Vanishing Manhood: Part 10

Dining with Mobsters.

Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand, adapted into 17 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Had my life been a comedy, I would have bumped my noise, looked sheepishly over my shoulder and given a weak smile. I had experienced an infantile urge to run away from the shame, violation and the pain Zara's information brought. My hands had instinctively come up to save my face from impact. My fingers were trying to dig into the stone until my tips felt as if I was tearing the skin off.

I loved sex. I loved the pleasure it let me share. What I didn't love was the romantic mystique I tried to weave around that act being torn away, shredded for the entertainment of people I didn't know. How could I protect myself if any woman looking at me had seen me naked, in coquitos? How could I tell who was really a threat if I couldn't see behind their eyes?

Step, Capri and Zara were not talking. They were not closing in on me.

Step, people passed by. The scuff of their footfalls told me they were looking my way, but not stopping.

Step, I had to get out of here. The authorities would come looking and we all had to leave.

Gears contacted gears and the machine that was my mind lurched forward once more. I had things to do. People were taking incredible risks on my behalf. Capri and Zara understood what had happened and let me heal, just enough to get my feet back under me.

"Let's go," I muttered and we moved down the sidewalk once more.

We covered two blocks in silence.

"Zara, you are with the government, aren't you?" I began. She gave me a quick look, but didn't respond. "Let me rephrase: you are still an active duty soldier, aren't you?" Now Capri stumbled.

"Yes," Zara whispered.

"Shit," Capri groaned.

"Okay, I understand now," I nodded. We traversed another block.

"Fine, what do you understand?" Capri nudged me.

"I know who the Vanishers are," I leaned in and replied quietly. Zara's eyes flickered my way again.

"You do, don't you?" Zara's eyes blazed with pride in me and wonder.

"Either one of you care to enlighten me?" Capri grumbled.

"I need to get you off the street," Zara intervened. "The FBI is on its way. I can deal with the cameras and your phones, but not the bracelet." She steered us into a café where the early lunch crowd as only starting to come in.

"How do you know he's right?" Capri prodded Zara.

"The last two questions he asked," she seemed almost sad to leave us, me.

"Zara, take off and stay safe," I told her. "I don't think I would want to do this without you." Zara had a twinkle in her eye, nodded then left. Capri and I moved to a nice corner table. I took the seat that would allow me to watch the door and most of the café.

"Okay, what's going on?" Capri leaned in.

"You start off with two guiding principles. No large organization creates only one plan to choose from. Bureaucracies throw away nothing. So, twenty years ago, when the Federation and or the U N figured that the current system wasn't working, they planned out various contingencies."

"One of those proposals was the 'Vanisher' conspiracy. It was most likely advanced by a small cadre of mid- and low-level functionaries brought in to work on the forecasted collapse. Their idea was obviously rejected because we stayed the course and are now in the fucked up situation we are in now."

"The thing was, those planners didn't die and didn't give up on their plan. At the start, they were powerless to do anything. Besides, they had to believe all their idea was doing was postponing the end, not solving the extinction problem. So, they worked on that dilemma,” I said.

"And that's you?" Capri doubted.

"No. They didn't know about me until five years ago at the earliest and that's highly unlikely. Odds are they found about what Carabolix-37 did to me when everyone else did," I replied. "What happened, happened eight years ago while the W H O was combing over Central Asia building a genetic database."

"What they found was the Warlord of Kwaziristan, the last bastion of male rule on the planet." No, the Warlord wasn't some kind of John Carter of Mars. By all accounts he was a castrated, obese, mostly bald and very old man. During the collapse that Plague engendered, Central Asia went under, their political systems, economies and infrastructures broke down.

In those last few, chaotic years, a recovering soldier and a small detachment of troops found themselves guarding an orphanage. With the city burning down around them, this man was ordered to take the boys and flee. He went to the only place he figured they could hide out until the fighting died down and the authorities could come rescue him.

He went to an old 17th century palace or fortress complex outside his home town in remote Kwaziristan and there he held up while his nation died. Eventually, hope faded and the 'Warlord' began to raid the recovering female tribes for supplies. He had to feed his people. Somewhere along the way, the female tribal leaders figured out he had a large number of young men under his charge.

They struck a deal. The Warlord was worried that the women would steal his men. The women wouldn't storm the place because all those men had guns and killing them all would accomplish nothing, except to stop the raiding. The agreement they reached changed everything, though it wasn't immediately obvious.

The tribal leaders would send young women up to the fortress. In exchange for making the young women pregnant (or one year to pass), the tribes would pay tribute to the Warlord. The catch? The men inside the fortress chose which woman they would mate with and by mate, they meant live together in the same dwelling for months at a time.

It was courtship. It wasn't a plastic romance; it was practical. The men needed the goodwill of the tribeswomen that inhabited the land in all directions. Building up affections and bonds with their female mates was necessary for the survival of the male community. Conversely, the women lived in a mostly male world, from the beginning, the Warlord did have a few female soldiers.

Men were lovers, providers, protectors and housemates. They shared in chores, but compared to what the women had to do in their own tribe, it was nearly paradise. Men still had their military duty, but when you had a mate, you were given quarters in the dungeon of the fortress. Carved out from the depths of the hill the fortress sat on, it was much cooler than the baking heat above during the summers and warmer in the winters.

Enter the W H O eight years ago doing their survey. They ran across a serious problem. Waziristan’s population was 24% above projections (they were supposed to be dying out) and 2% over their previous level. Waziristan was 'surviving.’ Sure, their tiny population was one Black Death away from annihilation, but their numbers where slowly growing, very slowly.

This was great news right up until they found out about the Warlord and his contract with the local towns and tribes. Was the U N really going to say that some old fat eunuch in a clay fortress on a dusty hill in the middle of nowhere was the savior of all mankind? The answer was obvious.

The U N sent in advisors and film crews to show the world how barbaric and primitive the Warlord was. He certainly wasn't photogenic. The men seemed enthusiastic enough. They even slept with some of the film crew. They also became very irate when the women picked up and left. After all, hadn't the women agreed to mate with them?

Why else would women come to the fortress if not to mate? The local women were a bit peeved too, those were their men those floozies were poaching. The U N began fishing around, seeking to convince some of the local leaders to call in the U N to deal with the Warlord. When the Kwaziri women figured that out they got really pissed.

They may have herded goats and sheep, woven wool into fabric and scratched some crops out of the semi-arid soil for a living, but they also knew they had more daughters in this generation than last. They couldn't fight off the U N, there were only a few thousand of them and they lived in near-desert conditions, but they did everything to let those foreign women know they were unwelcome.

In one antidotal tale, a U N soldier guarding the mission found a lost lamb and brought it to a local tribeswoman. The woman promptly beat the lamb to death with a stone, explaining to the horrified soldier that the lamb had been contaminated. In the end, the Kwaziri got what they wanted, the outside world left them alone.

The W H O took gene, blood, air, water, and soil samples and found absolutely nothing that explained this abnormality. The Big Lie was only starting to sink in. Discovery World devoted a portion of a documentary to the Warlord. A fourteen year old boy saw it and regurgitated that memory to a twenty-one year old man in search of understanding.

"I know you are not advocating male rule," Capri studied me. "So what is it?"

"A colossal gamble," I sighed. "I am a freaking liberal arts major. I'm not a scientist, certainly not a doctor and definitely not a virologist, but what if, if stress strengthens the Plague, what if the reverse is also true?" Capri mulled that over.

"You mean, what if love, compassion and respect, as viewed by the male, weakens the Plague?" Capri mused. "Damn right you are not a scientist."

"It was the word Zara used and I believe it was intentional," I persisted. "She said 'courtship.’ She also mentioned men choosing their mates. That's what clicked in my mind."

"So this cockamamie scheme of the Vanishers is based on 'love conquering all'? Crap, we are all going to die," Capri muttered.

"Hey, I'm not saying I'm a convert, but it is the current idea I'm running with. I'm willing to bet Zara's people studied the Kwaziri for some time too," I countered.

"With no cure looming on the horizon, they began recruiting young women from various agencies and branches of service into their plan. Heck, some of the 'Vanishers' may still be thinking this is a sanctioned covert operation. Even those women will want onboard when they understand this society is going down the toilet."

"One of the saddest parts of all this is that the women who set this all in motion won't take advantage of it," I bleakly assessed. "The government will be closing in on them now."

"I wish I could disagree, but I think you are right," Capri nodded. "If you figured it out, someone who does this kind of detective work for a living has put the pieces together as well."

There was no way to hide an operation this big once various intelligence agencies started looking. They would figure out the key military and civilian players. The only thing they could do was to totally detach from the program. Now their baby was out there, running on its own power, directed by people who had already vanished themselves long before any investigation started.

"FBI," I warned Capri. Special Agents Fraklos and Vabishi had come in to our hideaway. Vabishi was showing I D to the girl at the counter while Fraklos was coming our way.

"How did you get away?" Fraklos seemed truly curious. There was a host of good answers and the truth wasn't one of them.

"Come on now," I leaned forward, "Princess Leia didn't beat Darth Ventress, the Empire and the Dark Empress with the help Ewoks alone. She had the help of Admiral Squid."

"Gial Ackbar; a Mon Calamari," Fraklos corrected me.

"Who?" I questioned.

"Gial Ackbar, that was the Admiral's name," Fraklos clarified.

"Is that really important right now?" I asked.

"Having a bad day?" Fraklos turned to Capri. She was asking if I was having a bad day.

"Yeah, pretty much," Capri nodded. "He walked right into a wall about ten minutes ago."

"We need to get him out of here," Fraklos shook her head. "Get him somewhere safe. The Capital is screaming bloody murder over his latest stunt." Vabishi had finished making a quick call and joined us.

"I can't do it," I stood. "I have a date with a V I M at 12:30."

Fraklos stared at me.

"Very Important Mobster," I explained. "If I don't show up they will probably do really bad things to Kuiko and I'm not going to let that happen."

"What is he talking about?" Vabishi worried.

"I am attracted to violent psychopaths and for the love of God, I don't know why," I sighed. "Worse, to hang out with me you have to be insane or prone to fits of brutality. It is how I roll."

"There has to be something we can give Israel to keep him on an even keel," Vabishi asked Fraklos.

"I'm not good enough at that sort of thing to take the chance," Fraklos then looked to Capri.

"Fuck you both," she stood, "I'm a lawyer."

My phone rang. 'G E D' it read. I typed back 'ty' and cut the connection.

"Time to go," I announced and headed for the kitchen. My guardian angels were working overtime.

There are few things as beautiful as competence under stress. Not me. The three women tagging along with a lunatic didn't question me; they divined my intentions and moved to cushion me from the world. By the time we exited the back of the café, Fraklos was in the lead, then me, Capri and Vabishi looking back from signs of pursuit.

"Ewoks," Fraklos guffawed. "We need better code words." Ewoks meant Vanishers and Admiral Squid meant I didn't need to be brought in. Next time we would use different words. Dimples said it was a book cipher, essentially unbreakable if you didn't know the material.

"Be happy I didn't fall over laughing," Capri snickered.

"Israel, you play crazy really well," she added. "I'd feel better about it if you weren't actually crazy."

"Who are we evading?" Vabishi spoke up.

"G E D," I answered.

The problem facing me and Dimples' crew was that we weren't the Vanishers. We couldn't manipulate phone and surveillance feeds. Slipping down alleyways while avoiding loading areas left us in the 'digital dark.’ We were going to reemerge soon.

"We are trying to shift through the chatter and figure out who is really trying to get their hands on you," Fraklos clued me in.

"Montanyard is building such an air-tight case against you she could patch the Hindenburg," Vabishi stated. "She thinks she can hold them off a week." Shelia could hold off the full weight of the Federation Government for a week, one week. I needed a fucking miracle.

(Magdalena, Round Two)

My two FBI ladies delivered me as close to the Prometheus Club as they dared. Mobsters had eyes too, though this was actually a pointless exercise since the moment 'Little M' asked me what I was up to I would bury her in the minutia of truth instead of the real deal. Capri would stick with me. Mainly because the FBI would have to taser her to keep her from my side.

As I entered the restaurant, I was getting a whole new look. It was the 'what in the hell is this guy still doing walking around?' expression. Either I was a maniac or a national resource, or maybe both, not all of them could decide. The maître de pointed me toward the semi-curtained off area. A second later he motioned Capri to the bar. We knew this was going to happen.

On my side of the curtain were two women; one sitting, one standing. They didn't look like, well, what I though mobsters would look like. They looked normal. The standing one ran a 'wand' over me then ran her free hand over my frame quickly.

"Are you hiding anything?" she finally spoke.

I have a love affair with pain. That was all I could think of when I opened my mouth.

"I had my knee caps replaced with high explosives. Does that count?" I stated resolutely. She stared at me for a second then this smile crept over her intimidating countenance.

"Damn, you really are a nut," she snickered. "This way." She put a hand on my shoulder, I trembled and she led me into the V I P area.

Three of the tables were occupied. The closest had Flame and this woman whose face looked like it had lost a head-on collision with a truck. She also looked to be around 250 pounds. The second table, close to an exit, had two Hispanic women who had to be sisters, and pissed that they were missing out on their 'killing kittens' time.

I was dealing with being manhandled, near terror, proximity issues, and being in the company of yet more casual killers. Somehow, all of this had to be my fault. Regular men stay locked in their homes. I needed help. I shrugged off the hand on my shoulder and made a bee-line for Flame.

There was a 'whiff' behind me as my guide tried to corral me back in, but failed. Flame and her 'buddy' (I was pretty sure it was a woman, or a man with huge pecs) stood up. I extended my hands forward and just above my hips. Flame and I collided. Her hands went to my ass. My right cupped her leather clad left ass cheek while my left wrapped fully around her lower back, touching something big and hard.

We did more than kiss. Flame discovered that I had my wisdom teeth removed and I learned that she still had her tonsils. It was also revealed to me that during a French kiss, Flame likes to bite tongue, my tongue, her tongue, it doesn't seem to matter. We were both healthy adults with the experience to know that breathing through your nose is a must.

It took us a while to come up for air. I had pulled her up until she was on her toes. Her eyes were boring holes into mine.

"I need some strength," I whispered to her. Now, there is no great Gestalt among the insane. There is no shared universe, psychosis, or delusion.

What we do share is the fear and pain that comes from being trapped in our own minds. The greatest creation of man, our brains, had betrayed us. We were living a lie because our truths would destroy us. And, worst of all, we were alone. That is why crazy people lash out. It isn't to hurt others, it is to make others stop hurting us, with a reality that we see as a lie.

I breached that inky bubble that shrouded Flame's mind. It didn't make her my friend. It didn't stop her from being a beast and a sadist. We were alone together. Each alone, but knowing that the other was in the same condition. It wasn't understanding, it was kinship. Flame reached up with her right hand, made a fist, and lightly tapped me on the forehead.

"There you go," she smiled. I returned the smile and let her down. As I turned to walk away, she spanked my ass hard. I kept walking, but half-turned so I could shake a finger at her.

"Just for that, no tongue penetration during our next cunnilingus session," I threatened her.

"Oh, you love it, Bitch," she laughed. Turning to her buddy, "That guy is loads of fun."

Belatedly, I came to Magdalena's table. It was a round table, two-thirds wrapped up in a booth. To my right was this weightlifting scumbag, oily, arrogant and stupid. Sometimes people don't try to hide their ignorance. I wasn't sure this guy even knew what ignorance was, much less how to spell it.

He had too much time in a tanning booth, too much chest hair and a cultivated five o'clock shadow. He was also in a chair which suggested he wasn't someone important. Next were two women, dressed nicely, Francesca-nice, not Isobel-nice. They weren't likely to be putting any ships into orbit anytime soon, but they were clever enough to observe before commenting from their booth seats.

In the center was Magdalena in a dark blue Kashmir shirt with a plunging neckline. Damn that woman was proud of her big mammaries. Her jewelry was understated, her hair nicely done and her eyes laser-quick. Next to her was this guy, ruggedly handsome, manly, yet, missing something? It hit me. He was a gigolo and 'Little M's boyfriend or property.

Here I was thinking he'd been shot while trying to escape. Next to the Man-candy was Silent and lastly was an unknown woman, in a chair, of the same breed as the two on the left of Magdalena. Between Grease-ball and the last unknown woman was an empty chair.

"Israel," Magdalena greeted me, motioning me forward with a spoonful of sherbet.

Apparently, I had missed the food-eating part of this party.

"Thank you, Magdalena," I replied. I was pulling the chair around so I could sit when a few bad things happened. Grease Ball looked at me then flashed a look to Boy Toy who looked less than happy. Boy Toy was really good with masking his emotions, but Grease Ball was an open book.

"Please, Israel, call me Maggy," Magdalena asked nicely.

"Not happening," spilled forth from my madness. Lead, Zeppelin, or dirigible, or balloon maybe.

"Israel, why are you being mean to me?" Little M tilted her head.

"Status update: your opinion still doesn't matter to me. I'm only here because I'm afraid you will do bad things to my friends," I confessed. Maggy took another dip at her icy dessert then waved off a few of her companions, the women whom I didn't know.

"Here we are again," she stated as the other disappeared. "You being needlessly hostile and me wondering why I put up with it."

"Lady, what fantasy world do you live in?" I grumbled. "The last time I couldn't perform, you beat me half to death." Magdalena snorted and the gigolo smirked slightly.

"By the way, the man next to you is my older brother, Kenneth," she introduced the group. Her news that Grease Ball was her brother sucked big time.

"The man next to me is my companion, Eckly,” she got out.

"Silent, I know," I interrupted. I liked the name 'Silent.’ I didn't want to ruin that mental image with a new name. I was starting to think Silent had all her facial muscles frozen.

"Have I said something to amuse you?" she stopped in mid-sherbet interface.

"Absolutely not," I shook my head.

"Hmmm, I don't believe you," Magdalena remarked. "Maybe we should ask your little Asian friend. She works around all kinds of equipment that makes honesty a plus."

'Blow it out your ass' seemed counter-productive, but I was saved any serious decision making by my lips.

"Can I have a gun?" I inquired politely. What the fuck was I going to do with a gun? Magdalena ground up my intentions with her eyes then nodded to Flame. I stood up as she came my way. I certainly wasn't expecting what I got. She pulled out this chrome hand cannon from behind her. That was the big metal thing I had felt earlier.

"This is a 12 millimeter pistol," she presented the device. 12 millimeter sounded so big. She did 'something.’

The clip dropped down into her left hand. Next she pulled back on the top of the pistol, ejecting a round. That round went into the top of the clip then she moved close beside me.

"Here you go," she said seductively as she gave me the gun. "The clip holds seven rounds," she slammed the clip in. "That slight click means the magazine is locked in place."

"Damn, this thing is heavy," I muttered.

"Well yeah, I use it to shoot through concrete walls and steel doors," Flame enlightened me. "If you don't know what you are doing it will rip off your thumb and knock you on your ass. In your case, let's hope it merely knocks you down."

"This," she pointed to this 'thing' on the side, "is the safety. Right now," she said lovingly, "the safety is engaged." She flipped it. "Now it is disengaged and you can fire the piece." She reengaged the safety. "Hold it with both hands," she used my hands to demonstrate as she moved behind me. "Use one hand and this bear will break it. Now, hold it like this," she peeked around me.

This entire time we were pointing this monstrosity in the general direction of the Hispanic sisters who were less than pleased. When Flame got behind me, they got up and moved.

"How does it feel?" Flame asked.

"It is still heavy as hell."

"Good," Flame responded. "Look down the barrel. Match up the top and barrel sights. Take careful aim and give the trigger steady pressure. Unloading in the general direction of the enemy is for amateurs. In a fight, dive for cover, figure out where the next corpse is hiding and put this bullet down range. I don't care what they are hiding behind, this will find them."

"Ready to fire?" she teased.

"The safety is still engaged," I replied. She hugged me. Had all the bruises she gave me Saturday night not hurt like all get out, that action might have been construed as a romantic gesture.

"Please, Little M, can't I keep him?" Flame pleaded.

"Let's keep that thought in mind," Magdalena said to Flame. "Well, you have your gun; what do you plan to do with it Israel?"

"I honestly didn't believe anyone would give me one so I am at a loss for words," I mused.

"I did you a favor. Now you do one for me," Maggy prodded.

"Your brother and your boyfriend are having an affair. Your brother is gay. I imagine your boyfriend is merely an opportunist," I blurted out. Dead silence. The brother was rigid. The boyfriend masking his emotions. Finally, Magdalena began chuckling.

Then everyone was laughing. Okay, not everybody, just the women. Then I began laughing, but not at the men. I was laughing because everyone in the room with a gun was laughing at the two who didn't seem to have one and for the first time in my life, I wasn't one of those guys.

"Sis," Kenneth mumbled.

"Cool it, Ken," Magdalena held up her hand. "Mom told me you were gay when I was eight. The only one who still thinks it is a secret is you."

"But," he stammered.

"Ken, did you really think all of your boyfriends found jobs in other cities?" Maggie chastised.

Kenneth clearly was an idiot.

"This guy hadn't known you two minutes and he figured out you were gay. Come on now. Mom and I have been cleaning up your messes for years. Now beat it. I have business to take care of," Magdalena went from sister to mob boss in no seconds flat.

Kenneth took his chastisement like a well whipped dog and slunk away. Eckly was looking in a bad, bad way. The only one not on Little M's payroll was me and I would hardly make a reliable witness in the investigation of his disappearance.

"Maggy, it isn't what it looks like," Eckly began coolly.

"Just stop," Magdalena shook her head. "You clearly think I'm stupid. I mean, damn, you fucked my brother, you fucked me and you fucked me over. You are a fucking prostitute, not a criminal mastermind. I know about you and the O C T." Organized Crime Taskforce.

"They had me in a bind," Eckly began to plead. Maggy pressed her fingers to his lips.

"Israel, what would you have done?" Maggy inquired.

"With your brother or the cops?" I asked for clarification. Flame snorted.

"Both."

"Not only is homosexuality not my thing, the cops blew up the two in my neighborhood which is what I call double deterrence," I replied.

"You stick with the one you're with," I continued. "A man betraying a woman is a loser's game. I guess that means I'd roll the dice with your reaction as opposed to trusting the police. The cops are always the enemy."

"Was that so hard to understand Eckly?" Maggy regarded her now ex-boyfriend.

"It wasn't like that," he persisted.

"Eckly, you are twice the fuck in bed that Israel is, but he is ten times the man. Don't whine to me about how tough it was. Brigit beat him black and blue because he wouldn't utter a single damn phrase. He loved some cop that much," she growled. "That's when I knew you had to go."

"You wouldn't take a year stretch for me, much less a beating from Brigit. You were always a selfish prick and now you are gone," she seethed.

"What! No!" he begged. "Let me make it up to you." I thought he was going to hump her right then and there.

"Shut the fuck up," Magdalena snapped. "I'm not going to kill you. You deserve it, but you aren't worth the hassle. Rosario and Yaris are going to take you home when I'm done, you are going to pack up and leave. I don't recommend showing your face in any establishment I might frequent. Brigit's feelings might be hurt," Magdalena smiled carnivorously.

Silent shuffled out of the booth. Eckly followed reluctantly.

"Israel?" he looked my way, pleading. What was I supposed to do?

"Eckly, you have an inflated sense of your own importance. No one cares what you did because you are a whore," I pointed out.

"Hey, you did what you did to survive. I'm not holding that against you, but don't think you are all that important. You are not. Magdalena isn't going to waste a bullet on you. Flame," I motioned to Brigit to assuage his confusion, "might break a few of your bones to hear them snap, but she'd probably kick ass on a kindergarten playground to hear the kids cry, too."

That was not what Eckly wanted to hear. He didn't want to face the reality he was just another man living on his cock alone. He had gone from a Mobster's boyfriend to a street bimbo in a matter of seconds. The cops wouldn't help. Why should they? He was useless to them now. Sure, he was walking away, but there wasn't a professional escort service that would touch him with a ten foot cattle prod after this.

What woman would want a male prostitute who doubled as a police informant? That profession was still illegal after all. I'd save my worry for Kenny and Luanga. They had reached beyond themselves in an attempt to make a difference. Rosario and Yaris turned out to be the Hispanic sisters. They led Eckly out the back door then returned.

"Playground," Flame snickered. "That would be so cool." Yep, she was psychotic. A fraction of my mental and physical discomfort was this lump of metal in my hand. I took the barrel in my right hand, pivoted my body and offered the grip to Flame.

"Thank you," I told her.

"You owe me," she leered.

"For the beating or the gun?" I grinned weakly.

"Whichever leaves me fuck-stunned, staring at the ceiling for thirty minutes," she chuckled. Ah, the gift from Kuiko kept on giving.

I finished turning around, cupped Flame's jaw with both hands and stared deeply into her eyes. She was totally devoid of any understanding of the human condition. I doubted if she even cared about herself.

"Okay," brushed her lips, "you've earned it."

"Israel, you are supposed to be interested in me," Magdalena interrupted my moment with Flame.

"Flame is pure," I responded without looking away from her eyes. That brought out a new round of laughter, even from Flame.

"I said pure, not pure good," I reminded them. "You brought us together. I have more than a few screws loose, so it can't be too surprising that I picked the totally wrong woman." Flame wasn't offended.

"Damn," Maggy mused. "Brigit, are you going to let me have a crack at your boy?"

"He's not my boy, Little M," Flame said. "I'll put a good word in for ya though." We were both unhinged. The proof was me being here and Brigit for defying her boss.

"That is something to work on," Magdalena allowed. "While this is fun, it is not why I wanted to talk with you. That reason has become irrelevant over the past 24 hours, but now I want to know 'what's the deal with your blood?"

"Why do you want to know?" I asked. I wasn't offended; only curious.

"A cure for the Plague is money in the bank," she grinned. I groaned and looked at the floor.

"Magdalena," I looked up at her, "this is not something you want to do." She didn't believe me, or even feel she needed my advice.

"They came at me with a Writ of Exclusion yesterday," I continued. "They aren't going to wire-tap you, Magdalena, they are going to torture and kill you. Worse, I am Carabolix-37's only success. Every other male is nutless, or dead and no one sane knows why. Dr. Delilah Fremont has the only doses of the drug and the research notes, but she's not sharing."

"Rare is good," Maggy enlightened me.

"Rare is dead," I corrected. "Magdalena, I'm not spinning falsehoods to the World. Society is about to implode and what I have can't save it."

It hit me like a bullet to the brain. How could I have missed it?

If the Vanishers were to win, they couldn't have society running around either. They would get the men out while the situation was still stable and hide them, but then what? You couldn't keep us in a bunker forever. I was a club-footed, one-eyed hunchback playing with people who had been studying, competing in, and winning, the survival game for 100,000 years.

Who in the hell did I think I was? Did I really delude myself that I had control, that I could slip away, all I could do was take a step. If they didn't stop me, I'd take another. That was the plan.

"All the better to keep a hold of you," Maggy reasoned.

"Magdalena, I don't like you, but I'm not going to do anything that I know will make you dead," I replied. My phone rang. 'G E D FB.’ I thought about my response. I typed 'C h L t B g' then hung up. I wondered if they would figure out that 'Charge of the Light Brigade' meant I was making a break for the front door.

For the life of me I couldn't figure out why I didn't type 'F' or 'FD' for front door.

"Magdalena, the police are coming around the front and back. Time for me to go," I sighed.

"What have you done wrong this time?" Maggy smirked at me.

"They don't need an excuse with me," I tiredly informed her.

I turned and walked toward the curtain. The woman who had brought me in blocked my path.

"Why do you think you can leave?" Magdalena asked.

"Staying, or running, it doesn't really matter," I shrugged. "For that matter, I might as well start screaming, because I can always rely on the sick curiosity of strangers."

I inhaled. I figured I was about to get punched, pistol whipped or kicked in the nuts (but not too hard).

"I'll keep in touch," Magdalena said. "Besides, I don't really feel like sitting around while some police officer pretends she is the next Claire Wyatt."

The character, Claire Wyatt, was a famous criminologist on a current TV drama; equal parts Laura Croft and Veronica Mars, a perfect mix of body types if there was any doubt. It wasn't bad if you could get past the boy-in-distress turned bed buddy every damn episode. Technically she was bi-sexual, but that always translated over as a three-way boy sandwich.

"Magdalena, if I make my getaway before we meet again, well, I'm not going to say anything more that might piss you off, so good-bye," I edged around my feminine barrier. I virtually sprinted to Capri, who hopped off her barstool at my approach. "Cops coming," I blurted out. She grabbed my hand as we fled out the door.

"Mr. Israel Jensen," a woman called out. I knew who it was, but looked anyway. It was Detective Somerset Trainer. She was about 7 meters away, getting out of her car, facing me. Her partner, Detective Gayle Seger was already on the sidewalk, coming my way.

"Bad news," Capri squeezed my hand.

I followed her gaze. From the other direction Detectives Kwan Po and Regina Riga, also of the G E D. The limousine in front of the restaurant meant they were slightly farther away.

"Hey, Somerset," I mumbled. "What's up?"

"Stop right there," she grinned. "You are under arrest."

"What's he charged with?" Capri snapped. The cops were cautiously closing in.

"Theft," Somerset kept smiling. "It seems he has some little bugs running around inside him that belong to someone else."

"That's a load of crap," Capri shot back. Me, I was getting ready to plunge into the post-lunch traffic.

"That would require someone to confess they had the damn research," Capri seethed. Right then, I saw Flame stepped outside, Silent right behind her. Flame's eyes took in the scene. The World cracked a little more.

It was an unfortunate convergence of poor choices, bad timing and ill intentions. When Flame stepped out of the Prometheus Club, she didn't see four cops. She saw Somerset Trainer, minion of Isobel Diaz, with three armed associates closing in on Magdalena Keverich's entourage exiting a restaurant. It was a daylight ambush in her eyes.

She knew that Mamma Keverich was coming back to town soon, that Isobel and Little M were worried or freaked out, because they had both betrayed Mamma, and that one of them had to offer the other's head up on a plate or they'd both likely end up dead. The fact that this feud would most likely end up with her as compost didn't bother Flame so much. She was a psycho.

Had Detective Somerset Trainer known that Little M was in the restaurant, she would have most likely grabbed me elsewhere. Isobel's career was in danger of going down the toilet and she was going to drag as many people down with her as possible. She was that kind of cunt. One of those people going down with Isobel was Somerset.

That did not mean she wanted to engage in a gun battle in broad daylight, on a busy street, with Keverich mobsters while attempting to bring me in on trumped up charges. It was potentially fatal and certainly embarrassing, in an Internal Affairs busting your ass open kind of way. After all, Kwan and Riga weren't part of the program. They thought this was the real deal.

Flame reached around to the small of her back for her light artillery piece. Silent, in tune with her compadres, went for her two rationally sized pistols, scanning the other way. Det. Gayle Seger, drawing forth her handcuffs, was only then starting to track my gaze back to the restaurant door and the menace there. She was critically behind in the arms race and standing in the middle of a broad sidewalk.

The other three cops were already going for their sidearms, not Tasers. Det. Po Kwan was on the far side of her car. Det. Regina Riga was in Gayle's boat, middle of the sidewalk with a firefight about to break out. Capri and I were in the middle of it all. The first move was Capri's, she dragged me with all her might toward the street.

Our choices were traffic versus bullets. Capri decided that collision with the hood of a car going around 30 miles per hour was preferable to a minimum 9 millimeter penetration. I was too ignorant of the physics to argue. Next, Silent started firing. Had my back not been to her, I might have marveled on how fast she was. As it was, she wasn't hitting anybody, just shooting.

After some after-battle counseling, I would learn this was 'suppression fire'; Silent was purposely not hitting anyone. Shooting cops was bad. Shooting cops in an area with extensive security cameras was worse. She was simply buying time for the rest of Magdalena's crew to hustle her boss back inside. That was her job.

Flame, on the other hand, was there to kill somebody. She knelt down in the doorway, aimed and shot. Det. Seger was a second too slow in reacting. Gayle was still clawing at her piece when the 12 millimeter round took her in the solar plexus. The front of her body armor never stood a chance. It was shredded.

The hydrostatic shock of the projectile ripping through her core was most likely terminal. Had she landed on a fully staffed operating table, she might have lived. The bullet severing her spine was critical all by itself. The back of her body armor did a marginally better job of slowing the round as it left her body, but it didn't stop it.

No, it flew down the street, hitting a ceramic composite lamp post. They build them to withstand the 7 mile per hour winds (the max recorded that whip down into the spaces between the high rises) yet crumple under impact, such as a car. It blew a hole so big in the lamp post, it slowly keeled over into the street. That was a problem for a few seconds down the line. The ceramic did take a great deal of the bullet's energy.

Two blocks down, it ricocheted off a reinforced glass window, careened into the street and the conjecture was it landed on a car window catch, or went down a storm drain. They never found it. I doubted Gayle cared and I had other things on my mind when I got the news. Somerset managed to get a shot off before she realized that her unmarked police car's composite materials weren't going to have much better luck than Gayle's body armor at stopping Flame's rounds.

I suddenly understood the purpose of Flame's gun. It wasn't femismo. Her weapon dominated the battlefield. When shooting, you had better kill Flame because if you didn't, someone was going to the morgue. Somerset had just witnessed that reality. As Flame began swiveling her aim that way, Somerset dove behind her rear tire, putting as much material between her and death as possible.

Kwan was made of sterner stuff. She moved down the side of her car, toward the action and firing. Like Silent, she was more concerned with keeping her assailants' heads down than killing anyone. Det. Seger was down and her own partner was in a bad way. Riga had to dive into the narrow space between her car and the curb for what minimal cover it provided.

Silent had to duck back into the restaurant and Flame came close to being decapitated. Kwan ran out of bullets before Flame ran out of nerve. My eyes met Kwan's as she ducked down to reload her pistol. She was angry, fearful and confused. This situation made perverse sense. She knew the Organized Crime Taskforce wanted to talk with me.

Magdalena Keverich had sex with me, painful sex obviously. So why the fuck was I walking out of an eatery with Keverich mobsters? I was obviously running for my life. A fellow officer was down, maybe dead. Did this have to do with my stunt this morning, or was this something else? That was what I imagined her thinking anyway.

Flame responded to her near-death experience by giving Kwan one of her own. Her round penetrated her car's battery assembly, passed clean through, missed Kwan then hit a car driving by, wounding the driver in the lower, right side before lodging in that car's rear passenger door. A wreck was imminent, but not my immediate concern.

What was my concern was Capri and me crossing the road. It was two lanes, both way. The first lane was empty, but a delivery van nearly rolled over us in the second. A passenger car coming down lane one slammed on its brakes, as did the car behind it, that's the one the pole fell on.

By the time the van passed, I was in the lead. We dodged a car going the other way in lane three and lane four was free, that was the one with the wounded driver, but the badly wounded driver was still coming at us. We were on the sidewalk. That seemed to be as far as Capri and I had thought things out. The FBI were theoretically on the way, but we couldn't see them.

The Vanishers couldn't help me unless I was out of public view. To get to them, I had to think like a Special Forces 'operator.’ My mind was still wandering through that morass when Capri started dragging me away from the gunfire. We ran crouched over. I'm not sure why. The only cars parked on the street were across the way, Maggy's limo bracketed by the two unmarked cop cars. This was a 'No Parking' area.

For fifteen minutes we ran down the street, fleeing for our lives. We made it around the corner, 17 seconds had passed? Twice before in my life I had lost all conception of time. On this outing I didn't feel violated, but the gut-wrenching terror was identical. When Capri looked back at me, I could see the fear in her eyes. Good, I had too many crazy people in my life as it was.

The gunfire had stopped. Capri slowed us to a pace closer to normal. Fleeing people drew unwanted attention. We were at the crosswalk one block away when the first police car, sirens blaring and lights flashing, went racing by. I wished I could have hoped Flame and Magdalena were okay, but my heart wasn't that big and my pain was too fresh.

"This way," Capri hustled me along. "Upload your phone data."

"Damn, I just got this one," I muttered. "Drop the GPS and battery too?"

"Nope," Capri grinned. "Let's go to the Metro." One such station was right up ahead, but it wasn't our line. We sped down the steps into the underground facility.

A metro cop glanced our way, but I was looking down, and praying hard. We swiped our cards. No alarms went off, so I wasn't officially a wanted felon yet.

"Okay, we have a northbound to Bright Bay coming in two minutes," Capri whispered. "We go in the first car, stash the phones then race out the back car before the subway pulls out."

I looked dubiously at Capri. I didn't question the basic merits of her plan. Her deep breathing, flushed face and short legs worried me. Me, I was doing fine. I was, barring my full-torso bruising, in excellent shape, tall with long legs. Getting down the length of five passenger cars in the allotted 90 seconds the train was in the station was going to be close.

"When we get out, we catch the metro to Northwood in eight minutes," Capri related. Why a district called Northwood was in the Southwest section of the metropolis wasn't something I was going to worry about. "After that I guess we walk home." Using a credit card was foolish, but,

I ran over to the ATM and inserted my card then typed my Personal Identification Number. I was praying again.

There it was, my $7,800 from GNN. I had money! Bless Maribel and Eloise, those wonderful, wonderful social media parasites. I withdrew the maximum amount, $1000. I had never done that before, but I had seen Bethany do it, a lot. I quick-stepped it over to Capri and slipped her five hundred.

"In case we are separated," I murmured. She nodded. I had a strange flashback. I started giggling. I had a vision of a man giving a woman money for sex. How ridiculous was that? On second thought, I imagined that among the handful of rich men out there, they probably got a kick out of it. I had never heard of a male 'Joan' being arrested for solicitation. Could they?

Technically, he was doing his duty. If the moron wanted to give a woman money for helping out with that, well, it had to be more kinky than illegal. I felt pain. Capri was elbowing me.

"Stop it," she hissed. I was giggling maniacally again. The metro's air-brakes and electro-magnetic clamps were giving off their low pitched squeal as the transport came to a stop.

We were running at the doors before they separated. They slid open right on time, we stashed our phones in a first aid wall mount and began the sprint to the end of the train. That would put us out under a different camera, which we hope would help our evasion when someone finally did start looking.

We made it to Northwood, grabbed a taxi and I was recognized. Cabbies get bored. The city's roads use a grid system that 'mediates' auto behavior. It doesn't drive the car, but it cuts down on collisions and running red lights. Cops don't worry about this and an automotive 'getaway' is very difficult. Marlene, the cabby, didn't seem to hate me.

"So, are you really going to let the world crash and burn?" she asked after getting our destination.

"'Let' is a bit harsh," I rebounded. "I'm not going to stand in the way of society killing itself is more like it."

"Eh, I could care less," she shrugged. "Ovarian cancer five years ago. I'm an only child so my genetics are pretty much shot."

"That is a rather grim outlook on life," Capri noted.

"Kid, no one has ever stuck out their neck for me, so why should I bother?" Marlene shrugged once more.

I hope I didn't sound like that. I cared about people, but I would be damned if I would reward barbarity and indifference either. I was a father and I was terrified that my children might go through what I had experienced. I could keep telling myself that I was doing some good. I wasn't sure if I was, or if that was wishful thinking.

I was truly horrified by the fear that this was just me lashing out at the world for my misfortunes. That would make me as bad as my first love, the Aurora Slasher. I had loved her. I had loved her with all my heart because if I hadn't, she would have killed me. The problem was, I had really loved and cared for her.

Somewhere along the way, it had become real for me. We were going to live together and have babies, strong male babies. I had wanted that more than anything. If I loved her enough, she'd set me free. If I loved her enough, she'd let me live. In therapy, they had given me all kinds of psychological terms for that. The emotion had never gone away.

True, I was also terrified of her. For a year, any voice that sounded like her made me wet myself. I never looked at pictures of her. She wrote me letters a few times. I never asked for them. I pray to whatever divinity matters most that they never give her computer access. I'm still afraid that if I did see her I'd run into her arms and beg her forgiveness.

Maybe that is why I gravitated to women like Angel, Zara and Flame, secretly I wanted to end this and I felt they are strong enough to do it. It could be I was trying to replace my first rapist. I could be doing penance for not dying when I should have, or telling the wrong women I love them. Maybe I liked the pain but couldn't face up to it.

"Earth to Israel," Capri nudged me. "We are here." The cab was two blocks from my dwelling, in case someone was watching the place, we could make other plans.

"Here you go Marlene and good luck to you," I smiled. I paid and tipped her. I hadn't had enough money to tip anyone in ages, budget too tight.

"Thanks, Israel and be careful," Marlene laughed. "I imagine you are as popular as a tampon covered in Jalapeno sauce with the people upstairs." That was too sick and, or frightening and, or hurtful for me to think about.

"I now know what I'm getting Isobel Diaz for Christmas," Capri smirked.

"We are not going to make Christmas," I pointed out.

"I'll mail it to Hell," Capri grinned up at me full of mischief and spite. Without further comment, we made our way up to my condo. I opened the door and saw Angel up and mostly dressed (no shoes). She came right at me so fast, I freaked and back-pedaled out the door.

"Sorry, Israel," Angel looked frightfully worried. I took a deep breath, stepped up and embraced her.

She hugged me tighter than I would have liked in my current mental state. In a perverse way, it felt motherly yet protective and passionate at the same time.

"Baby," Angel murmured into my shoulder, ”Po called. She said you were in a firefight. Gayle Seger is dead and the culprits are on the run. Are you hurt? Are you in danger, I mean more danger than normal, for you?"

"He's okay," Capri inserted smarmily. "I'm okay too."

"You, I can replace, at the local pet store," Angel shot over my shoulder to Capri. "He's irreplaceable to me."

"Oh," Capri drew out as she slipped by us to the living room and the remote. The news was vibrant to say the least. Four out of five medical experts were tearing Dr. Vasco a new asshole.

For her part, Vasco was resilient. Her bosses and staffers held fast about their methods and results. Her public speaking presence may have been exceedingly poor, but her mastery of the science was unassailable. The darkly amusing part of one interview was when a critic demanded that Dr. Vasco repeat her results at other labs across the nation.

"I can't do that," Dr. Vasco sighed. "Mr. Jensen and Ms. Sano requested that anything remaining of their blood samples after the battery of tests was to be destroyed."

"My God, you didn't do that, did you?" the critic fired off.

"Of course I did. I'm their physician," Dr. Vasco seemed puzzled.

"Can't you bring them back in for more samples?"

"Ms. Sano has refused, citing that to do so might result in a denial of sexual favors in her near future," Vasco read off a report. "Mr. Jensen made it quite clear that he is willing to let us all die, though we continue trying to contact him."

"If your results are genuine," the critic persevered, "Mr. Jensen has an unknown strain of the T1 and needs to be quarantined."

"Why?" Vasco mumbled. "There is no indication that his variant of the Gender Plague is harmful to anything but the T1, and we've run extensive tests."

"How can you verify your finds with the global scientific community without the blood and tissue samples?" the critic challenged.

"After some consultation with the Psychiatric Department, we are contemplating getting down on our knees and begging," Vasco related with same voice used when contemplating the prices of toilet paper brands.

"This is not the time for jests," the critic bit back. Vasco was bewildered.

"What do you mean? We consulted some experts on male psychology and that's what they suggested giving their minimal time to come up with an answer," Vasco responded. Capri started giggling.

"You are coming across as a fraud," the critic lambasted.

"I've posted my findings," Vasco stated softly. "Beyond that, we are contacting his previous sexual partners for the past two years. We hope they can provide antivirals with their blood."

"Two years?" the critic scoffed. "That's reaching."

"Excuse me," the virologist questioned. "What makes you say that?"

"Two years?"

"Yes, from the level of degradation, or lack thereof, it is our current hypothesis that this variant of the Plague is designed to give immunity to the woman and her offspring through the child's first year," Vasco informed the world calmly.

"The belief is that by breastfeeding, the child would gain a boost to its immune system where the T1 is concerned," she concluded.

"Angel?" I looked to my lover.

"The hospital called. I said 'no'," she answered. "What we did was between us."

It was my turn to hug her. It wasn't that she had said 'no.’ It was why she said 'no.’ Angel kept her embrace light, which only made it more valuable to me.

"Israel, I have to go to work soon," Angel sighed as our foreheads touched. "Officer Involved Shooting plus running security for the arena tonight."

"Does this mean you are no longer with the Feds?" I worried.

"Babe," Angel laughed roughly. "You don't know how it works, two jobs doesn't mean two people; it means overtime." I wasn't sure what came over me. Maybe it was that 'love' thing.

"Wake me up when you get in," I requested. "I miss you."

The concern directed my way by Angel only made me want her more. I didn't see lust. I saw a desire to make me feel safe, not physically, but emotionally. The cherry on top was that she was yet another sane woman in my life.

"Okay, Babe," she smiled cautiously. "I'll whistle to wake you. You like whistling right?"

"Yes, that would be nice. Am I going to see you at the rally tonight?" I asked.

"What?" Capri squawked. She began beating up the sofa in her own, feisty style.

"Israel, I, okay," Angel sighed. "I'm not going tell you that going is nuts," which was her way of telling me that she didn't approve of my plan in the slightest while being respectful.

"Jerk, this isn't okay with me," Capri snarled. "Why in the hell would you go to something like the  M A L fiasco? You don't believe in it. Have you decided that you want some pissed off men to beat you up because being pummeled by women isn't enough?"

"They may let me get a word or two in," I explained, "though most likely they will leave me socially impotent."

"And if they arrest you?" Capri glared at me. "Will you at least call me?"

"As soon as we get new phones," I gave a wan smile.

"Why do you need new phones?" Angel asked; at this point the whole metro & phone idiocy was revealed to us by Angel.

Of course, we had been totally ignorant of the technology we were trying to spoof. The metro doors have a scanner which sweeps you when you get on each car. The beams could detect the card through several layers of clothing. That's how they know how much to bill your card each month. We had thrown away our phones for nothing. Capri mumbled something about too many bad spy movies, but looked suitably embarrassed.

Seneca showed up a few minutes later. She and Angel had a hushed conversation. It appeared that Seneca had some contacts with the local precinct and, by calling in a favor or two, could have a patrol car close by tonight, in case things went poorly with the evening commuters. I thought about it. I figured two cops wouldn't be of much use if things went bad for me.

I would rather have them in a place to support Seneca and Angel instead, if that was even possible. They left, Capri and I cleaned up and had a late lunch. I was happy my stomach had calmed down enough for me to hold anything down. Shortly after finishing, Capri received a bizarre call from her mother while I was in the bathroom. 'Mom' quickly got to the point.

"Capri, my child, do you still do that 'thing' with Israel?" she asked.

"Thing? What thing?" Capri wondered.

"Fellatio. Put his thing in your mouth until he ejaculates," Mom clarified.

"Yeah, Mom, four or five times a day," Capri fabricated convincingly. "He's a real beast."

"Oh, Good," Mom smiled. "Could you regurgitate some into a plastic baggy? Put the baggy in a chilled thermal container and mail it to me?"

"I can do that for you, Mom," Capri agreed. "I can go start on that right now, if it is important."

"You do that, Honey. It is very important, four or five samples?" Mom pressed.

"At least," Capri concentrated. "Do you want anything from our anal intercourse?"

"Ah," Mom stammered. "No, I think the oral product will be enough for now."

"Okay Mom, I'll overnight it to you," Capri smiled lovingly.

"Thank you, Capri. I'm proud of you," Mom smiled back at her daughter. They cut the connection. Capri stared at me as I tentatively stepped forward.

"She's proud of me being a cum-dumpster?" Capri growled. "Whore!" I struggled for the sympathy, for the diversion, for any words that would ease her anger.

"Well, I guess it's nothing but ass-sex now, eh?" I moped.

"When we survive all this madness, remind me to kill you," Capri laughed, but she was happier.

Men’s Rally

We went to the gym early today. First off, being around multiple women I barely knew wouldn't have done me much good, so going while most of them were at work seemed to be the best choice. Also, if the world held together long enough, I would be going to the  M A L rally at seven. Capri said she understood. She spent the rest of the afternoon trying to stomp on my feet and kicking at my ankles.

Samantha showed up at five with our new phones. She immediately requested a hug. I readily complied; an indicator of my rebounding calm, if not sanity. She took her time and I wiggled her hips against me playfully. Sam and Capri coordinated with the other girls on what food delivery service to use and dinner plans were solidified.

Kuiko and Aniqua both had their hugs and were settling in when Capri's prophecy from this morning started coming true. Ambrosia, Fatima, Carrie, Amelia and three girls I didn't recognized showed up at my door. Whatever defensive benefits of not opening the door would give us, it would only make the mood worse, so I suggested we hear them out.

I knew what they wanted and it wasn't to tell me what a good job I'd done this morning, or to see if I was okay. We had lost a guy last night, now there were only six males left. They were probably going through the same nightmare right now, or would soon. Samantha and Aniqua met the crowd at the door. They were the biggest. I didn't have to tell them the score; they could sense it.

In this district, tribalism was starting to rear its ugly head. Faith in the city to provide for their welfare was disintegrating. Since the police (in their minds) were letting all the men in this district move, vanish, or die or be killed, the local women had to take over the responsibility for the welfare of their men.

To put it politely, the women at the door, and the doors of my fellow males in my district, were about to turn men into property. Less kindly, they were here to rape us.

It was akin to people rushing the superstores for water when disasters hit. My plan was working. Trust in cops was being thrown to the roadside. As a consequence, a very personal battle for my survival was working itself out on my doorstep. If my allies got the shit kicked out of them, I was going to get a lesson on just how bad anarchy could be.

"We would like to talk with Israel," Ambrosia said. She was learning the art of a 'request not being a request' very well.

"Talk, he's listening," Aniqua replied. Kuiko came out with a collection of knives, dumped a few on the sofa cushions then brandished two.

Had one not been a bread knife, I would have been more confident in our chances. As it was, I felt paralyzed. I wanted to go to the door, stand bold and firm as I told them to go home, thus saving my friends. I reached for that person, but he wasn't ready to jump in the fight at the moment. The best I could do was not run to my bedroom, or bathroom, and slam the door shut.

"I think he should come to the door," Fatima menaced. "We outnumber you."

"I think you know the price of admission," Capri grumbled right back. The situation was tense, the women outside were wavering, crossing the line into assault, maybe murder, wasn't easy. The question about who had the advantage on who was resolved though.

I heard a gun hammer click into 'I'm about to kill someone' mode.

"Alright, you bitches," Venus snarled. She and Roni had climbed the stairs behind the mob and out of my camera view. It didn't take me a second to realize by the look on the ladies spinning around in the back that they didn't like what they saw.

"What? Who are you?" Carrie gulped.

"I'm the possessive bitch with the gun. Now I'm not a good shot, but you idiots are packed around the door of my man, so I'm not likely to miss at this range. Ladies inside, you might want to back up, in case I blow a hole in one of these whores," Venus growled.

"No one has to die," Roni tried to soothe down the situation. "All you ladies I don't know, there is a stairway down at the far end of the hall. Use it." Clearly walking past Roni and Venus on the stairs those two had just come up was not an option. I would have liked to think we had stepped back from the precipice of chaos, but we hadn't.

Venus didn't own a gun that I knew about. I seriously doubted she had gone through the background check and required waiting period to get one either. By brazenly threatening others with an illegal firearm in this manner, all we had proven was that my tribe was tougher than theirs, for now.

The 'invading' tribe left. Aniqua, Sam and Roni retrieved the food that Roni and Venus had left on the stairs when they heard the commotion. The girls took turns heading out, gathering a few clothes and toiletries and settling into my place. Only when we settled down to eat, did the first of two problems arise.

"Venus," Roni asked, "where did you get the gun?"

"Have none of you been listening to Israel?" Venus scanned the group. "The world is going down the crapper. We need to be prepared. We should all get some guns."

"Okay," Kuiko grinned. "I know a guy." The rest of us were skeptical.

"Kuiko, I don't think that is a good idea," Aniqua cautioned her friends.

"It's okay. He likes me and I think he has some assault rifles," Kuiko chirped. Oh yeah, that was going to make the next complex pool party a lot more interesting, not that I thought we were going to have one.

"Rule One: Always assume that at my place, or anyplace I am at for too long, they are listening in," I warned them. "Venus, I don't know what to do about your piece. Don't show it to Angel for now and we'll see what happens." Venus looked down at the gun in her lap.

"We should buy you some accessories for that," Capri added. "Things like bullets, clips; a holster perhaps."

"Oh, speaking of buying things," I pulled out my wallet, "here you go Samantha. Thanks for getting us the phones."

"Where did you get so much cash?" Roni asked. It then occurred to Capri and I that all the other women had actual jobs, that required actual work, that required actual attention.

All Kuiko and Aniqua knew was that I had called Kuiko about giving blood, some technicians showed up, drew the blood and left, and then they had called back asking to draw more blood. Since Kuiko hadn't heard from me and didn't want to miss out on some more 'epic' sex, she had refused. The reasons why I had made the request were never discussed.

I let Capri unfold the tale, from when we left the condo, the fun at the metro (which helped explain the savages at the door this evening), to the Sentinel, GNN, the shoot-out at the Prometheus Club and finally, the ride home. They were dumbstruck.

"Me first," Venus hopped up.

"What?" Roni and Capri questioned.

"I want those antivirals that Kuiko has," she clarified.

"You just want to get fucked," Aniqua grumbled.

"Don't look at it as if Israel and I are having sex," Venus reasoned. "Think of it as me getting a booster shot, an injection, being vaccinated, inoculated, or whatever floats your boat."

"Damn it, Venus," Roni hopped up too. "Israel could have been shot and killed today. The government, or some other group, will grab him sooner than later. We need to protect him, not jump his bones."

"Wait, wait, wait," Capri stood and waved all the other voices down. "It gets better."

The second problem of the night.

"Israel, what are you planning to do tonight?" Capri smiled wickedly at me. I'm sure, by the way the women were looking at me they had their psychic fingers crossed and were hoping I'd say 'I'm want to bang, then say her name!

"I'm going to the  M A L rally," I muttered. I knew that look, too. It was the 'how do we tie him up without freaking him out' look. I could feel the secret feminine communication network buzzing around me. Being a man, I wasn't hooked up to their frequency.

"Israel, have you thought this through?" Roni inquired gently.

Kuiko looked like she was going to cry, or throw herself out my window. With her size, she most likely couldn't break it.

"I don't know what to say," I sighed. "Yesterday, I asked men to stand up for their rights and resist, but at crunch time this morning, I gave up my dowel and submitted to an illegal search."

"I deceived my fellow men. I let down Kenny, who went to jail for me, and Luanga, who I instructed to do the opposite of what I did Monday," I kept going. "If I keep yelling at my brethren, telling them to resist and then I cower here while the government lies to them at the rally, I'm continuing to be a hypocrite and coward." There was silence. They didn't get it.

"I understand," Samantha spoke up. "Gut check time, or as my coach kept telling us 'winners don't hold anything back.’ If you gotta go, you gotta go. Do you think they'll let any of us come with you?"

"Invitation only and security should be tight," I answered.

"Are we seriously thinking of letting him go?" Venus gasped.

"It is not our choice to make, Venus," Aniqua said. "If this becomes strictly a battle for survival, then Capri is right, we have lost the right to continue on. We have become animals."

"You know, when the world crashes down," Kuiko commented out of the blue, "I'm really going to miss the internet."

"I am going to miss batteries for my vibrator," Roni confessed. Seeing the others stare at her. "What? We can't expect Israel to perform 24 7."

"I'm going to miss microwaves," Aniqua added. "That means I'll have to learn how to cook."

"Fine, fine," Venus plopped back down. "He goes if he wants to go. The rest of you shut up so I can cry in peace."

"My Mom wants me to send her some of Israel's sperm," Capri snickered. There were a chorus of 'huh's.’ "I'm thinking of going down to the zoo and milking a bull elephant and sending a bag full of that to Mom instead."

"Damn Girl, those things are huge!" Aniqua laughed. "I mean they are as long as your leg, huge."

"Really? I'm not going to ask how you know that," Capri winked.

"When I say I've been lonely, I mean real lonely," Aniqua snickered.

"Understood," Capri mused. "Kuiko, what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Not milking an elephant cock," Kuiko giggled, "that's for damn sure."

It was nervous, silly energy, but it had gotten us over the hurdle. By twisting away from fear with laughter, the group had progressed to the level where they could accept me as a true equal. My voice counted, it really counted. In my heart I knew this might be the last time I could do this, force my own will on the group.

To be continued

By FinalStand for Literotica