Life as a New Hire Ch. 28

I save my indignation for those who scorn Dot Ishara, Yakko Ishara and all members of House Ishara, past and present. Quite frankly, being disrespectful to me is actually rather difficult because I only care about the sensibilities of a handful of people."

"How can any warriors follow a leader into battle if that person has no pride and never shies away from shame?

And besides, what is this Wakko/Dot/Yakko nonsense," Saku persisted. "Fatal Squirts, start assembling my armor." Her attention was split between me and her panoply.

"Hello," I snickered. "I'm a male Amazon. The fact that I haven't run for my life way before now is all the heroic background check anyone should require.

Doubting my common sense actually makes sense. Doubting my courage, or loyalty is idiotic in too many ways to count. As for revealing the hallowed and revered enigmatic occult appellations of my House..." I started.

"Get him!" Tiger Lily showed some faux-outrage.

"Shit!" I cried out as Delilah, Tiger Lily and the rest of the SD swarmed me. Pamela and Miyako were of no help whatsoever. I could not express my joy more at the resulting physical abuse and humiliation aimed my way. I was tickled. Yes, my Kick-Ass, full-blood, natural born killers pinned me down and tickled me until I nearly peed on myself.

In a very short period of time, we'd shared some really nerve-racking moments. Dad dying, my showdown with Hayden, being mugged by Carrig and the rest of the crap that rained down blow after blow once I came out of my coma. They had taken me numerous times to the hospital and had to sit back helplessly while I suffered. Yet, I refused to be repressed by circumstance.

I fought for our people – OUR people now – both with the Earth & Sky in shared counsel and the Seven Pillars on the battlefield. Rachel hadn't given me word-one of a reprimand for leaving Charlotte to raise the alarm while I rushed into danger. I was an Amazon in her eyes. Charlotte could fix the phone. Miyako and I could not. The bridge had to be secured immediately.

We couldn't wait on Charlotte. I didn't even act as if what I did was all that brave. Rachel knew me far better now; she wouldn't make that mistake. Had I been able to fix the phone, I would have stayed and sent Charlotte. Had the whole team been there and Rachel told me to stay, I would have stayed while they ran into the fight.

No. The situation hadn't allowed that, so I had killed a number of men and been wounded. The backside of my right thigh had merely been grazed (which my normally mangled left side found to be grossly unfair.) That was another scar to add to my 'sexy'. I had fought in my own insane manner and was alive solely because Saku had decided to shoot another man instead of me.

Even after I knew who she was, I had allied with her and charged the rear of the enemy troop convoy. In the after-battle analysis, they weren't sure how many Seven Pillar Special Forces I had killed, both in the gulch and when I annihilated the back section of the attack column...and took my impromptu flying lesson.

Credit for destroying the bridge jacks, thus making the BBQ a carnal cookout featuring Chinese 'Long-Pig', was still hanging out there as well. Rachel and company were still pissed with me despite all that. Why? On a purely personal level, they realized they would miss me if I got myself killed. They were not supposed to feel that way about their protectee.

I certainly wasn't their first protective detail ... though they were starting to believe I'd be their last. No, I had done everything right – by going into harm's way – and they were furious with the universe for placing us in that situation. Since the universe wasn't offering itself up to be punished, it fell on me to soak up their pique.

Delilah was simply picking on me because she could get away with it this time.

"You are all embarrassments," Saku remarked bitterly once my screams began breathless pleas for mercy. "The Host has fallen a great way since my day." What a killjoy. I finally got my breath back.

[Akkadian] "And the Queen on the floor of the Royal chambers, pushing around toy chariots with her two eldest sons and a child-playmate, was the height of decorum."

Well, if looks could kill...I would have never made my nineteenth birthday, so Saku's glare was just another walk in the park.

[Akkadian] "That was a personal moment with my family. It was a VERY private moment," she sizzled.

[Akkadian] "My Mother's line is...it is what it is. My Father was murdered. My Father's sister and I were never close. These people are my family and my choice of kin."

"English," Pamela chided us.

"Having no family to call your own, you welcome so many that 'family' has no meaning," Saku angrily mocked my words.

There was a hushed moment then everyone but the three other Squirts and Saku started laughing. The three kids didn't know me either.

"By what metric do you measure family by?" I snickered.

"On his third day on the job, Fehér mén (Aya's pet name for me – White Stallion in the Magyar tongue – it is complicated) threw his body over my sisters and me to protect us," Aya said.

"He spared my foster-sister when she gravely insulted him," Mona volunteered. "He didn't know me. The Amazon, Constanza, would have died by anyone else's hand – except his. You may look down your nose at his mercy. As you do so, consider that it is his mercy that allows you to feel that way about him – and us right now." Whoa...

"I have never seen him fight out of pride, or take joy in any combat," Rachel stared down Saku. "My only fear is that Cáel will get himself killed saving my life, or the life of any member of my team. He knows it is wrong. He knows I will be absolutely furious with him...and he accepts that. He is like no other Amazon I have ever known.

We have limits. We follow orders. At our best, we put the welfare of the Host over our own survival. Not Ishara – Wakko Ishara. He follows the dictates of his house and those are to seek mercy and peace where appropriate. He is like no Amazon I have ever known, and I have zero doubt that he is one of the best Amazons I will ever know," she finished with a chuckle.

"I'm speaking my mind, aren't I?" she asked me.

"Afraid so...sorry about that," I apologized for corrupting her social skills.

"Saku, your mistake is that you confuse his caring about you and caring about your opinion of him," Pamela finished things up.

"Sakuniyas, I will work to honor my pledge to you. I will try to keep you alive because you can be a powerful ally of the Host, but also because it is the right thing to do," I enlightened her. "That doesn't make you all that special though. Personally I think you are a horrible, bitter bitch and lousy company for any non-masochist.

I'm going to help you in the same way I'm going to help everyone else here. This is despite me feeling confident that not a single Amazon on this planet has a living father. They've never had brothers because their mothers murdered them. Your crappy attitude doesn't influence me one way, or the other. You are a horrible fucking person born to a horrible fucking race – my race, the Amazon Host."

"You kill your fathers and sons," Delilah mumbled as she looked from face to face, finding not a single bit of denial, or shame. "I thought that was so much Greek bull's buttocks."

"Nope," Aya shrugged. "Before I left for camp, Momma told me they put Daddy – my other Daddy – down when I was two." Kind of like Old Yeller, or Benji. "His name was Paul Twelve."

Delilah looked at me with downright worrisome eyes.

"Yeah, I figured that out on day two on-the- job," I relayed to her. "For the past 2500 years, every male child of the Host has been tossed off a cliff to his death, or left out in the wilds for predators to devour. Every male they have kidnapped has been under a death sentence from the moment of capture.

They tried to genetically breed their captive male population with Amazon females, but something went wrong. The males began passing on genetic defects that poisoned the race. In response, they have begun recruiting men, such as myself, and exterminating their old male breeding populace.

Initially, I didn't run because I was sure they would hunt me down and kill me. Later...later I came to like enough of the Host to decide that knowing what was going on meant I couldn't let it slide. I couldn't leave this issue for someone else to tackle. I know I'm facing long odds, yet I'll never succeed if I don't try," I wrapped up my little my 'Cáel's Amazon Primer' lecture.

"Okay...okay, Cáel you are blood nuts...and hellishly brave. The rest of you are just hellish...killing your own kin as infants or if they get too old," Delilah sputtered. "That's plain wrong."

"I had sons," Saku stated. "They grew into fine, strong warriors. My daughters married into the nobility."

"Delilah, we don't expect you to understand our culture. Twice in our people's history, men have tried to eliminate our society, stealing our homes and property, and enslaving our children and sisters. We let down our guard once, and that nearly destroyed us...except we now have Cáel and a better understanding of what happened that second time," Tiger Lily educated Delilah.

"It turned out that not all males betrayed us. No...when we needed them the most, they sacrificed themselves for the welfare of our people and we repaid that loyalty with anger and barbarism. That is a burden we have carried all these centuries without understanding it. Only within the past month has the real truth about the Second Betrayal become known.

Many of us are now re-evaluating the dictates of our faith concerning men and sons. After all, Cael is the descendent of Amazons of a First House – dating back to the Trojan Wars. He has been welcomed by his ancestors and his goddess, Dot Ishara," she completed.

"What is it with the Dot, Wakko and..."

"Everyone buckle up," the pilot announced over the intercom. "We are on our final approach." Saku and the Squirts had her armor in some kind of order, we buckled up and let the plane coast on down to earth.

"Delilah and Cáel, since our 'vacation' was cut short, we haven't been able to bring your personal effects back from Africa yet," Rachel told us.

"Also, there will be four of Javiera's people meeting us in the hangar," she added. "We have been told to view them as non-hostiles."

"Oh joy," Pamela muttered then, "There is nothing to worry about folks."

"What? Me worry?" I goofy grinned her way.

(Governments, horrendous enemies and ruthlessly evil friends)

Four SUVs waited for us in the wide-open hangar. No sooner had the pilot given us the 'green light', than Rachel released the door/stairs mechanism and Charlotte began her decent. We had the camp FN P-90's, not the older Havenstone UMP 40's, so that was the weapon whose sights she was looking down as her eyes scanned the room. Five people. Four SUVs.

Rachel went next with me right behind her. My SD's precautions turned our guests from a rather annoyed-casual to alert-angry. Standing with our two standard Mercedes GL550's was Wiesława of House Živa. A sole guardian indicated to me that an ass-kicking was in the offing elsewhere. The Golden Mare – St. Marie was gathering the Havenstone Security Detail for some purpose, which meant she could only spare one more warrior for me.

I was fine with that. Not only did I feel bad about denying her the four ladies I had, I knew we were going into this global conflict outnumbered and out-financed. The Seven Pillars had gotten at least one blow in by striking at the Amazon summer camp. I had every reason to believe other unexpected attacks had occurred all across the globe.

In the closest black Tahoe SUV (didn't anyone use sedans anymore?) were two men in modestly tailored, off-the-rack suits. One with buzz-cut gray-white hair, was closer to fifty than forty, was as tall as me (a bit over six feet/1.9 meters) and close to my weight and build. That guy was pissed off.

His partner was smaller (5ft 10in/1.78m) and lighter. He was also cocky with that 'I know more than you schmucks' air about him. Beside the farther SUV, a Range Rover (black, of course...I swore in that moment that if I ever got to have my own fleet of House Ishara SUV's, I was going with baby blue, just to fuck with people's heads), were two other men ... one cultured and the other a bad-ass.

I didn't call him a bad-ass because he looked like a bad-ass. I called him a bad-ass because he carried himself like a member of the SD, except he was a guy – casually lethal. His buddy was the man he was body-guarding and, as I said, cultured looking. This second man was a thinker, a plotter and someone who had graduated from mostly taking orders to being the one issuing them. He was really unhappy.

As my foot hit the ground, the older/younger pair came toward me.

"Mr. Nyilas," the younger man said. Early thirties, doing well and thinking he should be doing even better. "I'm Senior Field Officer George Cresky and this is Special Agent Vincent Loire. Can we have a few minutes of your time?" They flashed their badges as we closed the distance.

Right. That was not a request. I wasn't born yesterday and I was becoming well-schooled in Amazon paranoia.

"Neat...well done. Can I see those ID's again?" I came back with a healthy dose of distrust.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Nyilas?" the 'smooth-talker' grinned.

"Yeah," I didn't bother smiling anymore. "He's FBI. You were a bit too quick concealing your junk." SA Loire was getting irate with the son of a bitch too. Cresky showed me his badge slowly this time. What the fuck was a Senior Field Officer?

"Delilah, who the hell is on a Senior Field Officer of a Joint Terrorism Taskforce?" I asked the person most in the know.

"If that's all he's showing, he's CIA," Delilah smirked.

"Ms. Fairchild," the cultured man spoke in a commanding tone and a crisp British accent. "A moment please." Someday somebody is going to ask me an honest question and I'm not going to know what to do. Delilah headed that way. Pamela tagged along.

"Miss, this is a private matter," the lead Brit stated calmly.

"I know," Pamela answered in a decidedly mild tone I had come to associate with violence. "Young man, you are not as smart as you think you are – shut your yap until I'm finished," she pointed a finger his way. "SAS? SBS? Royal Marines? Commando?" she turned to the bodyguard.

"Royal Marines then SRR," he responded with that same 'easy' voice, with a heavier Brit timbre.

"Are you and I going to have any problems?" she politely inquired of the bodyguard in a way I'd rarely heard her speak. She liked him right off the bat.

"I certainly hope not," he gave Pamela a slight, respectful nod.

"Thank you," she returned the respectful nodded. "Back you to you, buddy," she turned on the 'leader'. "What you have planned isn't going to happen. You are going to play nice, debrief Delilah here and then let her leave with us. Do not get into a pissy turf war with me, or the powers-that-be who sent Delilah our way."

"Or?" the man's gaze was a blatant provocation.

"I don't know your name, but I know you are MI-6 station chief for the UK's UN mission. I can name a half-dozen people who will give me your name. I don't give a rat's ass about extraterritoriality. You have a wedding band.

You don't wear it all the time, so I'm betting you are divorced, not that it matters. Pity about your kids because once I've killed you – and hopefully only incapacitated your friend here – I'm going to kill rest of your family." She pointed a finger into his face once more. "Let me finish.

Now, if you even think for a second this is bullshit, I've put a .308 bullet through the chest of a nine month old child who was in the wrong place at the wrong time so I could end the life of the man I was sent to kill. He thought it would make an effective human shield. Ask your buddy if I'm that kind of bitch."

The leader looked to his bodyguard who remained 'at ease', which spoke volumes in and of itself.

"That is not how..." the leader tried to keep pace.

"Hold on," Pamela interrupted him. "I didn't come over to have a conversation. I came over to deliver this warning and to repay a debt.

I like Delilah – as a fellow oxygen-breather, not as a friend – and I have a soft spot for Welshmen too stupid to avoid government service...and I never make a hollow threat, or an empty pledge. Rees Meadows – SAS: AB NEG, 29875604, Meadows, RA, CE," Pamela recited. "He is buried under the name Martin Angelov in a tomb adjacent to the British Military section of the Orlandodvtsi Cemetery in Sofia, Bulgaria. He went missing in 1978."

"You are finally getting around to telling us this now?" the leader grumbled.

"Honestly, talking AT you is as pleasant as passing a kidney stone. It was in the middle of the Cold War and none of us should have been behind the Iron Curtain, much less cancelling out a whole nest of very nasty human beings.

Rees, me and two of his friends went on a killing spree that lasted sixty-nine days. From the Crimea to Sofia, we racked up eighty-seven dead, most of them belonging to the Bulgarian CSS and the Soviet Union's KGB First and Second Directorates, including the #2 Cock-sucker at the CSS's Foreign Intelligence Directorate."

The bodyguard gave an abbreviated snort over that assessment. The rest of them were showing Pamela a great deal more attention.

"So, Sir Isaac Newton, what was I supposed to do? Knock on the door of some consulate, or embassy and say 'hey, I have intimate knowledge of the British safe houses throughout Eastern Europe.

I know all this because I was co-opted by British agents on a black-bag operation that was part of an illegal, covert British government directive to take retributive actions against citizens and agents of multiple rather-hostile powers on their home soil...'" Pamela smirked. "Yes, I could have stepped forward then, but I chose to stay alive instead."

"That was thirty-six years ago," he protested.

"What part of me confessing to 87 unsolved murders has escaped you? You, the Russians, Moldavians, Romanians and Bulgarians might be interested in what a trained assassin was doing in the Soviet Union in the first place and how I ended up coming across your lads.

There was also the small matter of the two men who got out before the end, and the belief I have that they kept their words and never mentioned my involvement with them. Besides, I retired before the Berlin Wall fell. By that time, I wanted out of that lifestyle. And I couldn't trust you numbskulls to leave me well enough alone. Case in point," she gave a nod to Delilah.

"Thank you," the bodyguard acknowledged Pamela's bestowal of the gift of 'knowing'.

Somewhere in England a family had lost a son, brother, maybe even a father – a grandfather by now. He may have been declared MIA. More likely he had been listed as 'killed during a training accident' with a closed casket/empty casket funeral.

"Colour Sergeant Charles 'Chaz' Tomorrow, Ma'am," he made his introductions.

"Pamela Pile, assassin (retired) and knife-fighting trainer. The man over...well, the only man with us is Cáel, my grandson. The rest of the ladies are all unattached, if you are interested," Pamela shook the man's hand. Chaz arched one eyebrow in curiosity. "If a guy doesn't have a minimum of five scars, they aren't a man in these girls' estimation.

None of this 'everyone gets a trophy' rubbish in this crowd," Pamela explained.

"Mr. Tomorrow," the Brit leader said in a clipped tone. "Business. Ms. Faircloth, let's sit down and talk." The got into their Land Rover and shut the doors. Back to my drama.

"Hi, what can I do for the CIA?" I addressed my two man welcome wagon.