Life as a New Hire Ch. 50

*Editing magic performed by Shyqash, plus contributions by the regular gang of brigands and neer-do-wells*

*Honor is not for the weak of spirit nor those devoid of purpose *

*And so the First Book Concludes*

[PRELUDE]

[PULAU SETAN WANITA, INDONESIA (ISLAND OF THE DEVIL WOMEN)]

The 150 Condottieri mercenaries stealthed onto the Island of the Devil Women pre-dawn, but waited until the island was fully awake before launching their assault. They did this because the majority of the women slept in one conjoined area while during the day, they spread out, thus were hopefully easier to overwhelm in bite-sized chunks.

When the attack went in, Khalid Adzharia, Brian Fung and Trent Grant were in different areas of the Havenstone compound. When neither was being milked of their seed, they had jobs to perform on the island. Neither was permitted a job which allowed them access to either transport off the island nor any long-range communication gear. All computer access was monitored and by LAN line only.

Trent Grant remained a financial investigator though he currently reported to someone not nearly as high up in that branch of Havenstone as he once enjoyed. Brian was in the same boat in Acquisitions with the high hopes of working himself up in importance to the point he would leave this prison-island -- at which time he would leave Havenstone for good.

Khalid, who had been there the longest, had a different outlook on things. He realized this was where his life ended. There would be no escape unless he managed to vacate the island under his own power and with his own initiative. Worse -- for him -- he had begun to develop an emotional attachment to three of the ladies on the island. He was screwing them constantly even after being milked.

Worst of all -- one of the ladies was now pregnant with a child who could only be his. All the 'old male' population had been sent away (exterminated) so he, Brian and Trent were it ... on an island of roughly five hundred Amazons. Neither of those two men had the stones to cross him on this matter and he'd made it clear to both those three women were 'his'. The surveillance officers monitoring the trio found that sense of male possessiveness 'amusing'.

Trent? Trent had developed a personal hatred for Brooke and, by association, all the women in her sorority. After all, Trent had all his lies perfectly balanced inside Havenstone only to have Brooke stop by and fuck things up for him. Now he was a prisoner, milked of his seed daily and was constantly being hit on by a bevy of beautiful Indonesian women. His predicament was ALL Brooke's fault.

Like Khalid, he realized the only escape from this feminist hell was in his own capable hands. Again, the security women tasked with monitoring the two of the three found their plans to escape to be amateurish and filled with a willful misunderstanding of what Amazons were all about -- aka they were all sneaky bitches.

They had tracking devices sown into their clothes along with some of their jewelry -- offered to them by women the men had slept with as signs of their gratitude for being chosen -- being tiny microphones. All their plans were immediately reported and recorded for further examination -- in case there were actually any flaws in the island's security.

The one monitoring Brian was deeply depressed though. Her 'guy' was an utterly dull ignoramus. He made no realistic plans to escape, formed no essential bonds with any of his captors nor with his fellow prisoners, and was an otherwise diligent little weasel. These Indonesian Amazons didn't hold much reverence for the weasel btw.

The Condottieri did a good job of spoofing the island's defensive net. Their one mistake was purely accidental. As they closed in one of the office complexes, they stumbled upon and were encountered by two Amazons out for an early morning run. They were avid joggers who normally 'did their thing' around dusk, but had an important teleconference that night so improvised.

Even as the two ladies went for their sidearms they were 'neutralized' by the Condottieri squad they'd encountered. At the main security hut, the guardian on duty noted two heart signals spike -- then stop. The odds of both having immediately fatal accidents was so unlikely as to be impossible.

Even as she reported the incident to her superior, she put the whole island on silent alarm. If nothing else, it would be a good surprise exercise for her fellow Amazons. All around the island, the women went into instantaneous defense mode, gathered up their assault rifles & PDWs and, not being attacked, went hunting for their attackers. That was standard protocols.

Back at the security base, all those Amazons went for their body armor first. It was normally too hot and humid during the summer day to wear them. That accomplished, they dispatched their sole squad of SD's (Security Detail) to the sight of the first incident -- the death of the two runners.

At the same time the on-sight Condottieri commander accelerated his own plans, indicating all units to immediately launch their assault on the closest work areas instead of waiting for all the other teams to be in place. In one instance, a Condo team ran smack into the stealthing forward SD team. Bullets were exchanged.

The SD came out on top as they were more accustomed to making head shots than their opponents. They also reported their situation to the Security base before continuing to advance. Since ten men invading the island made no tactical sense, the islands 'War Chief' went to full alert -- it was time to hunt down and exterminate the enemy presence in their home.

The Condottieri leader knew he was in trouble when one team reported coming to the sanitation work base only to find it unoccupied -- those Amazons were already out hunting down their foes, while another detailed the alertness of the Amazons in the area they were assaulting. The sounds of automatic weapon's fire and grenade explosions began echoing all over the island.

[***]

Needless to say none of the men had firearms though they knew each Amazon was armed with a knife and pistol. They also knew were they kept the heavier weaponry yet were afraid to approach that area of the complex because they had little doubt the Amazons would shoot through any human shield they had just to make them suffer. Besides, none of them knew the combination to the gun locker -- yet.

When death came calling, each man approached the situation differently. Brian's Acquisition section was in the same part of the complex as Banking. There, day in and day out, he looked over prospective properties for the Amazons to purchase. His reviews were entered into the system by another Amazon. Gaining so much knowledge of how the Amazons operated, he promised himself he would one day expose them ... once he was safely away, of course.

"Pick up the pistol," hissed a coworker across the hall where Brian cowered. He was not so much terrified -- he was definitely afraid, but not unmanned by it -- as he didn't feel this was his fight, so why become involved? The Amazon supervisor had been moving down the hall, when she was suddenly taken out by a sound-suppressed PDW. She had dropped her pistol as she expired.

The two of them -- the coworker Amazon and Brian -- were now being pinned down by that same fire pattern and the lone Amazon wasn't enough to keep them at bay for long.

"Pick up the damn pistol," she growled his way ... and then the grenade came bouncing down the hallway.

It went off, stunning him and knocking him over, further into his cubicle. When he came to a man in jungle camouflage came rushing forward and put a three-round burst into the woman across the hall -- he thought her name was Citra -- then turned on Brian.

"Don't shoot," Brian pleaded. "I'm a guy -- their prisoner. I can tell you all kinds of things about their organization. Please, don't kill me."

"Command -- I have a male prisoner here," the merc said over his mouth mic. "Roger that."

"Let's go," the man directed. "We are getting you out of here."

Brian couldn't help but smile. He was escaping and sooner than either of those other two idiots were. He wanted to laugh out loud, but decided against it. The merc pushed him ahead of him and the two began racing away from the battlefield. Indeed, Brian had escaped, but only into Condottieri's cruel custody.

[***]

Trent's space in Financial Investigations was larger than Brian's small unit. Because of that it received attention from two Condottieri squads, moving in from different directions, trying to catch the Amazons in a crossfire. It almost worked too. Only the team's supervisor's quick thinking kept that from happening. Still, their situation was dire.

"Here," Laras, the team supervisor handed Trent a pistol. "Today, everyone fights."

"I ... this isn't my fight," he shook his head. Laras glared. She was about to turn away when Trent called out, "Wait! I'll do it."

She gave him the firearm and pointed to a thick support column.

"Stay there and be prepared for Amazons to fall back to your position if things get bad," the Amazon commanded. Almost as an afterthought she gave him a spare magazine as well.

As she rushed off in another direction, Trent contemplated shooting her. At the last moment, before he raised the gun, he decided he didn't mind the captivity as much as he would risk trying to join up with the attackers. After all, they could be much, much worse. Instead he took his position at the column, and just in time. He saw a grenade flying through the air, coming his way.

He ducked behind the column and hunkered down. The grenade went off as an airburst blew less debris in his direction. It was still a staggering experience. Trent shook the cobwebs out of his brain then peaked around the column in the direction the grenade came from. Two men in body armor and camouflage clothing were rushing forward toward the downed Amazons in his section.

"Fuck this shit," he muttered before steading the pistol with his left hand. He was by no means a marksman, but had taken an anti-kidnapping course when he was eighteen. Up came the pistol and he began firing. Alternating between the two combatants every two shots until he was empty.

"Oh God," he nearly wept. "I'm about to die." Neither man was dead.

Then a body slammed into him, knocking him to the floor. He was about to start showing the fucker some martial arts moves when he realized it was an office worker of his -- Nadia by name -- and she had brought along a coworker Trent had never gotten to know all that well. Those two ladies brought up their PDW's and opened up on the two men Trent had been holding at bay.

Trent crawled back behind the column and behind Nadia. When she stopped to reload, she stole the pistol from his grasp, popped out the magazine and reloaded for him -- even chambering the round.

"Good job Trent," she grinned. "Now let's kill these bastards."

"I -- ah -- okay," he meekly agreed. Honestly, he was terrified, but even the changing dynamic -- his gun being reloaded -- hadn't changed the prisoner-warden mindset which drove him to survive. Off the two women went, Trent in tow. Battle wasn't as glorious as his ancestors had described. It was awful and he never wanted to experience that again if he could help it.

[***]

While Trent's group sought out financial opportunities within the scope of Havenstone's possessions, or new acquisitions, Khalid's group sought out the same information concerning operations of Havenstone's enemies. Though he had never admitted it, even to himself, he relished the challenge. This was some James Bond bullshit he was caught up in here at Havenstone.

When the assault began, he was at the water cooler, chatting up his -- he hated the term -- baby mamma. She and the other Amazons found his lack of understanding of the pregnancy situation to be amusing. After all, she had only known a week thus was only seven weeks in that condition. Then the silent alarm went off.

"I didn't know we were having a drill?" Mutia, his lover, commented.

"Then this might not be a drill," one of his coworkers replied. The ladies began sprinting toward the gun locker even as they checked the readiness of their sidearms. At the locker the supervisor was directing the women to their battle stations -- Mutia was in the 'reaction force' -- even as another Amazon handed out the assault weapons and the bandolier of spare magazines.

"What are you doing here?" the supervisor asked him. "Go back to your station and take cover there."

"No," Khalid protested. "I want one. This is my home too."

"Wait here," the supervisor said. Khalid nodded.

"How do we know you can be trusted?" she asked once the last of the Amazons had been armed and rushed off to their station.

"Mutia is carrying my child," Khalid explained. "That is who I'm fighting for."

"Here," the supervisor said," as she repeated the process with Khalid. "Join the 'reaction force'. When there is a breach, you will go to it. Kill everyone who isn't one of us."

"Understood," Khalid nodded. Inside of him a fury was building, but for the first time in months it wasn't aimed at any woman, or group of women.

Someone was threatening his lover and his child, for fuck's sake. They had to pay. Khalid jogged off to join Mutia and the others. The supervisor began going over her positions so was on the opposite side of the building when the Condo team blew an emergency door and penetrated the building from that direction. In this case, their object was not just to kill as many Amazons as possible, but to locate their on sight computer network and download whatever sensitive data lay within.

As the sounds of the fighting echoed through the building, the supervisor ordered the 'reaction force' to proceed to the 'sound of the guns'. Khalid, ahead of the others, began jogging in the general direction of the bullets.

"Khalid, wait," Mutia called out.

"They are going to the computer room," he intuited. "We need to hurry."

With him in the lead, the Amazons rushed to keep up. Khalid was saved by the expedience of the Condottieri sentry looking the other way for an instance combined with the sponginess of the wooden floor absorbing the sound of his foot falls. The two men collided, but Khalid was both the bigger man and consumed by rage. He slammed the stock of his PDW into the man's face once -- twice -- three times. As the enemy slumped down, he stomped on his neck, breaking it.

"Let's go," he whispered to the rather impressed Amazons.

And Khalid led the way. As the 'reaction force' burst into the Computer Room, they caught the Condo's unprepared for their sudden arrival. Bullets began to fly around the room. In the exchange of lead, Mutia was hit in the chest -- a really bad wound. Seeing that, something inside Khalid snapped. His military lineage was nothing compared to that of Trent, but some of his poorer relations had gone on to become police officers.

Still, he had an ancestor in the 54th Massachusetts Regiment in the Civil War. When he first saw the film Glory his heart had swelled with pride. In that instance, he felt that ancestor calling to him the way Denzel Washington's character had cried out to his fellow warriors in that climactic final scene. After that, he didn't remember much else.

In the classic sense, he went berserk. He fired his weapon on fully automatic until it was empty then he charged. He was hit twice yet refused to succumb to the shock and pain. He slammed into the closest Condottieri, lifted the man up and threw him at two others. He jumped on that jumbled pile of humans attacking with inhuman ferocity.

His fists, forearms, elbows, knees and feet were all weapons and he didn't stop until an Amazon pulled him off. Then she finished off the mangled men with her pistol -- each earned a shot to the nose bridge. For a second no one said a thing.

"We've got a breach on the other side of the building," the Amazon related. "Can you still carry on?"

"Sure," he slurred slightly, coming down from that organic combat high.

"You've been shot twice and stabbed once ... so I'm just curious," she pointed out.

Khalid looked down at his own bloody body then back up to the Amazon.

"Mutia?"

"She might pull through," the Amazon shrugged.

"Let's go then," he shook his head a few times to clear the lingering cobwebs. The Amazon took his PDW from him, put in a fresh magazine then returned it before turning and headed out the room, Khalid followed along to the best of his ability. Only later did Mutia explain things to him. He hadn't experienced 'Black Rage'. What he had gone through was much older and more primal -- a trance-like fury in which he never lost focus on who the enemy was -- and who wasn't.

It was something the Amazons had a long history with -- those special warriors who could set aside pain and debilitating wounds for the sake of one's people. His hate had never been focused on the Amazons, and that was a critical thing and noted by all who saw him fight, or recover.

"Maybe we were wrong about you," the supervisor said to him after the battle was over and the surviving Condottieri had escaped back to their boats.

Even then, over eighty littered the island dead -- the Amazons were not interested in taking prisoners. In contrast, the Amazons suffered thirty-eight dead and seventy-one wounded enough to need some time to recuperate. Khalid and Trent -- but mostly Khalid -- were given new respect by the Amazons and the offer was given for them to return to 'the World' and Havenstone if they so desired.

Brian had been recaptured, but also was given the possibility of returning to the outside world. After all, his genetics hadn't turned out to be all that exceptional when put in the crucible of battle. Needless to say, all three men agreed to return to the World. Captivity, no matter how attractive, or meaningful, was still slavery in their minds.

Brian signed every bit of paper they put before him, such was his anxiety about being caught trying to escape with the Condottieri. Trent signed with greater trepidation. Though he had acted with some sense of martial ability, his heart hadn't been it. Khalid showed the most regret and it took both Trent and a recovering Mutia to convince him to return to his world and his family.

Since he harbored the desire to see his child come into the world, he decided to remain in Havenstone -- not even a 'Runner', just a male. When he finally met up with Cáel and Felix, he was clearly surprised they'd both made it on the outside. The lunch they shared on Khalid's second day back in New York City was eye opening for the lot of them that was for sure. Still, each of the five of the New Hires had survived ... in one form or another.

[FINALLY BACK HOME]

[HAVENSTONE HQ, NEW YORK CITY]

I biked into work early Tuesday morning. I had spent most of Sunday recovering from the Great Hunt and my grievous wounds inflicted on me by Elsa. Monday had been devoured by my flight from Buenos Aires to New York. I had stumbled into my apartment late Monday night to find Odette, Timothy and Sovann waiting for me.

They hugged me and congratulated me on my victory in the Great Hunt without me telling them a damn thing. They read it on my face and in my posture. Afterwards I showered and went to bed. Odette cuddled up next to me, but didn't demand sex so I went without. I was so damn tired inside and out from the three day ordeal.

[***]

In my mind's eye, I went back over the events as they unfolded, Felix's stunning reversal of fortune saving my ass, and even my whispered memory from Alal. I made a mental note to contact my blood brother, the Great Khan, and thank him for his gift of the ninja team which also saved our combined asses on more than one occasion.

Yet, real sleep evaded me. Instead I was submerged in a combination of my own thoughts and memories with those of Alal -- is growing up into his powers and the secrets he had seized from the Ancient World as well as his own current immortality -- his avatar of willpower and visceral sustenance. He had created his body from something after all and the number one candidate was having followers out there who sacrificed others to formulate the body he currently inhabited.

Not one body, mind you, but dozens, their blood and tissue combined to create the doppelganger housing his soul. Worst of all, I now knew the formulas he had envisioned to do such a blasphemous thing. After all, I doubted the Weave would normally allow two of us in the Cáel / Alal / Baraqu triumvirate to exist at the same time.

Not only exist, but to encounter one another -- for Grandfather it was only the second time coming face to face with another one of his soul shards since he was torn asunder by Sarrat Irkalli over five thousand years ago. Pamela had done it once to kill him, but that hadn't worked out quite like she planned. Yet, he had done it too now. I wasn't sure what the Sumerian goddess take on that would be. I would have to ask her the next time I collided with her on purpose, or by accident. My money was on 'accident'.

[***]

Anyway, a few blocks from home I realized I had a tail. It was two NYPD bicycle cops keeping up with me without being obvious about it. Only my growing sense of paranoia clued me into their presence. Beyond them were a small convoy of black SUV's -- most likely a combination of JKIT security and Havenstone guardians.

I was not only a head of a First House, but a Minister of State for the Amazon Host. I had my own plethora of enemies which went beyond some pissed off girls I had screwed then screwed over. Was that part of my life finally fading away? Was I being forced to 'grow up'? God, I hoped not. Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. After all, my adult role model was George Clooney and he kinda rocked.

I cruised into Havenstone HQ, locked up my bike and then waved to the two bicycle cops as they rode on by. They smiled and waved back. The SUV's went somewhere else, again giving me the space I had begged and pleaded for. In I went, valise in hand, and greeted the new Security chicks.

My 'go to' Gal wasn't on station. Instead Wilma 'Draper' Ishara was down with FBI Special Agent Vincent Loire helping in his recovery by passing on JKIT data as well as bodyguarding him until he was deemed fit enough to come back to full duty within JKIT and my own 'Unit L' -- I still wanted a new damn unit name. Something besides the letter 'L'.

Chatting up the security gals wasn't going to happen today because I had a plethora of people waiting for me. The 'New Hire' ladies including Fabiola -- somewhat of a surprise -- plus Oneida, Pamela, Buffy, Helena plus Rachel and the rest of my SD bodyguarding detail (including the new gal, Meridian).

Fabiola stepped forward first and extended her hand.

"I -- I was wrong about you," she confessed. We clasped hands then hugged one another. While we were in that position, I whispered into her ear.

"Your mother demanded you play nice, didn't she?" I inquired softly.

Her whole body jolted from the shock of being revealed. While intelligent, Fabiola was too much of an open book to make a good spy. Fortunately, Executive Services also had a good number of intelligence analysts, something I recall Katrina saying she excelled at. Well, good for her.

"Perhaps we should have dinner some time," she ground out her concession.

She hated being laid bare before me, her intentions so glaringly obvious. Lucky her, she was really hot looking and I already had an out of control libido so ... on came Oneida. I slipped a hand down Fabiola's side and patted her butt just so before releasing her and engaging Oneida. We clasped and hugged as well. This time though, I languidly moved my hands down her side, causing her to giggle.

Then I grasped each butt cheek from below and pulled her up to an embarrassing French kiss. Such obvious displays of affection were still new to her, but breaking her into such 'moral degeneracy' was going to be so much fun. Next came the rest of the new hire girls -- the whole clasping arms and then hugging thing going on for quite some time.

Helena and Rachel deserved more so got more. I ran my hands over their bodies, kissed them and generally got them all hot and steamy before we finally broke our embrace. Oh, I could see it in their eyes -- they were going to get me for this and punish me with sex. Such is the Swan Song of my life.

I was going to be late for my 'weapon's training' time if I wasn't careful. I said as much to Buffy, but she insisted I needed to go see Katrina first ... so into the elevator we all migrated before rising up to the ES level of the skyscraper. Buffy and I were chatting about something inane so I was caught a bit off-guard when the door opened and the applause began.

The whole damn floor was filled with Executive Services personnel and they were openly lauding my efforts in the Great Hunt. Though I was no longer a member of Executive Services, they would get the credit for training me to the point I just might have pulled off such a terrible upset. After all, initially the bookies hadn't even given odds of me and Felix even winning the day.

It wasn't until I put ten thousand dollars down did the odds makers decided they had to create the formula which suggested both us males could win ... somehow. I got 80:1 odds and that meant I'd earned close to a million dollars. Felix's more sedate one thousand dollars bid earned him some sweet walking around money, or so it appeared.

On the floor of ES, I was hugged, back slapped and butt patted by over fifty of the ladies in attendance. I had to struggle to recall all of their names, but I somehow managed. When asked how I won,

"I cheated like a big dog -- and that's all I'm going to say on the matter," I grinned then winked. I also took possession of that Certified Check for $800,000.00 too.

Mind you, that wouldn't even cover the down payment on the exceptional 'crib' Timothy, Odette and Sovann had picked out for us. It was insanely over budget, but had all the amenities anyone would want including seven bedrooms over two floors near the top of the high-rise the Great Khan's people had preselected for us to peruse.

That bitch was going to push me back seventeen million dollars -- Holy Shit! Then Timothy had informed me the Khan's people had picked up the tab -- Holy Shit! That was another one I owed my 'Blood Brother'. I was racking up those debts rather rapidly too. Still ... had I mentioned it was a TOTALLY AWESOME abode?

Timothy would move in at the end of the month -- him and Sovann that is. Their room even had two separate walk-in closets. Odette insisted she get one of the smaller bedrooms because the larger ones were bigger than the whole floor of her home back on Staten Island. Woot! I put on my itinerary that I needed to stop by Odette's home one night just to laud Odette's parents for raising such an incredible young woman. Damn right, I did.

Before I could depart, Katrina pulled me into her office, sat me in front of her desk then began interrogating me.

"What did you do?" she studied me intently. "According to various accounts which will go into the archives of the Host now and forever, you did some 'really freaky shit, suffered grievous bodily harm, and yet somehow convinced Felix to come back and 'save the day'."

"I deny everything," I just smiled at her. I wasn't going to tell the chief Spymistress shit because, for just this once, I knew things she didn't know and I doubted she'd ever figure out unless Felix blabbed -- and I was getting the feeling Felix wasn't going to do that. He was the bragging kind, but he also know we held secrets the Amazons would be stumbling over each other trying to figure out.

"Come on, Cáel," she tried to coax me.

"Never," I jauntily riposted in a British accent. "For all the times you held critical stuff back from me -- consider this payback."

"I will find out," she insisted with a smile on her face.

"Good luck with that," I stood. "I've got weapon's practice and I'm already late. Gotta go, Katrina."

"We will revisit this conversation later," she allowed. I departed with a spring in my step and a song in my heart. Off I went, this time only with Buffy and Pamela with me. The rest of the gang had work to perform soon and so did I.

"What did you and Katrina talk about?" Buffy prodded.

"She wanted to know how I won and I refused to tell her," I winked.

"That can't end well," she gave me a wicked grin back. "So, tell me, what really happened? I hear you beat Elsa somehow."

"I'm certainly not going to tell you here in Havenstone where Katrina monitors everyone and everything," I chastised her. "Wait till we are alone, Regent Buffy Ishara."

"I can't wait to get you alone too," Buffy reached out and rubbed her palm across my chest.

"Now kids, you have your responsibilities," Pamela taunted the both of us.

Buffy tried to intimidate Pamela with a glare alone. She had zero effect on my honorary Grandmother.

Sadly, Buffy had things to do so she couldn't get me right then -- right there, but Pamela knew this and played cock-blocker anyway. She reveled in the role unless, of course, I was sexing up Daphne. Unfortunately, Daphne still had her apprenticeship to finish thus was trapped on Katrina's floor until such time Buffy needed her for language lessons, or an Emergency Council Meeting -- Dot Ishara forbid.

The firing range was more of the same. They congratulated me for pulling off, in their estimations, the impossible feat -- times two. After all, I had gakked Ajax as well and he was considered to be unkillable. Now I had won the inaugural Great Hunt thus opening up the way for males in the future to pit their survival instincts against the best the Amazons had to offer. I pitied next years' contestants.

The Amazons had something to prove so would be pulling out all the stops, redoubling their efforts and making sure their champions had every possible edge going in. Well, Amazons didn't play fair and the guys around here had better realize that, or else. Still, it was odd to see the ladies stepping up to train me in not only firearms, but offering to take it to the mats upstairs for archaic weapon's training. I gladly accepted their offers because I figured I would need the help bad in the future.

After my forty-five minutes on the firing range -- I was getting better -- I changed into my work attire and headed back upstairs to meet with the regents and Beyoncé to get my Amazon updates before heading over to JKIT for the rest of my day. This time at least I decided to change in the bathroom next to the firing range as opposed to the elevator thus disappointing Brielle and her constant companion ... whose name I had never gotten.

We joked a bit, but I had to forestall them from any sexual activities even though I was no longer a 'New Hire', but one of the Team, technically a graduate of Executive Services working under the Regency now. I didn't let that august position go to my head though as we traded sexual innuendos on the ride up the elevator.

This time they had to get off first, on the floor dedicated to Overseas Banking, or so I struggled to recall. Now I just had to figure out how to juggle Rhada and Buffy while still getting to JKIT on time because I knew what kinds of shit I would be put through if I was late my first day back from 'vacation'.

[***]

The doors opened and there was Juanita waiting for me. She looked surprisingly pensive. I decided to give her a break. After all, we had parted on confusing terms before my trip to Chicago. Chicago had been ... okay, I guess.

"How much money did you lose?" was what I chose to lead off with.

"Twenty bucks," she shrugged.

"I made a killing betting on myself," I snickered.

"That's not surprising. As far as I was able to find out, only you, Felix and Katrina put money down on you," she shrugged again. She paused then, "How much?"

"Eight hundred thousand dollars," I grinned like a maniac. To me, the bet was money I had worked my ass off for thus something I could be proud of.

"Wow," she gave me an appreciative nod. "What were the odds? A hundred to one?"

"Noooo ... eighty to one," I corrected her.

"You bet ten thousand on yourself," she appeared surprised. "That was risky."

"Yeah, putting that on my taxes is going to be fun."

"We -- as in the majority of Havenstone -- have in-house accountants take care of all that for us," Juanita informed me.

"Wow. That must be pretty monotonous," I imagined.

"Not really," she grinned. "We get imaginary raises based on the years we work here, with imaginary Retirement Accounts and extra amounts for those imaginary End-of-Year bonuses too."

"You were in Accounting?" I faux-gasped. I had never asked what her previous occupation was before becoming a member of the Isharan House Guard. I had assumed it was Security.

"Yes. Why does that surprise you? I was number one in our martial arts competitions and in a variety of physical challenges such as the triathlon and the 10K races."

"Good for you," my congratulations was heartfelt. She needed to be in good shape to keep up with me and the triathlon was one hell of an endurance match. Still, she studied me intently to make sure I wasn't mocking her. Then she smiled.

"What is the itinerary for today?"

"One hour here with the regents then off to JKIT for the rest of the day."

"Roger that," she left my side and began opening doors for me -- and going in first. My path took me to Sabia, Marilynn and Constanza to start off with. They were my office mates and handled the information flow coming from the various Havenstone's around the globe and the various departments in such a manner as to not let the Regents become overwhelmed.

Constanza handled security issues from both a personal perspective as well as data supplied by the Golden Mare St. Marie. Sabia handled things concerning Havenstone New York. Marilynn dealt with all things concerning New York City and how Havenstone dealt with the local authorities, etcetera. It was an enormous effort for Marilynn to handle and I could see her holding on to a lot of that stress.

My response was twofold.

"Hey, how many assistants to you have?" I inquired.

"I don't have any. I am the assistant to the Executive Authority," she snapped.

"Wrong," I teased her despite her pique. "Get someone assigned to you from Financial Investigations and ... Executive Services to help you handle the load."

"How do I go about that?" she sounded so depressed. "It will look like I can't do my job."

"Oh contraire," I shook my head. "Leadership means you have to know how to delegate. Now cut your workload into thirds with the understanding you will have to 'okay' decisions your underlings make."

"Then take on what you are best at -- the city's features and night life. Let Financial Investigations deal with our fellow corporations and what they want from us and Executive Services deal with the city's functionaries," I outlined things. I pulled out my phone and made those calls. I didn't beg, or demand, things. I outlined the need for the resources -- the people -- and let the head of each department decided on the caliber of individual they sent to fulfill the task.

Then I gave Marilynn a back and shoulder rub which left her erotically confused about 'us'. It also meant I only had fifteen minutes each for both Buffy and Rhada. I let them know we had a crisis under Shawnee without elaborating. I also realized that both ladies had already installed a 'gatekeeper' outside their doors with the order to let me in whenever I showed up.

How sweet of them. If it hadn't been an open invitation to sex them both up in my limited time window ... oh fuck. My sex life raced around without any brakes on that's for damn sure. I went to Rhada first. Leaving Buffy with minutes to spare -- she knew my itinerary before I did -- would be a painful experience. Leaving Rhada in the same amount of time would only leave her pouting and upset. I'm a coward. I went the pain-free route.

[THE REGENCY REVISITED]

"What excuse do you want me to use this time?" Juanita prodded me as we approached Rhada's office.

"One shouldn't be necessary," I decided. "I'll set my phone on a timer and at the fifteen minute mark I'll say I have another 'must be present at' meeting on my day planner. She should accept that excuse."

I proceeded to do just that -- my pathetic deception.

"How kind of you," Juanita mocked, back to her old self.

"Don't I know it," I winked. She looked away, perhaps in amusement, or disgust.

Into Rhada's office I went after a single, perfunctory knock. Instead of just Rhada though, I saw the entire Regency Council -- Shawnee, Buffy and Rhada. I drew up short because I really didn't think a four-way was in my immediate future.

"Oh, there you are, Cáel," Shawnee greeted me. Buffy sent me a nod while Rhada bit the end of her stylus while sending me a smoldering look. Buffy caught that and scowled. If Shawnee noticed she gave no sign. "A request concerning two other Secret Societies has crossed our desks and I seek our council."

"Sure," I put my best game face on. "Who wants what?"

"We understand you have already agreed to go to the funeral of Ajax of Salamis. The surviving Mycenaeans and ..."

"Which I think is stupid," Buffy interrupted.

"... the Egyptian Rite has requested it to be important that our Queen accompany you to this event," Shawnee continued. "As our Foreign Minister, what do you think of this request?"

"I would first like to know how the Regency Council feel about this request," I started off.

"Again, I think this whole affair is stupid," Buffy charged ahead first. "There are what -- ten -- Mycenaeans left? Last time they were all together they tried to kill you so fuck'em."

"I think the risk is too great as well," Rhada took a more sedate approach to her recommendation. "Their fates matter not to us so let them rot in a richly deserved obscurity."

"I am neutral on this matter though I feel the risk to Queen Assiyaišhamai would be too great unless all the Signatory Bodies agree to hold the funeral itself as well as travel to and from it to be sacrosanct," was Shawnee's view on things.

"First off -- I'm going. I pledged to Eruthros I would go and I aim to keep my word both as an Isharan, and as a man who has most recently buried my own Father," I began. "Furthermore, I promised to ask Aya if she would accompany me, not as our Queen, but as my daughter -- my kin. I agree with Shawnee in that the Egyptian Rite needs to get those guarantees of safety before we risk Aya in any encounter."

"Don't go," Buffy insisted. "This is stupid and terribly risky."

"I can't be Ishara and not go. I gave my word," I countered.

"I agree with Buffy," Rhada surprised even herself. "This won't do the Host any good if you get both yourselves killed."

"What are your other reasons for going?" Shawnee pressed forward.

"Ghosts. I can't put all those dead from the Battle of the Seven Skulls behind me unless I seek this closure," I dug deep. "I want Aya to come because I think, from time to time, she must show courage, even if it is without an immediate offering of gain. We are warriors, not merchants, after all."

"Oh ... Okay, I think we are at an impasse," Shawnee decided. "I suggest we pass on the final decision to Queen Assiyaišhamai noting where each of us stand."

"Thank you, Shawnee," I grinned. "In case she does agree to go, we should inform both Katrina and JKIT of the possibility so they can start digging into every possible intelligence asset we possess. One of the European Houses should supply a Ready Reaction Force. The Black Hand of Hellas can turn over every stone in Athens and on Salamis way before any of us arrive. We also need to plumb the depths behind the reasoning for the Egyptian Rite getting involved too."

"We should consult the augurs," Rhada nodded.

"Fine," Buffy threw up her hands. "Queen Aya is going to go, but I want that place locked up tight before a single dignitary sets foot on ... where is it again, this Salamis?"

"It is an island off the coast of Athens, so rife with seaborne traffic and at least one international airport," I recalled. "Also, the island itself is inhabited, which is why I think the Gila -- that's Goat in Hellenic -- might do best inserting an early security sweep of the island."

"Why are the 9 Clans going to be helping us? Didn't Ajax try to kill the head of the Black Hand in Hungary?"

"Nope, Ajax made it clear he was there to kill me when I met with the Vizsla, so she was able to escape," I informed her. "We actually parted on decent terms too."

"Oh, I bet you did," Rhada frowned.

"Ah ... she's rather frumpy, a deadly assassin and in her 50's," I clarified while avoiding the whole 'but she still looked hawt' aspect of our encounter.

"I will contact the Egyptian Rite and see exactly what they are up to, or at least ascertain that they are being evasive," Shawnee said. "This involvement is rather unlike them -- especially in the Condottieri's backyard. Let us start by marshalling our operational forces in England near Heathrow while we ask the relevant Houses for their best warrior for this most likely violent encounter."

"You suspect the Condottieri would do something so stupid as to trying to off Aya at the funeral -- and most likely pissing off the Egyptian Rite?" I worried.

"Their primary stock in trade is violence, Cáel," Shawnee pointed out. "Since abandoning the few surviving Mycenaeans, I don't doubt they would risk such a maneuver."

"I will go talk to the Queen then," Buffy exhaled. "I will honestly let her know our objections as well as your reasoning for her attendance."

"Thank you, Buffy," I gave a curt nod. "Now I've got to get the ball rolling at JKIT. The sooner we get people involved from our end, the sooner we can make sure the security is airtight."

"Running off to work ... early?" Rhada gave me 'that' look. Here I was, back victorious from another trial and not whipping her in celebration.

"I'm afraid so. This is Aya we are talking about and her security comes first." To that, they could all agree. I spun around in place and headed for the door. Outside I ran into Juanita with a cold beverage in hand. She hadn't even opened it yet.

"Time to go to JKIT," I announced as I quickly walked passed her. Seeing her ready to toss the can, "Don't do that. I'll drive -- you get cool."

"You driving?" she groused. "Fine."

Down in the parking garage I was given my team's old SUV and off we went. It had been a while since I'd driven a car in downtown traffic. Worse, we had left early than indicated so my regularly scheduled security detachments weren't on station yet.

Still, no one tried to do anything more dangerous than cut me off in a merge lane -- the asshat -- so I rode the bumpers of the next five cars so it didn't happen again. We were let into the underground parking garage beneath One MiMa1Tower by both a badge swipe as well as the guy, or gal, on station behind the camera. We took the elevator to our floor with the added suspicion some security types on our floor were also watching who got on, and off, that specific elevator. No other elevator went to our floor -- call it a mechanical malfunction if you will.

[BACK WITH JKIT]

"Ishara -- Juanita Ishara," the two roving Amazons greeted us as we stepped off onto our floor. This form of facial recognition was important to our security teams. Despite our organization's small size we had copious amounts of security because the two most current enemies were known to answer inquisitiveness with violence with frightening regularity.

Of greater importance Operation Akša Loksti (White Swan) was still in its inception stage, but already budgeted to over a billion (US) dollars. Buying all that hardware was just one expense. Bribes across three continents had to be paid (Africa, Asia and Europe). Troops mustered from our Brazilian holdings were being schooled about life in Cabinda and Angola for one intense week before being deployed 'in country'.

Troops from across West Africa were going through the same procedure with the added benefit of not knowing any Portuguese. Japan and the ROC were preparing for their trek through the Democratic Republic of Congo before being sent to our outposts in Belize, Cabinda which had already been covertly seized by a combined Amazon/Coils task force.

Lastly, our procurement gophers were finishing up their final buys before seeing them safely aboard ships in Danzig, Poland, and Bar, Montenegro. The Finnish and Croatian authorities were already launching their own covert investigations to figure out just where their military hardware had vanished away to.

By now we had accepted that all such inquires would lead to the Amazon Host -- while the Black Hand had helped out with the initial 'meet & greets' with the arms merchants in Eastern Europe, they had bowed out after that and there was no way in Hell any Amazon, even if captured, would dare spill the beans. Due to the rushed nature of the job, it was inevitable Havenstone and the Amazons would eventually be revealed as the culprits.

Because of that, the Khanate was struggling to create some sort of aid package, or diplomatic deal, to cover our asses, but that was going to take time. Hell, perhaps we could even end up buying some more hardware legally from both nations, provided Cabinda & Zaire weren't hit with an arms embargo of some kind.

It was also at this preliminary meeting I got to both learn about Queen Aya's amendment to our mission as well as meet our Coils liaison officer plus her entourage. Like most sane conspirators, the Coils kept their most secretive messages in the hands of Coils couriers. Best of all, within a second of meeting Mizani (no last name given) I learned she was some sort of magician.

Not the kind that pulls rabbits out of hats, but the kind that had various nature loa surrounding her and warding her general area.

"You can see," was her first, somewhat surprised, utterance.

"Yeah ... I guess you could say that," I nodded.

"How? What is your tradition?"

"I primarily interact with the dead and my matron goddess," I continued. "I don't really have a tradition."

"It is rumored you have ties to the Illuminati. Do you recall a Cáel O'Shea perhaps?"

"I'm named for him," I could see the tension rising. "He is my Grandfather."

"I thought the Amazons had put that beast to rest," she was preparing something -- something bad.

"They did, but he hasn't stayed dead," I enlightened her. "My Mother fled his custody way before I was born and lived in fear of the man. Most recently, I met him in Mindszent, Hungary and later in Rome."

"He was -- is -- a horrible beast; hardly human at all," she made deep eye contact with me while doing some sort of mojo. "You are indeed his grandson and heir?"

"Not heir," I got out before she lunged forward. For a millisecond I felt trapped by her gaze, but that instant passed and I intercepted her stab by grabbing hold of her wrist before her obsidian blade could touch my shirt over my heart.

"Wow now!" I shouted. One of her loa -- an embodiment of spring rains -- dove into one of the wall outlets, frying it and blacking out the room ... for all of about a second before the emergency lights kicked in. Everyone had guns out and were pointing at one another. I meanwhile slipped sideways and brought the surprised magical type crashing into me, her back to my front.

My hand also twisted her wrist around and brought the blade up to her throat. I wasn't sure what that obsidian dagger did, but I had the feeling it was some seriously bad mojo. She froze up, clearly not of a suicidal bent.

"Okay -- everybody -- holster arms and let's talk about this," I spoke firmly yet calmly. "Mizani, why don't you tell your people to do the same less a whole bunch of allies start ending up dead for no goddamn good reason?"

"You are the descendent of the Evil One -- the Devil incarnate," she hissed.

"Yes, but I am not him. In fact, I hate him and all he stands for and am aiming to kill him if I can possibly bring that to pass," I confessed. "Family or not, he isn't going to stop bringing pain into my life until one of us kills the other."

"How can any of us possibly trust you?" Mizani exhaled deeply.

"I don't know, but we can start by not stabbing me with this blade of yours," I matched her breathing rhythm. We stayed like that for nearly a minute.

[Mandinka] "Put away your weapons," she commanded her team. Rather reluctantly they did so.

"Cool," I whispered in her ear, "I know your language too," then I pushed her away while releasing my hold on her wrist.

"How?"

"How about you explain why you just tried to murder a member of our team?" Addison got fierce. Since Lady Worthington-Burke and Javiera weren't currently present, Addison was in charge.

"His ... Grandfather was beyond evil. He raided our lands and sought out, tortured and murdered many of my extended family ... centuries ago."

"Yeah," I nodded. "Now I recall that ... he marched with a band of Portuguese mercenaries serving with the Moroccan Army when they crossed the desert. They were in search of gold while he was in search of magical knowledge."

"You recall that?" she seemed both furious and curious at the same time.

"Yes. See this divot in my forehead. He had his 'son', my Uncle Carrig, knock me to the ground then stab this device of unknown origin into me so that now I have all his memories though without the emotional context. Amongst other things it allows me to see into the Spirit World. It also gifted me with a cornucopia of languages and magical lore."

"He was a horrific presence in my family's life," Mizani nearly wept.

"Yes. That sounds like Grandpa," I sighed. "He brings nothing but misery everywhere he goes, but he is also immortal. Regularly he cannot have offspring of his very own -- though he created some duplicates roughly a hundred years ago -- until I was born. My existence is somewhat inexplicable."

"But, if you want to make the Old Man happy, stab away. He is planning to kill me someday anyway." I neglected to tell the representative of the Coils of the Serpent I had multiple offspring of my own on the way seeing as they were in the people killing business and Mizani's family appeared to have a feud against him and theoretically all his descendants as well.

The 'rain' loa came back out of the wall and returned to her presence. I could see her weighing things and deciding just what to do with me next when she asked,

"How did you break my hold over your mind? My Serpent's Gaze.

"Oh, is that like mind control?" I mused. She nodded. "That's not going to happen. Seems like my Goddess, Dot Ishara, doesn't like anyone messing with my noggin. It is the only other gift I have ever asked of her."

"Also, I'm the true Cáel, not him. His actual name is Alal and it is a curse placed upon him over five thousand years ago by yet another Goddess."

"Which one?"

"Still planning to murder me?"

"I'm reconsidering it, Cáel, Son of Alal," she gave the slightest upturn of the lips.

"Cool beans," I grinned back. "It was one of the Sumerian Goddesses of the Dead, Sarrat Irkalli. I've met her. She's terrifying, but go look her up if you think you have the stones for it."

"I tried to kill you," she studied me then sashayed closer. I felt someone's hand on my shoulder trying to pull me back, but I resisted. I wasn't foolish enough to take my eyes off of Mizani though so I wasn't sure who it was. "Why didn't you kill me?"

"Ah -- you're my guest and I owe you hospitality -- you wanted to off me for something Grandpa did -- which I fully understand -- oh, and you're sexy hot and I have a weak spot for dangerous ladies such as yourself.

"You are helpless," Juanita commented from my left rear. She had been the one trying to pull me to safety.

"Your Grandfather ... Alal, stole magic from my family and we would have it back," she smiled up at me. "Would you help us with that?"

"Absolutely," I smiled back. Her hands came to rest on my hips including the one with the knife still in it. "Foiling one of his plans, even long after the deed, would make my day. What do you want me to do?"

"It is a long and tiring ritual," she explained -- kinda sorta. "You must drink a special potion, dance naked around the ceremonial fire and then I must partake of your seed -- three times."

"Of course," Juanita griped. "She wants you to have sex with her."

"Brother," Chaz commented from off to my right, "You are the luckiest man I know."

"I'm up for it," I confidently responded. He ran her left hand from my hip to my groin then ran her hand up and down the outline of my terribly excited organ. "When do we begin?"

"The ceremony must be performed on the Longest Night," she informed me, "with many sisters in attendance."

"I'll do it," I agreed. "I just have to be back in New York City by Christmas Eve. Got another date with another woman who wants to hurt me really bad."

"I'm stunned," Addison drolly noted. "Yet another woman who you have somehow wronged, no doubt."

"Au Contraire, mon Ami," I corrected her. "It's Desiree. As far as I can tell, she just dislikes me for what I've been doing with other women -- not with her."

"How about we get back to business?" Addison regained control of events. The only difference was this time around, Mizani decided that she didn't need to sit down on a chair during the briefing -- sitting on my lap unasked for was good enough. Juanita scowled and Chaz secretly sent positive vibes my way. I could tell these things.

[AJAX'S FUNERAL]

[THE ISLE OF SALAMIS, GREECE]

[TWO WEEKS LATER]

The Greeks spent their combined fortunes to decorate the cedar coffin, cut from the finest trees on Cyprus, to insure it had all the grave goods a King of Salamis would expect as well as the weapons which drew him to the other side so SzélAnya could kill him. My two tomahawks plus a bronze dagger with a sheeth of gold and seeded with precious gemstones -- Greek symbolism on one side and Amazon symbolism on the other.

Ajax was buried with plenty of scented bags to disguise the smell of decay. The man himself was wearing his death mask -- again gold with gems along the crown. Even in death he looked so massive. How had I ever thought I could defeat this man? In fact, I knew I couldn't, thus my deception. He remained a hero, finally felled by a Divine Dragon in my stead.

That was the tale -- the Truth -- I had revealed to the Teucer and the remaining ten Mycenaeans. They had nodded, some even looked from me and Aya over to the grave which housed their departed leader and shook their heads.

"The daughter of Typhon, eh?" Eruthros chuckled. "It would have been how he would have wished to go -- a raging Goddess only he could wound, if not kill."

"Oh, he did that alright," I met his gaze, not sure if I dared meet his smile with one of my own.

"Atta says he shouted his war cry multiple times," Queen Aya added, "and made the Goddess SzélAnya cry out in pain. It says as much in the rolls of my People -- now and forever."

That got more nods all around. It was hard for these men to stay dour in her presence, my fey monarch and holder of the heart of my Fatherhood. One of the others spoke up.

"We do not forgive you for what transpired before the Walls of Troy, Nasusara Assiyaišhamai ... but forgiveness is not necessary. If what has transpired before has also lost all meaning with so many dead then let us both agree to let it be."

"Please, call me Aya," Aya smiled up at the gruff warrior. "Yes. In Amazon etiquette we call it 'committing this to the nothingness'. It will do neither of our people any good to simply pile on more bodies upon the graves of others. Let this be a new day and see what destiny offers us instead of ceaseless vengeance. I do not forgive you for Troy either, but I know we all have shed enough blood over what has passed."

That got nods all around. Aya took out the blade she had kept in her knapsack and offered it to me.

"You knew the man," she commanded in her piping voice. "Place this upon his chest as a final gift from the Amazon Hosts to the People of the Kingdom of Salamis -- let both find the paradise we've been promised. May Wánax Ajax find his old friends who have gone before him be waiting. They have waited for so long." That earned nods all around.

I went forward to place the dagger on the sarcophagus, Chaz, as my Brother, walked beside me while Eruthros remained behind talking with Aya. Around them stood four of the Queen's bodyguards/tutors. Beyond stood the other dignitaries and their own entourages of attendants and bodyguards as well. Even the Great Khan had sent one of his most senior advisors to be present for the ceremony.

How important the Egyptian Rite folks were wasn't something I could figure out from just a glance, or two. Even the Illuminati, standing in for no one else but Alal were here to show their respects both to the fallen King and to the Grandson who had slain him. The Gida had one of his/her own offspring representing their faction despite all contributions as security went.

Personally, I would have felt better if Pamela had come, but she claimed to have another family matter she had to take care of at the last moment and couldn't attend. Besides, she assured me, I couldn't be safer with all the trained killers who would be guarding their ambassadors for such an important event.

She had given me Chaz as my other family member to stand by my side as well as Alkonyka, the Champion of SzélAnya who had been boning up on her martial talents since I had brought her and her sister home from Romania. Surely that would be enough. Needless to say, the Condottieri and the Seven Pillars had politely refused the Egyptian Rite's invitation to be at the gravesite which left me deeply concerned, but not enough to back out at this juncture.

Aya had decided it would be bad for her morale if she sent me while refusing to come along. Once more, I failed to overcome her passionate yet logical counters to my worries about her safety as the date to arrive approached. My 'Spidey Senses' were tingling and I didn't like what reports we weren't getting on any possible Condottieri retaliatory strikes aimed our way.

It was serendipity that on the same day of the funeral, the final phase of Operation Akša Loksti went into action. Hopefully that would disrupt their plans if they had any. Likewise, there were no reports that suggested the Condottieri were even aware of our moves against Angola which I put down to the Amazons and Coils working so well together. I guess I shouldn't have begun the day feeling so fucking positive.

[BACK TO OPERATION AKŠA LOKSTI (WHITE SWAN)]

The unit's overall commander considered massacring the lot yet finally decided to let her hand stay even though the main force needed them. She left two BVP-98's and their ten Amazons behind to round up the prisoners while she and her M-84 MBT raced southeast because those ladies (and guys) sounded like they were in a world of hurt.

They were alone, yet she and her lone tank were expected to turn the tide. What they discovered was a huge Angolan left hook coming at their defensive position above the Loge -- tanks and APCs were fording the Loge closer to the ocean than expected and building up their forces on the coast road /EN100. Something had to be done and quick.

The unit commander knew that minutes were something they may not have so she backed her tank up and deployed her warfighters forward without their own M-98 APC's. The Angolan build up was ignorant of the build up behind them, so when they started rolling forward, she dropped all hell on them from behind. Every two Amazons had a Khanate-built 9K135 Kornet Anti-Tank Guided Missile set up and opened fire.

The immediately turned 17 precious T-72's into so much burning wreckage while using RPG fire to send the Angolan APC's to similar fates. At the same moment they opened fire, the two trucks bringing resupplies for the unit arrived. Most importantly, they brought eighty more shells for the M-84 to use. There was even more good news.

The crew of the T-95 Degman suspected they could bring their tank back to the fight inside an hour though her mobility would be questionable. She told them to hurry up. She wasn't sure they had an hour. Already the rebel air force had joined the struggle after plastering the supply elements in the rear. Unfortunately the Angolan air defenses were more robust than suspected.

Two SU-22's were turned into fireballs with two more limping back to base, most likely removed from the fight entirely. That was as third of their ground attack force gone already and the day wasn't over yet. Still, the Angolans were sluggish to respond. Before their artillery could recognize the threat, the Amazons dropped some 120mm loving on them with their mortars.

The Amazon commander was using her smaller mortars to drop hate on the Angolan infantry which was deploying from their APC's and trying to remove her from her vulnerable position. There had to be about a thousand of them coming her way too. Still, by coming her way they were no longer trying to unravel the main defensive line on the high ground above the river.

At the point they decided to start exchanging RPG fire with the dug in Amazons around the road, she brought her own APCs forward to rake the Angolans with dedicated autocannon fire. That broke the back of their charge and sent them scattering back to their own APC's ... which weren't all that safe. It turned out the Angolans were on the clock too.

The moment the central defensive line beat back the attack by the T-55 tanks of the 101st Tank Brigade, their supporting artillery began dropping hell on the artillery supporting this flanking maneuver. It was just in time too because the Amazon commander didn't have enough firepower to keep them suppressed.

Then it was the job of the remaining T-72's -- the best tanks in the Angolan inventory -- to drive away her deployed infantry and sole M-84. First they concentrated on the M-84 who gamely dispatched T-72 after T-72 once the ATGM fire had removed their reactive armor plates. The whole area around the tank blossomed in clouds of 125 mm fire.

In a flash, all of the M-84's reactive armor on the front and the front of both sides had been stripped from her and the remainder of the tank looked streaked with the indentations of the follow-up hits. Seeing as how the tank was about to be destroyed, the Amazon leader order her to withdraw. She was about to be annihilated for no gain.

The M-84 instantly launched a disruptive cloud of smoke grenades around her to shield her actions as she beat feet to the rear. The T-72's kept firing into the general location as they kept coming their way. The ATGM's the Amazons were using were failing to penetrate the glacis armor of the Main Battle Tanks they were facing.

With the tank withdrawing, the APC's had to withdraw around the bend in the road as well. Their 30mm guns would have no effect on the onrushing behemoths. Still, the Amazons gamely kept up their fire from their hastily made foxholes. They had to keep the enemy focused on them just a few more minutes until the forces above them on the high ground could shift around and come to their rescue.

And then a miracle occurred.

The T-72's pulled up short and shifted their fire from trying to dig the Amazon out of their holes and back to the main road where ... the T-95 had appeared through the dust and smoke. Not only was she launching her own grenades to give her some shelter, her engine was expelling masses of black smoke -- proving she was now dead to the world. The Degman spoke first, exiting a T-72 into the afterlife with a single shot.

Her barrel shifted and then was wreathed in smoke as she took three hits to her turret's armor. That shot ripped away the reactive armor plates there, but the tank itself was undamaged. Exit another T-72. Shells were exploding all around her and even hitting her glacis armor to little effect. Exit another T-72 ... and then another in rapid succession. Two of the M-84's from above had finally shifted around and were firing into the now exposed flank of the Angolan thrust.

The next salvo of ATGM's was simply too much for the remaining tankers. They fired off their own smoke grenades and began backing up toward the river. Their infantry scrambled to keep up -- and not to be overrun by their own vehicles. The helicopters arriving was simply icing on the cake. That rout was on and the firing continued. Even 'her' M-84 returned to add her own firepower to the debacle.

Her timely arrival and superior placement of her small command had broken the back of the Angolan offensive ... and then the terrible slaughter took place, just as predicted. The Angolans simply abandoned their towed artillery and the oncoming air assault concentrated on the fleeing mobile batteries as well as their few remaining anti-air assets.

It was a complete disaster for the Angolans. Their conscript soldiers threw away anything which could slow them down in their flight to the rear. For the combined forces of Cabinda and Zaire, there was only the time it took to rearm and refuel then the pursuit took place. Well into the night, they followed the remaining elements of the Angolan army, some ambitious Amazon scouts going so far as to see the lights of Luanda before calling it quits.

In the capital there was complete panic. Their army hadn't been beaten -- it had been UTTERLY destroyed. With the enemy coming on fast to their doorsteps, the leaders got into their fancy automobiles and fled south, some not stopping until they crossed the border into neighboring Namibia. Then they had to fall down on their knees and beg for immediate South African aid.

The South Africans were coming, but so was the United Nations and the other countries in the Lusosphere. They were reporting the Angolans being skunked on their national news networks along with the massive celebrations in Cabinda over their surprise liberation. Jailed and recently escaped leaders were on the balcony of the military governor's palace to announce the creation of their new nation.

They also called on their countrymen to rise up and take up arms to defend their newfound liberties then thanked God on High for their liberation. Best of all, the military which had done the deed was already seen moving off to the frontiers to protect against 'foreign' intervention while leaving the people free to chart their own destiny.

Elections were promised as was a new constitution. It had been a tremendous victory and the rebel forces responsible ... wanted seemingly nothing. What they did want was anonymity. They had done what they had done to give the Cabindan and the Bakongo of Zaire breathing room to chart their own course and they would be around only as long as it took for them to decide on what they wanted to do now that peace, prosperity and all that oil money was finally theirs.

While some of their leadership living in exile griped about the 'backroom deals' which permitted their new nation to exist, it was subtly explained to them what their options were -- Freedom, or Angola. If they really didn't want to surrender up some of that control to the 'third party' aka the Amazon Host and give them Soyo then the Amazons and their allies could simply go.

No one wanted that so the Amazons got their small archipelago, the Coils of the Serpents got their diplomatic status, and their people got to live without fear of being arbitrarily arrested, or robbed of their petroleum birthright. They wouldn't be completely happy, but they were free to gripe about it as much as they liked, because that was what real freedom was all about.

As for that Amazon Commander? By midnight that evening, her reduced command, though battered, low on fuel and ammunition was at the outskirts of Ambriz... and there were no more Angolan soldiers left to kill. They had won the Battle of the Loge and in doing so, seized a new homeland for her people -- the Amazonian City-State of New Themiscyra. Queen Aya would be so proud.

If only she knew her Queen had almost died that very day, but she didn't so her warrior's heart was allowed to beat softly as she grabbed some much needed shut eye. With the dawn tomorrow she would begin their retreat back to the Loge and the relative safety their new neighbors offered in exchange for their freedoms.

[***]

[BACK TO THE FUNERAL]

[THE ISLE OF SALAMIS, GREECE]

'I love more than I hate'.

I had been babbling that for twelve weeks. I'd convinced others to say it -- even feel it yet it wasn't until I found myself staring into Eruthros' dead eyes did the full colossal weight of those words come tumbling down.

'Love more than hate?' Hate had bourn Eruthros through the Endless Black Sands for THREE THOUSAND YEARS. His hate, focused by Ajax and aimed at the Amazon Race. Three thousand years. Hate rarely cares about guilt. They had wronged the Amazons -- there was no doubt of that in anyone's minds. For three thousand years, neither side had cared for the others' excuses.

In the last minute of Eruthros' life, he had thrown away that reality-rending weight for the epitome of his rage -- its ultimate personification of the Amazon spirit -- and all he had to do was 'nothing' to let hate take its course. No blade, or bullet was necessary -- no push, fist, or kick. All he had to do was nothing and the Amazons would have been robbed of their Queenly House for a second and most-likely final time.

Had he thrown his body over Teucer? Highly understandable. Teucer was his fallen Lord's half-brother.

Had he taken himself to safety? No one was immediately trying to kill him and shelter was a few steps away, so he would have been temporarily secure.

Eruthros deliberately ended his life with no greater certainty than had he pushed the barrel of the gun beneath his chin and pulled the trigger. Had he deliberated at all, it wouldn't have mattered. Bullets were buzzing around over 1000 meters per second. Lifetimes had collapsed into the Nano-second. In that pulse, Eruthros acted out of the purist of human instincts. A child was in danger and he was the closest adult who could make a difference.

He threw himself on Aya. That was the instinctive human reaction. They had been speaking pleasantly before the first bullet's impact. Aya's closest Amazonian protector had absorbed the entirety of the machinegun chatter devoted to ending the Queen's existence ~ and still was. Her other three closest guardians had been removed by dedicated sniper fire. Our foes ABSOLUTELY were going to kill Nasusara Assiyaišhamai, the diminutive monarch of their hated foe.

The rest of her bodyguard was too far away. We -- Queen and diplomat -- had gone to the grave side to pay our last respects when the ambush was launched. They had shredded everyone else around her and only her tiny size shielded by larger, female corpses had kept her alive up to that moment. There was no one else left capable of saving her. There never would be.

What followed was a deliberate decision which could never be denied. It was a choice made knowing it would cost him what short time he had left to provide Aya with whatever hope the living might still provide.

Laying prone and unmoving ... the enemy might shoot him, or they might wait until they had dispatched the others. Eruthros knew he was critically wounded already.

Moving would ensure the assassins kept firing at him (and Aya). If he succeeded, he could propel her to a place where she would be safer, if only for a minute more.

"Har nahkuitki."

Eruthros' last words ~ 'have no fear'. Was that aimed at calming Aya, or inspiring himself? Since the word were in the Amazon tongue ... who knew?

I was looking at him, still trying to figure out a way to get to those two. I looked into his eyes. He did not look into mine. I thought he was looking at the spot between myself and Teucer where we shared an impossibly cramped bit of temporary shelter. For all I knew, by that time he wasn't looking at anything at all. His brain had fired off its final orders and the body, though mangled, obeyed.

I saw a high-velocity round transect his torso as he pushed himself onto 'all fours'. There was no way that tumbling projectile missed both lungs and heart. His strong right arm kept Aya pressed to his chest as he went from knees and elbows to toes and left palm.

"Har nahkuitki."

His lips muttered the words as blood spewed forth from his mouth and nose. His left knee pulled toward his chest, allowing his body to tilt in that direction. That gave Aya a few more inches worth of bloody shelter. I was sure he was hit again. Rock fragments leapt off the ground -- shattering the stones they had most recently vacated.

His left thigh flexed, surging him forward. The left palm directed the thrust upward before rising off the ground entirely and encircling Aya. As the right leg began to fulfill its role, a bullet pierced it. With the femur splintered, the brunt of the action was taken over by the uncoiling muscles.

By the time the left knee returned to his chest, Eruthros' body had molded around Aya's. Bullets were coming in from above and behind. Only the meat and bone of his arms shielded her from the ricochets. He took impacts from the back and right simultaneously, causing his body to twist in an unnatural angle. His light protective armor, worn specifically to be 'unobtrusive' for this ceremony, wasn't enough for this ammunition specifically designed to defeat it.

He refused to let go despite the hydrostatic shock ripping his insides to pieces. Teucer and I caught him, drawing his crashing form between us. I did him poor service. I flipped him over to retrieve Aya. Absently I noticed his wide eyes staring out into forever.

"Aya," I croaked urgently. Her tears flowed freely. I didn't blame her. I was misty-eyed myself. "Are you hurt?"

"Nothing more than a few scratches, Atta," she hiccupped. Chaz, at my far side, among the Mycenaeans playing the role of my 'brother', reached around me to push a Glock-39 into her tiny hands without comment. I didn't spare an iota of concentration on Eruthros. He was dead and there were living around, friend and enemy, who needed my attention.

I had come here to bury Ajax and old scores. Eruthros had gone far beyond that. He had given his life -- a man's life -- for my Queen's life. A life for a life. An apology no other could have made and been accepted. There was none of this 'I'm sorry' bull crap.

A warrior of Mycenae had, in a split-second, valued the life of an Amazon warrior equal to his own -- worthy of his sacrifice -- side by side on a battlefield. There was no way for a professional to misunderstand his actions. With that realization came a very un-Amazon response ... unless you were Saku.

RAGE! Not an insane spasm of unbridled emotion -- oh no! This was unreasoning fury, but not unfocussed. In the back of my mind, I was still fighting to keep my sisters alive. In the forefront -- a most un-Amazon of impulses -- was the unquenchable hunger to kill my foes, no matter what the personal cost. No matter how great the promised pain ... it took second place to seeing my adversaries torn to shreds, blown asunder and ripped to bloody pieces.

I had a host of languages to pull from, but for this there was only one Past-Master for what I really wanted to say.

"Niq Ma!" sang forth.

'Vengeance is my fire that consumes my enemies. Let those who tread in my dust eat their ashes,' had come to me at my Father's funeral.

Fuck these Greeks, Amazons, Italians, Chinese, Sicilians, cranky-ass Mongolians and 'old-as-Hell' Sumerians! There was one culture that embraced hate on a National level and elevated retribution to an art form. The Assyrians! The people who Saku had felt she belonged with, if not welcomed by.

"Teucer, I am entrusting you with my Daughter's care," I pushed Aya to his side.

"Oh fuck," Chaz muttered. Teucer was still walking-wounded. His pistol was held in his left hand -- not his primary -- his right still in a sling. I looked across Ajax's burial pit to the men hiding behind the mound of his grave soil.

The closest one, Glaukos, caught my gaze. I looked up the hill then back to him. I reached down and checked my FN P ... damn it. Buffy had reorganized all of House Ishara's hardware so I now had the 'standard' MP-7A1. Me ... Me and Chaz if he was dumb enough to follow me and the other nine Mycenaeans.

I am not one warrior alone, but one of a thousand warriors who have fought before me came to mind. A few hundred dead ancestors rejoining me wouldn't have sucked right then. I looked to my right, past the dead Amazons and Earth & Sky until my gaze led me to Alkonyka. She was crouched behind a modest-sized boulder which provided barely-adequate cover for one ... and she was sharing it with two others.

She had a pistol and enough anger to use it foolishly. Like me, she knew the key to all our survival was on the top of this hill. If we could take it, the enemy couldn't keep us pinned down in their crossfire. How she planned to rush up twenty meters of open ground ...

I twisted over -- standing would have led to my premature mutilation -- so I could look out over the Gulf of Megara -- white caps ~ frothing, mean and by no one's measure -- little ones. I had promised SzélAnya I would both reveal her deeds while keeping her offspring safe from retribution. I had tricked the Mycenaeans.

Their retribution for Ajax's passing would be mine alone to bear. I had tricked them and they had accepted my deception. I had used a tool to kill their King and you didn't punish a tool for fulfilling its purpose. You blamed the user -- me. All of that meant an attentive SzélAnya for this funeral.

Her Champion and Amazons were endangered once more. What she lacked in a divisive Weave, she was rewarded with in raw elemental possibility. Nearby mountaintops overshadowed turbulent seas. All the winds needed was a nudge ~ and, being a deity who despised anything in moderation, SzélAnya unleashed a gale.

"Niq Ma!" I screamed as I went from a kneeling crouch into a stumbling gate. A bizarre trisection of events grabbed hold of my life.

[MY OWN PRIVATE GALLIPOLI]

Before the first bullet exited the barrel of a gun this day ...

Both sides thought they brought enough people to accomplish their aims.

Both believed they'd found an unsurmountable plan taking into account the limitations created by the inaccessibility of the terrain and the proximity to a major population center -- the Capital City of Modern Hellas -- Athens.

Both thought they were bringing superior firepower.

While one launched their attack when they believed they had achieved surprise the other was certain their defense was flawless.

Both sides acted and reacted as if they were facing similarly trained and motivated foe.

Oh yeah, and both were wrong.

The Condottieri felt they had reliable intelligence on how many people would be attending Ajax's funeral. They were 'almost' right. Knowing what your enemy thinks they knew about what you know ... la-la-la.

Knowing they had been penetrated before, the Black Hand decided to 'think outside the box'. They certainly didn't trust anyone else with their security ... except there was something they did have absolute faith in -- the Sanctity of the Contract.

The Gída (Goat), Head of the Black Hand of Hellas, hired two Brotherhood of the Wolf packs (7 and 5 in number) to augment (his?) security forces without anyone knowing -- including the rest of the Black Hand of Hellas ~ who were providing the majority of the security for this afternoon's somber festivities. Technically two others were aware of the arrangement -- the Vizsla, whose advice the Gída sought out, and the 'Patron'.

For a 'Patron' -- the person directing the Brotherhood while on mission -- they needed someone all the concerned parties could trust. Since no such person existed, they chose Pamela instead. In her favor, Pamela's assassin credentials were accepted by all -- the Brotherhood would gladly work with her 'in the field'.

The Vizsla and the Gída also decided if this operation was exposed, everyone would blame the Globe's Most Fortuitous Idiot -- me. The Amazons would forgive me -- according to some I did stupid stuff like this all time. The E&S? I was the Khan's most trusted kinsman, wasn't I? If the Egyptians grew pissy ... the Gída could always blame Pamela and I'd somehow save Pamela. Call it Kismet.

Everything following the implementation of Gída's mad scheme was a cascading series of cause and effect. It was 'if they knew what I knew about what they knew' played out over the southeastern end of the island of Salamis. Oma Wolf und ihre tödliche Welpen traipsed over their perspective playground, playing an assassins' game of '120 Questions'.

Simply put, baring expense, how would they murder everyone attending a funeral on an island thirty minutes from the capital of a European nation (with massive and rather effective policing agencies with waterborne capability) assuming a one hour timeline? Once you removed all the testosterone-laden, male fantasies, the remaining avenues of attack were rather limited.

The Condottieri only made two mistakes.

First off, they launched the damn attack in the first place. The Egyptian Rite had made a person-to-person direct appeal to the Condottieri's leadership to hold travel to and from the burial, and the burial itself, sacrosanct. They said it was 'spiritually pivotal'.

Mind you, the Egyptians and Condottieri weren't buddies, but the Egyptians very, very rarely asked for something like this ... and they were still neutral in the ongoing Secret War. Perhaps the Condos figured by killing Aya and the other dignitaries, the other factions would be too suspicious to so easily assign blame. I didn't know and didn't care.

Their second mistake was going with the 'best' plan. If they could figure it out then why couldn't Pamela? The Condottieri had gone over all the 'if I do this then they do this' rigmarole repeatedly. Their plan wasn't 'foolproof' and their unit commanders were fully expected to show initiative as the situation unfolded.

In fact, their only true strategic error was assuming what an 'unknown' force would try to do to disrupt their plan -- i. e. stop them. Pamela threw that shit right out the window on Day One. She and her 'Pups' weren't in the lifesaving business so they weren't even going to try. No. They were professional folk-killers, they were there to kill specific folk and killing multiple specific folks was what they were going to do. After all, they weren't mad butchers either.

The rest of us? Sucks to be the prey, doesn't it? Pamela was an Amazon and those are some cold-ass bitches. Unlike Hana's Ghost Tigers, Pamela's Pups were planning to seize the momentum and never let go. An unspecified number of heavily armed targets were going to arrive at a quaint Greek resort within a given time frame and her '12' were going to kill them all. They even had SCUBA gear squirrelled away for their getaway to the Greek mainland.

Military battlefield tactics don't normally take into account a few bands of highly motivated combatants hunting down and killing your forces ... solely for the sake of hunting down and killing your forces. That is military stupidity -- throwing your highly-trained military cadres straight at your enemy's readied elite. Militaries normally practice attrition on a strategic level, not on the tactical.

The Condottieri tactical units had to be somewhere at a certain time accomplishing a certain goal. Pamela's Pups knew that. Knowing precisely how the 'where' married to the 'when' didn't matter to them. They didn't care if they killed you before, or after you did what you came to do. They weren't worried about what you might be trying to do -- even getting away (exiting the fight aka no longer a 'threat').

A good example of that happened before the real firefight began. One of Pamela's groups was hunkered down watching two Black Hand scouts who were, in turn, set up secretively to watch a narrow approach to the funerary service. The Pups were concealed so all they were looking at was the Black Hand. Otherwise, their position was useless.

The Condottieri advance team snuck up and dispatched the two Black Hand silently and quickly. The Pups ... nothing. Sure enough, the rest of the Condottieri team showed up. The Pups ... nothing. Soon, the general attack began AND then the Pups killed them all.

Why had they waited? Now that the Condottieri were engaged in combat, there was no sure way their Command Authority could tell if one of their teams had been successfully ambushed and exterminated aka assassinated. For a minute, or so, it would be assumed they were simply heavily engaged.

The Pups? Having determined which combat stratagem the Condottieri were using (given the terrain plus the Condottieri's decision to not use attack aircraft, or artillery, and the attack not coming from both land & sea ~ Pamela assured me there was only one attack plan left they could have been using), the Brotherhood assassins went off to stalk the next closest group.

By design, the Condo units had to work together as a team -- maximizing their advantages. The Pups were a League of their Own, having no intention of saving anyone at the funeral and thus didn't have to play by the rules of a rationally behaving Reaction Force.

They were not in communication with their 'confederates'. Hell, their 'confederates' were acting as if they didn't know Pups were even on the playing field either -- cause they didn't. FYI: Every faction present did in fact have its own 'Reaction Force' on the island as well (just to make things 'really fun') ~ all those units simply started stationed away from the actual funeral site.

There was an exceptional Condottieri commander orchestrating this action from the safety of a command facility dozens of kilometers away. For the most part, he was working with Team Leaders he had served with before. By the time he figured out what was going on -- he was caught up in a three-sided firefight -- everything had gone to shit. The southwestern tip of the island had become a free-for-all.

[BACK TO GALLIPOLI]

I was hit. Two inches along my third right rib -- a thru and thru. My light ballistic material had no hope against a continuous parade of machinegun rounds. I didn't stop screaming nor did my tone vary. Anger sustained me where pain and bullet velocity should have put me down. I had Aya's Steely Confidence 'We (combined) Could Never Fail' as well as a pack of heroic near-immortals in tow ... and a 50 mph wind at my back. All were good reasons for me not being knocked down.

My most telling virtue was my iron-clad belief in my immortality. My enemy could not take my life. With that assurance, I made myself their primary target as I stormed towards them. Not only was I carrying a serious weapon (a PDW) which suggested they should kill me quickly, I was leading the charge.

Long experience suggested if you kill the fool leading such a suicidal endeavor, the troops following would waiver. In this lethal climate, wasted seconds were moments of time the people before me did not possess. That equation worked in reverse -- they didn't need to waste too much time on me, or bullets. These were professional soldiers, no matter how morally-questionable.

Enemy Problem #1 ~ I WOULD -- NOT -- DIE, or even stop coming. I imagine the guy manning the machinegun wished he'd packed something heavier than 5.56x45mm now.

Enemy Problem #2 ~ just like the Romanians at the Battle of the Seven Skulls, these mercenaries had been briefed the Mycenaeans were some of the baddest sonsofbitches to ever take up the killing arts. Sure, all but two were walking wounded (and pretty fucked-up at that), and only armed with pistols and archaic weaponry ....

But with élan, inhuman bravery and incredible discipline the nine kept a steady fire upslope while under 'suppression fire' themselves. It was ... unnerving. One of these ancient Greeks had part of his cheek sheered away by a slug -- and he did NOT care. Like his brethren, he kept firing. Welcome to the Hell the Romanian Vânători de munte had been subjected to.

Enemy Problem # 3 ~ Even Chaz was only a whole quarter-second reacting behind those stalwarts. Right on his heels, every surviving Amazon, Kazak, Greek and 'Egyptian' began firing. Not only was I out in the open, screaming and charging the enemy alone, utterly exposed, the Mycenaeans and I were drawing away too many shooters so the rest were no longer being adequately 'suppressed'. Plus, if you were a combatant among us, you were one of your faction's bad-ass killers.

Enemy Problem #4 ~ As yet another indignity to the Condottieri's brilliant plan, Oma Wolf und ihre tödliche Welpen were beginning to, rather inadvertently, unravel their over-lapping fields of fire by taking out key Condo sniper teams. Worse, the Egyptian Rite and Earth & Sky's Reaction teams were racing to the rescue. The Amazon and Black Hand teams had been ambushed, thus delayed if not completely wiped out. The Egyptian and E&S? The Condo 'ambush' teams had been murdered before they got a chance to launch their 'ambushes'. Sucks to be prey.

Enemy Problem #5 ~ on the battlefield the visibility suddenly, unexpectedly and painfully dropped down to less than three meters as every bit of sand, detritus and gravel were picked up by a gale force wind and thrown up in their faces. The Condottieri on the hilltop were in a double bind. They could fire blindly -- they all had shooting glasses, or goggles -- except we could see their flashes while they couldn't see ours (or anything else for that matter), or they could hunker down under cover at the top of the hill and wait a few seconds for this 'micro-burst' to pass.

Enemy Problem #6 ~ they did the perfectly sane thing and hunkered down. Five seconds later, their veteran instincts began kicking in, warning them this was in no way a natural aerial phenomena. Up they popped and started firing.

Enemy Problem #7 ~ a very healthy man with nothing to lose, running up a moderate slope can still cover close to seven meters / 22 feet a second. Right as the killer with the H&K MG4 realized he needed to be both looking into this draconic sandblaster and firing, I lunged. I didn't shoot.

Nah, I rammed my Amazon blade into his left eye socket. He wasn't Uncle Lumpy. His death spasms weren't my concern. My knife meant his comrades were unaware of my passage through their position. I was over the hilltop, yet to do the most damage, I had to cover about four more steps.

Then I turned, rolled into a kneeling posture and 'walked' my MP7A fire down the line of Condottieri's mercenaries as they lay there, peaking back over into the whirlwind. By some miracle, either Chaz, the Mycenaeans, or some of the others had killed two before I got to this point. After the machine gunner, I sent five more of the 10-man fire team to the Afterlife before the last two spun and unloaded into me.

Even then, I had been leaning forward because of the gale so I soaked up at least three three-round bursts apiece before finally being knocked over on my back. I had the impression of bullets punching clean through me. That didn't compare to the sensation of my heart exploding. It was a totally new sense of horror to add to the list of things I would never forget. I was spiraling off, about to test my immortality theory ... when I heard two simultaneous, very close pistol reports. I guess those two dirty assholes should have kept one eye out for Chaz & Company -- fucktards.

[Okay now ~ everyone take a deep breath. Shed a tear for our departed protagonist whose bullet-ridden corpse lies still upon the rocky soil of Hellas.

Savor the moment.

Consider all the Hell poor Cáel has been through and how going to the Halls of his ancestors would be its just desserts for a life so recently filled with such grief and pain.

Shed a tear for the poor, former-intern at Havenstone Commercial Investments.

Then ... remember all the bitches in his life, and how Aya really needs him.]

But wait! Someone wasn't with the program!!!!!!!!

There was light -- light and PAIN -- truly 'bite thru your tongue in agony' pain. I had been hit by a lightning bolt out of a clear-blue sky. I'd let Bill Nye the Science Guy figure that one out. I was positive me lounging on top of a hill holding a big chunk of metal (my gun) would help him wrangle the physics a bit. Me? I had other issues -- three to be precise.

[THE THREE GODDESS ONCE MORE]

"You may not have him!"

I was not sure who that was. My ears were still ringing from the hellish Thunderstrike.

"See, his heart beats once more. He isn't dead."

Uh-oh ... things weren't sounding good. As in having your heart explode HURTS and I was now most likely going to get to 'relive' the sensation at a sooner, not later, date. I trust my luck on such matters.

"How can he not be dead? He has fifty fucking holes in him!"

"Don't exaggerate," a crypt-like voice chuckled. "He was only shot nineteen times. The rest were ricochets and rock fragments."

Oh ... SOMEONE was VERY angry with 'yours truly'.

"He will not die because I have cauterized all his wounds," SzélAnya bragged.

"For such selfless bravery before his Queen he deserves to go to his Eternal Reward," Dot Ishara insisted. "Lift your damn curse. You still have Baraqu to torment, damn you."

"You hit me with a fucking lightning bolt@!" I grunted because I didn't really want to discuss my horny, lonely ancestors at the moment.

"Yes."

"Say you are sorry," Dot grumbled. No one said anything.

"She is talking to you," said the ghost-like voice of Sarrat Irkalli. The other two ladies weren't being at all helpful so she added. "SzélAnya is under the impression her intervention has created a viable alibi for the humans to believe you didn't bleed to death ... with the added bit of concern you might be forfeiting your soul to me for such a blatantly foolish action ... but, truth be told, I am having so much more fun watching them fret over you; I'm not too terribly angry with your multi-layered duplicity ... up until now."

"Oh ..." three voices with two different inflections.

"And now that Ishara knows beyond a shade of a doubt you are truly immortal she has lost her final complaint about you mating with SzélAnya ~ that sex with a Storm Dragon would burn you alive -- consume you, body and soul ~ she must let the two of you procreate ... blah ... blah ... killing people is so much easier than trying to keep them alive. I'm not sure why they bother. I've only been inclined to spare one life in all eternity and it has been an endless source of amusement for me. I may seek you out later for some 'understanding' on this, Cáel Wakko Ishara."

"No! No -- you -- will -- not!" Dot hovered protectively.

"Your Chosen One is far too careless with his life, Ishara. Besides, you two won't always be around to keep him company," she mocked the other two.

"You want to reap my soul and take it to Hell, right?" I inquired.

"No. I am intrigued with the madness your phallus creates. Its sway is stultifying in its effectiveness in far too many female deities."

I didn't like the sound of that.

"HE'S MINE!" the two closer goddesses chorused in protest.

"I rest my case, young man. Be seeing you soon ... hmmm ... he reminds me of the second son of Sargon the Great ..."

"Never heard of him," I sat up (spiritually speaking) to see the Goddess of the Sumerian Underworld departing. She looked over her shoulder and winked a ghastly, glowing orb in my direction.

"He was mighty and cunning, much like yourself and beloved of the divine."

"What happened to him?"

"Goddesses have rivals, rivals have priestesses and he was strangled post-coitus," she cooed eerily, "by eight priestesses of the Goddess Šherida." Eight? Hey, at least he went out swinging like a champ. Yes. I'm an idiot.