---"Angel" Episode 5 Anguish”---
By G.M. Shephard

"Angel" Season One continues as Michael/Karen checks into a hotel in the Nation's Capital and awaits for his friend to call with good news. The anguish he faces, wondering where is family, is is too much for him to bear. That along with stress of his sudden change of life, and the loneliness he feels, prompts him to seek out a means to forget about life for a while. His first experience in the public nightlife living as Karen, he experiences for the first time many issues women have to face at the hands of men and other women.

Angel S:1E:5 “Anguish”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kiitylover

Episode 5 Anguish”

"Here you are ma’am", the clerk said as he handed me my room keys while staring at me the whole time. "You will be on the top floor, 3725. I managed to get you a room with a splendid view of the mall,” Twelve years of this is going to drive me insane. Buster thinks all I wanna do is shop like a chick.

"Thank you, but I am not too into shopping,” I said politely. The clerk started laughing,

"No ma’am, the Mall. It’s where you can visit the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, the Vietnam Memorial Washington, the Smithsonian.”

'Duh', I thought to myself. 'Of course I know what the Mall is, I was just being sarcastic.' The clerk started laughing, "A joke, hahaha, nice delivery, you had me thinking you were a typical blond for a sec,”

'Great recovery there Michael,' I thought to myself. The clerk waved for the bellhop.

"Jimmy will help you with your luggage.” Jimmy, a young black kid about eighteen, approached me with a luggage cart.

“Um, it’s ok, I don’t have any bags.” Jimmy and the clerk looked at each other and grinned as I grabbed my keys off the counter and walked toward the elevator bank.

Thank you Miss Shifley,” the clerk sad aloud as I walked away. 'I gotta get rid of that name,' I thought, shaking my head. If I weren’t expecting a call from Megan, I would have checked in under a better name. As I waited for the elevator, I watch as the two continued to talk while looking at me. It was then, that I realized what I looked like to them.

I was never known for spending unnecessary money on hotels. Wherever I was traveling to, I was usually actively exploring my travel destination and would rather spend the excess money on sightseeing or expensive dinners rather than a fancy room where all I would do is sleep and take a shower. It had been a long journey for me, and my life had been turned inside out, so for the next few days, I thought I could use some time to unwind emotionally. It had only been two weeks since returning from a year-long mission in space where two of my friends died. In order to undo my failure that got them killed, I switched to the other team and gave up my manhood for the power of a goddess. Now the two girls I love the most, the ones I made this sacrifice for, were missing. It’s a lot for a man to have to deal with and some well deserved R&R was in order.

Lying on the bed, my blond hair draped all over the pillow, I stared up at the ceiling. Still wearing my new black overcoat to hide the fact I was wearing a mishmash of clothing unsuitable for a funeral at which the President of the United States gave the eulogy, I thought maybe a trip to the mall, an actual shopping mall, would be in order.

"If only the clerk had seen what I was wearing under this coat, he would have never mistaken me for hooking in his hotel," I said aloud while I pondered the exchange of looks the two gave each other downstairs. It was obvious to me know, checking in without luggage was drawing attention to myself. Fact is, I wasn't expecting to stay and even if I did, I didn't have much of a wardrobe to lug around with me. Shopping for clothes I was comfortable wearing had been an epic failure the last week and my attempts to find something appropriate to the funeral didn't yield success. I found about a hundred dresses and skirts, but just couldn't swallow my pride and stand in front of my friends dressed like a woman, even if I was one. Finding a panted business suit in the short time I had before the funeral was impossible. In 1986, no one had pants to fit an amazon woman and all the tailors required a couple weeks notice to custom make one that I would likely only wear once or twice.

I was very relaxed on the bed. It had been about a week ago that I finally managed to sleep for a couple of hours, and now I was finally feeling tired again. I took off my boots and coat and threw them on the other side of the king-sized bed. Not stopping to remove the bedspread, I fell backward on the bed, legs draped over the edge. My sharp vision scanned the cottage cheese in the ceiling trying to assign familiar shapes to the patterns imbedded in the stucco. In a matter of minutes my eyes grew heavy. Giving in, I shut my eyes only to open them a few minutes later finding the room was considerably darker. I looked out the window and the sun was low in the sky. “How long was I out?” The clock near the phone reported that nearly four hours had gone by. Longest sleep yet, but I felt great.

I sat up and got out of bed, my bare feet digging into the soft carpet of the luxury suite. The rather spacious room contained a small kitchenette, wet bar, several couches, a large bathroom complete with a Jacuzzi bath, as well as a balcony with a stunning view of DC’s most iconic symbols. I had been to DC several times on PR missions for NASA, but due to training schedules, never had much time to soak in the rich history the city had to offer. I pulled the sliding glass door open and stepped out onto the balcony. A cool breeze hit me, although I knew it was not cool, but about -18 degrees Celsius. My lack of feeling toward extreme temperature variations was going to take a long time to get used to. Most of those sensations were a warning signal in the brain that dangerous temperatures could threaten my body, but they robbed me of experiencing all the changes the seasons had to offer throughout the year. So far, I had encountered temperatures exceeding 1,650  °C as I re-entered the atmosphere. The ceramic tiles that made up the Orbiter’s heat shield glowed red hot from the friction, but didn’t even faze my body or the suit I was wearing. Now, wearing only a thin turtleneck and a pair of black lycra pants, I stood on the balcony in my bare feet without worry of freezing. I thought to myself just what limitations this body had, and what its full potential was.

It was then that I remembered that Kaaren left me instructions. The crystals she left in my possession completely slipped my mind. There was supposed to be data on one of them to help me learn all about her body. I made another mental note for when I returned to the cabin, to unlock the secrets stored inside with the hopes I could see this body as a gift, rather than a curse. There were so many things I needed to learn about this new vehicle I was piloting. I was gifted at being able to fly anything I can get behind the controls of, but controlling Kaaren was a little tricky. Space was easy, there were no forces like drag or gravity trying desperately to ground me like in the atmosphere.

As much time as I have spent in the air without fear, leaning over a railing on a tall building always frightened me. Now, unafraid, I peered over the balcony and saw the street 37 stories below. Cabs were blaring their horns trying to make it to their next destination. It was nearing sunset and the sunlight was bathing the clouds in a beautiful orange hue. The constant feeling of my body absorbing the radiation was diminishing. In about 30 minutes I wouldn’t feel the surging sensation until the morning. My body must store vast amounts of energy like a battery, as I have flown at night and my abilities did not seem to be dependent on constant exposure to sunlight like I had thought. After my first attempt to stop the asteroid my power left me when entering into the shadow, but something else must have been the root cause of my sudden loss of power, because upon my second attempt, I felt similar sensations while hovering just outside.

I stood there staring at the sun until the last fragment of the energy producing ball of burning hydrogen disappeared below the horizon. As I turned to go back inside, I looked to my left and found myself face to face with a couple bundled in thick cold weather clothes. Their noses and cheeks were rosy red and they were holding each other tightly as they braved the cold in order to savor the view of the city. They were both locked in a dead stare toward me.

Breaking the silence, the man said “Jeeze woman, you’re crazy, you’re going to catch hypothermia.” Glad to be finally stared at for something other than my body, I realized I was drawing attention standing in this cold weather with no shoes or coat.

Thinking a little faster, than I did in the cemetery, I replied “Oh, this, this is nothing, you should come to Canada where I am from, this is summer in comparison,” Before they could say anything more, I threw a question their way to deflect the attention away from myself.

“Where are you two from?”

The woman blurted out, “We are from Orange County California, you know, where Disneyland is,” Why do people from Orange County insist on using Disneyland as a reference point to help the geographically challenged in the world understand where Orange County is on a map? I ignored my pet peeve from getting to me and asked a follow up question to keep them talking. I was mid sentence when my phone rang. Excited about the news about to come through the handset, I quickly excused myself and ran for the phone hoping not to miss the call.

Fumbling with the phone, I put the handset to my ear and answered. “Hello.”

“Phyllis?” I almost said no,

“Um yes this is Phyllis,” I gotta ditch this name. “Phyllis, this is Dr. McCormack, we met today,” Yes Megan, I know who you are. We spent a year together in a tight craft likely causing Liz and Brad to wonder what we were doing up there.

“Yes Megan, thank you for calling,” I got a little casual with her. It was too late; I couldn’t take it back. She went through years of hard study to earn her medical license and PhD in Psychology. Women had come far, but it was still a man’s world and she had to work extra hard to be better in her field. As part of her success she enjoyed being addressed by her hard earned title of Dr. by those outside her close circle.

“Phyllis, can we get together? I am busy with ceremonies the next few days, but if you can extend your stay in DC, I would appreciate you meeting with me. I won’t keep you in suspense, so I will say it. No one I have talked to has seen Liz or Ashley,” My heart sank. Where could they be? It’s like they disappeared off the face of the earth. I didn’t give up my identity to save my family and planet only to come home and find they vanished and I am alone, trapped in a body that is alien in more ways than one.

“Thank you for for asking around, it means a lot to me. I can extend my stay in the city, when would you be free to meet?” Megan and the rest of the Deliverance’s crew would be subject to a fierce PR tour, meeting with the President, awards ceremonies and likely further debriefs in Langley.

“Some time Friday, I will call you in the morning and we can arrange a time to meet,” I thanked her again making sure to use Dr. this time.

“It’s ok Phyllis, you had it right the first time, call me Megan,” Relieved I could address my friend as I always have, I seized the opportunity.

“Karen, call me Karen, only a few people I allow to call me that, Liz being one of them. To be honest, the name should have died out with my grandmother whom my mom named me after,” Megan laughed.

“Thank you, I needed that. Yes, not too many women your age have that name these days. Karen it is then, until Friday...And Karen, don’t worry, they are likely just hiding from the press, they're a bunch of heartless demons. Don’t let it worry you. Take care,”

The bell inside the phone jingled slightly as I set the handset back in the cradle. I was sitting on the edge of the bed bending over, elbows digging into my knees with my legs spread wide open. I scolded Ashley many times for sitting in such an unladylike fashion, now her father had better learn to sit properly, if only to keep prying eyes at bay. A huge panic attack was coming on. My face felt flustered and my heart was beating a mile a minute. I was beyond worried, I was now terrified something terrible had happened to them, and now I was stuck in the city for three days with nothing but time to entertain my worst fears.

Getting off the bed, I headed to the bar, in desperate need of a drink. It was a week before launch that I had my last last drop. I enjoyed a good drink and had my fun, but when training or assisting for another mission, there was no one more disciplined than me. The risks were too high to screw around when lives were at stake. One stupid move and people died along with one’s career. The room had a mini bar with over-priced mini bottles of liquor. My old friend was not among the crowd. My sense of depression was overcoming me, and this bar didn’t have Jack. Feeling overwhelmed by anxiety welling up inside, I found my boots and slipped them back on my feet followed by my coat. Making sure I had my keys, and some cash, I went down to the lobby.

Public Relations

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States,” Everyone stood as “Hail to the Chief” erupted from the nearby band. The President and First Lady entered the ballroom, taking their place at the podium. He began another boring speech, just like all the rest, proud of the success of the mission, knowing full that they didn’t do shit. It was the single greatest conspiracy in modern times and the four survivors of Operation THOR were put on display for the world. All four hated it. Mitri was lucky not having to deal with the American Political Machine, but I knew his time was drawing near, where the Motherland would call him on his own propaganda tour.

“Dr. Shephard, I hear you made some startling discoveries up there, I am eager to read your results in the journals when you publish them, hopefully soon,” Eugene had no idea who was talking to him, but he replied as if he did.

“Yes, if my data is correct, there are going to be some new elements added to that table. Very exciting results so far, but you are going to have to wait to read about it, I don’t want to give anything away,”

“Can’t wait,” the stranger said, patting his shoulder and walking off. Shephard leaned over and whispered to McCormack, trying to be respectful to the President as he spoke.

“This sucks, I could be in my lab right now actually working to further science, and instead, Uncle Sam is parading us around as if we were some kind of showpiece. We’re scientists, not objects in some political show,” Megan couldn’t agree more, if only he knew what it was really like.

“I agree, I can’t wait to get out of here myself, I have better things to do than get a fancy medal for something we really didn’t do.” Shephard put his hand on McCormack’s shoulder. She expected him to be bitter and angry for knocking him out back on board, but when he awoke back on the ground, safe and sound, he seemed like a changed man. They had a long talk where he expressed his deep regret for being an asshole.

“I know we aren’t supposed to talk about it, but, I am starting to see life from a different perspective. I’m suddenly grateful for the second chance I have been given, and believe something happened up there, something wonderful. For the first time, I feel alive,”

Collins stood as the President called his name and began walking to the podium to receive his recognition before the herd of reporters and cameramen. He and Shephard also spent some time putting things behind them, knowing full well the gravity of the situation was driving their emotions that almost led to a conflict.

“Oh Shit, here goes night,” Mitri blurted as Turner stumbled his way over to the table, spilling his drink in the process.

“Howdy heroes, mind if I join the elite, best of the best?” He started clapping and cheering loudly as Collins and the President posed for the photojournalists of every major publication. Next, it was Shephard’s turn to make his way before the room full of the leaders of every major country, stopping to shake hands with Collins as they exchanged places. As Collins returned to sit at the table, Turner started tormenting him.

“Well well well, number 1, congrats hero. Let’s have a look at that medal you’re sporting. Bet you think you’re hot stuff.” Davis came over and helped Dwayne out of his seat, escorting his commander out of the room under Thompson’s orders. Thompson took a seat next to the crew, apologizing for his behavior.

“Thank you,” Megan said, “Did I miss something while we were away? Dwayne was always an ass, but when did he get upgraded to a hole?”

“Well, don’t worry about it. After tonight, you won’t be seeing much of him.” Megan stood to begin her slow walk to the stage, leaning down to quickly finish the conversation.

“You fire him?” The cameras were locked on her as they prepared to pan across, keeping her center frame as she stumbled step by step toward the podium.

“No, he resigned, he’s going to work as a consultant for some aerospace company. Didn’t say where, just that his last day was yesterday. He didn’t want to say anything until after the funeral,”

The ceremony went on for several more hours complete with a $25,000 per plate dinner for the wealthy investors who had already invested a fortune into the operation. Rich tycoons were looking to increase their market share as stocks in the companies that built the Deliverance were bought up by Americans wanting to invest in a solid American corporation.

“Thompson, can I speak with you a moment?” The Flight Director helped McCormack as they moved out into the hallway.

“What’s going on Megan, is everything all right?” He was concerned about the bone mass that she lost. It wasn’t bad short term, but for a woman, it could lead to Osteoporosis and could be debilitating later in life.

“I’m fine, I will be running again in no time. Look, it’s not about me. Have you heard anything about Commander Owen’s family? They weren’t at the funeral, and no one I have spoken to has seen or heard from Liz in weeks,”

“I’m glad you mentioned that, because I noticed too today that she was not around to accept her husband's flag. That did make me a little concerned. I tell you what, don’t worry about it, I know a few people that are close to her. Let me see what I can find out and I will get back to you. In fact, do me a favor, reach out to Susan in personnel, I know they keep in touch,” Relieved that she was likely asking the wrong people, she thanked Thompson and started to leave.

“Megan, thank you for looking out for them. I miss him, I like to think that really was him up there guiding you all home, I really do,”

“Same here, I owe him everything,” She turned to leave again.

“Megan, one more thing. I have a couple of openings. I will let you be the one to tell him. You let Brad know I expect him in my office Thursday morning about getting him on the active roster. I got word tonight, that we got a lot of new funding and we have an International Space Station to build,”

McCormack left the room knowing her fame, just bumped her fiancee up into the hole Turner left in the roster. She scanned the room looking for Brad, excited to tell him the news.

Night Out.

I stared up at the sign in front of my fifth bar. Three liquor stores and two bars, all carded this young lass that looked about 20 years old give or take a few. It had been ages since I was last carded and this city seemed ruthless about checking IDs. I had no identity and therefore no ID card. “Nieuport 23,” This had promise, I thought, walking inside. Sure enough, as I glanced around, my intuition was correct. The walls were covered in aviation themed decor. Only a few would know that Nieuport 23 was a french WWI biplane manufactured by the Nieuport Company and not a street address. Whoever owned this place must know a thing or two about aviation to name it after an obscure French aircraft.

Taking a seat at the bar, the young bartender, about twenty five years old, homed in on my blond hair and cute face and was on me in a second. Ignoring all the scruffy looking overweight politicians hitting the bar after sessions of Congress, he came running over to make sure my order was top priority over other patrons that had been waiting for 10 minutes. Finally something good about being a chick.

“What can I get you love?” Ugh, I am never going to get used to this.

“Jack on the rocks please,” A hand slapped the bar next to me causing a loud noise. Some disgusting looking man with a suit and and red tie on was scanning my figure, bypassing all social etiquette. In a drunken slur he blurted out.

“Now that's my kind of woman, eh Ralph?” leaning his head toward his drinking buddy but keeping his eyes fixated on me. “Gotta love a broad that can drink JD. Me and Mr. John Daniel’s go way back,” He managed to find his own glass of Tennessee’s iconic whiskey and held it up to salute me.

I wanted to ralph myself. “John Daniel's?” I asked. “Well, when you have known him as long as I have Sugar, It’s John,” This guy had to be in politics, he was so full of shit. “Really,” I said as I leaned back on the chair, “must not be very good friends.”

"What the hell do you mean by that?" He replied, pissed off at me questioning his friendship.

"Jasper, Jack is short for Jasper, not John. If you were really his friend, you would know that. Now buzz off.” The surrounding bar erupted. “Oooh, you just got owned by a chick,” the equally repulsive Ralph chimed in, laughing at his friend. The bartender held up his hand wanting to hi five me.

“That was very impressive.” Basking in the moment, feeling like I was a guy again partying with my friends on a Saturday night out, I gave him the courtesy and returned the five if anything but to feel normal again.

Humiliated, the duo took that as a cue to deprive me of their obnoxious presence and left to sit at a table in the corner. The bartender placed a glass in front of me, dropped a couple of cubes and started pouring. The unmistakable sound of that dark amber liquid exiting the bottle was magic to my ears.

“Seriously, that was awesome. Good to see a lady who has some taste and the smarts to back it up. Besides, we have been trying for a while now to get rid of those two. You did in one minute what we have been trying for hours to do.” The pour exceeded what I guessed to be 1 1/2 ounces. “And 10, and 11 and 12” the bartender said as he completed his count measuring 3 ounces. He placed the bottle back in its rightful spot with the smoothness of a gunslinger holstering his weapon, all while keeping his eyes locked on me.

“To my hero,” He dropped in a couple of straws and positioned the glass in front of me in one smooth action. I reached into my coat pocket for some cash. “Please,” he said, “It’s it’s on the house and I won’t take no for an answer,” I held up my glass as if to toast him. “Thank you very much,” I paused to read his name tag, “Mike, not a bad name, I’m Karen,” He reached his hand over the bar to shake hands. I reached over to shake as I always do, but Mike gently grasped my hand and rotated it so that my hand was on top and lifted it higher in the air. Giving a slight nod as he said, “Pleased to meet you Karen.”

“HEY MIKEY,” I turned my head as I heard the dreaded shortened version of my real name being called out. “When you get done getting that broad’s phone number, ya think you can maybe muster up a little time in your day to get us another drink?” Mike excused himself and took to tending other patrons. I pulled the straws out the the glass and lifted the glass once again toasting my departed friends. “Kaaren, wherever you are, Godspeed,” I added in a slight whisper, followed with a long draw. As the sour mash slid down my throat, I wondered if alcohol would even affect me.

As more people returned from work, the bar started picking up. This was definitely a local’s bar, everyone seemed to know someone. About two hours later, I was nursing what was left of my third double, feeling no effects that I hoped would have had me drunk by now.

“You pouring that down the drain, or drinking it?” Mike, coming by to check up on me as he did every 10 minutes, asked.

“Every drop,” He looked at me in amazement.

“Damn Karen, you look as if this were your first. Another?”

“Sure, why not,” I swallowed the last of the third.

“Mind if I make you something special?” He held his hand up as if to stop any protest, “Hold on, give this a try,” Before I could resist he had his shaker out, and was filling it with Jack, Grenadine and something else. He placed a martini glass in front of me, while mixing the cocktail together. Flipping the lid of with his thumb, he poured the red drink into my glass and topped it with a cherry.

“One Jack Daniel's Metropolis. Jack, Grenadine, and Vermouth. The manliness of Jack Daniel’s whiskey made sweet and poured into a sexy elegant glass,”

'Was I really being that obvious? Think Michael, think,' I said to myself. I tried to tap into that sweetness Mike thought I had if for anything to show appreciation. After all, this drink did represent me more than he will ever know. I tried smiling, and took a sip. Surprisingly I liked it. The taste of the Jack was strong, but mellowed by the cherry flavor of the Grenadine. “Excellent, I love it.” Mike smiled and left me on my own.

The music started getting louder and people were dancing to Cyndi Lauper. Several guys were getting fired up on beer and hitting on a group of girls dressed to kill. I was still wearing what I came to town in. Tomorrow, I figure, I will take some time and get me some real clothes. I hated shopping with Liz and would rather get a root canal than wander aimlessly through the women’s clothing section saying yes to everything she asked my opinion on. The amount of time I wasted waiting for her to try things on was staggering, who knew all that time I should have been taking notes.

Besides requiring little sleep, I also did not need to pee often, maybe once or twice a day. I miss being able to sleep and pass time away, but not having to take a leak ten times a day is a gift, especially since I can no longer do the deed standing. I remember my first time and how humiliated I felt having to sit on the toilet. The alcohol had no effect on my awareness, but it was doing something to my bladder, and for some reason, I suddenly needed to go with greater urgency. I stood up and started making my way through the crowd, getting many looks along the way. There were guys sizing me up wondering what heavenly treasures where under my coat, while others were likely thinking I was a tall freak. The doors to the bathroom were within reach when a voice called out.

“Hey, Big Bird, where the hell do you think you're going?” Clearly a stab personally directed at me, I stopped and turned, seeing a group of girls standing next to each other locked in a dead stare up at me. “Line starts back there bitch.”

The woman in the middle wearing a pink spandex mini dress and a blue version of Michael Jackson’s jacket pointed several girls back where the line began. She had an excessive amount of makeup on and a typical 80's hairdo that looked like the sole tools required to style her hair were a paper clip and an electrical outlet. She was at least seven inches shorter than me. If she removed her pink shoes with four inch heels I would tower over her.

“Oops, sorry about that,” I apologized and got in the back of my first line for the bathroom thinking how much worse it could have been had I walked into the men's room, which was precisely where I was heading by mistake.

Ahead of me, the girls were huddled together and giggling. They were whispering to each other and looking back up at me, clearly up to no good. I was about to eavesdrop with my super hearing when they got silent. About ten minutes when by and I was second to next in line. My heart was pounding, I had never been in a women’s restroom since I was a kid going in with my mother. My memories of those trips were deleted from memory long ago, leaving me uncertain what to expect as I entered into virgin territory, the only place in this man’s world that women could truly call their own.

I was next and it better be quick. I wasn't sure if I could control my muscles down there; I might be able to seal the dam shut, but I couldn’t figure out how to manipulate my new muscle groups. Finally, one of them came out. I stepped in leaving my old self behind and into a different world. What would I see? The one in pink with the attitude was at the mirror, doing her makeup. She caught my reflection in the mirror, giving me a dirty look followed by a giggle. There were about 5 stalls and one handicapped at the end. Searching for an empty stall I nudged on the first door. It was locked. “This ones taken bitch,” I tried each and every door, and all yelled back with some kind off expletive personally directed toward me. The girls were all giggling. Screw it, I used my thermal and scanned the remaining stalls. Petite little white silhouettes were all seated in the stalls except the handicapped.

Finally, I hurried for the door and locked myself in. I turned to face the commode, and was horrified at the sight before my eyes. These women were evil. A week after I saved them from their doom, they were already back to their miserable selves. On the toilet, the seat was soaked in urine and other fluids I don’t even want to mention. The floor all around was wet from urine as if they all took turns squatting on the ground. They all erupted in laughter. “Need some paper Big Bird?” It was worse; I would have been better off having run into the men’s room and tried peeing in the urinal in front of a dozen guys. I would have been their hero, but this, this was humiliating and sick. To top it off, all the toilet paper and seat covers were gone.

Time was running out and I had to go. I took my coat off and was about to waste a $200 overcoat, when I hung it up on the hook instead. I remember hearing stories of the filth of women’s bathrooms and how women learn the art of hovering. Well I can hover too. I lifted my sweater, and pulled down my tights, lifting myself a couple feet off the ground and assuming a sitting position. Concentrating extra hard on controlling my flight, knowing full well the consequences of a crash landing, I locked into a tight focus and amazingly held steady.

'Ok Commander, just like docking the Orbiter with MIR.' Making slight adjustments, I lined myself up over the disgusting toilet, careful not to let my clothes fall. Satisfied I was lined up, I cut loose. The girls must have been expecting me to pee in the corner or go in my pants, because the moment they heard the water splashing in the toilet, the laughter stopped. Finished, I got myself dressed again and stepped out to meet my tormentors. I fought tooth and nail to restrain my anger and rage. A quick wash and I turned to leave. Alone, and the tormenters still hiding on their stalls, I smiled as I reached up and turned off the lights, leaving them in total darkness. The girls started screaming.

“What the hell” I thought as I destroyed the light switch before leaving. There were a few in line that looked relieved seeing me emerge. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” and hurried back to the bar.

“I was beginning to think you left,” Mike said. My drink was still there with a reserved sign next to it.

'Crap, this guy has the hots for me or something,' My mind thought as I gulped the rest of my drink down as quickly as possible while reaching into my coat for a $100 bill. Mike put his hands up refusing. “Mike, you have been great, but I have to go. This isn’t for the drinks, it’s for the light switch,” The girls came pouring out of the bathroom one of them yelling “Where’s that bitch?”

“Did you piss them off too? Oh man, I love you. Can I call you,” he said as I hurried for the door.

“Don’t have a phone. but I’ll be back,” I lied as I took off, the angry formation of girls gaining on me. Clearing the front door I ran out into the cold turning down an alley where I could fly away without being seen. In the cover of darkness I began my ascent. I was a few stories up, when I stopped and watched as they turned the corner. Two having rushed out into the cold night without their coats abandoned the pursuit in favor of warmth. Pink and two of her friends proceeded into the alley after me.

I never really knew just how evil women could be to each other. A simple mistake where they thought I was cutting in line, and they felt justified to act in such a vile manner.

“What is the world coming too?” I thought as they started disappearing into the shadows, losing visual sight of them. Back to infrared, I saw the three hot bodies walking down the alley. The noise of a can banging around startled me, as did the three. Two more white silhouettes appeared from behind the dumpsters. “Well well well, what do we have here?" The sound of a man talking in a deep voice.

“Oh shit, trouble,” I thought. The two converged on the three girls who turned to run, but found themselves at a dead end. They were trapped. The sound of a switchblade opening reverberated off the walls of the alley. I really wanted something bad to happen to those girls, but this was not what I had in mind. Besides I swore to Kaaren that I would do good. I had to think of a way to defuse these two without drawing attention to myself. I couldn’t let anyone know I was some freak alien, especially after the girls all saw my face.

“Wees gonna have a little fun tonight aren’t we?” They were getting closer. I had to act. I dropped to the ground while staying in the shadows. The sound of another can crumpling as my foot crushed it caught their attention. The two spun around startled from the noise of something behind them. I could hear the faint sound of their hearts accelerating their beats per minute as they realized they weren’t alone with their prey.

“Takes a couple pretty tough men with knives to prey on some helpless women. Real manly,” I called out from the cover of darkness.

“You got quite a mouth on you, you bitch. Come get some,” The sounds of another knife, this time a balisong. I could see the white shape manipulating the twin hinged handles that concealed the blade. A couple of swishes later and the blade was ready for action.

Back in the dojo, I did extensive weapons training and knew how to defend against knives. When I was twelve I was getting into trouble in school from moving around so often, My dad’s friend from when he was stationed in Japan recommended I channel my energy in a more positive manner. He sent me to study martial arts under Take Sensei, a 5th Dan in Aikido. I was immediately hooked and spent most of my youth getting thrown to the mat. By the time I was getting ready to join the Air Force, I was a 2nd Dan black belt, and I was at peace with the world. The beauty of the art is it doesn’t require any strength, I simply use the attacker’s momentum against them by blending into their attack and redirecting their energy. It makes perfect sense to one who understands physics. Women were highly effective at the art as they were forced to learn the techniques right the first time, while men were sloppy, overcompensating in the strength department.

I could destroy these two creeps with no effort, but I would blow my cover. A thought crossed my mind, if I applied my training I could hide my speed and strength in my techniques and appear as nothing more than a martial artist defending herself. I stepped out of the shadow and let myself be seen. It was a day of firsts, my first time attending my own funeral, my first time getting hit on by a man, the first time going into a women’s restroom, and now I was receiving my first wolf howl. I was getting tired of being seen as a sex object and I certainly wasn’t going to take it from these two douche bags.

“Well hello pretty,” Switchblade said in a deep raspy voice. The girls were confused as to whether they were happy or sad to see me. As long as the attention was on me and not them, they seemed happy.

The techniques were useless unless I had their momentum to work with. I needed them to attack me so I egged them on a little and went right for the gut.
“What’s the matter boys, have a little nub of a cock, the only way you can get laid is by forcing yourself on someone?” That did it, Switchblade came lunging toward me thrusting his knife toward my abdomen.

“Die you whore.” Before his blade could connect I pivoted my whole body, shifting out of the way of the attack and ending up on the right side as his knife hand continued forward, stabbing nothing but air. As I executed the pivot, I grabbed ahold of his wrist and continued his forward progress leading him in a downward turn around my center. I squatted, bringing the knife hand lower to the ground, pivoting again, building momentum. As quickly as I led him downward, I stepped out of the center. Pressing my thumb against the back of his hand and reaching up with my other hand I pushed my open hand on the back of his. While keeping his hand centered at my midsection I reversed my stance by shifting my whole body using my hips to turn me. My compete mass was effortlessly creating torque on his wrist. If he didn’t fall backwards or execute a break fall, his wrist was going to snap. We trained how to receive the techniques just as much as we trained applying them. The loud snap of the wrist told me he didn’t know the ukemi for the perfectly executed kotegaeshi.

He flew through the air screaming in terror as this blond woman neutralized his attack barely using her super strength or speed. He landed hard on the cold pavement likely breaking his shoulder in the process. He was out of commission. Balisong was next. Enraged at what I just did to his friend, he ran up to me and swung his blade in an wide arch like a haymaker punch. Instead of moving away from the attack, I stepped into the attack. I brought both of my hands up. My left hand chopped to the elbow above his right hand, stopping the attack in it’s beginning before it gained any momentum. My right delivered a strike to the face, not to injure, but merely to distract. While he was worrying about getting his face out of the way, I seized the opportunity to secure his knife hand. Grabbing the wrist with both of my hands I pushed it into the air and away from me. Ducking under his armpit and stepping through, I pivoted my hips keeping his wrist at my center. I moved my right hand and pressed his hand toward his body, while my left hand applied pressure to the nerves in the wrist and held his elbow pointing upward.

The result allowed me to apply a lot of torque to the wrist that gave me complete control to move his large body anywhere I wanted. Pissed off he swung a hook at me with his free left hand. At this point I pinned his hand against my chest almost between my breasts and instead of using my arms to do the work I merely turned my whole body. As his punch came, I just twisted my hips sending ripples of pain up his arm forcing him to abandon the punch. The girls were laughing as my attacker was reduced to screaming like a girl. Time to put an end to it. Like I was holding a fishing pole I gripped his wrist tight with both hands and made a motion cutting through the air, as if I were casting the pole, forcing him to the ground. Pivoting one last time, I held the wrist with my left hand, chopping again to the elbow while stepping back a couple of steps.

He fell flat on his face with a wet thud. I pushed his arm up behind him and stepped in with my left leg to brace his arm against. Leaning in, I torqued his shoulder, effectively pinning his face and shoulders into the ice gold ground. A little bit of pressure and I could pop the arm out of the socket. I took the knife from his hand and manipulated the handles, securing the blade.

“Not so tough are we? ARE WE?” He screamed.

“No,” I leaned down and said,

“Now, I can rip your arm off, or I can let you go so you get help your friend here. If you think you can get the better of me, think again. Don’t be stupid and you can leave with just some injured pride. What will it be?”

“I wanna go home,” he said on the verge of tears. I gave his hand a tight squeeze to show my seriousness, before releasing my grip. His hand fell to the pavement. Slowly he got up and true to his word gathered his buddy and left down the alley.

“Holy Shit, that was the fucking coolest shit I ever saw in my life. Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

“Look sweetie, you’re lucky to be alive. If it weren’t for some miracle that happened a couple of weeks ago, you wouldn’t even be here right now. Be grateful for your life, because that’s twice you almost lost it,”

I didn’t give her a chance to reply, and turned to walk back out of the alley. It worked, my secret was safe. I was just some tough broad who knew some fancy moves as far as they were concerned. I reached the end of the alley when Pink cried out.

“I’m sorry,” As soon as I could, I found another alley and took to the sky. Higher and higher, I soared over the city and decided to take that tour of DC that I never had time for.

To Be Continued....Episode 6 “DC”

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