Friday, September 22, 2017

The Queen of the Romans: Hero Antagonist

When did it all end?

That’s the question I often ask myself. It’s hard to tell- there were so many moments during Haylie Modine’s Presidency that I figured the Patriarchy had finally turned the tide in their favour. Perhaps it was when Modine made her first arrest, jailing Brad Wall for his hateful tirade against Roy Romanow in 1991. What did Haylie expect? The Patriarchy never accepts its hate because it can shout ‘political correctness’ and the media just laps it up. Perhaps it was the Nathanite ban, because then the media started to believe the Patriarchy’s accusations of racism by Modine. Perhaps, still, it was that unbelievable investigation by the Mundiali that asserted Modine manipulated the referenda across North America and created her empire. The investigation was junk, but that never swayed the Patriarchy, which managed to overrule the Virtue Federation’s better judgement and vote with the Romans to take away most of Modine’s territory, without giving her a chance to fight back. Sad, but not surprising- never would the world allow a woman to wield and hold so much power, especially in such an important place as North America.

I still think the beginning of the end for me was when the Romans assisted the Icelanders in evicting Modine for good. That was when Virtue really proved it was toothless, unable to stand up to its oppressors and protect its stated “friends”. I should have figured that once the Romans took away Haylie’s empire they would go in for the kill. The Romans invented the Patriarchy, it should figure they would come and reassert it. Reassert it they did, with the predictable results- the woman-hating world rejoicing, happy that Haylie’s “reign of terror” was over so that men could terrorize women again.

Such a sad, sad state of affairs.

Of course, I’m not going to mope about it. I’m not going to get down on it. I am going to continue the fight. Because for one year, when Haylie Modine ruled America, I had hope. I had respect and, moreover, I could live and work in peace. I will not allow the memory of that life to be in vain.

Since the Icelanders took over America, I studied their methods. I made some new friends…and I gained resources that will allow me to take the fight not just to them, but to Rome as well. I’m Rasna by heritage (that would be Etruscan for all those who subscribe to the Patriarchy), and everyone knows that Rome was once a Rasna kingdom. It was an egalitarian time then, when women were respected and even revered by the Romans, before the Patriarchy took over and established a “republic”.

One day, I will re-establish that kingdom…sorry, that queendom. One day, I will end the tyranny of the republic, overthrow the useless democracy- which is just a tool by the Patriarchy to impose its will on the populace- and rule Rome and the world the way it was supposed to be: by a benevolent, enlightened and egalitarian ruler that does not favour one group over another.

One day, the world will again be a better place…and it will all be because of me.

The Queen of the Romans

February 14, 2014,
14:11 local time,
Edmonton Law Courts,
Edmonton, Alberta

“I remember the first time he put his hands on me,” said Alberta Crime Scene Investigator Catherine “Katy” Scutaro, on the stand as the victim in the rape case against her former boss, Leroy Simms. “He touched my arms and rubbed them up and down, squeezing my shoulders when he got there.”
“How did this make you feel?” asked Crown prosecutor Jeff Smardiza.
“Weird,” said Scutaro, her voice cracking as tears began to form. “Creeped out…devastated. I mean, I’ve never had a superior like Simms before who believed right from the start he was entitled to touch my body.”
“You let it go, though,” said Smardiza.
“Yeah I did,” said Scutaro, “because Leroy was so soft and sounded so caring…it felt like he was a father to me, and my father died when I was young. I started at CSI when I was 20…I was a child prodigy scared to be entering ‘the real world’ and Simms took me under his wing. He helped me navigate the working world and was always by my side when I had difficulties…so all the touching, all the innuendos…I just let it go. He was helping me, why ruin that?”
“You never once thought he was trying to manipulate you,” said Smardiza assuredly.

“Objection!” yelled defence attorney Larry Withers immediately after Smardiza finished. “That’s just speculation.”
“Sustained,” said the judge, Mary Witherspoon to Smardiza’s consternation. “Reword the question.”

“Did your opinion ever change about his true feelings towards you?” said Smardiza, smiling somewhat nervously.
“Sometimes,” said Scutaro. “Over the years, I got conflicted…he touched me a lot, and it was unsettling…but he also helped me a lot.”
“How did he help you? Can you point to a specific incident?” said Smardiza, looking on with intent.
“Ten years ago, I think,” started Scutaro, who took in a few deep breaths to keep her composure. “I had a case involving a dead police officer…I ran the blood that was found on the knife found next to the officer…it had his blood all over it but I concluded that the stab wound was inflicted post-mortem. The officer’s parents disagreed with me, because they were certain their son was murdered, but Simms stepped in and took my side…headed off a review by the local prosecutor.”
“…and then what happened?” said Smardiza.
“Well, the next day we were alone in my lab,” said Scutaro, “he then gave me a hug, which I liked. It was long but it was nice. Then I remember he had his hands around my waist and we were looking into each other’s eyes, like we were lovers. That I thought was weird…but, I let it go.”
“Did he say anything to you then?” said Smardiza.
“Not much,” said Scutaro. “He kissed my forehead and then kept telling me ‘everything is going to be okay’ and he knew I needed that reassurance…I was really doubting my abilities as a CSI at that time. Then…”

Scutaro let out another deep breath and lowered her head, beginning to sob.

“It’s okay, Katy,” said Smardiza softly. “I know this is hard to talk about...stay strong though…you’re doing well.”

“A day later,” said Scutaro, her voice quivering as she struggled with her composure. “Or, I should say two days later, because it was the night previously…I went to bed after a nondescript day at work…then the next day I woke up chained to a wall in a dungeon, without any clothes…then this guy comes in, dressed in all black and wearing a skull mask. He never spoke, but he raped me several times. Later that night, I fell asleep and woke up later to a chain hung from one of my wrists with a key affixed to it. I also found my restraints were loose enough to allow me to unlock myself and free myself, which I subsequently did.”
“…and then what happened?” asked Smardiza.
“I found my clothes, and my cell phone,” said Scutaro. “I gathered my things and ran from the warehouse, after which I gave Leroy a call.”
“Why Leroy?” said Smardiza, feigning scrutiny. “Why didn’t you call Nick or Warrick?” he asked, referring to her CSI teammates Nick Stoltz and Warrick Farr, both of whom along with fellow teammate Colbie Brody were in court watching the proceedings.
“Nothing against Nick or Warrick,” said Scutaro, “but Leroy was my boss, and only he could authorize the investigation. Plus he was a father figure to me…he seemed like a natural choice.”
“Carry on,” said Smardiza.
“We investigated that night,” said Scutaro. “We didn’t waste any time…went back to the warehouse, found the condom the assailant used, the chains, the keys…did a rape kit…I mean, we covered all of our bases. In fact, I did most of the work…Leroy, he just guided me through it. We caught the assailant that night- it was a real confidence boost.”
“Oh, so you caught the guy,” said Smardiza, feigning incredulousness. “Shouldn’t that be case closed?”
“I thought it was,” said Scutaro, “but then a few weeks ago I thought about the incident…about how easy it was to catch this guy, about how easy it was for Leroy to guide me through it…I mean, I’ve been on some really easy cases, but something about this one said it was just too easy.”
“What if it truly was easy?” said Smardiza.
“Leroy said a lot of things to me that made me think he set this whole thing up,” said Scutaro. “The intersection where the warehouse I was imprisoned on didn’t have a marking, yet Leroy knew exactly where it was. I also remember that he was the one who brought up the fact the assailant used a condom…I didn’t do that.”
“He could have just been conscientious,” said Smardiza. “He’s been in the business a long time…surely he’d know a lot about all the tricks criminals use to evade authorities.”
“I thought about that,” said Scutaro, “but I also thought, ‘if this guy’s such a mastermind, why would it be so easy for Leroy and I to catch him?’ “
Smardiza smiled, happy he got the response out of Scutaro that his case needed. He then closed his questioning of Scutaro, which allowed Withers to conduct his cross-examination.

Withers, though, unexpectedly declined to ask Scutaro any questions, believing there wouldn’t be a judge who’d believe the far-fetched idea that a crime that had already been solved was really set up by someone else, especially with nothing but Scutaro’s testimony to establish that case. Witherspoon then adjourned the case, which allowed Scutaro to leave the courtroom.

Outside, she met her friends and immediately broke down upon seeing them, wasting no time getting into her friends’ waiting arms.

“It’s okay,” said Brody, the first to hug Scutaro. She held her tight and cradled the back of Scutaro’s head in her right hand, allowing Scuatro’s sobs to rain down on her shoulder. “You did good up there…I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah,” said Farr, the next one to hug Scutaro. “It takes some courage to testify against your boss, and you did it glowingly.” Scutaro then gave Stoltz a hug, cried on his shoulder just as she had done with Farr and Brody, before feeling composed enough to address the group.

“You guys,” said Scutaro, doing her best to fight back her tears. “You guys believe me…right?” She again started to cry, her heart heavy remembering what she had just gone through. “I mean…this is all so surreal…” Her tears fell more liberally, and her sobs obscured many of the words she tried to say. “So many people doubt me…they all take Leroy’s side…and I understand why…it just sucks so bad!”

Scutaro again broke down and was about to collapse to the floor before Stoltz grabbed a hold of her and locked her into a hearty embrace.

“I believe you,” said Stoltz assuredly into her ear. “We all do,” he continued, as Farr and Brody gave him knowing nods, unquestioned was their support for Scutaro.
“You’re family to us,” said Brody, rubbing Scutaro’s back as Scutaro continued to hold on for dear life onto Stoltz. “We stand behind our family…no matter the circumstances.”
“Besides,” said Farr assuredly. “You had the guts to take on not just your boss, but your father figure, the man who you thought you could trust above everyone else, and kept on pushing your story despite all the doubters and all the agencies you had to go through. There’s no way you made that s*** up.”

Unfortunately for Scutaro, when the trial concluded a week later, Witherspoon had emphatically believed that Scutaro made the entire story up, chastising her in court for it. Witherspoon even had the nerve to ask Scutaro why she didn’t lock her doors or her windows that night, disbelieving that Scutaro had actually done so. Fortunately, the Alberta State Police sided with Scutaro and announced that Simms would no longer be employed as CSI Director, promoting Stoltz to the position, but it was small solace for Scutaro, who now had to live with the fact the courts were so easily dismissive of her.

That night, after the verdict was announced, Scutaro went straight home and went to bed, crying herself to sleep. She slept for days on end, and her CSI teammates visited her often, with Stoltz understanding that she’d need a lot of time to recover before she could get back to work. It wasn’t until November of that year before Scutaro felt comfortable enough to return to work, but even then, despite the unabashed support of her teammates, she struggled to regain the unbridled confidence and positivity she had brought to her job before, and she wondered if she’d ever get it back.

September 24, 2016,
03:04 local time,
Unknown bunker,
Unknown location, Crete

Oraios could feel her head pounding as she slowly woke up from her slumber. Still feeling the effects of the sedative, Oraios was lethargic, her muscles too limber to move around effectively, while her vision was still very blurry. Her brain was already confused, but adding to it was the sense of despair overcoming Oraios when she scanned her surroundings and realized where she was.

What the heck? thought Oraios. I’m…I’m in a dungeon…um, where are my clothes? Slowly she began to regain her senses, which is when she began to feel the real weight of the peril that had now befallen her. She tried in vain to move her limbs, only for her to dart her eyes and realize she’d been chained to the wall, spread eagle, with her wrists and ankles fastened as tight as they could be to the wall without cutting off her circulation. She then had to swallow some saliva, which got her to realize her neck was also similarly chained to the wall as the swallowing put pressure on her choker chain.

Oraios then darted her eyes, her breathing becoming heavy as hopelessness began to set in. Only the moonlight prevented her room from being engulfed in total darkness, but she was too far away from the window to gain a glimpse into the outside world and hopefully deduce where she could be. She grimaced as she felt a spider crawling along her body and there was nothing she could do about it, a grimace that turned into a slight shock when the spider entered her vagina and promptly fell to the ground, the vaginal acids having killed it.

That was DISGUSTING, thought Oraios. She quivered and played with her vaginal muscles, hoping in vain to “close” them even though, naturally, they already were. She again panted heavily, before she lost her patience and just had to let out her frustrations.

“What do you want?!” yelled Oraios. Her voice grew louder and louder as she continued screaming for help, until it reached an ear-splitting crescendo. “Let me out! I’ll do anything! Just TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME!”

Oraios then let her head hang as much as she could, the svelte curly brunette feeling the pangs of defeat and thus beginning to audibly cry. Her crying soon got louder and louder, but, as the minutes passed and no one came to visit, her heart sank excruciatingly as her ultimate moment of despair had set in.

No one is going to come here…no one is going to save me, she thought, bitterly, as she continued to sob, eventually crying herself back to sleep.

March 26, 2017,
07:08 local time,
Virtue Guards Headquarters,
Constantinople, Byzantium

“Well Louloudi,” said Leroy Simms, the Director of the Virtue Guards, distinguishing himself as Supervisor of the Cretans’ Forensic Investigators Unit (IEM) after he was fired by the Alberta State Police, “I think you’ve got ample potential.” Simms, whose Greek was impeccable due to having a Cretan father, casually took several glances at Louloudi’s pronounced bosom, glances she aided by the fact that the top half of her blouse was unbuttoned, revealing her cleavage in all its perky, titillating glory.
“Oh why thank you!” said Louloudi, her voice a cheeky, high pitched nasally squeal that Simms found very alluring. “I’m so happy that someone values me!”
“Of course I do,” said Simms, unleashing a wide grin while not even bothering hiding another glance at Louloudi’s luscious breasts.
“You know,” said Louloudi, her voice beginning to speed up as her excitement level rose, “I’m so happy I applied here…I mean, so many places, they’re like, ‘oh you’re too young! You’d never know what we could be dealing with,’ and I’m like ‘yeah, whatevs losers’, I mean, ‘you don’t know what you’re missin!’ and then I’m like, ‘you know, just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean that I don’t know forensics…because I know forensics…I mean, I graduated at the top of my class, I mean, I had to know something, right? Mama don’t raise no fool you know! I mean, I’m just eager to get going and get started…I mean, there’s so much I can bring to the j-”

Louloudi was stopped dead in her tracks by Simms grabbing a hold of her hand and squeezing it, which sent the curly blonde woman’s heart into numerous palpations. The curvy beauty began to pant heavily with her ivory skin beginning to flush a very deep red. She looked up and her mouth was agape as she gazed longingly into Simms’ eyes, with her anticipation growing as she tried desperately to read the quiet confidence that Simms projected from his body language. Her excitement then reached a crescendo, as she pulled herself out of her seat when Simms approached her purposefully, still holding on to her hand and gradually pulling her towards him. She could then feel the aura of his body as Simms dragged her hand onto the small of his back, while he took his hands and wrapped them around her waist.

Then, he calmed her nerves by planting his mouth into Louloudi’s gaping, inviting lips, causing her to close her eyes and feel even more deeply as their tongues intertwined and they kissed ever so passionately and deeply, their mouths practically attempting to devour each other. Overcome with passion, the two of them let her hands roam ever so freely, and before she knew it, Louloudi’s skirt and her panties were on the floor and Simms was squeezing so tightly her bare bottom. While they were still kissing, Simms then pressed her groin against his as he continued to squeeze her butt, which caused her heart to flutter as she felt his hardened penis through his pants being rubbed against her bare vagina.

Instinctively, she then led Simms to the couch he had in his office, and planted herself on the cushions, allowing Simms to get over top of her and to lower the backing of the couch, revealing that it doubled as a bed. As she undid his pants and lowered them, her arousal grew as she felt Simms rub his hands on her breasts and heightened her excitement as he first put his hands into her shirt and placed his hands all over her breasts, before undoing her blouse and her bra, with his stoic demeanour breaking character once he saw her breasts pop out of her shirt in all of their glory.

“They’re beautiful!” he exclaimed, as Louloudi bit her lip and started to stroke Simms’ penis in extreme excitement. Simms wasted no time before he planted his lips onto her succulent nipples, the goose bumps on her skin becoming more pronounced as she clutched the back of Simms’ head with glee as he sucked on her breasts and flicked her nipples with euphoric gusto. Louloudi then undid his shirt and removed it, feeling with glee as she ran her hands along Simms’ ripped chest and abs. As her excitement level again began to grow, she clutched onto Simms’ penis and again began to stroke it, trying in vain to insert it into her vagina. Simms realized what was going on, but continued playing with her breasts, which caused his own arousal to grow. Louloudi, though euphoric, soon began restless, again trying to reach Simms’ penis with her vagina but she couldn’t insert it fully.

At this point, Simms figured Louloudi had anticipated long enough, and he inserted his fully erect penis into her tight but very well lubricated vagina. Louloudi’s skin by now was even more flush in deep arousal, as she screamed and moaned in joy as she felt the throbbing and the other sensations of Simms’ penis. Simms, for his part, thoroughly enjoyed feeling Louloudi’s pert nipples and breasts against his body, and groaned with glee as he felt the warmth and pleasure of his penis inside Louloudi’s vagina. Eventually, she screamed for Simms to go faster and harder, which Simms did, causing her to moan as loud as she could as his thrusts got deeper and faster. With both of their arousals reaching their zenith, their grunts and moans became deafening until Simms ejaculated inside of her, causing Louloudi to climax as well, which allowed both to eventually catch their breaths after they finished.

They both then lay next to each other and cuddled, holding each other tightly as Louloudi kissed Simms softly on his cheek.

“Wow,” said Louloudi. “That has to be the best job interview I’ve ever had.”
“I think it’s up there for me too,” said Simms, kissing Louloudi’s forehead.
“So, um,” said Louloudi, scared to find out the answer. “Do I have the job?”

Simms smiled and chuckled briefly, which sent Louloudi’s stomach into knots.

“Yeah you do,” said Simms, planting another kiss. “I think you earned it.”
“…but,” said Louloudi demurely, “I’m all wet…surely I need a shower.”
Simms smiled, enraptured by the sound of her voice.

“I got a change of clothes for you,” said Simms, getting up and taking Louloudi by the hand. “I’ve also got a shower…come this way.” Louloudi got up gleefully with him, giggling as she joined Simms for a nice, long shower while Simms noting in his head about how lucky he was to have a repeat performance of a past interview.

October 4, 2016,
02:11 local time,
Unknown bunker,
Unknown location, Crete

The sensation was unbearable. Fastened with suction cups on her nipples and an electric vibrator stimulating her nether regions, Oraios struggled physically and mentally not to pass out due to the dizziness. Whoever was torturing her seemed to know exactly how to set the devices to get her sexually stimulated, which she found to be very odd. It also served to make her pain even worse, as it made her body enjoy the torture immensely which conflicted with her brain, which wanted nothing more than to end it.

Eventually, through her haze, she saw The Man with The Mask return, whom she wanted to address but instead of uttering words, all she could utter was a yelp.

The Man, dressed in a black muscle shirt, black pants and a black mask that covered his eyes and his nose, was nonplussed, deciding to watch Oraios scream and moan in unbearable, unwanted stimulation, a stimulation The Man enjoyed. After a few minutes more enjoying Oraios’ screams, The Man decided to detach her torture devices, which caused Oraios to let out a loud, grateful yelp along with many deep breaths to regain her composure.

As she panted, The Man nonchalantly grabbed her face before tossing it aside, which stunned Oraios even more.

“What do you want?” said Oraios. “I promise…if you let me go, I won’t tell anyone. Please…I’m begging you…I’ve learned my lesson…”
“No, you haven’t,” said The Man curtly, his voice Oraios recognizing but she couldn’t figure out where.
“I don’t understand,” wailed Oraios, who began to cry. “I don’t know who you are, I don’t know where we are…I don’t know what I did!” She then broke down and cried even more, which left The Man unmoved.
“You know exactly what you did,” said The Man, still curt.

Oraios then let out more yells as The Man then proceeded to enjoy her body again, running his hands and his mouth all over her with reckless abandon. He then pulled down his pants and held her body next to his, making sure that every thrust and every body movement banged her against the wall, causing her to grimace insufferably with each thrust. When he finished, he grinned with glee and then pulled out, putting his pants back on feeling very satisfied. He then checked Oraios’ back for cuts, and, satisfied there were none (there would be bruises, though), let her be, though he couldn’t leave without squeezing her breast one last time.

As the door to her dungeon closed behind him, helplessly so for Oraios, Oraios couldn’t help but again break down in tears. She wanted so desperately to “wake up” and realize this whole ordeal was just one bad nightmare, but there was nothing she could do to alter her reality. All that she held on to was the fact this Man was keeping her alive, and if she could understand why, she just might be able to escape.

February 14, 2017,
21:14 local time,
The Maiden’s Bourbon,
Seattle, Sierra

Carl Ratzinger sat at the bar, hunched over, his beer mug having barely been touched. It had been a rough go for him over the past few years, as he travelled extensively in a bid to “find himself”. The 23-year-old longed to establish himself as an adult, desperate to prove his father wrong and establish that he truly could live on his own.

He was always coddled, Carl was, not surprising given he was an only child. His father raised him by himself, and, in overdoing his responsibilities, his father was a relentless micromanager of Carl’s life. Carl knew that Paul did so to make him feel safe, but it still took an incredible toll on him and his psyche.

Just once, Carl often thought, he’d like it if he could go out on his own or whip up a meal or even watch TV without Paul asking a hundred questions about it. Carl understood it when he was younger, but as he got older he thought that Paul might actually understand- for a change- that Carl knew what he was doing, at least in some cases.

Yet it never happened, so by the time Carl hit 18 he decided he had enough. He took his meagre savings and left his home on a whim, vowing never to come back. He was engaging enough that he quickly found work wherever he went, which allowed him to travel to the next place that Carl felt drawn to.

It was fun at first, but Carl began to think that maybe it was time to settle down. He had been in Seattle for a few months, and while he enjoyed the weather, ever since the American Confederacy (of which Sierra was a part) joined the Virtue Federation, things had become less favourable for him. He was afraid of the President, Haylie Modine, who made a name for herself in her first few months in power by jailing hundreds of opposition members, including many politicians. She claimed to be fighting fascism, but Carl couldn't help but note the irony that she was acting like one.

Unbeknownst to Carl, a few seats down were two women, both young like he was. They were having a much better time, gleefully gulping down shots and throwing back other drinks that they became very boisterous. The other men at the bar soon took notice, many wondering if they’d be able to score a date with them.

An hour into Carl’s stint staring at his drink, the two women again went back to the bar and ordered another drink. In their drunken state, they forgot to pay attention to the bar and didn’t see their drinks arrive. This gave one man a perfect opportunity to get beside Carl and slip a vial of liquid into one of the women’s drinks, slipping away unnoticed.

One of the women started to get woozy, which caused her friend to panic. There was much yelling and screaming, to which the barmaid quickly paid attention to, but Carl had managed to tune it out- he had been to enough bars to know that commotions were a common occurrence. He was caught off guard when the more stable woman tapped him on the shoulder.

“Did you just spike my friend’s drink?” said the woman, looking at Carl with an icy glare and venom in her voice.
“Um, what, excuse me?” said Carl, dumbfounded by the accusation but refusing to turn to look at her. “I respect your consternation but rest assured I would not do such a thing.”
“Really?” said the woman, putting her hands on her hips. “Do you really think I’m going to fall for that?”

Carl shook his head and got up. He turned around and finally looked at her, pursing his lips.

“Look, miss,” said Carl, as politely as he could. “I just wanted to come here to take my mind off things…it’s obvious your friend has just had too much to drink…happens to all of us…so, please, respectfully, I do not wish to be a part of your drama.”
“I’m sorry!” said the woman, forcefully grabbing Carl’s arm and stopping him from walking away. “You don’t get to choose what drama you’re a part of when you started it!”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Carl with a chuckle. “I’ve been spending the last hour staring at my drink…I didn’t even know you were here until you touched me…which I really don’t want you to do.”
“Oh, so you don’t like it when a woman touches you,” said the woman, refusing to let go, “but you can totally spike a woman’s drink…that’s perfectly OK!”
“I never said I don’t want women touching me,” said Carl, “I just don’t want you to do it…a simple request you seem unable to fulfill.”
“Because I’m not letting the man who poisoned my friend to get away,” said the woman.
“I’m sorry,” said Carl, trying to pull his arm away but failing, the woman’s grip stronger than he thought, “but I really don’t wish to be involved in your fanciful delusions.”
“Fanciful?” said the woman, incensed. “Is that what you call what happened to my friend? I’m going to guess that you’ll tell me if only she didn’t have too much to drink she wouldn’t be in trouble. Right? RIGHT?!?”
“Well,” said Carl, “the perils of overdrinking are well established and-”

Before he could finish the woman delivered a hard, painful slap to his cheek, which would leave a mark.

Shortly afterwards, a security guard came over and confronted the pair. Meanwhile, the man who actually spiked the drink fled the scene, realizing the commotion meant he could not kidnap the drugged woman as he wanted to.

“Is something going on here?” said the guard, a towering man with a shaved bald head and piercing eyes.
“This monster drugged my friend’s drink!” said the woman, forcefully poking Carl in the chest. “I saw him do it!”

That was all the guard wanted to hear, grabbing Carl’s arm with such force that it started to tingle.

“That’s it?” said Carl in disbelief. “You’re just going to take her at her word? I don’t get a statement in my defence?”

The guard was unmoved, refusing to answer Carl while dragging him out of the club. There waiting for him was the police, who wasted no time in handcuffing him.

“This is a disgrace!” shouted Carl, tearing in anger as the police applied their handcuffs. “I’m an American! I have rights! You can’t do this!” Carl then tried to hold his ground, continuing to prattle about the denial of his rights and how the woman could have been lying or that the security guard might have identified the wrong man. He even threw in a jab at newly elected American President Haylie Modine, who pledged to review due process laws in a bid to end “rape culture”. The police tried to be patient but even this ran out. One officer decided she had enough, clenching her fist and cold-cocking Carl in the face, dazing him to such a point that allowed the police to haul him away.

February 16, 2017,
10:05 local time,
Seattle Police, 20th Precinct,
Seattle, Sierra

“The Constitution of the American Confederacy is very clear,” said Counsel Betty Siren of the Seattle Public Defenders association. “You can’t just detain someone without just cause, and you certainly can’t deny them their rights.”
“Madam,” said Robson Street Captain Julian Miles, “we’ve got multiple witnesses who say that your client drugged Alicia Waterstone’s drink. We’ve got just cause.”
“Don’t give me that,” said Siren. The ebony-skinned woman of average build sat back in her chair and folded her arms, delivering an icy stare into her adversary’s eyes.

The stocky, pale-skinned Miles could only chuckle.

“If you seem so certain, why do you think Carl Ratzinger is innocent?” said Miles, folding his arms.
“I don’t have to prove innocence,” said Siren, “you have to prove guilt, and you can’t do that. Both witnesses- Waterstone’s friend, Rebecca Coddler or security guard Revis Gladside- gave wildly conflicting testimonies, Coddler was drunk, neither could say definitively they saw Mr. Ratzinger spike Waterstone’s drink, Mr. Ratzinger was not found with any substance or vial on his person, a search of his apartment turned up no substances, his social media, Google searches and his contacts provided no evidence that he was even remotely interested in finding a drug to rape a woman, nor would any of his contacts be able to facilitate that request. He also has a clear criminal record, and none of his female contacts ever believed he’d be a danger to them or any of their friends. He’s about as clean and law-abiding a citizen as you could ever find.”

Miles chuckled.

“He does have a lot of pictures of women in various positions of bondage and submission,” said Miles simply.

Siren couldn’t hold back her disbelief.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” she retorted. “Some artwork? How many millions of people view and indulge in that kind of work without raping women? Huh? How many? No court of law will ever accept that argument.”
“You know, there’s lots of literature that states men who view pornographic material may eventually become sexually deviant themselves,” said Miles.
“I’ve read those studies too,” said Siren. “Almost all are self-reported, the effects are never long-lasting, and all fail because correlation does not equal causation. Besides, it’s the old ‘chicken and the egg’ argument- does pornography create objectification or are objectifiers drawn to pornography?”

Siren got up and paced, throwing her hands in the air. She then turned around and put her hands on her hips before pointedly addressing Miles.

“Look, Julian,” she said. “I, as much as anyone else, do not want anyone to get raped. I don’t want anyone to get sexually assaulted. Heck, you know I’ve dealt with some pretty bad men out there and you know I’ve got personal experience with misogyny and hate.

“You know what, though? We’re not going to get anywhere if all we do is pander to emotions and resort to ridiculous arguments and generalizations. We lose all our credibility if we round up innocent people and accusing them of doing things they’d never dream of doing. You’re just asking for the hate you want to eradicate to proliferate.”

Miles could only laugh.

“You spin a good yarn, Betty,” he said tersely, “but I think it is you that doesn’t understand the problem. Too many men are ticking time bombs of abuse just waiting to happen…Haylie’s right, it’s not an issue we can sweep under the rug. Besides, so many instances of abuse fail to be properly prosecuted because they occur when there are no witnesses, giving attackers a ‘free rein’. Face it, Betty, the ‘evidence-based’ society just is inadequate to deal with sexual assault and harassment, so we have to be hard on it. If we have to round up a few innocents but wind up eradicating rape, I’d say the effort was worth it.”

Siren’s eyes widened as she let out a huff.

“You say that,” said Siren, “until you’re the innocent that gets their life destroyed.”

February 20, 2017,
22:15 local time,
Seattle Police, 20th Precinct,
Seattle, Sierra

Carl looked up, roused from his slumber. Though the bench he had to sleep on in his cell was hardly beneficial for sleep, the last week was so stressful on him that he got so tired that any surface would do.

Coming into his cell was Siren, who entered the cell alone. Carl quite enjoyed their talks, even though he was getting frustrated with the police for always finding some reason to keep him locked up. Tonight, he hoped, he was going to get different news.

“How are you doing, sugar?” said Siren, sitting on a chair in front of Carl.
“I’ll admit,” said Carl with a nervous chuckle, “it’ll depend on what you have to tell me.”

Siren sighed and pursed her lips, which Carl noticed immediately.

“What?” he said. “What is it?”
“Carl,” said Siren, “there’s no easy way for me to tell you this…”
“Tell me,” he said, starting to breathe heavily, “tell me what?”
“They’re talking about deportation,” said Siren with another heavy sigh.
“Depor-what?” said Carl in shock.

Carl glanced around the room aimlessly, still trying to process what he just heard. Deportation? he thought. Where would I go? I’m a North American citizen…born and raised. They can’t just throw me overseas…especially considering they haven’t a shred of proof that I’ve committed a crime. How could this happen to me?

“It’s a shock to me too,” said Siren, “but it’s because you’re an Ontarian, and Ontario isn’t a part of the American Confederacy.”
“Well that’s okay,” said Carl. “My dad…my dad lives in Ontario.” Carl actually didn’t like the thought of going back to live with his father but it was better than nothing.
“Unfortunately they can’t send you to Ontario,” said Siren. “You renounced your Ontarian citizenship three years ago and applied for the generic North American Union citizenship, which now doesn’t exist. Therefore, the only country of which you are a citizen of is the Vandal Kingdom.”
“The Vandal Kingdom?” said Carl, finding all this difficult to process.
“You were born in the Vandal Kingdom,” said Siren.
“Yes,” said Carl, “Icosium. I moved to Ontario when I was one. I never met my mother.”
“Well,” said Siren with a heavy sigh. “You might actually get your chance now.”

Carl’s eyes started to well up with tears, his body overcome with intense sadness.

“How can there be nothing you can do?” he said, tears oozing out. “I know no one in Icosium…I don’t even know if my mother is even alive…they…they…”

Carl then broke down in tears, burying his head in his hands. He cried for several minutes, which made it hard for Siren to keep her own composure.

“Carl,” said Siren, speaking softly. “Carl I know…I’m in shock about all this too…the way Haylie has run this country…it just makes no sense. She puts her zeal above reason and doesn’t realize she’s undermining her own problem.”

F*** Haylie!” shouted Carl. “F*** feminism! They ruined my life!

Carl again howled in tears, breaking down emotionally as the sadness over his dire situation completely took hold of him.

A distraught Siren could only look on, knowing there weren’t the words available that could comfort Carl.

“Please, oh please!” said Carl, crawling to Siren and grabbing a hold of her arm. “Please tell me you’ve filed some kind of motion that will block all this! This is insane!”

“I did,” said Siren assuredly, which relieved Carl. “I’m challenging your deportation as unlawful given that you haven’t yet been charged with a crime. It’s one of the few rights you actually do have.”

Almost on cue, a prison guard, two police officers and two Immigration & Citizenship Enforcement (ICE) officers entered Carl’s cell.

“Hold on, the judge that can decide on his case won’t be on the bench until tomorrow morning,” said Siren, getting in the way of the officers. “This is beyond unlawful.”

“Betty Siren,” said the prison guard coldly. “You are under arrest.”

“Under arrest?” said Carl, doing his best to dodge the ICE agents. “For what?”

“For filing too many frivolous requests,” said the guard as the officers applied handcuffs to a silent but defiant Siren.

“Is this how Haylie runs her country?!” shouted Carl after the ICE agents had tackled him and subdued him, “by arresting everyone who dares stand in her way? A liberal fascist is still a fascist!”

The officers were all unmoved, finishing their jobs and leading Carl to his inevitable fate.

March 5, 2017,
02:12 local time,
The Casbah,
Icosium, Vandal Kingdom

Although the Sun was hot, Carl was cold. Ever since he landed in Icosium, he hadn’t been able to shower or change his clothes, and, over time, the dampness of his sweat accumulated. He shorn his shirt of its sleeves and reduced his pants to khakis, but not even that would be enough to provide him relief. He eventually decided to strip down to his underwear, refusing to doff that part because Carl wanted to believe he still had a shred of dignity left.

He had no home, as, to his dismay, Carl learned his mother passed way over 15 years ago and thus he had nowhere to go. He thus was reduced to the life of a street urchin, forced to forage for whatever he could and beg others for what he could not find. He carried with him a small switchblade, using it for protection, although as days dragged on and his despair mounted, the idea of using it to threaten the more fortunate grew in his mind every day. At first, he was visible on the street corners, being nice and polite to the passersby in the hopes that they would return their kindness, but it soon evolved into a false hope.

The Vandals, he found, were even colder than anyone he had ever met in Ontario, owing in large part to the country’s strange criminals. Where in other countries people could generally assume a beggar on the street is really just a beggar, in the Vandal Kingdom, many often saw it as a ruse for a robbery or worse, a kidnapping. In fact, the criminal faction- called the “Superkriminelle”- had such a knack for creativity that the Vandals were often distrustful of each other, even people they knew very well- after all, no one could ever tell in this strange world whether or not someone’s actions were genuine or just part of another long con.

Except, Carl found, on the streets, because the homeless had far too much to worry about to engage in deception. He bonded with many of them, and together they helped each other find places to sleep and find food to eat, aided at times by the local outreach centre. Sometimes they would rob a passerby out of the frustration that none of them wanted to help, an action Carl soon accepted as an inevitability.

Tonight, at his usual street corner, he saw a new face. A young woman with glistening burgundy locks and glowing ivory skin, covered in an array of blankets. Carl thought she was beautiful, but he struggled to make a move until the woman called him over.

“Don’t worry, hotshot,” said the woman, patting the ground next to her inviting Carl to sit with her. “I don’t bite.”
“You don’t bite?” said Carl, sitting down next to her. “I’m somewhat disappointed,” Carl continued with a nervous chuckle.
“Sorry I don’t bite on the first date,” said the woman with a wry smile.

Carl laughed, warming up to the woman. He was particularly struck by the scent of her hair and didn’t hesitate to take a whiff.

“Are you a natural?” Carl asked, flashing the woman a warm smile.
“A natural?” she asked, appreciating Carl’s smile but still confused about what he meant.
“Yeah,” said Carl. “A natural redhead.”
“Oh,” said the woman, who readjusted her hair, showing some blonde streaks. “Yeah…I’m a natural. I get it from my mother.”
“Where’s your mother from?” said Carl.
“Ontario, actually,” said the woman. “This strange little place in North America.”
“I used to live in Ontario,” said Carl, starting to get a little excited. “The country…not the city in California.”
“I’m talking about the country too,” said the woman. “It’s nice…I’ve been there a few times.”
“Oh wow,” said Carl, beside himself that he was talking with someone half a world away who knew his long time home. “So, where did you visit?”
“Kendallville,” said the woman. “It’s south of Toronto.”

Carl began to think something wasn’t right, but decided to continue playing along.

“Kendallville,” said Carl. “I wasn’t aware of such a place.”
“It’s a small town by the lake,” said the woman with a wistful chuckle. “It’s so small you won’t find it on any map.”
“...and it’s south of Toronto?” Carl pressed.
“Southeast,” said the woman unconvincingly. “Just a short drive, actually.”
“You’re not very good at this, are you?” Carl said, throwing the woman off her game.
“Excuse me?” said the woman.

“Look,” said Carl. “I lived in Ontario. Southeast of Toronto is Lake Ontario...the eastern part the is the Portlands. There is no place known as ‘Kendallville’’re either an undercover agent or you’re just a very bad liar. I like to think it would be the latter, since you seem pretty nice.”

The woman got up and threw off her cloak, emerging as a woman dressed in a white tank top and workout pants. Carl saw that she was muscular and well built, which she accented by flexing her arms, but Carl wasn’t fazed.

“OK,” said Carl, deadpanning. He thought the display was pointless, since it appeared to him that the woman was trying way too hard to be imposing. He also wondered how such a benign conversation could so enrage the woman like it seemed to.

“So you come here, chat me up and then when I say something you don’t like, you flex?” Carl said, still confused about the whole situation. “Besides, you don’t have much of a moral high ground…you tried to deceive me…I’m not really sure what you’re trying to achieve here.”

Carl stared at the woman while she offered no response, looking at him with a steely glare and clenching her fists. Sensing that she was all show and no action, Carl decided that she seemed like yet another crazy person, so he decided to get up and walk away. Before he took two steps, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see that the woman did it to get his attention, which she repaid by punching him in the face.

“What the…?” said Carl, feeling the part of his face that was just hit, grimacing in intense pain. “What was that for?” He then recoiled in pain before collapsing to the ground, as the pain shot up his jaw and gave him a massive headache.

“OK, OK,” said Carl, stammering as he saw the woman approach him menacingly. “What do you want? Do you want money? I don’t have money…well, I don’t have a lot of it…” The woman then raised her fist, which caused Carl to recoil even more on the ground.

“Please, please!” said Carl, cowering in fear. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you! Just please…tell me what you want!”

“You’ve been robbing people,” said the woman coldly. “You need to stop that.”
“…but, but,” said Carl. “I need to eat! We need to eat!”
“We all do,” said the woman, circling over Carl as if he were vanquished prey, “but we all need to secure it legitimately. Taking from others is not legitimate- they earned it, you didn’t.”
“They have so much,” said Carl, “and we have nothing…and they refuse to help.”
“It’s not their job to help you,” she said. “It’s your job to help yourself.”
“…but I am helping myself,” said Carl. “I gotta survive…this isn’t about me stealing a TV…this is about food. We all need to eat.”

The woman sneered at him and again circled him like a lioness on her prey as Carl could only look on, whimpering and cowering in fear. She then bent down and put her face right into Carl’s, which caused Carl to hyperventilate even more.

“Here’s what I know, scum,” said the woman. “People like you…you choose to be here. If you wanted to get out of this, you would have found a real job by now and would be working legitimately. Instead, you’re here, smelling filthy rotten, stealing other people’s hard earned cash. Why? Because you enjoy it. You won’t admit it…but secretly…you know you do.”

The woman’s words suddenly gave Carl a burst of energy, as he felt a rage inside of him that he never felt before. He got up and looked at the woman with fire in his eyes, clenching his own fists ready for the fight.

“You think I chose this?” said Carl. “I was deported…wrongfully convicted in Sierra. I know no one here…I stepped off the plane and the authorities just told me to walk. All of my relatives are dead or living in Sierra, a place I cannot go back to because of the backwards politicians that exist there. I tried to get a job here, but nobody wants to hire me- they all turn their backs on me after giving me their word, because no one trusts anyone in this place. Furthermore, I have no home because there is no home for me to go to, and the only friends I have ever gotten in this place are fellow street urchins like myself. Why? Because we’re too desperate to care about deceiving others like the rest of you loonies are!”

Carl then walked up to the woman and shoved her.

“Who do you work for?” he said, shoving her again. “Who do you work for? Tell me!”
“I’m just a concerned citizen,” said the woman.
“No you’re not!” shouted Carl. “You know too much about me…you studied me. You’ve been sent by someone to deal with me…I don’t know who.”
“Now what makes you think I’d tell you who I work for?” said the woman with a chuckle.
“Because I’m supposed to have rights,” said Carl. “A citizen of a country is supposed to have rights…to not be bullied by other people arbitrarily imposing their own laws. If you work for the police, you’re supposed to tell me and then tell me what crime I am being charged with. Otherwise, you are no better than the criminals you think you are fighting!”

The woman shook her head and offered no response. She then took a swing at Carl’s head.

Carl, though, was ready for it, dodging her swing before connecting with a swing of his own in her stomach. Before she could react, there was another blow on her face, with Carl now raining blows upon her body relentlessly. The woman didn’t at all anticipate Carl’s speed, and thus had no time to counteract anything Carl did to her.

Meanwhile, Carl, energized by his rage, continued to pound away at her, eventually getting her to the ground where he straddled her hips and rained blow upon blow on her face. The woman could do little except take the punishment, hoping there would be a point where Carl got tired but there wouldn’t be. Sensing the woman was getting weak, Carl picked her up by her shoulder and violently threw her against the nearby store wall, bashing her head against it and making her collapse to the ground, momentarily losing consciousness.

Carl sensed that he was now in for the kill, but his rage wouldn’t allow him to finish her off with just a few blows to the head. He took off his underwear and used his knife to cut open the woman’s clothes, running his hands and his mouth all over her body and enjoying it thoroughly. He then delivered the ultimate humiliation for her, jamming his penis inside her vagina and ramming it many times inside her, climaxing amidst a pool of blood in its wake. The woman, now barely conscious, could only lay there, whimpering for Carl to let her live, even though she knew that it was futile. He beat her face beyond recognition, knocking out her teeth, before taking his knife and jamming it into her heart, killing her right there.

He then backed off of her and took in the bloody mess he had just created. He looked on in shock, wondering just what came over him to do that to the woman. People had crossed him before but he never reacted like this. What, he thought, made this so different? Did something change? Was he no longer the man that he used to be? How could he be capable of such a thing?

He collapsed in its wake, curling up into a ball and crying uncontrollably, sobbing and asking himself how he could be capable of becoming the monster he had just become. I don’t deserve to live, he thought, his sobs becoming louder as the time progressed. He began to think that death sounded more and more attractive, and began to shout hysterically that he deserved to die and wished that someone would just kill him.

Another woman passed by the crime scene and was taken by what she saw. Her skin was as white as snow, and her body was fit and elegantly slender. She had blue hair tied back into a single ponytail, with red eyes and yellow lips. Her top was a bra held up by straps and a bottom lining that looked like chains, interlocking in the middle where a red patch shaped like a skull was present. Her torso was exposed, as well as her thighs, as all she had on her waist was two beaded hip scarves tied together and briefs. Fishnet stockings covered her bottom legs, with each topped by a blue patch in the design of a skull. The blue-haired woman was about to comment about how senseless the act was until she picked up a badge and presented it to Carl.

“Hey,” said the blue-haired woman, tapping Carl on the shoulder. He grimaced and recoiled even further on the ground. She bent down and rubbed his shoulder, speaking softly.

“What,” said Carl, hyperventilating, “what do you want? Whatever it is, just kill me!
“No,” said the blue-haired woman. “No…I can’t do that. You’re a hero to us all.”

Carl looked around and gave the blue-haired woman a confused look.

“I’m a…what?” he said, perplexed.

“Come with me,” she implored, grabbing his arm. “My apartment’s around the corner…they’re going to look for you.”
“Wai-wa-wait,” said Carl, refusing to get up. “Who’s they, and I’ve been deceived once already. I’m not falling for your tricks!”

Sirens could be heard in the distance, which prompted Carl to believe what the blue-haired woman was telling him. The allure of finding out how he was a hero kept him intrigued, as he hurried away with the blue-haired woman leading the way.

March 5, 2017,
06:12 local time,
Casbah Apartments,
Icosium, Vandal Kingdom

When he got to her apartment, he took a long shower, cleansing himself of the dirt, grime and blood that had accumulated from his attack. Part of him still felt like this was a ruse and that the blue-haired woman was associated with the woman he just killed, but he figured at this stage if she was friend or foe it wouldn’t matter- if she ended his life or prolonged it, it was a goal for him either way.

After he stepped out of the shower he grabbed the towel, but was too tired to dry himself. He then found a chair and sat in it, wrapping himself up with the towel.

As soon as he sat down, the blue-haired woman came to greet him. She kissed him on the cheek before kneeling in front of him. She attempted to open his towel before Carl intervened.

“OK,” he said, “too fast here. You still haven’t told me your name.”
“Well my real name is Casri Fallang,” said the blue-haired woman, “but around here, I got by Dauria.”
“Dauria,” said Carl, intrigued by the answer. “What does that mean?”
“It’s a portmanteau of my real name,” said Dauria, “and ‘death’ in Icelandic. My father is Icelandic and my mother is Genera Fallang.”
“She won the Casaran election just the other day,” said Carl.
“A month ago,” said Dauria, “but she’s done so much it does feel like a blur.”
“You don’t sound too pleased,” said Carl.
“Because I know my mother,” said Dauria.

Dauria sighed, the topic a difficult one for her to discuss. Carl began to relax, feeling her pain.

“I was born here, in the Vandal Kingdom, while my father and mother were on vacation,” Dauria explained. “They never got along…they were only together because they were having me.”

As Dauria bared her soul, Carl began to feel more comfortable, which relaxed his hold on his towel. Dauria saw his penis was exposed and began to stroke it slowly, which gave her and Carl an odd comfort.

“At first she told me that my father, Sigurd Halthorsson, was killed by robbers while we were on vacation,” said Dauria, continuing to stroke Carl’s penis, “and I believed it, because Genera was my mother and I had no reason to believe that my mother could lie to me.

“Until, one day I heard a story while I was in Casara. I was 14…the story was about Vandal superheroes, and how the Casaran government used them to get rid of people they didn’t like, because their laws wouldn’t allow for it. Part of that story was a segment on my father, where it was claimed ‘an unnamed Casaran’ accused him of raping her and, because she had no proof of the crime, she went to the Vandal Kingdom to hire a superhero to kill my father, which they did. I confronted my mother about the lie and she evaded me, so I found out the truth from a friend. Not only did my mother lie to me about how my dad was killed, she lied about the rape- they were really a young couple who had a fling- and worse still, I found out I was an accident. Furthermore, I found out that Genera really only used me to make a point- she became a radical Casaran, the kind of feminist that wanted to prove that men were superfluous and thus wanted to show that a baby could be raised without a dad. So she had him killed…and made up the rape to garner sympathy.”
“…and she’s used that to get all the way to the throne,” said Carl, intrigued and saddened by Dauria’s story while still enjoying his handjob.
“Fortunately because I was born in the Vandal Kingdom I could claim citizenship, so I did,” said Dauria. “Four years ago, when I was 16, I got tired of my mother’s antics and moved here. I became an outreach worker, because I wanted to find out more about the Vandal superheroes and why they killed my father. I found out it’s not just Casara that sends their unwanted here…it’s every country, because they know Vandal society is run by the superheroes, who can be convinced to do your bidding if you pay them enough.”

Dauria then saw that Carl’s penis was fully erect, so she opened her mouth and wrapped it around his phallus, sucking it with great delight. Carl sat there and closed his eyes, immersing himself in the pleasure of the fellatio, especially because Dauria did it so well. As Dauria continued to work, Carl could only get more excited, allowing his arousal to take over his entire body. She is a master at this, thought Carl, his breathing becoming soothed as he enjoyed Dauria’s work. Eventually Dauria worked so hard that Carl climaxed with great effect, as a wondrous euphoria set in, a euphoria so wondrous he never knew his pleasure could reach such heights. He then ejaculated several times into Dauria’s mouth, an ejaculate Dauria was only so eager to receive.

“Which is why what you did was so special,” said Dauria after finishing the fellatio and swallowing his load. “You managed to kill the Red Fox, Icosium’s top superhero. No one in the Vandal Kingdom has ever killed a superhero before, and your friends on the street will be forever glad that you did.”
“Why?” said Carl, gleefully satisfied with the fellatio but troubled by Dauria’s statement. “It’s still murder, though.”
“The Vandal superheroes have gotten away with murder for years,” said Dauria. “Since they’re essentially only rivalled by the military within the country and that society relies on them to keep them safe, the superheroes learned they could bully the public and use them for their own needs. the Red Fox, in particular, has killed so many people, often over petty disagreements, and yet the Vandal Parliament does nothing about it, because they need her around.”

Carl sat and pondered what he heard. It disturbed him to think that the Vandals essentially “took out the trash” of other countries, but he wasn’t truly convinced that Dauria was his friend.

“How can I be sure I can trust you?” he said. “You said the guys on the street would know I killed the Red Fox…so too would the police. How do I know this isn’t a confidence trick and the police aren’t going to be banging on this door at any moment?”

Dauria lowered her head and sighed, knowing Carl would ask that question.

“If I had a way to answer that question I would,” said Dauria. “Unfortunately I don’t know how…trust is fickle, I can’t make you trust me. The only thing I can say is- sometimes you just have to believe, even if you don’t know.

“…but, if you really think about it…I let you shower. Wash away whatever evidence they could have to tie you to the crime. Your underwear is back at the scene, and it’s in so many pieces that no one could recognize them as yours. Not only that, but there’s so much blood and grime and other kinds of contamination on the ground where the Red Fox’s body was found that DNA testing won’t be conclusive.”

Dauria then walked to her dresser and picked up her lanyard, which contained her pass to get inside the outreach centre’s offices. Tears formed in her eyes and she presented it to Carl, who, after seeing her picture, realized he’d seen her before.

“If nothing else,” she said, with tears flowing from her eyes, “believe this. Know that you guys are like family to me, and that I’d do everything to help you. Know that…from deep within my heart.”

Carl was so taken by Dauria’s emotional display that he was at a loss for words. He finally believed that Dauria was trustworthy, so he leapt from his chair and wrapped his arms around Dauria and began to kiss her deeply, which Dauria reciprocated. Soon, their passions overcame them and they made their way to Dauria’s bed, where they had sex, spell-binding, fulfilling sex.

When they were finished, Carl and Dauria cuddled, holding each other’s naked bodies tightly against each other. Eventually they fell asleep in each other’s arms, with Carl vowing to help Dauria out. From that point on, Carl was a different man, one who vowed to show the world- and especially Genera Fallang- that the “trash” they discarded would be capable of doing things no one could ever think was possible.

For this, he decreed he was no longer Carl- he was The Rat, the symbol for the ultimate piece of human trash and the ultimate symbol to use to prove the world’s doubters wrong.

June 10, 2017,
00:54 local time,
George’s Pub,
Constantinople, Byzantium

“Ryker’s please,” said Donald Diego, barking an order at the bar. “On the rocks…but, hold the lemon.”
“Oooh,” said Brittany Kos, who couldn’t help but hear Diego’s bold order. “Hold the lemon, huh? That’s a pretty stingy drink.”
Diego turned to look at his new admirer, whose childlike shrill was particularly endearing to him. “Well,” he said with a smirk, “I like it rough.”
“You like it rough, eh?” said Kos, curling up next to Diego. “Do you play as hard as you drink?”
“Maybe,” said Diego, stiffening up to appear distant. “I can’t give it all away though.”
Kos smiled, noticing that Diego was intentionally playing “hard to get”.

The two continued their banter, getting more sexually suggestive with each passing minute and each new drink finished. They liked each other- Kos, a busty blonde who selected her lacy dress because it gave the impression her breasts would pop out of the outfit, and Diego, another blonde, clean-shaven, well-built and athletic, who wore a leather jacket and jeans because he said it makes him look tougher.

Eventually, after so many drinks, the two of them couldn’t tease each other anymore, wrapping themselves around each other becoming deep, drunken paramours. They wrestled and fondled each other passionately but with reckless abandon, the two so caught up in their romance that they didn’t care who or what they banged into, much to the chagrin of the bar staff and patrons.

“Listen,” said Diego, managing to catch his breath after yet another deep kiss. “My place is down the road…new apartment…you should come.”

Kos, catching her breath, pondered Diego’s question and began to think about her friends, whom she seemed to have abandoned. They left for another pub but Kos was so intertwined with Diego that she didn’t notice.

“Donald,” said Kos. “I really should-”

Diego didn’t let her finish, taking her by the hand and practically dragging her out of the bar, the two stumbling as they went. Kos still tried to break free but realized her fate when, down the block from the bar in a dark alleyway, Diego slammed her against the wall and pressed her against it, using the darkness to peel away her dress and enjoy her body in ways he couldn’t at the bar.

At this point Kos couldn’t help but wrestle with her emotions, her body and her libido thoroughly enjoying Diego and his aggressive, assertive ways, and her mind feeling that maybe this was a bit too much too soon. She then felt helpless as Diego’s carelessness caused him to rip apart her dress, which he then thoughtlessly threw into the alleyway. Kos felt that maybe she could scream for help, but the shock and sudden rush of feelings and emotions kept her so confused that she couldn’t tell when the right moment was.

Then Kos felt Diego unzipping his pants, forcing her hand.

“Donny, Donny, Donny,” Kos began to plead. “We’re going too fast…please…please…I’m begging you…please.”

Diego didn’t care, forcing her sock into her mouth to muffle her screams. He then flattened her against the wall and rammed his penis inside her, thrusting it back and forth with such intensity that she felt her insides were being barraged by a battering ram, with Diego’s grunting feeling like the wails of invading soldiers. Her arousal instincts soon kicked in the more she felt herself wrapping herself around Diego’s engorgement, with her thoughts of discomfort soon replaced by emotions and moans of pleasure.

Diego then felt he was ready to climax, so he quickly withdrew and suddenly threw Kos to the ground, jamming his penis inside of her mouth. He then instantly ejaculated, the rush of the load giving him an intense euphoria. Kos swallowed, the sperm flooding so much that she had no choice, though in the brief moment that she felt her mouth wrapped around Diego’s manhood, she felt strangely but wonderfully satisfied, needing a moment to truly let go.

The two eventually regained their composure, needing several breaths to take in and process their really intense moment. Diego then walked into the alleyway and recovered Kos’ dress.

“Sorry about your dress,” said Diego. “In the moment I can get a little-”
“Strong?” said Kos, overcome with euphoria. “I noticed…you are…wow…”

Diego laughed as Kos took a few more deep breaths to contemplate the whirlwind she was on.

“A safety pin puts the dress back together,” said Diego, applying the pin. “I mean…it doesn’t look all that great but…at least it’ll get you home.”
“Yeah,” said Kos, still panting. “Yeah…at least it will.”

“You never had anything like that before, did you?” said Diego with a smirk.
“No,” said Kos. “No…I haven’t. I’ve…I’ve never been…”
Taken like that?” said Diego with another smirk.
“Yeah,” said Kos, nodding with excitement. “Yeah…precisely like that.”
“It’s because you never met a man before,” said Diego. “Someone who doesn’t wait…someone who…”
“Goes for it?” said Kos, before launching herself at Diego and planting her lips on his, initiating another deep kiss and tackling Diego in the process.
“Yeah,” said Diego with a smirk after a satisfying kiss. “Yeah…like that.”

After the two sat back up, Kos couldn’t help but run her hands along Diego’s body again. She eventually came to Diego’s crotch, and delightfully felt that Diego was hard once more.

“Wow,” said Kos, “you’re ready to go again.”
“For you,” said Diego, “I’m always ready.”
“Then let’s do it again,” said Kos alluringly.

Diego didn’t need a second invitation. As soon as Kos came forward she let him get on top of him, the two of them kissing passionately once more. This time, Kos took the lead, undoing Diego’s jacket and his pants and thoroughly enjoying running her hands and her lips against Diego’s very chiseled body.

When she felt Diego’s penis was hard enough, she raised her dress and inserted his penis inside of her vagina, pushing up and down it slowly so she could feel every inch of his manhood. Diego too enjoyed the slow approach, as Kos was so tight her vagina felt like a soothing, warm blanket over his penis.

Kos then sped up, incrementally, before eventually moving at top speed. At this stage, there was nothing left for Diego to do but ejaculate inside of her, as he was so overwhelmed by Kos on top of him and by the euphoria of the sex. After they climaxed together, Kos dismounted.

The two of them then sat there, catching their breaths for several minutes in order to regain their composure. After that, they parted, but not before exchanging numbers.

June 12, 2017,
08:01 local time,
Virtue Guards Headquarters,
Constantinople, Byzantium

“Hello,” said Louloudi of Knossos, opening the door to Leroy Simms’ office for Diego. “You must be Donald.”
“You would be correct,” said Diego, nonchalantly slapping Louloui’s butt and giving it a few squeezes, which caused her to gasp. The svelte, childlike blonde was shocked, but, like Simms who treated her the same way, Louloudi took a liking to Diego’s aggressive approach.

“Donald!” said Simms, walking towards Diego with a hearty smile. The two then embraced. “How long has it been? I remember teaching you at the Academy.”
“I’m 30 now,” said Diego, “so it’s been about eight years, I think.”
“Time sure flies, don’t it?” said Simms as the two smiled.
“I’m really liking your assistant,” said Diego as the two sat down at Simms’ desk. “Hope you don’t mind that I had to…cop a feel. She’s too hard to resist.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Simms. “I told her to make you feel at home. Do you want anything? Water? Coffee? Tea?”
“Ryker’s,” said Diego confidently. “Love that drink.”
“Louloudista,” barked Simms to his assistant. “Get my bottle of Ryker’s.” He then gave her a look that she understood what it meant.

After returning with the bottle and pouring the pair two glasses, she bent over and unzipped Diego’s pants and lowered his underwear, performing fellatio for Simms’ guest.

“Man,” said Diego, enjoying his blowjob. “Does she ever know how to use her lips!”
“I told you,” said Simms with an appreciative smile, “she’s here to make you feel at home.”

“Anyway,” said Simms, figuring it best to get down to business. “As you know, I had to clear out my old staff of field agents, so I need to hire new ones. I have to say, looking at your group…I love your choices.”
“Thank you,” said Diego. “I interviewed them all myself. Cecile’s pussy was particularly tight, and you should have felt the breasts on Erdene…wow, so firm. However, this girl I met a few nights ago in Athens…she really completes the team.”
“Celeste Kygrios?” said Simms with an appreciative nod. “Love her knockers.”
“I did too,” said Diego with a smirk. “Loved her c*** too…it wrapped around me like smooth silk on a blanket.”
“I’m not sure that makes sense,” said Simms with a chuckle, “but I’ll go with it.”
“Oh yeah,” said Diego, “and there’s Mr. Gaston. Had to have him because…well, I need some brains. Not that the other girls don’t have it…but…we both know what they’re really there for.”
“Don’t worry,” said Simms, “I know. Don’t worry, I got you covered.”

“So, what have you brought me in for?” said Diego, eager to get his first case.
“Well, it’s a bit of a dandy one,” said Simms. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Spitzycrygen.”
“Spitzenkriegen,” said Diego, “I know…it’s a tough word to say.”
“Vandals with leotards,” said Simms, playfully frustrated. “That’s what I call them!”
“True,” said Diego, who let out a laugh.
“Anyway, a few months ago the Red Fox was found brutally raped and murdered in Icosium,” said Simms, “and, after months of digging, local Vandal police- including other leotards- couldn’t get anywhere. So…they passed the file to us.”
“Do we have any leads?” said Diego, who let out a deep, satisfied breath as he got more into Louloudi’s blowjob.
“The leotards did pick up two drifters who were known to be in the area,” said Simms. “They wouldn’t talk with the Vandal police, but I arranged for them to be sent to the Anemas Prison.”
“In Constantinople?” said Diego with a satisfied grin.
“Yes,” said Simms. “Where you can have your…fun…with them.”

Diego then let out several pleased and grateful breaths as he ejaculated extremely satisfied into Louloudi’s mouth, who swallowed the massive load. Diego then put on his pants and got back up, giving Louloudi’s butt a grateful squeeze which she smiled to.

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Diego, “I’ll have fun with them…and I’m sure they know something too.”

June 14, 2017,
17:23 local time,
Anemas Prison,
Constantinople, Byzantine Empire

Victoria woke up from her drug-induced slumber groggily, her vision and her mind in a deep haze. She didn’t know how she got here, but, feeling the darkness and dampness of her jail cell, she realized that something just wasn’t quite right. As she regained her senses, she looked around and realized she was naked, her clothes nowhere to be seen. She was hanging by the ceiling by her wrists, both chained by metal bonds. Her legs were also spread apart, her ankles chained to the floor, but she was suspended just enough off the floor that her feet would not touch it.

She took a look around her surroundings, but realized it was futile in the dark. Then, a sound roused her.

“Hector?” she said, hearing a voice next to her.
“Yes,” said Hector, her boyfriend, who had also now just woken up and realized he was in the same predicament she was in. “Vicky, honey…where are we?”
“I…I,” said Victoria, “I don’t know.”
“Weren’t we at the station just yesterday?” said Hector.
“The Masks harassed us again,” said Victoria. “We must have fallen asleep while we were there.”
“Must have been some sleep,” said Hector. “Because…I don’t know where my clothes are.”

The light suddenly went on as someone entered the room and closed the door.

“Silence you two!” said Diego, entering the room. He was shirtless, revealing his imposing, well-toned physique and wore a full facemask with a filter that made his voice bolder and more threatening. “Do you two scumbags know why you’re here?”
“Um,” said Hector, “no…really.”

Diego promptly walked up to Hector and punched him in the face, drawing blood from Hector’s mouth and obscuring a small tattoo he had there. He then turned to Victoria, who squealed with horror.

“That’s not the answer I’m looking for,” snarled Diego. He then reached for Victoria’s throat before Hector piped up.
“Hey,” he hollered, “you leave her alone!”

Diego walked back and delivered several punches to Hector, some on his belly and some on his face, leaving him gasping for air. He then dragged Hector’s ear and spoke directly into it, despite Hector’s screams.

I’m the boss here!” he said. “You’re going to respect that, and you will only speak when spoken to. You got that?”
“I’m going to do,” said Diego, delivering some slaps and punches to Victoria’s face, “whatever I feel is necessary, and there’s nothing you slimeball can do about it. Unless…” Diego then began fingering Victoria’s vagina, making her gasp. “You tell me what I want.”
“…but, but,” said Hector, hyperventilating, “we don’t know what you want!”

“Tell me,” said Diego, continuing to stroke Victoria’s vagina, “who killed the Red Fox or I’ll rape Victoria right here, right now.”
“What?” said Hector in disbelief, “what kind of a monster are you? You…you…”

Diego then cupped one of Victoria’s breasts, wrapping his mouth around it. He then began sucking at her nipple, playing with it with his tongue, enjoying her breast for several minutes before doing the same to the other breast. As Victoria could only scream in order to deal with the anguish of the unwanted arousal, Hector stared at Diego, too stunned to say anything.

“I’m sure you knew this already,” said Diego, “but she’s got nice breasts.”
“The Red Fox,” said Hector, trying to jog his memory as Diego continued enjoying Victoria’s breasts. “Um…uh…she…um…I don’t know who that is.”

Diego then released his mouth from Victoria’s breasts before walking towards a cabinet inside the cell. He pulled from it two nipple clamps with small weights on them, affixing them to Victoria’s nipples and causing her to arch downwards, the weights pulling her down by her breasts.

Hector gasped in horror at what he saw, beginning to ramble deliriously when Diego approached him.

“I find it interesting that, despite not knowing who she was,” said Diego, “you knew the Red Fox was a she.”
“That…that,” said Hector, “that doesn’t mean…anything. I still don’t know who she is!”
“A patriarchal society like yours,” said Diego, “would make your brain default to the image of a man when you are told about someone you have never seen, unless that character exhibits feminine traits. There’s nothing overtly feminine in ‘the Red Fox’.”
“Maybe,” said Hector, “maybe so…but I still don’t know who she is!”

Diego then walked back to the cabinet and pulled out a long coil, brandishing it like a whip.

“I will not tolerate your insolence any longer,” Diego said. “You know who she is!”

“Please!” hollered Victoria, who had, by now, broken down and was now bawling her eyes out. “Please stop! You have to believe us! We don’t know who she is!” She then lowered her head again to cry, her wails deafening the room.

Enough!” said Diego, grabbing her by the throat and choking her hard, causing her to gasp helplessly for air. “If I hear you scream one more time, I’m going to rip your vocal chords right from your throat!” Diego then let go, causing Victoria to cough and take many deep breaths to replenish the air she had just lost. Once she had done so, she resumed her crying.
“Hurt me all you want,” said Victoria through her tears, “just don’t hurt him.”

Diego looked at Victoria and sneered, pondering his next move. She began to wail again, which prompted him to slap her several times and punch her in the nose, drawing blood. When that didn’t work, he went back to the cabinet and put on a cleave gag, which muffled her screams to a more tolerable level. He then began to think neither really did know much about the Red Fox, but he was determined to push.

“So,” said Diego, who picked up the coil and inserted it into Hector’s rectum. “You said you didn’t know who the Red Fox was…but you knew that she was a she. How did you know that?”
“Um,” said Hector, trying to rectify with the coil, “well…um…I mean, I’ve heard of her.” He let out a gasp as Diego pushed the coil further up his rectum. “How could we not? She was a Spitzenkrieger.”

Diego then pushed the coil up even further, which caused Hector to tense up with anxiety.

“Relax, Hector,” said Diego, “it’ll make the coil go in much easier.”
“By Jove,” said Hector, “you’re sick!”
“You knew she was a Spitzenkrieger though,” said Diego, “I never mentioned that.”
“Come on now,” said Hector, “all of Icosium knew.”

Diego then inserted the coil even further, pushing it almost to Hector’s prostate. He then pressed a button that caused the coil to vibrate inside Hector’s anus, causing Hector to scream in pain.

“She’s not that famous,” sneered Diego.
“How do you know her?” said Hector through the screams, beginning to feel like his insides were being ripped apart.
“I work in law enforcement,” said Diego coldly. “I know everyone.”
“See…I…I,” said Hector, trying not to pass out despite the excruciating pain, “I didn’t know that. In fact, I don’t even know your name.”
“That’s not important,” said Diego, who increased the intensity of the rotations.
“Ah!” said Hector, screaming at the top of his lungs, “you…ouch…you…oh by Jove!” He took several more breaths as Diego ramped up the coil to maximum intensity, “you have to believe me…I don’t know who she is!”

Diego didn’t care, secretly enjoying the coil twisting inside of Hector and feeling a mad rush as Hector’s blood splattered over him.

After several agonising minutes, Diego stopped the coil, giving Hector immediate relief. He then stepped up to Hector’s face and looked him in the eye.

“Hector,” said Diego, “you know something. I can sense it, and unless you want me to apply the spikes…you need to start talking.”
“Sp-sp-sp,” stammered Hector. “Spikes?”
“Yes,” snarled Diego ominously. “Spikes.”
“Look,” said Hector, “the Red Fox…Victoria and I…we dealt with her once…she…she stopped us outside of a convenience store and accused us of robbing it. We proved to her that we didn’t…and then…and then she…she walked away.”
“Is that it?” said Diego, unimpressed.
“Yes!” said Hector as Diego turned to Victoria who nodded in agreement. “We don’t know who killed her! Please…you have to believe us!”

Diego then pressed a button on the coil and applied the spikes, which protruded out of the coil and poked themselves into the rectal wall, causing massive bleeding and Hector to scream with intolerable pain. Diego’s only response was to put a gag on Hector, which only lessened his screams.

He then walked back to Victoria and came at her from behind, violently pulling her up by her neck. He then pulled down his pants and rammed his penis inside of her, going at the speed of a jackhammer. As he did so, he grabbed her neck and choked her hard, restricting her breathing but not closing it off.

As Victoria did her best to overcome the intensity of Diego’s hard thrusts and the immense tumult that surrounded the pain of her arousal and the punishment being done to her genitals, Hector continued to scream before turning around and gasping in horror as he watched his girlfriend being raped by a monster who called himself a police officer. Before long, Hector’s condition caused him to lose consciousness, which meant he thankfully did not have to witness Victoria’s complete violation.

After Diego ejaculated inside of her, his feelings like that of a triumphant warrior, he withdrew as Victoria sulked in tears, defeated and despoiled. He then walked towards Hector and shook his head.

“If you had talked,” said Diego, “you’d probably still be alive.” He turned off the coil and checked Hector’s pulse, which confirmed his suspicion. Victoria raised her head and looked on, aghast before fainting because of the horror.

Diego then injected a fluid into Hector that ensured that he was dead, a concoction that would make medical examiners believe he died of alcohol poisoning. By this point, Victoria had woken up, although Victoria, in her haze, wondered if she really wanted to.

Diego didn’t care.

“I’m not done with you,” he snarled, injecting a serum into Victoria’s neck that knocked her out. Diego then unchained her and put her in a box, preparing to transport her to another place.

“If the police cannot be trusted to dispense justice, there is no justice.”- Cratus, “On The Experiences of a Lawman” (1546)