Finally getting up to date. Brace yourself, it'll take a quite some time. I hope it won't take you too long to answer. Feel free to take your sweet time.
Someone should tell Sabira to apply for the next James Bond villain. She's already ticking all the boxes, what with her leaving Zuhal in a situation from which she can escape even though she has her at her mercy, and has the opportunity to kill her here and now...
Your writing style is as pleasant as always. I think I'll start the broken record :
- Good descriptions, both detailed enough and well-paced. The advantage when you have a lot of catching up to do is that you can appreciate the variety of uniforms, body types, underwear, knock-outs, and bondage techniques... I realized while reading that balling twine isn't used enough in our stories when it's actually a pretty good idea for a makeshift bond. Or rubber wirings, though I guess cables a more commonplace. It's just I who never think of makeshift bonds like them.
- Your technique of giving a little personality to some 'victims of the week' is always appreciated - case in point, Beatrice. How's it buzzing, Bea?
- Whenever I think all types of uniforms have already been done, you never cease to prove me wrong. A beekeeper... And in hindsight, it's probably one of the best disguise - thanks to the netting. Well played, good sir. I appreciate how you try to bring new types of clothes. And we don't have enough cowgirl in our Board, that's for sure.
- I like how you try to give some scenes their own identity to set them apart. For instance, there is the way you highlight the moonlight's variations in Jessa's and Bridget's scene.
- I also like how you sometimes try to highlight the characters' personalities with some details. For instance, Bridget who's having second guesses and some scruples covers the cleaning lady or the barrista with a blanket (or a curtain) to keep her warm. On the contrary, Bobbi mocks the tattooed guard.
- Still good lines and funny moments.
The station attendant stirred. "Hmm... wha...?" She opened her eyes, groggy and confused.
Chandra got to her feet and sighed. "Not time for you to wake up yet, dear."
The attendant rubbed her eyes and blinked. Her vision cleared just in time for her to see Chandra's fist speeding towards her.
Chandra dragged the re-slumbering blonde back and around to the other side of the gas station where the restrooms were situated.
I could just picture this scene in my head. So cartoony in the way the gag is described. That "re-slumbering" made everything.
For pity's sake," the woman gasped. "What happened to you, girl?"
"I can tell you that."
The woman whirled to see Chandra standing in the restroom entranceway, holding a roll of duct tape.
"Or better yet," Chandra continued as she tore off a long strip of the tape, "I can show you."
Sheer perfection. Though the aftermath with the confused cowgirl was also giggle-worthy. Not bad for a nameless extra!
"I don't see a garage entrance... This looks like a dead end."
Chandra chuckled. "I was wondering when you would catch on."
The cyclist noticed the gleam in Chandra's eye. She started to back away in concern, then turned to run.
Chandra's fingers quickly seized the collar of the woman's leather jacket, pulling her backwards and off-balance. "What's your hurry, darling?" she cooed. "Don't you want an inspection?"
Before the cyclist could voice her protest, Chandra had begun her "inspection" with some thick knuckles against the woman's skull. A few more raps and punches, and the cyclist was down for the count.
Chandra then proceeded to "inspect" the girl's clothes, removing them from her unconscious figure before donning them herself.
The cyclist looked quite lovely in her crimson sports bra and checkered blue hiphuggers, and her figure was accentuated by an artistic snake tattoo that coiled up and around her upper left leg. The woman had style, even when she didn't have clothes.
Is it me, or did Chandra bring most of my favorite interactions and lines?
"Something wrong, miss?" Harper asked.
"Oh," the ballerina smiled at her. "It's just this costume... Always causing problems."
"Then you're quite lucky tonight," Harper replied, a gleam in her eye.
"What do you mean?"
"You won't be wearing the costume."
It looks like she didn't bring them all though.
The sheer size of your series becomes more and more impressive after each new chapter. While it has the disadvantage of making everything harder to follow, it also allows for good situations - such as women keeping counts on how many times they were mugged, a joke which hasn't gotten old and probably never will.
Plus, it also gives some nostalgic vibe: I don't know, but seeing Bridget and Co. still investigating aliens just like in the series' beginning... It makes me feel something.
Finally, it allows to explore more 'semi-realistic'/plausible/somewhat serious concepts. I really share your taste for exploring how a coherent/somewhat realistic world would react to commonplace USB-tactics. For that reason, I for instance really appreciated Jenna's explanation that women stop taking jobs which recquire uniforms as a consequence.
Same with Jenna's little infiltration to try to get politicians to take measures against clothes stealings. I'm curious. Maybe we need to bring back... the "consultant"!
And of course, your fondness for recurring character brought Ashley to the USB world, and for that I'll forever be grateful.
There is one negative outcome though... I'll never be able to read the word paradigm without thinking of you ever again...
Of course, after all this time, character development is one of the main appeal of the series.
While I didn't like Ashley's conclusion in the previous chapter, I won't deny I found it humorous when she starts to become so paranoid she assumes any innocent-sounding request is in fact a clever trap to ambush her and take her clothes. (The scene between her and the blond patron was one of my favorite parts.) A bit of black comedy?
It's interesting to see how Bridget and Felicia are evolving. I never hid that, as of late, the kind of moral dilemnas they are facing is one of my favorite tropes. Of course, I'm interested in these parts. Is it me, or is her conversation with Bridget a statement on the evolution of the Board?
Life was much simpler before we started all these uniform stealing tactics. If I keep it up, I don't know what'll happen.
In any way, it was a powerful moment.
Moira's dynamic is also interesting - such as shown by her scene with the maid. Given her relationship with Prema, it certainly creates an interesting dilemna.
Come my queen, your chariot awaits... How can a scene be funny and fuzzy at the same time? I'm torn between finding them hilarious and adorable.
You're making a good job at portraying Bobbi's point of view. She's maybe controversial, but it's fair that she has the opportunity to state her point of view. I admit, her conversation in which she exposes her point of view (that she wants to be herself, not good or bad, and that she feels like Felicia is guilt-tripping her) helped me understand her better. It gives the feeling that she's mostly confused. (Though I stand by my opinion, and think her cruelty and pettiness are not the actions of a confused person - she takes way too much pleasure in acting like a bully on a power trip. In a way, it makes her look hypocritical. I don't know if it's the point, but if not then there is a dissonance here between how the story perceives her and how (some) readers can perceive her.) In any case, it was an important scene - and it was done well. Plus Zuhal's opinion on the morality of uniform stealings was interesting too. You have a talent for making me appreciate (or at least understand) characters I've grown to dislike - if only the time of a scene.
I agree that, indeed, Felicia's and Bobbi's relationship and divergent evolutions are one of the key arcs of this series. I'm still interested to see where this is going. Will their friendship break because Bobbi will be too far gone? (What I fear.) Or will they be able to find some middle ground and patch things up? (What I hope.) I may not mince my words when it comes to my ever-increasing dislike of Bobbi as of late, but I won't deny I'm still interested to see how everything will end.
However, I also admit it has become harder to motivate myself to read because of Bobbi. I really need to wait until I'm in the right mood now, because reading a story while actively rooting AGAINST a main protagonist is not a pleasant experience. (And no matter how grey she is, Bobbi is still a protagonist - a character who drives the plot forward, whom the plot wants us to follow, and therefore who can only succeed in the long run.)
I won't deny there's a big frustration because I really have the sentiment that the plot bends in every directions to make sure Bobbi never faces consequences for her actions - or is never truly challenged for her attitude. For instance, as much as I liked Felicia having to hear about the consequences of her actions (with her conversation with Ellen), I also felt like the story was taking the easy route. It's the character who needs the least this kind of reality check, the one already questioning herself, who gets it.
I know the point of this part is to have Bobbie take down a dark path, either to have her reconnect with her friend and become a more positive character once more or to have her completely embrace her newfound callousness, but I think you're TOO effective at making her unlikable. So it's a bit of a double-edge sword as far as I'm concerned... Contrary to the more clear-cut antagonists (like Harper or Sabira), readers are still supposed to root for Bobbi to some degree, and I certainly am not. I can see why people like her - she's strong, she's a badass, she's portrayed as confused; but I only feel an ever-growing dislike and frustration towards her, and it affects my reading experience.
I think it's not helped by the fact that quite more time will probably pass before we see the conclusion of her arc.
Still, I appreciate how you portray Bobbi's moral complexity - and her own personal code of conduct, such as when she's worried she may have accidentally killed the fisherwoman, and is relieved the latter is alive. It shows she's not completely gone.
There's really a rollercoaster of emotions with Bobbi as far as I'm concerned though. One scene I sympathize with her (the one with the fisherwoman); the next one I feel more dislike than ever when I read she's perfectly fine with what she's becoming.
I admit though that I fear that, given the direction of the story, Bobbi will end up embracing her newfound callousness. So I'm mentally preparing myself... I admit it would be in-character, as I said at this point both evolutions are still possible, so it wouldn't be incoherent and I know it'd be well-written. But I for sure know how I'd feel about that...
Though for the record, I'd like to say that usually when I reach such level of dislike for a main character, I simply drop the story altogether. So you may also take it as a testimony of how I like some other aspects of your story.
When it comes to the general narration, of course there are various storylines waiting to collide with each other. They are only starting now, though. As I've already said, I think you've really mastered this kind of narration. Though, as I've probably also said, I don't always share your liking to it - so many stories taking palce at the same time means that all of them are progressing slower, and I'm certainly more interested in some parts than in others.
Aaaand it's over. I knew I should have waited until everything was resolved before reading. Now, there's the frustration of having to wait to read the next part. But for a writer, this frustration is good news. Because it means I want to know what comes next. When I mustered up my courage this afternoon, I intended to only read the first (or the first two) updates and finish the rest later, but ultimately once I started reading I couldn't stop until the end. I guess it was a reader's block. Once I overcame the initial blocking, there was nothing stopping me!
And to conclude... Of course there'd be a vehicle rocking back and forth at some point. Thank you Jenna!
No, to conclude on a more serious note, I know I'm very vocal about what I like and what I dislike in your stories. I'm also very vocal about the developments I'd like to see and the ones that'd frustrate me. But in the end, I urge you to write what you want. This is your story, not mine. If you want to use my ideas or my developments or my likings, that's fine. But if you want to do the opposite, that's fine too. I don't want you to feel coerced. In the end, that's what's important.
Wow, that's quite a response! Thanks for catching up on the story.
Sabira is certainly becoming the closest thing to a true villain in the story, and definitely has a touch of the James Bond antagonist in her, as evidenced by her treatment of Zuhal. With Karima written out of the series, I needed someone to fill the role of cruel, calculating villain, and her right-hand henchwoman seemed like the most obvious choice.
As I've stated before, many of the details in these USB stories become more difficult to vary with time - knockouts, bondage techniques, quips, and of course types of disguises. I'm always happy when I can find some new idea that has not been used before. Case in point, I was very surprised to see that a beekeeper uniform had apparently never been used on the board before. It's something of an obscure uniform, but in hindsight it seems so obvious as a disguise, as you point out.
The characters' personalities and growth remain paramount, and I especially tried using the early chapters to highlight the contrasting developments in Bridget, Bobbi, and Felicia. They're on the same mission, but their techniques and attitudes continue to diverge and differentiate. Glad you noticed the background elements (like the moonlight) in those early scenes, as that was a further attempt to lend atmosphere and differentiate the characters and their situations.
And of course, the dialogue remains one of the most crucial aspects. Chandra seems to be getting a lot of the best lines; perhaps it's because she's an independent villainess/anti-heroine who doesn't have much to fear from outside interference and generally adopts a cavalier attitude about mugging women for their clothes. (Same with Harper - she's less of a villain, but quite mean-spirited.) Whereas someone like Bobbi has her quips clouded by what her attitude says about her, and the way she views the women whose uniforms she steals.
The sheer size of your series becomes more and more impressive after each new chapter. While it has the disadvantage of making everything harder to follow, it also allows for good situations - such as women keeping counts on how many times they were mugged, a joke which hasn't gotten old and probably never will.
Yes, the increased size and scope of the series becomes difficult to manage at times. I love introducing new characters, but with these last couple of volumes, I've tried to stick primarily to the established characters without introducing too many new ones - both uniform thieves and victims. It can be tough keeping track of them all at times, but it helps convey the tangible sense that all these characters occupy the same world - and with the sheer amount of uniform thefts happening, it seems likely that some poor women would get their clothes stolen more than once. (Or more than a half-dozen times... poor Ashley...)
Jenna has been one of the few characters introduced in recent volumes whom I've stuck with (along with Harper and Evelyn). Her tireless political crusade to put an end to uniform stealing - no matter how many uniforms she must steal to do it - just appeals to me. She certainly seems like she'd have more of an effect than that consultant.
I will admit here that I wasn't fully satisfied with how Ashley's arc concluded in the last chapter - it was where she had to go, but it seemed to make her resolution a bit too tidy, So I tried to convey her ongoing issues in the early chapters of this volume, such as how the sheer number of times her uniform has been stolen has made her paranoid and suspicious. There's some Greek tragedy to her character, and the way she is always losing her uniform no matter how much she tries, but some humor as well.
It's interesting to see how Bridget and Felicia are evolving. I never hid that, as of late, the kind of moral dilemnas they are facing is one of my favorite tropes. Of course, I'm interested in these parts. Is it me, or is her conversation with Bridget a statement on the evolution of the Board?
More specifically, it's a conversation on the evolution of the series, and how complicated things have become, both in terms of increased danger and stressed relationships. Felicia's friendship with Bobbi was much healthier before Felicia introduced Bobbi to the concept of uniform stealing; now they've grown apart, and Felicia (to some extent) blames her own actions.
Moira and Prema's relationship is also an example of how uniform stealing can change women in a more positive way - not by driving them apart, but by drawing them together. I did not originally intend for them to become romantically involved, but at a certain point it seemed logical. Plus I think they make a cute couple.
Regarding your thoughts on Bobbi, I continue to understand where you're coming from. I'm trying to make her personality and motivations understandable, but also leave enough room for reader interpretation about her motivations, specifically as to how confused she is vs. whether she's just being cruel. Certainly she has a "cruel streak" to her that Felicia lacks, but I try to contrast her from both angles by showing her attitude alongside that of Zuhal, who is more sympathetic to Bobbi despite holding more stoic views about uniform theft.
The contrast between Bobbi and Felicia is a particularly delicate balance, because it is such a central dynamic of the series. Bobbi shouldn't be let off the hook, but she also isn't (yet) at the point where she would face serious consequences. I try to give her moments of sympathy (like with the fisherwoman) to show that she is not truly coldhearted, but also show that she is embracing her role as mugger and uniform thief more than is healthy. By contrast, Felicia is primed to face consequences at a moment where she is now acknowledging the harm she's done in the past, even if she isn't willing to face serious ramifications (i.e. jail time).
I won't say much about the plans for Bobbi and Felicia going forward, but I hope to build both their arcs to a satisfying conclusion. (And hopefully you won't be in suspense for too long in arriving at that conclusion.) In any event, I'm glad you're still reading despite your Bobbi issues. She's only one character after all, and it sounds like there are other characters who are resonating with you more. Which is fine.
I do love these longer, multi-arc stories, and probably always will - in part because there's always room for at least one character to be involved in a uniform stealing scene. It does affect the pacing, but once the storylines are set in motion (around this point), things should be smoother sailing.
And of course there's a vehicle rocking back and forth - wouldn't be a true USB story without it.
No, to conclude on a more serious note, I know I'm very vocal about what I like and what I dislike in your stories. I'm also very vocal about the developments I'd like to see and the ones that'd frustrate me. But in the end, I urge you to write what you want. This is your story, not mine. If you want to use my ideas or my developments or my likings, that's fine. But if you want to do the opposite, that's fine too. I don't want you to feel coerced. In the end, that's what's important.
Thanks a lot. I definitely appreciate all the feedback, and your comments have been really helpful. While it's true that I want to tell the stories I like, I also want to make sure the readers are having a fun time, so the feedback about what is and isn't working absolutely helps me put things in a greater perspective. Without the feedback, for example, Ashely would never have been made into a recurring character, and we would all have been much poorer for it.
Wow, that's quite a response! Thanks for catching up on the story.
Better late than never, I guess.
I won't say much about the plans for Bobbi and Felicia going forward, but I hope to build both their arcs to a satisfying conclusion. (And hopefully you won't be in suspense for too long in arriving at that conclusion.)
Now, these are news that bring a big smile to my face. I'm curious to see where this will end.
I guess it's the wait that's killing me. I know it's the point: Because Bobbi is her best friend, Felicia has a hard time telling her things bluntly and explicitly. But there's this feeling of frustration when I see Felicia being evasive with Bobbi (in substance, unless my memory is faltering, she only tells her it's bad, that their victims are people too, but she never elaborates further), and then seeing her voice to Bridget the excat problem while being explicit on how they hurt people. In that context, I can see why Bobbi chalks things up as Felicia simply trying to guilt-trip her.
In any event, I'm glad you're still reading despite your Bobbi issues. She's only one character after all, and it sounds like there are other characters who are resonating with you more.
Bobbi's subplot is not my favorite arc / part, but I'd say it's the part in which I'm the most invested - if that makes sense. You could say we have a complicated love-hate relationship. In spite of everything, it's still a factor drawing me in the story. (I wouldn't say I have a favorite arc or subplot - my favorite parts of your stories have always been the one-liners, good banters, and witty narrator lines peppered through the chapters; so you can say I have a lot of short favorite parts instead of one big one .) I guess it'll depend on how everything continues.
If I have to be honest, I don't consider your characters the main appeal of your stories - not that they are bland of course. And of course they are one of the appeals. However, if I have to compare with, say, trackman's series, I can easily make my point: I read trackman's stories first and foremost for their characters - they have colourful outrageous larger-than-life personalities: they are comicbook superheroines, Lex-Luthor-like businesswomen, comicbook supervillainesses. What they lose in realism, they make up for in entertainment. In a fiction, I often prefer when the plot and characters have a theatrical bombastic edge: colourful characters, stories of rebellion against tyranny or fantasy quests... By comparison, your characters are a lot more grounded and down to earth. In my opinion, the real star of your stories is the narration (and the one-liners). But I think I already mentioned it some time ago. (Too lazy to check. )
That being said, there is a level of emotional investment I have with the characters of Bobbi, Bridget and Felicia I don't have with many other characters - including mine. Which is already a feat in itself. Getting invested that much in the development of fictional characters, well it's not something that happens with every fiction! But it means I have a special interest as far as these three characters are concerned, which can make me focus on them and not on the rest of the story. The privileges of seniority, you could say!
Take for instance Harper's, Jenna's, and Evelyn's subplot, which I didn't mention much in my previous comment. I like it. They have a good dynamic (the "Nice, Mean, and In-Between" if I quote tv tropes - it's a classic one, but it's a good one - it's not a classic for nothing ). Their dynamic allows for good interactions, good lines, and as I've said before I'm a sucker for plot points which explore the plausible consequences of widespread uniform stealings in a coherent world, so I was already sold for Jenna's subplot and social reflections . And I agree that there's something really interesting in seeing Jenna's crusade to end uniform stealing - no matter how much more uniform she has to steal to stop the practice. I like reading this part, but I'm not as passionate about it, you could say. I do it while keeping a cool head, in a way.
The key difference in my opinion is the context: Harper's character archetype is similar to Bobbi's, but she is an antagonist. She has her own subplot, but as far as the main story is concerned, Harper is an antagonistic force. Therefore, as a reader, I don't have the same contact with her as with Bobbi, who's a protagonist. Plus, Harper doesn't have seniority privilege.
Thanks a lot. I definitely appreciate all the feedback, and your comments have been really helpful. While it's true that I want to tell the stories I like, I also want to make sure the readers are having a fun time, so the feedback about what is and isn't working absolutely helps me put things in a greater perspective. Without the feedback, for example, Ashely would never have been made into a recurring character, and we would all have been much poorer for it.
I'll try to keep on doing it then.
And I agree. Had Ashley remained a one-shot character, we WOULD have been much poorer for it.
I guess it's the wait that's killing me. I know it's the point: Because Bobbi is her best friend, Felicia has a hard time telling her things bluntly and explicitly. But there's this feeling of frustration when I see Felicia being evasive with Bobbi (in substance, unless my memory is faltering, she only tells her it's bad, that their victims are people too, but she never elaborates further), and then seeing her voice to Bridget the excat problem while being explicit on how they hurt people. In that context, I can see why Bobbi chalks things up as Felicia simply trying to guilt-trip her.
It's fair to say that Felicia is having difficulty articulating the issue with Bobbi, in part due to their friendship. The larger problem , though, is that she can't criticize Bobbi's actions without acknowledging that she is also responsible for a lot of mugging and uniform thefts, even if she is less malicious about it. So she can't really call Bobbi out on it until she has absolved herself. But from Bobbi's perspective, Felicia is simply being finicky and hypocritical, and she doesn't get why Felicia is suddenly so uneasy about uniform stealing, considering she used to do it regularly without problem.
If I have to be honest, I don't consider your characters the main appeal of your stories - not that they are bland of course. And of course they are one of the appeals. However, if I have to compare with, say, trackman's series, I can easily make my point: I read trackman's stories first and foremost for their characters - they have colourful outrageous larger-than-life personalities: they are comicbook superheroines, Lex-Luthor-like businesswomen, comicbook supervillainesses. What they lose in realism, they make up for in entertainment. In a fiction, I often prefer when the plot and characters have a theatrical bombastic edge: colourful characters, stories of rebellion against tyranny or fantasy quests... By comparison, your characters are a lot more grounded and down to earth. In my opinion, the real star of your stories is the narration (and the one-liners). But I think I already mentioned it some time ago. (Too lazy to check. )
I get what you mean. I love Trackman's stories, they're very entertaining. But they're obviously more comedic than mine, with more outsized characters. I try to imbue humor and fun into the stories as well, but I also want to prioritize the characters as people - I think it helps the stories and one-liners feel more natural if they match specific personalities.
So it makes sense that the character in my stories would be more investing, even if they're not always more appealing. And I'm very happy people are invested in the characters, beyond just the uniform stealing scenes - to me, they're equally important in crafting a memorable story.
As for Harper vs. Bobbi, it's true that one is more of an antagonist than the other, and one has the benefits of seniority, but it's unclear which one I'd call more antagonistic. After all, Harper works side by side with Jenna, who is revolted by uniform stealing (even if she engages in it). Jenna is technically an antagonist as well, but she is more altruistic than other antagonists (and even some protagonists in the series). I just love shading in and developing the characters like that.
Note: I had to split the latest chapter in two parts. Here's the first.
Lacie yawned slightly as the ballet production began. She was at the rear end of the auditorium, and so did not have a very good view - yet even acknowledging that, she had never been a great fan of ballet.
Still, she of course knew she was not there to watch the production; the theater was paying her to guard the doors against any suspicious activity. And as a professional security guard, that was precisely her intention.
Dressed in standard-issue uniform of light green button-down shirt, dark green tie, black pants, polished black shoes, and dark green leather peaked cap, Lacie certainly looked the part of a professional. A bored professional, as it were - the Gosford theater was typically unexciting, and rarely a place where the security got to prove their worthiness.
Still, it was a job, one that paid the bills for Lacie and her boyfriend. She had tried to keep a more upbeat attitude about her work - especially with the new girl, Ashley, constantly blathering her conspiracy theories about "security guards getting their uniforms stolen" or whatever other nonsense she had read about on the Internet.
Lacie sighed. She felt bad for Ashley, who clearly had some deep-seated issues. Perhaps after work tonight, she would treat the woman to a late cup of coffee and a good conversation. She liked making friends with her coworkers, even the coworkers who seemed a bit stranger than usual.
Lacie's thoughts were interrupted as the ballet reached its first crescendo. In the dim lighting, she saw a woman in usherette uniform approach her.
"Excuse me," the woman said, a note of concern in her voice. "There are some rowdy teenagers outside the theater... armed with spray-paint bottles. Would it be any trouble to detain them?"
Lacie let out a slight sigh, albeit masked with a chuckle. This was probably the most excitement she would have on the job in weeks. "No trouble at all. Lead the way."
She followed the raven-haired woman out of the auditorium, intent on only leaving her post for a minute. After all, how long would it take to detain a group of troublesome teenagers?
Lacie glanced at the woman in usherette uniform as they strode down the hall. "Are you new here? I don't recall seeing you here before."
"Actually, I just started working here tonight," the woman responded as the sounds of the crowd faded into the distance.
"No kidding. Welcome aboard, then," Lacie smiled. "I'm sure you'll find the Gosford theater a great place for an usherette to work."
"Actually, I'm about done with the usherette routine," the woman admitted.
A confused look crossed Lacie's face. "What do you mean? I thought you just started."
"I did," the woman replied. "But a job like mine requires constant change of roles... and even more constant change of clothes. For example, in a few minutes..."
She abruptly whipped an arm around Lacie's neck, tightening the elbow to form a viselike grip.
"...I will be changing into yours."
A startled Lacie opened her mouth to scream in shock, but any sound was blunted by the attacker's free hand.
"There's no need to panic," Evelyn said calmly, as though she were conducting a simple business transaction. "I'm using a professional sleeper hold to render you unconscious. Touching on a few pressure points and minimizing the oxygen intake to your brain. A relatively quick and painless means of subduing anyone - I promise you'll be fine."
Lacie didn't feel fine. She tried struggling - what was going on? Did this woman mention something about changing into her clothes?
"You seem to be about half a size too small for me," Evelyn continued as she dragged the struggling Lacie into a spare closet. "But I suppose I'll have to make do. Your uniform should fit me well enough."
Damn it! Lacie thought to herself, her mind already beginning to cloud over. Ashley was... Ashley was telling... the truth...
"I understand if this situation is not to your liking," Evelyn continued, her voice remaining calm as ever. "However, I need to play the part of security guard at Gosford for the remainder of the evening, and to do so, I will need the full use of both your clothing and position. It's simply part of my job; I apologize for any inconvenience."
Lacie struggled a few moments further, trying to work up the energy to break free. But her efforts were futile. She slumped forward, unconscious in Evelyn's grip.
"Thank you for your cooperation," Evelyn said. She lay the guard down on the ground and began unbuttoning her uniform.
Efficiency proved key to Evelyn's skill. Within minutes, she had reduced the guard to a bronze underwire bra and vanilla hipsters. She then reached for a roll of silver duct tape.
*********************
Chandra strode through the offices of the police station, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone she passed. Though she was now disguised as a policewoman, it was still in her best interests to keep a low profile.
She found an empty desk in a corner cubicle, one that did not seem to be in use that evening, and sat down. She flexed her fingers and began typing at the computer.
"Double password encryption," she murmured. "Guess this might take a few minutes to crack."
She spoke quietly into her communicator. "Baxter, how's it going? I think I can crack the firewall, but it won't be right away."
"That's fine... I need a little time myself," came the response.
Bridget was herself wandering through the lower level of the police complex, navigating her way to the file room. Her footsteps echoed along the corridor; unlike the upstairs bustle, things were rather quiet down in the basement.
Bridget reached the file room and was not surprised to find it locked. Next to the door was a window into the inner office. A young woman sat in a swivel chair at her desk, quietly typing away at a computer that looked twenty years out of date.
Bridget approached the window, smiling at the secretary. "Hi there... I was wondering if you could help me locate a file."
The secretary had light skin and long blonde hair that she did not bother tying back. She wore a dark red skirt-and-jacket combo over an eggshell-white shirt, and black high heels. She pushed her black horn-rimmed glasses up her nose as she looked up at Bridget. "That's what I'm here for... May I see your ID badge?"
Bridget felt herself tense. She had not expected that. "...ID badge?"
"Yes... city policy. We need to confirm the IDs of everyone who sifts through the files here."
Bridget's mind raced. She reached into her jacket, grasping the leather ID badge inside. Of course, the picture of the woman accompanying the badge looked nothing like her... a fact that Bridget did not want made public.
She handed the badge over the countertop, then suddenly dropped it. It landed on the edge of the desk. "Oh! Sorry... I'm a bit clumsy today."
"No problem, miss, I'll get it" The secretary smiled and leaned past the computer to take the badge. In doing so, she had to move closer to Bridget, exposing the back of her neck as she did so.
The blonde frowned suddenly as she looked at the photo ID. "Wait a minute... this is not -- Uurgghh!"
Bridget's neck chop was perfectly placed and perfectly timed. The secretary let out a soft moan and slumped over the desk, unconscious.
Bridget pressed her palms to the counter and pushed herself upward, athletically sliding through the window. She touched the floor gracefully on the other side, then looked at the secretary with sympathy in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, honey... I know you were just doing your job."
She glanced around the file room. Dozens of cabinets, each filled with hundreds of papers and documents. Even using the computer to help, her search would likely take at least twenty or thirty minutes. If someone else should wander in...
She glanced at the slumbering secretary. The woman looked to be about her equal in size and build.
Bridget let out a sigh. "I'm sorry about this too."
She wheeled the swivel chair, with the unconscious blonde still seated in it, over to the file room's closet.
*******************
Ellen sipped her hot cocoa, smiling at Felicia. "So... tell me a little about yourself. How long have you worked at NASA?"
Felicia uneasily turned her own cocoa mug in her hands. "Er... not very long. I've only been there a few times."
"Well, you get used to it pretty quickly," Ellen smiled. "Just keep at it and you'll find that everyone is very accommodating. Granted, we've had some... issues recently..." She made a sour face.
"Issues?" Felicia asked.
"I suppose you've heard about it on the news. One of our top scientists - Julia Chen - had been working to sabotage our agenda. She seemed like such a good and intelligent woman... A little cranky at times, but I never suspected she was so..."
"...evil?" Felicia asked.
Ellen shrugged. "I suppose. I guess you need to be careful who you make friends with. Can't really trust anybody these days."
Felicia nodded. "Yeah... I guess..."
Ellen looked more closely at Felicia. "You know... I could swear there's something familiar about you... Are you sure we haven't met before? I feel like I know your voice..."
Felicia felt her pulse quicken. No doubt this woman did know her voice - from the night Felicia had first encountered her, several months ago.
The night that Felicia had whispered an apology to the woman, while chloroforming her and stealing her uniform.
"I... I don't think so," she stammered. "I mean, I don't think we ever met before last night."
Ellen looked at her strangely. "Honey, is something wrong? You look stressed... agitated."
Felicia shook her head. "No, I... I'm fine," she mumbled.
Ellen's brow furrowed. "Wait... is it because of... the mugging?"
Felicia tried to retain her composure. "Wh-what?"
Ellen leaned in closer, lowering her voice so that her daughter - still playing in the next room - would not hear. "Did you have an incident similar to mine?" she asked. "Did someone attack you... steal your clothes... tie you up?"
Felicia sat in silence, not sure what to say.
"It's all right," Ellen continued. "There's no shame in it. I've spoken to other women - including several of my coworkers at NASA - who have been mugged for their uniforms. Rumor is it actually just happened to a few more of them last night, right at the place we were working... though of course the people in charge want to cover it all up. Don't want to alarm us, i suppose."
She sighed. "There are some evil... twisted women in this world. They love attacking other women, stripping them, tying them up. It may have started as some dumb 'fad', but it's become a widespread obsession these past few years..."
She looked up at Felicia. "If something like that has happened to you... please, don't hesitate to talk to me. I know what you're going through. I hope and pray every day that the horrible woman who attacked me and left me tied up in my underwear for that one awful night is captured and arrested... locked up forever so that she can never harm anyone else."
Felicia felt nauseous. She glanced at her watch. "I... I gotta go. It's getting late."
"So soon? You've hardly touched your cocoa."
"I know... I'm sorry, I really need to go." Felicia stood up to leave. "Thank you so much... have a good night."
Ellen nodded, and stood up as well. "All right... but if you ever feel like talking, my door is always open."
Once outside the house, Felicia allowed herself to breathe again. But the fresh air did little help - she felt awful.
She hated what she had done to that poor woman all those months ago - and she hated what she had trained her best friend to do to countless other women. As far as Felicia was concerned, every woman mugged for her clothes by Bobbi was also her own fault.
She pulled out her phone and tapped out a message to the woman she still wanted to consider her friend - "Bobbi, we need to talk."
*********************
Bobbi felt the phone buzz in her pocket. Her brow furrowed as she glanced down at the home screen.
"Sorry, Felicia... can't talk or text right now," she murmured to herself. "Got some business to attend to..."
She had spent the past twenty minutes combing the Hobson base. Thanks to her stolen factory uniform, no one bothered her or asked any questions, but she was beginning to grow restless. Where was Zuhal?
She had searched a number of the warehouses along the border of the base, to no effect. There was only one left, built some distance from the others.
Bobbi entered the final warehouse cautiously. It appeared empty, with much dimmer lighting than the others. While most of the warehouses in the facility seemed equipped for heavy drilling and exploratory machinery, this one seemed to function more for pure storage.
Bobbi squinted in the poor lighting. She could see a back room, past the oil drums and shipping crates, with a termite-eaten oak door. From behind the door seemed to emanate the sounds of... ticking...
"Hello?" she called out, her voice just above a whisper.
From behind the oaken door came low, muffled sounds... A slow, deliberate groaning...
Bobbi felt her pulse quicken as she stepped forward. "Hello?" she called again, louder this time.
She quickened her pace, nearly tripping over an errant barrel. Cursing beneath her breath, she reached the doorway and pushed it open, trying her best not to fear what could be on the other side.
She gasped. Seated in the center of the small office was a woman, slumped in a rickety chair. Zuhal!
Bobbi raced over to the woman, who appeared languid and out of sorts. "Zuhal! Zuhal, are you okay?"
Zuhal seemed to have been drugged. Her movements were slow, her speech slower. "Brrrmmmmm..."
"What? Who did this to you?" Bobbi placed her hand on Zuhal's cheek, trying to get a closer look at her face.
"Bmmmmmbbbb," Zuhal said again, more loudly this time.
"I'm afraid I don't..."
"Booommmmmbbbb," Zuhal strained to say. There was a note of fear in her eyes that Bobbi had never seen before.
"Bomb?" Bobbi glanced around the room, then looked beneath Zuhal's chair. Her eyes bulged in shock as she saw the small metallic box, its countdown clock now rapidly approaching zero. "Oh my god! Bomb!"
Immediately her finger stabbed out, hitting the "OFF" button on the electronic pad with no more than fifteen seconds to spare. Immediately, the explosive's lights dimmed, and it deactivated.
Bobbi lay back on the floor, her heart pounding. "Oh lord... that was way too close..."
She lay there for several minutes, catching her breath.
Slowly, the movement began to return to Zuhal's limbs. She looked up, head still lolling slightly to one side.
"Bob... bi... help... please..."
Bobbi sat up. "Yes! Right, sorry. I'll help you."
She took her pocket knife and cut through Zuhal's bonds. "What happened? Were you drugged? Who did this to you?"
It took several more minutes of gentle coaxing. But after Bobbi gave Zuhal a few sips from her water bottle, the shaken woman began to feel better. Slowly the color returned to her cheeks, and her speech and motion began to resemble its normal patterns.
"Sabira," Zuhal coughed. "It was Sabira... She kidnapped me..."
Between sips of water, Zuhal explained what had happened to her over the past few hours. Bobbi listened attentively all the while.
Zuhal looked around as she concluded her story. "Where... where exactly the hell are we?"
"On an island off the east coast," Bobbi explained. "One of the islands being used by Hobson Drilling for their industry work. Which is strange, if you think about it... Why would Sabira drag you all the way to an occupied island, rather than just kill you on the mainland?"
Zuhal thought for a moment, then let out a wry laugh. "I think I know," she explained. "The recent corporate scandals that have bubbled to the surface - about Hobson, after their CEO was arrested - reveal that they have some corrupt ties to Cerberus Chemicals, and specifically to Valencia Steele, a woman who double-crossed Karima and Sabira a while back."
Bobbi nodded. "So this is a twisted sort of revenge, on multiple fronts... Sabira is a sick and evil woman. We need to stop her."
"No argument here." Zuhal stood up and stretched. "You have a boat or something to get us back to the mainland?"
"I certainly do," Bobbi replied. "But this is a crowded island, and I don't think the Hobson workers will let you pass through without some serious questions. You'll need to change into a factory uniform to blend in."
Zuhal steadied herself. "I'm still a bit woozy from that drug... Would you mind fetching me a disguise?"
Bobbi grinned. "Be right back."
She exited the room and headed back through the warehouse, poking her head out the entranceway.
As before, the immediate surrounding area was pretty quiet. However, the crunch of bootfalls told Bobbi that another Hobson employee was making the rounds nearby.
The woman was tall and fit, with dark skin and nutmeg-brown hair. Her uniform was similar to the one Bobbi now wore - light blue jumpsuit, heavy brown boots, and orange construction hat. She was lugging a crate into the adjoining warehouse, straining slightly beneath the pressure.
As the worker set the crate down beside the front of the warehouse, she heard a "Psst!" behind her. Looking up, she saw Bobbi beckoning to her from the next warehouse.
"I could use some help," Bobbi called to her. "Do you have a minute?"
The woman brushed her hands against the hips of a jumpsuit. "I dunno... My shift's about to end."
"This will only take a minute, I promise." Bobbi treated the woman to a warm smile. "Pretty please?"
The woman sighed. "Okay, okay. Since you said please."
She stepped over to the doorway where Bobbi was stationed. "Most of the other workers here aren't so polite. I appreciate that you - HEY!"
Her comment was cut short as Bobbi grabbed the scruff of her collar and yanked her into the warehouse.
The uniform was a good fit for Zuhal, as Bobbi had surmised. And it would help her blend in perfectly.
"Ah, this is great... I feel better already." Zuhal grinned appreciatively as she laced up the boots. "You're amazing, Bobbi. You saved my life. Thank you."
Bobbi beamed. "Just happy to help."
"Don't be so modest," Zuhal continued. "You're a true badass for coming here to save me. Plus, you're one of the few people I know who would mug a woman for her clothes on my behalf. I genuinely appreciate it."
She sighed. "To think I once considered you - and Bridget and Felicia - to be my enemies. Can't believe how naïve I was... you're the best friend I've ever had."
Bobbi blushed. She enjoyed the praise that Zuhal doled out to her. It was a nice contrast to the criticism that Felicia had given her recently.
Felicia... her supposed "best friend." Bobbi grimaced; lately, Felicia had not been acting very friendly.
Zuhal checked her watch. "Goodness, it's late. I've been stuck here longer than I thought. Come on, let's get the hell out of here."
Bobbi nodded. "Right this way."
As they exited the warehouse, they passed the hollow oil drum containing the unfortunate Hobson employee - now bound and gagged with black duct tape, clad only in her pink sports bra and grey boyshorts. She moaned loudly as they passed, but Bobbi had by now learned to tune such sounds out.
*********************
Ashley crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently.
The ballet recital had only been going on for a few minutes, but she was already tired. Thus far, nothing of interest had happened - certainly not enough to warrant her attention as a security guard.
Oh, stop being silly, she thought to herself. It was ridiculous for her to expect that every night working as a security guard would bring some sort of conflict or danger. Most security guards - even those unlucky enough to get mugged for their uniforms - spent most of their evenings in humdrum circumstances, simply keeping watch without lifting a finger.
Ashley sighed to herself. Her streak of bad luck while working as a security officer had not only made her paranoid, it had made her restless. Simply standing in the back of an auditorium, watching a slow-moving ballet from a distance, she was... bored.
"Excuse me..."
Ashley glanced up to see a woman in usherette uniform approaching her. She had light skin, red hair, and an uneasy smile.
"I beg your pardon," the woman said in a professional voice. "But there's a problem with one of the toilets. Could you come take a look?"
Immediately, the alarm bells began flashing in Ashley's head.
This is like the woman in the lobby earlier! Trying to trick me into following her so she can get me alone and then steal my--
Then Ashley paused, and remembered that the woman who had approached her earlier that day had not been trying to trick her, and that the toilet had indeed been having problems. She was simply all too eager to jump to conclusions.
Ashley signed inwardly, then smiled at the usherette. "Sure, of course. Let's check it out."
She followed the usherette out of the auditorium and down a long hallway.
Toilet repair isn't the most glamorous job for a security guard... but someone's gotta do it... Hey, wait a minute...
Ashley had not been working at the Gosford long, but the hallway they were walking down was unfamiliar to her. At the very least, she did not think it housed any toilets.
Her radar picked up again. This woman was trying to trick her!
Ashley eyed the usherette closely. Or... was she really an usherette? Gosford required its employees keep their uniforms neatly pressed at all times. But this woman's uniform was slightly rumpled around the sleeves and collar. It did not seem absurd to suspect that she had attacked a real usherette, the stripped her out of the clothes and donned them herself. That would explain the wrinkles...
The redhead stopped at a door at the end of the hall. She opened it into a dark room. "There, right inside..." She gestured to Ashley.
Ashley knew there were no toilets in the room, and that all but confirmed her suspicions. This woman was an imposter, laying a trap.
She put on a warm smile. "Of course, I'll check it out..."
She stepped past the usherette into the room - which now appeared to be a modestly sized storage closet - fully aware of what was about to happen.
Then she cleared her throat. "Hey... there's no toilet in here," she said, as if reading from a script.
She could hear the "usherette" enter the room and shift in position behind her, preparing to strike.
With speed that surprised even herself, Ashley ducked out of the woman's grip, then whirled around, pulling her gun from her holster.
"Freeze," she growled.
Jenna looked startled, her eyes widening as she suddenly found herself looking down the gun barrel. "What... how..."
"Gotcha," Ashley grinned. "Thought I was just another helpless and naïve security guard, didn't you? Thought you could attack me and steal my uniform, did you? Well, think again."
Jenna tried to regain her composure. "I... I wasn't..."
"Don't lie to me," Ashley growled. "I've been down this road before... plenty of times. You're a woman about my size, and you just tried to attack me. It's because you want my uniform, isn't it? Isn't it?"
"I just..." Jenna had not anticipated this, at all. "I mean, I wasn't going to hurt you... I only..."
"Only what?" Ashley was genuinely angry at this point. "Only going to borrow my clothes? Is that all? You should be ashamed of yourself."
Jenna started to cry.
Ashley's look immediately changed from anger to surprise. "What...?"
"I am ashamed of myself," Jenna sobbed. "Of course I'm ashamed."
She sat down on a wooden crate, still crying. "What is wrong with me? I can't believe this..."
A suspicious look crossed Ashley's face. Was this a trick? Was the woman trying to get her to lower her guard?
No... if this was a performance, the woman deserved an Oscar. She looked genuinely sorry.
Ashley's look softened. "What's... what's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" Jenna asked incredulously. "I just tried attacking you with the intent of stealing your clothes and tying you up. That's what's wrong! My whole life has gone wrong."
She took a breath. "My whole life, I was taught to respect women... To fight the battle against sexism... To push for equality in jobs and opportunities. I believed that women could do any job, wear any uniform they wanted. But lately... I've been trying to tear it all down." She started sobbing again.
Ashley lowered her gun. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to Jenna. "Here, take this."
"Thank you," Jenna sniffed. She dabbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry... I've just been through so much these last few weeks... Trying to fight against the scourge of uniform stealing that's run amok in our society. Every day, more women are attacked, stripped, tied up - simply because they were wearing the right clothes at the wrong time. I can't stand what it does to the perception of women in the workforce... and yet I've become part of the problem."
She took another breath. "A few weeks ago, I was like you," she explained. "I was a security guard, working at an airfield. Then one day, my coworkers and I were attacked - mugged for our uniforms, tied up... almost killed, actually. Ever since then, our lives have been different... Now we keep finding ourselves in situations where we end up stealing other women's clothes. One of my coworkers actually loves it - she takes some sadistic pleasure in beating up women and stripping them. But I know it's wrong. I know it needs to stop, for the sake of feminism everywhere... And yet I keep doing it."
She let out a wry laugh. "It's like I'm constantly stuck in a cycle of situations that demand that I steal another woman's wardrobe... Do you know how crazy that is?"
Ashley sat down beside her. "Actually, I do."
Jenna looked at her in confusion.
"I've been down this road before," Ashley explained. "I've had my clothes stolen... five times already. It's driving me nuts, and yet... here I am. Still working as a security guard. Basically waiting for another woman to try and mug me so that I can show her up."
She put a hand on Jenna's shoulder. "But... you're not like the other women who tried to mug me."
"I'm worse," Jenna countered. "I'm a coward. I know this is wrong, but I keep doing it anyway. Earlier today, I even infiltrated the mayor's office, in order to raise attention about the damage done from all these uniform thefts. But I had to mug two women for their clothes to get inside! Talk about irony..." She let out another choked laugh.
"You were in the mayor's office?" Ashley asked.
Jenna nodded. "The only way to stop these uniform thieves is through legislative action. But I can't stop myself - my friends and I are now stuck working for a very powerful woman, and she concocted this nutty plan that involves having us infiltrate the Gosford. I didn't want to strip that usherette, and I don't want to hurt you... But I'll be in serious trouble if my boss gets angry."
Ashley thought for a moment. Then she stood up, and began unbuttoning her jacket.
Jenna looked up at her, wiping away the last of her tears. "What... what are you doing?"
"You want my uniform, don't you?" Ashley asked. "Well, you got me. I surrender."
She removed the jacket, then bent down and began unlacing her boots.
Jenna held up a hand. "Stop... No, keep your clothes on. I don't want to steal them anymore..."
"Why not?" Ashley asked. "You need a security guard uniform. I'm the proper size. My uniform should fit you pretty well."
"But it's your uniform," Jenna argued. "You earned it. You worked hard to get the job, to wear it proudly. I have no right to take it from you."
"It's like you said," Ashley replied as she pulled off her boots. "You're stuck in a cycle that requires you to steal uniforms. I'm stuck in a cycle that requires me to get my uniform stolen. It's not fun for either of us, but that's the way our lives have gone."
:But it doesn't have to be this way," Jenna protested. "The government..."
"...might do something about it," Ashley finished. "They might. I hope you succeed in putting a permanent end to uniform stealing. But in the meantime, the cycle continues. And I have to be honest... I'd much prefer getting my outfit stolen by a polite woman like you, instead of some of the creeps wo have mugged me in the past."
Jenna stood up. "Please... I don't want to steal your uniform..."
"You don't have a choice," Ashley said, unbuttoning her shirt. "I'm giving you an opportunity here. Either take my uniform, or I'll call the cops and have you arrested."
Jenna hesitated. "But..."
"I think you're a good person," Ashley continued. "Don't prove me wrong."
Jenna fell silent. Then she nodded. "Okay... okay, fine. I'll borrow your uniform."
"No, you'll steal it," Ashley corrected. "This isn't a rental, after all."
Jenna nodded again. "Okay... okay, I'll steal your uniform. But you'll be the last one... After this, I'll never steal another woman's clothes again."
"That's great," Ashley smiled. "I knew you were a good person."
By this point, she had stripped down to her peach-colored underwire bra and cerulean bikini panties.
"You'll need to bind and gag me," she continued. "There's some duct tape and zip-ties in this closet. Try not to make it too tight."
Jenna looked peculiarly at Ashley again, but decided not to say anything. She retrieved the black tape and white plastic zip-ties from an upper shelf.
Ashley crossed her wrists behind her back. "Come on, hurry up."
Jenna looped one of the zip-ties around Ashley's wrists and pulled it tight. "I'm sorry if that hurt," she said with a wince.
"You don't need to apologize to me," Ashley responded. "You're by far the most honest and corteous woman to ever mug me for my uniform. I should be thanking you."
"Please don't," Jenna muttered as she secured Ashley's ankles. Despite the guard's cool demeanor, Jenna found something strangely off-putting about her.
It was almost a relief when she could finally smooth the duct tape over Ashley's lips, thus bringing the debate and discussion about uniform thievery to a proper close.
Jenna sat the bound-and-gagged Ashley in a corner of the storeroom. "There... you shouldn't be too uncomfortable here. Someone should find you by morning."
Ashley nodded. "Mmmm-hmmmm."
Jenna then dressed in Ashley's uniform, pulling on the jacket and lacing up the boots. She had just finished putting the final touches on her disguise when her earpiece crackled in.
"Jenna," Evelyn's voice came through. "Where are you? Were you able to subdue the guard and grab her uniform?"
Jenna glanced back at Ashley, who sat peacefully in the corner of the storeroom, a calm expression on her face.
"Er... yes," she said into her communicator. "I've... stolen her uniform and tied her up. I'm on my way back now."
She touched the name badge on her new security uniform, noting the name "ASHLEY" emblazoned on it.
"Thank you, Ashley," she said to the guard. "Thank you for listening. I've been wanting to have an honest conversation with someone about all this for so long... really, thank you."
Ashley nodded understandingly.
"And I promise you this," Jenna continued. "After this night is over, I'll do everything in my power to put an end to uniform stealing in this city. You'll never have to worry about getting mugged for your clothes again."
Ashley nodded once more.
With a last glance at the bound-and-gagged guard, Jenna exited the storeroom, softly closing the door behind her.
Note: This is the second part of the latest chapter. Be sure to read the previous post before this one.
Chandra's eyes scanned the hundreds of files on the screen before her, brow furrowed in concentration. The names and numbers seemed endless.
Then her eyes lit up. "Jackpot."
She clicked on a file marked "SVR." This has to be on Russian intelligence.
Indeed it was. There were multiple case files on the subject, some dating back several years. Chandra clicked on one of them.
A document popped up, detailing a case from over thirty years earlier. Some female Russian agents had infiltrated an American political summit to gather information. Apparently, they had subdued a few of the waitresses, tied them up, and used their uniforms to gain access. The agents had never been caught, and their presence was only made clear after the event's conclusion, when the real waitresses were discovered, bound and gagged in their underwear, inside an unmarked van.
Chandra chuckled to herself. "Wow... Russian women were stealing uniforms before it was cool."
She sorted the documents by date, then clicked on some of the more recent files. In recent weeks, the SVR had apparently set up a base in one of the smaller, poorer districts at the south end of the city. Any investigations by the police had been met with resistance, as the Russian agents apparently had been able to bribe some lawmakers higher up the chain.
Chandra pursed her lips in thought. Perhaps this could be her lead to finding Sonja...
On a whim, she decided to check out one more lead. She did a quick search through the files for "Lucille Weldon-Grant." After all, she was still curious about locating the prison where her former boss was held.
No results came up pertaining to a prison, but Lucille apparently had more connections to some of the other wealthy bigwigs in the state than she had let on. She had apparently been implicated in another ongoing investigation involving a wealthy female benefactor.
Chandra covertly used a small portable thumb drive to download the files of interest to her. While doing so, she whispered into her comm-link. "Baxter, how's it going down there?"
******************
"Pretty smooth so far," Bridget responded. She had just exited the file room closet, dressed in the clerk's red dress and heels. "I had a slight conflict..."
She glanced, somewhat guiltily, back at the closet, where the real clerk had been secured. Clad only in her pink triangle bra and aqua hipsters, she was bound with white cables and gagged with black tape.
"...but I took care of it," Bridget finished. "I'm going to explore the files now. Were you able to hack into one of the computers?"
"Piece of cake," Chandra chuckled. "So, what are we looking for?"
"I'll know when I see it," Bridget responded. "Can you run a search on Mabel Drake? See if she had any enemies... Anyone who would want to attack her."
"No problem." Chandra's fingers danced across the keyboard. She smiled softly to herself - infiltration and disguise were certainly fun, but there was something special about returning to her old-fashioned skills at computer hackery.
"I'll go searching through some hard-copy files in the meantime," Bridget said.
She stepped gingerly past a few file cabinets, arranged in alphabetical order, eyeing each one in turn before she settled on the one marked with the letter "C."
She opened the drawer and began rifling through the folders within. "Charles... Chasten... here it is, Chen."
She pulled out a folder marked "Chen, Julia." It was a few years old, predating the doctor's criminal misgivings at NASA.
Bridget's brow furrowed. She hadn't known that Dr. Chen was involved in any sort of illegal activities before her attempt to hijack the space shuttle.
Bridget flipped through the file. The contents were meager, but she did catch repeated references to something called "Project Pluto."
"Chandra," she said into her comms. "See if you can find anything in the database about Project Pluto."
"Pluto?" Chandra said with a chuckle. "Like the dog from the Disney cartoons?"
"Just give it a look," Bridget urged. "And hurry - we should get out of here soon."
********************
Activity swirled all around the little island - machines clanked, gears shifted, drills whirred.
Bobbi and Zuhal walked past it all, keeping their heads low.
"So how do we get off the island?" Zuhal whispered.
"The way we came," Bobbi replied. "I've got a speedboat moored to the docks."
"You rented a boat?" Zuhal inquired. "At this hour?"
"Can't say I 'rented' it," Bobbi admitted. "I mugged a fisherwoman for her clothes, then pretended I needed a boat for fishing."
"And it sounds like they fell for it... hook, line, and sinker," Zuhal couldn't resist replying.
Bobbi groaned. "I respect a lot about you, Zuhal... but a comedienne you're not."
"Just trying to lighten the mood," Zuhal responded. "But seriously, much respect to you, darling. I'm really flattered by how many women you were willing to mug in order to rescue me."
Bobbi blushed. "It was no big deal... Stealing other women's clothes is pretty much part of my daily life now."
Zuhal grinned. "Excellent... You remind me of myself when I was your age... So full of energy, so eager to prove to the world that you're a strong woman willing to kick ass and steal clothes."
Bobbi nodded. "If only Felicia would understand..."
"Understand what?"
"She thinks I've gotten too obsessed with mugging and stripping other women," Bobbi explained. "I think she's been having some self-doubts lately... She's grown more hesitant about hurting innocent people when we're working undercover. And she sometimes tells me that I got too far."
Zuhal shrugged. "Felicia's a nice girl, but she doesn't understand women today. You can't get very far in this world by being nice. You gotta be tough, take charge... and that means being willing and able to mug civilians whenever the need arises."
Bobbi nodded. "I know... But..."
Zuhal put a finger to her lips. "Shh... Keep quiet till we get past the foreman."
The foreman had indeed noticed the two women walking towards the edge of the drilling site - but given that they were dressed in standard company-issue uniforms, he made no comment.
Once they had put some distance between themselves and the drilling site, Zuhal turned back to Bobbi. "Sorry... you were saying?"
Bobbi shrugged. "I just... Felicia is my best friend, you know? I don't want to lose her."
Zuhal patted Bobbi on the shoulder. "I know exactly what you mean... But like I said, our line of business is tough. It's not always easy getting our friends to understand... and if they end up antagonizing you over your decisions, perhaps they aren't really your friends at all."
Bobbi nodded. "I... I guess."
Zuhal squinted towards the shore in the distance. "That's your boat, isn't it?"
"Yes..."
"Great. Let's hop in and get the hell off this rock."
Zuhal jogged gingerly over to where the boat was moored. Bobbi followed, trudging through the deep, heavy sands.
********************
Bridget and Chandra convened a block away from the police station and headed for the parking lot.
"Did you have the information on Project Pluto?" Bridget asked.
With a flourish, Chandra handed her a flash drive. "Right here. Not a bad job, if I do say so myself."
Bridget took the flash drive, slipping it into her pocket. "Great... and thank you."
Chandra grinned. "No problem. Thanks for your help as well."
Bridget nodded. The two women were silent for a moment, an awkward chill hanging in the air.
"So... what happens now?" Bridget asked. "I don't suppose you still plan on hunting me and my friends down?"
Chandra held up a hand dismissively. "I still don't like you... but I admit I couldn't have gotten this far without your help. As far as I'm concerned, the past is the past."
Bridget nodded again. "Glad to hear that. Good luck finding your friend."
Chandra smiled. "Good luck finding the Disney dog."
Bridget rolled her eyes, but gave a wry grin as she walked towards the parking garage.
As Bridget disappeared through the garage doorway, Chandra crossed her arms, shaking her head to herself. Geez... Here I am, making friends with that goody two-shoes reporter... Better forget that ever happened.
She had memorized the info from the computer screen - it was a slim lead, but the best chance she had of finding Sonja. And there was no sense in hesitating.
Chandra turned to go - when a sound from the nearby bushes caught her attention. She raised her eyebrows in suspicion. "What...?"
The sounds of moaning and whimpering - faint, but unmistakable. Curiously, Chandra stepped over to the bushes and peered behind them.
Lying in the dirt, hidden from outside view, was a trembling young woman with light skin and pink hair. She wore a dark blue demicup bra and turquoise high-waist panties. Her wrists and ankles were bound with brown cords, and her mouth was gagged with a white rag.
Chandra knelt down beside the woman. "I don't recall us mugging any pink-haired ladies tonight. Who the hell are you?"
"Mmmmpppphhh!" was the girl's inevitable response.
"Take it easy there," Chandra said. She hooked a finger under the girl's gag and pulled it downward.
The girl gasped for air. "My... my name is Janice," she said. "I was attacked... Some insane woman grabbed me, beat me up... I woke up like this, she took my uniform..."
"What uniform?" Chandra pressed.
"I'm a parking attendant... I work at the garage..." The woman was trying to catch her breath.
"Parking attendant?" Chandra's mind flared up with suspicion. Why would someone want to disguise themselves in a parking attendant uniform?
A though entered her mind - was someone after Bridget? It wouldn't be the first time, as Chandra well knew...
"I'm so glad you came, officer," Janice gasped. "You'll arrest her, won't you?"
"Huh?" Chandra looked down and realized she was still wearing a police uniform.
"Oh... Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not really a policewoman."
"What?" Janice gave a confused look. "I don't understand... But look, if you'll just untie me, I... mmmppphhh!"
Chandra retied the woman's gag. "I know this is a rough night for you, dear, but just sit tight, okay? Maybe a real police officer will find you... after I've gotten far away from this area."
Leaving the angrily squirming woman to moan further into her gag, Chandra returned to the sidewalk. She bit her lip hesitatingly. Was Bridget in trouble?
If so, it wasn't any of Chandra's business. After all, Bridget had been a persistent thorn in her side - true, she had been helpful on this one night, but that was it. In the long run, the world was probably better off with one less nosy reporter in the picture...
Then again, Bridget had legitimately helped Chandra just now, in her quest to find her best friend...
Chandra sighed. "Goddamn it... I must be getting soft..."
She spoke into her earpiece. "Baxter? Hey, are you still there?"
*******************
Bridget had returned to her car, parked in a quiet corner of the garage. She unlocked it and slid inside.
As she turned the ignition, Chandra's voice buzzed in her ear. Bridget had neglected to remove the earpiece.
"Baxter? Hey, are you still there?" Chandra sounded nervous. "Come on, answer."
Bridget wasn't sure what was going on, but she saw no harm in responding. "Yes? What's up?"
"I think it's a trap!" Chandra's voice was loud, forceful. "Don't get in your car!"
"What?" Bridget froze, looking down at the ignition. She heard a faint sound... Was it a beeping?
It was a beeping... First slow... then faster...
Bridget leaped from her car, hitting the ground and rolling along the hard pavement. She dove for cover behind a nearby pickup truck.
The explosion was swift and sudden, and incredibly potent. From behind the truck, Bridget watched in horror as her vehicle ignited in a fireball of flame, incinerating the seats and upholstery.
Her heart pounded as she stared at the flaming metal husk of her car, now charred black and beyond repair. Had she been inside even five seconds longer...
Chandra's voice again came in over the earpiece. "Bridget, are you there? Are you okay?"
Voice shaking, Bridget tried to respond. "I... I'm alive..."
But I'm definitely not okay...
********************
As a teenager, Harper had hated the ballet classes. Her mother had forced her through them, assuming they would build her daughter's character and enhance her femininity. But generally they just left Harper feeling annoyed and resentful.
Still, all these years later, performing up onstage alongside a group of professional ballerinas - none of whom had yet suspected she was an imposter - Harper had to admit there was something liberating about ballet. The freedom of the tunic, the way it allowed her to spread her limbs and treat her body as one perfectly-crafted musical instrument - all that gave her a phenomenal feeling of control, the likes of which she hadn't tasted before.
So it was almost disappointing when intermission arrived, and the curtain fell, separating Harper from her adoring audience.
Shrugging off the brief thrill of the crowd, she spoke quietly into her communicator. "Evelyn, I think I spotted one of the targets while onstage... The blonde lady. Moira, I think her name is. She's in the third row, close to the left aisle."
"Perfect," Evelyn responded. "Did you see Bridget as well?"
"There's a woman sitting next to Moira who might be Bridget... hard to say for sure. But they were definitely whispering to one another during the show."
"Perfect... okay, so now we've confirmed where they are, the rest should be easy. How quickly can you make it around to the side of the building?"
"Shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes..." Harper glanced around. "But do you think we could hold off for a bit? I was really loving the dance routine... and the show's only half over!"
"Sorry, Harper... You'll need to find time for ballet later. Right now, we need to focus on the plan."
"Okay, okay..."
*********************
Evelyn spotted Jenna at the east end of the auditorium, dressed in a security guard uniform. She had her arms crossed, and did not look happy.
"Jenna, good work," Evelyn said into her communicator from across the room. "That uniform is a good fit on you. Did you need to knock the real guard unconscious, or were you able to acquire her clothes another way?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Jenna grumbled.
"Very well, then," Evelyn shrugged. "We now need to proceed to the next phase of the plan. Moira and Bridget are in the third row, by the leftmost aisle. Now is your turn to shine."
Silence at the other end of the line.
"Jenna, are you listening?"
"Yes, I'm listening," Jenna replied. "I'm just... thinking, is all."
"Well, you'll need to think later. Now is the time to focus on the mission. Harper and I will be waiting by the side exit. Give us ten minutes before making your move."
"Copy that..."
Jenna absent-mindedly toyed with the name badge pinned to her uniform. She ran her fingers over the gold-embossed lettering of the name. ASHLEY.
*********************
Evelyn met Harper in the alley behind the Gosford theater. The latter was shivering slightly.
"Damn this cold," Harper grumbled. "This outfit has no insulation."
"It was your idea to dress as a ballerina in the first place," Evelyn pointed out. "Now hush... I think I hear something."
She peeked around the corner. "Ah, perfect," she whispered. "They're right on schedule."
"They" in question referred to the laundry van that had now parked by the side of the alley, near the stage exit. Evelyn had done her research beforehand; the van was always parked there during any big production night, with the workers commissioned by the theater to take all the used and dirty costumes for cleaning after every show.
Luck was with Harper and Evelyn - the two laundry attendants on duty this evening were both women, and both of adequate size and build. They were dressed in matching white uniforms - cotton shirts, long pants, and sneakers. The driver was a light-skinned woman with close-cropped blonde hair; her coworker was an Asian woman with ponytailed black hair.
Both women were standing outside the vehicle, sharing a couple of cigarettes. They seemed indifferent to the fact that anyone was watching them.
"So far, so good," Evelyn whispered. "How should we subdue them?"
Harper grinned, her white teeth gleaming. "Leave that to me."
Assuming the graceful pose of the ballerina she was masquerading as, she stepped out and strode down the alley toward the laundry attendants.
"Good evening, ladies," she said with a broad smile. "How are you on this lovely night?"
The attendants looked confused. "Shouldn't you be inside, dancing in the show?" the dark-haired woman asked.
"Oh, it's intermission... and I like to step outside to practice my moves." Harper did her best to hide the gleam in her eye. "Would you like to see me practice?"
"Actually, we need to start working in a few minutes..." the blonde replied.
"Perfect! This will only take a few minutes." Harper stepped closer to the women and put her hands on her hips. "Observe."
She raised her arms up slowly, and bent her knees in opposing directions. Then she rose up again, lowering her arms. Rising up on tiptoes, she brought her right foot upward toward her left knee and began to spin.
She twirled about several times, rhythmically, almost hypnotically. The laundry attendants were transfixed.
Then, without warning, Harper stuck her right foot all the way out. Spinning with momentum, she hit both women in their jaws.
SWOK-THWOK!
With twin groans, the laundry attendants collapsed on the ground.
Harper stopped spinning and smiled down at the two unconscious women. "I hope you liked my show, girls... Personally, I think it's a knockout."
Evelyn stepped from her position and approached her. "That was well done, Harper... though needlessly complicated."
Harper gave a low curtsy. "What can I say? Stealing clothes is an art... and I am an artist."
"Well, don't let Jenna hear you say that," Evelyn said, glancing down at the two laundry attendants. "Come on, let's get into their uniforms."
*********************
Most of the guests had stepped out of the auditorium during intermission. But two women in the third row remained seated.
Moira squeezed Prema's hand as she leaned over to her seat. "So, honey... how are you enjoying the show so far?"
Prema blushed slightly, and drew her hand away. "It's... nice. Really nice. Thank you."
A look of concern crossed Moira's face. "Prema, are you okay? You've been acting strange tonight."
"I'm fine," Prema said, a bit too quickly. "I'm perfectly fine."
She smiled at Moira. "Really, this has been a lovely night. Thank you so much for inviting me."
Moira grinned. "My pleasure."
She looked around. "Do you think we should stretch our legs? The show won't return for another few minutes."
Prema was about to respond when their conversation was interrupted by a newcomer.
A tall, red-haired woman in a security uniform walked up the aisle, stopping at their seats.
"Evening, ladies," she said. "Might one of you be Moira Mills?"
Moira nodded. "That's me... Is there something wrong?"
"I'm afraid your car is being towed," the guard said.
"What?" Moira gave a start. "That's impossible. I left my car with the valet..."
"Unfortunately, he parked it in an illegal zone," the guard replied. "If you'll come with me, we can still retrieve it."
"Well, some nerve!" Moira said, standing up. "I left him a generous tip, too. Come on," she motioned to Prema. "Let's get my car before the city impounds it."
Prema nodded. As she stood up, however, something caught her eye. The security guard's nametag - it read "ASHLEY."
Prema's brow furrowed. She had seen another theater guard with that nametag earlier in the evening - but that Ashley had been a brunette, not a redhead. Did Gosford just happen to employ two security guards with the same first name, or...?
"Lead the way," Moira told the guard, grasping Prema's hand.
Prema forgot her thoughts about nametags as she felt the warmth of Moira's hand around her own. She followed the guard and Moira toward the auditorium exit.
"Right this way," the guard beckoned them down a quiet hall to a side door. "This is the quickest route to the road."
She opened the door and allowed Moira and Prema to step outside.
Moira glanced around. They were in an alleyway behind the theater, with no one around but a pair of laundry attendants next to a parked vehicle.
Moira glanced back at the guard. "This doesn't seem right... This isn't the way to the road."
Jenna shut the exit from the outside. "No, I'm afraid it isn't."
It was then that Moira and Prema caught a glimpse behind some nearby trash cans. Two women lay unconscious there, tied and gagged with what appeared to be white laundry rags. A blonde woman in pink bikini bra and matching seamless panties, and a brunette in a grey T-shirt bra and mulberry boyshorts.
The two ballet guests suddenly realized that they had been led into a trap. But before they could do anything, the two "laundry attendants" sprang into action. Chloroform-soaked pads were clamped over Moira and Prema's noses and mouths, and strong hands seized their arms from behind.
"Apologies for this, girls," Evelyn said in her usual calm voice. "Being kidnapped isn't fun... but we'll try to make it painless."
"Yes, we will... but only because you insist upon it," Harper added wryly.
Moira had gotten a rather large whiff of chloroform right away, and her strength was already fading.
But Prema was starting to panic. No... not again! I can't get kidnapped again! What kind of sick joke is the world playing on me?
She struggled mightily, trying to break free. But Harper's strength clearly left her outmatched.
"Easy, Bridget... you're not going anywhere," Harper chortled. "Don't force me to get rough - I assure you I will if I have to."
She... she thinks I'm Bridget? Prema's eyes widened. No... no! This is all a mistake! Please, let me explain! Let me go! Please...
However, there was no way for Prema to explain anything with the chloroform pad firmly over her face. She continued struggling a few moments more, before unconsciousness at last overtook her.
Harper let out a breath. "Wow... this Baxter girl's a wildcat."
Evelyn lowered the equally unconscious Moira to the ground. "No time for chitchat. Let's tie them up and get moving. Jenna, keep a lookout."
Jenna kept watch for any signs of company, saying little while Evelyn and Harper tied up Moira and Prema with black cables and gagged them with grey tape.
As the two captured women were loaded into the rear of the laundry van, Jenna spoke. "Ms. Caldwell's not going to hurt them, is she?"
"She says she won't," Evelyn replied. "We'll just have to take her word for it."
Jenna glanced at the two unconscious women behind the trash cans. "Was it really necessary to mug and strip the laundry attendants?"
Harper tossed the slumbering Prema into the rear of the van, then turned back to Jenna. "No, darling... No, it wasn't." She grinned smugly.
Jenna's cheeks turned hot, and she felt her hands curl into fists. "You..."
Evelyn snapped her fingers. "Come on, you two. We don't want to be late."
She stepped behind the wheel of the van. Harper climbed into the passenger seat. After some hesitance, Jenna clambered into the rear of the van with the two prisoners, seating herself on a large laundry bag.
Evelyn started the ignition and began driving down the alley. Jenna kept her lips pursed as she glanced down at the two unconscious prisoners, then occasionally to Harper.
having said that loving the characters questioning their morals and i think pointing to a conclusion of putting an end to uniform stealing in this particular saga ......
What an absolutely wonderful new addition to the story.
First off, the whole scene with Evelyn taking out Lacie was so perfect. We start off with traditional "bored guard" situation. And of course its fun that Lacie thinks Ashley's ideas about uniform stealing is just a weird conspiracy theory.
Evelyn's interaction with Lacie is wonderful. Starting off of course with the story to trick her and then the great dialogue during the knockout. I love how Evelyn actual describes what the sleeper hold is doing: ""I'm using a professional sleeper hold to render you unconscious. Touching on a few pressure points and minimizing the oxygen intake to your brain. A relatively quick and painless means of subduing anyone - I promise you'll be fine." Very cool idea of having her describe the technique to Lacie. I like that the "professional" sleeper hold not only reduces the blood flow but also works the pressure points in Lacie's neck.
I also really liked the description of Lacie's struggles: "Lacie struggled a few moments further, trying to work up the energy to break free. But her efforts were futile. She slumped forward, unconscious in Evelyn's grip."
Bridget's take out of the secretary was great too. I like the old drop something to distract the victim and knock her out. And it had the added touch of making the secretary lean down and expose her neck to the perfect neck chop. I also like the description of how blonde moaned and slumped to her desk. Something really sexy about that. And fun that Bridget used the woman's rolling chair to move her to place to strip her.
And fun comment from Bridget: ""I'm sorry, honey... I know you were just doing your job." Almost reminds me of Sydney apologizing to Debbie the waitress in the famous uniform steal from Alias.
Then there is the Ashley scene. Ashley is such a fun character. Love how she decided to give Jenna the uniform and even tells Jenna to tie her up.
The knockout of the two laundry attendants was neat too. Harper's method was fantastic. I love the idea of the two women standing transfixed by her performance only to have Harper without warning hit them both with her foot. Loved her comment: ""I hope you liked my show, girls... Personally, I think it's a knockout."
:
One scene I sympathize with her (the one with the fisherwoman); the next one I feel more dislike than ever when I read she's perfectly fine with what she's becoming.
