Moving Onwards
That's Messed Up
By Pat Squared
Confession:
I am a review junkie.
Room 4015A
Office of the Colorado Attorney General
Middleton, Triton County Colorado
8:15 A.M. Mountain Standard Time
Kim rubbed her forehead as she bemoan her sore rear.
Despite her recent promotion, the dramatic increase in her department's operating budget, and her very liberal use of the puppy dog pout, the former teen heroine was stuck in a small six by eight foot closet with peeling paint, a prison made metal desk and filing cabinet, a telephone one step up from two cups and a piece of string, and a wooden chair made sometime during the Johnson administration...the Andrew Johnson administration.
Kim hated the chair. On the bottom was a tag with a US Navy and a US Marine Corps inventory control number. The chair was so painful that even the Marine Corps dumped this chair on the surplus market where the state of Colorado picked it up, varnished it with some cheap substitute, and sent it to the prison. The problem was the chair was too solid and useful as a weapon. So the prison system got the soft padded chair and the hard chairs went here.
Kim even tried to bring in her own chair, but some anal retentive bureaucrat forced her boss to put out a memo stating that due to some civil service regulation, no one was allowed to purchase or even bring in their own furniture. Only government owned furniture can be used in the office and the appropriate department would do random audits to insure compliance. Thus even Kim Possible was stuck with a chair that would warm the heart of the Marquis de Sade and the Spanish Inquisition.
However the uncomfortable chair was the least of Kim Possible's worries today.
It had taken two weeks, three private detectives, a dozen forensic accountants, and six hundred sixty six thousand dollars, before the prosecutor had more than enough evidence to risk taking this case to a grand jury and taking it to trail. She had to have the evidence to take this guy to trial.
Were this a typical sex crimes case, Kim would have had the bastard in question already working as an anal whore in the local penitentiary.
However, this pedophile had enough money to get Mark Garagos, Gloria Alred, Berry Shapiro, and even Johnny Cochran resurrected and serving as his defense consul.
Money meant that every T and I would be ruthlessly examined for any grounds of release on a technicality. Besides, Kim had to wait just so the case will be brought before the Honorable Tomas "Hang-man" de Leon Cortez Martinez. Her window of opportunity was small because every deputy prosecutor wanted to bring their case to Martinez. Martinez was by the book, tougher than nails, and controlled his courtroom with an iron fist. However for all his faults he was most well known for slapping the maximum possible sentence once the jury did their thing.
Today...today would be the day Craig Rockwaller would be arrested, charged, and paraded in front of the media as a notorious pedophile who knocked up his daughters and raped his daughters slash granddaughters. However, today Bonnie's secret and the parentage of her son Robert Rockwaller will become a matter of public record. Today, all of Bonnie's closeted skeletons will be displayed and the tabloids would have a field day.
Bonnie, I hope that you like what you see. I will nail your father's bastard balls to the wall and let him enjoy being the new prison ho before they shove a broken broomstick up his ass and let him die of blood poisoning.
Today, Kim Possible was going to be the most famous district attorney in the world for fifteen minutes or her legal career was going up in flames.
The phone rang.
It was her boss and he was not a happy man. No one had ever heard of her boss being excited let alone swearing. However, there was a first time for everything.
"What the fuck, Kim? The governor fucking called me at six in the god damn morning and..."
Kim cleared her throat, "Sir, the governor can't call this case off without the media crying cover-up. The feds are in on this and if we back down, they are going to jump in and take the credit. We got everyone from the FBI to the postal inspectors. However, we are the ones to get him first. You are the one who authorized this investigation..."
"What...I authorized no..."
"I have a piece of paper with your signature.
"Dated two weeks ago... the 5th of March 2026," Kim picked up the appropriate piece of paper and read it to her stunned boss.
"I, Deputy Colorado State Attorney General Mark Jimenez, currently in charge of the Triton County District Office, hereby authorize Senior Prosecuting Attorney Kimberly Anne Possible of the Colorado State Attorney General's Triton County Office to conduct a special confidential investigation into the allegations made by Bonnie Clara Rockwaller, now deceased, on 24th of February 2026 against Craig Wallace Rockwaller, currently residing at 302 Wallace Park Road, Middleton, Colorado.
"All investigation costs up to one million US dollars shall be authorized to be drawn against the special investigations fund at the discretion of Kim Possible. Due to Mr. Rockwaller's standing in the local community and the economic threat that unfounded allegations can pose to our community, the investigation will be kept confidential until Miss Possible and only Miss Possible decides there is sufficient evidence to charge Mr. Rockwaller or conclude that there is no merit in the allegations. So on and so forth."
Kim smiled. She had her boss pinned down.
"Boss, we have physical evidence confirmed by three independent laboratories in addition to the FBI and state crime labs. Mr. Rockwaller will be indicted on several charges including statutory rape, child molestation, child endangerment, conspiracy, obstruction of justice. Also, we found that key law enforcement personnel in the Internal Affairs, Human Resources, and Special Victims Unit of the Middleton were bribed by Mr. Rockwaller to ignore allegations. It has been alleged that said corruption had been going on for decades. The FBI will arrest them for civil rights charges. Middleton PD is a dirty egg. I have been conducting a parallel investigation into allegations of corruption. So have the Feds, including the Internal Revenue Service, the US Treasury, and the FBI. It's this investigation that will allow you to become the man who single handedly cleaned up central Colorado and perhaps the next Colorado State Attorney General. Maybe even governor."
Kim's boss's ambitions did not end in the governor's residence. He wanted to be the first Latino residing at the white structure located at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Kim was giving him the chance to be the next Colorado State Attorney General.
"Okay, any other special investigations that I should know about?"
"We are just having the crime labs reexamine all the evidence on the MID-killer and the other death row cases so the defense attorneys cannot cry cover-up and failure to do all in our power to exonerate the innocent. Multiple labs all Department of Justice certified and independently certified by the National Association of Forensic Examiners so not even Jesus Christ himself can spring our suspects out. On the Fulton-Mendoza rape-murder, the forensics techs are doing their thing right now. I have detail Rachel Serina Pareja to be Special Agent Zimmer's day to day legal eagle on this one. But any decisions to arrest and charge will be deferred to me."
"Kim, from now on, I want a weekly status on all special investigations by noon on Friday sent to my email. All requests for special investigations will go on the yellow paper. No more slipping it into the stack, Kim Possible. Who are you scheduling for?"
"I made arrangements for Martinez."
"Go ahead. If you need anything, pick up your phone and dial my extension 231. You are now on my put through anytime...anywhere list."
The boss hung up.
Kim suppressed a smile. She had won this round.
Next was dealing with the grand jury.
For now Kim smiled trying to enjoy the messed up vision of Bonnie's father, the fashionable Mr. Craig Rockwaller, being butt-raped by a large inmate. It was a messed up vision, but a pleasing vision for the overworked prosecutor.
10:15 P.M.
Nara, Nara Prefecture, Japan
7,500 miles away, while Kim Possible was fighting for justice, truth, the American way, her son, Ronald Stoppable Possible, and his best friend girl friend were contemplating their next offense against order and decency.
So far the pair was guilty of:
Arson, motor vehicle, two counts;
Assault on a police officer in the performance of his duties, two counts;
Aggravated Assault with a deadly weapon, one count;
Brandishing a Firearm, one count;
Carrying a Concealed Firearm without a Permit, five counts;
Conspiracy to commit a felony, two counts;
Criminal Trespassing, four counts;
Defacement of Private Property, three counts;
Driving without a Driver's License, one count;
Failure to Possess an Official ID on One's Person, two counts;
Grand Theft, Auto, two counts;
Importation of a Controlled Substance, one count;
Kidnapping;
Malicious Destruction of Private Property by Fire, three hundred sixteen counts;
(One per package in the UPS van)
Obstruction of Justice (Witness Intimidation), one count
Petty Theft, Clothing, two counts;
Petty Theft, Firearm, five counts;
Pickpocketing, twelve counts;
Possession of Alcohol by a Minor, three counts;
Possession of a Controlled Substance without a Permit, one count;
Possession of a Pistol by a Minor, five counts;
Possession of a Firearm during the Commission of a Crime, two counts;
Possession of an Unregistered Firearm, three counts;
Robbery, two counts;
Shoplifting, three counts;
Use of a Controlled Substance without a Permit, one count;
And that was just in Japan. The pair had broken the laws back home in Middleton, Colorado.
If one added up the typical prison sentences for all such offenses, not even those biblical patriarchs could live long enough to be eligible for parole let serve out the entire sentence. It was this knowledge that set Ronald Stoppable Possible on ease while still on edge.
Ronald Stoppable Possible, aka Ronnie, was like his parents. Deep down inside, he was a good boy and frightened by the things he and his girlfriend did in the past twenty four hours. Yesterday, his evilness extended to having sex with his best friend girlfriend while they were both underage (in the US, but not in Japan). Today, he was working on a rap sheet that would envy the super-villains his parents dealt with two decades ago.
If they were still alive and knew, they would be overjoyed that Miss Perfect Kim Possible was raising a criminal.
Now he was beyond caring. What could they do if they caught him...add an addition century to his multiple life terms. It was like being caught with a lousy toilet bomb after knocking up all the girls in the seventh and eighth grades.
Now he knew just why Bonnie and Clyde went on a massive crime spree.
Once you hit a certain point, there was nothing left to be afraid of anymore. Once you are looking at the hangman's noose, a little slap on the wrist was nothing. Now, almost ninety years after the legendary pair was slain in a roadside ambush, a pair of American teens was going to terrorize local law enforcement.
Ronnie looked over his bowl of asuka nabe at his partner in crime. Like Bonnie, Violetta was a small, skinny female who did not look like a formidable opponent. She looked like a twelve year old girl. However, she was not an ordinary fourteen year old. Ronnie was not an ordinary teenage boy.
Ronnie was the only child of a pair of teenage super heroes. Violetta was the only child of a sadistic pedophile and a rent a porn child starlet. However, despite sharing their parents DNA, the children were not their parents' clones. Ronnie did not want to go out and save the world. Vee did not want to go on a killing rampage. However Vee did have the urge to commit petty crimes.
"What's next?"
However, Violetta was strangely silent today.
Normally she would be so bouncy after pulling a scam. However, Violetta was utterly still.
"Ronnie...," Vee started with the four most dreaded words in the English language, "We need to talk..."
Oh shit...
Yori closed her tired eyes.
In the few short weeks she ran the Yamanouchi clan, everything seemingly went to hell.
For fifty years, Master Sensei ran the school. In a world of emails, faxes, and phones, Yamanouchi ran on coded messages and whispered instructions passed unto trusted couriers.
Now Yori had to untangle Master Sensei's web of controls and levers and establish her own.
With most Fortune 5000 companies, the CEO was only there for three or four years. However, when one's predecessor sat on the dais for fifty years...routines became iron-clad traditions. In a land where tradition was more powerful than law...changing tradition was unthinkable.
And that was why the instructors at Yamanouchi lost the two Americans.
The curriculum was traditional with minor modifications due to changes in technology. However, the basic techniques were fixed. Everyone moved in the same basic patterns and did evasion in the same way.
The problem was that Master Sensei's granddaughter had grown up in a foreign land. She had the ancestor knowledge...what some called instinct...but Violetta Lee was not brought up in the Yamanouchi training system the other students came up in. Unlike the other students at Yamanouchi, Violetta Lee learned to do things in her own way. The problem was her methods were unconventional and thus harder for others to guess her intentions. At first, Yori believed that it would be a minor issue to train Violetta. Violetta already had mastered the fundamentals and shown a talent for using her skills in the real world.
If Chinese martial arts use the belt ranking system, Vee would be a purple or first degree black belt in competition. However, Vee had something inside of her that made her more dangerous in the outside world than you typical martial arts sensei. The Yamanouchi genes for applied violence and mayhem had seeming breed through to the young girl. With Vee's history, Yori figured out there had to be a con-man or two in Violetta's mother side of the family. Now they seemingly combined into something that Yori feared.
She remembered Hirotaka's vision of a new ninja clan. All that would need to happen is for Hirotaka to reclaim his daughter and break the few bonds of love that controlled the demons inside the troubled girl...then Hirotaka will have the perfect weapon.
Ronald Stoppable Possible was a follower...however he was not just a mere follower, but he was an apt apprentice. No...he was more like his father...able to do the impossible to save those he loved. Facing down a police officer was no mean feat. Even though Violetta was the one who in the end rendered the coup de grace...Ronald Possible was not exactly innocent or unskilled. Like his father...there was an inborn capacity for villainy and evil that hid behind an innocent mask. Yori remembered hearing about the Zorpox incident. The inner villain was in every human. It was just that Ron Stoppable passed unto his son the same capacity his father had.
Tangoing with a black belt in karate was no mean feat. Ronald Possible had the dodging skills of his father. Now all that was needed was the spark to ignite his monkey powers and cause him to use it in an offensive manner.
That was perhaps the most dangerous time.
The bonds of love between the pair were the things that keep them relatively on the straight and narrow. They would not exactly be law abiding citizens...but a reasonable facsimile thereof...which for this particular pair was the best that anyone could hope for. Should one fall...Yori shuddered to think of the consequences.
Yori closed her eyes and relaxed. She pondered the situation and the voices of her ancestors told her where to go next.
While the other instructors were going to physically search for the wayward pair, she was going to search in the realm of the meimyaku, or threads of life and destiny. No one...not even the most determined ninja can hide in that chaotic realm.
Going to the realm of the meimyaku, was an arduous task even for a master. Despite decades of training, Yori knew that she was no where near the master in the magical arts of the ninja that her sensei was. Even after a lifetime of study, he had difficulties in this place.
No one traveled to this place alone...anyone with the remotest interest in preserving his or her skin would avoid this place like a toxic waste dump.
The ability, thankfully for the majority, to go to the realm was not a universal skill, but rather a skill that flowed in certain bloodlines. The Suzuki's and the Yamanouchi's were the only ones of the clan that had the skill. Sometimes it would pop up in a stranger...but that had not happen in six generations. The only other person who could have gone along with Yori on this quest was a fourteen year old girl lost in Nara and her demon of a father.
Yori set aside her regrets. She had to. The first principle was that total mindfulness and yet emptiness of mind were essential. The second principle was that in the void, the most dangerous thing was one's own mind. The mind uncontrolled or too controlled was the enemy.
Yori grabbed three candles. Two of these she lit and placed on the ground. The third candle was put so that it formed a downward pointing triangle to represent the cosmic feminine from with all souls and spirits are born.
Yori changed into her father's ancient kendoji (jacket), hakama (pants), and bogu (armor) that she once wore for her training in naginata-jutsu (martial art of using the naginata or glaive). However, instead of getting a naginata, Yori slid two ancient, iron shod short staffs, each only a foot and a half (45 centimeters) long, into her belt. This was not for protection in the realm of the meimyaku, rather these artifacts would be to only way that Yori could sense her way back to this world. These items were part of Yori's past. The staves were wielded by one of her anscestors in a battle. The hendoji and hakama were her father's and the boju was her mother's last gift before the car accident that made her an orphan.
The void was a place where only the few could venture and even fewer would live, let alone return with the sanity intact.
There were those that watched and those that manipulated the meimyaku. To stand here was to face your past and the past of your ancestors. For Yori, this was the most difficult part. The Suzuki line was a line of konoichi who used seduction as their primary tool to get close enough to kill or spy upon their targets. A good percentage of her ancestors were the monsters the konoichi battled against. In doing their mission, they had deliberately or more often by perversity of fate incorporated the blood of monsters into her bloodline. Instead of protecting her, like ancestral spirits were wont to do for loyal descendants, these ancestral spirits wanted to punish the offspring of their betrayers and murderers. Yori had to focus on the task ahead and fight the spirits of those who her knonichi ancestors betrayed.
The weaving of the fabric was a snarl. The threads were rotting...disintegrating and new patterns...patterns woven by chaos were forming and tearing apart as fate and design fought for supremacy. These were not just woven but pasted together. Hirotaka's tampering was plainly visible for her to see.
One did not have to talk here to be heard.
Words were not uttered or said in the void lest something terrible be given life. One just had to think...to will the concept to be sent over. The void had no air as anyone would define air, but one breathed in the essence of the meimyaku. However to breath in the essence too long would mean soul death. Every moment, one would weaken with every puff of essence one consumed. And yet this essence lent strength and power of a different kind. Every intake was a calculated gamble...Power at the risk of one's soul.
Taking her first calculated breath, Yori closed her eyes and let her instincts lead her towards the cord that was Violetta's destiny.
Yori opened her eyes. Only a lifetime of discipline allowed her not to gasp in shock. So many forces were tugging at Violetta's cord that the young girl's cord was unraveling. She had never seen or heard of such phenomena. Individual cords just did not unravel. They emerge into other cords. Even in death the cord did not vanish but continued into the cords of the lives they touch for good or ill.
A familiar presence walked up next to her. He too would seek her while his minions searched back in the world they had left behind.
"We are at the moment of decision my old lover. You have trained my daughter well. I wondered how our son would have turned out if he lived. However, it's time for me to finish her training."
Yori did not bother to answer. Her attention was in the now. It had to be. Death here only fed the victor with power.
"You are doing a working of your own. I am doing a working myself. However, I have been looking for you."
Yori nodded.
"Do you think things could have ever worked between us? Or where you relieved when you believed me gone forever?"
Hirotaka was pressing on Yori's guilt.
"Hirotaka, you made your own bargain with the king of hell. When I thought you gone, I lost everything. It was our child that prevented me from killing myself. When he died...Master Sensei had to save me from killing myself."
Yori bit down on her lip. She could not afford to dwell in the memory of that part of her life right here.
"Yori, I loved you above all other things. I spent my dying moments thinking of you. When they cut off my arm...when they used the blow torch on my face...it was your memory that took the edge off my pain. However in the end, there was no choice."
Yori thought and then uttered, "Their might not be a choice then, but now there is a choice. Make amends and you will be free of the ties that bind you. Things change. We change along with the weavings of destiny."
The ghost silence of the void then became their company.
Fighting here was possible. The victor would remain to reweave a young girl's fate. The loser's essence...energy would be used by the victor as the victor saw fit. However, both silently agreed to wait for at least a few moments.
"I cannot. There is too much to lose. We have larger enemies and greater issues than one another. Those that dragged me out of the halls of the dead and those that manipulated you for so long are our real enemy. We are just a side show...a distraction while the magicians do there thing. Soon, they will seek out my child and make her their pet. I rather surrender her to you than let them control her fate. She is more than a girl. She is the future of our kind. The problem is that you don't'"
Yori sensed Hirotaka desperation.
"Why should I?"
"You personal attention to my daughter...honors me. No...she is too precious to let rot in obscurity. Can't you see...she is the keystone of something...some working so subtle that even I have difficulty just perceiving its surface? However if she does not become...then everything I have done...everything our ancestors had done to survive was for naught."
"Your workings have already doomed her. Your perverting of her mother with drugs has already killed you daughter."
"Her mother was already addicted to the poison when she was thrown in my cell. I did what I did because I was compelled to do so. If not...the mother would die without fulfilling her destiny. Otherwise, I would have merely killed her like I did the others. The enemy had already shattered her soul. The demon inside the mother was dying. The world needs demons as well as saints."
Yori wanted to ask questions, but to show weakness was death with your foe.
"The drugs are not what you think. They shield my child...they let her prepare for her destiny...they protect her from those who seek to use my daughter's powers for their own gain until she hopefully is old enough to weave her own path. It's risky...but then you know everything is risk...even love."
Yori knew Hirotaka's game.
"The time has come. It's time for us to work together. It's time for us to make our own luck at father would put it. Alone neither of us has the power to save the child. Together we can save her. However, what new weaving will be is an issue of contention. You want her to be happy, content, to be like the other children about her. I want her to strong. I want her to be worthy of her heritage. I want her to be the power she was destined to be."
It was a game that she did not want to play...but the game had to be play anyways, even if it was just to buy the girl a little more time.
"It's past time," uttered Yori.
"So it's agreed. As we gather, we cease to become individuals, but become rather the one."
Together the former lovers turn enemies started binding the raveling cords that was Violetta Lee.
"We will need more strength to fix this weaving. I shall give to the work. Who will match me?"
It was an invitation to treachery...but to save a girl's life Yori had no choice. He needed her strength for his twisted plans. She needed his strength to guide her away from sorrow and danger.
"I shall match you drop for drop."
Both walkers of the meimyaku felt the powers of possibility flow through their essence. Now it was time to be weavers.
"Then it is the time to see who shall give the most."
Hirotaka lashed out with his jou. Yori blocked with the short staff in her right hand. Simultaneously she lashed out with her left, but Hirotaka easily parried it with his four foot long staff. Unlike the traditional staff, this one was reinforced with demon steel rings, each ring tempered in the blood of an innocent child. Both sides had brought weapons of power into this place. Each weapon had claimed a score of lives and sought to add two more.
Again Hirotaka attacked and again Yori countered and then counterattacked. The energy of the clash was feeding the meimyaku of the girl, but at a terrible price. Both contestants were rapidly weakening. The blows were not as precise or crisp at they were in the s.
However both fought on. Energy was needed for the working, but both did not want to be the one whose life would be sacrificed. Both sides sought their advantage and sought their opponent's downfall.
Faster and faster, the former lovers turned enemies clashed. Sparks erupted at the staves clash. Then Yori made a mistake.
She knew she made a mistake the moment she launched into her last desperate attack. Hirotaka was not as winded as he portrayed himself to be. The instant she opened her guard, he stuck her. The staves flew out of her hands and she flew back.
His staff glowed with the accumulated power. One blow and he would devour her soul and being and craft her life force to his purposes.
"If I still did not love you...I would have sacrificed you to this working. Your life is over. However I have decided to give you a gift. Every breath you take from here on is my gift to you. We are still on the opposite side of a battlefield. One day we will clash again. I nor you can hold back. However, should you vanquish me on that day...promise me that you will not let the ones who control us...use my child as they have used us. That obscenity...you must prevent!"
Hirotaka turned around and walked toward the meimyaku that was his daughter's destiny.
"I have done evil. I will do more evil. I have damned myself countless times over and over. I will wash the world in blood to prevent an obscenity from coming to past. No matter how far I have fallen, there are degrees of evil which even I won't do. There are things worse than me out there. There are those who have used me in the past that will seek to use her. They want her for she has much more potential than me."
"Who?"
Yori knew that this was the truth. Hirotaka and she both knew the ultimate truth...Lies are only needed between friends. There was a truth between enemies...especially in this place. To lie here was to weaken oneself.
"I don't know who. Names are not currency in our world, Yori-chan. However, these are folks whose body counts are in the wholesale division. People such as you, me, my daughter, and her lover have very marketable skill for such people. I don't like being used for other people purposes. I don't want my line to be someone's contract killer. Killing for cash...it's leave me feeling...unclean. She is too good to ever be...unclean. When she kills...it will be for something more precious than cash."
Hirotaka's hand flexed at the shame of the memory. The he started weaving the threads.
"I have rewoven her thread to buy her more time. However, it will come at a great price. Not longer will she be a child to play with dolls and think of boys. She will be asked to make decisions that will determine the path this world shall turn. Enemies and friends shall flow together like yin and yang. Enemies shall be unwitting allies and allies unwitting foes. She shall be tested. See that she survives. I will do what I can even if you won't particularly like the methods."
Hirotaka then walked off leaving Yori to ponder the working that he just completed and his warning. She studied the new working. She saw the pattern and wept. She had failed everyone. The weavings spoke of tragedy and testing. Yori in her state had just lost everything. She had failed Master Sensei. She had failed her ancestors. She had failed a young girl that needed her.
There were things worse than the death the young girl would have faced. Now these things were woven into the meimyaku and Yori had not the energy to reweave them.
Yori had to return back to the waking world and wake for the storm to blow itself out before she could pick up the pieces.
In ancient days, all noblemen had pages. Some were sons of other nobles training for their future station. Others were boys selected often from orphans for their sharp ears and talented fingers.
It was that need that doomed Violetta's ancestors since the thirteen century. A duke in Normandy recruited a boy who grew too good at his craft of spying and assassination. His daughter was even better. Within generations, there was an uninterrupted line of spies, thieves, and killers. The duke's line had long since past out. However, the boy's line continued.
Every generation, someone would get in trouble, change their name, and move to a distant land to get away from a spot of trouble and a date with the local executioner. No matter how hard they tried, fate seemed to bring the family back into the world of crime. Forty five generations later, the latest of the sharp eared, nimble fingered descendant was wondering why she was so cursed.
It was bad enough having a sadistic pedophile killer for a father.
It was hard to be the daughter of a rent-a-childporn-starlet.
It was hard to live in a world where everyone was normal and you were the outsider doom to watch the others taking for granted everything that was denied you.
However, that was nothing compared to the task she had to do. She had to tell the object of her love that she was not worthy of it.
"Ronnie, we need to talk."
Ronnie gulped...he was afraid. However his fear was not a thousandth part of her own fear.
She knew that she owed him everything. He had given up a lot of be her friend. She owed him the truth.
However, at the moment of truth...she learned that she could not say it.
Generations of fast talking instead made her lie. She knew that no matter what...she was a coward.
"We need a way to hid the fact that we are not...Japanese."
"You're a halfa..."
"Not good enough here. There aren't enough tourists for you to hide. How much do you have left?"
"A hundred thousand yen...maybe less in my pocket."
Vee cursed herself.
"Okay. We need to get some wheels and disguises. We cannot wait here anymore."
"What about the plan?"
"Ronnie, I can't explain it. I just know it."
Ronnie was clearly out of sorts, "Know what, Obiwan?"
"Things will go wrong if we are here too long. We have no ID. We have five pistols in a place where no one has a pistol. We have a pissed of police department seeking us. It's obvious they don't know what we are otherwise they would have found us already. The only good thing is that the UPS driver and the cops think that we are locals. We need to get back to Yamanouchi, get our things, and go home. We can't wait much longer."
"How?"
Vee pointed to the store.
"First, we need to get you made up?"
Ronnie looked at the store and the paraphernalia displayed. Whips, chains, leather outfits, and phallic substitutes.
"Don't worry. They will only see the outfit. No one will know."
"No way. I can't..."
Vee dragged him inside.
A hour latter, Ronnie Possible knew that if his mother ever saw him in this get up...she would lock him away in the local sanitarium.
He now sported black hair with badly dyed red spikes. The body modification artist had giving him multiple piercings in his ear and eyebrows. And the clothes were black. There was the makeup. He was wearing more makeup than a geisha or a performer in a KISS tribute band. The worst part was the leash and wide, studded collar around his neck.
"Why do I have to be the whipping boy?"
Violetta always had an excuse.
"Because, you can't speak basic Japanese. Your mom offered you a crack at the hypno-course but you were too..." Violetta did not want to use the word lazy. "...too you to take it. We need a disguise that will not trip a local's bull crap alarm if you don't talk. At least I...I did not put one of those things up you ass. And I don't hit you...at least two much."
The look on Ronnie's face told her that he did not see the humor of the situation.
"It's only until we get out of town. It will heal up and I promise to burn the outfit. No one will know back home." Then Vee could not resist the temptation. "Unless you to wear this next Halloween. Remember your lines."
"Yes mistress." He spat out the words.
Ronnie was now the voice of sarcasm. He hated her now. Vee knew it. Maybe he would tell her to go to hell. It would make things easier if he hated her. If he did, she would not be upset at him...she knew that she deserved it.
Robert Rockwaller worked through the night to make sure that the twenty three Jeep Wranglers owned by the Lazy C Ranch, Inc. were ready to be used tomorrow. Every vehicle was given a bumper to bumper inspection, every fault was corrected, the vehicles were spotlessly cleaned, and stocked with the necessary gear required for working on the large ranch.
Robert was tired. However the young man looked for something else to do. The last thing he wanted was to fall asleep.
Seeing nothing else, Robert cleaned and put away all the tools. He cleaned the shop he had been using. The vehicles were all in their proper places. He had even processed the paperwork and had an order for the new parts he would need typed up for the boss signature.
Robert staggered into the small closet that doubled as his office and bathroom. He took another cold shower and crawled into the blankets praying that someone would have an emergency task for him at 2:36 in the morning.
Alas everyone...even the coyotes were asleep.
He was about to surrender to a couple tortured hours of sleep when he heard the door open.
It was the last person in the world he wanted to see.
Jennifer Possible Weiss was only fourteen, blossoming, and the source of the dreams that haunted him nightly. She was in her pajamas.
"What is it Miss Weiss?"
The young girl groaned in frustration.
"How many times do I have to ask you to call me Jen before it gets through your thick skull?"
Robert was more afraid of this girl than of her parents. He had to think of her as his boss. He had to think of her as anything but a warm blooded girl that fueled his now nightly wet dreams and nightmares.
I am not my father slash grandfather. I will not hit on young flesh. I cannot give a millimeter otherwise I will become rapist scum just like that old fuck.
Robert was cursed. His father not only passed on a physical build and the teal eyes that marked the Rockwaller clan. He had passed on his demons to a young man who hated everything his father-grandfather represented.
"All the Jeeps are ready for tomorrow. Tell your father that I have the part orders ready for his approval."
However, this did not obviously interest the young girl at this time.
"Why do you hate me Robert?"
Robert was shocked.
"I don't..."
"Liar. Otherwise you would not run away. I don't even see you at supper."
"I have been busy. I figured that it would be more convenient if I sleep here in the shop that..."
The young girl shook her head.
"Tell me. Am I too fat? Am I so fugly that you can't stand to see me?"
It was out in the open. At least what cause the young girl to invade the shop at three in the morning.
"What the hell does fugly mean?"
"Fucking ugly. As in melt the eyeballs ugly."
The young girl was now in tears.
"It's not you...it's me...okay Jen. You would not understand."
"Understand what?"
Robert ran through various scenarios. The truth was too difficult to share. So he started to lie.
"I...I am..."
Jennifer shook her head, "I know you are already lying. Just tell me the truth. Look me in the eye and tell me that you have a girl or guy somewhere. Tell me that I am too young to have you as a boyfriend. Just tell me the truth."
Robert wondered why things were so complicated when dealing with girls.
"Jen, you will soon make some guy deliriously happy. It's just won't be me. I have things...things that make me the wrong guy for you. I am not ready for a serious relationship, okay. I am too old...too many skeletons in my closet."
"Tell me."
Robert shook his head, "I cannot...not here or now."
"I hope you burn in hell Robert Daniel Xavier. I thought you were a man, but you are nothing but a scared little boy."
If it was a boy, the old Robert Rockwaller would have beaten the offender halfway to death.
However, the new Robert Daniel Xavier merely shrugged his shoulders and said, "Maybe I just am. Good night Miss Weiss. Please pass my message to your father. May I although suggest that you don't tell your father when we talked."
"I am fourteen...not stupid."
The young girl walked out and Robert breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully the young lady would get the hint and move on.
However he forgot the sage warning...There is nothing more dangerous that a woman scorned.
Warning: Sick Wrong Section Follows
Susan Groningen wanted the world to end right now in a fiery cataclysm. She wanted hellfire and brimstone to fall from the heavens. She wanted earthquakes and volcanos erupting. She wanted tsunamis. She wanted Ragnorok, Armageddon, and the end of days to come.
Three months ago, she was a normal girl...at least as normal as any girl could be with an ex-superhero as a father. Like nine year olds were won't to believe, she believed boys were yukky, with the possible exception of James Cormac the boy who she flirted with when her sister was not looking. She enjoyed slugging James in the arm.
However, that was her old life...the life she had before her twin sister and her were kidnapped and forced to become a predator's plaything.
"Yes, Stacey. I know...I must do whatever I need to live. I just hate everyone. I even hate myself. Promise me that when it's over that I can join you."
There was silence. There always was silence, but Susan heard Stacey's answer. Being twins meant that sometimes one knew exactly what her womb sister's thoughts were.
"Okay, I promise."
Her sister told her the predator was in the next room.
Susan stepped out of her kimono and looked at her imagine in the mirror. For the past week, she had been feeling icky. She looked down there and saw blood. She had heard about the monthlies, but this was the first time she experienced it. The last time she saw blood down there was when Stacy broke her cherry.
She prayed that the predator would find it disgusting and leave her alone for a while.
However her sister told her that the predator would still do what he wished done.
"You are right. Will we ever be free?"
Susan could see her sister shake her head.
"Not until I am dead too."
Susan smiled at the thought.
It did not matter that Susan killed her twin sister three days ago. Her sister still loved her and would not abandon her. Even though the master's henchmen had disposed of the body, Susan could still feel her touch and her breath on her skin.
He's coming, Susan.
As was Stacy's habit, she warned her still living sister.
Susan stood in the position and waited as the master entered the door.
"I see you are ready."
Susan walked up to the master and removed his robes as she had been instructed.
He sat down and Susan removed the thin cotton robe. She walked over to her master and kissed him as she had been painfully instructed.
"I noted some hesitation, Susan-chan. Hesitation killed more people than rash decisions. Remember that."
The master struck her in the face.
"I hate marring such beauty. I remember a young girl your age I had fifteen years ago. You should know her...she was a distant relative of yours. Soon you too will be beautiful."
The master smiled at a memory that Susan would only know from his words.
"Now show me what you learned from the video."
Susan wanted to wake up from this nightmare. She wanted to wake up in the bedroom she shared with her twin sister and have this all be just a dream. However, the pain had long since convinced her that this is not a nightmare.
The video showed a pale skin, raven hair ten year old with a fat belly. The girl's eyes were empty as she climbed unto the master's lap and set herself on him. It seemed the young girl was just staring off into the distance but five minutes later the master groaned. The girl did not move at all. She just sat there and stared off. The only sign was fluid leaking out of the young girl.
All the videos Susan was forced to watch was of that little girl. Now she know why he had chosen her. If the young girl and the twins were standing together, most folk would believe that they were triplets. The master said that the young girl was a distant relative, but Susan did not know of any relatives that were kidnapped. The only relative that disappeared was an aunt, but she was far too old to be that little girl.
The master's voice awoke Susan to her current predicament.
Susan closed her eyes as she was force to copy the little girl. She vowed to one day ensure that no other little girl will be hurt like the little girl or her sister was hurt.
Ninety minutes later, the master was asleep from his exertions. Susan hated feeling dirty and sticky down there, but she knew better than to bath without the master's permission. She looked around. Nearby was a stand with two swords, but from painful experience she knew the swords were decorative and would not kill the sleeping man. The only other weapon she had was her wits.
She remembered killing her sister by biting the neck and drinking out the blood. However, Susan knew that her sister wanted it. Her sister surrendered and let herself be killed. This man would fight the instant her teeth made contact. He would not die if she tried to use her teeth.
Susan crawled out from under the man's embrace. She wished that she was as strong as her father. She wished for the power to be able to crush steel and bone with her bare hands.
As instructed, she went to the gym for her mandated physical training.
She wailed at the heavy kicking bag. She knew that even here she was being watched. However, she had to develop her strength and technique.
She picked up the weights she used yesterday. Yesterday they were heavy. Now it was like picking up a piece of paper. Susan looked in the mirror and noted a faint glow.
It was then that she knew that she would inherit her father's strength.
God had answered her prayers. He had given her the strength she needed to escape. Susan walked down the row of weight and picked up the 50 kilogram dumbbell. It was hefty but not so heavy that she could not heft it with one hand. It has hefty enough to crush a skull.
Susan returned to the room where the master slept. She hated him. She wanted to see his brains dashed all over the white shoji panels. She wanted to repay him for the loss of her soul.
Susan picked up the weights and held it above her head. She carefully aimed and started to bring it down on the master's head. However, her muscles locked up and she was paralyzed, standing over the man she wanted to kill the most in the world.
Susan. You have killed before. You can do it.
However the harder she tried the more her muscles locked up.
The Master yawned in his sleep, rolled away, and stood up.
"Good work Susan-chan. I see that you are your father's daughter. I see you have inherited his abilities...great. However, you forget that I am the master and you are mine to serve me as I see fit."
Hirotaka pours sake into his cup and then took a sip.
"You may continue your motion."
The weight smashed through the floor and the floor below.
"Impressive. You are strong. However, you forget the hallmark of a true master. We never leave a stone unturned or a move unplanned. When I modified you and your sister, I hardwired something into your head...you can not harm...nor can you outlive your master. You can't even stand by and let another attempt to kill me. If I die, you die. Unless I give you to a new master, you are mine forever. Oh yes, I also fixed things so you cannot kill yourself. You may accompany me to the baths."
Susan did not need to hear her sister's warning. He would force his way into her again in the bath.
Susan hung her head in shame. Her sister died in an attempt to allow Susan a chance at escape. Now Susan know her sister's death was for nothing. Susan bit her lips to hide the tears.
"Bend over. Remember this...one you control a woman's womb...you control a woman. Now that you have bled, you are a woman."
He injected something into her abused bowels.
"Don't remove this. I have decided to let you enjoy the pleasure now that you have learned your place. Your spirit is not yet broken. A part of you still wishes to see me dead. However that part will not be tampered with. I have something else to fix."
The man hit a button on the remote and there was a buzz inside her body. A sensation that she never felt before ripped through her body. Susan grew weak and collapsed in a heap of pleasure.
"This device will make you mine, Susan-chan. With it you will break and be ready for your purpose in life."
Susan hated herself for feeling pleasure. She had failed. She failed to avenge her sister. She failed to kill the man who destroyed everything. She failed and now she was being rewarded.
Susan let loose an animal like scream.
"Good. You will soon learn that pleasure and pain are the same. You will find your body will betray your will. Now let me take my pleasure. First you have to beg me."
"Never."
However the buzz intensified. Soon Susan cried, pleaded, begged for this to end.
"Susan-chan, you have asked me to end it. However, you must pay a price...your womb is mine...your child shall be mine."
Susan was so far out of it that she agreed...she would have agreed to anything to end this.
The master smiled as he took her and filled her now ready womb with his fluid. Susan knew that she had been broken.
"It won't be today...but soon you will give me what I want."
"Yes master," Susan said as she surrendered to the darkness.
The last thing she saw was the image of her sister weeping at her defeat.
End of Sick Wrong Section
Police Sergeant Alexsei Alekseevich Olenkhna and Police Technical Sergeant Vladmir Sabin Kohl looked upon the young boy, Police Private Gregory Alekseevich Zhukov, as he finished reporting the results of the interrogation to their boss Police Major Timofey Posibeev.
Timofey was lying on the cot in the old doctor's cottage. A network of improvised machines was keeping the boss fed and breathing. All three men now know that the boss was the legendary Cossack mercenary.
After the report the boss was silent as he considered his options and his words.
"We are in a war. Ivan Akat'evich is dead. Our enemies will not rest until we or they enjoy the big sleep. I cannot go out in the field anymore. I cannot run...away."
Timofey closed his eyes.
"One lung is no good. However I still got this." Timofey took in a breath and tapped the side of his skull.
"I need you three to protect the women and kids. We are going to...war."
All three watchers nodded. There was no more arguments...the war already came to them.
Gregory cleared his throat, "We have to ship the merchandise tomorrow. The bodies have been disposed of. However, there will be more. Also I got a teletype from Police Headquarters in Moscow. They are sending a team from OMON here to apprehend one Iosef Ilyavich, a former KGB officer turned hit man. They will be here tomorrow."
"So we hand them Iosef's corpse."
Gregory suddenly went pale, "He did not die a pleasant death. I had to persuade him to talk."
Suddenly the room was dead silent as the assembled police officers translated the young boy's euphemisms.
"We hand them Iosef, after we burn all the bodies. Dig up and burn them all. No have Vladmir blow up bodies."
Gregory nodded, "Yes boss. It will be as you request."
The young boy gave the boss a slight bow and walk outside followed by the wildly grinning Vladmir Kohl, the resident explosives nut.
"Alexsei, help boy. Get drunk. Hand him off to Anastasia Radikevna and let her know that Gregory needs her."
Alexsei nodded.
"He's alone all his life. He deserves better even if it's one night."
Timofey hated feeling so weak and helpless. He hated seeing the tears in his wife's eyes. He hated himself for ruining everything. He could not protect his family. He could not protect those who depended on him. He was now trapped in a war where the enemy had everything and all he had were his demons.
A warm body lay down next to him.
"Don't say a word honey. We will not let them force us out of our home."
Tim Possible wanted to tell his wife that things would work out. However, she was the one with the faith. He was the one with the doubts. He wanted to tell her to leave this place. He wanted to tell her to take Svetlana and flee to Middleton. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry for messing everything up.
However, he could not figure out what to say and even if he did, he did not have the breath to say it. The few words he spoke earlier taxed his only lung.
He fell into the darkness wondering if things would ever be right again.
Edward Hertzberg looked on as a young Russian police private met them. Despite wearing a police major's uniform, there was something that told the ex-US Navy SEAL that the young man will not be easy to handle.
Something about the private unnerved him. Hertzberg did not know what until he got a good look at the young private's eyes.
This one is a killer.
In the wild, predators instinctively recognize one another. Likewise on the battlefield.
Everyone hand their trigger fingers ready.
"Private, where is your commander?"
"The man you seek is dead. Iosef Ilyavich resisted arrest. I killed him."
It was the truth, but it was not the whole truth.
"I need to speak to your commander. Where is he?"
"He told me to tell you the news and hand over the remains."
"Iosef was wanted alive..."
"Iosef and his goons killed one of my friends and wounded my commander. He shot at women and children." The young man whistled and another police officer came with a body bag. "Inside are the remains of Iosef Ilyavich and the paperwork. If you want, I have a dozen more where that came from."
"I still need to speak to him."
The young man called in his sergeant. Two minutes later, there was an answer.
"The major was gravely injured. The doctor will allow only one visitor, no exceptions. Major, please follow me."
Ed commanded his men to stand down and secure the cargo. However, his men were gearing up for trouble. Something was terribly wrong and Hertzberg did not know what.
At least he did not know what until he passed the first berm. There was a police officer with a machine gun trained on the helicopter.
"Sorry major, our pal's buddies were all wearing police uniforms. We are taking no chances."
Ed suddenly felt the cold muzzle of a pistol poking him in the ribs. The pistol was in the hand of the young kid and the muzzle was dangerously steady. From the look in the eyes, all these men were experienced killers. A pair of hand expertly frisked him even dispassionately thumping him in the balls to make sure he did not hide anything.
"As long as you behave, we will be good hosts. If not, I hope you confessed your sins to the priest because your next job will be bear bait. If you are legitimate, we apologize, but we had troubles."
It took five minutes before Ed saw the village. There were a lot of bullet holes in the walls and shattered windows. The village looked like an urban combat live fire training center. The former Navy SEAL walked to the indicated door.
The private holstered his pistol and looked at the unwanted guest.
"I am holstering my pistol now. Don't think of anything funny because our doctor will vent your brains with shotgun if you do."
The young boy knocked on the door, "Major Posibeev, it's Major..."
"...Bodrianko." Ed lied.
The door was opened and the old doctor came out.
"Bodrianko, you have five minutes. My patient was hit in the lungs and can't speak much. Yes or no questions only...no long explanations."
Ed nodded and entered the door.
Inside was male in his late twenties or early thirties. This apparently was the Major Posibeev that commanded this village. Ed's problem was this major look exactly like a young Global Justice agent twelve years ago on a snatch in Serbia.
"Tim Possible?"
The ways the eyes twitched told Ed that his memory was dead on. The eyes were scared like a crab without its shell.
Suddenly he felt the muzzle of a shotgun pointed at his temple.
"Timofey...He is no Russian police major."
It was midnight when the pair found a relatively safe place to rest.
One would think that a pair of young, sexually active teen would head in to the nearest inn, rent a room, and run up a hefty room service tab. In fantasyland, maybe...but in the real world, inns, even hostels required identification or at least a credit card number.
So the pair went into the warehouses and found a place hidden among the pallets of produce. Sleeping on a 1.25 by 1.25-meter pallet of eggplants was not exactly romantic, but it was better than sleeping on cold earth.
In Nara, the government had long since replace traditional park benches with tubular stainless steel pipes that would cause any who fell asleep on it to roll right off. Also hanging out with the homeless would not work. Vee had seen the local police chase off anyone who looked like a vagrant and the few she did see was in their sixties. Unlike inner city America, there were no ranks of teenage runaways living on the streets.
Worse, there was a new trend of homeless people being hunted down, assaulted, and in some cases killed. To hide the numbers, the police have been ruling the deaths accidents and suicides, but it was common knowledge. Even armed, the teens could not risk hiding out in the parks.
Twice the pair ran into violent gangs of teens seeking sport. One was defused by Vee's quick knockout of the leader. However, the other one required the display of a pistol.
Now the local television anchors were interviewing the teens who portrayed themselves as innocent. The use of a pistol in a robbery was being covered like the DC Sniper case with its own theme music, graphics, and breathless anchors decrying the increase in kireru or the snapping of youths. The local police were promising results and were raising the ante.
What Vee hated the worse was the fact that she was now wanted for a robbery she did not commit.
The police were raiding nightclubs, hotels, everywhere one would think to find the pair. Even the capsule hotels were being watched. So they were stuck sleeping in a warehouse. Ronnie was snoring while Vee was on watch contemplating what would happen.
Vee knew from experience that warehouses open early for receiving and that they would have to be out of here by two in the morning. Too tired to sleep and too wired to relax, the young girl climbed out of the pallet size box of eggplants and started to scrounge the warehouse for anything she could use.
There was not much. The Japanese were obsessive about order and there was not much out of place that Vee could steal without someone missing it in the morning.
Vee examined the Casio G-Shock clone on her wrist. It would be half an hour before she would have to wake up her boyfriend. Vee walked into the locker rooms. Hanging in the lockers were uniforms, two of which she liberated and carefully placed in her backpack.
Vee, you are running out of time, ideas, and excuses.
Violetta hated being alone with her thoughts. With Ronnie awake, he could kept her in a pleasant mood. However, today he was not very happy and Vee knew that she could not blame him. Having to undergo the piercings was not pleasant. Having to act like a bitch was not pleasant. Being hit on by a fag...if she did not command him to grovel at her temple...Ronnie would have violently proved his sexual orientation.
Soon it would be time for the pair to assume another identity.
Violetta went to the computer and lit it up. She googled for an English language street map of Nara and the surrounding area, but the best she could find was a tourist site seeing map. Reluctantly she printed it out for lack of a better alternative. Just as she shut down the computer, she head the sound of a door being opened.
Oh crap...I forgot, the managers here play a game of who can work the longest hours.
Violetta ducked under the desk and readied her pistols.
Crap...sunglasses. If they see my eyes...
However, the lights were not turned on.
Violetta peeked over the lip of the observation window. These were not workers. They were too well dressed. They were armed.
Suddenly there was a shout and two shots.
Violetta was breathing heavily.
Ronnie...they...
Violetta stood up and aimed. She squeezed the trigger twice.
She missed and the walls around her were sporting bullet holes. Vee dropped and rolled toward the door.
She could feel the vibrations as someone ran up the stairs. She raised her pistol towards the door. As the door opened, she pulled the trigger. The figure at the door dropped down straight to the floor.
She had messed up. She had shot the wrong man.
Ronnie was on the ground bleeding to death.
It's all your fault. If you remembered what Tita Lori taught you about identifying your target before you pulled the trigger, Ronnie would still be alive.
Vee knew that she killed Ronald Stoppable Possible. She looked at the gun and wanted to us it on herself. She could not. Outside were at least three men who were armed and shot at her.
Vee held back her tears. Soon she knew that she would pay for her crime. Vee stepped out the office and started shooting. She was singing some insane tune at the top of her lungs as she sought her own salvation...her own damnation.
