Life as a New Hire Ch. 12

"That your heart still beats is an insult to everything I stand for," Constanza spat.

"I'm cool with that in the same way I'm cool ignoring this whole 'blood prestige' thing. You gals aren't respecting mine and you certainly aren't explaining your rules to me, so I'm opting out of this whole 'my old lady was better at dodging arrows than yours'."

"You should not insult us this way," my closet, newest gun-buddy cautioned me.

"I agree. Do you even know who the Magyar are?" I inquired.

"No," she shrugged.

"Go find out and then we can talk," I grinned. "Until then, you are disrespecting the aim of a sniper you don't even know exists yet is stalking you."

As they were struggling to figure that out, I groaned.

"You are insulting my people without knowledge of who they are. You are asking me to show respect to your people without explaining to me why. I'm sure they were wonderful, fucking women, but I don't know anything about them," I related.

"If you want blind obedience, go have fun with sterility," I smirked. "I've got better and more far-sighted women I'd rather be with."

"Most likely you will be milked of your seed, joined with our eggs thus creating the next generation of the host," the third girl got all riled-up. Sex.

"Man," I laughed. "Am I the only one here to have figured out that I, and the other new male hires, aren't the only ones being tested? Really? Come on. If Katrina wanted to train me to use a gun, she could have sent me with Desiree to a private gun range and handled this stuff off-site. No. She had to put me here -- with all of you."

All those smug, superior, horny chicks just realized they'd taken a philosophical snap-kick to the cranium. Tested? Amazons were tested all the fucking time. It was their culture to keep them fit, firm and alert. Best of all, the male had to be the one to bring this to their attention. I wrapped my arm around the waist of the closest Amazon and pulled her groin to my hip.

"That's okay though. I'm in this for all of you," I murmured while looking deep into her eyes -- as if we were the only two people in the world. "With your aid, I think we can do this -- make it work. Don't you?" She nodded. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Shotguns, pistol-grip shotguns and an MP-5 joined my list of weapons I knew the basics of afterwards.

Once more, I was rendered even more attractive by the fact that I could hit a man-sized target at 6 meters with a gun I had only then picked up. I had been joking about the whole 'natural born killer' comeback. I wasn't convinced that my ancestor's ability to fight all their neighbors, sometimes all at the same time, made me kick-ass.

Frankly, my people had lost wars to every European empire of the middle ages and modern times. You just couldn't keep us down. Maybe resistance was genetically based. That was crazy talk...but Grandpa was a tough SOB, as was my Dad, now that I thought about it. Gramps Old Man died fighting the Russians in WWII, which was why he fled his homeland as a child.

Mom's people -- they were Irish -- the Irish, when not fighting for their own homeland, were fighting for some else's. Mom didn't get the time to teach me much, but I do recall this:

The greatest lie the Irish ever tell is that they only hate the English. The Irish hate anyone they can get their hands on, even other Irish. If you don't believe that, look at every ethnic neighborhood in the US that border an Irish enclave. They fight with them all.

I got my twisted sense of humor from my Mom. I miss her so. Knowing Mom, she wouldn't be ashamed of my infidelities. She'd probably say 'he's test-driving until he finds the one that can keep him in line'. I hoped she wouldn't be ashamed of me. My time was up. I had to go to Katrina's office. Constanza banished me with a grumpy face and a dismissive wave of the hand.

The chick I had put on my hip volunteered/elbowed her way to showing me out. My ID card wouldn't open any stairwell, or elevator. She felt comfortable walking around in her underwear, plus a shoulder holstered 10 mm. Ten steps out, from her left, I snaked my hand around her back to her right hip. She looked to me and smiled.

"Can you give me some advice?" I inquired.

"I'll try," she hedged.

"Well, you are clearly in excellent physical condition. I've been trying to put together a regimen that will get my left thigh in shape," I started. She nodded.

"I've a quadriceps exercise in mind, but I'm unsure about one for the gluts," I mused. She looked uncertain. I moved my hand off her hip, over to her left hand then placed her hand force on my left buttock. We were now really close. "I'm afraid of losing my muscle tone. Can you help?"

"Ummm..." she hesitated. "I could think of a few things." She worked herself up to giving my ass a good squeeze. This was not the first male butt she'd handled yet it was most likely the firmest and most sexually promising one she'd felt. Promising something she couldn't quite envision but felt deep within her loins.

She dispensed advice. I nodded appreciatively. When I asked for some kind of confirmation, she kindly put my hand on her ass which I promptly began squeezing. Like shooting fish in a barrel. We were comparing stomach and shoulder techniques on the elevator. Her name was Naomi and she was with the Security Detail and a member of House Rajah -- ally of House Arinniti. Sweet!

Like clockwork, Brielle and her buddy joined me in the elevator on the ground floor. They had to know somebody to track me this well. Me shirtless with an Amazon in her undies. It must be Monday morning.

"This is new," Brielle commented. "Good morning, Naomi. Forget something?"

"I'm on the job," Naomi retorted. It was the whole 'going without clothes' thing.

"Are you protecting a bare-chested Cáel from us, or us from a bare-chested Cáel?" her companion joked. Naomi's mouth opened then shut.

"I cannot talk about it. Neither one of us can," Naomi declared with authority.

"That's right, Ladies," I nodded. "What happens in the laundry room, stays in the laundry room." All those who felt I'd gone to the laundry room, raise your hands. No takers.

"I smell gunpowder residue," Brielle commented after she took a close whiff.

"The Dominicans, Latin Kings, and the Redneck Posse have all started fighting over that little block of paradise I call home," I sighed regretfully. Silence.

"Redneck Posse? That's not one I've heard of before," Naomi commented. Here we go!

"Oh yeah," I looked contemplative. "Ten years ago, several linguists studying Appalachian dialects paid for some native speakers to come to the city to help in their research. The hillbillies got paid, got jobs and brought their families down."

"When the grant money for the study ran out, the bumpkins had to find another way to support their kin that their minimum wage jobs couldn't providing. Enter the Redneck Posse. Guns, meth, moonshine -- they do it all. They are kind of like Afghan tribesmen except instead of being half a world away by sea, or air, they are a four, or five, hour drive down the interstate," I concluded.

The three women exchanged confused looks. The doors opened on my floor.

"Oh my Goddess!" Brielle exclaimed. "That's almost possible to believe." I winked and left.

"You mean that was a lie too?" Naomi gasped. The doors shut on that conversation as I swept through the office.

I had 90 seconds to spare. Only Dora wasn't here yet, but there was a pile of boxes on my desk. They were all looking at me as if I'd just stepped out of a pool, or a French cologne commercial. I set my clothing and valise on my tiny, now over-stacked, desk then joined the line-up.

"Good morning Cáel," Katrina looked me up and down.

"I certainly hope it will be. Good morning to you too, Katrina," I beamed. Pause.

"Forgetting something?" Katrina prodded. I sniffed the air. I didn't sense it.

"Yes Ma'am, Katrina. I'm missing one thing. I hope it gets here soon," I confirmed. Pause.

"Very well, let's get started," Katrina began. Fabiola lost it.

"What! He doesn't have a shirt, tie, or jacket on. As far as we know, he's not even wearing underwear," she screeched.

"Cáel, is your attire, or lack thereof, necessary for the performance of your duties?" Katrina politely inquired.

"Yes it is Katrina," I nodded.

"Very well..." Katrina started over.

"What possible reason could you have for being half dressed," Fabiola ranted. "Are you going to cover yourself with oil and slither down the stairs like the snake you are?"

No one said anything for a while. The rest of the 'new hires' were coming around to the fact that Katrina and I were mocking Fabiola. Otherwise, Katrina would have shut her down. I held up my hand.

"Yes Cáel," Katrina acknowledged me, "despite the meeting having already begun and not being directly addressed by me, you may speak." Slap!

"Fabiola, I find your desire to see me oiled up a bit perplexing," I grinned in her direction. "I would like to point out, despite the evidence you have presented today, I am not an idiot and our boss -- Katrina -- is not a fool. Hate me to your heart's content, but don't insult Katrina by thinking she doesn't already know what I'm up to."

"She does not explain herself to me, or you, and I'm pretty sure even Hayden gets an edited view of what goes on here in Executive Services. I don't know and I don't care. That's not in my job description and I'm already way out of bounds as it is," I said. "For your sake and your sake alone, I will tell you why I'm am dressed the way I am today."

"It is part of your ritual apology," Violet blurted. "It's obvious. This has to do with what Hayden told him to do." That wasn't truly fair to Fabiola. The rest of the ladies had been rushing around getting the items I decided I needed for my public apology. Dora came bolting in right then.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Katrina," she panted. "Did I miss anything?"

"No," Katrina returned events to their proper order. "First off, for today, I'll start with Cáel's work review for Friday. I never thought I would say this about his on-the-clock performance. Cáel, your work output on Friday was stellar. There, I said it. Next..."

That would have been a far greater treasure had that been my work report instead of Aya's. Everyone else did well, save Tigger. She had forgotten a security sequence and had half a floor locked down for 15 minutes. At the conclusion, Buffy came in, slammed a flimsy, but aromatic, box into my chest then stormed away.

"Cáel?" Katrina questioned.

"Yes. Thank you," I then turned to Fabiola. "Do you wish to have the ceremony here, or out on the main floor of Executive Services?"

"I -- what are you going to do?" Fabiola grew suspicious. "This is a trick to make me look foolish again."

"Fabiola, it is Hayden's wish you hear him out," Paula spoke. "He's troublesome, not stupid. I don't think he's stupid enough to defy Hayden on this."

"Swear to me you are not going to make me look bad," Fabiola stared at me.

"What do I possess that you believe is valuable?" I countered. She had to think about that.

It couldn't be Aya. Fabiola was stumped. She had been so busy looking down her fine Roman nose at me, she had neglected to notice everything I had done and said.

"Your mentor," Daphne offered.

"She has forbidden me to see her again, but thank you," I winked at Daphne.

A quick list of less than helpful suggestions followed. It turned out the only thing I valued was my freedom and I couldn't give that up to Fabiola because that decision lay with Katrina. I would rather defy Hayden than give up sex, I lied continuously for little, or no reason. Fabiola wasn't looking for Lent, she wanted something concrete. It simply didn't exist.

Out we went with a very distraught Fabiola and me with a bunch of small boxes. I didn't worry about expensing all this crap. I wasn't spending my own money anyway. I had Fabiola stand in the largest open area ES had. Even people who only had business on this floor were joining the growing body of my co-workers here to witness the spectacle.

Three small brass bowels and one small oil lamp went to the four compass points -- I even had a compass. I put sand in one, water in another and dry ice in the third. I lit the lamp.

"This symbols me calling the four corners of Terra to bear witness: Earth, Air, Fire and Water," I explained. Next I wrote down Fabiola's name on a slip of paper in Old Kingdom Hittite.

I burned it. Fabiola frowned. She was the only one. I dropped the ashes into a glass of water.

"With this, I take back my curse. I swallow it, thus swallowing my words," I explained to Fabiola. I drank the whole thing. That accomplished, I pulled a small silver owl out of an unopened box to a series of murmurs. "This is a gift to your house. Minerva (the Roman Athena) is your patron Goddess. I do honor to her for bringing you back." I handed her the owl.

Her expression told me she was still waiting for the trap to be sprung on her. I wrote out my name, in Magyar then held it up to Fabiola.

"This is my name, Cáel Nyilas, in my native tongue," I told her. I burned it, ground up the ashes with my fingers. With a little bit of coordinated effort, I drew the word 'forgiveness' in OKH over my heart.

The last box. It was Dobos Tortas, a sweet treat from my native land -- Hungary, not Chicago.

"Please accept this gift as a symbol of my apology and my desire to seek your forgiveness," I looked into Fabiola's eyes. The weight came crushing down on her. Virtually all the women around her wanted me to be forgiven.

Not because they hated her. Most barely knew her -- or me. It was the ceremony. Simple, relatively quick yet individualized by the giving of gifts designed for each participant. Deep in her twisted little soul, Fabiola still expected a trap, trick, or joke at her expense. She probably thought the 'cookies' were poisoned.

"I forgive you," Fabiola stated. She put her hand on my shoulder. "Share a treat with me." I even let her pick out the one to stick in my mouth. Maybe she thought I had the antidote, or maybe she decided I was on the up-and-up. The crowd of Amazons made happy, communal noises and we all parted as friends...okay, friends and their dancing bear -- me.

Katrina snuck up on me as a handful of woman thanked me for the insightful ceremony. I told them they were welcome while neglecting to inform them that I made all of that up. Part of it was Wiccan. Part was some 1960's Italian movie I'd seen. A few things I pulled out of my ass, like normal.

"Put on your clothes," Katrina handed me my things. "You did well. I am sure Hayden will be equally pleased."

"No problem," I looked at her appreciatively. I felt a cerebral connection evolving between us.

"Put on your shirt before I start licking your nipples," Katrina demanded. Damn it.

Wait, things got better. As I looked away from Katrina and started getting dressed, Buffy appeared before me. I bet I could have melted an ice cap with the head of steam she'd built up.

"Do you like dressing as a male stripper? Do you like women drooling all over you?" Buffy sizzled.

"No -- yes," I responded.

"I hate you," she snapped.

"I admire the fact that you can pull off the lead in Madame Butterfly," I bantered back.

"Let's get to work," Buffy growled. Off we went.

(Elsa Round Three)

"Hello Stanica," Buffy greeted the SD guard at the gym facility door. That was new. Normally it was a card-swipe and in you went. Buffy and I were dressed for a workout -- per orders.

"Full-bloods only," Stanica stopped Buffy. Ah, racism was raising its ugly head.

"How am I supposed to get in?" I countered. This appointment was in our queue for 11 a.m.

"You have been summoned," Stanica clarified.

"Cool...I'll be back in 70 days. Good job Chuckles," I grinned.

"You have been summoned," she threatened with a great deal more menace.

"He works for me today," Buffy yawned. "That means he goes where I go. Cáel doesn't have a queue today, I do. He's my intern. If you won't let me in, then he doesn't go in. Let's go Cáel."

Stanica grabbed my arm.

"He goes in. You stay," she insisted.

"Cáel -- resist," Buffy ordered. To Stanica, "Knock yourself out." Stanica briefly tried to move me. Then she went for some kind of control-hold/lock. Brazilian jujitsu, Baby.

It is not some kind of 'super' martial art. As far as I knew, none of them were. If you were trying to break, or establish physical control over another person, it was pretty spectacular though. Along with the Amazon 'house' style, she knew something akin to Krav Maga. Stanica was hampered by her unwillingness to do me serious harm, as was I toward her.

The difference was, all I had to do was stay in the hallway, while Stanica had to get me through the doors. The stalemate was broken by two fresh full-bloods coming from the changing room to the facilities.

"Sisters, assist me," Stanica called out. "Help me wrestle him to the ground without undo damage." They came forward and jumped me.

"Are you on official Havenstone business?" Buffy politely inquired as they dog piled on me.

"Shut up," Stanica yelled.

"Failing to adequately explain the situation," Buffy quick drew her pistol and pressed it to the temple of one of the two new Amazons, "informs me you are willingly interfering in official Executive Services business."

"By all means, give me an excuse to file an incident report," Buffy grinned feral.

"Do it and you die, 'Lost Blood' (OKH)," the threatened woman responded.

"Boss, may I suggest an alternative?" I ground up. They had me pressed down in the hall.

"I'm willing to accept you were hired for your intelligence," Buffy allowed.

"Trust me. I got this," I snickered. Buffy didn't trust me, yet she knew my tone well. Buffy holstered her weapon and stood back.

"This isn't over, Buffy," the Amazon she'd pulled down on snapped.

"Go for it," Buffy chuckled. "You are running off with Katrina's male. I was trying to assert her rights and you have defied her. I gleefully await her judgment."

The woman snarled then grunted as my three captures pulled me up. Buffy was on her phone, typing away a text when the women realized my feet weren't planted under me. I started to topple over.

"Stand up, damn you," Stanica demanded. I looked to Buffy for confirmation of that order. She smiled while indicating nothing.

"Stand up," the third Amazon insisted. She backed that up with a jab to my left kidney. Damn, this place was hellishly unlucky for the left side of my body. That did not encourage me to stand.

"Fine, we'll drag him in," Stanica changed up. I didn't resist one bit. I acted like dead weight.

This scene was made all the more precious by the audience Elsa had gathered for whatever exhibition she had planned for me. The whole sparring area was surrounded by Amazons clearly waiting on me. Most were cross-legged though a few knelt behind the first rank. I could see Elsa, spear in hand, watching those three lugging me in from her position in the Southwest corner of the mats.

"What's wrong with him?" Elsa inquired calmly.

"He is afraid," Stanica answered. I would have replied, but I knew silence would be far more cutting. See -- everyone expect me to have a comeback. My quiet unsettled them. The three unceremoniously dumped me next to the Northeast corner. I lay there.

I had noticed two axes about a meter in on the mat. I pulled myself into a position where my butt was resting on my heels.

"My Sisters," Elsa began. "There has been some interest in Cáel's two-axe style as well as various theories on how to defeat it. Today, I will display the long spear technique's ability to overcome this problem."

"Cáel, pick up the axes and prepare yourself. I will wait until you indicate your readiness," Elsa nodded my way. Very friendly. I looked around a bit, rather bored. "Cáel?" she repeated. I looked at Elsa.