Barry's Sluts Ch. 03: Imani

"In all honesty, it was actually a tough decision—you or Thornton. Which one of you worked best for me? I could let you just take the old man down, but then I'd lose some political leverage I need for business to run smoothly in Chicago. You, on the other hand, if you were making money like you had been back a couple years back, I might have picked your side. But as it stands now, I can just put anybody I want in charge of your whole operation and make some real money."

All of a sudden, Barry understood. All of this time, he'd thought that Rod was on his side against Thornton. All of this time, he'd thought that Thornton was the man to worry about. All this time, he thought that Thornton was controlling Rod. And he had been dead wrong.

Thornton was just a stooge. He was a distraction. It was Rod. It had always been Rod, the whole time.

And the security firm was probably just a cover. Barry had always thought these guys were too zealous, too shady to be just "security". But that was because they were mob-controlled. Everything they saw and heard, they reported to Rod. When Barry had explained to Imani what he'd planned to do to strike back at Thornton, they must have been listening in. Even with the divider between the passenger and driver's sides of the car up, there could have been a thousand places that a mic could have been hidden.

In other words, the "war" Barry had predicted had finally come . . .

And was already over before it began.

"You . . . you work for the Syndicate, don't you?"

"Dude, you sure you wanna talk and run at the same time? Doesn't that shit use up a lot of oxygen?"

He was telling the truth. He was already panting, and forced to stop and hide. He could hear the men shouting, searching for him. At least the cars were parked at the bridge now, though. They'd stay there to keep the area blocked off, so Barry would stay trapped on the island.

He'd bought himself a few minutes' rest. But after, he had no idea where to go.

Without ending the call from Rod, Barry used his iPhone to send a message. He had to warn everybody. To let them know what was coming.

In the meantime, he needed to keep Rod talking. Even if he survived this, his plans for taking back his own life were now screwed beyond belief. If Barry was going to have any chance at fighting back, the only thing he could do was keep Rod talking and find some way to use something against him. Anything.

"But, no. You're wrong. I don't work for the Syndicate, Barry. I am the fucking Syndicate. I run the whole thing.

"I wanted to make you a part of it all. You were a cool guy and we had a lot in common. But like I said . . . . You got no ambition. So come on, man. Just give it up and know when it's over. I promise I won't harm anybody I don't have to. Swear to God.

"You think I want to hurt Suzanna? I like her, man—I like her a lot. I had actually planned to comfort her after you died, you know. Show her my sensitive side and give her a shoulder and cock to cry on. Hell, I'd even be nice and take care of your kids for you. Hey, some kind of Daddy's better than none, right? But if you're gonna to act like a selfish little bitch . . ."

Barry had been a fool. He'd told everyone to stick with the security teams. He'd told them never to go alone. And that meant that all Rod had to do was give the order, and they'd turn around and kill everyone he ever loved.

Everybody. His wife, his mother, his lovers, his children.

Dead because of him.

"Alright, you know what? Fine. You want to play cat-and-mouse? That's fantastic. But remember this, babe: you're playing it with a fucking tiger. In about six seconds I'm gonna make one phone call and wipe out everything and everybody you care about. Let that be the last things you think about before my people put a bullet in your brain and a boot up your ass. Faggot."

******

"No, no, Zelda! Don't play with that! That isn't a toy!"

Kitten caught her Master's five-year-old daughter playing with a porcelain doll, one of Ariadne's favorite collections. With both her and the Master out of the house, it was her job to look after things and make sure they were the same—or better—than they were when they left it.

It really was a beautiful home. She felt lucky to be a part of it. Lucky to be needed. She was a part of her Master's life, a wonderful man who had saved her from a horrible fate.

And had even let her contribute to his household by giving him two beautiful babies.

All of the Master's children were beautiful, no matter who their mother was. In addition to the eleven she helped take care of here, she'd also met some of the other children he'd fathered from Chandra and the other submissives like her. They were so wonderful, and the Master took excellent care of them.

She was proud to serve him.

Just then, she glanced by the window to find the Master's oldest child, eight-year-old Lyrica, staring outside of the front window, looking at something.

"Lyrica, honey, what are you doing there, sweetums? Come play with your brothers and sisters."

Lyrica wasn't listening and kept looking.

"Lyrica? What's the matter with you?"

"Miss Kitty, the scary guys who are always around are acting weird."

The 'scary guys', as the kids had come to call them, were the security that the Master had assigned to protect everyone. The kids, naturally were scared of them because they were large and intimidating. They couldn't know that they were men just doing their jobs.

"They're just protecting us, sweetie. Now come on and play."

"Lyrica, honey, come from that window and—" Kitten paused as she heard the text tone on the cellphone her Master had provided. Knowing that this could be an important order from him, she eagerly scooped it up and took a look.

And then, her heart sank.

BARRY: "MSG 2 EVRY1: SEC GUARDS ARE CROOKS! STAY AWAY! THEY WILL KILL YOU!!!!!"

She glanced out of the window, where Lyrica had been looking. And she saw them. There were ten, maybe twelve men, walking toward the house from several yards away.

And they were all carrying weapons.

"Lyrica, take Tony and Donald and get your brothers from the babies' room. Take them downstairs as quickly as you can."

Lyrica looked to her with frightened eyes. "Miss Kitty, I'm scared."

"Lyrica, go now!!"

Lyrica dashed off, and Kitten knew that she had to act fast to save the lives of herself and her Masters' legacy. She ran to the front room and immediately grabbed hold of the couch, pushing it as quickly as she could until it blocked the front door. Then, using all the power she could muster, she flipped it over, giving it more traction so whoever tried to open the door would have a harder time. This wouldn't stop them for long, and there were two enormous windows to the side of the door that could easily be broken into, but she needed all the time she could muster to get the kids somewhere they could be safe.

"Hey! There's the nanny!"

"She sees us!"

The door tried to move, but was stopped by the couch.

"The bitch barricaded the fucking door!"

"Fuck it then, the windows! Go for the windows!"

Kitten ran out of the living room and headed for the basement. She heard gunshots and shattering glass behind her, and the splatter of bullets on plaster. Fortunately, every shot missed her body, and she made it to the basement, where she locked the thick metal door and bolted it tight.

The Garrett's basement was built to resist tornadoes, so the door leading down into it was extremely sturdy, and there were no other doors or windows to break into. Unfortunately, that also meant no other ways to escape, but as long as the she and the kids were down here, they were safe.

"Lyrica!" Kitten shouted as she did a quick head count of all the children.

"Here!" she shouted, with Kitten's infant son, Mario, in her arms. "He won't stop crying," Lyrica said looking at the wailing babe.

Kitten eagerly took her son into her arms, though her ability to comfort him was limited when she herself needed comfort. The rest of the children were staring at her, frightened, not knowing what was happening, but looking to her for leadership.

They were her responsibility.

"Lyrica, where's the phone? I need to call the police!"

A loud bang on the door muffled Lyrica's voice. All of the children screamed as angry pounding kept up, with the monsters outside trying to force their way inside. Ariadne had once bragged that the door to the Garrett basement would withstand World War III.

Kitten could only hope she was right.

"Lyrica," she repeated. "The phone! Get me the phone!"

Lyrica panted hysterically, fear beginning to compromise her frail young mind. "T-There aren't phones i-in t-the basement! T-They're all upstairs!"

Kitten's hopes melted away, and her entire body grew stiff and heavy. In the meantime, the pounding upstairs stopped and voices began stirring.

"Fuck, this door must be made of unobtainium or some shit. I can't get through."

"We ain't got time for this shit. If they wanna stay down there, let 'em. Come on, get the kerosene and help torch this place . . ."

******

If Barry was going to survive, he only had one chance. It could also be suicide, but that was the risk he had to take.

He stood at the edge of the embankment, staring at the icy river below. The weather had just recently become warm enough for it to thaw—and that was the problem. If the ice were still frozen solid, he might have been able to run across without falling in. But, now, the water was basically liquid frost, too dangerous for anyone but a desperate man to consider swimming in.

And he was beyond desperate.

There was no point in stalling. They'd find him if he waited any longer. Taking a deep breath, Barry pushed himself off the embankment and dropped. His body hit the cold water, and immediately, pain shot through every part of him. He almost felt his muscles lock up completely, his heart might have even paused for just a microsecond. But, he survived. He only had a few moments before the numbness set in. Fortunately, the river was only a few yards wide, not long at all . . . but too damn long at the same time.

"Where the fuck did he go!?" he heard the voices echoing.

"I don't know! He didn't come back this way!"

"Shit, spread out and look around again!"

His body was shivering fiercely, making swimming an arduous task even for a man with his natural athleticism. He kept his head above water as best as he could, doing his best to stay on course.

This wouldn't be the first time he'd been forced to endure water this cold.

"Found him! He's in the goddamn river! Get over here! He's swimming across!"

Barry had finally reached the other side, where he faced a steep six-foot-climb to the other side. When he reached out to touch it, he couldn't feel a thing. The numbness had set in, and his muscles were working at only a fraction of their capacity. Combined with soggy, wet clothes, it took everything had to begin hoisting himself out of the frozen river.

Shots rang out, with some splashing on the water, some striking the embankment around him. If anything had hit him, he was too numb to feel it. So, he pushed on, remembering the faces of his wife, his mother, his children . . .everyone he loved as he climbed free. The struggle was long and brutal, but finally, he made it up and over.

"Shit! Come on, we gotta cut him off at the other side."

Now it was time to run again. He had escaped the island, but at what cost? Now his legs barely worked, his strength was set, and hypothermia was setting in. He had effectively killed himself to save himself.

But he couldn't give up. Not as long as there was breath in his lungs.

Barry stumbled through the city streets, desperately looking for something or someone to help him. But, the area was empty for several blocks. Until he moved further down, he was still in no man's land. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone, but it had been ruined by the river. There was no one to help him, nowhere to go.

And he heard the squeal of tires behind him.

His strength sapped away, his legs finally locked completely and Barry began to drop. He heard the tires getting closer, eventually stopping right beside him. They had found him.

"Shit! He swam through the river," a woman's voice said. "He might be going into shock. Hurry up and get him in the van! We can't lose him!"

"Dammit, they'll be here any minute! Hold them off! We need to get out of here now!"

Barry heard gunfire and felt his body being moved onto the back of a van. There were strange faces everywhere, and people dressed in black, but he was starting to black out, unable to make out anything coherent.

"We've got him inside! Come on, let's move! Move!"

Some of the people jumped in the back of the van with him and others went to the front. In a matter of moments, the van was pulling away.

"Fuck, we need to warm him up and get him to a hospital. Step on it!" the woman's voice said. "Get him out of these wet clothes. Get some papers and a lighter and start a fire. He must get warmed up, or we're going to lose him!"

Barry felt two gentle pair of hands gently caressing his face. They felt familiar.

"Don't worry," the woman's voice cooed. "You're gonna be okay. You're safe now."

******

The next time Barry opened his eyes, the first thing he could feel was pain. . . and great discomfort. His head wasn't clear, and his eyes wouldn't focus, so he really couldn't grasp where he was at first. All that his senses could pick up was a soft beep and the smell of antiseptic. As realization started setting in, he came to understand that he was in a hospital, that the antiseptic smell was coming from the breathing mask on his nose.

Wait a minute . . . he thought. Why do I feel déjà vu?

He sat up immediately, taking a look to his left. There was no Suzanna sitting next to him, and the room was different from the one he'd been in after being shot back in Fresno. As his memories began flooding back, the last thing he remembered was being chased by his own security crew, swimming through a cold river, and collapsing in the street. Then, he had flashes of memory, recalling people talking, and the feeling of being taken away in a van . . .

He tried to move, but then looked to his left and realized that he was handcuffed to the rail of the gurney. He struggled to pull free a few more times, but realized it was pointless. Desperately, he glanced around the room, trying to make out who had taken him and why.

Hearing the commotion from outside, a set of eyes peaked inside his room and a hand went to touch a headset. Whatever he was saying, Barry didn't hear, but he knew it didn't bode well.

Who were these people? Rod's men? But why would they save him? Why take him to the hospital? They wanted him dead . . . didn't they?

Thousands of questions exploded within Barry's mind, and he had no answers for any of them. However, it wasn't long before some of them received an answer. A few minutes after his awakening, the door to Barry's room opened and a familiar face appeared.

"Hello, Barry," Imani said, dressed in an impeccable black suit. "I'm glad to see you made it."

Barry's eyes went wide. She took a seat on the chair opposite of him. "I can see you're upset right now, but I assure you that we're on the same side. Let me reintroduce myself: my name is Special Agent Imani Ahmad."

Another traitor!? More lies?!

Why was everyone in his life lying to him? First Suzanna, then Rod, then Imani! Every one of them were people he counted as his closest friends! Two of them were people he loved! Why were they doing this to him?! Why was GOD doing this to him?!

He was absolutely stupefied. "Special Agent? The FBI!?"

She nodded. "I've been part of an ongoing mission to—"

"You were a GODDAMN SPY?!" Barry growled vehemently.

"I was an undercover operative," she said as if to correct him. Her detachment felt more chilling than that river had. "My assignment was to ingratiate myself with key members of the Syndicate and uncover evidence which could serve to topple the organization. I was undercover for more than a year and your friend Rod Style's actions have forced me to out myself for your protection."

Barry was barely even listening. He was leaning back on his bed, his head somewhere high in the clouds. He couldn't believe this. He'd just lost everything. His company was about to be picked clean, his family was being hunted, he was caught by the Feds . . . and almost everybody he trusted had been either lying or working against him the whole time!

"Barry, are you alright? Should I get a doctor . . .?"

"You don't get to fucking call me that, anymore," he spat. "To you, I'm 'Mr. Garrett'."

She frowned. "Alright. Mr. Garrett, we still need your help. We know that you've been working on evidence to take down Mayor Bill Thornton and prove his connections to the Syndicate. Right now, we need that evidence. Combined with our own intel collected over the years, we might have enough to shut down the complete Syndicate once and for all!"

Barry didn't answer, still staring up that ceiling.

"Mr. Garrett, didn't you hear—"

"I heard you. I'm just trying to figure out why I should give a shit," he said.

"I thought you swore to take down Thornton, no matter what the cost," she reminded him.

"Oh right, I did tell you that. In confidence." He chuckled. "You're a real piece of work, lady. I see the Bureau trains their agents to 'pump' for information real well."

She sighed. "Believe it or not, I'm not proud of what I did."

"Which part? The lying or the fucking?" when she started to answer, he added, "You know what? Don't even bother. It'd just be another lie."

She tapped her finger on her knee. "Mr. Garrett, please . . . we need your help. Don't you want to get revenge on Rod Styles? Don't you want to protect your family?"

Barry's frown deepened. "My entire family is probably dead now, so what's the damn point!? What's the point in being a protector if there's nothing left to protect?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Come on, let's get you out of those cuffs. There's something you need to see."

******

"Daddyyyy!" Lyrica cried out as she ran to her father and threw her arms around him. Barry fell to his knees immediately and almost burst into tears as his little girl wrapped her arms around him. The rest of the children capable of running did so, each of them surrounding their father and smothering him with love, hugs and kisses.

"Oh thank God," Barry cried deeply. "I thought . . . I thought I lost all of you!"

After taking a few more moments to enjoy the love of his children, Barry turned to look at Imani and the team of federal agents behind her.

"You guys did this . . .?"

"Like I said," Imani told him. "We're on the same side. You scratch our backs, we'll watch yours."

Barry turned back around and looked at the other faces in the room. Kitten, Emily, Chandra, Trena, Ariadne, Suzanna . . . they were all present.

For the first time, Barry truly believed in miracles.

******

"What?! How could Rod possibly make you think that Suzanna was cheating, Master? That girl loves you with all of her heart," Ariadne told him a few hours after their reunion.

Torn between feeling foolishness and confusion, Barry stated, "She's been acting strangely for months, Ma. A while back, I found that she had stopped working, but she lies to me about where she's going. Then there was the whispery phone calls and the times when she can't be found. All of sudden, she's started making changes in her eating, sleeping and exercise routines. It's become obvious to me that Suzanna's been sneaking behind my back, living a double life. With that kind of evidence, how could I not believe?"