Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Spanner 15.2: The Calm Before the Storm

This may be even tougher than a fight scene or a love scene: to take one of those wordless cinematic sequences that occur before the climactic battle in one of Mamoru Oshii’s Patlabor films and translate it into words. The name I gave these sequences is the name of this section. Drawing it would have been easy, and I have the precedent of Haruhiko Mikimoto in the Macross 7 manga; the “Intermission” that opens book 4 is, in fact, the original inspiration for all the Interludes in Spanner. The tricky part is doing it in words. Some of it sounds like a poem or a song. Anyway, here goes (crosses fingers)...

...from previous

Chaos Angel Spanner — Chapter 15: Start the Violence
Part 2: The Calm Before the Storm

5 october 2014.
Midnight. The black Seattle skyline stands impassively against the black sky. A gentle rain washes it. The normal sounds of nighttime have fallen silent. Surveillance drones flit around like fireflies, scouring the empty city for any suspicious movement. The silent shadows of cloaked helicopters send out lonely beams of light. There is nothing for them to see, for no one is there.

Automated trucks patrol the downtown streets in search of the men of terror. They communicate with humanoid police robots hiding in plain sight along the building walls and in the allies and niches. Their many eyes transmit their images directly to COPCO. They search back and forth, again and again, restlessly, ceaselessly. But there is nothing for them to see, for no one is there.

John Cameron Becket, the one-eyed man, sits in front of the huge bank of monitors in his top-floor control room, scanning every monitor for the slightest movement, hoping and fearing that an enemy will betray its presence. He looks for the slightest signal that the terrorists are there. He knows they must be somewhere. Yet he sees nothing.

But the black shadows of the night are alive. The terror elite slink and crawl, dressed in black and cloaked in invisibility. They slip around from shadow to shadow, hiding from the eyes and ears of Jesus America. They believe they have the chance to slay the all-powerful nation-god. They intend to replace him with their own gods.

Above, every roof swarms with snipers, Deltas and strike cops, eyes constantly vigilant for any sight of the enemy, trigger fingers twitching. They are weapons, not men. They are the swords of Jesus America, who sacrificed their souls to become instruments of his will. His will is the destruction of the infidels, those who do not sacrifice their souls to become his.

The trucks and bots and drones look for movement. They find it. They disturb rats, mice, crows, pigeons, seagulls, stray cats and dogs. They find each other. They find no sign of human presence. With infinite patience they continue their search.

In the subways and sewers, in basements and fallout shelters, the poor and the homeless hide from their masters. They sleep in fear; they sleep with troubled dreams. Some of them sleep without dreams. They huddle together as if to protect each other. But if they are found, nothing can protect them from the consuming robots, the ravenous bodies of Jesus America.

Above them, in the towers, the faithful sleep in peace and dream of their Lord. Their dreams are uneasy because uncertainty is in the air, the uncertainty that drives the precogs mad.

Team Spanner sleep in bunks on the big yacht Martin Lansky won from Oliver Thorwald. They need the rest so they can be alert when the King arrives...

Dawn. The rain ceases; the clouds disperse. At first, the sky over the Cascades turns purple, then develops a stripe of pink. The sun peeks out brightly behind the mountains, behind the darkened towers of the skyline.

As the morning sun kisses the shimmering wet streets, the first of the faithful trickle out to meet the morning. When they sense the vastness of the city, they bow their heads and pray for Jesus America to protect them from the evil demon Babylon, mother of cities. Their King will pray to banish the demon, but they know she will pop up somewhere else, and then she will return in full horrific glory. The unfeeling towers will draw her back like stone and glass giants calling out for their mother, for she is their mother.

James Walter Brinkman awakens to find himself reverting to his slender human form. He throws himself to his feet, throws on a robe, and storms into the living room where room service have prepared a feast for a monster. He slams down meats and sweets in massive amounts until the feeling of weakness subsides. Before the mirror, he watches himself transform into his familiar heavy-bearded form, human in form but halfway to werewolf, until he becomes invulnerable. He dresses and prepares for the biggest day of his life.

The police robots and armoured strike police swirl around the faithful, offering them the protection of Jesus America. The number of the faithful slowly grows from a trickle to a stream. They venture out of their sleeping places, out into the streets of the accursed city, and make their pilgrimage to the open plaza at its heart. Such horrors are not permitted in the conservative exurbs that are the beating heart of the Empire; where the Babylons open their heart to the Evil of the world, their Zions protect theirs behind the protective armour of the giant Churches of America where Jesus America is worshipped, praised, and obeyed. And yet they came here to banish Babylon from this city in the holy name of Jesus America, knowing that the giant sons of Babylon that surround them will summon her back.

Drusilla Becket AMERICA! luxuriates in the giant bath of gold at the top of one of these giants. Three chaste young female disciples have earned the supreme privilege of joining her in her bath. With utmost worship they gently sponge the beautiful smooth skin of their Holy Mother. They have heard the blasphemous rumors, spread by her evil apostate daughters Charlotte and Desiree, that she feeds on their youth to keep herself forever young. They hope with all their heart that the rumors are true; they long to willingly offer up their youth in sacrifice to her, so she can remain young and beautiful forever.

After her bath, they dry her off with thick thirsty towels and dress her in elaborate robes, the vestments of the Supreme Shepherd, so she can present herself before her holy and eternal husband, Jesus America, in the presence of her father the King. They dry themselves off, don pure white robes, prostrate themselves before her in worship, and chant devotions. She holds out her hands in blessing and pronounces her benediction. She turns away from them, looks out the window at the city she has hated for so long, and pronounces a curse upon it, upon the demon Babylon and her children, and above all upon her daughters and the Angel of Chaos they summoned to plague her.

The sun shows its face and smiles down upon the city. It dries the rain off the streets to prepare the path of the faithful who have made their pilgrimage to this Babylon. They now flood the streets, walking to their meeting place from every direction, chanting prayers of protection from Babylon in the face of her sons and songs of praise for Jesus America. Some of them, overwhelmed by their love for their Lord, chant in the Unknown Tongue.

Richard Becket secures his power tie in the mirror of his superluxury suite. He unties it and ties it again until the knot is perfect and he is satisfied. He remembers the TrumpCity incident of last August, when the terrorist the scandal-hungry reporters named Spanner flew into the ceremony in a cloud of smoke and fire to snatch back the dominion over the Technosphere that God and destiny had promised to his Cartel. Worse than the chaos he had caused was the fearful expectation of chaos he sowed into the hearts of the United Corporations and of all faithful Conservative Revolutionaries.

He expects Spanner to strike again. He expects Spanner to strike here. He has ordered his nephew John to watch for any signs of the terrorist’s advent. He vowed in TrumpCity to catch and destroy him. He vowed to protect Order at all costs. His whole life now depends on it. For if this demon infects the sacred order with the corruption of chaos, the whole order will collapse and the entire fabric of reality will come apart at the seams. If that happens, he will never again be able to live with himself.

Seattle refugees overflow the growing urban hearts of Port Angeles, Victoria, Aberdeen, Hoquiam, Bellingham, Olympia, Ocean City. They alight in Vancouver and Portland, longing for their home city, waiting for the opportunity to reclaim it from the man and the Empire that have stolen it from them, even if only for one day. In San Francisco, Hope Reston betrays no sign of worry. When asked, she tells them that this is an acute affliction which will soon pass.

In Port Townsend, the streets of its three centers fill up again with locals, tourists, and refugees. In the basement below the Sky Dancer Bookstore, Ariel shares a bath with her beloved friends Ric and Willa, then shares her bed with Ric, Willa, and then both, then watches in pleasure as they make love to each other.

In Victoria, their sister Reva walks hand in hand with her daughters Saffron and Karen to experience the beautiful sights and sounds of the flower-filled city. Then they return to their hotel room, chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, and pray for the safety of Shira, her friends, and all those left in the city and faced with the wrath of Jesus America. They will chant without cease until the King has departed and the danger has passed. Throughout the Empire, in America and Europe and Japan, millions of their fellow Buddhists will join them to chant for the people of Seattle.

In Ocean City, Charlie and Desiree walk hand in hand with Ayla along the beaches, through the parks, on the crowded streets; they return home to make love to each other as the young girl’s watches them with joyful tears in utter fascination. The two sister-wives will make love without cease until the night comes and they fall exhausted into happy sleep.

In Seattle, the crowd of devout Americans gathers in Westlake Plaza, waiting to receive their President, their King, and the God of their Nation. They wait with utmost patience. They chant the hymns of their Nation. They pray for the banishment of the accursed Babylon and her daughters Humanism, Democracy, Science, and Reason. Together they stand in the contented sleep of reason, dreaming that they are one being, which they call the Bride of America. And the crowd grows and grows until it engulfs the heart of the city. For one day they shall consecrate it to Jesus America. But they know that once their President and their King have departed, they too will have to return the city to Babylon the mother of demons.

On the waterfront, among the moored ferries and yachts, the fighters and hackers of Team Spanner sleep soundly in the bunks of Martin Lansky’s yacht as the clock slowly approaches its alarm time. They must limit their dreams to their sleep, for they must be fully awake in order to carry out their mission. And so for one more hour they dream on, some of them still awake in their dreams, till the alarm sounds and all dreams must end.

John Cameron Becket paces restlessly, back and forth, throughout the control room. He carefully scans every monitor, hopeful and fearful that an enemy will betray its presence. His one eye flits back and forth among the monitors as he looks for the slightest sign or symbol of Spanner. So far, he sees nothing. But he doesn’t have the slightest desire for sleep. No, he cannot sleep.

His father, slumped over in the blackness and silence of his basement office, cannot stay awake...

Shira’s dream. The Lord of Order materializes before her threateningly, wearing the robes of a white king. Dr Henry Becket warns, “Do not summon the demon.”

Shira sports the regalia of a black queen. She shrugs. “Who said anything about demons?”

“You know which one. Only a demon could have slain so many seers.”

“Only an angel can slay a demon. But which is the angel, and which the demon?”

Leila’s dream. The voice of an angel whispers into her ear, “Wake up. This is important.” Within the dream, she awakens.

She sees the spirit of Roger Steele Becket materialize before her, surrounded by a Praetorian guard of superheroes all in the same costume. These his exobodies, the clones. She sees the three-dimensional shadow of his corporation body — another exobody. It too must not be touched.

Then his true body rises: the faceless formless ghost of King Patriot I, a being made entirely out of political power, created by magical incantations of publicity, fed by worship and fear. She sees it suck the life out of the masses like a gigantic formless vampire. She sees its power. And then, she sees its weak point—

on to the next...

Back to Chapter 15 index...
Back to Chaos Angel Spanner table of contents...

Copyright © 2011 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
Creative Commons License

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Spanner 15.1: Plots and Plans

Now the real trouble begins. School's out, politics has gone mad, and the climax of Spanner Book 1’s second “light novel” is speeding toward us like a runaway freight train. But first, both sides need to plot their strategies even before they get to stare each other down. Meanwhile, the terrorists are trying to sneak into the best position to shoot the King down...

Third Edition revision notes: I’ll have to add foreshadowing all the way back to Chapter 9, and to “light novel” 1 I’ll need to add a “prophecy” subplot that starts shortly after Leila’s introduction in Chapter 1 and gets a huge twist at the end of Chapter 8, with the significance only fully realized in Chapter 10 or 11. Oliver Thorwald will get more time in Book 1 part 1, so his jealousy will be the link between Shira getting Leila in Chapter 9 and King Patriot coming to town later this chapter.

...from previous

Chaos Angel Spanner — Chapter 15: Start the Violence
Part 1: Plots and Plans

For what is a man profited, if he shall
gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?
or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?


Will there be blood?
Patrick Romnaigh-Cooper

4 october 2014.
COPCO Seattle.
King Patriot, newly risen from the dead, holds out his hands in triumph as the assembled masses cry out in unison and worship him as their God. And then — chaos...

Doctors 8 and 15 struggle to wrest Precog 218K writhing and screaming out of the Crime Prevention lab. Doctor 6 hurries into Dr Henry Becket’s darkened office to report. He salutes. “Chief, we’ve lost another precog.”

Dr Becket stares through him grimly, chilling him to the bone. “He is here already.”

In his top-floor control room, his son Jack watches the monitors with his one good eye. His robot cops chase the fleeing homeless out of Westlake Station and the sewers surrounding Westlake Plaza. Homeland Security Secretary Radisson says in his Australian drawl, “Do you think your little robot plan will work?”

“Humans are perverse and treacherous. They always angle for advantage, no matter who they feel the need to screw over. You can never trust ’em. Robot agents do exactly what they’re programmed to do, no more and no less. I’d even be willing to stake my reputation on this operation’s success. We need to teach these commie-ass traitors a hard lesson and make ’em feel the fear of God.”

Grimly, Radisson says, “Another precog just went mad.”

What?! He’s here?”

“His precognitive signature is unmistakable.”

Jack Becket punches through a monitor; it shatters and sparks. “Damn!”

Bangor Jail. Burly guards throw the COPCO regional chief’s prodigal son Frank into a cell with a prostitution suspect in it. He finds himself face to face with Irina Lanskaya, one of his more hostile ex-girlfriends. They stare each other down, not pleased to find themselves together. Irina is Russian, sexy, an absolute slut, and fifteen. Like Shira, she has no qualms about selling her body for sex. Unlike Shira, she has no scruples and no integrity to protect or betray. She always dyes or bleaches her hair because she hates its natural mousy brown color. Today it’s bright red verging on pink. Blond Frank is prettier than she is, but his personality is far uglier.

“You don’t look quite so sexy in jailhouse orange, now, do you,” he sneers.

“You make me sick,” she spits.

He protests, “Irina, you know I had to—”

“You didn’t have to bring in stupid Satan shit! I help you kill Wog rats, but I don’t get off on watching naked pretty girls get snuffed by devil priest out of cheesy horror movie! I’m not into torture porn crap!”

Frank stares at her in open-mouthed shock. Then his expression changes to cold rage. “Maybe I should snuff you sometime.”

Irina crosses her arms contemptuously. “Hmph! I steal you of fun.”

Port Townsend. Downtown Port Townsend has all the charm of a nineteenth-century boomtown that once held the promise of turning into a great city, and may still become one sometime in the future. Port Townsend has long been one of Cascadia’s most liberal towns despite the looming presence of the Indian Island naval base, and despite not having its own major college like Bellingham, Olympia, or even Bremerton. But the threat remains that the paranoid conservatism native to small towns will destroy the town’s spirit: sinister MIBs from the National Police patrol the streets to enforce the grim rule of conformity. But Port Townsend is outside the Metropolitan Seattle boundaries, so it remains safe from the lockdown afflicting Seattle. The streets of Downtown, Uptown, and the City Center are crowded with people fleeing the big city for the weekend in addition to the usual tourists. Only tourists from out of the area gawk when they see two notorious (and married) red-haired Ric Thomas and his bespectacled blond sister Willa Richter-Thomas stroll down Water Street, arms around each other’s shoulders, kissing openly, as if they were lovers. “Lotta people here right now,” Ric understates.

“This is no ordinary tourist weekend. Seems half the people in Seattle followed us here.”

Ric looks up and sees the familiar sign of the Sky Dancer Metaphysical Bookstore. “Here’s a place we haven’t been in some time.”

When they enter, they feel like they’ve passed through the portal to an entirely different world. Glowing crystals, the smell of sandalwood incense, and music of sitar, tablas, Tibetan bells, and Mongolian Buddhist chants put them into a state of near trance and give them the feeling that genuine magic lives here. The magic is concentrated in the beautiful form of Ariel Shield herself, recognizable by the white stripe in her long black hair, who greets them barefoot, bare-breasted, and wearing a long frilly black skirt, accompanied by her cats, black Isis and white Artemis, who hope for affection and treats. Ariel holds out her arms. “Cedric and Willa!” she calls out in her beautiful Irish-accented voice. “I’m so happy to see you!”

The siblings take her into their arms and take turns kissing her on the lips. “It’s been too long.”

“I need to come down and see you all more. So you’re avoiding the, uh, visitation in Seattle too?”

Willa replies, “We figured we wanted to live, so we got the hell out.”

“Father has an uncanny talent for ruining everything.” Ric and Willa roll their eyes and groan in reply. “Since you haven’t stopped by in ages, you need to see our new collection.” She leads them by the hand to the niche beside the counter in the back of the store. She points toward several large tapestries of dancing Indian and Tibetan goddesses hanging on the walls.

“Nepal?” asks Ric.

Ariel winks. “No. Boulder. When the Party started cracking down on unbelievers in the area surrounding their ‘Holy City,’ some of the monks moved here and set up a satellite temple under one of the Uptown storefronts, and they painted these tapestries specially for me. These are the Buddhist goddesses I named this store after, and this is my shrine to them.”

Willa points at one particular tapestry, depicting a bronze-skinned goddess with flame for hair. “That one looks just like Shira.”

Ariel smiles. “Her name is Kurukulla. She is a love goddess who lost her homeland to the warrior monks of Islam. She dances naked because she is free from the masks that make up the false self. She bears the flowery bow and arrow of Eros and Cupid. She is the daughter of not Kali, but Tara the goddess Buddha. Her magic is Vashya Karma, red magic, the power of the Charmer who seduces people and brings them under her control.”

“That really does sound a lot like Shira.”

Ric asks skeptically, “Are you implying she’s this goddess’s avatar?”

“Possibly,” Ariel replies. “Even if she is not, she will come to know her true identity and her true mission. When she does, she will be a very powerful goddess indeed.”

“She stayed behind in Seattle with her Slasher Hunter friends.”

Ariel smiles. “I have the feeling she’ll do just fine. Are you worried about her?”

Willa grins back. “I don’t know about you, dear brother, but I’m not worried in the least. But the Man sure as hell is. As he should be.”

Rich Passage. A large crowded yacht plies the route from Bremerton to Seattle. Lansky won it from Thorwald in a game of Texas Hold ’em. On board are the members of three clubs: fighters, hackers, bounty hunters. Representing Team Bremelo: Jennifer and Connor Blair, Leila and Robert Shelley, Shira Thomas, Cory Belmont, Kio Marques, and, staying here at mission control, Harumi and Seika Tachibana. Representing the Wrecking Krewe: at mission control, Alex Plus, Deth Pussy, piratecaster Simon Sez, his assistants El Kabong and his boyfriend Evil the Cat, and the hackers the Bremeloes and Slasher Hunters rescued from Frank’s sacrifice, the Cockroach Twins: the girl, Moon Roach (her real name), and her male partners who go by the handles Wolveroach and Punisheroach; in the field, Simon’s main cameraman, Billy Hunter, codenamed Scope. Representing the Slasher Hunters: John Peck, Martin Lansky, Brandi Quinn, and Arisa Saionji, with Lars Magnus Izquierdo acting as Scope’s tech at mission control. The man who contracted them: James Tiberius Sparks, acting in his official capacity with COPCO.

All eyes turn to the newcomers. “So you’re the Cockroach Twins,” says Alex.

“Yeah,” says the girl in a thick Los Angeles drawl. “You’re, like, the Alex Plus? You’re my hero!”

“Why, thanks. We’ve been hearing some pretty good things about you. So how come you got caught by Frankie the Snake and his goons?”

“Like, we’re not real spies or anything...”

“Ollie-Ollie said he was gonna sell us for big bucks to the Chinese cyber police,” adds Wolveroach.

“You’re just in luck, Roaches!” says Shira. “Frank’s big daddy and his robot police await us as we speak.”

Moon’s eyes go wide with delight. “Like, we’re gonna hack ’em?”

Jennifer goes, “Ding ding ding!”

Sparks stands up and addresses the group. “Everybody! Listen.” They stop talking. “This is our cover story. Officially you’re under contract to help me take out terrorists and crooks. But the important people are the ones coming with the King: Brinkman, the Becket brothers and their sister Drusilla, Vice President Harper, and the presidents of President Goldman Sachs and Secretary General News Corporation. We can’t allow them to get hurt.”

Shira stands up beside him. “If there’s anything we know about the Corpos with absolute certainty, it’s their insatiable taste for martyrdom. If we let any Corpos get hurt or killed, especially the leaders, they’ll have martyrs to celebrate and they’ll win.”

“And even if any of ’em do get killed, they’ve got resurrection they can spring on us. Clone resurrection.” The others receive the revelation with shocked gasps and commotion. “Any Corporate worth his fortune owns or rents vats for growing backup clones, so if they get killed, they get to come back in a new body identical to the old. That makes ’em virtually immortal. Using technology developed during the Cold War to create armies of identical super soldiers, they bought themselves the power that used to belong to Jesus alone. And you wonder why they say they’re so superior to us.”

Jennifer stands up. “If you’re right, Jim, that means they can change bodies whenever they want. Some of ’em are changing out their human bodies and making corporations their bodies. Rupert Murdoch and Steve Jobs have already done this. So even besides their martyrdom cult, we can’t target their bodies anyway. The celebrity cult gave them the notion that their souls really reside in their public images. The terrorists refuse to believe this, so they’ll strike at their bodies. We must destroy their true selves: their reputations.”

“If you’re right,” asks Lars, “and we’re really going after ghosts, how do we hurt ’em?”

“Yeah!” adds Moon. “Who are we gonna call?”

Shira flashes them a wicked grin and winks. “Guess.”

COPCO Seattle. Jack Becket meets with his father in the basement. “I heard.”

“Are your people having any trouble with the terrorists, John?”

“Terrorists pose no problem.”

“They are easily predictable because they are always the same. But this Spanner fellow is not. With him, I’m afraid we must prepare ourselves to expect the unexpected.”

Puget Sound. The darkened downtown Seattle skyline comes into view; the yacht passes Bainbridge Island and begins its crossing toward Elliott Bay and the port. Several of its passengers resist the temptation to go on deck to take pictures.

The Cockroach Twins surround Shira like fans. “Wow!” marvels Moon. “You really killed Johnny-Johnny?”

“Actually, I told him I’d get my butt off his face if he surrendered. But Ollie came down hard with his shovel so I couldn’t get off, meaning he killed his own butt buddy even though he blames me. So it goes...”

Leila languidly embraces Shira from behind and kisses her neck. Moon says, “I thought you were just some glamour girl outta Pretty City.”

“Obviously,” says Leila, “you guys never bothered to find out about the Molotov Brothers’ secret pet project, the ‘Fashion Assassins.’ They wanted me and my brother because we knew ninjutsu, so they bought us.”

Sparks calls the group together. “We’re almost at our point of operation. Our official name for this op is, in proper bureaucratese, the Auxiliary Private Anti-Terrorist Expedition.”

Peck adds, “Our mission is to take out any terrorist and gang opposition that stands in our way, then strike at the real targets as described.”

“We can’t act as Slasher Hunters tomorrow,” says Lansky, “because we won’t be catching any actual Slashers.”

“We can’t go as Team Bremelo, either,” adds Brandi.

“No,” says Arisa, “we can’t take ’em on as some high school fight club.”

“Or a group of bounty hunters with a dodgy reputation.”

El Kabong says, “And everybody knows the Krewe are ace hackers but shit spies.”

“Let’s not forget for one second,” Sparks adds, “that we’re the bad guys.”

Shira stands up. “Well, then!” All eyes turn to her. A mischievous cockeyed smirk grows onto her face, then evolves into a full grin. “How’s about we call ourselves — Team Spanner?”

on to the next...

Back to Chapter 15 index...
Back to Chaos Angel Spanner table of contents...

Copyright © 2011 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
Creative Commons License

Monday, August 29, 2011

Spanner 14.6: Last Chance for Free Play

Here ends the penultimate chapter in the second “light novel” of the Spanner Book 1 “trilogy.” The Shelley twins have successfully found love and lost the desire for death. Now that the klownz are no threat, their new lovers, Shira and her cousin Connor, give them one more day dedicated to love at the house of Shira’s Rocker father.

But once the sun goes down and the Slasher Hunters arrive, all free time ends. The next chapter is called “Start the Violence”. When the King of Texas comes to spank Cascadia, things will get ugly.

Note: in the first draft, this section was much shorter and consisted only of the Shira/Leila candle scene, now slightly modified. The rest is new to the second edition; it took four days to write for reasons that should be apparent.

...from previous

Chaos Angel Spanner — Chapter 14: When the Cat’s Away
Part 6: Last Chance for Free Play

4 october 2014.
Saturday. The people who value their lives, and who can afford to flee, have fled. The poor look for any shelter they can find in the hope, possibly hopeless, that they can survive tomorrow. The Conservative Revolutionary faithful swarm into the now silent heart of the central city, from the suburbs and from the far reaches of the Imperial Homeland; they crowd the hotels and camp in office buildings as they wait for the King of Texas and the president of President Goldman Sachs to pour the holy wrath of Jesus America onto the faithless infidels of liberal Cascadia.

But far on the suburban fringes of Metropolitan Seattle, a few stubborn stragglers remain. For these past few days, the Law has been nearly absent. These days have belonged to them. Tomorrow, the Law will come down hard upon the prostrate city. This is their last day of freedom. For tomorrow, they will make plans. Other than that, anything goes.

Red House. That’s what Mobster Mike’s call Ric Thomas’ house. This weekend, Mobster Mike’s are not around to deliver. They fled the city along with everybody else.

In Ric and Hope’s bed, Leila Shelley rolls over, letting the sheet slide off her breasts, to find Shira sitting up, phone in hand, involved in an encrypted private chat with Sparks, the KCUF crew, and the Slasher Hunters. “You’ve got enough time for that, love.”

“I know. This is quick. Once we’re done, it’s all free play till sundown.”

“You know what I’m really scared of?”

“What, darlin’?”

“Hurting somebody who doesn’t deserve it.”

“You know what scares me?”

“I thought you were never scared.”

“Trust me.”

Leila sighs. “Okay. So what scares you?”

Shira’s smile disappears. “Not hurting the ones who deserve it.”

In the guest room bed, Robert Shelley rolls over, struggling out of his sheet to expose his nude body to the air, to find Connor sitting up, phone in hand, involved in a call. “..Mm-hmm... We will... Right! ’Bye.” Connor puts the phone away and strokes Rob’s hair.

“Who was it?”

“My mom. She and Ric are in Port Townsend, Hope’s in San Francisco, Charlie and Desiree are over in Ocean City...”

“...Fiona left with Dad and Mum, and Alex is in the basement summoning the Wrecking Krewe as we speak. You scared your sister will get hurt?”

“She proved back on Blake Island she can take care of herself.”

“I’m scared my sister will find a way to get herself killed.”

“The only thing that scares me is losing you.”


“I’ve just found you, and I wanna be with you... I just don’t want anything horrible to happen to you.”

“I don’t think Leila would let anything happen to me. Or you. She believes in us too much. So does Jennifer. We can’t break their hearts.”

Connor sighs. He gently caresses Rob’s lips with his finger. “You have really soft lips. I think they’re beautiful.” Rob smiles and blushes. “And you’ve got a gorgeous smile, too.”

Rob smiles wider and blushes more deeply. He looks a Connor with a mischievous look in his eyes. “I gotta warn you, I’m just as perverted as my sister.”

“Good. Now let me kiss that smile off your face.” He lies down on top of Rob, and they kiss long and hard.

In the master bedroom, Jennifer and Polly enter wearing nothing and bearing breakfast. They sigh in disappointment when they see Shira and Leila sitting on the side of the bed, still nude. Jennifer says, “We were hoping you wanted breakfast in bed, but we were too late.”

“No problem, Jen,” says Shira. “We’re still hungry.” Jennifer and Polly place the trays carefully on Shira and Leila’s laps.

In the guest room, Harumi and her boy cousin Seika look adorably cute in French maid outfits as they bring breakfast to Connor and Rob, who sit naked on the side of the bed. The two lovers look at each other. “Yes, this is a Japanese thing,” says Connor.

“Even the cute boys dress up as French maids?”

“If they’re girlish enough. Sailor suits and magical-girl dresses, too. Cosplay, they call it. The Japanese are weird. That’s why we love ’em so much.”

Harumi and Seika giggle and blush. “We love pretty boys too,” says Harumi, “and you’re the prettiest boys we’ve ever seen.” They leave their breakfast trays on Connor and Rob’s laps.

After breakfast, everybody crowds the bathrooms to brush their teeth. Then the boys shave. The naked girls don’t; they long ago had the hair stripped from their bodies through waxing and electrolysis so they won’t have to.

In the bathtub upstairs, Shira lies back on the bathtub’s incline, and Leila rests atop her so Shira can gently caress her breasts. “So they let you two go?” says Leila softly.

“Mm-hmm. They had nothing on us but a questionable violation of one wayward royal’s sovereign immunity, while we had a ton of evidence against said wayward royal. Frankie baby’s dead meat once his daddy One-Eye finds out.”

“I want to see Debbie kill him,” purrs Leila. “It’ll be a pleasure to see her shoot him into little pieces.”

“I wanna see the lamestream news broadcast that.” chuckles Shira.

“Will you do something special to me?”

Shira flashes a cockeyed smirk. “Hmmm. So what do you want me to do this time?”

Connor and Rob shower together in the stall next to the guest room. Rob says, “I haven’t craved this so much since I was a kid.”


“I never had any problem with it, not one bit. Sure, we reached puberty early. Leila was nine, I was ten, and so was Fiona. Leila was already developed enough to win the Europe-wide nude beauty contest when she was eleven. But this was even before then. Maybe that’s the reason, I guess. My uncle...”

“That gay gangster guy?”

“Yeah. He knew how to worship a pretty boy with his body. He always adored me. There was no way I couldn’t fall in love with him.”

“Well, I waited until after puberty. The bullies had to pick on me, of course, just because Real Men are supposed to be ugly and I’m pretty. So I picked ’em up and body slammed ’em. They left me alone.” They laugh and hold each other tight.

Midday. The recreation room upstairs is like the living room downstairs, only the owners furnished it to entertain themselves rather than guests. This is where Ric keeps his entire videogame console collection, from ancient Ataris to the latest Xboxen. Leila ignores the electronics. She stares out the open picture window and smokes a cigarette. The anti-surveillance cloaking shields the house from Echelon’s constant intrusions, so she stands in the sunlight in full view without worry that a camdrone will catch her nude. Outside, over the bay, she watches a camdrone flit about, harassing any seagull, crow, or eagle unlucky enough to get within its field of view. She takes a deep drag on the cigarette, languidly blows out the smoke, and lets the nicotine high kick in.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” says Jennifer. Leila turns to see her enter the room.

“I’m enjoying one more while I can. After tomorrow, I’m quitting.” She takes another drag.

“You know it’s illegal.”

“Anything remotely fun is anymore, precisely because it’s fun.”

“Is it any fun? If so, it’s a sin.”

“I hate this country.”

“Actually, the government’s so overbearing, it makes you long for anarchy just for relief.” They laugh.

The two young women look at each other. Leila puts the cigarette to her lips and slowly breathes in the intoxicating fumes, then slowly breathes out the smoke. Then she sighs. “Do you realize we’re freaks?”

Jennifer smiles sweetly. “I come from a proudly weird family.”

“That’s not what I mean. What I mean is...” She gazes out the window. “We’re not like other people. But you know that. I mean, it’s not like you think.“

“I like to think we’re more normal than normal people.”

“I learned the hard way that ‘normal’ may not be as good as advertised.“

“So what makes us freaks?”

“For one thing, we love sex. Which is why we’re here. Normal people think it’s so gross, they have to ban it, or at least keep it under harsh control.”

“Or putting it another way, girls are gross and have cooties. Right?”

“Right!” Leila takes a quicker puff and blows the smoke out. “And we like to go naked and show off our bodies to each other, while they get so squicked out by the show of a little skin — I mean just face and hands — that they go homicidal when a pretty girl shows a little leg.”

“I actually find even ugly bodies beautiful.”

Leila smiles. “Yeah.” Her smile suddenly disappears. “And they find even beautiful bodies repulsive. The more beautiful the body, the more repulsive they find it. Yes, I understand why the Slashers do what they do, and why there’s so many of ’em here.”

“They also think intelligence is evil and dumbth is virtue. You and I are very smart women.”

“Which makes us double trouble.”

“Triple. We’re women, remember?”

“Yeah. Cooties.” They laugh.

“You know what the problem is?”



“But of course.”

“Specifically, they believe in ghosts. They believe their ghosts are the true selves that get sentenced to imprisonment in these monstrous piles of glorified slime that subject them to the hideous horrors of disease, old age, death, heartbreak, and especially sex. What rational people call life, they call undeath. The only difference they see between the living and the undead is that human bodies have ghosts and zombies don’t. It doesn’t matter to them if the body is a machine, a corporation, a data pattern, or a beautiful hairless monkey, only that the ghost is real and the body is not. ‘The body,’ as Socrates quoted Orpheus, ‘is the tomb of the soul.’”

“I always wanted to believe I had an immortal soul, or something like that, but I knew from an early age it was bullshit.”

Jennifer raises her finger. “Neuroscience has even proved there’s a one-to-one correspondence between brain states and mental activity, so it’s not the ghost doing the thinking. It’s the dialectic of structure and function: body is the structure, soul the function. Body, yes, even soul, but no ghost. Bullshit it is.” They laugh again.

Leila holds Jennifer close and rests her head on her shoulder. “You know, I was two when I realized that eventually I’m going to die and become nothing. So I always thought that if I’m going to die, then there’s no use living.” She takes one last drag from her dying cigarette.

“When I was two and found that out, I realized that if I’m going to die, there’s no use not living.”

Leila looks at her, stunned. She stares at the tall blond girl’s smiling face. Shock turns to realization as Jennifer’s words sink in. “You’re right! I never thought of it that way.” She kisses her in gratitude.

Jennifer backs away and takes her by the hand. “C’mon, let’s go join the others for lunch. We’ve still got time before we go back to hunting ghosts.”

Leila smiles. She snuffs out the exhausted cigarette in the soil of a hanging plant’s pot, tosses the butt into the nearest wastebasket, and puts her arm around Jennifer. They skip away together.

In the living room they find the others happily eating strawberries, snap peas, and ham and cheese sandwiches on rye. Harumi says through her sandwich, “I was wondering, how come you guys are always going around naked even when you’re not having sex?”

“Think of it this way, Haru-chan,” Shira answers. “Naked women live twenty years longer.”

“It’s true,” adds Jennifer. “Scientific studies prove it.” Both cousins wink. Harumi swallows to keep herself from choking, then lets herself laugh.

In the master bedroom, Leila lies on the bed trembling with anticipation as Shira holds a candle above her breast. She gently strokes the hard sensitive nipple. Leila moans softly. [old] Hot molten wax drips from a candle onto Leila’s hard sensitive nipple. She shrieks in pain, then moans in pleasure. “Oh my god, I love this. Thank you.”

“God, this turns me on.” Shira kisses Leila on the lips, then her nether lips, then holds the candle over her other nipple so it can drop another bit of molten wax onto it. Leila cries out and flinches, then melts and moans.

After several minutes of exquisitely painful pleasure, Shira peels the wax off Leila’s erect nipples, kisses them profusely, bites them gently and then hard to send her into yet another screaming orgasm. She blows out the used-up candle, replaces it on the holder with a fresh one, lights it, and holds it in her right hand while caressing Leila’s soft wet cunt with her left. In overwhelming excitement and hope, trembling Leila coos breathlessly, “Are you doing it” Will you do it?”

Shira gently opens Leila’s nether lips wide, holds the candle over her moist trembling cunt, and lets the hot wax drip onto her labia. Leila screams and moans and shudders as the molten wax drips and drips onto the soft flesh of her open labia, and then the even more sensitive inside of her cunt where it mixes with the sweet sticky fluid flowing out her vagina. Shira lies on top of her lover to keep her from shaking too much, kisses her sweet cunt long and passionately, drinks the erotic nectar, and opens the beautiful flowery cunt once again. She holds the candle close enough for Leila to feel its heat, and drips wax directly onto her hardened clitoris. Molten liquid drips onto the hypersensitive organ, making Leila scream and shake in a series of shattering orgasms that last for over two hours, until the candle is gone.

In the guest room, Connor caresses Rob’s trembling buttocks. “I want it much harder this time,” says Rob. “Do me as hard as you can.”

“I’ll try. No guarantees.” He kisses each butt cheek, then opens them up to expose Rob’s anus. He nibbles and licks it, making Rob quiver and moan; then he sticks his tongue in as far as he can and licks him inside. Eventually he slips his cock inside him; he drives it in and out, Rob catches and releases it; losing all track of time, they share an increasingly intense ecstasy till they merge and finally collapse...

As the sun goes down, in the bedroom where Shira and her lost twin Kira once slept together, Jennifer and Polly lie next to each other, exhausted and drenched in sweat. First Shira and Leila, then Connor and Rob, enter the room equally exhausted and throw themselves on the bed beside them. “How was it?” asks Jennifer.

“I need some chocolate cake and a smoke,” Leila sighs.

“You need to hurt her just right,” says Shira. “She loves candles.”

“I didn’t know he could go one hour straight,” Rob moans.

Connor smiles at his sister. “I bet your [thing] was more mundane than ours.”

“She used her fist,” says Polly, stunned.

The other couples look at Polly in surprise. “She did what” says Connor.

“I mean, she stuck her fist up there. It was too much. I think I died happy.”

The others stare open-mouthed at Jennifer. She smiles sweetly and blushes.

Six young lovers lie together on the bed in Kira’s room: Shira, Leila, Jennifer, Polly, Connor, Rob. For an endless moment they say nothing, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Then Shira’s phone rings. She takes it off the nightstand. “Hello?... Yeah... Okay. ’Bye.” She puts the phone back.

“Is it them?” asks Rob.

“Yeah. Free time’s now officially over. We better clean up quick, ’cuz they’re here.”

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Sunday, August 28, 2011

Spanner 14.5: For His Satanic Majesty

Another of the series’ most important fight scenes, so I have to make sure I get this one right. This requires more changes than last chapter’s big fight. Unlike that one, this one depends more on stealth and surprise. And whereas last time Team Bremelo tried to fend off a Challenge at their own team picnic, this time their goal is chaos.

Missing from the first draft but now restored: Oliver Thorwald, the real reason Shira and Leila are here. He, Brinkman’s plan to marry him to Leila, and his increasing insanity over Shira stealing Leila away from him will get more play in the Third Edition. New additions include a “Dark Age” (i.e. Nineties) incarnation of the public domain Golden Age supervillain the Clown, founder of the Klownz and partly based on the gang boss Joker from Akira; a Slasher roughly similar to Ichi the Killer from the infamous Takashi Miike film; and, as in the first draft, Frank Becket, a major villain from my still unfinished prequel, Bad Company: A Corporate Terror Story.

...from previous

Chaos Angel Spanner — Chapter 14: When the Cat’s Away
Part 5: For His Satanic Majesty

3 october 2014.
Ollie-Ollie’s property.
BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM pounds Barney SATAN! like a cyborg piledriver. The guitars roar and scream and howl like demons being tortured for the Devil’s pleasure. Eddie Evil, self-infected vampire, growls and yowls in some infernal dialect of the Unknown Tongue.

They call it teknoDeth: hate metal set to 300+ bpm piledriver at volumes beyond deafening. Hate metal is the sound of the criminal underworld. There is no hate metal band more infernal than Gang: Eddie Evil screaming vocals, Elvis and Jesus Hitler torturing guitars, Sikki Sykopath on subsonic bass, Barney SATAN! on drums going BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM.

Below them in the arena, maddened pit bulls rip each other to bloody shreds. Gangland dogfighters cram their pits with steroids, methamphetamine, canine growth hormone, and PCP to turn them into perfect killing machines they soon intend to turn against the Man. Franklin Steele Becket of Dictel, Incorporated, the beautiful and evil Prince Charming, presides over this canine Tournament like a depraved Roman emperor. For he has brought the leader of all Klownz to rally the gangs of North Cascadia to unite to fight the hordes of holy warriors protecting the King of Texas. King Patriot is his great-grandfather. Frank Becket is fourth in the line of succession but intends to be first. He bought Ollie-Ollie Oxenfree’s base of operations and is now Thorwald’s landlord. Drawing on the infinite Becket family fortune, Frank built Thorwald a Tournament arena behind the warehouse.

The canine gladiators fight to the death below as the gangsters crowding the arena scream for blood. The blood they scream for is that of not the dogs but of the goody-goody Party fanatics and their god Jesus America. Soon the priest of Satan will bring his sacrificial blade for the three beautiful naked Arab virgins now trembling in the dungeon in the arena’s basement. Once this all-dog Tournament ends, the real show will begin.

The Klownz’ excitement and Gang’s ear-shattering hate-metal apocalypse distract them from the four intruders who have sneaked beneath the shaking and thundering arena stands. Team Bremelo’s fighters all wear lightweight hoverboard helmets equipped with sound-cancelling headphones to protect their ears, hard soundproof masks to keep their communications secret, and polarized AR goggles with night vision. “Shira, are you sure about this plan?” asks Brandi. She wears the Slasher Hunters’ pragmatic uniform of black slacks, long-sleeved shirt, winter cap, and fighting boots and gloves.

To make herself invisible among the Klownz, Shira wears spiked leather biker jacket, reflector-striped black tights, buckled and spiked fashion combat boots, and visored black helmet emblazoned with the death’s head logo of Dark Side Choppers. “I’ve been keeping track of darling Frankie since ’07. Did you know he raped my sister Desiree, his own cousin? She burned down her mother’s first boot camp school trying to kill him for it. She killed several gangsters and nearly got Frankie and his Russian boyfriend too. She tried to get Drusilla herself and did get her husband du jour, who just happened to be Dictel CEO. We’ve kept our eyes on Frank Becket ever since. We know his weaknesses intimately. So trust me.” She fingers her Go-Yo impatiently.

Leila styles Sexy Kunoichi, combat quality. “Me, I’m just waiting for Ollie and his pretty new butt buddy to come out with their devil man,” she purrs. “I’m desperate to show them my love.” She caresses her naked katana.

“Between two gorgeous goth ninja, one guild-certified Tracker, the fighters and sound crew outside, and you, I think we’ve got ourselves a party.” Shira winks.

Rob wears mainly practical standard ninja gear for stealth. “Well, the party had better start soon, ’cos we’ve got a rescue mission to pull.”

The hatemusic stops. The arena crew clean up the blood and scattered pieces of dismembered dogs. The rattle and rumble of the stands add bass and percussion to the loud male roar of the assembled gangsters. Oliver Thorwald, lord of this realm, steps up to face the legions, wearing overalls over his muscled body and wielding his famous shovel, and holds out his arms to gesture them to be silent. The roar dies down, then stops. He addresses the crowd at the top of his lungs: “Brother warriors!

Thorwald steps aside, and the huge bald man covered in hideous monster-clown tattoos steps up to replace him. The assembled gangsters roar their approval like Spartans. He is The Clown: fifth supervillain of his lineage, founder of the Killen Jokerz, former U.S. Army super soldier bred and engineered to exterminate Communists, rogue since Dictel refused to give him the raise he demanded after the conquest of Iraq. He thrusts forth his rigid arm, fist clenched in the gladiators’ salute; the Klownz thrust their arms up, hands in the devil-horns salute, and chant the name of Satan. Then he thrusts both arms out to his sides and then down; the Klownz fall silent. “Warriorrrrrs! Today is our day! The day of power! First we take the city! Then we take the state! Then we take the Empire! Then the world is ours! Klowwwwwnz!” The Klownz answer with a deafening roar which resolves into the chant of “Satan! Satan! Satan!”

Brandi comments, “Their leader makes them sound like yet another revolutionary élite.”

“The purest,” says Leila. “They want power for its own sake. It’s their Ideal.”

Shira adds, “So we smash their revolution now.”

The Clown stands aside, and Frank Becket, master of this gathering, stands up from his imperial throne in his expensively embroidered white Black Jesus robe and holds his arms outstretched to the sides in an imperious gesture of authority. He crosses his arms in front of him and stretches them back out to signal the hardmen to be silent. The crew take away his throne; ten of them carry in the stone altar of sacrifice and silently place it behind him.

“My god, he’s beautiful,” coos Leila.

“He looks a lot like Debbie,” notes Brandi.

“He’s her big brother, remember?” adds Shira.

Frank preaches like a true Shepherd fallen from his Calling. “O my brothers, we are gathered here today to gather together our tribes to unite them against the forces of the Good!” The gangsters roar. Shira sneaks into the crowd unnoticed; Jennifer, Connor, Cory, and Kio join Brandi and the Shelley twins beneath the stands. Frank gestures quiet again. “The men of God pray their holy prayers and send their holy knights to destroy us. We have stolen three pure and holy virgins from the Wogs, and We have brought here the priest of darkness to send them back to the darkness that spawned their unholy race, and We shall use the magic of their race against the the men of God, and against the God who stands against Our ambition!” The Klownz roar again. The roar becomes deafening when Frank moves out of the way so that the priest of Satan can make his epiphany before them, clad in sparkling vestments woven from emerald, ruby, and sapphire, crowned with a feathered and horned demon’s mask. Several burly Klownz bring in three struggling, sobbing young beauties with long black hair: three sisters, overcome with terror at the fate that faces them before the altar and with shame at their nakedness.

Rob gasps, “The Ibrahim sisters!?—”

Jennifer replies, “All the more reason to pull this rescue, I say.”

Kio snarls, “We can’t let any more innocent girls die!”

Leila stares through the bleachers at Frank and the priest with renewed hatred. She caresses the hilt of her katana.

The Klownz tie eldest sister Sharifa, struggling and screaming, to the altar. The crowd rabidly chants, “Satan! Satan! Satan! Satan!” Beneath the stands, the Bremeloes sneak toward the stage; Leila and Rob then slip into the shadows of the corridor behind the stage, in position to strike at the masters of darkness.

“I curse thee, sovereign Spirit of America!” chants Frank. “I curse thine accursèd race! I curse thy God, and thy holy Flag, and the Nation for which it stands, and I bind thee and banish thee and cast thee down to the Hell for the eternal torment thou and thine deserveth!”

The priest raises the sacrificial knife. Sharifa stops struggling, closes her eyes, and silently prays for God to save her with a miracle. The criminal crowd pump their fists and chant Satan’s name louder and faster. The priest, amplified over the arena’s PA system, intones, “Virgin of Allah, I offer thee in sacrifice to the powers of Hell, to curse the Leper Messiah and GUCK!—” A katana blade suddenly emerges blood-drenched and dripping through his chest. He looks down in shock at the ninja blade now drinking the blood from his heart.

His assassin draws the sword out of him with equal suddenness. Dying, he spins around to see his murderer. Standing there, wielding the dripping katana left-handed, grinning at him in the blood warrior’s wicked triumph, is Leila Shelley, her helmet’s mask open. He stares down at her in horror and weakly protests: “You?”

With a sweep of her sword, Leila cuts off his head and upraised arms. Head, arms, and blade fall to the stage floor; the corpse spurts a stream of blood, gurgles, collapses twitching till its remaining life drains away and it moves no more. She licks the blood off the blade of her sated sword. Thorwald’s jaw drops in horror; Frank glares at her in cold rage. She throws them a beautiful hateful smile full of murder. Thorwald runs for his life as Frank shields him.

The crowd of Klownz storm the stage to try to kill her. Rob runs up behind her, tosses her a Tec-9, and throws a pair of grenades into the raging horde while she shoots into them. Shira sneaks to the altar to pick open the handcuffs binding Sharifa to it. Frank’s praetorian guardsmen try to shoot the other girls only to be mowed down by rifle-wielding Peck and Brandi, entering the corridor at the head of a small force of Bremeloes and Slasher Hunters. Shira unshackles the girls; Brandi, Cory, Jennifer, and Connor whisk them out to the waiting vans.

Frank wrestles his Colt 1911 .45 from its holster to try to shoot Leila. She reaches for her utility belt and flicks a swastika-shaped shuriken into his hand. Kio grabs him from behind and backdrops him hard onto the wooden floor.

The surviving Klownz and Satanists flee in mortal panic. Shira, Leila, and Rob go down to the pit bull pens and shoot them open. Drug-maddened fighting dogs speed out the gates and rip at anything that moves. Behind the pens, a long-haired and winter-capped slacker girl cries out, “Help! Get us out of here!” She and her two male companions are bound seated with duct tape; the men are reduced to helpless grunting by the tape holding their mouths shut.

While Shira runs back to Frank, Leila shoots the lock off the gate. Cory and Kio run in to replace her. The four rush in to untape the prisoners and take them out of their cage. Suddenly a man bursts through the wall, a huge man powered by PCP and lusting for murder. The boys pull out the prisoners through the excretion and stench of the dog pens, and out of the building. Leila stays behind to face Thorwald’s new point man, a Nikoniko Gumi slasher called Koroshi Oniroku. He charges her with bloodcurdling kiai to tear her to shreds.

In a single movement, she whips out her katana, cleanly cuts off his head, sheathes her sword again. The headless bleeding monster slams into the opposite wall, bounces off, lands on the floor thrashing like a gasping dying fish for over a minute until the body realizes its head is gone and falls still.

An idea hits her. She rearranges the room’s rigged lighting to resemble a fashion shoot. She rearranges the security cameras to her liking. She strips the clothes off the corpse like a reptile’s superfluous skin and throws them away. She takes out her phone, takes control of the cameras, and then poses the corpse like a woman bending over backward. She picks up his head, pins it in his hands, puts it on his crotch to make it look like he’s fellating his own corpse, and shoots.

On the stage above, Frank struggles to sit up and tries to look into the chaos, only to see a black-helmeted figure standing over him. “Oh, fuck,” he mumbles.

Shira flips open her helmet’s faceplate. “Hiya, Frankie. I missed you terribly.”

He leaps up onto his feet, points at her accusingly, and stutters, “You — y-you — you’re Spanner? Why the hell are you saving them?!

“What do you do when you assume?” She snaps the helmet shut, takes it off in a flourish, shakes her copper hair out, and says almost casually, “In Tournament, no team’s different from any other. Rule number thirteen? Beat the man, and you are the Man.”

Frank throws himself at her to try to strangle her. Laughing contemptuously, she kicks him in the groin and uppercuts him with her helmet. He falls hard onto his back; his head bounces off the floor; his vision blurs and swims. Shira straddles him and bends down, hands on knees, to stare down into his face. Rob, Arisa, Brandi, and Peck assemble around her. “Frankie darlin’, it ain’t just personal anymore. Now that you’re the Man, your bounty’s risin’ like a red-hot stock. Greed is indeed good.” Bremeloes and Slasher Hunters mob him, gag and hogtie him with duct tape, and carry him out the door.

Thorwald bursts into the holding pens; finding Leila taking perverted pretty pictures of his headless naked second, he spins his shovel into spear position and contorts his face in irrational rage. “Fuckin’ piece o’ shit whore,” he snarls, “you fuckin’ ruined fuckin’ everything!

Leila holds her katana in strike position and smiles ironically. “Ollie darling,” she purrs, “I only did it because I love you so much. Now shut up and die.”

Brandi clocks Thorwald with a backfist to the back of the head; he falls onto his face unconscious without letting go of the shovel. Kio and Lars pry his fingers off while Arisa ties him up with a found roll of hemp rope. “No time for lovers’ spats,” Brandi says, “we gotta go.”

The Bremeloes and Slasher Hunters leave their tied-up prisoners at the front gate for the arriving cops and rush to the vans without Shira, who stays behind for the debriefing. When all the raiders and rescued prisoners cram into the vans and shut the doors, they speed down the driveways and spin out westbound onto Northeast Eightieth toward Seabeck as a COPCO antiterror force rushes in from the east.

His plans for gang domination ruined, the Clown escapes into the woods.

Bangor Police. While Angela Coyne watches on, Shira slams a packed folder onto the table of the interrogation room in front of Diana Shockley and her Navy SEAL brother Will Becket, who have banned all COPCO agents from the building because their nephew Frank, son of COPCO’s Cascadia section chief, makes a huge one-man security hole. “Princess, this is what your nephew’s been doing behind your back. Drugs, prostitution, dogfights, devil worship, human sacrifice, serial thrill killing. If you let him get away with any of it, the sacred honor of the House of Cromwell Becket is bound to take a big hit, and with it the power of the Empire. Which, of course, is his exact intention.”

Angela adds, “Agent Shockley, Commander Becket, are you willing to give the Chinese and the Caliphate a victory right before your grandfather the King comes right to town? It won’t look good in the history books.”

Will takes a long slow drag on his cigar. Diana watches him blow out the smoke in rings. He says, “It certainly won’t look good for our brother.”

“I’m really starting to worry about our brother, Will,” says Diana.

“It doesn’t look good on a police chief’s résumé to have a rampaging psychopathic gang lord for a son. Jack will have to publicly disavow and disown him if he wants to keep his power and position.”

Will Becket and Diana Shockley stare back at their clan’s flame-haired nemesis and her dark-skinned cousin. The cousins have the upper hand in this game. Diana says, “So what do we do with them?”

Will smiles enigmatically. “We pass on their warning, pay them their full reward, and prepare for their next move.”

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Saturday, August 27, 2011

Spanner 14.4: I Choose Free Will

Remember when Polly called Leila “scary” back in Part 3.4? This installment and next, you’ll find out just what kind of scary beauty she really is...

...from previous

Chaos Angel Spanner — Chapter 14: When the Cat’s Away
Part 4: I Choose Free Will

3 october 2014.
principal’s office.
Principal Principal, Vice Principal Falconer, and their two assistant vice principals stare down at Shira, Jennifer, Leila, Rob, and Connor with a hard face. “I have been hearing rumors that some of you girls, and possibly at least two of you boys, have been illegally consorting. If this is true, you know what the punishment is, don’t you?

Shira steps up and smiles ironically. “There’s no punishment if there’s no crime, Major. Rumors are just rumors.”

Principal, playing Good Cop, asks, “Are they just rumors, Miss Thomas?”

“Just because it’s sensational enough to lure a few extra clicks to the scandal sites doesn’t mean it’s ipso facto true. Me, I disregard all the juicy rumors the scandal sites invent about me.”

Falconer shoves Principal sideways. “Tell me! Are you illegally consorting with the same gender?

Leila, clear-eyed and confident, steps forward. “Yes. I am.”

The four principals gasp in horror and disgust. Rob and Jennifer try to pull her back and warn her, but she casually brushes them aside. “Why,” asks Principal through a strained smile, “would you do a horrible thing like that?”

“Because it is my will.”

The assistants are too shocked to speak. Principal sweats and twitches. Falconer growls, “This is unforgivable.”

“Who said forgiveness counted for anything? Your cause, Major, is conformity. It is what turns men in uniform into weapons, interchangeable and disposable. I serve a greater cause than yours.”

Principal narrows his eyes. “And what would that be, young lady?”


Falconer barks, “The Law will show you no mercy!”

“Unlike you, I do not worship that random collection of irrational tribal taboos you worship as the goddess Nemesis, whom you call ‘Law.’ I refuse to sacrifice myself to Society, Nation, God, Race, or Law. They are phantoms; I am real. What is good for me is right. If I will it, I will take a dark-skinned man as my lover, or my own brother, or a child; or I could slay your Rosencrantz and Guildenstern for my pleasure. I choose to love another woman. And there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Shira crosses her arms and flashes a wicked smile at Falconer. “Major, true love has no respect for God. True love spits in the face of God if it has to. That’s why God hates true love with all his heartlessness. Allah is a jealous God; He Himself says so in his Bible, Koran, and Book of America. And from what I’ve heard, Jesus America ain’t the only one jealous of you. And I don’t mean rumors, either.” She winks knowingly.

“Are you speaking treason?!” shrieks Falconer.

“So you do think ‘reason’ begins with a ‘t’? My grandpa taught me that reason and the individual are the foundation of this great nation, not superstition and sycophancy.” The assistant principals gasp at her insult. She grins. “And the best way to serve this nation is to serve one’s own self-interest. I believe they call that ‘freedom.’ I speak as a person of enterprise, mind you.”

Leila adds, “The military concept of treason does not apply to personal emotion, Major, no matter how much you and your people try to command and control it. My grandfather tells me it is treasonous, blasphemous, ridiculous, and what not to have feelings unapproved by Army, Church, clan, or whatever. But then, he is a general, after all. He cannot recognize that I am not his soldier. Sometimes I can’t help but marvel at the limits of the military mind.”

Falconer’s jaw drops, rendering her unable to speak. So Principal speaks for her. “You children have not shown us any proper respect.”

“You’ve never shown respect for anybody. You punish, and you toady, but you do not respect. Speaking of which, Major? I request that you respect my choice of partner. If you do not, I will not respect yours.“ Leila gives Falconer a knowing smile. Falconer’s frozen gasp slowly morphs into a grimace of rage.

Shira smirks at Principal. “And what skeletons do you have in your closet? Hmmmm?”

Falconer blurts, “You’re out of line, Thomas!”

Shira hits Falconer with a hard unsmiling look. “Why, Major, do you keep drawing lines you know we’ll cross? Because it boosts your petty ego to hammer down all the nails that stand out. You think we don’t notice you crossing the line, Honey Bunny? My mama told me to beware of bad examples.”

Leila takes Shira’s hand. “Let’s get out of here, love.”

“Why? I’m barely warming up.”

She takes a good look at Falconer’s face, twitching with impotent fury. “It pains me to have to look at these parasites.”

Shira laughs. “Reason enough.” She takes Leila into her arms and plants a hard kiss on her soft lips. They kiss deeply, lustfully, open-mouthed. The revolted principals watch, helpless to stop them. Connor and Rob blush and gently nudge them. Jennifer smiles at them. Satisfied that their message has hit its intended targets, they break their kiss, turn their faces toward the principals, and smile at them in defiance and contempt. They leave hand in hand; Connor and Rob follow. Jennifer watches them leave.

Principal clears his throat. “And what do you have to say, Miss Blair?”

Jennifer looks at the four principals as if they were uncomprehending children. “Their arguments stand to reason. Do yours?” She smiles sweetly, then turns to follow her friends out the door.

hallway. “You actually think pulling an Ayn Rand can keep you out of trouble?” asks Jennifer skeptically.

Leila replies, “Actually, ‘what’s good for me is right’ comes ultimately from Stirner. He actually warned beating people up for one’s own ego satisfaction, but few people listened. And so Rand hero-worshipped a serial killer, and Mao Zedong actually became one.”

Shira looks at Leila quizzically. “Mao was a Stirnerite?”

“Yes,” Jennifer lectures, “Mao was the faithful disciple of a notorious French Stirnerite. Since Stalinism has no genuine Marxist content, Mao was able to hide Stirner behind Stalin’s pseudo-Marxist façade. That’s why it was so easy for his successors to switch their allegiance from Marx to Milton Friedman with little change in actual policy. It’s also how our conservatives succeeded in imposing Stalinism on us: by replacing sickle-and-hammer with Bible-and-Flag. ‘America Is God’ is ‘socialism in one country.’ with a Southern accent, baptized and born-again.”

“So Comrade Stalin is alive and well in Charleston,” says Leila scornfully. “Nice to know the West lost the Cold War the same exact moment the North lost the Civil War.”

Rob changes the subject. “So now we know how you manage to get away with everything, Shira.”

“Hey, you got the weapon, use it when you need to. Get the leverage, you get the power. Helps keep the dogs at bay.”

Connor puts his arm around Rob. “Rob, do you know how scary your sister is?”

Rob shrugs. “Some people just need a good scare.”

“Actually,” Leila replies, “some people just need to die.”

Shira looks at her. “You mean Thorwald, don’t you.”

“Don’t you dare kill him. He’s mine.”

Shira grins. “I think I like you scary.” She kisses Leila’s lips, not caring who sees them. Leila sighs with pleasure, puts her arm around Shira, and rests her head on her shoulder. Watching them, Rob decides to kiss Connor on the lips. Connor blushes.

library. Team Bremelo’s second meeting. Present: Shira, Polly, Cory, Brandi, Kio, Steve, Ken, the Blairs, and the Shelleys. Lunch: bento, provided by Mrs Tachibana. Kenny takes off his hat and lets his black dyed hair sweep down prettily over one eye. “You know that if you keep that up, you could get us all suspended, expelled, or even killed.”

Shira is resting her head in her hands and braces her elbows on the table. “The key to controlling your enemies is to know their weaknesses.”

Polly says, “I know you’ve got something on old Honey Bunny.”

Cory says, “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be calling her ‘Honey Bunny’ to her face and still get away with it.”

A cockeyed smile grows onto Shira’s face. “Yeah. Her, the football coach, Bart, and his big brother too. Then there’s Charmian and her not-girlfriend Kelly, and then there’s her cousin Debbie, who’s got an older brother, as evil as he is beautiful, name of Frank.”

Leila says, “Frank Becket? You mean the drug smuggler?”

“That’s right: Franklin Steele Becket, blond bombshell and complete psychopath. Surely he’s a potential embarrassment to little sister Debbie and their cousins the Fleer sisters.”

“Conveniently,” Brandi adds, “he happens to be our next target.”

Polly gasps. “But he’s dangerous! How do you think you guys can catch him?

“I see you don’t know much about the Slasher Hunters yet. We’ve tracked, fought, and caught worse killers than Frank Becket.”

Shira grins. “The answer, Polly, is dogs. Fighting dogs. Our boy Frankie likes to cram his pit bulls full of lots of bad drugs, all highly illegal. And when his dogs start losing, he executes ’em. He loves to electrocute and strangle his losers. He’s not just a professional serial killer of humans. He’s also a recreational serial killer of dogs, which is why Ollie loves him so much. And his pits are fighting tonight in a great big canine Team Challenge. Gangland’s finest are bound to be there if they don’t wanna be square.”

“I’m in,” says Leila.

“You can handle these guys?”

“I’ve got a few skills.”

Polly shakes her head. “You guys are crazy.”

“We’re only exercising our free will.”

“What about his?

Shira says, “Even more than Ollie, Frankie’s the kind of extreme Egoist who believes that doing his will requires doing it at the expense of somebody else. Always. So whatever he does, he ends up leaving victims. So as much as I love you, Polly, this time I don’t agree with you. This ain’t crazy at all. It’s a no-brainer.”

“Shira,” says Connor, “back in the office Leila was at least trying to be scary like Frank. How do we know she won’t turn on us and join him?”

Leila answers, “Because I hate him. He had his will at my expense.”

“You mean — first Bart raped you, now Frank?”

“First Frank, then Oliver, and then Bart. My revenge is justified.”

“Speaking of which,” Shira adds, “the whole thing’s goin’ down at Ollie’s big squat! He’s so big on Tournament, he’s even built his own arena.”

“Now that the whole city’s pretty much empty,” explains Jennifer, “Frank has decided he wants to get the gangs together so he can get back at his great-grandfather the King, who’s disowned him for being such an absolute douchebag. So he’s called a meeting at Ollie’s arena to plan their attack. Since they want to save their slashers’ bodies for the assault, they’re holding a dogfight to see who gets control over the mission. The losing dogs get sacrificed to Satan.”

Polly gasps. “Oh my...”

“That’s not the worst of it,” Shira says. “Remember, this is Frank Becket. Pay close attention to his last name. He’s a member of our Empire’s ruling vampire clan, meaning he was raised in their religion. And the first tenet of their religion states, ‘The blood is the life.’ So when you have several rival tribes of warring Klownz getting together, and Frank Becket as their leader, that can mean only one thing. For us, that means a rescue mission.”

“Rescue mission? Who are you guys rescuing?”

“Human sacrifices. Beautiful naked virgin devotees of Allah and Jesus America, offered in blood sacrifice to Satan the eternal Enemy, by a Satanic priest who happens to be Frankie’s good buddy. And not just devout virgins, either. From what my sources tell me, he believes that Conservative Revolutionary militants and active priests of the Church of America carry the biggest magic payoff. Build up his power by drinking virgin blood, and he might very well be able to take over the Party by force, and with it the world.”

Polly shudders. “Oh my god, you’re already giving me nightmares!”

Jennifer adds, “And his father just happens to be COPCO’s Seattle Area section chief, who’s in charge of security for his grandfather’s invasion, I mean friendly visit.”

“Wouldn’t that be an unpleasant surprise,” says Rob, “to see Frankie at war with his own father.”

“Which is why we need to take out the Klownz first,” Shira concludes. “We can count on the left-wing nuts to defeat themselves, the only thing they’re good at. But to have all the gangs in the city declare war against CPMC right when its top management’s here, just to bag the Imperial King of Texas? Once the Corpos and Klownz have their rumble, there won’t be a city left to come back to. Frankie wants to out-terrorlord Bram Rodchenko and King Eco at the same time? Catch him, and we’ll be set for life.”

“And if Ollie’s there,” adds Leila, ”we can take out two birds with one stone and put that man out of my misery.”

So far, Kio has been content to listen. Now he speaks for the first time. “So what’s the plan?”

Shira leans forward, flashes her trademark cockeyed smirk, and looks into the eyes of every single one of her fellow conspirators. “It goes like this...”

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Copyright © 2011 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
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Friday, August 26, 2011

Spanner 14.3: Optional School Day

...from previous

Chaos Angel Spanner — Chapter 14: When the Cat’s Away
Part 3: Optional School Day

3 october 2014.
Shira’s bed.
“We’re really going to do it, aren’t we,” says Leila.

Shira holds Leila tight. She can feel her body tremble. “Own Grandpa Evil, you mean” If anybody needs to be owned, it’s the psychopath that owns the whole world. Worried that you’ll get hurt?”

“I don’t care about me. I’m afraid you’ll get caught and they’ll torture you.”

“You don’t care about yourself” It’s you I’m worried about.”

“They’re more scared of me than they are of you. And the one person they fear more than anyone else in the world is Ariel.”

“Well! She in on this too?”

“Not this time. She says she’d be too conspicuous.”

“What does she have on these guys?”

“Everything. That’s why they fear her.”

“So how come you and Rob are helping us with the Man when she’s not?”

“We can hide. She can’t.”

“Are you always this scared before something this big?”

Leila smiles and sighs. “I remember, when I won the Junior Miss Nude Europe beauty contest, I was terrified throughout the whole thing. But when I won, I was overwhelmed by a wave of love. It was the happiest moment of my life, until I met you. This won’t be quite like that, but still I know I’ll lose all my fear once we get started. But, yeah. Always.”

Shira gives her a beautiful smile, then kisses her.

breakfast. Hope and Ayla are long gone. Shira, Leila, and Mikan the red tabby have the waterfront condo to themselves. Shira holds a fork in her left hand and thumbs the phone she holds in her right. While they eat, Leila pets the cat purring in her lap.

“ Charlie, Desiree, Alex, Nick, Peck, Deth Pussy, Evil the Cat...”

“What are you doing?” Leila eats a piece of delicious bacon-cheese omelette.

“Passing on the word. We all gotta be ready for when ol’ kingy drops by and brings the hammer down.”

“Do you have a meeting place set up?”

“You’ll be there when it happens. But we can’t let the Man know.”

school. The student body is gone. The teachers are gone. Only the administration, the Student Council, and Team Bremelo remain. Principal, Falconer, and the two assistant vice principals hunker down in the back of the principal’s office. The councillors and their advisors stick to their meeting room and focus on their evacuation plans for the weekend. The Bremeloes meet in the center of the library, sitting around one table made out of four, joined by council advisor Karen, faculty advisors Dave Whitmer and Sylvia Plame, and librarians Sally Hatfield, Kitty Carlisle, and Chris Jordan. Team members present: Shira, Leila, Rob, Jennifer, Connor, Polly, Cory, Kio, Brandi, Steve, Ken, Seika, and Harumi. Not all of them will be out of town on Sunday.

“Where is everybody?” asks Polly.

Shira smiles ironically. “Trying to get as far away from the big city limits before Hurricane Roger slams this town hard.”

“You mean they’re treating this like a natural disaster?”

“Worse. It’s an unnatural disaster. Wherever the Old Man blows, devastation goes.”

Karen stands at the head of the table with the teachers and librarians behind them. When she speaks up, all conversation ceases. “Okay, everybody! Is this an official meeting?”

“Yeah!” the team reply.

“Since this is an emergency meeting, we won’t have roll call. We all know who we are. Everybody got jammers activated?” Everybody else raises phones and tablets. “So who’s staying over the weekend?” Raising their hands: Shira, Brandi, the Blairs, the Shelleys, and the Tachibanas. “Okay. Jennifer, you wanted to explain?”

Jennifer says, “Thanks, Karen. This emergency has nothing to do with the fight clubs, and yet it has everything to do with Tournament.”

“How is that even possible?” asks Kio.

“It’s actually simpler than you think. The key lies in the nature of revolutionary groups.”

“Like the Conservative Revolutionaries?” asks Polly.

“And the Socialist Revolutionaries, and the Earth Revolutionary Front, Al-Qaeda, the Black Bloc, black nationalists, even the Triads. They’re all groups of elite warriors with one goal, to impose the one true faith on the world. Where they differ is on what the one true faith is.“

Dave adds, “What it really comes down to is which messiah is the real messiah.”

“That’s right! Who is the real messiah? The government, the people, the earth, this guru, that tribe? Whoever it is, its disciples are the chosen people and they have the divine right to rule over everybody else.”

“That doesn’t sound like Tournament to me,” says Harumi.

“But this is how Tournament began. When the Conservative Revolutionaries overthrew American democracy, the other factions got jealous because their messiah wasn’t the one who won. So they unleashed a series of terrorist attacks that almost destroyed the whole Empire. To control them, Richard Becket went back to the ancient tradition of having champions duel for their cause. So he drew up a set of rules, converted the political factions into fight clubs, and had them fight in a tournament, with ownership of the masses as the prize. Soon enough, all the Mafias joined in. That tournament has never ended, because the winners always face another Challenge. In fact, Tournament replaced the entire political system. There’s a reason why Richard Becket was made Party leader.“

“Jen, I still don’t get it,” says Seika.

“Most of us still don’t,” Sylvia adds.

“You’ll need to understand a few more things, too,” Jennifer says. “I’ll pass this one on to Shira next.”

Shira explains, “Once a revolutionary faction gets itself into power, that’s the beginning of the end for the revolution.”

“Now that one I’ve never heard of,” says Rob.

“Here’s how it works. Once the true believers take control and set up their dictatorship, all the power seekers join the winning faction so they can climb to the top of the new hierarchy. This is the Peter Principle in action, meaning entropy increases. Sooner or later, the true believers and the power seekers come into conflict, and the reign of terror begins. The trick is to have the Party spend its wrath on itself instead of us.”

Several Bremeloes gasp, sigh, and murmur, understanding for the first time. But then Kio says, “Now what does this have to do with the terrorists?”

“Wherever the Party leaders go, all the rival Parties are bound to follow.”

“All the revolutionary vanguards are still fighting their revolutions, you see,” Jennifer continues. “Their revolution alone is the true one, and the revolutions all those other factions fight for are false revolutions. Sure enough, the true revolutionaries always attack the impostors in power. Sooner or later, it ends up looking like a gigantic game of ‘king of the hill,’ the one we call Tournament.”

“The terrorists want utopia, the Corporations want profit, the Mafias want a world without law, the tribes just want to be number one; but all of ’em want total control, so they fight to the death for it. They call that the ‘Law of Social Darwinism.’”

“But if you consider it a part of species identity, as the Corporates do, that species is not ours. So-called Social Darwinists believe that the Corporations, broadly speaking, are lifeforms superior to humans and should replace us. If we think of Corporations as lifeforms, they have their own species identity, and it’s nothing like ours. Humans are social animals; Corporations, besides not being animals, are antisocial by nature. We build hypercomplex nests we call cities; they consume only to build themselves at the expense of everything else. Except for primitive cannibals, humans think eating other humans is horrific and gross; but Corporations routinely eat each other, and nobody thinks anything of it.”

“That means what’s good for the factions is never good for us. That’s why everybody’s leaving town yesterday.”

Sally asks, “That was quite informative, but how does that explain eight team members going downtown?”

“We’re not going over to fight,” Jennifer replies. “We’re putting an end to Tournament.” She winks.

pool. With everybody else gone, there are no classes. With nobody to tutor, the tutors can’t teach. Instead, they get recreational.

After the meeting, some of the Bremeloes and the faculty advisors go home to plan their evacuation or wait for John Peck’s call. Polly and Ken help the librarians clean up for the day while Brandi and Kio plan the after-lunch meeting. The Student Council remains in session.

Eight others decide this is the perfect time to go skinny dipping in the pool. Four girls: Shira, Jennifer, Leila, Polly. Four boys: Rob, Connor, Cory, Steve. As soon as they get in, they lock the doors and lower all the shades so no one can see. Then they take off their clothes and throw them into the bleachers.

“Here we are,” says Shira, “four beautiful girls and four equally beautiful boys. I think we should take a minute to admire each other’s bodies.”

Rob says, “That’s a very good idea!” He, Connor, and Cory circle around Steve, making him blush.

The girls join the circle. Jennifer comments, “He’s not as buff as the others, but that just makes him a more delicate beauty.”

“We just need to get him some time in the weight room,” replies Connor, “and then he’ll have a body to die for.”

Polly kneels and caresses Steve’s butt. “Your ass is so beautiful, Steve. Can I kiss it?” Not waiting for an answer, she showers it with ardent kisses. He blushes even more furiously, and his penis goes hard and erect. Leila bends down to kiss its head. He giggles and sighs.

“God,” he says, “I’m in love with every single one of you.”

“And we’re all in love with you, too.” says Shira.

Cory and Polly fall backwards into the water. The others jump in after them.

locker room. Eight wet beauties walk naked into the boys’ locker room to shower off. They pair up to soap each other thoroughly: Shira and Leila, Jennifer and Polly, Connor and Rob, Cory and Steve. They switch partners, boys with boys and girls with girls, to dry each other off.

Steve muses, “You know this is all illegal, don’t you.”

Jennifer replies, “This is a temporary autonomous zone. The Law doesn’t reach here.”

Shira winks. “Right now, there is no Law.”

“So we pair up again,” says Steve, “boy-boy and girl-girl?”

Rob grins wickedly. “How ’bout we start with brother-sister?”

Jennifer and Connor gasp, stare at each other, exclaim in unison: “What?!

Leila and Rob embrace each other tight. ”Why not? You’re beautiful, you love each other, why not share your bodies?”

“Jen, you married your mother,” adds Leila. “You make love to her, don’t you? Why not your brother?” The Shelley twins lock lips and share a long hot open-mouthed kiss.

The Blair siblings look at each other again. They turn to face each other and take a good look at each other’s nude bodies. Jennifer gives Connor a huge sweet smile. “They made a good point. So why not?”

“I guess it’s worth a try,” says Connor. He goes over to the condom dispenser, takes out two condoms, runs back give one to Rob. The brothers get some clean towels, lay them onto the hard wooden benches, get their sisters to lie down on them, and soon are inside them, joined in the forbidden thrill of incestuous union as their friends look on in fascination.

When they’re finished, the two sibling couples sit beside each other on the bare bench, arm in arm. Steve throws the wet towels into the hamper. Connor says, “You know, that really wasn’t too bad.”

Jennifer rolls her eyes. “Come on now, Connor. It was the thrill of your lifetime.”

“I give up, Jen. It was awesome. But you do this all the time.”

“Maybe you should do it more.”

Shira winks. “Hey, I’m always available.”

“He should make an appointment,” Polly groans. Everybody laughs.

Connor kisses Rob. “You two look like you do it a lot.”

Rob grins. “Hey, why not? Just like you, we’re beautiful and we really love each other.”

“We also happen to be hopelessly horny,” says Leila. “We’ve spent long periods of time when everybody stayed away from us like we were freaks. No one else would love us, so we loved each other.“

“At least we all have someone to fall back on now,” Jennifer says. “You two have each other, Leila has Shira...”

Polly says, “You’ve got your mother, and I’ve got mine...”

“...and Steve can have anybody he wants,” Shira adds. Steve blushes.

Cory winks at him. “Hey, he’s got all of us.” Steve giggles in sweet embarrassment. Cory gives him a tight embrace and a long hard kiss.

“Maybe we should take turns.” Everybody laughs.

When they’re back beside the pool, all dressed and ready to leave, they open all the shades. They leave through the door into the school building hallway. Charmian and Kelly are there, waiting for them, ready for a swim of their own.

Shira demands, “What are you two doing here?”

Charmian replies, “We were about to ask you the same thing.”

Kelly gloats in triumph. “Bus-ted!”

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Copyright © 2011 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
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