Chapter 4: Security

For the next week Linda’s schedule fell into a routine, mapped out on a day calendar by Joyce:

0700-0800 Wake up. Bathroom and shower. Breakfast. CNN.
0800-0900 Angel business, Europe, New Zealand, and Australia
0900-1000 Four Nuns hospital tour
1000-1100 Rest. Check emails. Normal business appointments
1100-1200 Lunch. CNN
1200-1300 Angel business. Visit North American Cities already cleansed. Add teleport locations.
1300-1400 Visit new locations. Mexico. Visit Liz and Philip in London with Jessie for health treatments.
1400-1500 Nap time. Rest and recover energy.
1500-1800 Family time. Sabrina and Friends
1800-1900 Supper
1900-2200 Free time. CNN. Emails.

It was a very restful period for Linda and the Posse. Her body had finished healing from the damage inflicted by the European Ancient One, but her psyche needed this break from all the killing. She still took out any truly evil men and women she encountered, but the frenzy was gone. For now. She still needed to sweep Eastern Europe and Mexico. First however, was a visit to Little Creek, Virginia for a Navy Special Warfare Command ceremony.

The men stood in the warm sun wearing their dress white uniforms in four boxes of forty men each. All four East coast Navy SEAL teams standing in formation to honor Wonder Angel...

Stop, Mr. Narrator Guy. Just stop. I’m going to tell this part of my story not you! You usually do a fairly good job even though you like to exaggerate stuff a lot, but this part of the story did not happen the way you wanted it to be. So I’m going to tell this part, then you can take over again. No back talk now. Go watch TV or something. Drink a cuppa. I’ll let you know when I’m done here.

See, Mr. Narrator Guy was going to tell you about this big ceremony that happened at Little Creek, Virginia. That’s the headquarters of the Eastern SEAL Teams. The Western teams have a headquarters somewhere in California. You can look it up on google if you want to. I didn’t bother. Ret might have, but really, who cares, right?

The ceremony was supposed to induct me into the SEALs as an honorary member or something. Then Prez Freddie (that would be President Fredricks) was going to give a big speech about how wonderful all the Angels are. There was supposed to be like, twenty of us here. Angels that is. Freddie would be followed by one politician after another, and I could see myself standing there with my wings spread out for a couple hours. I’m pretty sure all those sailors didn’t want to stand out in the hot sun that long either.

I found out all of this two weeks earlier when Ret buzz-snooped Prez Freddie’s mind. What’s a buzz-snoop you ask? It’s just a quick surface scan. So anyway, Freddie was planning this huge ceremony with a ton of people invited. He even invited Queen Liz and Prince Philip. When the various prime ministers and presidents of all the countries I have visited found out, they were all kissing-ass for invites, too. I don’t think there is anything a politician likes more than having someone sucking up. Well, let me change that. They like positive publicity more. You know. The kind where millions of citizens (read voters) watch them being important and electable. Heavy emphasis on electable. And every one of them wanted their moment in the sun to heap praise, awards, medals, and what have you, on one Angel. Me. Linda. Sorry, I mean Wonder Angel. Televised all over the world of course. Bigger than the super bowl. Multi-millions of voters. I could see the politicians drooling. What a lot of bullshit.

If you’ve been reading this story, you probably already know that Mouse and I don’t like a lot of publicity. None would be perfect. Right, Mouse? You can’t see her, but she nodded her head. Trust me, she did.

Why did I bump the Narrator off the story for a bit? He was going to tell you all about the huge ceremony and stuff. Which is fine, but it never happened. Soon as I found out what Freddie was planning and how it kept getting bigger and bigger, I put a stop to it all. Not gonna happen. No sir. No way in hell. I told Freddie if I show up and all those people are there, I’ll just leave.

We compromised. We did it my way. Good compromises are the ones where the Linda / Angel wins. It was my way or the highway. So the ceremony turned into just Wonder Angel and the forty men belonging to the SEAL Team that I rescued meeting at the Petty Officer’s Club for a few drinks. Wait, I don’t mean I rescued forty guys. It was only sixteen men. The entire team was there for the party though. A fucking ton of testosterone. Yes, Ret. I have a potty mouth. Get over it. Oh, and Mouse was in heaven. All those unmarried sailors. With muscles. Lots of sexy muscles. I confess to a few kisses. They needed to give me a proper thanks after all. Right? I chalked it up to community service. A morale building exercise for our service men. Yes, that noise you heard was five girls giggling. Maybe laughing. Okay, laughing. Loudly.

I never wanted to be a SEAL. Once you sign up for the military, they think they can tell you what to do, when to do it, and they even write a manual describing it in one syllable words. So, we met each other, talked a bit, told some horrendous lies about how great we all were. Stuff like that. If you’ve never been fondled by forty some guys, well I’ll leave that to your imagination.

Five of the guys were medically retired because of their injuries that day in Iran. Lost body parts and stuff like that. I knew the gang back home on Cayman Island could help them. Jessie and Patti would fix them right up. I needed a security team at home. Sounded like a good combo to me. Fix their bodies and give them a great job, too. SEAL-type guys should be good at security, right?

One of the five guys was the Navy Lieutenant commanding the team that day in Iran. His name was Jake. I never knew that a Navy Lieutenant was the same thing as an Army Captain; or that a Navy Captain is the same thing as an Army Colonel. Go figure. The Navy also calls the boss on a ship Captain, no matter what his real rank is. I’m pretty sure they do all that just to confuse the rest of us. It worked on me, but I confuse easily. Now where was I when you side-tracked me?

Security team, right. Thanks to the bald guy in the third row for reminding me.

I had Ret contact Lieutenant Jake about coming to work for me. I also asked him to see about hiring the other four guys. Not many men out there who would refuse working for an Angel! To keep a long story short, (The Narrator guy wants the PC back. He claims it’s his!) Ret made arrangements to meet with the five of them in a couple of days. I’ll let Narrator Guy take the story back up now. This was fun. I hope you enjoyed hearing the truth for a change!

Thanks Linda. I think. First, I would like to clear up a couple things and then get on with the story. Linda was not groped by forty horny sailors. I think Mouse influenced that comment with a lot of wishful thinking. Linda did get her butt squeezed a couple times, some extended hugs, and quite a few kisses. Second, whether or not the sailors felt a woman or an Angel in their arms, Ret hasn’t said. She claims she was too busy snooping in the minds of potential security employees at the time. The girls are getting downright sneaky.

Jake was sitting in the HiHi tavern just off the main gate of the Special Warfare Center HQ. It was a seedy old place that the SEAL team members loved. The HiHi Bar and Grill had been started by a retired Navy Chief from the old UDT team days. The current owner was his grandson, also a retired Navy Chief. The name of the place wasn’t really HiHi, it was Hang in Here Instead. The faded sign above the entrance said, in small letters, Don’t Hang in There, Buddy; then in big letters underneath, Hang in Here Instead. HiHi.

Jake was drinking a beer and waiting for an Angel. Instead of an Angel, a middle-aged barfly walked up and sat down in the chair across from him. She looked like she’d been ridden hard and put away wet.

“Take off lady. I’m expecting someone special and no, I’m not buying you a drink,” Jake told the woman.

“I bet you were expecting an Angel with huge wings and big tits to just appear in mid-air?” Linda asked him.

“Shit! You’re the Wonder Angel?” Jake asked in a hushed voice, looking around to see if anyone noticed the two of them.

“Guilty. Where’s the other four guys?”

“All of us are still nursing major injuries. They asked me to check out the details and see if this was something worth looking into or not. I’m still not getting along very well myself. The last prosthetic the VA made for my leg didn’t fit right so they’re making a new one. Should be ready in a month or two. Until then, I have to hobble along with a peg and a cane.”

“Trust me. You won’t need that prosthetic. Are you ready to go, or do you want to sit here and cry in your beer?”

“My Daddy taught me a lot of things. One that has always stuck with me: anyone who says ‘trust me’ has either just lied to you or he’s getting ready to. Just listen to politicians. When they say ‘Trust Me! Everything’s going to be Wonderful!’ and they don’t give any details, they just lied to you.”

“Did your Daddy teach you anything about Angels?”