"For you, hon. Ronnie."
That's ironic, thought D.X. as he grabbed the cordless. "Hey, Veronica. How's tricks?"
"Well, we've got a bit of a situation," said the Chair, a hint of concern in her voice. "You know that spike of activity you've been tracking?"
"Yeah, generalized midwest, about 1.2 kilogridrigs of GTS energy. What about it?"
"The energy level is staying the same, but it's getting more concentrated, collapsing on a point located at or about 43 degrees, eight minutes north by 89 degrees, 20 minutes west."
Jake was silent as he pulled out his PDA, going to the map of the world he'd installed. Somehow, he knew the city that would come up before it did.
"Madison."
"Exactly," said Ronnie. "At the rate we're tracking, it should hit its maximum concentration somewhere around 1320 hours CST."
Jake stumbled a bit, before saying, "That has to be a coincidence."
"One would think. But...well, ten years to the day, right?"
Jake thought back. The dreams were so vivid. The insistence that she wasn't dead.
Impossible.
"I've got Isis, Oberon, and Titania with me right now. I'll give Anonymous a call. I'm taking it we're going condition red?"
"Yellow, for now. We don't know it's T.C...."
"Her name was Liz, Ronnie. Liz Anderson."
There was silence. "You've never told me her name before, D.X. Why now?"
He looked down, and said quietly, "Do you think it's her?"
"Maybe. I don't know how it could be. Maybe it's just an echo of the spell you cast."
"If it's her, will you help me keep her alive? I owe her that. We have more power arrayed on our side this time. I think we could maybe help her get sane."
"D.X., as your friend, I tell you I think we'd both undo what was done in '93. Yes, I'm on my way too. If it's T.C....Liz...if it's her, we'll protect her, and we'll save her."
"Probably fastest to drive. We'll meet at the Parthenon at 2 A.M. Machina out."
He hung up the phone, and turned to his friends.
"Well, it looks like I'll be telling you the story on the way."
"Jake, is it her?" Teri looked at him with concern, mostly for him, but slightly for what this might mean for them.
"If it is, honey, we'll have our hands full. But if it is, I want her taken alive. She didn't deserve what happened to her before."
"Do you think it is?" asked Scott.
"Oberon," said D.X., using the code name assigned to the adept, "I doubt it. My spell was cast ten years ago when this levels off. My guess is that we're seeing the end of a spell cast with the full emotion of my soul behind it. But we'd better be in position.
"Titania," he said, addressing Sarah. "Call Anonymous. Tell him to meet us at the Parthenon at 2 A.M. He'll know where it is."
"First off, you can still call me Sarah. Second, why don't we just teleport?"
"First off," said D.X., smiling, "we are in a mission called by the Chair herself. Code names in public, Sarah--I want to make sure we've got that in our heads right off the bat. Second, I don't want a nanogrildrig of power wasted here."
"She's that tough?"
"She has faith," said Jake, grabbing his wallet. "She has faith."
* * *
The Ford Windstar pulled out onto highway 52. Teri was driving fast, buit not so fast as to arouse suspicion. It was only just nine o'clock, they would easily make Madison by two.
"So," said D.X. from the passenger seat. "You probably want me to continue the story, eh?"
"Actually, I'd say it's mission-critical," said Sarah. "We'd better know what we're getting into."
"Indeed," said D.X. "Well, let's see. Where were we...."
* * *
It was several weeks before Liz and I were able to reach a detente, but eventually, we did. I felt guilty--had I but been there to defend Liz...but I knew that there was no undoing my decision.
Liz, for her part, had been as apologetic as she could be. She had gone out of her way to do anything I wanted (save restore me--but I had given up on that for now). She offered herself to me early and often, and it took me weeks to agree
But it was several weks before I was able to take her up on the offer. (Of course, I did avail myself eventually--I am a man, after all.)
We were back on a mission again. I was in her ear as per usual, and we were doing what we did. I think she wanted me there as much for conscience as for company.
Tonight we were driving around out by West Towne Mall because Liz though she should branch out beyond campus. We drove around in her beat-up Toyota, Liz looking for trouble.
"LITTLE ONE, DO YOU HATE ME?" she asked, softly. There was a pleading in her voice that was unmistakable.
"No, Liz, of course I don't. I love you. I worry about you, but I don't hate you. I never could."
"I LOVE YOU TOO, JAKE. I...I KNOW YOU SHOULD HATE ME, EVEN IF YOU DON'T. I JUST CAN'T DO WHAT I WANT TO DO FOR YOU. I HAVE A DUTY I CAN'T IGNORE. I PROMISE YOU, THE DAY WILL COME WHEN I CAN RESTORE YOU. I MEAN THAT, JAKE."
"I know you do, Liz. I can wait."
We drove on in silence for a while, before Liz said, "WELL, I THINK IT'S GO TIME, LITTLE ONE."
* * *
It was late in the evening when Liz pulled up in front of a nice home, where grunge music was being played at levels just low enough to avoid drawing police attention. Liz bounded out of the car and strode up to the door.
Nobody noticed Liz as we entered the bustling high school kegger. She gave the kid at the door six bucks for a cup that she immediately dropped. She made her way up the crowded stairs towards the bedroom upstairs.
Liz surveyed the situation before picking out the appropriate room. Wasting not a moment, she strode to the door and shrunk it off its hinges.
The girl lay motionless, half-awake and half-naked, as a boy fondled her. "SOMEHOW, I DON'T THINK THIS IS A CONSENSUAL AFFAIR. MORPHEUS, TRANSPORT."
The rapist disposed of, Liz rushed to the girl's side. She covered her with a blanket, and picked up the bedside phone and called 911.
She hung up and left the room, moving quickly towards the door. As she moved, she was jostled. As her head snapped, I found myself sliding out of her ear. "Liz!" I cried as I found myself falling out into mid-air.
As I drifted to the ground I saw Liz waliking away.
* * *
The next few minutes are a blur. I fell down into a sea of feet and beer cups, and I knew I would be lucky to survive the hour.
A bus-sized boot landed a few inches to my right, knocking me off my feet. Staggering up, I started running toward the nearby baseboard. I was approaching the wall when suddenly, a massive plain of blue dropped in front of me. I fell backwards and stared up at the immense leg of a young woman.
She had dropped down to tie her shoe, and I found I was just a few inches from her knee. If I ran, I could grab onto the denim--and maybe get out of this bad situation I had found myself in.
I ran.
I threw myself at the knee of the girl just as she finished her task. She rose, and I clung desperately to the rough fabric, hoping that she wouldn't walk too fast.
We moved out through the party, the world moving by like a blur. Suddenly, there was a blast of cold air as the young woman walked out into the night.
I shivered violently--almost enough for me to lose my grip. But somehow, I had the presence of mind to start climbing towards the pocket of the girl's dungarees. It wasn't an easy climb, but I managed to make it in about ten minutes--about a minute or two before frostbite would've set in.
I slid deep into the pocket, grateful for the warmth of the young lady's thighs behind me.
Finally, I had an opportunity to think. How would I get in touch with Liz? I was so small, I couldn't hope to make it to campus unaided. Hopefully, she could figure out where I was, and come get me.
For now, I just had to survive.
* * *
I awoke with a start. I couldn't have been asleep for more than a few minutes. But I could feel we were inside now--the denim on the outside was starting to warm up.
Carefully, I began to ascend the pocket, hoping that I could find my way to safety; I had no desire to end up in this girl's laundry basket. I could a sliver of light above me. I aimed for it, when suddenly the wall became a floor.
It took me but a moment to realize that the girl had sat down. This would make things much easier. I crawled quickly until I reached the egress of the tunnel.
I pulled myself up and out, and looked out at the vista of the girl's lap. I took a few steps forward and looked up the body of the titanic teen. Her face was partially obscured by small, pert breasts, but I could see the phone cord looping up into her right hand, and I heard her chatting away about something.
I thought about what I should do. I could try to contact the girl, but what was the point? It wasn't like I could get unshrunk without help from Liz. I supposed that she could help me find Liz, but the risks of this girl being less than helpful far outweighed anything she could do for me.
I was standing on top of the girl's left thigh. I decided I should try to descend her leg onto the chair, and from there find my way to the ground.
I didn't get the chance.
Without warning, her arm came crashing down between me and her knee, and her hand wandered lazily into her crotch area. I thought I would have to wait but a moment or two as she scratched an itch, but instead, five-story-long fingers began to softly slide along the fly of her jeans. I lost my footing as her legs parted, slightly. I watched in awe as she stroked herself slowly, languidly.
And then the fingers reached for her fly.
* * *
Meanwhile, in Anaheim, a dapper field agent cooled his heels outside the office of the Chairman.
(A groan came from the back of the van. Jake ignored it.)
Jon Smith VII was in his mid-thirties, and he was fast developing a reputation as one of the Cadre's top agents. He was bright, and daring, and willing to stick his neck out on occasion. He wasn't especially adept in GTS--sadly, he had little natural ability in it--but that was far outweighed by his skill as a detective.
The door opened, and a familiar voice called him. Jon rose, and walked into the office where his father and the Chairman sat.
"Jonny," said his father, Jon Smith VI, in a clipped Oxford accent, "we've got a pretty serious assignment here. We need to you go to Madison, Wisconsin. The League has sent one of their top field agents there. We want you to go. Alone."
Smith looked up, surprised. He had always been teamed with someone, first his father (who had served on the board, like his father before him), then with Henry Bigg. But never before had he been entrusted with a solo mission.
"Anonymous," said the Chair, using Smith's code name, "This is serious. We have convincing information that the League is planning something significant. Ceres' operation is the lynchpin of the operation. We need you to follow her, figure out what is going on, and communicate back to the Cadre."
"Why me?" asked Smith.
"You've done a lot of hard work, son, but the League isn't familiar with you yet. We don't want to let them know we're on to them--not yet, at least. You need to get to Madison immediately. We've arranged for a car that will take you to LAX. From there, you'll fly on a red-eye to Minneapolis, where you'll connect to Madison. Here's the information you need," said Smith VI, handing his son a manilla envelope. "Good luck, son."
Anonymous walked out into the street and got into the back of the Town Car. He forced himself to sleep. He doubted he would get much chance later.
* * *
Back in Madison, I watched in awe as a mammoth zipper clank-clank-clanked open, and as a hand deftly unbuttoned the fly of the girl. Then, suddenly, the hand swept back and toward me.
I was caught in a tsunami of flesh as the girl swept her hand back across the denim landscape. I hoped against hope that I would fall off, but as the hand pushed me off the cliff between jeans and panties, my hope ran out. I flew into a wall of flesh, just as the girl lifted the wastband of her underwear and slid her left hand into her womanhood.
I dropped quickly into the bush of the girl, smelling her sweet young scent and becoming instantly aroused. The girl was sliding her index finger along her slit, and it was only a matter of time before she got me. I tried to climb, but it was to no avail; I was suddenly pushed along by a house-sized digit into the area just inside the girl's lips.
I tried to find a way out, but the fingers were sliding back and forth, back and forth, and the walls were getting slippery as the girl talked dirty to the unseen caller. I hoped that she was just fiddling around, that she was not trying for the ultimate outcome, but I was wrong.
Two fingers plunged into the cave, pulling upwards. I was caught on the tip of her index finger, which quickly found its destination. I was pushed firmly into the girl's clit as the index finger pushed and prodded, working for a happy outcome.
I felt like I was about to burst. I couldn't breathe, and I was bruised all over. As the world began to buckle with her orgasm, the world became hazy, and then, all was black.
* * *
I awoke to see Liz standing over me, at a more reasonable size difference than my sometime hostess. "Thank God," I mumbled.
I was wrong about that.
"SO," said Liz. "TRYING TO ESCAPE, EH? IT SURE DIDN'T TAKE LONG FOR YOU TO FIND YOUR WAY INTO ANOTHER GIRL'S PANTIES, NOW DID IT?"
My jaw dropped. I didn't even respond, I was so flummoxed. Finally, I stammered, "Liz, I--"
"SAVE IT. I THOUGHT YOU WERE DIFFERENT, JAKE. TURNS OUT I WAS WRONG."
With that, I looked around and saw that I was in a jewelry box. "Liz! No, I--"
The lid closed, and a latch clicked.
And I was in darkness.
* * *
They drove on for a moment, before Scott asked, "So what happened to the date rapist?"
"Eh? Oh, right. Well, since he enjoyed having sex with women when they were inert, Liz had decided to let him know what it was like. So he disappeared into the Pipefitter--a head and sex shop down on State Street. He had become a red silicone rod, about eight inches long."
"A dildo?"
"Correct, Sarah. He was purchased after a few weeks by a member of one of the sororities as a gag gift. He ended up in the possession of a reasonably attractive sophomore who would gladly take him out and use him--if she didn't have a boyfriend or anything. Actually, his life wasn't, and isn't, all that bad. Last I could determine, he'd been stolen by the woman's fourteen-year-old niece. That was about four years ago; pretty girl. He could have it a lot worse."
"So how did you get out of the box?"
"Well, that's where this story takes a rather odd twist," said D.X. "A rather odd twist indeed."