Yes, the abrupt cliffhanger was not my preferred "commercial break" for the last part, but it worked well for spacing conditions.
I guess it's also because there was enough time in-between the two posts to allow readers to imagine potential scenarios - as I mentioned in my previous post, Felicia being hurt (or even killed) at that exact moment would have been a very interesting scenario. Therefore, when the story chooses the more classic path, the outcome of the cliffhanger looks unsatisfying.
But indeed it really felt like the cliffhanger right before a commercial break or an episode's end in a sitcom.
...
... Now I'm imagining a sitcom version of the story... Complete with awkward canned laughters and stilted acting...
Felicia: Bobbi. Did you have to mug the thirteen employees of this bakery?
Bobbi: Well, I just wanted a... baker's dozen! (canned laughter)
It's true, Ms. Caldwell's employees aren't very smart. But what they lack in brains, they make up for in fighting experience... or they would, if they hadn't been so easily taken down before they could fight. Oh well...
Oops.
I was going to have Fernanda taken out in a similar way, but I didn't want to make it feel too routine, so Zuhal ends up clobbering her with a vase. Some variety.
It's working too! It's working too! (Around 2:05.)
Thanks for your comments. No promises, but I'll try to have the epilogue out within the next couple of weeks.
You're welcome. I'm looking forward for the final part. I didn't mention it in the first comment, but I was intrigued by some of the trails you left - such as what exactly Jenna saw in that magazine...
Last edited by rufusluciusivan on Sun May 21, 2023 7:07 am, edited 1 time in total.
... Now I'm imagining a sitcom version of the story... Complete with awkward canned laughters and stilted acting...
Felicia: Bobbi. Did you have to mug the thirteen employees of this bakery?
Bobbi: Well, I just wanted a... baker's dozen! (canned laughter)
Oh no... I hope my characters' humor never reaches that level.
You're welcome. I'm looking forward for the final part. I didn't mention it in the first comment, but I was intrigued by some of the trails you left - such as what exactly Jenna saw in that magazine...
Yes, that's a little tease for the epilogue, which will in turn set up Volume 7. Got a few more fun reveals before the story is over...
Sorry Tirepanted,I've always wondered if the To Steal a Spacesuit saga is set in the same universe as "The Greatest Actress of All", The Spy in Sunglasses etct etct
Good question. I've never really thought of the stories as being part of a "shared universe", at least not officially. The only time I tried a crossover was in "To Steal a Sports Team" when a few characters from "The Greatest Actress of All" appeared in the Spacesuit universe.
So I guess some of the stories do officially take place in the same continuity, but I generally like the Spacesuit saga (which is already expansive and complicated enough as it is) to remain its own series, and don't have any plans to do other crossovers.
Haven't had a lot of time to spend on the Board lately so I am just catching up. Great new chapter Tirepanted. As always, a great read.
While the entire thing is great, I wanted to specifically comment on what I found to be a fantastic scene. That is Zuhal's take out of the surveillance room guard. It just has so many elements and touches I enjoy.
First off, from your description, I am assuming the woman was quite cute. And I always love taking out the guard watching the cameras. Of course she would be an important target.
It also sets up the lax security concept that makes taking out guards so much fun. The door should be locked but it is not only unlocked but open a bit. On top of that, the desk the woman is manning is set up so her back is to the door. And on top of that the oblivious guard is doing a crossword puzzle and not really being as attentive to her duties as she should be.
I also always love when the attacker discusses her plans. Therefore I enjoyed "Only one guard on duty," Zuhal whispered to Bobbi. "That's a stroke of luck. I'll take care of her. You keep watch."
And I also really liked that Zuhal used the stolen maid uniform to trick the woman.
Then we get the great comments Zuhal makes to woman as she is knocking her out.
"Oh, silly me. I seem to have gotten my chemicals confused again. This isn't ammonia... It's chloroform. Oopsie!" and "Anyway, you can still breathe it in... It's a great scent. Total knockout." Then "Sleep Tight." after the woman goes out.
And of course great description of the woman struggling and trying to get to the alarm button to no avail.
And I found the description of her going out really sexy: "Then her arm flopped limply to her side, her reflexes now shutting down. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she exhaled softly as she slipped into unconsciousness."
The great interaction between Bridget and Zuhal: "Wow. You took her out with no problems." "Years of practice," Zuhal replied, lowering the slumbering guard to the floor.
And of course the great concept of Zuhal being so upset the woman was no wearing more sexy underwear. Love that dialogue too:
"The guard whose uniform I'm stealing," Zuhal explained. "Her underwear is so goddamned boring."
Bridget sighed. "I don't think her underwear is relevant to the mission, Zuhal."
"But this happens all the time," Zuhal aid in exasperation. "Every security guard I mug has the most uninspired underwear. Somehow I always pick the most boring ones! Meanwhile, everyone else I talk to claims that the guards they mug have great underwear."
Again, loved the whole thing but wanted to comment on this scene since I enjoyed it so much!
Thanks, Meditions. I'm quite happy with how the surveillance room turned out, both in form and humor.
The whole scene started with the idea of a woman posing as a maid using her "washcloth" (really a chloroform cloth) to trick someone. I liked the concept and was happy when the opportunity presented itself to write a scene around it and put it in the story.
Zuhal is a very fun character to write. She has no moral qualms about mugging women for their clothes, and no true allegiances (good or evil), plus a good sense of humor. She always livens up a good USB scenario. And as you note, I continued the running joke of her mugging security guards with disappointingly bland underwear - though she does at last get a reprieve at the end of the chapter.
Sabira shivered in the cold night air as she walked down the quiet side streets. Usually these brisk walks helped clear her head, but not this time.
She took another sip of her beer and tried to understand why she was feeling perturbed. After all, she had successfully terminated Bridget Baxter and Zuhal Azimi, two of her most hated foes. Hadn't she?
And yet something told Sabira that both Bridget and Zuhal were still alive, and probably laughing at her. Sabira couldn't quite place it, but her instincts were never wrong. Those women were professionals - and no easy marks to kill.
Sabira was deep in her thoughts as she passed by an alleyway, where a grey van marked "Patty's Painters" was idling. There were two women standing by the van, both dressed in all-white jumpsuits, with matching white caps and boots. They appeared to be taking a smoking break between work.
Sabira just kept walking. She didn't stop to question why two painters would be working at this late hour, much less in a run-down neighborhood that had not been refurbished in years. Nor did she notice when one of the painters, upon seeing Sabira, winked and nodded at her partner.
Sabira finished her beer as she was passing by a large green metal dumpster. She crushed the can and opened the lid of the dumpster, tossing her trash inside. It landed next to the black trash bags and unconscious bound-and-gagged women within.
She continued walking for a few more paces before stopping. "Wait a minute..."
She returned to the dumpster and reopened the lid. The contents of the dumpster were as she had seen them - three black garbage bags, and two unconscious women, both bound and gagged with blue painters' tape. One of them, a light-skinned girl with short cherry-blonde hair, was dressed in a white push-up bra and lime-green knickers. The other, a tan-skinned girl with black hair in a bob cut, wore a purple bandeau bra and chartreuse briefs.
"I can't believe it," Sabira gasped.
She reached behind the blonde woman and one of the bags and grabbed a five-dollar bill that had found its way in with the trash.
Sabira chuckled. "What a stroke of luck... Maybe this night isn't so bad after all."
She shut the lid of the dumpster and turned around...
...just in time to get a chloroform-soaked rag stuffed over her face.
"Mmmhhppphhh??" She had enough time to notice that her attacker was one of the painters from the alley, and quite a strong one at that. She was dragged backwards to the entrance of the alley, where her partner now pulled up in the van.
Sabira could feel consciousness slipping away from her as she was pulled into the rear of the van.
"Beg your pardon, Sabira," the first woman whispered as Sabira nodded off. "But our boss would like a word with you..."
******************
Evelyn, Harper, and Jenna exited the mansion grounds with little hassle. They now wandered across the open road that ran along the nearby forest, several miles away from city limits.
"What do we do now?" Harper asked.
"There's a biker bar not far from here," Evelyn considered. "Should still be open at this hour. I suggest we ambush some female bikers and steal their clothes and motorcycles."
Harper grinned. "Great plan so far."
"Then we get back to the city," Evelyn continued. "But Caldwell and her squad may still try to track us. We'll need to find some better transport - perhaps mug some female truck drivers for their uniforms and vehicle."
"This plan's getting better," Harper replied.
"Then we need to get to the airport," Evelyn surmised. "Get out of the country before things get too dicey. We'll need to mug some flight attendants for their uniforms. Also, since there are probably no direct flights to Canada or Mexico, we'll need to transfer to a second plane. That means mugging another set of flight attendants and.."
"Enough!" Jenna interrupted.
Evelyn and Harper paused and glanced back at her.
"Dammit, enough!' Jenna repeated. "You guys sound insane. You think life is just about mugging one woman after another after another! Where does it end?"
Harper sighed. "Here we go again... Another holier-than-thou lecture..."
"I'm serious," Jenna scowled. "Enough is enough. I won't let you do this anymore."
Harper laughed. "What are you going to do? Call the police? Girl, don't act so innocent. You've mugged plenty of women for their clothes. If you rat us out, we'll take you down with us."
"I can't believe I once thought you were my friend," Jenna spat. "I hate using this word, but you're nothing but a coldhearted bitch."
Harper clenched her fists and approached Jenna. "You're lucky you saved my life earlier tonight," she intoned. "Or else I'd be pounding your ass into the pavement right now."
Jenna stepped closer. "Try it."
Harper shrugged. "If you insist."
She raised her fist and prepared to deliver one of her patented knockout blows.
Then she froze, suddenly, as Evelyn abruptly squeezed a nerve on her shoulder.
Harper groaned and lost consciousness, sagging back into Evelyn's arms.
Jenna looked at Evelyn with a mixture of shock and confusion. "Why did you do that? I could have handled her hitting me."
"I couldn't have," Evelyn replied.
Before Jenna could respond, Evelyn held up a hand and continued. "You're a good person, Jenna. You've got a good heart and a lot of sympathy in the face of a cold and changing world. I don't agree with your view on uniform thievery - I believe it's become a necessity for many women in the modern age - but I respect it."
Jenna's facial expression softened, but she still looked perturbed. "This can't go on," she said. "Women are ruining other women. Destroying their lives... just for their clothes? It's ridiculous."
"It is ridiculous," Evelyn agreed. "But I don't see it stopping anytime soon. I may not love the concept, but it's the way the world is now."
"Doesn't have to be," Jenna said. "We can fight back. Turn the tide. Raise a new generation of women to wear uniforms with pride, without fear that they could be mugged for their clothes at any moment."
"It's a nice fantasy," Evelyn agreed. "But it's not going to happen."
She picked up the unconscious Harper and slung her over her shoulder, them turned back to Jenna. "Are you coming with us?"
Jenna shook her head. "I'm sorry... but no."
"Then I suppose this is goodbye." Evelyn extended her hand. After a moment's hesitation, Jenna shook it.
"I wish you the best of luck," Evelyn concluded. "Now Harper and I need to get out of town. I'll do my best to ensure she doesn't get too carried away. And if it makes you feel better, I'll try to keep the uniform stealing to a minimum."
Jenna nodded. "I appreciate that."
Jenna watched Evelyn and the unconscious Harper walking off until they disappeared into the darkness.
She stood, shivering only slightly in the cold breeze. Her friends were gone. Her job was gone. She was all alone against the world.
She absent-mindedly touched the nametag on the security uniform she was wearing. "ASHLEY."
Jenna thought back to Ashley again - a woman who had gotten her uniform stolen so many times that she now almost treated it as a routine part of her life. How many other women were like Ashley? How many more would there be in the years to come?
Jenna pulled the magazine article she had obtained earlier from her pocket and studied it. A determined expression crossed her face.
This one's for you, Ashley.
********************
Bobbi, Chandra, Sonja, and Zuhal reunited with Bridget, Felicia, Moira, and Prema at the outskirts of the mansion. There was precious little time to swap stories before Bridget urged them all to get moving, that they needed to distance themselves from the mansion as quickly as possible.
"Sonja and I have a van parked in some nearby trees," Chandra offered. "It should be big enough for everyone. Come on!"
Minutes later, the eight women had piled into the large grey vehicle. Chandra hit the gas, and they were off.
Chandra kept her eyes on the road, but paused occasionally to glance at Sonja beside her.
"Busy day, wasn't it?' she whispered. "Too bad they all can't be this fun."
"They can if we make 'em that way," Sonja replied. "You got any useful info off Caldwell's computer?"
"I think so. Downloaded a bunch of files that looked promising... We should find what we need."
In the row right behind them, Bridget sat with Felicia, the latter staring out the window.
Bridget put a hand on her shoulder. "You did great back there, Felicia. I'm proud of you."
Felicia nodded. "Thanks... But maybe now you understand why I want to move on with my life?"
Bridget was silent for a moment. Then she nodded. "Yes... yes, of course."
Seated behind them were Zuhal and Bobbi, the latter of whom couldn't help overhearing. She leaned forward.
"Hey, Felicia," Bobbi whispered. "You keep criticizing me over my compulsive clothes-stealing habits... But guess what? Earlier tonight, I mugged a maid, but I didn't steal her clothes! Not most of them, anyway."
Felicia scowled, but didn't turn around. "You don't get it, Bobbi," she said. "You just don't get it."
Bobbi frowned. "What is your problem? I..."
"Please," Felicia said tersely. "Stop talking to me."
Bobbi went silent. She sat back down in her seat, arms crossed.
Zuhal gave her a sympathetic smile. She leaned over and whispered softly, "Don't worry about her."
Bobbi sighed. "But... she's my friend..." she whispered. "Or at least... she was..."
"Friends don't judge friends over something as harmless as uniform stealing," Zuhal replied. "I'll never judge anyone for that."
Bobbi managed a slight smile... but she was still notably upset.
Behind all the others, in the rear of the van, sat Moira and Prema. Hands clasped, huddled together, both gently sleeping off their night of peril. Moira's head rested on Prema's shoulder, her blonde hair tickling at her girlfriend's nose.
For some, the night had been given a happy ending.
**********************
Morning dawned bright and early. The sun shone brightly on the reflective plate-glass windows of Mercy Hospital, bathing the building in a warm orange-yellow glow.
Anissa yawned ever so slightly as she gazed out the window. The young nurse was on the cusp of wrapping up an all-night shift at the hospital, twelve hours of work. She could hardly wait to get back to her apartment and crawl into bed.
Anissa was tall and slender, with dark skin and a tight bun of black hair. She wore a peach-colored set of scrubs with short sleeves and long pants, as well as soft white shoes. A stethoscope hung loosely around her neck, giving the professional woman an almost casual air.
Anissa checked her watch, and confirmed that her shift would indeed be over in about five minutes. Just enough time to grab a quick snack in the lobby before heading home.
As she walked down the hall, however, the sounds of sobbing caught her ears. She turned to see a young blonde woman leaning against the wall, dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue.
A look of concern crossed Anissa's face, and she approached the woman. "Ma'am? Honey, are you okay?"
The blonde sniffed. "My... my husband," she stammered. "They took him to the emergency ward, but... I..."
She started crying again. Anissa placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
"I understand... It'll be okay..."
She glanced around, then noticed the nearby break room. It appeared empty. "Come on... Let's get you a drink... Then we'll take you to your husband..."
The woman nodded between her tears. "O... okay..."
Anissa guided the young woman into the lounge and towards the soft couch near the wall. "Here, have a seat... it'll be okay..."
She walked over to the water cooler, then knelt down and grabbed a cup. "This'll help... We'll go see your husband in a minute. Do you know what room he's -- Uurgh!"
She paused abruptly as she felt the stinging pain of a judo chop at the base of her neck. Her eyes rolled back, and she slumped forward to the floor.
The blonde stood over her, grinning. "No need to worry about my husband," she said. "I just remembered... I'm not married."
Lana moved quickly. She closed the lounge door and locked it for privacy. Then she grasped the unconscious nurse by the armpits and dragged her behind a handy desk.
"That's an adorable stethoscope, dear," she cooed. "I think I'll take it for myself."
She looped the instrument around her neck. "Adorable... but I think it needs a nurse uniform to match." She grinned.
Minutes later, Lana had her coveted nurse uniform, and a well-fitting one it was too. She admired her trim figure in the peach-colored scrubs before slipping on the hospital-issued shoes.
Anissa, meanwhile, lay slumbering behind the desk, stripped to a pink T-shirt bra and ochre bikini briefs. She had been gagged and bound with generous helpings of white medical tape from one of the desk drawers.
"Thanks for the uniform, doll. Sweet dreams!" (It wasn't the most original quip, but Lana had not stole another woman's uniform in several months, so her comedic banter was somewhat outdated.)
After exiting and locking the door of the lounge, Lana consulted a nearby directory. The room she was looking for was on the second floor.
A spring in her step, she stepped down the hall and approached the room. The door was ajar.
Mabel Drake lay in her bed, awake but exhausted. She looked up when Lana entered.
"Good morning, Mrs. Drake... How did we sleep?"
"Just fine, thanks." Mrs. Drake sat up. She looked at the nurse quizzically. "Are you the on-call nurse? I don't remember seeing you here before..."
"Let's just say I'm a new addition," Lana mused. She approached the bed. "I've got a little surprise for you."
Mrs. Drake looked at her confusingly. "Surprise? What...?"
Lana pulled a manila envelope from under her arm and tossed it onto Mrs. Drake's bedside table. "You're a newspaper editor, right? Always on the lookout for a juicy story... at least, when you're not in hospital? Well, check it out - I've got an amazing story for you right there!"
Mrs. Drake still looked confused. But, pressed on by Lana's nodding encouragement, she reached for the envelope.
Photos - about six or seven of them - were inside. Mrs. Drake looked at the first one. Her eyes widened.
"What in...?"
She looked at the second photo, then the third. Her mouth was agape in shock.
Finally, she found her voice and looked up. "Where did you get these--?"
But the nurse had already left the room.
*******************
Bridget stepped off the elevator onto the hospital's second floor.
She was tired, to be sure - after a stressful and daring rescue mission the night previous, after which she had stayed up several more hours writing a piece on the arrest of Regina Caldwell, she had wanted to sleep for at least ten hours. But her boss, and good friend, Mrs. Drake was in the hospital, and Bridget had wanted to visit her first thing in the morning.
She found the room and knocked softly on the door. Getting no response, she peeked inside.
Mrs. Drake was seated upright in her bed, looking at some photos. She did not look up at Bridget.
Bridget eased open the door and stepped inside. "Good morning, boss... How's everything? The doctors say you're recovering nicely, but as a journalist, I like to go straight to the source."
Mrs. Drake didn't laugh. She looked up as Bridget approached the bed.
Bridget placed a hand on her hip as she reached the bed. "Whatcha got there? New story material?"
Mrs. Drake held up one of the photos. "Bridget," she said softly, "what is this?"
Bridget looked at the photo. Her face paled.
The photo showed a woman attacking a police officer in an alleyway, putting her in a sleeper hold. The light was dim, but it was easy to see that the attacker was Bridget.
Bridget looked down and saw other photos on the bedspread. There was a photo of her stripping the unconscious woman of her uniform. Another photo of her donning the uniform while another woman - Chandra - bound and gagged the underwear-clad police officer.
Bridget started to sweat as she saw more photos on the bed. One of them showed her chloroforming a security guard - the one from two nights ago, outside the government research center. Then another photo showed Bridget wearing the guard's uniform, while still another one showed the real guard bound and gagged in the bushes.
"Bridget," Mrs. Drake said slowly. "Please explain what is happening here."
Bridget swallowed. "I... these photos are obviously fake, I..."
"Bridget, I've been working in journalism for twenty years," Mrs. Drake replied. "I can tell when a photo has been faked from a mile away. These... these are real."
She glanced down at the first photo again. "What the hell are you doing? Attacking a police officer? Stripping her? What on earth could possess you to do such a thing?"
"Boss, it's not what you think," Bridget said, trying to maintain her cool. "I wasn't... I wasn't trying to hurt her, I just... needed a disguise..."
"A disguise?" Mrs. Drake paused, then sighed. "Oh no... You're one of those women?"
"I..."
"I've heard stories about this," Mrs. Drake continued. "All these muggings in recent years - women attacked, then wake up in closets or alleyways with their clothes stolen... I thought only insane people participated in this craziness but apparently my star reporter is part of the insanity."
"Mrs. Drake," Bridget said, more firmly. "I'm not trying to partake in any 'insanity'... My reasons for stealing clothes is strictly professional. Sometimes I need a disguise to do my work..."
"Sometimes?" Mrs. Drake sounded incredulous. "Bridget, how many women have you mugged for their clothes over the years? Five? Ten?... Twenty?"
Bridget kept silent.
"Fifty?"
"Mrs. Drake, please..."
"Don't 'Mrs. Drake, please' me," her boss said sternly. "I respected you for years. I thought you were a great reporter and a role model for young women everywhere. And now I find out that you're a thug. A common criminal."
"I'm not a criminal," Bridget said defensively. "But being a reporter - especially a woman in such a male-dominated world - requires me to resort to some unorthodox methods in order to get stories. To get the truth."
"I was a reporter long before you, Bridget," Mrs. Drake replied. "And I never, ever hurt another woman in a quest to get a story. I certainly would never steal another woman's clothes."
Bridget was silent for several long seconds.
Then she spoke. "...Are you going to call the police?"
"I probably should," Mrs. Drake said. "You're a criminal - no matter what else you call yourself - and should be treated accordingly."
She glanced down at the photos again. "But... getting you arrested would entangle our whole paper in endless legal trouble. I'd be brought up on suspicion of letting you attack other women for their uniforms for years on end."
She slipped the photos back in the envelope. "Much as I hate to say it, I'm forced to keep your secret."
Bridget nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Drake. I really..."
"I wasn't finished," Mrs. Drake said sternly. "While I can't have you arrested, I also can't keep a woman who engages in such violent and reckless acts on my payroll."
She looked up. "You're fired, Bridget."
The words hit Bridget like a dagger. "F-fired?"
"Clear out your desk by tomorrow morning," Mrs. Drake continued. "And then I want you gone. If I ever see you around the office again, I will have no choice but to call the authorities, even if it means ruining the paper's brand."
Bridget was silent again, absorbing her boss' words. Then she slowly nodded.
"I... I should go."
She turned to leave, and had almost made it to the door when Mrs. Drake spoke again.
"I'm deeply disappointed in you, Bridget," she said. "I hope you know that."
Bridget stood by the door for a few seconds. Then she quickly exited the room.
She made her wya back through the hospital corridors in a daze. Finally she reached her car and got inside.
Only then did she lean her head against the steering wheel and start to cry.
**********************
From some bushes at the far end of the parking lot, Lana quietly snapped a photo of the sobbing Bridget. She smiled.
"Revenge is sweet, dear Bridget," she whispered. "Very sweet indeed."
**********************
Harper stirred, and slowly regained consciousness. "Ohh... what?"
She looked around, and slowly came to realize that she was in the front passenger seat of an old van. Evelyn was beside her in the driver's seat, steering the vehicle down a long stretch of highway.
"Good morning, Harper," Evelyn said, not taking her eyes off the road. "Had a good night's sleep?"
Harper rubbed the sore spot on her shoulder. "What the hell? Did you knock me out with a nerve pinch?"
"Indeed I did," Evelyn said. "You looked like you needed some quiet time."
Harper noticed that Evelyn was wearing a set of blue overalls and a white cotton shirt, plus brown timberland boots. The next moment, she noticed that she was dressed the same way.
"What...? Where did these clothes come from?"
"Well, we couldn't very well flee the city dressed in security guard armor. We needed a change of attire, and some transportation." She gestured to the rear of the van. "I happened to meet two young women in the field - farmers, I believe, getting ready for the market - and they were polite enough to loan us their clothes and vehicle for a while."
Harper glanced back to the rear of the van. Sure enough, two young women lay on the floor - athletically fit but unconscious. The first, a light-skinned woman with chin-length blonde hair, wore a cerulean demicup bra and matching briefs. The other, a fair-skinned, freckle-faced girl with curly red hair, had a green underwire bra and white buttlifters. Both women were bound with brown ropes and gagged with terrycloth fabrics.
Harper turned back to Evelyn. "Wait a minute... Did you mug those women while I was asleep? Did you steal other women's clothes... without me? And you disguised me as a farmer while I was unconscious?"
"I didn't have much choice," Evelyn replied. "We needed clothes, and I couldn't wait for you to wake up. It's fortunate that I found two women our size so quickly."
"This is crap," Harper scowled. "I can't believe I missed out on a uniform stealing opportunity. it's not fair... I want another chance."
"Another chance for what?"
"Let's find some more women... I'll knock them out and strip them this time. I have no interest in wearing stolen clothes unless I get the satisfaction of stealing them myself."
Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Much as I'd love to accommodate your love of separating women from their wardrobes, I'm afraid we can't stop again. We need to get across state lines before the authorities connect us with Caldwell."
"No way," Harper scowled. "I want to steal a new uniform. And I'm going to be the one who chooses it. Pull over."
Evelyn sighed. "Jenna was right... You are difficult to be friends with."
"Screw Jenna. I said pull over." Harper reached for the steering wheel.
Evelyn kept her eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel as she reached over and squeezed Harper's shoulder again. Harper felt herself freeze.
"A slightly lighter nerve pinch this time," Evelyn explained. "It should only keep you out for two or three hours... Just long enough for us to get out of state."
"I... hate you..." Harper groaned before she slipped back into unconsciousness.
********************
Felicia had slept late, even later than usual. It had been a long and stressful night, in more ways than one.
She awoke to a quiet apartment, needing someone to talk to. Someone to discuss things with and decompress.
She reached for the phone and dialed Bridget's number. The phone rang for several long seconds before going to voicemail.
"Weird," Felicia murmured. Bridget was probably busy with work.
She considered phoning Moira or Prema, but thought better of it. They had just been through a terrifying night of kidnapping and escape, and they probably needed some time alone... Some time together.
Felicia was happy that her two friends had found something special in each other. But it would be best not to bother them.
She could no longer speak to Bobbi... and she didn't feel too comfortable about Zuhal, either. Between her cavalier attitude about mugging innocent women and her fixation on the underwear of security guards, that woman struck her as slightly insane.
Felicia thought for a moment. Then she pulled out her phone and scrolled around. Eventually she found the number she was looking for.
The phone rang twice before a woman's voice answered. "Hello?"
"Hi... Ellen? It's... it's Felicia."
"Why hello, Felicia! So good of you to call." Ellen Lawrence sounded genuinely happy to hear from her. "How are you?"
"I'm... fine," Felicia said slowly. "I guess."
"Is everything okay?" Ellen asked. "You sound stressed."
Felicia took a breath. "I... I just had a fight," she said. "With my best friend. We... we used to get along really well, but she's just made me so angry lately."
"Oh, that sounds awful," Ellen replied. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"She just... her life and mine have been moving in different directions lately," Felicia let the words tumble out. "We just... don't see eye to eye anymore. I told her I never wanted to speak to her again... and I think I may have meant it."
There was silence at the other end. Then Ellen spoke.
"Would you like to come over to my house? I can have a pot of coffee brewed in ten minutes."
Felicia found herself nodding. "I'd... I'd like that."
*****************
"En garde!"
Zuhal swung her fencing foil, and Bobbi parried. Bobbi lunged, and Zuhal countered her thrust. for a few moments, the only sound in the quiet gymnasium was that of light metal swords tapping one another.
Dressed in full-body white fencing outfits with lamés and netted masks, the two women appeared evenly matched, engaged in a duel that was as much a battle of wits as one of strength. The seconds dragged on, with each attack dodged or parried.
Finally, a carelessly wide swing by Zuhal left her right side open, and Bobi struck, hitting the right side of her vest. "Touché!"
"Dang it." Zuhal dropped her sword and raised her hands. "Okay, I surrender."
Bobbi laughed as she pulled off her mask. "Sometimes I think you let me win, just so i'll feel good about myself."
"Moi? Lose intentionally?" Zuhal pulled off her own mask, a mock look of hurt on her face. "You wound me, dear Roberta. I always play to win."
"Okay, okay." Bobbi stretched. "Wow, I didn't know this activity was so strenuous."
"You should be here on a weekend," Zuhal replied. "This place draws quite a crowd, and people tire out really quickly. It's pretty quiet today, at this time. We were lucky there were even two fencers available today to let us borrow their gear."
Bobbi nodded, and took a sip from her water bottle. "Gotta say, these athletic sessions are... really helpful. Great way to stay fit and clear my head."
"That's the idea," Zuhal nodded. "Don't you feel better after a good friendly swordfight?"
"I still feel... a little rotten," Bobbi admitted after a pause. "I don't know what to say to Felicia... She's not answering my texts, and I think she may have even blocked my number. All over some stupid disagreement about uniform stealing..."
Zuhal walked over and patted Bobbi on the back. "You gotta let it go, Bobbi. Felicia's living in the past... She believes women should go back to being kind and peaceful and accepting of the world around them. But you and I know better... You and I know that uniform stealing is the future."
Bobbi nodded. "I suppose."
Zuhal was silent for a moment, watching Bobbi's impassive expression. Then she brightened. "Hey... how would you like to get away for a while?"
Bobbi looked at her quizzically. "Get away? To where?"
"Well, I try not to brag about it... but I'm still a wanted criminal," Zuhal said. "And the fact that Sabira was able to locate me so easily suggests that the police could still track me down as well. I need to get away for a while - get out of the city, probably the state, until things cool down again."
Bobbi looked surprised. "You're leaving?"
Zuhal nodded. "Just for a little while. But it'd be awfully lonely travelling all by myself... I could really use a friend on the road." She gave Bobbi a smile.
Bobbi nodded understandingly. "I hear you. And... maybe some time away is just what I need."
The two women changed out of their fencing uniforms and approached the supply closet at the end of the gymnasium. Zuhal opened the door.
Seated on the floor of the supply closet were two women, both fencers-in-training - and both unconscious. They had reserved a section the gym early that morning for some off-day practice, figuring no one else would be around to disturb them. They were almost correct - no one was around with the exception of Zuhal and Bobbi, who made use of their reservations, as well as their fencing outfits. One of them, a light-skinned girl with honey-brown braids, wore a vermilion sports bra and tan boyshorts. The other, a girl with short dark hair and an apricot skin tone, wore a cyan triangle bra and plum bikini briefs. They were both tied up with blue jump ropes and gagged with white gym socks.
"You know, the gym has other fencing outfits available," Bobbi observed as they tossed their fencing outfits inside the closet. "Was it really necessary to mug and strip these two women of their uniforms?"
Zuhal shut the door and gave Bobbi a look. "Honey... I think you know the answer."
********************
Jenna took a deep breath as she approached the two-story, grey-bricked building.
It didn't look like much from the outset - but Jenna saw it as more than just a building. Given what was inside, she saw it as an opportunity.
The door was covered with a large, colorful poster - "HARGROVE FOR MAYOR." Jenna pushed open the door and stepped inside.
A few campaign staffers were milling about the busy room. Jenna nodded politely at them and approached an office at the far end of the room.
A gum-chewing secretary sat at the desk outside the main office. Jenna smiled at her. "Hi... I'd like to speak with Councilwoman Hargrove. Do I need an appointment?"
The girl shrugged. "Technically, but I don't think she's too busy at the moment."
Jenna knocked at the door. A moment later, a woman's voice responded from behind: "Come in."
Jenna opened the door and stepped inside. "Good morning, Councilwoman."
The woman at the desk looked to be in her mid-forties, with pale skin and short blonde hair. She wore a professional pantsuit and was typing at a computer, but smiled at the visitor and stuck out her hand. "Good morning... How can I help you?"
"My name is Jenna... and, well... I read about your campaign." Jenna shook hands and held up the magazine article she had clipped the previous night. "I know you're running for mayor, and... well, I watched one of your speeches online and found it refreshing."
"Glad to hear. What did you like about it?"
The woman was polite and patient. Jenna could already tell she was going to like her. "Well, I think it's great that you're focused on an issue that most politicians don't care about," she said. "A problem that is afflicting young women all over the city, and probably the country."
The councilwoman nodded understandingly. "Uniform stealing."
Jenna nodded back. "Exactly. All the people in power - mostly men, of course - don't care about this rise in women-on-women violence. All these horror stories about women being mugged, chloroformed, beaten up... then waking up in a dark room, tied up and stripped of their clothes..."
"It's awful," Hargrove agreed. "And you're right... most politicians don't care about it. They think it's made up or exaggerated... They don't believe it's really a problem. But I know better, and it sounds like you do too."
"It's gotten out of hand," Jenna replied. "Seems like every day, dozens of women are getting their clothes and uniforms stolen. Police, maids, security guards... the world's gone mad. And it's having major effects on women in the workforce as well."
"Indeed it has," Hargrove said. "The number of women in jobs that require uniforms has started declining in recent years. So many women these days are scared that putting on a uniform makes them a target of some disguise-prone thrill-seeker."
Jenna sighed. "I grew up thinking feminism was the future. But now it's collapsing thanks to this rise in mugging and clothing theft. And no one is paying attention."
"And that's why I'm running for mayor," Hargrove said boldly. "I know this is a complex issue - and growing more ingrained in our culture. But I want us to fight back. To pass strict laws enforcing maximum punishment on women who steal the clothes of other women. To crack down on this epidemic of uniform thievery. I want my daughters to grow up in a world where they can feel safe putting on a uniform without worrying that another woman will mug them for it."
Jenna nodded. "I know... and I'd like to join your campaign."
Hargrove broke out in a broad grin. "I'm glad to hear you say that," she said. "We can always use more members on this team. I know the polls aren't great for us right now, but with time and perseverance, I believe we can win. I believe we can end the threat of uniform stealing and build a better future for women everywhere. All it takes is getting our message out and getting the public on our side."
"Exactly." Jenna felt better already.
"Welcome aboard." Hargrove shook her hand again.
"Thanks," Jenna beamed. "And I gotta say... I've got a good feeling about this campaign already."
"That's the spirit," Hargrove grinned. "Let's get to work."
*******************
Sabira awoke with a start. The metal table she was lying on felt cold to the touch.
"What the...?" She glanced around. This wasn't an alley, or the rear of a painting van. It was a small cube of a room, lined with medical cabinets. The cabinets were white, as were the walls, and so was the lab coat of the woman at the other end of the room.
"Ah good, you're awake." The woman smiled at her. She had light skin and short blonde hair, plus a pair wire-rimmed spectacles. "Welcome, Sabira."
"What the hell is this?" Sabira sat herself up on the examination table. "Who are you? And how do you know my name? Answer me now, or I'll beat the answers out of you."
The woman chuckled. "They weren't kidding about your temper," she mused. "Regarding your first question, my name is Dr. Leslie Avon. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. As to your other questions, they'll be answered shortly."
Sabira's patience was already wearing thin, and she was about to respond with a profanity-laced tirade and perhaps even an ass-kicking, when further conversation was interrupted by a newcomer into the examination room.
"Ah, welcome back to the land of the living." The woman had white skin and honey-brown hair. She spoke with a Russian accent. "So good to meet you, Sabira."
She stuck out her hand. Sabira glared at the extended arm as though it were a serpent poised to strike.
"Who are you?" she asked angrily. "Why have you kidnapped me? I swear, I've killed men twice my size simply for catcalling me. Don't test my patience any further..."
"I wouldn't dream of it," the Russian woman said. "My name is Oksana. I'm a special agent with Russian intelligence." She flashed her badge.
Sabira crossed her arms. "Russia? What does your country you want with me?"
"it's not exactly that simple," Oksana explained. She glanced at Dr. Avon. "How is she?"
"Physically quite fit..." Dr. Avon pulled off her rubber gloves and tossed them into a wastebasket. "I'd say she's good to join the mission."
"Mission?" Sabira was incredulous. "What mission? I didn't sign on to any mission."
"Walk with me, Sabira," Oksana said. "I do believe we can help each other."
Sabira was still somewhat reluctant, yet there was something undeniably curious about this woman. She slid off the exam table and followed her out the door.
Another woman stood out in the hallway. She had light skin and a ponytail of dark hair, and was scanning the contents of an iPad, but looked up as her friend approached.
"This is my partner, Polina," Oksana explained. "We work in a very... very covert faction of foreign operations."
"Top secret," Polina chimed in. "We'd tell you more, but then we'd have to kill you."
Oksana nudged her in the ribs. "Forgive my partner and her sorry excuse for a sense of humor." She kept a professional air as she continued speaking. "Lately, we've been tasked with a dangerous mission, here in America. It's the kind of mission that requires people with special knowledge and skills - be they Russian or otherwise - and we've been recruiting them now for several weeks. And you are one such recruit."
"Am I?" Sabira raised an eyebrow.
"Yes indeed. We sent two of our agents to kidnap you - apologies for the rough tactics, but we could not take no for an answer. Failure of this mission could result in global catastrophe."
Sabira couldn't help but laugh. "Sounds like you girls have been reading too many comic books."
Oksana ignored the remark. "You were chosen for two reasons - per our database, you're an expert with munitions and explosives... and you have past history with NASA."
Sabira's ears perked up. "NASA?"
"Indeed. The National Aeronautics and Space..."
"I know what NASA stands for, you idiot. I'm just wondering what they have to do with anything."
"They have to do with everything," Oksana explained. "They've been a powerful force for decades. Ever since America landed the first men on the moon, the rest of the world has struggled to keep up. And certain... nefarious people are intent on keeping it that way."
Sabira nodded. "Uh-huh, right." She still wasn't sold.
"Now, you spent a few months in prison, did you not?" Oksana continued. "For a job you tried pulling in NASA. Part of Karima al-Bariqi's gang, weren't you?"
"Don't remind me," Sabira said grimly, recalling her humiliating defeat.
"Well, now you've got a chance to do it again... and for a much nobler cause," Oksana said. "Now you can help the world... by wiping NASA off the map."
A glint appeared in Sabira's eye - involuntarily, but unmistakabily.
She looked up and gave a small smile. "You're good... Really good."
"So do we have a deal?" Oksana asked.
Sabira twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "How much does this job pay?"
"Let's just say... you'll be able to live quite comfortably for the rest of your days," Oksana replied.
Sabira grinned. "We have a deal."
They shook hands, and Sabira's smile gradually disappeared. "Wait... if you're going to take down NASA, won't you need someone with serious knowledge of the place? I've infiltrated it a couple of times, but it's practically a fortress."
"Indeed... We've recruited someone who has intimate knowledge of NASA," Oksana noted. "Ah, here she comes now."
A steady hum sounded from down the hallway. It took Sabira a few moments to realize the sound was of a motorized wheelchair.
She froze, her blood running cold as the figure approached - wheelchair-bound, but just as intimidating as she was when Sabira first met her, back when she was dirt recruited to sabotage a NASA launch.
"Sabira, I'd like you to meet Julia Chen," Oksana announced. "Although... have you met already?"
"We have," Dr. Chen said with a sinister smile. "The last time, I believe you and your friends tried to launch me into the stratosphere?"
Sabira gulped. "How... What? They said on the news that you were dead..."
"And I very nearly was," Dr. Chen replied. "I may be stuck in this chair, but am very much alive. I'll tell you all about it someday."
"We'll leave you two to get reacquainted," Oksana said. "Come on, Polina, we have other recruits to meet with..."
They headed back down the hall, leaving Sabira alone with Dr. Chen.
Sabira paused. "You're not... still mad about...?"
"You trying to kill me?" Dr. Chen chuckled. "Honestly, I almost respect you for it. Besides, we now share a common enemy."
"Bridget Baxter?"
Dr. Chen scowled. "Don't mention that name to me. And don't worry about her... I've had one of my girls make sure she won't be bothering us for a while."
She held up her phone. It displayed a picture of Bridget Baxter, sitting in her car, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Beautiful sight, isn't it?" Chen grinned. "The poor dear was fired from her job earlier today... thanks to some clever coordinating on the part of my new assistant."
Sabira looked at the photo. "So... that's it? We're not going to kill her?"
"Of course I'm going to kill her," Chen replied. "But only after I've taken everything from her. Just like she took everything from me - my job, my power... my mobility."
She was silent for a moment, then returned to her earlier thoughts. "But anyway, the common enemy I was referring to was NASA. Above all else, they need to pay... And trust me, they will pay."
"Sounds fair," Sabira noted. "What do you have in mind?"
"Just a little something from my past... called Project Pluto."
THE END
Thanks for reading once again, and a special thank you to those who have provided me with always-welcome feedback! The seventh and final volume of the Spacesuit saga will debut this summer.
What an amazing epilogue! I never expected part of Chen's plan to ultimately succeed. Who knows what will happen now. I am eagerly waiting to read the seventh volume
Tirepanted, first of all an immense thank you for completing the Volume 6 of your Spacesuit saga ... another precious book that enriches our board
...and congratulations for the almost final scene with the fencing outfits, with Zuhal and Bobbi immediately before the epilogue ...something I have dreamt of and now is part of our library
...congratulations for creating a character like Harper! a USb lady with the right attitude ! I regret Evelyn did not comply her request , there in the van!
But even these wonderful parts become secondary in front of a general impression that is confirmed each time I read again the tale
well I am impressed. Rarely I have read something about the USB trope that is more in continuity with our times
so many points
1) many characters describe how the woman on woman uniform stealing “trope” from a dreadful and rather rare crime has become, still being a crime, what can be seen at some extent like a social issue ...something that is destroying the very fabric of the society
well other authors ( Torreken , and Rufusluciusivan in a diferent way) have explored this influence of the USB on the ( fictional ) society , especially about the media , but the possibility of some crimes becoming not a law and order issue, but a political and social problem is unprecedented ...and in the real world we can see at least in these late years something that is happening right now at least in the "Western World"; some crimes have become a social issue...and this is something I have no memory of
2) the uniform stealing is seen like something unacceptable because is destroying feminism and female power, first of all because the uniformed women appear to be week before these female uniform thieves and impersonator and are universally mocked...
3) ... but some characters seem to be disturbed by the idea in itself of an impersonator wearing the clothes of a woman then pretending to be that woman
Well, this way we are just some steps close to the great debate of our recent times ...is wearing woman clothes something that defines or legitimate as a woman?
3) the most powerful scene, with the famed journalist ( Bridget) abruptly and unexpectedly fired by her employer, a Media Tycoon ( Mrs Drake) ...well it is something that is TOTALLY filling the headlines from days ! ...and according to some rumors, the similarities are even about the real causes
keep up the excellent work, Tirepanted, and again a heartfelt thanks
