After reading at-kb's flattering review for Of Blood and Oil, I took a look at my total word count at and noticed that once the chapters Bloodshed and Ghost in the Machine act 2 are posted, I'll surge over ninety thousand for sure. Not all of those words are mine, though, because I started a little running joke.

Like most people who have read gundam fan fictions, I jumped into GT and QS's SnK. I loved it so much, I slept only two hours a night in the week I absorbed it, because it was so awesome. But near the end, I grew tired of that one convention they adopted, validating the themes of their chapters with lyrics from pop songs.

To concisely wrap up this story, I got the funny idea of parodying them by using R.E.M or R.E.M not only to reaffirm whatever I was trying to say, but to make a cryptic statement about doing such things.

I'm sure the few people that ever read this stuff this summer never figured that out, and probably just assumed I was obsessed with the band from Athens, Georgia. Well, in tribute to the Olympians in Athens, I'll revive the practice one last time.

"...Irony is the shackles of youth."

-R.E.M, What's the Frequency, Kenneth?

Medillin, Columbia

Tanya: "Can you help me?"

Doctor: "What makes you think I can help you?"

Tanya: "Because you're a psychotherapist, you're obligated to help, right?"

Doctor: "Is it because I'm a psychotherapist that I'm obligated to help you?"

Tanya: "I'm confused."

Doctor: "Earlier you said that because I'm a psychotherapist, I'm obligated to help you."

Tanya: "Don't make fun of me."

Doctor: "Don't tell me what to do. I'm the psychiatrist here! Maybe your plans have something to do with this."

Tanya: "I want to marry a man like Heero, start a new life."

Doctor: "What makes you believe you want to marry?"

Tanya: "Being a bride has been a dream of mine."

Doctor: "Is it because of your life that you are going through this?"

Tanya: "What do you mean? It's a common dream to meet a guy like Heero."

Doctor: "Are you sure of that?"

Tanya: "My god! He's perfect!"

Doctor: "You seem sure. Let's move on."

Tanya: "I want to marry Heero, definitely."

Doctor: "Why do you say you want to marry?"

Tanya: "It would be perfect for me to be his bride."

Doctor: "What makes you believe that?"

Tanya: "Because he's so kind and loving."

Doctor: "Earlier you said you'd like to marry?"

Tanya: "That would be proper."

Doctor: "Is that the reason you have come to me?"

Tanya: "I come because I have problems."

Doctor: "Does it bother you that you have problems?"

Tanya: "Yes Sir. I want those problems away."

Doctor: "Maybe your plans have something to do with this."

Tanya: "My plans aren't compatible with my problems."

Doctor: "Are you sure that your plans are not compatible with your problems?"

Tanya: "If I want to be happy."

Doctor: "How does it feel to want?"

Tanya: "Let me spell it out for you: I want to be in a relationship with Heero."

Doctor: "Why should you get to be in this relationship?"

Tanya: "I need him."

Doctor: "You mentioned that you would like to marry him?"

Tanya: "God, Yes! He'd be the perfect husband!"

Doctor: Tell me something about your family.

Tanya: "My father was a mounted cop in Brooklyn, and my mom taught fitness."

Doctor: "You seem to dwell on your family."

Tanya: "I was ripped from them, and I'd love to go home again."

Doctor: "Do you really think you would love to go home?"

Tanya: "They were great parents, though I didn't appreciate that then."

Doctor: "Can you elaborate on that?"

Tanya: "I loved all classes but gym. Mom taught it, and the recognition was embarrassing."

Doctor: "I would appreciate it if you would tell me about your relationship with all classes."

Tanya: "OK, um. I loved art most of all. I kept a scrapbook I loaded with doodles. I told you about gym. Math was fun when it related to life, you know? History didn't seem relevant, but the quotes were interesting."

Doctor: "What made you love art?"

Tanya: "We were actually told to create beauty! Everything should be like that!"

Doctor: "Perhaps you could continue."

Tanya: "New York is an ugly city. So many ugly things happen, and we accept that as normal. I loved being encouraged to change that."

Doctor: "When did you first know you wanted to change that?"

Tanya: "As long as I can remember. We just lived practically, picking up on work, not caring about beauty at all."

Doctor: "Is it because of the war that you went through this?"

Tanya: "I blame the war for most of it, and everyone's focus on the bottom line."

Doctor: "Please continue."

Tanya: "I liked Treize and my art teacher for rebelling from this. They are my heroes."

Doctor: "Talk about your teacher."

Tanya: "OK. His name was David Castro. He talked about Italy and how they appreciated art. We spent a lot of one-on-one time sculpting. He also showed me published scrapbooks. That was cool."

Doctor: "Go on, don't be afraid."

Tanya: "People started saying maybe something was going on between us. One kid started singing that Police song about the teacher and the student, you know?"

Doctor: "I'm afraid I don't know. So, were you annoyed when your grades improved?"

Tanya: "You're perceptive! That worsened the problem, and the school investigated."

Doctor: "Was the fact that the school investigated the real problem?"

Tanya: "I was afraid they believed we were having an affair, yes."

Doctor: "Why do you say you were afraid?"

Tanya: "Secretly, I did think he was cute, in his own way, but you see, we drew nudes, and showed each other drawings. People could take that the wrong way."

Doctor: "Does the fact that they could see it the wrong way explain anything else?"

Tanya: "I don't think we were doing anything wrong. Just art."

Doctor: "What make you believe it was proper?"

Tanya: "Because beauty is one of the good things in life. It should be shared."

Doctor: "Are you sure beauty is one of the good things in life. That it should be shared?"

Tanya: "I believe it with all my heart."

Doctor: "How do you reconcile the people you hang around with?"

Tanya: "I explained all these points with them, and explained who I was. They caught on, and the issue was dropped."

Doctor: "Just to make sure, we're still talking about school?"

Tanya: "Without art class, I wouldn't have been interested in school."

Doctor: "Have you been frightened by school?"

Tanya: "Besides that incident, school didn't cause anxiety."

Doctor: "So that isn't the reason you came to me?"

Tanya: "I came over a more current dilemma."

Doctor: "Earlier you said you have problems?"

Tanya: "That's right."

Doctor: "Possibly any hobbies you have are related to this."

Tanya: "I like shopping, watching soaps, and reading jokes during the day."

Doctor: "Have you been scared of that?"

Tanya: "Hell no!"

Doctor: "Please, watch you tongue!"

Tanya: "Sorry."

Doctor: "I need a little more detail please."

Tanya: "I'm sorry for cursing at you."

Doctor: "You mentioned that you would like to be happy?"

Tanya: "Yes. I think I could be happy with Heero."

Doctor: "Are you happy with him often?"

Tanya: "Sometimes, when I'm with Heero, he'll be so kind and thoughtful, I wonder if..."

Doctor: "What happens when you're that happy?"

Tanya: "I usually become so happy, I make a fool of myself."

Doctor: "Does that mean you don't really enjoy being happy?"

Tanya: "I honestly don't try to sabotage my happiness, but that can happen."

Doctor: "We're being too brief, would you please give me details?"

Tanya: "Of course. I forgot to make a Thanksgiving dinner for him, and cried over it, because I try so hard to please him. Here I was crying my eyes out over a dinner, and he does everything to console me! I almost pushed him over the brink right there!"

Doctor: "Do you regret what happened?"

Tanya: "I wish I could have toned down my gratitude enough not to freak him out."

Doctor: "Is it because of your sex life that you are going through all this?"

Tanya: "Good question. I don't think he's ready yet, and it's kind of frustrating."

Doctor: "Are you sure about that?"

Tanya: "I think so. He always sleeps alone, and I'm right there in the other room. He never takes anyone in, so there isn't anyone else, I think."

Doctor: "Do you really think you would like to be in this relationship?"

Tanya: "Like I said, I want to marry him, doc."

Doctor: "Time's up for today. I believe we're making progress."

Tanya: "Thank you, and goodbye."

Tanya Lopez briskly left the doc's office, feeling purged of ugliness. She felt a bounce in her step while she skipped in her heeled sandals. She noticed colors seemed brighter that morning, without the normal phosphorescent lighting washing everything in an ugly cadaverous white.

She felt like a journey into the foreign quarter, her favorite district to shop in. She usually considered the expensive shops worth the pleasant ambiance. Clerks and inventory people usually looked younger and more polite over there than where most Columbians stayed. They dressed better, too.

She waited at the bus stop with a troupe of Norteamericanos in business suits and stylish trenches, while they phoned distant places and maybe stole chances to smoke. For most of them, the old eighties "power look" was back, but they allowed for transient pieces of modernity in their wear. They kept to themselves, not really bothering her the way she expected a pack of men to, until the bus arrived, with Bartista soldiers in olive suits arrived.

They then shifted around nervously. Some speed-dialed lawyers in the United States or Switzerland or wherever they came from, and text messaged prepared PDF files out. Some braved using camera phones to demonstrate proof-of-capture.

The soldados herded everyone in, and drove the bus to the secret police station, a multi-story condominium very near the foreigner destination.

Tanya sat beside a fidgeting blanco in raybans. He clumsily lit a smoke under the suspicious eyes of the troops, uncaring to everyone's objections. They let him light up without violence, and surprisingly, didn't confiscate the phones. She coughed at the putrid nicotine fumes, though she tried muffling her noise.

When the bus stopped, all passengers filed out and assembled in a row just outside the foreign compound.

A General with four stars on his chest marched in, hands behind his back.

"Buenos dias, all you important people! I'm the man those cruise missiles tried to kill! My name is Mordred Bartista, and I believe some of you have erred badly in choosing to mark targets for the Sanc Kingdom. I know how it goes," he shrugged, "you aren't formally within their security apparatus, but they offer you something greedy men like yourselves can't refuse; money for information. You may be floaters, informants, whatever the kids call it these days, but you're still marking targets for assassination. Now you westerners," he sloppily motioned his hand at them, "seem to think it's all fun and games if you blow things up at thirty-thousand feet, and it's not really war, just a punitive slap that doesn't hurt anyone, but let me tell you; you are conducting acts of war, yet you aren't soldiers. According to the Geneva Convention, that makes you spies. He gently gestured for everyone to calm down before continuing.

"Hold on. You misunderstand. I'm not accusing any of you specifically of this crime, and I do believe in due process, so I'll tell you what we're going to do. I'll send you into the compound for foreigners, and lock the gates until this war is over. Now, you can file an appeal, and if your case is exceptional, I can grant any one of you an exception, and you can live in Medillin like an indigenous Columbian. Any questions?"

Tanya meekly lifted her hand.

"I have a question."

Bartista raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, Senor-"

"Senorita Lopez, Sir. I'm a resident of Medillin, have been for a long time, and was just going into the foreign quarter to by some fashionable clothing."

The Don smiled boyishly, and critiqued the woman.

"Well, it would be criminal of me to deprive such a stellar body the grandest fashions, so allow me to dispatch one of my female bodyguards to shop with you."

He touched the intercom on the wall, and patched through a message.

"Sonya, would you please escort Senorita Lopez to all the fine clothing stores in town?"

"Right away, Sir."

"Thus the highest form of generalship is to

balk the enemy's plans; the next best is to prevent

the junction of the enemy's forces; the next in

order is to attack the enemy's army in the field;

and the worst policy of all is to besiege walled cities."

-Sun Tzu

The cruise missile attack everyone talks about occurred hours after the power was restored in town. A twin-screwed Oz submarine, once at the disposal of the Lightning Baron, launched twelve turbojet-propelled missiles from the vertical launch tubes, and four from the torpedo tubes, all within one minute, and all while the sub lay submerged. All sixteen compromised propellant and warhead weight to yield added electronic countermeasures necessary for baffling air defense, but the shorter legs and duller teeth didn't compromise the mission one bit.

They brushed over the pacific waves, elevated a few feet above the beaches, and cindered sixteen coastal villas belonging to you-know-who. Beneath the waves, the vertical tubes filled with seawater, while the torpedo tubes reloaded with modified anti-ship missiles. These waited for the ship's entire complement of ballistic missiles to launch first. The particle broadcasts of the first salvo still baffled defenders when these hypersonic telephone poles arced the reentry "wave course," and splintered apart into hundreds of guided sub munitions, all directed by a network of foolproof radio beacons, less vulnerable to jamming than GPS.

Luckily, the ballistic attack outraced Bartista's ABM network, making interception close to impossible. All twenty-four missiles dispensed thirty odd decoy balloons to mask the 400 hundred two-ton bombs. 4,160 guided bombs blanketed even the most insignificant military target; many to be intercepted by crack gunners, others failed to do anything of value, unreliable Republica intelligence rendered others useless, some resilient targets held up, and some bombs just plain missed. Nevertheless, the attacks were to La Violencia shock and awe as advertised.

Countryside sentry posts, as marked by Heero Yuy, disappeared. Known outposts exploded. All known Bartista real estate faced redundant pounding. Practically the Don's entire war machine bared the scares of bomb damage. After those four anti-ship missiles buried holes in the Cancer pins along the coast, the sub had all but cleared the way for the Republic's success.

"Thus it is that in war the victorious strategist

only seeks battle after the victory has been won,

whereas he who is destined to defeat first fights

and afterwards looks for victory."

-Sun Tzu

Juan Caballero, General of the Army, learned of the pummeling shortly after holding back the enemy's first real offensive thrust since the capture of Gemini's pilot. The couter-offensive had started as either a bungled ambush or a meeting engagement with an unusually large light infantry force of Bartista regulars. Soon, Serpents melted out of the jungle, and artillery couldn't contain their frontal assault. The men doggedly humped it to their firebase pillboxes, and slowly recouped with help from fixed turrets and automated LEO immobile-dolls.

Juan observed that the immobile-dolls, so called because cables fixed them to computing done from the rear, only operated from the waist up.

He'd personally worked hard to train up their NCO corp.

"Master Guns, radio all the air support you can, or we'll loose the front!" Juan jogged over even as the Master Gunnery Sergeant requested high priority over all airborne units.

"Aries ETA under a minute Sir, now please allow me to direct artillery!"

Caballero dropped into his chair in the field bunker, and untangled himself from all the wiring. Ground level electronic sentries revealed a jagged string of crouched or prone Serpents giving fire support for a crawling mass of ragged sappers, a brave lot capriciously thrown together as a stopgap measure.

Stopgap they may be, but the serpents supported enough to push them close, and after an apparent resumption of judgment, obscure the enemy's senses with lobbed crackers and smoke.

Burrowing charges detonated, clearing earthen and sandbag barriers, and scattering the trench line.

Crack submachine gunners swept the trenches with their lethal brooms, after initially chunking grenades or satchels. It looked like the line might fall, but a fair dose of heavy machine guns, intense artillery support, and Claymore mines placed by competent non-comms like Master Guns, held the line.

It turned out the Serpents couldn't dislodge the immobile-doll Leos, the units flawlessly aiming dobber guns at the center of mass. After a spirited advance, the enemy ordered a withdrawal.

Heero Yuy distractedly noted the muffled chaos outside, as he diligently regarded every inch of Miss Relena's exposed torso.

"I found it. They keep the implant in a place they've operated before, under your augmented left breast." She made a noncommittal grunt, idly fondling loose strands of hair.

"I'm surgically skilled enough to remove it, when the time comes," said Heero, "but first you'll need to swap this phone with a bosses one in the brothel."

"Relena" tensed enough for Heero to feel it through his fingertips.

"This is more dangerous than anything I've asked you to do yet, but if you're patient enough to let the opportunity present itself, I see no reason why you should seem suspicious.

She raised herself on her elbows.

"Let me review your plan: I'm supposed to ask for a cellular phone, because, according to the legend you want me spilling to them, you're so in to me, you want to contact me all the time via the telephone."

Heero nodded.

"Right, because I'm such a player, I want you coming on my command, and/or I just want to talk dirty to you."

She looked skeptical.

"What, no john has ever been interested in phoning girls before?"

She relented.

"I'll try it. So this is a digital phone, Bluetooth enabled, like the others, and carries a virus inside. Alright, so when do I go back?"

Heero reclined beside her.

"You can get some sleep first- don't worry, I won't bother you."

I asked my dog what he thought the best in man
He said, "The love you dispense to me twice daily from a can."
I said, "Why do you think my question funny?
And where would you be without my money?"
I said, "There may be some quality in us you must treasure."
"It's despair," he said, "of which your money is the measure."

Walk like a dog
Like anybody can
Walk like a dog
Like anybody can

"What about our politics, philosophy, our history?"
He said, "If there is something admirable in these it is a mystery."
"But there must be something in our system tell me at your leisure."
"It's despair," he said, "of which your borders are the measure."

Walk like a dog
Talk like a man
Walk like a dog
Like anybody can

Walk like a dog
Talk like a man
Walk like a dog
Like anybody can

"What about technology, computers, nuclear fission?"
"I'm terrified of radiation, hate the television."
I said, "There must be something in our scientific treasure."
"It's despair," he said, "of which your weapons are the measure."

"Feed me, you can beat me. I will love you till I die.
But don't ask for admiration and don't ever ask me why."
I said, "Why wait till now to demonstrate displeasure?"
"It's despair," he said, "of which my silence was the measure."

Walk like a dog
Talk like a man
Walk like a dog
Like anybody can

Walk like a dog
Talk like a man
Walk like a dog
Like anybody can

-Sting, Conversation With A Dog. Now those are some real song lyrics!

Heero woke up still feeling tired late in the afternoon. She was gone, he noticed, something he fully expected. He sluggishly dragged his secret project from the closet, and set to work on it.

He cracked open the bomb case, a steel mk82 shell purchased locally from a scrap yard. Odd how most people assume weapons sold as scrap will be beaten into plow sheers, but why should that be? A plumbing supply store sold him all the copper coil he needed, the Home Depot sold him all the concrete sacks he asked for, and the Radio Shack catalogue sold him the high voltage capacitor bank. The capacitor and copper wiring aren't normal features in bombs, for conventional bombs don't require large magnetic fields. So what type of bomb does depend on this?

He carefully molded the concrete, a nonconductive stabilizing material, around all the added electronic components, so they'll survive the first few microseconds of the blast. He used some of his last fast-burning composition three to power the device. Steel panels to the opposing walls of the plastic explosive served as the "explosive lens" for throwing the slow-burning charge, the bigger explosive, in the right direction, toward the peaked electromagnetic field.

Heero chose to use only one timer to set the timeline for all the complex actions his bomb would take. He decided the internal clock of an early Pentium processor could do the task, and fashioned himself programming the synchronized actions to run as smoothly as normal desktop operations. The thought of reliability beyond a watchmaker's perfection made him smile.

He carefully checked and rechecked measurements to be certain the wiring to all three were equidistant, so current would reach all three that the same time. Satisfied, he repacked the bomb case, and put it away.

Time to call the informant.

She was born Janice, but came to accept being called Relena by all the other girls. Dorothy, who wasn't really Dorothy, either, asked if they'd had an okay time. Janice, who forced herself to be Relena, freely described most details of what happened in the carriage ride and at the Chinese restaurant, but spun the likely story about the apartment. That last part was usually the general picture from their "escort dates," so she understandably didn't have much to say about it, and one could reason Dorothy wouldn't want to hear much about it. However, she did have some questions.

"He seems to really get a kick out of you, spoiling you, always coming back. Is he nice?"
This line of questioning wasn't unusual. All the girls have regulars come in at some point in their careers.

"Yeah, he's a nice guy for a john. He almost treats me like a regular girlfriend."

Relena didn't see what was funny, but Dorothy looked amused.

"What? He is nice. He isn't into anything weird, if that's what you're thinking."

Dorothy shook her head.

"Okay, girlfriend, I overheard that jazz about the cellular phone. What's that about?"

Relena gulped, wiped her palms on her skirt.

"He just asked for me to get a phone, so he can call me in from now on."

Dorothy's expression turned sour.

"I knew it! He's so interested in the Relena fantasy, that's all he wanted from us- and here I was this morning, practically falling into his lap! Probably halfway scared him off!"

She stormed off, muttering about how stupid she was. Relena sighed, and some other girls murmured some comments, followed by giggling.

"Oh boy, I'm sure it was no big deal." Relena tried passing time in the exercise gym, focusing on the treadmill. She worked out her nervous instincts with a high incline full run, while her eyes focused on the television set above, showing a widely syndicated sitcom from a few decades ago. The material seemed fresh to her, and she felt in high spirits when she disrobed in the shower. After exploiting all the massaging functions, Relena, soon to be Janice again, dressed in a dark pantsuit that the real Relena might wear in a formal setting. Most johns didn't appreciate the professional Relena Darlian look, almost to a man preferring the Queen Relena garb, but Heero seemed truly different. He seemed to genuinely prefer strong and intelligent women.

He once voiced his disgust at skyscraping heels, and said long nails make him cringe, so she outfitted her feet with white loafers, and went out to the apartment, but first, she gave a boss Heero's fee.

"He wanted me right back for the evening. Ciao!"

Heero barraged her with questions about what happened between her and the co-workers, and Dorothy came up. Heero thought this through, and turned a cunning smile.

"Why don't you call her and let her know I have no hard feelings?"

"Huh? What good will that do?"

"Invite her up," he exitedly dug into a safe, and removed a thick envelope of money, "Take this over, and place an order for both of you for the next week. You'll need to bring over outfits and things for the stay over."

The Relena clone looked confused, and a little hurt.

"But why? How is this part of your plan?"

Heero sensed she suspected a betrayal, so tried to set her straight.

"If I'm going to get you out, I might as well bring her along, too. Don't tell me it's unusual for two girls to be picked up by the same client! I figure they won't bother looking for either one of you if you're paid up for a week."

Her eyes indicated relief, but she looked skeptical.

"I'm not sure she'd want to come a long."

Heero found his hands on her shoulders.

"That doesn't matter, because she'll get to choose to come back later if she wants. Remember that most people don't like shackles, but some actually go for that. Now, take this money, and pick up a girl for me.

Since this is a Thanksgiving story, do I have anything to be thankful for? Yes, in fact, I'm thankful that spoons guy with the rightwing website didn't review my writing. Why do I bring this up? Well, I waited a year to buy Teeth of the Tiger on paperback, and maybe a quarter way through the book, I thought "this is kind of lame. Did others think it's this lame?" So I googled "What's good about Teeth of the Tiger?" The Spoons review came up top, and I thought he thought exactly what I thought about it. (Does this sentence need reworked?)

I read reviews from Amazon, and those readers also thought the book sucked, but for wildly different reasons. I soon discovered these reviewers were complete crackpots- they were angry Clancy books were biased against bad guys!

It appears the world is full of softheaded people that think its wrong to paint, say, Pope assassination plotters, as morally corrupt. Trust me, if you're trying to kill John Paul the second, you are evil, and that is an absolute. Call me bigoted, but if right and wrong don't exist, the criminal justice system should be disbanded.

That reminds me: I'm glad most of us have enough sense to realize we should punish bad behavior, and not worry about what they might think about us.

"Before you consider buying this book, there are a few things you should know about it: First of all, it sucks." -"Spoons Book Club" September 07, 2003

I can't be fair. It wasn't time to retire Jack Ryan. He still had another term as President to fulfill. Robby is just killed off with little explanation, something fans of the Mississippi pilot don't deserve. That turd Kealty runs the country, and we don't know how he recouped his reputation. All this is bad enough, but what makes it worse is that this follows a book that was really just a rehash of Day of The Jackal with the real life Operation Mincemeat stirred in. I liked Red Rabbit anyway, but I did wait for that one to show in the library. Enough of this dragging in the dirt, I'll just write something better.

Columbia

The round trip only took a few minutes, and before the landlord could stop thinking about the blond's exit, she came back with another piquant blond, far more dangerous looking than the first. They walked arm-in-arm to that young punk's room, just as he expected, and sealed the door. Got to up that player's rent.

Tactical lesson: It is no hassle at all to get a richly paid prostitute in a compromising position. Without any exertion, Heero cleanly stabbed a syringe full of sedatives into Dorothy's rump, and after a minute of waiting, the girl went completely limp.

"So what now?" Asked Relena- no- Janice, admonishing Heero with her tone. "And were you enjoying yourself there?" To that, he offered an exaggerated shrug.

"I used to say there is nothing wrong with acting on your emotions, but no, I wasn't. This is my job. As for the first question, I'll call Tanya, and have her bring the car."

"Who's Tanya?"

"My maid. She takes care of my house in the suburbs."

"Is she attractive?"

"Are you jealous?"

"Is she?"

"She's not a one."

"How much higher than a one?"

"A quarter to nine, but what does that matter?"

"That's what I'd like to know, what does that matter?"

"Do you have more than a professional interest in me, Relena?"

"Janice, that's the name I was born with."

"Do you find that fitting, being Janus-faced toward your employers?"

"So, you know who my namesake is?"

"Strange I should remember that. Dr. J used to speak of a secret society by that name..."

"Excuse me?"

"Pardon me. That comes from way back in my past."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, but isn't this strange how we're having this free association thing going on?"

"Yeah! This is weirding me out. You were going to make that phone call to your sweetie?"

Heero did a double take.

"Right, you're talking about the maid that is a nine-and-three-quarters. I'll call Tanya right away... unless she's Tonya right now."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He carried the phone into the bathroom, and came out a minute later.

"I could curse myself for not paying more attention, but Bartista has been rounding up people since this morning. Tanya can get through, because she has one of the Don's personal guards escorting her. Long story. But it will be difficult to explain the three of us together. Could you pretend to be a good friend of Tanya's on sight?"

If she could pretend her clients were studs, she could pretend anything...

"Sure, anything for you honey, because you're so strong and handsome, I'd do anything for you, for enough money-"

"That's enough, I get the picture. Miss Dorothy here is wasted, that shouldn't be a stretch. And I, of course, am the man around house. I guess on second inspection, it isn't so strange that one guy and several girls are staying at the same house, not in this town."

Heero passed the time playing doctor with a scalpel and Dorothy. In the time and effort it takes to perform a biopsy, the beacon was out. He repeated the procedure with Janice.

"I'll just leave these to transmit on the bed, where they'll be expecting them," he said.

Heero kept the Toyota Tercel in the garage for Tanya's use, though he instructed her to normally use public transportation. After a long wait, it showed up, without the pesky Bartista guard inside.

"I'll take your things to the car. Wait here until Tanya can help you move Dorothy."

Yuy handled the twin luggage bags of Dorothy and Janice's things, and sinuously walked them out with nil strain. Moments later, Tanya, a ten in Janice's book, wrapped one of Dorothy's lifeless limbs under one strapless shoulder.

"Hey, Tanya. You're cute. Where do you shop?"

The maid, dressed in a lacquered satin-seamed ebony bodysuit and ankle-length skirt, blushed.

"Thanks, you're cute, too. I bought this in the foreign quarter. So, are you Heero's, um, girl?" The maid glanced down mournfully. Janice tried comforting her.

"Not at all. Heero's helping the other girl and me get out of the country. We didn't come to Columbia by choice," she droned dully.

"I'm totally sorry," replied Tonya, "I entered town the same way. I feel ill," she held her stomach in emphasis. They stared downcast a beat, until Heero urged them to move.

Tonya had the wheel, Heero in the right passenger seat, and the two clones in the back. Tonya carefully watched traffic, and merged into the street. Congestion was heavier than normal, and paramilitary presence was entirely visible.

The suburban house wasn't anywhere of interest to the paramilitary band, and the Tercel passed through the checkpoints without any trouble. Tonya pulled the Toyota into the garage, and deeply exhaled. Janice also took the occasion to purge her air supply.

"Ladies, this is the private house in a very quite neighborhood, where nothing will bother us until we abandon this town. I must caution you not to leave the house until I say, and yes, we'll have to keep Dorothy in bondage until we're out of the country."

Heero left the trio alone while he logged into the net in his room. Open source news services detailed some of the story concerning the chaos around him, and his own experiences helped fill in the blanks. Somalia and Turkey seemed in the green, though some news from Bremen surprised him. Lady Une shot in a duel? He couldn't wrap his head around that one, nor could he accept the official explanation for the cause. He knew a little of the historic Hapsburgs, but didn't know how the Austrian family fit into the modern day. He didn't even know there was a Duchess Wellington, though he did vaguely remember a Duke Wellington standing up to Emperor Napoleon. What was the aphorism? Yes, Operation M met its Waterloo in Siberia.

Well said.

He checked on the phone bugging business. Bartista's men, and affiliates like the men in Janice's brothel, carry Nokia digital cellular phones with Symbian operating systems. The phone Janice left around her co-workers contained a malicious worm ready and willing to propagate into all the phones the user calls. Heero's plan for the worm requires that everyone dialed by the phone will unwittingly accept a file posing as an update patch. That way, the worm will successfully infiltrate most phones, and dump copies of all the information in that phone, included address and phone books, to Heero. The worm will also record conversations and transmit caller locations directly to Heero's mailbox.

With all this data coming at him, Heero Yuy will have everything he needs to know to whack all the players.

"Heeeerroo! Do you want me to bring you a beverage or something?"

He sighed, typed the "boss" key.

"Sure thing, Tanya, will you please make me a hot cup of that green tea I'm trying to like?" In a past life, he'd let Major Sally lecture him on the merits of taking care of his body. The doctor is right, of course, and the Gundam pilot philosophically accepted her medical advice. Still, can no tasty beverages work as a substitute?

Well, folks, the site has taken shape into something halfway respectable. I hope someone out there thinks that song is cool. The lyrics show up in the second chapter of my vampire gundam tale. In case you've listened to the song, and wondering if that is my voice, yes, but not my singing or spoken voice.

Viscount is editing the third chapter of that before mentioned vampire yarn, so we're looking at posting that someday (meaning he procrastinates, and his work ethic sucks.) Peace out!

P.S. Do any of you remember those amusing psychiatric text based programs? I bet no one else thought of basing a psychological scene on the dialogue generated in one of those sessions!

Another P.S. The Typewriter always gets me to do his work for him. Viscount :)

Ps3: Do not!