CHAPTER ONE


Speeding cars cruised passed the still Land Rover. Their momentum rocking it from side to side, like a babes cradle. To any passing traveller it seemed to be an oasis of calm in a desert of chaos. Unknown to these swift moving spectators, it was truly the heart of a volcano - bubbling with suppressed rage. Ready to explode.

"You did what?" The agitated hand tried in vain to smooth the creased brow.

"Look, he wasn't working out for me so I let him go. Why does everything have to turn into some sort of mystery to you?" In exasperation the young woman turned to the window and the night.

"Do you even realise the danger we're in?" His voice began to crack. " You haven't..."

"No! No of course not. I wouldn't interfere with the protection of my children. I care about what happens to them!" A lone tear of frustration escaped her eye and was brutally brushed away.

"You're telling me that you honestly don't care what happens to yourself? To me?" Disbelief lay heavy in the air.

A barely whispered "no" was her only response.

The slap of open palms on the leather wheel echoed through the cabin, startling the young woman into facing her husband. His hazel eye's bored into her blue with a feral intensity. His fists slowly flexed in their hold on the wheel. A vein pulsed in his temple in perfect time with the clicking of the hazard warning lights. His voice, now composed, became deadly as a snake's hiss.

"We'll see what your father has to say about this 'Princess'. Your well being is important to the children. They need you. How can you be so selfish all the time? Must be what comes from being a big star."

Without waiting for a reply to his devastating tirade, he harshly turned the key in the ignition and recklessly lurched into the fast moving traffic. Tears begin to roll down her face, increasing in intensity as the couple near their home.

**********

"Mr Prince your daughter and her family have arrived, sir. Should I show them in or take them directly to their suite?"

"Show them in please, Lance."

The dapper young butler nodded politely in ascent and headed out of the door. Salvatore watched him until the door closed and let out a contented sigh. For the head of the biggest logistics corporation in the free world, life was good. All of his children were coming to stay and he could start to build some stronger bridges with his eldest son, his heir. Not to mention that his little girl was about to walk through those double doors.

The life of the rich and powerful is not always as easy as people may think. Salvatore Prince had been born into this way of life, but had chosen to have a career and make his grandfathers industrial fortune even greater. The cost of this endeavour was great, almost loosing him his wife and son. Even now his rapport with his sons was strained, the grown men still unable to overcome the paternal neglect of their youth. His only consolation was the fact that they loved their sister as much as he did.

His reverie about the past was broken with the opening of the oak doors. He could not keep the grin from spreading across his ruggedly handsome face as he took in the sight of his youngest child. Francesca Prince, his little Fran, was not so little anymore. At almost twenty-eight, she was a stunning vision, a feminine version of her father. His rugged handsomeness transformed into the chiselled beauty of this woman. Creamy skin and azure eyes set into a classic face surrounded by onyx hair. Her devastating good looks combined with the greatest singing talent of her generation had garnered her a fortune of her own. Her three children were another light in his life, even though they resembled his son-in-law more than his daughter. Compared to his vibrantly coloured child, her husband was a monotone of brown. Hair, eyes and skin all a variation of the same tone.

The older man rose from his armchair and with open arms walked towards his baby. Instantly three bundles of energy filled the convenient alcove provided by this gesture. Unlike her children, his daughter never greeted him jubilantly anymore. She didn't really seem to do anything with enthusiasm anymore. Life was ebbing from her more and more as the children grew older. Little by little she was slipping away. At this rate by the time they reached twenty their mother would be dead, the depression defeating her. This realisation sent a shudder to the core of Salvatore's being.

Seeing the clouded look pass behind his eyes, Francesca walked shyly towards her father. She kept a subtle distance between Douglas and herself in order to forestall any questions from her father. She couldn't bear a scene between her father and her husband right now. The drive to collect the children had been enough of an ordeal.

Watching her Papa with her babies drove such thoughts to the back of her mind. The sight always brought a smile to her face and a wash of childhood memories to her mind. She and her two brothers had often run into this study to interrupt their fathers work. At fifteen Nathaniel had still been unsure about how to interact with his often absent father. He would always hang back by the doors. This was not an attribute that either his ten year old brother or three year old sister shared. Rodrigo never hung back for anything. A man of action today, he had been a child of perpetual energy. He would barrel into their stoic father with wild abandon, a polar opposite to his older sibling.

Even at such a tender age (if tender can describe a child who was often covered in as much mud as clothing) Francesca knew she was the apple of her daddy's eye. Salvatore lavished attention on his youngest child in the same way his wife did with the boys. She had been born at a time of self-discovery for the head of Prince Corporations. Unlike her brothers Francesca had been planned with equal enthusiasm by both parents. Looking back she could see how easy it would have been for her brothers to resent her, yet they didn't. Even as boys they had both possessed their own unique forms of sensitivity.

Thinking back to her childhood brought more than simply happy memories. They also brought with them pangs of the sorrow and loneliness of a nine-year-old girl and a future of promise that was never fulfilled. Of a green-eyed girl and her willing acolyte. She quickly tried to shake off the tide of memories, afraid that they would drown her in her already overwrought state.

"Francesca Prince!...Sorry Dougie, old habits. Francesca Rose, you just going to stand there all day or come and give you dear old dad a hug?" The gentle chiding brought sparks to Salvatore's steely eyes as his lips turned down in a fatherly pout.

"Hello Papa." The almost crushing force of the older man's embrace gave Francesca a much needed grounding from which she could pull herself together.

"Hello Dad!" Douglas enthused. "Good to see you again. We'd come more often, but you know how it is with Frany's work schedule. Not to mention mine." He cut his eyes towards his wife and quickly back to the patriarch. His message of discretion was clear. "I need to talk with you later, in private." Casually leaning forward he whispered his next words "It's about Frany's security..." He trailed off as he pulled away, knowing full well that where Francesca and danger were concerned, Salvatore would do anything.

"Of course Dougie, no problem. It'll be good to catch up." Inside his stomach was in knots over the fate of hi child.

Francesca's heart plummeted through her chest with the brief, quiet exchange. She had begged Doug not to get her family involved, yet his blatant disregard for her feelings was once again plain. His career and profile ( and her own, if the truth be known) were all that mattered to Douglas Rose Jr. The all to familiar mantle of depression once again settled over her. She had to retreat before she crumbled in front of her family.

"Papa." She smiled at both men trying not to alienate her husband further. "I need to go and arrange the nursery. You know how the kids are when we all get together, so I really think it should be perfect." She knew that her voice was an octave higher than it should be. Fighting tears was hard. She silently hoped that the men in her life wouldn't notice.

They didn't. "Alright Princess, just give your Papa a kiss." She leaned forward and brushed his cheek softly with her lips. She hurriedly turned and left with barely a smile as goodbye for her husband. The children had gone into the playground and were happily playing. She had to get out. Now.

**********

The nursery had changed a lot since Francesca had used it with her brothers. First Nathaniel's and now her own and Rod's children had left an indelible mark on the room. New toys and old held equal importance around the space. A big painting table once dominated it, but now a huge monitor held pride of place, a sign of the times. The walls and carpeted floor were the only things that hadn't changed. They had been studiously kept the same colour since the room was designed forty years ago. Cheery shades of blue and yellow gave the room an airy quality. It was designed to make the children relax.

After locking the door Francesca sank to the floor in tears. She crawled, gasping for air, to the lone uncluttered area of the room. Sobs racking her body as she drew her knees to her chest, she began to rock slowly back and forth. She wanted so much to stop the pain. The room and the tears took her back to being the nine-year-old with no control over her own destiny. They always took away her happiness, her freedom with no question about what she might want.

She raised her tear stained face from her knees and surveyed the room with blurry eyes. The distorted images began to merge into one perfect moment from the past.


"Chess, come on!" The tall, tow headed girl groused as she waited for her friend to get ready.

"You'll only be grumpy if we don't have all the stuff we need. 'Specially if we haven't got enough food," pouted the chubby little brunette.

"It's especially," the elder child mumbled as her best friend bustled out the door with an angelic smile on her cherubic face.

Francesca was happier than she had been in months. Rhani was home and they had time to play and go on a picnic. For as long as Francesca could remember the blond had been a part of her life. She had been raised side-by-side with the other girl, almost from the day she was born. Her very first memory was of the green eyed little girl, age three, chasing a fat little toddler with the garden hose. Francesca had always been 'plump', she so wanted to be like Rhani. The daughter of her father's savants she was tall and athletic, but she loved her smaller friend dearly and it made the rich little heiress feel blessed.

As far back as that first memory, Francesca had been aware that her friend would disappear from the house and from lessons. Sometimes she was gone for days, at other time's weeks. Nobody would ever tell the child where the blond went and she never asked. It was a simple fact of her life. However recently Rhani had been gone more than ever, the household had been missing one member for almost four months. If Francesca didn't ask this time, she thought that she might just explode. Rhani always came back with cuts and bruises - whatever she did it must be fun, like tree climbing. She resolved to ask her later, by the river.

Six-months her playmate's junior, Francesca was a child filled with the wonder of the world. Her big blue eyes in her chubby baby-face would widen in awe at the slightest thing - from a butterfly to a maths problem. She always had to find her own answers to any question life raised. Her creamy white skin, smattered with freckles and her black ringlets gave her the look of a storybook princess. She was simply irresistible to grownups. Today proved no exception, with a pleading look and a carefully placed 'please' she managed to get the duo out of the house with a backpack full of food.

They walked close together down the path that they had made to get them to the water without being seen. Rhani walked slightly ahead, clearing any obstructions out of their way. Due to her greater height, she was also responsible for carrying the bag. She considered herself to be the heiress' protector and the other little girl loved it. Rhani was a full head and shoulders taller than her friend, having undergone a growth spurt in the last year. While she had been away she had aged in other ways too. She longer seemed to be a child, she appeared more like a teenager, her face was thinner and a slightly sullen cast had come over it. Her body was already on the threshold of adolescence, feminine curves trying to break free. Her almost white-blonde hair now barely reached her jaw and her infectious personality had cooled. Yet even with all these changes she still acquiesced to Francesca's wishes. Whatever the younger girl wanted she got. Each child worshipped the other unreservedly.

Although the blonde never volunteered any information about why she had to go away and exactly what she did, she was willing to talk about her friends in these far away places. As they neared the clear water and threw their stuff on the bank she launched into a story about her exploits with a kitchen-maids daughter called Jordan. Fran loved to hear Rhani talk, her stories were always fun and filled with mischief, her voice rich with emotions. Sometimes she felt jealous about these other friends; she wanted to be with her best friend all the time. She always had.

"Jordan and me raided the kitchens last week so we could have a picnic like this 'cept we took her mum's dog with us." Rhani was sprawled on her back in the grass, looking up at her friend with a grin.

"It's except," she teased, falling back in to safety of the game. She felt confused. Her insides felt funny, she did these things with Rhani. It was special to them. "How old is Jordan?" She sat cross-legged beside the reclining figure and pulled the satchel towards her lap. She dug out a stuffed pastry for both of them and rested them on her knees as she waited for an answer.

"What's in that?" Her reaching hand was slapped away.

"Not until you answer the question." This was accompanied by a pout.

" 'Kay." She propped herself up on her elbows and looked out towards the water. "She's fourteen. She's a head taller than me and has the most amazing brown eyes. Like chocolate. She's really pretty and her skin's sort of gold like her hair. I really like her a lot," she bit her lower lip.

A little voice beside her asked, "More than me?"

"No Chess, it's different. It feels weird... Anyway, there's this boy who keeps eating the apples out of the storage room. He starts this one batch and doesn't realise that they've started to ferment so..."

The day passed quickly and was filled with playing and talking. They tried to catch fish with their bare hands (like they always did) but just ended in a splash-fight (they always did). They tussled in the grass and played catch and 'name that cloud' until it was time to go head home. The day had been so full that Francesca had forgotten her questions about Rhani's time away, but as they go closer to the house the mood got more sober. As reality kicked back into gear she realised that it would soon be time for Rhani to go away again. The person who loved her unconditionally and never asked anything more of her than she was willing to give was here with her now. Why couldn't it be forever?

"You're going to be here for my birthday? Right?" Francesca almost begged.

"I hope so, Chess."

"Love you Rhani."

"Luv Ya back - last one home's a rotten potato." With a raspberry the blonde took off at a dead run, the blue bag bouncing against her shoulder.


"Why didn't you come back?" The choked sobs of the adult Francesca began to fade. Her days with her best friend, although rare, had been the best of her life.

She raised her head a second time and blinked away the last of her tears as her eyes registered the fading light coming from the window. Jumping to her feet she rushed into the children's bathroom. Blue eyes looked back at her from the mirror. The face blotchy and red, eyes and nose swollen. There was no way that she could go in front of her parents looking like this. Opening the door to the hallway she carefully eased around it to check there were no servants in the hall before rushing to her own room. She quickly donned her silk pyjamas and was soon in bed feigning sleep so when the servant came to call her to dinner he left alone.





CHAPTER TWO


"Blue squad to quarters! Red and Orange to firing range four. Green to the mess. Predators remain!"

The four squadrons, encompassing one hundred and eighty men and women, formed ranks and marched to their designated locations. Each slave wore the colours of their group, a spectrum of people no more important than a pixel on a computer screen. They left the arena leaving only twenty individuals on the burning sand. The browns and blacks of their training uniforms absorbing the sun's heat like sponges. Even at this level of discomfort none of them showed a trace of emotion or twitched a muscle in pain. The only sign they were not statues was the sweat running off their bodies and pooling in the sand at their feet.

These were the elite, tuned to perfection like machines. Weekly, devoted audiences would pay to watch them in combat. The stable to which they belonged was popularly known as 'The Hunting Grounds' because of its most famous group of slaves. Every stable had an elite - some as famous as the Predators, some not. These slaves were treated like any other, treated with distain and punished with pain. However, unlike their counterparts, they appeared in advertisements and commercials to promote their sport.

"As I am sure you are aware from your dalliances with the house slaves, Master Hahn's is selling off this stable and all of his other slaves. This is to be a wedding present to the new Mistress Huhns who does not wish to own slaves. You will NOT be emancipated. The Master is going to sell you at a private auction. As of tomorrow you will be the property of new masters. All of the other fighters along with the stable have been sold. You are to be individually sold due to your training in weapons and strategy. In his infinite generosity the Master has chosen to give you the rest of the day to yourselves."

The slave master dismissed them and made his way quickly back to his office. Paperwork waited for no man and he wanted to make a good impression on his new employers. Behind him in the arena the warriors slowly relaxed, uncoiling every muscle until they were at ease. They never completely let their guard down. Years of training had ingrained a state of perpetual distrust into the core of their being. They stood in a loose circle and regarded each other in silence.

**********

The auction catalogue was open in Salvatore's hand. The pages bounced in time with his movements, brushing the slick plastic cover over his thumb and palm. His eyes flicked from the black and white text to the glossy photo that accompanied each dissertation. He looked to his right where his eldest son, Nathaniel, walked and showed him a slave that had particularly caught his attention. Not to be forgotten Rodrigo, who had been walking at his father's left, bobbed behind the other men so he could peer over their shoulders. He joined in the evaluation of the male in question. The three Prince men had decided not to bring Douglas. He grated on the younger men's nerves and was beginning to affect the family patriarch in the same way. It was agreed that he needed to spend some time with his family, something he did precious little of.

Slave sales ran in the same manner as a horse or cattle auction. The only real variation between the sale of human flesh was that the individuals were not paraded around a ring. The buyer still had the opportunity to get close to the bodies and handle them to check for muscle tone and reflexes. Rather than being in stalls each slave was tethered to a solid steel post, which reached from ceiling to floor. The collars around both neck and waist secured them to this. Their arms and legs were also restrained, but more loosely so that the buyers could more easily inspect them. Each one was also on a dais raised a foot off the floor, which rotated to allow a view of the back.

On their original purchase slaves receive a security implant at the back of the neck. This is connected to the spinal cord and controls movement. Any violence performed against a free citizen would be punished with instant paralysis. Each master reprogrammed these chips so that slave could perform new functions. The simple programming present at the auction meant that the killers, no matter how well trained these were still killers-had to be kept on a tight leash.

Due to the high profile nature of the sale there was a massive level of both security personnel and the media inside the show room. Only the super-rich or corporations could afford the Predator slaves thus although busy the room was not congested. The Princes walked through the heavy doors and into the circus. The warriors were arranged in a horseshoe around the room, beginning to the left of the door and ending on the right. The less prestigious members of the elite team were in these positions. Those expected to raise higher bids were at the apex of the arch. This was also mirrored in the brochure.

The room was beige walled and high ceilinged; the slave's stands were the only furnishing. Rodrigo bounced around the room like an over-excited puppy. He may not have done much with his life, when compared to his peers, but he knew about the physical form. His evaluation of both the male and female body in both an athletic and aesthetic context was more highly developed than his brother's or father's. His love of the arena and his particular fondness for this team made him an excellent commodity to have at this sale. After surveying the room at whirlwind speed, he returned to his family. As Salvatore moved from body to body, Rodrigo filled him in on the body form and personality. Nathaniel would inform them about the level of training and capabilities from the brochure. Once they had toured the room they adjourned to the auction room itself to discuss their options.

"I say we should definitely get 'The Hunter' and 'The Wolf'. Look at their stats. Hunter is trained in surveillance and strategy, she's an expert marksman and has the highest success rate of any living fighter. She has controllable speech and has never attacked a free individual since Huhns has owned her. The only glitch in her records is that rebellion she led and the guy she killed prior to being made a warrior. Anyway, it was over thirteen years ago. She'd be perfect for Francesca. It says she only requires four hours sleep too." Rodrigo's excitement at owning a piece of sporting history was boundless.

"Still sounds too dangerous to me. What if she attempted that again? You have to remember she was a house slave when she killed that man with her bare hands. Little more than a child at the time." Salvatore's main concern was his daughter and her family.

"Father, these are all killers. By definition they are going to be dangerous. You've got to remember that whoever we buy will be chipped. As much as I hate to say it, Rod's right." He grinned at his little brother.

"Fine," a long-suffering sigh. "Who else? I thought 'The Wolf', so I at least agree with that. He sounded like a good choice for Douglas." He arched a questioning eyebrow at his son.

"Well Fran's basically sorted. Hunter can be with her basically twenty-four seven. In the four hours that they are not together we can make sure Fran is with the children. I suggest we get four more. That way we have a set guard for each family member and a spare to rotate. Not to mention using private security firms."

"Any of the other warriors would be great, with the exception of 'Thorn'. She's a nut. I know they're programmed, but I still wouldn't trust her." Both younger men settled back in their seats, prepared to let their father do what he does best. Hustle.

"This is going to be one expensive shopping trip, boys."

**********

The slaves were unchained from the daises and led into an antechamber to await the outcome of the sale. They were eclectic group consisting of three women and seventeen men, hardened killers who, in the main, looked no more insane or dangerous than any other slaves. Their actions, though, set them apart. The way they moved, spoke and even ate said volumes about what business they were in. To realise that even the most inept member of this band had killed over twenty other fighters was shocking. To be told that the young woman, who sat slightly apart from the rest of the group, had been a fighter for over fifteen years and had killed over a hundred men was shocking. To know her male counterpart had killed almost as many was horrifying.

These two exceptional members of this infamous team were Hunter and Shep. They provided the guidance and leadership the group needed. As the rest of the warriors began to talk among themselves in apprehensive, but excited tones, Shep took the time to look at his young friend. Shep had been born a slave, both his parents were warriors; thus he had been marked for life. Born warriors fetch a high price and are not allowed to fight to the death until they are eighteen, although they fight from the age of twelve. Bought slaves can kill and be killed as soon as they can wield a weapon. He had been born to the Shepherd stable and the corporation name, had stuck to him. Rather than calling him Mathew or using his stage name he was always known as Shep. It intimated a degree of fallibility he did not possess.

His young friend had no such stigma. As soon as she had arrived at the stables, after killing a houseguest of her previous master, she had been given the name Hunter. Little else would suite the blue-and-white-haired young woman. Her hair was patterned in a tiger stripped motif matching her modified blue eyes with their cat slit pupils. The rest of her body also paid homage to dangerous creatures. The tattoo that stretched from elbow to shoulder and wrapped the left side of her torso depicted almost every natural predator, beautiful, but deadly. The only part of the woman that was not immediately intimidating was her height. Standing at only five and a half feet she was small when compared to other fighters. Yet when one realised how much punishment that small package could deliver it only made her more frightening.

"Hey kid, looks like you and me'll be going our separate ways."

"Sure does."

"You're going to cost some lucky suit an absolute fortune. You're worth the rest of us put together."

"Don't exaggerate Shep." Both eyebrows rose in scepticism.

"And don't you be modest. Doesn't suite you." He rubbed his forehead slowly. "Do you think we'll be able to cope on our own?" That he was talking about the whole group was obvious.

"Why not?" Her attention was fully focused on him now.

"Most of us aren't like you. We've been amongst groups of other warriors our whole lives. We build families with each other. I'm just afraid that they won't take well to being the only warrior."

Silence was the only response. The hand gestures, which she used to communicate when her speech implant was active, halted. Her hands rested, still as death on her knees. Looks like that's the end of that conversation, Shep realised. Confronting problems such as these was not something she ever wanted to deal with; she preferred direct action to emotional discourse. He would be left to prepare the others as best he could in the little time they had left.

**********

"SOLD! The Prince Corporation takes our final lot. Thank you for your attendance Ladies and Gentlemen. Those of you with purchases can now proceed to the cashier."

The Prince men walked in the same direction as the handful of other buyers. Prince corporations had, by far, made the bulk of purchases. Rodrigo patted his father on the back lightly. "Nice going Pops. I didn't think you were going to buy seven!"

"Nor did I, but the twins were too good an opportunity. I was just thinking of the whole image thing. Identical twins to guard identical twins. I thought you'd appreciate the aesthetics of that." He shot his son a mischievous look.

"You do realise Francesca is going to go into meltdown, don't you? Our baby sister isn't exactly known for her love of surprises. Not to mention we've gone completely behind her back and sided with Doug."

"Thanks Nat, you're such a ray of sunshine." Rodrigo stuck out his tongue.

"He's right. Maybe we should have them delivered tomorrow so that we can soften her up a little." He began to remove his credit card from his jacket pocket.

"You'll only be giving her a chance to talk you around. The only way she'll accept it is if you put it in her lap. Something she can't refuse. Hell, having another woman her own age around might stop her talking to herself." He folded his arms across his chest.

"She doesn't talk to herself Nat, she's still talking to Rhani," Rodrigo's voice was suddenly sober.

A pained exhalation, "I know."





CHAPTER THREE

Heaving sobs wracked the slim form standing in front of the bay window, the fluorescent light shining through the large glass panels turning her into a black silhouette, nondescript and desolately alone. She still could not believe that she had been betrayed, her single haven breached, leaving her feeling very much adrift and confused. It was not what her father and brothers had done that made her feel betrayed, rather it was that they had sided with Douglas and told her nothing of their plans.

Francesca's life had, up until this point, been filled with the love and support of a family which shared everything. There were very few secrets, if any, in the Prince family. Ever since childhood she had known she could rely on her brothers for disclosure and support. Until this point she had faith that her brothers were not fond of her husband, Nathan, proving to be openly hostile at times. Her views were now turned on their head and everything her brothers had said since her marriage became suspect. Who could she trust now, when she needed someone so much?

She looked down from her second floor window and into the yard of the old stables, which her father had renovated into servants quarters several years ago. They had never been used, primarily because the family kept employees for life, if they could, and these long-term employees had their own homes. Thus they had stood empty until today when a busload of slaves had arrived and further ruined her already rotten life. A lone figure stalked into view, casting a sense of edgy menace over the previous tranquillity. Great, I'm to be protected by people more frightening than the people they protect me from, the thought skittered through her tear-clouded mind. In the middle of the night two figures stood in dark isolation, the watcher and the watched, the hunter and the prey, the master and the slave.

**********

Hands viciously grasping her chin startled her from sleep. Panic gripped her as her eyes snapped open to take in the face of her attacker. After her initial alarm her eyes began to focus in the dim room until finally she could make out the features of the person standing over her.

"Douglas," a breathless plea.

"Listen to me, Princess. I'm sick of your self-indulgent antics; I want you, me and the kids safe. Your father wants us to have the best protection available. Tomorrow morning you're going to tell your father that you're ready to accept them. Then you're going to come out with the rest of us to get the slaves suitable attire," he hissed every word, emphasising each point with a rough jerk of her chin. His next words were sardonic as he stood and straightened his pyjamas. "We can hardly have them walking around looking like circus freaks, now, can we?"

As he turned to leave he cast his quaking wife a charming smile and sauntered into his adjoining bedroom. Francesca managed to keep herself together until he left and then found herself once again in floods of tears, curled up in the middle of her bed. She had thought it would take longer for Douglas to snap, this had only been happening for a little over a week, his temper usually took longer to break. She sniffled and drew the bedcovers closer to herself. At least with a bodyguard she would be protected from her husband.

**********

They stood on display for their new owners, each of them at rigid attention. It had been ten days since they had been purchased and speculation among them had been rife as to what was happening. They had seen none of the family and had not even been inspected for illness or other weakness. That sort of reception had not been in their frame of reference. Today's events were more in accordance with the 'norm', yet their trepidation remained

Salvatore could see the tension in the bearing of each new slave. They were confused and in need of the relief of an organised practice session, something he had avoided until he knew Francesca's wishes. Now here they were approaching the stables to inspect other human beings. He shuddered at the thought. The Prince Corporation had always been staunchly against slavery and here he was with seven new acquisitions. He looked towards his three children and noticed how his sons walked protectively on either side of their baby sister. They looked so robust and full of energy they brought Francesca's fragility further into the forefront of his mind. Salvatore knew something besides the threats were bothering her, but whenever he pushed her she altered topic.

Douglas walked slightly behind and to the side of his wife and in-laws. He was surrounded by his children and looked the picture of the doting father. An identical little girl clung to each hand while his little boy strode purposefully in front of them. He looked comfortable and excited about the prospect of looking at the slaves and the children were feeding off his emotions. The head of the Prince dynasty felt a new shiver walk across his spin. In the back of his mind the seeds of fear were planted, Douglas was too eager to see men as animals and that his children would feel the same.

He returned his gaze and his thoughts forward to the rank of men and women that were now his army. He had to grin about that. His soldiers fighting a war to protect his little girl, he rather liked that idea. He would keep that image in his mind to stop him thinking about them as animals.

The group walked down the line studying each figure that they approached. It was different from when they had seen them at the auction. They were able to get very close to them and see the expressions on their faces. Dressed in white vests and black running shorts they looked far more human and less intimidating. Added to this perception was the fact that as the children began to run around them all but one face broke into a grin at the antics. Francesca appreciated that and worried at the one sober, stone-like face.

They walked down the line, Rodrigo and Nat filling their sister and her husband in on the names of the various men and women as they came to them in the line. Francesca didn't say a word, she still hated the idea, but knew that she had to take in the information, or at least seem to. The first they approached was a tall man, whip-chord thin with a shaven head. His skin was very pale white and his eyes an equally pale blue. Snake. The name suited him. He was to be one of Douglas' two guards, and Douglas was looking at him with approval. They moved on.

The next two were identical, except for the colour of their hair. They were mountains, huge arms and shoulders. One had white hair and the others dark brown. They shared the same deep chestnut skin tone and profuse body hair. They should have been intimidating but their eyes twinkled with mischief, theirs mouths trying desperately not to smile. Polar and Grizzly were indeed a couple of bears. Teddy bears. They would make excellent guardians for the children. She could see that and was happy. The children asked if they could talk to the men and were granted permission (as were the slaves, with a tilt of Salvatore's head) and soon the five of them were in an animated discussion.

Leaving the children behind they neared Savage. This was a man whose name did not describe him well. He resembled a weasel far more then anything threatening. His hair was dirty blond and his eyes were the same dirty colour. Apparently he was an accomplished warrior like the rest of them but Francesca was sceptical. Fortunately he was Snake's second and would have nothing really to do with the children.

The man and woman who came next were standing imperceptibly closer to each than the others were. These were to be the ones who looked after the children when the twins were resting. They would also fill in as Francesca's guards and be present at any functions. The woman had stunning red hair that fell to her shoulders in waves and piercing green eyes. They had named her Phoenix in the arena because she looked like a being of fire. The man who stood so close to her was Wolf. His name as much a play on his real identity as it was a description of his grey hair and eyes. He was almost as big as the twins. Phoenix came close to his height but was svelte and sinewy, with small breasts making her appear even more streamline.

They moved to the last figure standing several feet away from the others. This was to be her guard, a creature that didn't need any real sleep and who was more dangerous than the others put together. Francesca had already been given the remote to this woman's voice box and had made up her mind never to let her have voice. She was an insurrectionist and they had brought her into the Prince family. She couldn't risk her rousing the others. She hated the idea of being watched every moment, especially by this one. Danger oozed from her. The blue and white hair, designed to look like a tiger was cut close to her head. Her white less eyes were an encompassing blue with a black slit for a pupil. Her skin was golden but marred by scars on her face and arms. She was also heavily tattooed on her upper arms, creating the illusion of a dark t-shirt beneath the white. She was stocky with broad shoulders and muscles, which, although smaller, rivalled even the largest man's in terms of definition. She was Hunter.

Francesca's revelry was broken by a voice over her shoulder. "Aren't they great Princess?"

"Yes, darling." A new shiver ran up her spine as she smiled unconvincingly.

**********

"How was your holiday, Mama?" Francesca sat curled up in the study's large leather chair.

"It was lovely darling, but it's much better to be back. I can't believe I missed four weeks with my babies and grandbabies. Your father was full of it when I got back last night. Seems like I've missed a lot," her eyes travelled to the figure hovering in the corner behind her daughter, "haven't I?"

She watched as her youngest child squirmed and her face grew paler. Blue eyes flicked around the room, not once resting on the short bodyguard. When eventually they focused back on her mother they were haunted and held a depth of resignation Darla had never seen in her morose child.

"The bodyguards are a really good idea, one of Dad's best. Doug is getting on really well with his pair. They have a lot of sports interests in common, apparently, and he spends hours talking to them. The children are the same." Finally her face broke into a rueful grin. "They've taken to Bear and Polar like they really are big toys. They are very alert, always on guard, even when they play with the children. I was a little apprehensive when they started, scared that they'd want to hurt them but they both have very caring personalities. I really think they will be good for the girls, they don't know many other twins. As for Terry, he wants to be them. The two floating guards are fantastic, we all like them. They're a couple, did Dad tell you? They are really good together..." Her babble trailed off as the topic drew closer to Francesca's situation.

Darla reached forward and laid her hand on a cotton-covered knee. "How about your 'shadow', honey?"

"Hunter, out!" The sharp command was sudden. The blue haired woman bowed and made her way out to guard the door.

"Fran?"

"Mama, I hate this! She's really aggressive. She does what I tell her but only to the letter. She's subversive and I can see the hate in her eyes. None of the others have that look. Dad told me I should turn her voice on, but I can't, it's too dangerous. What am I going to do?" She broke down into sobs and put her head into her hands.

Darla moved further forward until she was kneeling in front of the young woman and pulled her head to her shoulder. She gently stroked the dark hair and whispered soothing words until the sobs quieted and her daughter just rested against her, breathing ragged. Darla looked towards the closed door, resolve setting in her eyes.




CHAPTER FOUR


"Position one!"

Her hand poised casually at her side. The swords hilt held in a firm grip. Sweat beading on her temple, one errantly sliding down to meet her jaw. The pale moonlight around bleached the wood around her, turning it deathly white.

"Position two!"

Sword up, defensive posture across abdomen, breathing steady, feet apart.

"Position three!"

Lightening fast, sword switch from stomach to face, wrist tilts, knees bent, sword deflects down-thrust.

"Position four!"

Wrist rotates forward, arm extends, right foot forward. lunge.

"Position five!"

Left foot forward, right arm down, elbow tensed. Slash.

"Position six!"

Sword down, pivot left foot, hips loose, right knee braced, foot extends. Round house kick to face.

"Enough!"

A low growl emanated from her throat, the only vocalisation she could manage. Soft, low and dangerous. The man had stepped further back into the warmth and relative safety of the slave quarters. He was unwilling to further antagonise the volatile young woman. Turning his voice to its gentlest register, he once again tried to address her.

"Hunter you have to sleep. You can't keep doing this. Constantly training when you should be resting is making you far too edgy. You're going to snap and hurt somebody and then where do you think you'll be? You know they'll put you down if it happens again. We've been here nearly two months and I don't think I've seen you sleep for more than eight hours a week since we arrived. Just talk to me, maybe if you get it off your chest, you can rest."

The sword was suddenly and noisily wracked as she whirled on him, her face a mask of barely controlled rage. His Adam's-apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. He had never been on the receiving end of the fearsome visage and it terrified him, yet he stood firm. She approached him with mechanical precision; closer and closer until her shallow breaths rustled the fabric of his shirt.

"You don't know shit." The emphatic hand gestures clearly expressed her ire.

"Then tell me," he pleaded. "I know that The Princess can be a bitch to you but we've had worse masters. God, you've had worse masters and it hasn't had this effect on you, so it can't just be that. Tell me, you know you can trust me."

"Not this time Shep. You can't know everything about me." Then she was gone, leaving a bemused Wolf in her wake.

**********

"Give it back!"

"No."

"Give it!"

"No."

"I'll tell Mama!"

"I don't care!"

"But it's mine!"

"Is not!"

"Is so!"

"Becky tell him!"

The two huge men seated in the room looked at the tableau before them with bemused expressions on their identical faces. Although they had grown to adore the children, they were totally at a loss when they began to argue. They watched in fascination as the quietest of the three looked up from her colouring book and trudged towards the combatants. This one was the peacemaker. She was always pulled into the fray started by her twin sister and brother. The brothers found it hard to understand how two children born at the same moment like themselves could be so different. The little girls before them were not identical, but looked so alike that only the difference in eye colour and hair shade separated them.

The voices of the two combatants became more agitated as their sister joined them, bringing Rebecca to the verge of tears. Just when the brothers thought they were going to be forced to intervene, the children's mother rushed in to diffuse the situation. It amazed the men that Mistress always seemed to sense when the children needed her. It was as though she had a sixth sense where they were concerned. They watched as she knelt by the trio and began to talk to them in soft, reasoning tones. Behind the scene of domesticity stood their leader, in their minds at least. Hunter stood rigidly beside the closed door, seeming to make a conscious effort not to look at the other people in the room.

Francesca walked towards the two men with a smile. "I need to speak with you in private for a moment. Come with me." Her voice was warm and pleasant as she addressed the brothers as if they were real people and not property. "Hunter! Stay! Protect!" The commands were given as if to a dog, this fact confusing the other slaves. Of all the slaves the brothers were treated with the most respect and Hunter with the least. Strange when some considered that the two women spent so much time together.

Once in the antechamber next to the nursery Francesca began to lay out her plan to the two men. She explained that the children had been arguing more since the slaves arrived. There was no problem with Rebecca, she was quiet and liked her own personal space, that was why she stayed out of the fights. It had more to do with the rivalry between eight year old Terrence and his five year old sister Rochel. They both craved attention and saw their two protectors as people whose favour they should compete for.

"Therefore I have come up with a solution, in the last thirty seconds anyway." She gave a warm chuckle. "I would like you to pick a child each and sort of... mentor them, I suppose would be the best way to describe it. If they feel one of you is Terry's protector and the other Shell's, it should stop them showing off."

"Not to be out of line, Mistress, but won't Rebecca feel at least a little left out? Alienated?" This came from Polar.

"Really, I don't think she will. Becky just wants a quiet life. She's happiest alone. Do you two ever feel that way?"

"Not really, but I guess that could be because we're identical." The conversation carried on for some time as Francesca found herself fascinated by their unique view of her children.

**********

She heard the words.

"Hunter! Stay! Protect!"

By now she ignored the loud, harsh edge to the words and simply obeyed. Her resignation to this life she was to live was growing like a cancer, taking hold of her and filling her with malaise. They were not given enough stimulation, either mental or physically and she could feel it driving her slowly insane. As the door closed behind their retreating forms she contemplated how the others seemed to be enjoying the psuedo-freedom they had garnered. They were held in much higher regard than she a fact that very much bemused her. Her thoughts began to stray down a path from which she had forever banned them. She violently shook her head to clear her them.

The sudden and startling movement coming from the silent guard drew the attention of all three children. They caste a look to one another and with a shared grin of total mischief they quickly approached her. Their mother had told them not to get too close to her, talk to her or generally even look in her direction because she was so dangerous. How could they resist a challenge like that? Quickly the three of them advanced on the poker rigid form.

Terry and Shell took the lead in this as in all things. Rushing up to the rigid form the two older children began to make silly faces and pull on her pant legs in order to gain her attention. She remained stoic, not even a blink in the children's direction. The giggles of the three children grew in intensity as they tried more and more outlandish methods of distraction. Rebecca was drawn into the fray and began to pull the same faces when a thought struck her. She drew back and beckoned for the others to follow her a few paces in front of the figure. Her five year old plan was simple: be polite.

"Hello Hunter, thank you for coming." A shy smile trembled about her lips.

This caught the warrior's attention. Few people outside of her circle called her by name or even acknowledged her existence as a sentient being, yet here were these small human beings treating her with respect. She gazed down into the soulful brown eyes of the one who had addressed her and raised her hand in a gesture of thanks. Seeing this the other two began to squirm and Hunter could tell that they too were about to make their own overtures.

"Our Mama says you can't talk and that's why you just stand there like that when you come in. Is it true?" Terrence was never one to hold back asked questions outright. His seven year old sensibilities were his own.

"Are ya really as dangerwus as Mama says you are?" Rochel was in constant conflict with her big brother, their young lives filled with one-upmanship.

Hunter was beginning to find the three of them very amusing. No, amusing was the wrong word. The two louder ones were funny in the comedy duo kind of way, while the third was charming in her quite, shy way. She was so unused to this, and knew that the way these children were behaving was to be cultivated, even if she herself found human interaction difficult. The problem remained, how to talk to them without a voice? That's when an idea came to her. She placed her fingers across her lips and then made a throwing motion.

"See, told ya she couldn't talk."

Rebecca's sensitivity was hurt as she watched her twin continue to be rude to the visitor. She may only be five but she was an old soul, the outsider of the trio and wanted to make the solemn figure feel included. "Can you...um... show us how you talk?"

All Hunter could do was nod.

**********

Francesca stood framed in the partially open doorway and watched her babes play with the woman she had come to think of as no more than an animal. She had been standing, hidden in shadows, for a long time just looking. She had expected that if the beast was ever let out of the bag it would be jumpy and incoherent, yet before her she saw the opposite of all her expectations.

The room was quite and the children calm as they sat fascinated by the gentle hand movements the slave made. Each child was saying a different letter of the alphabet and then the salve was making a hand gesture to each one. It took Francesca a couple of minutes to understand what was going on, but a bemused smile played across her lips when she realised that Hunter was teaching her children to sign the alphabet. She had always believed they could never learn too much. She decided not to interrupt and allow things to carry on as the slave was being gentle.

"Can you show us how to do our names?" the eagerness in Terry's voice was unmistakable. Hunter nodded in agreement.

It took the children about fifteen minutes to grasp their names and it was very hard for the warrior to teach them how to place gender onto their names because they did not understand what that meant. After all of the quiet, intellectual activities the three began to get fidgety, until with a burst of energy Terry pounced on Becky and began to tickle her mercilessly. The howls and squeals of laughter from the pair brought a smile to both the adult in the room and the one in the doorway. With a suddenness that surprised the adults Rochel launched herself at Hunter and began to tickle her.

Hunter froze. Her every instinct as a warrior was to lash out at the sudden attack. Her own internal fail-safes telling her to pull away from the human contact. When Hunter froze, Francesca's heart began to beat double time as she became consumed with fear for her daughter. She could be ripped to pieces by the body guard with little effort. She had warned the children against approaching the creature. She began to move, but Hunter was faster. Suddenly the killing machine was rolling around on the floor like a five year old. The children where climbing all over her and having the time of their life. The laughter in the room was pure joy. Francesca knew she had appointments she must attend and to do so she must break up this moment.

Making sure the door made a lot of noise while she opened it, Francesca was not surprised to find Hunter where she had left her. The children were still rough-housing. After she had kissed each one goodbye she turned to her slave and ordered her to follow. As she passed through the door she caught the beatific smile that the shorter woman threw at her babies and was stunned by it. Both women would have a lot to think about that night.

**********
"I blow candle now?" Big green eyes blinked up at the auburn haired woman.

"Yes, Rhani. Let's see if you can blow them both out with one breath. Your Mummy's big girl now, so you can make a wish." The older woman's grey eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled.

The little blond head shook vigorously, "No!"

"No what, sweetie?" The group of adults and older children looked universally perplexed.

"I blow one an Chess blow one." The beaming child looked towards her friend. The younger toddler sat clapping in her mother's lap, blue eyes wide with wonder.

"Does Fran want to help Rhani?" Excited nodding from the tousled brunette head made her position clear as she climbed down and tottered towards Rhani.

"Blow!"

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"...blow job! Do you understand me, you piece of shit?" The slap resounded off of her face.

"Yes Master." Her words were subdued. She dared not raise too much of his wrath or she would not be able to go home because of the severity of her injuries. The visits she cherished were becoming few and far between and would soon end so all had to be cherished.

"If I ever hear of you refusing one of my clients again you will be indentured to a penal colony. I'm sure your little white ass couldn't cope with much of that. Now go back in there and you can suck the cock of every man in the room and if they want to take you it's on the house. That'll teach you to bite someone's dick, you little fuck!"

A second slap across her face sent her sprawling across the floor. Most eight-year old girls would have started to cry, but it was the only weapon she had. She fought by staying strong and sometimes performing stupid acts like today. To survive she would have to move beyond the pain.

"Get the fuck up!"

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"Up. Higher...Um, right there!" The prostrate form moaned in pleasure.

The lithe young blond straddling the muscular torso grinned as she jabbed an elegant finger into a tattooed shoulder-blade. Her actions elicited a howl of protest and a pout from the younger girl beneath her. She leaned down and as an act of consolation pressed a kiss to the same spot.

"You are such a baby!" She laughed at the reproachful look in the other girl's eyes.

"I'll have you know I am a great warrior!"

"Great Wuss." The finger jabbed again.

The reclined form turned quickly onto her back so that she was now looking up at the towering woman. An evil grin spread across her face, mirth filling her green eyes. Using her superior strength she launched herself at the other girl. With no warning the slim blond found her back on the mattress and a grinning lunatic above her, tickling her mercilessly.

"Get off!" This came through a squeal.

"What am I?" The barrage never stopped.

"Cute?" A raised eyebrow and a leer accompanied her response.

The compact youth couldn't resist and lowered herself to the waiting lips of the other girl. Her bare torso brushed against the linen of the other girl's shirt creating goose-bumps on her skin. When she drew back both were flushed and breathless. The shorter girl rolled onto her side and propped up on her elbow she looked down at the other girl.

"You're very good at that, for a kid!" She received a swat on her abdomen.

"You're only eighteen, Miss High and Mighty. That's only four yeas older than me. It's not exactly a huge gap. Anyway, I should be good at it, you give me a lot of practice Jordan!"

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"Jordan? What have you done with her?" The rage was clear in the sixteen year olds eyes.

"Sedition is a crime, SLAVE! You should have learned your lesson. We beat you to within an inch of your life and you carry on. Physical punishment obviously has no effect on you, seeing as you're gladiator scum, so you leave us no choice! Rebellion is unacceptable. The servant girl has paid the price for her dalliances with you!" The warrior's face glazed over with pain. "To stop you from creating this sort of debacle again we are taking your voice. You will never speak without the permission of a master. Do you understand Rebel?" A mute nod. "Do it!"

She screamed, "Jordan!"

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"Jordan!"

The scream wrenched Hunter from the nightmare. It echoed from her throat and around the empty barracks, ringing in her ears.


CHAPTER FIVE


The clicking of computer keys sounded like the feet of a thousand cockroaches moving through the room. It reverberated on itself, becoming increasingly oppressive in the eerily quiet room. The monitor provided the only light, casting ghoulish shadows on the planes of the users face. In this pale, sickly glow the writers face seemed sunken and emaciated. The eyes glowed with a feral light.

Pictures scrolled across the screen, occasionally being annotated by fevered hands. All of the pictures focused on the same group of people. dark a haired blue eyed woman and a man caste in shades of brown filled the majority of the photographs. There were also a handful of pictures of three small children. The hand on the keyboard continued to scroll forward until the watcher reached a new cache of pictures. These featuring people that were unknown to the watcher. The were obviously dangerous and began to appear in the background of all of the family pictures and those of the individuals. They had broken the rules. Bodyguards were unacceptable. They had been left alone while the watcher prepared the next move in this game, but this act must be punished.

The chair was abruptly pushed from the table. Sliding backwards until it hit the wall as the watcher stood and stormed out of the room. A red caste behind the dead eyes and a new plan forming behind the ghoulish visage.

*********

Phoenix sat in Wolf's lap and buried her head in the crook of his shoulder, enjoying the chance to be with her husband and have some privacy. he couple knew that they were lucky. Not only had they been bought together, but they worked almost the same shifts so that they got a good deal of time together off duty. They often just sat and talked.

"I'm worried." Wolf's arms tightened around her waist, holding her close to his chest.

"What about, Matt?" She smiled sweetly as she asked. The feel of her lovers name on her tongue was special because she was the only one who used it.

"Hunter isn't taking this well. I talked to her a few days ago and she started to get very angry. She told me that I didn't know anything about her and that some things I couldn't. She scared the crap out of me. I think that perhaps Miss Prince has a reason to keep her distance." His face was pensive as he spoke.

Phoenix couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You can't mean that! You've known her since she was a kid. Sure she's dangerous, but you we all are. You have to trust her. She needs your belief."

"Your right Morgan." He rubbed his forehead. "I just have to get used to this new life we're living. It's just weird to have this level of freedom and lack of discipline. That was my whole life for as long as I could remember."

"I know Love." She leaned up and forward to press a kiss to his temple. "I hear the others coming. It must be dinner time. I think it's Savage's turn at dinner tonight. That'll be fun, Hunter and Savage eye-balling each other all night."

"Now who is worrying about nothing then?" The two grinned at each other and shared a soft kiss before the door banged open on it's hinges.

"Yes boys and girls we're home!" The loud and boisterous voice of Grizzly echoed through the room.

"You guys are spending way too much time with those ankle-bitters." This disparaging remark came from Snake who, as always, looked cool and collected even as his eyes twinkled with glee.

The group began its usual routine of joking and laughing. Their frivolity would be interspersed with some seriousness when the mood set in. they ate the meal that was prepared for them in the main house, while sitting on benches around a slick metal table. It was simple fare but it was always good and contained all of the supplements that their enhanced physiology required to maintain their musculature.

After they ate, as was the norm they would sit around and play cards or watch the single small monitor which they had been allowed. This hour of inactivity allowed digestion before they began to train, preventing cramps. Tonight they were playing cards. They never settled on one game and often would drift between poker, jinn and black jack.

"Tonight I feel lucky!"

"We really don't want to know what goes on between you and Meg at night, Shep!" Snakes quip sent the two larger men into fits of giggles.

"You two are way to camp to be as big as you are."

"Hay we're babysitters now, we can be as juvenile and camp as we want and we don't have to prove ourselves to anyone!" Polar's tongue stuck out just to emphasize his point.

"Yeah, yeah. Less talk more cards!" Meg smirked.

"Gimme two."

**********

The phone slid from nerveless fingers. It bounced on the carpeted floor, creating a muffled thud in when it came to a stop. The blood drained from Douglas's face as he turned and looked between his wife and his in-laws, who had formed a loose circle around him.

"What did they say?" Salvatore took control.

"I...I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. The voice was distorted, but the threat was real clear. We've broken some rule and now we're going to pay. He said something about the bodyguards." Sweat had broken out across his brow and upper lip.

"Oh God," the strangled whisper escaped Francesca. Tears began to well in her eyes and make silver paths along her cheeks.

"This is becoming quite ridiculous."

"Your right Darla. We need to tap the phone and make sure that all of our mail is intercepted. We can not risk a bomb. I think Hunter should sleep in your room Fran. Be with you at all times. This is obviously some crazed fan." Salvatore turned to Douglas. "You should keep them in your room also. I'll contact your brothers to make sure they are secure and them contact the police and let them know what's happening. Get them to step up their enquiries." His eye's softening he turned to his daughter. "Go to bed Princess. Hunter, protect her please."

The tall woman nodded dumbly and slowly, lethargically shuffled from the room. Hunter strode purposefully behind her, her face set in stone. As they made their way up the stairs Francesca moved towards each child's bedroom. The girls were being watched by Phoenix since dinner, in the room that they shared and Terry was watched over by Wolf. Each of her babies were peacefully asleep, blissfully unaware of the pain their parents felt.

Below them Salvatore turned once more to his son-in-law. "What else did they say? All of it Douglas!"

"The guy was insane! Started to rant about the attention that the family gets and the adoration. How would we like it if the children weren't perfect anymore. Then about marking Fran and spoiling her. Even started to go into detail about disfiguring them. I am so scared Sir." Tears began to run down his face, I don't want to die!

Believing that the tears were for his family and not for fear about his own existence, Darla wrapped him in her arms and began to croon soft words into his tan ear. Salvatore walked towards the bureau and poured himself and the other two people in the room a scotch. He took it to them and picked up the phone from the floor. He moved to his leather chair and began his seemingly endless list of calls. It would be a long night.

**********

The watcher sat back on the sofa and brought the beer to smirking lips. The voice distorter lay on one raised thigh, the cell phone on the other. Tonight was a good night for games. Raising the video remote from it's place on the sofa cushion a large hand pressed play. A tall dark haired women filled the screen, crooning about love and forgiveness.


CHAPTER SIX


"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Go way... I'm sleeping."

"Well I'm awake!"

The dark girl propped her head up on her elbow and looked down at the peaceful face of her friend. The sun was high and the rays danced off the surface of the water and made dappled patterns of the other child's face as they struggled through the canopy of leaves. The lights hid the brown and green bruise marking the right side of the small face like camouflage. The darker child gleefully pinched the snub nose of the other girl closed. With a wheeze and a splutter the reclining girl opened green eyes and glared upwards.

"What!"

"Answer my question!"

"Don't want to!"

"Do you want to be seven?"

"You've been listening to my dad again haven't you?"

"Answer my question!" The blue eyed girls voice was becoming louder and louder.

"I'm just fooling with you Chess. I want to be our PA." A big smile followed her words.

"What's a PA do?"

"I dunno but your dad's gets to spend loads of time with him."

"Cool!" The dark haired girl laid back down.

"Hay, what about you?"

"I'm going to be a star!"

**********

The pulsing beat of the music filled the room, bouncing off the walls and feeding on itself. Francesca immersed herself in the music, feeling it travel through her body as she watched her choreographer intently. She began to sway and writhe to the music, soon the bodies of the dancers became a blur of synchronised motion. The two tall bodies, one blond the other brunette, moved with a feline grace under the watchful eye of the tiger at the back of the room, seemingly performing for an audience of one.

After hours of almost ceaseless activity both bodies shone with sweat and glowed with vitality. Clapping from the open French doors of the gymnasium drew both athletes attention and caused them both to smile a quick greeting to Rodrigo Prince before falling back into step. As the music began to slow the lithe blond man called the session to an end, his wide smile and shinning eyes letting his student know that her performance was excellent. Rodrigo walked towards them in time to catch the end of the choreographers words.

"...fantastic today. Your fitness level is way up, the routines in the videos for the new album should be the sharpest yet. How did you manage to get even fitter." He playfully nudged.

"I have to admit that I've been watching how our new bodyguards train and I've been adapting it to my own needs." Francesca looked inordinately pleased with herself over this little revelation.

"Well just keep doing what your doing. Nice to see you again Rod." He shook the bigger mans hand. He looked towards the lone figure in the corner, intent on every move that affected the woman beside him, and nodded in acknowledgement. It was not returned. "I'll see you in a couple of days Fran."

"See you Thursday Daniel." The dancers moved to opposite sides of the room and entered their respective shower rooms. Hunter followed her mistress while Rodrigo made his way towards one of the garden's many benches to wait for his sister.

Moments later he watched Daniel exit the building and waved to the man as he made his way to the path that would take him the front of the house. He relaxed back into the wood and stretched his legs out on the grass. His arms spread across the back of the bench on either side, fingers idly tapping the wood as he waited less than patiently for his sister. He had always been the type of child who would fidget, and although now a grown man he still could never sit totally still.


Ten minutes passed before Francesca walked from the building into the vibrant sunlight. She smiled as she saw the sprawling form of her big brother, the faint breeze ruffling his dark hair. The smile that he caste her way was dazzling and not for the first time she understood why so many women fell for him, and why so many foolishly married him. He was already well on his way to ending his second marriage and yet still seemed as carefree as when he was an adolescent. She envied that, but did not begrudge her brother his lifestyle, she loved him too much for that. As she sat next to her brother, with his arm around her shoulders she felt loved and secure.

Hunter moved away from the reclining couple. She stood behind them, close enough to still protect her ward, but not within hearing range of a private discussion. She was becoming more at one with her role as a guardian, and realised that the free required more privacy than the indentured. From her vantage she had a perfect view of any potential routes of attack, the pair would be safe.

"So," concerned eyes turned towards a pale face. "You talking to me now?"

"Sure."

"Well I thought I better check, you weren't exactly too pleased to see me and Nate after that wacko called." Before Francesca could interrupt he placed his fingers over her lips. "I know you were pissed off that we went behind your back, but we really didn't choose Dick-Head Dougie over you. You have to believe that we love you. Hell, your the only stable female relationship that I have ever had!" He tightened is hold around her shoulders and she smiled softly up at him.

"I know Ro, but I was so upset."

"You had anymore threats? Dad hasn't said anything but it's been over three weeks since that last call." His usually animated face was sober.

"Nothing, and that makes me more afraid than the threats. It's so ominous, it makes me feel constantly on edge. I should have apologised to you and Nate because the slaves are a godsend. At least I know that the children are safe." Her voice began to falter and Rodrigo realised it was time to move away from talk of the stalker.

"How are things going between you and your guard?" He had been concerned with Francesca's obvious distaste about the slaves, and especially the great warrior that they had chosen for her.

She lowered her voice further to ensure that Hunter could not possibly hear her. "I gave her a chance, like Papa said I should. I wish I could say it was because I was a bigger person and put aside my prejudice, but I'd be lying. A few days before...that phone call...I saw her playing with the children. She was so gentle and patient with them. I've tried to make our relationship better. I don't know if it's working, she's just so reticent." A soft sigh punctuated this statement.

"What have you tried?" He was really interested in his sisters change of heart.

"I turned off the vocal inhibitor the day after I watched her and the children. I thought that it might make her interact with me."

"And? What did she say?"

"That's just it, she hasn't said a word. She still signs to the other guards. I don't think that the remote works. I feel really bad about it, she'll be a mute forever because of what they did to her." She raised her hand and rubbed her temples to forestall the start of one of her regular headaches. "I guess I stopped thinking of her as an animal."

"That's a good thing Fran, trust me, thing will get better. It only been four months and maybe she's still feeling displaced." He grew concerned as he noticed the paler of his sisters skin as the exercise induced blush receded. "Fran, are you alright, you look a little sick?"

"It's nothing. I think I just worked too hard. Met any nice girls lately?"

**********

Wolf walked through the gate to the slaves stable and found himself confronted by the grim faces of Savage and Polar. They were huddled in the doorway to the living room, apparently trying to look in without loosing a limb. Wolf was amused by the spectacle, and was about to ask what was going on when a loud crashing sound came from the sleeping quarters, drawing even his attention through the door. He turned back to the other two men, he needed answers. A slave going berserk could be punished with death.

"What the hell is going on?" His voice was low and controlled.

"She has gone off the deep end, that's what's going on! I told all of you that this would happen, she's a fuckin' psycho! Nobody listens to me!" Savage said with smug certainty.

"Thanks for the psychological profile. Now any idea why she's gone nuts?" Exasperation was clear in his voice.

"Hello? That's why she's a psycho, she doesn't need a motive!"

"You haven't asked her have you?" Wolf folded his arms across his chest and glared at his two comrades. Polar squirmed under his stare.

"We were going to ask her what was wrong when she came in, looking sort of down. But...um...she started to throw her stuff in a sack, and get really twitchy. Before we could really talk she was throwing stuff around and we ran for it." The big man looked like a frightened little boy.

"Thanks Polar. You two stay out here, I'll go and see what is going on." He composed himself and strode resolutely towards the closed door of the sleeping rooms.

Inside the room was in disarray, the beds stripped and overturned, the table smashed into splinters. Hunter stood with her back to the door visibly shaking with rage. He walked towards her slowly and stopped several feet away, not wanting to be close enough for her to strike.

"What's wrong, Hunter?"

She took a deep, noisy breath and turned to face her friend. Her face was stony and her body rigid, lines of stress creased her brow. Wolf at first thought that no explanation would be forthcoming as her hands continued to clench and unclench by her sides. Her hands shook with emotion as she began to gesture towards her brother in arms.

"I thought I was getting somewhere." The gestures were sharp and fast, almost frenzied.

"Somewhere?" He was honestly confused.

"With the 'Princess'!" She began to pace as she gestured, making it increasingly difficult for Wolf to understand what she was signing.

"What has she done?"

"I am no longer allowed to sleep here. Now she wants me to sleep in one of the walk-in closets in her room! What am I, some sort of animal!"

"You could look at it that way, Hunter." Wolf tried to quell her ire. "Maybe she's trying to show you that she feels safe with you. She wants you around more."

"Look, this means I won't get to see any of you off duty!"

"You don't exactly see us now, you just sleep in our presence," he reasoned.

She had began to calm as she mulled over the tall man's words. "I see your point. Trust me I won't go off at a freeman again, I remember too well what happened last time." She walked towards her bag, which only contained the clothes that she worked in, and hoisted it to her shoulder. She walked from the room and the stable without a backward glance for the three men. Brushing past Snake as he walked into the compound.

"Hunter Okay?"

"No idea, Wolf will fill you in. Where's Douglas?" Savage prepared to go on duty.

"I left him in the nursery with the children, Grizzly and Meg are there to watch him. I thought I better come and get when you were so late."

"Cool, see ya!"

The bald headed man walked into the living area to find Wolf talking to Polar, whose face was troubled. He sat down with the pair, around the large dinning table. "You two going to tell me what happened earlier."

"Hunters upset," volunteered Polar.

"I thought I heard her cry out in her sleep," Snake was thoughtful.

"You heard what?!"

"Oh, you didn't know? What's she pissed off about then?"

The rest of the table sat in stunned silence.

********

The drunken figure lurched down the hallway muttering obscenities. It was closely followed by a weasel faced man wearing a smirk. The duo made their way slowly towards one of the plush bed-chambers of the estate where the drunk could sleep it off. The more alert of the two reached the door first and opened it, ushering the other man in. As he was about to follow, he found himself pushed back into the corridor and ordered to stand guard and let no-one in. Savage turned his back to the closing door, slumping against it when it clicked shut.

Douglas leaned against the wall, his head pounding. He was angry. No, he was beyond angry. He was furious! How dare his own wife go behind his back at a time like this! She was supposed to run everything past him, he was meant to know her whereabouts at all times! She had no right to put herself in the line of fire, she was his. Even with that thing to protect her she was still vulnerable.

His irrational thoughts began to grow and build until he found himself in a frenzy, he needed to vent his anger on something. Or someone. His eyes fell on the door leading to his wife's room. He smiled sadistically as he lurched towards it. He fell back on his favourite way to vent his displeasure at his spouse. He took a deep breath as he reached the door, trying to steady himself. He quietly pushed the door inwards.

He padded softly across the carpet without creating a sound on the deep, plush carpeting. He could see her, laying in a pool of moonlight in the centre of the bed. She had her face turned to the window, with it's partially opened curtains. The rest of her was shielded by a thin red sheet that rose and fell with her breath as she laid on her stomach, blissfully unaware.

A new wave of anger crashed over Douglas as he watched her peaceful form. He lost the last of his self control as he stood touching the side of the bed and leapt on the still body. Terrified blue eyes snapped open as he began to rain heavy blows down over her back. She could feel her kidneys taking the brunt of the attack. As he began to snarl abuse at her she realised the identity of her attacker and fear turned to resignation.

Douglas suddenly found himself ripped from his wife's body and hurtling across the room, only coming to a stop when he hit the wall. He sat, for a moment, dazed by the sudden turn of events. Head spinning from a combination of too much alcohol and the blow to the head, it took him several minutes to realise the nature of his wife's protector. Before him, looking like some sort of avenging angel, stood Hunter. Clad in only a white vest and boxer shorts, touched on only one side by the moonlight the other in relief she struck fear into his heart. Until he remembered who he was.

"You'll pay for that, Slave! What is she doing here at this Francesca, she should be in the stables." His voice was commanding and hard as he dragged himself from the carpets embrace. "Well, answer me!"

No sooner had the words left his lips than he found himself pressed to the wall by the throat. He couldn't struggle, so powerful was the body that he now found crushing him. She was so close that he could feel the growl as it emanated from her chest. The warriors eyes were cold, dead, as she stared at him. He felt a cold sweat form on his top lip as he saw that look, totally void of emotion. She glanced away from him for a second, much to his relief, to look at the huddled figure at the head of the bed. Her gaze almost immediately fell back to him. A new look fills her unnatural eyes, this time it is rage. Douglas' mouth takes over from his brain as he tries to save himself.

"I can have you killed for this! You won't get away with killing your master again! Put me down and I might only let them send you to a research institute, it's the best you could hope for!" Her grip lessened for just a moment before she tightened it to almost choking intensity and replied to his threats.

"You are not my master!" The his was quiet but dripped with loathing. "Francesca Prince owns me. I am ordered to protect her from all harm. You have tried to damage her. Get out and I won't kill you." She pushed his trembling form to the connecting door. "Try it again and I'll rip your arm off and beat you to death with it!" He bolted from the room upon hearing her final words.

The rigid form of the bodyguard moved to the hastily closed door and locked it from the inside to prevent his re-entry. As she turned to walk back into her new sleeping quarters she caught the eye of the woman on the bed. Her face was pale and her eyes were red as she looked at Hunter with gratitude and respect for the first time. The compact fighter could also see surprise on her mistresses face and could easily tell why.

"Formica is the secret of the universe." She said this with a totally straight face as she walked to the huge closet.

"What?" Came the stunned response.

"That's what I have to say. Hope it was worth letting me talk." She disappeared behind the sliding door of the cupboard.

Francesca sat for a while, bemused. She smiled as she realised that, in her own way, Hunter had both been trying to be funny and say thank you. The smile slipped as the events of the past ten minutes overwhelmed her as her mind tried to process that fact that she had been saved from her husbands whim. She had never thought that he would get so physical in her parents house, he had truly sunk to new depths. Suddenly the idea of having a bodyguard sleeping in her room seemed like her best idea in a long time.

**********

Sweat poured off of the body standing in the hazy morning sunlight. The rays seemed to caress the toned skin, highlighting muscles and the fine blond hair covering corded forearms. The black tattoos, clearly visible from under the sleeveless t-shirt, seemed to absorb the light and writhe above the muscles like living things. Francesca found herself transfixed by the athletic movements of the slave. She had just finished her combat exercises and walked towards the bench-press.

Francesca had cut short her own programme when she became too distracted by the other women. She watched her now as she laid down on the leather surface and positioned herself under the bar. One of the other slaves was their to spot for her, Francesca couldn't tell who it was or how much was being lifted, she was focused solely on the warrior. She stared as the motion of her arms made the muscles almost seem to slide as the bar went up and then bunch as the bar came down. Her eyes roamed the body and saw the stomach muscles clench through the translucent, sweat covered shirt.

A single bead of sweat broke away from her hairline and began to travel away from the slick hair. It moved across her temple and found itself captured by a thin scar on her cheek, creating a path for it down to her jaw. As it reached the end of it's journey it fell from the clenched jaw and shattered on the bench.

**********

"Why are you so skinny? You eat more than my Papa's horse!" The chubby girl stormed.

"I dunno. I guess I run around a lot." The other girl just shrugged.

"So do I!" She was feeling indignant now.

"You'll get skinny when you get older. We're only little. Anyway, your pretty and smart, do I have to be skinny and sporty!" This came with a charming smile.

A shy smile spread across her. "Your pretty too."



CHAPTER SEVEN


Bodies packed the miniscule space, shoulder-to-shoulder. The smell of cologne and perfume mixed in the air, sickly-sweet in their intensity. Hunter found herself overwhelmed by the close proximity of so many strangers. She had positioned herself at the back of the elevator, ensuring that her back was not vulnerable to attack. He eyes scanned the enclosure, flicking from person to person, catching the occasional glance which would quickly move away at seeing her scowl.

In the cramped quarters, plummeting rapidly downwards, the guard was forced to stand close to her owner. Francesca stood with her back to Hunter, the fabric of her silk blouse brushing the shorter woman's chest. Hunter could feel the heat coming off the dark woman as she fidgeted with excitement at being out of the house. Such intimate contact with the woman who, until yesterday, had only looked at her with total distain was disconcerting. It brought up emotions in her that she had not felt for a long time, emotions that she was quick to bury under years of pain. Francesca appeared oblivious to her slaves discomfort, focused only on her goal of the day, shopping.

Francesca was glad to be out of the house. She could, for at least a day, be free from her husbands prying eyes and her fathers smothering love. She could be alone and totally herself today. Well, not completely alone, her shadow was by her side to watch over her safety. After Douglas' attack she had began to look at the blue haired woman as her avenger rather than another jailer. Three days had passed and the pain in her kidneys had lessened enough for her to leave the house and reward her dark protector. She too was acutely aware of how close the other woman stood inside the metallic box. With every breath she was aware of breasts brushing her back through sheer fabric.

The lift bounced to a stop, Hunters stomach flipped at the unfamiliar sensation. She sighed in relief as the doors hissed open expelling the crushing bodies. Expecting to step out into a sparsely populated area she felt a sudden moment of panic as the shopping mall was revealed to her. All around her there were people, walking, running, standing in idle conversation. Used to an economy of motion and the quiet of captivity, Hunter was momentarily stunned before regaining her senses and striding out behind her master.

Walking in the taller woman's shadow, Hunter immediately noticed a change in her walk and the poise with which she held herself. Gone was the dutiful daughter, polite and eager to please. Gone was the wife, submissive and cowed. The person before her was new, she walked with a bounce to her step and a swagger to her hips. She seemed to watch the crowd taking n the details as if committing them to memory. Hunter realised that this was Francesca Rose, superstar. This was the woman who sold millions and who was worshiped by them.

Francesca was looking forward to her meeting. Gazing around the mall she could make out the figures of the security people MagPie Recording had laid on for her. Hardly unobtrusive, the big men in tailored suits littered each exit creating a familiar atmosphere for the brunette. She briefly turned her attention to the figure behind and to her right. The discomfort was clear on the slaves face as person after person brushed or jostled past her. Francesca found herself grinning as she wondered how the warrior would react to the barrage of fans that she knew would descend on them at any moment. All it would take was one person looking at the casually dressed woman the right way and the hysteria would start. Each store knew that she was on her way and would be emptied before her arrival so that she could shop in safety. She was almost buzzing with excitement.

As though reading her mind, a young girl walked out of a nearby record store and locked eyes with her idol. Unable to tear her eyes away, she elbowed her friend in the side and pointed in Francesca's direction with a trembling finger. The second girl let out a loud squeal of excitement attracting the attention of the other patrons of the store that the star was about to pass. As one the shoppers surged to the entrance and the site of the commotion. The site of the singer galvanized the crowd and as one they rushed towards her.

Francesca was ready for the onslaught, as were the hired security who quickly covered her position, Hunter was not. Surrounded first by a circle of suited bodies and then by a screaming mob, Hunter was totally overwhelmed. She knew the men were security, she's been briefed. She knew people would want autographs, she wasn't a fool. But never in her life had she been caged in this fashion. Put in looked rooms, squeezed into small spaces, but never closed in on all sides by people. Isolation she could deal with, this was overwhelming. Francesca was once again pushed close to her chest, arms were reaching towards them through the wall of bodies. The slave was becoming increasingly aware of the cool metal of the gun at the small of her back, her palm itching to feel the steel in her grasp. As her arm snaked around to draw the firearm the taller woman tilted her head and began speaking.

"Hunter, relax," Francesca whispered. "It's like standing in front of a stone pillar. They don't mean any harm, they're just over excited. It really is exciting for me. We'll be out of here soon."

Hunter was as shocked by the reassurance from her mistress as she had been by the entire situation. This week was turning out to be too strange for the taciturn warrior to handle. Too many changes in such a short time. It seemed as though the younger woman was making an effort to see her as a human being. The big question for Hunter, was why?

"Hi everybody," Francesca called to the crowd, who quieted immediately. "I haven't got a lot of time today, but I will sign for the children." Almost the at the speed of light sixteen children between eight and thirteen appeared at the front of the crowd.

Smiling and laughing at the stories of each child and giving every individual her attention, she was a vision. Hunter had definitely never seen the woman this alive and engaged in an activity. Sure, she gave all her love and devotion to her own children, but this was different. This was a woman filled with energy. This was the captivating little girl who had charmed food out of cook. This was not Hunter's, Francesca. This was Rhani's, Chess. Hunter had believed that everything of the girl she had known was gone, leaving only an empty, sad woman who sleep walked through her life. Hunter felt her mind begin to spin out of control, too much was happening to her, old and new sensations combating with her painfully crafted persona.

Before she had time to sink further into her revelry she saw the last child get their autograph and the crowd begin to disperse. The security guards moved off to created a looser perimeter as the two women made their way through the masses. Francesca led the way with confidence, smiling as they passed ogling shoppers. They were headed towards the most upscale area of the colossal mall, the restaurant district. This was where corporate business people wined and dined their customers. No entry without reservation, no reservation without the right credit limit. This was where stars met their agents and talked with their record labels.

**********

"You have got to be kidding me?" The dark haired woman wheezed out through her laughter.

"No, seriously, there she was spread across this guys car and there were paparazzi everywhere!" The agent sat back and took another long swallow from his glass of wine.

"How does that woman still have an agent?" Francesca was wiping the tears from her eyes.

"She only works with people who really do believe that all publicity is good publicity!" This came from the record label executive sitting across from them. "Well, we're almost done here. I've put through all of the changes to your contract that you asked for. We can't wait for you next platinum album..."

"I get the hint. I go into the recording studio to lay down the last three tracks next week and then it's all yours."

"Excellent." Looking down at his watch, a sincere smile spread across his lips. "I've got another appointment. It has really been good to see you again Francesca. Give my best to Douglas, a shame he couldn't make the meeting today." He let out a small laugh. "That has to be a first."

Francesca rose with him, leaning across the table to kiss the young man on the cheek. "You have no idea." As he walked away her gaze flashed to her bodyguard, standing quietly in the corner, which did not go unnoticed by her agent.

"Why isn't Doug here?" The man's dark eyes bore into hers.

Francesca looked at the thin, scruffy man sitting next to her. He was the antithesis of what a singers agent should looked like. Jake's brown hair looked like it hadn't seen a comb in a week and his clothes, although not dirty, could stand to make the acquaintance of an iron. That was why she had begged Doug to let her hire him, he was unconventional and over time he had proved himself to be a good friend.

"He finally realised that I don't require a babysitter." She couldn't meet his sympathetic eyes and instead looked at her fingers as they idly traced patterns on the white linen of the tablecloth.

"You let your thug smack him then?"

Her head shot up with such force that Jake thought she might snap something. Her eyes were wide and she seemed to be holding her breath. Her jaw was moving up and down, but not a word left her lips. Jake couldn't help himself, the picture before him was too funny, and he started to laugh softly.

"That's a yes then?"

Once she was able to think clearly, Francesca levelled a baleful glare at him. "You take liberties. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't fire you for even suggesting that!"

"Where would you find another agent as handsome and debonair?" His eyebrows waggled manically.

Francesca's laughter peeled out across the diners in the crowded restaurant.

**********

When the two women left the restaurant Hunter realised that her mistress had been right. The crowds of shoppers in the mall had dispersed considerably. She began to follow the taller women, behind and to the side, as she had done before, when suddenly the other woman stopped. If not for her fast reflexes Hunters momentum would have led to the couple being sprawled across the floor. Fortunately she managed to pull up short of hitting her owner. A puzzled look must have settled over her face as the brunette turned towards her.

"Hunter...um...I haven't really thanked you for what you did." The younger woman looked like a nervous teenager asking for a date. "I'd like you to pick out some clothes, as a reward. I noticed that all of the other guards have clothes for leisure time and all you have are those suits. I know you don't really have any free time, but when I relax, you should be able to as well." She looked at the other woman from under lowered lashes, feeling suddenly shy.

The shorter woman looked like a deer in headlights. Her face had gone slack and her eyes were as wide as Francesca had ever seen. Slightly worried she waved her hand in front of the blue eyes, trying to snap the other woman back into the present. When that failed to garner a response she raised her hand to touch the scared cheek when a lightning fast hand captured her wrist.

"You alright." Francesca bit back her fear of this powerful creature.

"Yeah...Sorry." She quickly released the other woman's hand. "Nobody's given me a reward before." The blue haired figure looked lost.

"Well, it's about time then isn't it?" With that Francesca began to walk towards the shops, Hunter falling into step behind her.

After an hour Hunter felt like they had been shopping forever. How anybody could think that this was pleasurable was totally beyond her, it was more like a battle. Francesca was like a general; organising their destination, planning their purchases, trying on clothes with speed and not selecting one bad outfit. Hunter was truly amazed by her approach to this mundane activity. This was yet another facet of the other woman which she had not been privy to before. Francesca had bought clothes and jewellery for herself, but Hunter hadn't seen anything she wanted.

Francesca had also been talking, a lot. She was having fully fledged discussions with her slave. Granted Hunter's responses had been brief, but she really did seem to be engaged by the other woman. She was funny and captivating, even to an audience who had been treated so badly by her. They were on their way to the last of the stores, Francesca explaining that she was an Emancipation-ist and that she really regretted her recent actions, when they passed the store. Hunter's eye was caught by a pair of pants in the window of the small establishment.

"I want them!" Her voice was filled with excitement.

Francesca turned her attention to the window to be greeted by the site of a pair of leather biker pants. They were black and padded at the knee and shin. She looked at the rest of the clothes displayed in the window and realised that this was a retro clothes store. She motioned the other woman forward and followed her into the shop. It reeked of leather, rubber and cotton due to the piles of pants in these materials and the racks of jeans and t-shirts that could be seen in the large room. Francesca was amused at the look of awe on the other woman's face.

"You can choose three pairs of pants and five t-shirts."

"Really?"

"Don't question your mistress, now go and choose, we have to be home in an hour."

Fifteen minutes later found Hunter the proud owner of two pars of blue jeans and the biker leathers as well as two sports bra-style tops, two cotton shirts and a skin-tight rubber vest. She was more content than she had been in a very long time. It was as surprising as much for what happened as for who it happened with. The walk back to the car was spent in companionable silence as the pair thought about the day.

**********

They had found out a lot about each other on their little trip and both were still thinking about the revelations as Francesca drove them home. Although not terrible talkative yet, Francesca hoped that her bodyguard would come out of her shell, given some nurturing. Her choice of purchases and her obvious joy in them had spoken volumes on their own. She turned to speak to her companion in time to see a spasm pass through the slouched figure.

Hunters body was rocked by the pain and suddenly she had no control. Spasm after spasm passed through her deadened limbs. The only sensation left to her deactivated nerves was the pain being inflicted on them. In her peripheral vision she could see the panic on her mistresses face as she tried to concentrate on the road. Unable to raise her head, Hunter knew that the other woman needed information.

"My chip," she gasped. "It's active...Can't move."

The dark woman suddenly went very still as her hands clasped the wheel tighter. The air in the car almost crackled with the force of her anger. She knew that she was the only person with access to the other woman's punishment controller. Only one person would dare to go into her room and rifle through her belongings. She put her foot down and sped towards home.

Towards Douglas.



CHAPTER EIGHT


Click, another moment captured in time, frozen for posterity. Frozen like ice, cold and unfeeling soaking into the pores of any who wonder too close. Cold and empty like the eyes behind the lens. Sounds, so close to those of a machine gun, fired from the camera as picture after picture was captured. The end result would be almost a flick-book, enough images to seem animated. The photographers intent was not so pure.

The three children, held captive by the viewfinder, were blissfully unaware of the photographers scrutiny. Summer was a good time to be a kid in the park. The weather was hot and the sun was high as the siblings played soccer on the grass. Terrance had stripped off his shirt and was using it as one half of their impromptu gaol, a young sapling providing the other. Polar stood in goal, smirking at the children's antics as Becca and Shell tackled their big brother by jumping on his back. Grizzly stood off to the side, watching over the park while his brother watched over their charges. They were as alert as a pair of Doberman hounds. A shame then that their sense of smell was not as great, a telescopic lens keeps you well out of sight.

The lens zoomed in on each child, focusing in on their individual faces and capturing a little of their personality. First was Terrance, eight years old and full of little boy pomp. His dark brown hair curling around his face and his cheeks were flushed. He ran around with seemingly limitless energy and the devil in him. He was continually pulling faces at the his sisters, tongue out, eyelids folded back. Beside his little sisters he looked huge, tall for his age thanks to the combined genes of his mother and father.

The twins shared their brothers colouring and Rochelle's hair had the same waves while Rebecca's was poker straight. Rochelle was a little chubby and spiteful, pulling her brothers hair to get him to give her the ball. She was also loud and tried to take charge, even though her brother was three years older. Her twin was much smaller, thin, delicate and fragile. She played with the same energy but without the competitive edge.

Long fingered hands carefully laid the camera onto the grass as the tall figure sat down in the grass. Pulling forward the heavily laden backpack an arm snaked in and drew out several manila envelopes, sliding out the contents onto the springing grass. The title of each file clearly visible: TERRANCE ROSE, ROCHELLE ROSE, REBECCA ROSE.

**********

Pasting threatening letters was an art. It took skill and precision. A flare for the dramatic and the sublime. Combinations of colour and the style of text had to be carefully selected. Amateurs and recipients though that it was simply random, an ill conceived disguise which bore the message. They didn't realise that it was the message.

The razor sharp scalpel felt cool through the creamy film of the latex gloves. Tools of the trade, a must have for anonymity. The magazine pages were spread across the polished surface, headlines screaming for attention. Like a surgeon assessing a patient, the first letter was carefully picked. Placing it with reverence on the cutting board, the first incision was made...

**********

The office was large, palatial even. The decor was tasteful, if a little cluttered. It was the work area of a man who valued his family. You could see it from the moment you walked through the lacquered oak door. Photographs of his children hung on the walls, drawings were framed and took the place of commissioned art, swimming certificates hung beside diplomas behind the wide desk.

The camera drank it in, tasting it like a fine wine. The man behind the room was captured in every nuance and colour. Detail upon detail building into the tapestry of a families life. When the intruder was satisfied with the artistic portion of the mission the camera was set aside and the information stage commenced.

Moving to the desk the dark figure moved into the leather chair, settling in the body moved sideways and opened the first of six draws, riffling through the contents. With a clear purpose files were removed, those of no consequence to the mission left untouched. A small pile of papers took up residence on the tabletop as the chair wheeled towards the file cabinet and the hunt continued. Within minutes the pile had trebled and the dark thief was ready to get out. White paper carefully hidden within the folds of a black shirt insured nobody would notice their departure.

The door clicked shut on an empty room. D. ROSE it's only comment on what had gone on behind it.

**********

Phone calls gave you a rush like letters never could. They took courage and strategy. No simple matter of dialling a number and speaking. The whole plan was location, location, location. You couldn't slip, you certainly couldn't use your home phone, that was suicide. Outside locations were the simplest, find an audio stall and send your message on a delay. By the time that the call is sent the sender is already home. The alternative was much more expensive, but could be achieved from the comfort of your own home.

The Micro-phone had replaced the old style cellular phones only ten years ago. They could be used with hands free adaptors or, with the right equipment, connected to a land line. The brain child of a teenage student, the concept was simple a pad, two inches high and one inch wide acted as the key pad. Highly touch sensitive and only half and inch thick. The cordless earpiece received the call and a sensitive microphone picked up responses. The pad was easy to store and the earpiece had been a huge hit, sweeping the market. Dialling from a standard phone simply meant patching the pad into the line. The Micro's were almost untraceable, but you had to rotate between more than one, just to be safe.

One must, of course, have a well rehearsed script. Hesitation would infer weakness, which in turn would not create fear, and that was the desired effect. The piece had to be read again and again until it fell like liquid from the tongue. The basic content of the text was always variations on the same themes; 'I've been watching them/you.' 'I'm going to kill you/them.' It was all about delivery.

Naturally the last order of business was to disguise your voice. Voice distortion was a thing of the past, with computers now powerful enough to create an original human voice. This was used for their AI, its hidden beauty was that you could hook it to the phone and it would alter your voice. No good terrorist should be without one.

The Micro pad felt like lumpy skin as the familiar number was dialled in...

**********

Town apartments were always desirable, none more than penthouses, and this was certainly a fine example of the breed. Taking up two entire levels the penthouse was an amazing construct, complete with roof garden and outside pool. Floor to ceiling windows decorated the family room an dining room, while in the other rooms they were three quarter length. The place was positively bathed in light.

A lone figure stood at the window, bathed in sunshine, casting a long shadow across the tiled floor. Mission accomplished. The bedrooms had been ransacked, the place was trashed. More was to be learned about the woman of the house by what was absent in her bedroom than what it contained. No wedding pictures, no love letters, no photographs of her husband. Only her children and her birth family. No love for herself, as though she gave and did not expect to receive. The only personal touch seemed to be the walls of gold and platinum discs, testament to a career in high gear.

Easy access was assured after the keys to their family home had been found in one of Doug's desk drawers. In and out was the plan, trash the place and trash it again. More psychological ploys would be pointless as they were staying at the estate. They had run in fear almost from the start, a testament to the power of fear.

Sipping the last of the red wine, salvaged from the carnage of broken glass and spilt liquor, the figure moved towards the door. No time to ponder what it would feel like to sleep on a four-poster bed in a multimillion dollar home.

**********

Click.

Duuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh.

The dead receiver once again crashed to the floor from frozen fingers. The look of horror on Francesca's face was so extreme that Hunter's heart dropped to her knees. She didn't need to ask who had been on the line, that much was obvious, Hunter just wished that she could guard her owner from that. The calls had intensified and were coming almost daily. They were usually intercepted by Mr Prince or Mr Rose, but on rare occasions, like today, Francesca would pick up the handset out of habit.

Each call left the other woman in a near catatonic state as the voice on the other end threatened her life and the lives of her children in grizzly detail. Although still wary of her owner, Hunter was beginning to see that she was really a generous and caring woman pushed to the edge. Often the slave thought that the only thing keeping the darker woman from a nervous breakdown was her children, she was certainly teetering dangerously close to the edge. Her recent kindness had made Hunter resolve to protect the other woman form herself as much as she could. She had treated her badly, but so had countless others. For a little respect, Hunter was willing to forgive, at east a little.

She replaced the receiver and pushed the intercom button. "This is Hunter, that was our friendly nut. I'm with the Mistress. I think it was bad..."

"Thank you Hunter, look after my daughter. Does she need a nurse?" Darla's voice was filled with concern. Salvatore could be heard cursing in the background.

"No, thank you, ma'am. I think she'll be fine after some tranquillisers." She passed a concerned eye over the rapidly paling woman.

"Get to it then." Raged breathing. "Thank you." The line was dead.

Hunter turned to the taller woman, intent on steering her towards the stairs. This was becoming a familiar ritual. Getting the body to the bedroom, was like controlling a puppet. So accustomed was she to pushing the other woman that she was unprepared when Francesca crumpled to the floor in a feint. Concerned Hunter took the only resort open to her and hefted the other woman into her arms and proceeded towards the stairs, her cargo safe in her arms.



CHAPTER NINE



"Once upon a time..."

"Mama, that's lame," griped the small boy.

"Yeah," piped up Rochel.

"Can Hunter tell us a story?" Rebecca turned trusting eyes towards the guard.

"Hunter probably doesn't want to..."

"It's alright." For the first time in years the guard felt shy. "Long ago, in a land far awa..."

"Awww, that's Star Wars, Hunter!" Terrance began to pout. Foot stomping was becoming a real possibility.

"Um..." Francesca tapped a well manicured hand against her chin, deep in thought. "I've got it! Would you like me to tell you a story about some of the things I got up to when I was your age?" She raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Really, Mama?" Rebecca's eyes were shining.

"Yep. Now everybody get into bed." Three small whirlwinds scrambled under their bed covers. The beds were set out like a fan along one side of the nursery room creating an a semi circle into which Francesca pulled a rocking chair. Sitting up, each child could face their mother. "Is everybody ready?" One little hand raised. "Yes Becca?"

"Mama, can Hunter come and sit with me?" The little girl was so shy that it was almost painful.

Francesca tilted her head towards her warrior and looked for her response before she answered. In the three weeks since seeing the other woman writhe in agony, Francesca had begun to view the other woman as, if not a friend, then at least an ally. Her strong response to seeing the soldier in pain had surprised her and she had to repress a shudder as she recalled the horrific events of that day...


She watched, terrified, as spasm after spasm passed through the slouched form. The strong limbs jerked spastically in their wake and her head hung limply on her neck. Francesca knew that she shouldn't panic, but she couldn't help herself, she had never been in a situation like this and had no idea what she should do. She was about to pull the car off the road when Hunters voice broke into her thoughts.

"My chip," she gasped. "It's active...Can't move."

Francesca felt the blood freeze in her veins and clutched the steering wheel tightly in her fist, anchoring herself in the car. The air in the car almost crackled with the force of her anger. She knew that she was the only person with access to the other woman's punishment controller. Only one other person would dare to go into her room and rifle through her belongings. She put her foot down and sped towards home. Douglas had gone too far this time. She would not let him torture this innocent who had become caught up in their twisted marriage through no fault of her own.

The drive seemed to take forever even with accelerator floored. Finally the house came into view, growing larger and larger every second as she flew down the driveway. She caste a nervous glance at the twitching figure in the passenger seat. Hunter's pain had grown so severe that that she had finally passed out ten minutes ago, yet the effects could still be seen throughout her body. Francesca felt a wash of sympathy for the smaller woman who had no peace even in sleep.

The car came to a screaming halt outside the main doors of the huge house. Francesca leaped from the stationary vehicle and flew around to the passenger side, wrenching the door open. She leaned across the unconscious form and unsnapped the seatbelt, supporting Hunter's shoulder to stop her from falling, face first, into the dashboard. The noisy entrance of the car had brought Salvatore to the window of his study. On seeing his daughter in such obvious distress, he ran to her, barrelling through the heavy doors and to her side.

Salvatore couldn't believe what he saw as he approached the four-by-four. The tableau before him, in the open doorway was so unexpected. There stood his daughter, holding up the weight of the warrior and looking tenderly into the unconscious woman's face. As he watched she attempted to lift the shorter woman out of the car, she had the other woman half way out when the weight became too much and her grip slipped. Salvatore reached forward quickly and grabbed the comatose woman around the waist and hefted her into his arms. He turned towards his wide-eyed daughter, her bodyguard cradled to his chest.

"Papa, please take her inside."

"Princess, what's going on?"

"I need to find Douglas." She almost growled the words.

"He's out back with the children, but..."

"Thanks. Please take her inside and call someone." Her father didn't have the opportunity to respond as she stalked towards the back of the house.

When she turned the corner into the huge lawn used as the children's play area she saw him. He was laughing as he swung Rochel around. He placed her small feet on the ground and straightened up, his eyes catching those of his seething wife. His smile dropped and his face took on an evil smirk. He purposefully strode to Francesca, out of the children's earshot.

"Douglas, please come to the summerhouse." The words were bitten out, the tone strained. Douglas followed his distressed wife, his smirk growing wider as he did. Snake followed in their wake, watching over his master.

When they reached the wooden structure Douglas asked Snake to remain outside, as he entered and closed the door behind him. He turned to face his beautiful wife and really looked at her for the first time since she had arrived. Her eyes were dark and stormy and held a hardness that he had never seen before. He had seen her happy and lately he had seen the resignation in her eyes, this was definitely new. Her lips were pursed in a thin line and he could see a vain throbbing in her forehead as her fists clenched in time with it.

Smack! The slap to his face made him rock back on his heels. This was not his wife. He was waiting for Snake to burst in when Francesca was suddenly in his face, hands tightly clenched around his colour. She was breathing heavily in his face as they stood nose-to-nose.

"Give me Hunter's remote!" He opened his mouth to deny her accusation. "Don't even think it! Hand it over now."

On the outside of the door Snake had been ready to break through and intercede. He had been stopped in his tracks by Francesca's words. That bastard had tortured his friend. He could suffer at the hands of his wife. Douglas had just lost the modicum of respect that the warrior held for him.

Within the closed quarters Doug handed the remote over and Francesca hastily switched it off, fumbling in her haste. She gazed back into his eyes and noticed the pink huge spreading across his cheek. In the pit of her stomach she felt something settle, this felt right. She should have done this years ago.

"She got what she deserved..." He knew it was a weak argument at best in the face of his wife rage.

"Try anything like this again and I'll encourage Hunter to rip you a new arse hole. Stay away from me. I suggest you move to different quarters, as far away from mine as you can get and still be in the same house would be good!" With these words Francesca stormed out of the wooden building feeling more triumph than she could ever remember.


"Mama, can Po and Griz come and listen too?" Francesca was snapped form her reverie by her sons voice.

"Sure, go to the next room and ask them." She smiled indulgently as he scrambled out of bed. She refocused on Hunter who was looking at her strangely. Francesca suddenly realised that Hunter must have answered her question and she had been so deep in her own thoughts that she'd missed it. Sheepishly she asked, "Is that a yes?"

"Yes." Hunter made her way to the little girls bed and sat with her back to the headboard and her feet stretched out. Like a limpet Becca attached herself to the muscular woman's side and snuggled close. To Francesca's surprise the warrior wrapped her arm around the child's shoulders and held her gently.

The peaceful scene was broken when Terrence can charging back in followed by the two giants. The two big men settled themselves on the floor beside each bed. Polar sat beside Rochel and Grizzly with Terrance. It was show-time, as five pairs of expectant eyes turned to her. She launched into a story about one of Rhani and Chess' more risky schemes, while she tried to process the apprehensive look that she had seen on Hunters face.

**********

Hunter sat awake in the dark of her 'room' trying to clear her thoughts. The huge walk-in closet was illuminated by the moon as it peeked through the blinds in the main room. The door was open, like always since the attack, so that she could get out fast. The interior of the cupboard was so dark that an intruder would be unable to spot her prone form unless they were looking for her and even then it would be difficult. She sat, cross legged, on a pile of blankets and thought about the nights events.

The story Francesca had told tonight had shaken her to the core. She had never imagined that the rich, cultured young woman would remember her childhood companion. They had been so young when they were separated and she had assumed that too many exciting things would have happened in the darker woman's life for her to remember a servant's daughter, no matter how close they had been. The obvious affection in the younger woman's voice, as she related their exploits to her own children, had overwhelmed the warrior.

Ever since they had returned to the room and the lights had gone out, she could not draw her mind away from thoughts of the past. She tried not to think about the past, the memories were too bittersweet. Her parents had used her as a pacifier for their employers daughter and sold her into a life filled with pain and misery. Yet among the pain of her parents there was always a small black haired, blue eyed, child who had been her best friend - her Chess.

She had felt these memories and emotions begin to stir the moment she had stepped back onto the property where she had been born and raised. She had known that none of the Prince family would recognise her, her appearance had radically changed in the last twenty years. They had last seen her as a tall, waiflike, child with big green eyes and sun coloured hair. That was a long stretch from the short, heavily muscled woman covered in scars and tattoos whose hair and eyes were blue.

She had tried to stay aloof, and Francesca's original treatment of her had made it easy. Rather than falling into any old habits, Hunter had become her usual difficult self. Most of her scars were reminders of her wilfulness and disobedience, things that she often found herself unable to control, as well as her mouth. Why could she never keep her mouth shut? She had been asking herself that since she was a child and eventually others had dealt with the problem for her.

She shifted her weight. Thinking like this wasn't going to achieve anything, thinking about the past just made her regret her life more. All the happiness of her childhood burned brightly in her mind, casting everything since into shadow. Everything except Jordan. She had kept the young girl sane and replaced Chess as her closest friend. She had filled a void that Hunter had never been able to fill again. When Jordan was taken from her she knew that happiness with other people was not for her and never pursued companionship again. She used other slave girls and had a friend in Wolf, and she knew that the other Predators respected her, but it wasn't the same.

She looked at the sleeping figure on the bed. Little chubby Chess had grown up into the beautiful and majestic Francesca, Hunter was only human and had appreciated the other woman's beauty even as she was willing herself to hate her. Being unable to talk to anybody, even Wolf, about her animosity towards their new home had been hard and seeing that face close to tears had almost broken her heart, but not her resolve. Nothing could destroy that. Seeing Douglas hit the sleeping woman so brutally had simply changed her resolve. Why the woman was married to such an animal was beyond Hunter. What she did know, was that he was never going to do it again.

Unfortunately that incident had almost totally transformed their relationship. Francesca would engage her in conversation and ask her questions, even bought her gifts. Hunter enjoyed the time they spent together, how could she not? But they were also too painful, giving her a glance back into a life that she might have led. The effect of the threats had also elevated their interaction in a way that had deeply unsettled the warrior. She had never expected that she would have to touch the other woman, much less carry her after she feinted. God only knew what would happen if the woman was ever confronted by her attacker. Not that she'd have to worry, Hunter would be their to protect her

She took one last, lingering look at the vision on the bed before laying back and pulling covers over her torso. She curled into a tight ball, her hand straying to rub her neck. The damn chip always left residual pain for weeks after the incident. She was smiling as she fell asleep, thinking of the story she had heard Snake tell about what Francesca had done to Douglas as retaliation on her behalf. Chess was definitely in there somewhere.

**********

Darla sat looking at her little girl with worry etched into her face. She knew that Francesca and Douglas were having problems in their marriage, Douglas was sleeping at the other end of the wing, and the pressure of that added to the threats was really taking it's toll on the young woman. She had lost a lot of weight and her cheeks were beginning to look a little sunken. She needed to get away and relax for a while, and Darla knew just where she should go. Thank goodness she and the blue haired girl had settled their differences.

"Princess, you should take Hunter to see the river. You two could make a day of it, take a picnic and you could show Hunter how to fish." She looked for her daughters reaction and was pleased with the hundred watt smile that she received. She quickly looked at Hunter who looked incredibly uncomfortable with the suggestion. Darla didn't pay it much attention as she turned back to her child.

"That sounds like a great idea Mama, thank you!" She stood up and walked to her mothers chair. Se knelt in front of her and hugged the older woman tightly.

Darla kissed her daughters forehead gently. "That's what I'm here for, darling. I'll have the cook make you a picnic basket in the morning and the pair of you will be all set. You can even show off and show Hunter that she's not the only one with quick reflexes." Francesca blushed as her mother continued. "You can catch a few fish, and then you and the babies can cook them."

"I love you, mama."

"I know, Princess."

********

The clearing was a secluded and peaceful as Hunter had remembered, it had obviously been lovingly tended over the years by the woman sitting beside her. The walk to this hidden spot had been strange for Hunter, like a flashback to her past but from Francesca's point of view. Hunter had always been the one to go first, she was taller, stronger and older. She had made it her job to clear the path and carry the food. Today she followed a tall form who cleared the way and held the picnic basket in a long fingered hand.

"I think I'm going to take a nap before lunch, I didn't get much sleep last night."

"So I heard."

"Oh God, Hunter, did you manage to get any sleep?" The tall woman looked remorseful.

"I was raised in dormitories, I can sleep pretty much anywhere." The reassurance seemed to work and the taller woman visibly relaxed.

"Wake me up when you get hungry." The tall woman laid down on the spread blanket, close to the seated warrior, and was soon dozing.

"Sleep tight Chess," whispered Hunter.

Several hours passed with Hunter taking in the tranquillity as her mistress slept beside her. Hunter had been shocked earlier when Francesca had turned onto her side and wrapped her arm around Hunter's thigh and snuggled close to it as though it were a stuffed toy. Hunter hadn't dared to shift her position for fear of waking the other woman and breaking the moment. It had been a long time since anybody had freely touched the gladiator without expectations or malice. She relished the feeling as she watched the fish flick like silver highlights in the clear water, her hand unconsciously straying to Francesca's dark hair.



Continued in Part 2