Pressing her back against the tree bark, sweat run ran down her face. Focus, shouldn't be sweating.

"Jessica," floated among the trees.

Block it out. Fear is the mind killer.

Pair of hands clasped onto her right wrist. Then a pair of hands gripped onto her left wrist. Her arms swung back. Finding herself secured to the trees, her pain filled brown eyes stared at the three figures that were quite familiar to her.

"No, you're dead."

"Mistress, your love and pain keep us alive."

"Aunt Jessie, we always loved you."

"Yes, my husband's lover, was always between us."

Slowly emerging with the tree, scent of fried bacon entered her nose.

Detecting the scent of bacon, Jess's eye lids opened to sight of her group eating like it was their last meal except for Turok. He ate like was going to attack him.

Noticing a familiar face serving breakfast, "Keep you waiting," said Jess smirking, "huh?"

Smiling at her, "No, you woke up in time for breakfast."

The door to transporter room slid open. Stepping forward, the door slid closed behind Jake. Digging her fingers into Jake's shoulders, Jess directed Jake towards the control panel. Bending Jake towards the control panel, she pressed Jake's nose against the buttons to type in the coordinates to Ilias.

"Now, lover," she whispered into Jake's right ear, "go be the hero you believe you are," kissing his lips.

Stepping forward, the portal swallowed Jake.

Transporter door slid open allowing the technician eating a fried peanut butter banana sandwich to walk in as the portal opened and out stepped Jess, Rath, Turok Jinx and Beast Boy carrying Terra.

"Why do dragons always turn out to be sexy, horny maidens?" asked Jess.

Shrugging his shoulders, Rath noticed the technician study the control panel.

Stepping beside the technician, "Need to call the hazmat team."

"Sir," stepping back from Rath, "Someone used the transporter before you arrived."

Study the panel, "Not going to believe this," said Rath shaking his while hiding his smile.

Staring at the same information, "Why did he go there?" asked Jess rolling her eyes.

"Ask him when he recovers after Aliphese Fateburn the XVI is done with him."

Stepping onto the transporter, "Beam me up, Rath."

"Where did she go?" asked Beast Boy.

"The country of Ilias," answered Rath.

"What is in Ilias?"

"Aliphese Fateburn the XVI, the queen of the monster girls."

"Guess, we are not needed," remarked Jinx.

"Not when handling Aliphese Fateburn the XVI."

It was Monday. It was laundry day which started on Saturday by gathering up and sorting clothing and linens. On Sunday soak items in warm water with a little soap and soda or lye. Each item must be pressed in one at a time. Mort learned to mend any clothing that needed it.

Getting up early Monday morning to gather wood for the fire, to haul 20-40 gallons of water to a giant copper pot, and fill several other barrels with water. The four-stage washing consisted of turning the clothing right side out, soap and rub the clothes until they are clean. Then wring each item.

Next she turned clothes inside out and used fresh water then repeat with the soaping, rubbing and wringing. Boiling of white cotton clothing and linens in soapy water followed. Removing clothing and linens from the boiling water using long sticks, she ringed the items out again.

Thoroughly rinsing all items in fresh clean water, no one wants to wear lye-soaked clothing. Wring out everything one more time. Move the clothes to the drying area.

Picking up five pound heated flat iron from the stove with a thick rag, Mort applied it the cloth when Victoria walked in.

Watching Victoria sit down, "Been busy?"

Resting her chin on the handle of her cane, "At one o'clock," answered Victoria, "I was sharing a pint with a junior clerk named Rivers at a pub across from Huddleston and Bradford called the Horse and Rider."

"Enjoy yourself?"

"I needed to know what is like to work for Mr. Trent after reading his "Rules for the Office Staff," pulling out a pamphlet from her right suit pocket, "First, godliness, cleanliness, and punctuality are the necessities of a good business," she read, " Second, the firm has reduced the working day to the hours from 8:30 to 7 PM. Next, daily prayers will be held each morning in the main office. The clerical staff will be present. Then clothing will be of a sober nature. The clerical staff will not disport themselves in raiment of bright color. Next, a stove is provided for the benefit of the clerical staff. It is recommended that each member of the clerical staff bring 4 lbs. of coal each day during cold weather. Followed by no member of the clerical staff may leave the room without permission from Mr. Roberts. The calls of nature are permitted and clerical staff may use the garden beyond the second gate. This area must be kept clean in good order. Next, no talking is allowed during business hour. Then the craving of tobacco, wines, or spirits is a human weakness, and as such is forbidden to the clerical staff. Next, members of the clerical staff will provide their own pens. Finally, the managers of the firm will expect a rise in output of work to compensate for these near Utopian conditions."

"Sounds like this Utopia is run by a stiff," replied Mort.

"That's how Rivers described Trent repeatly between the sipping of his. Snapping his watch at eight thirty sharp and checking all to see they are at their places, no excuses. God help the man whose omnibus is late in the traffic of the rush."

"So the stiff demands his routine, does he?"

"With a vengeance, he does. He's a stiff one the job must be done and that's all he cares for. He's getting on in years and vain, too. Growing whiskers on account of the fact he's losing the hair up top. He has this brush," looking at her notebook, "Dr. Scott's electric hairbrush, comes from Paris. You know how dear it is? Twelve shillings sixpence, that's what it is."

"What's it do?" Mort.

"Cures headaches, dandruff, and baldness, too," remarked Victoria, "or so it's claimed. Queer little brush. He locks himself into his office and brushes once an hour, punctual."

"He still has a large office despite he's lack of foibles."

"Correct. It is and quite tidy, too. The sweeper's in every night, dusting, and arranging just so, and every night as he leaves, Mr. Trent says to the sweeper, 'A place for everything, and everything in its place,' and then he leaves, seven o'clock punctual."

"Anything else?"

"He remembered a similar conservation with a red breaded gent."

"Pierce. Did he talk with any other clerks?"

"No."

"Let's see. Mr. Trent does not keep his key in his office."

"And why you think that?"

"He would not leave his office to be cleaned in his absence since sweepers are notorious for easily being bride."

"He could keep it locked up in one of the bank vaults."

"True. You could strike another conversation with a different clerk."

"Or."

"Use a ruck touch to worry the quarry," looking up at Victoria, "you want me to worry him?"

"No, Pierce will take care of that. We will be waiting and watching for it to happen."

Walking through a forest, how did he end up in here? Where here? Where are his guns? How was he going to use them without his hands? Was the way to blocked to transporter? Maybe the coordinates were off. Or was this a dream trap created by that bitch, Daria and he's still in her trap.

Twang. Pain. Dropping to the ground, Jake leaned towards his legs noticing an arrow through his right knee cap, right through the knee joint. Inching closer, his teeth gashed at the arrow shaft.

"Fuck," missing the shaft.

Heel of a boot smacked his forehead causing the back of his head against the ground. Shaking the cobwebs, his eyes stared the arrow tip aiming at his throat

"Ma'am?" he coughed staring at the dark elf maiden with her bow drawn back.

Slowly returning the bow string to the safe mode, she leaned closer sniffing him. Caressing his bare chest with her index finger, she unsheathed her dagger. Trying to sit up, Jake found vines pinning him to the ground.

Slicing off his shorts, a smiled crossed her lips as her eyes stared at his little friend needing a little mouth, tongue, hand action.

Rolling his eyes back as the dark elf maiden licked his manroot, "I've got Raven," he thought as the deep throat action began, "I've got Raven."