Uniform Stealing Board

Well, since the sommelier brought a unique profession and a nice scene, so I guess it was a necessary sacrifice for the good of the USB...

Thanks for the feedback; with luck, the next chapter will be posted later this month.

Now, that's wonderful news! Especially since the climax is still a few chapters away, though as you said in hindsight it's logical, given the number of characters and wild cards that still need to be set up. Anyway, I'll (anxiously ) wait for everything to settle. You've already proven times and times that your stories excel in the big climaxes that juggle several plot points and have them collide with each other and resolve.

And also important for Zuhal to mug Leah of her uniform, to remind us that Zuhal is still not a good person and enjoys mugging innocent women of their clothes more than she probably should.

Now, is this a subtle way to illustrate the fact that Zuhal, in spite of her good intentions, is not the best role model out there for Bobbi?

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm under the impression that the 'problem' / the 'limits' of Zuhal's advices is/are that Zuhal ultimately strengthens Bobbi in her worldview, shes does not confront her in her worldview. Yet, character development strives more in confrontation. So I think I see why you mean that Bobbi's character development is not over... I guess she will meet other people with different points of view.
Honestly, maybe it's just me, but I'm pretty sure that at one point Bobbi will come across Ashley. I can't picture Bobbi NOT going to rescue her friends, and (unless Zuhal comes with her) she and Ashley seem to be the only characters that still haven't their designated partner for this story now that Linda joined forces with Meredith. Now, given your love of writing interactions... A recurring victim and a recurring stealer, now that would lead to interesting dialogues ! Or perhaps I'm completely wrong...

I'll admit that here I'll be talking about something purely personal, and which does not concern the quality of the writing but more the individual taste, but when you mention that the scene with Leah is here to remind us that Zuhal is still not a good person with her casual mugging of innocent people, I think that Bobbi's placid acceptance of the fact without even a line or an inner thought also reflects badly on her, in a way. (Especially since locking her in a cabinet during the entire night seems to be needlessly callous; some of these places are airtight.) Of course there's the argument that she's currently having a lot of concerns in her mind, but given her behaviour in the past few stories, I don't think she would have cared even if she hadn't been in a moment of weakness.
The difference is that Bobbi is a main protagonist, therefore someone the reader has to want to see succeed. Now, I'm not saying that I don't root for her anymore. As you said, your characters are three-dimensional, shades of grey and not clear black-and-white. Bobbi, Felicia, and Bridget are shown to be good-natured people and loyal friends with their personal moral code, which make them endearing, even compared to the 'good' enforcers of the law (the FBI) who are shown to be a bit of glory hounds. Bridget and her friends are interesting characters in the sense that, compared to some other 'good' uniform stealers on the Board (as in 'heroines'), their motivations can be rather selfish at times (as you said, they're doing it as part of their job to get a good scoop, and Bobbi's doing it to feel strong and empowered, and never mind for the innocent women that are mugged in the crossfire). That makes them rather unique, and the fact that we're still rooting for them is a testimony of the quality of the writing of their interactions and their emotions.
With all that said, I think I explained a little better why I'm so invested in Bobbi's character development (and to a lesser extent in the potential developments of Bridget and Felicia). I'm under the impression that she's walking a thin line between assertion and callousness (between professionalism and callousness as far as Bridget is concerned), and I'm anxious to see where this will be going.
Now, I know that there's a lot of second degree when it comes to uniform stealings in our Board's stories: a good chunk of the women treat being mugged for disguise and bound and gagged as an inconvenience (Cara and Marla ) or at worst as something that's a hard experience, but not as the psychological traumatism that it would be in real life. However I've always thought that, given their more realistic tone, your stories tended to treat being mugged for disguise as a more serious matter compared to universes like, for instance, Semi-Auto Semla where women end up bound and gagged at every turn, but it's usually played for laughs and fanservice. First because of their realistic setting, and second because you tend to adress more often the point of view of the victim (with Prema, with Carolyn); hence why the actions of the main 'heroines' are sometimes questionable.
Honestly, I realize that in the stories I read, compared to even a few years before, I've become more invested in the characters and the plot than in the uniform stealings themselves! They are of course a nice bonus, especially when they're well-written, but in general I'm reading the stories more for the character interactions and character developments. And this is doubly true for this series. I've been following the adventures of these characters for years now, I can't wait to see where they will end up. Wether they overcome their inner-demons or not, I know it'll still be a well-written ride!

(By the way, forgot to mention it, but I noticed your little detail of explaining / giving the history of uniform stealing in this world. Always love when you rationalize the practice like that.)

Wow, I'm blushing. Really appreciate all your thoughts and praise!

My interpretation of Zuhal is that she does care about Bobbi - in sort of a "big sister" way - because she empathizes with and sees something of herself in the younger woman. But while she does try to provide guidance to Bobbi, she doesn't want to reform her entirely. Part of the kinship she shares with Bobbi is that they both enjoy flexing their dominance and engaging in illegal infiltrations, and Zuhal doesn't want to lose that. So she's helpful to Bobbi, but would rather not truly transform her.

It's true that Bobbi has grown more callous to the plight of the women she and others mug for their disguises. She values her personal concerns over those of the women around her. She is technically one of the "good" girls - one of the heroes, and certainly not as morally cruel as some of the villains - but is she in actuality a bad person? That's something I (currently) leave for readers to decide for themselves.

As I've said, I try not to make any character in this series 100% good or 100% evil - I want them to be complex women, the better for them to develop and have interesting interactions. Felicia, Bridget, and Bobbi are the anchor points of the series - the introductory characters, initially depicted as a standard trio of heroines - so I'm not surprised that people sympathize with them even as they do bad things. But I definitely enjoy challenging expectations by developing the villains and some of the USB victims to show that the main characters are not true heroes. (And I also enjoy developing the "history" of uniform stealing to give the characters and their world more texture.)

rufusluciusivan wrote: Thu Apr 15, 2021 5:02 amHonestly, I realize that in the stories I read, compared to even a few years before, I've become more invested in the characters and the plot than in the uniform stealings themselves! They are of course a nice bonus, especially when they're well-written, but in general I'm reading the stories more for the character interactions and character developments. And this is doubly true for this series. I've been following the adventures of these characters for years now, I can't wait to see where they will end up. Wether they overcome their inner-demons or not, I know it'll still be a well-written ride!

This is the highest compliment I can receive. If you are invested in the characters even more than the uniform thefts, then I've definitely done my job. My main goals are to craft good USB scenes and write compelling female characters, and it's great to have people championing the latter effort. Many thanks.

You're welcome! I mean it.

It's true that Bobbi has grown more callous to the plight of the women she and others mug for their disguises. She values her personal concerns over those of the women around her. She is technically one of the "good" girls - one of the heroes, and certainly not as morally cruel as some of the villains - but is she in actuality a bad person? That's something I (currently) leave for readers to decide for themselves.

As I've said, I try not to make any character in this series 100% good or 100% evil - I want them to be complex women, the better for them to develop and have interesting interactions. Felicia, Bridget, and Bobbi are the anchor points of the series - the introductory characters, initially depicted as a standard trio of heroines - so I'm not surprised that people sympathize with them even as they do bad things. But I definitely enjoy challenging expectations by developing the villains and some of the USB victims to show that the main characters are not true heroes. (And I also enjoy developing the "history" of uniform stealing to give the characters and their world more texture.)

I'd say she's not currently a truly bad person yet, but she's definitely on a slippery slope. One mistep, and she might fall. And that's the reason why I can't wait to see where her character development will bring her... Oh the cruel waiting! I will certainly stay tuned this month.

And that's also why I've mentioned several times how interested I'd be to watch Bridget, Bobbi and Felician being truly challenged by someone about the negative side of their practice or to have to face first-hand negative consequences of uniform stealings. So much possibilities and character development... Though of course I'd understand if you didn't want to go there. As I once read, it's important to judge a story for what it is, not for what you want it to be. (But it's hard sometimes... )

Yes, I know there's a lot of potential ideas to explore. I just want to make sure that the ones I do explore are done rationally, and that I don't retread ground that I've done with other characters. (For example, "Sisters in Arms" was my way of telling a USB stories with a trio of women - Toshiko, Carolyn, Atsuko - with a more varied and conflicting sense of morality.) I don't know how much I'll be doing with Bridget, Bobbi, and Felicia, or with other characters, but I certainly hope people enjoy what's in store.

You see this is why I have a lot of respect for you and a lot of respect for your stories, you create these worlds that are so filled with life, the characters are so rich with personalities, it's fantastic.

I can tell that with every chapter you write, you can really see the heart and soul that you put into them, I love the way your stories always manage to make my mind drift into their worlds and get the full experience, you think of everything, the uniforms, the characters, even something that would seem small and to the naked eye irrelevant, but you still put it in, because when you write a story, you aim for absolute perfection and absolute realism and I notice..... Each and every single time I always notice this.

Each and every single one of your characters are so fleshed out, you obtain different feelings and emotions for all of them, it's truly a wonderful experience.

Your a master at your craft and to be honest, your one of the authors / writers that inspired me to start writing in the first place.

Oh and for the record, I'm one hundred percent certain I'll enjoy everything that you have in store for us.

Indeed, I put a lot of time and effort into writing these stories and making sure that each character has her own distinct personality and an understandable motivation. Plus I try to balance the drama and the comedy to keep the stories fun and energetic, and of course ensure that each chapter contains a handful of women getting their clothes and uniforms stolen. It's a tough juggling act, so I'm glad you've connected with the stories and characters so fully.

I'm also happy to hear that I've inspired you to write stories of your own. There are so many talented writers on this board, and I'm happy to not only be a part of it but inspire others as well.

And of course, I greatly appreciate the feedback I get on this forum - it really helps me get a sense of what people appreciate, and motivates me to write more in the future.

tirepanted3 wrote: Thu Apr 15, 2021 9:12 pm Yes, I know there's a lot of potential ideas to explore. I just want to make sure that the ones I do explore are done rationally, and that I don't retread ground that I've done with other characters. (For example, "Sisters in Arms" was my way of telling a USB stories with a trio of women - Toshiko, Carolyn, Atsuko - with a more varied and conflicting sense of morality.) I don't know how much I'll be doing with Bridget, Bobbi, and Felicia, or with other characters, but I certainly hope people enjoy what's in store.

I see your point, though I'm sure there are plenty of different ways to explore the themes of conflicting senses of morality that were touched upon in "Sisters of Arms", and seeing them explored (or even addressed) by Bridget, Bobbi, and Felicia would definitely have a unique flavour in my opinion. Without even needing to be the subject of a side-story or even without it needing to be a long plot-thread. Just a conversation with someone during which each would present their point of view (and perhaps understand/agree with some of the other's points). It could even come up as part of a confrontation with their antagonists, whose callousness is basically a dark mirror of what they could become... So much possibilities. I almost wish I had the same set-up to try to explore these thematics...

Anyway, I'll (try to) stop always bringing up and discussing that point and just wait for the end of this story. Until then, take care!

I hear what you mean, and I definitely think there are possibilities for interesting conversations. Though I prefer something of a "Show, don't tell" approach, so readers can learn about the characters' motivations without the characters spelling it out for them. But you have gotten me thinking of some interesting ideas for future developments. That's all I'll say for now.

Bridget felt her mouth go dry as she tried to catch her breath.

"What... how..."

Dr. Chen laughed. "Ah, the look on your face... So perfect. Completely worth the wait."

Bridget tried not to panic. Her most dangerous enemy was now standing in front of her = and judging by the gleam in her eye, she had been planning this moment for a while.

Bridget's eyes darted toward the restroom door. She considered calling for help, but knowing Dr. Chen...

The villainous woman seemed to read her mind. "Oh, don't bother, my dear. The 'restroom attendant' outside is one of my henchwomen. It seems you've just met the girl she replaced." She gestured to the blonde woman restrained in the toilet stall.

"Be a dear and close the stall door, would you?" Chen asked in a disarmingly polite tone. "I'd like some privacy for our conversation."

Bridget forced her hands to stop trembling as she shut the door. Stay calm... Stay cool... Don't panic. A reporter's instinct should be to get the facts. Concentrate on getting the facts.

She turned back to Dr. Chen, and spoke in the most confident voice she could muster. "What's going on? How are you--"

"--still alive?" Chen finished. "Sweetheart, I'm not very easy to get rid of. Especially not by a woman as incompetent as Karima." She chuckled. "Nor am I as easy to capture... like a woman as incompetent as Karima."

She took a step closer to Bridget. "But enough about the past. Let's talk about your present, and your future... or what's left of it."

Bridget struck a defensive pose. "Lay a hand on me - or anyone I care about - and I'll hospitalize you."

Chen sighed in exasperation, as though she were talking to a child. "Bridget, Bridget... What kind of fool do you take me for? Do you think I'd come all this way just to engage you in hand-to-hand combat? I know you're stronger than me, and probably have more fighting skills. I'd be pretty foolish to try attacking you directly."

"Then what's to stop me from attacking you?" Bridget shot back. She wished she felt as confident as she spoke.

Chen let out another throaty laugh, and held up her phone. "I was hoping you'd ask."

Bridget looked at the phone screen, and gasped. There was the photo of a woman, bound and gagged, stripped to her underwear, a terrified look on her face.

"Prema..." Bridget whispered.

"I thought you might recognize her," Chen sneered. "Nice girl, though perhaps she could use some anti-kidnapping insurance."

"Let her go," Bridget said angrily.

Chen pretended to think about it. "Hmm... no. I don't think I will. I need her. Now listen closely." She tucked the phone in her pocket. "If you try to attack me, Prema will die. If you try calling the authorities, Prema will die. If you do anything that strikes me as suspicious..."

"I don't make deals with criminals," Bridget said stoically.

"Have it your way," Chen shrugged. She pulled out her phone again. "I guess Prema's going to die."

"No, wait!" Bridget held up a hand in fear. "Okay... okay, you win."

"Of course I win," Chen said smugly. "I always do, eventually."

Bridget glared venomously at Dr. Chen. "Just what do you want?"

"What do I want?" Chen echoed. "What have I always wanted? Power... wealth... fame... Perhaps the cover of Time magazine. And I was on track to have it. I could have had it all, until you butted in. Miss Goody Two-Shoes Reporter. You ruined my life." Her lips curled upwards into a cunning smile. "So I'm going to ruin yours."

Bridget remained silent as Chen continued. "In about half an hour, the Journalism Society will announce the winner of their Reporter of the Year award. And it is here that I must offer my congratulations."

"Huh?"

"Dear Bridget," Chen smiled, "you're going to win the award."

Bridget was truly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Just take my word for it... You're going to win. And when you're called up to give your victory speech," she held up an envelope, "this is what you're going to say."

Bridget didn't know how to respond. "What... what do you mean?"

"You will recite the speech I have prepared for you," Chen replied, clearly irritated at having to repeat herself. "And if you don't recite it, convincingly and word-for-word, your friends are dead. Prema, obviously, but Felicia and Moira as well."

Chen handed her the envelope. "My henchgirls are all throughout the building. They've knocked out every security guard and replaced them all. There is no one here to help you, even if you had the chance to ask them. Just do as I say, and everything will be fine."

Bridget glanced down at the envelope, then up again. "You... just want me to read the envelope? That's all?"

"Of course," Chen said with a sly grin. "You trust me, don't you?"

"What kind of question is that?" Bridget tried to restrain herself.

"Well, you don't have to trust me," Chen shrugged. "But you don't have much choice, either. Do as I say, or you'll regret it."

Bridget glanced down at the envelope again. "What... what does it say?"

"Oh. nothing much." Dr. Chen glanced nonchalantly at her fingernails. "It just tells some important truths about how you get all your big stories. How you constantly break into secure and government-controlled facilities, the way you always disguise yourself by mugging other women for their uniforms. Basic stuff."

Bridget frowned. "I can't say these things in front of a crowd."

"Why not?" Chen smiled impishly. "It's true, isn't it? You've broken numerous state and federal laws... Mugged dozens of innocent women over the years... Left them tied up in closets while you used their uniforms to work undercover. Do you deny it?"

Bridget shifted uncomfortably. "What I do... is important. I'm a reporter. My job is to get the truth. Sometimes that... that might involve subduing another woman for a disguise. But it's not personal. It's... a means to an important end."

"If it's so damn important," Chen shrugged, "you should have no trouble explaining it to all your coworkers and fellow professionals tonight. I'm sure they'll respect you for it."

"They'll have me arrested," Bridget replied tersely.

"Oh, will they? What a shame." Dr. Chen chuckled. "Well, it's not like you've got much choice. Either you suffer... or your friends suffer."

Bridget said nothing. She stared at the ground.

Dr. Chen turned to go. "Wait sixty seconds before leaving the restroom," she advised. "And don't try to untie the woman in the stall. Remember - if you alert anyone, I'll know, and then..." She traced her finger over her throat.

Bridget watched silently as Chen exited through the door.

She felt sick... and even more internally, she felt stupid. how could she not have seen this coming?

She had let herself get overconfident, too relaxed... And now, if she stepped out of line, her friends would pay the price.

******************

"Sofía, hurry up!" Ximena urged. "Table 6 has been waiting for twenty minutes!"

"I'm working, I'm working." Sofía mopped the sweat from her brow. "Argh, I wish they'd fix the air conditioner in here."

"What is it the Americanos always say?" Ximena smiled. "If you can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen... literally!"

Sofía laughed. "I would, but I've got bills to pay. That's why I took this shift."

"Well, try to hurry it up. We're understaffed as it is."

Ximena wasn't kidding. She and Sofía were the only two chefs working in the Chrysalis kitchen during this late shift. The other chefs were working in the main ceremonial hall, serving food at the buffet table.

Both Sofía and Ximena were tall and tan-skinned; Ximena's hair was dark brown while Sofía's had been dyed light blue. They were dressed in the standard uniform of the Chrysalis chefs - light blue short-sleeve shirts, white aprons over black pants and matching soft-soled shoes. They also were required to wear hairnets while in the kitchen, which annoyed Sofía; she preferred letting her hair fly free.

"It's just way too hot," Sofía griped. "I'm about two minutes away from stripping off my uniform entirely."

"I think management would prefer you keep your clothes on," Ximena chuckled as she stirred a large pot of simmering beans. "Don't give them any reason to dock your paycheck."

Sofía shrugged, and turned her attention back to the large frying pan in front of her. "It's almost done."

"Great. Make sure it's nice and..."

Ximena was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen's double doors swinging open. In strode a pair of athletically built women in security uniforms.

Ximena glanced at the women in surprise. "Is something wrong?"

One of the guards looked around. "You two are the only chefs in the kitchen tonight?"

Sofía nodded. "Don't remind us," she said with a wry chuckle.

"Good, good... that makes this easier."

"Makes what eas--?"

Ximena stopped short again, as the two guards pulled gleaming guns from their holsters.

"Not a sound," the dark-haired guard ordered. "It will be in your own best interests if you do exactly as we say."

Sofía gasped. "What the..."

Ximena fearfully put her hands in the air. "Please... don't shoot... We don't keep any money in here."

The blonde guard laughed. "Money? Don't be ridiculous. We're hardly interested in that."

"Then... what do you want?" Sofía wasn't sur she wanted to hear the answer.

"Those uniforms will do nicely," the blonde answered. "Shut off the stoves, then step to the rear of the kitchen and start stripping."

"And don't dawdle," her friend added. "We're running on a tight schedule."

Ximena gulped and glanced at Sofía, who could only shrug helplessly.

Silently, the two chefs trudged to the rear of the kitchen. Sonja and Chandra followed closely behind, their guns trained on the two women.

Holding back tears, Ximena began unbuttoning her shirt. Sofía did as well, resisting the shakiness of her fingers.

Hopefully they don't dock my paycheck, she thought sadly.

*****************

Erin maneuvered her car through the underground lot beneath Chrysalis. She found a parking space and shut off the engine.

She glanced at her wristwatch, which, as always, had been set five minutes fast. It was a trick she had picked up from her mother - set your watch ahead, and you'll be early to everything. And indeed, she was early tonight.

Erin stepped out of the car and headed for the underground elevator, her skirt swishing, heels clicking with each step. She clutched the mahogany handle of her dark brown suitcase tightly in her hand.

As with every year, the Florida chapter of the National Journalism Society had hired an outside accounting firm to tally up all the votes for their award ceremony. And as every year, one accountant was chosen to guard the papers containing the results and transport them to the ceremony. This year, Erin had been given the task.

A tall dark-skinned woman with light brown eyes and combed-over black hair, Erin was proud of the job she was assigned, and made sure to dress well for the part. She wore a slate-grey microfiber business jacket over a starched eggshell-white shirt and dark blue ascot. Below that was a slate-grey knee-length pencil skirt, tan seamless nylons, and slim-heeled, polished black designer pumps.

Erin kept her mind focused on the job ahead, and did not let anything distract her. She paid no attention to the black transit van emblazoned with the letters "FEMME" along its side parked along the far wall, and did not hear the low moaning sounds that emanated from within.

Erin pressed the button for the elevator, and was pleased to hear it ding immediately.

The doors slid open. Erin was surprised to see someone waiting inside - a tall woman with dark red hair, dressed in a security uniform with a "FEMME" badge across the front.

"Hello," the woman greeted Erin with a smile. "Are you the woman with the award results?"

Erin nodded and held up her suitcase. "I keep the envelope right here. No one has seen the final results except me."

A grin spread across Darla's face. "Great. I've been sent to escort you upstairs. Come on in."

Erin nodded appreciatively and stepped into the elevator. "A security escort! I feel like royalty!"

"Just taking precautions, ma'am," Darla replied as the doors slid shut, and the elevator began its ascent. "We treat these ceremonies with complete seriousness. Can't risk the wrong reporter being named the winner."

"Well, you certainly won't have to worry about that," Erin replied. "This suitcase is locked tight, and I have the only key."

Darla nodded. "Good to know."

The elevator reached ground level, announcing its arrival with another ding. The doors opened to a currently empty office hallway.

"The ceremonial hall is to the right," Darla said as they stepped out. "You should be heading backstage. I'll show you the way."

"Oh, there's really no need," Erin said politely. "I'm perfectly capable of getting there myself. I'm sure you have more important jobs than to escort me around."

"You're correct, ma'am," Darla replied. "I do have more important jobs. Like replacing you, for example."

"Exactly! So go do that, while I..." Erin paused. "Wait, what did you say? Repla--"

Darla struck fast, aiming the judo chop to the side of Erin's neck.

"Uurrghh!" The accountant froze for a moment as the blow stunned her. Then she went limp, falling backwards... right into Darla's arms.

"Uh-oh." Darla quickly stuck out her hand and grabbed the falling suitcase before it could hit the ground. A noise like that would almost certainly raise some unwanted attention.

"Can't have that, can we?" she mused, glancing into a nearby darkened office. "This looks like it could be a useful room..."

She dragged the unconscious Erin inside, then shut the door.

The office was rather sparse, with only a desk and a couple of chairs marking it as a meeting room. Darla lay the businesswoman down on the desk and fished around her pockets.

"Jackpot." She held up a small golden-brown key. This she used to unlock the suitcase and sift through its contents.

"Here it is... Award for Journalistic Excellence." Darla carefully opened up the envelope, pulled out the paper from within, and slipped a new paper - previously prepared by Dr. Chen - inside. She used a glue-stick to seal the envelope shut again. With luck, no one would notice the switcheroo.

Then Darla turned her attention to the woman on the desk. "Now, darling... it's time for the more fun switcheroo."

Ten minutes later, and Darla was wearing a new disguise. Erin's shirt and jacket fit reasonably well, although the skirt felt a bit tight. Darla winced; perhaps she had gained a couple of pounds during her brief stint in jail.

That's another one I owe Bridget and her pals, she thought.

Darla had also stolen Erin's nylons, to make the disguise more convincing, and now stepped into the woman's shoes. She was no great fan of pumps, but a little foot pain was worth it if it meant Dr. Chen's plan succeeding.

On the floor nearby lay Erin, stripped to an ocean-blue bikini bra and lime-green control top panties. Darla had bound her with white zip-ties and gagged her with grey tape. Easy, clean, efficient - that had always been Darla's style.

Erin remained motionless as Darla dragged her beneath the desk, to hide her from outside view. "I know you might think you can get free," Darla chuckled, "but as my friend Marina might say - don't 'account' on it!"

Once she had relocked the suitcase, Darla picked it up, straightening her ascot as she headed for the door.

She was just in time, as she could hear footsteps approaching as she stepped out into the hall.

"Ah, hello!" A white-haired older man rounded the corner. "Are you the accountant with the award results?"

Darla smiled. "I most certainly am. Got them right here." She patted her suitcase.

"Excellent. We're about to start the speeches. Come right this way."

Darla nodded and began following him down the hall, trying not to wince with every high-heeled step.

**********************

Bridget returned to the ceremonial hall. She took a deep breath as she approached her table.

Felicia smiled as she approached. "Hey, Bridge. You were gone a little while... we were getting worried."

"Good thing we had these drinks to keep us company!" Moira raised her glass and took another gulp.

Felicia pushed the bottle away from her. "I think you've had enough," she said with a chuckle.

Moira rolled her eyes. "Thanks, mom."

Bridget felt herself fidgeting a bit. "Would you mind passing the bottle? Maybe I'll take a drink."

Felicia looked at her in surprise. "I thought you said you didn't drink this stuff."

"Not usually... but maybe I'll just take a little."

Felicia frowned. "Bridget, are you okay? You look a little nervous."

"I... I'm fine." Bridget breathed inward. "I'm fine."

Felicia smiled. "It's about the award, isn't it? Nervous you might lose... or maybe that you might win?"

"I..."

Felicia clasped Bridget's hand in her own. "Honey, no matter what happens... no matter who they give the award to... just know that you're the best damn reporter in this room. And it's not even close. You've inspired me like no other person in my life."

Bridget remained silent. She didn't know what to say.

"There's no need to be nervous," Felicia continued. "You've been doing great work for years, and I just know you have plenty of great work in the years to come."

Bridget smiled at her friend. "I... hope you're right."

"I know I'm right," Felicia replied.

Bridget's smile faded for a moment. "Felicia..." she whispered in a concerned voice. "There's something I need to tell you."

Felicia looked concerned as well. "What is it?"

"It's..."

From the corner of her eye, Bridget could see the sommelier pushing her wine cart through the crowd of tables.

This time, Bridget recognized the woman - she was one of Karima's old henchgirls!

Haleema caught Bridget's eye as well. She gave a stone-cold look. Bridget could see the razor-sharp corkscrew she clutched in one hand.

At the doorway, a woman in security uniform surveyed the area. Bridget recognized her from the night in Hobson - it was Whitney.

Chen wasn't lying... She really has taken over this building... and no one suspects it...

"Bridge?" Felicia said, interrupting her friend's thoughts. "What did you want to tell me?"

Bridget turned back to Felicia. "I just wanted to say..." She managed a wide smile. "...you're a pretty amazing journalist yourself."

Felicia laughed. "Sisters forever."

"Sisters forever," Bridget agreed.

But inside, she felt her stomach twist into a knot. Unless she thought of something fast, tonight would spell the end of her journalistic career.

*******************

Bobbi made her way through the silent night of the park, more relaxed than she had been an hour ago.

In one hand, she clutched a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone, presented to her by Zuhal. But the conversation in the ice cream truck had yielded far more than a tasty dessert. Bobbi felt better overall.

It had felt good to disclose her problems and internal hang-ups. To share them with someone who understood where she was coming from, and what she was dealing with.

True, Zuhal had not solved her problems - but she had at least presented some possible solutions. For that, Bobbi was grateful, and had parted with the woman on good terms.

It's so bizarre, she thought to herself, taking a lick of ice cream. A few weeks ago, Zuhal was trying to kill me. Now she's become my closest confidante.

Bobbi smiled. And she's such a bundle of joy, too. Does everything with a smile. She looked so funny in that ice cream outfit... and the real truck driver looked ridiculous, crammed into that cabinet. Bobbi chuckled.

Then she paused. Then again... it wasn't very nice of Zuhal to mug an innocent woman like that and shove her into a cabinet... Poor girl's gonna have aches and cramps for days when she gets out...

But she simply shrugged. Eh, it's just a part of life. Disguise and identity theft are common occurrences around the city these days - and if you're a woman who wears a uniform every day, you just need to get used to the fact that someone will probably mug you and steal it once in a while. That's just how it is!

Chuckling again, Bobbi took another lick of ice cream. But as she bent the cone forward, the ice cream scoop slipped and fell off the cone. It landed right on her clean white blouse, then fell to the pavement.

No! Bobbi stared angrily down at the stain, then glared at the fallen snack on the ground. You clumsy idiot. You just ruined your favorite blouse.

At that moment, the tapping of rapid footsteps echoed down the quiet walkway. Bobbi looked up to see a female jogger heading her way, enjoying the quiet evening of exercise.

The woman was tall and fair-skinned, her light blonde hair tied back into a low ponytail. She wore a light blue athletic tracksuit with a thin pink stripe running vertically up each leg, and white running sneakers with blue soles. A water bottle was clipped to her belt, and a black Fitbit was strapped to her left wrist.

The blonde woman looked down at Bobbi's dress. "Nice outfit, honey. Did you forget how to eat ice cream?" She laughed and continued on her jog.

Bobbi clenched her fists as she glared at the receding woman. "Bitch," she said through gritted teeth.

She had not meant to be heard, but had spoken a little too loudly.

The blonde stopped in her tracks, then turned around in annoyance. "What did you call me?"

For a moment, Bobbi felt a bit ashamed - but that feeling quickly dissipated as she caught the haughty gaze of the jogger.

Hold your spine, Roberta. You're not that shy, insecure bookworm anymore. Don't let this woman push you around.

Bobbi stood up straight and looked the jogger in the eye. "I called you a bitch."

The blonde smiled craftily, and began approaching Bobbi. "Wow... sounds like Little Miss Ice Cream needs to learn some manners."

Bobbi tensed, ready for a fight. She was going to take this woman down a notch... and she was going to enjoy it.

Or... should she? Bobbi thought back to Zuhal's words - and before that, to Felicia's words. "You're the one with the problem."

The jogger may have been acting rude, but she was still only a civilian. She wasn't a criminal or anything. And Bobbi had no need to provoke her further. After all, beating up an innocent passerby in a lonely park wasn't exactly "heroic."

Bobbi eased up, and held up her hands. "Okay... Look, I'm sorry I called you that. I... I don't want to fight you."

The blonde stopped, and nodded. "You certainly don't, little girl. I'm a black belt in karate. Know all the moves and then some. Hiyah!" She struck a sudden judo pose, causing Bobbi to flinch.

The blonde laughed again. "Better run home to your momma, kid. It's not safe out here at night."

She turned and began jogging off. Bobbi felt her cheeks turn red, and her anger rising.

Fuck it.

As the blonde continued down the path, she heard a more rapidly approaching set of footsteps behind her. Running...

Then at once, she felt her legs go out from under her as they were grabbed in a sudden tackle.

With a gasp, the blonde fell forward, just as she was nearing a turn of the path. She landed face-first in the grass beyond the pavement. "Pffoouuaghh!"

Dazed, the woman tried to get up again, but she felt the sharp, stinging pain of a neck chop just below her left ear. With a moaning "Uuurrgghh..." she pitched to the ground, out cold.

The blonde awoke some fifteen minutes later, still rather dazed. Her head throbbed, and her neck ached. A faint chill made her shiver. She tried to stand.

To her surprise, she found herself stuck, unable to get up. Her arms were bent behind her back, and secured together at the wrists with cords. Her legs had been similarly tied together at the knees and ankles. A thick white cloth had been wrapped around her mouth, knotted tightly at the nape of her neck.

"Mmmgghhh..." The blonde could also see that her clothes were gone. She now only wore a cerulean racerback sports bra and tangerine boyshorts. The grass bristled her body; in a more comfortable environment, it may have tickled.

Just as the blonde was beginning to grow aware of her surroundings, and was trying to figure out what had happened to her, a pair of woman's feet stepped into view. Feet wearing blue-soled white running sneakers.

The blonde gulped inwardly as she raised her eyes upward. Up at the light blue athletic tracksuit, the one she always wore during her nighttime jogs. Her favorite tracksuit. Only now... some other woman was wearing it.

Bobbi smiled down at her bound-and-gagged captive. "Hi, Katie," she said warmly. "That's your name, right? According to your wallet, anyhow."

"Mmmpppphh!" Katie's facial expression quickly morphed from fear to anger as she realized how easily she'd been dispatched. She pulled furiously against her bonds.

"Easy, honey, no use tiring yourself out." Bobbi knelt down. "I've been practicing my knot-tying skills for a while, and I daresay I've gotten pretty damn good at it."

"Grrrmmmppphhhh..." Katie glared at Bobbi, teeth clenched behind her gag.

"Anyway," Bobbi gestured at the tracksuit she now wore, "thanks for the outfit. I didn't want to walk around with a stain on my shirt... and besides, I really could use a run... Gotta blow off some energy."

Bpbbi stood up again. "Anyway, you'll be nice and safe behind these bushes. I won't steal your wallet or phone. I am taking your Fitbit, but only because it will be useful on the jog. That's it... After all, I'm not a criminal. Just someone trying to teach a rude woman a lesson."

Katie's eyes widened as she realized she would probably be stuck in her predicament till morning. "Nmmmpphh... Plllmmmssshhhh..."

"Maybe next time, you'll think twice before being a bitch." Bobbi turned her back and prepared to head down the path.

"Plllsshhhh... d'nnntt lmmmvvvee mm hermmmmppphhh." Katie felt her eyes welling up with tears.

Bobbi felt a pang of guilt... but she couldn't turn around and face Katie again.

<i>You're not chickening out now,</i> she told herself. <i>If you let that woman free, she'll send the cops after you. You cannot spend the next decade in jail. You just can't.</i>

Bobbi maintained a cold tone as she addressed Katie again, keeping her back turned as she spoke. "Don't think of it as a punishment. Think of it as an incentive. Next time, you'll be more motivated to be a better person. You have the potential to improve... Use it."

Then she stepped out of the bushes and jogged off, before she could hear any more of Katie's sobs.

It was a relatively warm evening, which Bobbi appreciated. Katie would not get too cold while she waited for morning and for a passerby to free her. Besides, the weather presented her with ideal running conditions.

Bobbi took in a lungful of air as she pumped her legs up and down. She glanced at the Fitbit on her wrist. It indicated a woman in good health.

Bobbi smiled briefly... but then realized the device was still configured to Katie.

With a sigh, she tapped the "reset" button.

********************

The older man led Darla to the curtain behind the auditorium stage. "Wait here," he said. "And keep a close watch on that suitcase. Wouldn't want the results to get mixed up."

Darla flashed a smile. "Not a chance of that."

The man nodded, and stepped through the curtain and out onto the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he declared, "welcome to the thirty-sixth annual gathering of the National Journalistic Society - Florida chapter!"

The crowd applauded.

At Table 12, Moira raised her glass. "Hear, hear!"

"Shhh... lower your voice," Felicia whispered. "You're a little drunk, it seems."

Moira dismissed her with a handwave. "It's a party night, 'Licia. Stop (hic) ruining my fun."

"Every year, we gather here to honor the best and brightest among our profession," the host continued. "The most talented journalists in the field!"

"So long as they're men," Robyn grumbled.

"Shh, stop being so negative," Chloe whispered.

"As always," the man continued, "we will announce tonight's winner of the top award shortly, and then have a musical performance - this year, the performance will be by a beloved dancing troupe, the Spinnerets.

"But before we get to any of that, we will first hear some words from the President of the NJS, Mr. Burt McElroy. Mr. McElroy, if you please?"

As another elderly man headed for the stage, Robyn sighed again. "Still excited about being here?" she muttered to Bridget. "This isn't exactly any girl's idea of a fun time."

Bridget nodded briefly, but she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to respond.

"I wish you'd be a little more upbeat," Chloe said to Robyn. "I think this place is making some great strides with representation! Did you notice that all the security guards working here tonight are female?"

Bridget winced. Most if not all of the female security guards in the venue had apparently been subdued and replaced by Chen's thugs. She could still feel Haleema's eyes scanning the room, periodically settling on her.

This can't be happening, Bridget thought. There's got to be a way out of this... a way to outsmart Chen. I've done it before. I just need time to think.

But her time was running out.

********************

Josie smiled as she placed three plates of food down by the folks at Table 3.

"Bon appetit," she said with a smile.

But as she walked back towards the kitchen, her smile faded. Even as FBI team leader, the waiting was making her antsy.

They had to arrest Bridget... they just needed the right moment for it. But when would that be?

Josie sighed. Much as she hated to admit it, her hesitancy was borne out of history. In recent months, the FBI's string of failures had led to restructuring and reorganizing - which was a nice way of saying that several of its members had been fired. Josie knew that if she failed to deliver on this mission, she could very well be next.

Calm yourself, girl, the dark-haired woman told herself. The right moment will come... You just need to wait for it.

At a quiet spot in the hall, she spoke into her communicator. "Rebecca, Nicole - is Eleanor back yet?"

She waited a few seconds. No response.

"Rebecca? Nicole?"

Still nothing. Josie frowned, but told herself to stay calm. They were probably in a part of the building that didn't allow them easy communication.

Josie did not want to contact Parker or Bella - they were still disguised as guests in the auditorium, where the speeches had begun. She frowned as she headed for the end of the hall.

Her nose instinctively wrinkled as she stepped into the building's hot, greasy sweatbox of a kitchen. This is why I never got into cooking, she mused.

The room was largely empty, except for two chefs working the stoves. Both tall women, one a light-skinned blonde, the other a tan-skinned brunette. Both women wore light blue shortsleeve shirts beneath white aprons, black pants with matching soft-soled shoes, and hairnets.

Josie nodded at them as she passed by. "Just need to restock some of the tables with seasoning," she explained.

The blonde chef nodded, and pointed toward the pantry at the other side of the room.

Josie navigated around some dangling pots and pans as she approached the pantry. Maybe Bridget will win an award tonight, she mused. Maybe that will be the perfect time to arrest her... When she's onstage, with the cameras trained on her. Yes, that would be the perfect moment...

She swung open the pantry door and switched on the light, intent on reaching the spice rack. However, her path towards it had been obstructed.

Josie could only stare in shock. On the floor of the pantry were two women, seated back-to-back. They had been bound together with thick brown ropes and had their mouths stuffed with worn dishrags. Both women were tall and tan-skinned. One had short dark hair and wore a leaf-green bandeau bra and violet hiphuggers. The other had dyed blue hair and wore a red silk bra on which the words "Kiss the Cook" had been embossed in white lettering over the right breast, and a pair of matching red boyshorts.

Josie struggled to find the words. "What... wha..."

The next moment, a hand clamped over her mouth, and she could not find any words at all.

"Surprise!" Sonja sang.

"Remember us?" Chandra chuckled.

"Hrrmmm?!?" All at once, Josie felt shocked, scared, and infuriated. She had just stumbled blindly into a trap.

"The two chefs there were kind enough to let us make use of their uniforms." Chandra shut the pantry door. "But they were just a means to an end. You and your FBI friends... you're the real prize."

Josie's eyes widened. Her cover had been blown. Who were these women? They seemed to recognize her, but she was having difficulty placing them.

"Right this way, agent," Chandra said tauntingly. She stepped over to the other side of the kitchen, and an overly musty broom closet. Sonja dragged Josie along, never removing her palm from the woman's mouth.

Chandra swung open the door. "Your friends have been waiting for you."

Josie gasped. On the floor of the broom closet were Nicole and Rebecca, minus their waitress disguises. Both women had been secured with white cords and gagged with thick brown tape. Nicole wore a cyan sports bra and matching boyshorts. Rebecca wore an orange plunge bra and pink bikini panties - decorated not with pictures of teddy bears, but instead of bunny rabbits.

Josie could tell that Rebecca looked quite embarrassed, being bound and gagged in front of her boss while wearing a rather foolish-looking set of underwear.

Chandra noticed the queasy look on Rebecca's face, and glanced at her underwear. "Hey, don't look so sad, girlfriend. Just keep your chin up... and your ears, of course." She wrinkled her nose and stuck two fingers upwards at the side of her head, imitating a pair of rabbit ears.

Sonja laughed. "Come on, Chandra, that's just mean. No need to tease her."

She turned to Rebecca. "Sorry, my friend is being a little rude. Do you want a carrot? Maybe that will cheer you up."

Both women laughed. Rebecca remained silent, but her eyes quietly blazed.

"Enough silliness," Chandra told her partner. "We've got three FBI agents here, and one outside in the alley. There should still be a couple more in the main hall... You strip-search this one and tie her up; I'll go fetch her friends."

"Sounds like a plan," Sonja smiled. She glanced at Josie. "Bedtime, dear."

Josie tried to struggle free. "Nnnmmmmppphhh..." But Sonja gripped her in a muscular headlock and pressed hard.

As Josie felt the strength drain from her body, one thought after another rippled through her head. She had failed... Failed her mission... Failed her team... Failed her superiors...

I'll be a laughingstock forever... That was her last conscious thought.

*******************

Eleanor stirred and awoke, not to the scent of smelling salts, but to the putrid odor of garbage.

"Hrrmm?"

She immediately winced. What had happened? She had stepped outside to get some fresh air, but... this air did not smell very fresh.

She had been crammed behind a dumpster - minus her clothes, plus some zip-ties and a tape-gag. Beside her were two other women - a sleeping blonde and a conscious brunette. Both of them had also been stripped, bound, and gagged as she was.

The brunette looked at Eleanor, fear in her eyes. She had clearly been in this position for a little while.

"Mmmpphhh?" Eleanor asked.

"Mmmmmmppphhh," the woman responded.

"Mmmmmmppphhh?"

"Hhrrmmpphh."

Scintillating conversation, Eleanor thought to herself. Gotta get these gags off... and these bindings, too.

She turned her back to the woman, and carefully arched her arms. Hold still, please.

Thankfully, the woman seemed to understand what she was trying to do. She did not move as Eleanor's fingers groped around, searching for her face. Finally, she gripped the brunette's gag and slowly, carefully worked it down to her chin.

"Whew! Thank you," the brunette breathed. "Honestly, I'm getting used to being tied up by now, but the gags are still annoying."

Eleanor gave her a funny look. She was trying to figure out who this woman was.

"My name's Ashley," the brunette explained. "I'm a security guard here at Chrysalis. Or at least I was... I'm probably going to lose my job again, now that I've gone and let someone steal my uniform again." She sighed.

Then she looked at the redhead. "I overheard Dr. Chen while she was mugging you. She said your name's Eleanor... you work for the FBI? That's great! Good to have some trained professionals who can stop her evil plan."

Trained professionals... sure. Eleanor rolled her eyes. Then she glanced behind her at her own bound wrists. Gotta get free... somehow.

"I'll call for help," Ashley offered. "I've got a pretty good screaming voice."

But Eleanor shook her head. A cry for help could bring some actual help... or it could bring trouble. Until she knew more about what was happening, it was best to keep silent.

Ashley nodded. "Okay, no screaming. But how do we get free?"

Eleanor's eyes settled on some of the strewn trash nearby. Among the discarded cans and wrapping paper was a green glass bottle. There's an idea...

Maneuvering herself carefully to the bottle, Eleanor picked it up between her bound feet and flipped it upwards, into the air. It landed on the ground nearby and shattered.

Carefully, so as not to harm herself, Eleanor picked up one of the jagged glass shards and began using it to cut into her bonds.

Ashley watched with interest. "Smart thinking..."

The zip-ties were strong, but also quite thin. After a few minutes of steady cutting, Eleanor was rewarded with a snapping sound.

She exhaled gratefully and rubbed her sore wrists. Then she pulled off her gag. "Give me a minute to cut these ankle ties; then I'll free you."

True to her word, Ashley was soon free of her bonds. Eleanor also cut the restraints holding the still-unconscious janitress, though the woman remained asleep.

"She'll wake up eventually," Ashley said reassuringly. "She works hard, had a busy day. Probably could use the nap."

Eleanor nodded. She picked up her wrist communicator, which Dr. Chen had neglected to steal. "Josie, do you copy? I had a bit of trouble, but I'm back."

No response. Eleanor frowned. "Josie, do you read? Parker? Nicole?"

She began to grown anxious. "Does anyone copy?"

"What's wrong?" Ashley asked.

Eleanor sighed. "My team... they're not answering. I think our mission's been compromised."

"By Dr. Chen," Ashley nodded.

"Who?"

Ashley looked surprised. "Dr. Julia Chen. Former NASA scientist, now a wanted criminal. I had a run-in with her when I worked at NASA. She and her henchgirls stole my uniform. And she's the one who mugged you a half hour ago."

Eleanor made a sour face. "Sounds like she's delightful... but actually, we came here to arrest a different woman."

She reached for her wallet, which Chen had left lying on the ground. From a pouch behind the FBI badge, she pulled out a photograph. "This is Bridget Baxter. She's a journalist at tonight's ceremony."

Ashley studied the photo. "I recognize that woman. She mugged me for my uniform a few weeks ago!"

Eleanor gave her a strange look. "Honey, how many times have other women mugged you for your uniform?"

Ashley rubbed her shoulder. "...I don't want to talk about it."

"You should probably choose a different profession," Eleanor noted. "Average-sized women should not be working as security guards."

Ashley cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Statistically speaking, security guards are some of the most common victims of uniform theft in America," Eleanor explained. "And women of average height tend to get their clothes and uniforms stolen more often than short or tall women, because in terms or probability, they are more likely to match or at least approximate the size of the infiltrator. So a woman of your size and your position is at greater risk of getting her uniform stolen than most other women."

Ashley stared at her blankly. "How do you know so much about uniform stealing?"

"I study the data. It's become a common infiltration tactic among criminals in the past few years, so it's important for the FBI to study the patterns and learn from them. And employ similar tactics, when necessary."

Ashley nodded. "I... guess that makes sense. And it makes me feel a little better to know that probably I'm not the only woman who's been so often subjected to that humiliation."

Eleanor looked at her watch. "Look, I'd love to stay and talk numbers, but I need to get back inside. My team may be in trouble." She stood up.

"Wait!" Ashley held up a hand. "Can... can i come with you?"

Eleanor looked at her oddly. "You're a civilian, not a trained agent. I can't risk your life."

"Hey, I know how to defend myself," Ashley protested. "I mean, except for all those times I got mugged..."

"Look, I gotta go..."

"I can help you!" Ashley interjected. "I know about Dr. Chen. Remember, I was at NASA for years. I can tell you about her. Besides," she added, "I really want to teach her a lesson... And Bridget Baxter, too."

Eleanor thought for a moment. Then she nodded. "Okay. I guess I need some backup right now anyway."

"Great!" Ashley smiled. She was feeling better already. "Let's get back inside the building." She headed for the door.

"Hold on there, sweetums," Eleanor cautioned. "We can't just go back inside like this. We've only got our underwear. It'll definitely raise Dr. Chen's suspicions... and it'll be pretty embarrassing, too."

"Fair enough," Ashley conceded. "But can we at least get indoors? I'm starting to get cold."

"Okay, okay... but keep quiet."

The two women reopened the back door of the Chrysalis building and slipped inside.

Once in, Eleanor beckoned Ashley into a nearby closet. "Hurry, before someone comes down the hall."

Ashley followed her in. they peeked out through a crack in the door.

"So what now?" Ashley whispered.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking..."

Eleanor's eye fell on a door down the hall. It was marked "Dressing Room." Next to it was a sign - a poster displaying a half-dozen smiling female dancers. "Tonight only - the Spinnerettes!"

Eleanor grinned. "I've got an idea."

******************

"Turn around," the blonde officer commanded. "Face the wall."

The two policewomen stepped into the light of one of the streetlamps, and Linda and Meredith could now get a good look at them.

One of the officers had light skin and jet-black hair cut into a bob. Her fair-skinned friend had shoulder-length honey-blonde hair. Both policewomen wore blue button-down shirts beneath dark jackets, blacks skirts with zippers on the side, and shiny black low-heeled boots, plus peaked black caps on their heads.

Meredith looked a bit surprised. She was about to say something, but the dark-haired officer glared at her. "You too, miss. Turn around, hands on the brick wall behind you."

Meredith complied. She stood facing the wall, alongside an aggravated Linda.

The blonde spoke into a radio strapped to her shoulder. "This is Officer Clarke. We have a code 10-15 down by the South side. Requesting backup..."

As she spoke on, Meredith glanced at Linda. "Psst... I think I know these officers."

Linda looked surprised. "What do you mean?" she whispered.

"They were assigned to transport my wife and I to prison a little while ago," Meredith recalled. "But they were total pushovers. We jumped them and stole their uniforms."

"Hey, no talking!" the raven-haired officer said angrily. Both policewomen still had their guns trained on the duo.

Linda smiled slyly. "Meredith," she whispered. "Would you be interested in letting history repeat itself?"

Meredith smiled back. "I'd be okay with it."

"She said, no talking!" the blonde officer interrupted. The two policewomen stepped closer to their two prisoners. "You can have your next conversation with the judge!"

Linda chuckled. "I don't think so."

Without warning, she whirled and swung her leg out, hitting both policewomen in their outstretched wrists. The guns were knocked out of the officers' grip. The weapons arced up into the air and fell - right into Linda's waiting hands.

"Okay, ladies." Linda pointed the officers' own guns at them. "Raise 'em high."

The officers stared dumbly at their own palms for a moment, unsure of what had just happened. Then, realizing they were now on the receiving end of their own weapons, they raised their hands.

"Don't... don't shoot!" the blonde begged.

"Please," the brunette added meekly.

Meredith had watched Linda's move in amazement. "Where did you learn a move like that?"

"Military academy," Linda said proudly. "It's a technique we learned to disarm an opponent. Although I don't think they expected it would be used on law officers."

She turned back to the two policewomen. "So... still planning on arresting me?"

The officers quickly shook their heads.

"Great." Linda turned to he blonde. "Mind rescinding your earlier radio message?"

The blonde officer flicked her radio on again. "This... this is Officer Clarke, with Officer O'Hara. Cancel earlier request for backup... Er, women in custody were not suspects."

"Roger that, Officer Clarke," came the response. "Better luck next time."

The blonde shut off the radio. Linda smiled. "Well done."

The brunette swallowed. "Please... please let us go. I have a husband and two little kids..."

"And you'll see them again," Linda assured her. "We won't kill you. But we do need something from you..."

"What do you..." The brunette's eyes widened. "Oh no... please don't say you want our uniforms."

Meredith gave a bit of mock applause. "Bravo... The lady wins a cigar."

The blonde glared at her. "You... I remember you! You're that prisoner we picked up a few weeks ago..."

"Yes, I am," Meredith said proudly. "Your uniform fit me well then, and I expect it will fit now."

The brunette turned to her partner. "Lora, I told you this wasn't a fluke!"

"Violet, calm down," Lora replied. "It'll be okay..."

"No it won't!" Violet said indignantly. "We keep getting mugged for our uniforms... this is the third time this month!"

"Third time?" Meredith mused. "Wow, you girls certainly are popular."

Linda laughed. "Okay, okay... enough chitchat. Ladies, kindly step into that alleyway so we can get you out of those outfits."

Lora and Violet glanced helplessly at one another... but there was little else they could do. They kept their hands raised as Meredith and Linda herded them into the dark alley.

With the weapons trained on them, the officers did not need much convincing to slip out of their uniforms and boots. Soon, Lora was down to an amber comfort bra and leopard-print Brazilian panties, while Violet had been reduced to a fuchsia sports bra and matching boyshorts.

The officers remained begrudgingly silent as Meredith used their own handcuffs to lock their wrists behind their back, and used a couple of spare pairs from the car to secure their ankles. Meredith also retrieved a roll of yellow police tape from the car's glove compartment; it made for substantial gagging material.

Finally, the two officers were invited to spend the night inside a foul-smelling dumpster. Both of them gave several loud "mmmmppphhh"s in protest, but they could not fight back as Meredith picked them up bodily and dropped them in.

"Good night, ladies," Meredith smiled down at them. "It's been fun mugging you again... We'll have to arrange a third meeting at some point." With a laugh, she shut the dumpster lid.

Linda nodded approvingly. "Nice job."

"Likewise," Meredith replied, picking up one of the discarded uniform shirts. "Come on, let's get dressed."

******************

As Mr. McElroy's speech wore on, a bored Felicia began flipping through her phone.

"Let me know when it gets interesting," she whispered.

Moira stretched. "Nah, I can't sit through this. Gotta take a walk around the block."

Felicia smirked. "You are drunk."

"Just a little tipsy is all," Moira grinned. "I'm a grown woman, 'Licia. I'm perfectly capable of holding my liquor."

"Yes... You've been holding a bottle of it for the past hour."

Moira stuck out her tongue, then stood up on slightly wobbly legs and headed for the exit.

Felicia glanced at Bridget. "I swear, she gets stranger every day."

Bridget nodded, though she still had a faraway look in her eyes.

Felicia eyed her friend and mentor with concern. She couldn't quite figure it out, but... something was wrong. But Bridget clearly didn't want to talk about it.

Well, I need someone to talk to, Felicia thought. Moira was out, and Robyn and Chloe seemed more content to bicker with each other.

Maybe I should text Bo...

Felicia winced. She still felt stung from Bobbi's hurtful words earlier that day.

No, I can't text Bobbi. I need some time... and she probably does, too.

Felicia rested her chin in her palm. Maybe... maybe I was a little harsh on her earlier. Maybe I came off as a little hostile. Maybe I should apologize.

She brushed a loose strand of hair back in place. But she should apologize first.

*****************

Bobbi puffed and panted as she jogged up the hill. The cool breeze blew past her face as she neared a summit.

She smiled as she finally reached the top and slowed down. It was a gorgeous night.

I should do this more often.

Bobbi glanced at the Fitbit. It indicated a strong, healthy heart rate - peak condition for a woman in her twenties.

Not surprising... I've been getting a lot of exercise lately. Mugging other women for their clothes is bodybuilding work.

She chuckled to herself... then stopped. Maybe she shouldn't be joking about that.

It was true, she enjoyed what she did. She liked the energy that came with proving her superiority to other women - taking them down and rewarding herself with their clothes. And she didn't feel sorry for what she did to Katie. That woman had deserved to be taught a lesson.

But still, her talk with Zuhal had helped her clarify some things about herself. They were not things she necessarily wanted to admit or talk about... but she had said them out loud, and it would no longer be prudent to ignore them.

Zuhal's words rang in her head. "You're not a bad person." They were kind words... but they were coming from a former criminal, and a woman who herself had no compunction when it came to mugging innocent women for their clothes.

So maybe Felicia's right, kind of. Maybe I have gotten a little carried away. And maybe I shouldn't have insulted her earlier. Maybe I should apologize...

She pulled out her phone and stared it it for a moment. Then she frowned and tucked it back in her pocket.

But she should apologize first.

*******************

Bridget slowly traced the rim of her wine glass with an errant finger.

Think, woman, think. You've gotten out of tough scrapes before... You can get out of this one. You just need to use your head.

It was typically at this time that an idea would pop into Bridget's head - a plan that would allow her to fight back. But on this night, at this moment... she was drawing a blank.

Julia Chen had been planning this night for weeks. She was all ready for a fight, and had accounted for multiple contingencies. Bridget, on the other hand, had planned for nothing but a relaxing evening. She had no backdoors, no strategy. She was trapped.

Mr. McElroy was wrapping up his speech. "And while there are many great journalists seated before us tonight, only one can earn the coveted award."

He moved the curtain slightly and looked backstage, where Darla was standing. With a sly and imperceptible smile, the woman handed him the envelope.

Mr. McElroy turned back to the expectant crowd. "And now... our Journalist of the Year."

From the end of the auditorium, Dr. Chen peeked through a crack in the door. This would be a delicious moment, and she planned to savor it.

Felicia held her breath in anticipation. She gave an encouraging smile at Bridget.

Bridget smiled back, trying not to panic. It'll be all right... Stay calm, and it will be all right.

But she herself did not believe it.

Mr. McElroy removed the folded slip of paper from the envelope. "And the winner is..."

Bridget shut her eyes, trying to block out the rest of the world.

Mr. McElroy unfolded the paper.

"...Robyn Cleary."

Bridget opened her eyes. "...What?"

Felicia blinked. "What?"

Robyn sat up straight. "What??"

From backstage, Darla scowled. "What?!"

********************

And at the end of the hall, Dr. Chen felt her temper flare up. "What?"

She took a step away from the door, angry and discombobulated. What the hell had happened? The man was supposed to call out Bridget's name, none other.

She had planned this night out meticulously... or so she had thought. But the fates had thrown a sudden wrench into her schemes.

No... Chen grit her teeth. She would not allow things to go awry. One way or another, Bridget Baxter was going to suffer.

She spoke with acidic fury into her wrist-communicator. "Lucinda."

"Yeah, boss?" Lucinda responded.

"Prema is bound and gagged in the trunk of my car," Chen hissed. "Go out there and wait. When I give the word - put a bullet through her head."

Lucinda hesitated. "You mean... kill her?"

"Yes, you idiot," Dr. Chen growled. "That's typically what bullets do."

Lucinda was silent for a moment. She had attempted to kill Prema in the past... Yet somehow, she felt a bit reluctant to try again.

"Is there a problem?" Dr. Chen said angrily.

But then Lucinda remembered. It was Prema who had started all her problems... had her arrested... which in turn had led to the complications which threatened to destroy her marriage.

Lucinda felt a fury burn in her heart. She spoke into her communicator.

"No problem at all, boss."

She patted the gun concealed in her jacket as she headed towards the building exit.

"This one's for you, Meredith," she whispered softly to herself.

I'll start with Chen's plan at the beginning, because I found your idea brilliant. From a story perspective, it's very in-character for Chen to try to break Bridget, and what better way than ruin her reputation and carreer? And from the perspective of the thematics, it puts Bridget in front of her own contradictions. Honestly, I wouldn't even have minded if the conversation lasted even longer with Chen even more forcing Bridget to confront her own contradictions, but I know that a Show Don't Tell quicker-paced approach works just as well. (I guess it's a personal bias.

Unsurprisingly, I enjoyed the continuation of Bobbi's moral dilemnas, especially the first part when she ponders about the unfortunate Leah. I really like how well-rounded you're making her. On the one hand, her inner-thoughs of making fun of the innocent woman and her decision to ultimately brush of the woman's plight and wash her hands of it are NOT the marks of a good person, but at the same time she's shown to be lost and confused. And she's also pretty lucid about the kind of person Zuhal is, and knows that her advice isn't probably the best one out there. Though I knew what was going to happen to that jogger the second she started to antagonize Bobbi... Though you managed to not make the scene Manichean by showing that even though she was kind of a b*tch, Bobbi isn't exactly morally clean by stripping her either. Goodness, I wish I could read into the future to see how her development will end! Plus the irony of she and Felicia's parallel narration. Though if you ask me, Felicia is a lot more in the right than Bobbi. So hard to have to pick favorites between them...

The plot keeps unravelling, people keep being replaced. Replacing the woman carrying the letter of the award was certainly a good way to rig the game!

So Ashley will finally be affected by the Paradigm apparently... And one more wild card added to the upcoming battle royale. Her part was perhaps my favorite because of the casual conversation between she and Eleanor about muggings for disguise and its statistics. "Honey, how many times have other women mugged you for your uniform?"

Nothing to say about the uniform stealings. Good, as always. (Dyed blue hair. I know that trackman will appreciate. I do too. That 'kiss the cook' bra though. Just a perfect detail. )

Once again, great lines. The lampshade-hanging of Eleanor's inner thought Scintillating conversation was my favorite. Darla's trying, but she doesn't have what it takes to reach Marina's level.

A general thought, but I really appreciate how you use the fact that there are recurring victims to your advantage to bring some nice conversations, such as the one with Lora and Violet. "What do you..." The brunette's eyes widened. "Oh no... please don't say you want our uniforms." "Third time?" Meredith mused. "Wow, you girls certainly are popular." "It's been fun mugging you again... We'll have to arrange a third meeting at some point." Also, Rebecca's running gag of goofy underwear...

A few random thoughts:

First sommelier, and now chefs? You seem to have decided to wage war on the gourmets everywhere!

The end of Eleanor's part sadly confirms my suspicions. The FBI seems to only succeed at mugging innocent people. Honestly, I'm now waiting for the inevitable ending where they'll have to face all the lawsuits. At least it would be a happy ending for their victims when they get monetary compensation! One would say that ending up as the victims of other groups' uniform stealing antics is a bit of karma at this point.

NO! Here goes my potential team-up between Bobbi and Ashley! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tim5nU3 ... tchicken09 Man, I'm really bad at predictions.

Curse you cliffhanger! Waiting for the upcoming climax is torture. (Though in the good sense of course, cause it proves that I'm invested in the ending. ) I admit that I'm curious as to why it didn't work. Darla seemed surprise. Does it mean that the contest was rigged from the start?