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Inner Demons By Paradox West Haven RV Park, Pennsylvania I woke up still feeling the lingering tears that had dampened my cheeks from the night before. They had long since dried, leaving twin, clammy tracks on my face that had me wanting to race into the bathroom and scrub my face clean with scalding hot water. However, I didn't do that, since it would have undoubtedly woken up the beautiful blonde whose arms I was currently entwined in. Unlike me, she continued to sleep peacefully with a look of contentedness on her deceptively young face. There was also a very satisfied smile on her face but that was easily attributed to the no less than five orgasms I'd given her last night, which she had eagerly repaid in kind. Moving slowly and carefully so as not to wake her, I extricated myself from her arms and silently padded over to one of the dressers where I carefully drew out a pair of tiny, lycra running shorts in black and bright fuchsia, a matching sports bra, and a pair of ankle socks. All bore the world-renown logo of Under Armour. Only the best for a fashionista like me, and yes that was heavily laden with sarcasm. To say that I was dealing with some serious self-esteem issues the last couple of days would have been an understatement. Then again, I doubt too many other people would have been able to handle being programed to be the ultimate sex slave, having that conditioning healed by one of your best friends, then have it literally fucked right back into you and still maintain a stellar self-image. Stepping quietly out of the bedroom, I carefully closed the door so it wouldn't make any noise before slipping into my workout clothes. As I did, I noticed the living area bed of the R/V was empty. Since it was six in the morning, it didn't take someone of my considerable intelligence to figure out where its occupants might have gone. While one made it a habit of waking with the sun and going on very early morning runs, the other had been understandably on edge as of late and it made sense that she probably had some trouble sleeping. The fact that I was the cause of her uneasiness only added to the heartbreak I'd been experiencing for the last two days. It also drew a heavy sigh from me as I stepped out the door- And walked directly into two sets of expectant gazes, one amber and gold, the other brilliantly green. "Trouble sleeping?" Shifting my own gaze, I peered at my dark-haired friend who was lovely in appearance and wild in presence. I had no doubt she would have boys sniffing around her more than when she tracked her prey. "You heard me wake up," I deduced. Aiden shrugged unapologetically and gave me a slight smile. "We were just getting ready to go so I figured we'd wait for you." "How did you know I would be going for a run too?" I challenged. "Besides the fact that you run daily?" The question caused my attention to re-direct itself to the ethereal red-haired beauty that was my other friend. "Did you really think we'd let you just go off on your own, especially now?" Sighing, I shook my head at Ashley before shifting so I looked at both of them. "You guys might want to think about staying away from me." "Now why the hell would we do that?" Aiden asked, actually sounding offended. "Because I'm poison," I said quietly, unable to stop the feelings of self-recrimination from boiling up within my mind, "no matter where I go it seems like this shit is constantly following me. It's like I'm a goddamn pervert magnet." "Oh come on," Ashley countered, "just because some lust demon got her hooks into you doesn't mean you're a 'pervert magnet'. Don't forget Aiden was affected by her too." The girl in question shifted ever so slightly, though whether it was from discomfort or the memory of what she herself described as a mind-blowing orgasm I couldn't be sure. "You're forgetting about those boys from Laramie," I pointed out, remembering the college trio who had come to our home town in Wolf Springs and had tried to seduce all of us into bed, even if that seduction took the form of attempted kidnapping and rape. "Hey, they each went after one of us," Aiden clarified, "and Ashley's guy didn't try to do anything to her, he just knew what the others planned." "But the other one tried to slip you a roofie ," I almost cried, remembering at the last second that it was six A.M and to keep my voice down. "He did," Aiden acknowledged with a nod, "and thanks to my Wolverine healing factor it didn't do anything to me." "But it could have," I told her miserably, "and if you'd been raped it would have been my fault." "How?" Ashley asked in clear frustration, "Did you call those guys and invite them to town? Did you tell that asshole to try and drug Aiden? Did you invite that son of a bitch into your house, tell him to chloroform Angela, tie her up, and then try to do the same thing to you?" "No," I admitted lamely. "We had some shitty luck," Aiden said, her tone not brooking any argument, "and that includes Iowa. You're not the cause of this and if you keep thinking you are I might be forced to slap the shit out of you to try and knock some sense into you." "Slapping really isn't your style," Ashley observed. "I don't like punching girls," Aiden clarified. "You disemboweled Libidine," I pointed out. Aiden waved my statement away. "Lust demon, doesn't count." "Regardless," Ashley said, getting us back on track, "The point is, you aren't attracting these things to us. By your own logic she should have come to us instead of us accidentally driving into her sphere of influence." "Nice terminology," I muttered. "Thank you. Anyway, you didn't cause that, she did." "But all of that hard work you did healing what they did to my mind," I said, feeling tears starting to brim. I'd cried so much these last two days I didn't think I had any left. Apparently I was wrong. "She wiped it all away in an hour and now I'm back to the way I was. I mean, look at me," I said, indicating myself. "Without even thinking about it I put on an outfit that made sure as much skin was revealed as possible so that anyone looking at me would automatically think about fucking me." Stepping towards me, Ashley took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "So we start over, work on controlling those impulses like we did when all of us first met. Even with your brain saturated with sexiness you were still able to control it then and you can control it now." "But I shouldn't have to!" I cried, giving in to the feelings of self- pity that simply couldn't be held back any longer. Moving quickly, Aiden was immediately at my side gently covering my mouth so I wouldn't wake our temporary neighbors while whispering, "But you do, so it's either re-learn how to hold it back or get a one-way ticket to the nut house and stay locked in a straightjacket twenty-four seven so you aren't fucking everything with a heartbeat. Pick one," she demanded with a hiss. I actually didn't answer immediately, and not because Aiden's hand was still over my mouth. Had I been alone, I very likely would have already checked myself into a mental ward with the lucidity I still possessed. However, I wasn't alone. I had friends and a girl that I loved that would all be saddened by me leaving them. Aiden and Ashley were there to help me, as was Angela, and all of them had made it possible for me to actually feel normal despite the low throb of my sex drive lurking in the shadows of my mind. I had been able to get it under control before Ashley had healed me, and the strength of my friends' compassion made me believe I could do it again. Besides, after our little adventure with Libidine, Angela had let us no in no uncertain terms that she was coming along for the rest of the trip and would fly back once we got to school. That meant I would have someone with me that I could let out the built up sexual urges I'd been experiencing ever since the demoness's lust taint had re-activated my mental conditioning. Everyone I knew was leaping at any chance to help me. Was I really that much of a bitch to just throw it in their face and say they weren't good enough? "All right." "What?" Ashely asked, drawing Aiden's hand from my mouth so what I said wasn't an unintelligible mumble. "I said 'all right'. I'll just have to re-learn how to be normal again. But just so you know," I told Aiden with a tiny, wicked grin, "Straightjackets can be pretty kinky." "Oh for God's sake," she muttered with a roll of her eyes. "Here we go again. Come on, let's get started. Maybe a good run will burn off some of the sex energy of yours." "Worth a shot," I said with a shrug before we all started jogging down the main drive of the park. It wasn't long before we deviated from it, and I wasn't surprised by our sudden veering from the path into the woodland that surrounded the park. When Aiden went out for a run, it wasn't your typical leisurely jog down the street. Since she was, at heart, a wolf, she needed something a little more strenuous to keep her interested. That's why she had introduced us to what she called 'wolf running'. It was very similar to parkour in that it utilized obstacles and uneven terrain, but it wasn't nearly as showy or acrobatic. Instead, it focused on navigating these obstacles and terrain with minimal effort while maximizing speed. It was basically how a wolf operated when it hunted since loss of acceleration could result in prey gaining a lead and potentially outdistancing the hunter. While Ashley had taken to the style quite readily, and was actually becoming pretty good at it, I still tended to lean more on the parkour side of movement. That was probably due to my mutation. Apparently, in addition to being able to manifest energy knives consisting of a heat potential that I hadn't even been able to quantify yet, I also attained a heightened level of acrobatic dexterity and coordination that was easily at the level of an Olympic gymnast. That meant while Aiden and Ashley vaulted smoothing over a fallen tree, I actually flipped over it. It caused a loss in speed but I was able to quick catch back up with them and maintain their pace. We'd gotten about halfway through our run when I realized Aiden had been dead on with her theory. Instead of thinking about what cute outfit I wanted to wear that day or the best way to make Angela squeal with barely controlled desire, I was wholly focused on keeping pace with my friends and overcoming the next obstacle in our path. It gave me a small sense of hope that maybe I wouldn't turn into some sex-crazed fiend. By the time we made it back to the R/V Aiden and I were breathing a bit harder than normal but were otherwise fine. While I certainly couldn't have done it, I'm sure my friend would have had no problem going another five miles at that pace. Ashely, on the other hand, had collapsed to her hands and knees and was frantically sucking in oxygen as fast as her lungs would allow. Aiden and I picked up her up and put her hands atop her head so her ribcage would expand and allow her lungs to take in more air. Unlike us, Ashley wasn't possessed of enhanced endurance and we had run pretty hard that morning. "Did *gasp* you have to *gasp* go so damn *gaaasp* fast?" "She did it for me," I told her, gently deflecting any blame from Aiden, "she probably thought a hard run would get my mind off things, and she was right," I said as I gave my wild friend a grateful look. "Just keep breathing evenly," Aiden to Ashley while nodding her acknowledgement to me, "You'll be fine in a minute. We really need to work on your endurance girl." "I'm too tired to think of one right now, so just pretend like I insulted you." Ashley gasped as she worked to regulate her breathing. "and I'll pretend like you thoroughly put me in my place," Aiden agreed with a smile. "Well when you're done with that, how about some breakfast?" All three of us looked over to see Angela standing in the doorway of the R/V in a red silk robe that hung open to reveal the sexy little lace nightie she wore beneath it. "It's just about ready." "Lots of meat?" Aiden asked with a hungry kind of anxiousness. "Yes, you carnivore," Angela laughed, "I've got a whole plate of sausage just for you." "Foooood," she practically howled and raced into the R/V while Ashley and I walked in at a more leisurely pace. As we ascended the small steps, Angela gathered me into her arms and gave me a long, deep kiss. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "Better," I admitted. "Hey Kitty," Ashley warned from the dining area table that was laden with food, "If you want any of this sausage or bacon you'd better hurry. I think Aiden is trying to set a world record for how much she can cram into her mouth at once." Laughing, I stepped fully into the R/V arm in arm with my lover and went about enjoying a nice, hearty breakfast with the people I loved and cared about who never hesitated to show me the same. Chicago, Illinois The sound of gunshots exploding in the air had Gear coming awake with heat-stopping alacrity and scrambling for the hidden holster beneath desk. It wasn't until his hand closed around the handle of the Colt forty-five that he realized the gunshots were coming from the indoor test range located on the far end of the complex. Normally, he would have barely detected the gunfire coming from the area, except someone had neglected to close the door to it and ensure the soundproofing within was complete. Since there were only three people on the planet that knew about the existence of what he liked to joking call their 'lair', and one of them was currently on the road, it didn't take someone with gadgeteer-level intelligence to figure out who was left. Of course, that only raised more questions, since making sure the room was sealed during weapons testing was crucial to keeping their location secret. While it was still highly unlikely anyone would hear anything outside of the facility, the potential of it was one of the reasons why such strict security measures had been put in place. Considering the man who had implemented such protocols, it was even stranger that he'd chosen to ignore them. Grumbling tiredly beneath his breath, he stalked over to the range, snagging a pair of muffling headphones as he did and slipping them on, thereby reducing the previously deafening echo to a dull thudding. As he reached the entry point to the range, he watched as his friend and boss went through a series of tests with his side arms. He first took careful, precise aim, squeezed off a round, then made a note on the clipboard hanging on the wall beside him. Once he'd done that to the point that the magazine of the weapon was empty, he set it aside and repeated the process with the firearm's mate. Once both mags were dry, he reloaded and then conducted a rapid-fire test where each weapon emptied its contents as fast as he could pull the trigger, which was scary fast. The final test consisted of a variation on the rapid-fire drill where he used both weapons simultaneously against five different targets downrange. It was only then that he reeled the targets back in where he could inspect the small, circular perforations within each target. "Nice grouping," Gear said loudly to compensate for the ear protection as he saw all of the shots had gone in either the head or the heart in an incredibly tight grouping. While he didn't outwardly acknowledge the presence of his trusted weaponsmith, Ashe removed the noise cancelation plugs from his ears and made a notation on the clipboard while saying, "The sights are off by one millimeter." Taking off his own earphones, Gear sighed. "Ashe, the best marksmen in the world can't get that kind of consistent grouping, especially not with dual weapons." "The grouping should have been within twenty-one point twenty-one millimeters. Greater than that is unacceptable." Even though the gadgeteer was familiar with his boss's insanely difficult standards when it came to...well, everything, he'd always had slightly more lenience when it came to his shot groupings. Yes, he strived for the aforementioned twenty-one point twenty-one grouping, but he was always satisfied with the twenty-four point twenty-six that he'd just accomplished. Insanely high standards were one thing, but Ashe was always well aware that for all of his vaunted ability he was still human and there would always need to be a margin for error. "You've never had a problem with it before," he pointed out. Instead of replying, Ashe collected his weapons and silently walked passed his friend and colleague out to the very well-used weapons table where he began methodically disassembling the thirty-eight semi-autos for cleaning. For a few minutes, Gear watched him go through the process of breaking the weapon down to a level only a master gunsmith would try before meticulously cleaning every single part of the weapon, applying the proper lubrication to all moving parts, and then reassemble it as easily as changing the batteries on a flashlight. It wasn't until he began the same process on his second weapon that the weaponsmith could no longer hold his tongue. "Okay, what's going on with you?" "What do you mean?" the man asked, never taking his focus from the process laid out before him. "Don't play dumb with me," Gear told him, pulling up a stool across the table from him and fixing him with a knowing stare. "In the last twenty- four hours you've been more reckless than I've ever seen you in all the time we've known one another." Ashe didn't look up from his firearm cleaning, though he did lift an eyebrow. "Exactly how have I been reckless?" "The Red Cobra Case." There was a tiny movement of a shoulder that Gear was able to interpret as a shrug as the vigilante began the process of reassembling the cleaned and lubed weapon. "The case was closed, what more is there to say?" "Ashe, we've been working on the case for months, nailing down delivery times, client bases, money transactions, and even operational hierarchy. We were going to systematically disassemble them and funnel their proceeds into our accounts once you got the financials out of their in- house accountant." "The operation was eliminated," Ashe said simply. "Because you blew up the fucking building!" Gear said in exasperation. "Yeah the bulk of the gang is dead and all that's left are peons that don't have anywhere near the brains to try and put it back together, but now there's no way to get to the financials or lock down their suppliers." "We don't need the money," was the terse reply, "and we'll have another opportunity to locate the suppliers soon enough and eliminate them." For a moment, the weaponsmith could do nothing but sit and blink at his boss in shock. It wasn't that long ago that such loses on an operation would have been unacceptable to him. While the Red Cobra gang was a problem, their drug and weapon suppliers were just as big of one and Ashe had been firm that they needed to gather as much intelligence on them as possible. "Okay, what the fuck!" he nearly yelled. Slowly, that steely gaze lifted from his now fully assembled weapon to address the expletive with a penetrating glare that might have sent anyone else running screaming for their lives. "Excuse me?" "Ashe, I've never had a problem with the way we operate. The criminals we go after need to be gone from the world, no question, but you've never been this bloodthirsty before. Blowing up an entire building just to eliminate the gang? That's not your style. Yeah, there were no civilians in it but both of us know that was a pretty fucking loud and brutal way of doing it and it brought more than the local cops this time. The ATF is investigating it too." "and they'll find it was nothing," Ashe said calmly, far too calmly. "Absolutely no trace of my presence was left behind." "How do you know?" Gear demanded, "With a demolition of that size you had to have used an explosive that any bomb dog would easily pick up. Once they figure out which kind was used they'll be sure to look into the sale of all explosives in the area and could trace it back to us." While the weaponsmith gasped for breath after that forceful tirade, Ashe sat back with a completely blank expression on his face. Had Gear not been so fired up about the potential threat to their operation he might have seen it for the warning sign it was. "The explosion was facilitated by three holes drilled into the main gas line of the building, after the safety valves had been compromised, and ignited by a single firecracker." Gear blinked several times in amazement before shaking his head. "You blew up an entire building using a firecracker?" "I'd already mapped out the layout of the gas distribution through the building and determined that a single, small explosion would be more than enough to trigger a catastrophic failure of the entire line. Where are the girls currently located?" Just as he was opening his mouth to respond with a mixture of adoration for his boss's thorough planning and anger that he'd deviated from the pre-existing one, he blinked several times and tried to reorient his line of thinking as his boss suddenly changed topics without him realizing it. "What?" "The girls, what is their current location? "I don't know," Gear asked in exasperation. "Why do you want to know that?" Instead of answering, Ashe stood and holstered his weapons before stepping from the weapons station over to the bank of computers that served as their communications and intelligence station with Gear quickly following behind him. He watched as the man tapped in a few commands on his keyboard and brought up the holographic map projection on the wall zoomed in to a small area with a single red dot in the center. "West Haven Park," Ashe said, more to himself than anyone else, and keyed in a command that changed the display from the map to an interior camera image of a recreational vehicle. Both watched as Ashley and Aiden sat at the dining area table going over a map on Ashley's computer while Kitty and Angela cleaned up what was clearly breakfast dishes. "They should be leaving shortly." Gear's hand flashed down, stabbing at a key on the keyboard and causing the holographic display to wink out. "You're spying on them now?" he accused even as Ashe fixed him with a cold, narrowed gaze. "What, do you plan on watching them while they sleep too? When the hell did you install hidden cameras in their R/V?" "Back off Gear," he said very quietly. "No Ashe, this is nuts. I know you want to make sure they get to Tearmann safe but you've got to draw the line somewhere. These girls are entitled to privacy and they don't need you literally looking over their shoulders at any moment." "It's my fault!" Ashe shouted, slamming his fist down on the keyboard so hard it shattered, sending keys, pieces of plastic, and circuitry flying throughout the room. The level of sudden, spontaneous, and violent loss of control, something that never happened with the dark vigilante, had Gear standing frozen in such shock he didn't even realize Ashe had said something at first. When his mind caught back up he shook his head in confusion. "What are you talking about? What's your fault?" Spinning, Ashe stalked towards his command center with a look of fury on his face that was terrifying in that Gear never seen it before. After a moment's hesitation, he hurried after his friend and arrived just in time to see him pulling up a map stretched out between four of the multiple screens displaying northeastern United States with a single blue line following interstate ninety up to Canada. Along that line were various text boxes detailing potential threats ranging from recorded petty crime to potential supervillain activity. One of the other screens currently not occupied by the map also showed an incredibly detailed listing of the current state of Whateley Academy, its enrollment population, and extensive security logs for the last six months. "Ashe, what are you doing?" Gear asked hesitantly. "What was your fault?" "Libidine," he said, and for the second time in less than five minutes Gear found himself shocked at the tone in the man's voice. It wasn't hyper violent anymore, it was...regretful. In all his time with Ashe, he couldn't recall a single time he'd ever heard that particular emotion in his voice. If an operation ever went bad, he'd always just looked at it logically and tactically, made appropriate adjustments to their operations, and continued on. He never dwelled upon it for more time than necessary. "That wasn't your fault," Gear told him. "You weren't even in Iowa at the time." "It should have been dealt with months ago," Ashe told him, looking over with an expression of pain in that steely gaze. It was certainly a red letter day for things Gear had never seen his boss do. "I knew the route the she was planning to use and I could have eliminated the threat before they'd even gotten on the road. Instead, I delegated the responsibility to someone else so I could focus on Chicago." "You said you saw potential in the Cornfield Brigade," Gear rationalized. "You told me you wanted to give them something that would bolster their confidence." "and they never even tried to accomplish the mission," Ashe concluded. "They only cared about using their powers to impress women and show off. I could have done it myself and known it would have been done right the first time. Because I didn't, because instead I kept my attention here, they...she...was nearly lost to that lust demon. That failure is on me and I will not allow another." "Ashe," Gear said, walking over and putting a companionly hand on his friend's shoulder, "You can't be everywhere at once. You're only human. Yeah, things could have gone bad, that's true, but the girls handled themselves pretty damn well all things considered. They got into a sticky spot but they ended up doing exactly what you wanted to happen, they eliminated the enemy and completed the operation. You said it yourself, they're stronger than anyone else realizes. That means they're strong enough to look out for each other and themselves. You constantly looking out for them and sacrificing your own principles to do it doesn't do them any kind of a service and it only undermines your own opinion of her." "She's not a combatant," Ashe argued, albeit weakly, "All of her inner strength means nothing if she's not capable of defending herself." "That's why she has her friends," Gear countered, "and you saw yourself that they seem to be pretty damn capable of doing that." Looking from his friend back to the computer bank, Ashe's gaze focused on a singular image located on the center screen depicting a photo of three beautiful girls with their arms around one another smiling happily at the camera. Beneath their image was a single line of text in flowing, feminine script proclaiming how its author wished that he was there. "I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her," he said quietly. "That's not something you can put on your shoulders," his friend told him, "She's not something you can control like a tactical plan. She's a person who has to be allowed to make her own choices and mistakes. You can be there for her," Gear assured him, "If she's in trouble, I'll have you set up with transportation before you're even out the door, but you need to let her live her own life. Doing anything less is an insult to who you know she is, not a benefit." For some time, neither man spoke a word. While Gear looked down at his tormented friend, Ashe stared at the photograph on the computer screen. Finally, the dark vigilante sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You're right. Interfering like that would only tarnish her spirit instead of letting it grow. However-" Working his fingers over the keyboard, the map screen winked out and was replaced with a multitude of tactical infiltration and battle plans detailing how certain supervillain groups could be effectively eliminated. "That doesn't mean precautions can't be taken." Looking over the information on the screens, Gear nodded approvingly at what Ashe was proposing. "You're going to send this to the Brooklyn Sentinels, Shielders, and STAR League?" "They have proven records, and were able to effectively implement the tactical plans I sent them in the past." Gear noted something in his friend's voice. It was subtle, but he could tell there was more going on. "But you still don't trust them," he reasoned. "They aren't me," Ashe both confirmed and clarified, "But unless I intend on leaving the city, and several open cases needing immediate attention, I don't have any choice." Attaching the strategies in a heavily encrypted email, he sent it to the respective super hero teams. "They'll be fine Ashe," Gear assured him, "You said yourself they're strong and capable girls." Bringing up the map detailing the current position of the R/V, he rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands before his mouth. "It's not their capability I'm worried about." Iroquois Travel Plaza, New York "Oh come on!" Angela cried in disbelief. "What?" Aiden asked. "That," the blonde waved at the television where a group of intrepid young high schoolers were working feverishly to try and crash a company supercomputer. "Do they really think a bunch of laptops working off a 28.8 bps modem can really take down a corporate-sized computer system so openly? The only way any of those viruses would even work is if someone actually opened the virus file within the system and I highly doubt anyone would be that stupid with their resident computer expert at the keyboard." "This was back in the nineties Angel," I pointed out, using my pet name for her. Shooting me a look of superiority, my lover huffed. "It still doesn't excuse such gross overreaching when it comes to hacking. I mean, what the fuck is that guy wearing on his head? What is that supposed to be, some kind of Hollywood VR rig? It looks like someone started making a wearable magnifier and just said, 'Ah, fuck it,' halfway through." "I knew watching Hackers was a bad idea," I said, giving Aiden an I- told-you-so look. "It was her turn to pick out the movie," Aiden said with a helpless shrug. "I still can't believe you've never seen it before Angie," she said, having adopted the more friend-based nickname I'd given Angela a while ago, "It's your wheelhouse after all." "I got warned off of it by some hacker friends back when it came out," she explained, snatching her can of Coke off the dining table and taking a swallow, "Now I see why." "Is she still critiquing?" I heard, turning to see Ashley coming out of the bathroom. "Uh huh," I said. "We tried to warn her," the redhead sighed as she flopped down next to Aiden on the L-shaped bench. Suddenly inspired, I couldn't stop the grin from forming even as Ashley's eyes grew wide when she realized her tragic mistake. "I warned you," I cried in what I attempted to make a lower, gravellier voice and just ended up purring sexily. "Oh God what have I done," Ashley moaned. "I warned you but did you listen to me oooooh noooo. Nooo. Nooo it's just a harmless little bunny in't it? Well it's always the same," I bemoaned, attempted to affect a British accent, "I always tell them but do they listen to me oooh nooo." "Shut up!" All three of them cried before we all burst into howling laughter. "I should have expected that," Aiden said when she finally was able to reduce herself to giggling. Only after she spoke was it her turn for her eyes to go wide at the second mistake made by my friends. This time however, instead of only myself speaking, all of us crowed, "No one expects that Spanish Inquisition!" before bursting into fresh laughter. "I'm glad you're feeling better," Angela told me as she gave my bare thigh a squeeze. No, I wasn't naked you perverts. I was just wearing some very short, tight jean shorts that left nearly never inch of my legs exposed. Yes, it was a departure for me not to be wearing a dress or a skirt, but I had decided after our run that morning that I would make a concerted effort to stem the overly sexual posturing I was so prone to do. While it might not seem like much of a difference to anyone who didn't know me, given that the shorts were so tiny Daisy Duke might have thought twice about wearing them, for me it was a significant change in behavior. The primary reason for that is it essentially put a barrier between my legs that was far more sturdy than a silk thong. For someone whose brain was pretty much hard-wired for sex, that was almost the same as putting on a chastity belt, and no I wasn't going anywhere near that concept. "They say laughter is the best medicine," I told her, looking to Ashley who confirmed this with a nod of approval. "and I think I'll take the next shift behind the wheel." "You sure about that?" Angela asked with concern. "I don't mind driving some more," Ashley offered quickly. "Guys," I said, waving their words away, "I'm okay, really. I'm not going to let you keep doing the work while I lounge back here like the queen of Sheba, it's unfair." "We don't mind driving," Angela told me. That might have been true, but I'd seen how all of that driving yesterday had really taken its toll on Ashley. By the time we'd gotten to the R/V park she'd been utterly exhausted and only wanted to just cuddle up against Aiden. She'd even been too tired to cook, which was really telling considering how much she enjoyed it. There was no way I was going to let my friend go through that again because of me. "No, really, I'm good," I assured them, "and I need to do it, for myself if nothing else. I can't just let this...thing in my head beat me and the best way to start fighting back is to just do something normal." "All right," Aiden agreed hesitantly, "But the second you start feeling off you pull over and either Ashley or Angela will take over, clear?" "Yes Ma'am," I said, snapping a sharp salute. "Asshole," my friend muttered with a smile. Responding only with a saucy wink, I headed up to the driver's area and dropped in behind the wheel. I'd just started the engine when someone slipped into the passenger seat. I'd fully expected it to be Angela, so I was rather surprised to turn and see Aiden clicking her seatbelt into place. "Ashley wanted to give Angie some cooking pointers for when she gets back home so she doesn't starve to death." "Good idea," I said as I piloted the R/V out of the parking lot and onto the highway, "Since I was usually the one doing the cooking. She'd end up gorging on junk food and energy drinks and I'd come home to a blimp for winter break." "Something tells me Ashley's mom will make sure that won't happen," she said, glancing towards the back where Ashley was teaching Angela the finer points of ingredient measurements. "She promised she'd make sure Angie didn't stick her head in her computer and forget to take it out. My guess, she'll be eating at Ashley's place more than yours most of the time." "Actually," I said as I remembered our conversation from several days ago, "I forgot, Angie's going to be leaving pretty soon after she flies back. She's got a job to keep her busy while I'm gone." "Oh?" Aiden asked with interest, "What kind of a job?" "Apparently a Wisecrack kind," I said, deliberately using Angela's hacker handle. "Ah," the girl said with a knowing nod, "Probably best not to ask then huh? Plausible deniability and all that?" "Probably," I confirmed, though I wasn't worried about Angela doing something illegal and being arrested. Okay, so she was probably going to be doing something illegal, but she wouldn't get caught. For the next twenty minutes, the two of us chatted about inconsequential stuff: my opinion on how Aiden was doing with her fashion sense (getting better), what kind of classes we wanted to take when we got to school (applied sciences for me and metalwork for Aiden), and various other "safe" topics. It wasn't until we'd finally exhausted our limited repertoire of neutral issues that she finally brought up something I'm sure she'd been dying to talk about. "You know, I think I understand what you're going through a little." "Oh?" I asked carefully, keeping my gaze firmly on the highway. "Not completely," she clarified, "I'm not going to insult you by doing that stupid think people do and say 'I know how you feel' when they don't have clue one about it. It's just..." She squirmed a little in her seat, though whether it was from discomfort or something else I couldn't be quite sure of. "After what Libidine did to me-" Dammit, why did the very mention of that bitch's name still send erotic thrills down my spine and molten heat pooling between my legs? "-the way I lost control of myself, I think I understand a little bit about what you go through every day. I mean, you're not out of control sex crazy," she assured me, "But I think the impulse might be similar, just nowhere near as intense." "I can't say if you're right or wrong," I allowed, working very hard to keep my voice even and conversational instead of flat out telling Aiden to shut the fuck up because I didn't want to talk about this, "But I suppose it's a lot like being constantly on a low simmer. It's almost like my brain processes everything through a sexual filter before it reaches the intellectual part. Kind of like how almost anything anyone says can be taken as a euphemism or innuendo for sex, only without the humor." "So, that whole joke about someone saying something like 'it's so big' when looking at a bratwurst and someone else immediately saying 'that's what she said'." "Except for me it isn't a joke," I kind of agreed, "If someone had said the first part to me, my immediate thought would be 'I bet that thing would fill me up great'." The hot blush that colored Aiden's cheeks immediately had me regretting this particular topic of conversation. True, I wasn't the one who had started it, but I could have shut it down immediately by saying I didn't want to talk about it. I'm sure many girlfriends discussed sex with each other, probably often in great detail, but I doubted many of them did it with an almost literal sex fiend. "Sorry," I mumbled, "TMI I guess." "A little," she admitted, "But it's why I asked. Knowing you have this mental conditioning, I really want to try and understand it better." "Kind of like how you've explained how your wolf affects you?" I asked, finally understanding why she'd started talking about this. "Exactly," she smiled, "I mean, I don't want to piss you guys off when I accidentally slip into my wolf mindset and call someone a bitch when I'm not using it as an insult." Nodding, I cast her a smile of appreciation briefly before returning my attention back to the road. "I get that, and I'm glad that you want to understand it better instead of just writing me off as some kind of sex freak." When I felt her hand gently pat my knee, I had to immediately fight back the automatic urge to take the gesture as one of sexual advance instead of the touch of friendship I knew it was. "Kit, you're our friend. We've all been through a lot in the last couple of days. Hell, we've gone through a lot in the last couple of months. You should know by now that we wouldn't just put you in a box because of just one part of you. Now," she said, rapidly changing topics on me, "Let's talk about those energy knives of yours." Blinking at the sudden shift, I looked over at her in surprise before remembering I was driving and quickly brought my focus back to that particular task. "What about them?" "Well, duh, they've changed. Why do you think that is?" I sighed and knew there was no point in trying to play dumb on this one. When I'd first met Aiden and Ashley, I'd demonstrated the energy blades I was able to manifest through my mutant power. At the time, they were simple, plain, double-edged knives composed of a blue/white energy that were at a level of heat I hadn't even been able to quantify without proper testing equipment. Ever since Libidine had tainted me with her otherworldly lust and set my recovery of my sex slave mental programming back to zero, it seemed that her influence had affected more than my libido. Now, every time I manifested my blades, they were no longer simple and...pure is the best word to describe them. Instead, they were wickedly shaped, almost like spearheads or enlarged arrowheads you would see in fantasy comics or movies. They also no longer glowed blue/white, but instead were a fiery red and orange and seemed to actually be engulfed in tightly controlled flames. Since I hadn't been able to gauge the strength of their thermal quality before, I had no idea if the change was simply aesthetic in nature or if they had actually grown in strength. "My first blush reaction," I said after considering it with the analytical, scientific part of my mind, "Is that it's a direct result of Libidine's influence. If my power is influenced by my mental state in any way, then logically it would make sense that the physical manifestation could change along with any core changes to my mental state or self-image." "All right," Aiden nodded as she considered my evaluation, "So if we were to go with that line of thinking, do you think maybe it would be possible for you change your blades to look like whatever you want? Could you maybe form a karambit-style knife or maybe a kukri? What about creating an actual sword?" "You're assuming that I have some kind of direct influence over it," I told her, "But I think my power works with my subconscious mind rather than my conscious one. Before we all met, when Angela and I were still on the road, I had a little time to experiment with my power and one of the things I tried to do was change the shape of my knife. I tried using sheer will, mental commands, even deliberately evoking different emotions like sadness and anger. Every time, my energy blades manifested the same way, until Libidine." "So," Aiden said quietly, "You're saying that what was done to your mind is far more powerful than what that crazy doctor and your fake father did to you." "Exactly," I said, unable to keep a tremor of anger from my voice. "What she did changed me on a very basic mental level that goes well beyond simple brainwashing or mental conditioning. I think she changed the very structure of my brain's neural pathways in a way that it's completely natural. That's why Ashley wasn't able to heal it back in Chicago." Aiden nodded, remembering like I did how when we'd first gotten to Ashe's safe house she tried to reverse what the demoness had done to me with her ability to heal just like she'd done before. Unfortunately, when tried this time, she had discovered that her power didn't sense any aberrations in my brain structure and thus there was nothing for her to heal. It was almost as though I had come out of the womb hard-wired for sex. "Maybe it's because it was done with magic," she suggested, "Because her power didn't operate on a more physical principle it's harder to detect." "Possibly," I allowed, "and it's also possible that someone from Tearmann might possess enough skill in magic to try and figure out what was done and maybe even reverse it." "Huh," Aiden said, "I hadn't thought of that." "I did." Her mouth quirked up at the corner so she was smirking at me. "Taking lessons from Ashe are we?" I shrugged as though I didn't care, but comparing me favorably towards arguably the greatest tactical mind in the world was far from insulting. "From a scientific standpoint it makes sense," I told her, "We're going to a school specifically for teaching mutants and people of magic how to use their abilities. Logically, they would have people on staff well versed in magical afflictions that are capable of determining their effects and how to reverse them." I was about to say more when I realized something. During our entire conversation about this particular topic, not once had I had a sexual thought or inclination. I was so wholly focused on the science and logic of the topic that all carnal influences had utterly silent within my mind. When I looked over at Aiden to voice this realization I saw her smiling proudly. "You did that on purpose," I accused without heat. "It worked didn't it?" she grinned. Reaching over, I took Aiden's hand and gave it a firm squeeze, happy that the gesture of friendship did have the slightest sexual feeling behind it. "Thank you," I whispered. "Anytime." "What are you guys talking about?" Ashley said, suddenly appearing on the small bench behind us in the living area and leaning over the seats with a smile. "Just trying to figure out why Kitty's blades are manifesting differently now," Aiden said, giving me a knowing look. "Oh, I have a theory about that," she said excitedly. It didn't matter that her idea was nearly exactly the same as I'd had, it sparked off a whole new batch of conversations that had us talking, laughing, yelling, and bonding even closer as friends in a way that didn't have my mind derailing to the bedroom even once. While that might not have been a big deal for most people, for me it was definitely a checkmark in the 'win' column. Undocumented Island, Between Nova Scotia and Newfoundland "Where're we at?" Jonathan Swift looked up from the laptop he was working on to see the large and rather portly man saunter into his office. At least, it would have been an office if it hadn't been a shack constructed out of corrugated sheet metal and only had enough space for a beaten up table, the chair he currently occupied, and a length of cable running out to the solar panel that powered his computer. He was lucky to have that much, and it had really taken a lot of effort to get his leader to buy the solar panel. Howard Shepard really didn't care much for technology beyond that contained on his boats and he never really seemed to grasp the need to keep up with the times. "We're up to three boats with the latest acquisition-" "I've told ya before," Howard snapped, cutting the man off, "Enough with the fancy talk." Sighing, and not for the first time questioning just why he got involved with Howard and his group of miscreants. Then again, economic-based jobs were a bit difficult to come by these days in this area and those student loans were a real bitch. "Okay then, we've got three boats, twenty men, three rifles, and two pistols." "I think that should be enough b'y," the rather rotund man announced more to himself than anyone else. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Jonathan asked. He'd posed the question to the man before, wondering if this was really the best way to make the statement he was trying to put out to the world. "Why you keep askin' me that?" Howard drawled, "We're paying ye good aren't we?" Frowning, the young number cruncher sat back and folded his arms. "You haven't paid me a dime." "Well I will," the portly man said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "When?" Jonathan demanded. "Soon as we get this done," came the rather vague reply. "I'd say we should be ready in a couple days and then ye'll git paid b'y." Shaking his head as the man departed the ramshackle building, the economics major from Halifax once again questioned his own sanity in getting involved with a bunch of redneck fishermen from Newfoundland. Leaving the tin shed behind him, Howard Shepard strolled the grounds of what he considered one of his greatest accomplishments. A ten year veteran of the Canadian Naval Forces and a twenty-five year veteran of the fishing industry, Howard was used to being in command. Whether it was a crew of military seamen or a fisherman's deckhands, Howard knew what he wanted and he expected full compliance with whatever order he gave. It was what made him such a good captain and how he always kept his boat full of fish year after year. At least, it used to. The last couple of years had been difficult. With the province's focus being primarily on their energy production efforts, the fisheries had been left behind and with it the fishermen that had been the life's blood of Newfoundland for generations. Every year, the limitations on fishing seasons and catch yields had grown smaller and smaller until the various fleets of boats were barely making a profit anymore. There had been the usual government excuses that they were doing it for the good of the planet and that fishermen needed to adapt to new, renewable resource-based equipment, but it was all bullshit. Howard had been out on one of those boats that had been outfitted with some newfangled biodiesel engine and the progress that they'd made in a week he could have done in a day on his trusty traditional diesel boat. The electric ones were no better, according to some of the other captains he often shared a beer with. It was damn unfair that those captaining those weak pieces of shit should be exempt from the season and catch limitations just because they were less effective at doing the job. Swaggering his way to the general gathering area where a nice, crackling fire cast a warm glow throughout the camp, Howard looked over his 'army' with pride. It hadn't taken much to convince his own crew to go along with this little 'protest action' he'd cooked up, and little more effort to encourage two of his fellow captains to add themselves, their crew, and their gear to the cause. Of course, it didn't take much these days to get people riled up when it came to the government. Everyone knew they were a bunch of pansies and the media just fed everyone a bunch of lies with that nonsense of the 'highest approval rating in decades' shit. After all, the comment sections on Facebook were full of people who had the same opinion as him, so he must be right. Howard knew a big, public display would be just what was needed to show the world just how badly the fishermen of the province were being treated, and what better way than to go after the one seafaring government business that Newfoundland depended on when it came to goods and tourism: Marine Atlantic. It was a gamble, using only twenty men to try and take one of those monstrous ferries, but Howard had done his homework. Ten rides back and forth between Newfoundland and Nova Scotia had gotten him a pretty good understanding of the layout of the boats, how the crew operated, and the types of people that made up the passengers. There'd probably be a few hard-core truck drivers to deal with, but mostly it was just elderly people and families who would turn into crying babies the second they saw one of the rifles or pistols waved at them. After that, it would be an easy matter of taking over the bridge and making the call to the government demanding the fishermen get their rights back. Easy. Walking over to join his men in a beer, he smiled and clinked bottles with them while knowing that in a couple of days they would all get exactly what they were due. Tuxbury Pond RV Resort, New Hampshire "So how are you holding up?" Ashley looked up from the medical journal she'd been perusing on her computer while relaxing on the jump bench behind the driver's compartment to blink questioningly at Angela lounging in the living area. "What do you mean?" "Come on Ashley," the blonde hacker said knowingly as she sat up, "You went through that nightmare too back in Iowa. Yeah you didn't get hit with it nearly as bad as Aiden and Kitty, but with...everything you've been dealing with..." she said, tripping over her tongue in an effort to be delicate. "You mean my PTSD," Ashley said plainly and offered her a gentle smile. "It's okay, you can say it." "All right," Angela said with a sigh, "With your PTSD and everything, it must have been at least as bad for you as it was for them." Closing her laptop and setting it aside, Ashley nodded and folded her hands in her lap. "It was terrifying," she admitted, "I thought for sure all of my worst nightmares were about to come true and that what Doctor Taylor almost did to me would actually happen." "But it didn't," the other girl nudged. Shaking her head, the redhead couldn't quite keep the haunted look out of her lovely eyes. "It didn't, but in this case close most definitely counts. I was in full panic-attack mode, only I couldn't run because I was chained to a wall." She shivered at the memory as her arms wrapped about herself in the ancient gesture of self-comfort. "I felt like a trapped animal, ready to chew off my own arm to try and escape." "But you held it together," Angela noted, "Aiden told me how you really took charge and made it possible for you two to find Kitty when that demon bitch was working her confusion mojo." The young girl worried her lip gently with her perfect white teeth for a moment before replying. "It was because of Milton," she said softly. "The mentally handicapped guy?" Angela asked with surprise. Nodding, Ashley lifted her gaze to meet her friend's and this time she didn't bother trying to hide the horror in her eyes that she'd experienced at the hands of Libidine. "He might have been under her influence before, but he showed me such kindness and gentleness. He protected me when Aiden or Kitty wasn't there and it was because of that I think I was able to just barely keep it together. I still wanted to run as fast as I could screaming at the top of my lungs, but somehow knowing he was there to keep me safe made it possible to actually think straight. After that," she shrugged, "I was so focused on getting us to Kitty I didn't really have time to be scared anymore." "It sounds like you're making progress," the hacker observed. "From what Kitty's told me, and I don't mean to insult you or anything, but you would have probably curled up in a ball and gone catatonic if this happened a few weeks ago." The lovely mutant offered a wane smile at the completely truthful statement. "Probably," she admitted, "Maybe it does mean I'm getting better. No," she said with a shake of her head, "That's not right. PTSD never goes away, so I'll never 'get better', but I guess I am beginning to cope with it. Maybe one day I'll be able to get to the point where it's just kind of background noise that I can ignore." "Not to take anything away from you," Angela said, moving through the living area of the R/V to sit down beside Ashley, "But you and Kitty are kind of going through the same thing. Obviously it's a lot different in many respects, but you're both coping with serious mental trauma that you're always fighting against." "I know," she said, "I've made the same parallel myself. The biggest difference is that my PTSD isn't always 'on' if I'm not in any perceived danger. I'm not looking at every shadow thinking the boogeyman is going to leap out or always thinking there's a rapist under my bed. With Kitty, it's actually closer to a drug addiction than a trauma. She's always fighting against those urges and bless her she fights so damn hard." "I have to admit," Angela said with a cheeky grin, endeavoring to lighten the mood, "They do come in kind of handy for sexy time at night." Laughing, Ashley shook her head in amazement. "You know, I don't think any health class could have taught me more about sex than you guys. I've gotten quite an education these last few weeks." "Just think of it as lessons for when you finally meet that special someone and can blow his or her mind." For a moment, Ashley just sat there with her lips slightly pursed before she burst out laughing hard enough tears formed in her eyes. "What?" Angela asked, the other girl's laughter so infectious she couldn't keep it out of her own voice. "Now I know I've spent too much time around Kitty. The first place my brain went to was a different kind of 'blowing'," Ashley guffawed. When Aiden and Kitty re-entered the R/V with their collective dinner a few moments later, they found the pair holding onto one another for support as they howled with laughter. "What's so funny?" Aiden asked, unable to keep the smile off her face. "Oh," Angela said, wiping a tear from her eye, "Just discussing the finer points of a good...umm...education." The uncontrollable snickers that came from Ashley when the blonde said that had Kitty lifting a suspicious eyebrow. "Oh really." "Mmmhmmm," Ashley hummed between bursts of barely contained laughter. Looking from one to the other, the brunette's eyes widened with delightful realization when she caught the hot flush of pink in the girls' cheeks. "Ohhhhh," she intoned knowingly, "Well, in that case you really should come to the expert, though Angie is certainly no slouch either." "Thank you dear," Angela said with a grin and a slight bow. "Okay," Aiden huffed, "Will someone please tell me what the hell you guys are talking about?" Patting her arm with the kind of compassion one would have for a dim- witted child who simply didn't understand adult humor, Kitty smiled pityingly at her. "Maybe when you're older sweetheart." "Hey!" the wolf girl cried, "I'm less than a year younger than you guys for fuck's sake. You know what, never mind," she grumped, stalking over to the dining area and setting the sacks of Chinese on the table in a huff. Stepping up behind her, Ashley slipped her arms around the taller girl's waist and hugged her closely from behind, resting her cheek on her shoulder. "We're just teasing Aiden," she whispered fondly in her ear, "We were talking about sex." Though the blush was quick and hot on the sable-haired beauty's cheeks, it disappeared just as quickly. "and, what, you're afraid of hurting my oh so delicate ears?" she snarked, reaching back and giving Ashley's thigh a quick pinch that had the smaller girl squealing in surprise and leaping away. "I'm not some innocent babe in the woods you know. I believe you still retain that particular distinction," she said with a wolfish grin aimed squarely at her redheaded friend. Pressing a hand to her heart, Ashley swooned and collapsed onto the living area sofa with a moan of despair. "Oh woe is me, I'm forever going to be known as a delicate little flower." Dropping down next to her, Kitty slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave them a companionly squeeze. "and don't you ever change," she said only half-jokingly before looking over at Aiden, "You too wolf girl." "Perish the thought," Aiden said with a wave of her hand, joining her friends on the couch where Ashley automatically snuggled in against her side. "Listen guys," Angela said, taking the last open spot next to Kitty on the couch, "Tomorrow we'll probably cross the border into Canada just after lunch. Now Ashley and Aiden, you shouldn't have any problems because your passports were applied for and obtained legally. Kitty and I, however, are a different story. I have no doubt ours will hold up since I created some really thorough backgrounds for us, but on the off chance that something does happen don't freak out or anything. All three of you have your admittance letters from Tearmann so those are just as good as passports and I can always work the data on the fly if need be." "But if that happens," Ashley said with a note of worry in her voice, "They probably won't let you anywhere near a computer while they check on your identities." "A computer, no," she admitted before reaching into her laptop bag and pulled out her cell phone, "But I'll still have this." "You can hack into the United States Passport database on a cellphone?" Aiden asked in disbelief. "It'll be a pain in the ass," Angela acknowledged, "But I can do it. So, basically, don't sweat it." "Maybe I should call Ashe," Ashley suggested, "I'm sure he would be able to clear the way for us." "Ashley," Aiden said quietly while gently stroking her hair, "You can't run to Ashe for every little thing, you know. The whole reason we're going to this school is so we can stand on our own and not depend on someone else." Sighing, the girl nodded. "I guess you're right. I kind of have been leaning on him pretty hard lately huh?" "It's okay to have someone you can depend on if you really need them," Kitty pointed out, "But you're actually done pretty good on your own so far. You didn't need him to deal with that guy back in Wolf Springs, you didn't need him when we dealt with Libidine, and I'm pretty sure you don't need him to deal with mine and Angie's passport issue." "Yeah, you're right," the crimson-haired beauty admitted before lapsing into silence while their dinner was divvied up amongst them. While more banal chatter dominated the feast, Ashley couldn't stop thinking about how her default whenever there was trouble was to call Ashe. Her friends were absolutely correct when they said she'd been doing pretty well with just her wits and physicality, non-violent as it was. So why was she still so ready to make that phone call to him at a moment's notice? It would have been easy to just brush it off as him being probably one of the most lethal individuals in the world, not to mention the greatest tactician. Who wouldn't think to take advantage of their close friendship? But then, Ashley didn't want to take advantage of him. From the moment they'd met in San Francisco, Ashe had been her protector, her provider, and her confidant even if he wasn't physically around very often. There was no question he would drop everything and come if she called, which is precisely why she didn't want to do that. What Ashe had done for her was give her the chance to live her own life as she saw fit and it would be cruel to not only squander that, but to constantly use him as a crutch when things got a little tough. So then, why was she always so ready to call him? It was between bites of sweet and sour shrimp that the realization struck her like a lightning bolt. Ashe was so many things to her. He was her protector, her provider, and while he didn't think of himself as such, he was most certainly her hero. Only one kind of man was all of those things to a young girl. Corner Brook, Newfoundland Chad always loved coming to Canadian Tire. Sure, a lot of people liked to nickname it 'Crappy Tire', but those same people also liked to make fun of Walmart too and they still shopped at both places a lot. Of course, given the fact that they were the only two major retailers of their types in the small city, there weren't exactly a lot of choices. Still, Chad enjoyed going there. He could easily spend an hour or more just wandering around looking at the various wares for sale. There was that new modular drill set with interchangeable heads that he'd like to get, along with the half dozen available heads themselves. He could use a new ladder. Oh, there was that new high-impact toolbox that had triple the capacity of his current one. He loved tools, so much so that he'd often go on and on about one particular drill's torque strength, or the RPM capabilities of a table saw. It had ended up getting him the sometimes used nickname Tim Taylor, whoever the hell that was. Still, as much as he loved too look around, he couldn't actually afford any of the shiny toys that were always calling out to him. And the reason he couldn't afford it, apparently, was because the government had decided to slash the opportunities for revenue for the fishermen while dumping loads of money into their wind farm project. It was stealing, there was no other word for it, and no one seemed to care that the government they elected was happily screwing over its people. Oh yeah, sure, occasionally he saw something on CBC where a fisherman tried to tell the media just how badly the fishing community was hurting because of what was done to them, but they just spun it so they looked like a bunch of dumb hillbillies who didn't have a clue what they were talking about. All that ever came out of that kind of exposure was some government crony saying that he and others of his trade need to get with the times and either find different w