Unit HQ, Front Desk
Frankie received a frantic call at the same time Bishop sounded the alarm.
"Hello, Unit HQ, can I help you - ma'am, please calm down. You can see what? A - oh my God," Frankie breathed. Her Unit training kicked in. "Ma'am, please turn on your phone's location tracker so I can pinpoint you...good, thank you." Rapidly she traced it. "Okay. First, please breathe deeply, ma'am, it'll calm you. Second, are you sure the person is dead?...are you sure about the uniform? Thank you. Now, ma'am, this is very important: do not touch the body, okay? Do not disturb anything at the crime scene."
"Should I...should I check her, though? I...I mean, there might be a chance…"
"From your description, ma'am, I'm afraid not. Just stay put and try to stay calm, officers are on their way to you." She knew that because the cessation of the officer's life signs - all Unit cops were constantly monitored by Bishop - would have alerted every Unit cop on duty. Frankie's call to them would only confirm it for the record.
"Please hurry..."
"All units, all units, we have a 10-999 at Fifth and Broadway! Repeat, 10-999 at Fifth and Broadway! Officer down! Officer down!"
Then she allowed her reaction to take over, and tears ran down her cheeks. She wondered who the dead officer was; for privacy reasons, no Unit cop on duty would be identified by Bishop except by order of the Commander. Naturally she could query Bishop's database for all officers alive and deduce the identity of the dead one by process of elimination, but for a woman of 24 Frankie had some old-fashioned habits.
Respecting privacy, even of the dead, was one of them.
Besides, the death of the officer had to be investigated by officers with no preconceptions; knowing who it was beforehand would negate that.
God, she thought, we're taught in the Academy to accept losses of colleagues and friends on duty. No-one ever said being a cop was safe.
But it's one thing to learn about it in the abstract. It's another when someone really does get killed.
We've had a few deaths, yeah, even in the field...but never a cop on duty.
Checking with Bishop - she remembered belatedly that a 10-999 gave her the authority to check the officers' database, privacy issues notwithstanding - she discovered that the dead officer was a rookie, Alice Greenwood. Holy Christ, she was only 23. "Bishop," she asked, "how...how did she die?"
Bishop accessed the Vital Signs Profile which had first alerted it and answered, "Preliminary COD is loss of blood owing to severe physical trauma, most likely inflicted using large serrated blades."
"How long did she...last?"
"Approximately 21.8 seconds."
"And she's definitely...dead?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
Dear Lord, if You exist, please keep her soul safe.
Amen. So mote it be. Whatevs.
Frankie had a powerful urge to suck Scott off and fuck him. Her Academy training told her that this was a survival reflex, an urge to reaffirm life in the face of death - and there could be no more of a life-affirming gesture than having sex - but she didn't care. As soon as she was off-duty she would catch an AS3 to Vandenberg and use her security pass to look up Scott...and fuck him rigid.
For now, though, she resolved firmly, she had her duty. An officer was down.
Pleasure and comfort could wait. This took priority.
But when she met, sucked and screwed Scott, she couldn't stop crying.
Crime Scene, 5th and Broadway
Three minutes later
Candy was technically breaking the speed limit, having received the emergency call, but a 10-999 justified this. Her car screeched to a halt near the crying civilian who'd called the Unit. As she got out of the car, she was horrified to recognise the body as that of Alice Greenwood. Dear God, she thought tearfully, she was only 23...no age is good to be dead, but she was just a kid...
(This despite only being 30 herself. By Kelly's or Duane's standards, or even Jocelyn's, Candy was a kid.)
Being only human, she wanted to puke, as she saw the civilian had.
But being a Unit officer, she had a job to do.
Oh, God, that is disgusting. He left her there like he didn't care. She looks so small.
Pull it together, officer! Yes, she is dead. Yes, this is horrible. But it might happen again, even to a civilian, and the only way to prevent that is to work the crime scene, try to ignore how gory it is and get justice by nailing her killer. You can only do that if you do your job. So do it. You can grieve for her later, okay? She'd do that for you.
She gently embraced the civilian, doing her best to soothe her. "Ma'am, thank you so much for calling us. I'm Major Candy White. You?"
The civilian was a young and very pretty woman; she sobbed, "Dana Waters, officer. I - I puked, I'm sorry."
"That's okay. It's understandable under the circumstances. Seeing a dead body is terrible, isn't it? The automatic sidewalk cleaners will take care of it."
"T - thank you."
The cleaners, Candy knew, were scheduled to make their rounds and help keep New York's streets clean. They weren't a Unit invention but, complying with their AI programming, they would detect and avoid all traces pertaining to the crime scene as per the automatic request she'd submitted en route - they were programmed not to interfere with crime scenes, and so they would not.
Especially the blood.
In fact one had arrived, but it acknowledged Candy's request, calculated the crime scene area and, with a friendly bleep, gave it a wide berth. Refraining from despoiling crime scenes was one thing, but it had a job to do and proceeded to do it. AI had come a long way since the breakthrough of '25. Some people approved, even street cleaners, and some did not.
"Can you tell me what happened, Dana?" Candy gently asked.
Dana nodded shakily. "I - I live near here, I was on a morning run, then...I saw the - the blood...I..." She broke down again.
"It's okay. I know you're upset, so am I. But you need to hold it together, okay? The smallest detail could be important. Did you see anyone? Hear anything?"
"I - no," Dana shuddered, "just the...the body...I was sure she was dead, there was so much blood..."
"Okay, let me check now," Candy said, ever-professional, though from the size of the blood pool she was already sure that Dana was right. She sprayed protective plastic onto her hands - this was a Unit invention, it was the same as wearing gloves - and gently checked for a pulse. As she'd expected, there was none. "For the record: I, Major Candy White, officer number NYTOU 01-6, do hereby confirm: Rookie Officer Alice Greenwood is down." Dana sobbed anew.
Curious spectators started to gather as they always did, but Dana screamed hysterically, "God, have some respect already! This poor officer is dead! Oh, God...!"
"It'll be okay, honey," Candy soothed her, but added in a louder voice, "But Ms. Waters is absolutely right: ladies and gentlemen, please stay back. You could contaminate the crime scene, and that might stop us from finding out who did this. Please step away now."
Alice's face, streaked with blood, was turned up to the sky, her dark brunette hair strewn about her. God help her, the poor kid's eyes were open. Clearly she had died quickly but not easily. She noted that Alice must've been craning her neck to look up at the time, probably at her assailant, which meant her murderer was very tall. Candy could see her weapon - which, oddly, was some metres away. Her SOC (Scene Of Crime) scanner, linking wirelessly to the weapon and analysing it, indicated it had not been fired. The Taser's charge still read as 100%.
Strange. Why didn't she use it? Why didn't she try to defend herself? God, this is horrible.
As the Unit forensics team arrived and cordoned off the scene, she tried not to notice Alice's exposed innards. They gleamed slickly.
Jocelyn placed a hand on her shoulder. "Okay, Candy, we've got her. Denny," she ordered briskly, "get HD of everything. You guys, take samples - Wood!" she snapped. "SOGs, now! Do not contaminate the crime scene!"
"Sorry, Doctor," Rookie Eugene Wood returned lamely, and applied his Spray-On Gloves as ordered. They worked rapidly and efficiently, as they were trained to do. Candy took charge of Dana, the key witness, and gently led her to the waiting patrol car.
As for Jocelyn, she was trying not to cry...because she had instantly recognised the pattern of Alice's death.
For a start...she could clearly see that the poor kid's pelvis was gone.
God help her, she had seen wounds like that before.
They're back. Despite what they promised, they're back.
Better tell Kelly ASAP.
Damn, it's too hot.
She wiped her sweaty brow clean and did her job.
Back at Unit HQ, curious cops gathered as the body bag was brought in. But Jocelyn, atypically brusque, ordered, "Get back already! I have to perform an autopsy!"
Marie came running up, crying. "Is - is it true? Alice, is -"
"I can neither confirm nor deny at this time," Jocelyn interrupted with almost brutal formality. But Marie wasn't having it.
"Please, Jocelyn," Marie pleaded. "She's...she was my friend."
Jocelyn was about to snap at her, but relented, and nodded. Tentatively, praying she'd heard wrong, Marie unzipped the bag.
Alice's dead eyes stared at her. She'd always loved their unusual colour of amber. But now they were filmed over.
"No," Marie sobbed anew. "Alice...no..."
The older woman's heart went out to her. "Marie, I am so sorry. But you have to understand, I have to do my job. Please, don't cry."
It was futile, she knew. But Marie zipped the bag back up.
Her reaction of shock pervaded the entire Unit. Alice was the very first Unit officer to be murdered. Not the first to die; that dubious honour was reserved for Liam Payne, who'd had a fatal stroke at the age of 43 in 2028. He'd been making love with his wife, Annette, at the time. Another, Yvette Dorian, had suffered a fatal accident when a bridge had collapsed in late '30, taking her and three other people with it. She was 26.
Accidents were one thing. Fatal illnesses were one thing.
But murder was quite another.
They could deal with accidents and fatal illnesses; those things happened. They'd never had an officer dying on duty until now, though. Oh, they'd all known it was inevitable however careful they all were, however much procedures had been tightened up to greatly reduce the probability of officer casualties. Still, Commander McAllister had warned that this day would come, no matter what they did.
And Marie knew too well how easily people could die. She'd seen them die,
Tears still running down her cheeks, Marie choked, "How...how did she…?"
Jocelyn sighed. "We'll have to wait for the autopsy results, Marie. But from the scene I would say unofficially that she was fatally and brutally eviscerated, causing massive blood loss." She paused tactfully. "It would have been quick, sweetheart. Thirty seconds, tops. Likely less." She sighed again, sadly. "I know she was your friend from the Academy. As inadequate as this is, I am so very sorry."
She briefly hugged Marie, then proceeded to Autopsy.
UNIT HQ, Autopsy Room
Ten minutes later
"Begin recording.
"This is a routine autopsy for Rookie Officer Alice Greenwood of the New York Tactical Operations Unit, number NYTOU 03-1R. Attending physician is myself, Dr. Jocelyn Barton, NYTOU 02-2.
"The deceased was 23 years of age, in perfect health save for a slightly deformed left knee which caused her minor difficulties with walking, though her record clearly indicates this did not hold her back at the Academy." Compassionate as always, Jocelyn always complimented the dead during an autopsy. "Her parents and elder brother have been informed; Unit counsellors are with them now. Autopsy beginning with standard incisions..."
She performed them; the nude body had been professionally cleaned. "Preliminary examination of the cadaver indicates that the entire pelvic bone has been removed. Scan by the latest model of SEM-WDS shows no, repeat no metallic traces in the wounds, suggesting that the bladed murder weapon was made of TiCrIr or similar. The cuts were performed with a combination of exquisite precision and brutal force; there are no signs of hesitation whatsoever. The cuts are clean.
"The initial cut ruined and exposed her internal organs and her intestines, which were released from her body. She would have suffered great pain for approximately twenty seconds before expiring. As is common with fatal traumatic injuries, her eyes remain open."
She wished that procedure allowed her to close them. It was almost as if the corpse was staring at her, asking: Why am I dead?
"Eventual COD was due to extreme blood loss and trauma to her internal organs - her liver, for example, was cleaved almost in two, and her left kidney was bisected. From the entry and exit patterns, the monomolecular-edged blades -" she neglected to state how she knew there was more than one, or how their edges were monomolecular, "- appear to be serrated. Following her expiration, the assailant then performed cuts, again as brutal as they were precise, to excise the victim's pelvic bone. The reason for this is not known.
"Except...I have seen such terrible mutilation before. Ivana Tereshkova was murdered in 2027, case number 215." The number rang clear in her mind, a number she would never, ever forget.
Though she had tried.
"Note: case 215 is classified, by direct order of the Unit Commissioner. But..." she hesitated, but decided the victim's rights, even in death, overrode Unit policy. Dammit, Alice was a Unit cop, she deserved better. She risked: "Tereshkova also suffered mutilation post-mortem to remove her pelvis, as a..." Jocelyn stopped, unable to say it:
As a trophy.
She shook herself. "Though the MO is consistent with case 215, the perpetrator is not the same individual, because that...individual fought Commander Kelly McAllister in single combat, and was killed. There is no indication as yet as to who this new perpetrator is. This concludes the autopsy."
As the AI recorder's red light went out, Jocelyn mused bitterly: The autopsy for our very first murdered officer.
Why?
Why are they back?! He gave his word!
There was no help for it. She needed a meeting ASAP with every Unit officer who knew about the Predators.
Including Marie.
So what the fuck do we do now?
The Unit, Commander's office
Shortly after
Jocelyn wasted no time in preamble. "It's them. There's no doubt. Alice's wounds make that all too clear." She turned to the Commander. "She was slaughtered, sir. But...there were - differences."
"What differences?"
"For a start, unlike the victims in '27, Alice did not...I'm sorry, Marie...she did not die instantly. She lived...and suffered...for about twenty seconds. Then her pelvic bone was excised. This does not fit with their established pattern." She hesitated, but they had to know. "Nor does the fact that she wasn't armed."
"Wasn't armed?!" Jerry spluttered. "I thought that was the whole idea: killing prey that can shoot back!"
"Jocelyn," Duane rumbled, "not to doubt your professionalism, but are you sure?"
The forensic scientist sighed. "She had a standard-issue Taser. But it was found some distance from her body. Analysis of the SOC holos shows minute concrete scrapings from the weapon. They could only have gotten there if it rubbed against the sidewalk. My conclusion is that she threw the Taser away, deliberately, to show she was unarmed. It skidded along the sidewalk, hence the concrete traces." She sighed again. "But he killed her anyway."
To say they were disturbed by this news was putting it mildly. They'd always relied on the premise of unarmed = safe in case the damn things ever came back. But now to find that this apparently didn't apply any more...
"If we can't count on being unarmed keeping us safe," Duane growled, "then I for one am not staying unarmed. I'll order Harvey to open the weapons cache. All officers are hereby cleared to dig out any lethal weapon in there. You've all been trained to use 'em, even," he glanced apologetically at Marie, "the rookies."
"That goes against our standard policy," Candy noted quietly.
"Standard went out the fuckin' window the moment Alice was gutted!" Duane retorted.
"Wait," Candy cried, "first we need to ask: why? Why has their policy changed? What's different? Was this a young Predator, inexperienced, maybe thinking he could get away with violating their customs?"
"Doesn't matter!"
"It does to us!"
"Why Alice?" came a very quiet voice, derailing what looked to be a promising argument. It was Marie who had spoken.
"Yeah, why?" Denny wondered. "It's not as if - sorry, Marie - as if she'd be a challenge, she was just a kid."
"Easy kill," Duane dismissed it.
"No," Marie said, again quietly. It was impossible to tell if she was offended by their awkwardness towards her, given the friendship she'd shared with Alice. "They're so far ahead of us, and so much stronger than us, that all their kills are easy. No. There's more to it than that. This guy is ignoring a very basic tenet of their culture. We need to know why he's doing that."
"And is he a ‛he'?" Frankie asked nervously. "I mean, in this culture as in ours, usually the men go out and hunt while the women stay at home. But even in our culture this is changing - why else is Marie here? Why was Alice? So is it possible that this killing was different because the Predator's different? A female rather than a male?" She gulped. "And if it is...how much more trouble are we in? Is the female deadlier than the male?"
That notion brought them to a dead halt. There were precedents on Earth. In species such as the wolf, the hyena, the lion and even the elephant, the females were at least as fierce and as dangerous as the males. The female black widow was much larger than the male; she was more likely to eat him than mate with him.
Praying mantises were even worse - the female would eat the male's head during copulation.
With bees, wasps and hornets, only the females had stings.
Orcas, dolphins, sharks - you did not mess with the females.
Even, God help them, humans - female killers were much rarer to be sure, but much more vicious. And there was no animal on the planet more dangerous than a human mother defending her children. Duane had once seen an unarmed woman attacking a fully-armed Marine in Syria.
She tore him to pieces with her bare hands.
Male Predators were bad enough. What were female Predators like?
"Okay," Kelly decided quietly, "Major Holmes: issue a blanket declaration to all Unit officers. The policy of being unarmed is temporarily suspended. All officers are to be armed. No-one goes anywhere alone outside - pairs at a minimum. Frankie," he turned to her, "tell your guy at Vandenberg that they're back, if he doesn't know already."
"Yes, sir," she nervously returned.
"Watch yourselves out there," Kelly addressed them all. "Anything suspicious you see or hear, call it in immediately. Take no chances. Dismissed." Obediently they filed out.
Kelly started typing up a report...then he noticed his office wasn't empty.
Marie was still there.
"Sir," she asked, very, very quietly, "what do I tell my friends?"
"For the moment, as little as possible," he answered as quietly.
"But...they'll ask. They'll have to," she pleaded. "Alice was their friend, too. They have to know. I...I know I gave my word, but that was when the Predators were playing by their rules. Now, this one isn't."
Kelly sighed. "If you tell them, you'll have to tell them that you entered the Academy at 14. That puts the Commissioner, the Commandant, Denny, you and me in the frame. IA will be all over us like a rash."
"With respect, sir, that's true...but unimportant. This thing has killed Alice. She was unarmed. What other rules is he - or she - ignoring?"
He had every right to be angry. But instead he felt sorry for her. She wanted to keep her vow of silence...but she wanted to protect her friends, too.
More than friends - reliable rumour (i.e. Frankie) had it that Officers Duquesne and Bonaventure were her FWBs at the very least. They weren't making much of a secret about it, and inter-colleague relations were not contrary to Unit regs; he, Ed and Duane had debated the issue when they set up the Unit. Duane had had his doubts, but Ed and Kelly had come down on the side of compassion. Only if such a liaison affected their performance would they or IA take an interest.
If it were him, Kelly knew he would tell his friends everything and to hell with the regs.
But, he decided, they didn't need to know just yet.
"Marie, I know you care about your friends. But for the moment, stay silent. This is not carved in stone - if the situation changes in some way, then okay, but swear them to secrecy. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," she whispered.
Candy and Marie's apartment
When Marie and her friends are off-duty
But her resolve lasted only as long as it took them to reach her apartment that night.
"So why'd the Commander want to see you?" Rhiannon naturally asked. "Kinda unusual for him to call a rookie to a high-level meeting."
Marie hesitated, on the verge of blurting out the truth.
Rhiannon had a talent for getting to know people very well, very quickly. It had served her well at the Academy, and endeared her to the local community - especially, for some reason, taxi drivers. So she knew instantly that Marie was holding something back. She leaned in, leered and inquired saucily, "Do I have to tickle your hairy armpits until you 'fess up?" she teased.
Trying to make light of it, Marie riposted, "How do you know I haven't shaved or borrowed Yvonne's depilator cream?"
"Girlfriend," Rhiannon drawled, "I am one of your lovers. I know everything intimate about you. Shaving isn't a thing with you 'cause it isn't important. If I tickle you I'll feel hairy armpits, guaranteed. I know just how to tease your clit to bring you off."
"Rhiannon!" Marie and Yvonne both gasped, Yvonne blushing.
The Missouri native looked as innocent as she could...which for Rhiannon wasn't very. "What? I didn't even swear, which I grant is rare for me." She turned serious. "And keeping schtum is rare for you, Marie. We tell each other everything. Why is this different? C'mon, spill."
Torn between her duty as a Unit officer and her love for her friends, Marie could only manage, "It just is. Please trust me."
But that, for them, decided it. Their friend was dead...and Marie knew something. The unspoken message passed between them: they would persist until she told them.
Tom sighed in exasperation. Marie was solid, he knew, one of their best and brightest, and she was fiercely devoted to the few friends she had. But she could, at times, be so frigging stubborn.
He'd found that out on the night he'd first gotten to second base with her...
Tom's apartment, Astoria Boulevard, near the station
2:36 a.m., 9 months ago
Breathing heavily in excitement, Marie slowly removed her bra. Tom smiled at the sight of her petite but full breasts, caressing them. He was fascinated to note that her right nipple was pierced with a horizontal gold stud. And - was that a tattoo on her left breast, on the underside near her torso? "Hey," he asked softly, "may I see that?"
Marie hesitated, but nodded. "But show respect," she warned, mostly not kidding, "or I'll throw you out."
Tom kidded, "This is my apartment."
She shrugged. "Then I'll throw myself out. Tom, I'm serious: that tattoo is extremely important to me. That and the piercing. That's symbolic."
"Of what?"
"Pain," she answered simply.
He waited patiently, but she did not elaborate.
Soberly he murmured, "Marie, I thought you trusted me."
"I do," she protested, kissing him. "But...well, some things you earn."
"And the tattoo?" He looked closer, and kissed it (though he didn't know it, her heart rate jumped; his touching it at all, let alone kissing it, was thrilling to her). "It's beautiful. What does it say...‛To the end'. Hmm."
"Not quite. To The End," she told him.
"The difference being?"
She didn't tell him that ‛To The End' had been the mantra of the Bloods.
"It's really lovely," he said with respect. "I don't recognise the font or the workmanship, though. Who did it?"
That was another secret. In fact she had done it herself, at Julie's gravestone, on the night she received word that she had been officially admitted to the Unit Academy. The ‛font' was her own left-handed cursive penmanship, painstakingly applied using AI mirroring software on her Amazon 14 Fire tablet. The software inverted the image so she would see it as if she were looking directly at it, i.e. left was left.
For all her many virtues, Julie hadn't been perfect; when her period came, she could be such a bitch. To symbolise this, the tattoo was no more perfect than she had been - specifically, the E in 'End' was rotated slightly, and the O in 'To' was slightly lighter.
The piercing, too, was self-administered, following advice from Jungle Jane, the leader of the Latin Queens, an offshoot of the Latin Kings. They were non-violent on the whole, but you still did not mess with them. They could give as good as they got - often better.
New York, neutral territory
A month after Marie starts at the Unit Academy
An encounter between them and the Unit which could have gone violently but didn't, as a result of her tearing a gun out of Jane's hand and screaming at her to "fuckin' LISTEN already!", cemented an initially uneasy peace between the two. But Jane (real name Penny Thompson) had seen the good example set by the Bloods, and conceded that there could be peace - or a lack of enmity, at least - between a gang and the cops.
And she had to respect a kid who would take on someone heeled when she wasn't. In talking with Marie, she discovered that for all her youth Streetcat was no child, and they developed a mutual respect which gradually shaded into friendship.
Plus Jane had been raped herself when she was 14, and had sympathised with Julie Lockwood, a.k.a. Juicy Julie...although Jane was more enraged than upset, and took her revenge by laying into him (she was 6' tall and powerfully built) and cutting off his cock with a rusty hacksaw. When the NYPD arrived, she screamed defiantly, "Yeah, I killed the fucker! HE RAPED ME! I'm GLAD he's dead!"
The cops had their doubts at first - it was unusual for a rape to be reported at all, let alone so vociferously - but at the Central Park Precinct, Maggie Kay gathered samples and other forensic evidence with Jane's permission. To be more accurate, she stripped naked, threw her clothes at the cops and yelled, "Yeah, scrape his filthy spunk outa my cunt, look at my clothes, an' take your photos, they'll prove it! He RAPED me, so I KILLED him!"
The police surgeon and psychologist, Dr. Niles Ravenwood, told his Captain, "It's normal for a rape victim to feel anger...but not usually just afterwards. It's rare for a victim to kill her attacker, though not unprecedented. But to do it and admit it, to be almost proud of it...well. Almost unheard of." He shrugged. "Then again, six-foot 14-year-old girls are pretty rare, too."
Especially redheads, he thought, and was disturbed to find himself sexually excited by Jane (or Penny) despite her known youth. Then again, she was beautiful and even sexy, even at 14, with a killer figure, almost a Barbie. He adored redheads. His wife of 19 years was one. On their wedding night Rachel had quipped, "Do you have a redhead fetish?" and he hadn't dared admit that he did.
As Maggie tactfully pointed out to the Captain, the evidence - cuts and bruises, vaginal tearing at the six o'clock position and traces from the dirt track into which Jane had been pushed prior to her violation, to say nothing of her torn and dirtied blouse, bra and panties - was conclusive. "To the surgeon, sir, there's no doubt at all: she was definitely raped. The poor girl," she sympathised sadly.
"How'd he do it, if he did?"
"If he did?!"
"Innocent until proven guilty, Maggie," Captain Jake Carson pointed out.
"Sorry, sir - you're right, of course."
"So, how? She was taller than him."
Maggie snorted. "Allegedly he took her by surprise. That was the only way he could have raped her. If he did," she added ironically.
"Was she a virgin?" the slightly sexist man wondered.
Maggie was offended on behalf of all women, not just Jane, at the question. She answered, "Well, no, but sir," she added, getting angry now, "that's neither here nor there! The poor kid didn't ask to be raped! No woman does!"
During her routine questioning, Jane snarled, "I TOLD you: he raped me! So I killed him! So try me for manslaughter already! I plead guilty!"
Sergeant Kay couldn't help thinking that ‛plead' was definitely the wrong word here.
The judge winced as he acquitted her despite the manslaughter she admitted to - rape was considered to be a justifiable provocation for such in New York. True, vigilantes could never be justified, but neither could rape. Various lesbian groups who'd come to court to lend their support cheered - even the non-militant ones. The militant lesbians praised Jane loudly.
One, hysterical, screamed, "I was raped - yeah, it's a cliché, but that's why I'm a dyke - an' I wish I'd killed him! I should have! Rapists don't deserve ANYTHING but death! Let their victims kill 'em by rippin' off their balls! IT'S RIGHT THAT HE'S DEAD!"
A bailiff gently but firmly took her aside; he'd started a course on counselling, and realised she'd never had it. She responded well to the treatment - a rabid feminist, she'd never realised that anyone else cared - and she ended up marrying...a guy.
So, Jane reflected, at least some good came of it.
For you, my love, the former Streetcat thought as the piercing needle, borrowed from Jane, penetrated her right nipple. She accepted the pain. Let my pain be symbolic of yours as that...creature took your innocence. Let my blood symbolise yours.
Seeking Julie's approval, she had lain back on the stone, her breasts bleeding a little, and masturbated in a celebration of life. She'd thought as she climaxed that Julie would have approved.
But as much as she trusted Tom - and she did, wholeheartedly - she couldn't tell him that. Not yet.
She kissed him again and requested, "Please don't ask. I promise I'll tell you one day. For now, I...I'm not ready. Please drop this. Please."
Tom's mother and aunt had brought him up to respect a lady's choice at all times. Though technically Marie was anything but a lady, he was her friend and he cared about her...probably more than an FWB should have. Thus he kissed the tattoo, her right nipple and her red lips, and softly answered, "Okay, Marie. I'll wait, honey. When you're ready."
He found the taste of her cherry chapstick exciting. He had no idea, yet, that that too was Marie's tribute to Julie Lockwood (deceased).
Soon, though, he forgot all about tattoos, nipple studs and cherry chapstick...
Now Tom cursed mildly. She'd always been reticent about her past, and if the little he'd heard about her from street and Academy gossip was true, she had good reason to be. Not this time, though. He knew her, knew her body and, he liked to think, her heart, and from this he knew that she knew something about the killing.
He also knew she didn't want to say what, and why she didn't want to discuss it: she believed she was keeping them safe. But Tom was sure they were safer if they did know what was going on. Ignorance could kill. Had killed, more than once. So he said to her, "Marie, ignorance isn't always bliss. I know you believe you're keeping us safe, but we can do that better if we have all the info. If you trust us."
A little hurt, Marie murmured, "Tom, that's dirty. You know I trust you guys. To The End."
"Yeah, about that," Yvonne put in, "when you say it we can hear the capital letters, Marie. So that phrase means something more to you. Something from your past? Something precious to you?"
"I -"
"Why else would it be tattooed on your breast? Oh, I noticed one time when we showered together." She reached out and touched Marie's cheek. "Please tell us, Marie. I promise we won't mention it to our super. Or the Commander. I know the best way to keep a secret is to keep it to yourself, but sometimes it's better if there's more than one person to keep it. We won't stop asking, Marie. We can't. We love you. So please tell us."
Marie's blue eyes filled with tears. "You bastards play really dirty poker, you know that?"
Yvonne smiled gently. "Only when we have to, honey. So how far does it go back?"
There was nothing but love, trust and honest curiosity in their eyes. Marie knew they would not quit until they understood.
Get it over with, she finally decided.
The younger girl sighed. "Back to the beginning, in a way. Listen...there's something you don't know. The original Unit team know it, but not you guys. I, uh, I'm not 20 years old. I -"
"Hey, that's okay," Mike smiled, "women always take a year or two off their ages. So you're older than you look, huh?"
"No," Marie denied quietly, "younger. I was only 14 when I was recruited into the Academy. I'm only 18 now."
That stunned and shocked them. It was Yvonne who first found her voice. "14...Marie...that's two years too young for the Academy. How did you...wait, how did you get that past the Commandant?"
"I didn't," Marie answered tiredly, "she already knew, because the Commander told her in confidence."
"She knew?!" her friends all gaped.
"Yeah. I was a special case - very special. All my friends, the Bloods, were dead. I had nowhere to go. But the Unit tests showed my IQ and leadership skills, so the Commander and Denny Murphy got together to alter my records. I'm not really an orphan, but my folks were judged unfit parents - one was in constant OD on antidepressants and the other tried to rape me. Denny fixed it so I was a ward of the State, and 16 on the day the Academy accepted its newest intake."
"Wow," Yvonne breathed, fascinated. "That was one hell of a favour, Marie. But...why? I mean, okay, you're a genius, we all get reminded every time we play Scrabble," she wryly added, "but that violates so many laws...why'd they do it?"
Marie looked sombre. "Kelly felt I was owed it. I helped them crack a major case the Unit was working on at the time. But it wasn't the usual run-of-the-mill stuff. It was...way out there. It was...extraterrestrial."
The friends exchanged glances. That, they had not expected. But they all knew about SETI; Frankie had once lectured them about it. There was never any question about them believing her. Instead they felt both dread and fascination.
Mike murmured, "Now you have to tell us, Marie." He paused. "I promise we won't tell the guys in the Unit. The ones who don't know, I mean."
Yvonne hugged her. "Mike speaks for all of us, Marie. On the Badge, I swear we won't tell."
"On the Badge," Mike agreed, touching his.
"Yeah," Rhiannon affirmed, "on the Badge." As was her way, Rhiannon kissed her.
"Definitely on the Badge, Marie," Tom finished.
Bursting into tears, Marie hugged them. She knew from experience that they swore on the Badge much as she swore To The End. It was such a relief, she tearfully confessed, to tell them the truth after three years together in the Academy and a further year as rookies. "But I was sworn to secrecy as well. The team, especially Kelly, had a lot to lose, so it was just as important that I keep quiet as it was that they did. I'm only telling you now because...you have to know. To know everything." She sighed. "A lot of it you're not gonna believe."
"Marie, I believe six impossible things before breakfast," Rhiannon quipped. Marie managed a chuckle; she too had read Alice Through The Looking Glass.
"Plus scientists have established that alien life is definitely a possibility," Mike pointed out. "It was Brian Cox who said ‛It's true that we haven't got any evidence. But it's also true that we haven't got any evidence yet'. So...we may not be alone."
"We're not," Marie murmured.
She explained.
When she reached the part about Julie's portrait, Rhiannon breathed, "That was you? I've seen that portrait. Was Julie really that beautiful?"
Marie nodded solemnly. "I tried my best to show her as she was. I included the beauty spot on her left cheek."
Rhiannon went on, "Aw, you were so lucky, hon. And the caption...I cried when I read that, it was so sad. Was all that true? She was raped, got pregnant, and lost the baby?"
Fighting back tears, Marie nodded again. "I...loved her. I knew what she wanted to do, and I tried so hard to talk her out of it. But she was too far gone in her depression. I never knew where No Change got the gun, or the bullets - he had his own sources. But when Julie asked him he didn't hesitate. I think he knew what she had in mind, but he also knew that if he didn't help her she'd find some other way - maybe something more painful. So he got the gun less than five hours later." Now a tear ran down her cheek. "Less than an hour after that, she..." She couldn't finish.
Rhiannon took Marie in her arms and murmured, "And you've kept it to yourself for four years? Aw, you poor thing. I am so sorry. What a terrible waste..."
Sobbing now, Marie clung to Rhiannon. When her tears were done she said softly, "Thank you, Rhiannon. But Julie was the main reason I entered the Academy. The main reason the Commander and Denny altered my records. I needed a reason to live. Kelly gave me one." She barely smiled. "I did point out that he was breaking laws, but he said it was more important that I get justice for Julie by living, and finding love instead of being alone." Her smile broadened a little. "And I did. I love you guys. I love you all."
"Which is why you didn't want to tell us," Mike understood. "Hey, we get it. But as your friends, we had a right to know, so we could help you. Now that we do know, we will help. All of us." He looked to the others. "Right, guys?" He received an affirmative reply from each person.
The declaration moved Marie to tears once more. "You guys are the best. You're solid, as we used to say on the street. Bobby survived too, but he was killed not long after in a shootout the Unit dealt with." She sighed sadly. "He popped my cherry."
Startled, Tom inquired, "He did? I thought I did that?"
Marie smiled ruefully and kissed him. "I'm sorry I let you believe that, Tom. But no, I wasn't a virgin when you first had me. I once shaved my pussy bare for Bobby. He was a good guy. Every male Blood on the street was."
"The street," Yvonne murmured. "Marie...are all the Bloods dead?"
Marie nodded. "Except Jerry the Fixer and me; we were on our way to meet him and maybe Bobby when we were hit. ‛To The End' was our mantra, not that we knew that word back then. But I was with them for over two years. They gave me a home, sort of, when I left Mom and that bastard rapist Dad of mine. So I had to keep the Bloods' legacy alive. ‛To The End' was my way of doing that. That's why I say it the way I do."
"Makes sense," Tom nodded. "What happened to Jerry?"
Marie shrugged. "I'm not sure. When he heard what had happened to the Bloods he took off for Dallas, where he'd lived before joining. I've been too busy with my Academy work to look him up, and now that I've graduated I'm even busier. Besides, he's part of my past, and I swore on Julie's grave that I'd leave it all behind. And I did...until now."
"Until the Predators - is that the right word? - came back," Rhiannon noted. Marie nodded. "Okay. But, Marie...you're not alone now. You don't have to face this thing alone. We're with you - ‛To The End', right, guys?"
"Not to trivialise it, but yeah," Tom agreed. "If some alien fucker wants a piece of you, he's gonna have to come through us first!"
"No!" Marie cried, to their surprise. "That's exactly why I couldn't tell you! Guys, you honestly have no idea how dangerous these things are! He will go through you to get to me! By their terms, he'll have to! If he's after me, and I'm pretty sure he is from the way he hunted and killed Alice, he won't let anything stand in his way - certainly not four friends trying to protect me! Please, you have to stay out of this!"
"We can't, Marie," Rhiannon said quietly. "You're our friend. We neither know nor care what friendship means to him, because on Earth it means everything. It means we can't and won't just stand by and let him slaughter you the way Alice was slaughtered. I mean, if things were reversed you'd protect us, wouldn't you?"
Marie hugged her again. "Of course I would."
"In that case," Rhiannon concluded, "we can't stay out of it. If friendship means anything at all, then we'll stick by our friend. To The End."
"To The End," Mike echoed.
"Yeah. To The End," Yvonne nodded.
"Absolutely To The End," Tom finished.
And with that, it was almost as if the Bloods were back.
In tears once more, Marie hugged each one. "You guys are absolutely the best. You're crazy, but you're the best. No Change and the other Bloods would've loved you."
Having unburdened herself, Marie found herself hungry, and suggested, "Pizzas all round?"
They enthusiastically agreed. Rhiannon asked casually, "Can I get this, guys?"
Yvonne looked askance at her. "What are you up to, Rhiannon?" she inquired sternly.
"Nothing...much," Rhiannon answered blithely. They found out, to their amusement (and Yvonne's mild shock) when Tino's delivery boy rang the doorbell (thanks to Marie and their loyalty to Tino they got a 15% discount) and Rhiannon opened the door.
She'd stripped, and hadn't a stitch on.
The poor guy was only 17, and gulped. She accepted the pizzas with a saucy smile, passed them to Mike and caressed the lad's chest. "Up for an orgy, kid?"
"I - I - I have p-pizzas to deliver," he stammered, as Tom and Mike were struggling not to laugh.
"Next time, maybe," Rhiannon purred.
Sweating, the kid made himself scarce. Tom, Mike and Rhiannon burst out laughing, while Marie tried to smile and Yvonne, blushing, scolded Rhiannon. "He won't be back, you know!" she complained.
"Tino has plenty of delivery boys," Marie told them; she'd know, as she worked there,.
"Girls, too," Mike added, knowing Tino was, at his wife's urging, a progressive sort.
"I'm bi," Rhiannon shrugged, "I can have as much fun with a delivery girl."
"Don't you dare!" Yvonne blushed anew. "A girl would likely take you on!"
"Exactly," Rhiannon grinned, and now even Yvonne laughed.
Over pizza and Coors, Mike asked seriously, "Okay, Marie. Do you know why Alice was killed?"
Marie finished a slice, her favourite ham and pineapple, and replied, "Know, no. Guess, yes. I...think he's after me. But he's targeting the people closest to me first. So watch yourselves, guys. Go everywhere in groups. Safety in numbers."
Even when being serious, Rhiannon couldn't resist injecting a little sex and humour. "Including the restroom? I've seen you pee, Marie, so it's no prob."
"Rhiannon!" Yvonne chided.
"What?! Urination is a perfectly natural bodily function, why does everyone make a big deal out of it? I happened to go in one day, Marie was there and the stall door was a little loose, so it swung open and I saw her peeing. No biggie. Hey, if it won't gross you out, I got an empty Coors bottle here, I'll pee into it right now."
"Rhiannon!"
"If you can't pee in front of your friends and FWBs, who can you do it in front of?"
"Ladies do not do...that...in public!" Yvonne protested.
"Newsflash," Rhiannon grinned, "I am not a lady." Except for Yvonne, they were used to seeing each other undressed or even naked, and Rhiannon actually preferred nudity. She held the bottle before her labia.
"Please!" Yvonne pleaded.
But Rhiannon knew when to stop teasing, and smiled. "Okay, I'll pee where I'm supposed to." She rose and went to the bathroom.
Smiling impishly, she left the door ajar, so they could hear her. With an exasperated shake of her head, Yvonne tried to smile. "She is shameless!" she noted indignantly. "I believe she would do it in public!"
"She did once," Marie recalled, "on day one of the Academy. She peed, and said, ‛I'm Rhiannon Bonaventure. Who the fuck are you guys?' That intro gave us an idea of what she was like." She chuckled. "I liked her straight away. She was unconventional, like me."
"You know it, lover!" a returning Rhiannon laughed as she sat. "Convention's boring! Mix it up, I say! Dare to be different!"
While she knew Rhiannon was no longer teasing, Yvonne said soberly, "Can we return to the subject? Alice. Dead. You apparently a target, Marie. Why?"
"I don't know," Marie admitted. "That first time on the Metro, I wasn't even armed. Hadn't earned it yet. So I was only involved because I saw some of the other Columbus Twenty-Seven die." She tried not to shudder as she remembered No Change having his throat sliced. Or Bigfoot (a running joke, as Ronnie Moore actually had unusually small feet) as he was gutted.
Or Billy lying dead, as his skull and spinal column were ripped out to a literally unearthly shriek. It still ranked as the most horrible thing she'd ever seen.
Tom looked determined. "Okay. Until he's stopped, Marie, you go nowhere alone. At least one of us will be with you all the time. Yvonne, Rhiannon: if she needs the bathroom, whether peeing or changing her tampon, you go with her, okay?"
"Of course," Yvonne nodded. "We'll keep you safe, honey."
"Right on," Rhiannon also nodded. "He wants a piece of you, he deals with Rocket Rhiannon first."
Marie thanked them with a hug, whilst thinking: I just hope you can live up to that, lover.