Fantasy So Night Follows Day by TMaskedWriter

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Troy and Julie Equals knelt on the asphalt of the street where their house was located. Between them, the unconscious body of Contessa Helena de San Finzione lay in the street.

The Ultimados had been pulling the driver out of the car when Julie stopped them, telling them that he was a neighbor from down the street and that it was an honest accident. Helen had run out into the street from between two parked cars and wasn't looking when she tried to tell Capitan Ortega to send Ernst and the helicopter downtown to collect Susan, Rita, and the others. Troy relayed the information to Ortega as Dr. Tenente Paul Maisson came running into the street with his field kit. Troy held Helen's hand and looked down at her.

"Helen, Dearest One, traffic doesn't stop for you in America. Still, I guess there are worse places to be hit by a car than right in front of your doctor."

He let go and stepped aside for Maisson. Maisson had been one of the two Ultimados, along with Velasquez, who'd shot the assassin that stabbed Helen over a month ago. He was also a field medic, and was able to begin treating her wounds immediately, saving Helen's life. He'd applied for his medical license, and Generalissimo Ramirez pulled some strings to get his application fast-tracked through the process that same day, so that Dr. Tenente Maisson could be on her care team at the hospital. After she'd survived, La Contessa had appointed Maisson her personal physician.

"After all," she'd told him at the time. "You've already examined me quite thoroughly."

Maisson looked Helen over, muttering in French. When he saw Troy's curious look, he switched to English.

"No breaks... bruise on the left leg will be enormous. Spine ok to move..." He checked Helen's head. "No other visible injuries, but unconscious. Help me get her off the street, M'sieur Equals."

Troy lifted Helen up in his arms and brought her over to the Greens' lawn. Julie saw what they were doing and grabbed one of the blankets that were laying on the lawn up by the house, bringing it closer to them and spreading it out on the grass for her.

Helen was muttering something none of them could make out under her breath. Troy motioned for Julie to bring the black Prada Arcade bag that Helen usually carried from the street. She got it and ran back, so Troy could rest her head on it, once he'd made certain her airway was clear. Maisson pulled a penlight from his kit and knelt beside her again.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Contessa Helena de San Finzione sat in a chair in the dining hall of Castle Finzione. She smoked as she looked up at the three paintings on the wall that the chair had been placed a decent viewing distance from. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata was playing from somewhere, but she hadn't asked for any music. It fit, though, so she said nothing.

She wore black. It was also fitting. Helena looked at the painting on her left, dabbing tears silently as she did.

Troy Equals was looking down at her, a smile on his face. He was dressed in a nice suit, seated amongst rose bushes. Julie Andrews Roses, which reminded Helena of the first woman she ever loved, and the artist who'd painted the portrait. She sighed, a sigh that carried the knowledge that she would never see him again, but that he was in good hands. He would get over her in time.

She looked at the center painting: Propappou, his arms open. Waiting for her to run to him so he could hoist her up and kiss her and tell her he loved her and how proud he was of her. It was the picture from which the statues of him around San Finzione had been made, as well. The Medinas were a large family in Greece, and he'd lived a very long life, so she knew he had many friends and relatives with him. She hoped he wouldn't be too busy for his Petalouda Mikro when she arrived.

A curtain fluttered somewhere as she looked over to Vincenzo, in his royal uniform. Would she find him waiting for her? Would she take him with her to visit Propappou so that her husband and father could meet at last? Or would he be happy with Contessa Sofia, his first wife, and have no need for her? Did he truly reign in his people's hearts in the next world as well? She would know soon.

She sensed a presence behind her. She didn't bother to look, because she knew she would see nothing. She did not run, because she knew there was nowhere to run from it. Calling to anyone would just endanger them as well. She took another drag of her cigarette. It would let her finish it. It was only fitting.

She smiled as the thought came to her that maybe she was worrying about nothing. Perhaps Propappou and Vincenzo were waiting right there on the other side for her, with Wade trussed up and stuffed into a burlap sack behind them. And she could come and visit Troy and Julie and Susan and all their children in spirit like everyone said. Would Susan want Troy's children as well? Why not? She had, once. She finished her cigarette and bowed her head, lowering her veil.

There was a sound of something slicing through the air. For a moment, it seemed nothing happened. Then, Contessa Helena de San Finzione's head rolled off of her body to land at her feet, still staring up at the paintings, the light fading from her eyes, Vincenzo's pendant hitting the floor; as she saw the Nothing that had removed her head start stalking toward Maria's room. Only then did she try to scream, but there was nothing.

It wasn't like the dreams she'd been having of this moment, because she didn't wake up. It started again immediately after. The music, the paintings, the invisible blade severing her head with one blow, the pendant; it was a repeating pattern playing in her head as her body lay unconscious on the Greens' lawn in the real world.

* * *

Hey, Susan here. I'd been fiddling with stuff around the fireplace, thinking that maybe Helen used the same trick as the passage from the study to her bedroom in the castle. Of course, she wouldn't. Nothing there.

On one of the walls was a large portrait of Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione; Helen's late husband. A brass nameplate at the bottom identified him and listed the years of his reign for those unfamiliar with the history of San Finzione. Engraved beneath was an Italian phrase that, although I didn't know much of the language, I had learned enough from my time in San Finzione to recognize it as a saying about him: "Forever does he reign in our hearts."

I checked the painting and found it bolted to the wall. On a hunch, I looked to where Vincenzo's eyes were pointing in the picture, but he'd simply been looking straight ahead, and the opposite wall told me nothing.

"Is there a Propappou in the suite? I asked Rita, referring to the statues of Troy's great-grandfather in front of all emergency services buildings in San Finzione. Children were taught to "Run to Propappou if You are in Danger" in their colleges, so maybe that was something.

"Si," Rita answered. "By the fire exits outside." Ok, for once, Propappou wasn't Helen's answer.

I looked over at the monitor, Rita, Velasquez, and Mander still trying to remove paintings, lift knick-knacks, pull books off of shelves, etc. The Scooby-Doo approach was getting us nowhere. I sat down on the bed. I needed a moment. I needed...

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Trying to escape from Triad goons takes everything you've got.

Finding Helen's secret passage sure would help a lot.

Cause if they caught you, that would totally blow...

That's why you need to go...

Where Everybody Has Your Name.

And you all look just the same.

You need to stop and think it through, cause panic'll get you dead.

You need to talk to the other women in... your head.

"Evening, everyone." I said, entering the bar.

"Susan!" Everyone cheered as I walked to my stool.

"What would you say to a beer, Miss Bailey?" Suzy-Ho asked as she poured me one and set it in front of my stool. I sat on the stool and looked down at.

"Hey, Beer, would you happen to know where Helen keeps her secret passages?" As the studio audience laughed, I took a sip and then looked up at Suzy-Ho, dressed as Woody.

"Hey, shouldn't you be Diane or Rebecca? Or naked, at least?" I asked her. The audience liked that one, anyway.

"We're short-staffed today, Miss Bailey." Suzy-Ho replied. "And I like Woody." She stage-whispered. "In more ways than one." That got a laugh, too. (Easy room in my head today, it seems.) "It's just me and Carla today."

Sue slammed a bowl of pretzels down on the bar in front of me.

"Yeah, tell me you didn't see THIS one coming." Sue said, before turning to go serve someone else. Another laugh.

"Ok," I said, looking at the empty stool next to me, then back toward Sam's office. "So, I'm Norm for this one, where's Suzy-Q? And who's she going to be? Cliff? Sam? That background extra who only talks when they need a pervy old guy? That's who I really figured you'd be, Suzy-Ho."

"Maybe she's Vera, and we're not gonna see her." Sue called back over her shoulder.

"She's not in the pool room." Suzy-Ho chimed in. "I'm meeting some guys back there later to knock some balls around. Then we might play pool." The studio audience laughed again.

"Well, fun as it might be to have a Cheers episode with you guys, I'm in danger out there. Can either of you think of a place Helen might hide a secret door?"

"Have you tried the bed?" Suzy-Ho asked.

"Tried the knobs and the headboard, nothing there."

"That wasn't what I meant, but ok."

"You've tried all the D&D tricks already." Sue said as she set a tray of empty glasses on the counter. "Unless somebody there happens to be an elf and can sense secret doors, you might have a problem."

"And I've got to say, Suzy-Q's absence is bothering me." I looked up the stairs. I usually just "return to reality" from our meetings. I've never tried just walking out, and had no idea what would be up there or in the pool room. Empty space? The real interior of my brain? Both? (If I didn't make that joke, you would have.) I've never been to Boston, I don't know how good a job I would do of imagining it. I looked around, trying to see where one of three people who were always here when nobody else was had gotten to.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Contessa Helena de San Finzione sat in a chair in the dining hall of Castle Finzione. She smoked as she looked up at the three paintings on the wall that the chair had been placed a decent viewing distance from. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata was playing from somewhere, but she hadn't asked for any music. It fit, though, so she said nothing.

She sensed the presence behind her, put out her cigarette, bowed her head... and was startled by something flying over her head with a loud thump. She turned and looked behind her to see the Springheel suit lying on the floor. Over to her right, someone in a US Postal worker's uniform hefted a large mailbag onto her shoulder.

"Hey, Helen." Suzy-Q, wearing a mustache, said to her. "So, this is why you want to destroy Springheel, right?"

Helen stood up and smiled, hugging the woman who looked like Susan, but Helen knew that wasn't who it was.

"Suzy-Q! But that means..."

"Yeah, you've been knocked out." Suzy-Q cut her off. "You're not dying this time, though, just unconscious. Still not sure how I'm doing this, but I've got a better idea now. I don't know what's going on out there on your end, but they'll wake you up soon, so quick: Where's the secret way out of the panic room?"

Helen composed herself.

"Hatch to a roof access in the closet. The nameplate under Vincenzo's portrait pulls out. Turn it to the left to unlock it and a retractable ladder drops down. Close the hatch, everything resets, there's a lever on the wall, pull it down if someone's following you. That'll stop the ladder from dropping for them if they find the hatch. The door out leads to the helipad, and Velasquez or one of the other Ultimados can call the express elevator if needed. Is everyone ok?"

"For now. The Ultimados are still holding them off in the hall, nobody on our side's been hurt yet, but the Triads have all the exits. Except the one I'm going to tell Susan about now. It's time I told her everything. I still don't know how."

Helen kissed her.

"Hey, you'll be fine, I'm the one who's going to have to talk with her AFTER you tell her! Thanks again, Suzy-Q. None of you die."

Suzy-Q gestured to the unconscious person in the Springheel suit.

"You either. And do something about that fucker."

Suzy-Q faded away. Helen caught the scent of ammonia, and the room began to fade.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Contessa Helena de San Finzione woke to the smelling salts, and what felt like someone had hit her in the side of her thigh with a sledgehammer.

"AAAAAAHHHHFUCK! ORTEGA!!" She screamed. Capitan Ortega was standing over her.

"Si, Contessa!" He said, standing to attention.

"Tell Ernst..." She hissed through the pain as Maisson applied lidocaine cream to her already-discoloring leg. "Triads have the exits! Ultimados... stand-off in the hallway!"

Ortega nodded and went to radio the pilot and the Ultimados flying with him. Julie came running up from the street.

"I talked to Mr. Harrison." She told Troy. "He was going too slow to make a dent, so he's just going to remember it as almost hitting her, but slamming on the brakes in time. Everything was a little tense there, but nobody pulled guns or tried to drag him out of his car. Big misunderstanding, we're all good now, the Harrisons might stop by the barbecue later."

Helen looked around for her purse, realized it was what her head was on, and sat up, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

"Ernst is bringing backup." She said, as Maisson applied some kind of cream to her leg. "They'll flush them out of the stairwells."

"Helen," Troy said, looking her in the eyes. "I hope this isn't one of those mood-killing questions, however, it has to be asked: How did you wake up with tactical knowledge of a situation that's unfolding right now, about forty miles from here?"

She took a long, thoughtful drag of her cigarette.

"I think, Troilus, that a couple of other conversations need to happen first before we can have this one."

* * *

In my head, Suzy-Q ran down the stairs into the bar. It looked like she was Cliff in this one, mustache included. I stood up and met her at the end of the bar.

"Ok, Suzy-Q, either you tell me what's going on, or if we live through this shit, at my next therapy session, I'm asking about medication. I don't know what that'll do to any of us, but I can't have this..."

She cut me off.

"Susan, I'm sorry. The thing I've been trying to figure out how to explain, it happened again. I still don't quite get it, but I think..." She stepped forward and cupped my face in her/my hands. "I think I know how to explain it now."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

And with that, she kissed me. That special kiss that Troy and I share when we agree too much for words. I couldn't think of what to do but respond, like I always did.

That's when it all came flooding into my mind. Into the head that was inside my head, locking lips with hers/mine: Her/me shooting some freaky monsters in a bizarre TV studio in Helen's mind. Like I'm one to talk about having weird things in your head. Talking about what she's/I'm doing there. So, a qipao is what that dress is called! Raymond Chen was a red herring. Helen met a girl in Africa, she was always a better criminal than Wade. It's not Persephone. Whyte tried to stop Helen from looking into Springheel. So that's why she wanted to make up so badly! She's never put spies on me, weird. She tracked down Chad? I/Suzy-Q makes a valid point; I'm no one to talk, really. And then AFTER! Again, and again in her bed! No wonder I knew where the passage was, how comfortable her bed was, how it felt to hold her when we said goodbye. Oh, Suzy-Q, I get why you didn't think you could tell me. Told her we can't go to hospitals, that's why she asked not to meet me there! Heh, Vulcan Mind Meld, good one. Her sister ran away because Wade was touching her! He killed her mother when she saw he'd started eyeballing Helen the same way. Nice to just hold and be held by her for who knows how long. Wake up, you fucking cunt! Don't die.

And now: Whacking Springheel with the mailbag, how the hell am I going to tell myself about all this? Never mind, here's how you get out of the room. Don't die again. Back here.

The kiss ended.

"Thank you." I told Suzy-Q. She smiled back, mustache curling above her lips.

"Always for you, Susan. Now, go help everyone."

* * *

"Oi," Mander said to me. "You all right, there?"

I was back in the suite. I looked over at the TV. The fight in the hall remained at a standstill. Thankfully, it seems whatever grenades or explosives the Triads had brought had been used on the fire doors. Unless they were saving them to get in this room.

No time to think about that. I walked up to the painting of Vincenzo and took hold of the plaque.

"Forever does he reign in our hearts." I said to the painting as I pulled out the handle and turned. Rita and Velasquez muttered the phrase in response as I heard the noise in the closet.

"This way." I told them, opening the closet door and revealing the fire escape ladder out.

"What if they see the 'andle?" Mander asked, climbing up.

"It all resets when we close it." I told him as I followed and we helped Rita and Velasquez up. "As for how I know that... all I can say is that when I get home, I need to kiss, slap, hug, or punch Helen. Maybe all four."

I closed the hatch and locked the ladder back into place. The sounds of a helicopter and shouted orders could be heard outside.

"Sounds like he's here." I told everyone. We followed Velasquez, wrapped in a bathrobe, and carrying a submachinegun, to the exit.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

So Night Follows Day Pt. 12

"You were still in college, when you had that fool
who really messed your mind.
And after that, you turned your back
on treating people kind.
On our first trip, I tried so hard
to rearrange your mind.
But after a while, I realized
you were disarranging mine."
-The Rolling Stones, "19th Nervous Breakdown"

Mander, Susan, Rita, and Velasquez emerged onto the roof of the Seattle Hotel de San Finzione. Ernst, Contessa Helena de San Finzione's pilot, was waiting in her helicopter for them as four Ultimados jumped out and ran for the fire doors. Breach charges were being placed as the group ran for the helicopter. Once Susan and the others were aboard, Ernst took off in the direction of the San Finzione Consulate, security officer and news helicopters approaching in the distance.

Susan regretted that she wouldn't be able to go along with Sue's plan to help the women protesting below; which was to see if she could use a bullhorn to convince the men surrounding them to go home. She'd heard that Helen had once used a microphone and sound system to command a ballroom full of people, and didn't know if she'd be able to do it herself, but figured that it would've been worth trying.

As they flew away from the scene, where the Ultimados were entering the stairwells to blindside the Triad hit teams that had been sent after Rita, thinking that she was Helen and had ordered an attack on them; Susan thought that now she wouldn't want to push anything in that department, since she'd just discovered some new, weird thing about herself. Weirder than the facts that she could control minds and frequently had conversations and meetings with other personalities in her head.

Susan had discovered that one of those personalities, Suzy-Q, had somehow been able to make contact with Helen's mind and get the information that Susan needed to get out of the panic room that they'd been locked inside a few minutes before. She'd also learned that Suzy-Q had done this once before, when Helen was in surgery and her life was in danger. And now, after Suzy-Q's kiss, she was remembering all of the other Her's experiences in Helen's mind as the building that housed the consulate grew closer.

"Oi," Mander asked her, after a long silence. "You all right?"

"Hmm?" Susan hmmed. "Oh, yeah. I worked an all-night diner in Tacoma for eleven years. Got robbed all the time. If Triads had gotten close enough, it wouldn't have been the first time I've almost been shot."

"They were never going to get close enough." Velasquez said, matter-of-factly.

"I believe you, Marisol." Susan replied. "And by the way, that thing you did in the elevator was so awesome, gnarly, and radical; that only words from the '80s can describe it!"

"Gracias. As was your thinking in the room. You were very helpful today, Susan."

"Thanks." Susan replied, a bit distantly, thinking. "I get that a lot." She shook her head, as if clearing the thought. "I'm sorry, I was distracted." Susan turned to Rita. "Are you ok, Rita?"

"Si," Rita returned. "I accepted this as part of the job, but then, it happens... I will be fine."

Susan was able to study her face now and see the differences between them without the makeup. Rita had longer hair, of a light-brown shade, close to Susan's own; under the short, black wig with curled bangs that she wore when playing Helen. Rita had darker brown eyes, too; without the contacts. Her nose had a different curve than Helen's with the latex removed, and Rita's natural skintone was more olive than the makeup that she wore to get Helen's "always slightly pale from growing up in Alaska" face.

"It's Helen, so I know I don't have to say that she'd better be fucking paying you well."

"Oh, si." Rita replied. "It is why I carry the wig and makeup with me. La Contessa makes it worth the risk."

"Yeah, she's got ways of doing that." Susan said, as Ernst approached the helipad.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Back at the Equals house, Contessa Helena de San Finzione and Julie Equals sat in front of the living room television, watching news of the attack on the hotel, smoke pouring out of the fire exits on the roof, and sounds of gunfire coming from within. Troy Equals came from the kitchen with a tray bearing cups of hot cocoa and a topical skin patch. A moist towelette and a dry washcloth were also on the tray. Helen smoked, and Julie fought the urge to reach over and grab one.

He set the tray on the coffee table between the two ladies, taking a seat on Helen's left side. Troy then pulled up her skirt, opened the towelette, and started rubbing the large, purpling patch of skin on the outside of her thigh to remove the Lidocaine cream that Maisson had applied. Helen winced as she picked up her cocoa, watching smoke coming from the roof of the building she owned, where innocents and people she cared for personally were in danger.

"Sorry." Troy said. "Alcohol." He dried off the bruised area and peeled the plastic off of the dermal patch. "Reminded Dr. Tenente Maisson that because of your history with cocaine, you're probably Lidocaine/Novocain Resistant. He recommended a Diclofenac patch; a little stronger, still non-narcotic."

"Am I fuckin' Harry Potter here, Troilus? Does everything have to be about my past and do my plots rely heavily on other people not knowing Latin?"

"Drink your cocoa, Petalouda." Troy told her, recognizing Helen attempting to play off how worried she was about everyone downtown. "Tried to make it the way you like it."

Helen picked up the cup and sipped. It was wonderful. The right recipe, the right ingredients, the correct temperature, the technique handed down to Troy from The Master; he'd even made it for her unrequested when they came back to the house, and brought it to her, so it had been made with just as much love as the Original. He saw her smile stop short of the point that the drink used to bring to her face when the man who'd first made it for her had been alive to do so. Troy understood why, and accepted it.

Since his parents and Propappou had died, there had been certain foods that Troy occasionally missed, but couldn't bring himself to order in restaurants, attempt at home, or ask Julie if she would make for him; because no one would ever get them right again. Someone could certainly make pancakes with Bisquick and cook up homemade syrup from one of the various flavored extracts in the pantry; coconut being a particular favorite, right there on the stove alongside the pancakes. Someone could top the stack with a perfect fried egg, the yolk unbroken so he can dip his pancake bites that always absorbed the syrup in just the right way into it, and fry up a couple of strips of bacon perfect for dunking in the syrup, but it would never be his mother's. Just like the cocoa he'd made for her was wonderful, and tasted just like Propappou's, but would never entirely be right, because there was no more "right."

On TV, the news continued re-phrasing the few pieces of information they had on the incident: That shots had been fired and sounds of explosions had come from the upper floors of the Seattle Hotel de San Finzione, that there was speculation that it may have something to do with an attack on a Chinese delegation a couple of hours earlier, that Contessa Helena de San Finzione was supposedly staying in the penthouse while attending STRANGERS, and that there was no word on her condition, but a helicopter had been seen from a distance leaving the hotel in the direction of the building that housed San Finzione's Seattle Consulate. The only thing the ambassador told the press was that the Consulate was closed for the rest of the day, and no further comment would be given at this time.

"I have to make an appearance now." Helen said as her phone rang with the ambassador's tone and she looked in her purse for it. "Everyone's going to be asking where I am. Twenty bucks and a loose-lipped janitor will tell the press that I'm not at the Consulate, and then they'll start wondering where or who I might hole up with in Seattle. FUCK!" Helen set down the cocoa and dug with both hands in the purse until she produced the phone. "I might actually have to GO to STRANGERS now!"

"After all this," Julie said. "I'd think they'd cancel it."

Helen stood up to answer the call. Her left leg buckled a little as she stood, but she recovered. She grabbed her cigarettes and headed for the back porch as Troy sat closer to his wife.

"They won't." He told her. "All that money and power for the city and state to risk pissing off? They'll declare martial law and gas people out of their homes like last time before asking the delegates 'Hey, would you mind keeping the shooting down a bit?'"

Helen came back in from the porch and her call, still smoking, trying to walk off the pain in her leg.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Everyone made it to the consulate safely." She told her oldest friends. "They're shutting down the airport, so it looks like Susan, Velasquez, and Mander will be bringing Rita back here in a cab, instead of a consular car, since I can't send her home. You're right that this is the safest place for her. We'll send someone for the other car. I'd been planning to hand all the titles over to you when we left, anyway, Troy. I figured you'd know some good local groups to donate them to."

Troy nodded.

"I can think of a few. But please, put them in some long-term parking until I sort it out. Having them take up both sides of our street seems to be dangerous."

Helen stuck her tongue out at him as she grabbed her cocoa and took a seat on his other side, since he'd taken hers to sit with Julie.

"How are you doing with the team upstairs?" Helen asked, referring to her Ministry of Intelligence's team of hackers that she'd put Troy in charge of earlier, and whom he'd been working with via Skype on his library computer when Julie's question earlier brought him out to talk to them.

"We've got one dirty transaction to work with: His payment to Morgan's widow. We're not going to touch it or risk her losing it; and it's a damn short trail, however, it's something to start from. Not a Rosetta Stone, more like I've learned one letter of his alphabet. I had them checking into vice funds when I left." Julie looked confused, so Troy continued. "The kind of investments that I don't touch, hon: Arms, drugs, prostitution; in the places where they're legal. Plenty of money to be made if you don't give a fuck about having to live on this planet with other human beings. He also said he'd acquired a couple of your works recently." He turned back to Helen. "Her last showing was right before all this happened, but since we presume he was telling the truth about not knowing who we were until we came to see you, it would've had to be a private sale aftwerwards."

"I didn't see him in Spokane." Julie said. "I can see if he signed the guestbook, and you've got all the receipts for all the sales, Master."

"He wasn't there," Helen commented. "If he had been, someone would have introduced you. An old technology billionaire doesn't go to an art showing to NOT get photos of himself with the beautiful, talented young artist. Fuck, I've probably been to parties with this prick! Or at least, Rita has."

"No!" Julie sat up as the thought hit her. "It would've been you. I'm sure he was another handshake and that phony 'delighted to meet you' smile you use on talk shows to you. But if he saw you Do What We Do and effortlessly seduce someone completely unattainable; or if it was one of your 'working parties,' and he overheard you negotiate some impossible business deal over the course of a dance, maybe he starts thinking about those 'silly rumors about you.'"

"He likes to profit from misery." Troy closed his eyes and thought. "But what's the point of fucking the world over if you can't rub it's nose in it?"

"True." Helen agreed. "But there's so many ways to do that... hell, he could just provide the phones and still claim to be 'profiting,' but that's not the kind of 'vast criminal empire' to 'need protecting' with something like Springheel; much less kill me over it, or risk The Elders' wrath."

"Come to think of it, yeah." Julie said, finishing her cocoa, and taking Troy's empty cup to the kitchen with hers; raising her voice as she went, to continue the conversation. "I mean, I know my fears are weird and all."

Troy opened his eyes. Helen looked directly at him before answering.

"Losing your husband? Losing TROY? Not a weird fear at all, Sunflower. Completely relatable."

Troy looked away, remembering the conversation he'd overheard earlier about her wanting him to be the father of her child. One of several important subjects of conversation that needed to stay on hold until Whyte could be dealt with.

"Stop making him blush in there!" Julie shouted from the kitchen over the faucet as she rinsed out the cups. "But, yeah, you know what sounds to me like a perfectly good fear to have?" She returned from the kitchen. "Pissing off a bunch of guys that Contessa Helena de San Finzione calls 'The Elders,' and whom she respects enough that she hasn't said anything particularly insulting about them since they first came up."

Troy took in his wife's words.

"You have to respect someone to fear them. Whyte doesn't respect People, Mistress; he respects Money. You two heard him talking about Trans-Universal. Did no one else get a 'gay come-on' vibe? For everyone's jokes about money turning me on, I could practically feel the creep undressing me with his eyes over the phone while he talked about it. Everything was about me being a multi-millionaire, you being a trillionaire; he's shooting for quadrillion. If he looked into my money, he certainly looked into Julie's, too. Her 'on paper' worth didn't even merit a mention. I'm sure he's nowhere near you, though. If he had La Familia de San Finzione money, he wouldn't have passed up the opportunity to brag."

Julie's phone rang. She recognized the tone.

"Oh, damn, Denise! I should've called her first!"

Denise Cole was a young friend of theirs, still in high college, whom Julie had met one day when she and Troy were walking around Wright Park in Tacoma. Julie had helped Denise with some personal issues, learned that the girl had an interest in art, and started mentoring her. After prank-calling Helen, Julie learned that Her First Girlfriend had been someone whom Denise admired before knowing of their relationship.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Helen's issuing Denise a Royal Commendation for taking care of the Equals household's plants and mail while they were in San Finzione had caused her admiration to blossom into hero worship. Julie should have known that as soon as she'd heard the news that Helen was in danger, Denise would call her. She answered the phone.

"Hey, Denise." She said, getting up to leave the room. "Yeah, she's ok. No, she wasn't even there. Look, it's a long story..."

Troy and Helen looked at each other. Their train of thought had been interrupted, and the moment had become silent once Julie left. Helen eventually broke it.

"So, did you hear everything Julie and I were talking about?"

"Only the louder parts." Troy replied. "I was already coming down the hall when Julie said that last thing."

"You know I wouldn't ask this on an impulse, Troy. Any more than I would expect you to answer on one. Yes, it's a recent idea; since my brush with death, so I do factor in that I might just be wrestling with fears of mortality here."

"That's not how you work, Helen. The fact that it's to the point of us talking about it, means that you've taken time out and given it serious thought. You've certainly discussed it with Maria."

Helen chuckled and replied with a smile.

"She volunteered to propose to Stavro and start getting on it the next morning. I told her no." Helen chuckled again. "All-Powerful Athiesmo, I actually forbade my great-granddaughter, the fucking PRINCESS, from marrying the man she loves! I mean, I don't remember if I used the words 'I forbid it,' but shit; time to start having intense conversations with my mirror and offering her apples!"

They laughed at that for a bit before Troy replied.

"Ok, so that's Maria's take. Julie made hers fairly clear; yours is obvious. The only reasons I can think of not to right now are that it is, indeed, a matter worthy of serious contemplation; the fact that it's a decision that affects our whole family, which includes Susan, therefore, she deserves a say; and the fact that I overheard you telling Julie that your time was last week." Troy thought for a moment. "Sorry, I can't think of a non-gross and/or weird way to ask you to keep me posted there."

Helen thought about that, too.

"I could have Maisson text you."

"Maybe having it come from your doctor might take the edge off, sure. There's still the question I asked you on the lawn, too."

"Yes, there is." Helen nodded. "That, too, is something that should wait until I can talk to Susan. I hope she's not too tired, seems a lot of people need to talk to her."

* * *

Julie was still on the phone with Denise when the cab pulled up. Mander paid while everyone else got out. Susan ran toward her front door as Velasquez led Rita into the Green house.

Troy came to the door. Susan almost didn't register it in time and would have stumbled into Troy if he hadn't noticed she wasn't slowing down and got out of her way.

"Sorry, Troy!" Susan said, coming to a stop when she saw she'd nearly plowed into him. "I just... Helen's ok?"

"Yeah," Troy said, slightly confused, as if trying to figure out how Susan would have known Helen had been in danger. "She's in the living room."

Susan ran into the room. Troy followed. She'd stopped in front of Helen, who'd stood to face her.

"So, are you all right?" Susan asked.

"Yeah." Helen responded. "But damn, what about YOU, Susan?" Julie walked in from the office hall and stood at the top of the railing. "It's Susan, right?"

Susan got a look on her face that said that she was reading volumes into Helen's simple two-word question; a look that mirrored Julie's earlier question of "How would you think to even ask that question." It was replaced a moment later by a look that said "Oh, right. My deepest secret revealed itself to you without my permission, so of course you'd know."

"Yeah. Yeah, it's Susan. It's so much to take in... I don't even know how to feel about it. I know it's not something you did; I'm pretty sure it's not something I did." She looked over at Troy and Julie. "I know they never told you about them, and you didn't know Suzy-Q existed until she came to you. Hell, I can see that Julie's confused about why I'd even tell you about Suzy-Q to begin with, just like Troy's been confused about how I knew you'd been in trouble."

"That IS something that confuses me, Susan." Troy replied. "But it's not the biggest thing. Of the many things confusing me right now, the big one would be what's confusing Julie right now."

Susan looked up at Julie. "Why are you so confused, Julie?" Julie seemed to be processing the question. Helen's eyes lit up half-a-second before Troy answered Susan.

"She's confused for the same reason that I see Helen has just caught on to. Because Julie knows French, but not Italian, so she hasn't fully understood what any of us have been saying since you came home. Helen has been replying to you in Italian, and so have I, because you've been speaking Italian since you walked in the door, Susan."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

So Night Follows Day Pt. 13

By T. MaskedWriter with Special Guest Author Susan Bailey

*****

"At the tender age of three, I was hooked to a machine,
just to keep my mouth from spouting junk. Ha!
Musta took me for a fool, cause they chucked me out of college,
cause the teacher knew I had the funk.
But tonight, I'm on the edge, better shut me in the fridge,
cause I'm burning up! YOW! I'm burning up.
With the vision in my brain, and the music in my veins,
and the dirty rhythm in my blood!"
-Thomas Dolby, "Hyperactive"
Ciao, Il mio nome è Susan. Sorry, let me try that again.

Hi, my name's Susan. There, that's better. Helen was confused about that a moment ago; everyone was. Now I guess I understand why. Apparently, I speak Italian now.

I'd been learning the language since we got back from San Finzione. Since I'm a citizen, I figure I'll be going back and forth once in a while. We've committed to going back twice in the next couple months, so I figured I'd get started after we recovered from the first trip.

My first Italian lesson had involved learning whether a pair of shoes was mine or not, whether they were red or not, how much they cost, and if they were on sale. After a week, I felt confident that If any questions about the ownership and/or price of a pair of red shoes ever came up, I would know exactly what to do!

Now, after the thing that Suzy-Q did, I can tell you that those shoes are cheap knockoffs of last year's model, that I can get the real thing for only five Euros more than his piece-of-shit hack counterfeiting job with the red paint that's already started to peel; at a store on the other side of the marketplace, and that it's not my fault that he was a bastard and that his mother was too busy gangbanging the local Calcio Team to teach him how to pull off a decent fucking penny-ante scam like this one!

Sorry. Did I mention that Helen's who I learned Italian from? Well, not really learned. It's complicated, and everyone, including me, just found out about it. We'd all been silent for what felt like a week since Troy pointed it out. I broke the silence.

"Ok." I said, trying to make a conscious effort to speak English for the first time I could remember. "Please tell me that I'm speaking English now, and my brain's Default didn't just switch to Italian."

"Yes, you are." Julie said as she came running down the stairs to me. She held up my head and looked into my eyes, then lifted my arms up and released them. "Say something else, please, but..." She turned to Troy. "Go get Dr. Tenente Maisson, Master." Troy nodded. Julie turned back. "Ok, hon, say a long sentence, please."

"Julie Equals is checking me for signs of Face drooping, Arm weakness, and Speech difficulties; the FAST test, which leads me to the conclusion that she is worried that I might be having a stroke; however, given that if there were any cause for concern, I would be able to read it on My Girlfriend's face by now, we need not worry about the Time aspect."

Julie smiled and stopped trying to examine me.

"Ok, good. Just, you know, there's stories about people having strokes or going into comas and waking up speaking languages they didn't know before."

"This wasn't like that Julie." I told her. "Helen's the one who's been unconscious both times this has happened, not me. At least I get it now; when she said Rita's show is 'Only funny if you know Italian,' she was telling us the name of the show: 'It's Only Funny If You Know Italian!'"

"Yeah," Helen chimed in. "It's something that we all need to talk about together. Speaking of which, Julie, I know you and Troy respect the military and ranks and so on, however, they're gonna be your neighbors for the week. Maisson's name is Paul. He's all right. First names will be a step toward undercover practice for them, and fuck do they need that. Like, I'm adding a whole day to the course about not using their native forms of address when posing as fucking Americans."

"And give them some accent training, Helena." Julie added. "With everything you know about languages, that just reflects poorly on you."

I'd been too distracted by everything else before this point to notice the smoke smell when I came in and just then registered that Helen was smoking in the house. It was probably because I wasn't used to seeing her without a cigarette in general that made me think of it. I must've gotten some look on my face about it, because Julie spoke up next.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Troy said she could smoke in here. It's just a week, we'll air the place out. Better than everyone going to the back porch every time she needs to think."

I shook my head.

"Ok, yeah. Bigger problems, more important stuff. Helen, when's your meeting with the Elders?"

Helen looked out the window and noticed that the sun had gone down outside. She boggled at it, then checked the time on her phone.

"Three hours. Damn, it gets dark quick here."

"Susan," Julie said, turning back to her. "Honey, I couldn't make out all the words everyone was saying back there, but I heard a name you don't use in front of people, and from what else I got, this was the second time today that Helen's asked if you're... well, really you. You know we'd never..."

I put my hands on Julie's shoulders and didn't make her finish saying it.

"I know you wouldn't, Julie. Helen knows about them. As for how she knows, that's the part everyone's trying to figure out. But it goes back to when she got stabbed, and all four of us should be here for this." I heard the front door open. Behind her, Troy walked in, followed by Maisson with his doctor's bag. "And, well, having a medical opinion in the conversation might not be a bad idea, either."

* * *

Helen and I sat on one of the couches, Troy, Julie, and Paul sat on another. Mander rejoined us when Helen didn't come back to the Green house after a while and leaned against the wall. I figured he might as well be in on it, too. Helen agreed, pointing out that it might affect his job.

We told them the story from both sides as best we could. That Helen was having some kind of strange near-death experience that was about to turn ugly when Suzy-Q showed up out of nowhere.

"She doesn't know how it happened yet, either." I told them. "One moment, she was with us on the plane, the next, she was there. Her idea is that it has to do with having been needed badly enough."

"I can see that." Helen commented. "I mean, when I got ready to fight those things, there was a look in their eyes, like they'd been hoping all along that I'd get sick of it and throw the first punch. And then this last time..."

I could tell she didn't want to talk about the Springheel part; we'd skipped the sex stuff earlier, too. That was something we needed to discuss alone. I picked it up from there.

"This last time, I needed her, too. I mean, I figured out myself that she must have some kind of secret exit, but I'd checked the painting already and missed the nameplate thing. As for how I suddenly know Italian," I turned to Helen. "You said that while Suzy-Q was in your head, she had 'some kind of guest-level access to your thoughts.' Well, since the first time, I've been wanting to learn Italian. Maybe Suzy-Q found it in there,' and brought it back."

"If you are able to obtain information from La Contessa's mind without her awareness," Maisson interjected. "Then this means that you are a threat to San Finzione's national security."

"Oh, yeah?" Helen asked. She turned back to me and waved her hands, wiggling her fingers at me. "Wibbly-wobbly-woo, I grant you Top Secret Clearance. This, I do decree as Contessa, yadd-yadda, so let it be written, so let it be done; Franco goes in where the others have been." She turned back to Maisson. "We good now?" He nodded. She turned back to me. "There's actually a little more to it; they'll print out a form across the street, I'll go over and sign it, but that'll do for now."

Helen turned back to Troy before continuing.

"And Susan had been watching the scene in the hallway on the security monitor, so Suzy-Q told me what was going on." Helen turned to Troy. "That's how I knew to hit the stairwells, Troy. And how they were 1able to make the rest of the Triads flee without any losses on our side."

"You let them go?" Troy asked her.

"Yes." Helen lit a cigarette. It still bugged me, but a little less now. "And now Word on the Street is 'Don't try it, she brought her whole fucking army with her.' So, by the time anyone works up the balls to take another shot at me, the Elders' order will have definitely reached the locals."

Troy nodded.

"We didn't look into psychic stuff, Master." Julie stepped in. "We wanted to know how mind control worked, we found what we were looking for, so we stopped. A lot of the books we read talked about stuff besides mind control, too."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"We did have a lot of lines to read between to find it, Mistress. I tried to keep us from going off on tangents. But there were lots of references to the Collective Subconscious, astral projection, and so on. Helen's been unconscious both times this has happened, and some have said that Dreams may be a dimension or spirit realm, existing alongside our own, that we can only access through sleep. Lovecraft, and his inspiration, Lord Dunsany, come to mind immediately."

"And, of course," Maisson cut in. "I'm certain that because of this thing that you are all able to do, your brains function differently than the norm. Oh, this 'we only use ten percent' crap the movies tell you is bullshit, we would all be dead if it were true. However, I have no doubt that a CAT scan or a few hours of monitoring La Contessa's, or indeed, any of your neural activity, would prove of interest to science."

I looked over at him and tapped the side of my head.

"Well, if you're going to specialize in Neurology, I'm your Nobel Prize right here, Paul. Multiple personalities, mind control, whatever this thing between me and Helen is."

"Yeah." Troy said, turning to him. "We kind of work to avoid going to labs, taking tests, telling lots of people; that sort of thing."

Maisson nodded, sensing that no one was going to volunteer for experiments, and turned back to me.

"I am not trained in Psychiatry, Mademoiselle Bailey, however, from what I've read of Multiple Personality Disorder, you do not exhibit many signs. For one, you are aware of the other women in your head. You converse with them, yes? And you do not have memory gaps or lost time when one of the other personalities takes over? You remember all that she does?"

"It's not quite like that." I tried to explain. "More like, I'm still me, but I'm sitting back and letting my friend handle something that's too stressful for me to deal with. When I came up and pounded on the Greens' door, and demanded they tell me what was going on with Helen, I FELT like Sue, and she was in control; but I knew I could have taken over again at any time, and Sue wouldn't have stopped me. She gave it back when she was done yelling at them."

"And you say that their advice tends to be helpful, or at least in your best interests. Cases of Dissociative Identity or Multiple Personality Disorder tend to exhibit self-hatred, or seek out self-harm. You have no history of self-injury, or excessive use of drugs or alcohol. In fact, as a medical professional, but not a psychiatric one; the loss of your parents and your history of abuse are all that would suggest mental trauma to me. You do not speak of yourself in the third-person?"

"Not anymore, no." I told him. "When I first met Troy & Julie, I did sometimes."

"But once free of this brute, that, too, went away. So, perhaps these other women, they are not personalities, but how he saw you and made you see yourself."

Julie took that in and turned to me.

"The only three ways a guy like Chad perceives women."

"Bitch, whore, and slave." Helen finished for her. "I regret not meeting him even more now."

The thought came to me that if we'd been having this discussion as recently as six months before, I probably would have run crying from the room by now. Some of the things we'd discussed had come up in therapy; however, I didn't talk about the other Mes to many people outside the doctor's office. Troy & Julie knew, so did Claire and Rachel. Now that I was remembering Helen and Suzy-Q's conversation, I understood why she hadn't said anything until now. If I'd found out she knew any other way, I would have assumed she'd either done The Thing and made my therapist tell her everything or had her spies steal my file from him.

It was also the largest group that I'd ever spoken with at length about the other women. It helped that I'd seen more than half the room naked. (Wait, I didn't see Helen naked, Suzy-Q did. Suzy-Q's the one who knows how amazing she is in bed, how she tastes, the noises she makes... Yeah, Suzy-Q's the one who knows all that stuff.)

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"I'd be offended if that wasn't so accurate." I said. "Suzy-Q no longer fulfils the slave role, though. She's sort of a 'free agent' in here." I turned to Troy. "I remember the morning after the three of us and Claire were together for the first time, our talk in the park. I'd started out trying to compartmentalize my life, like you said. Chad made me depend on it, until the women I retreated into became real. With the hypnosis stuff I've done with you and Julie, and the progress I've made in therapy, we all get along in there now. I've accepted that they're part of me, and they've shown me that they're not out to hurt anyone, and do have my best interests at heart. Well, Sue wants to kick some ass sometimes, but even that's in the course of, like, asserting ourselves."

"Oui." Maisson said. "You say 'asserting ourselves.' They are part of you, and they are separate from you. I would not so much call them 'other personalities,' then. Closer to 'imaginary friends who have taken on lives of their own.' You were an orphan, oui? A Ward of the State. I would think that real friendships were difficult to come by and did not last long?"

"No, they didn't." I agreed. "The ones I'd kept contact with through all the group homes and foster families; Chad eventually drove away. I wasn't allowed to make friends. Any man I tried to be friends with was someone I was 'fucking behind his back,' and any woman was 'poisoning me against him.'"

Maisson nodded.

"With your permission, I should be interested in consulting with your therapist some time. As for my own personal observations; it seems to me that you created your friends to deal with the most difficult aspects of your life. I know that the thing the four of you can do is real, so I am willing to accept that there may be other things that I do not understand. I did not mean to condescend when I used the word 'imaginary.' You are, without a doubt, an imaginative person, Madamoiselle Bailey. You are well-known amongst La Squadra de Ultimados for your assistance with La Policia's investigation and your quick thinking today at the hotel today was being talked about when I left. You are, as is said of you often, 'here to help.' These friends of yours, I think, they are here to help you. Whatever they might be, I do not think it is a bad thing."

Everyone agreed with that. Helen spoke next.

"I'm glad we all agree that Susan's not insane or possessed." She said with a smile, patting my hand. Couldn't help smiling back at that. "Now, where are we on the 'is Susan psychic' question?" Helen frowned for a second. "Sorry if that came out rude. Just that after this, Mander and I need to go try to prevent my country from breaking out into a mob war. And we woke up at four this morning to begin the caravan trip up from Portland." Helen had another thought. "Damn, it just now hit me that we can get Rita on a flight home from Portland. Paul, when we're done, can you tell Gregorio to find out who our best driver is and put her in the fastest car to Portland?"

Troy stood up and looked at her, then to Maisson.

"Maybe, instead of the fastest car, use the safest, most inconspicuous one. And maybe take one or two more Ultimados on the trip. I think I saw a station wagon out there. Another good 'nobody'll look for Helen in that' car." He turned back to Helen. "And it sounds like coffee time here. Back in a bit."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

When Troy left, Mander came over to the couches and spoke to Helen.

"Might not be a bad idea havin' someone round who looks like Your Countessness. We don't know what other shenanigans Whyte's got planned."

Helen turned to him.

"Whyte's seen Rita's show, he knows who she is. I already blew my 'being in two places at once' thing this afternoon, and Rita signed up for parties: champagne, caviar, the occasional quick one with Justin Trudeau on Malcolm Turnbull's bed; not risking her life in some convoluted quintuple-bluff scheme to lure Whyte into the open." She leaned over to me. "Oh yeah, Justin can tell us apart, too." She turned back to Mander. "Still, good call on waiting until the guy who would've absolutely said no left the room to mention it."

Troy returned.

"Coffee's going. I miss anything?" He asked.

"Only why Canada and San Finzione have so many mutually-favorable trade deals." I told him. I turned to Mander. "There's something I can do to help with the tiredness, if you trust me."

Mander looked at Helen.

"Do you trust her?"

Helen looked at me.

"Yes." She said.

"Then I'm being paid enough to trust ya, too." He answered. Troy went back across the room to sit with Julie as I stood and offered Mander my spot. He took the seat, and I looked him in the eyes.

"When I tell you," I commanded him. "You're going to take a five-second nap, then wake up feeling like you've had a full-night's rest. Now!"

He was still wearing the sunglasses, but I saw his eyes close behind them. A few seconds later, they opened, and he looked at his watch.

"Fuckin' amazing, that is!"

"Yeah, it is." I told him. "But you should have that coffee anyway, and still be careful. I can give your mind a quick rest like that, but your body's still going on whatever it's got since you last slept. It's not something to keep doing, and if you push it, there'll be a hard, sudden crash when physical exhaustion catches up with you."

"Yeah, we found that one out the hard way." Julie said, smiling and patting Troy's knee.

"That's... REALLY good, Susan!" Helen said, sounding sincere with the impressed-ness. "The special training that I give the Ultimados requires conditioning and reinforcement, but that's a pretty good start."

Mander stood up and offered my seat back. I sat down.

"Thanks. And I have to say, Mander, you seem to be taking all of this very well. I know you've got to keep the 'always on duty, ma'am' thing going, but you were there today. You've got a voice in this, too."

"Well," Mander said as Troy offered him another chair, where he could see Helen and the doors. "It would not be the first time that knowing 'Er Countessness has caused me to question everythin' I believe. I know that there's four people in the world who can control minds; one of whom hears voices that have names and personalities; but she's not crazy and might, in fact, have some psychic connection to 'Er Countessness. Luckily, all of 'em seem to be decent people. Or, they could be complete prats who're just makin' me think they're geezers, but if they were doin' that, I'm sure I wouldn't even consider it."

We all had a laugh at that, because he had a point. Not a big one, though, because, you know, he had a point.

"I should see how they're doing up there." Troy said, looking up the stairs, at the hall to the library and Julie's studio. "I was pretty sure it wasn't going to be like the movies, and they'd instantly produce some 'DamningEvidence.proof' file, but I really have no idea how long hacking takes."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Julie heard the coffee pot finishing and went to the kitchen to get it.

There was a moment of silence before Helen leaned over to me again.

"Wanna see something that's cute, sweet, and disgusting all at once?"

"Um, ok."

Helen raised her voice.

"Hey, Troy, Julie; why do you always sleep in that same position?"

"Because it makes the world make sense!" They replied simultaneously, from opposite ends of the house.

"That was everything you promised." I replied.

"If I did the whole 'bucket list' thing," Helen said, lighting another cigarette. (I hadn't even noticed the last one had gone out. To be fair, though, it's not like I tell you about every drag she takes.) "An item that would be up at the top is 'actually vomit on those two, rather than just thinking about it.'"

That got a giggle from me.

"Have they always done the donut thing, too?" I asked her, referring to Troy & Julie's habit of dunking their donuts in their coffee, taking a bite, then trading donuts.

"They still do that?" Helen asked. "And it's a chocolate-covered old-fashioned and a blueberry cake donut every time, isn't it?" I nodded. "Yeah, see, the blueberry's Troy's favorite, and the old-fashioned is Julie's. But they both like the other, and neither wants to seem like a pig and have two donuts all to themselves, so they trade off like that. Always have! One of their many endearing 'ok, so you CLAIM you two have never fucked and aren't into each other that way, but you do stuff like that without even thinking all the time' rituals."

"Well," Julie said, returning with coffee for everyone on a tray. "It's the way we've always done it. Also, fuck you, Helena; we CAN hear you in here from the kitchen. Troy was just being nice before." She set it down and changed the subject. "There's still one person who's got a part in the discussion that we haven't heard from." She set the tray on the coffee table and sat next to me. "What does Suzy-Q have to say about all this?"

That gave me pause. The other women in my head had been here, paying attention the whole time; however, they weren't used to being discussed openly like this, and had been quiet for most of it. I'd never tried to just bring one of them out to speak for herself before.

"That's... a pretty good idea, Julie. I guess I'd have to go take it up with her." I took a sip of my coffee, then set it down. "Sorry, this is something that's happened in front of others, but usually when I'm getting overwhelmed. I've never done this deliberately, like, 'for' people before."

"If you'd like some privacy, Sweetie..." Julie started to say before I interrupted.

"No, hon, that's ok. All the shit with Whyte aside, this seems to be a day for getting things out in the open. I haven't timed it before, but usually, only a few seconds pass in the real world. I'll be right back."

I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes.

* * *

Suzy-Q opened my eyes.

I was still there, on the couch, in the living room, but there was a feeling of distance; like I was running some kind of shop, and I'd gone into the back to look for something while Suzy-Q talked to the customers. I could see and hear everything going on out front. Sue and Suzy-Ho were back here with me. They were too interested to say anything, either.

"Hi," She said with my voice. "I'm Suzy-Q. Nice to see you again, Helen. Been a while, Julie."

"Hey, Suzy-Q." Julie replied. "I admit, I'm more used to talking to Suzy-Ho than you or Sue."

"She usually has a lot more to say to you and Troy." Suzy-Q admitted. "And I've been shy until recently. But, we pay attention; because we all look out for Susan. You want to talk about how I'm able to get into Helen's head. The truth is that I'm not certain either. Now that it's happened a second time, I can tell you that I felt... not a pull, more like a tug. A sense that she needed help. And then I was there; in the TV studio the first time, and in the dining hall at the castle the second."

"You and Susan both needed it this time." Julie added. "They wouldn't have found the escape hatch without her coming to you."

"That's true." Helen thought. "If we can figure out how to do this consciously, even if it's just a thing Susan and I have, that'd be really useful."

"Hey!" Suzy-Q said. "You know what else has been the same both times? Helen, you were hit by a car, right? In front of Troy & Julie?" She nodded. "So, it wasn't just Susan concerned about you; Troy and Julie were worried for you, too. Susan thought something might've happened here at first, when the phone cut out. And I didn't come to you last time, until she was with them, and they knew you were in danger, too. I'm not saying it's some kind of 'Power of Love' thing, but the four of you ARE connected; and your minds share a powerful secret that nobody else, that we're aware of, knows but you."

She laughed my laugh before continuing.

"You know, thinking about it, Susan created us in her subconscious... we're a bit less 'sub' than normal, except Suzy-Ho, of course. But hasn't the subconscious been your guys' playground all your lives? Susan already had friends here when you invited her in. And apart from the age gap, we're definitely something that wasn't there when you and Troy learned it, Julie. Or when they taught it to you, Helen. I was reluctant to learn, for personal reasons, but we were there when you and Troy were helping Susan along with parts. And "going on tangents," as Troy put it, IS most of our job. We don't go snooping, but some of it's probably kicking around Susan's subconscious. It could've 'crossed some wires' and sent me to Helen. I'll look into it, if it's ok with Susan." I gave my approval. "She says yes."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Ok, get a message to us if you find anything out, Suzy-Q." Julie said. "Now, if you don't mind bringing Susan back; as always, it's nice to talk to one of you ladies, but at the same time, none of us can really help the fact that it also gets creepy quick."

"We all get that." She hesitated. "Wait, that was creepy too, wasn't it? Sorry. Susan's coming back." She turned to Helen. "See ya in your dreams."

She closed my eyes.

* * *

I opened them.

Everyone stepped forward to see if I needed any help.

"I'm fine." I told them. "It doesn't hurt or make me dizzy. It feels more like I was laying all the way back in a recliner, and everything was going on 'over there.'" I gestured toward the middle distance. "Then I pulled the lever and sat back up, and here it all is."

"So, what now?" Julie asked.

"I... guess Suzy-Q's going to poke around in my subconscious and see if I learned something else while studying What We All Do. I don't know what, if anything, I could do to help her with that. Go to sleep, maybe? I don't know if I could at this point."

"That's not a bad idea, Susan. Or at least, a trance state might be helpful. Julie can do something about that." Helen said, standing up. Julie nodded affirmatively. "I've got a meeting to get ready for."

"The Subconscious IS my playground, you know." Julie said, taking my hand with a smile and leading me up to my room.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

So Night Follows Day Pt. 14

"I'm very well-acquainted with the seven deadly sins.
I keep a busy schedule trying to fit them in..
I'm proud to be a glutton, and I don't have time for sloth..
I'm greedy, and I'm angry, and I don't care who I cross..
I'm Mr. Bad Example, intruder in the dirt..
I like to have a good time and I don't care who gets hurt..
I'm Mr. Bad Example, take a look at me..
I'll live to be one hundred and go down in infamy.".
-Warren Zevon, "Mr. Bad Example"



Detective Inspector Luc Tomas Allaine left his office and hopped on his bicycle. He pointed it toward Bertholdi Fountain and turned the headlamp on, despite the well-lit streets around Interpol HQ at this hour of the morning, and the reflective orange bicycle helmet that Sam insisted he wear when riding. It was that golden hour before the Sun began to make its appearance, when there were more "people" on the streets than there were "motorists," and not many at that. A time to clear one's head with a ride, stare at the fountain, and have a think.

His train of thought on his old friend's matter had been derailed when the second attack took place, the one at La Contessa's Seattle hotel. A call back to Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez confirmed that it had been a Triad attack, and that La Contessa and her guards were unharmed. The Seattle Consulate was still fighting with the local security officer over releasing the security camera footage to them; overtly because the attack had taken place on a property owned by La Familia Royale de San Finzione, which made the hotel's status as "San Finzione territory" open to debate. If it were the case, by San Finzione law, "a direct crime against La Contessa herself" fell under La Squadra de Ultimados' jurisdiction until representatives from La Policia could be flown to Seattle to take charge of the scene. The Consul seemed willing to fight to the death over this technicality.

Luc figured out the real reason on his own, after Ramirez had sent him the footage: Because the woman in the video who had no combat training, but also displayed the instincts of someone who was no stranger to violence, and was not Rita Delvecchio, of "È Solo Divertente Se Conosci L'italiano" fame in her Contessa Helena de San Finzione makeup; was someone whose face the Government of San Finzione did not wish displayed on the news. And with the sensational nature of the attack, handing the video over to the local security officer would be practically the same thing as handing it to the media. Ramirez pointedly failed to inform him that it was a direct order from La Contessa in such a way that Luc was able to determine that himself. Luc found nothing in the video that could help his end of the investigation, so he gave Ramirez his observations and assured his friend that his copy had been as "accidentally erased" as all others were likely about to be.

And there was still that matter of how the universe works to consider. Another thing which Luc's old friend deliberately did not tell him was that the myths about his boss were true: That the enchantingly beautiful woman who ruled San Finzione, Contessa Helena de San Finzione, truly was some kind of witch, or faerie, or genetically-engineered CIA sex-assassin; with a strange ability to beguile the mind. Although Luc suspected that if sex-assassins were a real thing, she would have to be a very bad one to have taken over two years to get the job done.

Luc parked his bicycle and walked over to a bench in front of a small bush. He sat and alternated between looking at the fountain and the people out walking at this hour. He thought about who they all might be. All of the drunks had either made it home from the bars, or had been picked up by the security officer and were sleeping it off in a cell. Everyone out at this hour had a purpose for doing so. He wondered how many were bakers. This seemed the time of morning that bakers started work, and he didn't imagine many wore their uniforms while walking to and from work. A few, certainly.

"Detective Inspector Allaine?" A woman's voice whispered from the shadows.

Luc jumped in his seat. His hand went for his service revolver.

"There's no need for the gun, M'sieur." She said. "But keep your hand on it, if it makes you feel safer. An old friend has sent me with a message."

Luc swallowed before answering.

"You got here too quickly to have come from the embassy in Paris, so I would imagine that you came from the local consulate. And you approached me undetected, which speaks of Ultimados training; so, I am thinking 'Cultural Attaché.' I have a good idea whom this friend might be, and I have a message for him, as well. Your chosen methods of delivering messages are the only reason I have a box on you, Hernando."

Luc could hear the woman behind him tapping on her phone from her concealed position.

"You were correct, Luc." She read off a note on the screen. "There were things that I could not tell you over the telephone, although La Contessa has cleared you to know them. I cannot take time away to come to Lyon, and you need this information sooner than whenever you and Sam visit, which this does not get you out of doing. Allow me to plainly state the facts, so that they are in front of you to work with, old friend."

Luc took his hand off his pistol.

"I am listening." He told the woman whose face he still hadn't seen.

"First, Si, Contessa Helena de San Finzione knows the secret of mind control. It is not believed to be supernatural in nature, but we do not understand how she does it. We know that it cannot be transmitted via video or telephone, and that it doesn't seem to work if the speaker cannot convey their thoughts correctly; if they do not share a common language, for example."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"I thank him for putting it into words. This has already been a day like the day that it occurred to me that Captain Stottlemeyer from 'Monk' and Buffalo Bill from 'Silence of the Lambs' were the same man."

The Ultimado paused.

"I had never thought of this. I now know this feeling. His message continues: There are four people in the world, of whom we are aware, with this ability. The other three who know it are friends of hers: the two who taught it to her as a child, and a more recent member of their group; the woman on the video, whom I've told you about. Luckily for all of us, they seem content to use this ability simply to live a comfortable life, help others, and pursue their passions. They are her family, and this power is some kind of family secret. I have met these people; and do not believe that I am being influenced when I say that the secret in safe hands."

Luc lit a cigarette, sensing that he might be a while, before sharing his thoughts with the unseen Ultimado.

"Which would make them important enough to her to risk an international incident over one of them being caught on video. You may tell our friend that my copy has already been accidentally erased. And that I think he is correct about not being influenced. La Contessa does not seem to be the kind of ruler who would put a puppet in charge of her country's military. His rise from Capitano to Generalissimo would happen only through well-earned trust and respect. I am guessing that another member of the family is 'skilled in matters of money?'"

"Oui." The Ultimado answered. "I have met him. He shared some stock tips that have worked out very well. But back to the message: Whyte arranged an incident where La Contessa was certain to use this ability so that he could see how it worked. He concluded that being unable to hear her command would make Morgan immune to it. This is why everyone but him froze when she commanded him not to move. If she had not said that we could move again before falling unconscious, I may have been stuck there until her friends arrived from America to release me. Oh, si, I am aware that at least one of them is able to override her commands."

"Then it is some kind of skill, with varying degrees of talent; possibly multiple approaches." Luc replied.

The Ultimado took in his words before continuing the message. Part of her orders were to report back "even the slightest idle musings" Luc may have.

"La Contessa's friends are safe, under constant guard by Ultimados. At present, she and Señor Mander are en route to a meeting with a representative of The Elders, to give them the recording of Whyte's admission to orchestrating the limousine ambush."

Luc replayed the recording of that conversation in his head.

"With everything else happening in Seattle, I had suspected an Auction was afoot. Add all of those players, and that is the only thing that it can be. If there is an item that Contessa Helena de San Finzione wants to possess up for bid, the only way anyone else could possibly walk out of there with it is if she were already dead."

Luc thought some more.

"I do not think that Whyte would reveal La Contessa's friends to the Elders. I am certain that my old friend has them well-guarded. Whyte needs any leverage he can get, and an attempt on Contessa-In-Reggenza Maria would be impossible now, so that leaves only them to dangle over La Contessa's head. They are too valuable to him to risk losing to a Triad bullet."

"He would want me to thank you for this. He concludes. The dossier that the Ultimado is giving you now contains everything we have that I have not already shared on Whyte and the item that he wants. I hope this helps you to see the full picture. I know I do not have to advise you about discretion, Luc; however, people have already died over this thing. I would suggest destroying it when you are done. Vaya Con Dios, my friend."

Luc looked down at the thick, sealed envelope that had been placed on the bench.

"When I turn around, you will have disappeared like Batman, correct?"

"Oui." The Ultimado responded, her voice already distant.

"Then, allow me to say merci before you depart."

There was no answer.

Luc picked up the folder and hurried toward his bicycle.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Contessa Helena de San Finzione sat in the passenger seat of a 1984 Ford Mustang. She stared, as she had for the past five minutes, at the car in front of her with the bumper sticker that read "Your Honor Student Blows My Kid for Meth," which she and Mander had stopped laughing at three minutes ago.

"Fuck, I have not missed traffic." She said, lighting a cigarette. "Is this really how I got around before security officer sirens and flashing lights became a GOOD thing for me?"

"Prob'ly because of the protests." Mander replied from the driver's seat. "Susan said that Seattle traffic's bad enough when it ain't even thinking about it. With this shit goin' on, they're taking it seriously now."

"You know," Helen said, taking a frustrated drag. "I HAVE diplomatic immunity. You wanna trade seats, I can ram us through this shit in minutes. I'm thinking the Grand Theft Auto approach: Plow through the other cars until this one catches fire, then get out and jack another one and get away before the old car explodes, repeat until we're there."

"Heh," Mander responded. "In Africa, we'd just fire a few rounds into the air, that'd give the wanker at the front of all this some incentive. But nah, might be quicker if Your Countessness just rolled down the window, stuck your head out, an' did your Thing an' shouted at everyone in front of us to make 'em let us through."

Helen gave some semi-serious thought to the idea before deciding against it. A few moments later, vehicles began slowly rolling forward again.

"Odd that Whyte ain't called back to gloat or taunt or something. You tried him?"

"Nah, no point. He knew it wasn't me at the hotel, and the losses were all on the Triads' side. What's he gonna taunt? 'Ha ha, I failed again?'"

"Well," Mander said as he found a way into the next lane. They wouldn't get off for another few exits, but it seemed the time to start planning now. "He hasn't done much to ya directly since Morgan, yeah. But he has kept you on the defensive. Your Countessness is the clever one, so I know you've already considered that this might be what he's after: You an' them in the same place."

"I've considered it." Helen answered with a drag. She tossed the lit cigarette out the window and took another from her pack, blowing loose tobacco dust off of it. "He'd know that The Elders would insist that no Ultimados come along. Hell, bringing you was a negotiation all by itself. And we don't know how many mercs answered his ad."

"Yeah. You see 'em, you know. In this game. Guys comin' round the same old shady hangouts, hopin' maybe today, someone'll be hard up enough to give 'em a shot. Ya buy 'em a pint, cause you know you're one bad day away from bein' right there with 'em."

Mander thought for a moment.

"How do you suppose he's giving 'em orders? Whyte doesn't strike me as the type who'd bother taking up sign language."

Helen thought on that, then took out her phone and started a text.

"Good call, Mander. Passing that along to Ortega. He'd have to hire an interpreter. Probably a few of them in Seattle, but it's something.

Traffic began to crawl again. Helen lit her cigarette and again contemplated Mander's idea of just getting out and commanding people to get out of their way.

"Text sent, at least." Helen told him. "Whyte's not jamming the phone signals right now. Of course, he can't leave the entire city without cell service all week, just to fuck with me."

"Hmm." Helen hmmed, as the thought begat another. She sent a second, longer text.

* * *