Synopsis:

The Sisterhood had been destroyed and Diana Hunter could turn her attention to more productive activities. But was the Sisterhood completely eliminated? Were there some loose ends that needed to be tidied up? And just why was America's most covert agency suddenly interested in her business?

Story:

What Ever Became of the Sisterhood?
by
Valentina Michelle Smith

Diana Hunter was the last to arrive at the coffee shop. She made her way to the table already occupied by Heather Ellis, Heather's sister Catherine, and Beverly Masters. "Good afternoon, ladies," she said as she seated herself.

"Thanks for coming, Diana," said Catherine. "Would you care for some coffee?"

"Please," Diana replied. Catherine motioned for the waiter, who promptly returned to the table. "Can I get something for you, ladies?" he asked.

Diana said, "A cup of Kona, please. Cream on the side."

"Excellent choice. Anyone else?"

"A refill on my Colombian," Beverly said. Heather and Catherine also ordered refills of their coffees. This shop enjoyed a good reputation for its varietal coffees. The waiter took their requests and bustled off to fetch them.

"Well," said Diana, "you hinted at some good news. What was so important that you wanted to tell me in person?"

Catherine looked at Beverly, then at Heather, and finally back at Diana. "We have it, Diana. We have the treatment."

The waiter arrived with their coffee. They took some time to fix them. Heather liked her Kenya AA with some sugar. Catherine liked cream and sugar in her Mocha Java. Beverly drank her Colombian black. Diana preferred Sweet'n'low and cream.

Catherine took a sip, then continued. "I know it's been a long time, Diana, but the stem cell research finally panned out. We can clone stem cells from a patient's own tissue, and then use these cells to re-grow any organ of our choosing. We have already used the technique in lab animals, including primates, and have grown human organs. We will still have to get through a series of clinical trials, but this technique will essentially make organ transplant obsolete."

"The possibilities are enormous," Heather added. "We think we can replace severed nerves and reverse paralysis. We can replace diseased livers, kidneys, hearts, and virtually any other organ. Eyeglasses may no longer be needed, just grow a new eye. Lost teeth may be replaced by natural, growing teeth. Potentially, we can replace any organ in the body."

Diana was stunned. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

Beverly answered. "Yes it does. Like Catherine said, we are years away from approval, but we may soon be able to offer complete functional gender reassignment. And we can totally reverse Tuckett's process."

Diana sat back in her chair, visibly surprised. "After all this time, I nearly stopped hoping. To think that it might actually happen�"

"We still have a long way to go, Diana," Catherine cautioned. "The approval process to begin clinical trials might take a long time, possibly years. After all, what we are proposing to do here is radically different from anything medicine has ever accomplished before. We can literally re-grow any part of the human body. Think of the possibilities; a world where diseases can be eradicated, life spans measured in centuries, where birth defects and congenital problems may be easily and safely corrected. The implications are staggering."

"What hath God wrought?" Diana said, which produced a chorus of puzzled looks from her companions. "That," she explained, "was the first message transmitted by Samuel Morse over his first operating telegraph. He predicted that instant communication would change the world. And he was right.

"Congratulations, ladies, and thank you for all of your efforts. I am grateful."

The conversation then switched to small talk and gossip. The women finished their coffee and left the table. Nobody noticed the tall woman busing the tables as she surreptitiously slipped the used water glasses from the table into her apron pockets. Nobody paid her any attention as she removed her apron and placed it into a tote bag. Nor did anybody notice this woman leave after depositing her bin of plates, cups, and utensils in the kitchen.

She caught a bus at the corner. Had anybody bothered to follow her through three bus changes and a short trip on the subway, she would have been observed to enter the service door of a certain nondescript building in the city. From the outside, it was just one more nameless, faceless, ubiquitous glass-and concrete monolith like so many found in the urban jungle. Had you inadvertently walked through the main doors, a polite receptionist would assure you that you had the wrong address and would have been happy to provide you with directions to your intended destination. You may have seen this building dozens of times without paying it any particular attention.

Of course, if I told you where it was, I would have to kill you.

Inside the service entrance was a device that appeared to be an Automatic Teller Machine. Margo Lane ignored the Out-Of-Service sign and inserted a plastic card resembling a standard ATM card into the machine. This card, however, was far more sophisticated than the ATM card it resembled. It contained embedded nanochips which, when queried properly, returned a unique code that the machine recognized as an agent identifier. This activated an infrared laser scanner, which read Margo's eyes and compared her iris patterns to its internal database. Satisfied as to her identity, the door opened, allowing her to enter the short access corridor. As she walked, a number of advanced sensors scanned her heartbeat, breathing, and other physiological parameters. These factors were all correlated and verified by an inference engine that made the final authorization before Margo reached the end of the corridor. Her access was approved and the door swung open at her touch.

As she walked in, she was greeted by Denise Colt, one of the agency's newer recruits. Seeing her reminded Margo of the day when she had first been recruited into the agency with no name. She had given up everything including her identity to serve in the most covert group in the Justice Department. She had even given up her former life as a man.

Margo, you see, is a crossdresser, as are many of her sister agents. The remaining agents are pre-op or post-op transsexuals. In fact, all of the operatives of this particular agency are transgendered.

"So how did it go?" Denice asked.

"Piece of cake," Margo answered. "I snatched the glasses and walked out like I owned the place. Nobody paid the least bit of attention. Let's get these glasses up to the lab."

Denice and Margo rode the elevator to the lab on the eleventh floor. They donned gloves and removed the four glasses from the tote bag. They dusted each glass with a fluorescent powder that disclosed any fingerprints on the glass. The prints were photographed under ultraviolet and compared with the prints on file in several national databases. Four positive matches were obtained. The results, however, proved surprising.

* * * * *

The Hunter Group was headquartered in an unassuming suite of offices in a suburban business campus. Although the office was tastefully decorated, its lack of ostentatious furnishings belied the fact that this group was one of the largest and most profitable financial firms in the country. Ostensibly a private bank, the Hunter Group's holdings spanned a diverse assemblage of biotech, retail, manufacturing, software, and financial companies. The Hunter group did not flaunt its portfolio. It preferred a minimally intrusive management style and a low-key corporate image.

Diana Hunter, President of the Hunter Group, maintained a modest office within the suite. She had assembled a talented core of personnel to run the daily operation, so her presence was not always required. She managed by exception, much the same as her group managed its holdings. Her people were competent to perform their jobs, and she had the wisdom to give them the freedom to succeed.

It was unusual for Diana to meet with anybody. Her staff could generally handle most business. But this meeting had been requested by one of the most influential people in the city. Diana had never met Peter N__________, but she knew of his reputation, and a request from him had nearly the weight of a court summons.

Her phone rang. "Ms. Hunter," said her secretary, "Margo Lane is here to see you."

"Send her in, Mrs. Hathaway," Diana answered.

A tall woman dressed in a conservative black suit with a knee-length skirt entered. She affected a layered look with a white blouse worn underneath her jacket. A pearl pendant hanging from a thin gold chain matched her pearl earrings. She extended her hand. Diana could not help but notice her impeccable manicure. "Ms. Hunter," the woman said, "I'm Margo Lane. Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice."

Diana replied, "You're welcome. Please have a seat."

Margo sat and crossed her legs. "I suppose you are curious as to why I asked to meet with you," she said.

"Yes, I am. I don't usually take meetings. But you seem to have some highly placed friends."

"You must be referring to Peter. He and I have often exchanged favors. I hope that my asking him to arrange this meeting didn't annoy you."

"Not at all, but it has piqued my curiosity. Just why has one of the most powerful men in the city used his considerable influence to arrange this meeting?"

Margo removed a wallet from her purse. She opened it to reveal a badge and an ID card. "I'm from the Justice Department, Ms. Hunter. What I am about to discuss with you may have implications affecting national security."

Diana studied the proffered credentials. The photo matched Margo and seemed genuine enough, but she had seen clever forgeries before. "This identifies you as an agent of the Justice Department, but it mentions no particular agency. Just who do you work for?"

"Our agency has no name, and it doesn't appear on any organizational chart. We are the most covert group on the planet. And we would like your help."

Margo retrieved a manila file from the briefcase she carried. "Your group has been actively funding Ellis Laboratories," she said, consulting a paper from the file. "Their research in recombinant DNA and stem cell cloning has been successful in many areas. One of these areas is a new sex-reassignment therapy that will permit a complete transformation from male to female or vice-versa." She looked up at a stunned Diana.

"Just where did you get this information?" she asked.

"We have operatives within Ellis Labs. They passed on some information to us. Our agency has a particular interest in transgender matters."

Margo continued. "When we realized the possible impact this therapy might have for our agency, we decided to contact you. As a precaution, we ran background checks on several of your key people. When a few anomalies surfaced we dug a little deeper.

"I want to first assure you that we will not be sharing this information with any other agency. What I am about to tell you will not go any further than this office."

She referred to another paper. "Dr. Heather Ellis, sister of Dr. Catherine Ellis and one of the leading researchers in the field of recombinant DNA. She has an outstanding academic as well as professional record. But for some reason, there is no record of her parents having two girls. They had a daughter, Catherine, and a son, Brian. He seems to have vanished.

"Here's another anomaly," she said, picking up yet another sheet. "Dr. Beverly Masters, biochemist, head of the Stem Cell group at Ellis Labs. Again, an impeccable academic and professional career. But she doesn't seem to have any records prior to college. No high school transcript, no family, nothing."

"And finally, we have you, the low-profile CEO of one of the largest holding companies in the country. Like your friends, a cursory or even moderately intrusive search of your past would not reveal anything. But upon extremely close examination, some questions arise."

Diana was becoming angry. "What right do you have to pry into our private affairs? Just who do you think you are? Do you realize just how many laws you have broken?"

"Ms. Hunter, if I were you I would not invoke legalities. I'm not the only person in this room who may be answerable to the criminal justice system. I want you to understand that I am in no way using this information to threaten or coerce you. We need your help."

Diana silently pondered Agent Lane's statements. She then said, "Very well. Continue."

"Thank you. We obtained fingerprints of you and your colleagues and compared them to several databases. We were surprised at the results.

"Heather Ellis' prints matched fine, but they also matched with the prints for Brian Ellis. This might have been a simple mix-up, but in light of our other intelligence this cannot be considered a coincidence.

"But most puzzling were the matches we obtained for Dr. Masters and yourself. The prints we obtained matched two dead men."

Margo picked up another paper. "The prints we obtained from Dr. Masters matched with those of Alan Prescott, a student who was killed in an automobile accident. His body was burned beyond recognition. Identification was made based on a Medic Alert bracelet found on the body."

She replaced the paper and produced another. "Finally, we come to your prints. Imagine my surprise when your prints matched those of a notorious gangster who testified in exchange for immunity, the man who brought down the Mancuso family." She paused to look up at Diana. "Ms. Hunter, your fingerprints tell us that you are none other than the infamous Joe Rossi."

Diana was still angered. "What you are saying is ridiculous. There is no way you could prove any of this."

"I don't need to prove it, Ms. Hunter. I already know it to be a fact. You see, I already know you, and you know me. At least, we knew each other as kids." She paused for a moment. "Don't you remember me from the old neighborhood, Joe? I'm Chris Cooper."

A look of astonishment gave way to one of recognition as Diana studied Margo's face as though for the first time. "How can that be?" she asked. "It's incredible to even consider, but� My God, Chris, it's you!"

A torrent of memories flooded Diana's mind. She remembered how a young Joe Rossi had been tormented by the older kids in the neighborhood, and how one boy became his protector. Chris was taller and stronger, and he took a liking to Joe. He taught Joe how to throw and catch a baseball. Joe and Chris had been inseparable, until Chris' parents divorced and Chris had to move to another neighborhood.

Diana rose from her chair, circled around her desk, and grasped Margo's hand. "I can't believe it! How, I mean, what happened?"

"I might ask the same of you. And before we start catching up, we had better agree on names. I go by Margo these days."

"And please call me Diana. But you have to tell me what happened to you. I mean, you're the last person I ever thought would transition."

"I'm not changed, Diana. The hair is mine even if the color isn't. But all the rest is paint, padding, and illusion. Underneath all this I'm still Chris, even though officially Chris no longer exists."

Diana returned to her seat. "I think we're going to be here a while. Would you like something to drink? Some coffee, perhaps?"

"Coffee sounds good."

Diana picked up her phone. "Mrs. Hathaway, could you possibly have the coffee shop send up a pot of Kona and two cups? Thank you so much."

She replaced the phone in the cradle. "Margo, I don't know where to begin. I thought you became a cop."

"And I thought you became a wiseguy. But let's start with myself and how I became Margo.

"This is something that I never told another living soul outside the agency. I had been dressing up like a girl since I was about seven. I always liked it and never gave much thought as to why, but I kept it a secret.

"After I made detective, there was an opening in the Sexual Assault squad. They needed a cop to play decoy. I volunteered. I got to walk around dressed as a woman on the city payroll. My job was to lure sexual predators and then bust them. I was good at it. So good that I soon came to the attention of my current employer.

"What I'm now about to tell you is the most closely guarded secret in the country. I work for a corps of crossdressed and transsexual agents. We provide cover and support for transgendered persons who are vital to national security. Our charges are politicians, scientists, businessmen, and others who could seriously compromise security if their crossdressing activities were made public.

"That's why we became interested in Ellis Labs. Some of our charges are expressing a desire to transition. Because of the nature of their work, a transition spanning several years is unacceptable. However, we could tolerate a one-month process.

"We would like you to help us by providing a certain measure of discretion for our protectees. And we need to evaluate the safety of the process, since our clients are all vital to security.

"So now you know why I'm here, Diana. I'm here to recruit you. I'm here to ask for your help."

The phone rang. It was Mrs. Hathaway, letting Diana know that the coffee had arrived. Diana got up and went out to fetch it. She returned carrying a tray that held a large carafe, two cups, and packages of cream and sweetener. "I hope you like Kona," she said.

"Love it," Margo answered.

Diana set the tray on a small conference table adjacent to her desk. She poured a cup for Margo and one for herself. She then sat down at one of the conference table seats.

Their coffee prepared, the ladies resumed talking. "You said you wanted to recruit me, Margo. Just what do you mean?"

Margo said, "We know that you have talents we could use in establishing new identities for our protectees who transition. This and assured access to your treatment is all we would need."

"And what would I get in return?" Diana asked. "After all, I'm a businesswoman."

"We have some influence with the FDA. While we couldn't use it to get a dangerous treatment approved, certain bureaucratic entanglements could be avoided, and the process could be made a lot smoother. Also, we could ensure that nobody else would ever make use of the data we uncovered.

"We don't expect a free ride," Margo continued. "Your company will be paid for its services. We would just like to ensure some security for our protectees."

"Very well," Diana said, "you will have my full cooperation."

Margo smiled. "Thank you, Diana. This means a great deal to us."

"Margo, I'm curious. What would you have done had I not agreed to help your agency?"

Margo put her cup down and retrieved her purse. "I would have gassed you," she said, removing what appeared to be a small perfume spray bottle. "This is a powerful psychoactive drug. It is absorbed through the skin. It produces a state of extreme suggestibility. I would have sprayed you with this and simply told you to forget me and everything we discussed. We often use it when civilians recognize one of our protectees."

"I see. By any chance has that ever been used on me?"

Margo smiled again. "No, it never has. But even if I had, you would never know."

"I suppose not. Tell me, does anybody ever recognize you as Chris Cooper while you're working?"

"Never. We are trained to blend into the background and be as unobtrusive as possible. That's one of the reasons we wear black, it's a neutral sort of color."

"I can appreciate that. I try to keep a low profile myself. Until today I thought I was flying under the radar screen."

"I guess you never go back to the old neighborhood."

Diana sighed. "Not in many, many years. Not since I went to prison. And now�" Her voice trailed off.

"There's a lot I want to ask about, Diana. How did you end up like this? But before we get into that, I need to know something else. You were always the good kid, the smart student who made us all look bad in school. Just what makes a model student become a wiseguy for the mob?"

Diana looked thoughtfully at Margo. "It was because I was always the good kid. I was small, and I was smart. That was a bad combination in our neighborhood. I was always picked on. Do you know what it's like to always be the object of ridicule? Do you know how it feels to be constantly beat up just because you were small and smart? I was the target for every petty bully on the block. I lived in fear.

"After Sal Mancuso recruited me, that all changed. All of my former tormenters now feared me. When I walked down the street, they gave way and let me pass. When I walked into a bar or restaurant, they would fawn all over me to get in my good graces. I wasn't geeky little Joey any more, I was Mister Rossi. It felt good. But it broke Mamma's heart."

Diana paused, looking wistfully off into the distance. "I had it all, Margo. I had money, power, and respect. I had the sharpest car on the block. I had the finest suits custom tailored for me. I could have had any woman I wanted. But I lost Mamma's respect.

"I wanted to buy her a new home in a better neighborhood, but she didn't want to move. So I offered to get her place fixed up, with new furniture and carpets. But she wouldn't take them. She said she couldn't take anything bought with blood money."

A tear trickled down Diana's cheek. "I think a piece of me died that day. I stormed out of the house and never came back. I was mad on the outside, but inside I was still that little kid who was always picked on. Only now my own mother rejected me. I would have gone crazy if I hadn't met Annie."

"I read about what happened to her, Diana," Margo said. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Margo, but it's really all right. That was a long time ago. I still miss her, but it isn't nearly as painful."

"I still have a lot of questions that need to be answered, Diana. Like just how you got to be Diana."

Diana smiled. "Ah, where to begin? Why not at the very beginning?

"You already know that I ratted out Mancuso. Sal and his boys got some heavy time."

"Sal died last month, Diana."

"Did he? I didn't know that. In any event, I was put into the Witness Protection Program. Sal still had friends with long memories. I was lying low, doing some computer work for a private bank when I was kidnapped by the Sisterhood. That's how all this started."

Margo's face registered a bit of surprise as well as heightened interest. Diana continued. "I was working for Gloria Marshall. She put together the private bank that forms the core of The Hunter Group. I designed her database and information system. She taught me most of what I know about finance and investment.

"I didn't know until it was too late that she was part of a male-hating society that called itself the Sisterhood. Marshall was their financial wizard. But the real brain of the outfit was Regina Tuckett."

Margo perked up at the name. "I know of her. She was the founder of what eventually became Ellis Labs. She was a recluse, and disappeared about ten years ago."

"That's her. And she disappeared because I killed her."

Margo's jaw dropped. "Wait a minute, Diana. Are you telling me that you murdered this woman?"

"Let me tell you the whole story, Margo. Hopefully you will understand.

"Tuckett's hatred for men had twisted her. She joined forces with other wealthy women and embarked upon a plan to exact a sick revenge upon the entire male sex. Tuckett developed a process to transform men into women. She kidnapped men and forced them to undergo this process, and then she turned them into slaves."

Diana's voice grew grim as she recalled her experience at the hands of Tuckett and Marshall. "I remember waking up in what I thought was a hospital. Tuckett had me unconscious for over a month while her process changed my body into what you see now. While I was out cold, she had surgically removed my testes, but left my penis intact. That wasn't the worst part of it.

"They fitted me with a slave collar. At the touch of a remote my body would be wracked with the most excruciating pain you could imagine. They used this device to control me. I was literally a slave."

Margo noted the intensity of Diana's expression as she continued her tale. "I was forced to wear a maid's uniform and serve this bitch Gloria. I was required to be completely submissive and obsequious. They used the pain collar to punish me if I were too slow or too resistant. They wanted to break my spirit. They thought they had succeeded. That miscalculation proved to be their undoing.

"Gloria decided to throw a party to show off just how completely she had broken me. I laced their food with drugs and killed them all. Then I transferred the bitches' assets into accounts I set up for their former captives. Remember that database I had set up for them? I built some convenient back doors into it for my own use. It came in handy."

Margo interrupted the tale. "What about the slave collar? Why didn't they use it to stop you?"

Diana grinned. "I managed to disable that in my first month of captivity. I rigged a little vibrator like they have in a cell phone so I would know just when to fake a pain reaction. My little deception worked quite well."

Margo shifted in her chair. Her coffee was cooling in its cup. Diana's tale had her spellbound.

"After that," Diana said, "I guess I went a little crazy. I saw myself as an instrument of revenge, something like that Mack Bolan character."

"You mean 'The Executioner'?" Margo asked, referring to a popular series of adventure books.

"Yes. I sought out and executed each of the remaining slaveholders. I would free their captive and transfer the bitch's assets to her. Margo, you wouldn't believe the hatred against men that I found. One of these cliques had their slaves confined to kennels and fed them dog food. Another liked to practice body-piercing on her slave. It took nearly two years, but I had freed just about all of the poor bastards these harpies had enslaved. I provided each one with a new identity and the money from her former captor.

"Through it all, I felt numb. It was like I had no feeling, no joy or sorrow, only my mission. I was probably the grimmest, most determined bitch in the world.

"Did you know I also killed Sal's boy, Joey?" Diana asked.

"I was going to ask about him," Margo said. "When I made the connection between you and Mancuso, I did a little digging. Joey disappeared a few years ago and hasn't been seen since."

"I buried him in a swamp back in the woods. I think it's now a shopping center."

Margo shivered a little. "My God, Diana, how could you do it?"

Diana looked at Margo. Her expression was a sad one and, despite her youthful complexion, she seemed aged well beyond her years. "It was like I was on cruise control, Margo. Sometimes it seemed like I was watching another person do all of these things. But something happened that stopped me dead in my tracks. I nearly killed Heather."

She paused for a sip of coffee. It was clear that this memory was not a pleasant one. "There was only one slaveholder left on my list, and that was Catherine Ellis. I broke into her home and tied her to a chair, and then proceeded to tell her just why I was executing her that night. Fortunately, I never finished. I was surprised by the real Catherine holding a shotgun at my midsection. It seems I had tied up her sister Heather. That's when I discovered that Heather had been Brian Ellis. Catherine had passed him off as an orphan boy so that Tuckett could transform him.

"That's when I hit bottom, Margo. I had nearly killed an innocent. Suddenly, the enormity of what I had done hit me like an eighteen-wheeler running downhill. I think that if it hadn't been for the kindness of the Ellis sisters, I would have gone totally insane."

Diana's expression became one of wonderment. "They forgave me, Margo. I had nearly killed one of them and they both forgave me. That act of kindness changed my life once again. I am no longer the instrument of revenge. I have vowed to do all that is in my power to help humanity.

"That's why I finance Ellis Labs. Maybe I can't create the wonderful things that Cathy and Heather are capable of, but at least I can enable them to be creative. In this small way, I now serve the cause of life."

Margo took a long drink from her cup. "Diana, this sounds so far-fetched that I can scarcely believe it. But, it does tend to tie up a lot of the loose ends we uncovered."

Margo made a few notes on her papers and tucked them back into her briefcase. "You know, Diana, the part of me that's still a cop thinks I should arrest you for murder."

"What's stopping you?" Diana asked.

"Cops are human beings too. Maybe it's wrong for me to make such a judgement, but I don't believe that society would be well served by my arresting and outing you. So these files will just disappear."

Diana was relieved. "Thank you, Margo. I wasn't sure what you would do. But it felt good to finally just tell somebody."

"So nobody else knows about this?"

"Heather and Catherine know, of course. Beverly Masters knows a part of it. She was one of the slaves I liberated. But until today, I never told the entire story to another living soul."

Margo paused for a minute. She opened her purse and produced the perfume bottle she had shown Diana earlier. "Diana, if you want, I can use this to make you forget. Would you like me to?"

"Your offer is tempting, Margo, but no, I prefer to remember. I have a photographic memory and total recall. It's not always a good thing, but it keeps me focused."

Margo replaced the bottle in her purse. "I guess that's about all the business I had to discuss with you, Diana. But I'd like the chance to get together with you some time soon. Maybe for lunch."

"I'd like that, Margo. I'm free this Thursday. How does T.G.I. Friday's sound?"

"It sounds great."

"Excellent. I'll meet you there. Is one o'clock all right?"

"Perfect. I'll be there."

The two women rose. Diana extended her hand, then on an impulse hugged her old friend. "Margo," she said, "thank you. It will be good to talk about old times again."

"Yes. I've had to avoid my past for years. It felt like a piece of me was missing."

"Let me show you to the door," said Diana as she opened the door to her office. As they stepped out, Diana spoke to her executive assistant. "Mrs. Hathaway, do I have anything on my schedule for Thursday afternoon?"

"Nothing at all, Ms. Hunter," she replied.

"Good. I'll be meeting Ms. Lane for lunch. Don't make any other appointments for that day."

"Got it, boss. I'll keep it open."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hathaway." Diana turned to Margo and shook her hand again. "See you on Thursday," she said.

"I'll be there, Diana. Until then." Margo turned and walked down the corridor.

* * * * *

It was after seven. Diana had stayed late to catch up on some paperwork and dabble a bit with her computer. These days she rarely did much tech work, but she liked keeping up on the latest developments in the cyber world. She still was a geek at heart.

She got off the elevator at the parking garage level and was walking to her car when she felt a stinging sensation in her thigh. She looked down and noticed a small dart sticking in her leg. She instinctively moved to pull it out when her vision started to swim. She began to collapse when she felt an arm go under hers.

"Don't try to struggle, Ms. Hunter," said the woman who was now supporting her. "It won't do you any good. Very shortly you will be unconscious."

Diana felt helpless. She wanted to scream, but her vocal cords were paralyzed. She wanted to run, but her legs were like rubber. She could only move passively as this strange woman guided her to a car.

A security guard observed the exchange and walked over to investigate. "Excuse me, ladies," he asked, "is there any problem here that I might help with?"

"My friend seems to have taken a dizzy spell," the strange woman said. "I'm going to drive her home just to be safe. Is it all right if we leave her car here overnight?"

"No problem at all," the guard said. "This is a pretty safe place."

"Thank you," she said. "We'll come for it in the morning. Could you give me a hand with the passenger door?" Diana tried to scream again, but could only watch helplessly as the guard opened this woman's car door and helped her put Diana into the seat. She wanted to cry out in terror! But she could do nothing. She felt like a limp bag of rags lying helplessly in the seat as this strange woman started the car and drove away. Then everything went black.

* * * * *

Diana fought her way back to consciousness. She felt as though she were swimming up from an enormous depth. Her muscles were sore, and her head ached. She groaned as she realized that she was finally conscious. She struggled to rise.

She was lying on a couch in a dark room. As she got up, she couldn't help but notice that her clothing was different. She was wearing a black dress with a short, lace-trimmed skirt and a low-cut lace-trimmed neckline. The crossed pattern of fishnet stockings was visible on her legs. As she stood, she struggled to keep balanced. She was now wearing five-inch stiletto heels. She was startled to discover that she was dressed in a maid's uniform, similar to the one she had been forced to wear so many years ago.

"If this is somebody's idea of a joke," she said aloud, "I fail to see the humor."

No voice answered her. As she looked about she was brought to her knees by intense pain. She felt as though her flesh was being seared by molten lava. Every nerve ending in her body was now registering the most excruciating pain it could possibly feel. As she collapsed, she could hear a woman laughing.

"Well, look at the mighty Diana Hunter, humbled by a simple touch of a button. How does it feel, bitch?"

Diana looked up as a woman stepped into view. She was the same woman who had kidnapped her in the parking garage. She was holding a remote. Diana realized that she must have been fitted with a slave collar. But how could this be? She thought all of those damned devices had been destroyed!

Another burst of pain! Diana nearly gasped, but fought back the impulse. "Why?" she asked. "What did I ever do to you?"

More pain wracked Diana's body. "You robbed me! You stole it from me!"

"What did I steal from you? I don't even know you!"

"My revenge!" the woman shouted. "I was going to have it all. I was promised wealth, power, and a slave. Then you came along and changed everything!"

"What are you talking about?" Diana asked.

"Don't plead ignorance with me, Hunter," the woman said. "Dr. Tuckett had just brought me into the Sisterhood when you moved in and took over. All of a sudden she was gone. And so was my future."

The woman began to rant, momentarily forgetting her remote. "Tuckett promised me access to personal wealth and power, and a slave all my own. I was looking forward to humbling a man just like she did. I was going to abduct a slave and break his will to mine. Then she vanished. And just as suddenly there was a new group in charge of things, and a new owner. You!"

She circled Diana, continuing to vent. "I watched you for years, along with those other bitches, the Ellis sisters. I bided my time. I decided to make you my slave. Poetic justice, don't you think?"

"Where did you get the slave collar?" Diana asked. "That was one of Tuckett's most closely-guarded secrets."

The woman's mouth curved up into a leering grin. "Why shouldn't I tell you? Why shouldn't I boast about my accomplishment? It won't change a thing, except to make you more miserable."

The woman began lecturing to Diana like a schoolteacher addressing a classroom.

"Dr. Tuckett kept a laptop in her office, and she kept some of her personal files on it. When she disappeared all those years ago I took it home before anybody else could grab it.

"The laptop contained plans for the pain induction collar as well as some of Dr. Tuckett's notes on the process of conditioning a slave. I studied them well. I managed to duplicate the design. As you have seen first-hand, I have been successful.

"It was difficult watching a group of strangers come in and take over the labs. But I bided my time. I watched and waited patiently while the Ellis sisters took over and reorganized the teams. I made myself useful enough to be retained. But all the while I was plotting my revenge.

"I had no idea how I would proceed. At first I thought I would somehow discredit the Ellis bitches. But as I watched, I soon concluded that they were not my ultimate target. True, they ran the labs, but somebody else was behind the disappearance of Dr. Tuckett. And that was the person who robbed me of my rightful destiny.

"So I did a little research. I discovered that Ellis Labs was owned by a holding company. A bit more digging and I discovered the name of that company, The Hunter Group. I found a few articles in Forbes and Business Week reporting on the secretive CEO of The Hunter Group, one Diana Hunter, about whom precious little was known.

"I made the connection. Diana Hunter, CEO of The Hunter Group, was the same Diana Hunter who would occasionally drop in on Catherine and Heather for secretive discussions.

"So I decided to take my revenge on the woman who destroyed my plans. I would kidnap the mighty Diana Hunter and make her become an un-person. And just to make my revenge all the sweeter, I would bend the high-and-mighty Diana Hunter's will to my own. I would follow the process outlined in Tuckett's notes and break Hunter's spirit. She would be my slave.

"Now imagine, Ms. Hunter, how surprised I was when I changed your clothing into a maid's uniform. Imagine my surprise to discover your, shall we say, genetic anomaly. Imagine my delight when I discovered that the great Diana Hunter was once a man, but was converted into a feminized slave. I assume that you were put through Dr. Tuckett's process but somehow managed to escape. No matter. Now I can complete the good doctor's work. Now you will be broken. Now you will serve the role you should have all those years ago. Now you will be my own, personal, sissy slave!"

Diana had waited for the right moment. She had let this strange woman rant away as Diana's strength returned. She slipped her shoes off and then launched herself at her tormenter, tackling her at the waist. The remote was knocked out of her hands and clattered to the floor.

The two women tumbled to the floor. Taken aback by the ferocity of Diana's attack, the mysterious woman did not put up much of a struggle. Diana managed to pin her to the floor while she reached behind her neck and detached the pain collar. Then she rose.

The woman propped herself up, still stunned by Diana's tackle. "How did you do that?" she asked. "The locking mechanism on the collar was supposed to be secure without the remote."

"I learned a lot about locks in the Federal Penitentiary," said Diana. "It's almost like a crime university. I don't think there's a lock in existence that I can't open."

Just then the door burst open. Margo Lane came barreling through followed closely by Beverly Masters, Catherine Ellis, and a black-clad woman unfamiliar to Diana. "Well," said Diana, "it looks like the cavalry has arrived."

Margo and her partner sprang over to the woman on the floor. They lifted her up and cuffed her hands behind her. "Diana," said Margo, "are you all right?"

"Apart from a few bruises and a really bad outfit, I'm fine. How did you find me?"

"You're one of our protectees, now. We had you under surveillance. My partner Denice observed your abduction and contacted me. She followed you here."

"And where exactly is 'here?'"

Catherine Ellis answered, "You're back at the labs, Diana. This is Edith Bartlett, one of our researchers."

Margo continued. "When Denice realized where you were being taken she contacted Catherine who met us here. We used the video tapes from your internal surveillance system to find out just where she had taken you. Sorry it took so long."

Margo looked at Diana as though for the first time. "What's going on?" she asked.

Diana replied, "It seems that there was a loose end to Dr. Tuckett's affairs I was unaware of. This woman was apparently recruited by Tuckett before I managed to destroy The Sisterhood. She had been promised a slave of her own, but had never realized her desire. She was another bitter, twisted victim of Tuckett's machinations.

"Her plan was to make me into a slave like those poor bastards that Tuckett had kidnapped. She went so far as to put one of Tuckett's slave collars on me. I don't really think she ever considered the possibility that I would be able to escape."

Margo said, "Unfortunately, what she knows could seriously compromise the operation. She can't be tried in open court, and we can't keep her locked up without charging her."

Margo opened her purse and withdrew a small spray bottle. It appeared to be perfume, but Diana knew its true purpose. She sprayed some on Edith's neck.

Within seconds Edith affected a vacant stare. "Edith, can you hear me?"

"Yes," she answered in a dull monotone.

"Edith, you have been having some really bad nightmares for a lot of years."

"Nightmares," Edith repeated.

"In your nightmares you have been turning men into women and making slaves of them."

"Slaves," she echoed.

"But the nightmares are over. When you wake up you will not remember them."

"Remember," said Bartlett.

"Go to sleep now, Edith. Your nightmare is over."

"Over," she said, and closed her eyes.

Margo unlocked the handcuffs. "Denice, we had better take this one back to headquarters. Something tells me she's going to need a lot more than one gas treatment to bury these memories."

"Okay, Margo. I can handle it. I'll see you back at the store." Denice left, guiding her sleepwalking charge with her.

Diana turned to Margo. Catherine and Beverly were looking somewhat puzzled. "I suppose that you will now be using that stuff on us," she said.

"I don't think that will be necessary," said Margo. "The agency will need their support for the operation anyway. I might as well bring them up to speed."

"Excuse me," said Beverly, "what operation are you talking about?"

Diana said, "Why don't we discuss it in Cathy's office. And if you don't mind, I think I'll get changed. I never did much enjoy this maid's costume."

* * * * *

Several pots of coffee had been consumed and a full tray of cookies had been demolished. And Margo had just recruited three more associates into the nation's most covert agency. There would be a lot of details to work out, but Ellis Labs would be providing transformation services for persons whose work was vital to America's continued security.

Diana had changed into a lab coverall. It was not exactly stylish, but it was infinitely preferable to the comic-opera maid's uniform Bartlett had dressed her in. And in all honesty, the costume still evoked painful memories for Diana. She was just as happy to be rid of it.

"So where do we all go from here?" asked Heather.

"For one thing," said Diana, "it looks like I will be keeping my current body for the foreseeable future."

"But Diana," said Beverly, "why? Part of the reason we started all of this research was to undo the damage Tuckett did to you. And to the others."

"I know," said Diana. "And I don't think a day has gone by when I didn't long to regain my normal body. But things changed today. I never once considered the possibility that Tuckett might have recruited another member of the Sisterhood. That's a mistake I shall not repeat. There might be other Edith Bartlett's out there plotting their revenge. If Diana Hunter were to suddenly disappear, they might go after Heather or Cathy or who knows who?

"No, it has to be me. I have to set myself up as a kind of human target. That's the only way I know how to smoke them out. Assuming they exist at all."

"You're not alone in this," said Margo. "We're assigning agents to watch your back. You girls are now protectees."

Diana sighed. "You know, I had some plans for when I was restored. I was going to go visit the old neighborhood. Mamma still lives there. I kind of make sure she's taken care of, but she's so old now. I hoped that I could see her one last time before�" Her voice trailed off.

Margo now knew what had to be done.

* * * * *

The neighborhood where Teresa Rossi lived seemed to be stuck in time. The city was deteriorating, crime was becoming more common, and people were leaving as quickly as they could afford to. But somehow the dozen or so blocks wherein Teresa lived managed to survive. People still walked to the store or the local restaurants at night, or would just sit out on the stoop and gossip. The sons and daughters of the working-class folks who first moved in, a second generation of neighbors, were now living there, sometimes just a few doors from the homes they grew up in.

People looked after Teresa. She was the oldest neighbor. Her children had all moved away and her dear husband had passed years ago. But she would not think of moving from her home. She dearly loved the narrow streets and the little shops of her neighborhood.

Teresa was sweeping the dust and grime off her stoop. It's not that the neighborhood was especially dirty. It was simply an inescapable consequence of living in a city. Dust and grime settled out of the air. So just as she had done for as long as she could remember, Teresa swept the dirt from the stoop and sidewalk. It was one way of maintaining civilization.

Diana watched nervously from the end of the block as Teresa swept the sidewalk. She was so much older than Diana remembered. Her dark hair was now mostly white, and her skin was furrowed and wrinkled. But even from a distance, Diana could recognize that vital spark her mother possessed.

She turned back to her companion. "Margo, I don't know. I'm not too sure about this."

"Well I am," said Margo. "If Teresa Rossi is the woman I remember, you don't have a thing to worry about."

"I hope you're right," Diana said. Nervously, she walked to Teresa.

Teresa saw Diana approach. She was not one of the neighbors, but there was something familiar about her. Teresa just couldn't place it. The woman smiled, but she seemed nervous. Then she spoke. "Mamma?" she said, hesitantly.

Teresa was puzzled. This wasn't one of her daughters. But she looked so familiar. The patterns of her eyes, her nose, and her face, all were hauntingly familiar. And there was something in her voice that gave Teresa pause. Then, like a picture slowly developing until the pattern is recognizable, she knew. It couldn't be! It wasn't possible! But there was no denying it! This was�"Joey?"

Diana smiled, tears rising spontaneously in her eyes. "Yes, Mamma, it's Joey."

"But how�?" Teresa was confused, but she did not doubt for a second. Somehow this woman was her son Joey. "But they told me you were dead! And look at you! How�?"

Teresa was overcome. She stopped questioning and reached out to embrace Diana. Somehow she knew that this was her son.

Diana was also overcome. She cried as her mother embraced her. Despite the changes forced onto her body, her mother had recognized her. "Mamma," she said, "we have a lot to talk about."

Margo watched from across the street as they entered Teresa's home. This was her old neighborhood as well, but her relatives no longer lived here. It didn't matter. She was enjoying the sights and smells of the old neighborhood, remembering her childhood on these very streets. Down the block some kids were playing street hockey. The baker was putting fresh rolls onto his shelves. Margo would keep watch outside the Rossi home, while Diana and Teresa would renew their bonds. She walked up and down the street, peeking in on the shops and saying hello to the folks who walked by. And nobody suspected that the friendly girl who was visiting their neighborhood was really a man in a black dress.

 © 2003 Valentina Michelle Smith

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