*Note: The character of Ex-President Brush does resemble our own Ex-President George W. Bush. The reason for this is not just my own politics coming out; since Mr. Bush and his family fit the profile I wanted for Mr. Brush, I used George Bush as a model for this character. It was/is not my intention to portray either George Bush's as being as bad as Mr. Brush. To my knowledge, no one is that bad. Not even the Bush's. – Sir Winston
Not bothering to knock this time, Brad threw open the van's side door.
"That was not a very smart thing to do, Mr. President. I'd have thought you would have learned that lesson from you're time in office."
"Ya'll're too young to know what yer talkin' about, Bradley. May I ask why ya saw fit to bring Ms. Miles with ya? Ya'll could've at least asked her ta put some clothes on. It's shameful for a woman to be seen in such a state in public," Brush replied.
"You're more hypocritical than even I gave you credit for. You're claiming that we're somehow not human, but demons. Yet you care how we dress, you and your men stare at the ladies with lust in their eyes. Sir, how can you still think we are less than human, if you are having a very human reaction to us?" Brad asked.
"Ya'll aren't human, but ya'll've taken human form ta tempt the faithful. However, unlike Harlots, Prostitutes, and other fallen women, ya'll don't hav' a soul ta save. Ya'll're nothing more than a demon in a pretty package," Brush explained. "No hypocrisy in that."
"I don't know how you can even think you're not a hypocrite. You preach love and tolerance, yet you discriminated against the poor, minorities, women, gays and lesbians as well as anyone that wasn't Christian. Your whole religion is all about hate and intolerance, Ed," Joyce said. "The only religions out there that are truly tolerant are the ones you tried the hardest to destroy. So, of the two of us; who's more evil?"
Joyce: 'Master, there are at least three men with rifles trained on us that I can see. There could be more. I recommend that we do something about that.'
"I'll not debate theology with a female demon such as yerself, Ms. Miles. Further, I'll thank ya to not address me directly. Ya'll have no place in this discussion!" Brush retorted, angrily. "Why're we speakin' 'gain, Bradley?"
Brad snorted. "Like you don't know! Right after our last conversation, you told your men following Terri, Tabitha, Tara and Heather to attempt to take them. It failed and eight of your men were killed. Obviously, you really don't care how many you kill in your attempts to either kill or capture us. You call us the soulless monsters while you sit back and slaughter your own men."
Brad: 'Do you think you could take them before they start firing? I have a feeling this idiot is going to forget that it's broad daylight soon.'
"I didn't kill those men, Bradley; you and yer troupe a' harlots did. By resistin' our efforts to recapture ya'll, ya'll're killin' them. Ya'll're the ones that're puttin' the public in mortal danger. The longer ya'll're free th' more people're put at risk or killt because of you all!" Brush sputtered.
Joyce: 'By myself? Sure. Could I do it before they start shooting? No fuckin' way. I could find out if Carrie and Hal can help me. They don't have our training or reflexes, but they'd be better than nothing."
Shaking his head at 'Edwards' comments, Brad looked up the two men in the van. "Do you guys have good life insurance? Will your families be taken care of when this religious megalomaniac throws your lives away too?" He looked at the man by the back doors.
"Mr. Jones, I know Sampson scared you. That was probably a very healthy attitude to have around him. Now, there's Mr. Brush. I want you to ask yourself a couple of very basic questions. You've most likely seen the performance profile Ecogen had on all of us. We have no desire to harm anyone, but we will defend ourselves, and those we love, just like you would. At this point who should you be the most afraid of? Then I want you to consider that you have a job that doesn't pay shit, bosses that'll spend your life without a second thought, and a working environment based on fear. Are you sure you're in the right line of work?"
Brad: 'If you think they can help without getting hurt, ask them and get busy. Everyone else, take the others and go back inside. I think the shrub is going to have his snipers start firing any second. I'll do what I can from here.'
Joyce acted like she had been snubbed, and stomped off back towards the pool. At the same time, Stephanie stuck her head out the back door and yelled to the others that Terri and company had been attacked. The ploy effectively got everyone back inside quickly.
"Your business is with me young man; I'd thank ya ta leave them outta this conversation." His tone changed just enough to make Brad feel the crosshairs on you back. "Howevah, I would like to know how you figured out who I was, and I'd also like to know how you got Mr. Jones' name?" Brush asked, suspiciously.
Kicking himself for not being more careful, Brad thought quickly. "In your case, even though your voice was distorted, there is no way to distort the mannerisms, and over all tone of your voice. You have a unique timbre that's easy to identify.
"As for my knowing 'Mr. Jones' name, I thought that would be obvious, even to you. Don't all you spy types have names like 'Smith' and 'Jones'? I figured I'd just use the name Jones since Smith seems to be over-used." Brad chuckled. "You're acting like I'm psychic or something. I do have to hand it to you idiots; you do have a wild imagination!"
Instinct seemed to guide Brad and he found the mind of one of the snipers taking aim on him. Although he had to concentrate hard enough to stop talking a second, he did manage to implant an idea into Special Agent Warren Alden's mind. He knew the idea had taken root when the pressure of intention lessened on him.
He was searching out the next man when Edward replied and broke his concentration. The men were far enough away that implanting paranoia in Alden's mind had given him a head-ache.
"Frankly Bradley, it wouldn't surprise me if ya'll were 'espers' too. I doubt that anyone will ever know exactly what gifts ya'll's Dark Master has given ya! Now, I'm tirin' of this conversation. Ya'll are evil incarnate and must be destroyed at all costs. I will not rest until every last one of ya is in a steel cage or a pine box. Good-day, Bradley."
Warren Alden was one of the longest serving snipers in the agency. He'd seen others 'retired' when the agency was either tired of them, or they'd made a mistake. Hell, he'd even retired a couple himself.
Now he was convinced that it was his time for 'retirement'. Why he hadn't saw the trap sooner? The agency never sends more than one sniper on a mission unless it was for a retirement party.
Pulling his sights off the kid that was supposed to be his primary target; he scanned for the other two shooters that he knew where here. When he found the first one, his heart almost stopped when he saw the other man taking aim on him!
Without hesitation Warren fired the huge, heavily silenced rifle, putting a .50 caliber bullet through the man's head and ending the threat. Heart now pounding in his chest, he hurriedly looked for the last sniper. Deep down he knew it was most likely futile to fight it, but damn it! These fuckers where going to earn Warren Alden's death.
Warren was so intent on finding the other sniper that he didn't sense Joyce ustealthily sneaking up on him. On normal mission, Warren would always have a spotter with him, and security was usually his duty.
Joyce, who knew what Brad had done to the man, simply waited for him to find and eliminate the last sniper before she grabbed the crown of his head and the point of his jaw. She spun his head around so quickly, Warren didn't have time to realize the beautiful woman he was now looking at had been one of his targets.
"You know, I'm really liking the idea of the island in the keys," Samantha said. "If we could just distract Brush long enough for us to slip away, I think we could pull it off, and make it so he would have a hard time finding us again."
It had been a couple hours since the men in the vans left. Brad knew that they were our cleaning up the bodies of the snipers that had been sent to kill him and his girls. Brad was starting to wish he could arrange for someone to clean up Mr. Brush's body.
"That would be great, but how could we distract him enough? He seems fixated on us," Heather replied.
"You know, back when he and his daddy were running for president, there was a big debate over the amount of corporate holdings the Brush's had control of. It was finally decided that since they didn't directly own most of the corporations in question, that it was simply an attempt by their opposition to get them dismissed as candidates. After that the whole argument was swept under the rug, and no one else would bring it up again," Frank said. "I bet if we hit him in the wallet, as well as politically, it would get his attention."
"Can we hit him politically?" Joyce asked. "How do we know he has a weakness there?"
Frank chuckled and nodded his head. "I was reading through some of the information we got from the kids, and you wouldn't believe how much influence that family still has. They completely control five states, as well as the majority in the senate. They have no proof, but they think Brush has indirect control over the Supreme Court as well." He paused. "You know if we could simply get rid of the Brush powerbase, it would go a long way toward fixing the 'great machine'.
Stephanie shook her head. "I don't know, it seem to me it would only create a power void. Someone would step in and pick up where the Brush's left off. Remember, with politics; it's all about greed."
"That's were the financial attack comes in. If we could actually grab most of the Brush empire, we would have the leverage to block a lot of would be replacements. This plan has the makings for a really good place to begin 'fixing'. I think we need a bit more research, and some more refining, and I'm thinking we could actually pull this off!" Samantha said excitedly.
Frank was looking skeptical. "Are you sure? It's seems unlikely that we could topple on of the largest corporate conglomerates in existence with just the puny financial resources at our disposal."
"You're forgetting Frank, we only need to appear larger than life, we don't actually have to be that large. Trust me, we can do this." Samantha replied.
"Well, before we can do any of that, we need to make sure we can get the island, then we'll worry about burning the brush pile," Brad said, thoughtfully.
"Why can't we just take the asshole out? I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to arrange an accident to fix this problem," Joyce asked.
"I'm inclined to agree with you, sweetheart, but that would lower us to his level, and besides, I'm sure there is someone that's fully briefed and ready to step into the position once he's gone," Brad replied, caressing Joyce's hair. "No, I don't want to give them any ammunition to justify their actions toward us."
Sammi kissed Joyce. "Besides, I think if we use a little thing like character assassination on the whole family, that way, if we do it right, they'll lose followers like rats from a sinking ship."