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"I'm not saying we don't believe you. I'm saying that while one rogue individual might have instigated a few recent incidents of terrorism, this is not sufficient cause to modify in any way our present posture with regard to terrorist threats."

Hamilton Dean, the President's National Security Adviser, was explaining to me why the government wasn't going to admit that they'd been tricked into blaming the recent nuclear emergency on foreign terrorists when the whole thing had actually been orchestrated by one metahuman. I assumed that the forbearance he displayed and his placating manner were mainly due to the fact that I had a reputation for having a short fuse and everyone present at the debriefing was aware of the amount of destruction I could cause when someone pissed me off.

A widespread rumor to the effect that I had sunk a Navy warship because her Captain insulted me was utterly bogus. I hadn't done very much to quash the rumor for several reasons and now even people who knew the truth – and that certainly included Dean – found the rumor more appealing. I doubted it was for the entertainment value alone. I thought Dean might be deliberately building up my reputation because he was looking for some way to use me to his advantage. He hadn't found it yet and I was going out of my way to convince him that I was too savvy to allow myself to get sucked into whatever plan he might be considering. His attitude when rejecting my suggestion seemed positively conciliatory

"You think the whole Apocalypse angle is so weird that it taints the plausibility of the threat," I said, not making it a question. "You think this makes it a hard sell to the oversight committee."

"Miss Draco, your perspicacity and astute insight continue to astound me."

Translation: 'That's about the size of it.'

I hardly expected the government to change the way they approached terrorism on my word alone, certainly not without some kind of corroborating evidence. The problem was, discounting Neeka as an equally-questionable second-hand witness, we had nothing to show that The Horseman even existed. Our lone surviving captive was basically a terrorist-temp who hadn't rated any face-time with his employer. I didn't know whether to attribute that to paranoia or simply the smart strategy of compartmentalization within the organization.

I looked around. Our boss, David Solomon, was present, as he would be for a regular debriefing. In addition to Dean, we were also graced by the presence of Secretary of Homeland Security, Archibald Collinsworth. Archie looked uncomfortable, like he thought I might appeal to him for help convincing Dean that there was someone manipulating the people who were the 'official' threat. I couldn't do that to him. Trading on our brief encounter on this very table would have been rude, and probably wouldn't have helped my case anyway. Dean wasn't making decisions based on anything to do with the reality of the situation, only the politics of it.

I looked at Solomon, who by rights should have been the one making this case, but was also smart enough to have recognized the futility of it and instead let me shoot my mouth off. Solomon stared back, trapped into silence by the presence of his boss. I could hardly expect him to go over Archie's head, especially not with Archie sitting beside him. No help there. At least he wasn't giving me a 'shut the hell up' look.

Seeing that I was all alone and not going to succeed in altering governmental priorities, I changed tactics.

"All right," I said in my best reasonable tone, "In the interest of keeping all options open, may we be allowed the leeway to pursue this independently of official policy?"

"I am certainly not going to tell you not to do something that I strongly suspect you will do anyway," Dean said, smiling with most of his teeth showing. "I'm not telling you to do or not do anything at all. I am simply stating the political reality of the situation."

A marvelously-phrased way of saying, "I can't be blamed for whatever happens." At least it wasn't an outright 'no'.

"I understand your position. I just want you to be aware that this is a very scary individual."

"Dean chuckled, "Scarier than you?"

"He scares me. He's smart, fast, strong, ruthless, and consumed by hate. The only thing that makes that combination worse is that he managed to get his hands on at least two nuclear weapons."

"What evidence do we have that he was behind the attempt on Fort Meade?" Archie asked. Now that we'd got past the political angle, he was prepared to participate. I think I was the only naive one in the room.

"Nothing direct," Solomon responded. "But someone gave al-Mahdi that device. Someone who suggested how it should be used. That kind of stage-management shows in what we know about the Elkton incident."

"If he wants to stay in the background, why was he there in person?" Archie asked.

"Ego," I said. "He's a cold fish, but he still has an ego. He wanted to be there to oversee the final stage of his plan. He wanted to enjoy seeing it come together."

"But you don't think he planned to blow himself up?" Dean asked.

"He had a chance to do that, and take us with him" I admitted with regret. "He chose to escape instead. I think he wants to be around to gloat over the destruction he causes. He's deadly serious about this Apocalypse thing, but he expects to be around to witness it. As controlled as he is on the outside, he's intensely emotionally-involved on the inside. He not only wants to make it happen, he wants to see it happen. He's like an arsonist who sticks around to watch the flames and hear the screams and know that he did that."

"Then," Dean said, standing and looking around at everyone, "I suggest you find him before he can try again. But do it discretely. I recognize that your suggestion was well-intentioned, but we can't afford to go public with this. The repercussions would be unthinkable." Then he and Archie left. Solomon walked them to the door, but came back after a few words with Archie.

I think Dean and I had different ideas of what those repercussions might be, but agreeing to disagree was as far as I was going to get with him on that. I was actually glad he seemed to believe me about The Horseman even existing. I was, after all, the only one who had seen the guy.

When it was just us again in the meeting room, the atmosphere seemed somehow cleaner. I rather liked Archie, but Hamilton Dean and I were never going to be BFFs. A case of incompatible values.

"Congratulations," Solomon said to me.

"What? Why? He's more concerned about maintaining the political status quo than dealing with the threat."

"It is that status quo that provides the budget for this team. We are here because those in power believe there are dangers out there to be dealt with. It could easily be otherwise."

That sent a chill down my spine. History is full of cases of people in power deluding themselves about the reality of threats that should have been obvious to anyone. Or leveraging the danger to their political advantage rather than trying to eliminate it, something I strongly suspected happened all too often in the circles of power.

"I meant you succeeded in alarming him," Solomon continued, "He knows enough about you to know you can be intimidating. When you told him this new threat scared you, it made him wonder how scary that would have to be. Now, instead of ignoring it, he'll report to his boss that you consider this Horseman to be a real danger. That will influence the President's thinking on the matter. We can only hope that influence operates in our favor. He could very well decide that all metas are threats."

"Has anyone ever pointed out what a pessimist you are?"

"I'm a realist. I try to confine my battles not just to those I know I can win, but those where I have control over the consequences of winning."

"And I just like pushing dominoes to watch them fall?"

"Since you like analogies, try this one - Shouting 'fire' in a crowded theater may seem like a good idea when you first see the flames, but it rarely achieves an optimal result."

"If you frighten people, they might act against their own best interests?"

"Exactly. The best approach is to focus on the threat and try to deal with it without inciting a riot. That's why this team exists, after all. Sigma Seven is the silent and unsung fireman who snuffs out the flame before it can become a conflagration."

"That's something I've wondered about. What does Sigma Seven mean?"

"Nothing momentous. My first office was room seven in the Pentagon sub-basement. S-7 became Sigma Seven."

"Oh." I wished I hadn't asked. The mystery was more appealing than the truth.

"Getting back to a more productive discussion – your description of The Horseman is that he is well-built, tall, and Black. Is that all you remember?"

"Not Black black, not Negroid. Just coal-black. Not a normal skin-color. I couldn't see him at all until he moved, then I was barely able to make him out against the interior of the foundry."

"Why? Was he wearing black clothes as well?"

I hadn't mentioned the part about him being naked and I hadn't planned to. That might lead to other questions I wouldn't want to answer either. Now I had to either fess-up or lie. Either one might damage my credibility.

"No. No clothes at all. That's how I knew he didn't have the detonator – no pockets."

"Right," Solomon said, and went silent.

"Look, it shocked me too! That may have been part of why he did it. Or for the camo-effect. Or it may have been just to mess with people. To show he doesn't care what we think of him."

"Were there any clothes found at the scene?" He asked Brock.

"No, sir."

"So he arrived nude?" Solomon asked me.

"I don't know. He probably hid them somewhere and picked them up when he left ... or escaped or whatever. For all I know, he can change color like a chameleon."

"Like you can Change?"

"Yeah. Like that. I hadn't thought of that. If he has the same ability as I do to Change then he might..."

"Shapeshifter," Leonora interjected.

"What?" I asked her.

She shook her head, showing her disbelief of her own suggestion. "Legends. Recurring tales of creatures who can transform themselves."

"Werewolves?"

"There are no werewolves," she said, with a slight smile.

"There didn't used to be."

This was a friendly disagreement we'd had before. I insisted that since I could turn into something that most people would recognize as a werewolf, then I was a werewolf. Leonora had other standards than simple imitation of a Hollywood special-effect.

"There are no Dragons, either." She declared, trumping my argument.

"OK, let's assume he can at least change his skin color," I allowed. "And assume he's not normally a nudist."

I paused, remembering the lack of shading or difference in tone. Even his ... OK, that's not productive. But if he could Change like I could, then that eliminated my whole chain of logic for what motivated him. If he could control his form, why not change something he obviously and understandably didn't like. While I always Changed back to the 'me' I'd been before, even that form retained a few modifications that I liked. Why should his persistent self-image be one he found distasteful?

"It would also explain how he has managed to avoid being noticed," Solomon pointed out. "He might be able to appear perfectly normal unless he chose otherwise."

I shook my head. "He'd still be noticed. Not because of the way he looked, but the way he moved. Or rather, didn't. He was like a statue brought to life."

"A golem?" Leonora suggested.

"Prettier. Think Michelangelo's David, painted flat black with different hair and more muscles. It was as though he only moved when he chose to. At all other times he was perfectly still. And I mean perfectly. It was eerie. Every time he moved, it was a surprize. People telegraph their movements. They shift their weight. They tense a muscle before moving a limb. They don't just stay still, they breathe, blink, and twitch. They have nervous ticks. He caught me because I couldn't react in time. I never saw it coming. I won't get caught like that again!"

I'd become worked-up from reliving the embarrassment and Solomon couldn't help but notice that I was getting pissed. None of us wanted that.

"Try to relax," he warned me.

"My Kung Fu teacher taught me how to read body language so I would know what an opponent was about to do. The Horseman has no body language. One second he's standing there stock still, the next ... WHAM!"

I took a deep breath. Then another. It helped. It helped more when I stopped thinking about what he'd done to me. Or rather, what he hadn't done. I'd been caught before. I'd been suckered before. I'd even been raped before. But The Horseman hadn't finished. He had me right where he wanted me ‒ impaled on his huge cock ‒ and he hadn't cum. Nevermind that he'd probably have killed me if he had. That was beside the point. He didn't even try. He just yanked his cock out of me like it was a matter of complete indifference to him and he ran off. He left me there, half-naked, helpless, desperately aroused, and he just ... left.

Of course, that was something I wouldn't – couldn't – talk about. So I bitched about how I'd lost a fight that didn't happen and hoped no one noticed that there was more than adrenaline making my heart race and my breathing quick.

"What do we do now?" Leonora asked, while I tried to compose myself.

"I'll have the research staff look for any reports that might indicate the presence of a metahuman. Let's hope what Sam saw is his normal appearance. Big, black, naked men can't be that common."

I stifled a laugh before it could escape. I could give Solomon an address in Miami of a place where he could find all the big, Black, naked men he would ever hope to see; each one screwing a small, naked White woman under bright lights in front of a video camera.

"Let's also hope that The Horseman doesn't have any more toys to play with, and that he isn't planning something even more unpleasant in the near future. I'll call you when I need you, people. In the meantime, well done. Now go get some rest."

"Thank you, sir!" Brock said, and everyone echoed right after him.

"What are you going to do?" Leonora asked when she and I and Neeka were leaving.

"I was supposed to be having some quiet-time to get my head together," I said. "Then things got weird and then they got dangerous."

"There is some part of your life that is not weird and dangerous? I shall believe that when I see it."

That got all three of us laughing. She did have a point.

"I suppose we should to go back to your place," I said. "I need to check out of that cabin, too. I hope my stuff is still there."

"Do not worry about that," Leonora said, "While you were visiting Dr. Montgomery, I called Chief Jennings and asked him to see to your things."

"May I come too?" Neeka asked. "I'd love to see your house. Sam has told me ... well, shared with me so much about it."

"Of course, dear. Unless the two of you would prefer staying in Washington and help me re-establish my former business?"

She was kidding. I thought she was kidding. I hoped she was kidding. Still, working out-call for Leonora wouldn't be much different from my latest job, and the pay would certainly be better.

"She's kidding," Neeka said firmly, putting an end to that brief fantasy.

We had little baggage. Having been snatched-up on no notice, we had very little packing to do and no luggage to do it in. Which meant Neeka's plan to swipe one of the hotel's big fluffy robes was doomed from the start. We collected what little there was in our room at the Fairmont and checked-out.

Solomon was kind enough to return us the same way he'd had us picked up. The difference was only that this helicopter was a civilian model, not the Special Ops bird we'd been flying around in. It was more comfortable, but not much quieter. We were dropped-off at almost the exact same spot where we'd left – the fifty-yard line of the high school football field. From there, we walked to where we'd left Leonora's car.

In many places, a car left sitting out in the open for a few days would either be stolen or vandalized. Leonora's had been covered with a tarp to protect it from the elements. Since the tarp had 'Property of Police Department' hand-printed on one edge, it was clear that this was another case of Ezra looking out for us.

The least we could do was to return the tarp and let Ezra know we were back. On the way, I took advantage of Leonora's spacious back-seat and changed into my unofficial Town Slut uniform of a tissue-thin cotton blouse and held-together-by-threads denim shorts. Both of which could be removed easily by the most anxious and thumb-fingered of males, should assistance at divesting me of said garments be necessary.

Neeka turned to look at me from the front seat. The look was enough to let me know what she was thinking.

"Just in case Darlene still wants some time off," I said. "Even if she doesn't, I should be ready to share the load – or loads, in this case."

"You're incorrigible."

"Guilty as charged. Would you like to help out? Really, there's nothing like having a bunch of guys with hard cocks, all urgently needing relief, lined-up and ready to vent their sexual urges in, on, and over you."

"Sounds like fun, but I don't have your stamina, or your capacity."

"You could be my fluffer. You could get them all ready to pop. Things would go much quicker that way."

"Get real. I'd never be able to resist the temptation. Eventually, one of those things would find it's way inside my pussy."

"So?"

"So remember when you were hell-bent on getting pregnant?"

"Yeah. I'm over that. For now. I think."

"Well, you were so into the idea that I wondered if I should be feeling the same urge. I thought the reason I wasn't hearing my own biological clock tick as loudly was because of the birth-control pills I was on. So I quit taking them to see if it made a difference. Just for a while, you know? I mean, I've done celibacy before. I thought I could handle it for a month, just to see. I hid it from you because I knew you'd tease me about it."

"I wouldn't!"

"You know you would."

"OK, I would. So how's it working out?"

"Hard to tell. Is being horny the same as wanting to be pregnant?"

"I don't know. I'd like to think not, but if it gets you get knocked-up, wouldn't it amount to the same thing? Wait a minute. Are you sure it's you and not me you're feeling?"

"Pretty sure. You've been so worked-up lately that you couldn't notice that I had my own problem with it. Don't take this wrong, but you'll fuck anything."

"Guilty as charged. And I enjoy it too. What's your point?"

"I've been fantasizing about some stuff. You know, I draw the line at some things."

"This is news. You mean dogs?"

"Um, well ... I was thinking more along the lines of things that can hurt you badly, even if you do it right."

"OK, no spitting for Neeka. I promise to keep you off the pole. And nothing else in Gerard's studio. Wait a minute! You mean you might turn bitch? That's one way of getting a hot, hard cock in you that can't make you preggers."

"Wait! I was explaining why I couldn't play Town Slut with you. I'm not sure how we got onto this dog thing. I wasn't saying that I'd do it. I was just thinking about it. You know how you'll fantasize about all kinds of stuff when you're horny."

That denial was a shade too emphatic. It was an opening I couldn't resist.

"So you think it would be hot to get up on stage at Red's Barn and have a room full of guys watch Buster mount you? You know you'd have every cock in the joint on the verge of bursting to see him bury that big, hard, hot doggie-dick deep inside you. The first time he makes you cum, I bet half the guys in there cum right along with you. The other half will probably try to hold out for the moment when Buster knots you. The moment when you feel that hard knot swell up inside you, sealing off your pussy so he can pump you full of scalding-hot doggie-cum. That's when you cum harder than you've ever cum before because that's the moment you know you've been turned bitch and everyone watching will know it too."

"Stop! You're really not helping, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Now we're here. Try to put that stuff out of your mind while we talk to the Chief."

"We ... what? You rat!"

"You brought it up. Come in with me and help me with this tarp."

"Do you need me to help as well?" Leonora asked.

"No, thanks. We got this."

"Then I shall wait in the car. I have some calls to make."

The Police Department was a small cinderblock building behind the local hardware store and didn't have it's own parking lot. Leonora pulled into a spot in front of the store and I got out, dragging the bulky tarp behind me.

Neeka got out of the car with a good bit of pulling and tugging at her clothes, as though they'd suddenly become uncomfortably tight. When she saw me smirking at her, she quit and walked around the side of the building with her head held high, leaving me to carry the tarp on my own.

Opening the door rang a bell, which seemed unnecessary since, behind the high counter, the windowless front office was barely large enough for the two desks and three filing cabinets it contained. I knew that a hallway in the back corner led to stairs going down to a pair of holding cells in the basement because I had briefly been locked-up in one of them.

"Be with you in a sec," a voice called out from an office off that hallway. I recognized it as belonging to Ezra Jennings, the Chief of Police of the small community whose name I will continue to avoid using for reasons that should be obvious to anyone. His voice sounded strained, which alarmed me at first. Then I heard something that sounded like grunting. I laid the tarp on the counter and cultivated patience. A little later I heard the sound of a zipper being pulled.

My suspicion about what was going on back there was confirmed when Darlene walked out of the Chief's office while smoothing-down her short skirt. Her upright, hips-forward posture explained everything I needed to know about what had been going on. It was exactly the way you walk after having had something rammed up your butthole.

"Hi, Darlene," I said, cheerfully.

"Well, hey Sam! After the way you and Ms. de Vere left the game Friday I didn't know if we'd be seeing you again anytime soon. What the hell was up with that anyway? Don't see many helicopters up here. Never one that looked like that one. Who's your friend?"

"This is Neeka. She's cool. She knows all about this place. She was just telling me how she'd like to get in on some of the action."

"Well, the more the merrier. It's not like I want to have a monopoly or anything."

Neeka smiled, but kept her mouth shut so I couldn't put any more words in it. She was still pissed at me, but her focus was on what had been going on in Ezra's office. She hadn't expected to tumble into this sort of thing so quickly and it was just adding fuel to the fire I'd semi-deliberately set.

"Sorry, Darlene. Both for putting you on the spot and for interrupting the football game like that. It wasn't my idea. I really didn't know about it until it happened."

"But you knew it was there for you?"

I hadn't bothered to think up a lie to cover this and I really didn't want to have to. Anything I said would only lead to more questions than I could invent answers for. That only left one way to go.

"Yeah. I wish I could talk about that," I said with a grin, "but if I told you, Ezra would have to shoot you."

Chief Jennings came out of his office then, as if on cue. From his odd gait, and the distinct and impressive bulge along his inseam, he could have used some more time to get presentable. He walked up close behind Darlene, using her body to cover his erection. I assumed he was hiding it from Neeka since I'd already become intimately acquainted with Ezra's cock.

"I figured he was in on it," Darlene said, confidently. "I was just trying to get him to talk, but he won't say a word."

"I hope we didn't interrupt anything," I said.

"Nothing that we can't finish later," Darlene said, looking over her shoulder the Chief.

Ezra's shoulder dropped and he leaned forward a bit, his right hand out of sight behind Darlene. Suddenly, she squeaked and rose up on her toes shoving her tube-top covered boobs onto the counter.

"Maybe we should finish it now," he said into her ear.

"Unh!" Darlene grunted as Ezra buried his fingers deeper between her legs. "Down, tiger! I've got an appointment over to the gas station. Maybe if you hadn't taken so long, you wouldn't be in this fix."

"Well, pardon my stamina," Ezra said. But he let go of Darlene and she scooted around the counter before he could change his mind.

"See ya'll later!" she called on her way out the door.

"Gee, Ezra. I didn't mean to barge in on anything," I said.

"S'allright. Don't worry about it."

"No, really! Maybe there is something we can do to make up for it."

My use of the word 'we' made him look hard at Neeka. When a man with a visible erection looks at a girl who is already thoroughly aroused, there is usually a connection. This time was no exception. Neeka got this stunned/hot/hopeful look on her face. Ezra would have had to be blind and stupid to miss the vibe she was giving off.

"Maybe there is," Ezra smiled. He held out his hand and Neeka took it out of reflex. He led her around to his side of the counter and had her stand in the same spot where Darlene had been. He reached down and pulled up the back of her skirt, then put both hands on her butt-cheeks and started massaging.

"Mmmmmm!" Neeka moaned, pushing back against him.

I could feel her heat rise. She was committed.

I heard Ezra snap the elastic waistband of her thong and say, "Isn't this thing uncomfortable? Would you like me to help you take it off?"

Neeka turned her head and nodded. Ezra pushed the elastic down and the thong fell to her ankles. She picked up one foot and shook it clear. When she put it back down, her feet were more than shoulder-width apart and her butt was turned up expectantly.

Ezra slid his fingers up between her legs and cupped her sex in his palm. Her mouth dropped open as his thumb stroked her butthole before sliding between her labia.

He smiled as warm liquid quickly coated his hand. He knew she was ready. Further foreplay would be a waste of time.

I heard his zipper come down. A second later he slid his cock up where his hand had been, letting her straddle his shaft with the head poking out between her legs.

At that moment fear over-rode her arousal.

"I ... I can't! Please! I'm fertile!" She said.

"That's OK," I reassured her. "Ezra is an ass-man."

At that instant, he pulled his cock back through her steaming crotch and pushed the head of it into her puckered brown hole.

"OH!" She yelped at the sudden intrusion. Then, "Ohhhhhhhhh!" as Ezra slowly drove his cock deeper and deeper into her rectum.

"That's a mighty sweet ass you've got there," Ezra said as he rocked his hips to work every bit of himself into her butt.

Neeka was in utter bliss. I knew she hadn't had anything back there since a nearly disastrous episode in a porn producer's office where we'd both almost let ourselves get carried away with our undercover roles. She was long overdue and it showed in her reaction to Ezra's unexpected, but apparently not unwelcome, intrusion. In a fit of weakness, she nearly collapsed onto the counter. I grabbed her wrists to hold her in place while Ezra went to work.

Up and in, then out and back between her legs for another coating of juice, then back inside he went until he had her thoroughly slick. He fucked her with long, slow strokes until she was loose enough for him to get rougher. Then he let himself go faster and faster, and faster, and still faster until his balls were making loud, sloppy noises as they smashed into her pussy and he was practically lifting her off her feet on every stroke. Several times he shoved so hard and went so deep that she was suspended, her toes barely brushing the floor. When that happened, he let her hang there a few seconds before letting her down and resuming his increasingly violent assault on her ass.

Of course, I was right there with her in the sexual heat and the fog of arousal. Being in physical contact allowed us to share every exquisite sensation. It wasn't so much me holding onto her as it was both of us keeping each other from collapsing under Ezra's enthusiastic attack. Every time he'd drive his hard cock deeply up into her, I would rise up on my tip-toes in response.

Ezra hadn't been kidding about his stamina. He'd made it to fifth gear and he was cruising happily along, and along, and along. I had no idea how long he had been humping Darlene's ass before we arrived. I only knew that she'd seemed eager to move on to someone whose enthusiasm wouldn't impede her ability to walk right. I suspected that when Ezra was done pounding her butt, Neeka was going to have some problems. Right then, she didn't care and neither did I. We were both too in-the-moment to want to consider the consequences.