DISCLAIMERS:
COPYRIGHT STUFF: Yeah, it's copyrighted. To me. Since I use images and characterizations based on the characters of Xena, it's considered an Uber and sort of infringes on their copyrights. Sorry about that. Then again, if I really wanted to, I could completely deny being influenced by anything at any time and say that it's mine, all mine. But that would be kind of stupid since the only reason you're really here is because you're hoping to read a story that makes you think of the greatest female partnership to ever grace the little screen.
Oh, I also use the lyrics to the song Shelter by Sarah McLachlan in Chapter 5 without her knowledge or permission, though I give credit in the story itself to the artist (in other words, the lyrics haven't been stolen for a poem 'created' by a fictional character).
LANGUAGE: There is definite swearing in this story.
SUBTEXT: Yes.
SEX: Yes, as of the posting of Chapter 5.
VIOLENCE: Yes. Have you read the title of the story? (read extra special disclaimer concerning Chp. 5 below)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've been ecstatic since season 4 ended with Gabrielle finally embracing the idea that fighting is necessary if love is to survive. And the episode Chakram, where she got her sais, had me jumping for joy. Gabrielle's character started out with a goal in mind for her quest to join Xena in her travels: to become a warrior. She has. :) A really really cool-looking, high-kicking, fast-punching, versatile (staff, sword, sai, grenade, whip, sledgehammer, what hasn't she used as a weapon since season 5 started?) warrior. This story is sort of an exploration of that warrior side of the Gabrielle archetype.
One more thing. I've changed this story's status from Beta to Incomplete. I've decided what I have so far is good and I'm going to continue the story to its completion.
I'd also like to add an EXTRA SPECIAL DISCLAIMER regarding the graphic depictions of child abuse and rape that have been introduced as of Chapter 5. If you are a survivor, the depictions in this story could trigger some rather strong reactions. Even if you were never abused as a child, you will probably (hopefully?) be affected by these scenes of violence.
I'm writing from personal experience and I have made the abuse and psychological traumas as realistic as I possibly could, based on my own experiences and continuing healing process. I think it's important to the telling of the story and to help the reader truly come to an understanding of Case's character. So, no matter how much you protest, it's not going to get edited out (I will not be making a PG-13 version of this story, the way I've seen some bards do, to cater to those with queasy stomachs or weak hearts), so don't bother asking.
Please take this seriously. It really is graphic. Maybe even more so than I'd first intended, but after reading it over, I don't want to change it, so I'm not going to.
One last word of warning: Don't try to skip over the "bad" parts. You won't get certain things later on, if you do. When I say it's important to the storyline, I'm not kidding. It's an integral part of the plot.
E-Mail: kodiwolf@yahoo.com
Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/kodiwolf/xenafic/
by
Case Jacobson stood at the window, arms folded across her chest, white surgical gloves and close-cropped blonde hair standing out against the jet black T-shirt she wore tucked into her equally black jeans. She watched the stage being set up for the afternoon's rally. From her seventh floor hotel room window, she had a clear view of the entire platform, as well as the surrounding parkland. The day was overcast, making everything seem damp somehow, but the stagehands diligently went about laying the tarp over the cables strewn across the wood and metal framework. Several people started bringing chairs up on the stage to prepare for the guest of honor and his entourage.
She stepped away from the window and turned back to the room. It was the usual setup; a double bed against the middle of one wall, a nightstand next to the bed on the left, a TV in a wooden cupboard against the opposite wall, a table with two chairs in front of the window, and a small standing closet near the TV. Off to her right was the door to the bathroom, which contained its standard allotment of two semi-large white bath towels and two small hand towels.
She took the two short steps to the bed and opened up the briefcase that was laid out on it. Then she bent over and unzipped the black nylon bag resting near her feet. Her eyes fell on the weapon nestled in foam. She lifted out the pieces of the small tripod that came with the gun and set it up in front of the window. She turned back to the bed and pulled out the various pieces that went with the long-range rifle and snapped them together with the cool precision of someone who had done this more times than they wished to count.
She set the gun on its mount and returned to the bed. She removed the headgear that would allow her remote control of the setup. It fit over her head like a pair of those heavy-duty wireless walkman headphones, except for the little extra piece which fit over her left eye. She tapped a green button on the tiny control box near her left ear. The eyepiece lit up. She reached up to the control box at her right ear and rolled the horizontal-control dial. She watched the tripod move to the right as the image relayed by the eyepiece did the same. Using her thumb, she rolled the vertical-control dial. The tripod's gears silently repositioned the rifle's aim up and the picture moved up with it. She moved a similar dial near her left ear to bring the picture into focus. It worked perfectly, so she hit the green button again to turn it off and removed the gear, placing it on the bed. She closed the empty briefcase and dragged the black bag over to the window.
She rummaged through the nylon bag and pulled out what looked like gray clay. She pressed the clay-like substance onto the gun until she was sure it would stick. She reached back into the bag again and retrieved a small electronic device, with two wires protruding from one end. She pressed the tiny box into the plastique and pushed both wires in as well. Her hand reached into the bag again and pulled out a small box studded with several buttons and a switch. She pressed the first button, then flicked the switch and saw a green light come on in the top of the small box embedded in the plastique. She nodded to herself and flicked the switch back and pressed the button again. The green light flickered off.
She set the device on the bed, next to the headgear, and zipped up the nylon bag. She went back over to the window and looked out. A podium had been setup and speakers were being placed around the stage, while the cables that had been laid out under the tarp were connected to the backs of the speakers. A crowd was gathering in front of the stage.
She turned and grabbed her jacket off the back of one of the chairs. She slid it over her arms and settled it over her shoulders. Then she picked up the headgear and little black box and shoved each one into the pockets on the outside of her jacket. She reached down and grasped the nylon strap of the black bag and slung it over her shoulder, then reached for the briefcase and picked it up off the bed. She walked to the hotel room door and opened it with her free hand. She took one last look around the room and then closed and locked the door behind her. She pulled her gloves off and stuffed them in her jeans pocket.
She walked down the long vacant hallway and fished out her sunglasses from the inside pocket of her jacket, while she waited for the elevator. It arrived, empty, and she got onto the elevator alone. The walls were mirrored and she looked at her reflection. White skin, muscled body beneath the stylish hip-length black leather jacket and black jeans, green eyes behind the black shades, short blonde hair. She wasn't very tall, but she'd found that to be an advantage. No one ever considered her a threat until it was too late to do anything about it.
The elevator doors opened and she walked out into the lobby. She made her way out the front and arrived at her black SUV. She thumbed her remote and opened the rear door to throw in her bags. She slammed the door closed and walked around to the driver's side and got behind the wheel and keyed the ignition. She didn't go very far. She parked on the street in front of where the rally was about to take place.
She pulled out the headgear and unfolded it, then placed it carefully over her head. She tapped the green button again and the eyepiece lit up. She fingered the dials to realign the image back on the stage. She barely had to twitch the dial under her left thumb to bring the picture into focus.
She watched as the people were led onto the stage. Finally, a tall, older man, slightly pudgy from a little too much deskwork, was shown to his seat near the middle of the stage. He flashed his artificial smile around and was rewarded with several camera flashes in return.
Case let her attention drift to the rest of the attendees still filing onto the stage. They were a mix of older and younger men, all colleagues and underlings of the Senator. She rolled the dials at her ears and brought the crosshairs overlaying the center of the picture back to him. She looked across the street to see the crowd settling down. Then she heard a deep voice come over the loudspeaker and returned her attention to the image filtering through her eyepiece.
A young man stood at the podium and began to address the crowd. She only half-listened to what he was saying, waiting for him to introduce the guest of honor. He finally did and she rolled the dials under her fingers, expertly keeping the image in focus and on target, as the older man stood and moved forward. He smiled and raised his hands in greeting to the crowd, as he walked to stand before the podium. She rested her left index finger lightly on the red triggering button that was positioned conveniently next to the green 'on' button.
The Senator waved his hands at the crowd again, this time trying to stop their cheering, so he could speak. Finally, they calmed down and he lowered his hands to the podium. He stood there for a moment, to gather his words, and she pushed the button. His head slammed back and he fell backward onto the stage. Several people rushed to his side.
After zooming in for a close-up to make sure the bullet had hit him square in the forehead, she tapped the green button again and the eyepiece went black. She slid it off her head and folded it back up, then placed it back in her pocket. Then she reached into her other pocket and pulled out the small black box with the switch. She pressed the middle button this time and then flicked the switch. She could hear a muffled boom behind her and then she shoved the box back into her pocket. She keyed the ignition and pulled away from the curb.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I don't appreciate your interference," said Antonio Carlotti. "You put me in an uncomfortable position and I don't like it when I'm uncomfortable."
He sat at the head of the table in the darkened restaurant. His second cousin, Franco Rossi, sat at his left, Rossi's surprisingly female bodyguard standing tall and alert behind him. Antonio's own bodyguard stood behind his right shoulder, also ready should the need arise for his services.
Leonardo Spinella sat across from Antonio, a lackey on each side of him, and four of his own bodyguards looking smug at their greater numbers. Leo was pretty sure he had the upper hand, but he knew Antonio deserved a certain amount of respect due to his position in the organization.
"That's unfortunate. But I should remind you that we do now have the backing of Senator Stone, so..."
"No. You don't," Antonio cut the man off. "Leonardo. You should know better than to go behind my back. I told you that territory was off limits to you. Why did you disobey me?"
The tall woman kept her eyes moving around the room, staying alert for any possible threats to her charge, Mr. Rossi, while inconspicuously recording the conversation with her ears. The man Carlotti was speaking to paled noticeably and she recognized the first signs of desperation entering his eyes.
This was Rain's first encounter with Mr. Carlotti and she was beginning to realize that his reputation as a ruthless crime lord didn't do him justice. She could see the glint in his eyes. He was playing with the man.
"Senator Stone has most definitely agreed to..."
"Senator Stone is dead by now. So, I will ask you again. Why did you disobey me?"
Leonardo lost the last bit of color remaining in his cheeks. He darted his eyes around and could feel the prickly sensation of fear-induced sweat sliding down his sides and back. He felt little beads of water grow on his forehead and he dabbed at them with his suit jacket's cream-colored handkerchief.
"I meant no disrespect. I just thought..."
"No. You didn't think. And how could your disobedience show anything but disrespect and contempt for me and my family?"
"Sir..."
"Ah, now you try to show respect."
Antonio was thoroughly enjoying himself. Leo was about to piss his pants. Unfortunately, he had pushed just a little too hard. Leonardo dropped to the floor and his four bodyguards took his signal to open fire.
Rain had her guns out before the first of Leo's men could clear theirs from their holsters. She jumped in front of Rossi even as she was taking down the third man. Carlotti's guard brought down the fourth and then immediately put slugs through the two shocked lackeys and the cowering man under the table. Antonio clapped his hands.
"Beautiful. Beautiful. Franco, where have you been hiding this one?"
Franco grinned at his cousin. "Ah, well, she just came to my attention a few months ago. She was a courier for Emiliano. One of my boys took a liking to her, but he was rather rude about it. She flattened him beautifully, so I took her as a replacement. She has the fastest reflexes of anybody I've ever seen," he bragged.
"Ah, I think I might know someone who's faster," Antonio countered. His bodyguard stood a little taller at what he thought was a huge compliment.
"I'd be happy to test my skills against your man any day, Mr. Carlotti," Rain offered. She knew she could beat his brute silly.
"Ah, Edoardo? No, no, I was thinking of someone else." Edoardo lost his puffed up demeanor. "But I don't think I want to see you two fighting. Why waste talent like yours? No. I think I will send you for training instead."
Antonio watched his cousin's face fall as he realized he had just lost his prized possession. He knew better than to argue about it, too. Antonio grinned.
"Well, that was pleasant. And... What was your name?"
"Erica Raineri, but everyone calls me Rain," she replied.
"Well, Rain, you'll be hearing from one of my people very soon. Goodnight, Cousin," he added to Franco, then left, Edoardo trailing behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was midnight when she finally crossed state lines. She stopped at the third truck stop she came to and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed the number and waited.
"Doc." A deep voice came on the line. He sounded a little impatient.
"Case, here. It's done. Package was delivered. Unfortunately, the receipt for delivery was lost due to a fire."
The plastique had destroyed the gun, as well as most of the hotel room, taking care of any useful evidence, including matching the bullet to the rifle. The explosives themselves would be traced back to an international supplier that would be an effective dead end.
Doc entered the information into his computer. The light from his monitor cast eerie shadows over his strong features. He smiled at the code phrases they were forced to use whenever they spoke. There was no way to tell if the smile ever reached his eyes because of the white computer screen image that was reflected from the lenses of his wire rim glasses.
"That's too bad." Case heard the clacking of a keyboard being used and then Doc came back on the line. "Payment for delivery has been rendered. I'll be in touch." The line went dead.
She closed down her cellular and walked into the diner and ordered a breakfast plate. Two eggs, two pancakes, three strips of bacon, and four pieces of buttered toast with a little packet of grape jelly on the side. She sipped at her root beer and tried not to think about anything in particular.
She finished her meal and paid the check, then went to the back to use the restroom. Before leaving, she pulled the surgical gloves from her jeans pocket and dropped them into the metal trashcan. She walked out to her truck and got in. Once she was on the road again, she turned on the radio and found a station with music she knew and started singing along. After an hour though, she realized she was getting too tired to drive and pulled into the first motel she could find.
She brought her tote bag in with her and then collapsed onto the bed. After a couple minutes, she got up, placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and undressed before turning on the TV. She flipped through the channels, letting the TV settle on a news program that seemed to be repeating from earlier in the evening. As soon as she recognized the stage and the crowd, though, Case grabbed up the remote again.
She flipped the channel and was happy to see that the porn station was part of the cable package that came with the room. She settled into the bed and tried to exhaust her libido. It really was an excellent diversion and she finally conked out just as the sky was beginning to lighten.
Continued in Chapter Two