted with Zelda, so I had to think quickly on my feet. After all, Zelda was energetic and had great stamina."I promised you pleasure," I countered. "Did I deliver?""Yes, you are full of yourself," she slapped my stomach. I wasn't full of myself. I was a confident sex machine."Thank you.""Huh?""Wonderful sex, taking a chance with me, agreeing to a three-way, being awake after," I looked at the bed-table clock, "six hours.""I run five miles a day," she bragged."I try to have ten hours of sex a day," I teased. Zelda slapped my stomach again. Anais stirred."Do any women like you, for any reason beyond your cock?""I'm considered loyal where sex is not concerned, reliable and brave," I offered."What happened in Romania?""Have you ever been in combat?""I've been in violent confrontations, but not a true firefight," she admitted."Hmm,""Is it something that you can't relate?" she asked."No. You are a soldier so you probably know more about combat than I do. It was, not chaotic at all. I never lost perspective of what was going on despite the bullets flying around. The Romanian Captain in charge knew his stuff, directed his company well and all I had to do was figure out where the terrorist leader was.""What happened?" she perked up."I am here talking with you and he's in a morgue in Bucharest.""Oh," She wanted more."I have to live with the knowledge that I set all of that in motion, Zelda. I convinced the Romanians that they had to confront that terror group before they moved on to their next target, me.""I knew they would come after me and my friends, no matter where we were. Which would have ended up as a blood bath in some urban center. So I felt compelled to strike first. Based on information I provided, the Romanian Army sent two battalions, the 22nd and 24th, of the 6th Mountain Troops Brigade into battle.""It was a massacre," I remembered sadly."But you won," she tried to comfort me."Of the four companies involved in the battle, the Romanians suffered nearly two hundred dead and wounded. I hardly consider it anything other than a massacre. Yes, we won. Only three of the terrorists escaped. Their leader died. I don't think I've ever felt so hollow in my life," I finished."Forty percent losses, that is horrific," she crawled on top of me."The kicker is the Romanians sent some men of the 24th to hunt me down when I was kidnapped. A squad was in the group that rescued me and my companion from Johnston Island. I thought they would never want to deal with me ever again.""Don't be so hard on yourself. If they thought well enough of you to send their men out to rescue you, then you must have done right by them.""Chaz said something like that too," I felt sheepish and sleepy."Chaz? Who is she?"Honest to God, one day I want to find a girl who thinks I'm talking about another girl and asks if we can have a three-way, instead of trying to compare herself to this unknown person. Wait... I already had someone like that. Her name was Odette."Chaz is Color Sergeant Charles 'Chaz' Tomorrow of Her Majesty's SSR," I corrected her assumption."SSR? Those are some tough people. How do you know him?""Black Bag directives from the National Security Council, sworn to secrecy upon penalty of death, pinky-promise kind of stuff," I grinned. Maybe I wasn't all that sleepy after all."You really are a Man of Mystery," Zelda purred. She had truly exceptional stamina. "Maybe I can convince you to talk.""Maybe I can find another use for my tongue," I countered and off we went. Somewhere along the process, Anais woke up and joined in.It wasn't all fun and games. Anais' parting words were "You are a pig," then she sauntered out of my room and out of my life. Had she remembered to take her Serge with her, I would have bought the act. As it was,"Is she always so volatile?" Zelda remarked."Volatile? That's not her being volatile. That's Anais being affectionate. Volatile usually is accompanied by thrown objects and bodily harm," I sighed happily. Meeting her one more time couldn't be all that bad, could it? Zelda looked hungry so I shoved that thought to the back of my mind and got to work.That was the highlight of my Sunday. Zelda had to fly back to Washington D.C. and I had to go to work with JIKIT. It seemed that the Khanate and the US military were heading for a showdown. I unloaded all my Saturday's activities to the team and we got to work, no recriminations. I was the Khan's spiritual brother and sometimes that meant I had to do him favors.I asked Addison when she thought he would return the favor. She laughed, then smiled and told me that wasn't how it worked. He was a world leader now and I was merely his kooky kinsman that he would keep throwing problems at until one day I broke. Then it would be some other poor saps turn.Then she told me she was kidding and clearly the Great Khan thought the world of me. I chose to believe the second lie because it made me feel better, and it was promising to be a long weekend/start of the week.Note: Geopolitical DevelopmentsWhat follows are snippets of the Battle for Thailand that takes place late in the night of September 1stand continued into the early morning of September 3rd. If this does not interest you, you can rejoin Cáel's exploits in four pages)On the eve of battle, the Royal Thai High Command had decided to strip all but one armored unit from the 2nd Army in order to give the First Army's offensive against the rebels more of a punch. It's decision to strip the tank battalions from both their infantry divisions as well as the armored and one of the two mechanized regiments would prove to be disastrous. It was as if the leadership of the Royal Thai military were idiots.The least economically valuable part of the country was the northeast which the 2nd Army warded. They had severely underestimated the airlift capacity of the Khanate as well as the willingness of Laos and Cambodia to both use their armed forces in an invasion as well as their willingness to let Vietnamese troops cross their countries.That thinking had led the Thai military to adopt a 'forward defense' strategy, the desire to fight the enemy at the borders, as opposed to having stronger formations deeper within the country. Considering the relative weakness of the Cambodian and Laotian militaries, that policy had made sense:- The baseline Laotian and Cambodian tank was the T-54/55, a 1950's Soviet relic. The normal anti-tank capabilities in all Thai infantry formations was more than equal to such a threat.-Neither country had an air force worth worrying about.In contrast, the Khanate's primary tanks, the T-90SM and T-95 were resistant to most of what the Thai Army could throw at them, at least from the front. The seven hundred combat aircraft the Khanate and the Vietnamese were able to field was an equal catastrophe for the Thais. It greatly compensated for the relative small numbers of invaders.Finally, there was a fundamental misunderstanding of what the Alliance's goals were. Military logic dictated the destruction of Thailand's mobile force followed by the capture of Bangkok. As long as the Thai regime held the capital, it would remain the legitimate power in the country.Due to the altering political landscape, the Alliance's only option was to make the government 'look bad'. The loss of peripheral provinces, while of negligible immediate strategic value, looked great on the maps the world-wide media would be showing to their audiences. It would appear that the Thai army had failed to defend their country. That would (hopefully) make the Thai Third Army look like the legitimate authority in Thailand.That was the plan anyway, and you know what they say about battle plans and the enemy, right? H-hour was 4 am, September 1st.The commander of the Zuun stood up and waited to be recognized. The staff officer from the Yunnan Command pointed at him."Sir, why are we doing this? I am not afraid to fight for the Great Khan, but this action seems to be suicidal. We will be far behind enemy's lines while our offensive force will be grossly under-equipped.""You will have to rely on our ability to supply you by air.""We only have supplies for two days of operations. What happens then?""We rely on the Americans to come and save us," the senior officer responded bitterly."Allah save us from allies," the young commander muttered. What else could he do?He was part of the 2nd Mountain Sultan Mehmet Tumen which had just arrived in Yunnan to replace the exhausted 1st Mountain Abu al-Ghazi Bahadur Tumen. His men were from Turkey, inexperienced in combat and using new equipment they were not familiar with. They would be working with a unit he had never worked with before, the 1st Airmobile Tauekel Khan Tumen, Kazaks, who would be seizing the small airport his men needed to land in.From there, they were to 'run amok'. That was the technical term for racing south down a highway in Central Thailand, attacking the headquarters of the 3rd Cavalry Division, an armored unit. Once that was accomplished, they were to attack the local police precinct. Provided they were still alive after that, they were to return to the air strip to resupply then they were to 'spread chaos' until they were finally hunted down by the vastly larger Thai division his 100 men would be fighting.Of course, there was the plan for the rebel Royal Thai Third Army to force their way through the larger frontline forces of the loyalist Royal Thai First Army and come to his rescue. How would the Thai troops respond when ordered to fight their fellow Thais? No one was sure. If there was any hope in this mission, it was the knowledge that several other Zuuns had the exact same mission in other areas of Thailand.  It was H-hour minus twenty-two.It was 11 o'clock in the evening when the general in charge of the Royal Thai 9th Infantry Division was woken up. The Marines were leaving. That was correct; the three Royal Thai regiments were heading west to Sattahip Naval Base, because they had been ordered to by the Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Thai Navy. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize why this was going on.Seven hours earlier, the Royal Thai Army had seized all the Air Force bases in the 1st and 2nd Army districts as well as ordering the 4th Army to do the same thing (The Royal Thai Air Force had been trying to remain neutral in the upcoming civil war).Undoubtedly the navy had decided to make their assets less 'hijack-able'. A few phone calls later confirmed that most of the Navy had set sail for parts unknown and the naval air units at Ban Sattahip Air Base (U-Tapao International Airport) had also departed either out to sea, or to ports and bases in the South.He made a personal appeal to the commander of Marine Forces to no avail. They wanted no part of the upcoming struggle and advised the general to do the same. The general had other problems. The Royal Thai Marines were the frontline forces facing the southern border with Cambodia. He quickly reorganized his regiments, sending them to take the old Marine strongpoints to await further orders. Stopping the Marines never entered his mind.That was a bloodletting he wanted no part of. The last thing he did was inform his superiors, thus avoiding any stupid orders to the contrary. Suddenly the nebulous movements along the Cambodian border developed a haunting significance. He wondered how much longer he had before something happened.  It was H-hour minus five.At midnight a loyalist commander of a company of mechanized infantry in the 2nd Cavalry's 11th Battle Group (named after their axis of advance, Highway 11) decided to send a motorized section of his command forward to the advance position his battalion was to occupy come sunrise. Either later in the day, or tomorrow morning, the forces loyal to the regime would launch a coordinated assault against the rebels main supply center at Phitsanulok.He had a cot set up in his communications hut and had just nodded off when the radio squawked to life. His lieutenant in charge of the advance made a hurried report. They had encountered serious opposition in a confusing night action, then he went silent. The captain immediately swung into action. He put the rest of his men on alert, then contacted the neighboring Tank Battalion. He needed some armored support. He made a similar call to the attached artillery component.The Tank Battalions night officer quickly put a platoon of light tanks at his disposal. The artillery were ready for any fire mission he sent their way. Before the armor could arrive, the company commander found himself being called to the carpet by the Duty Officer at the 3rd Cavalry (two regiments of the 2nd Cav. had been attached to the 3rd's command) over his 'offensive' action and the relief mission was called off. What had happened to the patrol of 20 Royal Thai soldiers? He was ordered to wait until sunrise to find out.Little did anyone know, these were the first combat casualties of the upcoming rebel offensive. His patrol had stumbled across a battalion of mechanized troops arriving at their jump off point for the attack that was less than six hours from beginning. Neither the commander of the 11th Battle Group, the 3rd Cavalry Division, or First Army was informed that the enemy had already advanced twenty kilometers south of where they were supposed to be.  

Today's episode is full of good stuff, you guys. I've got the actual episode on Recital Music Criteria, a big announcement, and a GREAT Teacher Friend of the Week story for you. Suffice to say, I'm happy to be in your ears today.Find the full shownotes for this episode at ChristinaWhitlock.com/episode209 The 2025 Piano Recital Guide is HERE! Check out all the details at ChristinaWhitlock.com/2025

Tadifi's legendBook 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.Meanwhile, Elsa was quietly amused. It wasn't like I could request the SD to force my House Guard to not do something they had been told to do by someone in my hierarchy. That would lead to chaos, and it was unfair to Juanita."Fine," I decided. "Get us three some water. Elsa and I will be practicing."Now Juanita was stuck. I wasn't asking her to leave the room, just leave me alone. I was technically her leader, respect notwithstanding."It is good to see you have not become drunk with power," Elsa smirked once Juanita had left on her errand."Your mockery is unappreciated," I glared back. I was only kidding. "I haven't seen you around recently. It is good to see you.""It is good to see you too," Elsa said in a voice far softer and compassionate than I would have preferred. After all, she had me drugged, beaten, then beaten me up again in the not so distant past.Of course, I had also sexed her up, bringing her to orgasm with my fingers alone. We had also exchanged a burning French kiss in Katrina's office that Buffy was aware of. Then there was the Buffy-Elsa personal feud and the Elsa-Rhada family feud. Balancing that was Elsa's super-hot body and intriguing personality. Sex with her promised to be memorable, more memorable than normal."What have you been up to? I'd like to say I've been behaving myself, but I don't want to advance our relationship by lying (right now, about this).""You are largely responsible for what I've been up to the past two weeks," she stepped back. She tossed her spear aside and entered her fighting stance. How nice of her to warn me, and get rid of her weapon. How erotically odd of her to give me the illusion of a chance."I deny everything," I rocked back. She was blindingly fast. The fact that I was able to block most of the blow was a testament to how much I had learned in the past two and a half months."Watashi wa nihongo o hanashimasu', 'Wǒ shuō pǔtōnghu ', 'Wǒ shuō guǎngdōng hu ' and 'Aku isa basa jawa'," she lectured me as she maneuvered me into a corner with a series of kicks and feints. She spoke Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese and Javanese. That was nice to know."Wait," then she kicked me off the mat."Amazons don't have a 'time out'," she smiled. I cautiously worked my way back onto the practice area."What part did you play?" I readied myself. This time, I went on the offensive. I used my greater strength and reach to compensate (rather poorly) for her superior reflexes."Someone had to ride herd on those disparate forces. My status was respected by the Amazons, I had experience dealing with outsiders, plus your person Addison nominated me, and Katrina suggested that you and I were close. That was enough for the Khanate. Your embassy and earlier aid to the Seven Families brought the 9 Clans along.""And you stole the carrier?""It was an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to humiliate the Seven Pillars," she grinned. "Riding in a nuclear submarine was interesting, right up there with running around, spray painting translations next to all the markings onboard the captured vessel. Herding regular civilians wasn't nearly as much fun.""In the annals of the SD, that is going to be a victory hard to surpass," I got out right before my legs were swept out from under me. Before I could roll over, she landed on top of me. She didn't go for a pin. Elsa simply sat there, straddling my hips and looking down at me. We were both breathing heavily."I owe you for that," she patted me on my bare chest."Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?""I'll let you figure that out during the Great Hunt," she gave a sliver of a smile."Not you too," I groaned."Who else are you worried about?""You and twenty-nine other Amazons. By name, Rachel. She's pretty upbeat about her chances and believes she has a score to settle.""Rachel will be a tough one," Elsa acknowledged."Comfortable?" Juanita muttered."Yes, I am," Elsa grinned her way. "Thank you for asking." Juanita gave me a look that suggested I do something like protest, or actually try to fight her off."Why are you being nice to me?" I wondered."I've learned to appreciate your numerous qualities," Elsa enlightened me. "I am also honest enough to admit I was completely wrong about you. You make a good Amazon." That was huge praise indeed and more importantly, it was to a public audience. I was double fortunate that no one was close enough to see Elsa's camel toe resting against my lightly covered hard-on."Thank you. Is there anything I can do for you?""Aren't you engaged to someone?" Juanita reminded me. What she was really saying was 'don't you know you belong to the maidens of House Ishara?' Trust me, I know these things. Had she meant Hana, she would have said Hana."She has the patience of Job," I reasoned. "Oh, Elsa, Job is a figure in the Old Testament of the Bible." I doubted she knew."Oh. Is he a bloody-handed butcher, raging misogynist, or one of those pacifistic wimps?""He's a nice guy who gets swallowed by a whale.""That's Jonah," Juanita corrected me. "Job is the one who was tested by God. Job accepted God taking away all his family, wealth and health, only to be rewarded for his loyalty to God with more than he ever had before.""Wimp.""I would never turn away from Ishara," Juanita rumbled."Zorja would never feel the need to test my loyalty so," Elsa riposted."Oh look," I thrust my hips up. "I seem to need a shower." Elsa's expression was of superiority and lust combined into a lethal cocktail of my demise."Let's go. You can wash my back," she said as she rose over me. She even offered me a hand up. That was unexpected and accepted warily."Is there some battle wound that makes you incapable of bathing yourself?" Juanita got feisty. Holy Hell, she was my Caribbean Buffy-twin."None," Elsa smugly commented. "I like the feel of his hands on my body. He possesses non-threatening masculinity wed with sisterly solidarity. It is a unique experience that you seem woefully unaware of.""Yippee!" I whispered."You really are a man-whore," Juanita declared under her breath."Check," I gave her a thumbs-up. Sadly, Elsa gave me enough respect to walk at my side, not in front of me (so I could have been mesmerized by her buttocks.) As I was stripping down in the locker room, I noticed Juanita hovering close by. "Are you going to follow me into the shower?""Yes.""Why? I am not going to be in danger in the middle of Havenstone.""I'll be the judge of that," she insisted."You do realize I've had sex with an audience before, don't you?""I've been warned about that and know proper counter-measures.""What? What kind of measures?" I was now naked and, towel in hand, was making my way to the communal showers."Charlie horses, trips, stun-gun if applicable," she informed me with relish."You are threatening to damage my prestige," I enlightened her."Cáel, I was chosen for more than my martial skills. I was selected because I will not wilt before your childish ways.""Are you a lesbian?""No. Why would a woman have to be a lesbian to withstand your wiles?""You'll figure it out eventually," I chuckled. Actually, knowing what a playboy-cad I was turned out to be a counter-intuitive edge for me. Expecting me to be a letch just meant I totally ignored the woman. Then the doubt would set in. 'Why wasn't I hitting on her?' she would think. She'd go through the phase of her not being good enough for me to knowing that wasn't the case, definitely, and would come at me to prove herself right. Wham-bam, another one in the can. Oink.Step One: reduce the amount of time talking to her as a fellow human traveler of life. From here on out, I would address her by her name when I wanted something and otherwise treat her like furniture ~ furniture I was comfortable with. In this case, I treated her like a towel rack. She promptly dropped it. That was okay, I was planning to get dressed wet anyway.I rinsed off my hair quickly as Elsa settled underneath the showerhead beside me. As soon as I finished, she handled me a bottle of (scentless) body soap. It was probably one of those the jaguar will smell me coming ten miles away excuses Amazons used to avoid being girlie. I got my hands all sudsy and began working on her shoulders and neck from behind.Wordlessly, Elsa followed my physical directions, allowing me to wash her arms before working my way down her back in languid, amorous circles. Around the 10th thoracic vertebrae, Elsa gave me a deep, cleansing exhalation. I dug my fingers into her taut back muscles, racking them down to her buttocks, deftly ran them along the sides of her glutes and finished up caressing them along the line between her thighs and ass.I worked her buttocks apart, worked my fingers along her perineum, tickling the back of her labia then up, across her anus and back to her tailbone and the small of her back. A crazy idea came to me: maybe I could talk her into a tramp stamp; something like If you are reading this, know I'll kill you next. That would be so Elsa.I lathered her ass up for another half-minute before working my way down to her thighs, starting with the hip joints and then coaxing of her parted lips. I knelt down so that I was resting on the balls of my feet. Elsa obliged me by parting her legs, standing on her toes with her feet over a foot apart, then placing her hands against the shower stall while arching her back so that her hips were thrust back."Oh, come on," Juanita protested. "What kind of bath is this?""Did you hear something?" Elsa looked down at me."Nope. I was focusing all of my attention on you," I smiled up at her. I was really liking the way her muscles were stressed through her exertions. I couldn't seem to pay enough attention to her robust calves. I didn't pass up the opportunity to plant gentle kisses on each cheek either.Elsa's ankles and feet happened all too fast and the pretense of a bath was complete. She looked at me while she soaped up her breasts then let the water cascade all over her body."Thank you, Cáel," she gave me a regal nod of her damp head, turned and left. "Train harder for the Hunt. You are going to need every edge you can get.""I'm stalking oysters over the weekend. They are cunning and stealthy adversaries," I replied sagely. Elsa snorted, then started toweling off as she left, going toward her own locker. I walked past my soaked towel on the floor without a single glance. Juanita stalked behind me, clearly with a lot on her mind she was now waiting for the proper moment to share. I got dressed."Not going to dry off?" she grumbled."I never use towels," I lied. "I like the rain-washed feel." By ignoring her act of defiance, I really steamed her. I wasn't done. As we headed toward the elevator, I opened up with my next jibe. Buffy really shouldn't challenge me so. I'm a past-master of dealing with clingy, bossy women."Regretting you made that bet?" I mused while we waited."What bet?" she simmered."The bet where you assured Buffy and whomever else was in the room that you wouldn't break down and physically harm me ~ punishing me for my wicked ways?""What? How did," she groused then, "You are playing me.""Yep.""You really are full of yourself," she seared me with her gaze."No, but I know what I'm good at and I'm good at frustrating women. I've been working at it for the past four years and I've got over 200 women who would agree that I'm very good at doing it.""Why are you doing this to me? I'm on your side," she turned all pouty and hurtful."Because if I don't, I'll go mad, Juanita," I enlightened her. "You want to protect me, right?""Yes," she sensed a verbal trap. The elevator opened and we stepped in."See, I don't want to be protected," I started."That's,""Let me finish, please," I stopped her. She gave me the visual 'go-ahead'. "I don't want to live a life where I need to be protected. I don't want to worry that women I hang out with could be cornered by some unsavory types at an eatery because those women happen to know and like me.""I admire what you are doing, I really do. This is not the life I wanted, though. This is not what I wanted to be doing four months after leaving college. I wanted to be some corporate worm, barely scraping by on my work reviews and being, as you said, 'a man-whore'.""You don't have that luxury," she pointed out."Am I not doing my job?" I countered."I guess you are," she grudgingly admitted."Yet you feel you have the right to critique my personal life and how I approach it," I related. "I'm not beating you up by playing the I am Ishara bullshit. I certainly don't expect anyone to be grateful to me for the opportunity to be in a House. I don't because I believe that every member of House Ishara has already proven they belong here before I ever meet them. I believe in you. Sometimes I would appreciate it if my sisters would give me the same respect."She looked away because my harpoon had struck home."Unlike the rest of you, I inherited my place in this madhouse. Unlike every other Amazon here, I am only a part of House Ishara because I am the choice of a thousand ancestors to be our leader. Notice that no one asked me if I wanted to do this. And I don't think I ask too much of you because frankly, there are times when I feel unworthy to be in your company.""You are still Ishara and I must still be your guardian," she held her ground. I glared at her. She glared back. I coughed. She kept glaring."What's my name?""Oh," she shrugged. "Cáel Wakko Ishara.""That may sound silly you to, but I have chosen the designations for myself, my First Ancestor and the Goddess for a good reason."We rode in silence. When we got to the ground floor, we made our way to our bikes and got ready to head home."What is the reason?""To never take ourselves too seriously. The worst thing I can think to befall my House is we become as humorless as the rest of the bitches around here. 'Laugh at Death' should be our motto.""Isn't that a bit childish?""Of course it is," I groaned. "You clearly haven't been paying attention to a damn thing I've been saying. I swear I'm thinking about bringing back 'National Clown Nose Day'.""We had a 'National Clown Nose Day'?" she pedaled to keep up."God help me," I muttered.(Where is my Serge?)"You are not going to let me go through my door first?" I sighed in exasperation. Juanita insisted that she go through every door first, because today was so very different than yesterday, when I had Pamela, perhaps I protest too much."You have a gun," a somewhat familiar voice said from inside my/Timothy's apartment. Oh, fuck. Ya know, because Juanita was as pretty as she was lethal, which is to say 'too much for the given company'."Don't make any sudden moves unless you want to see it," Juanita cautioned her."Oh, it's okay," Odette intervened. "This is Anais Saint-Armour. She's a Mountie.""Oh, she's on the List too," Juanita grumbled. "What has he done wrong this time?""Why don't you tell me who you are first?" Anais growled at Juanita while I pushed my way into the room."I don't like your attitude," Juanita glared."Anais, this is Juanita Leya Antonio Garza; she's my latest bodyguard. Juanita, this is Anais, a good friend of mine who helped save my life in Hungary when the 'terrorists' were closing in," I somewhat exaggerated,, she had helped me catch up with the rest of the team when Pamela and I got sidetracked."Why did he chose you?" Anais fumed. Did I mention she's insanely jealous with an aching need to know why I was marrying anyone else, but her."What list?" Odette proved to be on the ball."He didn't chose me. I volunteered for the spot.""Buffy made an anti-girlfriend list. Elsa is on it too," I mumbled."I bet you did," Anais (responding to Juanita)."It is not like that," I moved to interpose myself between my Mountie and my non-mounted (for now) guardian. "I'm on the board of directors for Havenstone now and,""How did that happen?" Anais turned 'The Force' on me. (That's Canadian for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, really) "You insisted (reference back in the days we were seeing one another) you were impoverished.""I inherited it from my Father,""He's poor too. I ran a background check when we first started dating," Anais kept up the pressure."My Mother?""She's dead.""Okay, it was my Father through a convoluted meandering of genetics," I went back to attempting the truth (shame on me)."Which is it?" she glowered."My Father, but it's too complicated to get into now," I tried to touch her. She recoiled. She was still pissed with me."He's telling the truth this time," Odette rose to my defense."Why didn't you tell me this when you were in Hungary? For that matter, if you are rich, why didn't you use those resources to get yourself out of trouble instead of involving me?" She really was a great cop."I had to make a call to someone I trusted and who couldn't be traced back to me, or Havenstone, or the Irish Embassy," I fibbed."What have you gotten yourself into?" Anais thawed somewhat."I believe I promised you dinner," I reminded her."You did.""Where are we going?" Juanita stressed our lack of privacy."'We' aren't going anywhere. Ms. Anais Saint-Armour and I are going to a restaurant of her choosing. Don't worry about it. She carries a gun.""I'm not carrying a gun," Anais torpedoed my plan."Where are we going?" Juanita repeated herself. I had to switch mental gears quickly to take in the new looks I was getting from Anais. I shouldn't have ignored those cues."I can't get around my personal security service," I sighed. Why did I give in? Anais was all about gathering evidence and then drawing conclusions from the facts in available.I had been involved in some significant bad-assery in Europe that was way beyond anything she would have associated with the old me. Terrorist cells duking it out with me (and others) in a Budapest metro station? A rustic inn being reduced to ashes after a suspected firefight? Bomb threats? A full-scale military operation in Romania?I had been kidnapped with a resultant massive manhunt for me then returned under highly mysterious circumstances. There had been a young girl with me, we were close for reasons not really gone into and I had saved her despite all forms of parenthood had been anathema to me.I was a man who others deemed necessary to protect, thus a man making secretive phone calls, getting snippets of information and being involved in the deaths of way too many people to be the old, playboy me. Who had I become?I therefore might be a man who 'needed' to marry a billionairess due to some unspeakable political reasons, not out of any romantic/sexual desire of my own. Anais knew that I was a commitment-phobe, not a gold-digger. That meant she could be involved with me without it really being cheating. I needed her help, I had reached out to her when I was in crisis and she was in the people-helping business, right?There was clearly more evidence out there for her to discover and she had the good fortune to be able to have me in a spot where I could be interrogated."Where do you want to go?" I disengaged and went to my room. The door was only partially shut as I changed."Eleven Madison West," I was told."Oh," Odette cooed, "that place is expensive.""I know," Anais remarked."Why did you pick it?" Odette inquired."To remind Cáel that meals can be very expensive." That was my 'date' reminded me that I'd cheated with her over the course of a home-cooked meal, cooked not-by-her in someone else's home. I wondered how Maya was doing.Eleven Madison West meant I pulled out one of my Havenstone suits. They were tailored after all and I suspected that getting into this place at this time of night was going to take some charisma and finagling. Dressing as causal-me wouldn't do. When I stepped out, jaws dropped ~ I do look good all gussied up. Odette dispelled the shock by jumping into my arms."You look hot," she squealed. "Too bad I'm not going out with you.""You might want to remember that," Anais griped."We need to stop by Havenstone so I can attempt to dress up for this affair," Juanita stated."How about we call in a replacement? Give you the night off?" I suggested."Who?""Chaz?""You want that British SSR non-commissioned officer to be your personal bodyguard for tonight? You've got balls," Juanita coughed. I took out my phone and got ready to give him a call."Hey, Anais, why didn't you call me to tell me you were coming over?" I carefully avoided the word 'warned' as she would take that the wrong way."I don't have your personal phone number. I called your home phone and got the answering service, last night and again this morning," she narrowed her eyes."Odette, did Timothy get lucky last night?" I looked past the Mountie."No. A good friend of his rolled his motorcycle and he went to the hospital to help him out," Odette shook her head. Poor Timothy. My roomie/fuck-buddy misinterpreted Anais's pique. "Timothy is gay, not a sexual enabler.""Huh?" Juanita wondered."Wingman," I translated. "Sometimes the three of us go to gay clubs where I act as his wingman,""And they feed me to lesbians," Odette sounded enthusiastic. Thanks to me she was hardly a same-sex virgin."If there are three people living here and two bedrooms, who sleeps on the sofa?" Anais skewered Odette with her eyes."If Cáel has company and isn't sharing, I sleep with Timothy," Odette refused to wilt, or cut me some slack with Anais."Isn't sharing?" those ocular death orbs flicked my way."Hmm, if we are going to Elven Madison West, I had better make that call," I evaded. I rang Chaz."Nyilas," he answered. "How are you doing this evening?""I'm good. I have an ex-girlfriend from out of town visiting, she wants to go to a swanky place and Juanita isn't dressed for the detail so,""You want me to double date?""No, I need a bodyguard.""You are assuming I have something appropriate to wear.""You are British!" I protested. "Even your chicks have tuxedos.""Very well. Will this be a personal protection detail, or close support?""Aahhh,""Close support," said Anais."Personal Protection," countered Juanita."The one most likely to save me from being stabbed with a steak knife," I muttered."I am not going to physically attack you," Anais simmered. Yeah, right, I had heard that one before, and not just from her."Personal Protection it is," Chaz informed me."Oh, and she's a Mountie.""Is she armed?""No," I thanked the goddesses."Does she want to be?""Huh? Are you going to arm her?" I panicked."No. You have a NYPD liaison. Give Officer Kutuzov a call and make a formal request. If she is a law enforcement officer in good standing, it shouldn't be a problem.""Oh, I can do that?, I'm not sure that's the best idea," I prevaricated."Man up, Nyilas," he chided me. "You should work on making it so women don't want to shoot you instead of thinking of ways to disarm them.""Spoken like a man who wisely prefers the company of other men," I grumbled."Good use of the word 'wisely'. Next question: what are we using as a means of conveyance?""Umm,""I have my motorcycle," Anais was less than helpful."If you weren't one of the bravest human beings I'd ever met, I would determine at this moment that you are a dolt. Call Havenstone and arrange for one of those Mercedes Armored GL550s. Bring your license. I drive on the correct side of the road and I'm not keen on having a distraught paramour driving into a storefront at 80 kph.""Man, I like the way you speak," I joked."I took advantage of a proper English education.""I was joking with you.""I know.""Can I date your sister?" I didn't know if he had a sister, but he'd hinted there were multiple Tomorrow's out there. Anais' mood didn't improve."Yes. I like you. You are a good bloke.""Does your sister know how to kill people?""Yes. I'd say she's relatively proficient with a variety of small arms and hand-to-hand techniques," he enlightened me."Just checking.""Cáel, every woman you are interested knows how to kill people, or how to have people killed," Chaz reminded me."What about Odette? She's neither well connected nor lethal.""Odette is indeed an enigma. She counters that by being well liked by people who are capable of killing others who hurt her, except where you are concerned. You live a treasured life.""Have you made dinner reservations? If you need me for a black tie event it has to be, what is the American for it, swanky.""That's more of a Cael/Pamela thing," I corrected him. "American's say 'high class', expensive, or 'hot spot'.""Thanks for the update. Make those calls.""O-kay. Will do. I'll meet you at Havenstone in thirty minutes. Does that work for you?""Yes. Make those calls. I'll see you at, 7:52 pm, EDT. Mark.""Huh?""Goodbye Cáel," and he hung up."Who is this 'Chaz' character?" Anais questioned me."He is Color Sergeant Charles Tomorrow of the British Army's Special Reconnaissance Regiment, he's a badass and he's delicious," Odette answered for me."How do you know him, either of you?" came next."He was with," Odette began blabbing 'National Security' stuff."Odette, don't. Anais, he is member of the Joint International Khanate Interim Taskforce along with me. Odette helps out in an auxiliary role," I answered."Cáel, how did you end up doing this kind of work?" she was perplexed. "You were devoid of anything approaching civic responsibility when we were last together. Quite frankly, I didn't think you cared for anyone but yourself.""Hey now," Odette got feisty. She was my friend after all."We can talk about that over dinner?" I suggested. She didn't like that answer, so I lied. "I grew up," which was what she wanted to hear. I was spared any more interrogation at the moment by the necessity of making those three phone calls. Nikita liked hearing from me again, though she was less pleased that it was official business. She did agree to contact the appropriate agency for me, despite me making it for a different female law enforcement agent.I'd wised up about Havenstone. I called Executive services to have the car delivered to my door step. I cautioned the operative that, in my neighborhood, they might be stopped on suspicion of purchasing guns, drugs, and/or a good time. I would have the car in fifteen minutes and agreed to take the delivery driver back to work afterwards. I'd have done it even if I wasn't meeting Chaz.At Eleven Madison West, I got a snooty 'exactly who do you think you are?' followed by 'you will be placed on the waiting list, a spot may open up around 9:50'. Was I going to inform Chaz and Anais of this? Of course not. I planned to beg like a big dog, suggest that while I was a nameless face, I actually knew people, a person, and we'd see how far that got me.While waiting for the S U V to arrive and on the drive back to Havenstone, this is pretty much what followed:"Do you know who was behind your father's murder yet?""Yes, but I can't talk about it.""Was that the reason people are trying to kill you?""Yes. That and other reasons.""What other reasons?""Things I can't talk about.""Why can't you talk about it?""Secret society stuff ~ decoder rings, secret handshakes, writing in cyphers, holding clandestine meetings in public places after dark, and various other things world governments don't want me talking about.""Are you pulling my leg?" I wished I was running my hands over her legs. This wasn't the time for that revelation."No. Most of what I am telling you is the truth.""Were you in a shootout at the Chicago Medical Examiner's morgue?""Yes. I was unarmed at the time.""Was your life in danger?""It depends on what you mean by 'danger'. My allies had guns and were expert shots. I was shot at, but they missed me, so I not sure how much my life was at risk.""Can you please be serious?""I'm trying. You scare me.""You don't need to be afraid of me. I only want to help." That was mostly true. She was a diligent, hard-working incorruptible public servant,well, as long as you overlooked her charging me with bestiality when she was truly pissed with me."I'm not afraid of you hurting me. I'm afraid for you. You are an excellent peace officer and I'm worried that you will learn too much. Then your life will be as screwed up as mine.""I can take care of myself.""The reality that you are going out with me unarmed speaks volumes about what you don't know, Anais.""Don't think this line of questioning is over, Cáel.""Don't worry. I know you are not done.""Very well. How is your aunt?" The crab-fisherwoman, not the Irish menagerie."Happy as a clam, working a real job and living life on her own terms.""Where did you go wrong?" That was a loaded question. I had to tread carefully."A girl humiliated me in high school. I decided to take control of my life and somehow, despite my best intentions to be an unreliable lothario, I've ended up with people closer to me than family,and this constant need for physical protection.""Why are you engaged?" Finally, the real reason she was here. Had she come by to pick up her accoutrements, she would have been gone by the time I came home. She wanted answers, answers that allowed her to be in charge of our relationship again. It was the double-barreled impact of exceptional sex and wondering why she wasn't 'the one'.(Me) "Are you seeing somebody?""You didn't answer my question.""I've answered plenty of your questions. Answer mine.""No. Men expect too much from a career woman." Translation: 'I'm a bitch that, regardless of my dynamite looks and raunchy sex drive, repels men because I'm a compulsive control freak with abysmal trust issues.'"You do put your career first." Translation: 'I've totally forgotten that you are a compulsive control freak with abysmal trust issues.' It was what she wanted to hear."Your turn.""Put on your tin-foil hat. I did it to save lives in Central Asia when the anthrax strikes were going on. I have this friend over there that people listen to.""Who? The Great Khan?"I didn't respond which wasn't the answer she was expecting."How?" as in how could I possibly be good friends with the master of arguably the third or fourth most powerful nation on the face of the Earth"That's one of those things I can't talk about.""Do you love her?""I don't know. I'm lousy at relationships. I get along with her daughter. Her father wants to bury me alive in the Nevada desert. The rest of the family seems to be coming around to the idea that I might be one of them.""That isn't a 'yes'.""No, it isn't.""Do you think you can ever love someone?" If you need translated, sigh, okay, 'why don't you love me?'"Do you mean 'when am I going to stop stumbling from botched relationship to botched relationship and make something constructive of my personal life?'""Yes.""Did I mention that I've discovered I have a grandfather?""No. That isn't answering my question.""It is in a way. Did I mention that Mom had ten sisters I wasn't aware of? I had an uncle, but he died in my arms.""No. My condolences on your uncle. What does this have to do with you becoming more of an adult and becoming accountable for your life?""Did I mention I have an adopted grandmother who is my spiritual twin?""No.""Don't worry about my uncle. He died trying to kill me. My aunts murdered him, though I can never prove it.""Oh.""My grandfather? He was the one who sent those terrorists to kill me. It was his litmus test to see if I was worthy of being in his family. I passed.""Are you serious?""Yes. My spiritual grandma? She's a retired professional assassin. Daily I interact with a half-dozen people who have killed multiple human beings in their lifetimes. You want to know why I'm not behaving responsibly? I am acting responsibly. I'm trying to not get the decent civilians around me killed."She took awhile digesting that. By that time, we had returned to Havenstone and picked up Chaz. I made introductions."So, are you really with the SRR?" she asked him."Yes.""Why are you with Cáel?""My mandate contains multiple answers. Suffice it to say, since my RAF contemporary will not be returning from the UK until tomorrow, I am presently chief liaison officer for Her Majesty's government with JIKIT.""Why are you coming along as Cáel's bodyguard? Don't you have something better to do with your Friday evenings?" Subtle and polite, Anais ain't. Why was I putting up with her? She was a sexual tornado who would try anything once. She was a real prize."First question: Cáel is a friend, his life is in perpetual danger and I consider it my duty to keep him alive. He would do the same for me. Second question: the nature of my present assignment doesn't leave much room for any meaningful romantic associations.""Hmm," I contemplated what wasn't being said. "Chaz, you are nailing one of my security chicks, aren't you?""Yes.""Which one?""A man of character doesn't brag about such things."Chaz was getting some Amazon nookie. I had to find a way to tell him how dangerous that was. She might decide he's make good father material, not a good thing where Amazons were concerned."Are all of his security personnel women?" Anais pressed."Miss Saint-Amour, Havenstone is a corporation that employs over ten thousand people. There are precisely five men currently on their payroll. All their security personnel are woman. Cáel has very limited, if any, input on the matter.""Are you sure about that?""Yes, Miss Saint-Amour. Who would trust a man of Cáel's dubious experience with his own security?" Chaz pointed out."Oh." She hadn't thought of that."Can you tell me why you think his life is in danger?""He is far more likely to be kidnapped than murdered. He possess certain sensitive data that powerful entities would like to access, thus I am his bodyguard tonight. Considering the quality of the women who normally guard him, I consider it an honor.""To guard Cáel, on a date?""He was kidnapped visiting a child at a playground. Yes, we believe his life is in constant peril. The training and experience of his security service is top flight and it has been a pleasure to serve among them.""Were you with him in Budapest and Romania?""The metro station?""Yes.""Yes.""Romania?""Do you mean the counterterrorism action south of Miercurea Ciuc?""Yes.""Yes."Wow, these two were lousy communicators. I could imagine Chaz propositioning one of my Amazons.Chaz: 'You have a superior feminine physique which I find appealing. Want to fuck?'Amazon: 'You look like you have the prerequisite stamina and battle scars to be part of the New Directive. Sure.'"Were you involved in the actual combat? The SRR is normally an intelligence gathering unit.""I was gathering battlefield intelligence, Miss. That required my close proximity to armed and actively hostile enemy aliens (as in they were in Romania illegally, not that they were all supernatural beings). My involvement resulted in two KIA's and one WIA.""Damn Chaz, you rock.""I am a professional.""How many did Pamela gak?""One KIA.""Just one? Whoa, that's so unlike her.""She kept trying to bracket the cell leader (aka Ajax). He had the Devil's Own Luck.""Cáel, why are you making light of all those deaths?" Anais chastised me. "How many terrorists did you wound, or kill?""I wounded one guy.""That is disingenuous," Chaz chided me. "You orchestrated the operation, showed tactical expertise in seizing the most critical terrain feature and engineered the death of the terrorist leader.""My Cáel did that? When I knew him, he was adverse to violence," Anais shook her head."Considering the considerable number of people he's killed, he's still adverse to physical confrontation where his own life is involved. But God help you if you threaten someone he is close to, though. He's the man who can get things done when the team is in a pinch.""Cáel, what happened to you?" she didn't sound upset at all."I learned to care for people beyond my immediate interest, you know, actual long-term relationships," with the unspoken 'as opposed to women I'm currently having sex with'."It took you long enough," she snipped. Reference her being a compulsive control freak with abysmal trust issues.The interrogation was put on hold while we entered the restaurant and,"Mr. Nyilas?" the maytre dee greeted me."Yes.""We will get you a table right away," he nodded obsequiously. What the hell was up with that? Where was my two hour wait time? Oh yeah, I was a minor, fifteen seconds of fame celebrity."Will Ms. Sulkanen be joining you this evening?""No. She had to oversee a packaged Erythrosine-monosaccharides explosion in Boca Raton. Flaming plastic pink flamingo bits were raining down everywhere. I imagine it is taking an Everest-sized load of hush money to keep this out of the media," I replied. I was so eerily sincere, he bought it and a look of horror snuck over his face. I had become the public face of corporate malfeasance."Your table (gulp) is ready, Sir," he began to sweat. He took us to our table for four then beat a hasty retreat. Undoubtedly his civic-mindedness would have him calling up TMZ within a minute. After all, it was unlikely he owned any plastic pink flamingos, or invested in their construction. Once he was gone, Chaz let a thin smile break through his hard-earned military unfazed-ability."What exactly are packaged Erythrosine-monosaccharides?" he inquired."Packaged is self-explanatory. Erythrosine is pink food coloring and monosaccharides are,""Sugar," Anais frowned."Exploding pixie sticks, I have nieces and nephews. You are a genius at misdirection, Mr. Nyilas," he nodded."Thank you, Color Sergeant Tomorrow. It is nice to be appreciated for my bizarre and useless preoccupation," I grinned."You practice lying?" Anais' view of me dimmed."Miss, he excels at extraneous, outrageous utterances. No harm is intended.""Things like I was helping her find her contact lenses?" That had been my excuse when caught coming out of Maya's apartment. Sadly, Anais is highly perceptive and knew the lady didn't wear contacts. The copious female aroma wafting off me certainly hadn't helped."That's unfair," I countered. "Back then, I was a college nitwit suffering from undiagnosed nymphomania. I'd like to think I'm getting better."" tes-vous mieux?" she retorted in French."Je suis assez intelligent pour aller vers vous lorsque des vies  taient sur la ligne." That's right, Anais. When my life and the lives of others were on the line, she was the first one I thought to call. Letting a woman know that you admire her profession, professionalism and reliability never hurts."Are you really a nymphomaniac?" she returned to English. French is the language of sex, as is any derivative of Sanskrit, Farsi and Portuguese. Reference the multitude of Indians, the hotness of Persian women and the outpouring of lust that is Brazil."I had a magnetoencephalography recently. The neuroscientists didn't know what to make of my brain patterns. I appear to be somewhat unique in my madness."She didn't believe me. I didn't blame her. No one really likes hearing a truth they don't want to accept."Here," I leaned forward and pointed to the tiny divot in my forehead. "I was stabbed with a needle in the skull. That is why they looked at me, not because of my sexual malfunction."She touched it to makes sure. We were interrupted by the waiter stopping by to see if we were ready to order yet."We will have three of the most expensive appetizers, dinners, deserts and wines," Anais preempted us. Ugh. I was either a millionaire by the wonders of Havenstone accounting, or broke. I foolishly never looked into such things, never having had much money before. I needed a distraction."Hey Chaz, nice suit," was what came to mind. It was a swell masterpiece of the tailoring arts I hadn't expect from a ground-pounder from a family of ground-pounders serving Queen and Country for generations."Thank you. Pamela picked it out for me, suspecting an event such as this would transpire. She told me you paid for it," Chaz answered."I did?""I made the reasonable deduction that she forged your signature on whatever medium was used for payment," he shrugged, "in the same way she exhibits a criminal tendency toward every other aspect of her life.""What does Pamela look like?" Anais glowered."She's his grandmother," Chaz responded politely. "They make quite the pair. Normally we don't let them alone in the same room. Bad things happen.""Bad things?""Things like that scenic hostel being reduced to ruin," he enlightened her."This is the supposed assassin?""Retired assassin," Chaz corrected her. "So far she's only, what is the term you two use?" he looked at me."Sending a Get-Well card to their next of kin? Pumping up the volume? Making a critical attitude adjustment? Retroactively revoking their lease on life? We have a few.""Yes, those. Pamela has assured the team director that she no longer accepts assignments of a murderous nature. These days she only practices her skills on those we determine are a threat to the greater endeavor," he explained."She murders people? You all murder people?" Anais furrowed her brow. "Cáel, do you engage in these activities?""What? Who? Me? No!" I waved off any conspiratorial associations. "The vast majority of people I've killed was totally by accident.""How do you accidently kill people?" she pierced my soul with her voice."Okay, I let them kill themselves because warning them would have resulted in me and some friends meeting very immediate violent ends," I pleaded."Miss Saint-Amour, I've talked to trustworthy people who were on the scene when this happened. It was a paramilitary action with the lives of children on the line. Cáel acted to save the lives of innocents," Chaz defended me. That is what Anais wanted to believe; that I was basically a decent human being. I was a pig, but a courageous one. I had confronted her after my infidelity, on the other side of the US/Canadian border where her jurisdiction didn't apply.I knew my revelations were hideously hard to believe. In my favor, I had been in dangerous places doing dangerous things. The Metro firefight had been captured on the place's security system (which had been leaked to the public thus leading to some delusional admirers into thinking I would make a great new King of Hungary even though they hadn't had a monarch since 1918 nor was I from the right (Hapsburg) family. In case this whole Havenstone thing came crashing down in flames, I needed to keep my options open).There had been a bomb threat at Mindszent which I had reputable sources call in (and where I had admittedly hung out with a few of the women who saved me from an earlier disaster) and Miercurea Ciuc had made the international news. Well over 100 people had died and some of the terrorists were still at large. The Romanian government declared I had been 'instrumental' in the confrontation without saying what 'instrumental' meant.I was heroically vague, more mature than where we left off and clearly incited pussy-twitching memories. We'd once fucked so continuously hard and long one weekend that neither one of us could stand until an hour after we stopped. Anais was well worth the pain I was contemplating. Sex with her wasn't the pain I was worried about. It was dodging all her calls afterwards. Once again reference her being a compulsive control freak with abysmal trust issues.Oh, how did I know she was reveling in our past coital moments? She hadn't walked out on me yet. She hadn't walked out when she found Odette in my domicile, when she met Juanita, or when she found out that I worked with highly experienced killers as part of my new daily routine.Normally Anais was smarter than this and had a career in law enforcement to contemplate. Lastly, she hadn't asked to be armed, despite getting permission from the NYPD. Had she decided to get a gun, Anais was sure in her hormonally-cascading mindset she would have shot me by now. I incite all kinds of passion in women. It is a curse.The rest of dinner was unremarkable. Anais continued to interrogate Chaz who proved that he was both skilled in counter-interrogation techniques and not willing to spill anymore secrets about what anyone at JIKIT did. However he had provided her with every logical reason to beat feet back across the Canadian border and she hadn't taken the hints about what a disaster sleeping with me could be.We drove Anais back to her motel, then Chaz and I headed home in silence. Despite his earlier declarations, he knew how to drive the 'right' way all along. As he was letting me out in front of my building, he gave me this pleasant warning."I'm not going to lecture you about not going back there, or avoiding the crazy ones. You already know better and are going back by her place anyway. I do advise that whatever you do, don't let her restrict your movements in any way. She's likely to make you pay double for your past indiscretions and take payment out on your cock. Good luck, Mate.""Wait," I stopped him. "Can you help me hotwire her bike? I can use that as an excuse to darken her doorway.""Dolt," he muttered. He helped me anyway because that's what really good friends do ~ assisting you in your self-destruction so we could joke about it later. At least that was what I hoped was going on. Chaz being a closet sadist was an unsettling idea. I didn't get to immediately pursue my plan because,(We work for you, don't we?)At 9 am, the President of the United States of America, after a late night briefing and a good night's sleep, decided that for the sake of world peace he had to intervene in Southeast Asia ~ Thailand to be specific, though he had some vague notion that a summit of regional leaders was in the offing and the US needed to establish some sort of game plan instead of looking impotent and disinterested.Based on carefully selected bits of information supplied to him by us (JIKIT), he ordered two carrier taskforces to move to the Gulf of Thailand to enforce an anticipated UN arms embargo and 'No-Fly Zone'. It would take four days (September 3rd) for Carrier Strike Group Nine (built around the USS Ronald Reagan) and the 11th Marine Expeditionary Unit (2,200 souls) to take up a position in the South China Sea close to the Gulf of Thailand. By fortuitous circumstance, 500 Marines and sailors were already deployed to Malaysia on a joint training mission with the Malaysian Marines.The second one, the USS Carl Vinson's Carrier Strike Group One wouldn't arrive until the 9th, six days later. What the US government wanted to know was what the Khanate and Vietnam would do in those long, lonely six days. The Khanate had as many modern, up-to-date combat aircraft on Woody Island as the Reagan could send up. The Vietnamese could add another 48 planes worth worrying about.There was the added complication that Thailand hadn't asked for help yet. His experts (us again) were suggesting that he was about to wake up one morning and find Khanate tanks rolling down the streets of Bangkok, which

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

We revisit the Democratic presidential candidates' policy positions from the 1984 campaign, compare that to McGovern's 1972 platform and modify previous statements about the Democrats and tariffs. Suffice to say it's a mixed bag.Then we move to our seemingly never-ending parade of "real" Catholics telling me that popes can be wrong and we don't really need to listen to them on matters of faith or morals, we can made those distinctions ourselves. My response: Welcome to the Reformation!Pope Francis has been great. He has been able to get the most conservative, hardcore, militant Catholics to suddenly adopt the position that Catholics are free to contradict the Pope. One odd argument, we don't have to listen to Urban VIII on salvation because "that was, like 800 years ago!" but somehow the current pope (who would presumably be the most accurate teacher of the faith using that reasoning) is the worst of the all? Hmm... #catholic #catholicism

Hello everyone and welcome to the Still Spinning Podcast, episode #90! We recorded on St. Patrick's Day so we kick things off by talking about Dan's very Irish meal and playing a little game of "How is this Name Pronounced." Nothing like a quiz to get things moving!   There was a large tech startup event last week and Tech Crunch listed off their 10 start-ups to watch and holy moly, I am scared for the future. Also if you have never wanted the TV show Silicon Valley, Nicole highly recommends it and it will give you a really good understanding of start-ups and what all happens in that process. But back to the terrifying future we are leading into. Suffice it to say, there are a LOT of AI startups and one really scares Nicole. It has to do with Zoom and cloning. There is also one that sounds like a good idea and would benefit farmers. We also found out what kind of animals AND farm Dan would have, should he decide to change up his life and become a farmer. I bet you cannot guess what it is.   Have you ever left anything in a hotel room? Have you ever FOUND anything in a hotel room? There is a story from a hotel in Michigan and you will not believe what the housekeeping staff finds under the bed. Dan almost tells us all a story about something HE found under a hotel room bed but decides it is not a story for the general population so he is holding on to it for the Bonus Spin, available to all of our Spinners (aka subscribers). We chat about what it would be like to find such a thing...   All of this and so much more on episode 90! You can check out our website at stillspinningpodcast.com for more information on the show, to catch up on past episodes and even to become a Spinner before Friday's Bonus comes out. Have a great week everyone!

This episode looks at the background causes of the brutal war between the New English colonies of Plymouth, Massachusetts Bay, and Connecticut and their indigenous allies against a tribal alliance including both the Wampanoags and the Narragansetts between 1675 and 1678. King Philip's War is the most widely used name of that bloody and arguably existential war. In surveys of American history, it is often the only event between the founding of Jamestown, Plymouth, and Massachusetts Bay and the end of the 17th century that rates more than a sentence or two. This is for good reason, insofar as King Philip's War changed the trajectory of New England's history. It is thought to be the bloodiest war in American history as a proportion of the affected population. As many as 1000 colonists died, including perhaps 10 percent of the English men of military age. Three thousand Indians were killed, and as many as a thousand were sold into slavery abroad. The war altered the relationship between the European colonists and the Indians of the region to a far greater degree than the Pequot War or any of the other conflicts that had preceded it, shattered the military and cultural power of New England's most powerful indigenous nations, and so devastated the English that by some estimates per capita wealth in the region did not return to the level of 1675 until the eve of the American Revolution a century later.  The New England frontier, for better or worse, did not advance for forty years after King Philip's War. Suffice it to say, we should understand the issues that broke the long peace in the summer of 1675, almost exactly 350 years ago. X/Twitter – @TheHistoryOfTh2 – https://x.com/TheHistoryOfTh2 Facebook – The History of the Americans Podcast – https://www.facebook.com/HistoryOfTheAmericans Selected references for this episode (Commission earned for Amazon purchases through the episode notes on our website) Lisa Brooks, Our Beloved Kin: A New History of King Philip's War Jill LePore, The Name of War: King Philip's War and the Origins of American Identity Matthew J. Tuininga, The Wars of the Lord: The Puritan Conquest of America's First People Pekka Hämäläinen, Indigenous Continent: The Epic Contest for North America Philip Ranlet, "Another Look at the Causes of King Philip's War," The New England Quarterly, March 1988.

After literal years of our TTC/infertility journey and a rollercoaster ride of a pregnancy, we are finally on the other side. My little one is here! In this episode, I'm sharing all about my labour and delivery experience. Suffice to say, it did NOT go as I expected it to. My little girl also makes her first podcast appearance - listen out for her little cry during the episode. Thank you so much for listening and supporting me through this entire journey!Want to share your fertility, pregnancy or parenting journey? Have feedback for the podcast? Have an episode idea?⁠Leave your feedback in this form:⁠ https://forms.gle/XyBgaf9JwgvcfH5p8Disclosure: I'm in no way, shape or form an expert on anything. None of this is advice. Take it all with a grain of salt and consult your own healthcare provider or topic expert!

The spoiler zone opens with the end of season 6 of Unforgotten as Adam and Grace reveal the murderer and who is the nicest man on TV.Then Damo and Adam check-in on the events at the White Lotus, season 3, episode 3 (The Meaning of Dreams). Suffice it to say, we're interested in what might happen in future episodes.If you've enjoyed this podcast episode and would like to support the work of TV DNA, you can donate the price of a cup of coffee (or a can of tinned peaches) at www.ko-fi.com/tvdna We can't wait for you to hear our thoughts on the latest episodes and for you to give us yours too. You can find and follow us on all the socials @tvdnapodYou can also email us on tvdnapod@gmail.com And, if you listen on Spotify, check out our poll below.We have recent specials on Severance, Yellowjackets and the Oscars, plus weekly spoiler free watchlist episodes, our back catalogue includes The Bear, Stranger Things and Succession.We're on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Google Podcasts, Pocket Casts, Podcast Addict, Breaker and Radio Public so be sure to subscribe to the pod and please leave us a review. Thanks as always to JComp for our logo and Roman Senyk Music for our theme. Adam, Grace, Neil, Damian and Isabel

After Romania, one night in Rome.By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.When our ancestor committed the first murder, was it rage, or fear that drove them to the deed?(Evening near the Metropole, Roma, Italia)"I think you've done well," Riki congratulated me as she terminated her phone call. Word had come down that her replacement was on the way. Our profile had been updated back at State and they clearly wanted to bring in the 'real professionals'. There also had been a miscommunication. I was far too stressed to be reasonable now.Some undeserving smuck was about to be at the receiving end of my wrath for no better reason than I was at my limit of accepting any further alterations to my life. In hindsight, I was being totally irrational. At that moment in time, I didn't care whose day I was ruining. Sometimes I can be a jerk and an idiot at the same time.The US State Department apparently thought I couldn't dictate who was, or wasn't, a member of 'Unit L', we now had our own designation within Javiera's expanding task-force. The government had a random name generator for this shit and we got the letter 'L'. Maybe that device didn't think we were going to last long enough to matter. Anyway, I took the phone and hit redial. Riki gave me an 'I'm puzzled' look."Who am I talking to?" I inquired."Ms, who are you?" he demanded, since my caller ID said Riki and, unless I used my high, squeaky voice, I obviously sounded like a guy."I'm Cáel Nyilas. Who is this?" I replied."I'm Bill A. Miller, Director of the U.S. Diplomatic Security Service. What seems to be the problem, Mr. Nyilas?" He was rather uptight about the call-back."Since we are working together, why don't you call me Cáel?" I politely requested. "I'll call you Willy.""My name is Bill, but you can call me Director Miller," he corrected me. "The reason for your call is?""It is Willy, or Dick; your choice," I countered. "I don't call my boss 'Director' and I worship the ground she walks on. You are not even in her league. Also, I've had bad experiences with guys named Bill which are too painful to explain right now."That was true. One was friend taking a shower and leaving me alone with his mother. The other was early on in my career when I confused a girl named Bonnie with her real name 'Bill'. I was my own personal 'The Crying Game'. I didn't handle that episode well."Besides, I didn't call to discuss name-calling. I want to know how many agents work for you.""What does that have to do with anything?" he grumbled."You are quick with the questions while painfully bereft of answers," I snorted. "Don't make me Google this too.""Over two thousand," he stopped being a total ass. "Is there anything else I can tell you that Miss Martin should have been able to tell you?" Ooops, Back to being an ass."Riki's being physically restrained from taking her phone back by some of my educationally-challenged, illegal alien, unskilled labor force of questionable loyalty," I outrageously lied. It was an odious habit of mine that I'd cultivated vigorously over the past few weeks. "Two thousand humans, thanks. Is Riki's replacement a guy, or a girl? Wait, who cares? Just send their picture and I'll let you know where to send their replacement.""Are you threatening my people?" he simmered."No. That would make me an uncooperative and nefarious nuisance," I evaded. "Of course, when a person sticks their hand into a functioning garbage disposal, you don't blame the device. You blame the moron who stuck their hand in." From the perspective of our relationship, I was the garbage disposal."That definitely sounds like a threat," he responded. He was going to stick his hand in anyway."Your inability to comprehend the nuances possible with the English language is not why I called and not something I feel I can educate you about, given my current time constraints. Just have one of your insipid flunkies send me the picture. I need to purchase duct tape and an out-of-the-way storage space," I informed him."By the way, in the spirit of legal chicanery, could you tell me how long it will take for Riki Martin's name to come back up in the rotation? Let's figure 36 hours between each hot-shot leaving DC and their eventual inability to return phone calls," I wanted to make sure he knew I was taunting his pompous self. (Me being pompous and unhelpful didn't cross my mind at that moment.)"Let me make myself clear, Mr. Nyilas," he repeated. "Not only can you not dictate terms to the US government, you are not even the team's designated leader." I wasn't? Fuck him. I had tons of useless members of the Alphabet Mafia in front of my name, all loudly proclaiming my numerous accolades.Of everyone on the team, I had the most: NOHIO (Number One House Ishara Official), HCIESI-NDI, (Havenstone Commercial Investments Executive Services' Intern -- New Directive Initiative, I didn't make that one up, I swear), MEH (Magyarorszag es Erdely Hercege) and UHAUL (Unpaid Honcho Assigned to Unit L). I liked that last one, so that was how I was going to sign off on all my reports now."First off, I AM in charge, Willy. Without me, there is no Unit L. I quit, and then what? In case you missed it, I can't be drafted or threatened by you. If you think you can replace me, please do so right now and let me get back to my life -- you know, the thing that actually puts money in my pocket.Besides, I am not refusing to take anyone you see fit to put on MY team. I'm just not going to tell you where I'm going to take them to. I suspect they are adults and can find their way home, eventually, Willy.""Mr. Nyilas, you are an unbelievably fortunate amateur and novice intellectual in a situation that demands experience and professionalism. It is time for you to step back and let the people who know what they are doing take over. Just play your part and we'll make sure you get due credit for following orders and behaving," he unleashed his fair-smelling bile."I am following your orders; your procedures dictate that a member of the State Department will be on this team," I kept my calm. "As one of the people who actually has experience with this situation, I'm letting you know how things work in the field. Every person you send will be misplaced, thus you will have to send someone else. Alerting you to the need to stay on top of your job -- sending someone else -- sounds to me like common sense advice in this circumstance.""That is not going to happen, Nyilas. If something happens, " he got out."Willy, duct tape is plentiful and cheap. Kidnapping -- thus hostage keeping -- is virtually a religion in Southern Italy. And though I am already wired into the local criminal underground, I'm just not going to be able to help you, or them. I'll make up some implausible excuses as the need arises. So now you know the score. The next move is yours," I smiled."The next words out of your mouth had better be 'I'll behave', or the State Department will revoke your passport and have stern words with the Republic of Ireland over your diplomatic status," Willy warned me."I'll behave," I fibbed. Riki snatched the phone out of my hand."Sir -- Director Miller, I want you to know I had nothing to do with Mr. Nyilas' tirade," Riki apologized. "He stole my phone.""I did." and "oww!" I hollered in the background. "She ground her heel into my instep. the fiery little minx." I was propping up her excuse because I owed her for verbally taking a dump on her boss, the ass-heap back in Romania. Riki punched me."Ms. Martin, do we need to reconsider your employment, or can we rely on you to re-organize Unit L before Ms. McCauley (her replacement) arrives?" Willy lectured."Director Miller, ""Call him Big Willy," I whispered to her. "He loves that 'Big Willy' style."This time she hit me in the thigh. My ballistic vest had gotten in the way of her first hit, but she was a quick learner."How can you know a song from 1997, yet not know that Russia invaded Georgia in 2008?" Riki put her hand over the phone and hissed at me."Ah," Pamela teased. "Somebody is a Will Smith fan." Riki looked away.I wasn't sure what to make of the Will Smith -- Ricky Martin combo forming in my mind. Will was one of my manly icons. Hey, he was a stud, scored numerous hotties in his film career and married Jada Pinkett Smith. What's not to love? Growing up, I wanted to be like Will Smith. When/if I ever finished growing up, I wanted to be like George Clooney."Director Miller," Riki tried again. "He's lying. From my personal observations and with supporting personality profiles provided by other members of the task force, I can guarantee you that Mr. Nyilas is unreliable and untrustworthy. Sir, I've watched Romani males hide their wallets and their daughters when he walks by." Okay, wasn't that last bit a lie?"that last bit a lie?es hide their wallets and their daughters when he walks by. provided by other members However, unless she has been cross-trained as a waitress at a gang-affiliated nightclub, a day-care worker for the criminally insane, plus consistently wins at Texas hold 'em, she's going to be out of her element here.""No sir, but Mr. Nyilas likes me, I'm not sure why," she glared at me. I poked her in the boob to help clarify the matter. Riki slapped my hand. Virginia punched me in the shoulder. I decided to poke Virginia in her ballistic-covered breast, hoping she was jealous for the attention. I was wrong. They both hit me again.Had this been sexual harassment, they would have hated this job and despised me. Since this was me being my painfully childish self, well, I was still annoying, but also adorable. Put it this way: if a woman could not only pepper spray a man making cat-calls at her, and was even encouraged to do so, wouldn't that de-stress the situation?"Director Miller, I don't want to stay on this assignment, yet I'd be remiss if I didn't explain some of the numerous pitfalls of working with Unit L. Every one of them is comfortable being a walking arsenal. I'm on my way to have a ballistic vest tailored for me because I'm the only one in the unit without one. I have no doubt that any of them could kill me with their bare hands in less than 5 seconds if they so desired," she explained."You would think they would want a more effective combatant with them," Miller grew icy, suspecting duplicity on Riki's part -- moron. She looked at me over the phone."Sir, I think they like me because I know I don't belong in a firefight. They can count on me to cower behind cover while the bullets are flying. That allows the rest to kill unimpeded by having to keep an eye on me," she said.Pause."One of them did show me how to recognize and start various grenades. She said if I was ever the last one alive, it would give me 'options'."Pause."Ms. Martin, don't cancel your flight back to DC yet. I'm going to give Ms. Castello a call to see what her assessment of the situation is," Willy allowed. "Good-bye.""I can't believe I talked him into making me stay with you people," Riki moaned.Our little caravan was slowing to a stop outside the Metropole Hotel. It was Hana's choice for a Roman meeting location. A restaurant and a hotel room, all in one location. Rachel and Wiesława were ahead of us, checking things out. Hana had informed us that the Illuminati had two people watching her. This was going to be my last bit of time with Rachel for a while.(Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch, )Two new members of House Ishara were on their way to Rome. They'd be joined by two members of the House Guard of Andraste from Britain. The two Isharans were the first members of the House Guard of Ishara in over a thousand years. I didn't expect them to be the martial equals of Rachel, or Charlotte. Not yet. And anyway, that didn't matter. What mattered to me was that they'd volunteered for the task and Buffy felt they were the best we had.Another nomadic pack of House Hylonome Amazons had taken in the traumatized Zola. She had to stay in Romanian until the authorities finished up her part of the investigation. A mixed group from House Živa and Ishara (led by Helena) would handle security for Professor Loma, his family and the Lovasz sisters during their trip to New York.Aliz, his wife, was officially in House Ishara's custody. That was my best play at making sure she avoided summary justice for her 'betrayal' of House Hylonome. The whole group would be handed over to House Epona as soon as the Romanians cleared them for foreign travel. It helped my case that Aliz appreciated my warnings about the danger that both families were in from House Illuyankamunus.The occult nitpicking that allowed me to leverage this maneuver was accomplished by me doing yet another rarely done feat. In the name of Alkonyka Lovasz, House Ishara was sponsoring a new Amazon house. I could testify to the existence and matronage of the Goddess SzélAnya (without her permission), which was one of the stepping stones for acceptance.Vincent was going to stay in Germany for two days, then he was off to his home and daughters in Arlington Virginia, with a long convalescence and a rumored promotion. Mona and Tiger Lily were already on their way to New York as honor guard for Charlotte's body, courtesy of the US Air Force. The Amazons needed the USAF to do it because that was the only way we could get the Romanians to release her body.The Hylonome dead, they would be buried in a private plot after all the autopsies were done. I was absolutely sure the Hylonome would steal the bodies in due time and give them a 'proper' burial. Of the Mycenaeans, Red and one of his buddies still remained at large. Of Ajax's half-brother, Teucer, and the other previously wounded Greek warrior, there was no sign. Kwen and the other POWs remained in Romania to face a laundry list of charges. Her fate was unknown to me.My bodyguard was reduced, yet no one minded. The twin reasoning was that the Black Hand in Italy would provide some protection for me. The other was that I was in the birthplace of the Condottieri. Selena's sources strongly suspected that their HQ was close to Rome itself. I could have had more security by recruiting among the 'natives'.Various sources, some inside Italy, had suggested that the Carabinieri, Italy's military police force, had 'offered' to provide some protection. That was prompted by events surrounding my visits to Budapest  and  Mindszent, Hungary and the 'action' south of Miercurea Ciuc, Romania (no one wanted to call it a battle, even though the fight involved over 1000 Romanian Land Forces troops and half a squadron of the Romanian Air Force).My refusal of the offer caused a 'disruption'. This was a polite way of saying the Italians did not want me to enter their country. I wasn't being a jerk this time. Selena and Aunt Briana were both of the opinion that the Condo's recruited heavily from European military and paramilitary units -- particularly Western Europe. And that not all their 'new hires' had left active duty either.A peculiar circumstance then developed. The pretext for denying me entry was undercut by Hungary and Romania erasing me from their official investigation. I wasn't a threat (despite the burnt landscape and tombstones sprouting up in my wake.) Romania didn't want me to stay, Hungary decided they didn't want me back -- at the moment -- and the US/UK/Ireland were telling the Italians that I was a peach, or whatever implied that in diplomatic speech.There was a compromise finally reached by Riki and shadow forces that I couldn't put names to. I could come to Italy as long as my itinerary was relayed to Carabinieri. We could keep our side arms in holsters and our big guns as long as they weren't on our persons. I could go around without a Carabinieri bodyguard as long as I ignored them floating around me at a discreet distance. A liaison officer would meet me at the hotel to maintain the illusion that I was just a paranoid tourist.Delilah had to touch base with the British again, probably for the same reasons that the US wanted to replace Riki. While both Delilah and Chaz were military and seconded to MI-6, they weren't considered Intelligence Experts by the people at the helm. For that matter, they weren't even sure how Delilah had ended up at my side, killing multi-national terrorists in three separate countries inside of one month. That was very cinematic, not realistic. The idea of governments with shadow operatives 'sanctioning' people was not something that anyone in the 'know' wanted to talk about.Whether it was before the media, a US Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, the United States House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, or a UK Parliamentary Foreign Affairs Select Committee this wasn't what these Department Heads wanted to discuss. Less anyone forget, my Congress and my President didn't, umm, get along.In my favor, I was an orphan from New Hampshire, both my US Senators were women and I'd worked on their campaigns or dated some of their volunteers. It might do me some good to call Dr. Kimberly Geisler at Bolingbrook to see what she could do politically. All that could wait.(Finishing Up)Selena Jovanović had the first of our two dark blue Alfa Romeo 159s, the one that disgorged Rachel and Wiesława. She, Saku and Odette would circle the block in case there was any trouble. Pamela had the driver's seat in my car. No one wanted me or Odette to drive because we didn't understand urban Italian street etiquette. It was Virginia, me and Riki in the backseat with Chaz up front with Pamela.Rachel gave the preliminary order to disembark. That meant the lobby was partially clear -- there were armed types about that seemed to be either Carabinieri, or understandable private security. Rome wasn't as dangerous as Mexico City (kidnap-wise), but events in London, Budapest and the Hungarian and Romanian countryside were putting people on edge. And those with enough money could buy some emotional comfort in the form of armed private contractors.Chaz took his H and K UMP-45, stock folded, out of the bag at his feet and secured it inside the right-side of his jacket. Three spare clips went inside a harness on his left. It was dreamlike as Virginia and I went through a similar, less heavily armed process. For FBI Girl, it was a 'carry-on' with flash-bang, concussion and smoke grenades, plus a few extra clips/mags for everyone.For me, it was a tomahawk, a second Gloc-22 and a bullet for everyone in the hotel, if that became necessary. As the car came to a stop in front of the main doors, I worked my way over Riki so that I would be the second person to exit the car. Chaz would be the first. Virginia got out on her side. Pamela would stay at the wheel -- Riki had an appointment with a tailor to keep.I felt it then, that sympathetic spiritual harmony I was one-third of. I looked up into the 'clear' Rome night. There she was, Bellatrix, the Amazon star in the Constellation of Orion. According to the Egyptian Rite, the Weave of Fate was nearly invisible by day, but by night, you could make out its strands in the motion of the stars. That was not something Alal had ever truly mastered. Still,I had a new phone since the charred remains of my old one were in some evidence locker in Budapest by now. That didn't mean I wanted to use it. I was getting squirrely about people I didn't want finding me, finding me. Chaz was in the lead, I was in the middle and Virginia covered my back. Rachel caught sight of us, gave a quick nod, and then she and Wiesława went for the elevators.Rachel would want to check out Hana's room before I got there -- if I got there. I called Odette."Hey Babe," Odette beamed excitement my way. She was in Rome and we had a guaranteed 24 hour layover. For a girl who thought her great adventure in life was going to end up being a high school trip to Philadelphia to see the Liberty Bell, she was in Nirvana."Hey to you too, Odette. I need a favor," I began."Sure," she chirped."In five minutes from, right now make sure Sakuniyas comes to see me and Hana in the restaurant by herself," I requested. Odette hesitated, taking in her knowledge of 'Cáel-speak'."No problemo Jeffe," she answered. She knew I was in some undefined trouble. We both knew that her body language would convey that unease to Saku, which was what I needed. See, I had a plan. I tapped Chaz, slowing him and thus allowing Virginia to bunch up with us."Do either one of you remember the movie 

Putting lives back together after the battle.By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.Either you embrace Change and are destroyed by it, or you resist Change and are overwhelmed by it. What is your choice? (The Politics of 'Not' Being Dead)The rest of the trip was made in silence. They dropped us off at the edge of Miercurea Ciuc, home base of the 61st Mountain Troops Brigade, of Professor Loma and from whence all this craziness had originated. The meeting was already awkward before I arrived. It only got worse. Where to begin? Well, Russia, the United States, the UK, Romania, Hungary and Ireland were now all interested parties. And I had gained two personal distinctions:1.) Not only was I now heralded (and not really joking anymore) by some sources as Magyarorszag es Erdely Hercege, I was thereby re-awakening old nationalistic and territorial fears. Hungary didn't want a Prince, yet they did have an anemic Monarchist party. I might not be a Hapsburg (the last royal house of Hungary), but I could possibly be misconstrued as a long-lost Árpád scion (first King and founder of the Hungarian state), which would be even better.A crisis was looming in my ancestral crucible. It seems I already had a webpage in Budapest and six hundred "friends" within 24 hours. Worse, they had some pictures of me. Besides being 'of regal bearing' in the descriptions, I was sexy-hot and a soldier of fortune, a modern day 'Wild Geese, (Goose?)' who was wanted for questioning in a, or perhaps multiple, murder(s) involving either a duel over a woman's honor or killing a dozen armed gangsters who prayed on young innocents newly arrived to the big city.I wasn't alone. My trusty companion was A.) an ascetic Jedi Mistress (my own, personal Yoda), B.) an ancient witch schooled in the necromantic arts (apparently the reason I couldn't die), or C.) a Cold-War Era SMERSH (too much James Bond) assassin repaying an old debt to the descendent of an anti-communist partisan she'd killed years ago, eerily close to the truth for once. That, plus the TEK investigation, were Hungary's main points of concern involving me.2.) I was now a person involved in significant events for half a dozen nations on the world scene.Let's start with Romania. Okay, foremost, I was responsible for the single deadliest day in modern (post-WWII) Romanian Land Forces history. There was no covering this up. Close to one hundred men and women had died in combat, and then you added the forty-some dead Amazons, many of them apparently tortured, and this was a political and public relations nightmare.No one doubted their troops behaved heroically. That wasn't the problem. The political conundrum was how could they explain Ajax and his fifty seasoned killers penetrating into central Romania with no one being aware of the danger? A few politicians wanted to blame Székely nationalists (by that, they meant the ethnic minority who 'vaguely' wanted Transylvania to rejoin Hungary), except they had me, the Hungarian Prince, leading the charge.Life would have been so much easier for them if I had died. Yes, I could read the minds of those politicians. Screw a girl, then her younger sister, and then his wife, who all say they love me, and you'll recognized the emotional intent a father directs your way. (I'd only done that once, and once was enough.) I was getting that vibe again.Unfortunately for them, I wasn't dead and three big time foreign governments (and Ireland) seemed really curious about me, my performance and my mortality. So dragging me out back for a firing squad wasn't going to happen. Riki Martin of the US State Department was there and she told me a representative of the US Military Mission was on his way up to debrief me. Russia's sexy military attaché was still on site and looking happy for some reason. Flaviu, who had some experience with me, was soon to be gone; replaced by some person who had some serious lettuce before his actual name and didn't know me from didly. Not good.The UK had one of their diplomats coming up as well, just so I didn't get lonely. They weren't driving up with the Irishman, or the American. No one considers their carbon footprint in a crisis, I swear. But wait! It gets better. My Romanian Special Force dudes had brought the rest of their company (around a hundred new buddies) with them, they seriously didn't want me to get homesick and wander off (because, you know, I liked living and freedom).The Romanian army shouldn't have worried. It seemed that there were some US Army Rangers with NATO in Kosovo, Albania, or Bosnia and Uncle Sam was expressing a desire for them to 'stop by'. Maybe they could share their C-130 with the British paratroopers who were equally concerned about my well-being. I just hoped everyone was going to play nice when the Spetsnaz arrived. Putin was suddenly (and surprisingly to me, anyway) my new pal. I had a feeling I'd soon be discovering my secret Russian heritage if I wasn't careful. I was thinking maybe I could squeeze an Order of Lenin, or a Hero of the Soviet Union out of him. I heard they both looked nice, were obsolete and came without an actual pension.If Katrina wouldn't let me write off this calamity as PTO, I was going to be irate. I was on the verge of having a large family to support after all, unless you considered me marrying a billionaire's heiress to be compensation enough. The only group involved who weren't trying to actually see me was the Khanate.Temujin most likely had some shamanistic mojo that would let him know if I croaked. That bit smacked of paganism, so it was kept under wraps because he had to appear dutifully Islamic for the masses. Still, some koumiss would have been nice. Heck, right then I could have gone for an 'atta boy', perhaps even a 'two thumbs up'.Oh yeah; the general of the 4th Romanian Division wanted me to stop by when I had the chance (if I didn't, he'd send men to kill me, or so it was insinuated). The 61st Mountain Troops was part of his division's combat command and if the General Staff went looking for someone to crucify, he was making damn sure it wasn't going to be him.It occurred to me that I could send a handsome-looking Spetsnaz (if there was such a thing) to go in my place. They were brother Slavs, right? I was sure that between the 'Fall of the Berlin Wall', Moldavian Independence and Romania joining NATO, they would have much to discuss. Out of the blue, Pamela smacked me on the back of my head, Jethro Gibbs' style. My 'more-evil Russian doppelganger' idea must have been poorly thought out.Before I could implement that silliness, or trigger the big brouhaha, there was a preamble: I had three compatriots. Of greater importance, I had three heavily armed/gravely-serious bodyguards who wouldn't surrender their weapons and/or abandon me. So I thought "play nice" thoughts to myself.Diplomacy, sovereignty and legality all reared their ugly heads. I wasn't really an Irish diplomat. My paperwork was still valid, but the Romanian government hadn't permitted my entry into their country under the standard diplomatic protocols. Ireland wanted to talk to me about that, why was I running around armed and killing people in two Central European countries? I was acting more like an Irish adventurer from the 17th century, than a genteel civil servant from the 21st.Then there was the niggling little complication that involved me, my friends and our criminal possession of military-grade hardware. Chaz had the dubious excuse of being an official British government agent on assignment. That meant he could hope for a prisoner exchange within the next decade. Rachel and Pamela were private citizens with painfully sketchy proofs of US citizenship.When the Romanian legal system finished buggering them, it would be off to Hungry and its serious inquiry into all the dead bodies we'd left in our wake. Who was I kidding? What I was really worrying about was how many members of the Romanian penal system would die when they escaped. Their flimsy identities gave no clue to how dangerous they actually were. Hell, they'd beat me home.I had the added difficulty of Ireland and their questions about who the fuck I was and why I had their gold filigree on something I didn't deserve sitting snugly in my back pocket.So first off, this new band of 'Eagles' wanted to disarm and separate us."Don't insult me," I scoffed. "I am your Prince. Don't make me explain it to your widow.""I'm not married," the Lieutenant snarled back, daring me."Well, rush out and marry somebody. I haven't got all day. We don't want me to be caught in an idle boast now do we?" I grinned. Verbal sparring apparently wasn't in his repertoire."What?""Shut the fuck up, Carl," Chaz blithely inserted himself into the conversation."But you don't even speak Romanian," I countered. "How do you even know what I said?" The Romanians didn't know English, but they knew Carl. The tension between us ebbed."By the expression on the officer's face, Hercege," he winked. "It's universal to the brotherhood.""Who is he with?" The officer questioned me."You and he are the same," I answered."You cannot go any farther armed," he returned to his mission parameters."I don't envy you going in and telling the Colonel to come out here, but so be it," I held my ground."We could kill you and take them off your corpses," he studied my reaction."You are the second handsome man to tell me that today," I shook my head. "I'll tell you what I told him: 'you sure are cute, just not my type'." Pause then laughter."You are a madman," the lieutenant snorted. "I'll go talk to the Colonel."I was a jerk, loved maidens and was a master of bullshit. Did that make me a modern day Minotaur? The lieutenant came back out, then ushered me inside; Riki had to wait for the moment. He motioned my team come along. In the staff room of the 61st were a handful of officers and several suits."Mr. Nyilas," the Colonel gazed upon me. "I don't know what to make of you.""You and my Mother both," I mumbled. Despite the somber atmosphere, a few of the men and women let their moods lighten. They didn't hold my levity against me. I'd been there, on the battlefield and if humor was how I dealt with the experience, so be it."Ha," the greying man mused. "It is wholly my fault that I disregard most of the information you supplied my staff. You were unerringly accurate in your assessment of our enemy's capabilities. I know my men and I know how good they are. Veteran commanders can barely describe what my troops endured. You warned us and I didn't believe you. I was wrong and my men died because of it," he sighed."Sir, I do not believe you could have done anything else and succeeded," I interrupted."Succeeded? Is this what you consider success?" he hardened."Absolutely, Sir. Had you been slower to respond, those men would have most likely come here, to Miercurea Ciuc, and you would have fought the same battle, except your civilians would have been caught in the mix," I lied.If Ajax had escaped he'd have hunted me down. The location would have been irrelevant to him. How he knew where to be was a question for later and something to be presented to smarter, more experienced minds."Perhaps," he allowed. "They were heading north when we encountered them.The Alal in me was going back over the plan. It had been sound."Sir, you had every reason to doubt my military experience and to believe I exaggerated the threat. I was right and I take no joy in that, nor do I think anyone can hold your decisions against you," I stated.Now he gave a bitter laugh. Yes, they could hold all the deaths against him."We both know your men and women didn't die for their country, they killed for it. Quite frankly, I believe they killed some of the most vicious creatures to ever walk the face of the Earth. Fuck them for taking so many of us. Pile their bodies up and burn them," I suggested."They deserve no more Romanian soil than a spot to inter their ashes," I concluded."You do not sound like any diplomat I've ever met," the Colonel regained his gruff exterior."I'm not. I'm a fraud. I know as much about Ireland as I do about being a prince," I confessed. "That said, I didn't come here to kill anyone. I came to save lives.""How has that worked out for you?" a sitting woman in a suit questioned, in Romanian. She was slender, waspish and didn't sound comfortable speaking English, though she knew enough to get by."I am not a fortune-teller. I don't know how this is going to work out," I said."That's not what I asked," she prodded."Yes it was," I corrected her. "You wanted to know if I thought the price of your dead countrymen was worth the life of me, my friends and the lives of your countrymen I came to save. I can't measure the promise of those lives against the loss of all the dead. Don't play games with me. I'm have a degree in Philosophy and I eat morally ambiguous people like you for lunch."Pamela laughed aloud and lively."Kimberly and Katrina would be so proud of you right now," she chortled."I don't think you grasp the deep pit your find yourself in, Friend" the suit stayed chillingly calm."Oh, I think we all know we both screwed the pooch big time," I smirked. "The difference is me and mine are all happy to be alive after two of the most trying, fun-filled days of our lives. You want to throw us in prison. The Hungarians want to throw us in prison. I'm sure if I get back to the States, they will want to put us in prison too. Have I missed anyone?""I'm glad you will confess. It will make it easier on us," she grinned like sexy weasel."Wait," Rachel put a restraining arm on me. "I've wanted to say this for some time." To the weasel, "Blow it out your ass, dipshit.""Rachel, you don't know what she said," Pamela faux-gasped."I don't know the words, but I know what he meant," Rachel glowered. She missed Charlotte so much, she was willing to court pain and death. "I want to go back in time and slap her mother repeatedly for not strangling her in the crib. Is that succinct enough?""I apologize for ever meeting you, Rachel. I've brought you to a bad end," I gave her a tender look."It's okay. I never thought I'd live long enough to sleep with you anyway," she smiled back.Phifft, sigh. It was so sad that I recognized the sound of a low-caliber, silenced round."Listen up, dipshit," Pamela snickered. "Good one, Rachel. If you don't believe the next one is going through your skull, you clearly haven't been listening to us. You are fucking with the wrong monkeys. You have this bizarre idea that if I kill you, your government won't replace your worthless, bullet-riddled hide with someone we find more agreeable. My grandson sent in motion a half million combatants a few hours ago, he nearly died leading your soldiers against your nation's enemies and you want him to kiss your shoes as if you matter at all in the grand scheme of things?" she snarled. "Think again."No one was moving because Pamela had her silenced 22 Beretta out and pointed at Weasel's head. The SF's were caught flat-footed, as was everyone else. No guards came rushing in because the closed doors further muffled the sound. "I think this is a good time for us to get a drink," Chaz advised as he slowly reached out and lowered Pamela's gun hand.It was Pamela's gunboat diplomacy yet again. She hadn't meant to kill the women. Hell, she'd been a random target of opportunity. What Pamela had done was clear up the doubts in the room. Everyone on the staff could self-consciously let themselves off the hook for not being in the front lines, risking themselves with their comrades. Thanks to Pamela, they too had confronted violence.'Crazy' Grandma had fired off her piece and everyone sighed with relief when Chaz got her to lower it. I was pretty sure Chaz was in on this dangerous game. It resided with the Colonel as to how to resolve this hiccup in our dispute."Mr. Nyilas, why don't we take a walk outside, just the two of us?" he 'requested'.I nodded because I'm not always as dumb as I look. He was letting my people off with incredible temperance and I could honorably send them away. They'd scoped out the scene and believed I'd be safe enough. He, in turn, had an excuse to take a step away from his political watchdogs."I think that is for the best," I nodded. "Do you want me to leave my guns behind?""No, Mr. Nyilas, we might run into trouble out there and one of my Captains has suggested you are a man who can take care of himself," he replied. That was very nice of him indeed. If I did do something stupid, he had a ton of troops about who would make my regrets rather temporary. I decided to behave as if I had a passing acquaintance with sanity.His first questions were about the fighting at the ruins. I peppered our exchange with my interest in what had happened to the advance force of the 22nd. It was bleak news, yet the Colonel felt a sense of relief. He was coming to accept the lethality of his enemies, which in turn, led to an understanding, if not acceptance, of the carnage his men had been subjected to.He was in a cycle of context, grief, context. He'd gambled on me and men died. Once the battle was joined though, his soldiers had done precisely the right thing under considerable stress. He could be proud without dishonoring the dead. Only Pamela and I had engaged Ajax earlier. Only I had talked with the man.The Colonel had to look into my eyes to get the spark that led to understanding the mind and ruthlessness of his opponent. The name 'Ajax' never came up. That was more than a rational mind could accept at the moment. He knew his men had fought and killed the best and that helped him cope a tiny bit. Our interview ended when the first of the unwanted guests arrived.Only when I walked inside did it occur to me that this had been my first soldier to soldier chat. We had respected one another and discussed matters like men who knew the score. That was depressing in its own right. It was well passed nightfall when we went back inside. In our absence, Riki had started to redeem my existence. My salvation lay in Romantic Americana Symbolism.Translation: I was a Horatio Alger, a working class kid raised by a widower father, who earned a scholarship to a quiet New England college, graduated near the top of my class and gotten an excellent job (salary and benefits not disclosed). That was the was the first part of the Americana, proof positive that America was still the land of opportunity and a place where poor children could still reach the highest levels of society (umm, okay?).The second Americana Part: my Father had been murdered in a case of mistaken identity. Those heavily-armed foreign corporate/rogue governmental-sponsored terrorist mercenaries (their exact origin was shrouded in double-dealing misinformation) had ruthlessly murdered my Pa to cover up their error. Like any true Son of the American Dream, I had sworn vengeance.The Symbolic Part: My compassionate, understanding government (the good governmental servants of Republican Democracy, not the bad, hires the covert, secret, black-bag, unaccountable private contractors/ pawns of the Wall Street Elite bureaucrats) allowed me to participate in a multi-national taskforce. These selfless guardians of the freedom had formed a coalition which had hunted down the villains.With the priceless assistance of two Central European countries, who currently had to remain nameless (cough: Hungary and Romania), we'd achieved a final, violent confrontation in which my allies and I had emerged bloody, scarred, yet victorious. Once more, free men and women had answered the call of duty and some had made the ultimate sacrifice.See, I had a good government that cared enough about me to let me become a gun-toting menace to the civilized world. Like a Hollywood Western hero of the 1950's, 60's and 70's, I had taken personal revenge against the forces of wickedness, exit the railroad tycoons and cattle barons, enter the shadowy world of private security forces and uncontrolled corporate capitalism.

Good and bad unintended consequences.By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.The highest cost of losing a war is the rage of your children."Maybe the Canadian is not so much an 'ex' girlfriend?" Orsi leered. It was the old 'if he is so good that she still wants him back after a colossal screw up, I wanted a taste' expression."Do you think she will help you?" Katalin inquired."She'll help," Pamela huffed playfully. "My grandson has plenty of ex-girlfriends. Most of them want him back, despite his colorful lifestyle. It is one of his more amusing qualities.""Let's get something to eat," I tried to turn the conversation away from my past sexcapades."You are engaged?" Jolan didn't miss a beat."It is complicated," I sighed. "Let's just say I really like her, but she's seven years older, divorced with one young daughter and has a father who hates that I live and breathe.""Do you have any male friends?" Monika joined the Cáel Quiz Bowl."Yes," I replied with confidence. "My roommate Timothy and I are great friends.""He's gay," Pamela pierced their disbelief. "He and Cáel are true brothers-in-arms, I'll give Cáel that much.""Do you have any straight male friends?" Orsi was enjoying taunting me."Do Chaz or Vincent count?" I looked to Pamela."They are straight males, but they don't really know you yet," Pamela failed to be of much help. "I think Vincent insinuated he'd shoot you if you dated any of his three daughters. It was friendly of him to warn you. I supposed that could be construed as liking you.""Are all your acquaintances violent?" Anya seemed worried."Vincent isn't violent. He's with the US FBI," I retorted. Pause. "Okay, he carries a gun and shoots it, he's a law officer. They can do that.""You seem to be stressed," Orsi put an arm around my waist. "Let us ease your worries." Hallelujah!Note: One of History's LessonsIn the last 75 years of military history, airpower had been a decisive factor in every major conflict, save one. Most Americans would think the one exception was US involvement in Vietnam and they'd be wrong: right country, wrong time. Indochina's War of Independence against France was the exception. There, the French Air Force was simply inadequate to the task.Yes, the United States and its allies eventually lost the struggle in Vietnam. But it was their airpower that kept the conflict running as long as it did. For the most part, the Allied and Communist military hardware on the ground were equivalent. While the Allies had superior quantities of supplies, the Communists countered that with numbers, and therein lies the rub.Airpower allowed the Allies to smash large North Vietnamese formations south of the Demilitarized Zone and thus prevented the numerical advantage from coming into play. The North Vietnamese and Viet Cong made one serious stab at a conventional militarily challenge to the Allies, the Tet Offensive, and after initial successes, they were crushed.With the NVA unable to flex their superior numbers, the Allies were able to innovate helicopter-borne counter-insurgency operations. The North Vietnam's Army (NVA) was forced to operate in smaller units, so the Allies were able to engage them in troop numbers that helicopters could support. The air forces didn't deliver ultimate victory, but air power alone had never been able to do so on land. It was only when the US lost faith in achieving any positive outcome in Viet Nam and pulled out, that the North was finally able to overrun the South 20 months later. But every major power today understands the lesson.End of Note(Big Trouble in Little China)The military importance of airpower was now haunting the leadership of the People's Republic of China (PRC), the People's Liberation Army (PLA) and People's Liberation Army Air Force (PLAAF). Their problem wasn't aircraft. Most of their air fleet consisted of the most advanced models produced during the last two decades. The problem was that 80% of their pilots were dead, or dying. Their ground crews were in the same peril. Even shanghaiing commercial pilots couldn't meet the projected pilot shortfall.Classic PLA defense doctrine was to soak up an enemy (Russian) attack and bog down the aggressor with semi-guerilla warfare (classic small unit tactics backed up with larger, light infantry formations). Then, when the invaders were over-extended and exhausted, the armored / mechanized / motorized forces would counter-attack and destroy their foes. This last bit required air superiority through attrition.The twin enemies of this strategy were the price of technology and the Chinese economic priorities. With the rising cost of the high-tech equipment and a central government focus on developing the overall economy, the Chinese went for an ever smaller counter attack striking force, thus skewing the burden of depth of support far in favor of their relatively static militia/police units.So now, while the PLA / PLAAF's main divisions, brigades and Air Wings were some of the best equipped on the planet, the economic necessities had also meant the militia was financially neglected, remaining little more than early Cold War Era non-mechanized infantry formations. To compensate, the Chinese had placed greater and greater emphasis on the deployment capabilities of their scarcer, technologically advanced formations.When the Anthrax outbreak started, the strike force personnel were the first personnel 'vaccinated'. Now those men and women were coughing out the last days and hours of their lives. Unfortunately, you couldn't simply put a few commercial truck drivers in a T-99 Main Battle Tank and expect them to be anything more than a rolling coffin. The same went for a commercial airline pilot and a Chengdu J-10 multi-role fighter. The best you could hope for was for him/her to make successful takeoffs and landings.A further critical factor was that the Khanate's first strike had also targeted key defense industries. The damage hadn't been irreparable. Most military production would be only a month to six weeks behind schedule. But there would be a gap.It was just becoming clear that roughly 80% of their highly-trained, frontline combatants were going to die anyway. Their Reserves were looking at 30~40% attrition due to the illness as well. In the short term (three months), they would be fighting with whatever they started with. Within the very short term (one week), they were going to have a bunch of high-priced equipment and no one trained to use it. With chilling practicality, the Chinese leaders decided to throw their dying troopers into one immediate, massive counter-offensive against the Khanate.Just as Temujin predicted they would. Things were playing out according to plan.Note: World Events SummaryRound #1 had seen the Khanate unite several countries under one, their, banner. Earth  and  Sky soldiers had rolled across the Chinese border as their Air Force and Missile Regiments had used precision strikes to hammer Chinese bases, sever their transportation network and crippled their civilian infrastructure.Next, the frontier offensive units had been obliterated, the cities bypassed and the Khanate Tumens had sped forward to the geographic junctures between what the Khanate wanted and from whence the PLA had to come. In the last phase of Round #1, the Khanate prepped for the inevitable PLA / PLAAF counter-strike.Round #2 had now begun:Step One: Declare to the World that the Khanate was a nuclear power. As history would later reveal, this was a lie, but no one had any way of initially knowing that. Hell, the Khanate hadn't even existed 72 hours ago. Satellite imagery did show the Khanate had medium-range strategic missiles capable of hitting any location in the People's Republic. In Beijing, a nuclear response was taken off the table.Step Two: Initiate the largest air-battle in the history of Asia. Not just planes either. Both sides flew fleets of UCAV's at one another. It wasn't really even a battle between China and just the Khanate. Virtually all of the UAV technology the Khanate was using was Japanese, South Korean and Taiwanese in origin, plus some US-Russian-shared technology thrown into the mix.When the South Korean design team saw the footage of their bleeding-edge dogfighting UCAVs shooting down their PRC opponents, they were thrilled (their design rocked!), shocked (what was their 'baby' doing dominating Chinese airspace?) and anxious (members of South Korea's Defense Acquisition Program Administration, DAPA, were rushing over to chat with them).Similar things were happening in Japan, Taiwan, Russia and the United States. The Communist Party leadership in Beijing were beginning to seriously consider the possibility that everyone was out to get them. Of course, all the Ambassadors in Beijing were bobbing their heads with the utmost respect while swearing on the lives of their first born sons that their nations had nothing to do with any of this.These foreign diplomats promised to look into these egregious breaches of their scientific integrity and were saying how sorry they were that the PLA and PLAAF were getting ass-raped for the World's viewing pleasure. No, they couldn't stop the Khanate posting such things to the internet, something to do with freedom. Paranoia had been creeping into the Potentates' thoughts since the Pakistan/Aksai Chan incident.As they watched their very expensive jets and UCAV's being obliterated, distrust of the global community became the 800 pound gorilla in the room. To add habaneros to the open wounds, the United States and the United Kingdom began dropping hints that they had some sort of highly personal communication conduit with the Khanate's secretive and unresponsive leadership. Yes Virginia Wolfe, the Western World was out to get the People's Republic.'Great Mao's Ghost', all that claptrap their grandfathers had babbled on about (1) the Korea War, (2) the Sino-Soviet grudge match, (3) the Sino-Vietnamese conflict and (4) the persistent support for the renegade province of Formosa all being a continuous effort by the liberal democracies and post-colonial imperialist to contain Chinese communism, didn't sound so crazy anymore.Step Three: Plaster all those PLA ground units that had started moving toward them when the air war began and the Chinese envisioned they would control the skies. The T-99 was a great tank. It also blew up rather spectacularly when it was stuck on a rail car (you don't drive your tanks halfway across China, it kills the treads).As Craig Kilborn put into his late night repertoire:"What do you call a Khanate UCAV driver who isn't an ace yet? Late for work.""What's the difference between me coming off a weekend long Las Vegas bender and a Khanate pilot? Not a damn thing. We've both been up for three days straight, yet everyone expects us to work tonight."Some PLA generals decided to make an all-out charge at the Tumens. Genghis's boys and girls were having none of that. They weren't using their Russian-built Khanate tanks to kill Chinese-built PLA tanks. No, their tanks were sneaking around and picking off the Chinese anti-air vehicles.The Chinese tanks and APCs engaged the dismounted Khanate infantry who, as Aksai Chin had shown, possessed some of the latest anti-tank weaponry. In the few cases where the PLA threw caution to the wind, they did some damage to the Khanate by sheer weight of numbers. For the rest, it was death by airpower.With their anti-air shield gone, the battle became little more than a grisly, real-life FPS game. It wasn't 'THE END'. China still had over 2,000,000 troops to call upon versus the roughly 200,000 the Khanate could currently muster. The PLA's new dilemma was how to transport these mostly truck-bound troops anywhere near the front lines without seeing them also exterminated from the air.After the Tumens gobbled up the majority of the PLA's available mobile forces, they resumed their advance toward the provincial boundaries of Xinjiang and Nin Mongol. There was little left to slow them down. The Chinese still held most of the urban centers in Xinjiang and Nei Mongol, yet they were isolated. And Khanate follow-up forces (the national armies they'd 'inherited') were putting the disease-riddled major municipalities under siege.All over the 24/7 World Wide News cycle, talking heads and military gurus were of two minds about the Khanate's offensive. Most harped on the fact that while the Khanate was making great territorial gains, it was barely making a dent in the Chinese population and economy. Uniformly, those people insisted that before the end of November, the Khanate would be crushed and a reordering of Asia was going to be the next great Mandate for the United Nations.A few of the braver unconventional pundits pointed out the same thing, but with the opposite conclusion, arguing:1.There were virtually no military forces in the conquered areas to contend with the Khanate's hold on the regions.2.Their popularity in the rural towns and countryside seriously undercut any hope for a pro-PRC insurgency.3.Driving the Khanate's forces back to their starting points would be a long and difficult endeavor that the World Economy might not be able to endure.When the PLAAF was effectively castrated after thirty-six hours of continuous aerial combat, a lot of experts were left with egg on their faces. One lone commentator asked the most fearful question of all. Where was the Khanate getting the financing, technical know-how and expertise to pull all of this off? There was a reason to be afraid of that answer.And while I was entertaining my six sailor-saviors, there were two other things of a diplomatic nature only just revealing themselves. Publically, Vladimir Putin had graciously offered to mediate the crisis while 'stealthily' increasing the readiness of his Eastern Military District. If there was any confusion, that meant activating a shitload of troops on the Manchurian border, not along the frontiers of the former nations of Mongolia and Kazakhstan.After all, Mongolia was terribly poor. Manchuria/Northeastern China? Manchuria was rich, rich, rich! From the Kremlin, Putin spoke of 'projecting a presence' into the 'lost territory' of Manchuria, citing Russia's long involvement in the region. By his interpretation of history, the Russians (aka the Soviet Union) had rescued Manchukuo (the theoretically INDEPENDENT Imperial Japanese puppet state of Manchuria) from the Japanese in 1945. They'd even given it back to the PRC for safekeeping after World War II was concluded.Putin promised Russia was ready and willing to help out the PRC once again, suggesting that maybe a preemptive intervention would forestall the inevitable Khanate attack, thus saving the wealthy, industrialized province from the ravages of war. Surely Putin's Russians could be relied on to withdraw once the Khanate struggle was resolved? Surprisingly, despite being recent beneficiaries of President Putin's promises, the Ukraine remained remiss in their accolades regarding his rectitude.In the other bit of breaking news; an intermediary convinced the Khanate to extend an invitation to the Red Cross, Red Crescent and the WHO to investigate the recently conquered regions in preparations for a humanitarian mission.That intermediary was Hana Sulkanen; for reasons no one could fathom, she alone had the clout to get the otherwise unresponsive new regime to open up and she was using that influence to bring about a desperately needed relief effort to aid the civilians caught up in that dynastic struggle. A Princess indeed. No one was surprised that the PRC protested, claiming that since the territory wasn't conquered, any intervention was a gross violation of Chinese sovereignty.End of Note(To Live and Die in Hun-Gray)Orsi may have been the troupe leader, but Anya needed me more, so she came first."I need a shower before we catch some dinner," I announced as we meandered the streets of Mindszent. My lady friends were all processing that as I wound an arm around Anya's waist and pulled her close. "Shower?" I smiled down at her, she was about 5 foot 7. It took her a few seconds to click on my invitation."Yeah, sure, that would be nice," she reciprocated my casual waist hold. Several of her friends giggled over her delay. We were heading back to the Seven Fishermen's Guest House."Do you do this, picking up strange girls you've barely met for, you know?" she said in Bulgarian, as she looked at me expectantly."Yes and no," I began, in Russian. "I often find myself encountering very intriguing women, for which I know I am a fortunate man. I embrace sensuality. That means I know what I'm doing, but I'm not the 'bring him home to meet the parents' kind of guy.""What of your fiancée? Do you feel bad about cheating on her?" Anya pursued me."Hana is wonderful. I've met her father and it went badly both times," I confessed."How?" Anya looked concerned for me."Would you two speak a language the rest of us can understand?" Monika teased us."Very well," I nodded to Monika, and turned back to Anya, "The first time, his son raped a girl and I threatened the young man's life," I revealed. "Jormo, Hana's father, wasn't happy when I did so. The second time, he hit me twice, once in the gut and once in the head," I continued."Why did he hit you?" Orsi butted in."I'd rather not say. You may think less of me," I confessed. Pamela gave me a wink for playing my audience so well. I'm glad she's family (kinda/sorta)."The boy, he is dead?" Magdalena guessed. "Hana's brother?""I really shouldn't talk about that," I evaded. "It is a family matter." That's right. The family that my grandmother had brought me into as her intern / slayer-in-training. There is no reason to create a new lie when you can embellish a previous one."Do you ever feel bad about what you do?" Katalin asked Pamela. We love movies."As I see it, if I show up looking for you, you've done something to deserve it," Pamela gave her sage philosophy behind being an assassin."Are you, bi-sexual?" Jolan murmured. Pamela smacked me in the chest as I laughed. "Did I say something wrong?" Jolan worried. Pamela was a killer."No, you are fine," Pamela patted Jolan's shoulder. "I'm straight and happily so. It just so happens that most of my co-workers are women. Day in, day out, nothing but sweaty female bodies working out, sparring and grappling together, and afterwards, the massages."That was my Grandma, poking all the lesbian buttons of the women around me. Best of all, she did it with the detached air of a sexually indifferent matron. She was stirring up the lassies while keeping them focused on me. We walked into the courtyard of our guest house."Don't take too long, you two," Orsi teased us."Ha!" Pamela chuckled. "That's like asking the Sun to hurry up and rise, the Moon to set too soon, or the sea to stay at low tide forever.""Anya," I whispered into her ear. "How many orgasms do you want?" Anya's eyes expanded. Her eyes flickered toward her friends, then back to me. She held up one finger, I grinned speculatively. Anya held up two fingers. I kissed her fingers.

A day in the life of rural Hungary.By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.'Here be Dragons' wasn't always a tourist gimmick."I didn't say you could have a drink," the Vizsla commented."Oh, my apologies," I shrugged. I put the stein on a nearby table and waited."Have a seat," she directed. I came up to her table and examined the three empty chairs. I held back until she pointed to the chair opposite her. I sat down, but didn't make eye contact. Instead, I examined the various paintings and photographs on the walls. It was an old place."You killed Matthias, even though you knew he worked for me," she uttered."I can confirm that information to be correct," I looked her way. That, wasn't what she expected."Why?""Why what?" I countered. There was a method to my madness; this was going to be a lesson in competence, and what happens when you don't respect it."Why did you kill Matthias?""I needed a reason?" I tried to look pensive. "Maybe I didn't like the cut of his facial hair?""Do you think this is a joke?" she replied dryly. "The Black Hand always avenge our own.""Damn," I looked perplexed. "No one told me that when I arrived. Can we call Matthias's extermination a 50/50 bad call, both ways?""Matthias was my cousin," the Vizsla continued."My condolences," I sighed. "The next Black Hand douche-bag the Amazons waste, I'll have them ask if he's related to you first. How's that?""You are so not likely to have that opportunity," she pointed out."Oh," I laughed, "you are so wrong about that.""You are far stupider than I had been informed," the Vizsla's eyes narrowed."Nope. You and your cast of 'Dumb and Dumber' have been treating us like idiots since we touched down at Ferenc Liszt International, so I'm pretending to be that simpleton sock-puppet just for you, Vizsla. You've added to that by heaping disrespect and derision on my people," I grinned."You tried to have me and my entourage murdered and Matthias paid the price for that. Everyone knows I'm here. And after your bungled attempt to have me killed, no one is going to believe you did anything but murder me, if I don't show up eventually. Now do you prefer the stupid me, or the brighter than normal me?""If you think acting like a smart-ass is somehow endearing, you are mistaken," she let me know."Whatever," I shrugged. "You called this meeting. What do you want?""Beyond killing one of my lieutenants, I wanted to know what you are doing here?" she studied me."I would like to leave now. I'm wasting my time here," I responded."I want answers," she pressed."You have been given the answers to both your talking points, Matthias died because of your orders and I am here looking for three lost Amazon bloodlines," I replied."That seems bizarre," the Vizsla expressed her doubts."Bizarre? You are talking to the sole male Amazon House Head in three thousand years," I reminded her. "Besides, you only just now finished telling me how the Black Hand look after their own. The Amazons are the same way; we have lost kin who need to be made aware of their background.""What do we do about Matthias?" the Vizsla asked."In all honesty, had he not personally threatened to stab a member of my team, I would have settled for kicking the crap out of him. He put a knife to Ms. Martin's throat. That assured his death sentence. I think the Host will be willing to accept my hypothesis that Matthias was acting on his own initiative, which should settle the matter."And just like that, the expediency of the Black Hand shown forth. The truth of the matter was that he had acted on the Vizsla's orders. Unfortunately, that would have meant my side would have come after the Vizsla and she would have had to avenge his death, lots of needless bloodshed. So Matthias posthumously became a rabid dog gone rogue and one who ended up crossing the wrong people. No vengeance required by anyone. We could get back to business."That is settled. So, what do you want from your new allies?" the Vizsla inquired. A certain level of cold-blooded ruthlessness had been required to achieve her spot in the Black Hand. Likewise, honesty was the best policy when dealing with casually lethal people. They didn't like self-important asses wasting their time."I need to find an individual named 'Branko'. He has kidnapped a young lady who is one of our lost Amazons. We don't require any aid, but if you could leave Selena with us, it would be appreciated," I requested."What are you going to do when you catch up with this 'Branko'?" she questioned."I'd like to say I am going to buy her back, but I think we both know that is a pipe-dream. He's not going to like me interfering in his business, so I'm going to kill him, and any other bastards who are in close proximity," I confessed. She studied me for over a minute."Do you wish a piece of advice?" the Vizsla said."Of course," I nodded. It cost me nothing to acknowledge her vastly superior experience."Take a step back," she advised. Seeing that I didn't understand, "If you recall every single death by your hand, you will go mad. You don't possess the detachment of a true killer, Cáel. Not every member of the Black Hand is an assassin.Your driver, Josef, is from a long line of Black Hand members. He doesn't have what it takes to get close and personal in order to kill a human being, so he drives and provides security. He still matters and serves a necessary function." That was almost nice of her. The advice was based on her decision to keep me around as a useful tool. Going nuts would derail that."There is the life we wish to lead, and the life we must lead, Vizsla," I recalled. There was so much there, whirling around in my skull, it took me all this time to find the link I was looking for. Recall every single death by my hand, "On January 26th, 1847, the Black Hand Chapter House of the Wolf in Verona was wiped out, there were no survivors.""If you say so," she regarded me oddly."Yeah, look into it. Then come back to me when you have the right questions," I stood up. "And 'Branko'?""I will relay information on this individual to Selena. We should have something by the time you get back to Buda," she got out before one of the bodyguards came running our way.He had his H and K MP5 out and was in deep conversation with his ear piece."Our two spotters failed to respond correctly," he told the Vizsla in Hungarian. She gave me another quick once over."My people?" I rose slowly.The Vizsla gave the man a subtle hand gesture. Seconds later, pushing Alkonyka ahead of them, Pamela, Selena and Josef came running through the door. Pamela and Selena had our duffels. Two more Black Hand materialized from a back room.The Black Hand was actually a small outfit. Each Chapter had two or three houses, each with four or five true assassins and maybe six times that in support personnel/recruits in each location. That meant the entire Black Hand organization numbered less than 1000. They had several thousand peripheral contacts across their sphere of Europe and they could purchase some sort of private security given time. But their best protection was their hidden nature and small size. That also meant what we had was what we had. There was no Black Hand SWAT team on the way.Working with hand gestures alone, the Vizsla was directing us to a trap door behind the bar. Josef's phone rang. He hesitantly answered."It is for you," he offered it to our host. She took it. Halfway through the caller's diatribe, she shot me a suspicious look."Why don't you ask him?" she stated, then handed me the phone."Hello Nyilas. Do you know who this is?" the man on the other end stated, in Mycenean Greek."Yes, I do. What do you want? I'm kind of busy here?" I grinned. It was laughing at death all over again."I can relieve you of your pressing schedule. You and the other Amazon step outside and I'll make it quick.""No can-do Studly," I smirked. "If I go out there, it is going to take a while.""I sincerely doubt that.""Don't sell yourself short," I jibed. "I figure clipping off those bull-sized testicles of yours is going to take some work. But I do promise that after I make you a eunuch, I'll use a condom when I bend you over and make you my bitch too. Was there anything else you wanted to know?""No. I think we have a mutual understanding," he laughed. "I'll be seeing you soon." He hung up."Who was that?" Vizsla inquired. She wasn't alone in her curiosity."Ajax," I beamed confidence. I was confident my tenure on this Earth was ending real soon."I think we should be leaving," Vizsla suggested."Selena, help Alkonyka get her sister back," I requested. "I'll catch up when I can. Pamela, you do what you feel you need to do. Vizsla, they are after me, so I'm going to keep them busy while you get away," I explained.No useless 'you don't have to do this' nonsense. She knew the score, I wasn't a member of her outfit and she wanted to live. She did do me one favor. She gave another hand movement. Selena slit Josef's throat in a surprise motion.He didn't die right away. Selena's slash made bleeding out inevitable, but he'd be a while in dying. Odds were, that only Vizsla and Josef knew in advance where we were meeting. Whatever payoff the Condottieri had put in his bank account wasn't going to do him any good. Selena bent over his still-thrashing body and removed his pistol."I will bring you Angyalka Lovasz," Selena pledged. Pamela and I were gearing up. Ajax and his buddies were going to be coming for me any second now. Alkonyka gave me one more worried look before she vanished into the secret basement. "Don't be late," was the last thing Selena said before going down into the darkness. Pamela made sure the trap door was covered up.Lust and Bullets"We've used Butch and Sundance," Pamela checked her L42 Enfield Sniper Rifle. It was the weapon Pamela had trained with and used for longer than I'd been alive, old yet very effective even today."Heat?" I offered up. "You can be De Niro and I can be Kilmer.""Nice. Michael Mann really had a way of killing people," Pamela grinned, then pumped her eyebrows. "Too bad I end up dead in this one.""We'll avoid airports, you should be safe," I joked. Three explosions rocked the building, shooting glass throughout the place. Fortunately, Pamela and I were hiding behind the bar."Let's go," she whispered over the din. Charging out the front door seemed pretty suicidal to me, but Pamela's copious battle lore was something I had the utmost faith in. I respected her judgment and followed along. There was a method to her madness. Two 40 mm grenades had taken out the two cars parked in front. A third launched grenade had blown open the door.The petrol in the cars equated to flaming wreckage and a huge smoke screen. It was broad daylight, no night vision goggles. The flames made IR useless and the smoke temporarily obscured regular vision. The machineguns going off around us scared the crap out of me. It was my old buddy, suppression fire: they weren't shooting directly at us.Metaphysically, Ishara was dueling with Ares. There was a low stone wall, a little over a meter high, that separated an adjacent field from the inn's gravel parking lot. Right as we got to our side of it, three of Ajax's boys came up on the other. Pamela and I remained perfectly still, crouching tightly against our shelter.Two knelt and fired several bursts from their H and K HK416 (Wow! Germany's newest killing machine, they looked slick) into the closest open windows while the third one fired a grenade in. Again, we remained perfectly still. We were about two meters from those three. The drab color of our hastily donned dusters, the congested air and our stillness combined to save us from their notice.The second after that grenade went off, the three vaulted the wall and rushed the building. From the cacophony of the battle, they were storming the building from several directions at once."Quick, go find that guy with the machinegun," Pamela whispered over a feral grin. How was I going to do that?The old fashioned way, I leapt over the wall and ran away from all the flames, explosions and the continuous widespread fusillade of assault weapons fire. I was partially bent over as I ran. I'm still a big guy though. The machine gunner was in a shallow dip in the meadow 30 meters away, on the edge of the woods.He saw me, shifted his MG4 (fuck Ajax and his crew for having the best Bang-Bangs) minutely and unleashed hell my way. In hindsight, the 1st round flattened against my duster as it impacted my upper left thigh. Round #2 hit the duster again, coming below my vest, but hitting my belt (every bit of leather helps).The #3 556 mm slug hit my vest due south of my belly button (Fuck!), # 4 landed a few centimeters up and to the right, taking in both the duster and my ballistic vest. The #5 round clipped my lower side of my right ribcage. The resulting force sent me spinning back and to my right.Honestly, as I landed hard on my back (no rolling with the blow this time), I thought a midget mule team had kicked me in the guts. Apparently, I made a convincing mortally wounded human being. He stopped shooting and Pamela got pissed.I learned a few things at that moment: you do not get used to being shot; you can never appreciate the value of good body amour enough; you can never understand the true value of a sniper until your life is totally in their hands; and damn, Pamela was exceptional. Pamela put a bullet through his nasal cavity in that split second between him exposing himself with his muzzle flashes and deciding to put a few more bullets into my prone form.Pain dictated that I lie where I was. Survival instincts overrode that. I went to my side, pushed up and resumed my crouched stance. Then I was running once more until I could throw myself beside his corpse. I was stunningly calm. Machineguns, snipers, I had to cover Pamela's run across the meadow. I didn't stay by the dead gunner.I grabbed his weapon, some spare ammo and quick-stepped it to the wood line. I rapidly assessed the best spot that could provide cover from each flank. That was where I went down, cradled the device and started shooting at any muzzle flash I could see. The moment I opened fire, Pamela began her own sprint.Unlike my mad dash, Pamela took evasive maneuvers, serpentine, which worked out well when one sniper figured out she wasn't one of them. He/she had two shots at her before she dove past me. Her mien was one of intense, emptiness? She gave me a quick pat-down to make sure I wasn't gushing blood, took a deep breath and then smirked."Come on, Dummy!" she laughed. "We still have a shot at a sequel.""Shot, sequel, you are a laugh riot," I wheezed as I stood, abandoned the MG4 and joined her as we both ran deeper into the woods. A few shots zinged past us before Ajax's crew realized we were in full-on flight mode. They weren't going to waste the bullets.This was the point where archaic and modern warfare diverged. In the olden (pre-Pamela, ow! How did she know what I was thinking?) days, when your enemy broke and ran, it was relatively easy to run them down and slaughter them in their panic. If a few men tried to stem the tide, they would be quickly overwhelmed.After the invention of rapid-fire rifles, that changed. Suddenly, headlong pursuit could be incredibly costly. All it took was a small, resolute band to find some sort of hard cover and they could buy minutes, or even hours, for their retreating brethren. Sure, if you were willing to pay the butcher's bill, you could storm their position.But you had to understand, each defender could fire and work the bolt action in under three seconds. You reloaded your magazine with a prepared clip ~ maybe five more seconds. Ten men could put 150 bullets down range per minute as long as their ammo held out. Sending men into that kind of firepower was murder; very few troops could sustain their attack under those conditions.Ajax's resurrected Mycenaean's were tough enough to do it. Ajax's problem was their finite number. Despite catching Ajax off-guard with Pamela's mad plan, her ungodly skills and a great deal of my pain, we had only managed to kill one so far. The great unknowns were terrain (we didn't know where we were,) and my luck.As Pamela and I ran through the forest at a good clip, we began to make out a specific background noise. It was a river. Not a creek, stream, waterfall, or dam, a river."Did you pack your jet ski?" Pamela snorted."I left it in the car. You said it was so '1990's'," I panted back. A few more footsteps and,

People who live simpler lives tend to be more thankful for what they have. Sometimes, all God needs to hear from his people is a simple “Thank you,” and that would be enough. Ultimately, giving thanks in prayer acknowledges the source of all good things and to whom we owe our lives. Continuing the series […]

This week on Some Patches Required, Zak and Aaron sit down to do something they've never done before: review an episode of another podcast. Then again, they've never encountered one that prominently features ex-Activision-Blizzard CEO Bobby Kotick sharing anecdotes from his career, drumming up wild accusations against the CWA Union, and loudly eating celery into a microphone before today. Suffice it to say, they have some opinions to share.Please, enjoy.Listen to Beach Girl on SpotifyCheck out edouggieart on EtsyCheck out even more edouggieart on Instagram

Preorder Special Backstage Package from TrubornPreorder the regular edition from TrubornPunk is horror. Horror is punk.Though there seems to be a particular empathy between punk music and horror, the concern could be, if you were to collect a bunch of horror stories themed to punk rock songs, wouldn't they all just be the same thing - more or less?Not when William Sterling and his band of scribes get together, because one of my favorite things about this anthology is how unique of an approach each author took to the assignment. A particular standout is Liz Kerin's story Down By the Water (inspired by the PJ Harvey song?) In which a girl rebels against her controlling parent - which seems pretty foundational punk - only the whole story seems set on some fairy tale seaside community with witches and sea monsters (maybe). Such a creative approach to the theme of the book! There are fourteen more songs beside, and I'll let you discover them on your own. Suffice to say, I really enjoyed the book, and loved to have William Sterling and Brian McAuley on to give some insight into the book's inception through it's upcoming release.I'll plug once more ordering from one of the above links directly from Truborn. In times like these, creative folk need all the direct support they can get. If you order the Backstage Package, I think you even get a backstage pass!For the YouTuberly folks: This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.thearcparty.com/subscribe

Inside this Episode with Mitch HamptonI read an enormous amount of books in a given year, partially for the great pleasure it creates in me and partly as my project of lifelong learning, itself probably identical in pleasure. Verba's work on Violeta Parra - one of the giants in Latin American music in general and  Chilean music in particular as well as a leading visual artist and scholar - was one of the books in this new year of 2025 that taught me an enormous amount, not only about music but History and other matters. I found my episode with Verba - someone who has deep and involved careers in music performance as much as scholarship - a delight from beginning to end and I hope our audience gets to learn more about the genius that was Violeta Parra.Dr. Verba's BioEricka Verba is Director and Professor of Latin American Studies at California State University, Los Angeles. Her research interests include the cultural Cold War, the role of music in social movements, and the intersection of gender and class politics in twentieth-century Latin America. She has received grants from the National Endowment from the Humanities, the Mellon Foundation, the Social Science Research Council, the Fulbright, and the Los Angeles Department of Cultural Affairs. She is a founding member of SCALAS (Southern California Association of Latin American Studies) and the recipient of the E. Bradford Burns Award for service to the Pacific Coast Council on Latin American Studies. She is the author of the book Thanks to Life: A Biography of Violeta Parra. Her interest in Violeta Parra dates back to her early teens in the 1970s when she became friends with a Chilean family of musicians and artists who taught Verba her first Violeta Parra songs and guided her political awakening to the brutality of the Pinochet dictatorship and the role of the US government in installing and supporting it. As a musician and founding member of the US-based New Song groups Sabiá and Desborde, she has been performing Parra's music since 1976. In 1980, she wrote her undergraduate honors senior thesis on Parra's autobiography in verse. In 1996, She was the musical director and arranger for a tribute concert to Violeta Parra, supported by an Artists in the Community grant from the Los Angeles Cultural Affairs Department and recorded and released as Desborde, Tribute Concert to Violeta Parra. As a professor of Latin American History since 2004, she has welded her research on the history of women in Chile with her interest in Parra to acquire a deeper understanding of the social context and gender dynamics that shaped Parra's life. Suffice to say, Verba's book represents the culmination of a decades-long curiosity about Violeta Parra and engagement with her work. #folkmusic #chile #guitar #communism #marxist-leninism #fascism #salvadorallende #1940s #1950s #1960s #alanlomax #peteseeger #painting #dance #sculpture #feminism #latinamerica #southamerica #nicanorparra #angelparra #violetawenttoheaven #biennalearte #louvrepalace #albertcamus #existentialism #jeanpaulsartre #picasso #earlbrowder #paulrobeson #woodyguthrie #l'escale #france #paris #argentina #folklorista #chileannewsong Links to her socials:Website:https://erickaverba.com/Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ericka_verba/More about her new book: THANKS TO LIFE A Biography of Violeta Parra "A stunning achievement. This comprehensive analysis of Parra's life provides an unparalleled opportunity to appreciate one of Latin America's greatest artists. Thanks to Life is an outstanding piece of biographical work on a world-class artist whose legacy continues to shape Latin American music and culture." —Heidi Tinsman, author of Buying into the Regime: Grapes and Consumption in Cold War Chile and the United States For media inquiries contact: Nanda Dyssou, Publicist nanda@corioliscompany.com (424)-226-6148 

Summer Camp Mayhem.By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.The miracle is not a person jumping into a torrent to save another. It is the dozen who form a chain to pull them both out.(Midnight in the Grotto of Good and Evil)We were in one of the underground pools at the bottom of the mesa. Our tour guide had informed us there were nine known caves and the complex had never been fully explored due to the remaining waterways being totally submerged. It was well past midnight, all my little friends had crashed out and I had wisely ditched my security after Miyako silently woke me up with her hand over my mouth.She pulled my hand to her lips and sucked deeply on two of my digits. I took this to be an indicator to me she was in dire need of loving. The grotto was my idea. I was inspired by my desire to see her naked and I couldn't risk a light source any place but underground. The tool shed and garage lacked a certain appeal. The fuel depot and septic tank were also ruled out."Is the chaos in your mind still raging, Cáel?" Miyako asked in Nipponese, with enough worry to doubly enhance her cuteness."Which of the twenty-seven unexplained languages rolling around in my head do you want me to answer you in?" my toothy grin barely visible in the darkness.Around half way through my sexual enlightenment in college, I had a revelation. The two guys I had gone road-tripping with took me to a bar in Portsmouth. I caught a woman looking us over. I already had my one-night stand lined up and she was looking most agreeable to my nefarious skullduggery (i.e. she had come with some other guy who preferred beer and darts with his buddies over keeping his attention on what mattered).And then my awakening."Nah, she's too fat," he remarked. For one thing, my friend who said that could have stood to lose ten to fifteen kilograms himself. Next, we were dressed like middle class college kids, jeans, shirts that were most likely clean when we picked them out of the laundry basket, light jackets and the shoe thing.This girl was dressed up for a good night out. Nice makeup, her clothing choices were, eh, not stunning, but this wasn't a stunning nightclub/bar. She looked fun, she smiled and yes, she was overweight. It dawned on me that not only did I not care, I never cared. I was a sexual omnivore and that meant any lady interested in sex with me was fine in my book.So, I turned the tables on him."If you can score her number, I'll give you my watch," I dared him. The wristwatch was really nice, one of those $500 handmade German ones. One of my Ex's great-granddad had swiped it off some Nazi pilot in World War II, and the same girl gave it to me twice. See, by accident, as I was exiting the (thankfully) first floor window of the Natural Sciences building, she threw a pitcher at me.It had been sitting in an ornamental display case close by. I caught it, nodded to the flabbergasted female professor-type gawking at the semi-naked me, handed her the projectile, then fled like the responsibility-dodging coward that I was. It turned out that that bit of crockery was from the mid-1600's; the woman I'd surprised was the item's owner.That older lady wasn't a teacher. She was a major benefactor in charge of one of the school's larger endowments. Had it shattered, the Ex most likely would have been expelled. Instead, after watching me round the Chancellor's residence, the mature chick turned to the totally naked chick leaning out the window, still screaming at me."Is he on the track team?" she inquired as she handed the artifact back. They talked, agreed I was a miserable human being, a cad and had firmly developed buttocks. Well, I guess that makes me a pig with nice hams. The next day, I showed up to return the watch, it was just an excuse for one more round of sex.She explained the whole incident to me, took back the watch and sent me on my way. I hurried back to my dorm room, changed the sheets and picked up a bit. An hour later she was quietly knocking at my door. Rather epic make-up sex followed, she gave me the watch as a keepsake and I swore off intercourse in classrooms for two whole months. I'm a tower of resolute willpower, I know.Back at the bar, my buddy snorted, made some comment about her being obviously desperate and promised me he'd nail in her in one of the back rooms. They talked a little, he got 'friendly', then said something that really hurt the girl's feelings. She looked our way, steadied herself with a shot of bourbon and came over to me and my other bud."Did you tell that guy you would give him fifty bucks if I put a lipstick ring on his cock?" she confronted us."No, I told him you were too good for him and if he could get your phone number, I would give him this watch," I showed her the watch. The girl's face flashed back to 'cautiously curious'."Is it a nice watch?" she asked."It is a family heirloom. My great-grandpa brought it back from World War II after taking it off some high ranking kraut officer," I embellished. "I knew he didn't have a chance with you.""Thanks," she grinned. "I agree. Let me get my sister and we can get a bite to eat." Sex.Two guesses of who her sister was. If you guessed the girl I had been cultivating since I got there, you would be right. I am too damn lucky. Lads, the next time you blow a sure thing, blame me for sucking all the good karma away from you, and nine of your friends. I got a three-way. The guy I made the challenge to, got his revenge. He bailed and I had to hitchhike back to school. You know, female truckers, oh, back to Miyako.After stashing our clothing and weapons (all of mine anyway), I took a small fluorescent lantern and slipped into the water. Cold, but doable. Miyako joined me and then, by moonlight, we swam to the point where the guide had said we'd find a passage to a secluded grotto. Down we went. My motivation wasn't sex.That was coming no matter what. Seeing my Nipponese sweetie completely nude directed my course of action. Security protocols meant no lights after 11 p.m. My solution was to cut on a light that couldn't be seen from outside, the grotto. We felt our way along the rather wide submerged passage emerging well before air became an issue. I raised the lantern and cut it on.Our tour guru had forgotten to mention that the algae patches along the sides and bottom as well as the quartz veins on the roof and walls reflected the light over what must have been an eight by ten meter cavern. Gorgeous. We glided to a shelf that met our needs, climbed up and shared a high school 'nervous virgin' moment. She broke the spell by pulling herself out of the water and, standing on her tippy-toes, touched one of the roof veins.I drank in every inch of my little ninja babe's lithe, finely tuned body. Once she got over the newness of my voyeurism, she became playful, giving me a variety of silhouettes and poses. I stripped and returned the favor, which earned me a giggling fit. As I took a minute to sit down and stare into the tranquility of the still surface, she snuck up on me.She said it all with her eyes. I tried to speak, but she put a forefinger to my lips. 'Hold me forever,' her eyes relayed her intentions. 'Love me for all eternity and think of no one else but me.' My elbows were locked, supporting my upper torso as she hovered over my lap. She was a lone feather falling upon the unyielding stone.With one hand behind her, she guided my cock into the wet, luxurious vice that was her cunt. We took it in increments. A sigh more at home in whispered Nirvana than on mortal tongues escaped her lips as she nestled all the way down. We didn't fuck. We rocked back and forth in a timid motion.As Miyako became accustomed to me once more, she would lean farther back with each pulse until an in and out rhythm was achieved. I took the occasion of her victory to pluck her left nipple into my mouth. Experience had taught me that was her more sensitive one. For several seconds, she fought it before knowledge caught up with instinct, then she loosed her passion.After her vibrations subsided, she rested her body tightly against mine. I still impaled her and she was returning a fraction of that warmth."Do you ever think you will find true love?" she whispered into my ear, in Nipponese. I was drawing my finger through her damp hair as it trailed down her back."As in love one over all others, no," I confided. "Even if I did, I could never admit it.""Why not?" she asked in Mandarin.In French I explained; "My life is a mad race through the forest and I don't know if I am a hound or the stag. I don't dare slow down until I know, and that is no way to repay such devotion.""When do you think the race will end for you?" she moaned softly, in English."I would really like to hold a child of mine. I don't regret my life's path up until now, yet I leave so very little of me behind if it ends soon," I muttered in Nipponese, and then chuckled. "It used to be at the first sign of a pregnancy test, I would panic. The World turns very rapidly."A minute passed as she went from warm to heatedly sensuous."Less talk, more babies," she sacrificed her emotions for my well-being with her oh so naught Baby Metal band voice and questing fingers. How could I say 'no' to that?"I don't think it works that way," I teased."Let's find out." She implored me in NipponeseSometime later, I was lying on my back, Miyako's body extended over mine so that not one precious inch of her touched the cool slick rock surface. Considering our position and location, it took me a bit longer to notice the intruder. I thought she was all kinds of strange. Twin memories and perception joined forces for once.The woman moved through the water, yet she was only hip deep in a place I knew the bottom was three meters below. As she entered our isolated love nest, I noticed she had sent forth not a single ripple in the water. Memory filled in the rest. Her eyes, when her gaze met my own, had that void that comes from a tortured life punctuated by horrors you witness as well as ones you are forced to perform.That was from "me". The electron swarm inside my mind provided another crucial piece of the puzzle. Utukku, phantoms, dead denied entrance to the Nether Realms, trapped between, until some sin had been lifted. The spirit gave me a look of shock, then turned and fled."We are in danger," I hissed to Miyako in Nipponese, before cutting off the lantern.I dove in, angling for the tunnel we'd entered by. I was close enough not to jab my fingers into the stone surface as I clawed my way through. I didn't burst noisily to the surface on the other side. My approach was that of an alligator, slowly letting my head crest the surface so I could look around. No one was in evidence. Miyako was soundless at my side as we scramble to the hiding place of our gear.Miyako held my hand back until she was sure our belongings hadn't been booby-trapped. I had to make quick judgment call: how time critical was this? I went the 'clothes and weapons' route."What is going on?" Miyako spoke quietly."Back there, I saw a feminine Asian ghost and the last time I witnessed such a pained, hopeless look, I was confronting the Seven Pillars," I told her. "Their slave had that same doomed stare.""There are only two things here of value," Miyako made her assessment. "You and the children. You are far more accessible in New York City, so it must be the children." We pressed ourselves tightly to the cave sides when we heard the sound of footsteps coming our way. It was Charlotte, my minder for evening, with her bow notched and ready.Firearms were kept to a minimum after hours, so bows were the order of the day, except for the snipers on the mesa top. My movements must have alerted her. I sat down and continued dressing."Charlotte, the Seven Pillars know we are here, they know the camp is here," I told her."How imminent is the threat?" Charlotte knelt beside me. I didn't know."They must be close, to be making a reconnaissance of the caves," Miyako said with tactical certainty."It was drawn to you, Charlotte, you were out of place, so this thing looked further. Otherwise these caves are irrelevant," she added. Miyako had the mindset of a seasoned professional spy."The cavern and spring have a night guardian," Charlotte countered. "I saw her when I was following you two here."I had on my light bulletproof vest (no shirt), shorts (no underwear) and shoes (no sox)."Let's go check on her to see if she's seen anything," I suggested/ordered.What I had assumed was some sort of bedroll brought by Miyako turned out to be a Ninja Survival pack. This allowed me to weapon up while she dressed up. The amount of time we were taking still ate at my nerves. Charlotte stopped me from heading out first, only to be stopped by Miyako. The ninja slipped out like a cool desert breeze.(Friend, Enemies and those In Between)Thirty seconds later, a plastic BB bounced off my right shoulder. This time, I was leading Charlotte out. No one spoke. We couldn't see Miyako anyway, now dressed in her black pajamas and her face being reduced to just one slit for her eyes. We found the Amazon dead at her post. She was in a cunningly crafted blind not easily spotted from any direction.A quick sweep for 'gifts' left behind revealed nothing, but the corpse yielded plenty. She was shot multiple times with two separate flash and sound suppressed submachine guns. The woman had been alive when we came down and if there had been a firefight, Charlotte would have heard the shots, if not seen them; thus the suppression. The bullet holes suggested a small caliber weapon.Miyako stepped up, held up three fingers. Every piece of the Amazon's gear was still on her. The attackers had shot up her phone box. Wireless communications were deemed too risky so all the outposts had buried land lines. At this point, a few seconds of extra effort stood between the Seven Pillars and success; that and the Goddess Paranoia.Had the assailants yanked up the box and cut the phone line, it would have been rendered useless. Instead, they shot up the device and moved on so that when Charlotte pulled out the cache of concealed goodies, including the spare phone box, we were back in business. As Charlotte got to work switching out the busted for the back-up, I studied our situation.Advanced teams taking out the perimeter guards, and most likely the snipers, didn't make much sense. The camp had 300 highly motivated Amazons. Cutting them off temporarily from their armory and vehicles didn't make any sense, since all Amazons were armed anyway. That left timing. But timing meant nothing if I didn't have the goal of their attack.It came as a double-whammy. The Chinese place a high premium on family and the Seven Pillars had mastered a sadistic art form of turning young foreign women into their concubine/assassins. The Condotteiri would have slaughtered the entire camp. The Seven Pillars would want to kidnap the children, both as current bargaining chips and as future tools.500 girls, 400 could be kidnappable. The oldest would go down fighting with their sisters. How did you get 400 kids out of here? Helicopters? That would be a fuck load of helicopters taking out their team and the children. Besides, helicopters alone couldn't dig them out of their cave and cliff-face strongpoints.Desert, no waterways. That left the road. You couldn't use ATVs, not enough carrying capacity. The smart move would be to have tractor-trailers parked alongside the hard top state road. They would use smaller, more rugged trucks to ferry their captives out to the semis. That suggested some sort of 'cover/support' vehicles.2 half ton trucks with weaponized Hummers providing fire support a la 'Blackhawk Down' and that meant the bridge and the BBQ pit. That objective would solve both of the Seven Pillars problems, moving the main assault group into close contact with the Amazons so the Amazons couldn't organize a defense, and removing their hostages in a prompt manner so they all could be gone before anyone else could react.The Seven Pillars had to have secured the bridge and were mostly likely replacing the missing piers. It was the choke point of their battle plan. Worse for them, it wasn't part of a barricade where they could attrition the Amazon numbers with vehicle mounted heavy weapons. The ditch ran north-south, bow shaped with the arch to the west and was over a kilometer from the camp.The flanks were purposefully strewn with huge boulders that limited traffic to horse and motorcycles, no four-wheelers. They had to have control of the bridge, so that's where I went."Charlotte, I'm going to the bridge," I whispered before slipping out of the blind. I didn't order Miyako to follow me and I was sure Charlotte wanted strangle me for departing from her protective custody.There are four kinds of fights, be they between armies, or individuals. Set-piece (sparring), assaults, ambushes and meeting engagements. I was about to be in the latter one. Meeting engagements happen when opposing forces are set on goals that unknowingly intersect one another. One of the most famous battles in US history, Gettysburg, was a meeting engagement.I was using the bone-dry culvert because we feared the Seven Pillars had replaced our snipers. Miyako was, somewhere else. The enemy commandos used the same conduit to avoid having the remaining Amazon pickets spot them and raising the alarm. I had little doubt that the three men speedily moving south were heading for the grotto and its three inhabitants (Charlotte, Miyako and me).Not knowing that I could both see ghosts and guessed who its demonic masters were, they assumed we were still in the caverns. Me not knowing how this whole ghost-scout thing worked, I assumed that I had a chance of surprising them at the bridge if I moved fast enough. In a final prick of irony, they misinterpreted the role their snipers played in our engagement.They believed that their snipers would alert them if anyone moved on the bridge, ignoring the fact that the snipers didn't have a complete view of the gulch. I was only using the big ditch because I was afraid they had taken out the Amazon snipers and now had the high ground, which turned out to be true. Thank you, Goddess Paranoia.My first tomahawk was in my left hand and my Glock-22 was in my right. My fear of snipers and the bend in the gully saved my life. We literally ran into each other, me and the first 7P soldier. His long barreled Type-05 was pointing past my left, his torso slammed into my pistol, ramming his front armored plate against it as it discharged.The proximity muffled the sound of the gunshot. The bullet failed to punch through his impressive body armor, but the resulting force knocked him down and out. Unfortunately, our shared momentum knocked my gun out of my grasp. My right hand went for tomahawk two. The flattened man's team mates swung their submachine guns my way.Halfway through his shift, a black dart flew out of the western darkness, past the first one, then snapped back. The action caused the hardy thread to wrap around the barrel of his weapon. I couldn't see her, but I knew it was Miyako with her flying wedge with the thread attached. The middle guy was startled and not moving as his training dictated.That allowed me to use him as a shield against the third guy. Right as 7P #2 decided to release his weapon, I kicked him hard into the confused man behind him. Neither man went down, but I still got what I wanted.Guy number three's main weapon was trapped to his right as I rushed his left. Vainly he tried to get an arm up to defend himself. My right tomahawk shattered his forearm at the elbow joint. Only the body armor on the inside of the blow stopped the appendage from falling off. My rational mind was catching up with my instincts.These men had on head-to-toe ballistic body suits with knee guards and solid ballistic inserts for the front and back of the torso. They had on some sort of dull, dark-grey respirator mask which was why the armless guy wasn't screaming his head off. They also had matte black circular ear protections and a type of high tech visor on the ears and eyes respectively.The sole survivor was falling back, drawing his silenced pistol while trying to put some distance between us and find Miyako at the same time. Dummy, tomahawks are designed for throwing. A bit of Amazons indignation was behind that toss. His visor was cut in two as my anger drove the blade 6 cm/2+ inches into his skull.I heard a sharp crack of a rock being shattered. Miyako's graceful flip landed her at my side. I ran to the last victim, put my foot on his chest and put my right hand on the tomahawk's shaft. The guy reached up and grabbed the thigh of the foot on his chest with both hands. Shit, the fucker wasn't dead!

#LiveWithTheEndInMind and one other thing.A follow up to last week's #UltimateRejection podcast. Next week, I'll be sharing what listeners (especially pastors) had to say about this matter. Till then please listen to both and keep your thoughts coming. Did you see my recent #TestimonyPost ? I share a bit more details in my latest podcast. Suffice to say, my PapaGod is nobody's mate

President Donald Trump was inaugurated on Monday, and he came out swinging. On his first day, he signed 26 executive orders and rolled back about 80 of former president Joe Biden's executive actions. (For comparison, Biden signed nine executive orders on day one; in 2017, Trump signed one; in 2013, Obama signed zero, and in 2009, just two.) Trump was making good on the promises he campaigned on. On immigration, he's trying to end birthright citizenship. On diversity, equity, and inclusion, he's saying, “You're fired” to federal DEI employees. On trans issues, he signed an order that declares only two genders. And on “America First,” he's saying goodbye to the “Gulf of Mexico” and hello to the “Gulf of America.”  Trump also announced Stargate, gave TikTok a second life, pardoned about 1,500 January 6 rioters, and pulled out of the Paris climate agreement. Suffice it to say, there is much to discuss. Today, Bari Weiss is back with Batya Ungar-Sargon, Brianna Wu, and Free Press senior editor Peter Savodnik to unpack Trump's first week in office and what they think about…Elon's arm. If you liked what you heard from Honestly, the best way to support us is to go to TheFP.com and become a Free Press subscriber today. The first 500 listeners to sign up will get $10 for free when you trade $100+ with code HONESTLY at https://Kalshi.com/Honestly. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Recently, we started working with a brand who came to us with a really common problem that I see many eCommerce brands struggle with.    The business in question was guaranteed a specific – and very high – ROAS (return on ad spend) by an agency pitching to win their digital advertising account. However, the results they've actually experience have been pretty disappointing to say the least.    Now, a high ROAS result is a common enticement many agencies use to win business and it's designed to make the brand owner believe that they will grow faster and more profitably than any other alternative.    Which of course would have been true 5 years ago when digital advertising worked very differently: 5, 10 or even higher ROAS results off cold traffic were the norm back then.    However, not in 2024 and certainly not in 2025, when we now operate in a world with vastly restricted data tracking, much more intense competition for each website click as well as for each consumer dollar, and much lower consumer trust of any branded digital content.    And the end result is that the brand owner feels like they've been taken advantage of, or even burned by said agency.   Suffice to say, promising a ROAS result is not only foolish, but also flawed. For starters, with tracking and on-platform reporting so inaccurate now, you just can't trust the accuracy of those reported ROAS figures.    Secondly, any really high ROAS figures I am seeing right now are pretty much always on campaigns going for the low hanging fruits – branded search terms and existing engaged audiences or repeat customers. Or campaigns offering really huge discount incentives. None of which you should be spending top dollar on with your advertising!    And thirdly, there is a massive assumption that achieving a specific ROAS automatically means that you must be making a profit on sales from those campaigns, after ad spend, product costs and other overheads.    But 99% of the time that is just not true.    In this episode, I detail this trap, and share the truth of what's really happening, plus the solution. By the end of this episode, you will have a much better idea of WHY every eCommerce brand needs to have the Profitable Productpreneur growth system in place in their business.  Episode's Show Notes: https://www.catherinelangman.com/episode-260/ Links mentioned in this episode: If you'd like help to achieve your goals in 2024 I invite you to have a chat to find out how we can make that happen together.     Free 2025 Ecommerce Marketing Playbook: www.catherinelangman.com/playbook Free Strategy Session: www.productpreneurmarketing.com/lets-talk    Other Ways To Enjoy This Episode: Listen on Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/au/podcast/scale-my-ecommerce-store/id1496911739 Listen on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/3NLRaZh2ReX0Iy7met8HK6 Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@scalemyecomstore

Boris Shtonda was injured in a Hamas booby trapped building on November 10th 2023. Five days later, he woke up from an induced coma to learn that his leg had been amputated above the knee. Since his injury and rehabilitation, he has travelled to numerous countries where he's snorkelled, trekked, snowboarded and picked up a running prosthetic. But his greatest physical challenge yet, will be his climb up Mt Kilimanjaro later this month. Suffice it to say, Boris' determination is unbreakable.For more, you can follow the show on Instagram @GraceforimpactpodcastProduced by Peoples Media Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

It's welcome back to the podcast after our Christmas and New Year break.We kick off by reflecting on how we both spent Hogmanay in our different ways, Lesley's island sojourn sounds affy braw.Much criticism has been levelled at BBC Scotland in particular for its pallid Hogmanay programming and Lesley takes the opportunity to compare the "official" media offerings with the work of the late Martyn Bennett and the Grit Orchestra. Suffice to say the authorised ones don't stand the comparison well.....It seems now is the time for a complete rethink on BBC and STV Hogmanay fare.We also discuss the cancellation of the official Edinburgh celebrations. Is it time for the capital to have a complete rethink ?Martyn Bennett's music and Danny MacAskill's cycling on the Cuillin - 81 million views!https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQ_IQS3VKjAGrit Orchestra gig - just two seats left!!https://tickets.glasgowlife.org.uk/34209/34210Lesley talks about her new, self filmed, series of short videos she's filming on her travels around Scotland.Lesley also reflects on the recent funeral of 'John the Bird' Chester on Eigg.https://x.com/LesleyRiddoch/status/1876598275693859210Anas Sarwar in his most recent speech talked about reducing the number of quangos but was somewhat less than comprehensive in how he would do this and even less specific on what a Labour administration would cut other than reducing the number of Health Boards.However is there a kernel of truth in Sarwar's statement?  Has the growth of quangos led to the creation, as Robin McAlpine said, of " A feudal system of nested fiefdoms each insulated from the transparency and accountability nominally radiating from the one above"?We also discuss Sarwar's appearance on Good Morning Scotland where Laura Maxwell grilled him on his stances on the 2 Child Benefit Cap, Winter Fuel Allowance, and the WASPI women. We also discuss Neil Mackay's recent Herald article analysing the growth in support for Scottish independence as UK Labour tanks in the polls.Is the SNP in a fit state to profit from this? Is it radical enough to get independence over the line?Listener Leslie Wilson got in touch after our chat on swimmer Duncan Scott to highlight the  television coverage-lack of- of Bruce Mouat's champion curling rink. We discuss. ★ Support this podcast ★

The guys from Dawgman.com - Kim Grinolds, Chris Fetters, and Scott Eklund - were quick to hit all the main talking points in Washington's 35-34 loss to Louisville in the Tony the Tiger Sun Bowl, a game that eventually hinged on a two-point play by the Huskies to win it all. After setting the scene in El Paso, the guys went right into the main takeaway of the day; Demond Williams is the real deal. The true freshman quarterback threw for 374 yards and 4 scores, while also giving up a pick-six, perfectly summing up the highs and lows that come with having a prodigious, but inexperienced, talent running the show at quarterback. After talking about Williams and his special day, the guys also talk about the mystery that was Jonah Coleman. He finished with just 9 carries on the day. Was he limited? Was he just not as big in the game plan as would have been expected? And that led right into the discussion of physicality and how Louisville was able to impose their will, especially on the offensive line of scrimmage. Both of their true freshmen running backs went for over 80 yards apiece. After a quick break, the talk stays along the line of scrimmage, but with a twist... what is Washington going to do with their defensive front? They didn't bother Louisville QB Harrison Bailey at all in terms of pass rush. The guys also talked about the fourth quarter, and especially the call by UW Head Coach Jedd Fisch to go for two and the win at the end of the game. The play was there, but Williams wasn't able to put enough air on the ball to find Jeremiah Hunter in the back of the end zone. It was also a phenomenal play by Louisville LB Antonio Watts to swat the ball away after coming off his primary read. Was the call to go for two the right decision? Before the guys offered up their final thoughts, Kim was able to get to the bottom of the Eric Bieniemy-to-UW rumor. Suffice to say, it's exactly what we thought it was. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices