"Finally!", Sara exclaimed and reached for the dice, but she picked up the remote instead. She turned up the volume on the news. It seemed for the last few weeks that their televisions had been on the news 24/7.
"Oh come on, Sara, we're trying to finish this time", Alisha exclaimed as she repositioned herself on the soft carpet of their apartment floor.
"Shh." Sara listened intently to the news about a string of bank robberies in 5 different states. This came on the heals of the destruction of a factory in Kansas, the complete shutdown on the Port of Houston, and just the night before Los Angeles had been attacked.
"Come on, Sara", Alisha said again. "This stuff's been happening for several days. We know all about it."
"You heard them just now", Sara began. "They're robbing banks, just destroying everything inside them."
"I know its bad, but..."
"But!?!" Sara pointed at Jan. "Defense industry." Then at Alisha, "Movie business." Then at herself, "Banking."
Alisha chuckled. "What, you worried about your trust fund?"
Sara looked slightly insulted. "Of course, I'm nnn-- Well maybe a little."
The three laughed. "When do you get yours anyway?", Alisha asked.
"Not until I'm 22."
"That's not so bad. I don't get mine until I turn 25", Alisha informed them.
"And you say my family is old fashioned. What about you Jan, you've been quiet."
Jan sighed. "In a couple of weeks."
"Hey, so you get it on your 20th birthday. Not bad!"
"Where are you taking us?", Alisha asked.
Jan frowned.
"Yeah, where are you going to take us, your friends, once you get paid. You have to take us somewhere. Its tradition."
Jan rolled her eyes. "I don't plan on making this a big deal."
"Oh come on, don't be a killjoy. In a couple of weeks you'll be the only one of us who'll actually be rich."
Jan thought about it. "Well my aunt does have a house in Palm Beach. We could go there."
Sara and Alisha both looked at each other. Both of them had been to Palm Beach, and both of them would love to return. Sara looked at Alisha with a smile.
"New Years in Palm Beach?"
Alisha and Sara high fived. "Sounds like a plan to me."
Sara smirked. "I'm gonna have to call Daddy and tell him to up my limits."
"You are so bad!"
Sara looked down at the floor. "Just some times."
Jan shook her head and laid down flat on the floor. She didn't feel like going to Florida at first, but the more she thought about it, the more she liked it. It would give her a chance to see her cousins. They went back to playing and a few minutes later Alisha cleared her throat to speak.
"You guys know how I mentioned that art exhibit coming to town?"
"Yeah", Jan answered without looking up from the board.
"I was wondering if you two can help me chaperone the kids from my classes?"
Jan looked up then. "What about the parents?"
Alisha tisked. "Some are single parents with jobs, and can't get off from work. Some just can't make it. I just want to have some people I can rely on."
Jan and Sara shared a look. "Who's to say you can rely on us?", Sara asked with a smirk.
"Oh come on, don't make this harder than it has to be. I'm asking." Alisha got up onto her knees then bowed down. "No, I'm begging." She rose up and down, bowing before her two friends who were on the floor with her.
On her third or fourth bow, Avery Vaughn, Sara's cousin from New Orleans, came out of his bed room. He turned right, heading for the kitchen. He hadn't been expecting it, but as soon as he turned the corner he was greeted by an eye full of Alisha's taught ass in the air. Her large breasts were compressed against the floor as her butt greeted him in all its glory. He saw the lean feminine form of Alisha's behind and legs as she rose again. Jan smiled, and Sara laughed as she watched her cousin's eyes threaten to pop from his sockets.
"I'm glad Melissa's not here!", Jan said, trying to stifle a laugh.
Alisha sat up and turned around quickly. She was wearing pajama type shorts, but they were pretty short. "Oh my... I'm sorry, Avery."
He shook his head and waved off her concern. "Don't be sorry for me." He stepped past the group of girls on his way to the kitchen. "I got a good nap in, and then a bit of a tease as I come outta my room, and I didn't even have to pay for it", he drawled in his accent. "And my fiancee wasn't here to see it. Naw, I think this day's shapin up just fine." He smiled and turned towards the kitchen.
Alisha smiled at him, but as soon as he turned, it went to a angry frown for her friends. "Since you fucking made me embarrass myself, the least you can do is say yes."
"We didn't make you bow down and put your derriere in the air", Jan told her. "And I was going to say yes anyway, but if stalling made you get that look on your face, then it was all worth it."
Sara agreed to help too, but she was too amused to talk. When she got all red in the face she was especially tickled.
"You guys can be mean sometimes", Alisha told them once they started playing again.
www
At a converted plant in rural Georgia there was a joyous home coming for the Men of the Revolution. They had traveled more than 15,000 miles around the United States from one side to another attacking the very infrastructure that the American way of life rested on. Transportation and finances had been hit hard, so had manufacturing. A growing fear was entering the American conciseness. The crowning achievement of this series of attacks had happened just the night before. His Men had stolen a Cessna Citation from the airport in Santa Fe, New Mexico. While most of the team had taken the plane and flown to Los Angeles, the rest of them had diverted attention by robbing banks in a haphazard pattern all over the central United States. The Citation had landed at a drug smuggling airstrip in northern Mexico. His Men, along with Jean, and Benny's Femmes had made their way into the US to Los Angeles and attacked the very artery that fed the gluttonous consumer goods that spoil and fatten the people. The Alameda Corridor carried nearly half the goods into and out of the second busiest port system in the United States. After the attack, they had made their way back to Mexico only to fly the extra fast Cessna jet back to the US and crashed it in Louisiana. From there they had driven back to Georgia. The entire operation had taken just 17 hours from the moment they had stolen the plane to the moment they had arrived back at the plant. Malcolm's plans had gone off without a hitch and while he was not satisfied, this was a damn good start. He was there to meet his team as they came back. His partner in crime Benny was there to meet his second in command, Jean, when he stepped out of the van.
"Made it back in one piece I see", Benny exclaimed as he put out his hand.
Jean smiled wearily and shook his boss' hand. "It got interesting a couple of times, but we're all here and other than a couple of scrapes, every Femme and Series 4 is accounted for."
"Excellent. I had dinner prepared. Get yourself together and meet me."
Jean joined his boss for diner and was glad that X-424 wasn't there. He had something to say about that Femme. She was different from all the rest of them. Benny had been saying so for a quite a while, but Jean thought his boss' emotions and lust were getting in the way of his judgment, but no Benny was right. There was something different about that one.
"Has Dr. Long finished the scans on the Femmes?", Jean asked after he finished a meal of lasagna."
"I don't believe so", Benny replied as he wiped his mouth. "Anything in particular he should be looking for?"
Jean shrugged. "I was curious as to the status of X-424." Jean knew that he had be careful because she was Benny's favorite.
Benny raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong with her?"
Jean sat forward in his chair. "Nothing physically obviously, but she doesn't act like a normal Femme. I don't quite know how to explain it, but sometimes... I don't know, its just that none of the other Femmes ever make me think that they are more than what they are. Even their affections are programmed."
Benny just nodded and said nothing for a time. "I understand what you mean about that one", he began mater of factly. "I felt selfish about it for a time, keeping her activated and not letting Jeff take her off line and do a thorough inspection, but when you took her off with Malcolm's boys, I got the necessary detachment. Why do you think I didn't protest when her presence was requested by Omar. I knew I needed the space. Once you all left, I went to Atlanta, to a couple of clubs and had a good time with some real women for the first time a month. I ordered Dr. Long to do a very very thorough examination of all the Femmes, especially that one as soon as they returned."
Jean was once again taken aback by his boss. He was always a couple of steps ahead. "But you're still going through with that project of yours?"
Benny smiled and took another sip of wine. "Yes, I am. I didn't say I didn't like her, I just want to make sure everything remains as it should be. The idea of a rogue Femme is enough to make me lose sleep at night."
Kristen was fully awake inside of her mind for the first time in weeks. With her programing shut off, she was able to know that she existed. She was a person again instead of a number. She tried to organize her memories, old ones and new ones. She could only remember tiny bits of things that happened when she was activated. She could remember holding a man up by the throat and looking into his eyes, or more accurately, him looking into hers. Kristen wondered what he had seen, and she wondered what had become of that man. She couldn't remember what she had been ordered to do to him. She decided to focus on older memories instead of parts of new ones. There was less doubt there. There were still large gaps, but she could at least see the faces of her family, and she knew the passage of time. She knew that it was 2005, and that she hadn't seen her brother or sister in over two years, and she hadn't spoken to her parents in at least as long. They probably thought that she was dead, and they were more right than wrong because as Kristen began to feel herself slipping away, she didn't know if she would ever regain her life. Was she doomed to this semi-existence forever?
X-424 was completely naked as she stood at attention under a bank of lights and surrounded by machines. Her light brown hair was pinned up allowing a good view of every inch of her body. The sweep of her neck, down to her shoulders and around to the swell of her breasts and to the tips of her nipples, the lines of her body were sleek, streamlined, and taunt. She stood in the light untiring, unmoving, and yet with a power that seemed to radiate from her tanned skin. There was no mistaking that this woman was remarkable. Lots of people saw it, which was why she was the last Femme to be checked and the only one being checked like this.
Normally, Dr. Jeffrey Long would have let one of the dozen or so technicians do the routine tests on the Femmes and Series 4's, but Benny had asked him to conduct this one personally. X-424 was hooked up to every instrument and sensor in the lab. He had checked her body from the top of her head to soles of her feet and found that she was in perfect condition, really better than perfect, even for a Femme. He didn't know who this woman had been, but she had a natural physique second to none, and the special serums and chemicals that had strengthened her body had made her more perfect. It was unfair really. Jeff had explained that the process of turning a woman into a Femme was like turning a regular production car into an elite race car. X-424 was different. She had been transformed like all the others, but instead of starting out as a Chevy, she had started out as a Ferrari. It was like adding onto a masterpiece that had already been painted. Jeff marveled at her lung capacity, her motor skills, and body control. He also marveled at her mind. The last tests he was doing measured brain waves and brain activity. He was finishing his tests as the door opened.
"How's she?", Benny asked.
"Excellent", was the first word that came to his mind.
"Good", Benny replied, slightly relieved.
"Better than excellent really. Here look at this." Jeff pointed to a display of X-424's brain activity. "You see this here? This is her base activity level. Most Femmes start with a line about here." He pointed lower on the screen.
"What does that mean exactly?"
"It means that this woman was incredibly smart, very high IQ, and a very powerful intellect. Her brain can and does process a lot of information at once."
Benny frowned. He wasn't surprise to hear that. Then he began to worry. "Is there a chance that the process that turns these women into Femmes wouldn't have worked on her?"
"I've thought about it, but the chances would be small. Besides, the core memories of a person are systematically wiped out memory by memory. Once that is done, it's possible to take emotions and instincts away. The key are the memories. That's what hold the rest of the individual together. There's no will left inside the Femmes. Without that self awareness and will what's left? There's no danger of losing control. The programing basically over writes that part of the brain and makes it completely open to commands."
"I know the theory of how it works, Jeff. I wonder though who this woman was before all of that was taken away."
Jeff sighed. "I don't know, but I bet she's someone I would have liked to have on my staff."
Benny didn't say anything because his wonder went much deeper. This woman could have been something more than a colleague to Benny, and maybe she already was. He didn't know who she had been, but he knew what she liked, and he was going to give it to her.
www
"Sometimes, Brian, I don't know why I put up with your shit", Jan told her friend as he helped her carry groceries up the stairs.
"Face it, I'm a lovable guy", Brian quipped.
Jan sighed and walked to the front door. "Is there a reason you always walk behind me?", she asked as she fished for her keys.
Brian smiled. "View's better from back here."
"You know, I think Jenny was right. You are a pervert."
"Harsh words, Jan. I keep telling you, I'm not a pervert, but I am going to keep asking you to pose for a photo shoot."
Jan turned the key in the lock. "If I have turned down offers from professionals", she began as she opened the door. "Why would I pose for you?"
Brian chuckled. "Because I'm better than they are. I would--"
"Shh", Jan cut him off quickly. Something was wrong. There was someone in her apartment, but there shouldn't have been. She stood in the doorway, straining her better than perfect senses. She smelled something in the darkened living room. She wished the curtains weren't closed. Only the shaft of light coming from the open door illuminated the room, and not very well. Then out of the shadows, a man rose from a chair. He was a big man, and Jan knew who it was at once.
"Daddy!", she called out. Jan put her bags down and rushed over to her father's arms. Jan missed his hugs. He had massive bear like arms and gave the best hugs. "What are you doing here?"
Brian flipped on the light causing Jack Caufield to squint, but he maintained his smile. "I had some things to do at Benning, and I wasn't coming to Georgia without stopping in to see my little girl." He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "How have things been?"
"Good", Jan answered. "I don't know how you did it, but that FBI guy stopped bothering me."
Jack just smiled. He looked up when he heard some noise in the kitchen. Jan turned. "Oh, Dad, this is Brian."
Jack's face took on a stern look as he stepped towards the 19 year old. Brian Pronger was about 5'10", and he had to crane his neck to look up at the 6'4" Jack Caufield.
"Brian, this is my Dad."
"Yeah, figures", Brian responded after swallowing the lump in his throat. "I can see where Jan gets her height from." Not only was Jack tall, he was big, and intimidating. Brian felt like running.
"So, you're the young man that caused my daughter's nose to get broken?"
"Umm, Jan told you about that?"
Jan stood slightly behind her father, and despite the fact that she was nearly 6'1", she had to stand up very straight to see over her father's broad shoulders. She felt a little sorry watching Brian squirm, but he deserved a little bit.
"She tells me about a lot."
"Umm, her nose healed up nicely." Brian pointed toward Jan.
"Good thing for you." Jack wouldn't let up just yet. He let Brian get just a bit more afraid before he cracked a smile. "She must like you, so I guess you're all right with me." Jack extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Brian."
"You too, sir." Brian shook Jack's hand, but he wasn't sure how nice it had been.
"So", Jan began as she went to the kitchen to put the groceries away. "What were you doing sitting in the dark? Trying to scare me?"
Jack chuckled and settled into a chair. "No, when I got here the place was empty. I haven't gotten much sleep in the last few days."
"Were you doing anything special at Fort Benning?", Jan asked while she put the peanut butter in the cabinet.
"Nothing I can talk about in the open."
"Ohh, that."
Brian smirked. "You mean nothing you can talk about while I'm in earshot."
Jack nodded at Brian and smiled then turned towards the kitchen. "So Jan, what do you have planned the rest of the day?"
"Well, its Tuesday, so I have to get to the gym and get my workout in before I teach my class."
"Mind if I join you?", Jack asked.
He couldn't see his daughter's face light up. "That'll be great."
Half an hour later, Jack was doing preacher curls when Jan walked into the weightroom wearing a blue and white sports bra with matching blue and white basketball shorts covering her black compression shorts. Jack's face flushed as he watched the heads of every man in the room turn to follow his daughter. It was very hard for Jack to realize that not only was his daughter a grown woman, she was a beautiful woman.
Her basketball shorts were already soaked after she had played a pickup game of basketball. Sweat rolled down her body creating highlights and visuals of the perfect contours and shapes of Jan's perfectly sculpted body. Her hips swayed easily from side to side as she walked with that unapproachable authority. She was someone special, and it showed despite Jan's best efforts to counter that sentiment. Many men fantasized about her, but few were willing to approach. Beautiful women were intimidating and so were strong women. Jan was both. As she strolled into the room, the small formations and cuts of her obliquus showed hints of the muscle that lay beneath her smooth skin, and her quads flexed just enough as she walked to show that there was nothing spare or excess on her body. Her body was graceful at all times, and every muscle worked with every other to add to her air of superiority. She went to the water fountain and started filling her bottle again.
Jack was one of two men in the room not looking at Jan as she came in. He stood up after finishing his set and met his daughter at the fountain. "Do you always wear this when you lift?", Jack asked his daughter in a low tone.
Jan frowned and looked at her father. "No, I just bought this outfit two days ago. You like it?"
Jack shook his head. "I think its nice, but I'm talking about the... the style of outfit." It wasn't often when Jack stumbled over his words.
"Usually. Its comfortable. I don't like getting too hot, and I hate wearing sweaty clothes when I work out, so I just don't wear much."
Jack leaned closer to her ear. "I understand that, but look at these guys. I could see their tongues wagging when you came in."
Jan smiled. "These guys are harmless. Don't be overprotective, Dad."
"I'm not, but I thought one guy over there by the bikes was going to have an accident in his pants."
Jan grinned and shook her head. "What do you want me to do, wear a bag to protect some undersexed guy's shorts?"
It was Jack's turn to smile. "No, but you could at least wear a shirt."
"And cover up this work of art?" Jan swept her hands down her body then crunched her abs quickly.
Jack grabbed the water bottle from Jan's hand and took a drink. "Pumpkin, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were torturing these poor guys on purpose."
"I can't help the way I look. And no, I'm not. That's one of the reasons I wear these basketball shorts. If it was up to me, I'd take these sweaty things off and just wear my compression shorts, but see I have some decency, Daddy."
"I didn't mean it like that, Pumpkin. I know you're a good girl." Jack's face took on a resigned smile. "Are you getting annoyed having your father here?"
Jan frowned again. "Why would you think that?", she asked as she took back her water bottle. "I hardly see you, and you think a comment about my top would make me upset? Dad, relax." Jan looked at her watch. "You want to help me set up for my ju-jitsu class? The kickboxing class is ending early today." Jack agreed quickly because he didn't think he could take another minute of being in a room full of men looking at his daughter with so much lust that he could taste it.
Upstairs the last mat boomed into place. Jack stood up straight, put his hands on his lower back and leaned back a little to stretch.
"Sore, Dad?"
Jack turned towards his daughter with a look that she had seen before. "Not too sore."
Jan smiled and narrowed her azure eyes. Her father looked back. Most people wouldn't have noticed the very slight shift of Jan's balance, but Jack did because he had taught her. With all of that, he wasn't quite ready when Jan's arm lashed out. She took her father's wrist and stepped into him. With a quick bump from Jan's hip, Jack lost his balance. He was at her mercy, and she shifted her hips, and flexed those wonderful abs. Her father started over. His big body flew. Jan was already smiling as her father whisked towards the ground, but he had a trick or two up his sleeve. As his legs came past Jan's head, he spread his ankles apart. He put his left ankle on the side of Jan's head, and quickly before it was too late, put his right foot behind Jan's head. He clamped down hard, and tourqued his body. He used the momentum Jan had created to twist her body and make her lose balance. Jack landed on his shoulder and rolled on the mats right next to Jan who landed on her back. Jack pushed himself up to his knees, while Jan put her hands against the mat and bounded to her feet.
"Not bad for an old man?", her father asked with a smile. He got to his feet.
Jan took a half step closer to her father then sprung towards him. Jack raised his arms, and they were in a clench. They struggled for position. Jack saw and felt first hand that his daughter's body didn't just look strong. Hills and valleys rose across her back and shoulders as she pushed against her father. The muscles in her upper body fired in quick sequence creating wonderful cuts and definition. Her legs kept a firm base, her quads and calves having to work hard to maintain her balance against her father. The cords of muscle in Jan's forearms slid past one another as she tightened her grip on her father's hands, as she attempted to gain any advantage. Her father loomed over her, his face set in struggle and concentration. He was always amazed at how strong his daughter was even without her powers.
Jan felt her arms moving back. Despite the fact that her muscles were fully flexed her father was simply stronger. She should have known better than to allow this to turn into a test of strength. She shifted her feet and attempted to use her leg to snag her father's ankle, but his legs were longer than hers and his balance was as good or better. She used her left leg to go after her father, but as soon as Jan was on one leg, her father put his left leg behind her right ankle and pulled it towards him at the same time he pushed off with his upper body. Jan went down hard on the mat with all 240 pounds of her father on top. She immediately went into defensive position, but her father broke through.
He leaned his forearm onto the side of Jan's neck and shoulder, pressing in, but not too hard. Jack thought he was safe from attack. He had her arm pinned beneath him on one side and he held her other arm with his. He could have battered her face if he wanted, but instead he just smiled. Jan wasn't ready to give up yet. She turned her head to relieve some of the pressure. She put her shoes flat on the floor before she threw her legs up. She flexed her sculpted lower abs, bringing her hips up. She had to raise her father's weight up off the ground, but just a little. Her legs went from behind her father to the front. He saw it coming too late. She wrapped her legs around his arm and shoulder then crossed her ankles. As soon as the hold was locked, Jan took a grip on her father's hand and pushed with her legs. Using her hips as a fulcrum, all that tension went to her father's shoulder and elbow.
"Ahh!', he grunted. He leaned forward, taking away some of her leverage, but her hips were so flexible that it only helped a little. He forced his other hand between his daughters iron like thighs and grabbed his elbow. With both his arms inside of her hold, Jan couldn't maintain the tension, and she let his hand go, but pushed off, giving her room to roll to her feet. Jack stood up shaking his arm and grinning.
"Like that, Dad?", Jan asked as she bounced around ready for an attack from her father.
"Not bad, Pumpkin."
"You've been training again haven't you?", Jan asked. She already knew the answer.
Jack took a sip of water. "Yeah, after all that excitement in Oklahoma a few months ago, it got my blood flowing again. I've been training seriously for a couple of months. I'm a little rusty, but its coming back."
"So I see", Jan agreed. She hadn't sparred with her father seriously in nearly three years because he wasn't training seriously, and Jan needed a constant challenge.
"I've been working on it all. Too bad we don't have any gear, or I'd show you a few more tricks."
"Gear huh?", Jan began with a smirk. "You wait right here." Jan went to her locker and brought out the head gears and six ounce gloves she had bought for her own training. The head gear was a little tight for her father, but he went with it. They both took off their shoes and bounced around the soft mats. Jan looked at her watch before taking it off. She still had ten minutes before class.
"Okay, Daddy. Get ready because once these hands start flying, people usually get hurt." Jan closed her big hands into fists and her father laughed. He brought his hands up. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Their stances were nearly identical. Jack's hands were in a boxer's stance with his right hand slightly back for more power. His head was tucked in and his shoulders high. His base was firm, but he stood more upright than a boxer would have. Jan was much the same, but she kept her head a little higher and while her father took slow steps around the mat, Jan bounced with youthful energy. Her light brown hair flopping up and down behind her head and her lips smiled around the mouth guard her father had made her wear. Jan wasn't afraid of biting off a piece of her tongue. She'd done that sparring against her father before. Her tongue had grown back fully of course, but from then on he forced her to wear a mouth guard for his sanity.
Jan was first to attack. She launched into her father with two fast jabs that he blocked annoyingly. It was as if those punches were insults to his skill. Jan threw a right that missed. Jack stepped to his left and unleashed a wicked hook to the body. His fist slammed into Jan's stomach. His fist smacked against the skin and muscle, but didn't make a dent. It didn't have to. Jan reacted to the hard blow, and Jack followed through with a left to the side of Jan's head. She went down. Jack raised his foot to stomp, but Jan rolled out of the way. He rushed towards her, but Jan was on her feet. She could feel her blood flowing as her father rushed her. Jan bounded back, planted her leg, and unleashed a lightning fast kick to the side of Jack's headgear. The smack against the leather echoed, and stopped Jack in his tracks. Jan wound up and sent another kick to his mid section. Jack partially blocked it, but her kicks were unbelievably powerful. He backed up a step, and Jan attacked. She unleashed a barrage of punches at his head and body, but they just set up for her to claps her hands behind her father's neck. Her biceps rose up as she pulled her father's head down just enough for her to increase the impact of her rising knee. It hit on the padding, but it hurt nonetheless. She kneed him again, and he saw stars. Jack reached up and took his daughter's arms before dropping with all his weight. Jan pushed back and managed to stay on her feet, but he was free. He rolled out of her reach and got back to his feet.
They sized each other up as they circled looking for an advance. About this time, outside the room, the first of Jan's students began arriving. They could hear the noise coming from inside the room as they came down the hall. Their first thought was that the kickboxing class was still going on, but one of the students, Leigh, stretched up and looked through the small window on the door. She was the first to look, but soon the entire class would be watching the exhibition.
Jack was breathing heavier than his child, but he was still game. He watched Jan's every move. Nothing escaped his keen eyes. Jan was looking at him too. Looking for any weakness, and she thought she'd found one. She charged and feigned a kick. Her father lowered his guard to block it, and Jan loaded her right hand and sent a furious bone jarring punch to the side of Jack's head. The blow was so loud it made their ears ring. Jack stumbled back, and Jan smelled blood. It had been a long time since she'd sparred with her father and even longer time since she'd beaten him. She launched a kick to his ribs. This was it. She grinned and pressed forward. Jack stumbled back, but then he planted his foot, torqued his body and fired a pinpoint and devastatingly hard kick of his own. Jan was completely unprepared for it. Only the hardness of her abs prevented her from doubling over. His heel hit her in the pit of her stomach.
On the outside, Mary Robbins had raised her son up so that he could see what was going on inside the room. The little boy was near tears. "Who is that fighting her?!!", he demanded from his mother.
"I don't know", Mary tried to calm her son. It wasn't good for him to get too excited.
Jan went to knee as tears stung her eyes. She could hear her father coming in to finish the deal, but she couldn't raise her head. Jan had been down before, but not quite like this. Before she could have called on her power and the sheer anger and rage would have overridden the pain, but not now. She didn't have that rage. She could feel her father coming now. At the last instant, she moved towards him and reached up. She took two handfuls of his sleeveless muscle shirt, and used his momentum to throw him over her shoulder. He landed hard on the mat. In a flash, Jan was on top. Jack tried to keep his defense up, but Jan was strong. She broke through. She took another hold on his shirt, crossed her arms and pressed the fabric into his neck. It was only a matter time now. She smiled down at her father as he was slowly fading.
Jack took Jan by the wrists and pressed up. Jan immediately shifted more of her weight forward to negate his advantage, but her father was strong, really strong. Jan pressed forward as hard as she could. Her already pumped muscles were standing out especially her triceps. When she was pumped like this, and when she was pushing her body hard, her striations were sharp and deep. Veins pressed to the surface of her smooth skin, pumping blood into Jan overworked muscles, but still she was losing ground. Her smile turned into a snarl of effort as she worked at finishing her father. She pressed with every muscle in her body. Her legs squeezed, her shoulders surged, and triceps flexed even more, and her abs turned to stone. Jack was pressing up hard, but he was saving himself for the right moment, and it was now. He burst up with his arms, pushing his daughter back just enough for him to get his right shoulder free. Then it really was all over. Jack pushed Jan off to his left and quickly repositioned his body while still holding Jan's arm. She twisted to get free, and instead ended up between her father's ankles. He pulled her close and put one leg across her chest and the other under her chin. Using her arm as leverage, he pressed down with his leg across her chest and then pressed forward against Jan's chin with his other leg. As his legs spread out, they forced Jan's neck back farther and farther until it felt like he was trying to make her taller. She struggled against him, and all the beautiful muscles in her finely sculpted body flexed and bulged, but the ones in her neck weren't stronger that the one's in his legs. Jan reached across her body with her left hand and gently tapped her father on the leg. He quickly let her go.
Jan sat up breathing heavily. "I thought I had you." She managed a smile.
Jack took off his head gear. "Almost, but you have to remember Jan, you're not always going to be stronger than everybody you fight. You have to use your advantages. When you did that, you were winning. Then you tried to out power me, and you lost."
Jan sighed. "I'm used to ultimately being stronger that most of the people I fight."
Jack put his hand on his daughter's shoulder and maneuvered to look her in the eyes. "You'll get through this problem with your powers, Pumpkin. I don't understand it, but I know how much it means to you."
"I hope I will, Dad. I hope I will." She looked up and saw all the eyes peering through the window, and she laughed. She motioned for her class to come in, but Timmy was the first one through the door.
"Hey, what's going on here!?!", the little kid demanded with his fists on his hips. "Why'd you beat Jan like that?"
Jan laughed and went over to him. "Its okay, Timmy. I need my butt kicked from time to time. It keeps me honest." She looked over at her dad. "And humble."
"But, Jan, I've seen you beat up guys before. Who is this guy?"
"Timmy, and everybody, this is my dad, Jack Caufield."
Jack waved and the class all said hello. "Nice to meet you all. I guess Jan and I just got a little carried away." He was ready to make his exit.
"Well, as you all saw, my dad here kicked my butt, so he's just volunteered to be my guest teacher today for class. Even though Dad didn't bring his gi, I assure you that the belt keeping it together is black and not brown like mine. He gave me my first ju-jitsu lesson when I was 13, and it went on from there. He's one of the best grapplers around."
"He'd have to be with a daughter like her", Leigh whispered to Mary.
"I heard that, but lets get started."
Jack enjoyed helping Jan teach her class. He ate dinner that night at the apartment, but he had to be back at Fort Benning the next day. He promised to come back on his way back to Baltimore at the end of the week.
www
By early Tuesday morning, the good feelings that had permeated the headquarters of the Revolution were gone. Their sense of triumph was gone. Malcolm Borman sat in front of a television with his arms folded and a frown on his face. The Men of the Revolution were around him, but they knew better than to speak to their leader. He rarely got angry, but he was beyond mad as he watched a smiling news reporter.
Benny walked into the room then and stopped in his tracks. "Hey, what's wrong with you?", he asked.
"Its already open", Malcolm said through clenched teeth.
"What is?" Benny frowned and looked at the television. "You mean they've got the tracks open already?"
"Hell yes." Malcolm and his men had decided to fan out and hit more of the nation just to make sure people didn't think that their operation was regionalized. The three big targets identified in Malcolm's plan had been taken out. The jet factory in Kansas, the Ship Channel in Houston, and his pride and joy the Alameda Corridor in Los Angeles. The mission to shut it down had been a complete success. The Femmes and Series 4 soldiers had collapsed a bridge it into the trench. The Men of the Revolution had felt invincible after that attack. The fear it had caused and the panic was enough to make them high on their own thoughts of grandeur, but no more.
Benny listened while the reporter once again told the story of the day. It turned out that a contractor in LA had gotten his trucks moving 30 minutes after he had found out what the terrorist group had done. He didn't wait for a call or a promise of money. Ernesto Estrada had been pissed that some fools had attacked his country and especially his city. He had contacted the governor and the national guard, and gotten permission to get started once the debris was probed for bodies or booby traps. When the okay had been given, Ernesto's men moved in. His crews had cleared all the debris in only 11 hours. The president of the Union Pacific Railroad had flown his best repair crew all the way from Nebraska to Los Angeles to help the Corridor work crews repair the lines. It took them only five hours to pull up the damaged track, repair the bed and lay new track. So 16 hours after Malcolm's victory seemed complete, trains were once again zipping in and out of the Ports of Long Beach and Los Angeles.
"Man, that's a bummer", Benny said offhand after hearing the story. "Well look on the bright side Malcolm. At least the Ship Channel's still blocked."
Shortly after Benny's comment, another reporter came on screen to explain how a salvage company from Mississippi was using some cutting edge floatation system to raise the Riault from the bottom of the channel and float it out into more open water so the channel could be reopened.
"How could this happen!", Malcolm yelled angrily.
Benny was in a good mood, and he wasn't going to let Malcolm ruin it. "Maybe you underestimated the people. Perhaps your way of thinking is a little more out of the mainstream than you thought." That was the nicest way Benny could say that Malcolm's politics were kooky at best.
"The people live like sheep! Like baying lambs! Don't they realize that?"
"Life for a sheep isn't as bad as you think. You get all the grass you want, and you never get hit with a whip. So what that you have to follow the shepherd, as long as he leads you to more food?" Benny was trying to calm Malcolm down, but he wasn't going to placate him. He had warned him that his attacks would have unforeseen consequences and responses.
"I think you were right Benny", Malcolm said after some thought. "I've been going after the infrastructure. We need to make this war more personal. Right now the people feel safe, but no more. I need to make them understand that as long as they support the oligarchs, we will slaughter them. They're only sheep anyway. That's what sheep do. They get slaughtered. And we're going to start here again, here in this vile city of greedy sycophants."
Malcolm got happier as he shouted out his new plans. He looked his men in the face. They lit up too as their leader proclaimed their next glorious missions for the cause. Malcolm never looked at Benny until the end.
"You aren't using my Femmes or the Series 4's for that, Malcolm", Benny declared flatly.
"What?", Malcolm looked indignant. "You growing a conscious now, Benny?"
"That's not it. I think the plan is foolish and counterproductive."
Malcolm's hand clenched into fists. "Are you calling me stupid?"
Benny didn't back down. He was nobody's punk. "I am not one of your flunkies. If you want your grand Cause to succeed then you'll ditch this idea of yours."
"Oh, I'm going to do it! I'm running the Revolution not you! So our partnership doesn't mean shit to you!"
Benny took a deep breath. Someone had to turn the volume down. "I think if you do this, you'll lose any chance of getting people behind you. That's what I think, but if you want to go ahead with it, I won't try and stop you. I think the super soldiers need some cool down time anyway. I'm going to instruct my chief scientist to give you and your Revolution enough of the strength serum to make your men strong. I don't want to control you, Malcolm. I just have to protect my interests too." Benny had been planning this for a while, and now seemed like a good time to put his plan into action.
Malcolm was taken aback. "I know what that serum means to your and your people. I don't know what to say."
"Just say you'll use it wisely, and not waste it. Its not easy to make."
Dr. Jeff Long brought three cases of the serum to the Revolution's part of the poultry plant and instructed them how to administer it. It was a cocktail of shots and injections that had to be given in a specific order and the right times. If it was done right, a person' strength would begin to grow immediately. In only a week's time, a man would be 50% stronger than before, and by the second week, 100% stronger. The rates would go up and up until after several months Malcolm's men could have been as strong as the Series 4's or even the Femmes, but Malcolm's men weren't going to wait that long. Malcolm had spoken his plans aloud, and he was going to go through with them all. After only week, Malcolm broke his men up and sent them all over the country, to a conference in Boston, a trade show in St. Paul, a symposium in Las Vegas, and to an art exhibit in Atlanta.
www
Jiya Travi was walking her three year old schnauzer, Pippy, along Boylston Street in Boston's upscale Back Bay neighborhood. She was trying to kill time while her husband was away. He was at a conference for insurance agents. He went to them all the time, leaving his wife and their dog alone for days at a stretch, but not this time. This time her husband was giving his lectures in their home town of Boston at the Hynes Center, the building she was approaching now as she made her way back home. She had passed the place going out, hoping to see her husband, but she hadn't, so she doubled her chances by walking past the building again. She looked off to their right and saw a big sign welcoming the National Insurance Council to town, but she didn't see her husband. As a matter of fact, everything looked the same, except for a couple of catering vans parked in a no parking zone on the side. She shrugged her shoulders, and pulled her coat a little tighter. She didn't know what she had been expecting to see. Insurance men weren't renown for their wild parties or exciting exploits. As she walked across the front of the large building, Jiya heard a muffled bang come from inside the Hynes building. She spun and stopped. Pippy barked as she heard the sound of breaking glass mixed into a haunting sound of a man's scream. The scream was loud, desperate, and short. The man kicked and clawed at the air as he fell from the top floor window. He landed on the sidewalk and everything was quiet. Jiya looked at the broken window in time to see a man in a mask look down at the dead insurance agent. Fear gripped Jiya tightly. "Paul!", she called out crying instantly as she ran across the street paying little attention to the cars. Pippy tried to keep up as Jiya ran towards the man who had been thrown from the top floor. She knew the man had not jumped. She could see people running away from the building, but she ran towards it. The man who had hit the ground had been wearing a grey suit just like her husband Paul. It couldn't be him. He was her life. She came around a parked car and had to cover her mouth to stifle a cry. The man was laying in a puddle of his blood. The back of his skull had been crushed. He was dead, staring at the sky with wide open eyes. For the shock of seeing death like this, she was relieved. This wasn't her husband. This wasn't her Paul. She backed away and a man came and took her violently by the shoulders. She shuddered and Pippy barked.
"Come on lady, you can't stay here! Terrorists are in the building!" The man forced Jiya away, picking her up at one point to keep her from resisting.
"My husband's in there! Paul! Paul!", she screamed. Her screams blended into the sounds of sirens as the Boston Police responded to the call.
"There's no getting in there now, lady. Stay over here so you don't get yourself killed."
Jiya sank to her knees as the cops surrounded the huge building. Pippy licked her face, but there was nothing anybody could do. Very soon there was an announcement that the Revolution was in control of the Hynes Convention Center, and all the people inside continued to live only at their mercy.
Three hours earlier, and eleven hundred miles away in Atlanta, Alisha's class was gathering at the Mays Community Center gymnasium for the opening of the Masterworks Exhibit. Many of the children were already there when Alisha, Sara, and Jan walked inside. Jan and Sara had met some of the students before, but they hadn't spent more than a few minutes in their presence. Jan and Sara tried to figure out a way to break the awkwardness of their introduction. They realized quickly that it must have been a gift for Alisha to connect so quickly to the kids because on the surface they had nothing in common. After a while though, if you let them, differences melt away. Jan and Sara began to relax and interact with the children.
"Hey, how tall are you?", Marquez asked Jan as they stood waiting.
"I'm about 6 feet and three quarters inches", she answered.
"Damn, you always been that tall?"
Jan laughed. "No, when I was your age, I was only this tall." She put her hand about an inch over Marquez's head.
"You're taller than my father", another kid told her.
Jan just smiled.
"Do you play basketball?"
"I don't have time to play like I used to, but I play sometimes."
"You any good?", Marquez asked.
"Good enough."
"Since you're so tall, have you ever beat any guys?"
"Lots of em", Jan answered a bit smugly.
"Man, I don't see how", a kid named Marshon said. "A guy'd just dunk on her. Hard!" He imitated dunking.
Jan grinned. "Let me see the ball." Marshon passed it to her. She snatched it out of the air with only one hand. Her long fingers were spread out over the men's regulation ball and she eyed a goal. Jan took a few long graceful strides towards the hoop. At the last moment, she threw the ball down to the hardwood. All the heads in the gym turned in that direction. A split second later she leapt. Her sleek body rose off the floor like a missile until her hands met the ball over the rim. She pulled it back and slammed it home hard with both hands.
"So what do you think about that?", Jan asked as she dribbled the ball towards the kids. Their faces were all smiles.
"Can you do that again!"
Jan turned around and this time cradled the ball before spinning her arm and slamming it home one handed. "All day", Jan boasted with a chuckle.
"Show off!", Alisha called out.
"Ah Miss E's jealous!", the kids yelled.
"I am not!", Alisha protested. Just then the last student showed up. "Time to go." The kids were loaded into the two big vans that would take them to the gallery. They told the last classmate that he had missed seeing a girl dunk. None of them had ever seen anything like it. Before their field trip was over they were going to see a lot of new things.
The Men of the Revolution had worked on this plan for a week since their leader Malcolm had ordered this target captured. They had planned and drilled until the fourteen men of this team could have done their missions in their sleep. It would go off without a hitch.
The Gallery was downtown, not far from Georgia Tech, across from a hospital. The building wasn't special from the outside. It looked like a big grey box sitting atop a smaller box. It had long narrow windows on three sides that probably let in plenty of light on a day like this. The vans let the kids and chaperones out, and before long they were inside. The inside was more impressive than the exterior. Every surface was granite. The floors were polished while the walls were not glossed. It could have made the place seem cold and hard, but instead it felt safe and inviting. From the outside the place looked to be about 5 stories, but instead it was just two. The ceiling was 50 feet above the heads of the people walking in the long entrance hall. Chandeliers hung down, but the lights were on low. Those long windows filled the space with warm light from the sun. They shuttled this fairly large group through the security and into the exhibit.
Everybody got a personal radio for a guided tour, but none of the group had theirs on. Alisha knew everything there was to know about each painting. Information just came spilling out. It was on occasions like this that Sara appreciated her friend's intellect. Alisha had been one of the smartest girls in high school. She'd helped Sara with math when she first came to Livingston Academy, but math was just one of Alisha's strengths. She could build a working computer MacGyver style with some loose wires and a transistor radio. She could speak five languages fluently and was working on number 6, plus she painted and knew about art. She pointed out features and techniques present in these wonderful paintings that she had taught to her students. She showed all sorts of things, and on some paintings she was quiet and just let everyone take them in. Some works of art didn't need an explanation. They were just great. After about an hour in the gallery, they decided to break the group into three parts to cover ground more quickly. There were a lot of paintings there, and Alisha wanted her students to be able to see them all.
People came in ones and twos and large groups to the Gallery to see works that might not ever come to America for a very long time and certainly not to Atlanta again in their lifetimes. People gladly paid the fee to enter, and before long the Gallery had a quiet buzz as people marveled at the skill of people long dead along side the techniques of people still creating art. Sculptures by local artists filled the empty vastness of the two large rooms on the first floor of the large upstairs room. The sculptures sat on pedestals so people could admire them at eye level, but still most looked at the main attractions, the paintings.
The Men of the Revolution started moving. They approached the Gallery in two cube vans and one box truck. They had no problems getting close because all three vehicles were made up like city ambulances. They pulled into the lot near the loading dock and got out. They converged for the attack. These men were itching for action. Their bodies felt super charged ever since that doctor had started giving them the shots. It took a dozen injections a day of different chemicals to strengthen their muscles and ligaments and all, but it was worth it. Each man felt super human, and they were. They were all stronger than any three men combined, and they were armed to the teeth. It was going to be fun to watch all the pacifist art loving sheep inside the Gallery cower in fear. The Men could almost taste the fear. Their finger tips itched to pull the triggers, and their noses itched to smell blood.
Jan took her group upstairs where the large open room was set up in a square with portraits from different eras with the sculptures by local artists filling the rest of the space and making natural lanes for people to walk and view the paintings. Jan let her students wander around. There were little barriers around the sculptures so she wasn't worried about any of them getting knocked over. Jan took off her Emory Eagles jacket and tied it around her waist, as she glanced around the room looking for a painting to spend some time with. Jan wasn't a visual artist, but she knew what it was like to create, and she respected art of any discipline. She looked from the door back to her left. Her eyes stopped on the security guard for a moment because he was looking at directly at her. He was about 50 years old with graying brown hair. He wasn't in the best of shape, but he didn't look all bad in the light blue security guard shirt. His black pants were just a bit too tight, then again Jan had never seen a security guard uniform that fit the way it was supposed to. She smiled at the guy and found a painting that she liked. She made her way to the bench, sat down, crossed her legs, and studied a portrait of Charles I of England painted by van Dyck. She pressed the painting number into her personal radio and listened to the narrator tell Jan all about the painter and this work. All of this was more relaxing than Jan would have believed. At first she had been apprehensive about doing this, but now, she couldn't think of a better way to spend a Saturday morning.
Downstairs Sara was having similar thoughts as she watched her group of 11 kids observing some works from the Renaissance. Sara had been to museums all over the place. Her stepmother Kathy had loved to travel, but it was a pretty good deal when the works came to you, much more convenient than international travel anyway. Sara's group was so well behaved that her mind started to drift. She went from thinking about travel, to thinking about her patients at Cherry Glen, two in particular. Sara had made great progress with Chuck Thornton and with Nikki Washington. She had taken this day off to spend with these kids, but she'd pick up with Chuck and Nikki on Monday because chaperoning these kids was a change of pace that she realized that she had needed.
A kid came up behind her after he had finished looking at a Titian. "Excuse me, Miss Hewitt."
"Yes. Its Anquan right?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
Sara smiled. "You don't have to call me ma'am. Matter of fact, please don't. Makes me feel old."
Anquan smiled. "I didn't mean to do that." He swallowed and studied Sara's face to make sure she wasn't upset. She wasn't. Sara was one of the more even tempered people around. "I looked up your family when Miss E said that you and Jan were going to be coming with us."
"Did you find anything interesting?"
Anquan shrugged. "It said that Clover Bottom was one of the biggest plantations in the Deep South, and that now your family makes most of its money through banking, but that you have oil, natural gas, salt mining, and international gaming holdings as well."
Sara's eyebrows arched, and she tossed some of her curly blond hair over her shoulder as she leaned down. "That site said something about the casinos in Greece and Macao?
"It didn't say Greece, but it mentioned Macao. You seem surprised."
"My father didn't want anybody to know that he'd sunk money into those casinos. We're not supposed to gamble... or drink", she added wryly, thinking about herself.
"Ha, my granddaddy's a pastor, and he goes to Tunica all the time. But why'd your father invest the money if he doesn't like to gamble?"
Sara leaned down to Anquan's ear. "Couldn't pass up the deal. He told me that he put in a lot of money a couple of years ago to become a partner, and that those casinos are already making a profit. Best investment he's ever found in all his life."
"Oh", Anquan began and nodded. "Makes sense to me, Miss Hewitt. People are always going to gamble."
Sara smiled to herself. As much as the Hewitt's publicly turned up their noses at gambling, they were firmly linked to it. She knew that while her family now had an impeccable name, Horatio Hewitt, the man who had founded Clover Bottom Farm in 1816 had been a drunken sailor stranded in New Orleans after the War of 1812 when his ship had left without him. He'd made his way as far north as Vicksburg, MS where he won a sizable chunk of swampy land in a card game from a man who had won the worthless land from another guy the day before. Horatio Hewitt would have sold the land to anybody willing to pay for passage back to his hometown of Canton, Massachusetts. Instead he had gotten Sara's great-great-great-great grandmother, Lavinia, pregnant and decided to marry her, settle down, and drain the swamp.
"No, Anquan, you're right. People are always going to gamble, and sometimes they even win."
Anquan chuckled.
"Did you happen to look up Jan's family on that website?"
"The Caufield's of Baltimore? Sure did. They had lots of stuff on them."
Sara grinned and put her arm around Anquan's shoulder. "Tell me all about it."
Max, the team leader of the Revolution looked at his watch. "Its time", he told his men over the encrypted radio. They converged on the building stopping to pull supplies from a dumpster where they had stashed them over the course of the last few days. They pushed their way through the chain-link fence into the back parking lot of the Gallery. They were spotted on the security cameras right away. The guards in the control room alerted their men on the outside.
"Hey, guys, the door's around the front", the guard had said before he saw the guns in the men's hands. The guard reached for his gun, but one of the Men rushed up to him and grabbed him pinning his arms to his side. The guard's eyes widened as he felt his body being squeezed. He tried to scream, but the air was quickly pressed from his body. There were pops and cracks as this terrorist crushed the guard with his bare hands. Blood trickled from the guard's mouth after dozens of bones were broken and his organs had been compressed. The rest of the men looked on for a moment before setting the charges against the heavy steel rear door. It was time.
They cleared the area and pushed the detonator. Three pounds of C4 exploded throwing shrapnel down the short hall on the other side of the door. Two people had been standing outside the break room near the door when it had exploded. Both of them died. The Men of the Revolution burst in before all the small fragments had even hit the floor. They knew their targets and they had what it took to do this mission. Ten of them ran while three went to get their ambulances and take them to the underground loading dock. One of the ten carefully attached a charge to an unassuming door.
The man inside the hall knew what was happening. He could see it on the bank of monitors inside the security office. He grabbed his radio with right hand and reached out with his left and pushed the big red button on his console just as his world ended. A big explosion splintered the wooden door to the office killing the head of security instantly. One look at his mangled body told the Revolution that they didn't have to worry about him anymore. They continued to their next objectives.
Jan finished listening to the commentary about the van Dyke and stood up to switch benches to get a better look at a couple of more works. She smiled at the security guard because he was looking again. She wondered if he would actually say anything to her, or was he content to just keep looking. She shook her head and started for the other side of the room. She stopped to take a quick count of her students. All of them were in view so she continued towards the bench, when the floor beneath her shook violently. The windows across the hall rattled in their frames and the lights flickered. People whipped their heads around while covering their ears against the booming echo. Jan turned quickly to find her group. Their young faces were covered with fright and surprise. They looked around for safety. Jan rushed towards the largest number of them, when there was another explosion, this one closer. Dust fell from the ceiling and a piece of art fell from one of the pedestals. People started screaming and running for the door.
The security guard yelled into the radio, but got nothing but static in reply. Then the alarm sounded. Flashing lights and a shrill siren added to the din and confusion of the moment. The flashing light was red. The guard knew what that meant. They had trained for this, and he had feared this. The red light meant terrorism. There was supposed to be a procedure for this. He waited for calls from his supervisor, but this guard didn't know that his supervisor had already done all he could.
The guard looked around and saw the people running towards him. "Stay in here!", the guard yelled, but most didn't listen. They kept coming.
Jan reached her group and pulled them towards a corner. "Stay with me!", Jan ordered.
"What's going on!?!", the kids screamed. Jan didn't have an answer. She couldn't see anything, but she could hear screaming coming from downstairs and then gunfire.
"Stay away from the door!", the guard yelled as loudly as he could then reached for his gun. He didn't have to pull it yet. There was a horn just before a door started sliding down rails built into the frame. The steel door was rated to stop bullets and it weighed more than 2 tons. There were two small windows in the door, but other than that it was steel. The guard sighed now that it had come down. He figured that everyone inside was safe. Jan sighed too, because she hoped that her group of kids were safe, but stop her from worrying about Alisha and Sara. She pulled out her cell phone to call them. She'd get no answer.
Downstairs the pressure from the explosions had felt like blows to the chest. People fell down and cried and others were frozen from fear. The security guard ran out of the large exhibition room down the hall just as the second bomb exploded. They never saw him again. Alisha and Sara were in different rooms downstairs. Both screamed and called the children's names to get them close. Sara got control of herself and of her fear once she had all the children close. She gathered her power. She didn't know what she was facing, but she knew that there was a chance that she would have to defend herself and these children. She looked around at the large crowd inside and promised to herself that she would do all she could to help them too, but she had to keep her priorities straight. More gunfire startled Sara. It was close. Then there was another sound as a heavy steel door started coming down from the ceiling.
Two Revolution men ran as fast as their legs would go as the doors started coming down. Their heavy boots thumped against the granite floor as they sped up. One of them ran under the heavy door and threw up his arms. With a mighty heave and a grunt this man stopped the door from falling. No one could see his face, or the super human effort it took even with his enhanced strength to stop the door. The other man ran in behind him, and pulled a canister from his belt. He pulled a pin and threw it into the middle of the room.
"Cover your ears and close your eyes!", Sara yelled and did that herself as the stun grenade exploded. While most of the people were disoriented, the two men struggled with the door before dropping a sculpture from its pedestal and wedging the pedestal under the door to keep it open.
Several people had run from the room where Alisha and her group had been looking at paintings by Degas and Monet. Alisha heard screams from the hall through the chaos. She heard pistol shots as the guards tried to fight off these attackers, but the pistol rounds were answered by automatic rifle fire. Men screamed as bullets ripped through their flesh, and their wounds began to bleed.
Alisha pulled her students towards the side away from the door. This room was closer to the back entrance so three men entered the room with guns drawn before the heavy steel door ever began to close. They too used pedestals to keep it open. The Men of the Revolution surveyed the sheep they had captured and were satisfied that the nation was going to finally understand their Cause.
Upstairs, the door had completely closed, but the people inside were nervous and angry, especially when they heard pounding against the door. People would scream and cry when they heard the sounds on the other side of the door.
"Relax", the guard began. "That door's a ton of steel. Rifle bullets won't go through it. We're safe in here, and the cops are on the way."
Jan wasn't convinced. She knew that if she'd had her strength that 2000 pound door wouldn't have stood a chance against her, plus these men had explosives. It did look tough, maybe tough enough to withstand an explosion long enough to allow help to come. Two terrorists on the outside slung their rifles and worked their fingers under the door as best they could, then they powered up. There were creeks and pops as the door began to rise off the floor.
"No! No way!", the guard yelled. They had to be using some sort of lift, but once the door was a couple feet off the ground everyone saw that hands and muscle were lifting that door.
"What the fuck!", a guy screamed.
"Stay back!", the guard yelled in a shaky voice as he reached for his gun.
"Don't do it!", Jan yelled. "Back away!" She pushed her students behind her, and was a heartbeat away from running towards the security guard, but he was doomed. Before his pistol cleared his holster, a third terrorist laying prone took aim and put three 5.56mm rounds into the guard's chest. The children shrank in absolute terror as two men rolled under the door and trained guns on everyone. The two men hefted the door and set it down on pedestals that seemed made more for this new purpose than for holding sculptures.
"Who the hell are you!", a man yelled.
"We are the Revolution, and you now belong to us. Your past, your present, and your future are all ours. Pray if you must, but we're not listening."
Two Atlanta Police Department cars responded to the alarm and took positions at the cross streets to block traffic in front of the Gallery, but dared not get closer. The two officers quickly exited their car and began preparing a barricade. More cops came along with Fulton County Sheriffs. The cops looked at the building and wondered who would take it, and how they were going to save the people inside. Cops drew their guns as the front doors of the Gallery opened. They couldn't see any people, just the doors opening like a gateway to some sort of abyss. No one approached. It turned out that the open doors were not a temptation for the cops to enter. It was temptation for someone to leave.
"You're going to let us go just like that?", the head of the Gallery asked from his knees. His suit jacket and shirt were covered in blood from a dead guard.
"I have already said as much", Max, the leader of the Revolution team said in an even tone. He shifted the sawed-off Mossberg slung over his shoulder.
The head of the Gallery looked around at the six living security guards and at the twelve other staff members kneeling in the entrance hallway of the building. All of them were beyond scared. They just wanted to live.
"And you'll let us take the wounded out of here as well?", the head of the Gallery asked with a shaky voice. There were three people wounded. One of them could walk, but the other two were barely conscious.
The Revolution team leader nodded. "Take your wounded across the street to the hospital and get them treated. I have no interest in watching people suffer, but you must go now, or we'll kill you all right now."
The head of the Gallery knew what his answer was going to be, and he cursed himself for it. "Ok, we'll leave." The leader of the Revolution team nodded and ordered his men to help them carry the wounded as far as the door.
The police officers outside trained their guns as they saw shadows coming out of the double doors, but these men had their hands up and some of them wore uniforms. It only took a moment for the cops to realize what was happening. The staff and guards of the Gallery walked across the barren street and into the hospital where they were met by other cops. The hospital had been locked down, but the wounded men were taken to the emergency room immediately while the rest of them were put in rooms.
Inside the Gallery the team leader pulled down a receiver and punched in the number for public address. "This is the Revolution, and I would like to inform you that the guards and staff of this wonderful facility have all decided to leave. They left of their own free will to save their lives and have by consequence left you people to your fates. Those who you trusted to protect you have only succeeded in protecting themselves, which is the way of the world. The rich and powerful are only out for themselves leaving the rest of us to fight over the scraps from their high table.
"In each room there are Men of the Revolution. Listen to them; obey them, and your time with us will go much more smoothly, but cause us trouble..."
Upstairs in the room with Jan and her group, one of the Revolution Men slowly pulled out a machete. He sliced it across the dead guard's throat. They watched as the blade parted his flesh easily.
"Cause us trouble and your families will be the only ones weeping."
Tyisha pulled herself closer to Jan, squeezing with all the strength in her skinny arms and shaking from terror. "I'm scared." She looked up at Jan with such fear in her eyes that it made her angry.
She squeezed Tyisha back. "I won't let anything happen to you. I'll take care of you", Jan said solemnly.
"How?" Tyisha looked at the heavy steel door. "These men ain't normal."
Jan looked at the man carrying the machete. "We'll get through this. I promise."
Recent Chapters:
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter
9 Chapter
10 Chapter
11
comments encouraged: dem2@hotmail.com