Spanner 22.1: Teenage Resistance

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Chaos Angel Spanner — Chapter 22: There Is No Law
Part 1: Teenage Resistance (Final Revision)

Power concedes nothing without a demand.
It never did and it never will.
Frederick Douglass

And if there’s any hope for America,
it lies in a revolution,
and if there’s any hope for a revolution in America,
it lies in getting Elvis Presley to become Che Guevara.
Phil Ochs

cpmc headquarters. The CEO makes his official announcement to all the company’s division heads over the corporate network:

Brinkman: Greetings, righteous comrades of our Conservative Revolution, in the name of Jesus America, amen. We the Makers are confronted today with the insurrection of the Takers, who are trying to steal what God made ours alone.

We fought this Revolution to snuff out the last remnants of Communism! Socialism is Communism — unionism is Communism — democracy, the dictatorship of the Takers, is Communism in disguise! America’s only salvation is the strict leadership of the Makers who built One Nation under the One God who created it and commanded unto it universal dominion over all mankind for all eternity. We can’t let the Takers steal Our Nation! We must save our Revolution if America is to bring salvation to the world and into the infinite kingdom of space!

[pumps fists] Real Americans! Join the resistance! Pick up your guns and send your biggest tax-deductible donations now! America bless God!

bangor high. Lefty Lucy once warned the Molotov Twins, “Loca Fantoma get that look on her face, ooooh-eeee, y’all be in deep shit.” That look — lips smiling cockeyed, eyes wide with mischief, malice, and Plan Z — is already on Shira’s face as she reaches the hill behind the school first. “I’d do anything to see the look on the fat man’s face!” she exults to the others struggling to catch up with her: Debbie in her schoolgirl uniform and carrying a rifle; Frank dressed civilian; Kira, Jennifer, and the girl with the violet eyes naked and fight-geared.

On the other side of the hill from the school, Fleer’s SeaHawk rises from its hangar, Falconer in the pilot’s seat, missile launchers and Vulcan cannons fully loaded. “Uh-oh,” Kira sings, “here come the revolutionary vanguard.”

Jennifer lowers her glasses — her eyes go wide, then narrow. “Ross is dead, so are the principals, and Honey Bunny’s coming to finish off the rest of us.”

Irrational rage overcomes Debbie. “What?!” Her rage turns cold, she aims her rifle directly between Falconer’s rage-maddened eyes — but Frank and Jennifer wrestle her to the ground. “Stop it! I have to kill her!”

Kira calls Charlie to have her warn the protesters. The nameless girl gets in Debbie’s way and stares down Falconer. “I got this one.”

“Just don’t do anything foolish.”

“She has no idea what she’s in for.” She winks. The SeaHawk hovers into missile range of the protest. Below, Charlie takes her position in front of the crowd and puts up a Repulse field just in case. When Falconer gets the battle copter pointed where she wants it, she fires a Tomahawk at her own terrified students. The girl uses an unusually subtle Repulse to deflect it over the protest, across Eightieth Street, through Dictel Park, into the Dictel Towers. Unlike the seemingly indestructible military-industrial headquarters it replaced, the gangster fortress is made of much flimsier material that blooms into inferno like dry tinder. The girl smiles at the thought of bloodthirsty narcoterrorists screaming in helpless horror as they burn to death, their pet Deads flailing about in flames — and feels Falconer’s shriek of surprise. Frank, Debbie, and Kira laugh. Falconer fires her remaining three missiles in quick succession; the girl nudges them too into the flaming fortress.

Falconer spots the newtypes on the hill. She sees that look in the twins’ eyes. In rage, she turns toward them and fires her Vulcan cannons. Instead of Repulsing the bullets, the girl nudges the SeaHawk into a spin so that the rounds hit Syndicate warehouses crammed with illegal weapons, setting them on fire, blowing them up. The Major loses her nerve and flies away, not to the Navy base where her dead lover’s bitter enemy now rules, but over Dictel Park, around the gangster inferno, to the abandoned warehouses to the south.

Shira unholsters her phone and makes her first call. She tells Karen, “Now.”

And Karen calls all her counterparts leading the Student Unions at Central Kitsap, North Kitsap, South Kitsap, Bremerton, Kingston, Gig Harbor, Seabeck

and they call their counterparts at other high and junior high schools under SPEC’s ownership, who in turn call other Student Union leaders

and the leaders tell their leadership and organizing committees, who tell the students they lead, who call all their friends and their parents

and soon all the Student Unions in Metropolitan Seattle rush out of their classes — do battle against their school management and Student Councils and contract security — turn what was planned merely as a peaceful rally against the company’s tolerance of crime into a full-scale student strike against the company itself

and then word spreads that the Chairman himself is dead, and teachers and janitors and service staff and even security staff join in, turning it into a full-scale strike against the Teachers Guild itself—

eightieth street. The rodeo clowns drive their rickety old pickup from the Silverdale direction with a sound cannon in its bed, a surplus from some Third World war they bought on the black market. While Oz drives, Shane flips through the Viking metal MP3s on his phone. “What should we play, Winterfylleth or Wodensthrone?”

Oz flashes him a wicked grin. “I’m feelin’ kinda, y’know, Enslaved.” He winks.

“Enslaved it is.” Shane scrolls up from W to E, opens up Enslaved, randomizes the playlist, syncs the phone to a Bluetooth adapter plugged into the blaster’s kludged-in audio input, and now it’s ready to play.

Nameless Reporter: The student protest against SPEC has spread far beyond Bangor High and all over the city.

Jack Becket: We will not let this act of insubordination go unpunished. But first we need to muster up the manpower...

Brinkman: Don’t be deceived by this idealism tripe. It’s nothing more than the Takers trying to steal yet again what rightfully belongs to the Makers.

Amanda: SPEC spokesmen refuse to confirm or deny reports that company chairman Peter T. Ross has died.

SPEC Spokesman: No comment.

hospital. The injured who aren’t airlifted directly to downtown Seattle or can’t fit in the crowded Silverdale Harrison ER are driven to Bremerton. One of the doctors who responds to the call is Allen Stevens according to his ID card. Security rushes him in—

but he doesn’t go to surgery. Instead, he reads the number he has written on his hand. Johnny Skeever pats the gun in his shoulder holster and struggles to suppress a self-satisfied smile.

bangor high. The truck skids to a stop in the middle of the street, in front of the protest, as Falconer turns the SeaHawk around on the other side of Dictel Park. Drivers scramble to escape the sound cannon’s range. Shane and Oz hop out of the cab and into the bed. Oz fine-tunes the blaster’s aim using AR goggles and datagloves. Shane waits for the exact moment to press play. “That our killer?”

Over his phone’s speaker Shira replies, “In Big Al’s big bird, even.”

“Say when.”

“Make it perfect.”

The SeaHawk speeds over Dictel Park like a jet. Falconer itches for one last shot. Shane and Oz turn on the sound cannon. When Falconer comes right where they want her, Shane presses play.

The sound cannon blasts Viking metal at lethal volume. The SeaHawk explodes right over the burning Dictel Towers, obliterating the ruins, the SeaHawk, and herself. The protesters can’t help but cheer in relief.

hospital. “You’re relieved, nurse,” says the suspicious-looking man dressed as a doctor at the door to Karen’s room.

“But Doctor—”

“No questions. Do what I say.” The nurse leaves with a resentful look.

Casually he strolls past the first two beds. Before he gets within her field of vision, he takes a syringe out of his briefcase, loads it with cyanide, and holds it up “doctor style.”

The old lady in the second bed watches him and says, “You’re not a doctor.”

The “doctor” smirks and flashes a COPCO agent’s badge. “You’re right. I’m a cop.” He puts the badge back and puts his finger to his lips.

He flips open the curtain hiding Karen’s compartment, holds up the syringe, and says, “This is gonna hurt you more than it hurts me.”

Karen stares unsmiling into his eyes. “You’re no cop, either... Johnny Skeever.”

The old lady in the next bed screams, making Johnny drop the syringe. In frustration, he takes out his gun and yells, “You lie! You’re a fuckin’ terrorist! This one’s for murderin’ Fleer!”

Someone cocks a service revolver behind him. Johnny feels the cold steel of a barrel touch the back of his head. Sparks says coldly, “Hmmm. Impersonating a cop, too. Seems almost yesterday you broke outta jail.”

“You’re the impersonator, Jimmy,” Johnny snarls. “You’re just some two-bit commie liberal nigger-lovin’ faggot.”

“You’re a mole, then. Which makes you worse. Who owns you, Johnny? The Russkies? The Wogs? Chinese Corporatist Party (Holdings) Limited? If I’m impersonating like you say I am, it’s only because I’m not for sale.”

“Well, then I better collect. Double the treason, triple the take. See you in hell, Jimmy.” Johnny swings around and tries to get a bead on Sparks. The agent blocks Johnny’s aim with a wrist smash. He stares into the hitman’s hate-twisted eyes.

“Looking forward to meeting you there.”

Sparks shoots Johnny point blank between the eyes. The killer falls backwards, bounces off the foot of Karen’s bed, falls off and onto the floor, leaving a bright red trail. Karen screams; her cousins rush to hold her from each side. Security men swarm into the room and point their guns at Sparks. He puts his revolver back into its shoulder holster and shows them his badge. “That was Johnny Skeever, professional assassin. Your patients are safe now.”

school lobby. Bart fights the pain and crawls. His shattered kneecaps can no longer keep his legs from painfully curling back. With grim determination he carries the dead Blade Knight’s blade in futile hope of cutting Shira’s throat.

Someone expertly pries the knife out of his hand. He looks up.

Rob Shelley.

For the last time, Rob takes the jacket and shirt off his beautiful body, revealing a surprisingly muscular torso, shaved smooth like a girl — no, like an athlete. “Pretty boys gotta be strong too.” He flexes his pectorals, blows Bart a mischievous kiss, discards his now useless clothes onto his vanquished foe, and pivots on his fighting boots to leave with a model’s graceful walk. The last thing Barton Green hears before he passes out from shock is the massive death squee from a legion of adoring girls.

KCUF: SPEC stock’s going through the floor!

Fox: SPEC spokesmen have no comment.

Sun: —no comment.

ABCNN: —no comment.

QVCBS: —no comment.

ESPNBC: That impostor of mine is a liar too.

Shira: Short sellers, have at!

hospital. Sparks picks one of the less used exits to avoid the news cameras and curious crowds. He opens the door to find Arvid Shield on the other side. He pulls his service pistol on him. Arvid smiles calmly.

“You really should put the gun down, Jim.”

“Gimme a good reason, Artie.”

“You need my help more than anything.”

“Our help,” says Frank, behind him.

“I don’t fucking believe this.”

“Believe it,” says the bright-eyed girl, coming out from behind Arvid.

Frank says, “The System messed with our heads and then threw us away.

“It was never Yolanda.”

Sparks stands paralyzed, eyes and mouth wide, for an endless moment. He holsters his pistol when he regains his self-control. “Art, does your niece know?”

“Jennifer Blair does,” the bright-eyed girl replies. “She saw me with those eyes.”

He slaps his forehead. “Shoulda figured that. So how are you gonna help me bring down the System?”

“Shira knows. She calls it Plan Z.” She winks.

dictel park. In the clearing where Mark Bernkastel met fiery death, hree sweaty nudefighters stand ready to strike, surrounded entirely by Patriots, awareness keyed to the extreme. Colonel Green emerges from among his warriors. His stare betrays the horror and disgust behind the man-rage: at their sweaty nudity, at their taut coiled muscles, at the the hideous uncleanness he perceives hiding behind the beautiful mask of Woman — he chokes on his own voice. “You repulsive whores. Y’all gonna die right here!”

The girl with no name says, “Famous last words.”

Shira says, “Seems we’re the last thing standing between you and having a rape party on all those sweet succulent innocents.”

Jennifer says, “You boys have no idea what you just stepped into.”

Green shrieks, “Slash ’em to shreeee—” Shira’s Go-Yo smashes into his mouth and knocks his teeth in; she catches it on the rebound. The Patriots move in with guns and knives, but their targets slip away; Shira nudges a shooter’s pistol into his nose and the bullet into a comrade; Jennifer spins about slitting tendons with Bernkastel’s knife; the girl flits from terrorist to terrorist calmly cutting them apart. Realizing they’ve been outmatched by mere teenage girls, the Patriots make way for their commander.

Braddock Green rips his canvas camo shirt top to bottom and flings it away. The girls gasp and momentarily flinch: imprinted indelibly among the gray hairs on his brutally muscled chest, the death’s head and crossed swords signifying the Blade Knights. Realizing they can’t beat him alone or even as a team, the girls sync — three consciousnesses shudder at the intensity of their love for one another for an instant then merge into one — three bodies shift with one mind into positions around him. He unsheathes his sword. Shira flicks down her Go-Yo and mocks him with that look.

He swings at her; she ducks and hits his kneecap — the Go-Yo bounces off steel — the girls behind cut his shoulder tendons — he swings his whole body at them, they lunge past and hamstring him, Shira rolls under to kick upward into the groin and steal the sword—

They stand around him, not certain they have won until they see the pattern: they feel his shock, the mighty Blade Knight defeated by three teenage girls fighting nude, driven by love for each other and for the young idealists gathered in protest across the street.

They unsync with a huge sigh. They sheathe their weapons; Shira drops the sword. Jennifer takes the girl with no name into her arms to reward her with a long kiss; their bodies relax, Shira embraces them and kisses them both. They look back at the burning ruins of the Dictel Towers. They they turn back and walk together, arms around each other’s shoulders, across an Eightieth Street now blocked to traffic, to rejoin the protest.

KCUF: It has now been confirmed that SPEC chairman Peter T. Ross has died of a stroke.

Fox: —Ross—

Sun: —dead—

ABCNN: —stroke—

QVCBS: —confirmed—

ESPNBC: SPEC stock has just been delisted—

s.p.e.c. headquarters. And in defiance of a full-scale armoured-police invasion, the tear gas and rubber bullets and electric truncheons, and the Prison-Industrial Complex speculators drooling at the prospect of an entire city enslaved, thousands upon thousands of people, students and parents and enraged investors, stampede the corporate headquarters complex demanding the immediate return of their tuition and their lost investments. The remaining board members and upper management lock themselves inside the boardroom, panicking at the sudden revolt, wailing at the news of Ross’ death and Bangor High’s implosion, calling their brokers or their lawyers, suffering strokes and heart attacks or committing suicide by pill overdose. A pretty reporter with no name reports the news to the Darknet, the MSM smell a ratings boost and steal her scoop, and the Fearsome Foursome are too busy trading recriminations over clandestine channels to be able to stop it.

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Copyright © 2013 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.

[Revision 4 Final, 4/8/13: New scenes and plot threads added and all scenes remaining from Revision 2 heavily edited for Final Revision continuity. The entire “rescue of Karen” arc removed from Chapter 21 remains only in the “Karen in the hospital” scene here, now condensed. Original title “Contradiction Is Truth”, whose title scene now opens 22.2.]