Batwoman meets Catwoman Part One
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Deja Vu AscendancyChapter 304: For A Woman, There Is Something Worse Than A Ladder In Her Stocking free porn video
Saturday, May 6, 2006 (Continued)
I overflew home at a safely high altitude. As I'd hoped, there was a media circus besieging our gate, and several extra cars parked inside (lawyers, cops, CIA?). Watching closely to make sure no cameras pointed skyward, I descended enough to see that all of my extended family were inside. They were watching TV and talking a lot to a few suit-wearing men that I didn't recognize. My families didn't appear to be under any duress and Ron Fisher had no business getting involved, so I flew back to my tent. Not directly, of course, I landed somewhere safe nearby and walked the remaining distance (I'll assume you understand that process from now on).
I got changed into different clothes, bundled up the ones I'd worn on the trip, even the ski mask, then flew them to a remote location and burned them. The video camera had already been disposed of, but the other purchases and spare cash I nested inside several of the colored plastic bags to keep them safe, then hid them.
On the way back to my tent, I overflew Ava's house to check whether she was at home. She was, so I dropped in.
I knocked on the door and yelled, "It's Ron Fisher here Ava." (I always clearly announce myself these days, in case whomever I'm meeting says, "Hi Mark.")
Ava opened the door and urged me in, saying "Isn't it AMAZING!"
"Isn't what amazing?"
"The news about Mark. Don't you know?"
"You mean Julia's boyfriend? I've never met him. He's away somewhere, isn't he?"
It took Ava several seconds to work out how to word the news, and how to force her voice into sounding sorrowful, "They found out this morning that Mark was kidnapped by Homeland Security and the CIA. They were doing medical experiments on him, and it looks like they killed him."
"The GOVERNMENT killed him! That's terrible. I hope they get in a huge amount of trouble for that."
"Will they EVER! You should hear Julia; the Government's in BIG trouble!"
I wanted to go somewhere we could talk freely, so I asked, "Good. I haven't had dinner yet. Do you want to go into town and get something with me?"
"I was just about to start cooking. I can easily make more for you."
"Let's go into town." I used NP to push Ava toward the door a little, just to give her the message.
"Okay."
In her car, I killed time by asking riveting questions like, "You're in the 12th grade, right?"
We sat in the cheap restaurant I'd chosen, and I paid particular attention to my proximity sense. Having a 24-foot range radius is fantastic; I could cover nearly all the restaurant, certainly including anyone within earshot of us. If they were trying to eavesdrop their attention on us would've shown up, as well as their lack of attention elsewhere, but there was no one like that.
I told Ava, "I know about the emails the media got. What I don't know is what's been happening as a result of them?"
"Julia called me twice. I think she's worried about you, but she couldn't say anything."
"I'm sure she is. Tell me the general situation and if it sounds okay you can call her for an update, including casually mentioning you're having dinner with me."
"Okay. From what Julia said, no one from the Government is saying anything, but the media are all over it and everyone thinks it's true. It's been on the TV all day. Haven't you seen it?"
"Only for a few minutes at lunchtime. I've been hitchhiking around Oregon to get to know my new state." I gave Ava a wink so she'd know that was my cover story. I had thought of asking the guy whose car I'd been in whether I could listen to the radio rather than his bluegrass CDs, but in case the CIA found him later, I didn't want them to know I was interested in the news.
"There are two stories: about how bad the CIA and Government are to be making the terrible diseases, and also about you. You're not the main story; they only mention you sometimes."
Ava looked apologetic about that, which I thought was quite funny. "Of course MARK isn't the main story. Remember the story is about Mark Anderson. He's nothing to do with me."
"Oops, sorry. Umm, Felicity and Steven have been on TV to ask the Government to give Mark back or come clean. Big lawyers have been on, saying taking Mark was VERY unconstitutional. A lot of people are very angry. It sounds like the Government is in BIG trouble."
Ava described some more of what she'd heard, and nothing she said provided any reason why she shouldn't call Julia for an update and mention I was with her. I don't know what could've made me worry about that, but I wanted to play VERY safe. I got Ava to make the call.
After Julia heard what Ava said, Julia insisted that Ava come over, adding, "You can bring your date with you."
I had my ear to the phone too, so responded, "Julia. It's Ron here. We'll eat first then come. Will the gate be blocked by lots of people?"
"Yeah, but I'll tell the cops to let Ava and her date through. See you soon Ava and Ron."
I was hungry. I need very little, but my stomach was empty and I had a feeling things would be too chaotic at the mansion to rely on them feeding me, plus rushing to the mansion might seem suspicious. Relatedly, my lack of appetite was somewhat of a joke around the mansion. The first few times I (as Ron) ate with them, they assumed I was either on a cruel diet, or I was eating so little to look as different from Mark as possible. Since then I'd eaten about as much as Julia. That looked like a diet, and any less would've made me seem freaky to any CIA watchers. In reality I was overeating by a factor of five, but my body got rid of it without my getting fat. Mom couldn't resist making the occasional joke, such as, "You'd be cheap to keep."
After our quick meal, Ava drove us to the mansion. The shoulders of Peoria Road were overflowing with media vans and cars, and we saw four cops - a significant proportion of the Corvallis Police Department - performing circus management.
When we turned into the driveway the press pack rushed the car, demanding to know who we were, what we thought of Mark's death, and other equally sensitive questions. Julia buzzed us in while the two cops fiercely guarded the closing gates to stop the braying hounds of hackdom following us into the property.
In the mansion were all of the two families, including The Boys, Sophia and Ashley (The Boys already knew my real identity; their girls did not), plus the lawyer I kept texting - not that he knew they were from me - and his two partners. Surprisingly few visitors, I thought.
Our arrival interrupted the conversation. I expressed hope that Mark might still be alive, they said they were sure he wasn't, so Ava and I gave our sympathy, especially to my bereaved parents and sisters.
Julia and Carol came to sit next to Ava and me, a low tone of conversation returned to the room, as people half-talked and half-watched TV for the latest developments.
Dad had control of the remote and frequently changed channels to pick up any new information. The emails had contained a VERY large amount of very specific information, so there was plenty for the networks to chase down. It was a huge story so the networks had allocated large teams to it, and twelve hours had passed since the emails had been received, so results were flying back in. The networks were able to keep up a near constant flow of confirmations about various facts, including confirming each other's confirmations.
Unlike what I'd heard at lunch, none of the news anchors were saying, "If the documents are true." There was now unanimous belief, along with unanimously anger, ESPECIALLY from the ordinary residents of Fort Dodge. I lost count of how many repetitious, fearful-person-in-the-street interviews I saw over the next few hours.
I was surprised how placid things were around the living room. Of course they knew that Mark wasn't really dead (he was, in fact, drinking a cup of coffee only a few feet away), but I'd expected the act of pretending to respond to Mark's death to be chaotic, for the lawyers to be banging on the table with outrage, etc. Instead most of the conversation was casually about the latest TV development.
I commented, "There's a riot outside, but you guys are relaxed?"
Prof explained, "Not relaxed; 'cold rage' would describe our moods now. We've had months to get used to their refusal to give Mark back. The email makes it clear that the DHS and CIA never had any intention of giving him back. When we went public about Homeland Security's taking Mark, their only concern was covering up the evidence. They'll pay for that, but it's too soon to do anything about it yet. We're waiting for the facts to be acknowledged by the Government, then for people to appreciate how special Mark was, and then we'll act. If we act too soon, people will think we're crazy."
"Why, what're you intending to do?"
"We don't want to say, because we suspect the DHS or CIA might have planted bugs in our house. We've asked a company to come tomorrow to remove any bugs."
"Wow. Bugs in ya own home! What a pain that'd be. They're assholes." No one argued with me.
Some time later, when my interest wouldn't seem too eager, I asked, "Prof, from what you said before, you have the emails too? Could I have a look?"
I got quick, funny looks from nearly everyone, but Prof also said, "We do. One of the networks emailed them to me when we said we didn't have a copy. Julia, can you show Ron to my study please. You remember what folder they're in?"
"I want to see it again," said Carol, wanting to come with us.
"I want to see it too," added Ava.
I spent the next hour reading through my file, with Ava and Carol on my lap and Julia sitting close, so they could see the screen too, and perhaps so they could get a cuddle. The file was so large it would've taken a lot longer than an hour to read, except that the vast majority of it was incomprehensible scientific gobbledygook that I skipped through.
Julia and Carol can't have read it in as much detail as we were doing now, because they several times exclaimed, "They did THAT!", "Eww!", or angrier comments.
The CIA had obviously never expected the file to be made public, because it was full of very detailed, explicit and highly incriminating notes. They were, not to put too fine a point on it, fucked. I'd told my mommy on them, and the rest of the country too, and they were going to get it now.
Vanessa came in partway through, to check her emails. The two house lines plus everyone's cellphones dropped back to a service if unanswered after five rings, the service took a message, and if it wasn't from a reporter, emailed it to Vanessa. She printed out a few of the emails, taking them back to the living room.
When we rejoined the rest of the families, I made the comments my role required: "The Govenmint sucks!", and other equally impressive summaries. We discussed several of the points mentioned in the file, but it was mostly role-playing so it got boring after a while, and we got back to watching TV.
CNN was giving it almost nonstop coverage. The time of day was convenient for their coverage to include an increasing proportion of international material, mostly the reactions of other governments. The spokespeople for foreign governments were mostly saying, "If it is true that America is developing biological weapons of the nature that you have described, then..." followed by SCATHING comments. If there was one thing that everybody agreed on, it was that biological weapons were (to use the perfect cliché) to be avoided like the plague.
Many comments were made about how only a madman would unleash a weapon that killed millions of innocent children and spread randomly. What that made someone who authorized the development of such weapons depended on the country the spokesperson was from. The English government expressed considerable disappointment in President Bush's lapse of judgment. The Iranian government ordered an immediate resumption and acceleration of its nuclear development program, "as a necessary and urgent self-defense against Evil Incarnate Bush and Great Satan America."
I don't need much sleep, but I do need some. I hadn't gotten any last night, nothing significant was going to happen until tomorrow, and I thought it was a good idea to be casual about the issue, so it was only 8:45pm when I asked Ava to take me home, meaning to my pathetic little tent.
In the car I asked Ava, "I don' have a TV in my tent. Kin I visit you tomorrow to see what happens?"
"Sure." A second later Ava realized a better idea, "Or we could go to Julia's and Carol's again?"
"If you think they wouldn't mind?"
"I'm sure they wouldn't."
After I had a good, long sleep, all of an hour and three-quarters, I thought I should check on the mansion's security. I put some dark clothes on, regretted that I no longer had my ski mask, made a mental note to buy another one, then made the short flight. (I'd burned the mask and my clothes in case they'd picked up pollen unique to the DC area, or something else incriminating like that. I didn't know what; I was just being careful.)
From a distance I could see that several news-crews were still parked on the shoulder outside the gates. Perhaps sleeping in their vans, or perhaps waiting with low-light cameras ready to film anything interesting. I didn't want that to include me flying over, especially without my ski mask, so I decided to approach from the rear of the property.
I did a very wide loop south of the mansion, a couple of miles away from it to make sure I was invisible and because the reporters' cameras would have zoom lenses. There's a field immediately south of our property. It's about two hundred yards wide and has a double line of trees along its southern edge (farthest from our home), which would make an excellent landing area because there were no houses nearby. I was a couple of miles south, heading north and descending for that tree line. I had my sight blob at about three-quarters of its maximum size to give me the equivalent of daylight vision to make sure the area around my landing spot was clear.
During my landing area check, I glanced north to the mansion and spotted a guy on a ladder looking over our southern wall. My sight blob was about three hundred feet ahead of me and lower, so I had to get closer myself before I could send it to 'eyeball' the guy properly. He was facing away from me and unmoving, so I continued my descent, putting the sight blob back on searching my landing area with occasional glances at the spy to make sure I didn't lose track of him.
By the time I'd landed in the tree line two hundred yards behind him, I'd seen that he was standing on a ladder directly behind the mansion (so about the middle of our property's southern wall), his elbows resting on the top of the wall, while he was aiming a parabolic microphone at the parents' bedrooms, sometimes moving it from one room to the other. When I'd first seen him, my immediate thought was that if he was CIA, then I was going to ruin his day VERY badly. But by the time I landed, I'd rethought that. An agent mysteriously disappearing when staking out my families would only make the CIA even more suspicious and determined about us. They might think that if we could get rid of CIA agents without a trace, then we might be doing other mischief too. One idea I had was to use NP to knock him off his ladder in a way that seemed accidental, such when he was shifting his balance. I could make him fall outside the wall, and the parabolic microphone fall on the inside. Except that when my sight blob got closer, I saw that the mic was cabled to headphones he was wearing and to a large tape recorder he was wearing at waist level, secured by a strap over his shoulders. Not only wouldn't the mic fall on the other side of the wall from him, but I didn't want that tape getting away in case it contained something interesting. He was so focused on his job that I feared it did. If the tape contained something REALLY interesting, then I didn't want him to get away either.
I crossed the field to get closer to him, floating along crouched low, staying a couple of inches above the ground to avoid leaving footprints. I kept a close eye on him, to be ready to freeze in case he turned around. I was quick and silent, so was soon hiding behind a tree within twenty four feet of him, where my proximity sense could take over the duty of monitoring his behavior.
I used my sight blob to search around for a nice, solid piece of tree branch. A baseball bat would've been ideal, but I found the natural equivalent. I floated it into position and waited.
A few minutes later one of his feet must have got sore, because he shifted his weight on the ladder. I quickly tipped it sideways. Down he went. I bashed his head with the NP-wielded tree branch just before he hit the ground. Proximity confirmed he was out for the count. Probably a count to a big number, because I'd hit him pretty hard. I could've NP-punched him on the head directly, but NP-fingertips have no mass of their own. Much of their 'punch' comes from rapidly accelerating the target's head sideways, so his brain gets hit by the inside of his skull. A tree branch was better in this case, as I wanted to leave an impact injury as if he'd hit his head when he landed.
I was just about to move toward him when I heard a female voice to my distant right call out, "Dallas! Are you all right?"
I sent a sight blob to check, and young woman was hurrying from the southeastern corner of the wall toward us.
#26:
#13:
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While waiting for her to arrive, I used a sight blob to check for anyone else anywhere along our wall or in the general area. There was no one else. When she bent over to check on Dallas, I batted her head too.
Their IDs were as Portland-based reporters, which proved nothing. I used NP to remove the headphones from Dallas's head and held them near, but not touching, one of my own ears. I rewound the tape to its beginning and started listening to it. It started with Vanessa and Prof arriving in their bedroom; Dallas's turning the recorder on presumably triggered by the bedroom light being turned on. I felt uncomfortable listening to Prof and Vanessa's bedroom conversation, but there was actually nothing to be embarrassed about as they said nothing private. It was just an ordinary conversation that they could've had in the living room.
After ten minutes of conversation or going-to-bed-sounds from the Williams parents' bedroom, the mic suddenly transitioned to my parents, who - it was soon apparent - had just arrived in their bedroom. Again they had nothing significant to say. The most dangerous statement of the first few minutes was Dad saying, "I can't believe how much impact Mark's having on the world," which was hardly a big deal.
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