(Thanks to PokingFun for her editing on both this and last chapter - sorry PF)

(Thanks also to Bryan, Charles and John for help with feedback and ideas and this and last chapter)

*The Titanic was sunk by snowflakes that fell long before mankind first forged iron*

*Yes*

I had made the pledge to abandon my society. The message deleted itself.

"Who was it?" Angle mumbled. I couldn't tell her the truth. She was still a cop.

"Wrong number," I yawned. I double-checked my call log and, as promised, there was no record I could access of the call ever coming in.

The fantastic nature of it all allowed me to go to sleep within seconds. The betrayal of my tiny group of 'friends' didn't bother me. I was hardly making their lives better. If I had meant anything in their lives, they would treat the next man they came across with the same sense of respect and understanding they'd shown me. If not...

The doorbell went off a bit past seven in the morning. I flicked on the monitor to see who was there while Angel sat up muttering various expletives. I didn't recognize the two women but I was becoming familiar with the clothes emporium the gang used.

"Good morning," I yawned.

"Mr. Jensen, Detectives Riga and Kwan of the GED," they introduced themselves. Angel snatched the remote from my hand.

"Po, this is Angel," she spoke up. "Make a note that I am on premises."

"Sure thing Angel - duly noted," Detective Kwan grinned.

"Kwan is a friend," Angel gave me a tired smile. Her friend maybe, but as her partner Seneca had proved, being a friend of Angel didn't seem to transfer over to me. Kristi took her badge and gun from beside the bed and headed out to the door. I heard her activate it and the two cops come in. Me - I was more concerned about a dozen things including my little text message that was only a few hours cold.

I slipped on some jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt before going out to my 'guests'. Our exchange was curt. I was tired and tired of cops. I didn't warrant civility from their perspective.

"What is this about?" Angel inquired.

"It is a 3307," Detective Riga responded. That was rude.

"Under-age sex?" Angel seemed confused. "I'd like to watch over this one, if that's okay?" It was odd to hear a cop requesting something from a woman that wasn't a request. Riga was resisting.

"Sure," Kwan nodded. "You are his ghost after all." I assumed that 'ghost' meant the minder the Metropolitan police had placed on me.

"Let me get some fresh clothes on and I'll be right back," Kristi told them.

"Sure," Kwan agreed.

"What's he like?" Regina smirked as Angel passed her. Angel jerked to a halt and I could sense the tension boil up inside her. "You haven't posted any reviews yet."

"Have you ever considered how demeaning that is for him?" Angel turned on Riga. Their faces were only inches apart. "We are all in the same room and you are treating him like a piece of furniture or a slab of meat."

"Back off," Riga glared. "All the guys have them. It is no big deal." Angel laughed.

"No big deal?" Angel snorted. "How many did we lose last night?" Riga balked.

"Eight," Kwan revealed softly. I wasn't shocked - I was past caring. I did smile.

"Shit," Angel muttered.

"What are you smiling about?" Kwan glanced my way.

"I hate you - cops that is," I grinned. "Every loss for you is a victory for mankind in my book. Detective Riga, I'm sure if you come home this evening and find that someone broke into your home and stole your TV, you'll miss the TV more than any of the nameless men that are no more than a case file on your computer."

"Your attitude was noted in your file too," Kwan sighed.

"I'll be right back. Israel...try to not start anymore fires," Angel groaned. She departed for her condo across the hall.

"My distain and distrust for police is in my file?" I kept grinning.

"Good, I'd hate for us to get off on the wrong foot," I said. "I'll tell you right now, I'm going to be as little help as possible because I have zero belief you have my best interest at heart. If you'll let me, I'll get some socks and shoes on. Then I'm going to call my lawyer. I'm pretty sure that at 7:15 on a Sunday morning, she's got nothing better to do." I started heading for my bedroom.

"Jerk, you need to be adjusted," Riga growled. I turned around and walked right at the two GED detectives. Their hands gravitated to their Tasers.

"Back off," Kwan cautioned me. I stopped, staring into Riga's eyes.

"You're pathetic," I sneered. She popped me in the ribs. It was an automatic response to having her authority mocked.

It wasn't particularly hard. The blow was meant to shock me and erode my willingness to resist. I gritted my teeth and fell over - all the way over. The two cops stared down at me.

"Oh come on," Riga chuckled. "I didn't hit you that hard, you wimp." I came back with a feral grin. I forced myself painfully back to my feet.

"A pathetic, evil, brutal thug who would rather beat up a defenseless man than save a life," I ground out. Riga looked to Kwan in confusion. "Come on Cop, your partner will never report your abuse. Why are you stopping now?"

"What is your problem?" Riga studied me.

"You punched me for giving you a poor job review," I grunted, "and you are asking what my problem is?"

"Go get your shoes, Mr. Jensen," Detective Kwan commanded. I retreated, making the call to Capri O'Hara, my Public Defender lawyer, once I was there.

She didn't ask. It was clear that I'd woken her up and she was a bit cranky about it, but she agreed to meet me at the GED offices. Angel was coming in from the front door, looking a bit disheveled, when I came from the back.

"He's really annoying," Riga commented. "I don't know how you put up with him."

My most recent bout of pain must have shown on my face.

"Israel, are you okay?" Angel studied me.

"We had to tune him up," Kwan answered. "He got in our faces." Angel flinched.

"Who hit him?" Angel asked in a low growl.

"It is not worth it," I begged her.

"I hardly touched him," Riga confessed.

"You hardly touched him," Angel repeated, still looking at me. "Israel, lift your shirt."

"No," I sighed.

"Israel, they'll never learn if you don't try," Angel pleaded with me. I lifted my shirt.

"Mother-fucker," Kwan whispered. "What happened to him?"

"There was no report on this," Riga added. My torso was a roadmap of pain.

"You still think he's mouthy?" Angel grumbled.

"He's not jerking your chain," she glared at her fellow cops. "He really hates us and he has no faith in any level of professionalism from those in our occupation. After spending a few days with him, I have to agree. We treat men like shit. No one cares and by the way you are looking at me, like I've lost my mind, I can tell you don't understand."

"Damn it Angel, I told you to take this to therapy," Kwan intervened. "This guy is screwed up, but your reaction is normal. You want to protect him, but this isn't the way. He needs professional help. Write him up." That was terribly chilling.

"Po, he never crossed the line. You know that," Angel said with a level of disbelief.

"Angel, I think we are back to why I don't trust any of these bitches," I tried to sound defiant.

"Mr. Jensen - Israel - I believe you were raped in college by forty-one women. You never received treatment for that tragic event, but you clearly need it," Po Kwan regarded me. "You need help." I laughed. It hurt, but I had to.

"No crime so this is not your jurisdiction," I stared back. "If there is a crime, draw up warrants for the rapists and the security personnel who covered it up. Start making some arrests. Those women are hardly master criminals." Kwan didn't immediately respond. "You are not going to do that which leaves you with a dilemma."

"You can't legally commit me because you women cover for each other," my face twisted in distain. "You may think I'm nuts, but without admitting the root cause, the police are powerless to act on that information. My lawyer will bust open your ovaries if you try to put me away illegally and I won't voluntarily commit myself."

"Angel, help me out here," Kwan urged.

"I think we are back to why I don't trust any of those bitches," Angle parroted me. "Po, you can't get a sexual exemption without a criminal charge to present to a judge. We both know that. That means you are willing to drug him, basically wiping out the man he is."

"You didn't used to be like that," Angel bashed her friend. "You are supposed to be a freaking expert on Male Rape and Recovery. I brought Israel's case to you because you used to consider the man in the equation. Now you are coming across as a flesh peddler."

"That's not fair. There are mounting pressures to get results," Kwan replied.

"Results? Israel has been operating above and beyond code," Angel countered. She was referring to how often I was having sex.

"Did you listen to your boy on Thursday?" Riga rejoined the clamber.

"That's politics," Angel fought back. "Since when did the GED handle First Amendment issues?"

"Since the very existence of the GED's bothers me, why don't we figure out why they are knocking on my door so I can get back to my life?" I interrupted.

"Excellent idea, Israel," Kwan sighed with relief. Since no one complained, off we went. I traveled with the two GED officers and Angel followed behind.

In short order, I found myself in an interrogation room downtown at the Police Plaza station. Even early on a Sunday morning there seemed to be hundreds of cops around. I'd made my desire for legal representation and Angel had assured me she'd be close by, monitoring the situation.

That stopped helping after a few minutes. I was alone in the presence of my enemies - on their home ground and at their mercy. My rational mind was telling me that a race was on. They would want to talk to me before my lawyer arrived. Kwan and Riga came into the room, acting casual and trying to put me at ease. Riga offered to upload something to my computer.

"You want me to surrender my right to counsel?" I snorted. "No way."

"Very well," Kwan graciously allowed. "Detective Riga and I are going to have a conversation while we wait for your lawyer to arrive. Don't mind us." They began to go over my case. Apparently, me, or someone using my identity, had lured two fifteen year old girls to a club for the purpose of sex.

The girls met someone who was supposedly representing me. He had tried to lure them from the club, but one of the girls became concerned and contacted security. Security grabbed the guy, questioned everyone involved and contacted the police. Thirty minutes with the GED and the culprit had folded like an origami crane.

Why had they waited so long to contact me? Well, they had tried. My phone wasn't working. They had progressed logically and made a bracelet ID request. Routine right? Their plea went straight to the EPD (Executive Protection Detail) of the same Metropolitan Police Force and got no farther. My alibi for not being involved seemed to be a non-starter.

Then my bracelet logged my sex act at midnight with Magdalena "Little M" Keverich, one of the biggest mobsters in the city. Theoretically, that was an alibi but it seemed Magdalena wasn't returning GED calls at the moment. Had I been terrified as opposed to emotionally numb, their little dog and pony show might have worked.

I rested my head on the desk so Riga slammed her palm down next to my head.

"I thought I saw a cockroach," Riga grinned. I smiled back.

I wanted make a snappy comeback like 'you must have been looking in a mirror,' but that was more than my shot nerves could deliver. Instead, I mustered up enough defiance to cross my arms on the table and rest my head on them. Riga tried to get the banter flowing once more, but Po stopped her. She knew I was past being tricked into a questioning session.

They departed and fifteen minutes later Capri arrived looking harried yet alert.

"Don't worry, Israel," Capri smiled warmly. "I've looked over the case and they already have a complete confession from a co-worker of yours - Troy Berry."

"What?" I struggled back to clarity.

"Your co-worker hacked a few of your files, found pictures of you in college and created a Sexbook page for you, but with his contact numbers," Capri kept her tone gentle.

"Why?"

"Well, as I warned you - have less impressive sex," Capri tried to joke.

"Troy's reviews were - hmmm - less than stellar," Capri stated. "Okay, apparently he's a freak with a hair-trigger. He likes women to do degrading things. Added to that, he had a 'virgin' porn collection that even the GED found to be - extensive." 'Virgin' porn was basically a girl's first time sexual experience.

I had heard some went beyond normal. Things like slavery (the male enslaving the young woman - women holding men in captivity was a totally different 'healthy' genre), rape (man on woman), the mythical male sexual dynamo disguised as a neighbor/teacher/hitchhiker, and even 'long lost father' scenarios.

"Troy used your identity on Sexbook to attempt to entice under-age girls for sexual encounters. According to what I was shown, he/you were romancing ten girls in the local area. They seized your home and work computers, both of his, plus Sexbook handed over their records," Capri informed me. It was taking me a few seconds to digest all of this.

Troy had moved fast, but then Sexbook was clubbing on steroids. I had made the news Tuesday. On Thursday, I had my rant on National Television. By accident, I had become a bad boy - a firebrand preacher cursing the establishment.

"At last count, you have over 17,000 friends," Capri added.

Not only did I not want the attention, some shithead had been talking to God knows how many women, promising things in my name.

"Can I see Troy?" I mumbled.

"I don't advise that on the grounds you'll try to kill him in front of numerous witnesses," Capri gave her legal opinion.

"Why did he do this?" I wondered while meeting Capri's gaze.

"He's a pervert and you are a young, good-looking guy who tries to treat women decently," Capri reasoned.

"Fine, where did he get any pictures of me? I don't keep any," I told her.

Carpi dialed up her tablet and showed me 'my' page.

"First off, what is this thing still doing active?" I asked bitterly.

"The account is in your name," Capri stated. "They can't cancel it without a court order or your consent."

I had 324 unanswered 'requests'. My chat log was a hydra nightmare. How the fuck did fifteen year old girls even get on this site?

"How do I cancel this?"

"Call them first thing Monday morning and...use the proper credit card - whoops," Carpi gulped.

"I'll start on a court injunction now," Capri said. I nodded as I opened my picture page. I shivered and was profoundly grateful I hadn't eaten yet. "Israel?"

"These," I gulped, "are Bethany Fremont's - they are from the collection she took of me when we were dating." Some of these were really, really private - barely on the correct edge of pornography.

It would have been easy to believe this was done on purpose. Bethany wanted to hurt me so that I would behave. She didn't want to share me with the world.

"Have the police check to see if Troy hacked Bethany's system too," I told Capri. "After she dumped that video of me, he probably figured she had other tidbits of my past."

"We don't need to," Capri suggested. "They are not going to bring charges against you and are not required to assist them in their job." The GED wouldn't want to climb the legal barricades that defended Bethany's home system but her work computer was more vulnerable.

"Sure," I shrugged. "Can I leave?"

"There is the matter of a member of the Organized Crime Taskforce wanting to talk with you," Capri smirked. "Care to tell me what that is about?" I showed her my wristband. A scan and a whistle later,

"I am not holding you responsible for any of the shitty things that have happened in your life, but have you ever considered that you live under a curse?" she poised.

"That joke isn't funny," I mumbled.

"I wasn't joking," she said in all seriousness. "Your luck is horrible."

"Thanks for pointing that out. I am not talking to any more cops if I can help it."

"I'll go tell them," Capri stood. She exited and was gone about three minutes.

"Now they want to give you a physical," Capri questioned. "Is there anything I need to know?" I stood and took off my shirt.

"Oh God," she gasped. "What happened?"

"I don't want a talk about it and I don't want a physical," I responded. "What can you do?"

"Have any of them seen you like this?" Capri asked.

"Yes - Detective Angel Kristi had me show GED Detectives Riga and Kwan."

"Okay, saying 'no' is wrong," Capri mused. "They'll charge you with self-endangerment. Let their doctor look you over, determine these are not self-inflicted, then refuse to press charges."

"Don't give them anything," she continued. "Don't make anything up. Tell them your lawyer has advised you not to make a statement at this time. Screw them - force them to make a case first. Since they don't have a cooperative victim, they need a crime scene or witness. Is that going to happen?"

"Not likely," I looked down.

"Fine; let's go then," Capri reached for the door. "Your cop friend Angel - she's not your friend. You wouldn't be going through this latest indignity if it wasn't for her." It was nice of Capri to express that, but I'd already figured that one out.

She still wanted to punish the people who had abused me, but she'd sacrificed me to do it. The OCT cop was pissed at being blown off by Capri. Riga, Kwan and Angel went down to the medical office with Capri and me. Angel tried to talk with me, to be supportive but I ignored her. I was being petulant, but then I would have been going home if it wasn't her stunt with me showing off my bruised chest.

The exam and resulting argument was fatiguing. Capri was my strength; my sword and shield who refused to give an inch in my defense. In the end, I kept my anger and sobs to myself and exited the station in one piece.

"Let me take you home," Angel said, touching my elbow.

"No," I looked her over, too tired to give a fuck. "You go home. If you are going to let the shit go when I tell you to let it go, come by once I'm home. Until you can do that, stay on your own side of the walkway, please." Angel blinked then turned violently on Capri.

"What the fuck did you tell him?"

"I told him that by showing your GED buddies his bruises, he was forced to endure yet another strange women running her hands over his body, you idiot," Capri shot back. "That's great instincts if you are a cop - lousy ones if you are his friend."

"Israel had the crap beaten out if him," Angel countered. "Detectives Kwan and Riga had to know what shape he was in."

"Why?" Capri snapped. "Why couldn't Israel tell them? Why did it have to be you?" Angel had no immediate response to that.

"It was because Riga hit me," I filled in the blanks for Capri. "She wanted to show both of them that it wasn't okay to pummel me - because someone had beat them to it."

"Do you want to go back inside and press charges?" Capri stopped us.

"Ms. O'Hara, if the woman who tells me she loves me isn't going to arrest a cop who beats me up the moment that cop confesses to the deed, why in the hell would I waste my time making charges that never could be proven?" I sighed. I looked at Angel.

"I'm not asking you to not be a cop. I'm not asking you to be someone else. I love you the way you are, but I do ask that you be honest about what you do and what that means to me," I looked upon her with weary eyes. Capri was far less polite.

"Angel, next time you are about to do something questionable, ask yourself this; would you do it to the Mayor on live television?" Capri growled.

"If the answer is 'no', you should ask yourself why the hell you are doing it to somebody who needs your protection a whole lot more," Capri kept going.

"It is not that black and white and you know it," Angel glared.

"Why not?" Capri jutted her chin forward.

"Listen Detective Kristi, I think you are a good person. I think Israel likes you - though I can't fathom why," Capri explained. "But you and I are faced with compromises every day, choices Israel doesn't have. It is only grey because you let it be grey. That is the reality of the situation. I've chosen to keep this case and my career is over because of it."

"I know exactly what I'm doing and it's not because I have a fatal fascination with Israel's irrational personality," Capri grinned viciously. "Not a single lawyer in the Public Defender's office wants to consult with me on this case. I find that disgusting. They tell me we need to survive as a race. Wrong. What we should be asking is do we deserve to survive as a race."

"Not everyone can afford the price of your morality," Angel stated. "Are you sure Israel can? Israel, can you?"

"With me it is easy," I said. "Morality costs me nothing because I stopped caring about what they are going to do to me. I have no future here anymore. If there is an 'us', it won't be in this callus society."

"What are you going to do?" both women asked.

"Live free of fear for starters," I felt relieved to get those words out.

"Let's get you home," Angel requested.

"It will take me twenty-seven minutes," I responded. I took the metro every day after all.

Angel gave an anguished groan then stormed off. Capri walked me to the station.

When I got home, Angel was waiting on the sofa. My 'freak out' neurons were so flat-lined I simply walked past her and got lemonade out of the refrigerator and took my place in the corner of the living room.

"Israel, I have to be a cop. It is the only thing I know how to be," she started.

"I understand," I shrugged.

"Then let me help you," she insisted.

"Angel, you need to understand that in most cases you can't," I met her eye to eye.

"I don't want you to. You have to accept that. If there is a legal problem, you aren't in the room with those people - your friends and colleagues, I am. If there is a prosecutor, she's one of them. If it is a judge - the same. A jury - twelve of the same people who see me as an ejaculation machine who gives 'good sex'."

"I don't want you to beat yourself up over this," I continued. "You make me very happy and that's something I wasn't sure I'd ever experience again. The reality is that you can't watch over me twenty-four/seven. It will be the same commuters, the same cops like Riga and those two patrolwomen, and morally bankrupt leaders like the Mayor."

"If you really care about me and my free will, let me fight this war with the skills I've earned dealing with this prejudice all my life," I stressed.

"Israel, look at yourself," Angel came to me. "You aren't winning."

"I'm not winning in a way you would understand," I looked up at her. "Trust me, I'm winning the only victory I can achieve."

I finished the lemonade then answered my messages. It was the 'usual' gang plus a few co-workers, commuters and Ms. Silverhorn, my boss. I invited the girl gang over, lied to Francesca about how last night went and how I was looking forward to work on Monday. The ladies responded in different ways to Angel's anger with me.

Venus, Samantha and Aniqua sensed an opportunity. Roni was sticking with Angel while Kuiko hovered around nervously. In that moment, I wanted to go back on the drugs and let all of this go away. I could commit myself and all of this would stop. Confronting this terrible weakness breathed the dwindling spark in my intellect back to life. Top of my fucking class.

I had been sitting in my corner when I popped up.

"Ladies, please give me some forbearance. There is something I need to do. I need to get some items from the store then I'll be right back. I'd appreciate it if you went back to your places, get your computers and return here," I looked them over.

"What is all of this about?" Venus was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"I can't tell you everything yet," I evaded "but I plan to make myself a pain in the ass for as long as I can get away with it. I need help getting the ammunition to fight with."

"Is this going to be illegal?" Aniqua asked.

"Eventually...I withhold comment because I don't want to lie to you," I answered.

"Sounds fun," Kuiko nodded with a grin. "Come on girls, what do we have to look forward to? Thirty-five years at a lousy job, maybe a child and ending up in some retirement complex exaggerating about the four or five sexual encounters we had in our lives?"

"Crazy-K," Aniqua sighed. "This isn't a game and there ain't likely to be a happy ending." She stared at her friend for several seconds. "All for some cock we have never had?"

"Aniqua, you were the one who told me how furious you were when you saw the fear in Israel's eyes," Kuiko reposed. "Feelings are pointless if we never act on them."

"I'm going to regret this," Aniqua groaned. The rest of the group looked around to see who was going and who was staying. No one was making for the door.

"Okay Israel, it looks like we are all in - to what I have no idea," Roni smiled. "Next?"

"Computers for the rest of you," I instructed.

"Look up any birth records for the past ten years; forget North America. Look at South America and Asia primarily. You need to look for abnormalities like duplicate figures or low production for male child products."

"What would those be?" Venus asked.

"No clue. I've never even contemplated caring for a child," I shrugged. Long, long ago, childrearing was 'women's' work. Society was moving away from that model with men taking greater parenting responsibility when the plague broke out. In this day and age, having a father at all was a rare luxury. Women took care of their offspring because no one expected the man to hang around.

"Angel, we need to go get some supplies," I requested.

"What are we going to get?" she inquired even as she stood up to join me.

"Less surveillance," I gave a wan smile. She nodded. We'd had a part of this discussion earlier. For the government to access a home security system took a warrant but it was ludicrously easy to find a judge who would grant one on a male for the flimsiest of excuses.

The blind spots in external systems were much larger in neighborhoods like ours - places where we could talk openly.

"I'm not going let you run off a cliff, Israel," April announced. I shook my head in resignation.

"Why is it so hard to believe I plan to live a life worth living?" I regarded her.

"You are a wounded individual. You've made some life choices I have a hard time understanding. You are picking fights with cops," Angel looked pained.

"Why haven't you written me up yet?" I murmured. "It would be a lie, but no one would call you on it. If I'm out of order, shouldn't a police officer have me corrected?"

"It is not that easy - not with you," she admitted.

"I'll make it easy on you," I said. "Are we in a safe place?" Angel nodded. "The 'Vanishers' contacted me last night. I took them up on their offer to get out." Angel put a hand on my chest and stopped my forward process.

Her face went through the permutations of 'was he kidding', disbelief and finally that sick sense of despair that I had abandoned everything she'd devoted her life to.

"Israel...," she whispered. She didn't ask why.

"Your lack of faith in my love for you is disappointing Angel Kristi," I put my hand on hers.

"I love you. I'm not bailing without you...and as many of the others as I can convince to come along," I tried to smile.

"They don't take women," she was clearly back to thinking I was unhinged.

"I'm not going with them," I chuckled painfully. "They're just another bunch of women telling me what to do. Fuck that. I'm saving myself."

"But...what...why agree to their help?" Angel sputtered.

"Do any of us have the skills to disappear?" I smirked - painfully yet again. "I don't think so. That means, to escape, I have to use them as much as I can without being snared."

"This is completely insane," Angel tried to convince me.

"Angel, you are questioning me running, but the only other option is to see whether they break my body before they break my mind," I explained. "I need to disappear to survive. Think about it. Besides, all I need them to do is get me out of the city. I already know how to defeat the bracelets."

"How?" Angel still looked disbelieving.

"Angel, I was held prisoner for 87 days. How come the cops didn't find me if I had a bracelet?"

Angel blinked and her mouth opened in surprise.

"Oh fuck...how?" she inquired.

"There is a flaw in the system, not the hardware," I related. "If you cut the bracelet, or forcefully remove it, the device lets off an emergency alarm...unless the wearer is both dead and verified by a corner to be dead."

"She killed you," Angel muttered. The 'she' was the Aurora Slasher. Angel was a pretty good detective too.

"Yep. She injected me with God-knows what which flat-lined my vital signs. Four minutes later, the bracelet dutifully recorded my death and went into storage mode. It was given a coroner's code, shut down and then she cut it off me - no problem. Finally, she revived me," I told her. "That didn't work on all her victims - some didn't make it back."

"If the authorities know about the flaw, they would fix it," Angel reasoned.

"Recall eight million bracelets? Over a flaw that even most cops don't know about?" I pointed out. "Only licensed coroners and Federal Investigators know that trick. There simply aren't enough male homicides for others to figure it out."

"Ugh...you've pretty much annihilated any hope of me getting a good night's sleep for the next week or so," Angel murmured. "Is there anything else you want to hit me with?"

"Yes...I want to have sex with Kuiko," I said as I started walking again.

"We are not attached," Angel got out a few seconds later. "You don't have to ask."

"I respect your feelings Angel. I don't want to hurt you," I shrugged. "I know I do, but I don't like it."

"Okay, but why Kuiko? Aniqua is...more of my body type," she was studying me.

"Several reasons," I related.

"I think it will help the group's tension level if I'm with someone besides you occasionally. I also think she's trying really hard to respect my space. Lastly, but most importantly, I think she'd be fun in bed," I finished.

"You are slipping," Angel stated softly. She was referring to my mental state.

"Yes. Either I go full throttle, or I go numb," I tried to make her understand. I was a rape victim. I would never stop being a rape survivor, but I could try to stop being a victim. Full throttle wasn't fighting through - it was stealing something good from the demons. It was a little more fuel to keep the fire going.

I had no illusions that the demons would be banished by a woman's embrace. That was a fantasy. As Angel said, I was wounded...but I wasn't dead; not yet.

"Okay," Angel conceded. "I'll stick with you...but I'm still going to give you hell when I think you are acting crazier than whatever the fuck is normal for you. Deal?"

"Deal," I smiled. Maybe she was starting to understand me, or trust me.

The journey to the store and back again was comparatively easy. Angel even agreed to front the bill though she couldn't figure out why I wanted surgical tape and wooden curtain rods cut into twelve inch sections. I told her 'I have a plan' which did nothing to ease her mind.

When we returned, the rest of this little troupe was actually working diligently at the task at hand. Once I had the supplies stashed away - except for the dowels - I was working on those, I put the 'Kuiko Method' into play. Venus was the first recipient. I quietly moved up behind her and began massaging her shoulders.

She was about to come back with a snarky remark when she turned and realized it was me.

"You seem tense," I said. "Would you like a massage?" Venus nodded. In reality, you went after men until you got one. Only in romance novels were men overtly sensual. Venus was working cross-legged beside an end table as I maneuvered behind her.

I knelt behind her, my legs spread to either side of her hers, my crotch against the small of her back while my hands caressed her shoulders. I moved along her upper arms, neck and mid back while Venus murmured contentedly. After roughly fifteen minutes, I finished up by wrapping my arms around her abdomen and kissing her on the nape of her neck.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently.

"Oh - oh yeah, thank you," she sighed happily.

"Thank you," I responded. I pushed off her back and stood. All the other women were looking at me with varying degrees of desire. Only the twinkle in Roni's eyes revealed that she had figured out what I was really up to.

I moved as sedately to the bathroom as I could. Once inside, my resolve slipped and I shivered. It was not their fault. It was none of their faults. I had to believe that. I had to shore up my mind with that understanding. I couldn't fold up. I had to keep it together. I went back out. It was Aniqua's turn. A smile, a few words and some light contact. I could do this. Compared to what I planned to do on Monday, I had to shore myself up now.

(Monday)

Angel told me to stop whistling as I got dressed. She had stopped arguing with me about what I was going to wear last night. I think in the old days it was called a hymn before battle and I was certainly prepared for a fight. I called Kuiko before I left and asked if we could have privacy at her place for about an hour when she got off work, provided I was still eluding police custody. She was more than happy to oblige.

I trekked to the metro station with the jauntiness of a sixteen year old - not a care in the world and the mind of a maniac. My neighborhood was no longer running off a cliff - we were in free-fall. It turned out two of the eleven surviving males in my district were homosexual. It was bound to happen in any population of large enough size (as in the total number of males in the country).

Mind you, Farad and Jimmy were doing their part. They had sex with woman and were apparently rather good at it, performing above standards and more than the required once every twenty-eight days. That didn't matter. They were homosexuals and they had to be corrected so a tactical unit went after them Sunday afternoon.

Unfortunately, both Farad and Jimmy knew something was up, or were simply sick of the sneaking around. They had a plan. They had converted a van into a mini-mobile home, complete with multiple propane canisters. They also made zip guns to defend themselves. The tactical team knew about the guns, but not about the canisters so they went in with rubber bullets.

Sadly, rubber bullets penetrate propane canisters and electricity (aka Tasers) ignites the gas. I'm not sure how many canisters they had but the resulting explosion vibrated glasses in my condo a kilometer away. Scratch two more sperm-jockeys. Now there were only nine of us (actually, only eight, but I didn't know about the one who had vanished a few hours earlier - yet).

Inside my mind was a beaten, whipped and shattered eighteen year old boy rattling the bars of his cage and screaming at me to stop what I was doing. He begged me to save myself the humiliation and pain. I couldn't listen to him anymore. Hiding hadn't been surviving; it had been delaying the inevitable. I wasn't fighting - that would be stupid. I was resisting.

I was wearing really nice jeans, courtesy of Bethany, a nice white shirt with the sleeves partially rolled up, with a tailored jacket over one arm and a satchel strapped across my body. I also had a twelve inch baton with the handle taped to give me a firmer grip. I smiled, nodded to a few ladies and even said 'hello' to a few others. Basically, all the wrong things for a man to do - unless he's a prostitute.

I doubt any of them noticed the baton. That wasn't the wood they were looking at. The first one wasn't even remotely difficult. The predators had gotten sloppy, lazy, arrogant and careless. She was blonde, mid-thirties maybe and I'd seen and been groped by her before. She breezed up behind me, patted my ass and was about to say 'hey' or something like that.

I snatched the hand that had just touched me, yanked it up and smacked her in the head with the baton. It was meant to sting, not crack her head open and I'd been practicing last night.

"Ow! What the...?" she squawked.

"You sexually assaulted me; I was defending myself," I grinned savagely. "We can check the video from the camera I'm standing well in view of if you like."

"You hit her," Fatima came sputtering my way.

"It would certainly look that way, wouldn't it," I kept smiling.

"Why?"

"She sexually assaulted me," I reiterated.

"All I did was touch you," the first woman said.

"Check your laws, ladies," I used my authoritative tone. "Touching another person without their consent is assault. Touching a person in a sexual zone - in my case, the lips, pubic area or...buttocks is considered SEXUAL assault."

"Also according to the law, I am allowed to defend myself, or another person under threat of harm, with enough force necessary to remove myself, or that person, from danger," I lectured.

"All she did was touch your ass," a third women joined in. They were really starting to gather around now. The metro was almost here.

"And I hit her with a stick for doing it too," I glared at her.

"You can't run around beating people with a stick," Fatima threatened me.

"As long as it is in self-defense, I most certainly can - as can any citizen," I pointed out. "What twisted evil thought process could make any of you think you can touch another person against their will? Come on now, that's just sick."

"But you are a guy," a fourth woman struggled and failed to make sense of the situation.

"That's discrimination and that's against the law too," I flashed her a bright smile. The metro arriving put an end to the conversation, but I had to put knots on the foreheads of two more women before I made it to my seat.

The Metro Cop came for me two stops down the line. I wasn't belligerent, I handed over the baton when requested and I watched her fend off the angry commuters around me. I had the law right. I explained that I couldn't afford a taxi so this was my only way to work. The police officer informed the women that I was legally correct and to stop antagonizing me - hallelujah.

The best part was after the cop left and the metro started rolling again. The women were seriously looking for some payback. I grinned, unzipped my satchel and drew forth my second dowel. They looked flabbergasted.

"Yeah bitches, I'm smarter than you are," I chuckled. None of them harassed me.

It wasn't much of a victory. In their minds my resistance was all my fault, not theirs. Anyway, groping was something women did casually. They weren't expecting a connection. I had robbed them of their second shot of espresso in the morning, that's all. Or, it would be all, if it was only me. As I told a disbelieving Angel, I had a plan.

Coming out of the metro stop by City Hall, I caught sight of a woman who nearly caused my heart to freeze in fear. It was one more step and I took it. She saw me and looked cocky. I smiled and headed right toward her. I imagined she was about to inflict (further) pain on my person when I wrapped her up in a hug. Her colleague looked equally dubious as to my intent.

"Flame!" I greeted her. "How the hell are you doing?" I kept my arms around her, titling back so we could make eye contact while my crotch was pressed against her stomach. I hadn't realized how much shorter she was than me during our first encounter - the one where she beat me half to death.

"We need to talk," Flame regarded me quizzically. She was insane, if not insane like me.

"Sure," I nodded. I leaned in, kissed Flame, aka Brigit, on the lips then turned us so that we both faced up the sidewalk to City Hall. She slid a hand around my waist and I followed suit.

"Miss me?" Flame teased. 'Every time I breathe' was the proper reply.

"With all the sane chicks around me," I sighed. "I think you're the only one who understands." Flame found that hilarious. She was a raving psychopath after all. My hand started stroking her ass. Flame actually leaned into me in what might have been construed as a romantic gesture. I sure as hell wasn't going to ask her.

The three of us arrived at a doorway somewhat off the well-traveled path.

"Little M wants to see you," Flame purred, holding me face to face and close. "Prometheus' at 12:30 tomorrow for lunch." Flame's buddy still looked like she expected me to rabbit at any second, which I found oddly amusing. Where would I go?

"Are you going to be there?" I murmured to Flame.

"Yeah," she rubbed up against me.

"I'll show up," I agreed. I kissed Flame again but this time with much more passion. As I broke it off and returned to the route to work, I smiled at the other mobster.

"I know, she's going to end up driving an ice pick through my eye somewhere along the line, but it will be worth it," I referred to Flame. I couldn't tell what the goon thought.

"I love this guy," Flame laughed and slapped her buddy. "He's tons of fun." Until that encounter, I thought nothing could make me even remotely happy to city CH Security.

They did their usual rigmarole but when they came to my small collection of batons, they become curious.

"What are these for?" one asked me.

"They're curtain dowels, with surgical tape so they don't slip," I replied innocently.

"They are awfully small," she noted.

"Small windows," I bantered back. She put them back in my satchel and handed it to me. Had I given a crap I would have complained to Francesca about the intellectual quality of our security force. Admittedly, curtain dowels aren't great weapons, but still, it is a 12" freaking stick.

I whistled as I left, in the elevator and down the hall to my work station as if this was the best day ever. Bethany homed in on me immediately.

"What are you wearing?" she blinked.

"Clothes you bought for me some time ago," I replied pleasantly.

"That's not proper work attire," she explained.

"Yep. You got that right. Is there any other obvious things you want to point out, or can we get to work now?" I kept grinning.

"Israel, what's gotten into you?" Bethany was getting annoyed.

"You are right," I nodded. "That is a problem we should address. Come with me," I demanded as I grabbed her by the wrist and started to drag her out of the office.

"What's going on?" she resisted.

"As you pointed out, there is a problem of what's gotten into who and I think I can correct that," I said happily.

"We are going to have sex - now?" she gulped.

"Now or never again," I told her. "Your choice." She had claimed I was the best dick she'd ever had and I was about to find out if that was true. She came along meekly. I rushed us into the Women's Room, pushed her into a stall and bent her over a toilet.

"Israel, I'd like - Ow!" she yelped as I yanked her panties off. Unless she had a spare set in her desk, Bethany was going commando for the rest of the work day. She tried to turn around but I wouldn't let her. Thankfully, Bethany always warmed up quickly because I had neither the desire nor time for some good cunnilingus.

I did have time for a good hard fucking though and I slammed the hell out of her. Bethany tried to remain in control and quiet but I knew all her weak spots and I doubled up on them all. She was howling and screaming to Goddess Almighty just like the old days. If she thought this was an apology, she was sorely mistaken. She was sore alright and this was punishment.

Unlike all my previous efforts which had been fuelled by love, this fucking was driven by hate, rage and a desire to inflict pain. Bethany couldn't even grasp the significance though she felt this was something new for us. Bethany didn't even care that she was being screwed by a man who was clearly unhinged.

Only after I left her a crumpled heap on the bathroom floor did she wearily look up and realize I was still hard.

"You didn't cum," she whispered. She was pretty hoarse.

"Of course not. I'm not letting you or your mother within a thousand meters of my sperm," I patted her on the head. "Let's get to work."

I showed up thirty minutes early to work because I was in my second week of training. Bethany and I were seriously late getting back to our desks. No one said a thing. They just looked. I took perverse pleasure when Bethany actually stumbled getting to her station. She looked like she'd been hammered by a hurricane and couldn't decide if she liked it or not.

I think way back when, they called that a grudge fuck. I hadn't surrendered to Bethany, I had used her like she used me - for my own selfish reasons and profit. I had unleashed plenty of negative energy that would complicate things later. I needed to be as reasonable as possible and she'd helped me with that - by giving me her body and letting me use it as I wished, if not how she intended.

I didn't feel bad about it one bit. I hadn't lost ground. I hadn't turned Bethany into a faceless entity. I had come at her knowing right who she was and what she deserved, from one royally pissed off human being to another, 'should have been more fucking careful about what she asked for', human being.

I didn't last two minutes at my desk before Francesca summoned me.

"Care to explain?" she scanned my clothing.

"All I can say is that I apologize if I disappoint you, Ms. Francesca Silverhorn. You have tried really hard to be decent to me," I gave her the first genuine smile of the morning.

"But?" she waited for it.

"But, in next year's dictionary they are going to have my picture beside the definition of 'aggressive'," I shrugged. "It will probably do double billing with 'dumb ass'." Francesca laughed. She didn't even try to hold it in.

"Good luck with that Initiative, Mr. Jensen," she chuckled. We were both going to Hell. "There is a press conference at ten-thirty concerning the Federation's new program. It is called Men's Action League. It plans to further invest men in the governing process."

"Wow, my career is going to end sooner than I thought it was," I snorted in amusement.

"Anything else I need to know before I go, Captain my Captain?" I really liked her.

"GNN and a half-dozen other stations are covering this live. You're microscopically famous now and yet they sense an epic public relations catastrophe in the making," Francesca fed me the news, "and they want to be there when it happens."

"I won't let you down, Jeffe," I smirked.

"That's what I'm afraid of," she shook her head. "But, I'm starting to think the future isn't going to be all that bright and cheery anyway." I gave a crummy salute, about-faced and returned to my desk. There was a notice on my computer to contact Ms. Cho.

Damn it, how was I supposed to get any work done? I called and she told me come right up.

"Are we ever going to finish what you started last Monday?" I teased. Was it only one week?

"Maybe," Ms. Cho sounded coy. Fat chance I'd ever do anything with her. She was an evil henchman.

"Okay," I laughed because she didn't have a clue to her own barbarity. I warned Francesca where I was off to then headed up to the Mayor's Chief of Staff's offices. Ms. Cho gave me a smile then waved me in. Whatever Isobel was going to say was lost when she caught sight of me.

"What are wearing?" she snapped.

"Clothes?" I responded. That didn't seem to mollify her. "Casual clothes?"

"Get into the proper attire before the news conference and you'd better not fuck it up or what security did to you Thursday will seem like a walk in the park after I get through with you. Do you understand?" Ms. Diaz growled.

"I understand," I parroted back. I understood that I didn't give a damn about what she said. Come on, it wasn't like I woke up thinking this was Sunday. I knew exactly what I was doing, who it would piss off and how little I would care about that.

"Fine. Now what did Magdalena Keverich want with you?" we got down the reason I was there.

"Me in particular? No clue. I know she wasn't happy with my performance, she likes people to watch and she's very demanding," I informed Isobel.

"What did she want to know about me? About us?" she pressed.

"Us? Lady, there is no us," I grew angry. "I don't know you and I don't want to know you."

"Screw it all, I didn't want to go to your damn party, I didn't want to meet her and I certainly don't want to relate my shitty experience to you," I added. "Let me straighten you out; if you were drowning, I'd toss you an anchor. If you were asleep in the tub, I'd pour in quick drying cement then hold you under with a broom."

"If you were paralyzed, I'd cover you in honey and leave you in the path of army ants. Are we clear now?" I growled. "I hate you. I hate what you represent. I hate this whole sick society that allows you to exist and prosper."

"You didn't answer my question," Isobel kept trying to break me with her eyes.

"Ugh," I sighed. "I don't know anything but if I did, I wouldn't tell you. I don't know in what nightmarish fantasy you imagine that woman would tell me ANYTHING, but glaring at me isn't going to help. You can't touch me."

"I can't?" she replied sinisterly.

"Yes, Ma'am. I've made my peace with God and said good-bye to the ones I love," I snickered. "I'm bulletproof." I saw the light go off in her eyes. She finally realized I'd lost my mind. There was no rational response to my challenge because I was no longer rational. Circumstances had intervened so that I simply couldn't 'go away' either.

There were too few men left and I had a flicker of popularity. She wanted to believe that she'd get me later, but she had looked into my soul and knew I had no 'later'. This was it. Her ability to grind me up was only a threat if I planned to leave anything to be ground.

"We are done here," I dismissed her. I turned and walked away.

"We are done when I say we're done," she seethed. I already had the door open and was half-way out. I raised up my left hand like a sock-puppet.

"Did you hear something?" I asked my hand.

"It sounded like a feminine 'poof'," my hand responded in a shrill voice.

"Whatever it was," I nodded sagely to my hand, "we had better not hang around in case it stinks up the room." There were six people and Ms. Cho in the office, staring at me with wide eyes. I could hear Isobel's blood boiling. "Have a good morning everyone," I waved to the room and quickly exited the main door.

I decided that the elevator was a trap so I took the stairs instead. I didn't get two feet inside the door before Selma pointed me to Francesca's office.

"Oh, Goddess," Francesca moaned. "I'm stunned my screen didn't melt. What did you do this time?"

"Ah - ummm, ah," I struggled for the words. "I dismissed her from our conversation and while exiting her main office, I insulted her with a hand/sock puppet - in front of witnesses."

"Wow...you do realize you now qualify for two minority hires; you are male and clearly mentally handicapped," Francesca tried not to smirk.

"You are welcome, Boss," I grinned.

"Oh, and she wants you in proper attire when you get on stage in...twenty minutes. I promised her you would be. Do you plan to change?" she inquired.

"Nope," I rolled my shoulders.

"Okay," she nodded. "Just checking. You need to be briefed by Selma on the latest developments. Are you and Bethany reconciling?"

"Noooo..." I drew that out. "I used her for my own carnal frustrations, that's all."

"We know," Francesca looked amused. "We ALL know. We had some women from the second floor come up to see if someone was dying, or being murdered. In the future, you might want to offer another girl in the office a chance - take that as a suggestion."

Hmmm, second floor. We were on the fourth floor. This building had pretty good acoustics. I walked over to Selma. You know your co-workers respect you when they attribute God-like powers to your actions.

"We are going to die, aren't we?" Selma stared at me intently. "We are going to lose our jobs and be blackballed from anything associated with broadcast and internet journalism, right?"

"We may go down Selma, but we will take a whole bunch with us when we go," I assured her.

"That is no comfort whatsoever, you idiot," Selma glared. "Now, here is what you need to know..." she began. That's when I learned that my district had lost another one, leaving us at eight.

According to the geniuses who developed the sex quota system, I now had to service 625 woman. I wasn't sure how that was supposed to work. That was nearly two women a day, every day each and every year until I died. By law, I only had to have sex 13 times a year which would mean each woman could only expect sex once every five years. I sensed a flaw in the plan.

"Stop giggling," Selma hissed. "You are scaring the crap out of the girls." Ah, a few people were counting lifeboats on the Titanic it seemed. I stopped being 'unmanly' then gave Selma the mathematical data I had just come up with.

"Oh damn it," she groaned. "Don't bring this up."

"Fat chance," I grinned evilly. Selma threw up her hands and stormed off to Francesca's office. A minute later Francesca and Selma came out.

"Ladies, anyone who wants to retroactively call in sick today and avoid being associated with this fiasco, you may do so," Francesca Silverhorn announced.

The two married women and a third older lady gathered their belongings and left. I was surprised Selma stuck it out. As far as I could tell, she hated me.

"Israel, can you give us a clue as to what we should be preparing for?" Tabitha inquired with a surprisingly upbeat attitude. I looked to Francesca who gave me a motherly 'go ahead'.

"Short version, we are going under - this society," I started off. "The government is lying about male births, covering up the increasing rate of male miscarriages, and that the Gender Plague is getting stronger and at an increasing rate. It is not just here, but all over the planet. Humanity is sliding into extinction."

"The immediate concern is that if you are in the economic bottom 90% of the female population, there are not going to be enough men for you and the crunch is setting in," I explained. "My district is slated for 125 males my age. As of this morning, it has eight." I let that sink in.

"Can't the men work harder?" Wanda stepped up. I wasn't insulted - too much.

"I hear they are going to tighten up the Gender Inequality Act - move the cycle to fourteen days," she added.

"Wanda - good question and that's the beauty of this disaster," I was darkly mirthful. "The governments have known this for almost two decades."

"The cause of the Plague getting more deadly is stress. The more you stress your male population, the quicker your male birth rate plummets," I stated. "It becomes a vicious cycle. Your birth rate drops - you put more pressure on the males which makes your rate plummet faster."

"What do we do?" Bethany mumbled.

"Ask you Mom, Bethany. She is the one who told me most of this stuff," I let the room focus on her for a moment. "What do we do? I don't know. Women started down this path forty years ago when they passed the Gender Inequality Act."

"If you could have been saved, that train came and went twenty years ago when your scientists first figured out what was happening. Ten years ago they stopped enforcing the gender quotas in twelve of the poorest districts of the city. Look it up if you don't believe me," I said. "Look under registered complaints, not the official city records."

"Until last year, every time a district accumulated enough complaints, they rotated a group of guys in but all they did was steal them from other poor, under populated areas," I revealed.

"What happened last year?" Selma spoke first.

"As far as the people I worked with can tell, they stopped giving a crap," I sighed.

"Too many districts were perpetually below 80%. They started quietly padding the higher income districts first. When the marriage rate spiked this Spring, the system began to fail. The pressure was building up on low income men, so when the opportunity arrived, they pledged their nuptials and bailed out of their already reeling neighborhoods," I continued.

"As of this moment, I am one of eight men in my age group in my district. There are supposed to be 125. My district is extreme, but virtually all the other poor districts are running between 20 and 30% of their quota," I kept watching the faces pale around me. "You can also look at the school roles for any 'track' in the public school system."

"You can see a consistent decline in the male population by going back each class year," I had them now.

"How come no one has spoken up on this?" Francesca questioned.

"Why? What would it accomplish? Who wants to be the first to stand up on the sinking ship and scream 'we are all going to die!'?" I replied.

"Why are we doing this?" Selma shook her head. "We aren't journalists. We are part of the civil government. We are supposed to keep the people calm."

"Who are you serving by hiding the truth?" I asked calmly. "No one in my neighborhood, but you are helping the people upstairs - the ones lying to the rest of you."

That was my best pitch. The people around me were civilian bureaucrats. They were not non-conformists, anarchists, public crusaders, or dispatch riders of the Apocalypse. Outside of Bethany Fremont, none of them appeared to be politically motivated. They had nice, safe lives and I was a raving lunatic.

"Francesca?" Tabitha pled with her leader for direction.

"Israel, do you have anything else?" Francesca pressed me. I had one ace left up my sleeve and I had saved it for this - debate.

"Argentina," I told Tabitha.

"Check out their government's Department of Public Health's population projections. Not what is published with the WHO, or UN, but what they are telling their own people," I told her. Tabitha turned to the closest system and began typing away. She was our research whiz so it didn't take her long. She put her hand to her mouth.

The other women gathered around Tabitha and began reading the translated document. No one congratulated me for being right. I had just murdered their hopes of great-grandchildren, if not their grandchildren.

"Selma, start working up a public release on whatever factual data we can gather," Francesca took charge once more.

"Focus on what we can do to make the best of this situation. We have to have hope, but pedaling lies at this point will be counter-productive," she laid out a strategy. "Bethany, you are coming with Israel and me." When Bethany joined us, Francesca told her to stay put then retrieved her purse from her office. Before leaving, I got a baton from my satchel and stuck it in my back pocket.

"Aren't you going to change?" Bethany questioned.

"No time," Francesca answered for me. As we went down in the elevator, I flashed Francesca a smile that Bethany missed. Bethany wasn't there for support. She was with us because Francesca didn't trust her not to tip off the powers-that-be if she was left alone.

Security was likely to mug me on the stage as it was. Being jumped before I could get before the press would be disastrous for my little band of rebels - technically Francesca's band of rebels. Francesca maneuvered me on stage before the Press Secretary, Naomi List, knew what was going on.

Eloise Granger looked like she was about to fall out of her chair laughing - she looked poised, but I could tell. She felt entitled to ask me a question before things got started.

"Casual Monday's," Eloise grinned.

"I woke up in a good mood this morning," I smiled back.

"The cops blew up two of my homosexual neighbors yesterday and then another guy took an unscheduled vacation to Goddess knows where last night. I'm now one of eight."

"You find that amusing?" another reporter groused.

"Lady, I was being sarcastic," I responded.

"There are supposed to be 125 men of my age in my district. There are eight. If you don't think that scares the crap out of me, you need to cut back on whatever medication you are taking," I stared at her.

"Can we please start the press conference?" Naomi interrupted.

No one protested so she did her short spiel then introduced the Mayor. The Mayor intentionally snubbed me. She had more than the usual number of lackeys today, including the Police Commissioner and a woman who was probably important, but I didn't have a clue who she was. Isobel was in the background, sending evil wishes my way.

The Mayor unveiled the new Federation program: the Male Action League. The message was 'the government cares about you helpless males - we really do. We care so much we are going to give you a state-sponsored arena where you can do your state approved complaining so that we can keep ignoring you'.

Those weren't her words, but that was the gist of it. It was long on promises. It proved not a single avenue for men to actually help themselves, or even lobby for the redress of grievances. Zip-zero-nadda political, or legal power. In theory, rallies would be a good place to round us up if they felt like it.

In a short while, most men would figure out they were wasting their time and stop showing up. Then the women could blame the men for our indifference. As the Mayor started taking questions, I could see Eloise preparing like a panthress to strike but the Mayor was avoiding her. She couldn't avoid Maribel Cartwright from GNN, they were the freaking World news leader.

"Maribel," the Mayor tried to sound pleasant.

"Israel, what do you think of this development?" the reporter addressed me.

"Mr. Jensen is not really an expert on this policy," the Mayor jumped in.

"Madam Mayor, he's a man. This is a policy that concerns men - solely men in fact," Maribel countered.

The Mayor looked like she was being force-fed lemon rinds.

"Make it short, Mr. Jensen," the Mayor commanded.

"I'll take that under advisement," I joked. There it was, my break with reality. I wasn't a great speaker, an intellectual or even enlightening.

I was their dancing bear, the monkey with the unseen organ grinder and the tap dancing sensation. The all-female press corps wasn't leaning in for information. They had gathered for a train wreck and I hadn't planned on disappointing them.

"This thing - it is kind of insulting to call it a policy - I'll call it MAL, is stupid," I began.

"Don't you dare!" Francesca screamed at the top of her lungs. The security that had been closing in on me unseen, froze up. The Mayor looked around confused. Isobel tapped the Police Commissioner.

"Take him off stage," the Police Commissioner directed the security guards. They started closing in again.

"No," Francesca shouted again. "If you wanted him gone, you should have brought some damn police officers, you Moron!" The security looked uncertain.

"Shut up!" Isobel shouted at Francesca. "Get him!" she then yelled at security.

"No," Francesca growled. "City Hall Security are Civil Government employees - not part of the police department and not political appointees."

"As the ranking civil employee here, I'm telling all civil security personnel to back down - immediately," Francesca snarled angrily.

"Fine," the Mayor snapped. "You are fired."

"File the proper paperwork, you Incompetent Boob," Francesca turned on her supposed boss.

"It should take three or four days," she continued. "Until then, shut up and take your medicine." The Mayor blinked in surprise over the ferocity of the attack then tried to gracefully exit the stage. "Don't any of you dare try to leave. If you do, I'll have you arrested."

"What for?" Isobel growled.

"Disrupting a public forum," Francesca gloated triumphantly. "Israel, you were saying?"

"Oh yeah," it took me a second. Francesca had really floored me. "MAL is a bad idea because it assumes men are stupid and does nothing to address the problem this society faces. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. The Human Race is dying."

"Before you consider me a hopeless wack-job," I started.

"Too late," one of the reporters called out.

"Thanks but we hardly know each other," I grinned. "I'll have to rely on you to do most of the fact-finding, but I can tell you where to start proving me right."

"In Argentina, five years ago, the successful male birth rate had slipped from the normal one in twenty, to one in thirty. Last year it was one in fifty. In two more years they predict the rate will plunge to one in one hundred. That's their government's figures. You don't have to be in health care to realize that is a clear path to extinction."

"In China, they are telling the world everything is okay. That makes Amnesty International wonder why the abortion of female fetuses have risen ONE THOUSAND percent in the past ten years. If things are okay, why are they killing their unborn female population? If you think that doesn't happen here, in this very city, answer me this."

"The sale of boy's jumpers - a friend had to tell me that's child's clothing - has dropped 30% in the past ten years in this city alone," I told them. "Are eighteen month old boys running around naked, or dressed up as girls? Girls' jumper sales have remained constant. Official birth data would suggest that someone is running around naked. If the numbers are being juggled then who has that kind of authority and access?"

"Among a few other interesting things I learned this weekend, I was told that the Gender Plague is becoming more aggressive. Fewer men are being born, more male fetuses develop fatal mutations resulting in miscarriages, and more babies aren't making their first year. The leading cause for this phenomena is stress. The more males get stressed, the less fertile they become."

"The government has known about this for twenty years," I related.

"Speaking of which, how was your weekend, Israel," Eloise smirked. I nodded and started taking off my shirt. The women paid close attention because I'm somewhat of a good looking man. My shirt dropped and the room went silent.

"What happened?" one of the reporters that wasn't normally my friend asked.

"I went to Isobel Diaz's party Saturday night, was sold at auction and when I failed to perform sexually to expectations, I was beaten until I was curled into a fetal ball on the floor, crying my eyes out. But, it gets better," I winked at the reporter who had taken my sarcasm badly earlier.

"Sunday morning, on an unrelated investigation, two GED officers came to my residence. I got into one of their faces because - having been beaten up, I was cranky. I didn't touch her but I did call her 'pathetic'. She hit me. It is called 'tuning up' by the police. If you are a guy and mouth off to the police, you will get tuned up. It is a fact of life."

"I was taken downtown, pressured about a case they had no intention of charging me in and then they forced me to have a physical examination to PROVE these bruises weren't self-inflicted. Yet somehow a toothless, gutless MAL is going to change any of this? How? It isn't and it will fail because it is nothing more than women taking care of man and you've been fucking that up for the past forty years."

No one knew what to say, so Eloise was forced to move things along.

"What do you suggest? If you think women are doing it wrong, and have been doing it wrong, what can we do?" she inquired.

"Don't know and don't care," I shrugged.

"I'm exiting this feminine Hell as soon as possible. As far as I am concerned, you are getting what you deserve due to your passive dehumanization and indifference to our dignity. There are eight women I care about in this World and only one is in this room and most of you are not her. In case you wonder how desperate I am, I received a call early Sunday morning."

"It was from the group claiming to stealing men across this nation. The text inquired if I wanted to leave. It took me about three seconds to decide and it only took that long because I was beside the sleeping form of the woman I love," it was almost the truth. Telling them Angel was awake wouldn't do anyone any good. "I replied 'Yes!'."

"Why am I confessing this now? The police have been powerless to stop these people so far and I have zero faith in them improving because current law enforcement is an institution manned by women for women. Don't get indignant - after all, what is the GED, if not a force to control men? Ever since the passing of the Gender Inequality Act, this has stopped being a country for men."

"I know it was an attempt to stave off extinction when faced by a disease we didn't, and still don't understand. Did any of you ever question why our numbers weren't recovering? Did you plan to keep us under your thumbs forever? I wear a bracelet that records my sexual history. It's hooked up to a database where women can post public comments about my sexual prowess.

"There is no such database for women. Why? Because you don't care what we think," I stared angrily at them in their numbers. "Actually, if any of you care what I think about your future actions, paraphrasing what a woman I like told me; the question is not how you keep existing, but if you are worthy of continuing to exist." There you go Capri - you are almost famous.

"This is a uniquely female decision because after generations of control, you have left men virtually incapable of defending themselves. The majority will submit because they have no choice and you lose. A small few will go down swinging, like Denver. They die and you lose. A few are going to come to grips with the reality that you treat us as less than human - at least less than you, return the favor and go somewhere, anywhere, else so that they can live in dignity as the lights go out. You lose."

"That's crap," my favorite conservative reporter chimed in. "Men do their part and they are still citizens. You're nuts."

"Really?" I pulled out my small baton. "Do you know what this is?"

"It is a weapon and not a very potent one," that woman snapped.

"Actually, it is a section of a five foot curtain dowel. I bought it from the Warehouse Depot. Dowels are on aisle L2. This," I pointed to the handle, "is surgical tape - aisle C3. Now, you take your standard five foot curtain dowel over to the saw table and a nice lady named Wendy can cut it into twelve inch sections for you."

"You cover the bottom four inches in surgical tape to give you a semi-sticky, sweat resistant surface to hold onto. You may now hang a curtain over a very small window. While you are waiting for that opportunity, you can carry it around - it is not illegal. If, perhaps, someone assaults you, you can grab them to verify they are your assaulter and pop them a good one in the forehead."

"The forehead is useful because it raises a red welt that lasts for a few hours and allows other citizens to recognize the molester for who and what they are," I grinned.

"Wait," Maribel looked at me critically, "are you telling men to start beating up women?"

"Oh Goddess, no," I declared. "The entire police force are women. There would be Tasers going off left, right and center."

"No, I'm telling everyone that no citizen has the right to lay hands on any other citizen. That is called assault. If they touch you on the lips, breasts, crotch, and/or ass, it is sexual assault. If you are assaulted, grab the offender to properly identify them, then - defend yourself. Men, if you do this and a police officer asks for it, give the dowel to them peacefully."

"If you have a large enough covered object, such as my satchel, put a spare in there. The police do not have the right to search it. Insist on your rights. If they remove you from your location or locomotion, press charges against your attacker. You will lose. You will probably end up in a cell and most likely end up on drugs," I successfully remained calm. A dozen of cops had entered the area.

"Men, we cannot out-muscle the cops. There is no victory in the normal sense. We were betrayed by women decades ago. This society is a dying beast which is bent on perpetuating its cruelty to the bitter end. Face your end on your terms; that's all I'm saying," I pleaded.

"That's enough," the Police Commissioner stepped forward. "Get him out of here."

"And tomorrow," I said as I waved farewell, "I'll talk about the cure for the Plague - Carabolix 37. Look it up. Bye now," I got out as the uniformed police swarmed me. For the sake of the cameras, they were gentle and I was not resisting. Technically, what I had done was not illegal, just counter-productive to any hope of career advancement. They even took my dowel.

Francesca and Bethany were swept up with me. We were all taken to the unused City Council chamber.

"I'm Bethany Fremont," the woman nearly wept. "You can't do this to me. Let me call my mother, please."

"Bethany, they haven't taken our phones away," Francesca sighed in exasperation. I was already on the phone to Capri. She'd seen my kamikaze act and was on her way. I noticed the cops giving me furtive looks. It took me a second to realize what I must look like - shirtless and not an unblemished spot on my torso.

Bethany was sobbing to someone who appeared to be her mother's personal assistant - Mom was busy. I noticed one patrolwoman, younger than the rest, who seemed overly curious.

"What happened to you?" she finally inquired.

"You failed me," I responded.

"What - no - how?" she rambled.

"Be quiet," an older cop cautioned me by placing a hand on my shoulder from behind.

"No," I regarded the one behind me. "I'm sitting here, black and blue, and there is no one in jail for what happened to me and there never will be. How could this possibly rate as a job success to you?"

The older policewoman squeezed on my collarbone. I grimaced as I looked back up.

"I suggest the taser if you want to make an impression, dipshit," I growled at her. "I can clearly take more of a physical beating than thugs like you are prepared to dish out." She squeezed harder, I ground my teeth to stop from screaming and pounded my fist into the back of the chair in front of me.

"Are you going to shut up now," the older cop whispered once her pressure let up.

"You insipid cow, if I didn't give into women willing to beat me to death, why would I give into you?" I seethed. Pain was coming my way again.

"Try that on me," Francesca turned, stood and looked the cop over, "or does your courageous act only encompass abusing defenseless men?"

"Sit down," two cops said simultaneously.

"Please sit," I warned Francesca. "If you stand, they can get you for resisting." To the freshly minted cop, I picked up our exchange. "She's Isobel Diaz. I'm sure you will find dozens of corroborating witnesses somewhere between the Fountain of Youth and the Seven Cities of Gold."

"That's the Mayor's Chief of Staff," the young cop gasped.

"Don't sweat it," I grinned at her. "Do what the rest of your sister cops are doing - absolutely nothing. I didn't expect anything different from you."

"Don't let this asshole get inside your head, Passey," the older cop menaced me.

"He is getting what he deserves soon enough," she added.

"That's rich," Francesca chuckled as she sat down. "We all are going to get what we deserve. If you don't have children by now, your chances are dwindling fast."

"I have a child - a son," Officer Passey volunteered. That explained some things.

"Has he gotten sick yet?" I queried. Every boy got the plague in their first year. It killed nine out of ten of us, or so authorities claimed.

"No," she tried to sound hopefully but what she was obviously frightened.

"Oh...well, there is something that could increase his odds from the current 7 or 8% to around 60% survival, but I'm not going to tell you what it is," I glared.

"Why?" Passey's voice held a mother's despair.

"Stop it, both of you," the older cop snapped. She tried to smack the back of my head, but I slid out of my chair to my knees facing sideways.

"Why? You failed the 'do I deserve to live' test," I explained.

"You willingly sat back and did nothing while this ogre tried to break my collarbone, so I'm sitting back and doing nothing for you. You decided to forfeit your son's life when you heard a report of a crime and did nothing. You voted to cover our own ass so your ass will grow old alone in your home," I stared at her.

"But he's a man - like you," Passey pleaded. It dawned on me this may not have been her first son.

"Do you want to see your son, beaten like I am, abused by this bitch behind me while waiting to be punished for exhibiting his right to free speech? Who is more fucked up for wishing this on another human being, you or me?" I challenged her.

"Shut up!" the older cop growled. She was climbing over the seat to get at me.

"He deserves a chance to live," Passey begged. Any possible reply to that was shut down by the Ogre grabbing hold of the back of my neck.

"Stop it," she ordered. I stopped.

"Sergeant," Passey switched her appeal to her higher ranking officer.

"He's yanking your chain, nothing more," the Sergeant insisted.

"He's had five sons, three who have lived," Francesca spoke up again. "He certainly must know something."

"What is it?" Passey asked Francesca.

"He hasn't told me, but I'm starting to agree with his assessment about law enforcement. I'm being held against my will, with no idea what I'm being charged with," Francesca smirked. "If you officers are the finest examples of what it means to be human, I think we have lost the right to continue on as a species."

"You are as nutty as he is," the Sergeant said dismissively.

"This means so much coming from a woman who inflicted pain on a man not under arrest for talking - talking," she repeated. "If that makes me insane - fine. The rest of you have clearly lost touch with any shred of humanity."

Any further thoughts upon that vein were lost as the doors flew open and a host of officials streamed in. It didn't take an Ouija board to figure out they were beyond pissed. They were apoplectic. A laundry boy had just told the third class steerage passengers that the Titanic was going down, the water was death and the rich were fleeing with the only lifeboats - before the rich had actually gotten away with it.

The Captain was furious, since her initial plans did NOT have her going down with the ship. By Captain, I didn't mean the Mayor - she was a bit player. I was talking about the President of the God Damn North American Federation. Thank you GNN. To the men of our nation, I was Rich Rescorla, begging them to get out before the tower went down.

To the women, I as more like John Brown, stirring up trouble without any concern for the chaos that would followed. That was wrong. I did have concerns, but since I also had so little power, I didn't feel guilty about telling the villains exactly who and what they were. They had made this bed of lies. I had simply dropped the match on it.