The Unexpected
Copyright© 2025 by Technocracy
Chapter 19
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 19 - "If you do not expect the unexpected, you will not find it; for it is hard to be sought out, and difficult." -- Heraclitus of Ephesus
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Violence
SIG, Needham, Ma -- 05 August 2006
Pausing from cajoling the keyboard into doing his computational bidding, Brian O’Mulriain methodically tapped the contents of his un-lit pipe-bowl into the trash can. Brian re-packed fresh tobacco, then replaced the pipe stem into its ever-present spot, centered to the left side of his mouth. Once again, Brian repeated his ritual - palming his lighter, flicking it, briefly looking at the flame, but never lit his pipe. Brian glanced over at the young couple before resuming work.
Lizzy and Mason Johnson were canoodling their knees together as they sat at the receptionist station, with their respective laptop computers close together. Mason averted his attentions from Lizzy’s bare leg touching his, wondering three things about the man on the opposite end of the long counter: 1.Why did the SIG general manager carry a sidearm? 2. Why was Brian here on a Saturday? 3. Why was Brian still working out of the receptionist’s area?
Returning his attentions to his lady friend, Mason marveled at Lizzy’s typing speed, and how her fingers appeared to be operating without conscious thought. Words flew across her screen, along with her fingers screaming across the keyboard. Without pause, she listened as Mason asked her a question.
“About done with your lesson plan?”
“Just about. Still can’t believe Benny wants me to teach this stuff to his IT people. There’s several good shell books he could buy for them.”
Mason noted that Lizzy had not delayed or stopped typing as she replied. He further supported her statement about teaching oneself.
“That’s how I learned BASH. Nobody taught me shit.”
“Want to sit in on my tutorials?”
“Nah, couldn’t learn nothing too technical from you. Like, I couldn’t pay attention, but I could listen to your voice forever.”
That statement did cause Lizzy to pause typing.
“That’s sweet ... Uh, so why couldn’t you pay attention?”
“You’d be too much of a distraction. Couldn’t concentrate for shit on any technical subject you were teaching.”
Lizzy looked at Mason with an adoring smile, leaning into her man. O’Mulriain sighed and looked up with a pained expression, removing the pipe from his mouth.
“A leanbh! Must I listen to this prattle?
Lizzy smiled sweetly at her office-mate.
“Hush, Brian. No one asked the company manager to come in on a Saturday.”
Brian stood, stretched, and replied with a mock frown while looking out the front window.
“Impetuous children. No respect for liath ... What the!? ... Isabelle! To the colonel’s room with you. Dial four nines on the security desk phone, wait for a ring and hang up ... Go! Now, lass! And stay in that office!”
Lizzy actually did know why the SIG general manager was in today - because Michelle had the day off, and Benny demanded that she never went out of the apartment, or off-campus, without security, which put a damper on her romantic intentions and attempts to be alone with Mason. Although, she remained unsure as to why Brian was considered an unofficial element of the security team. She thus scampered off to the back of building, knowing the resultant of dialing ‘9999’ from that particular phone.
Mason was now looking down the street, seeing what had alarmed Brian.
“Them fuckers are mugging that couple! Let’s go, Mister O’Mulriain!”
“Mind your tactics, Marine! There is a rifle mounted behind the colonel’s door. Two magazines in the top desk drawer. Get it, stand behind the southeast corner and back me up.”
Mason, with rapidly increasing stress, quickly, and without conscious thought, reverted to his jarhead modalities, replying with a terse, “Aye aye, sir”, as he turned to beat feet to the security office.
“Ya make the call, Liz?”
“Yes, what is...”
Mason ignored Lizzy as he disappeared into the inner office to retrieve the rifle and magazines.
Removing the AR-15 from the mount clips, Mason noted the rear sight setting and flicked it to the ‘normal’ aperture, then flicked the selector to safe. He quickly tamped the rear edge of a twenty-round magazine against his chest than firmly place the magazine into the weapon, followed by jacking back the charging handle, then letting the bolt fly home to chamber a round.
“Liz, just stay here. The old man and me can handle this. People are gonna be here in a few mike, girl. I luv ya, Isabelle Paucho.”
Mason rapidly exited the office, leaving Lizzy in stunned silence, as she re-played Mason’s first, and only, declaration of love over and over in her mind.
As Mason exited through the rear door, he looked across the parking lot, then down the street to the unfolding crime. Brian was less than 15 meters distance from, and advancing towards the two thugs, one was pointing an old revolver and the other brandishing a large butcher knife at the young couple.
Scanning the parking lot, Mason kept his eyes returning to O’Mulriain’s progress as he sought a field of fire that could cover the older man, and having minimal risk to the surrounding neighborhood. He moved to a position at the corner of the parking lot, behind the trunk of a large tree, about 50 meters from the crime in progress.
O’Mulriain’s rapid, yet stealthy, progress towards the two assailants provided the essential element of surprise. Brian pushed aside the gun from the one bad guy’s arm, using his left hand, causing the assailant to drop the weapon. Brian rotated the thug to shield his body from the other thug. The man brandishing the large knife reacted in a panic, thrusting the blade at Brian, but making penetration into the other, now dis-armed, thug’s mid-torso.
The stabbed bad guy dropped from Brian’s grasp. Brian brought his pistol to bear, then dropped the stabber with a single shot into his face. When O’Mulriain turned his attentions to the two intended victims, he heard a vehicle door open, then a small-caliber weapon discharge.
Realizing he had been shot in his back, on his lower right side, Brian O’Mulriain knew he had at 10 to 50 seconds of functional consciousness. The wounded Gaelic man attempted to turn towards the shooter, to bring his weapon to bear. Another man emerged from the passenger side of the Buick, also armed with an old revolver.
Mason Johnson was in full-up Marine mode. He evaluated the differential threat level between the two additional bad guys, acquired the first target, shot into dead center body mass, then repeated the action, eliminating the remaining threat.
Running up to the gaggle of prone bodies, Mason kicked away the various weapons, laid his rifle away from the bodies, then focused on Brian to perform first aid.
The level of confusion was increasing as the two victims started yelling and screaming and crying. The chaos continued to increase as the neighborhood idiots started to emerge and converge on the scene.
“Both of you, shut the fuck up...”
The young couple paused, then continued to babble incoherently.
“Shut the fuck up or I’m gonna shoot your dumb ass! Call 911 ... Fucking now, asshole!”
Mason returned his attentions to Brian. Ripping Brian’s shirt open with his Gerber pocket knife, Mason saw the heavy seep of dark-colored blood from the small-caliber gunshot wound. Mason cut the back of Brian’s shirt away, using it to compress against the wound.
About thirty seconds later, three cop cars arrived from two different directions.
“Hands behind ... on head! ... Listen to me! Hands on your head!”
“Fuck you! He’s gonna bleed out! Where the fuck are the corpsmen!?”
The cops were momentarily confused by the request for a ‘corpsman’. The most close cop, also the most inexperienced cop, ran forward, knocking down Mason as he kneeled over Brian. The cop walked into his fellow cops line of fire. Mason fell over as he was working on Brian. The impact caused Mason to fall towards the AR-15 rifle that had been placed away, in the middle of the street. The senior cop saw the rifle near Mason, and yelled a warning.
“He’s got a gun! Jump on him!”
The other two cops acted in a manner driven equally by panic, poor self-discipline, and cowardice. The two cops both shot in the general direction of Mason, yet missing him, at an almost point-blank range.
Having been shot at, Mason’s mind entered into another place place and time, seeing two hajjis swarm his position. Mason popped up and throat-punched the nearest cop. The next-nearest cop, again, shot at Mason, the bullet finding a path into an adjacent residence.
Before the second cop could shoot again, Mason had bull-rushed, knocking the cop down, causing an impact from his forearm to the cop’s head. The senior cop responded by panic-shooting five rounds into the interleaved forms of a cop and Mason. Two rounds hit his fellow cop, one round hit Mason, and two rounds found their way into, yet another, adjacent residence.
As Mason was losing consciousness, he screamed a warning at the senior cop standing over him, yelled as another patrolling officer arrived, then a police sergeant and then a lieutenant.
“I’m gonna fuck ya up if Brian dies! Fucking morons...”
There were only three SIG members that knew all of the ins and outs of the building’s security and communications systems. Henry, because he wrote most of the specifications. Benny, because he did the hardware design and had installed most of the wiring and equipment, and written the device drivers. And Lizzy, because she had re-designed and re-wrote the systems-level software.
When Mason had bolted outside to back up Brian, Lizzy disabled the motion-sense interlock, turned on all sensors, to include cameras and microphones, and switched the security servers from circular data buffers, to linearly and continuously and permanently record all sensor data.
Lizzy sent the two external, front-facing cameras, a series of gimble commands to point the cameras down the street, then zooming in to cover the general area of the crime. She was able to watch the incident unfold, to her horror, in real-time. When Mason had been shot, she collapsed, falling off of her chair, wracked with sobs. Henry found her lying on the floor of the security office, tears flowing, unable to hear him or Michelle.
“Take her home, Michelle. Don’t leave her or Andrea or Benny alone. Don’t let them talk to anyone other than Robert Northrup, or myself. And take the shotgun.”
“On it, colonel.”
One of the many things Michelle had learned in the army was how to compartmentalize her feelings. The fact that she was raging in anger did not affect the calm and professional performance of her security duties; it only made her more determined and more alert.
“Harry, I don’t want either yourself or Benny or Doris to come in to work. Let Robert and me handle this. It’s going to get very messy. Stewart and Robert will be handling the exchange of sensor data, nobody else.”
“But why Stewart’s people? Why not the FBI? Shouldn’t this stuff be done only using court orders and law enforcement? Did Robert agree to this?”
“Some of Colonel Stewart’s people are not just intel, they are, in fact, sworn law enforcement. Do not open your door for anyone until they arrive ... Uh, did you rent out the three places next door?”
“Only one, it’s pending approval of the application. Why?”
“We’ll need a place to quarter Stewart’s troops.”
“I dunno, Henry. Aren’t these the same dirt-bags that attacked us?”
“Negative. They are from the same battalion, but Stewart has been running a purge of Marine intel units for the last year. They’re his guys.”
As with many American police organizations, the Needham Police Department was biting the hand that feeds them. The police officers union and senior police department management had circled the wagons, working together to suppress and spin the incident.
The senior management of the city, and of Needham police were, generally, too stupid to understand that their goose had been pre-cooked. Specifically, Needham was unable to, as did few other American police departments, truly understood the coming world of intrusive surveillance technology, its scope, and its useful implementations.
Needham, Ma - 07 August 2006
The team of eight Needham police officers, along with four Norfolk County special tactics sheriff’s deputies approached 60 Dedham Street, divided between the front and rear entrances. After over ten minutes attempting to break down the doors, four hummers streamed around the building, screeching to a stop, discharging 8 Marines to the front and 8 Marines to the rear of the building. The Marines, in full battle gear, were led by a captain that flashed a badge type that was unknown to the local cops.
The cops immediately stood down, only to be arrested by the Marines, with a federal deputy marshal observing. It did not escape the cop’s site commander that the Marine’s M4s were not on safety.
While a team of four Needham police officers knocked on Benny’s door, a similar incident was happening at Harry’s front door, in Cambridge, by combined members of the Metropolitan Law Enforcement Council, numbering seven plus one situation commander.
A tall man with a thick mustache stood in the alley at the base of the stairs to Andrea’s apartment, watching the local cops ascend the steps. The tall man wore a five-pointed star, and carried a 12 gauge Berretta shotgun in a casual manner. The deputy marshal was flanked by two Marines in full battle rattle, armed with M4s, not carrying their weapons in a casual manner.
“Sergeant, United States Marshal Service here. I have a court order, from a federal judge of the Massachusetts District Court. If y’all bust that door, I’m gonna shoot you, then put any survivors in jail. So why don’t you boys come back down the stairs and read this pretty little court order? I will only ask nicely once...”
Robert Northrup suspected that the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court issuing a decree order to the various law enforcement agencies of Norfolk County was extrajudicial and outside of the scope of FISA legislation, but he did not complain, and was actually somewhat amused by all of the complex legal machinations that had been wielded by Colonel Stewart and his intel minions. He was not, however, amused by the injuries sustained by Mason Johnson and Brian O’Mulriain, and the associated trauma to SIG employees. Robert severely coveted his requisite kilogram of flesh.
Benny stood before, which was once Marissa Mayer’s fancy oak desk, with Lizzy and Harry to his side, his arms making sharp motions to make his point. Harry’s comforting arm was around Lizzy’s shoulders.
“ ... no, only the fire department systems will be returned to operational status. But we will only give them access to the three primary repeaters and the two base channels.”
“Good enough, when can I inform the council?”
“Now. Lizzy, go re-set the fire systems. Run a loop-back test.”
Lizzy nodded, leaving the office to go upstairs to the secured server room.
“How’s she doing?”
“Somewhere between raving mad and crying. Henry, where is Mason?”
“Bethesda Naval Hospital, in Maryland. Stewart put him there. He rates it, in any case, being a vet with 40% disability.”
“When can we see him?”
“You will have to ask the spooks. Stewart has him locked down, under guard.”
Harry voiced his dismay.
“What in the blazing heck for?”
Robert stood up behind the ornate desk to answer Harry.
“We’re still trying to understand what influenced the locals to close ranks and present false evidence.”
“I’ll tell ya why, Mister Lawyer. They’re trying to cover their butts because they screwed up and aren’t man enough to own their mistake.”
“Harry, I am sure that is an essential ingredient to this mess, but Stewart has provided evidence of a group of politicians within the metro area that are involved in a power grab.”
“Don’t wanna hear about this spy garbage no more. I want them poor excuses for cops prosecuted, and I want Brian and Mason fixed and back at work. Them meat-heads should be thanking our two boys for taking four bad guys off the streets.”
“Yes, Harry, I tend to agree. There is another element of this mess. Yes, the assailants all had criminal records, but they were acting out a sort of retribution. We think that they were influenced by a group within, and operating out of, the First Baptist Church.”
The subject of a religionist intervention perked Benny.
“The church on the 800 block of Great Plain Avenue?”
“That’s the one, Benny. Do you know of it?”
“Doris talked to a guy, a young man that had submitted a job application for the maintenance position, maybe seven or eight months ago. He appeared a bit fanatical. He was raving about the gentrification of Needham, and all of Satan’s ‘yuppie’ population buying up real estate. The two victims gave the appearance of young professionals. Are we assuming that the attack was a political and religious statement?”
“That’s one of the things we’re looking at.”
“We?”
“Henry, Colonel Stewart, Mathew Goldstein, and myself.”
“Do not drag Mister Goldstein into this. I want you to protect the man and his spouse.”
“You underestimate my colleague. Matt can hold his own, and he relishes a difficult search for the truth.”
“Maybe so, but protect them ... you know what, Harry, you were correct, this does look like a lawyer’s office. Move in, Robert. The office is yours.”
Benny left the office, heading upstairs to check on Lizzy’s work.
“What did he say, Benny?”
“What did who say?”
“I know you and Harry talked about Mason after I left. Tell me.”
“He is at that big military hospital in Maryland. He is doing good, but may have one more surgery.”
“When can we see him?”
“I am not certain, Lizzy.”
“I bet that big Marine guy is keeping him locked up. What is with Marines? Why do they only trust each other? He finally starts to treat me like you treat mom, ya know, talk to me like I’m his best friend, then he’s gone. I want Mason Johnson. I need him, Benny. My world will suck without him.”
Benny was somewhat surprised at Lizzy’s simple, but not simplistic, analysis of her current position in this crazy world.
Benny replied, intending to be whimsical, but it came out more serious.
“Seems fair. I got your mother, so you should get Mason. I will pressure Robert to get him back to you.”
“I love you, Benny. Our hearts struck gold when you came in to rent that apartment.”
“I got the better deal. I struck platinum.”
“Yeah? What’s the relative value?”
“Platinum is currently about twice gold. Thus, the analogy stands ... The config done?”
“This party is finito ... Uh, what do we do with Mason’s truck? And what about his school schedule for the summer semester?”
“Robert said that he would talk to the BU registrar. The FBI impounded his truck, along with his computer and other personal items.”
“His computer? Crap! Ya think they can break elliptic encryption?”
“Probably not in any reasonable amount of time. Why?”
“Uh ... he has some ... uh, pictures of me.”
Benny put his hands over his ears, mocking the ‘hear no evil’ monkey.
“I do not want to know any more. So what is it worth for me to not tell your mother?”
Lizzy lightly slugged Benny’s shoulder in reply.
“Ouch! You definitely do not hit like a girl. Which reminds me, I fixed the bag, again. Maybe it is time to purchase a new bag?”
“As Mason says, ‘does a bear shit in the woods?’, or something like that.”
Bethesda, Maryland - 10:25 AM, 16 August 2006
Lizzy’s water-works turned on when she saw Mason being rolled down the hospital entrance ramp. She rushed past all else to throw her arms around Mason.
“Oooww! Easy on the squeeze, Liz.”
Lizzy continued to babble through her tears, releasing her death-hold on her man, but still clutching his unslung arm.
“Damn, I missed ya, Liz-lady. Whoa. Did ya get even more hot? Ya looking damn good Liz-lady.”
Mason pulled his woman down for a quick kiss. Lizzy pulled away from the kiss to softly lecture Mason.
“I love you, Mason Johnson. No more rescues. You’re done with this hero shit. And you are not a Marine anymore. Understand?”
“Aye aye, ma’am ... Kiss me again, Liz.”
As Benny watched his tech and Lizzy, he could not imagine as to the alert level for Michelle and Henry. They were at a military hospital. Benny could not fathom what the risks might be for this place, but set his doubts aside, knowing that they were the experts.
Henry, sitting directly behind the bandaged man, quizzed Mason to determine if he had information that Stewart had held back.
“What did Colonel Stewart say during the de-briefs?”
“He didn’t say much, sir. I did most of the talking. But it was obvious that he was interested in the threat level of those assholes. He was mostly interested in what I perceived to be their level of training, and their reactions under fire.”
“Which is?”
“One of them seemed to have his shit together. The other three were amateur criminals. But wanna know what’s really weird about all this shit? Them fuckers had slashed some of the tires on the victims’ BMW and Mercedes. If they were really thieves, it seems they would have copped the high-value shit. Know what I mean, sir?”
“That is, in fact, quite interesting. None of that showed up in the police depositions.”
“Yeah, colonel. Let me tell about them cops. Between the three of them that were first on OA, there might have been one fucking brain cell working. Them cops were scared shitless. Did they even train them fuckers before giving them a badge and gun? Uh, the cop I punched in the throat. I sorta know him. How’s the idiot doing?”
“The had to cut his neck open to put a tube down it. Very effective and efficient, Mister Johnson. But taking down the other guy while being shot at? Poor judgment, Mason.”
“Couldn’t think of nothing else to do. Figured them keystone assholes were gonna shoot me anyway, so got in my licks while I could.”
Henry smiled at Mason’s attitude, thinking he would have made a good ranger.
“Sir, Colonel Stewart wouldn’t tell me anything. Is Brian okay? Were any bystanders hit by the cops’ shitty shooting?”
“A round went into a nearby house and hit a 12 year old kid. Minor injury. Brian is still recovering.”
“That fucking sucks! Fucking charge that fucker with attempted murder and throw away the key! Ya know, I’m thinking about how many Marines got an OTH for an unintended shoot of an innocent during a firefight. And these asshole cops weren’t even being shot at by twenty hajjis. It’s just fucking...”
Lizzy put her hands to the sides of Mason’s head, pulling him in for a hard kiss. She had seen her mother calm Benny down with this ‘technique’ many a time. As her mother had said, ‘it is a woman’s job to save her man from himself’. The technique worked perfectly, as Mason was lost to the intensity of Lizzy’s kiss, oblivious to all else.
Michele looked back at Lizzy and Mason through the driver’s rear-view mirror as she drove. She had always thought that the two were intended for each other. She posited on it a while, then decided to breach the subject.
“Colonel, are you gonna tell him?”
“I suppose ... Mason, you should know that you are a movie star at the FBI academy.”
“Huh?”
“Lizzy activated the security systems. We have excellent visual and sound of the incident. They are using our files as training material.”
“What the fuck for, sir? On how to get your ass shot by stupid cops?”
“Actually, that is part of the syllabus, per the training objectives. The other is the tactics you used in an urban area. You backed up Brian without endangering civilians. And you responded to ineffective law enforcement without using deadly force.”