The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Decerto Terminus

by J. Darksong & Baltimore Rogers

Part 2)

Patricia never woke easily, and, as usual for her, this morning she came awake and aware in slow waves of sensation.

Cool breeze on back, warm skin in front. She was spooning with one of her harem sisters. This was pretty typical. Sometimes Nigel was in the middle of the three-way spoon, but more and more these days it was Patricia in the middle. Nigel was not behind her though.

Warm, small, soft hand on her shoulder. Shaking her gently. Connie. She must be on “alarm clock” duty this morning. Patricia could tell who it was just by touch. She could tell any of her harem sisters just by touch... or by smell. The smell of the hair before her nose was definitely Sioban. She was spooning with Sioban. She smiled, No one ever pronounced that name correctly in the first try. The newly senior Tearbearer was doomed to go though her civilian life telling everyone she ever met, “It’s pronounced /show-BAHN/". Opening her eyes she enjoyed the sight of Sioban’s lovely red hair fanned out on the pillow before her.

“I’m awake, Constance,” said Patricia. She wondered if she was the only one in the world who still thought of Nigel’s personal assistant as “Connie”. Certainly no one, not even Patricia, ever called her anything but “Constance”, whether or not Nigel was anywhere around. He never liked diminutive nicknames, thought they were demeaning. None of his girls ever use anything but their full names. It was a standing order ever since the day she and Angela (not Angie!) came out of the slave-trainer. Even Connie’s parents had gotten used calling her by her full name by now, not that she really saw that much of them these days.

Picking up her thoughts, Constance said, “No, Patricia, I still think of myself that way inside. Although I suppose that will change some day. After all, Delores doesn’t think of herself as Dee-Dee anymore. Same with you and Angela. I suppose it’s just a matter of time.”

As Patricia began to roll away from the still sleeping Sioban, she heard a loud, unpleasant groan from the other side of the bed. Patricia winced in sympathy. Nigel’s arthritis must be pretty bad this morning. He usually felt better after a nice hot shower, but he wouldn’t want anyone to see his pain. So I’ll shower with Connie this morning, I guess. Looking now she saw Nigel shuffling, staggering toward the bathroom door. Nobody would dare touch him or offer to help right now. It hurt them not to help when he was like this, but he hated the feeling that he was getting older, that he was not the man he used to be. So Nigel pretended nothing was wrong, and everyone went along with it.

Patricia looked back at Connie, and saw her holding up two hands, showing the number “seven”. Connie was on “alarm clock” duty, the first function of which was to wake up Nigel “in the best way”. But this morning Connie had only fellated him for seven minutes before he blew his load. They had all begun to track the decline in what had once been Nigel’s amazing, awe-inspiring sexual stamina. They looked at each other sadly, glanced toward the bathroom, where they could now hear the shower, and then back at each other again.

Sioban groaned and pulled the covers back over her head. She was exempt from wakeup this morning since her office hours at River City U didn’t start until 11am. Ah, the life of a college professor, thought Patricia. Of course, that wasn’t really fair. Most nights when Sioban wasn’t patrolling with or training the new Junior Tearbearer, Tawnya (another name no one ever got right, /taw-NYE-uh/), or in the nightly ménage à trois with Patricia and Nigel, Sioban was burning the midnight oil. She was working on research. Or she was writing/obsessing-about/fine-tuning the “Chem E” chapter for a new Survey of Engineering Disciplines undergrad text to which she had been asked to contribute. Or she was grading classwork (being at the bottom of the department pecking order, she didn’t rate a teaching assistant yet). She worked at least as long and hard as Patricia did in her Chief Prosecutor career, but, unlike Patricia, Sioban pretty much got to choose her own hours.

Patricia and Connie donned bathrobes and walked down the balcony/hallway to the second upstairs bathroom. Patricia tried and failed to ask casually, “So, Constance, what happened after I left the room yesterday?” Constance had turned stonefaced and pale as soon as Patricia began speaking. She knew what Patricia was going to ask before she asked it, of course, but she was polite enough to wait for her to finish.

“I... I can’t tell you,” said Constance, hiding her face behind a curtain of long black hair as they entered the bathroom, “He specifically told me not to.”

“He told you not to tell anyone or not to tell me?”

Constance now gave her a small, shy, conspiratorial grin, “Not to tell you. I’ve already talked to Angela and Delores.”

This was strange. She had tried to talk to Nigel about it last night before Sioban got home, but he completely clammed up. Cryptically, he had only told her—no, asked her—to stay out of his office for the rest of the week. Nigel never keeps me out of business decisions anymore. Is he mad at me?, she wondered. He didn’t seem to be, but he still wouldn’t tell her anything. It was driving her nuts! And now he had clamped down on Connie too! Then she darkened, Or maybe something happened after I left? Her resolve stiffened. Maybe I can get to Angela or Delores before he finds out that they know.

Constance giggled as she tested the shower water, and said mischievously, “Maybe you can.”

Patricia laughed too, and leaned into her harem sister, cupping her breast and kissing her neck and shoulder. Connie moaned and turned to return Patricia’s kiss, her eyes alight.

“We don’t have much time though,” Patricia whispered, “I want to get down to breakfast before the kids leave for school.”

* * *

Even after 20 years, stepping down that tight spiral staircase still gave Patricia flashbacks of that first night with Nigel, how he took her, how he owned her, how he made her feel, so, so... Ugh! Shake it off, Patricia. Time for your “public face”, not your “O face”.

As she crossed the doorway into the dining room, Constance let go of her hand and found a seat. And a cry rose out from her left, “Mommymommymommymommy!” A seven-year-old boy leaped into her arms, eliciting an involuntary grunt. “Robbie, you have to be careful. Remember, honey, I’m not as strong as I used to be. And besides, you’re getting so big!”

Then she noticed the tears just starting to well in his eyes. Uh-oh,, she thought, not without affection, Here comes Daddy’s son, the little scam artist.

“Mommy,” he sobbed, “T’nya said she was gonna throw me off the side of the Tower.” He turned and stuck out his tongue at the high school girl. Tawnya was a big athletic black girl with a truly amazing chest. Even in a household full of busty women she, ah, stuck out. Tawnya scowled back at Robbie and displayed her own tongue, adding crossed eyes, a head tilt, and nose-thumbing to the gesture.

Patricia laughed. Not for the first time she was reminded that she had never met a woman more comfortable in her own skin than Tawnya Parkinson. In the two months since Tawnya joined the harem and took up the Left Tear—My Tear, thought Patricia—she has found her place in every aspect of this most unusual family. With the kids she was just a big kid herself. With her harem sisters and Nigel she was an awe-inspiring six foot tall Nubian Sex Goddess. On patrol with Sioban as “Ivory Angel” (Sioban) and “Ebony Angel” (Tawnya) she was a complete badass.

And she’s only eighteen and still in high school! Patricia thought, When I think about what a mess I was at age eighteen, it just seems all the more amazing. And she’s the only black face in this sea of whiteness. Well, Dolores is Latina and Constance is Asian, but even so she really doesn’t “look like” the rest of us. With her youth, her race, and this intimidating new life all working against her she’s still one of the most “together” people I’ve ever met.

Patricia shook her head and turned her attention back to her son.

“She’s gonna throw you off the Tower, huh?” said Patricia, “And what did you do to her?“

“Mommy, I di’n’t do nothin’!”

“You didn’t do anything,” came a chorus of voices from all around the table, including Tawnya.

“See,” grinned Robbie evilly—he truly was his father’s son—“They all agree with me!”

“Uh-huh,” responded Tawnya, with a wink, “And if I catch the little perv in my underwear drawer again, he’ll wish that I’d thrown him off the Tower.“

Patricia didn’t know what to say to that. She was a bit shocked at the idea of her little Robbie as a sexual creature.

Tawnya saw the look on Patricia’s face and intervened immediately, “Oh, no! It wasn’t really like that. He wasn’t taking anything, or even looking really... um, I don’t think... He was leaving me a present, sorta.” Reaching behind her she rummaged through her book bag and pulled out a small snapping turtle. “I think I’ll call him Robbie. Because he’s little, annoying, and bites the hand that feeds him.”

“She’s got a point, Robbie,” said Patricia, “Do you want her to keep teaching you how to pitch or not.”

“Yeah,” mumbled the little man, as pitifully as he could.

“Go finish your eggs then.”

He resumed his seat next to Tawnya, looking up at her worshipfully. She smiled at him and tousled his hair. ”After I finish my History paper, I can fly you over to the Prentiss Mansion. I think we’ll work on your control today. Oh, and you have to help me find a safe place to release this little monster. We can’t really keep a turtle in the apartment. Okay?“

Robbie nodded eagerly as he shoveled scrambled eggs into his face.

I guess that proves it. thought Patricia, He’d do literally anything to get her attention.

There was an empty chair on the other side of the table next to Justine who was looking at her little brother and Tawnya with transparent envy.

Patricia sat by Justine, squeezed her daughter’s leg and joked with her, distracting her. Tawnya does spend more time with Robbie than with Justine, but Robbie needs her more, really. In a household full of older women, Tawnya’s the only one that really has both time and ability to do “guy stuff” with him. But poor Justine... I’ll get Tawnya to talk about boys with Justine on the way to school. They’ll both like that.

Patricia had found out about her daughter’s burgeoning boy-craziness just recently. Tawnya had mentioned it in passing a couple of weeks ago. Since then, Patricia had pumped Tawnya repeatedly for surreptitious reports about some little pre-teen heartbreaker named “Danny”, who apparently didn’t even know that poor Justine existed. The cad!

In what seemed like no time at all, Darryl arrived to chauffeur the kids to school. Literally. In his dark grey suit and matching cap, the big guy looked like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson trying to play the “Morgan Freeman” role from Driving Miss Daisy.

Nigel made it down the stairs at just that moment. He gave the kids a quick hug and kiss, and asked Tawnya to stay behind a second. There were ways that Nigel treated his new harem slave like a daughter, for example, the way he harped on her about her grades. And there were ways that Nigel treated her like an employee, reviewing her training and performance as a new superheroine. And there were ways that Nigel treated Tawnya like a lover. The look in his eyes at this moment indicated that this was clearly one of those latter times.

Darryl herded the younger ones into the private elevator as Nigel engulfed his not-really-a-daughter in a decidedly un-fatherly hug and a deep kiss. His hands moved gradually from her back down to her generous-almost-to-a-fault derriere, eliciting a decidedly un-daughterly moan from her. Around the breakfast table, the rest of Tawnya’s harem sisters let out a collective romantic sigh. When the elevator double-dinged it’s return, Nigel gave her another quick kiss, swatted her playfully on that amazing ass, and said “Scoot!” As she entered the elevator car, Nigel shouted, “Straight A’s, right?” She grinned and gave him a double thumbs up as the doors closed.

Nigel then turned and gave each of his women a little time, starting and ending with Patricia. As he held her tight and nibbled on her neck, he turned slightly and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry so much, babe. Everything’s under control.”

Patricia moaned in response, but found the coherence to ask, “Don’t worry? Is that an order?”

He pulled back and looked her in the eyes, “It’s a reassurance. And it’s a request. Please.”

As he turned to go, Delores crossed her arms and said, in her most exasperated voice, “Nigel Grimalde, eat something!”

Nigel picked up a piece of toast, gestured it to her, smiled and said, “Yes, Mommy.”

Delores growled in mock frustration as Nigel and Constance headed back up the stairs. But really, the “house mother” had been placated, somewhat.

On the stairs Nigel could be heard muttering something to Constance in Japanese. Something that sounded like... an apology?

After the passing of Hurricane Nigel only the original three harem sisters were left: Patricia, Delores, and Angela. It was like this most mornings. They sat and enjoyed that one last peaceful cup of coffee together. Except Patricia wasn’t feeling particularly peaceful this morning. She was ready to go to war. All she needed was ammunition.

“Delores, what the hell happened after I left yesterday?”

Delores didn’t quite know how to respond, but tried, “Ah, Constance was kind of closed-mouthed. She kept asking me why I needed to know things. As best I can piece together, someone shot up Nigel’s office yesterday, pretty badly.” Seeing Patricia’s look of alarm she quickly added, “But honey, Constance and Nigel didn’t have a scratch on them. Nobody got hurt.”

Patricia was puzzled, “What about the sharpshooters?”

Delores shrugged, “According to the security logs, Nigel ordered them to leave.”

Good Lord! thought Patricia, How badly did Fraiser threaten Nigel? That asshole scared him into calling off his crack security team?!? I’ve got to do something!

“So Arm—um, the visitor wrecked Nigel’s office. With what?”

Angela piped up now, “After it was over with, Nigel showed me the gun that the guy had left behind—”

“A GUN!” shouted Patricia.

“Patricia,” said Angela, trying to calm her friend, her harem sister, “Nobody got hurt. Nigel said the gun was part of a technology trade.”

“A trade? For what?”

Angela looked her friend dead in the eye, “For the serum.”

“WHAT?” shouted Patricia rising to her feet, “You can’t mean the psychoactive recombinant, can you?”

Angela only nodded.

“It took you eight freaking months to synthesize that!” said Patricia lividly, “And he gave it up for a GUN? Something’s wrong here.“

“I don’t know,” said Angela, “It’s a pretty impressive gun...”

But Patricia wasn’t listening any more. “Don’t give me that crap, Angela. Arrgh!” she said, looking at the time on her cell phone, “I have to go. I’ll deal with this later.”

Delores and Angela looked sadly after their departing sister, third in seniority but first in the heart of their Master, neither of them imagining what Patricia had in mind.

* * *

“Eugene. We need to talk.”

Sitting up from my bed at the hotel where I was staying, I found myself staring into the disapproving face of my beloved wife. Her form glowed and shimmered slightly with a soft golden light, and she wore the pure silver and white robes of her Sisterhood, the Norn Goddesses of Destiny. Don’t get me wrong; I loved my darling Lacie Ann more than life itself, and after all these weeks apart, I verra much wanted to see her again. Unfortunately, with the situation I found myself in, and the expression on her beautiful face, I knew this would not be an enjoyable visit.

“Good evening, mo duinne,” I said softly, walking over to greet her. I held out my hands towards her, then paused, considering. “Are ye truly here, love, or is this simply a psychic manifestation?“

“This is my Avatar, yes,” she replied stoically. “I am currently several miles off the shores of the California coastline, dealing with a hurricane. But considering the natural disaster, and the disaster you are making of your role as a hero, I choose to come and deal with you, first.”

“‘Deal with me’, lass?” I said, slightly amused. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of super villain that needs to be thwarted.”

“Oh, and aren’t you?” Lacie fired back, scowling at me, arms crossed at her chest. “Eugene, what in the world has gotten into you? The things you’ve done over the past several weeks? Taking down Brainstorm the way you did was bad enough—”

“Really?” I asked, in disbelief. “You have a problem with my bringing that psychic psycho to justice? After what he did to our son? What he did to you all those years ago?“

“Yes, I do, actually,” she said loudly, shouting over me. “Gene, you tortured him for information. It doesn’t matter if it was physical, mental, or psychological, torture is still torture! And we don’t do that! You’re supposed to be one of the good guys, Gene, and the good guys don’t act that way!“

“They do when they need information,” I replied stiffly, no longer amused. “The man was a criminal. It’s NOT as if he was an innocent bystander! He had information on Duncan’s whereabouts and he wasn’t cooperating, so I convinced him it was in his best interests to do so.” I turned to glare at her. “I suppose ye think it would have been better to simply let him roam about free, to harm someone else instead?“

“No... that’s not what I’m saying!” Lacie replied back, heatedly. “Look, Gene... I know how you feel. A part of me wishes I had found him instead of you. But there are certain things you just can’t do... certain lines you just can’t cross. Take that incident at that military research base two days ago—”

“The one owned by Duncan, ye mean?” I shot back. This was turning into a heated argument. I loved my Lacie girl, I truly did, but I was tired, and weary, in mind body and soul, and if she didnae stop with the chastising, I was going to say things I would surely later regret. “I dinnae ken what ye heard, lass, but tha’ incident was ne’er my doing! I merely went in to see if Duncan was there, and ran into a verra irate Ultra Girl looking for her abducted partner. She’s the one that leveled the compound, not me. She’s the one who maimed Duncan’s number one—“

“But you LET IT happen!” Lacie finished, exasperation flowing off her in waves. “You sat by and watched, and did nothing to stop them. And the two men that killed that family that Jimmy was blamed for? What about THEM?” At that, I had to turn away. That situation... had gotten out of hand.

I’d tracked them down to get a lead on Brian Chang, but I’d pushed them a little too far. Faced with the option of going to jail for life or possibly the electric chair for killing that family, they’re struck out in desperation. I’d cornered them in an old abandoned rundown shack in Lowtown, which was scheduled to be demolished. When they realized I wasn’t going to let them walk, one of them tossed an army surplus grenade, hoping to scare me off. It exploded, causing a partial collapse, and starting a fire, which, ironically, ended up trapping them as well as I. It took only moments to dig myself out of the debris, but by that time, I was so incensed at them and their actions that I simply left, jetting up through the building, leaving the two murderers to fend for themselves in the middle of that inferno.

Not my proudest moment.

“The Eugene Frasier I know,” Lacie growled, continuing on, “would never have broken a promise, no matter how distasteful the situation or the person he was dealing with. The Eugene I know wouldn’t have allowed Karen and Elise to manhandle or maim a person in his custody, no matter how much he might have personally wanted to see the man suffer. The Eugene I fell in love with would have NEVER sat by and watched two men burn to death, even if it was exactly what they deserved! " Her expression darkened. “:And the man I married, the man I THOUGHT I knew... would NEVER have brokered a deal with Nigel FUCKING Grimalde—the demon that took away two of our friends—no matter what was at stake!”

Ah. And there it was. “Did Parker tell ye that, lass?” I asked, my voice low and hard with barely restrained fury. “Did the wee bairn decide he didnae like my decision, so he went to tattle on me?” Lacie opened her mouth to comment, but I beat her to it, slamming a fist down hard on my desk. ”Hauld yer wheest!” I yelled back, startling her. “I’ll no have ye BOTH questioning me on these matters! Aye, I’ve made a few questionable choices. Aye, I chose NOT to rescue two damnable souls that needed rescuing from a fate THEY THEMSELVES brought about! Aye, I tortured a man to make him spill his secrets. I’ve split te’ line a fair mite ’tween good n’ evil... but everything I’ve done, and will continue to do, is to PROTECT YE ALL from Duncan! Ye ken what’s at stake here! Ye ken what he is! You, more than anyone else, know how dangerous he is... he fought ye to a standstill twelve years ago when he came after our little ones—and the ONLY reason he didnae win the fight and make off with our wee bairns was that he wasnae prepared to kill ye then! He needed ye alive and well to provide the final DNA code to achieve his ‘grand design’.“

Lacie’s righteous indignation faltered in the face of that dreadful reminder. I kicked myself for bringing up the past... but it was worth it if it got her to realize the scope of the threat Duncan posed. My older brother was a right bloody bastard... but he was also a genius. Born a mortal man, he has genetically altered himself through fair means and foul, to make himself a match for even Omega Girl. Worst of all, he was a certifiable sociopath, with no feeling or sentiment for anyone other than himself. In essence, he had my brains, her brawn, and a complete lack of moral compass. There was no line he would not cross. The only reason he had kept to the shadows as long as he had was his enjoyment of the ‘long game’ as he called it... this mental chess match of trying not only to destroy me and everything I loved, but also to outdo me, to prove himself mentally superior to me in every way.

Indeed, up until now, he’d successfully stacked the deck in his favor for our eventual confrontation, and it was all I could do to try and even the odds. And now, the people closest to me begrudged me dealing from the bottom of the deck?

“Gene,” she said after a moment, all the fire gone from her voice, “Master. Love. I understand what’s at stake. I really do. But I also know that you can’t continue down the path you’re treading. I know. Believe me I know.” She turned away. “When you left... when you vanished during that whole mess with the Argentum Project years ago, I was devastated. I’d lost a child and my husband, within the space of a few weeks. My world was crashing down all around me. And... I just... snapped. Went off the deep end in a bad way. The only thing I had going for me was my identity as a heroine, and I put my all into that, into trying to make the world safe for everyone. I didn’t give a shit about the rules, or about right and wrong. I took down the bad guys and I took them down hard. I did was I felt was necessary, what the other heroes and the courts wouldn’t do out of what I thought was a misguided belief in the system. I thought that the end justified the means... but I was wrong. No one appreciated my tactics, not the people I helped or the country I was trying to protect. In the end, everyone was against me. In the end, I was all alone.“

A sigh escaped my lips, as I took in her words. I’d nearly forgotten about her stint as Dark Star during my absence, about how in that reality her actions had lead to the destruction of the entire world. Like me, she had found herself being manipulated by an evil genius mastermind named Jeremiah King, a power-mad being with the ability to alter reality itself, on a limited scale. She had only just managed to defeat him by tapping into the self same power to alter reality in order to fix things and return the world back the way it was. If things went badly for me against Duncan, I unfortunately did not have the option of an ‘instant reset’.

“Mo duinne,” I said humbly, “I thank you for the warning. And I will take your words to heart. But likewise, I need you to listen to me and take mine to heart as well.” She turned to face me again. “Loveling, I am your husband. I am your Master. I am your friend. I am your lover. I am all of these things and more... but I am also your protector. And the protector of our family. And I don’t just mean you, Jimmy and Katie. That includes Eva, and Melissa, Parker, Veronica and little Lucy, Sarah, Valerie, and their daughters. They’re all my family too. All of whom hold a verra special place in my heart. Duncan knows this. And he has the means and resources at his disposal to destroy any or all of you, just to cause me pain.“

I thought about Patricia and Angela as well... not officially part of the family per se, but once friends, as close as family. I’d failed to protect them... and they’d been taken, twisted, changed, possibly forever. I replayed the meeting this morning in my head over and over again. I’d despised Nigel Grimalde for what he’d done to them... but looking at what I was doing now, was I truly any better?

I sighed slightly. “Granted, of all of you, I’m the only one without any special powers... but that only makes all of you more of a target, not less. All of you, even you, love, have your weaknesses... and I’d bet my every last dollar that Duncan knows each and every one.” I shook my head. “The longer this plays out, the more time he has to set up his endgame. I have to stop him, now, once and for all. It’s the only way.”

“Alright,” Lacie said, nodding simply. “Then let’s face him together like always. I can join you there, and we can—”

“No, lass,” I said regretfully. “You can’t. I need you to stay in River City and look after the children. I know my brother. Jimmy and Katie... I have no doubt that when I finally get close to him, Duncan will try and threaten them somehow as his final play. You HAVE to watch them both, Lacie Ann. Be with them, and protect them, no matter what.” I sighed heavily in exhaustion. I was just as concerned about the others, Eva, Sarah, and the rest, but I had already taken steps to protect them all as much as possible. I’d made calls, warned them of what to expect, and even assigned a few ‘old friends’ to keep watch from afar, in case of trouble. And yet, my gut told me that when he struck, the kids would be his target, and no one else.

“But, what about you?” she asked, suddenly afraid. Or, rather, letting the fear she’d felt all this time finally show. “Gene... you said yourself how dangerous Duncan is. Do you honestly think you can face him all by yourself and come back alive?”

“Aye, I do,” I said smoothly, without hesitation. “I haven’t spent the past several years merely twiddling my thumbs after all. I have more than a few surprises for Duncan in place, and with the little prize I picked up from Grimalde, I believe I have just what I need to finish Duncan off once and for all.” I gave my wife a confident nod. “Trust me, loveling... when the smoke finally clears and the victor stands, I can guarantee you that it won’t be Duncan Frasier!”

Lacie Ann stared at me for several long moments, studying my face, my eyes, the set of my mouth, until finally she nodded. “Very well, Gene. I’ll leave this to you. I promise not to interfere in your business. But... that doesn’t mean I won’t stop watching you. You’re my husband... and my love... and I can’t NOT watch what happens to you.” Her lip trembled slightly despite her brave face, nearly ripping my heart to shreds. “And... if you ever need me...” she managed, barely holding back the tears.

“Aye,” I finished for her. “I’ll call. If I truly need you, loveling, rest assured, I’ll call you.”

Nodding simply, she closed her eyes and vanished, disappearing back to where her body was. Or however it worked. My mouth twisted in distaste. Magic. I bloody well hated magic, even the good kind my sweet little love goddess wielded. Still, it had brought her here to me, and despite the argument moments ago, I was thankful to have seen her again.

And I truly, truly regretted lying to her.

I’m told I have one hell of a poker face. Years of practice, I would imagine, both in the business world as well as my personal life, learning to smile and nod, and put on one face for the company and the politicians, a second face as Armor Man, high tech warrior for good, and yet another as the loving caring family man, husband and father, and even another one behind closed doors with only Lacie and myself, as her strong, dominant yet loving Master. Lying doesnae come easy to me, I’m afraid, but hiding my true feelings behind a calm and composed facade is almost second nature. And in this case, it was a good thing.

For despite the confident words I’d given my Lacie girl, I was anything BUT confident of my surviving this encounter with my brother. In fact, while I was certain I could indeed remove Duncan as a viable threat to my family, I was fair to middling sure I would die in the process. And if Lacie had had the slightest idea that my mission was a suicide mission, she would have done everything in her power to stop me.

Returning to my bed, slipping underneath the covers, I lay my head down and closed my eyes, willing sleep to come and take me away, at least for a time, from the trials awaiting me...

* * *

This was it. After her talk with Angela and Delores yesterday it had taken Patricia all day to set up the dominoes just right. Today it was time to knock them over. And here comes Domino numero uno!

In the meeting room at the Federal Pen, Brian Chang, Brainstorm, sat down facing Patricia on the other side of a window of thick Plexiglas. They each picked up their phones.

“Hello Miz Chief Justice—”

“That’s Chief Prosecutor.” Keep calm, Patricia. He’s tweaking you on purpose.

“Gee whiz, Ma’am. I’m sure sorry about that. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit from the three of you on this lovely-fine day?”

“Three of us?”

“You and your boobs. You could definitely turn a gay man straight with those torpedoes, baby!”

For the umpteenth time she cursed that she didn’t have more time to set this up. If I had been able to meet him in his containment cell, he surely wouldn’t be this cocky.

Suddenly, Chang piped up again, “Oh, I don’t know about that Miz Chief Justice. I doubt meeting in the cell would have made any difference. I love taking uppity bitches like you down a few pegs. Just ask Omega Girl.”

Fuck. He’s in my HEAD!, thought Patricia.

“Absolutely, I am. Hey, maybe I should just start pulling on your strings right now. A highfalutin’ law slut like you ought to be able to get me out of here pretty easily. Want me to give it a try?”

Don’t panic, Patricia. They wouldn’t have let him—

“Of course, they would. You think the warden is your ‘friend’? You think he ‘owes you one’? Would you like to know what our dear Warden Kowalski really thinks of you, Turbo Tits? He’d love nothing more than to see you lose your job, your law license, and your freedom, because you helped a ‘dangerous fugitive’ escape.“

No!

“But... maybe I won’t do it. I’m no fan of the warden. And if you’re willing to play ball I might let you walk out of here with your mind intact... mostly.”

NO! Dammit no! Okay! THAT’S ENOUGH! “I’ve had it, Chang. Do your worst.“

“What?” He blinked in surprise. He’d had her on the ropes, and suddenly, out of nowhere, she had rallied?

“Put up or fucking shut up. If you can change my thoughts as easily as you’re reading them, go ahead.”

Chang went slightly pale, knowing all too well the necklace Frasier had sealed around his neck was still active, still preventing active use of his powers. “Listen, bitch!” he yelled, trying to hold on to the bluff. “Don’t fuck wi—”

“NO!” Patricia shouted, “Don’t YOU fuck with ME! You think I’m some stupid little floozy you can talk down to? Check out who my husband is! Check out what I’m thinking about right now!”

Chang’s eyes widened in shock. Oh shit! Fucking Blackfinger? Oh fuck me! “No. NO! YOU WOULDN’T. YOU COULDN’T.“

I was right! He was bluffing!“Oh, yeah. You know how many men he has on the inside in this prison. He’s fucking famous for it! So now tell me, Chang. Tell me that I couldn’t guarantee you the hardest ‘hard time’ that anyone ever lived to talk about. Of course, it might be difficult to talk with all those broken teeth.“

“I’ll tell them!” he threatened, grasping at straws, desperation starting to kick in. “I’ll tell EVERYONE! I’LL OUT HIM! AND YOU!”

Patricia smiled her sweetest, most devilish smile. “Really? And who’d believe a scumbag like you?”

“I...” he began, then sighed, closing his eyes. He was beaten. She’d called his bluff, and he had nothing left to use as leverage. “Look, fine. You win, okay? What do you want?”

”Duncan Fraiser. How do I reach him?”

Frasier?! No. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no!” he said, shaking his head. “I-I-I ca-ca-can’t. No way! You and your husband on your worst day don’t hold a candle to HIM when he’s slightly fucking annoyed! Forget it! No matter what you do to me, he’ll do infinitely worse.” He turned, preparing to stand up and leave.

“Chang, wait!” she called after him. “I guarantee that he’ll want to hear from me. I have some... very... important information for him, about his younger brother.“

Chang paused, intrigued. Looking deeper into her head, he saw how much Patricia Grimalde hated and feared Eugene Fraiser. Hah! Holy shit... she hates him as much as I do! Against all possible reason, she’s a fucking ALLY!

“You’ve seen my stick, now check out my carrot. Would you like to see Eugene Fraiser suffer for what he did to you? I can guarantee that with my help Duncan will be able to give his brother the slow, painful, gruesome death he deserves—”

Chang hardly even paused. “888-555-8855”

Patricia blinked. “It’s a direct line?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, lady.” He scowled back at her, rolling his eyes. “It’s a voice mail box.”

“But how will I know that it got through?”

Chang sighed, standing up. “Miz Grimalde, If Duncan Fraiser wants you to know that he got your message, he’ll let you know that he got your message. And believe me, you’ll know. It’s rarely pleasant to hear from him.” He turned and gestured to the guard that he was ready to go back to his cell. “Trust me, lady, in this case, it’s probably better not to know.“

* * *

Duncan looked up as the door to his office opened, and a battered, bruised, and utterly bedraggled form limped its way into his presence. If the state of his right hand man was a surprise, Duncan hid it well, merely raising an eyebrow as the man approached. “I take it you had a relaxing vacation, Doctor?” he asked humorlessly.

“Relaxing?” Dr. MacDonald wheezed slumping down into an empty chair. “Relaxing? Hah... those bitches... nearly killed me...”

“Really, Doctor,” Duncan said, closing the file he’d been reading, pushing it aside. “I think you are overstating the situation a mite? Your life was never truly in any real danger whatsoever. The serum I infused in you long ago ensures your body regenerates any and all damage...” he paused, shrugging one shoulder, “... aside from the curious matter of your missing eye, that is. An unexpected anomaly, that... perhaps once this business with my younger brother is settled, I shall have to devote some time to discovering why that is.”

“Don’t bother yourself on MY account, Sir,” MacDonald replied, bitterly, wincing slightly as he crossed his legs. “And for the record, being able to regenerate is NOT all it is cracked up to be. That redheaded psycho fucking castrated me! She LITERALLY ripped my balls off and sliced off my manhood!” He shuddered terribly in the memory. “The blonde merely stood there watching... and when the bleeding didn’t stop, she cauterized the bloody wound with her laser eyes!“

“Interesting,” Duncan replied idly, glancing down at his computer terminal, checking over some laboratory notes, completely uninterested. “I guess that means you’re currently half the man you used to be, eh, Doctor?“

“Goddammit, Duncan!” MacDonald roared, rising to his feet. “This is no laughing matter! I put myself on the line for you. The very LEAST you can do is acknowledge my situation—”

“You forget yourself, Doctor,” Duncan replied coldly, eyes flashing. In an instant, the doctor found himself slammed hard into the opposite wall, pinned by an incredible force which threatened to shatter his very bones to dust. He cried out in pain, eyes wide, as the force pressing against him continued to increase slowly, bit by bit. “You see, Doctor,” Duncan carried on, calmly, as if nothing unusual was happening at all, “I could easily squash you like the insect that you are. My telekinesis could crush you so flat that you would be nothing more than a greasy stain against my wall, something for the servants to clean off and my contractor to paint over in the morning. You think you are worth acknowledgment from me? That your situation deserves even the SLIGHTEST thought or attention on my part? Think again.” He averted his eyes to the side, and the pressure released. MacDonald gasped, sliding off the wall, panting loudly, clutching his chest and abdomen, mindful of bruised, possibly broken ribs.

“As I recall, Doctor,” Duncan continued on, heedless, “you were sent to that research facility for one reason, and one reason alone—to secure the last vital genetic sample needing to complete my ultimate matrix. Tell me... did you at least manage to obtain the samples I require before succumbing to your petty need to punish and torture that poor girl half to death? Or did you get so caught up in your own desires that you completely neglected your duties?”

‘No... no... sir...” he gasped, wheezing slightly, as he struggled back to his feet, his already injured body probably needing to work overtime to heal his new injuries as well. “I managed... to send off... the samples you needed... before things went sour... sent them... to your lab...” He sighed, leaning back against the wall to support himself. It was unfair. Truly unfair. His torture of the girl Elise Stewart was, in his mind, at least as justified as Duncan’s vendetta against his brother. Other than hurting Duncan’s ego and stopping his plans for global domination, Eugene Frasier had done nothing to deserve the ill will Duncan felt towards him.

At least in my case, the damned bitch actually caused me bodily harm. In our first confrontation, she embedded a crystal spike in my brain through my eye and left me for dead, and in our second, she burned a circular hole through the middle of my chest! This time she ripped off my manhood! If anything I would think he would understand my feelings about destroying that demon bitch once and for all! Ah, but no... no room in Duncan Frasier’s little world for consideration for anyone besides Duncan Frasier.

“Ah... yes, yes, very promising,” Duncan murmured softly, reviewing the copy of the data on his monitor. “Hmm. Very good, Doctor. It seems you CAN succeed at the simplest of tasks when you put your mind to it. Well done. This should be the final piece I need... the stabilizing factor I need to combine those more potent of DNA samples intact!” He paused, nearly caught up in the exuberance of the moment, and considered his options. “It seems my brother has finally developed something of a spine as of late. While his tin plated toys are of no concern or threat to me personally, his new more aggressive stance could be disruptive to my time table. I believe another distraction may be in order...”

“Perhaps,” the doctor said slowly, making his way back to his chair. “Perhaps... it was a mistake to target his family. Going after his kids may have been the very thing that spurred him into action.”

“No,” Duncan replied with confident arrogance, “the plan itself was flawless. The problem was in the execution.” He smiled slightly. “My niece and nephew proved more resourceful and resilient than I anticipated. Had I succeeded in taking them years ago, and raising them myself... teaching them, guiding them, molding them in MY image... I shudder to think of what we could have accomplished together.” He closed his eyes, banishing the image. “No matter. A passing fancy, nothing more. Eventually they would have grown powerful enough to challenge me. Better to remove them from the picture now, while they are still no threat.”

Standing up, he walked to his office door. “Send a message to our agents in the field, and tell them the kid gloves are off. Forget subversion or making it look like an accident. James and Katherine Frasier are to be eliminated by any means necessary.”