Fantasy A Little Night Music by TMaskedWriter

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Story :- A Little Night Music

Written by TMaskedWriter

"Fear me, you lords and lady preachers.

I descend upon your Earth from the skies.

I command your very souls, you unbelievers.

Bring before me what is mine.

The Seven Seas of Rhye."

-Queen, "The Seven Seas of Rhye"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A Little Night Music Ch. 01

Airbrakes hissed as the semi-truck pulled up to the harbor gate. The younger of the two guards in the gatehouse took a break from slapping the screen of the monitor that had gone out a minute before.

"It fine, Jacques," the older man grumbled in exasperation. "I make report in morning. Do your rounds."

"But I just go to piss and all these cameras..." The older guard cut him off, waving to the driver of the truck, who put the mighty vehicle in Park and rolled down the drivers' window.

"Is pigeons. You gonna work the docks a long time, New Kid. Cameras go out. Do the rounds, I got this."

The younger man started to grumble, but was too new to risk it. He checked his pistol and flashlight, hooked the heavy Detex Clock onto his belt, and was off. The older guard watched him walk off with bemusement, fiddling with the much newer and lighter digital version of the same device that he carried.

When the rookie was out of sight, he walked up to the driver's side window. In the darkness of the cab, his face was shaded by the brim of the trucker's cap he wore. The older guard didn't bother looking closer.

"My apologies," he said to the driver. "He is new. Too 'fresh-faced' to get how things work yet, eh?"

The driver wordlessly extended a thick envelope of cash out the window. The guard took it, thumbed through the bills, and stuck it in his pocket. He returned to the guardhouse and opened the gate to let the truck pass. Once it was around the corner ahead, he closed the gate, went behind the bank of monitors, bent down, and plugged it back in. He straightened up and turned to see the rookie's pistol pointing between his eyes.

* * *

Inside the warehouse that the truck was making its way toward, a Chinese man in a suit with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder raked a cattle prod across the bars of a jail cell door, making loud zapping sounds and causing blue sparks to fly from the bars.

"QUIET," he barked in his native language to the women in the cell, watching as they cowered away from the sparks. They hadn't been making any noise; he simply enjoyed doing the thing with the prod and did it again.

Another Chinese man with an assault rifle and a pack of several rolls of duct tape stepped into the larger room outside the cell.

"That's enough," he told the man with the cattle prod, tossing him the duct tape. "Truck's coming. Get them ready to move."

With a look of disgust for the women, he ran the prod over the bars one last time before telling them all to face the wall. The other man unshouldered his weapon and covered him as he opened the cell to bind the women's hands and mouths with the tape.

Out on the main floor, two men watched as the truck came to a stop outside the warehouse. The driver flashed the headlights twice, then got out and walked toward the door, his cap pulled down low over his face, obscured further by the shadows cast by the headlights. The driver stopped a few feet short of the door and raised both hands to show that he was unarmed. One of the men unlocked the door and let him in.

"You're late," one of the men barked at him in Cantonese.

"There was a complication," the driver said in the same language, stepping into the warehouse. One of the men noticed the curve of the driver's breasts from underneath the coveralls a moment too late as the cap came off, revealing short black hair with curly bangs. "Me. Now don't move or speak."

The two men froze perfectly still as Contessa Helena de San Finzione dropped the cap and took their weapons. She turned to one of them.

"How many more of you are there?"

"Twelve," he replied, wanting to shout an alarm or pull the trigger of his gun, but unable to move even slightly or say anything except the answer to her question.

"All know Cantonese?" He nodded and she continued. "Call them out here and away from the girls in a way that won't arouse suspicion," she said to him, taking a seat at a folding table and fiddling with the Mah Jong game they'd been playing before her arrival as the man shouted.

"Truck's here! Driver needs help again, everyone out here," he called out, betraying his comrades.

The fear filing him now was a special one. A fear that he realized he should have had back in Hong Kong when one of the superstitious elder brothers in his family learned where his work was carrying him and offered an old charm or blessing to him, assuring him that the stories of The Viper That Speaks All The Tongues of Man's ability to make men obey her commands were true. A fear that he should not have mocked on the journey to this land when one of his brothers would ask what to do if they encountered The Viper and he'd flick out his balisong quicker than their eyes could see, no matter how drunk he was and shout "I CUT OUT HER TONGUE! Before she speak ANY Tongue of Man" and laugh the question off.

It was a fear compounded by the fact that the three inches it rested in his pocket from his fingertips may as well have been the distance of leaving it in Hong Kong for his ability to compel his fingers to reach for it. Unable to do so until, as more of his brothers entered the room, she ordered them to put all their weapons in a pile, strip, and kneel in a row as if being arrested; and he complied along with them and tossed it onto the pile. It was the fear of all his bravado's uselessness being made manifest as he and the others obligingly disarmed the building's traps and disabled the alarms for her.

When everyone was returned to their arrest positions, Contessa Helena de San Finzione pulled the neckline of the t-shirt she wore forward, tilted her head, and spoke English down at her bra.

"All clear." She looked up and made certain the thugs were in a safe area. "Move in."

The garage door rolled open and Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez entered the building in full breaching gear, his MP5 at the ready. Four of the men and women of San Finzione's elite Squadra de Ultimados troops poured through the door behind him. Two other teams followed suit at the side exits. The Generalissimo confirmed La Contessa's assessment that the warehouse floor was secure and ordered the troops to secure the rest of the building and locate the prisoners. Helena gave him an expectant look. Ramirez sighed and nodded.

"Do it," he said into his headset. Lines dropped from the skylights, and four more Ultimados rappelled in from the roof.

Helen applauded and rose to her feet, preparing to drag her chair over to address the prisoners when one of the Ultimados came forward and carried the chair for her. She gave a graceful nod of thanks, and sat down in front of the group of men, producing a cigarette and lighting it before addressing them in Cantonese.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"I know that was excessive, but they brought the gear with them and I really wanted to see them do it up close like this, so they indulged me. Anyway, gentlemen, welcome to San Finzione. I am your hostess, Contessa Helena de San Finzione. I'm afraid my schedule only permits me a couple of minutes for photos, but I'll try to see as many of you as I can in turn." She paused and thought for a moment. "I'm sorry, ignore that last part. It's late and I've got a 'surprise drop-in' on the castle tour this afternoon; I've been practicing for it." She took a long drag of her cigarette and continued.

"I admit to some curiosity, though. This looks for all the world like a Triad operation. But you see that can't be right; because I've explained to the Triads that slavery and human trafficking DO NOT HAPPEN in San Finzione!" The captive thugs were surprised that she didn't pull a gun and shoot one of them right then from her tone. Helena paused and seemed to collect herself before speaking further.

"And I know the Elders didn't order this operation, because I would then have to pay a formal visit to Hong Kong, and nobody wants that. OOH!" Her eyes lit on a nice leather jacket in the pile of clothing and she walked over and put it on, giving the thugs a look that said that whoever it belonged to before, the jacket was hers now. Helena returned to her chair with her new jacket and continued.

"So this wasn't sanctioned from on high; this is the work of some upstart who thinks he's ready for the big time. You'll tell me in a bit. You're going to tell me everything I want to know, and then you're going to deliver a message for me. The nature of that message and how strongly it will be worded depend upon the condition in which I find your captives. I'll be right back. Until then, you'll do everything my people tell you to or..." She stood up and crushed out the cigarette, then looked back up at the prisoners with a sweet smile.

"Or they'll tattle on you."

* * *

Two of the Ultimados were covering a door in the hallway. Contessa Helena de San Finzione approached them, bathed in the light from the flashlights on their helmets and pulling something long and wrapped in plastic from her coveralls.

"The cell is in here, Contessa," one of them said through his gas mask. "The room hasn't been swept for traps yet."

"It's clean," she replied, tearing open the plastic and producing four green glow sticks from it. "And turn those fucking lights off!" As they complied, she snapped and shook the glow sticks, then handed one each to the men. "I know movies always show the rescuers shining big flashlights in their faces. These women have been locked in darkness for who-knows-how-many days. You'll blind them."

Helena entered the room and gently tossed one of the green glow sticks between the bars of the cell door. It rolled about three feet and illuminated the women cowering into the back corners from the light. It was hard for her to make out numbers in the darkness. Most were white women in their late teens and 20s with assorted other skin tones mixed in; their mouths and wrists bound with duct tape. Looking over the ripped clothing and tangled, greasy hair on the women's heads, she pointed to one of them and motioned her over to the door. When the woman approached, Helen carefully removed the tape from over her mouth and leaned forward and spoke softly to her.

"Can you understand me? What language do you speak," Helena asked in English. She began asking the question in French, but the woman nodded and mouthed "English." She nodded her understanding and motioned for the woman to step back as she opened the door and stepped in, holding the other glow stick in front of her.

"You are safe now," she told them. "My men and I are here to rescue you. You are within the borders of the Sovereign County and Nation-State of San Finzione and I am Contessa Helena de San Finzione. The soldiers you will be seeing are with me. They are the men and women of my Squadra de Ultimados, and they are here to help you. We'll be taking you to receive food, clothing, and medical attention, and then we can work on returning you home. I must know something first."

She took a seat on the single bed that was the only furnishing in the room. Helena motioned for the woman she'd spoken to before to come sit next to her. She removed the duct tape from her wrists, took the woman's hand, and looked her in the eyes.

"Just be calm. I need to know how they've been treating you. Don't be afraid to tell me anything."

The woman looked into Helena's eyes and a peaceful calm washed over her as she began to speak.

* * *

Contessa Helena de San Finzione returned to the warehouse floor, where the prisoners were still waiting on their knees. She held a roll of duct tape in her hand.

"None of you look at them," she shouted in Cantonese. The thugs instantly turned their heads away as the women shielded their eyes and entered the room. The Ultimados stood between the women and their captors as they were led out of the building to where paramedics and buses were waiting. When Lisa, the one Helena had spoken to, walked past, she pointed out the man who'd been so enthusiastic about the cattle prod. Helena motioned for the women not to leave just yet.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

She walked over to the pile of weapons and retrieved the cattle prod. A balisong knife on the floor caught her eye and she picked it up, flicking it open and closed a couple of times. Helen remembered nights in her early teen years sleeping with a less-ornate model of the same blade under her pillow. She cut off a strip of tape and put her new knife in her new jacket as she walked over to the man Lisa had pointed out.

"You like this one, don't you," she asked him in Cantonese. He didn't want to nod his agreement but found himself unable to stop. Helena gave him the roll of tape as she looked down the length of the prod.

"You're going to go back into the cell with this. You're going to tape down the button, and then you're going to shove it up your ass by the live end as far as it will go." She thought for a second, and then put the tape over a spot about a foot down its length. "You can stop when you get to..." She moved the mark down another four inches. "Here."

She held out the prod, and with a terrified look, he took it and rose to his feet, crying as he grimly walked back to the cell, knowing he was unable to stop himself from obeying her commands. Helena smiled at the faces of horror on the remaining criminals.

"The night's young, gentlemen," she said to them. "Coming right back. Don't go anywhere."

Helena stepped outside, her new jacket keeping away the chill of the wind blowing off the Mediterranean. Generalissimo Ramirez was overseeing other soldiers escorting the women to a group of ambulances or onto buses. She took out a cigarette and lit it, offering one and the lighter to Ramirez, who took them.

"Excellent work, Hernando," she said to him. "How's the other team doing with the ship?"

The Generalissimo looked out over the water at a ship sitting in the harbor. From the bow, a green flare lifted off into the sky. He gave a little smile.

"They have taken it, Contessa. I suspect I'll have a more full report soon. Our inside man has also arrested the gate guard and wants to know what you want done with him."

Helena meditated on the idea for a few puffs before speaking.

"He's not really a part of this. Go through the motions of arresting him, then contact the Ministry of Intelligence and set him up with a handler. There were five hundred Euros in that envelope. Tell him whenever someone gives him another; he'll get twice that for notifying us immediately."

Ramirez took in what she said and nodded.

"We're rewarding him for accepting bribes?"

"We're gaining an asset. If we throw him in prison today, someone else will be at that gatehouse taking bribes tomorrow; someone who won't owe us his freedom and new source of income. A man who'll stay bought is a valuable thing." She looked at him a moment. "Something else is bothering you."

"You should not have come on the raid. The Ultimados could have brought the criminals to you. You certainly should not have been the first inside."

"I'm a countess, I make entrances. It's what I do. And don't tell me about harm's way when you strode right into the building with no regard for your own safety."

The Generalissimo took a long drag of his cigarette before responding. He knew about the strange power that La Contessa had over the wills of men, but had been against her being involved personally in the raid from the beginning.

"La Contessa promised that she would have them all disarmed before we entered and I know you well enough to know that it would be true. Nonetheless, entering a room like that with no smoke or flashbang cover, I took the lead to draw fire from the men behind me." She inhaled for several seconds as well before responding.

"That's because you understand what it is to hold people's lives in your hands, Ramirez. You take that seriously. So do I." They smoked in silence until electric sounds and screaming came from deep within the warehouse.

"So what is that," he asked. Helena smiled as she put out her cigarette.

"A noteworthy exception." She turned to enter the building, then stopped and turned back to face him. "Why is it, Hernando, that the only time we ever share a smoke is when lives are on the line?"

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

When La Contessa insisted on interrogating the prisoners in the warehouse, some of the Ultimados grumbled. Grilling these men could take days for a professional interrogator. They needed to be locked up separately so that they couldn't concoct a story. It would take sleep and food deprivation for days to get them to talk.

They were surprised when it took less than an hour. One by one, the prisoners sat at the table with La Contessa, She asked each man a few questions in Chinese, and each of them answered every question she asked as she typed notes into her phone, then told him to go return to the same position as before. The only one who didn't do exactly the same as the others was the man lying on a stretcher on his stomach with a large metal rod sticking from his rectum, whom she walked over and talked to instead. When she had everything she wanted from them, she asked one of the Ultimados to bring her the box from the front seat of the truck. Helena turned to face the one who remained.

"Have you ever driven a big rig like that," she asked. The man nodded in the negative. "It's a little scary at first, but you get over it quickly, and then it's fun as hell." She picked up her phone and brought up Siri, speaking French. "Message for Jeanne: Jeanne, can you check the garage and see if I have an 18-wheeler, and if I don't, get me one? Thanks."

Helena took a pen from her pocket and searched for a piece of paper. Her eyes lit on a discarded pizza box and she walked over and ripped off the lid, then returned to the table with it and started to draw something on the underside.

"I'm not much of an artist," she said to the Ultimado, making small talk as she drew. "I have a friend who's really good, but I didn't exactly have time to commission her or fly her over from the States or anything." She finished drawing the two large Chinese characters as the other Ultimado returned with a cardboard box. Helena instructed him to bring it over to her chair by the kneeling men, then followed and sat before them.

"Gentlemen," she said in Cantonese. "Our conversations have been most enlightening." She checked the notes on her phone. "And after you've reported to the Elders, if any of you see this... Raymond Chen... when you get back to Hong Kong, tell him we'll be talking quite soon; unless the Elders want to save me a trip and themselves a social call by taking care of him for me. Oh, didn't I say? We ARE going to put you all onto a plane for Hong Kong after we're done here. Won't be much longer now."

The criminals began looking at each other and giving smiles of relief, then turned back to see the look on La Contessa's face and realized she wasn't done speaking.

"You really should have waited until I was finished to start getting your hopes up. Now, of course, we can't let you return home from San Finzione without souvenirs." She bent down over the cardboard box, then took out the balisong and cut it open. "Who did this belong to?" The man she'd first spoken to when she entered bowed his head. "Well, it's mine now. And, I only brought five switchblades, looks like there's two more in the weapon pile here. And 14 of you, so you'll have to take turns and one of you is going to have to get Firefly over there." She gathered them up and dumped them on the floor in front of her, along with the five from the box. Helena then leaned the pizza box lid against the larger cardboard box so all the men could see the large Chinese characters for "Peddler of Slaves" that she'd drawn.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"In a moment, I will kick these knives over to you. You will pick them up and use them for no other purpose than carving this into the forehead of the man to your left. Use big characters so it can be seen from a distance. When you're done, hand the knife to him so he can do the same for you. Then slide the blades back over. None of you shall move or scream while you are being marked."

She kicked the switchblades over to the men. With looks of confusion regarding why they were following her orders, they picked up the knives and did as she commanded. Men groaned against the pain but could offer no resistance, and the ones who did the carving did so with hearts full of dread, knowing that they would follow right after. Eyes stung as blood that they were unable to wipe away dripped down their foreheads and into them. When the knives were returned, La Contessa tossed washcloths to the men and told them to clean their faces, and then addressed them again.

"From this day forth, you shall keep your heads shaven and never wear anything over or cover your marks. Whenever anyone at all asks about your mark, you will tell them how you took women from their homes and families and sold them on the other side of the world. You will tell them of the cruel things you have done to your captives, and then you will accept any punishment they choose to give you without resistance. Oh, and one last thing..." She dumped the remaining contents of the box onto the floor and started tossing the shirts inside to the men. "You will be certain to wear these until after you report to the Elders."

The gangsters held up the printed t-shirts bearing a silhouette of Castle Finzione with "Come to San Finzione" in friendly yellow letters beneath it.

"A twenty Euro value in any airport gift shop, gentlemen. And now, you will go peaceably with La Policia as they escort you to your flight home. We'll see if any of the doctors outside want to work on Ol' Lightning Butt here before you leave." She gestured to the man on the stretcher.

"I hope you have all enjoyed your visit to San Finzione. By all means," Helena looked them in the eyes again and said in her most commanding voice "TELL YOUR FRIENDS AND CO-WORKERS ABOUT YOUR VISIT!"

* * *

After the cleanup, Contessa Helena de San Finzione paced before the 20 men and women of the Squadra de Ultimados who'd participated in the raid. Their riot gear had been removed, and all stood at attention, wearing their fatigues and the black with emerald-green striped berets of their division. Generalissimo Ramirez walked alongside her and Capitan Ortega, Ramirez's replacement since being promoted to Generalissimo of San Finzione's armed forces; walked three feet behind them.

"Again, excellent work, Ramirez; Ortega," Helena said as she looked over the troops, still wearing her truck-driving disguise; and then addressed them all. "All of you, well done out there. Thanks again for the skylight thing."

"It is our duty to protect and defend San Finzione and La Contessa," Ortega said from behind them. Helena nodded. Her eye caught a blonde woman and a black-haired man amongst the Ultimados, both of whom she knew to be unmarried from their files.

"You two, you will come with me to Castle Finzione for a special debriefing. Your Contessa owes you her gratitude. Everyone else, as you were. First two rounds at the taverna are on me, ladies and gentlemen."

The soldiers saluted and Capitan Ortega dismissed them. La Contessa turned to Ramirez.

"Still room for one more in the limo, Hernando. San Finzione owes you a great deal of thanks too."

"I am still a married man, Contessa." Helena sighed.

"Another medal it is, then. Ciao."

The two that La Contessa had selected followed her to a waiting emerald-green limousine and the chauffer closed the door behind them.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Contessa Helena de San Finzione sat in the middle of the back seat of the limo. The two Tenentes took the rear-facing seats on either side opposite her. Helena lit a cigarette and gestured toward the mini-bar.

"Your work was outstanding, Velasquez, Maisson," she said as she removed the leather jacket and baseball cap and shoved them to one side on the seat. "I know you serve without thought of reward, but San Finzione owes you a great debt." Helena unhooked the straps on the overalls she wore. She met their gazes as she slipped them over her shoulders and allowed the front flap to fall forward, and then began slowly unbuttoning the plaid flannel shirt she wore under them.

"And as Contessa, I am pleased to give you the People's gratitude. Why don't you slip out of those uniforms and let me see the brave soldiers I'll be honoring tonight?" As the two soldiers began to obey her suggestion, a text came in on her phone. She slipped the shirt off and fished her phone out of the pocket to read Generalissimo Ramirez's message.

"Oops," Helena said as she began unhooking her bra. "Forgot I was still wearing a live microphone; just a moment." She removed her bra, rolled down the window, and tossed it out. She rolled up the window and thumped the roof twice and the driver pulled away. "Now come sit with your Contessa and let her think on how best to reward your service."

* * *

"Generalissimo," Capitan Ortega said as the two of them watched La Contessa enter the limo with her companions. "I must debrief all of the men, I will need those two. How long shall she keep them?"

Ramirez listened to something in his ear, then took out a phone and sent a text. A moment later, the window of the limousine opened and a bra was dropped from it. He watched with a smile as the chauffer drove them away to the castle.

"You have plenty of other men to debrief, Capitan. As for those two," he gave a small smile before turning to face Ortega. "They'll be back. When La Contessa tires of them."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A Little Night Music Ch. 02

"Living on a lighted stage

approaches the unreal

for those who think and feel,

in touch with some reality

beyond the gilded cage."

-Rush, "Limelight"

The Sun shone through the open balcony doors into the bedroom of the castle. It cast its beam across the marbled floor, onto the Persian rug, across the king-sized bed, and onto the face of Contessa Helena de San Finzione. She opened one eye slightly and the light entered it as well.

Helena turned over and grumbled, burying her face in the breast of one of the two Ultimados she'd brought home from the raid. Their "special debriefing" had been very long and intense. Helena rolled back over, reached for her phone, and texted Jeanne to prepare the best gift baskets and that this morning, she wanted American coffee with the two croissants that started every day around the castle. Following the stream of that thought, Helena checked her phone's clock and looked at the time on the West Coast of the United States. She messaged Jeanne to bring breakfast to the study, then slipped on a robe and took the secret passage from the bedroom to get there. Someone would see the Ultimados out.

In centuries past, the late Count's ancestors had used the room that was now Helena's study and personal office as a war room to scheme against their neighbors. Located in the center of the castle, it had thick stone walls that blocked out all outside noise, a secret passage to her bedroom, and an escape tunnel out of the castle. When she'd walk the halls in the early days of her marriage while her late husband was ruling San Finzione and she needed a break from sitting and observing the things she would one day need to know to lead a people, she'd found it a good place to think.

Helena pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of her robe and lit her first of the morning as she sat on a long couch and considered the day ahead. Her interview for American television was in two hours and a meeting afterwards had been canceled, so another had been moved up from the afternoon into its place. Her hairdresser was coming to the castle to give her a touch-up before she faced cameras and would be here by the time she usually got out of the bath. She'd look her best for her rigidly scheduled "surprise drop-in" on the tour group around lunchtime.

The large oak door to the study groaned open and Jeanne, her pretty, blonde personal maid, wheeled in La Contessa's breakfast trolley. Beneath a silver lid on the tray atop the cart were two still-steaming croissants from the kitchen, and the cart had a small power supply that one of the several various single-serving hot-beverage-making machines atop it could be plugged into; a necessity borne of Helena's preference of hot beverage varying with her mood. A single cup drip coffee machine was actively brewing the American coffee she'd specified, but the tray also held small cappuccino and espresso machines, a small water tank, a kettle for tea or cocoa, a long-handled brass Greek briki, and a small hot plate for heating the kettle or the briki.

Behind Jeanne walked in Lady Maria de San Finzione, Helena's great-granddaughter who'd opened the door for her and her cart. She was in her early 20s, only a few years younger than Helena, who'd married Maria's great-grandfather, the Count, quite late in his life.

"Good morning, Great-Grandmama," Maria said as she sat down next to Helena on the couch. She grabbed one of the croissants off the plate. Jeanne smiled as she lifted another silver lid to produce two more and set them before La Contessa.

"I know it's just me and Jeanne, Dear," Helena said to her great-granddaughter as she picked up one of the croissants. "And you were holding the door for Jeanne, but you should have let her through, let the doors close, then open them and walk through. Here, like this."

Contessa Helena de San Finzione got up from the couch and stepped out of the room, closing the thick old wooden doors behind her. Five seconds passed, then the doors were shoved open and she stepped proudly into the room between them and strode back her seat on the couch.

"Like that, Darling," she said, pulling apart the croissant and popping a bit into her mouth. "Every head in the room should turn when you enter. And if they don't, make them."

Lady Maria nodded her understanding, taking out an iPad and bringing up La Contessa's schedule. After the trauma of Count Vincenzo's death as he and Helena made love and the fight with La Familia de San Finzione to retain her title and position, Helena had used the ability that gave her control over the minds of others to make Maria into her personal maid and occasional lover in a misguided effort to "look after" her late husband's favorite great-grandchild. Recently, some old friends convinced Helen that she was taking advantage of the girl whose care she'd been entrusted with, and she'd been seeking to make amends since; helping Maria acclimate to the world she'd been born into and allow her to live her own life while also teaching her how to one day rule San Finzione herself. The girl now served part-time as an administrative assistant to La Contessa so that she could watch Helena in action as Count Vincenzo had done for her as well.

"I'm certain Great-Grandmama is already aware of the afternoon schedule change," Maria asked and Helena nodded, putting out her cigarette.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Yes, which means the afternoon has just freed up for both of us. And the meeting that's been bumped up to after the interview is Top Clearance Only; I don't need you for the Tour Stop, which means you've basically got a day off, Maria. When was the last time you and Stavro spent a day in the middle of the week together?"

"It has been some time," Maria said with a little smile. Stavro was her boyfriend. In the days before La Contessa had given Maria her due and she was still her personal maid, Stavro had been the son of the butcher who supplied for the castle and delivered their orders. Maria had been unsure how to approach him and afraid to tell her Great-Grandmother for fear that she'd decide to take the young man for herself. Helena had created a position for him as the head of her new Citizens' Grievance Office to give the young man a good job that would allow him to come to the castle and see both of them regularly and still allow him to help out his father. Helena nodded and turned to Jeanne.

"It's supposed to be lovely out today." Helena turned her head. "Hey, Jeanne, why don't you call down to the kitchen and tell them to pack a picnic basket for Lady Maria and Stavro?" The maid nodded and took out the phone she carried at all times. Maria opened her mouth to begin to say something that Helena already knew was going to be about how they couldn't possibly just skip out of work and go on a picnic. La Contessa raised her hand to let the girl know that an interruption of whatever she was about to say would transpire. She saw that the hand she'd raised was still holding her croissant and peeled off a bit of the flaky crust, popping it into her mouth before commencing with the interruption proper.

"Maria, your Great-Grandfather and I found exactly twice in our altogether too few years together time enough to attempt something as simple and romantic as go on a picnic together. The first time, the paparazzi found us and ruined it. The second time, the weather changed and it got too cold for him. My husband never tried my fried chicken." With a loving, wistful smile, Helen looked into Maria's eyes and gently exercised her will over her Great-Granddaughter. "These are the things to be cherished, Dearest One. Go have a picnic in the park with your boyfriend while you can. San Finzione will still be here when you get back.

Maria nodded her understanding and smiled.

"Thank you, Great-Grandmama. But Stavro does not have the day off." Helena gave that half a second's thought, then lit another cigarette and picked up her phone. She scrolled through her contacts and dialed one.

"Pay attention, darling. This is something you'll be able to do one day." The call from her direct line connected immediately and one of La Contessa's administrative secretaries answered.

"Si, Contessa," the man on the other end replied, experience having taught him to be ready for anything when a call from this line came in.

"By order of Contessa Helena de San Finzione, in recognition of their meritorious services, the Citizens' Grievance Office is immediately closed for the remainder of the day. All employees shall leave at once and will be paid for a full day's work. Business operations shall resume as normal tomorrow, so they might have a little extra work after shutting down for today. Also, send someone to the Poldouris Family Butcher Shop and have them buy... everything in stock; at least enough so Costas can close can early today. Have an employee barbecue on me and donate the rest. And no deliveries! Send people to pick it up and load it for them. Erm... this I do decree as Contessa, yadda-yadda; so let it be written, so let it be done, whatever. Bye." She ended the call and turned back to Maria with a smile.

"Now Stavro's day has just freed up as well. Jeanne will draw my bath and pick me out something nice for television; Roger is coming up from the city to see to my makeup and hair, and everything's set for the Drop-In, so you've got no excuses, young lady. A-picnicking you will go."

Maria nodded and both of them rose. Jeanne left via the passage to the bedroom to prepare La Contessa's bath.

"I think Great-Grandmama just enjoys showing up for the tour and wants the group all to herself," Maria said with a cute smirk. Helen responded with a look of mock surprise.

"Maria, honey, these things aren't just an excuse for me to look fabulous and be fawned over. We've got thirty coming for the noon tour. Thirty people who are going to go home and tell their friends and family how they met the real live Countess of San Finzione. They'll write blogs and Facebook their Instagrams or whatever with pictures of themselves with me. They'll point to my winking face on billboards and tell their friends 'hey, I met her.' And this day next year, there'll be fifty people on that tour." The smirk on Maria's face remained unchanged and was joined by a raised eyebrow. "Ok, ok, AND I get to look fabulous and be fawned over. Just go have fun, girl."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Contessa Helena de San Finzione pushed Lady Maria out the door to her study and followed Jeanne up the secret passage back to the bedroom. When she emerged, she noticed that the two Ultimados were still sleeping peacefully, now snuggled together. She crept across the marble floor to the door of her private bathroom, where Jeanne was drawing the water.

"Shall I wake them and give them their gift baskets, Contessa," the maid asked her in French. Helena looked over her shoulder at them, then stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her before replying in the same language.

"They did their country a great service last night. Let them sleep." Helena checked the time on her phone and stuffed it into the bathrobe she wore before stepping out of the robe to slip to the floor. The maid stood completely still as Helena stepped forward and cradled her chin, raising Jeanne's eyes to meet her own. "And we've got about 45 minutes until Roger arrives, so why don't we activate my Bathing Robot and make it a nice, relaxing bath before the day begins?"

Jeanne's arms dropped to her sides. The girl had revealed to La Contessa that she harbored a robot fetish, and Helena was happy to use her ability to oblige Jeanne.

"Oui, Contessa," Jeanne said mechanically as she removed her uniform with as few movements as possible. "Bathing Robot is online."

Contessa Helena de San Finzione stepped into the bath and lowered herself into the water. When Jeanne was naked, she followed and knelt between La Contessa's legs.

"Yesss..." Helen hissed as the maid started to clean her breasts with her tongue. "A thoroughly relaxing bath."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A Little Night Music Ch. 03

"Cause no one's gonna warn you.

And no one's gonna yell attack.

And you don't feel the steel

til it's hanging out your back."

-AC/DC, "Night Prowler"

"In five...four..."

The technician finished the countdown with his fingers and pointed at Contessa Helena de San Finzione. She sat in a Louis XV chair, wearing a black Christian Dior pantsuit with a beige blouse beneath; and turned to face a monitor where she could see two fifty-something women sitting on a couch in a morning television studio in Los Angeles sipping wine and pretending to talk to each other excitedly about something that couldn't be heard until the show's "back from commercial" jingle stopped playing. They both turned to the camera and put on the kind of giant phony smiles that only a morning talk show host is capable of attaining. Helena picked up the coffee mug from the table in front of her and did one last check that the small emerald pendant dangling an inch above the "acceptable for television" amount of cleavage she displayed was straight before the red light indicated that she was now being received in Los Angeles and the lapel microphone she wore was active.

"And we're back," the blonder of Sally and Cara; America's Favorite Fifty-Something Early-Morning Drinkers, said to the camera. "But we're not live anymore, Sally, as we're recording this segment eight hours before broadcast to accommodate our guest joining us via satellite link from her castle on the other side of the world." She turned to the other host. "There's something I never thought I'd say." The other woman gave another too-broad smile before picking up where she'd left off.

"That's right, Cara. You've seen her on the news, or the cover of Populace Magazine's 'Most Powerful Thirty Under Thirty' issue last week, or winking down at you from a billboard, advising you to 'come to San Finzione.'" She'd said the last with an attempt to sound like Charles Boyer inviting one to come with him to "Ze Casbah," even though it was the Boyer-inspired Pepé Le Pew who said that line. "Or maybe you've stayed at one of her hotels, gambled at one of her casinos, or enjoyed one of her fine wines like we are here in the studio." Sally held up the bottle of San Finzione Vineyards Rosé for the camera. "Well, today, we're bringing her to you. Please welcome Contessa Helena de San Finzione." Helena gave a polite nod to the camera and the host continued.

"Now, Contessa, this might be a little tricky for our viewers at home, because you're the ruler of San Finzione, but you're a countess, not a queen?"

Helena smiled at the often-asked softball question.

"That's correct, Sally. The patriarchs of La Familia de San Finzione held the rank of Count before we attained sovereignty, so, by tradition, the ruler's title is Count or Contessa." The other host almost allowed her a half-second after finishing before cutting in.

"So, do we call you Countess, Contessa..." Helena returned the favor and cut her off.

"Helena is fine, thank you, Cara." The moment it was obvious that she wasn't going to expand on the answer, Sally jumped in. Helen didn't find their interview style interrogative so much as terrified of a second's dead air.

"You don't sound European, though. I mean, your accent is definitely American."

"I was born in Anchorage, Alaska, yes. However," Helena said, taking an overly-long sip of her coffee just to irk them. "I had to renounce my citizenship when I was crowned Contessa." The interviewer was ready to jump in the moment it was over.

"So, you really do have an actual crown?"

"Sort of," Helena said a smile and a cock of her head. "A tiara, anyway. There's a scepter too, but they're only brought out for official occasions."

"Wow," Cara said in a tone that would have sounded phony if Helen hadn't watched their show before and knew that faux over-enthusiasm was standard. "Alaska to San Finzione, that's quite a long journey."

"Yeah," Sally interjected. "I know I'd need at least two bottles of this lovely red you had sent to the studio for a flight that long." She held up the bottle again to show the San Finzione Vineyards label to the camera.

Both interviewers laughed at the comment. Helena gave her reply through a laugh every bit as phony as theirs; the laugh of someone who knows that the thing that they're saying isn't particularly funny.

"Well, I told them to deliver enough to send everyone on your crew home with a case, so that shouldn't be a problem."

"Oh, that truckload was supposed to be for everybody?" Sally laughed at her own comment self-satisfyingly; the same way she might have if a retail clerk had asked her "anything else I can get for you today" and she'd thought it would be clever to reply "Yeah, a million dollars." Helena had a suspicion that was the level of "wit" she engaged in off-camera as well.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Yeah, they're ALL gonna have to fight THIS lush for it," Cara said, jerking a thumb at Sally and abruptly steering the conversation back to questions. "Now, Helena, I read the Most Powerful Thirty Under Thirty issue, and it says you're single?"

"That's incorrect," Helena said flatly.

The two interviewers paused for a moment. Cara checked notes.

"I'm sorry, our information on file..." Helena raised a hand to interrupt.

"I am married to Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione. He is the only man I have ever called 'My Husband' and I will call him that when we meet again. I know they say 'til death do us part,' but I'm not dead yet, and he is still the man I married." Sally picked up the non-existent conversational slack.

"But you've dated a few men and a couple of women, I've heard, since then." Helena gave a dry chuckle to that.

"I was 22 years old when Vincenzo passed, Sally, and he was 79. Do you think a married couple with that much of an age difference never had the 'this is what I want for you after I'm gone' conversation? My husband told me that he did not want me to spend the rest of my days alone and mourning him. Never marrying another man is my own idea, not being alone after he was gone was his."

The two interviewers allowed almost ten seconds to pass. Helena smiled. If she thought she could get away with smoking on American Daytime Television, she'd have lit one up right then. She'd taken control of the interview, and the whimsically-tipsy bubbly blondes now got that she wasn't going to allow it to be a fluff piece.

Her ability to command the minds of others wasn't something that could be transmitted over video, so she'd seized the power by sheer force of her personality. Helena's primary religious belief was that if God existed, He had a swift kick in the One True Nuts coming for the life that she'd been born into. She had an image of an afterlife, though, and in moments like this, she could imagine Propappou and Vincenzo looking down at her via the scrying pool of the gods from Clash of the Titans, an arm around each other like the buddies she always imagined they would have been if they'd ever met; both proud of their little Helena.

Sally broke the silence.

"Wow, that's beautiful, Helena, thank you. Now, in addition to ruling your nation, the San Finzione family also owns a powerful international business conglomerate, and you've recently branched out into a new area. Why don't you tell us about it?"

Helena smiled. A real one now.

The interview continued.

* * *

Thirty tourists gathered in a reception room on the grounds of Castle Finzione, but hadn't entered the castle itself as they waited for the guide to arrive and start the tour. The man sat on a bench and waited, for the guide with the others, reading a leaflet about famous historical battles that took place at or near the castle.

He could barely believe that he was here. The call had come early in the morning, and the amount he'd been offered more than made up for their list of conditions, like jumping on a plane immediately and checking into a hotel before going to the curious meeting in the park as soon as he landed. And now he was about to enter Castle Finzione.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Not his own, they'd insisted he trade them his for this newer, fancier model when they gave him the other tools he'd need. He bent his wrist carefully, clutching the sleeve of the windbreaker he wore ad wincing imperceptibly before reaching for it and checking the incoming text. It was a simple question mark, reminding him that he'd forgotten to message if he'd made it past security.

He sent a thumbs-up back and put the phone back in his other pocket. The tiny glass bottle in his pocket had easily been explained away as medication, and it had distracted security enough that he was able to get the item up his sleeve through screening. When he looked up, he noticed others getting up and congregating toward a uniformed man holding a sign.

The tour group began to move. He hung at the back, unable to hear the tour guide talking as he pointed at chandeliers and tapestries.

He took a greater interest in a large portrait of a woman sitting in a chair and smiling; wearing an elegant gown and emerald tiara and holding a scepter of gold.

The tour group was starting to get too far ahead of him. He caught up with them as they were about to leave the entrance hall and took one last look back at the portrait of the woman he'd come to kill.

The portrait of Contessa Helena de San Finzione.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Helena sat at the head of a conference table. Generalissimo Ramirez sat on her left, and the other seven people seated at the table were some of her highest-level advisors.

She lit a cigarette, her first opportunity to have one since before the interview, and listened as they gave their reports.

Because a good portion of San Finzione's economy relied on La Familia de San Finzione's holdings, the CFO of La Famila's business concern spoke first, reporting that everything was a go for the launch of the new venture. She was followed by the Minister of the Treasury, who agreed that it would be a great boon to the economy and he predicted another surplus the following quarter.

Up next was the Minister of Agriculture, who assured her that the wineries were prepared for the bumper crop of gbangs predicted for harvest time. The Minister of Tourism said that letters for Cupid were starting to arrive in anticipation of the Festival in three months. She thanked them for their reports, then sent them out of the room, leaving only Ramirez, the Minister of Science, and the Minister of Intelligence. Intelligence spoke first.

"A box was delivered to the embassy in Hong Kong by a known Triad associate approximately 90 minutes ago. We put a tail on him immediately. The box was addressed to..." The man stopped and checked his phone. "The Snake That Hisses at Men's Tongues?"

Helena nodded with a smirk and lit another cigarette.

"Send that translator back to Berlitz for a refresher. I presume you had the box examined?"

"It was found to be safe. The contents, however, were a man's severed hand and a red envelope containing one hundred thousand Hong Kong Dollars. There was a note identifying the man as..." Helena cut him off.

"Raymond Chen?"

"Er, yes."

La Contessa turned to the Generalissimo.

"It appears the Elders have decided to save me an official visit." Ramirez nodded. She turned back to the Minister. "Approach the man, tell him to convey to the Elders that we accept their sincere apology, however, we could not possibly accept their other generous gift and return the money. When they insist, and send it back, pizza party for the embassy staff and their families and donate the rest to anti-human-trafficking charities." Helena straightened up. "Now, the other matter. What do you have on Springheel?"

The Minister of Intelligence cleared his throat and took a report from his briefcase and read from it.

"The email came from an anonymous host site; the address existed for less than an hour. Our best guess at a point of origin is a cybercafé in Copenhagen. The video file attached contained no viruses or trojans and no information as to its origins. We have people analyzing the video for any other possible information currently. You have watched it already?"

"A few times, the Generalissimo has seen it as well. And we have it loaded?" Helena asked, pressing a button that dimmed the lights and switched on the large monitor on the wall opposite her seat.

"Si, Contessa."

He sat and the four of them watched the video play on the monitor. When it was finished, Helena pressed the button again. A few seconds' silence passed before she turned to the Minster of Science.

"Can they really do that, Miguel? Is it possible?"

The Minister shook his head in disbelief.

"No, Contessa. I mean, si. I mean, the theories, at least the ones that I understand, are sound. But... how?"

"That's what I want you to find out. Does Springheel even exist? Could it exist? Gather your best people who CAN give me an answer and put them to work on it. Sequester them and provide anything they need. This is classified to the highest level. The four of us and the people you assign to it are the only ones who can know about this. When they have something, they're to report directly to me before anyone else; even you, Miguel." She turned back to the Minister of Intelligence. "The same goes for your people, Minister. I'll want everything they can tell me about this. No detail is too small."

Both men nodded. Contessa Helena de San Finzione stood. The other three men did so immediately as well.

"Now, if there isn't anything else, Gentlemen, I'm going to go look beautiful for an adoring public and try to put this out of my mind until we know more. Dismissed."

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Jeanne gave Helena's hair and makeup a final touch-up. Around the corner the voice of the tour guide informing the group that construction on the Grand Ballroom began in 1658 was growing nearer.

"You truly enjoy doing these, Contessa," Generalissimo Ramirez stated. She'd asked him to stick around after the meeting and make the appearance with her so he could "remind her of that important matter" if things ran over six minutes. He agreed on the condition that he also be allowed to collect the two Ultimados that La Contessa had selected for "special debriefing" after the previous night's raid.

"I really do, Hernando. I know it's a little thing, but I get to make people smile. And our economy relies on these people choosing to spend their vacation time and money here with us. When they get home, they're going to tell their friends the coolest part of their trip was meeting me." Ramirez shrugged at that. "Hey, and you too, Generalissimo! They'll talk about the day they met a countess AND a general for the rest of their lives."

Jeanne finished and Helena gave her a small kiss.

"I'm going to want cocoa in my bedroom after this, Jeanne." She gave her a slightly longer kiss. "And you stick around there too."

The tour guide was closer now and said the line that Helena took as her cue. She bent her elbow, offering the Generalissimo her arm. He held up his hand to

show her his wedding ring. She gave a mocking "Oh, POOH" look of disappointment before she began speaking to him as if they'd been in mid conversation about something else and stepped out from around the corner.

"Which is why we have to always ask ourselves 'Is this good for the people?'" Contessa Helena de San Finzione turned her head to "notice" the tour guide as she saw mouths open in surprise in the crowd. "Oh, hello, Pierre. Is this the day the tour comes through here?"

"Oh! Ah... oui, Contessa. We apologize if we are interrupting."

"Oh no, you're not interrupting at all, are they, Generalissimo Ramirez?" She said his name with more emphasis than was needed.

"Not interrupting at all, Contessa," he muttered in reply. Behind the crowd, Jeanne wheeled the beverage cart across the ballroom, kettle on the hot plate for cocoa. She smiled and watched as La Contessa clasped her hands and addressed the crowd.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to San Finzione. I am your hostess..." At that moment, having still been looking at Helena, a corner of Jeanne's beverage cart bumped into one of the support columns that the guide had been telling the tourists about moments before. The impact caused the kettle to tip and water to slosh out and onto the hot plate's heating element. Water found its way into the interior of the device and onto the electrical components inside the hot plate. A series of short, sharp, loud popping and crackling noises came from the cart; the noise echoing through the Grand Ballroom as if someone had tossed a string of lit firecrackers into the room.

Jeanne turned recovered from being jostled and turned to face the noise. The tour group turned to face the noise. Helena and Ramirez turned to face the noise.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

She smiled at the tour group, exchanged some banter with the guide, and stepped toward him, clasping her hands. Another couple of steps away from the soldier and he could strike. He slipped his right hand into the pocket that contained the bottle, his left hand was cupped below the elastic cuff of his windbreaker; allowing the long shard of thick, broken glass with a crude handle of multiple layers of masking tape wrapped around the bottom to slip out of his sleeve and into it.

He was subtly unscrewing the lid of the bottle that was in his right hand when everyone in the group suddenly turned around. Someone elbowed him and the vial slipped from his fingers and dropped to the marble floor, where it shattered. The poison it once held was now a tiny puddle on the floor and he wouldn't be able to coat his blade with it now.

It was then that he noticed she was looking straight at him. He saw her eyes turn from suspicion to a look of wide-eyed recognition, followed by fear. She'd read his face and knew what he was here to do.

He'd hoped she'd get close enough to simply slash her throat from out of the crowd, but now there was no time. He stepped forward and charged her.

* * *

Contessa Helena de San Finzione saw that Jeanne was calmly unplugging the hot plate and the matter was under control. She turned again to face the tourists, whose heads were all still turned from the sudden noise, when she saw him.

He'd blended into the sea of faces before, but when every head in the room turned, his gaze had remained fixed upon her. And in his eyes, Helen saw a look she knew well from her childhood, a look she'd spent the first half of her life avoiding coming home when she saw it on his face. A look she'd run to her friends and the man she considered a real father to escape from when it came over the violent drunk who'd been responsible for her birth's eyes. A look that was the last thing her mother saw in this world before he beat her into unconsciousness and kept going until she never awoke.

Helen was well-acquainted with the look of murder in a man's eyes, and she was seeing it now. She was also familiar with the object in his hand. Some of the "uncles" who'd come by her family's home when that look wasn't in the man who was legally and technically her father's eyes would tell stories about being inside. One of them had been drunk enough one night to teach a ten-year-old girl how to make a variety of shanks. The shard of glass with a taped handle was one of them.

The man stepped forward. Contessa Helena de San Finzione stood and met the gaze of murder.

"Don't move," she commanded. Everyone in the group had turned back around and was now frozen in place. Ramirez and Jeanne were as well. Everyone except the man who kept charging her, raising the hand holding the blade.

She had nothing. Nothing to throw at him or defend herself with. She remembered asking Jeanne a few minutes before if she should be holding something when she encountered the tourists. A cup of coffee or some official-looking documents. Something to make it look like she was on her way somewhere else. She might've been able to throw the coffee cup at the man or use a thick document as some kind of weak and probably ineffective shield that still would have been better than nothing. The complete lack of anything and her expecting the command to work had thrown her off-guard enough for the man to be upon her in seconds, and she felt the blade dig into her right side beneath her ribcage.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The man knocked her to the floor. The crowd watched, unable to move to help her even if they'd been likely to before. Helena tried to scramble away from him, but his weight was on top of her before she could get out of reach. He stabbed her twice more as she looked up at Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez, supreme commander of San Finzione's armed forces; standing perfectly still and looking with horror as he was unable to compel his hand to reach for his sidearm and put an end to things.

"Ra...Ramir..." was all she managed to get out before the blade sank into her breast and the words were lost in a yelp of pain. Her vision was narrowing as the thought struck her that she was about to die the same way the man who'd never forgiven her for being born had: shanked by multiple onlookers who did nothing. Except he'd died in the yard of a prison that had been built 40 years before and she was going to die in a Grand Ballroom built in 1658.

The man was straddling her now. He was bringing the knife up to her throat. Helen's arms were no longer responding to her commands as blackness became more and more of all that she could see, the only image left in her sight was the man who was able to slit her neck, and the four odd red flowers that had just sprouted from the white windbreaker he wore.

No, not flowers. Bullet holes. He fell off her, giving her enough air to say a single word.

"Mu...Move." Ramirez and Jeanne ran to her as the tour guide tried to hold everyone back. Cameras and phones now recording as Contessa Helena de San Finzione bled onto the marble floor.

Two figures also moved into view, dressed in fatigues and carrying pistols. The woman was scanning the room and pointing her smoking weapon at the crowd and shouting at them to stay back. The man dropped to her side and began reaching for something on his belt.

The scene continued to fade to black for her. Helen recognized Tenentes Velasquez and Maisson, the two Ultimados she'd brought home from the warehouse raid to give San Finzione's "most sincere thanks" to. Her last thought before all the lights in the world went out was "Oh hey, guys. You look different in uniform from this angle."

And then nothing.

The tourists would, indeed, talk about the day for the rest of their lives.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A Little Night Music Ch. 04

Note: I was planning to do this as a "crossover event," where Troy & Julie, Maria, and Susan would get their own stories about receiving the news and what they do next. I decided instead to combine those stories into this one, so this chapter and the next will focus on that.

*****

"Life'll kill ya. That's what I said.

Life'll kill ya. Then you'll be dead.

Life'll find ya. Wherever you go.

Requiescat In Pace, that's-a all she wrote."

-Warren Zevon, "Life'll Kill Ya"

She ran.

He had turned around and was chasing her in the car that she'd jumped from moments before. She spotted one of the trails her friends took through the woods and ran into them. She couldn't see the road anymore, but heard him getting out of the car and yelling for her bitch ass to get back in it.

She knew where she was running. He did too, and if he hadn't been so drunk, it might've occurred to him to drive around the small wooded area and wait on the other side, but whiskey and rage were in charge, so he tried to stumble through the trees after her. It was only a few acres bordering the highway and her neighborhood. She hoped they were home. Or that one of them was home. Or that she'd be able to put enough distance between them so that he wouldn't see where they'd hidden the key for her if she needed to escape from him and they weren't home.

The leather jacket she wore protected her body and arms from the smaller branches whipping her as she ran, and she ignored the tiny lashings to her face and legs from others, knowing that the pain would be far worse if he caught her. Broken glass and crushed up cans on the ground were also a worry. The "bad crowd" of teens in the neighborhood liked to hide and get drunk and fuck in these woods, so she was getting to know them well. There was a squelch as she stepped on a discarded condom. She dragged her foot to get it off and kept running.

At some point, the crushing, stumbling, violently swearing footsteps behind her seemed to recall that they belonged to a grown adult who'd just left his vehicle running with the door open by the side of the highway and retreated. At last, she saw sunlight at the end of the trail. She ran out of the woods to the T intersection of two dirt roads at the top of a hill. At the bottom of the hill, the shorter road turned to asphalt, and in the driveway of the first house on the right, on the other side of the paving break, was something better than she'd hoped for; a yellow pick-up truck backed in and a boy and girl her age helping an old man carry in groceries. Everyone was home!

"PROPAPPOU," Helen shouted as she broke into a sprint down the hill, and then realized that the old man probably couldn't hear her from this distance. "TROY! JULIE!"

The boy and girl turned their heads. Julie set her bags back down on the tailgate of the truck and ran next door to get her father. Propappou dropped a large package of toilet paper and hobbled forward on his cane, reaching his other hand into his coat pocket. Troy Medina got his bags into the open garage door, then jumped up and grabbed the bottom of the door, pulling it down halfway and motioning for her to get inside.

Julie came running back out; her father a few seconds behind, a phone in one hand and his service weapon in the other, shouting for Julie to get back in the damn house. She didn't listen and darted across the shared front lawn, crouching to get into Propappou's garage with Troy.

The sounds of internal combustion and wheels spitting up dirt came from behind Helen, and the knowledge of who that could only be gave her another burst of speed as she ran into the garage and Troy pulled the door down behind her.

Helen leaned against the inside of the garage door and caught her breath, half-expecting him to punch through the two inches of reinforced wood and grab her like the villain of a slasher flick. Screeching tires and men's shouting voices could be heard on the other side of the heavy door.

The two best friends gave her a moment to recover and as soon as she did, she ran into Troy's arms and grabbed hold of him as tight as she could. Troy returned the embrace. He knew she'd tell him what was going on when she was ready. Finally, she looked up at him and began to speak through her tears.

"He... his crew... job planned tonight... warehouse... Benny got picked up... no lookout. Dragged me along... wanted me to be lookout."

Julie turned the light on. Troy's family's garage had been converted to a rec room. She grabbed sodas from the minifridge and brought everyone one as Troy led Helen over to the poker/backgammon table. Helen sat down and took a drink, then began to speak in full sentences as the shouting outside became louder; the Greek curses drowning out the English voices.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"I told him I didn't want to. Like every fucking cop in town isn't gonna say "hey, ain't that Wade Parker's daughter lurking around the loading dock at midnight?" The other guys agreed and called it off until Benny gets out, but he still says it's my fault for not going along. He hit me every time we stopped all the way from the bar to the store. Said I was useless and he'd be better off if I was dead. When he got back to the car, he'd bought trash bags and duct tape with his whiskey and put them in the trunk. I know he's got a shovel back there. When he turned right go out of town instead of left to go home, I thought 'He's really going to do it this time. He's driving me out to the marsh to kill me and bury me.' I... I jumped out... and I ran here..." The tears returned.

Troy put his arm around Helen while Julie held the hand on her other side. The three of them sat like that for a few minutes, Julie and Troy looking at each other and seeming to have a very intense conversation entirely via facial expressions throughout.

Flashing lights could be seen outside the garage window as the "BOOP BOOP" of a security officer siren being turned on and off again blared from the street.

"I'd better go talk to them," Troy said as he got up. The two girls nodded. Helen knew that the two of them had a way of talking to adults that caused them to be taken more seriously than she ever could. He went out the front door of the house rather than open the garage door and let Helen's dad see her inside. As the door opened, the shouting outside became briefly intelligible.

"I'm not ON that wrinkly old goat-fucker's lawn, I'm on the FUCKING STREET and he's hiding that little bitch! Why aren't you kicking his door down?"

"Mr. Parker? Wade, you're drunk. Why don't you come back over by our car and we'll talk about this?"

"FUCKING talk about? That's MY daughter in there! I pay for her fucking whore clothes, I pay for..."

The door mercifully closed. Helen looked questioningly down at her outfit and up again at Julie, her eyes full of tears once more. Julie got up and put her arms around her, kissing Helen on the forehead. Helen looked up and pulled Julie's face down to hers and they kissed on the lips for a moment before Julie sat back down, taking hold of her hand again.

"Helena," Julie said at last. "It sounds like he's going to spend the weekend in jail and you're spending it with us. And me and Troy have been talking about something a lot lately: Someday, you're gonna be running here or my house and he'll catch you first. Or nobody'll be home, and who knows what he'll do then?"

With all the boys gone, Julie took half a cigarette out of her coat pocket and lit it with a lighter that had been left next to an ash tray on the table, taking a couple of puffs before handing it to Helen. With Troy talking outside, the shouting was quieting down.

"What Troy's doing out there now? That's a special, secret thing that me and him know how to do. And we think it'll save your life if we teach it to you too."

Helen looked confused. She knew they both seemed to have a way of putting things that made whatever they wanted to do sound like the coolest idea ever, but had no idea what Julie was talking about. Julie saw the look and continued with a smile.

"I know you don't get it now, but trust me. This weekend's gonna change a LOT of things for you!"

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Susan Bailey heard her phone buzz at 3:48 in the morning. She reached for the spot where she usually kept it on the nightstand before remembering that she wasn't alone or in her own bed and began disentangling herself from the other four naked, sleeping women to look for it.

It was probably just Julie letting her know she'd made it home safe and was turning off the phone. Susan lived and was in a loving, open relationship with a couple named Troy and Julie Equals. Julie was an artist who'd had a showing in Spokane for the past week and Troy was a grad student who was taking extra classes to obtain his Ph.D. in three years instead of the usual five, though he'd been working hard enough at it that he might just make it in two. Although they'd lived almost their whole lives together as best friends and partners in everything before falling in love, getting married, and choosing a last name that better-suited their feelings for each other; the week had been the longest they'd been apart since they'd become a couple.

The showing ended early when all her works got sold and Julie had been expected home on Monday. Knowing her husband well enough to anticipate that he would have already cleared his schedule for Monday in case her minivan broke down and he needed to go rescue her on the eight-hour drive home, she had decided to come home late Friday night instead and surprise him with a three-day weekend. Julie told Susan about the idea, she thought it was so sweet that she used the ability they'd been teaching her to convince their friends; Claire, Rachel, Brenda, and Sharon; to help her make it a proper caper by doing a sudden girls' weekend up in Seattle so Troy would be home alone, turning it into a "Just Us" weekend too.

The gathering at Rachel's apartment in downtown Seattle that had started out with "one before we hit the bars" quickly became "we got drinks here, let's throw in a bad movie." Just before the scene where the Snake Goddess first appears on the screen, it became "we're already wasted, making out, and groping each other here, let's just switch off the movie and go to the bedroom and make this an OFFICIAL lesbian orgy!" That had wound down about two hours ago and now the five women were sleeping in an erotic Tetris-like pattern on Rachel's bed.

Susan found her phone amongst her discarded clothing at the foot of the bed and pressed the button, expecting to see Julie's text. The message had turned out to be a newsflash with keywords that she had flagged to receive alerts about instead:

[Ramesh_Rocky]

(Reuters) San Finzione: NEWSFLASH: CONTESSA HELENA DE SAN FINZIONE RUSHED TO HOSPITAL FOLLOWING ASSASINATION ATTEMPT - CONDITION UNKNOWN


She dropped her phone and scrambled out of the bed, inadvertently kicking Rachel in her breast and Claire in her stomach. The two women woke to see her quickly slip on her panties and putting on her bra. Rachel was the first to speak.

"Hey, you ok?"

"Yeah," Susan replied, fumbling with the hooks before giving up and throwing her dress over everything. "I mean, no. I mean, I'm ok. Something's happened to Helen. She's been attacked."

The other two sat up. All the movement began to wake Sharon and Brenda as well.

Susan picked up her phone and dialed a number. There was a click as the overseas connection was made. She was sent to voicemail and hung up. She tried Troy's number, and then Julie's. Both went straight to voicemail.

"Shit!" She said, causing the other four women to respond with half-awake questions.

"Both their phones are off," Susan half-explained to the other women, half-examined the situation aloud to herself as she hurried to the entryway; slipping her purse onto her shoulder as she put on her shoes. "They wouldn't do that unless Julie made it home ok. Troy would have been asleep when she got in, so her surprise worked. He's too overjoyed to see his Best Friend and Beloved Wife home safe to be mad... no, Troy doesn't get mad, he gets upset... for not letting him know she'd be on the road after dark. He figures out that's why we decided to have a 'spontaneous' girls weekend;' they probably say something sweet about all of us, and that's when they turn off their phones and she crawls into bed, and THIS is why I don't fucking do strappy heels!"

She finished getting her shoes on and looked back into the bedroom to see the other women starting to disentangle as Rachel's hand searched the nightstand for the remote that she couldn't see from her angle had dropped onto the floor. Susan walked back into the room, picked it up, handed it to her. Rachel tossed it toward the other women, telling them to turn on the news.

"I have to go," Susan told Rachel, looking into her eyes, but not with any effort to control the other woman. "I know she's not exactly a friend, but Troy and Julie are either fucking or snuggling each other's brains out right now and she's THEIR oldest friend..." Rachel sat up and pulled her forward, stopping the sentence with a deep kiss. When the kiss broke, she replied.

"Honestly, I get it, you have to." Susan smiled and reached back into her purse to fiddle for her keys as the other women nodded and said words of assent. She turned to Claire and spoke. Behind Claire, Sharon had turned on the TV and started searching for a news channel. Brenda suggested that international news would have more information than the American networks.

"I don't know how long this is going to be. I might not be in Monday."

"You made me cum four times tonight, lady. However long you need, your job will be here whenever you get back." Susan smiled again and found the keys, turning back to walk out of the apartment.

"I got the best boss lady." Susan said, closing the door. Her smile turned to a frown when it shut just as the newscaster's voice coming from the bedroom said the word "critical."