Meredith - A Littles Broker in the Diaper Dimension - Chapter 10 (20 August 2018)

[ozziebee]

No, I haven't forgotten this story.  Have had a few stressful weeks dealing with finances, but slowly working on this tale in the background.

Hope you all enjoy!

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Chapter 7 - Messages

Mum carried me into the house, after we arrived home from the Mall, setting my capsule down in the home theatre room.  Unbuckling my restraints, I was picked up out of the capsule, and placed on my back on the shag pile carpet floor, pacifier placed back into my mouth, bear in the crook of my arm, and my comforter blanket placed over the top of us both.  I was fast asleep, the tantrum in the Mall tiring me out completely.

I woke up slowly, from the silence in the room, and the distinct lack of movement.  My surroundings seemed almost lifeless, the air around me quite still, totally devoid of breath.  That air was warm though, my cheeks flushed red.

I heard whispering nearby, so opened my eyes and slowly looked around.  Initially I was quite confused of my surrounds, until I noticed the big TV hanging on the wall, and all the gadgets with blinking lights in the TV cabinet.
As I woke up, I felt my tiny body react in a quite natural way, it released a stream of wee into the already wet nappy covering my butt.  The sensation was weird, it felt like ants crawling across my pelvis, so I started to squirm and moan.  I looked up towards noise beyond my vision, below my squirming feet and legs - glass doors being slid apart, with Dad's face appearing above me.

"Good afternoon, my sweetness!", his gruff, manly voice cooed at me.  He leant down and picked me up off the floor, settling me on his shoulder, before covering my back with the blanket.  I buried my face into the crook of his neck, smelling the musky manly odours of protection and strength.  I was hungry.

I noticed Mum busy in the kitchen, bags of groceries all over the island bench. She was furiously chopping up some carrots into slices, looking up from her work when she noticed Dad and I.

"Look who's awake, mummy!", Dad stated

"Hello, bubba, ya hungry?", Mum enquired softly.  Her face was quite relaxed.

Dad didn't give me an opportunity to respond, placing me in the highchair, and fastening the safety straps.  Mum placed a long strip of carrot, some grapes, and some banana pieces on the tray in front of me, and went back to slicing up vegetables.  I rubbed my eyes of the remains of sleep, whilst examining the feast in front of me.

I picked up a piece of banana, which mostly ended up in my mouth, but some ended up between my fingers, and on my nose.  I played and giggled at the squishy texture.  A grape was next, which felt quite hard on my gums until I bit down on it causing a mini explosion of grape juice and mush, with the slick innards dribbling down my chin.  Yummo, that grape was wonderful, very sweet, and quite juicy.  So I picked up another grape, but squished it in the palm of my hand before I could get it into my mouth.

Once all the fruit pieces were devoured or smeared all over the tray, my attention turned to the carrot piece.  It was hard, and all I could do was suck on the end of it.  Mum had thoughtfully only cut it up long enough that I could grab it with one hand, and have just enough poking out of my fist to suck on, and not shove it down my throat, lest I choked.

As an adult, I'd largely ignored the textures, and taste of carrots and fruits, but as a baby, I was able to enjoy the discovery and sensations of touching and tasting the fruits and vegetables all over again.

I was concentrating quite hard on sucking the weird and tangy juices out of the carrot when my body betrayed me once again.  Eating caused pain in my belly, and I unconsciously started pushing and straining, letting out a bit of a smelly fluff from my rear end.

Mum looked up at me, smiling, close to outright laughter.  "Have you done stinky poos, Meredith?"

My red blushing cheeks may have given her a clue, but it really was the smell which gave the game away.  She dried off her hands, extracted a few wipes from a packet on the island bench, and wiped my face and hands.  I was released into her loving arms, and we walked off down the hallway into my Nursery, wherein she gently laid me down on the change table.

Before my butt had a chance to settle onto the padded surface, Mum had my sundress up around my head, my nappy cover down around my ankles, nappy un-taped, and my butt in the air, wipes furiously at work.  Expert hands danced around my nether regions applying desitin cream, and baby lotion, before a fresh Huggies nappy was pushed under my butt, and brought up between my legs.  Tapes screaming to a tune, nappy cover velcroed back into place, Mum sat me up, and adjusted the sundress.

"All done, no fuss, no muss, easy!", she cooed at me, touching my button nose.

DING DONG! I heard an electronic chime go off.

Mum immediately looked around to the entrance to the room.  "Keith? Keith? Can you get that please, hunny-buns?"

"Sure", he said as he walked past the door to my room.

About a minute later, I heard muffled voices elsewhere in the house.  Mum picked me up off the change table, placed me on her shoulder, and walked out into the main living room, restoring my pacifier to its rightful position.

I instantly recognised Sarah, Mum and Dad's daughter.  

A tiny Little girl was clinging to Sarah's right leg, trying valiantly to hide from my sight.  She must have been no more than about 16 or so, still quite a child for a Little, and so tiny even by Little standards.  The girl sucked on a white-shielded pacifier, which had a cute baby-pink ring as contrast, a purple ribbon connecting the ring to her dress.  Her longish natural blonde hair had been braided into pony tails, which had pink ribbon intricately laced through them.  She wore a pink and purple sundress, which splayed out from her chest, covering the obvious nappy bulge underneath.  Her overall looks were quite beautiful.  

I giggled with excitement.

As soon as Sarah saw me, she reached out to touch my nose and plant a kiss on my forehead, "Hello you!", she softly spoke to me.  Holding onto the girl clutched tightly to her leg, "Annabelle, say hello to Meredith".  The girl looked up at me, and gave a cute little wave, before hiding once more, looking up at her mum for approval.

I just looked at Annabelle, with a cute little smile behind my own pacifier.  I don’t know what made the girl scared, or shy of me.  Maybe it was because I didn’t back down, and kept staring down at her from my lofty height.  Most likely though was that she saw me as an amazon baby, who would sooner tease her for being a Little, than to be her friend.

Sarah crouched down and had a quiet word to her Little, who hugged her before running off around us and disappeared into the home theater room.  I was offered up by Mum into Sarah’s waiting outstretched arms, receiving a kiss on the cheek by Sarah, before she started walking with Mum and Dad into the living room.

Sarah held me tight against her chest, my eyes only just seeing over the top of her shoulders, my nappy’s butt resting on her left forearm.  She started chatting away to Mum, watching her cut up meat, slowly rocking back and forth on the spot, patting the small of my back, or rubbing my back up near my neck.  

I was totally relaxed, nursing away on my pacifier. I rolled my head to one side, my left cheek buried on her shoulder blade, and watched intently as Annabelle stated pulling out toys from the toy box in the HT.  The girl selected a doll I’d spied yesterday, sat down amongst all the toys, stroking the doll’s hair, pulling the clothes into shape, and talking softly to it.

The gyrations of my body were starting to put me to sleep again, the sensations made worse by my continued eye movements trying to keep track of Annabelle.

“Is she going to sleep on you, Sarah?”, I heard.

A few gentle movements, and I head Sarah respond in the affirmative.  She never let up the  subtle movements though.

I woke with a start when I heard the door bell again.  Sarah handed me back to Mum, as Dad walked past us towards the front door.  More voices I’d never heard before.  I was soon being introduced to the rest of the Bradley clan.

Mark Bradley was another tall, strappingly handsome, and quite young man, clean shaven stubble, slicked back hair, wearing a pin-striped blue shirt, straight pants with very distinct and sharp creases.  A hint of Old Spice aftershave.  

His wife was introduced to me as Sue (short for Susan).  Very demure, feminine shape, she had gorgeous long blonde straight hair that disappeared down her back somewhere, I could not see, complemented by a simple but effective dark blue dress and dark blue flat shoes. Her skin was glowing, maybe a touch sunburnt.

She gave me the cutest little wave and smile, I instantly melted.

Looking down, I remembered Thomas and Kerry-Anne from the photo on Mum's phone.  Both were still toddlers (Tom being the eldest at 5), but both were big bundles of energy.  Thomas shook Dad’s offered hand, and immediately roared off into the HT, followed quickly by a whirlwind of hair, lace, tiara, and pink tutu that was Kerry.

Which left Michael Stone, ahh... Bradley now, standing alone at the front door, a bit apprehensive and shy, looking quite out of place.

“Michael, come and say hello to your cousin, Meredith”, Mark asked him.  

Michael took a few steps towards me and waved.

“Hello, I’m Michael, very pleased to meet you, umm…”, he quizzically looked up to his dad.

“Meredith, her name is”.

“Oh, Meredith, sorry”.  Michael only then began to study me, his eyes a bit surprised.

I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited at seeing him again, but my enthusiasm at seeing a familiar face was lost to everyone.  Michael looked again up to his dad, who told him to go off and play with the others in the HT room.

I was again the centre of attention, as I was handed over to Sue, who planted a kiss on my cheeks before giving me a tender hug.  She did something different, and spun me around, holding me against her chest in a bear hug so that I was looking away from her out to everyone else.  This was a bit different.

We walked back into the living room, to a space now filled with chatting and laughter and general merriment.  I kept stealing glances into the HT room, where the four kids were playing away, toys scattered all over the floor of the room.

I started kicking my legs, and cooing away, occasionally hooting and yammering, letting out the odd little yelp, blowing bubbles.

Mum eventually rescued me from Sue’s embrace, after seeing my face slowly turn red from exertion from the position I was in.  She walked to the doors leading into the HT, and put me down on the ground, before leaning up against the door jamb to watch the activity within.  Maybe a bit shocked at the orgy of toys and blocks everywhere.

“Good luck navigating that minefield of lego blocks, Meredith!”, she said, before walking away with a giggle.

I was on my hands and knees, rocking in place, finding my balance once again, excitement building within me.  With each movement of my hands and feet, I slowly propelled myself forward, crawling into the mosh pit of kiddy arms, legs, stuffies, blocks, bricks, dolls, balls, cars, trucks, blankets, and boxes.

It was chaos, but organised chaos none-the-less.

I noticed Michael was busy building something with the lego set he found in the bottom of the toy box.  I stopped and watched, a smile on my face, drool dripping down off the bottom of my pacifier’s guard.  I could see that he was content, and happy, and definitely not the highly-strung Little that Stowe and I rescued. As he sat, cross legged with the lego bricks in front of him, I could see the telltale signs of a nappy’s waistband peeking itself above his trousers.

“Hi there Meredith”, he offered quietly.  I just looked at him in return, gurgling away to myself, trying unsuccessfully to respond.

He stopped what he was doing, and looked at me with an intense glare, before his eyes kind of glazed over.  “You know, I used to know a lady with the same  name as you.  Her name was Meredith too”.  He went back to his work, “She was a Little, like me”, occasionally stealing glances towards me.  “Had the same colour eyes as yours too - what are the chances, huh!”.

I started to feel a bit frustrated at that point, unable to communicate with him.  I was so sure he’d continue his line of thought, and realise who I was, but he never connected the dots,  instead remaining focused on his rapidly evolving lego model.

Just as I began to crawl towards the toy box, I was pushed over by Thomas, bent over wheeling a dump truck around the floor, picking up blocks as he went along.  The shock of being pushed off balance scared me as I toppled onto my side and back.  

As I started screaming and crying out, I heard a muffled, “… sorry Mum, I didn’t know she was there! I’m really sorry…”.

Picked up into a hug by Sue, she sat down on the lounge, and began to calm me down, quietly reassuring me.  I was unhurt, just shocked, partly from the shock of being so shocked so easily.  I was normally not such a sooky la la, but I guess that babies can’t help it.  She held me against her shoulder, and rubbed my back, as I calmed down to a sniffle.

“You’re ok, Missy Meredith”, she cooed at me.

“Is she going to be ok, Mum?”, I heard Tom quietly ask, genuinely concerned.  He laid the back of his hand against my cheek.  I noticed that Kerry was standing next to Tom, just as interested in my welfare.

“Yes dear.  You need to be careful when you’re around babies, ok?”

Kerry-Anne had a paci in her mouth, and was studying my face. I was sure she was wondering who this little baby was, and where she came from.

“Yes Mum, I am sorry”.

“Ok, now go off and play, dinner will be ready soon”.

Through the hum of talking and laughter, I could hear a crackling and sizzling in the distance, with the odd wafting smells of bacon, sausages, and meats.

"Hey, Mum, can we play games on Grandpa's console?", Tom asked.

"I don't know how to turn it on, Tom"

Michael looked up from his model, and noticed the console sitting in the TV cabinet opposite him. "I used to know all there was to know about electronics, I bet I could get it going!?", he offered.

"No, Michael, Ill ask Grandpa to turn it on for you". Sue placed me back on the floor, and walked out of the HT room, returning with Keith.

He stood in the middle of the room with a remote. "Ok, who wants to play some games!?", he quizzed to the crowd of kids around him.

"Me, me!", both Tom and Michae replied excitedly.

"Ok"

He took a few seconds to boot the console up, which flicked the TV on, and caused a green light to glow on the camera below the TV.

"Can I leave the control of this in your capable hands, Michael?", Keith asked, handing over a remote to him at the same time.

"Sure can, Grandpa"

Michael was a natural at controlling the console. No sooner had Keith disappeared out to the back deck to continue supervision of the BBQ, Michael had navigated to the games list, selecting a two player dancing game.

"Can I go first, Mike?", Tom asked.

Thomas shuffled into the middle of the room, and paused before raising a hand, causing a clock on the screen to count down, with music starting up on a track advancing across the screen. He jigged, and waved, and twirled away, “dancing” to the beat.

I was initially quite confused, seeing the game react to Toms movements. He was trying to place hands and legs into particular spots in time with the music and track markers. Alas, after a minute or two he failed to keep up and it was game over.

Michael then had a go, waving his hands around to reset the game, then start it.

After a couple of iterations, Tom stopped, panting hard from the exercise. "I need a drink!"

"Yeah, so do I!", Michael agreed, and waved his hands to pause the game.

Both walked out of the HT towards the kitchen.

I looked at both Kerry and Annabelle, who’d also stopped to watch the action on the TV.  Annabelle jumped up from her spot next to the toy box, and walked over to the camera.

Looking slyly out towards where the boys were, she started waving her hands around, causing the console to move from one game to another.  This little Annabelle, looking so innocent and angelic, seemed to be quite smart for her age, moving control and focus from the games area to apps.

I saw a messaging app pop up on the screen briefly, but Annabelle was only interested in a colouring app icon, opening it up, and selecting a picture to colour in.  

She sat down on the floor, and waved her hands like a magician across the floor, selecting colours, then the areas, then making tiny movements with her right hand to do the colouring in.  She was far too concentrated on her work to notice that Michael and Tom returned.

Tom pouted at seeing the console commandeered, but Michael just sighed, and sat down next to his lego model.  It was "unwise" to assert authority over two Amazons fighting, he knew, irrespective of how old he was.

“Hey, Annabelle, I was playing a game on that!”, Tom grumpily stated

Annabelle ignored him.

“Gramps put the console on for Michael and I, not you, Annabelle!”, he started yelling, before pushing her aside.  She screamed in response.

“Oi, Oi! None of that!”, came a booming voice from the door.  I think we all jumped from fright.  “It’s dinner time, anyway, so there’ll be no games until after dinner, if you’re all good, and eat everything on your plates!”.

Dad walked into the room and scooped me up off the floor.  I was taken out into the main living area and placed into my highchair which was at one corner of the island bench, with seating spaces allocated for the other kids.  

Mum handed me a small piece of lukewarm sausage, and placed a bowl with some fruit, some vegetables, and another couple of sausage slices in it.

“Eat as much as you like, missy, then you can get some milk, ok?”, mum whispered to me, before walking back around the Island bench into the kitchen to dish up plates for the other kids.  

I sat back and examined the slice of sausage, which felt a bit rough, but squishy.  A synapse suggested I knew what sausage tasted like, but the rest of me was hesitant, like I’d never seen this thing before.  Curiosity got the better of me, though, so I started to suck on it, and kneed it between my gums.

New sensations, my tastebuds going wild with the meat textures and juices.
As the sausage was whittled away to nothing, I picked up another piece, and then another, followed by some grapes, a squishy little cherry tomato, a sweet apple slice, and some carrot.

I looked down at my bowl, and was shocked to the point of giggling, at all the food smeared all over the tray, the bowl, my hands, and my face.  I looked around, and noticed Mum watching me.  She was enjoying a piece of cut meat, and smiling back at me.  

She retrieved my pacifier, placed it in some brown gravy sauce on her plate, and popped it in my mouth.

Heaven - I spent the next couple of minutes furiously sucking the tasty morsels off the paci, looking at Mum, pleading with my eyes for more.  Another dip of the paci into gravy, and I was hooked. Gravy had never tasted so good!

Mum stood up from the dining table, and walked off into the Home Theatre room, to retrieve my comforter blanket. She grabbed a few wipes, and cleaned my face and hands, much to my annoyance. After I'd finished a baby tantrum, she unclipped the high chair harness buckle, and picked me up, sitting back down at the table, but angled off to one side, giving herself some room.

With everyone else chatting away, and eating their dinners, Mum unbuttoned her blouse, unclipped her bra, and positioned me in front of her left breast, covering me up with the blanket.

I quickly latched on, and started suckling the sweet sweet warm milk, all alone in my private little cocoon. I nursed away until I fell asleep, waking up to a pounding back and a burp. A change of position, and I was soon back asleep.

----

"So, Mark, out with it now. You've been a sour-puss all afternoon!", Keith questioned. He looked across the dining table towards his son, who was slowly rotating his beer bottle with the tips of his fingers.

Mark looked up at his dad for a sec, looked across to his wife, who almost invisibly beckoned Mark to start talking. The kids were all asleep in the Home Theatre room, so now was the time to let it all out.

"Ok, well, hmm... I was called into a meeting yesterday by a cop... about Michael... ", he quietly announced.

Silence across the table, Jenn's face a mask of surprise. She stole a look towards Michael through the clear glass panels in the Home Theatre room closed doors.

He was stretched out on the floor asleep under a blanket. Tom had his hands wrapped around Michael's shoulders, in a loving embrace.  The two girls were asleep on the lounge, Meredith asleep stretched below Tom and Michael, under the same blanket.

With a sigh, Mark continued, "... he informed me that the Department had concerns for Michael's safety."

"Concerned for his safety?  Why? Is he in trouble?", Sarah asked. "Littles always seem to be in trouble. Not my little angel thankfully!", she responded nervously.

"No, it's not like that", Mark replied angrily.  "The investigator from the adoption company Sue and I used told me that people were after Michael".

"Did they say who?", Keith probed.

"Yeah, the Mob"

"What the heck!?", Jennifer screamed.  Sue burst into tears.  She'd obviously been briefed by her husband, so knew the story, but it didn't really hit home until just then, when she finally realised the full implications.

----

I woke up with a start, arms shot up into the air, legs involuntarily kicking, after hearing screams from the other side of the glass doors.  Why I was in the HT room, rather than my own bed was a bit of a mystery, until I realised my nappy had been changed, but also still wearing the same clothes.  I must have been changed by either Sue or Sarah, as my nappy felt slightly different to the result of Mum's changes.

I yawned, and unconsciously nursed on my pacifier.  My teddy bear was lying against the left side of my head, so I leaned over, and attempted to cuddle it, burying my face in soft plushy fur, all the while intently listening to the adults talking away, just the other side of the Home Theatre Room doors.

"But, why, Mark?  Why would the Mob be after little Michael"

"It was explained to me by Michael last night that he was rescued from the Mob, the... Ramon Family"

What a great night that was, though ultimately became my last outing with Stowe.  I sighed at the fading memory of him.

"Michael is apparently an heir to an Estate, though he's told me sweet fuck all else, apart from a blow-by-blow account of his rescue.  Oh, and Sue, I've just remembered... the investigator informed me that Mrs Stowe passed away".

"Oh, oh... ", Sue cried.  "She was a gorgeous and patient woman, oh, no...".  A minute or so of silence befell the table.  "She was such a sweet lady to talk to too, so knowledgable about the law, and weaving her magic to find Michael".  

Another minute passed.  Mark returned to sipping his beer.

As I lay there, my face buried in the bear fur, I could feel a few drops of tears form, and I sniffled.  My first mum was absolutely the best woman in my Little life.  I so dearly missed her, wishing I could see her again, but knew that the idea was impossible, whilst simultaneously feeling intense love and warmth towards my new family.

"The investigator told me that none of us were safe from these people".  The fear in Mark's voice was quite evident.  "They've put a squad car outside our house.  I don't think we were followed here, so you should be safe, Mum."

Keith, connecting the dots, piped in, "No, that's not right.  If the Mob want Michael, they might try to use the rest of us as leverage, to get to him."

Sarah opened her mouth as if to speak, concentrating on what she was going to say, but paused.  "So, does this mean Annabelle and I are in serious danger?"

"'Fraid so", Mark replied back matter-of-factly.

Sarah did not react well to that news, standing up, hands covering her face.
Which meant that even I was in danger.  The Mafia would stop at nothing to find Michael.  My next thought was that Mum, Dad, and I were defenceless.
"Was there anything else the investigator said, Mark?", Keith queried again.

"Yeah, he told me to go get a gun"

A gun.  I didn't know whether Mum or Dad had one.  It was an absurd thought, but I know who did have one, and who could use it too if push came to shove.

"You're supposed to defend your family from those raving lunatics with a lowely gun? Are the cops for real!?", Mum yelled out. "Oh my lord above, Mark!"

I rolled over onto my stomach, and gingerly pushed myself up onto my hands and knees.  My arms were tired from the exertion, a bit shaky and unsteady.  

I looked up towards the black TV, hanging on the wall.

"Can't the cops arrest this Ramon family?", Sarah questioned.

Directly below the TV was a steady green light, which told me the camera was active, though the TV was showing nothing.

"No, it doesn't work like that, Sarah. If the Mob made an attempt, then yes. "

I crawled to the middle of the room, and sat back onto my padded butt.  Remembering how little Annabelle expertly navigated around the console's interface, I started waving my hands around in front of me, but to no avail.  The TV remained black.  Was the thing even on?

"We've gotta do something", Mum stated, fear in her voice evident to all.

"I'll have a chat to the cops in the morning", Keith responded.

I looked around the room, and noticed the controller thingie that Dad had handed to Michael still sitting next to Michael's unfinished lego model, so I crawled over to it.  I was agast at the seeming complexity of the thing, spending the next couple of seconds in a vain hope of recognising any of the buttons.  

Noticing a green button, I realised I had no hope of pressing it down, so I raised my hand and smacked the controller.

As the thing lept into the air from the force of my palm whacking it, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the TV screen emit a faint glow.

More animated talking outside the door.  Any moment one of the giants out there will notice me, or the TV being on.

I crawled back to the middle of the room, and sat back onto my butt once more.  This time, I could see an interface on the TV.  Every time I moved an arm, the interface would move in sympathy.  Remembering once more how Annabelle moved around to find the app she wanted, I took a few minutes to get to where I wanted to go - the messaging app.

I was greeted with a largely blank screen, a slow flashing block, some writing towards the top of the screen.

A message needed a recipient, so I could start with Stowe's mobile phone number.  Alas, for the life of me, I couldn't remember it.
Stowe.

A gun.

His gun.

The gun in his photo, sitting on my desk, in my office in HH&S.

I was walking up the Mall, phone in my right hand, absently thumbing through the contacts.  I needed to contact someone, but who?  I paused scrolling with my right thumb on the screen, when it displayed a tiny image of the same photo, which I'd stored as Stowe's avatar photo.  Below that was his mobile number.

Memorise it, Meredith.

Still walking up the Mall, I began to recite the number, committing it to long term memory, a set number of numbers, digits, ten digits, ten shapes, shapes with bumps and strokes and squiggly funny looking lines. I giggled.

Memorise it, Meredith.

I woke up as I fell back onto sleeping Michael's outstretched legs, causing him to stir.

Sitting back up, I looked back up at the TV. Raising a hand up above my head, I noticed a keyboard appear on the bottom of the screen.  I could wave the hand around, and a bright square would follow the movement, flicking from one object to the next.

So began the laborious process of moving the cursor from remembered shape to remembered shape, until I had no more shapes remembered.  I hoped that was it, and that I'd remembered correctly.

The flashing cursor went to the next line, so I waved it down to the main part of the screen, which I presumed was the message area.

What to put there, I wondered.

Meredith.

I could put my name there.

How was my name even spelt?  I knew that it started with an Emm.  What does that look like, I wondered?  I stared at the TV for a while, frustratingly examining each symbol.  Eventually I found the one I wanted, so pushed and pulled the cursor over to it, and selected it.

An "M" flashed up on the TV.

The talking outside got quite animated, and I heard sobs of pure fear out there.  I had to send this message quick, deciding just an Emm would do.  

How would Stowe know it was the real me, though, and not some imposter, like a Mob goon?

I instantly remembered the series of symbols on Stowe's photo, his Service number.  The same one that was seemingly engraved into my brain.  6510029.

So I added those symbols to the message box too.

"I thought it was you", Michael whispered to me, as he yawned, and stretched his arms high and wide apart.  

The message immediately moved across the screen, flying off to the right edge before disappearing forever.  

I was horrified at losing the message I'd so meticulously crafted, so I cried out in anguish, and flopped backwards once again into Michael's legs, a tantrum building.  "Ow!"

Suddenly the whole room was bathed in a bright light.

"What the hell's going on in here!", Mum spoke quietly, but commandingly.

"Meredith bumped into me, Grandma!", an obviously tired but bewildered Michael responded.

I was whisked up into the air, in almost full cry mode, kicking my legs, my arms moving wildly.  I was balling my eyes out, snot all over my face.  My cries started to wake the others, so Mum held me tightly against her in another loving warm hug, as she quickly carried me into my Nursery.

"Now stop that, right now Missy!", she spoke, as she stripped me of my clothes, popping my pacifier into my wide-open mouth.  I almost immediately started suckling on it, letting out the odd pop and gurgle and squeek.  My cries died down as Mum removed my wet nappy.

"Lay still, will you".  Mum was getting a bit impatient with me, with my legs and arms still moving about.  I sensed that she wasn’t particularly happy with me, which started to send a bit of fear through my body.  I somehow didn’t like seeing Mum unhappy.
 
She once again quickly cleaned my bottom and bits with some wipes, before soothing my butt with cream, some powder, and wrapping me in a clean nappy.  She retrieved a bottle of night time body lotion, and started to massage it across my arms, legs, chest, and neck, the scent wafting through the air.  She sat me up, turned me around so I was facing the window, held onto my neck and face in her left hand, and began massaging the lotion into my back.  

The sensations were wonderful, her gyrations getting slower and slower, gentler, and gentler, as I completely relaxed to her touch. 

A warm sleeper then buttoned up, and she decided to swaddle me tightly in a knitted-wool soft-pink blanket.  I was completely trapped, unable to move any part of my body.  The swaddling did its job - I found it all too hard to keep my eyes open. 

Mum then picked me up, holding me to her chest, and sat down on the rocking chair. The room was mostly dark save for light from the hallway.

She started patting my butt, her warm face a hairs breadth away from my cheeks, giving me the odd kiss.

With no way to move my arms or legs, feeling warm and secure, I gave up the fight, and retreated into the dark dreamland, fast asleep.

----

A quiet night, the office totally still, and mostly dark, save for the work light atop Stowe’s desk.  Typing away on his mechanical keyboard, clickety clicks, vibrations travelled across his desk to the scotch in his glass, which formed minute waves.  Orangey light bounced off these tiny imperfections, sending sparkly light to splash across the walls and the roof of the greater office.

A buzz started to emanate from his mobile phone, which sent more vibrations into the already unsettled scotch.  

Stowe briefly contemplated ignoring it, but decided that a mere glance wouldn’t break his concentration.

“Holey shit!”

He picked up the mobile, and examined the message closely.

<UNKNOWN> M6510029

The “M” plus his service number could mean only one thing.  Meredith sent it.  

He forwarded the message to his work email address, and impatiently started refreshing his mailbox on his laptop.  

DING!

There it was, a message from Meredith, but it was way too short.  There was no substance to it, no plea for help, just a simple “M”.  What did it mean?

Stowe used a command to examine the mail headers.  

Filtering out the ones added when he forwarded the message from his phone to his work account, he came across a series of headers added during the message’s transmission across the Internet.  

It looked to originate from within a console gaming service.  Weird.  

He picked up his desk phone, and dialled some numbers.

“Sergeant Jackson speaking!”

“Jac, it’s Stowe, I need a favour”. Stowe’s voice was serious, and oozed urgency.

“Sure”, came a tired response

“Your Intel guy, Herbie?  Can he track down the owner of an account within an online games network?”

“Sure, but what’s this about?”

“I’ve just received a message from someone who seems to be Meredith, but it was sent from a system I know nothing about”.

“Ok, send it to Herbie, and I’ll get him to look it up for you”.

After receiving PFC Herbert’s email address, Stowe forwarded the message, then took a swig of his Scotch as prayer that something will be found.

“Where are you anyway, Jac?”

“Watching this goon of yours, mate”, Jacksen responded quietly.  “He’s done nothing wrong so far, so our hands are tied.  We can do nothing until the guy breaks the law”.

“Shit, I thought you were gonna nab him”

“Can’t do that, Stowe, you know that”

After talking of the legalities of an illegal snatch of a known Mob goon, Stowe started to  realise that Jac was right.  Stowe was itching to interrogate the guy, inflict pain, but at the same time, he hesitated to stoop to Mob level, to achieve that goal.  

DING!

He looked across to his laptop screen.  Jac kept talking

“Stowe, Stowe… you still there?”

“Yeah, we’ve got a problem”

“Eh?”

“Herbie’s good, mate.  He’s already tracked the account to one Keith Bradley”

“What?  Meredith is with the Bradleys?”

“Adopted by them, Jac.  It all fits.  I saw her at the Mall today, being carried by a woman”.  Stowe became quiet, tired, spent.

“Can she not escape?”

“She can’t, Jac, she’s a baby, she’s been regressed by these fuckers”.

“You can’t snatch her, Stowe, if that adoption is in any way legal”, Jac had to add.  

“She’s in trouble, Jac, I have to …”, Stowe responded in kind.  “If the Mob get to her, and find out who she is? Oh, shit…”

“Stowe, brother, don’t do it!”

[SGTbaby]

The update was worth the wait!! I like how everyone is putting pieces together and how things fall into line. 

[ELLIE52]

Good to see the story moving forward again.  It's getting exciting.

[CDfm]

I really need to take a moment here and form an appropriate response to this chapter. .................HOLY COW!!!! That was an awesome chapter. I figured Meredith would be able to use a computer to contact Stowe. It seems that now because of the legal adoption it could cause some additional problems but I think Stowe is going to contact her family and offer some much needed help in keeping that little girl safe.  I am really enjoying this story and always appreciate seeing a new chapter had been added. 

[ozziebee]

Sorry for the delay with this Chapter.  Have had life issues intervene, along with some writer's block. 

Please keep the comments coming.  I enjoy reading them, and comments spur me on to writing more of the next chapter. 

## Chapter 8 - Conflict

I felt a kick against my leg, just a tap really, but still enough of a touch to begin my withdrawal from the enveloping fog of sleep and dreams.  I squirmed, and took a few unconscious sucks against the pacifier lodged fast between my toothless gums.  

Slowly opening an eye, I looked straight up at the mobile above the cot.  It was still, though the characters hanging from it jiggled around from vibrations emanating from within my cot.  My senses detected slight movements in the mattress, though my body was still, totally relaxed, devoid of even a twitch.

The wooden cot creaked softly.

As I became more alert to my surrounds, I heard a squeak from the foot of the cot, a shifting of position.  My peripheral vision noticed a bear move, so I looked at it, in awe of a dream seemingly so vivid and magical that even my toys were alive!

But alas, I soon noticed a human hand move, tiny fingers grasping, purple-covered fingernails glinting in the morning twilight.  My sense of being immerced within a dream shattered as I realised someone else was in the cot with me.

I let out a yawn, and spat out the pacifier, causing more movement at the foot of the bed.  

Slowly, a human head appeared from behind the bear.  I recognised Little Annabelle.  Her blonde hair was wrapped up into a bun, her soft and slightly pudgy baby face dominated by a pink pacifier, her cheeks a rosy reddish glow.  She was wearing a plain baby-pink footed romper.  Every movement elicited a plastic crinkle.  

She sat at the end of the cot, partially hidden by the bear sitting between her legs, the bear itself being almost her own size.  She was leaning against it, cuddling it, her chin resting on its shoulder, her head turned sideways, her deep blue eyes looking directly at me.

I giggled at the cute scene, eliciting a smile from an otherwise tired face.

Behind her, stuffed into a corner of the cot were the rest of my plushies and dolls.  She’d obviously rummaged through them to rescue the bear, which must have been the movements I sensed.  

She just laid against the bear for some minutes, using it as a pillow, absently suckling away on her paci, examining my face, smiling.  Her face would sometimes change to a slight grimace of pain, a tiny grunt, then she’d return to smiling.  

After studying me for a few more minutes, Annabelle let go of the bear, and gingerly crawled towards me. She lifted the blanket and sheet, which caused some goosebumps on my skin from exposure to the cool morning air, and settled in next to me, re-covering us both up.

She retrieved my pacifier, and offered it up to me, so I opened my mouth, and in it went. Annabelle then gave me a tiny kiss on my nose, and snuggled in, giving me a hug.

I drifted back into sleep, my head nestled into her neck and shoulder. It was certainly a different sensation being hugged so lovingly and carefully by a Little. As I succumbed to the remnants of tiredness, I couldn't help but think that Annabelle was actually enjoying her life as a babied Little.

BEEP-BEEP...FLASH!  Click!

Both of us jumped fair out of our skins, hearing those sounds, and the flash of intense bright white light. I started crying, heartbeat elevated, feeling completely disoriented. I could hear Annabelle in much the same frame of shocked mind!

"Aww, you two were too cute not to take a picture!", I heard Sarah giggle.

"Mum, did you have ta do dat?", a weepy and sleepy voice squeaked. Annabelle was not amused at the antics of her mother.

Mum appeared beside the cot, reached in, and plucked me out, resting me on her shoulder, and placing my snuggle blanket over my back. "You'll be right, Meredith", she cooed at me quietly, patting and rubbing my back in reassurance. "You're a naughty mum, Sarah", Mum blew raspberries at her daughter, who was almost crying tears of laughter.

Sarah scooped her crying Little from the cot, and took her out of the room, giggling and cooing at Annabelle the entire time.

I calmed down after realising what had happened. Mum proceeded to change my wet and pooey overnight nappy, stripping me of my sleeper and an cloth singlet, replacing them with a soft baby-green sundress, and matching green nappy cover, some white anklet socks, and shiny black mary-jane shoes.

"Want some brekky, Missy?"

I smiled behind my paci back at Mum, who immediately lifted me off the changing table, and we were off into the kitchen.

I could see Annabelle getting changed in the home theatre room by her mum, sitting up, having her hair brushed and braided, with a deep purple ribbon being expertly weaved into her hair.  She was dressed in nothing but a white disposable nappy, which had prints all over it. Her mum would occasionally tickle an exposed stomach, or an armpit, eliciting a cute giggle or squeal from the girl.

When her hair was done, Sarah swatted her Little's exposed lower back, eliciting another squeal. Annabelle stood up, turned around, and gave her mum a kiss on the lips and a cuddle.

"Ok, girlie, arms up", Sarah asked. Annabelle obeyed, to find a purple tshirt pushed over her head, then her arms. Her mum followed up with a flaired out deep purple denim skirt, which didn't do much to cover her nappy.  A deep purple PUL nappy cover was pulled up her legs, followed by some socks, and a pair of open-toed sandals.

"Ok, darling, all done, so go and ask Granny if she can get you some brekky, ok?"

"Thanks, Mum", Annabelle beamed back. she gave her mum a final cuddle and roared off towards the kitchen.

Annabelle soon looked up at Mum and I, tugging on the hem of Mum's skirt to get her attention.  

"Would you like some breakfast, Missy Bella?", Mum queried the girl.

"Oh, yes please, Granny!", Annabelle beamed back.  

"Ok then, Missy, lets go find your chair"

Mum dropped me into my highchair at the Island bench, and walked off to the dining table, retrieving another highchair, and placing it next to me.  This chair was a plasticy white, pink, and purple high chair, which could be dismantled to form a low seat with the base of the highchair turned into a table.  Mum picked up Annabelle, and placed her into the chair, making sure to do up the harness straps.

Sarah appeared, and velcroed a bib around her neck.  

I was pleased as punch to have company for breakfast, so I ripped out my paci and started banging it on the tray, giggling and breathlessly trying to speak words. "Maaa  aa  bbaa".

Annabelle giggled away, talking to noone in particular, or maybe she was talking to me, but I was so engrossed in my speaking all of a sudden, I'd zoned her out.  

With a bowl of warm breakfast cereal placed on Annabelle's tray, she grabbed a spoon, and carefully started eating, but not without getting some on her face, fingers, tray, her bib, and her hair.  

Mum sat next to me, slowly scooping oatmeal out of another bowl, and presenting it to me.  Open mouth was an opportunity for her to unload the mush, which I instinctively started to swallow, or dribble down my chin.  Of course, I too ended up with it all over my face, hands, and bib.

"Annabelle, do you want a bottle of milk?"

"Yes please, Mummy!"

She was soon presented with a small bottle of warm milk.  

"Thanks, Mummy!"

"You're welcome, dear", Sarah beamed towards her daughter, who was noticably trying quite hard to be polite.  She watched as her Little leaned back in her highchair, and started suckling on the bottle.

After my breakfast, Mum offered me a bottle of cool-ish filtered water in a bottle.  It was a bit different to my normal milk bottles, but I was quite thirsty, so happily nursed it all down, with Mum holding the bottle for me, constantly studying my face and its myriad expressions, or picking my nose, or playing with my hair.  

"So, what's the plan today, Sarah?"

"Well, I was thinking that maybe we could go to the Mall for lunch, and have a chat about what we discussed last night?", Sarah responded.  Mum could see her daughter become slightly stressed remembering the discussions about Michael and the Mob the previous night.  Sarah fidgetted a bit, looking down into the kitchen sink, playing absently with a fork in the sink itself.  "I'm worried, you know, what Mark said".

"I know, hon.  I feel a bit lost myself for what to do"

"I had hardly any sleep last night, thinking about all of it, it scares me.  I'm worried about Bella, and her future."

"Ok, I'll see what Keith wants to do", before standing up, and walking off towards the Master Bedroom.  After a few minutes, she returned to the kitchen.  "He's ok with lunch at Bellamys, but only if you're paying for it!"

"Haha, sure, why not!"

"He was joking, Sarah", Mum responded quietly, touching her daughter's shoulder.

For the rest of the morning, Annabelle and I were confined to the Home Theater, to watch cartoons on the TV, or play with the toys from the toybox.  I'd not failed to notice that all the toys had been packed away from the previous day's activities with Michael, Tom, and Kerry-Anne.  Whilst looking towards the TV, I noticed that the lego model that Michael had built was sitting on the edge of the TV cabinet.  All the unused lego was in the toybox.  

Mum appeared in the doorway, but seemed content to watch me crawl around. I was slowly finding my balance, and moving around a bit stronger each time. Annabelle joined in, crawling around with me, even though she could stand up and walk  quite fine.

When I strayed too close to Mum, she scooped me up with a rush, and probing fingers found a nappy not too wet. "That nappy will be ok for a bit longer", she concluded quietly to me

I instinctively started to rub my face against her shoulder and neck. I felt quite thirsty.

"Oh, I think I know what you're after, Missy"

Mum sat down in Dads' recliner chair, dropped a strap on her dress, another on her bra, and presented me with an exposed breast.

Yes, this is what I wanted, I thought as I latched on to her nipple, instantly rewarded with a few drops of mother's milk. Suckling produced more of the milky substance.

Annabelle climbed up onto the lounge, and sat watching me.

As I faded away into a milk coma, I could hear Annabelle talking away to Mum quietly, touching me gently. Sarah appeared briefly with something in her hand, my snuggle blanket, which was draped over me.

A warm blanket, lots of body heat, a steady Amazonian heartbeat, and milky sustenance didn't fail to put me to sleep.
 
----

Stowe's legs cramped up from minimal movement. He'd been cooped up in the van for a few hours now, on another self-imposed stakeout.

He stole a quick glance through the grimy windshield of the Battle Wagon, before returning his attention to his aching legs and feet. Too long sitting in the one spot, he mused. Too old to continue doing this shit long-term, too.  Fucking must get a real job, or something.

Across the road, about four houses down, was a fairly new, single storey residence. An ornate Country-style facade with gables and decorative finishings, double-hung square windows, a front porch with chairs, a flourishing front garden, all suggested attention to detail, and understated comfort.

It was apparently also the house from which Meredith sent the message.
 
Stowe had been on the stakeout since before sunrise.  He immediately noticed problems with the location - a reasonably busy street, with vehicle movements almost constant. A shitty tactical arena, he mused.
 
He had already driven down the street scoping the area, and the cars lining both sides of the road, then the house itself. Up a side street, he did a u turn, then doubled back, sliding into a parking spot where he could sit and observe the house itself.
 
There were two cars in the driveway, an SUV and a trendy little "smart" car to zip around town in.  A near-new medium-sized sedan was parked in front of the house. The vehicles windows were all fogged up from the cold morning dew-filled air.
 
Lights eventually flicked on in the house as the occupants woke up, beginning another day of civilian life and activities. Stowe didn't know how many occupants there were in the place.
 
Bringing up a map on his mobile, he studied the surrounds. Satellite view suggested a park behind the house, an avenue of approach that he couldn't see from his current vantage point.
 
Houses enclosed the park, looked to be a quiet street too. Houses both sides of the street Stowe was on, which was a secondary feeder road for the main thoroughfare at the T intersection some 500m further down.
 
Stowe continued to study the map. Overall, the house seemed quite exposed a location to guard effectively. Quietly, he admitted to himself he needed help, so he composed a quick email to Jacksen advising of the tactical situation, then adding a plea for an unmarked car to watch the house.
 
It was time to quickly see about that park, so Stowe jumped out of the van, and walked off away from the house, towards a laneway marked on his map.  He admitted that he really needed the exercise, get some blood flow back into his tired and cramped legs.
 
After about 10 minutes of walking, he stood at one corner of the park, soaking in the surrounds, and the warming rays of the morning sun. Today was expected to be a bit cool, not quite as hot as the past few, he thought. Freshly mowed lawns, lots of shrubs, trees, a nice little play area with swings and a slippery-dip, a toilet block.
 
He recognised the back of the Bradley house by a spire finnial from the roof gables at the front of the place. There was an covered Alfresco deck down one side of the house, windows around the back. The back lawn was almost non-existant, due to the size of the house itself. No dog wandering the back yard.
 
He could discern movements in the house through the sheer curtains covering the sliding glass doors to the Alfresco. Sitting on a bench near the toilet block, he could hear nothing but the birds singing to the rapidly brightening sky away to the East.
 
"Oi, you got any smack, bro?"
 
Stowe looked around towards the voice, at a rather disheveled teenaged boy exiting from the toilet block.  His eyes were bloodshot and pinholed. His feet black with grit.
 
"Nah, man, none at all", Stowe quietly responded.
 
"Bullshit, bro, you look like you've ..."
 
"I said no, now fuck off!"
 
"Whatever bro, but that's my seat you sittin on", the kid responded narcily, but also a tad impatient at the giant unwittingly invading his bench.

"Did you not hear me, punk, I told you to fuck off!". Stowe's eyes bore right into the back of the kids brain, in a clear "don't fuck with me" signal.
 
The kid looked at Stowe, was about to say something, but thought better of it, and walked away, muttering to himself.
 
After a few more minutes of observation, Stowe concluded that he'd seen enough of the bad tactical landscape, and retreated back to the Battle Wagon.
 
No email from Jacksen neither, so Stowe let out an audible sigh, rubbing his tired face with his hands.
 
He discovered a fresh bottle of water after a quick search of the front seat. A swig of the water later, he felt a bit more refreshed, though he really needed a coffee, or maybe a beer.  He settled down, and continued his stakeout.

 

 
With the sun well above the yardarm, casting short shadows on the ground, he looked at his watch and contemplated whether to drive off to the local shops for lunch.
 
Looking disinterestedly across the road towards the house, he noticed some movement, finally. A male exited the house, carrying a folded up pram. He unlocked the SUV, popped the back hatch, and placed the pram inside. Returning to the house, he retrieved a single large brightly coloured bag, suspiciously looking like a nappy bag, placing it into the back of the SUV, before closing the hatch.
 
A tall slender lady appeared at the front door, with a baby capsule in her right hand. Stowe recognised the lady as the same woman he bumped into in the Mall. He instantly surmised that Meredith was the child nestled in the capsule.
 
Stowe watch the lady clip the capsule into the car carrier in the back passenger-side seat. She then jumped into the front passenger seat.  The man chivalrously closed the door behind her.
 
Another lady appeared at the front door, holding the hand of a tiny Little girl. They walked towards the sedan parked on the road. After strapping the little into a baby seat, she jumped into the drivers seat, started the car, and disappeared up the road.
 
Stowe didn't fail to notice the Little girl's happiness, chattiness, and loving attitude to her mum. He smiled at the cuteness of the thing.
 
But Annabelle and Sarah were not the targets here. The big SUV soon backed out of the driveway, and followed the smaller sedan up the street to the T intersection.
 
Stowe followed the convoy, but kept his distance, as he was unsure whether the drivers were at all capable of detecting tails.  He needn't hav worried.
 
He initially failed to notice a beat up old car pull out of the driveway of an empty house opposite the Bradley residence, and follow at a discreet distance behind the Battle Wagon. How could he have known - the car looked just like any other in the driveway of a home.
 
After about 20 minutes of driving main roads, the convoy approached the shopping district. By this time, Stowe detected and observed the beat up old car behind him after following a few turnoffs, so kept an eye on it through his side mirrors.  The driver didn't seem in much of a hurry to bypass the van, so Stowe deliberated over who the guy's target was - himself, or the Bradleys?
 
Suspecting the family were going to the Mall, Stowe deliberately slowed down, to give the convoy more space to make a few turns into the Mall's parking lot. The driver of the old car started to get impatient at this point too, weaving the vehicle towards the centre line of the road, beeping the horn, looking for opportunities to overtake the big lumbering pile of rust in front of him.
 
Time is what the family needed to make those turns and get away, so Stowe hatched a plan.
 
Coming up to a red light, he started to gun the engine of the Battle Wagon, surging and slowing. Just as he slowed to a stop at the lights, he switched the engine off, which caused the van to lurch forward, stalling.
 
He reached across to the glove box, pulled out his pistol, racked it, flipped the safety on, and shoved it down the front of his cargo pants.
 
To the tune of honking horns, he stepped out of the van, and went through the motions of popping the bonnet. Next he reached for the radiator cap, cracking it a fraction to let out some steam, quickly replacing it. The steam showed everyone the non-descript crappy van was going nowhere, fast!
 
Stowe continued his charade of dancing with a broken down vehicle, walked around to the back of the van, opened the back doors, and found a container of water. With traffic constantly wizzing past on the other side of the road, Stowe knew that there'd be no overtaking of the van, until he got it moving again, so he meandered back to the engine bay, reached in, and emptied the water all over the hot engine, causing more steam.
 
Noticing the two family cars were finally gone, Stowe dropped the bonnet, jumped in the van, started it first go, and drove away.  Glancing in a side mirror, he saw the driver of the tail exasperated, talking heavily into a mobile phone, and ultimately take the wrong turnoff. In the split second Stowe had seen of him, the driver looked vaguely familiar.
 
Mission accomplished anyway, for the moment at least.
 
Guessing the Bradleys were heading to Bellamys, Stowe parked the van in the HH&S underground parking spot. Before getting out though, he made his pistol safe, and locked it back in the glove box.  Where he was going, he didn't need it.
 
Stowe walked out of the HH&S building into bright sunlight, a beautiful calm blue-bird day, forcing the use of his aviator sunnies. He quietly chided himself for forgetting his baseball cap, but with no time to waste, he headed up the street to the bottom of the Mall.

The Mall itself sloped gently up one block to a set of traffic lights at a pedestrian crossing, and a gigantic shopping centre beyond that. For the moment, foot traffic was reasonably heavy, being a weekend and all.  With the sun high in the sky, he thought of one thing, food.  Well maybe also a beer. Oh, and getting Meredith, don't forget Meredith!

As he briskly walked up towards the top of the Mall, he glanced from side to side looking for the Bradleys. Towards the top, near the pedestrian crossing was where he finally noticed them. Mr Bradley was pushing the stroller Stowe had noticed being packed into the back of the SUV earlier, Mrs Bradley intertwined with him by the crook of her left arm. She was laughing and prodding him.

The younger lady was also pushing a pram, with the tiny hands of a Little occasionally pointing and gesticulating at the things around her.

The whole party were slowly dawdling up the Mall.

Stowe reached them at the pedestrian crossing, standing slightly forward of the pram in the crush of bodies waiting to cross the road and enter the shopping Centre.

As he surreptitiously stole a glance towards Meredith, who was silent and fast asleep, he heard a distressing commotion nearby.

A small group of Amazonian teens started arguing and screaming, leading to a few of them squaring off, ready to fight. An all-too common occurrence in the Mall these days, he thought, and an awesome distraction.

Everyone looked towards the yelling and screaming, naturally, all except Stowe. With the parents looking away towards the commotion, Stowe examined the tiny sleeping baby.

In moments of high stress like this snatch, Stowe swore that time seemed to stand still. His decisions seemed instantaneous, his movements robotic and lightning quick. He had to move fast and silent, as he was about to snatch someone's loved one.

He was standing right next to her now, he could reach in, grab her, and be gone before anyone would notice. Meredith was just a tiny version of a Little, and he snatched those nearly every day. Easy peasy!

This is what he was trained to do.

To snatch Littles.

Just as he started the necessary motions of his body to lean down towards her, he stopped.

So many emotions and memories and doubt washed over him in that instant. He willed himself to physically move, but something wouldn't release his muscular brakes. A higher unconscious authority wouldn't give the ok to proceed, it seemed.

"This is it, I'm doing it", he consciously encouraged himself in response, but again no further movement ensued. Palms sweaty, his heartbeat racing, its BOOM BOOM BOOM reverberating in his ears.

Conflict arose within him, an internal voice spoke aloud within his mind, cutting harshly through his confusion, "Is snatching Meredith the right thing to do?".  The voice was unmistakably Mrs Henderson's.  

"She loves me, she needs me, and I love her, I must protect her", he pleaded.

"That's not good enough".  A voice of reason.

"Meredith is mine"

"No, Meredith is not yours, lest you be reminded that she is legally adopted, and there are consequences.  Remember what Jacksen told you, dumb ass"

"Meredith was taken from me"

"Look at her, Stowe", it demanded. A glance showed the tiny girl relaxed, at rest, at peace, and very well looked after, clean clothes, a loving family. "Can you look after her?", it demanded.

"No, I cannot", his logical side instantly concluded.

Within a single pound of his racing heart beat, Stowe knew he had to leave her. He grimaced.

He looked up and around, saw a break in the traffic as the fighting nearby lurched onto the road, and scrambled across to the other side, a quick look back at Meredith etched forever within his photographic mind.
 

 

Stowe was sitting at an outside table at Bellamy's Cafe, in the centre Atrium of the Centre itself, sipping a much-needed coffee, as the Bradley family walked into Bellamy's, choosing a table in the middle of the cafe itself.  Their positions afforded Stowe an otherwise obstructed view of Meredith.  

He tried hard not to stare at them, but only occasionally glance their way, observing the husband, Meredith's new mother, and the other lady with her Little.

A waiter approached the table and took their orders.

Jennifer ordered a Latte in a mug, and a BLT sandwich, Keith ordered the same coffee, but settled on a burger, and Sarah ordered a Chai Latte in a mug. Looking down at Annabelle, who was basically pleading with her doll-like eyes, "Oh, and I think Missy Bella here would like a babychino, a cheese toasty, and a little bowl of chips with gravy?"

Stowe noticed some rather excited clapping from the little girl.  She obviously got what she wanted!

With the family settling down for lunch, Stowe went back to ruminating into his own coffee mug, a double shot of espresso, made black. He remembered Jacksen once commented on the state of Stowe's stomach, "must be made of bloody concrete, mate, to handle that kind of coffee strength"

Jen reached into the pram next to her, unbuckled the safety straps, and carefully lifted the still sleeping Meredith to her shoulder. She grabbed the blanket out of the pram, and tucked it over the baby's back and legs, tucking it in around her tiny body.

All everyone could see was Meredith's head, resting on her mum's shoulder. Stowe looked up, and for the first time was really able to examine her face.

She looked like a tiny version of her old Little self. Stowe was a bit confused whether the Bradleys had simply regressed her, or physically changed her. Certainly her facial features were the same.   But she was so tiny.

She was fast asleep.

Stowe scoffed at how clucky he felt towards the girl in that instant, though he had no paternal yearnings at all. Years of hard grinding as a soldier in the Army Special Forces destroyed that.

Meredith showed a younger Stowe how to care again, to show emotion.  It therefore didn't surprise Stowe that he really felt like a cuddle from the girl, he could just walk up there, introduce himself, and everything would be right with the world.

 

"Dad, do you think that Mark is overreacting to this issue about Michael?", Sarah asked quietly.

Keith sat back, played with a chip hanging precariously on the end of his fork, and though of Mark's demeanour last night. "I dunno, though he certainly was not himself", he cautioned.

"Little Michael didn't seem at all alarmed though", Jenn added.

"Is this mafia family as dangerous as Mark suggested?"

"Yeah, I think so. I certainly fear for Mark and the family", Keith admitted. "Hmm".

"What do you think Mark will do to protect them all"

"Didn't he say last night that the cops have put a protective detail on their house"

"Yeah, I think so"

Keith whipped out his phone, and sent a message to Mark.

[Dad] you arranged with the cops for a guard, right?

No immediate reply. But not unexpected, Keith thought.

 

Stowe was half way through his coffee, and munching down on a piece of hamburger meat when he glanced up at towards the main entrance to the Centre.

A guy dressed in a suit jacket, and shiny black shoes was flanked by two lackeys.

One looked like he'd not slept in a day. Stowe immediately recognised him as the driver he'd forced away from the convoy. The bloke had obviously attracted a friend in the meantime, and what looked to be his boss.

Stowe studied the clean shaven, fancy dressed boss-man with interested eyes. The guy seemed familiar, though Stowe could not remember from where. Maybe the HH&S office?

Reaching around to the small of his back, Stowe only then remembered he'd left his .45 back in the Battle Wagon. Shit!

His phone sat on the table next to the plate of chips. Stowe called up Jacksen's messages, and fired off a request for help.

[Stowe] Trouble in paradise, Jac! Mob @ the Mall. Need help!

Looking back towards the boss man, he was deep in conversation with his goons, deciding on a course of action.

Stowe had no choice, but to act, now!

Abandoning the remnants of his succulent beef burger, hot chips, and a rapidly cooling mug of coffee, he walked with a purpose into Bellamys.

"Mr and Mrs Bradley?"

All three adults looked up at the giant man who'd suddenly interrupted their conversation. "Yes?", Keith cautiously confirmed.

"You must come with me", Stowe commanded. His voice was authoritative, but also quiet. He didn't need the Bradleys now to make a scene.

"Not bloody likely, mate!"

Sigh. "There's no time to waste, Mr Bradley. You are all in danger"

"And just who the fuck are you?"

All four Adults looked down at Annabelle.

"I'm your saviour, little one, and also her guardian angel", Stowe responded quietly, pointing towards Meredith.

"Annabelle!"

"Sorry, mum", she responded, as cheeks started to blaze a beetroot red.

Keith shook his head in pure amazement, before looking back at Stowe. "She's right though. Who are you?"

"Valid question, I'm the one who rescued Michael from the Ramon Family. I'm sure Mark has told you the story of how he came to adopt Michael".

"Yes..."

"Excellent, so now we must leave, and right now". To emphasise his point, Stowe looked back over his shoulder towards the shops entrance. No sign of the boss and his henchmen.

----

The sudden flurry of activity caused me to wake up with a start. I found myself on Mum's shoulder, warm, but a tad hungry.

I looked around, and immediately noticed Stowe. He had that wildly excited and desperate look about him, reserved for those times in combat of high stress and immediate danger.

"Mi...", I started to sound, hand reaching out towards Stowe.

As I blinked, I found myself in my office, standing behind my high-backed executive chair. The office was a shambles, papers strewn everywhere. The filing cabinets were open, and looked to have been rifled through. What did they want?

Looking at the clock on the wall, it seemed that time was slow, like molasses in winter. The air was heavy, the office space deathly silent, and still.
 
Tick....
 
I looked at the photo of Stowe. God, he looked so handsome, and manly in his signature "dont-fuck-with-me" pose. As I moved around the desk towards the photo, I absently ran a finger along the scalloped and carved edges of my desk.

Tock....
 
Stowe was in a "ready" position, hand tantalisingly poised over his holstered pistol, ready to quick draw, a rifle slung across his back.
 
A rifle, no his rifle.
 
I remembered now. Expensive.  Dark green resin-composite stock, anatomically shaped. Charcoal black matt action and barrel. A massive matt black silencer, covered in a tatty-looking muslin sheet. A massive scope. Matt black, with more tattered muslin.
 
Stowe's pride and joy.
 
I couldn't drive it. I was too small, though Stowe at least let me attempt a shot one day. Probably just for the LOLs.  Boy did he laugh, when I squeezed the trigger, causing an almighty whack from the recoil into my right shoulder, sending me flying backwards.  I couldn't hold it up, so Stowe caught the rifle easy, as I let go, stumbling back, in pain, and slightly deafened.  Good fun though.

Tick....

I moved away from my desk, towards the office corridor.  Silence permeated through the room, creeping into my bones, but shattered by the clock's methodically mechanical movements.

As I reached my office door, I felt a deep sense of loss.  Maybe I'd never see this office again.  

Tock....

I walked down the hallway towards the back of the office.  The door to Mum's office was closed.  Should I open it? Maybe she's inside.  I'd love to talk to her.  But something ethereal drove me onwards.

Tick....

I continued, pausing a moment to peer through the ajar'd door into Stowe's office.  It was immaculately clean, like he had always maintained it.  A half-full bottle of scotch on his desk, an empty crystal scotch glass sitting next to it.  

Tock....

I proceeded to the end of the hallway.  To my right was the door to the bathroom.  Directly in front of me, a closet.

I opened the closet door.  Inside was stationery, brooms, a mop, a few unopened packs of Little's nappies, some towels, toilet rolls.  A keypad with flashing red light, hidden in a corner.

Tick...

My fingers gravitated to the keypad, and entered in the combination.  Stowe's service number, hidden in plain sight, for all to see, in the photo on my desk.

The light went green, a hidden safe door popped open. I grabbed the exposed edge, and pulled it towards me.  The contents of the closet rotated to reveal the hidden safe.

The rifle was gone.

Tock....

I took a step back, surprised.  My pupils narrowed, focused on the boxes of ammunition sitting in the base of the safe.  Not all of them had been taken.  Only just enough for the job at hand.

Tick....

The spotting scope was also missing.  But, hang on, I was using that scope on overwatch when Stowe snatched Michael Stone.  

Tock....

Stowe had the rifle.

I felt warm, and safe, hungry, and a tad bit wet.

Tick....

I awoke in my pram, being wheeled out of the shopping centre, not by the main entrance, but a back street side door.  I could hear Stowe nearby, giving directions to Mum and Dad, hurrying them along, with a whiney Annabelle somewhere behind us.  

As we reached the Mall car park, Stowe seemed confident enough that we weren't in immediate danger, so told Dad what to do next.  "You need to get back home, don't stop for anyone or anything.  I've sent a message to the police for assistance.  They'll hopefully set up a protective detail for you".

"Ok, thanks, but we still don't know your name?"

"Oh, yes, my name is Stowe."

"Right"

Stowe handed over a contact card, turned around, and headed out of the car park.  

"Can someone please explain to me what just happened?"

"It seems that this Stowe dude had been watching us all along."

"He said something about Meredith back there in Bellamys?"

"Yeah, being her guardian angel, but I don't understand."

Mum transferred me to the capsule, but not before I gave her a big hug.  Her face was ashen, and lined with fear.  I smiled back at her, no fear, signalling to her that we were safe.  Mother-daughter bonding moment.  Her expression changed.  "Lets get you settled into the car, ok?"

As we drove out of the Mall, I heard the handsfree chirping away.

"Hello?"

"Dad? It's Mark!  Where are you?"

"On our way back home from the Mall, why?"

"You have to get here, dad.  Michael's been injured".  

I heard the alarm and fear in the voice that tinny little speaker valiantly tried to portray.  

"Ok, son.  You ok?"

"Yeah, just get here, hurry".  The line went dead.

Keith looked across to his wife.

"Didn't you hear what that Stowe man said?  To go home, and don't stop for anyone or anything"

"I don't think he meant for us to ignore our son, now?"

Tock....

 

[treasuresman]

Thank you for another awesome chapter in this awesome story and I look forward to reading the next exciting chapter

[SGTbaby]

Yeah update...exciting as ever. Fun how everything is coming together!!

[CDfm]

No now that is simply cruel. You can’t leave us hanging like this. Heck I leaked sitting here reading this . Unwilling to put this Down and go change. And now you are forcing me to wait for the next chapter to find out how this works out. That is cruel and unusual punishment and that my friend is illegal. I shal be forced to come and arrest you if you fail to post another chapter immediately. I can’t help but believe that this call from Mark is a setup but I am conflicted because if Michael is hurt or in immediate danger than the mob has what they want. So why intentionally bring other potential witnesses against you into the equation? I would have given this two likes if I could. One was the best I could do. I am still demanding another chapter immediately.

[ELLIE52]

Very nicely done!  The building of suspense to the last word of the chapter is just perfect.

[YourFNF]

On 12/4/2017 at 5:36 AM, ozziebee said:

 

Interesting take on the setting. Glad to see somebody at least finally got around to at least doing sanctions. In universe that is. Somebody needs to stand up to those amazons.

[Jayme]

On 12/5/2017 at 12:04 AM, Guest jb666jb said:

I have one little criticism that most wouldn’t notice, but that mask that spews 100% pure oxygen is spewing out poison because the air we breath (I think it was 40% oxygen but correct me if I’m wrong) has some hydrogen, carbon, and a few other gasses mixed in on top of oxygen

By volume, dry air contains 78.09% nitrogen, 20.95% oxygen, 0.93% argon, 0.04% carbon dioxide, and small amounts of other gases. Air also contains a variable amount of water vapor, on average around 1% at sea level, and 0.4% over the entire atmosphere.

[ozziebee]

Next installment in the adventures of Meredith and Stowe.  This one comes with a trigger warning.

Please, I love comments, criticism, pats on the diapered butt, and love hearts. 

----

## Chapter 9 - A Wee Little Fight on their Hands

It seemed a long frustratingly slow drive for the Battle Wagon and its sole occupant.  Stowe kept glancing at the ETA in his GPS, willing it to hit 00:00 - and the reward of a tinny female voice excitedly exclaiming that "you have arrived at your destination" - but no.  Heart pounding in his chest, he hoped that the Bradleys would follow his advice and get back to the relative safety of their own house.  He was also close to losing control of his emotions, after seeing tiny Meredith. She looked good, healthy, even pointed at him, so she must have recognised him.  But how much she remembered of their past life, he could not discern, as she gave him no clues.  

It was tough leaving her in the care of the Bradleys.  Stowe was a bit of a realist, so understood that he wasn't geared up to be a Daddy, and care for a tiny tot.  He'd never married, nor sired kids of his own, so how could he take care of a bub like Meredith.    

The roads in the City were clogged with traffic, a tad unusual for a weekend.  What the hell was going on, he thought?  There were people everywhere too.  Yes, the weather was good, but even that didn't account for the number of people in the Mall and in the nearby streets.  Even the main shopping centre was quite crowded.  

As Stowe exited the Mall's carpark, heading back to the HH&S underground carpark, he almost stumbled into yet another fight, this time between Mids and an angry mob of Littles.  The scene was almost comical, and glancing around the spectators, he could see the glee in some Amazons' eyes, and licking of lips, as they waited for the inevitable outcome.  But with the numbers stacked against the Mids, and the Littles fighting and punching well above their weight, he could see the Mids were in a lost situation.  But he couldn't hang around for the result, and scurried off towards HH&S and the Battlewagon.

The way those Littles were fighting though, seemingly for their lives, stuck in a part of his mind.  He'd never seen such hatred before, not from Littles.  

The Mids seemed, well, scared.

Traffic everywhere, fights and tension galore, and nary a single cop in sight.  What was happening here...

About twenty minutes later than the time originally estimated by the GPS, he reached his destination - a spot close to the Bradley house.  Getting out of the vehicle to stretch, he looked over the vans short bonnet towards the building concerned, and started to panic.  With some reflux of old coffee and potato chips working its way up from his stomach, he noticed no SUV in the driveway, and no sedan parked out front.  "Where the fuck are they!", he angrily fumed.  

Surely they should have arrived well before him?  Stowe stood propped up against the bonnet for a few seconds thinking of next steps, all the while fuming at Mr Bradley for causing yet another fucked up shitty security situation.  

He told them specifically to drive directly home, so where the actual fuck were they? They knew they were in danger, yet they're not here.  With the warm air temperature of the mid afternoon sun, and time inexorably marching towards 1430p, Stowe felt the hairs on back of his neck stand up in alarm, and from anger.

Quickly glancing around the immediate area, he scanned for the beat up old car that tailed the convoy earlier, noticing it too also not present.  

Well, at least the Mob aren't here.  Unless they swapped cars, or dropped someone off to lie in wait at the house.  

He opened his driver's door, reached into the centre console for his pistol, racked the big 45ACP's slide to chamber a round, checked the safety was engaged, and stuffed it into the back of his pants.  After adjusting his shirt to cover the butt of the pistol, He locked the van up, and took off at a run towards the park behind the Bradley residence he'd scoped early in the morning. Time to check the house for intruders.

As he approached the entrance to the park, a thought flashed through his mind - "You're such a fit fucker now, eh, Stowe", whilst panting and emitting a few coughs from lack of oxygen.  "Urgh, I really need to get a desk job, and cut this SF shit out, go on a holiday to the coast, meet a chick, get laid."  The thought of the last time he received a hug from Meredith was the night they snatched Michael, and that made him sad.    

No druggies, and an empty park greeted his presence.  Slinking through the bushes around the sides of the park like a ninja, he sidled up to the Bradley's back fence.  A few quick glances, and a moment of absolute stillness listening for voices or movement, he was convinced there was no-one home.  

Thinking about how he'd approach such a house to take hostages, he imagined he'd gain entry through a back window, or a patio door.  He could afford to spend time, so studied the doors and windows, seeing no signs of forced entry.  Still no movement, looking around, either in the house, or in the park.  

"The Bradleys really need a big fuck-off type guard dog", he quipped to himself.  Hmm...  

His brain recorded a task to buy Meredith a present, a guard dog big enough that she could cuddle and ride, but also strong enough to guard her fragile life.  "Maybe I could train it in the dark arts of stalking - now that could be fun!", he chuckled.  

Satisfied the house was totally devoid of life, he dropped down the fence to the ground, and put his head in his hands, fatigue suddenly encroaching upon his weary body.  Constant stress could cause a crash at any moment, his brain warned, that not even a Bellamy's coffee hit could ward it off.

He looked through the bushes into the park.  Still no foot traffic, no kids playing on swings.  Even this far out of town, the atmosphere was thick with tension, and nervousness.  "There's something else going on here", Stowe concluded.   

His right hand reached into one of his cargo pants pockets, feeling the outline of his mobile.  Yes, ring Jax.  He pulled the phone out, and flicked it on.  Automatically, his right pointer finger hit the messages app icon, and was immediately greeted with no new messages from Jacksen.  Shit.  Where the fuck is he?  Why isn't he responding?

"Does nobody care?", he quietly mumbled, fairly flustered that his calls and advice were not being acted on.

He popped up the phone app, selected Sergeant Jacksen's contact card, and dialed his desk number.  

"Sergeant Jacksen speaking, how may I help you?", the phone chirped back, after a full minute of ringtone, the voice a tad strained and rushed.

"Jax, it's Stowe".  An eyebrow raised.  That voice seemed stressed.

"Oh, what's up?", came a clipped and terse question.

"Did you get my message?"

"Yes, mate, I did.  I dispatched whoever we could get spare to the Mall.  No luck finding your Mob boss or any of his associates yet, though."

"Shit. I told the Bradleys to head straight home, but they haven't arrived.  Can you get a car over to where I am now, if I give you the coordinates?"

"No, I can't, Stowe.  I don't have any resources spare at the moment to babysit anyone bar Mark Bradley's family".

"Why? What the fucks going on, Jax?"

"Well, the shit's royally hit the fan at the InterDim UN conference today, mate.  Haven't you heard the news?"

"No, I've been staking out Mark Bradley's parents place, looking for Meredith.  What gives?"

"There are demonstrations everywhere in the precinct, by large numbers of fuckin Littles and some sympathetic Mids too, Stowe."

"You're kidding me, right?".  Stowe couldn't help but stifle a chuckle, as he imagined the security risk a mob of littles waving signs could raise, and demonstrating for some long-forgotten sapien rights.

"Nope, the security detail around the UN Building was stepped up around lunch time in response, and I had to deploy all I had left on duty to the area.  The Interdim delegation really freaked out.  Their security details subsequently went nuts.  Can't speak operationally on what's going on, but the Littles have really strapped on their man-pants and stepped up the pressure and violence against the conference and delegates at the moment."

"Oh, wow!". Stowe's mind flashed to the scene at the Mall of the brutal fighting between the Littles and Mids. "Good on em - it's about time."

"I'll let that one go through to the wicketkeeper, Stowe, knowing your line of business.  But I have to warn ya, we're just starting to piece together some intel from anonymous sources on some of the organisers of this event."  The voice through the phone started to drip with irony.

"Don't tell me, don't tell me", Stowe responded, caught totally off-guard, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"Yes, it seems one Michael Stone has been flashing some cash and words around.  Do you know anything about that?"

"No, it's news to me, bro.  And these anonymous sources?"

"Suspected InterDim Mafioso"

"Shit"

"Yup"

"... and you believe the intel?"

"Yeah, sorta.  It's plausible.  I dunno.  The bosses are certainly worried at the implications of the size and scope of the demonstrations, so I can't help ya with a car.  I'm really sorry, Stowe."

"Right".  Stowe's instant risk assessment of the tactical situation took a nose dive.  No help from the cops.  "Could you get a couple of general duties guys here in the interim?"

"What's the immediate risk there, Stowe?"

"I've observed the Mob tailing Mark Bradley's parents, who have Meredith.  If they catch them, we can only imagine what would happen."

"Hmm... Ok, Stowe, but this could take a while to organise, you know.  No guarantees, and only because I too am thankful for the work Meredith did for my wife."

"Just do what you can", Stowe pleaded.

The line went dead.  

Fancy that, Stowe chuckled.  A bunch of Littles getting organised, forming a politically violent movement, and taking on the UN for rights.  Unheard of.  But the play by Michael was bordering on total genius.  There's no better way to talk to a bunch of Amazons on a power trip, at their level even, than to flash excessive amounts of cash at them.  Unlike Little / Amazon relations, money is such an equaliser. Money truly does talk in this Dimension.

As Stowe began to power-walk back to the van, his mind wandered towards the logistics involved in organising an apparently large and powerful demonstration.  Michael must have had help.

The thoughts cascaded through his mind.  Just as he reached the van, Meredith's name popped up at the end of a random line of connected memories.  She'd been working on legal material to be presented at the conference.  He suddenly recalled she was getting quite stressed about it too, so he took her out for a shoot at the range, to de-stress, give her a headache, and have some fun.  

Every which way she turned in legal circles to improve Little rights, roadblocks were deployed by the Establishment.  Those powerful Amazon monsters in the halls of justice, and Parliament floors, just didn't want to hear argument as to why a tiny sentient being should be granted the same rights and protections as the Mids, and thus not be constantly subject to the cruelty of forced regression.  The only right the Establishment were interested in hearing was one of absolute power over the Littles.  According to them, the only protection a Little needed was the nappy covering their messy butts.

As he jumped into the van, his mind registered a vibration eminating from a pocket.

"Jax, what's up", after Stowe glanced at the caller's name, pressed the "Answer" button.

"I need to ask a favour", an alarmed and edgy voice emanated from the phone.

"Sure, you know my price"

"I'm working on that as we speak"

"Ok so, what's up?"

"TacOps haven't heard from the detail outside Mark Bradley's place.  They were supposed to call in at 1430p, but haven't"

"Ok", Stowe guardedly responded. It was bordering on 1500p, according to Stowe's watch.

"If I know you like I know you, you'll be heading around to Mark's place anyway, so can you check in with the guys for me?"

"On the way"

The call once again went dead.

Stowe glanced at his phone, and noticed a message from an unknown number. It had arrived some time after he left the park.  Hmm...

[Unknown] We're at Mark's house, if you need to know.  Mark's little has been injured.

Shit.  

[Stowe] Do not approach the house!

Of course, no immediate response - the one message was a good 10 minutes old.

Stowe found Mark Bradley's house details still in the GPS history, so selected it, accepted the "Fastest" route, and began following the GPS.  Once again, the ETA was about twenty minutes into the future.  

At least, the further way from the City, the quieter the main roads became.  The drive time gave Stowe another opportunity to think about the relationship that built up between Meredith and Michael.

The night Michael was rescued, Meredith and Stowe took him back to the Henderson house.  Mrs Henderson greeted all three of them at the door, and escorted them inside.  After giving Michael some dinner, and warming Meredith up with a hot chocolate, she did what most other Amazon women did to a new Little in their care - she stripped Michael of his clothes, bathed him, dried him off, and put a nappy on him.  He strangely didn't object to it, so she dressed him in a footed sleeper.

Meredith got much the same treatment, except Mrs H had to scrub all the warpaint off Meredith's face, and brush out her matted hair.  Meredith too didn't escape the night nappy (she always wore night nappies, but often was allowed to forego day nappies).  Mrs H gave her lots of leeway with dress, but was quite strict at night.  

She also knew Meredith's emotional limitations, and when the opportunity arised, sent Meredith off to bed as early as possible.  

But Meredith and Michael were both hyper on adrenaline.  So, with Meredith in her cot, and Michael covered in blankets on top of a mattress in a playpen nearby, they talked non-stop for hours.  Mrs H had no option but to use the only uniquely Amazonian technique to get Meredith to calm down, switch off her over-excited brain, and drop off to sleep.

She opened Meredith's bedroom door to find the two Littles in quiet discussion about Little rights.  They both immediately stopped talking, when Mrs H entered the room, scooped Meredith out of the cot, took her out into the loungeroom, and offered Meredith a breast to nurse.  

Stowe was often quite amazed that this highly intelligent fiercely independent Little woman would often succumb to nursing from Mrs H at night.  Maybe, even Meredith acknowledged and accepted her role in Amazonian society, if only in short bursts.

Michael spent a few days at the Henderson residence before he was adopted by Mark and Sue Bradley.  In that time, Meredith must have planted the seed in Michael's mind that he could use his newly acquired wealth for world-changing good, instead of allowing Portal humans to enter this Dimension and be claimed by Amazons.  Maybe.  

Stowe shook his head.  Maybe?  Plausible?

He really could only guess, as Meredith and Michael would often sneak off to a far corner of the house to discuss matters.  Michael had the money, Meredith the contacts to use that money.  Ok.  But Meredith would never have suggested violence as the means to an end, surely?

Stowe was shocked when he glanced at the GPS ETA, which showed all of a minute to arrival.  1520pm it stated.  Was he that out of it that the twenty minute drive went in the blink of an eye?

The Battle Wagon cautiously turned a corner onto the street containing Mark Bradley's house.  Down the bottom of the hill it was, he remembered.  Stowe felt his battle senses start to kick in once more, the pupils of his eyes shrink and become alert, his senses heightened, his pulse ramping up - fight or flight.  

Seemingly independently now, the van slowed to an almost snails pace.  Peering down the road, Stowe could see the target house in the distance, the parents' black SUV parked in the driveway.  "Dear god, I hope they're ok", he thought.

As the van slowly idled down the hill, lights on the roof of the police car opposite the house came into view.  Something was amiss though.  There was no movement inside.  

A few more metres closer, Stowe noticed the sedan belonging to the daughter.  It was parked on the side of the road just down from the house.  Another glance towards the cop car, where the two Protective Service officers should be located in, still no movement.  

A few more metres still, the sunlight angled just right, and Stowe caught a brief glimpse of red luminescence from inside the cop car.  He was almost upon it.  

Still a few more metres.  The van idling, gliding down the road almost completely silent, pistol out from the small of his back, resting in his lap.  Stowe touched the brakes to stop the van just shy of the cop car.  He could see why there was no movement inside.

Glass shards rested on the road next to the front driver's side window, two neat large-calibre holes in the window itself, the glass almost shattered, but held together by a thin transparent mylar sandwich the glass panels were laminated with.  

Looking into the window, the driver's forehead was resting on the top of the steering wheel, his head turned towards the house, his eyes still open.  There were innumerable blood trails trickling slowly down the inside of the windscreen, some brain matter scattered across the glass.  

His passenger was leaning over against the B-pillar, held in place by his seatbelt.  Another neat round hole in the left temple, a faint trickle of blood exiting the wound, his eyes and mouth open.  The passenger window was completely red.  He at least had a few more seconds of life before it too was extinguished - his left hand was resting on the butt of his pistol, still holstered.

Stowe let off the pressure on the brake pedal, and let the van free-wheel slowly down to the bottom of the hill.  He picked up some accelerator and guided the van quietly up the other side, parking it next to a Unit block, about 150 metres from the Bradley house.  

"Ok, shit, shit", he whispered to himself.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed Jacksen's number, his fingers shaking.

"Sergeant Jackse.."

"Jax, they're dead! Shots fired! Officers down, you hear me!?", Stowe interrupted immediately

"Shit, both of them?"

"Yup"

"Leave it with me, Stowe.  Do not approach the house."

"Right, yup, ok"

"Let us deal with this now, ok?", Jacksen commanded quietly.

"Yup".

"Help is on the way".  The line went dead once more, but not before Stowe heard commands being shouted at the other end.  

"Sure", he said into the dead connection.

Stowe was numb, partially in shock.  He'd not seen that kind of carnage since, well, a long time ago.  

Meredith.  

Meredith was in clear and present danger, Stowe.  Get your act together.  

He grabbed his pistol, hopped out of the van, and looked around at his surrounds.  Unit block, at least 3 storeys tall.  Single-storey houses, apart from across the street, with more multi-storey unit blocks.  Trees and shrubs.  Cars parked both sides of the street.  Think, Stowe, think, bro.

Observe, recon the location, Stowe.  Gather intel.   

The rifle.

[ELLIE52]

The story gets more and more exciting.  I am loving it!   Thanks for so promptly updating again.  For those who don't know what the bonnet is that is the hood of the car, the boot being the trunk.  Brekkie is breakfast.  I have an Australian brother-in-law.

[SGTbaby]

I do love the excitement from this chapter! I wish there was a little more of if there were any shots in sisters car but either way this going great and glad to see it back up!

[ozziebee]

Stowe didn't seem real interested in whether the parents or sister's cars were shot up too, eh!  Also, if the shots into the police car were loud, why wasn't there a large police presence already?  Surely someone would have alerted the cops to shots fired?  The street seemed quiet.

Thanks for the hearts.  Would be great to knock @bbykimmy off the leaderboard, at least for one day

20 hours ago, ELLIE52 said:

The story gets more and more exciting.  I am loving it!   Thanks for so promptly updating again.  For those who don't know what the bonnet is that is the hood of the car, the boot being the trunk.  Brekkie is breakfast.  I have an Australian brother-in-law.

Did I seriously write Aussie slang? Hahaha, totally unintentional, eh cobber!

13 hours ago, SGTbaby said:

I wish there was a little more of it

I did this intentionally.  There are other shortish chapters in this story already, which gave me some "permission" to release this one at the point it's arrived at. 

Of course, the parents, sister, and Meredith have already arrived at the house, time has advanced a reasonable amount.  Maybe next chapter we get to see what happens from their side of the story.  Do they see the dead cops and panic, or were the totally oblivious to the possibility the cops were dead, and thus never saw them? 

(Guess I should pull thumb out of mouth and get cracking on the next Chapter, eh!)

[ELLIE52]

Don't be a sook and stop your whinging:  Kimmy's on a roll right now ....  I'm just kidding, don't take it to heart, this is my mastery of the Australian language provided conveniently and often by my brother-in-law.

[bbykimmy]

7 hours ago, ozziebee said:

Thanks for the hearts.  Would be great to knock @bbykimmy off the leaderboard, at least for one day 

:O

 

[treasuresman]

Wow, this story rocks and is starting to heat up 

[ozziebee]

9 hours ago, ELLIE52 said:

Don't be a sook and stop your whinging:  Kimmy's on a roll right now ....  I'm just kidding, don't take it to heart, this is my mastery of the Australian language provided conveniently and often by my brother-in-law.

Stone the flamin' crows, mate, strewth!

:-)

[ELLIE52]

Shhhhhush Alf Stewart down some.  Kimmy will be in here to steal your points again!  OMG, God's Truth.

[CDfm]

That was great but I am still very concerned about Meredith. If the mob guys were brash enough to take out two cops they won’t hesitate to go into that home and take everyone out. Stowe needs to act with caution but also with a very high sense of urgency. I was very pleased I could give this a like. Please don’t take so long to get the next chapter. 

[ozziebee]

Onto Chapter 10 then.  Things start to come to a head, revelations are disclosed, and all is not as it seems...

Please provide your comments and feedback, as I really do appreciate them. 

## Chapter 10 - Future Generations

1447p in the afternoon.  

This meant the sun was still high in the sky, but beginning its inevitable slide back towards the horizon, to set sometime after about 1815p.  The forecast was for a cooling breeze to waft across the Hungerford Hill district, caressing the lake and forest trees down in the valley behind Mark Bradley's humble two storey abode, before rising up the slopes and over the Hill.

Water vapour from the great lake was often dragged into the air by the sun's fierce rays where, to people in the valley, it was felt as humidity.  As the sun's influence waned, the wind would often cause the humid air to travel upwards, causing it to condense.  Given just the right conditions in the cool early afternoon and evening, Hungerford Hill would be surrounded by mist, swirling and dancing gracefully with the shifting air currents. It was not uncommon for wisps to float up in the afternoon change.

Keith Bradley knew nothing of the building vapours though, as he was only intent on navigating to his son's two-storey residence.  It looked, well, not quite out of place, set amongst simple multi-storey unit blocks and grand stately mansions a bit further up on the Hill.

Mark had chosen well, when he bought the block of land.  It had, at first glance, all the right ingredients, being a fairly flat block, nice frontage size, and a stunning view of the lake and forest down in the valley below.  The house design was modern, blockey, lots of windows, a few balconies to take in that view, and two storeys tall.

However, all around it were single storey older-style houses.  Mark was banking on those properties being modernised, upgraded, appreciating in value.

Then there were the three-storey unit blocks ringing the base of Hungerford Hill itself, and across the street from Mark's house.  

When Mark lodged plans with Council, some of his new neighbours complained that his house would remove their views.  He was up to the challenge though, and eventually, the plans were approved.  The house was getting close to two years old.  Those around it were really starting to show their ages.  

From the main highway, 30 minutes from the centre of the City, there were a few side streets to navigate before the SUV turned into the road where the house stood.  Directly in front of the house was a spot in the driveway, so he naturally kept his eyes on that spot.

Sarah had been faithfully following her father's lead, surprised that they had decided to head to her brother's house, rather than head home, like that Mr Stowe guy suggested they do.

Keith slowed the SUV to a crawl, indicator on, and stopped for a car travelling in the other direction, before idling the truck onto the driveway.

"Keith?", Jenn questioned quietly.

"Hmm?"

"There's a cop car here", she pointed out.

"Oh, that must be the protective detail"

"Do we have to let them know we're here?"

"Mark must have already told them, otherwise they would have stopped us".

Jenn had sorta seen two occupants of the car, but the SUV turned into the driveway at that instant, and she paid them no further attention. She failed to notice anything amiss, like glass shards on the ground, or a hole in the drivers side window.

Meredith was asleep and covered up in her rear-facing baby capsule, asleep mostly from boredom and being rocked around by the vehicle movements.

"Where's that card that man gave us?", Keith asked towards his wife.

Jenn reached into her handbag, pulled out what felt like a business card, and handed it over to Keith.  He examined it for a sec, punched in some numbers, composed and sent off a message to that Stowe dude.

[Keith Bradley]: We're at Mark's house, if you need to know.  Mark's little has been injured.  

1450p.  

After a few seconds of waiting for a response, there was no reply, so he put his phone into his shirt pocket, switched off the truck, and motioned for Jenn to hop out and fetch Meredith.  

Sarah parked half on the street and half on the driveway, directly behind the SUV, cutting off any opportunity for it to escape.

"What gives?", she quizzically asked of Keith, as she hopped out of the vehicle.  "I thought that guy said for us to head straight home to your place?"

"Yeah, but Mark rang to say that Little Michael's been hurt, so we came here instead", Keith responded.

"Oh, ok then, I guess!". She bent into the vehicle and plucked Annabelle out of her carseat, placing her on her hip.  Annabelle was also mostly asleep, rubbing her eyes, looking back towards the police car across the road, as the family walked towards Mark's rather large front door.

At the front entrance stood the main door, and a simple door bell button sitting just below a faintly glowing red light.

Keith pushed it, heard the chime start playing a merry tune, and the dog barking out in the backyard, but there was nothing else amiss.

What seemed minutes, but likely just a few seconds, Mark opened the door part way, with a smile, but otherwise panicked eyes. Seeing the entire family caused his legs to buckle, as he took a step back, composed himself, and motioned the family inside.

Keith turned around as the door closed behind them, pushed not by Mark, but by someone else.

"Don't you move a fucking muscle", growled a disheveled man, just as the door closed itself. With a final click, the guy reached over and locked the door, and stepped in front of it.

All Keith could possibly see was the muzzle end of a silenced barrel, the pistol looking tiny in the man's hands.  He gulped, took a few quick breaths, and slowly looked across to his son, Mark.

"I had no choice, Dad, they were going to kill all of us if I didn't get you here", Mark pleaded. Tears started in his eyes, but he remained stoically upright.

Keith looked back at the man holding the gun. "What do you want?", he quietly asked the barrel, and was rewarded with it being pushed into his forehead.

"Move, into the dining room, GO!"

The ladies both let out a scream, which woke Meredith up with a start, as they were ushered up the staircase to the top floor of the house, the floor which rose above the trees to soak in that opulent view.

At the top of the stairs, the family turned left. Jenn opened the sliding frosted-glass doors to the dining room, to reveal the rest of Marks family, already sitting, gagged and restrained.

"SIT", the gunman snapped loudly at the newcomers.

Keith stole a few precious seconds to look around the room. In one corner, next to a grand window looking out over the lake was a middle-aged man, sitting in a recliner, a glass of brandy in one hand, a pistol resting in his lap. Beside him stood Michael, bound and gagged, tethered to the man by a short length of thin rope. Although his knees were wobbly, his eyes had long since dried of their tears. On the floor next to the man sat a briefcase.

Mark's family were sitting at the dining table opposite the window, looking back towards the man.  Sue, and the other two of Mark's children (Thomas and Kerry-Anne), were all bound and gagged.  Tom was squirming around, but Kerry-Anne sat wide eyed and scared out of her nut like a stunned mullet.

With a quiet thump, the gunman slid and locked the doors behind Keith once more.

"Hello, you must be Mr Keith Bradley", the man sitting finally spoke.

"And who are you?", Keith quietly responded.  Keep it slow and non-threatening, he thought to himself.

"You don't need to know my name, though I would have thought by now that you'd know who I work for. Ever heard of the Ramon Family?", the HoS replied quietly.

"Yes".  Fear.  Keith instantly remembered that Don Ramon had murdered all of Little Michael's original family in cold blood, in a situation not unlike what they're facing right now.  

"I'm responsible for the security of the Family, and this boy here is a risk to that security". He took a swig of the brandy, relishing the intense but smooth flavours. "I have to say, Mark, this is darn good brandy!"

Mark looked blankly back at his captor, wondering whether to thank the guy, or continue saying nothing. He sat at the end of the table, closest to the HoS.

The HoS looked across the room towards his minion, and motioned with his brandy glass for the guy to do his work.

"Sit", the gunman ordered Jenn, who immediately complied, taking a seat at the table next to Tom. The boy looked at his grandmother, seeking some emotional support, whilst watching the goon begin to tie her up.  

"Please, I need to keep a hold on my baby", Jenn cried towards the goon.  He stopped and looked across to his boss.  

"Why, certainly, Maam", the HoS responded, "just so long as you keep it quiet, and you don't get up off your seat", he commanded. "I'm not a monster, unlike my Boss".

The gunman shrugged his shoulders, then moved to seat Sarah, who continued to hold Annabelle.  They were seated with their backs to the window, looking across the table at Jenn.  

Keith stood at the head of the table, as far away from the HoS as possible.  

"Search him", the HoS quietly stated towards his goon.

After a pat down, and a search of his pockets, the goon only found the car keys, mobile, and wallet, which he placed on the table in front of Keith.  The mobile silently flashed one message:

[Unknown]: Do not approach the house!

Too late for that now, Keith thought to himself.  He watched the goon slowly walk around the room, glancing through the windows.  The Dining Room in this place was stately, with windows looking out in three directions.  

The house fell silent, bar the odd sniffle, or muffled cry from the kids.

Keith decided to take a leap of faith. After all, he was a negotiator from a long time ago.  "So, what do you want?", he enquired softly, his hands flat on the table, palms up.

The HoS twirled the glass of brandy in his hand, contemplating his position of power, and wondering what kind of man Mark's father was, to be so brash as to open discussions.  He remained relaxed though, salivating at the thought of another sniff.

"You know what I want, Mr Bradley", he formally spoke back.  "I'm here for this little shit", tugging on the rope, causing Michael to stumble and fall to his knees.  Michael shook his head slowly, sadly, mumbling from behind his gag.

"Then you have him.  Take him", Keith said whilst lifting his right hand off the table in a gesture towards Michael.

"It's not that simple, and you know this", the HoS fired back, slightly angered.

Keith stifled a giggle.  Even the most powerful Mafia family had trouble breaking legal adoptions.  There were ways, and willing experts, to track down snatched adopted kids.  "You require Mark to give up his legal adoption of Michael then, is it?"

"I can't do that, Dad!", Mark immediately yelled, pained, in tears.  

Adoption is such a formal concept, and especially so with Littles.  

This wasn't always the case though, not until the public were horrified by media reports of abductions of Littles, who were often never seen again, forcing the Government of the day to act in tightening Adoption laws.  

The papers signed by Adoptive Parents now were time-bound artifacts (evidenced by issuance of Adoption Certificates) - a minimum of two years before any formal change was allowed by the government.  This was often enforced by the tag implanted into the adopted subject, a piece of nannite tech that bound itself to the subject so forcefully on first injection, that it caused irreparable damage to the subject if removal was attempted within the two years.  Beyond two years, the nannites broke their bond, and could be removed or re-programmed if required, like with new Adopter details.

But there were also clauses in the law dealing with Termination of the Adoption.  On the death of the Parents, the subject could be legally adopted by a relative, in which case the tag was re-programmed by an authorised agent of the Family Court, using a special scanner which had encryption technology in it to unlock the nannites protecting it.  However, Littles being Littles, even in a progressive State, another clause existed allowing a Little to be claimed by someone with physical possession of them, any surviving relatives be damned.    

Mark knew all this.  He had to go through all the legalities when adopting Michael through Henderson Henderson & Stowe.

Mark realised that the man simply couldn't just walk off with Michael.  They might be able to escape to another continent, but Adoption Laws are recognised world-wide in this Dimension, even though they may not be the same from country to country.  Which left the possibility of abducting the Little to the other Dimension through a Portal.  

With an adoption tag embedded into Michael, Mark thought that not even the Mafia could take Michael across dimensions.  So they'd have to get rid of it before doing so, lest they alert the InterDim Border Protection Service.  

Keith also knew all this, because of Meredith.  Remembering such, he looked across to his little baby girl, who was yawning herself awake, and beginning to look around at the turmoil unfolding within the room.

Keith quickly understood that this left both sides in a pretty pickle.  He looked down the table at his son, who looked defeated and broken.  Mark was a geek, who had no fight in him to start with, so he certainly wasn't going to be able to put up a fight now if it came to that.  He'd get no support from Mark.

Keith looked down at his phone again, and had a thought.  Maybe the Stowe guy could help us, but I'll need to stall this conversation, to give him time.  He'll go to our house, find us not there, see we're at Mark's, and come here.  He looked like he meant business.  Why did I ignore his advice?  How did these two get past the protective detail out front?

Keith's eyebrows furrowed, worry lines spread across his forehead.  He stole a glance at his wife, who looked back a bit puzzled.  

Stall for time, Keith.  Make the guy talk.

"Why do you want Michael anyway?"

----

I woke up, cradled in my mother's arms, face buried in her chest, and started listening to a conversation about Michael.

I remembered overhearing in the car that Michael was injured.  Looking around the room, my eyes focused on Michael, who was on his knees, bound and gagged, next to a scary-looking man with a gun on his lap.  This is not good.  Michael didn't seem to be otherwise injured.  I tensed as I realised that phone call was just a ruse to get us all here.  

I felt a tightening hug, and a gentle kiss on my forehead.  I rewarded Mum with a fresh stream of warm pee into my nappy, like I always seemed to always do after I woke up properly.  She stopped patting my butt at that point.  "Shhh...", she cooed at me.  "Go back to sleep now, bubba."

Looking across to Dad, he was busy in thought, stealing glances at me, at Mum, at the scary guy holding Michael, and at a guy wandering around the room, casually looking out through the windows.  He also had a gun in his hand, keeping it at the ready, but held down low against his abdomen.

Ok, so there were two bad guys here.  The guy in the corner with Michael seemed to be the one in control, the guy wandering around just seemed to be a goon.

"Do you know who Michael is?", the scary guy asked.

"Of course I do, and I don't see why he's such a threat to the Ramon Family.  He's just a Little", Dad replied.  Keep the guy talking.

Michael blushed, his cheeks going beetroot red.  He hated being talked about so openly, like he was a nobody, just another stupid Little to these Amazons.

The scary guy waved his glass of brandy about, emitting a faint chuckle.  "Just a Little, hmm?  My dear friend, you have obviously not been listening!"

Dad seemed a tad surprised, looking across the table towards Michael, studying the boy for a period of time.

"He's the heir to a multi-Billion dollar fortune", scary guy explained.

"Oh that? Yeah, I knew that", Dad dismissed, with a slight wave of his hand.  "Your boss caused that, so don't blame us." Pause, in thought, "What I still don't understand is why Michael would be a threat to you ... hmmm... Is it because money talks, perhaps?"  

"You are only partially correct"

"What?", Dad was truly taken aback at that.  Maybe Michael hadn't told the complete story?

"Have you ever wondered what goes on in the InterDimensional Portal industry?"

Dad's face was blank.  I knew where this discussion was heading though, as a faint memory flashed into my consciousness about HH&S receiving intelligence a long time back about Little abductions, and them being transported through the Portal Network.  Speaking to a few people in law enforcement circles caused leaks, the public got wind of it through the media, and all hell broke loose, politically.  

"We never really understood", Mark piped up.  "We knew Michael had an inheritance, but not the true amounts, and certainly not the Portal business".  He looked up to his wife, silently querying her.

"Of course not, and I'm sure you all knew that Mr Stone himself was famous for those Portals."  

Both Dad and Mark nodded at that.

"He never disclosed the business' major shareholder being a Little, through a Court-enforced inheritance.  My Boss discovered that little gem."

Dad seemed quite shocked.  Poor Little Michael over there in the corner, cowering away, seemed to be not quite so innocent.

"But I bet Michael never told you about his little side business, eh?"

"Oh?", Mark responded, also a bit surprised now.

"Michael here had been flashing a bit of cash around, on the quiet, developing a lucrative business in the medical line.  Ever heard of Nano Augmentation?"

My ears really pricked up.  Wasn't I put through that process?  It certainly seemed to be confirmed when Mum stiffened considerably, squeezing me quite tightly, forcing the air out of my lungs.  

Dad sat there poker-faced through.  He was good at poker it seemed.  He shot a steely-eyed nano-second glance towards Mum and I, then back at the scary man.

"No, never heard of it", Dad responded.

"The NAP is a medical procedure to transform Littles into baby Amazons.  All well and good and all, but Michael here injected a logic bomb into the process".  The scary man placed his brandy glass onto the table, and suddenly yanked the mouth gag free from Michael.  "Explain away, my boy!"

Michael coughed a few times to clear his throat, surprised he suddenly had a voice.  "Umm... the Littles transformed by NAP kept their adult knowledge.  In forty years or more, those Littles would be in Parliament, with retained knowledge of what being a Little was like, and thus able to legislate for Little rights and privileges.  We'd be on equal footing with you Amazons within one or two generations!"

"Noble, don't you think?", the scary man summarised, "... and the subjects quite out of reach of lucrative Littles trafficking".

"I still don't get it?", Dad curiously queried, a bit confused by the revelation.

"Money talks, Mr Bradley, and that confers power in the halls of Justice. But this isn't all, isn't it, son".

"No, Sir.  My dad, Mr Stone, knew of the NAP - he was the seed investor after all.  I paid him back his seed capital, and he almost left the business to me, but he discovered that Littles could be snatched through the Portals by undergoing a modified NAP to kill the nannite adoption tag.  I hated him for developing it, and sued his ass to get him out of the NAP program.  But that bought attention to the NAP, so the Ramon Family wanted in, through a competitor Portal product.  Dad had the other CEO murdered."

"Michael here is a risk to a business model that is a major source of income to the Ramon Family.  With the key that's in Michael's puny brain here, and the updated Portals, we can snatch Littles into the Black Market without a trace.  Money, and power."

I looked out a window, distracted by movement, and noticed the roof of what looked to be Stowe's battle wagon inch its way up the road.  Inhaling at the shock of it, and salivating at the prospect of being saved by my hero, I looked up into Mum's face, and smiled, relaxing into her body.  

"Meredith?", she whispered back.

[HyperShark]

 

2 hours ago, ozziebee said:

I looked out a window, distracted by movement, and noticed the roof of what looked to be Stowe's battle wagon inch its way up the road.  Inhaling at the shock of it, and salivating at the prospect of being saved by my hero, I looked up into Mum's face, and smiled, relaxing into her body. 

I have a feeling it is all going to kick off next chapter.

[SGTbaby]

Love that there is an update! Definitely some questions answered with some twists and turns! Looking forward to more!!

[ozziebee]

16 hours ago, HyperShark said:

 

I have a feeling it is all going to kick off next chapter.

Stop stealing my thunder, here! *giggles*

Do you think Stowe is gonna, like, actually shoot em? He has a rifle with him, after all. Would be a shame not to use it!

6 hours ago, SGTbaby said:

Love that there is an update! Definitely some questions answered with some twists and turns! Looking forward to more!!

Is Michael still just an innocent Little? How do you think the HoS is gonna steal off with Michael? Did I leave a teensy tiny clue there perhaps?