Chaos Angel Spanner — Chapter 18: White Riot in the Streets
Part 3: No Enemies to the Right (Final Revision)
Part 3: No Enemies to the Right (Final Revision)
shira’s apartment. In the bedroom Shira has always called theirs, the twins make love to a very willing Luna and Ayla. In the living room, five nameless beauties and a disgruntled cop stare at Hope. “They’d better keep it on the down low,” she grumbles, “if they wanna get away with the ultimate crime.”
“Actually,” Sparks says, “the ultimate crime is not making love to a child.”
“I thought it was making love to an unwilling child,” says the girl with the violet eyes.
“I thought it was making love to a child,” says the bright-eyed girl, “willing or unwilling.”
Sparks nods his head. “The fact that you girls got away with it, and Party leaders get away with it all the time, proves you wrong.”
The violet-eyed girl looks at him skeptically. “What is it, then?”
“Intellectual Property violation.” The bright-eyed girl and the blond girl look at each other; the violet-eyed girl groans. “Ladies, I’m serious. Swipe even the tiniest little bit of IP, and the whole herd of corporations is out for your blood. They’re incapable of telling the difference between a little IP ‘rape’ and a lot. And this Empire was built on corporate rights, not human rights.”
“Bullshit!” says Hope. “Public services, public safety, workers’ rights: that’s what America was created to defend against.”
“But consider the punishments. If you get convicted for child rape — if — you get killed if you're lucky, castrated if not. Bad enough. Worker drone gone uppity? Enslavement to serve the Prison-Industrial Complex’s sacred profits. But rape a corp’s IP, and you get your brain debodied, hooked up to Echelon, and tortured till the end of time. That’s what the corps feed on and the System’s built on.”
The short slender Asian woman interrupts, “No, Hope’s right.”
“Yeah!” the bright-eyed girl echoes.
Sparks crosses his arms. “Explain.”
“I found out the hard way how the Guild system’s set up,” says the slim girl. ”The Police Guild’s really a high-paid professional guild like the doctors and lawyers. Some of us treated it like a labor union. We all got fired, accused of counterrevolution, and summarily tortured. The lucky ones died. Those not so lucky went mad.”
He studies her body carefully. “Funny, I don’t see any scars.”
“The Party’s full of ex-Communists using advanced Soviet techniques. That’s how I forgot my name.” The bright-eyed girl shudders in horror. The slim girl gets up and hugs her.
The brown-haired girl asks, “Is that what happens to supers who help us muggles?”
The violet-eyed girl replies, “Treason against the superhuman race, yes.”
The bright-eyed girl throws out her arms in despair. “What about ‘great responsibility’?”
“Society, by definition,” the slim girl snaps, “does not exist.”
cpmc headquarters. The Fearsome Foursome reassemble in Salem with Drusilla Becket AMERICA! and COPCO’s Brendan Sparks. In the chairman’s throne, Brinkman says, “That’s twice things have gotten completely out of hand now, and in the same accursed Babylon. Let us not make this a Sunday tradition, shall we?”Henry Becket: This disunity in the Party must stop at once. I command it!Martin Becket: We’re supposed to have no enemies to the Right! If we don’t unite, the rabble will rise up to defeat us, and the long dark night of Communism will descend upon the whole Empire!Col. Green: This corruption is an embarrassment to Jesus America! Somebody has to clean it up before it consumes the Empire and the commonists take over!Scofield: The dictatorship of greed has failed. It is every American’s God-given duty to smash it and replace it with the eternal dictatorship of faith.Will Becket: (grimly) You fools, you’re making the Evil One laugh from his watery grave. Have I slain him for nothing?Amanda: ESPNBC News tried to contact Party leaders and spokesmen, but they refused to comment.
Everson turns to Sparks and Becket. “Gentlemen, that terrorist Spanner is making a complete fool of us. You guys got any detectives on his trail?”
Jack protests to Brinkman, “You wanted us to focus on fighting terrorists and liberals, Wally! You never said you wanted fucking detectives!”
Sparks says to him, “We’ve got detectives, Jack.” To Brinkman, “Well, Walter, are you going to pay us to do some actual detective work, or are you content to let your angel of chaos make you look like a complete fool? Which is it?”
Drusilla stands up, leans on the table, and snarls, “We don’t need detectives, Brendan, we need exorcists! We need to banish this Spanner back to Hell whence he came, and do it now!”
He snarls, “I bet you accidentally summoned him—”
“You bastard!” She tries to strangle him.
Admiral Fleer stands up and fires his service pistol upward. “Silence!” Everyone falls silent and stares at him. “You have failed! Twice! We’ll do things my way, or not at all!”
“And what do exactly do you have in mind, Alan?” asks Brinkman scornfully. “Your usual martial law thing?”
“That, and I’ll be taking over control of the government until you, Walter, can prove that you can govern this God-damned mess under.”
Brinkman pauses dramatically. “Alan, I don’t think you can.”
“Then who?” Fleer gets only dead silence for an answer.
Amanda: The death toll for would-be Seattle Party leaders has now reached four as they battle over who gets the job. The Las Vegas bookmakers have released the odds and are now officially taking bets.downtown bremerton. Shira and Polly stroll together down Pacific Avenue; Freddy the Furby rides on Shira’s hat. Polly says, “You got a twin sister? Really?” Shira nods enthusiastically. “I just gotta meet her.”
“You will, soon.”
She looks around the desolate street. “Doesn’t look too violent here.”
“They won’t dare trash Will’s turf.” Shira winks.
A woman screams nearby. Polly sees Shira go utterly calm. “Alley,” Shira says.
Polly frowns. “Will’s turf, right?”
“You stay here.” Shira runs to the scene of the crime and strides into plain view of the woman’s attackers, had they bothered to look: six militants (really Honky gangsters) beating up a helpless young woman, preparing to gang rape her. The naked leader stops hitting the victim in his frenzy to rip her clothes off as his gangster crew cheer him on. While they are completely occupied with their crime, Shira silently slips in behind them and prepares to attack.
dictel tower. “So you threw the angel of chaos a Challenge, did you,” says Richard Becket. He and Litton smoke Cuban cigars as the Fearsome Foursome and Drusilla glare at them. “Do you realize just how dangerous he is?”
“I sure did, Mr. Chairman,” Litton replies. “That’s why I did it.”
“It may not be evident from this vantage point, but right now certain Party factions are tearing up the city like sharks ripping at a whale’s corpse.”
“Look, Chairman. Your father’s dead now, and you’re looking your age. It’ll take a lot of Factor Positive blood to bring back that flaming youth you just lost last week. You lost a local Party chairman too, a terrorist bomb took out another, and their would-be successors are playing Tournament by death-match rules and the media smells blood. We have to unite the Party against the terrorist that killed your father, or it’ll tear itself apart, understand?”
“You’d better be right, Mr. Litton, or the whole Empire will pay the price.”
“Tell your brother.”
“I’m not so sure he’ll understand.” The United Corporations Chairman takes another puff of his cigar. Litton stares at him, then smokes his.
downtown bremerton. The nameless Asian woman works out at her favorite health club. On the pelvic multi-workout machine, she focuses on her gluteal muscles, swinging the leg out, then swinging it in, and finally lowering the bent leg. In comes Diana Shockley, still on the Spanner case. She is shocked to see a familiar-looking woman she has not seen in years: short, slender, with long silky black hair tied behind her head. “Natsuki Kuga?”
The slender girl shoots a narrow-eyed look at her. “Is your name Becket?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t call me by a name that no longer exists.”
Shockley’s eyes widen in surprise. She says nothing. She narrows her eyes. “You disappeared from the Currie case.”
“I got fired. Now I pursue personal fulfillment. I have no intention of returning to that venomous snake pit... Agent.”
"Don’t forget you have a missing child, Kuga."
The slim girl stops to stare at Shockley. “Is that a threat?”
“We have unfinished business.”
“Your business, not mine. Besides, my child is now with me.” She stares at her ironically. Shockley glares back.
Pause. “Will you be taking away your daughter’s name too?”
“The choice is entirely hers.”
Shockley turns to walk away. But then she says, “Why would anyone in their right mind choose to go without a name?”
“Because.”
“Just because?”
“Need to know. Remember?”
Shockley and the woman stare each other down for several seconds. Then Shockley storms out. The other patrons stare at her as she walks out.
august 2000...
In the summer of their tenth year, Shira and Kira lived with her grandfather Phil Reston in his big cabin in the woods in the Cascade foothills. An elderly Apache scout lived nearby and visited frequently; with approval from their grandfather, himself a Tracker authorized to teach, they became his apprentices in the ways of the wilderness scout. The twins proved especially eager students and proved to be rare gifted ones with the potential to achieve mastery of the art while still in their youth.
That summer, the old Apache taught them some of the most advanced techniques known to the scouts since forgotten antiquity. They learned to hide from the wild animals of the forest: first how to come dangerously close without them noticing, then the advanced art of hiding in plain sight. They immersed themselves totally into their lessons. Once they had learned the last thing the old scout could teach, they were ready for the ultimate test.
They stripped completely naked, bathed in the nearby waterfall, rubbed maple and madrona leaves on their bodies to remove the scent, and covered their body with mud. They tied the red headband of the Apache scouts around their head as if to make themselves visible, and left their bright red hair untouched by mud.
They sneaked up extremely close behind dangerous male animals, yet they did not notice. Shira sneaked up behind a magnificent large buck preoccupied with drinking from a large pond nearby. She approached close enough to touch him. He still did not notice. With a wicked grin she grabbed the buck’s penis and yanked it hard. Startled by the pain and sudden shock, the buck turned in her direction to fight her off. But now she was gone. The buck circled around, looking for his assailant. He did not find her. Warily, he resumed his drinking. When he had slaked his thirst, he fled the scene.
The mischievous twins yanked the penises of ever more dangerous male animals: buck, moose, mountain goat, wolf, cougar, bear. They turned around and tried to attack, even kill; but they were already gone. Soon, when the male animals in the area came to drink from this particular pond, they did so warily, looking around nervously to make sure that there was no one around who would pull on their penises. Feeling sorry for the animals, they told the old scout they no longer wanted to hurt the animals. He laughed and told them they no longer had to: they had passed the test.
In the summer of their tenth year, Shira and Kira lived with her grandfather Phil Reston in his big cabin in the woods in the Cascade foothills. An elderly Apache scout lived nearby and visited frequently; with approval from their grandfather, himself a Tracker authorized to teach, they became his apprentices in the ways of the wilderness scout. The twins proved especially eager students and proved to be rare gifted ones with the potential to achieve mastery of the art while still in their youth.
That summer, the old Apache taught them some of the most advanced techniques known to the scouts since forgotten antiquity. They learned to hide from the wild animals of the forest: first how to come dangerously close without them noticing, then the advanced art of hiding in plain sight. They immersed themselves totally into their lessons. Once they had learned the last thing the old scout could teach, they were ready for the ultimate test.
They stripped completely naked, bathed in the nearby waterfall, rubbed maple and madrona leaves on their bodies to remove the scent, and covered their body with mud. They tied the red headband of the Apache scouts around their head as if to make themselves visible, and left their bright red hair untouched by mud.
They sneaked up extremely close behind dangerous male animals, yet they did not notice. Shira sneaked up behind a magnificent large buck preoccupied with drinking from a large pond nearby. She approached close enough to touch him. He still did not notice. With a wicked grin she grabbed the buck’s penis and yanked it hard. Startled by the pain and sudden shock, the buck turned in her direction to fight her off. But now she was gone. The buck circled around, looking for his assailant. He did not find her. Warily, he resumed his drinking. When he had slaked his thirst, he fled the scene.
The mischievous twins yanked the penises of ever more dangerous male animals: buck, moose, mountain goat, wolf, cougar, bear. They turned around and tried to attack, even kill; but they were already gone. Soon, when the male animals in the area came to drink from this particular pond, they did so warily, looking around nervously to make sure that there was no one around who would pull on their penises. Feeling sorry for the animals, they told the old scout they no longer wanted to hurt the animals. He laughed and told them they no longer had to: they had passed the test.
downtown bremerton. He raises his pelvis high over his terrified victim and prepares to spear her with his hard pink weapon. The Honkies howl their approval.
—someone grabs his penis, yanks hard; he flies off his victim, falls on his face a meter away, shrieks in pain. Shira laughs — that’s when they see her.
The gang attack her screaming. Out comes her GoYo™. She launches herself at them swinging, takes out the attack leader; she grabs one as a human shield to take the blows his comrades rain down upon her till he’s unconscious, then takes another. Down to two: she takes them out with a single GoYo swing. Only their naked boss remains.
He rushes her without a Challenge in a screaming berserker rage, wanting only to rip her to shreds. Perfectly calm and rational, she targets his knees and shoulder joints; he falls, rolls in pain, forces himself back to his feet, attacks again; she bodyslams him and hammers his testicles with the loaded yo-yo until he’s even more helpless than his victim.
Shira looks down at her vanquished enemy with a cockeyed smirk. “Baka.” She looks at the injured and sobbing woman — another Amanda? She holds her hand and gently raises her to her feet, takes off her jacket and wraps it around her, picks her up and carries her in her arms, out of the alley, all the way to Polly, then sets her back on her feet to cry in Polly’s arms as she calls Sparks. In the alley, the gangsters sprawl unconscious like so much trash.
penguindrome. The KCUF crew stare at the violence playing out on the monitors. Deth slaps his forehead. “Jesus H. America, guys, that’s one craptacular shit sandwich!”
Simon climbs up on the table in front of the monitors, pumps his fist, and shouts, “This is why we need to piratecast the news! We’re the last independent network left in the whole bloody Western world. Can we do it?” The crew’s cheers shake the studio.
And then everybody turns their attention to the bright-eyed girl. She blushes deep red and faints.
downtown bremerton. Bart Green watches the naked Patriots, bruised and bloody, moan and writhe in the alley. His face goes hard. He walks out and walks down Pacific Avenue toward the flat metal fisherman statue at the Fourth Street intersection he finds so disgustingly effeminate. Out from behind it emerges — Shira? She leans seductively against the statue and smiles ironically. “What’s up?”
He points at her. “I’m warning you, Thomas. No surprises, or trouble’s gonna rain down on your pretty head. Got it?”
Kira shrugs. “What you don’t know can’t hurt you, right?” She gives him a wicked wink and strolls away down Fourth. He glares at her as she sashays away.
seattle. The battle in Seattle continues into the night. Minuteman militias, Moral Enforcer squads, and mercenary units hired by ambitious Corporates battle like Roman imperial armies for the right to name their leader Party chief. Black-masked anarchist fighters take them on wherever they are. The gangsters and looters become so appalled at the now deadly intensity of the fighting and the wanton destruction of merchandise they only wanted to steal that they leave the city to the warriors driven by steroids and self-righteousness rampaging where King Patriot died only last week. The MSM talking heads on the newscopters and in the studios report the violence with the breathless enthusiasm of sports fans.
Eventually, as the drugs wear off and the warriors grow weary, the fighting diminishes in intensity. COPCO agents, Party loyalists, and the National Guard under Will’s command capture many terrorists, gangsters, and anarchist fighters, who in turn capture rioters to trade for their fighters. Night falls: the streets clear of rioters and fighters. For the second weekend in a row, downtown Seattle is left in ruins.
The Party spokesmen and the network news talking heads spin the usual Party line more perfunctorily than usual, once again blaming the usual suspects (liberal “commonists”) for what the real culprits (fight clubs, street gangs, terrorists, rogue Party factions, and the police and military enforcers commanded to stop them) did. But read between the lines, listen to the tone of their voices, look at their faces, and you can see the subtext they’re so desperate to repress: the real winner of this war was not the Party, the cops, the Syndicates, or even the Terrorists, but Spanner.
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[Revision 4 Final, 3/6/13: revision notes here. Original R2 section title: “Rage Against the People” (now the title of 18.1 R4); the new title derives from that bitterly ironic French Revolution slogan, “no enemies to the Left.”]
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