Fantasy So Night Follows Day by TMaskedWriter

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"We can't ignore the possibility." I responded.

"Or it'll be like on TV, when the hero tells the kid 'Don't follow me, kid,' and you just KNOW that kid's going to hide in the trunk or get on his bike and ride after him, won't it?"

"Non-zero chance, there."

"Because you're here to help, Susan, aren't you?" She smiled. "You're always here to help."

"It's what I do."

"So, I'd just be a responsible adult if I told you to take one of our cars, Troy was right about the LeBaron being nicely inconspicuous, and to take Mander and Velasquez with you."

"Shouldn't Velasquez put on some clothes or grab a weapon first?"

"Primo Tenente Marisol Velasquez is an Ultimado, Susan. She IS a weapon."

I turned and looked at Helen.

"You've been saving that, haven't you?"

She smiled at me.

"Yeah." Then she called down the hall, towards the front door. "Oi, Mander!" Despite the blaring of the Stones' 19th Nervous Breakdown coming from outside, he heard and entered. She turned back to me. "Ortega should have the keys. If you see Velasquez out there, send her in, please, and I'll brief her, too."

I smiled and went to help.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

So Night Follows Day Pt. 07

"Suki, honey, weren't you right there with me?
I seem to remember chasing you from tree to tree.
Those prehistoric nights
are coming back to me.
We must've been the first
to go down in history!
Where were you when the monkey hit the fan?
Thrill my gorilla. (Thrill my gorilla!)
Where were you when monkey turned to man?
Thrill my gorilla!"
-Alice Cooper, "Thrill My Gorilla "

She was no longer Julie Equals. He was no longer her husband and best friend for life, Troy Equals.

Those were the two people who'd entered their bedroom, undressed, and crawled to snuggle into the position he'd held her in since her earliest childhood bad dreams. The way they slept most nights since they'd first become one in the last way that they hadn't always been; him wrapping his arms around her, Julie snuggling into his embrace. The 'Had the Pool Dream' variant of the position was called for, so the embrace was extra-tight, and her face was buried in his shoulder.

He was no longer the man who'd whispered into her ear a litany of all that she was to him and would be forever, punctuating each with a tiny kiss on the top of her head. She was no longer the woman who had replied with her version with a similar kiss on his chest. That he was her Master just as she was his Mistress, that he was as much Her Boy as she was His Girl, her Math Boy as much as his Sunflower, Boy/Girl Next Door, Boy/Girlfriend, Husband/Wife, best friend, true love, partner-in-everything, the other half of each's soul, a tiny play-argument over who was whose Better Half and who loved the other more before agreeing on 'My Equal;' with him tracing gentle spirals behind her earlobe, and her sighs deepening as each response became more distant.

The path to becoming what they were now began when he instructed her to Go Deeper and Relax. It led to him laying her unresisting form on her back, telling her how happy she had always made him before they were lovers, and ever since. How thrilled and how fucking hard she made him every time he explored her body and learned another of those last intimate details that they'd both spent far too long denying their desire to know about each other.

How he delighted in each new way he discovered that his best friend enjoyed being held, or touched, or kissed, or caressed, or licked, or fondled as he demonstrated those he'd already learned, taking her deeper. Each new secret shared with the person they both thought knew them completely taking them back to the morning after their first time, when they talked over this new aspect to their relationship, and she spelled things out for his over-analytical mind.

Her sighs became mewling as she dreamily confessed about moments throughout their lives when her best friend had innocently done something that made her wet enough to consider jumping him on the spot. She fell deeper as she admitted to how much more intense the sex became when she'd been with other men and Troy had entered her fantasies. How, when they shared an apartment and Troy would walk in on her with another guy and they casually said hello as he went to another room, it always made her cum harder when she thought "What if Troy joined us?"

If she walked in on Troy with a hot girl, she'd suppress the urge to ask them and either whoever she'd brought home would be getting the fuck of their lives that night; or if she was alone and drunk or high, how she wouldn't even make it to the bed; just close her bedroom door, lean against it, and finger her dripping cunt as she tried to convince herself that she was listening to the girl getting so seriously fucked through the wall, rather than the one fucking her so well. She'd then finish the journey to the bed, trying to give Helena a booty call with one hand as she worked the toy that would later be named Troy 2 in and out of herself with the other. Some nights, after Troy fell asleep, if Julie encountered the other girl out in the living room, she'd Do What They Do and convince her to come spend some time in her room.

And if the other girl WAS Helena? If she and Troy had been having one of their "I'm horny and need someone right now, and our breakup has turned out to be entirely technical, so, if you've got a moment..." nights? If her semi-secret girlfriend was the one riding the cock that she and Troy had always been either of them making the slightest move away from discovering was Her Perfect One? The one that she would choose of her own free will to forsake all others for? Despite its co-owner's occasional reminder that she had no obligation to do so, and that it might even please him to see his own best friend satisfy other men with His Perfect Pussy as much as it pleased her to see him satisfy other women with Her Perfect Cock? Future Troys 3-5 would also come into play while she waited for Helena to visit her room after she was done with Troy. And how she'd try to ignore how much better her girlfriend tasted after she'd been with Troy while Helena panted to her every hot, dripping detail about her adventure with it.

Mewling became moaning as he kissed his way down her body, stopping to visit his favorite breasts in the world, loving and assuring them that he was theirs always, as well as hers; before continuing to his mouth's ultimate goal. That the love and pleasure she felt with each eager stroke or flick of his tongue belonged only to her; had always been meant for her, and he would give them to her forever.

As the sensation and the trance and the words and the love bypassed any doubts of her conscious mind and became absolute fact in her subconscious; and through it, her heart and soul, was when it happened. When her body joined in their full understanding of the words that her conscious mind no longer understood, sending her mind to sleep; assuring it that it wouldn't be needed for a while, so it was ok to let it sleep.

The creature took hold of the hands squeezing her breasts and gazed at the head between her legs, raised it up so that her eyes met his, and silently conveyed their new names and roles to him: She was His Woman, and required Her Man inside her. She pulled him up to her, tongue snaking into his mouth as he slid effortlessly into her flowing need for him.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

It wasn't the happy, laughing, "I love making my best friend cum" sex that the people they used to be would have had, but screaming, pounding, scratching, biting NEED that drove them now. Man and Woman gave way to animals; predatory beasts of raw instinct, raised together as cubs, always destined to become lair-mates and spawn a pack of their own when they matured. The nipping, biting, chasing, clawing games they'd played as they ran through the trees their whole lives; now making blinding, hot, pulsing, howling, explosive sense to both.

She held him atop and inside her as they caught their breath together. Neither spoke, nor did they need to. The message passing back and forth between their eyes was familiar enough to both that thought was not required to deliver it: You have officially fucked my brains out.

He rolled off of her and into the position that was as much instinct to both as their mating had been, taking her place in his arms. Although she was thoroughly satisfied; she knew that just a few strokes of his hand over the right parts of her body, and need would fill her again in an instant.

Woman closed her eyes, listening to the words that Man said to her, that she still could not understand, but did not need to, because her heart understood all: That Her Man would always give her the feelings that her sleeping mind, still incapable of doing anything but enjoying the vivid, intense dream of their love, was lost amongst. That Man and Woman could handle anything together as easily as he had handled her down into this place that Woman would remember completely. That Man was in no more danger than Woman had ever experienced in his arms, and she needn't fear for Her Mate. And any fear Woman felt would not overcome her, but be turned into an asset; causing her conscious mind to calmly focus on her instinct to defend Herself and The Pack, instead. The Pack that included Man's other Hot Bitches, though Man did not use those words to describe any of them; they were merely Woman's subconscious mind's contribution.

Woman slept in Man's arms and words. Her mind gently floating back to the surface of consciousness at her own leisurely pace; waking pleasantly from its restful nap, and remembering perfectly every detail of her body's adventure in its absence. When it reached the surface, Julie Equals peacefully opened her eyes to the sight she always loved seeing upon waking: The adoring face of her husband and best friend for all eternity, Troy Equals.

If Troy had given her any additional instructions or commands, Julie neither noticed or cared. He was Her Troy, and anything he chose to leave of himself inside her, physically or mentally, would be treasured, just because Troy had been the one to do it. She didn't question. If Troy had made her forget anything, he either had a fun/sexy surprise planned, or another perfectly good reason. One of the mottos by which they lived was "I trust my best friend with all that I am," so she was fine with any little "changes" Troy ever wanted to make to her, and vice versa.

Her own expressive face told him, though, that she required the taste of his mouth before any words could be said. She gave her cunt's best friend a couple of soft, gentle "thank you" strokes on its trip back to sleep, hoping one last drop of him might still be in the chamber that she could catch with her fingertip for a little something after the kiss. When it ended, she looked at his face for a few more seconds before speaking.

"Mmm... Love you, Master."

"Love you, Mistress." Troy said, stroking her hair. "Are we OK?"

"Yeah." She nuzzled his chest. "You've always been good at putting things into perspective." Julie took hold of his hand and guided it down between her legs. He brushed her nether lips, and she sighed. "And you're REALLY good at putting things into MY perspective."

Giggling followed. Troy squeezed her closer and gave her a peck on the end of her nose.

"Hey, Girl." He said with a contented sigh.

"Hey, Boy." She said back, with the same sigh and a little wriggle of delight.

"Helen and Susan probably need us out there, Sunflower." Troy said in a tone that indicated that he would have preferred to stay right where they were forever, but the moment had to end far too soon. "Your shower or mine?"

"We'd better waste water and split up. Soap, water, your hands, my body... we need to leave this room sometime. Plus," She said, sitting up with a grin. "I forgot that I'd left one or two of the Troys sitting out on the counter in there before telling Velasquez she could use my bathroom and... well, kinda interested in seeing if any have 'moved' at all."

They laughed and walked toward the separate bathrooms they had on opposite sides of their bedroom. Before he closed the door, he turned to her.

"The knowledge that Velasquez can probably kill with her tits makes her even hotter, doesn't it? Dammit, now I'm curious too, Mistress. Let me know."

She nodded. They closed the doors.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

La Squadra de Ultimados had a file on Troy & Julie Equals, and another on Susan Bailey.

Susan's file was rather small, with only a few instructions; no known food allergies, that she is always to be addressed as Susan or Ms. Bailey, with no nicknames used, that her protection was their highest priority, that she was a dual citizen of the United States of America and San Finzione with two home addresses: Federal Way and Castle Finzione, and was permitted everywhere in Castle Finzione except the dungeons; that her requests, however odd, were to be complied with. Also, like the Equals, every measure, up to and including exercising an Ultimado's License to Kill, was authorized by order of La Contessa to keep Susan out of the Media. A recent medical note had been added, stating that any care or treatment that Signorina Bailey might ever require should be in-home care at either residence, a safe and non-institutional setting, or at the nearest clean area to the scene, but never to take her to a medical facility. It made clear that "Medical attention must always be brought to Signorina Bailey, never vice versa."

The Troy and Julie Equals File was one hundred and ninety-eight pages. A number of them were devoted to scenarios Ultimados were likely to encounter when dealing with La Contessa's closest friends, who possessed the same gift that that she did; and what to do about them. These scenarios were collectively referred to as "Equals Situations" by the Ultimados, and one of them was unfolding in the Green house at that moment.

Their instructions in the situation "Signora Equals Seeks an Audience with La Contessa." were straightforward enough: That she be given immediate access, without let or hindrance. That whatever her mood, which Julie's personal file noted would be "visually apparent via her facial expression," everyone would be best served by standing aside and letting her pass.

After that scenario in the file came the much longer "La Contessa and Signora Equals are Having What Sounds Like a Violent Argument Behind Closed Doors." The first step was to ascertain whether or not any sounds of vile profanity, shouted threats, struggling, and/or thrown/breaking objects had reached a level beyond "reasonable expectations for interactions between Signora Equals and La Contessa." Proper procedure was to remain alert, but to take no action and not to enter unless and until La Contessa specifically requests help.

The next steps in the scenario were spelled out:

• Wherever he is in the world, locate and inform Signor Equals. Explain the situation to the best of your ability. Avoid exaggeration and/or language that suggests that either party may have already come to physical or emotional harm unless said harm has been visually confirmed. (NOTE: Under NO circumstances should the words "hurt" or "dead" be stated or implied regarding EITHER Signora Equals OR La Contessa! As stated repeatedly throughout this file, La Contessa and the Government of the Sovereign County and Independent Nation-State of San Finzione accept no responsibility for any actions taken by Signor e Signora Equals for false statements suggesting the other has or may come to harm, and will disavow the knowledge and/or existence of any citizen who should knowingly imply such.)

• Request his presence, and if he agrees, deliver him to the scene as quickly as he will come via his own free will. Should he make any request, provide it or have it waiting at the scene for him. Acceptable topics of conversation along the journey include, but are not limited to: Byroni Medina, Greek Culture, Signora Equals, Signorina Bailey, La Contessa, Science Fiction, Spy Movies, with an emphasis on James Bond; Marvel Comics and Films, movies and Saturday Morning Television of the 1970s-2000s, British Pop Culture, and Gaming of all kinds. In addition, Signor Equals may, as at any point in time, begin consciously or unconsciously giving out financial advice. Be certain to include this advice in your report. Wise Ultimados who desire a comfortable retirement may wish to follow his advice.

• Once he has assessed the situation, bring him anything further he may request. When he sees fit, he alone should be allowed to enter the room and the door secured behind him. Unless instructed otherwise, start a three-minute countdown from the moment Signor Equals closes the door. If the profanity, shouting, and slamming around have not ceased or otherwise changed to a less-hostile nature; only then should La Squadra de Ultimados intervene. At this stage, assume La Contessa's judgment to be compromised and follow Signor Equals' orders, if he is still conscious, until the immediate situation is over.

• If Signor Equals is, for some reason, unable or unwilling to come, locate Signorina Susan Bailey, and repeat the above process modified for her. (see appendix)

It was this procedure that the Ultimados followed when, after the showers ended, Julie Equals put on a light dress and then went to find Susan and Helen; to let them know she was ok now, and ready to do whatever was needed. She saw that neither of them were home, reasoned that they must have gone across the street to the Greens' house, and went back to the bedroom to tell Troy she'd be over there when he was ready.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Troy was taking somewhat longer to get dressed. This had been his third shower and second clothing change of the day, and he figured he wouldn't be going anywhere else today except over to the Greens' house, possibly take that stroll through the neighborhood later with Helen to convince the neighbors that everything was normal. He'd selected a black jeans and shirt combo that would work for either "messy barbeque" or "whatever thing Helen ends up dragging us into next," and was dressing when Capitan Ortega entered his bedroom and called him across the street, explaining that Signorina Bailey had left with Signor Mander and Primo Tenente Velasquez forty minutes ago, and that's what he presumed the argument to be about. They stood outside the front door and listened to the battle raging within the house for a moment. Troy looked over to the barbeque, then to Ortega, and spoke to him.

"No countdown on this one. Is there another 'supply run' happening soon?"

"One can leave at any time, Señor Equals." Came the response.

Troy took out his wallet and opened it. He took out $700 and handed it to Ortega.

"I'm going to need chocolate, and you're going to need some baked beans and cornbread to go with those ribs. One of those big, American stores that sells everything is about 12km north up Highway 99, they'll see it on the right."

He did a head count and some quick math.

"Thirty-Six Ultimados, more downtown, us, and whichever neighbors stop by... let's say sixty of their largest-size cans. Tell them to get BAKED beans, not PORK & beans. Those are pork ribs; more pork in the beans would be overkill, even for Americans. They'll probably end up with a mix of flavors, but the ones with the words 'maple-cured' on the cans are preferred. You're gonna want cornbread, too, and you've got too many people to make it all from scratch or mix. Send someone to the store's bakery, they'll probably have to ask someone to locate the cornbread for them, then buy out their stock. Tell them we want two more full batches and arrange a time for pickup, we'll send people for those ones, too. Pay in advance, so they know we're serious. Everything left over, go to the Candy aisle and spend it all on chocolates."

Ortega took the money, and turned to leave, when Troy raised his hand in thought again.

"Their chocolate selection will not be up to La Contessa's standards. That's not a concern. We want quantity AND quality in equal measure. The high-end stuff will all be grouped together, but you can't go wrong with some Hershey Kisses or the little Reese's, either. Just put as much as will fit into a plastic bag outside the door and message me when it's there. I'll come back out to grab it. That's not a signal to move in. It means things are going well."

The Capitan went to carry out Troy's instructions. Something big smashed inside the house, turning his attention back to the door. Troy Equals took a deep breath before stepping into what sounded like a brawl between the two most powerful women in the world about the third. He put his left arm in front of his face to serve as a possible shield, then stepped into the Green House, closing the door behind him.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

So Night Follows Day Pt. 08

"Grampa pissed his pants again,
he don't give a damn.
Brother Billy has both guns drawn,
he ain't been right since Viet-Nam.
'Sweet Home Alabama,'
play that dead band's song.
Turn those speakers up full-blast,
play it all night long."
-Warren Zevon "Play It All Night Long"

A potted plant came sailing down the hallway, smashing on the floor of the Greens' living room. Troy Equals slipped the shoes he'd started to remove back on and hurried down the hall, toward the shouting. If the foliage was suffering, it meant that most of the rest of the breakables in the room had already been eliminated.

The Ultimados were trying to drown out their fight with the sound system they'd hooked up outside, so that any complaints from neighbors would be about that, rather than the sounds of the inside of the house being destroyed. Mander had set up the playlist earlier in the afternoon, and whatever had gone on down the hall had been done to the tune of The Beatles' Penny Lane. That song had since ended, and Troy was now surveying the damage to the opening guitar of The Who's 5:15.

"She's a MOTHERFUCKING CIVILIAN, HELENA!" Julie shouted from the dining room. "What is she going to do to the FUCKING TRIADS? YOGA them to death?"

Helen must have found something that wasn't broken already, because something shattered with each pause in her reply.

"She's a FUCKING... GROWN... WOMAN! And since you want to bring ranks and such into this, Army Brat First Class, she's also a fucking citizen of San Finzione! One who came to La Contessa in a crisis and said, 'I know something I can do to help.' How was I supposed to ignore her?"

Troy surveyed the room from the end of the darkened hallway before entering. The overhead hallway light had been hit by something hurled down the hall before his arrival. Troy looked back toward the living room, now noticing how much of the debris in the living room had been dining room furniture, and figured it was likely one of the chairs that were in pieces that he'd passed.

Before now, the Greens' dining room reminded Troy of those mock-up 1950s suburban communities in the desert from old A-Bomb test footage; populated by dummies dressed as happy suburbanites. Kid dummies, being handed invisible ice cream by a dummy ice cream man, businessdummies waving goodbye to their housedummies; frozen in the middle of their sunny suburban day, and oblivious to the countdown booming from loudspeakers.

The image he got now was from the aftermath of those videos. Debris strewn all about, missing only men in gas masks and business suits walking around with crackling Geiger counters, and thinking they were protected while horrible, other effects that science wouldn't learn about for decades began slowly taking place inside their bodies.

In the middle of the wreckage stood Julie Equals and Contessa Helena de San Finzione, both holding fragments of plates as if deciding whether to throw them or use the sharp edges to cut a bitch. Neither had seen him in the hallway yet, and Troy was still watching.

Helen wasn't a petite woman, only a few inches shorter than Julie, with a build a shade more athletic than Julie's curvier one, though her breasts were still large enough to have been the source of Troy's Tit Man-hood; and it was only during their fights like this, when they were shouting in each other's faces and Julie took the effort to try to loom over her, that he really took notice of the two women who'd played the biggest roles in his life's differences. He listened, waiting for a sufficiently-long lull to step in, rather than interrupt and get two dish-pieces hurled at him. Julie continued.

"Susan ALWAYS wants to help! She's a helpful person! But the woman has PROBLEMS, Helena! Some of the ones you have, too, but more! She has..." Julie caught herself. "It's nothing to worry about most of the time, but Susan has some very real issues. There's no telling what could happen to her in a shootout or a brawl, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be anything good! And what if she gets hurt? They'll take her to..." Julie stopped and took a deep breath and ended it. "It's like with me and Troy and Deathwater Pits, all right? There's places Susan can't go."

"That's why I sent her with two people with proven track records in saving Maria and my lives! Yes, Mander looks like the giant dude Indiana Jones always has to fight; if I didn't know him, do you think I'd have brought him into your home? Susan was great at the crime scene, she'll be able to handle it."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"This isn't the same as taking her to a crime scene, surrounded by fifty cops and Ramirez, you sent her on a FUCKING Ultimados OP! And I REMEMBER the quality of guys you used to bring home, Helena!"

"Yeah, your taste in men has always sucked really bad, Helen." Troy said from the doorway, stepping in with what he hoped was a disarming smile.

The two women stopped and turned to Troy. They simultaneously dropped the sharp dish fragments they'd been holding, causing them to break into tinier pieces. Julie stomped toward him.

"Troy, do you know what she did?"

"Capitan Ortega told me. And Mander and Velasquez went with her?"

Helen nodded and stomped up to join them.

"Yes. She wanted to help. I told her she could help us all by staying safe here. But, like someone told me earlier, I'm not going to keep you guys under house arrest all week."

"Then what?" Julie turned to her again. "She asked you what it was like to get stabbed and nearly die and you recommended she try it?"

Helen's response to that was to sucker punch the first girl she ever loved in the stomach.

"Felt about like that, bitch!" Helen shouted as Julie doubled over onto her knees. Julie looked up and saw that Helen's crotch was unguarded, and was about to nail her with a fist right in the cunt when Troy grabbed it and dropped to his knees to look Julie in the eye.

"I just got you back, Mistress." Troy said softly, putting his hand on the back of her neck and gently guiding both their heads together until they touched. Helen could still hear him; he'd been making no effort for her not to hear. "And I won't have the strength to do it again without some of that barbecue that I've been smelling since I was a block from home and a nap."

He took hold of her hands and kissed her forehead.

"I don't know what's going to happen to anyone; but I see Helen's point: It's Susan. She was going to try to help in some way. Helen gets that, too. Remember what Susan said before we went to the room? She doesn't want to be the princess locked in the tower. Just like Princess Mesmera wouldn't tolerate it. That's a third of the reason I didn't suggest that you go away with her."

While they spoke, Helen found where her cigarettes had gotten to in the struggle. She fished one out of the crumpled pack, found it was broken, pulled out another, and put it in her mouth. She looked about for her lighter for a moment, couldn't find it, and went into the kitchen.

"But what's she going to do, Master?" Julie whispered back, calming down. Helen fiddled with something out of sight in the kitchen. The stove clicked on a moment later. "We've taught her how to Do What We Do, and she's been doing great, but she's never had to COUNT on it, Troy." Helen returned from the kitchen with a lit cigarette. Julie gestured with her right shoulder, because Troy's back was to Helen. Julie seemed to be almost deflating as she looked into her best friend's eyes. "Like she did... that one time it didn't work..."

Helen stopped at that. Her other hand crept up to the scar on her neck while Julie continued.

"You've both gotten me thinking about other ways What We Do doesn't work. Here's one that she forgot from our time in Europe: They've got to understand us. If we ran into someone who didn't know English, French, or Greek, Helena had to do the talking. I could only get across what I could infer from similar languages. Triads are Chinese, aren't they? What if the guys they send don't know English? She..." Julie gestured to Helen again. "Could just tell them to drop their guns in Cantonese or Mandarin... She'll take one look at them and know the right fucking regional dialect to use! That's probably WHY her thing is languages: So Helena can command anyone and everyone!"

Helen finally spoke.

"Velasquez and Mander speak a language everyone understands. I know you'd like to believe otherwise, Troy, but all too often, it's the only one people will listen to."

Troy turned to her with a look that told Helen that she wasn't helping.

"I said I saw your point, Helen; I didn't say you were right. The woman has administrative skills, and it looks like you had a little office setup here before it all got smashed. You could have just asked her to be your secretary while all this is going on."

"She's not Moneypenny, Troilus." Helen replied, taking a couple of careful steps closer. "She was pretty perceptive before learning The Thing, she'd have seen that for what it was right away; an effort to give her something to keep her busy and safely out of the way. She would have told me to fuck off, I would have deserved it, and then she would have gone home mad and started thinking of ways she could contribute substantively. I tried telling her that you'd never go for it, too. That would factor into her thinking, and she would have concluded that she's a big girl and she'll just have to find a way to help without our fucking permission. Then we're in the 'daughter sneaks out and goes to an older kids' boy/girl party with no parents' episode of some wacky sitcom."'

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Troy saw that the continuing to engage Helen now would just prolong things, and turned to finish defusing Julie before coming back to her.

"Susan's going to be all right, Sunflower. I don't know how to fix all of this at the moment, which is why I need you here, with me. The other two-thirds of the reason I didn't suggest you go somewhere safe with her were becaue I knew you wouldn't; and I had hoped you wouldn't. Because I can deal with absolutely anything if My Julie is by my side. I know nothing bad can happen to either us when we're together."

"Susan doesn't have either of us right now." Julie whispered back.

"No, she doesn't. And if we try to go after her, we'll just make things worse. Helen sent Velazquez with her, that woman can take care of any Triads by herself. She's also with Mander, whom we don't know all that well, however, Helen wouldn't have brought him unless he was OK and good at what he does. I'm more worried right now that Susan's going to come home and find that the OTHER two women I love most in the world have killed each other over her."

His words calmed Helen down as well, and she righted what was left of a chair and sat down.

"Dammit, Troilus, stop being right all the time."

Troy's phone buzzed. He checked the message.

"There's something outside. Can you two not kill each other long enough for me to go get it?"

Helen nodded and took a drag. Julie nodded as well. Troy stood and left the room. Once they were alone again, Helen spoke.

"I told her that she wasn't expendable. How I'd never forgive myself, and neither would you two. But that's not even the VERY worst possible outcome I can think of, Julie. Even worse than that thought, or the thought of you and Troy getting killed, is the thought of ONLY you OR Troy getting killed! Because I know that neither of you would be able to live for one minute in a world without the other."

"I think of that sometimes. I worry more about what Troy would do without me than what I'd do without him. That's why if anything ever happens to me, they both have triggers to remember how I would want him and Susan to be together and honor my memory by loving each other just as much, if not more, than we do."

"Nobody could love anyone more than you two." Helen thought a second. "That reminds me, I looked up that Bechdel Test thing, and you were totally right. To possibly just now make up a word, we suck at Bechdeling."

The two of them were laughing by the time Troy returned with a giant bag of random chocolate.

* * *

Susan Bailey drove into Seattle. Or, more accurately, crawled inch-by-frustrating-motherfucking-inch up I-5 and onto the Pike Street Exit.

"You have two major streets," Primo Tenente Marisol Velasquez of La Squadra de Ultimados asked her from the passenger seat. "Called Pike and Pine, running parallel through the middle of the city? People are not confused by this?"

"Oh, often. I have a theory about that." Susan replied. I think that Seattle's original city planner was told that he was fired on a Monday, but to finish out the week. So, he hit the bar at lunch, got all liquored up, then came back to work and said, 'I'll lay out your fucking city for you!'"

At the bottom of the off-ramp, Susan saw why getting into the city had involved more drivers whose sole purpose for living was to be slow in front of her than usual. security officer were directing traffic around the protest zone, trying to keep the crowds contained. Although no violence had yet occurred, she noticed that the riot cops at the barricade already had gas masks on.

"I was just a kid when WTO happened." She told Velasquez and Mander; who was sitting in the middle of the back seat, between them. "I remember someone describing the riot squad moving in as 'a wall of Darth Vaders.'" She looked at Mander in the rear-view mirror. "That wasn't another cover for one of these auctions, was it?"

"Don't think so." Mander replied. "I'm not connected like Her Countessness. Only way a geezer like me gets in'd be as someone like 'erself's Plus One, so I ain't on the list. But not all of 'em are the Auctioneers, though. Sometimes, these fancy, do-nothin' conferences 're exactly what they say on the tin."

"I don't think I've ever heard anyone but Captain Jack Harkness use that expression." Susan replied with a smile. "Hey, just a thought, that reporter did have a decent question: Why is STRANGERS being held in Seattle, and America wasn't even invited?"

Mander and Velasquez both suddenly started laughing at that.

"Ya think..." Mander explained between laughs. "ANYONE in the world... wants 'at turd you spray-painted orange... stuck a Tribble pelt on top... an' call it Dipshit-In-Chief... 'avin' ONE MORE doomsday weapon?"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Si," Velasquez remarked. "We are all disappointed at whichever number above zero of nuclear weapons that you have already entrusted Rey Joffrey El Naranja with."

Past the security officer barricade, scattered protesters who couldn't make it into the mob scene outside the Convention Center were standing on corners and shouting about which aspect of STRANGERS would doom or save the human race.

"This ain't a protest." Mander said, looking out the side window at some of them. "Ya've got too many wankers an' not enough molotovs."

"Welcome to Seattle." Susan explained as she took the turn toward the hotel, and traffic returned to Seattle's usual standards of obstruction. "Protests here aren't about changing anything, they're about feeling like you matter. Show up and wave a sign, and you get to tell yourself you accomplished something and look down on all the 'sheeple' who weren't there to 'make a difference.'"

Mander and Velasquez both winced at the word.

"Sheeple?" Mander asked. "This's a word people use now? I live on an island. Hearin' that makes me want to go 'ome."

"Not the socially-functional, no. It means 'people who don't believe the same whack-a-doodle bullshit that you do.' Generally used by..." Susan thought.

"Well, probably everyone at the protests. Basically, any time you hear any talking about one of the subjects STRANGERS is supposed to be about, or their favorite conspiracy theory, they use it to describe 'the unbelievers.'"

"And this is supposed to win people over to their point-of-view?" Velasquez asked.

"The kind of people who use it don't want to win anyone over." Susan replied. "It's more about imagining that you're superior to everyone else; because you know 'what's really going on,' and they're all just unwitting tools of their pet conspiracy. The ones who aren't suckers are out to sell something to the ones that are."

"Well, that part's always the same wherever ya go."

"Si. Americans are idiotas."

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet." Susan said as they turned the last corner toward the hotel where the Ultimados were keeping Rita. "Wait until you see how many are proud of that fact."

Four blocks away from the hotel, traffic started crawling, and Susan got to try out some of the Greek curses she'd picked up around the house. When they eventually reached the head of the line, they saw why. Another blockade with more protesters was surrounding the Hotel de San Finzione in downtown Seattle where Rita and her Ultimado detail were holed up in the La Contessa suite, the hotel's penthouse. Like the La Contessa suites on Air Finzione, everything was designed and secured to Helen's specifications and centered on the theme "fit for La Contessa herself."

"Blockading the delegates' hotels, too." Susan said. "That's what they did for WTO."

Susan lucked into an empty parking space and pulled in.

"Block away." Mander said.

"We'll be exposed, but we can blend into the crowd once we've got her." Velasquez contributed.

"You're not blending in anywhere, Marisol." Susan said, looking her up and down and trying to hide Suzy-Ho's interest. "The Playboy Mansion, maybe, but nowhere else."

"Aren't I?" She asked, pointing to a portion of the crowd from whose signs, they could infer, were in support of the Sexual Equality portion of the STRANGERS acronym, flanked by a group against Racial Harmony, and one condemning Sexual Equality on the other. Most of the crowd were women, some were topless, some had foregone clothes altogether; many covered with body paint, but not all.

Susan looked over and smiled. She tried to think if there was something she could do to help them on the way out. Sue suggested something, and she made certain to remember it for later as she undid her seat belt. Mander checked his gun in the back, then tucked it under his shirt.

"Well, in that case, people." Susan said, removing her shirt and bra and stuffing them into her purse before opening the door. "Let's go make a difference."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

So Night Follows Day Pt. 09

"But no one ever changed The Church by pulling down a steeple.
You'll never beat The System by bombing Number Ten. Systems just ain't made of bricks, they're mostly made of people.
You may send them into hiding, but they'll be back again."
-Crass, "Big A Little A"



Interpol had a Master Detective, known for being able to solve the most elaborate of crimes in mere minutes. Criminal organizations hated and feared him, there were prices on his head all over the world, and his services were in constant demand. He was frequently heralded in newspapers as "France's Own Sherlock Holmes." He was so brilliant and sexy, so detached and brooding, that women, men, and movie studio executives all over the world wanted him.

Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez called Interpol in the middle of the night; stating that there was an urgent matter of national security that only he could resolve, which could not be discussed over the telephone, and demanded that man come to San Finzione immediately! When he was told that The World's Greatest Detective was far too busy to come at this hour, Ramirez started shouting obscenities into the phone, demanding the name and badge number of the person he was talking to and that the Chief of Inspectors be gotten out of bed and put on the phone immediately.

When the supervisor came on the line, Ramirez demanded to know if the supervisor knew who exactly he was and whom he served, and he wanted his badge number and everyone he'd spoken to so that he could see to it that they would be fired if he didn't put that man on the case. The supervisor apologized profusely, stating that their Great Detective was on a case on the other side of the world, but that he knew someone just as good, right there in the Lyon HQ and working hard at his desk even now, that he could recommend. Ramirez calmed down and thanked the man before the supervisor foisted him off on Detective Inspector Luc Tomas Allaine.

Allaine's supervisor didn't care for him at all, nor did most of his co-workers. But because his success rate was even higher than the Master Detective's, and the supervisor's entire division rode the coattails of his conviction rate; reaping prestige, budget, and pay increases largely because of the uncredited work of D.I. Luc Allaine, the supervisor knew that he was stuck with him, making him dependent on that fucking asexual queer who solved more crimes from behind his desk than his entire department did by showing up at crime scenes in billowing black trenchcoats with high-tech C.S.I. gear.

Ramirez knew that if he'd asked for his old friend directly, they would have kept him on hold, sent him into voice mail loops, and "accidentally" dropped the call, until he really had been as mad as he'd been pretending before they put him through, so skipping right to that part was the best way to save time.

Luc was at his desk, as usual. He worked the night shift and had a corner office, opposite the corner of his supervisor's own. This, like all of the occasional rewards that Luc received for his work, followed the motif of "Keep that prick in his office; way the fuck over there, where I can pretend he doesn't exist." The supervisor had approved having a television, comfortable sleeping couch, microwave, and refrigerator in Luc's office; as well as his own private lavatory. Thus far, all of his requests to get Luc a private elevator or personal building entrance/exit directly to his office had been rejected as structurally unsound after they'd already knocked down a wall to make room for the lavatory. In addition to the office television, a second was housed in a home entertainment center, containing all manner of gaming consoles both new and retro, that had been put in after someone said that they overheard that he liked video games.

A story breaking in international news had just mentioned the city of Seattle, when his phone rang and he saw the incoming number. Luc began typing, then answered.

"Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez, Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of San Finzione, goes through the trouble of calling me at work." Luc said into the phone. "Why do I feel compelled to begin searching news sites for 'San Finzione' before answering?"

He could hear the noise of hurried activity on Ramirez's end. People coming up to him with questions and reports as he tried to convey that he was on an important call.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Luc," Ramirez said, clearly on speaker on his end, too. "It won't have hit world news yet... Si! I want full thermal flyover scans of the vineyard. Intelligence says this informant is more reliable than most. The gun cache is out there, get to it before they do."

The distraction ended, and Ramirez tried to return to the call.

"Check Seattle, my friend... No, we are explaining the military presence in the city to the touristas as the filming of a big Hollywood movie here in San Finzione. Contessa Maria is going through her great-grandmother's address book to find some movie stars who can be trusted to come here and go along with such a ploy. Si, the entries in Contessa Helena's private address book are quite detailed. And tell my secretary that I'm on an important call and not to be disturbed! By the time Ramirez had peace and quiet in his office, Luc had already brought up a site for local Seattle news, and was reading about the hit on the Triad limo.

"Sorry, Luc." Hernando said when he was able to return to his desk and take the phone off speaker. "I take it you've had time to see what I'm calling about."

"Oui, very interesting. Oh, an obvious frame job, of course." Luc lit a cigarette and chewed on the driver's last words. "... 'slavery and human trafficking...DO NOT happen in San Finzione..." He thought on the words. "This is a reprimand, not a threat. Perhaps one to be sent in blood, oui, but not like this; like an American Gangster film. Your Contessa has you and your men. If she wants to send a message to the Elders, why not send some of you to deliver it to their doorsteps in the night? Speaking of which, I got a flag last night, which said that Nigel Mander had entered the US via Portland, Oregon, on a San Finzione Cultural Attaché passport; I'd meant to call you and ask about that. Since everyone knows that 'Cultural Attaché' means 'assassin,' I am guessing that he is on the payroll and that Yorkshire has resurfaced."

"Si," Ramirez replied, lighting a cigarette of his own. "Yorkshire has a name now: Leonard Whyte, with a 'y' instead of an 'i' in Whyte."

"Hmm..." Luc hmmed. "The electronics mogul. Oui... I have a box on him. Nothing concrete, just the name popping up enough to warrant starting a box."

Luc frequently angered people other than his co-workers, mostly in a professional capacity. Because of this, he'd created a string of safe-deposit boxes, scattered across Europe, containing everything he had on the people or organizations most likely to kill him. Ramirez held the backup key to the box in San Finzione containing all of Luc's dirt on his supervisor and co-workers.

"Whyte hired Morgan." Ramirez mused. "He knew where to find him and about his condition. There's a connection, somewhere in the past."

"Oui. And for reasons that you are still unable to tell me over the phone, his handicap was an important factor in Whyte's decision. Give me a moment, Hernando."

Ramirez waited patiently and smoked while Luc typed some more. This was the kind of thing his old friend did, and the reason La Contessa requested that he contact Luc again after his assistance with the assassination investigation.

"You truly should come and meet La Contessa, Luc. I know you two would get along, and there are many other things about her that are better shown than explained."

"Sam has been asking for a vacation, and I need to update some of my boxes there. I would not even need to use my leave time; I am frequently encouraged to telecommute. Pamphlets about it are often left under my office door. Soon, perhaps. But oui, there was something I was keeping an eye on; a footnote from the FRAUD that stood out to me, so I made a note of it. Hearing Morgan's name again brings it to mind." Luc brought up the file. "Ah, here! A whisper that someone has been looking for disabled mercenaries. Unusual, because a mercenary who has lost a limb or one of his senses typically only finds work again by establishing a reputation for being exceptionally skilled enough to compensate. A general call, though, would pull the ones who got left in the dust out of retirement."

"Allow me to guess. Seeking deaf mercenaries. Like Morgan."

"Indeed. But Morgan was no random selection. There is another way such men find work again."

Ramirez nodded, knowing what the answer would be.

"Old times' sake." He replied.

"Oui. Though, with what we know of Whyte, I would not consider him sentimental. Morgan may have approached him for old times' sake, but then, Whyte exploited them. Now that we have his name, I should give those old cases a second look."

Luc thought a moment.

"Hernando. No one would put out a call like this unless the men he hired needed to be hard-of-hearing for a particular reason. There are, of course, rumors, legends, 'peasant gossip,' like olden times, perhaps; about your Contessa de San Finzione that no rational person would take seriously. And if someone had reason to believe them, then oui, hired guns unable to hear might be an asset. It would also explain many unanswered questions about the attempt on her life. About why the assassin was able to reach her, while everyone else froze. My questions about your actions during the event, which you never answered, and I respect you too much to ask again; would certainly be explained."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Luc, I have heard the rumors of which you speak. And if there were any truth to them..."

Allaine didn't make his friend finish the statement.

"If it were true, it would, of course, be a Classified State Secret of San Finzione; however poorly kept. Something that, even if I were cleared to know, you would be unable to tell me over the telephone. I would need to follow your Contessa's advice from the adverts and 'come there' to be told."

"Si. And Violeta says you and Sam still need to come for dinner. El Niños miss their godparents, too."

"Just so." Luc took a long drag and finished his cigarette. "This, then, also explains why Whyte was so quiet between the attempt on her life and now. He had pawns to gather. I must look into this, and then, based on what you have not at all told me about La Contessa, I must rethink my entire notion of how our universe works. I should have something in an hour. Was there anything else?"

"Oh, si. La Contessa's old friend, the one skilled in matters of money; Whyte has made him a part of things now as well. We have his assistance."

"I see..." Luc said, lighting another cigarette. "An old friend of La Contessa's... a definite asset, important enough for Whyte to drag into the crossfire, loyal enough to stay in it with her, almost certainly trusted enough to know the truth of the rumors which you have most definitely said nothing about, and any conclusions I may have reached are entirely my own. More to think on."

"Take all the time you need, old friend. I have something to tell her now."

They ended the call.

* * *

Troy Equals was at his desk in his home library, something he'd had built while they expanded their two-car garage to four, to accommodate Susan's car and the Ferrari that Helen had given Julie on their Honeymoon. Four Vespa scooters were also parked in the garage, another gift from Helen.

Troy's desktop computer had been set up in the library that had been expanded to contain more than it's original content of references on the subjects of hypnosis and mind control, so it also functioned as Troy's home office. A concealed peephole on the wall behind him allowed him to see into Julie's home studio on the other side, and vice versa.

It had been Julie's idea, in case they were both working, and one of them needed some quick "stress-relief." She and Troy had both implanted post-hypnotic triggers in each other, so that if one of them heard the sound of the peephole opening or noticed it open on the wall, they would continue working; but act out a subconscious desire to put on a sexy show for whomever was looking through the hole while they worked. Then when they heard or saw it close, either stop the show or finish themselves if the show had gotten that hot, and resume working, happy with the knowledge that they'd helped their partner-in-everything get on with their own. Susan knew about the peepholes, too, and was, of course, permitted to use them herself. She asked that they give her a trigger to compel her to help whosever side of the wall she was on with either their show or their stress-relief.

Troy had gotten out some of the old ash trays of his parents' and Propappou's that they'd kept. Mostly souvenirs from Greece, or bearing old-timey advertisements for various beers that were either no longer made, or had changed logos many times over the decades; making some of them valuable. One was on his desk, so Helen could sit with him.

"This is a fight that we will eventually lose." He told Julie as he set them out around the house. "Do you really want to keep going out to the back porch every time Helen has something to say? We can open some windows and turn on some fans for now and Febreze the place when she goes back home. Besides, she'll love the chance to steal Propappou's ashtrays, anyway."

Troy's great-grandfather, Byroni Medina, had been known as Propappou to most people, because, as he often said, "Everybody call me Propappou, cause I Troy's Propappou." Helen had only been eight, and Propappou had been nearly 100 years old when they met, and he'd been the first adult to sense what she'd been going through at home. Their father-daughter bond formed immediately. For years, Propappou fought Wade Parker, Helen's drunken and abusive biological father, who was one-third his age; in the courts and sometimes in the street to get custody away from "this malaka crook, who should to be chained to a post down at the port, of to have the gulls shit on him and peck out his eyes, and of filthy sailors to do the pousti to him, and never be allowed near women and children again," according to court reports.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

When Helen became Contessa, she renamed many of San Finzione's hospitals and emergency services after Byroni Medina. A statue that Helen had commissioned of him, from one of the photographs she'd kept, stood outside the hospitals. Smaller versions of it stood in front of shelters, Policia, and Pompieri Stazioni throughout the country. Since Contessa Helena de San Finzione had reigned, the children of San Finzione had been taught that if they are in danger, they should "Run to Propappou, he will keep you safe."

She was smoking and using one of Propappou's ash trays while sitting on one side of Troy, watching him at the computer. Julie sat on the other side of him. She occasionally looked over at Helena, and thought she saw the glimmer of having won a tiny victory over the forces of Smoker Oppression while she did so. As the one who'd gotten her started, Julie was unable to blame her.

"Whyte Telecom's mostly clean. From there, he branched out to Whyte Electronics, Whyte Computers..." Troy stopped and looked at his monitor and down at the PC tower, making sure neither were Whyte products. He'd put the tower together himself, but still felt compelled to look. "After that, came the Whyte line of smartphones."

"Guy sure likes to put his name on things, doesn't he?" Helen asked with a puff of smoke.

"Why yes," Julie replied. "He certainly does that a lot; doesn't he, Contessa Helena de San Finzione?" She smirked at Helen. "It almost makes me want to hop on an Air Finzione jet to San Finzione, where I can stay at a Società Finzione hotel, walk across San Finzione Plaza to get to the San Finzione Marketplace, then go to a Società Finzione casino and gamble the night away, bombed on San Finzione Vineyards Wine, getting gangbanged all the while by the entire extended La Familia de San Finzione."

Helen smiled back.

"Don't forget to visit Castle Finzione, where you can lick La Clitoride Regale de San Finzione."

Julie gave her First Girlfriend a playful punch. Helen did the same. They joined hands behind Troy and went back to watching him work. They'd finished resolving the earlier matter over a bag of Hershey's Kisses, a bag of Reese's Miniatures, and the top layer of a box of Ferrero Rocher. Everyone had agreed that Susan was a grown woman who would not have settled for anything less than contributing in a meaningful way and that Helen had sent her with excellent protection.

"I can get all kinds of public stuff from here..." Troy half-muttered. "Nothing that'll give me anything serious to work with. I'm not a hacker, I don't really have any more power to go snooping than a private eye or legal assistant might."

Helen took out her phone and began texting.

"I know your Skype number, Troy. What's your IP address?"

He gave her the number. She typed a couple more words and sent the text.

"You're going to get a Skype call within the next two minutes from Howard Caldwell-Pierce, my Minister of Intelligence. Turn this way, Troy."

Troy turned to face Helen and nodded.

"Allow me to pay you a kiss." She told him.

"Helen, you know you don't have to ask..."

"I do for this. Troilus Equals, would you permit Contessa Helena de San Finzione to pay you a kiss?"

Troy nodded and smiled.

"I would be as honored as I was the very first time."

Julie smiled and watched Helen lean forward and gave Troy a long, slow kiss. Since long before the night she and Troy had discovered how deep their love ran, Julie had enjoyed the sight of her best friend and their mutual first girlfriend making each other happy. She and Helen hadn't gone to any serious effort to keep their love a secret from Troy like they did from everyone else. At that point in his and Julie's relationship, however, he regarded Julie as his sister, and so her sex life was as much of a non-topic-of-contemplation for him as if she really had been. The night Julie confessed to him that she liked girls, too, Troy thought back to how many moments where it'd been right in front of his face, and he hadn't read anything more into it than "Ok, that's just how best-girl-friends work. Sometimes, Julie and Helen just kiss the same way Helen and I do. Just enjoy it."

The kiss lasted until the Skype call came through. Troy broke off to answer.

The screen filled with the image of a gray-haired old English gentleman, in a suit and tie with a Windsor knot. Troy realized it was probably 4 AM in San Finzione, and immediately got images of Bernard Lee's original M from the James Bond films: At his desk, in a suit, at any hour of the day or night.

"Ah, Mr. & Mrs. Equals." He said, before turning his face toward Helen's on the monitor. "Contessa." He turned back to the two of them. "Now, I trust that La Contessa has explained things to you, Mr. Equals?"

"No." Troy said. "But I'm used to that."

Helena edged over a little to be closer to the center before replying.

"I'll explain while you transfer us to Division. But yes, we're ready here, Howard."

"Excellent. Er, sorry to have to put you on hold, Contessa. Connecting you now."

His image froze, and it sounded liked he was making another call on his end.

"OK, Helen." Troy said, turning to her. "What was that about?"

Helen smiled at her first boyfriend.

"Well, Troilus, you're right; you're not a hacker. But you're still the best person to lead this up. Whatever dirty shit Whyte's involved with, it's probably going to be found deep within the details of something else. So, when we find something, you'll still be the best person to look it over. You've also had a Top Security clearance since the day I found out that I can just issue one myself, if I want. And since you have accepted my payment of a kiss, that now makes you a paid consultant for San Finzione's Ministry of Intelligence."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The screen returned. The Minister introduced another, younger man in his thirties. at a desk in a more open area. It made Troy think of the supervisor's desk at a call center, in the middle of an open office floor, probably looking out over a bullpen of desks.

"Buenos Dias, Señor Equals. I am Carlito Cortez, head of the Ministry's Electronic Intelligence Gathering Division. My team is standing by for your instructions, sir."

He turned the camera toward a group of men and women, many of whom were in their teens or just out of them, seated at desks with computers that looked to Troy like the kind of high-powered custom setups he'd seen hardcore PC gamers post pictures of online. Helen turned Troy to face her again.

"Whyte has tech people. I have tech people too. You need hackers? You've got them. You're too important to all of us to go be James Bond like you want, Troy, but I hope Jack Ryan's close enough. Now, talk to Your People and tell them what to look for."

* * *

Susan Bailey stood topless on the sidewalk of what would normally be a busy Seattle street, a block away from the Seattle Hotel de San Finzione. The main difference between this and other days, apart from Susan's wearing neither shirt nor bra on a busy sidewalk, was that protesters, rather than Seattle motorists, were the ones committing a deliberate hate crime against people who had to be somewhere.

Beside her, Primo Tenente Marisol Velasquez of San Finzione's elite Squadra de Ultimados stood, wearing a leopard-print two-piece bikini that barely performed its function. Mander stood on the other side of her, wearing black cargo shorts and a black t-shirt. He looked over at the crowd of women, some nude or semi-nude, protesting in favor of Sexual Equality; which they were about to join to make their way through the protests and into the hotel where Rita Delvecchio, Contessa Helena de San Finzione's double, needed to be extracted.

"You two'll fit right in. Sad to say, I look like I belong more wit' those tossers on either side."

"Just stay behind me, both of you." Susan told them. She turned to Mander. "And hang onto your gun; there's sure to be pickpockets in a crowd this size."

"Ain't a worry." He said back. "Nobody's gettin' it from me."

They walked close behind Susan as she crossed the street and approached the crowd. Susan began tapping women on the shoulder, asking each politely, but having to shout to be heard through the multitude of voices, that they part the sea of humanity and be let through. Although all of them agreed, it was still a few minutes of tapping and shouting before they made it to the edge, where Susan put her shirt back on before they emerged on the other side, in front of the hotel entrance.

"You know," Velasquez said to Susan as they jogged the distance to the entrance. "It looks like you didn't have to remove your shirt at all to get through the crowd."

"Are you complaining?" Susan replied.

"No. They are very nice."

"Thank you, so are yours."

"Gracias."

"I wish you two's boobs were our biggest concern." Mander said as they went through the revolving door. "And believe me, you're both serious contenders; but I'm more concerned with that."

He pointed at a group of men walking into the elevator at the far end of the lobby. Six men in black suits, wearing long, thin ties walked into the elevator and turned around. Their skintones were Asian, but the distance was too far for Susan to discern which Asian race before the elevator closed.

"Triads?" Susan turned to ask Mander.

"I'm sure 'Er Countessness woulda told us if John Woo was havin' a party here, so guessin' yeah."

They ran for another elevator.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

So Night Follows Day Pt. 10

"He took little Suzy to the Junior Prom.

'Excitable boy,' they all said. (Excitable Boy!)

And he bangd her, and killed her, then he took her home.

'Excitable boy,' they all said. (Excitable Boy!)

Well, he's just an excitable boy.

After ten long years, they let him out of the home.

'Excitable boy,' they all said. (Excitable Boy!)

And he dug up her grave, and built a cage with her bones.

'Excitable boy,' they all said. (Excitable Boy!)

Well, he's just an excitable boy."

-Warren Zevon, "Excitable Boy"

Marisol Velasquez stepped up to the express elevator to the penthouse of the Seattle Hotel de San Finzione. She placed her hand on a palmprint scanner and spoke loudly into a speaker.

"Velasquez!" She barked at the speaker. "Marisol, Primo Tenente, Squadra de Ultimados! Quattro-Dos-Tres-Seis-Uno-Cero-Cinco!" A green light blinked, and the elevator started rapidly descending to the ground floor from the hotel's La Contessa suite. It, like the penthouse of all Società Finzione hotels, was secured to Contessa Helena's specifications. This included access for members of La Squadra de Ultimados, San Finzione's elite Special Forces unit, and La Contessa's personal guard.

"So, you can just walk into any room?" Susan Bailey asked as they waited, trying to reach Helen on her phone, but going to voicemail.

"Si. It is in the fine print when a room is rented." She replied.

Mander shifted the large pistol he had tucked into his belt in a position better for drawing than securing in a crowd. From a pocket of his cargo shorts, he pulled a pair of dark sunglasses with John Lennon frames and put them on.

"I'd feel better if either of ya was armed." He said as the doors opened.

"No need." Velasquez replied, entering.

Susan dug in her purse and pulled out a spray bottle as she got in the elevator.

"Pepper spray?" He asked.

"Claire and I work in Tacoma. Julie bought us some bear spray when we went to Alaska for the wedding. We found out the mix for bears is actually weaker than the one for humans and that led to Troy looking up brands and models until he found us the strongest, best one."

"All right, then maybe, yeah. They let ya on a plane wit' 'at stuff?" Mander asked.

"They let Julie on planes with it. Probably me by now, too."

"Right," he replied, pushing the Close Doors button. "You got 'at thing 'Er Countessness' got. too. Ok, then, jes'... try to stay in the middle of us, right?"

"Always one of us in front of you." Susan said in an attempt at Generalissimo Ramirez's voice. "Always one of us behind."

The doors closed.

* * *

Contessa Helena de San Finzione ended her call with Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez.

"Looks like Whyte's been busy looking for mercenaries who've lost their hearing." She said to Julie Equals as they stood in the Equals-Bailey household's kitchen.

"There can't be too many of them, can there?" Julie asked. She was preparing a tray from the barbecue across the street for her husband, Troy Equals, who was still at his library computer.

"Guys like Mander can be found in the classifieds of Soldier of Fortune." Helen said, staring at the jars in their refrigerator, trying to figure which was the relish jar that Julie wanted. "Mander's just smarter than most, and that's why I like him. Guys who USED to be like him until they got too close to a grenade or something? Then they couldn't hear orders anymore; so those 'rotten tossers' he told us about had no further use for them? Who were kicked to the curb without any OTHER skills than 'doin' 'orrible things' because rotten tossers pay them? And who'd jump at the chance to make that kind of money again? Harder to find, maybe, but certainly out there."

Julie thought for a moment. Then reached over into the refrigerator and grabbed the jar of relish that Helen had been staring at.

"I can't decide if that's cruel or enlightened?" She said as she opened it. "I'll get the mustard."

Helen went back to puzzling over the contents of the refrigerator and held her hand up.

"No, no, I'll get it. Mustard, right? Well, we're talking about Whyte here, so probably cruel. He wanted Springheel because the world is just the right level of fucked for his liking and his profit margin. Now, I believe him when he says he needs it because it's the only thing that will protect him from me."

"That's probably why he's staying in the shadows." Julie said, getting frustrated with Helen's determination to find the right bottle, and reaching past her to grab it.

"I wanted to do that!" Helen said, spinning around.

Julie squeezed some mustard onto a hot dog. It made a messy blob at the beginning.

"Well, get me a butter knife, then." Julie said, putting them back as Helen walked over to the silverware drawer. "But yeah, he knows he's got to stay on the move, keep rerouting his phone calls and everything; because the moment you find out where he is, an Ultimado puts a round through his head or you walk up and say 'don't move,' and he's finished. And Goddammit, Helen, that's a carving knife! You dine with Presidents and Kings, you know the difference between a shrimp fork, a salad fork, and a dessert fork! How do you not know what a butter knife is?"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Helen got a hurt look on her face, and Julie immediately knew why: Because Helen knew what they looked like on a place-setting, but not in a drawer, mixed in with other utensils. And condiments were applied by someone else, or in little silver dishes off to the side, not in bottles in the fridge. Contessa Helena de San Finzione was a citizen of the world; and The Kitchen was the only real mysterious foreign country left for her.

Marion Parker had been too busy drinking away the pain her husband inflicted on her each day, and trying to pretend everything was normal, to teach her younger daughter anything about cooking. Persephone Parker, her older daughter, had run away from home when Helen was three; if she'd had any knowledge to impart, Helen never received it. Julie's mother had, after a few tries, taught Helen how to make fried chicken, and if someone else got the ingredients and utensils out, she could do it, but that was the extent of her knowledge of The Ways of The Kitchen. After Helen's father had beaten his wife to death, Helen spent most of her time at the Medina house, where Propappou did most of the cooking and tried to teach her some things, but they didn't stick. By then, she knew The Thing, and could dine at any restaurant she chose, where her meal was always on the house. After that, she'd married Count Vincenzo and had servants to do the cooking for her.

As a result, food preparation was an elusive mystery to Helen; something that every girl seemed to learn growing up, and she'd never gotten the memo. All she'd been able to retain of her knowledge over the years was how to make Vanessa Andrews' fried chicken and that cookies are born via a process called "baking." Julie knew all that, but despite Troy's "primal scream" therapy earlier, was still frustrated at how much painting she wasn't getting done today, and likely wouldn't for the rest of the week. She walked over to Helen and hugged her closely.

"I'm sorry, hon. It's no big deal. Stuff's just weird at the moment."

Helen hugged her back, noticing that it was their first proper hug since she'd shown up. There was the first, surprised squeeze after she showed up on the doorstep, and the make-up hug after their fight, but this was the first "goes on as long as it needs to" hug they'd had time for. She decided that now was as good a time as any to bring up the other subject on her mind.

"Julie? Can we sit down for a minute?"

Julie saw in Her First Girlfriend's eyes that she had something to say that had been meant for her, and this was their first moment alone that didn't involve breaking things and insulting each other. She nodded, and they walked into the living room and sat on the couch together. Helen clasped Julie's right hand in both of her own, took a deep breath, looked down at the floor, then back into Julie's eyes.

"Julie, my love. Whyte's been trying to 'get to me,' and so far, he hasn't succeeded much, but we both know I'd be lying if I said that getting stabbed hadn't had some kind of effect; didn't make me think about things I hadn't given much thought before."

She returned Helen's gaze with a loving one of her own. She didn't say anything. She'd known Helen's body language as long and as well as she knew Troy's and both of them knew her own; and saw that this was something difficult but important for her. She nodded for Helen to continue.

"If I had died, Julie, Maria would be alone. Not in the same way I thought I was when Vincenzo died. I mean, she's got Stavro, Jeanne, Ramirez, and you guys; she's absolutely taken care of. I mean, in the sense that she's the last of Vincenzo's line. For All-Powerful Athiesmo's sake, she's twenty-two, and she's leading her country in my absence. The rest of La Familia... well, someone had to let Whyte know about the Springheel meeting, and I'm pretty sure one of them probably snuck a look at my computer while I was in the bathroom or something. We keep them mostly under control, but a good number of them would sell me out for fifty Euros and a decent meal. I'll be talking to all of them when I return, but the point is..."

Julie felt like Helen was losing track and tried to help. She took a cigarette out and was about to light it for Helen, when Helen took it from her and lit it herself.

"Ultimately, it's just you and her." Julie replied. "And if one of them took power, they'd probably sell the country to... well, these Auctioneer guys, I guess." Julie looked her second-oldest friend up and down.

"Helena, hon?" Julie whispered. "Are you building up to telling me that you want a baby and you want Troy to be the father?"

Helen felt a burning sensation on her leg, then realized she'd dropped her cigarette in surprise. She jumped up and back from the couch in both amazement and an effort to pick up the cigarette before it burned anything else.

"Ok, Julie, this is really you, right?" Helen asked accusingly. "Did I get hurt in the fight I think we just had? I'm really here in your house? That's Susan we were fighting about? Susan Bailey, not someone else?"

Now it was Julie's turn to jump back in surprise. And a little heat from one of the embers falling on her. She patted it out and made sure there weren't any others.

"Ok, Helena, what the fuck are you talking about, and why the fuck would you even think to ASK those last two questions?"

"I asked you first, Julie!"

"I asked you second!"

"Therefore, I shall ANSWER second!"

"You're letting your hair grow long, Helena! Yeah, you and Troy do most of that right-brain volleying ideas back and forth. But This Thing We Do requires reading people, noticing shit; and I learned how to do that right alongside him! You've always kept your hair short, because long hair was just one more thing for Wade to grab onto. You found out you were coming to Seattle a month ago, and based on your typical length, you haven't cut it since the attack. Doesn't Roger Somebody do your hair?"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Just Roger. He's one of those One Name Only people. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because you've only grown your hair long twice before: When you were still dating Troy after Fucking Wade was locked away, and while you were married to Vincenzo. And you made yourself up today. You're fucking beautiful, Helena; your name has always totally suited you. Everyone talks about how expressive my face is, but do you think I haven't studied yours, awake or asleep, lying beside me all my life? I've woken up to your face in the mornings more times than I have Troy's! You think I don't recognize when you're TRYING to be beautiful FOR someone? Also, when you were still on the drugs from after surgery, you said something in the hospital about needing another heir. So, you know, that was a clue."

"It's not time," Helen said. "That was last week. I wouldn't try to sneak it past either of you. I was going to try to find a good moment for the three of us to sit and talk it over."

"But we're not going to GET a good time with everything going on. So, allow me to take some of that stress off you, Mistress: I say yes, of course. Troy's the one who'll need convincing, but you've got my vote."

Helen's eyes lit up, and she sat back down.

"Really, Also Mistress? I've got to tell you, I was already so worried about everything else, and that Troy would be mad at me for everything that's going on..."

Julie put a finger to Helen's lips.

"Troy would never get mad at you, Helena. Not like the way I know your imagination ran wild with that thought. If you and Troy want to have sex, all one of you has to do is say 'Hey, Julie, we're gonna fuck,' and the only way I'd be upset at all is if neither of you at least ASKED if I wanted in or gave me all the details later."

"But I know you guys want kids."

"Yeah, like three or four years from now. We're both looking forward to it at that time. Until then, he was yours first, Helena."

Now it was Helen's turn to cut Julie off.

"No, Julie. He's always been yours, and you've always been his. If anything, I was practice for you."

"You think that, but you know neither of us does. I want to be the mother of his children someday soon, and we've said from the beginning that our love is big enough to share. I'd be just as happy being the mother of his second and onward if you were the mother of his first. How could I not love someone who's a piece of both of you?" She made a mock gesture of shouting upstairs and down the hall to the library and her studio.

"Hey, Master, would you mind knocking up our oldest, dearest friend, whose place in our hearts is as big as the one we occupy in each other's? With whom I know you would produce an amazingly beautiful, hyper-intelligent superhuman who would not only bring this weird family unit of ours closer together, but will literally have the absolute best of everything and; oh, by the way, also help secure the monarchy of a nation that he or she may one day rule over, where they teach about his or her..." Julie, grew up knowing the Greek word for great-grandfather, but had to think for a second what the word for great-great-grandfather was, before remembering that you just add pros to it as needed. "Propropappou in school?"

They giggled, and she was about to ask Helen what she'd meant by whether or not that was really Susan when both jumped as a voice came from above.

"That's a fairly loaded question, Mistress." Troy's voice answered in a mocking shout-back from the railing between the upstairs landing and the hallway behind him. "However, you present some very thought-provoking points, which are certainly worth consideration. And you know that it's every woman BETWEEN Helen and you who were 'practice,' but not her; and certainly not Susan, right? Also, Sunflower, do you remember that we only soundproofed the bedrooms?"

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The elevator door opened. Susan Bailey, Mander, and Velasquez stepped out into the T-shaped intersection between the penthouse and the elevators. Velasquez turned to look at the two uniformed Ultimados flanking the suite's door, UMP submachineguns at the ready. They recognized Velasquez, despite the string bikini; and knew Susan and Mander from file photos. They began to stand at ease when Velasquez pointed to the other elevator and shouted orders at them in Spanish.

Susan's poorly-remembered Sesame Street Spanish allowed her to determine, along with Marisol's gestures, that she was telling them about the Triad hit team in the other elevator. One of them ran into the suite, and the other came to the elevator bank, UMP at the ready.

Mander motioned that Susan should go into the suite with the other Ultimado with his left hand as he drew his Desert Eagle with his right. Two of the three women in her head reminded her that they were about to face a group of armed killers, that these people had guns, and the Triads certainly would, too. They agreed that Susan wasn't a badass like Velasquez, Mander, the Ultimados, and however many more the other one was calling from inside the room. They reminded her of her bank robbery plan from this morning; that she was the Cleric, and she should be making certain Rita was safe while the Fighters handled their job. She nodded. He nodded back, and she ran into the suite behind the other Ultimado, getting quickly out of the way from the four more who were coming out into the hall.

"Damn good thing Helen made sure the private elevator was an express." She told another Ultimado covering the door from behind a couch as she got out of the potential line of fire. "Those goons probably had to stop a couple of times and creep people into taking the next one on the way up. Where's Rita?"

One of the Ultimados led Susan to the master bedroom's private bath. Velasquez had informed her and Mander along the way to the hotel that the bedroom could be secured from inside to function as a panic room. Susan entered and the Ultimado sealed them in before going to join her teammates.

"Rita?" Susan asked the locked door. There was no response, so she continued. "Hi, my name's Susan. Helen sent me. Er... sorry, La Contessa sent me. I know very little Italian, but she said you speak English; is that right?"

"Si." Came a voice from the other side of the door. "You are someone who calls her Helen?"

"Yeah. I'm here to get you to safety. One of the Ultimados sealed us in. It's safe to come out here. Or we can keep talking through the door. However you're comfortable. This is a whole lot for me, too; and except for the fact that I might need to pee sometime, you can stay in there if it makes you feel better."

There was a click, and the bathroom door opened.

Susan was taken aback by the unaccustomed look of fear on Helen's face for a moment, before remembering that this woman was, in fact, not Contessa Helena de San Finzione, but Rita Delvecchio; an actress on a comedy program in San Finzione, who portrayed Helen in political sketches, and whose resemblance was strong enough that Helen occasionally hired Rita to act as a double for events that she didn't want to attend.

"First thing's first." Susan said. "We need to get you out of that makeup. Whatever's happening outside right now, they're here for La Contessa, not you."

Rita removed her wig, shoulder-length hair spilling out from under it. Susan reached for a makeup bag on the counter and began handing her makeup-removal items as requested.

"You may want to turn on the television." Rita told her. "There is a channel for the security cameras."

Susan turned it on and picked up her phone. She tried Helen again, and it rang through.

"Helen?" She called into the phone. "I've been calling. I'm with Rita, but The Triads are here!"

"FUCK! I'm sorry, Susan! I was on a secure official call with Ramirez. It would've sent you straight to voicemail without letting me know and I hadn't looked until you called just now! But I am ON this shit!" She heard the sound of Helen running on the other end, and what sounded like Troy and Julie running along with her. "Ok, fuck subtle. Ernst is at Seatac with the chopper and four more Ultimados on standby, he can be there... ten minutes. Velasquez told... lock down... panic room?"

Some kind of interference or crossed signal started causing Helen to cut out on Susan's end.

"Yes, we're locked in now. You're breaking up, Helen."

"After you... locked in... wait... to roof ..."

The call dropped.

Susan and Rita looked at each other, then watched the TV, seeing all the Ultimados and Mander with their guns trained on the elevator doors; Velasquez still taking point, despite no weapon of any kind.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The doors opened.

* * *

Helen ran out of the Equals house and through the yard, navigating a path through the used cars that she and the Ultimados had driven here and were now taking up all curbside parking on both sides of Troy & Julie's street. She'd been trying to tell Susan about a hidden emergency roof access from the panic room that she and Rita could use to meet her helicopter on the roof when the call dropped.

She shouted for Ortega and tried to get Susan back on the line, when an incoming text from Whyte's number appeared on her screen.

DEAD FUCKER #174 (WHYTE): Contessa, heard our Eastern friends plan to pay Ms. Delvecchio a visit. Appears no one told THEM about our little bystander rule. I know *I* haven't talked to them recently, have you. ;)

Say, know that lovely signal jammer you've got at home for when you lock the castle down? It turns out, I make those things! And there's one being demonstrated near your hotel even now. Hope that doesn't make warning them a problem. Ta-Ta!

Helena looked up from the phone and heard shouting from Ortega, running toward her. It mingled with Troy and Julie's shouts behind as she made her way between two parked cars and ran right in front of a car that had been trying to navigate between all the vehicles. She connected the shouting with the sound of slammed brakes and a horn that came a second too late to do anything but startle her into stopping and turning to face it before the car hit her.

There was an audible thump as the Ultimados across the street, guns now drawn and pointed at the driver of the car, hurried to the street. Troy and Julie did so from their side, as well. They looked at the terrified driver, turning off the vehicle and raising his hands at the sight of all the gun barrels aimed at him.

Then they turned and saw the unconscious body of Contessa Helena de San Finzione, lying in the middle of their street.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

So Night Follows Day Pt. 11

By T. MaskedWriter with special guest author Susan Bailey

"I had a dream.
Aw, shucks. Oh, well.
Now it's all fucked up.
It's shot to hell.

Yeah, yeah, my shit's fucked up.
It has to happen to the best of us.
The rich folk suffer like the rest of us.
It'll happen to you."
-Warren Zevon, "My Shit's Fucked Up"

Hi, Susan again. Since this part involves me a lot, I'll be trading back and forth with The Masked Person for some of it. (I'll tell you when it's me, just to keep things clear.)

I was in the master bedroom of the La Contessa suite at the Seattle Hotel de San Finzione. The penthouse suite had been designed to Contessa Helena de San Finzione's specifications, and so there was a system for locking the bedroom and private bath into a panic room. Rita Delvecchio was with me. You might not have heard of her outside San Finzione; she plays Helen on an SNL-type show there, and looks and acts like La Contessa well enough that Helen hires her to fill in at things like the phony STRANGERS conference that everyone in the streets, fifty stories below us, was protesting for one reason or another.

Rita and I hadn't had an opportunity to talk yet, primarily because a Triad hit team who thought she was Helen were coming to kill her in retaliation for an attack on them two hours earlier. (Helen didn't order the attack; it was a setup by that Whyte fucker.) Now we were watching as the elevator doors opened, Helen's Ultimados and Mander standing with their guns trained on the door, Primo Tenente Marisol Velasquez standing in front of the elevator, hands behind her back.

The elevator contained six men in black suits with skinny ties. (I think of them as Quentin Tarantino's "Gangster Uniforms." There's probably a real name for them, though.) I don't know a lot about guns, but two of them were carrying some kind of sub-machine guns, and the other four carried pistols that weren't as big as Mander's Desert Eagle, but still scary-looking. Two of them had meat cleavers, as well.

Velasquez greeted them with a welcoming smile and removed the top of the string bikini she'd been wearing, her breasts bouncing free before the Triad goons' eyes. While they stared, her foot shot up, and she kicked one of the two carrying SMGs in the face, wrapping her bikini-top around his gun and yanking it out of his hand as he staggered back into the two men behind him. The other one was still stunned when her left fist slammed into his gut and he doubled over. Marisol brought her leg back down for balance before head-butting the man behind him, then backflipping out of the elevator and the other Ultimados' line of fire.

Mander and the others opened fire. Their own SMGs and pistols undistracted by the gorgeous Latina's performance. My nipples were still hard from seeing it when Rita and I had to turn away from the screen. Helen must have soundproofed the suite as well, because we only heard the shooting over the TV's speakers, rather than from outside the suite.

The explosions we heard next, however, carried through the walls. I looked up at the TV again to see what was happening. The metal fire exit doors at either end of the hall had flown off their hinges, and impacted as twisted metal on the opposing walls.

Velasquez picked up one of the SMGs and got Mander's attention. They pulled back to the suite door, firing randomly down the halls to give themselves cover as smoke clouds formed at either end. Mander cracked the door open, Velasquez shouted something through the crack, and they both stepped into the suite, closing the door behind them.

The cameras showed them running through the suite to the door of the room where Rita and I were holed up. I found the door controls and opened it for them, then sealed it again when they entered.

"Helen said something about Ernst coming, then we got cut off." I told them. "I'm not getting a signal. Hope nothing's happening there."

Mander and Rita took their phones out and checked as well.

"Nothin' here, either. Bollocks! Whyte's s'posed to be a phone guy, right? He must be doin' somethin' to the phones."

"If Ernst is coming," Velasquez said as she checked her gun, while Rita brought her a bathrobe to cover up. "This means that La Contessa is sending her helicopter. We must get to the roof."

Mander looked at the monitor. The Ultimados had taken positions to watch either side of the intersecting hall. Against both walls of their position, two were providing suppressive fire while a third waited for an opportune moment to throw a flashbang toward the fire exits.

"Well, they're between us and the stairs outta here."

"So, we are trapped in here?" Rita asked, looking at the shoot-out taking place. "There is nowhere to run?"

Rita's choice of words got me thinking. I went up to the walls and started knocking.

"No! That's not how Helen thinks! This suite was built to her specifications. Helen is a runner. She wouldn't lock herself into a room with no way out; she would leave herself some way to run. She's got a hidden door or escape tunnel somewhere in here. Help me find it."

* * *