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Connie dropped her unfiltered Lucky on the ground, stepping on it with her heel as she approached the grand, Southern plantation style home. Antebellum looking with a touch of Greek Revival. The main house sat on a knoll surrounded by large and mature live oak and magnolia lawns. A cantilever balcony hung over the front double-doors. A sign that hung nearby, very rustic and country looking simply stated: Cedar Grove. Connie took another moment to admire the house, built for Smith by the Patriots from private donations. She took a deep breath, taking in the smells of sunflower and sweet wild plum before continuing forward, thankful for the larger than normal doors. A new black model sedan was parked out front, the kind used by government agents. As she made her way up the steps, one of the doors opened and a short, chubby looking man in glasses and a tan suit stepped out. A smiled at her with his heavily jowled and sweaty face.

"Well hello! You are the famous Crimson Conservative. I am Harrison Fontaine. We spoke on the phone a few days ago."

Connie nodded. "Yup, we did. You're the guy that runs the Patriots movement, and apparently has some deep pockets."

Harrison leaned back and forth on his heels, hands in his pockets, his face beaming. "Jane earned all this through her dedication and the depth of her convictions. Maybe after this meeting we can set you up in something similar."

Connie was a tad stunned at his proposal. She hadn't been here five minutes, and already Fontaine was offering her a house and acreage like this. She wrinkled her nose.

"Well, maybe I should talk with Jane before I start pickin’ out some new digs, huh?"

Fontaine nodded briskly. "Of course, she's waiting for you inside, my dear," he replied, fumbling to open the doors for her. Connie only had to duck slightly to enter the house past Fontaine.

Inside, everything still had a very open feeling. White plaster walls with the mantels, wainscoting, door moldings and other woodwork all painted white. A grand curved staircase lead from the right side of the main hallway on the first floor to the opposite side of the hall on the second floor. Each room appeared to contain a fireplace extending into the room approximately three feet. Supporting wall pilasters formed the entrance hall area. A small receiving area stood nearby with comfortable looking, albeit small chairs and a wooden table, probably oak. Through expensive glass double-doors next to them, an Olympic sized swimming pool could be seen. Harrison moved past her and around a corner, his footsteps falling heavily on the marble tiled floor. Connie waited for a few moments before she heard him returning with Jane Smith in front. Smith was dressed in her full "American Hero" costume, bedecked with the stars and stripes. The patriotic heroine smiled warmly and extended her gloved hand. Connie took it with her massive hand and shook it.

"Crimson Conservative, I knew sooner or later we were destined to meet! You must have been that sleeping giant that Yamamoto was talking about."

Connie smirked. "Well, thanks. Nice place ya got here. Roomy."

American Hero smiled in return before casting a glance at Fontaine as he mopped his brow with a silk handkerchief. "Harrison, if you could excuse us, please?"

The man looked up at her before quickly nodding, saying how pleased he was to meet Connie and walking outside, closing the doors behind him with a click. Jane motioned towards the receiving area and the two women made their way over there.

"We have so much in common, Connie. Both of us know what's wrong with this country and what needs to happen to fix it. Both of us have the courage and resolve to say what we feel in our-"

The giant woman cut her off. "Look, Jane. I came down here ‘cause I got a few things concernin’ me. Things I wanna to know, from your lips to my ears."

Jane got quiet and stopped walking, turning to face the scarlet-haired heroine. "By all means. What concerns?" she said in her thick Southern accent.

"Well, for one, let me first say that I don't believe a lot of the media bullshit ‘bout you putting innocent people at risk, like with that crazy bomb-tossing fucker. He started that shit in the middle of the street, not you. Also about King Snake. I ain't losin’ sleep over him taking a pavement dive either; fucker tried to burn a baby alive. What ya did was a tad public, but then again, I ain’t really what ya call discreet, am I? Like you, I don't have a ton of repeat customers in the villain department either, know what I mean?"

Jane nodded. "So what's the concern?"

Connie grit her teeth. "My concern is that ditzy Soviet broad. She's got a lot of fucked-up things goin’ on upstairs, sure. I don't know how that ‘wife’ of hers puts up with that Stalin-lovin' bullshit night after night. I've tried to talk with her Russkie ass for short periods and walked away with a headache and not just because I can hardly understand her English. I think she's dangerous because she gives kids dangerous ideas. They hang posters of her up instead of Che and act all counter-culture."

"Is this going somewhere?" asked Jane with a touch of annoyance. "If I remember correctly, you had a chance to kill her and screwed it up."

Connie's face twisted in annoyance. "I didn't screw it up, little miss, I just don't like bein’ played like a fiddle for some Nazi assholes. I don't goosestep to their tunes. Brings me to my point: That Soviet is packed fulla screwy ideas ‘n things, but one thing I've never found her to be is a liar. Too fucking truthful at times, like she's some naive Ariel Little Mermaid twit... and what she has to say about you bothers me. Really bothers me considering how similar you first pointed out that we are."

"And you believe her? The woman who once faithfully, dutifully served Stalin and murdered my father in cold blood?"

The Crimson Conservative shrugged. "I call ‘em like I see ‘em. First, it seems to me that your father was a cold warrior and a great man. He walked into the lion's den to slay the beast and knew the risks goin' in. If...and I say if ‘cause her version seems different than yours, her being there and all. If she did kill him, I can't find a fault there. I hate our current POTUS. I think he's a threat to national security and everything I stand for... but damned if I'd let a foreign power whack him in the White House, my country’s House, on my watch without handin’ them their ass on a platter."

Jane's mood was quickly deteriorating. "Why did you come here then? To defend Olga and your buddy Hussein Obama?"

After a pause, Connie said, "Matthew Dougherty."

"What?"

"I don't think he just happened to be killed by the big, bad Boogeyman while tryin’ to apprehend him. Little too convenient. I saw videos of him in court, testifying against you. He seemed like a nervous comic-book geek. Like a member of that geeky show, what do ya call it… Big Bang Theory?"

Jane's eyes flashed with anger. "Are you implying something?"

"Just that my head ain't just a hat-rack. Don't piss on my leg ‘n tell me it's raining, Smith. I think you had him eliminated, just like you had Boogey eliminated."

Jane Smith chuckled nervously. "The Boogeyman? He works with me as well, huh? My, my, you have me consorting with a varied cast of characters."

Connie nodded. "I think you're the one who raided his operation, killed his men and scurried him off to make your mood-alterin’ chemicals. The ones you've been pumping into the crowds at your political rallies to make em swoon and wave their arms. Did you not think your message was strong enough on it's own? If not, you don't have the same courage or resolve as I do, sister."

American Hero paced slowly past Connie on her left. The bigger woman took a step to the side as casually as possible at the same time reaching down to put her palm on the grip of her ivory handled Colt. Jane looked like a shark circling her prey to her mind, but Connie wasn‘t worried. Alert, but not worried.

"Well, I have to admit," Smith began, "that is one helluva a story you are accusing me of. Do you have any proof? Any evidence at all, detective?"

Connie smirked, and said a single word that would have seemed strange to a third party, had someone out of the loop been there to hear it. “Popcorn,” the Amazon said, making the corners of Jane’s mouth turn down slightly.

“I beg your pardon?” the blonde asked.

Connie took a deep, loud breath before responding. "You're pumping that shit into the room we're both in now. It has a faint salt-like smell, Jane, so you came up with the idea to give out free popcorn at your rallies. Masks the smell…”

“Well,” Jane said, trying not to stammer, “if I am exposing you to this gas, why aren’t you falling under my spell?”

The redhead just smirked, the look in her single deep blue eye telling her host that she had absolutely no doubt about what she was saying. That look, nearly as much as her words, is what made Jane Smith come to two conclusions simultaneously: One, that her guest was--how, she didn’t know--immune to the Boogeyman’s toxin.

And two, their negotiations were over.

The Crimson Conservative could sense the tension about to spike and went immediately for her gun. Too slow. Smith had the same kind of hypsersonic speed bursts that Olga did, and the punch that connected with the redhead’s face hit her full-on like a freight train. It sent her flying several feet into the air and smashed her through one of the support pillars like it was made of particle-board, tossing her upwards like a rag-doll. Blood spattered from her damaged lips as her head whipped around from the impact before she slammed hard back onto the floor, cracking several marble tiles. Her gun had been dropped and lay several feet away from her. Connie had little time to shake off the thunderous blow before American Hero continued her assault.

To be continued...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crimson Conservative belong to my good friend who also helped to edit and made sure I got Connie right (she can be intimidating you know...).

The artwork is courtesy of the always amazing who really captured this opening volley perfectly!

American Hero, SSW, Fontaine and the story are my property and creations.

This story takes place in

Description
Continued from:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Connie dropped her unfiltered Lucky on the ground, stepping on it with her heel as she approached the grand, Southern plantation style home. Antebellum looking with a touch of Greek Revival. The main house sat on a knoll surrounded by large and mature live oak and magnolia lawns. A cantilever balcony hung over the front double-doors. A sign that hung nearby, very rustic and country looking simply stated: Cedar Grove. Connie took another moment to admire the house, built for Smith by the Patriots from private donations. She took a deep breath, taking in the smells of sunflower and sweet wild plum before continuing forward, thankful for the larger than normal doors. A new black model sedan was parked out front, the kind used by government agents. As she made her way up the steps, one of the doors opened and a short, chubby looking man in glasses and a tan suit stepped out. A smiled at her with his heavily jowled and sweaty face.

"Well hello! You are the famous Crimson Conservative. I am Harrison Fontaine. We spoke on the phone a few days ago."

Connie nodded. "Yup, we did. You're the guy that runs the Patriots movement, and apparently has some deep pockets."

Harrison leaned back and forth on his heels, hands in his pockets, his face beaming. "Jane earned all this through her dedication and the depth of her convictions. Maybe after this meeting we can set you up in something similar."

Connie was a tad stunned at his proposal. She hadn't been here five minutes, and already Fontaine was offering her a house and acreage like this. She wrinkled her nose.

"Well, maybe I should talk with Jane before I start pickin’ out some new digs, huh?"

Fontaine nodded briskly. "Of course, she's waiting for you inside, my dear," he replied, fumbling to open the doors for her. Connie only had to duck slightly to enter the house past Fontaine.

Inside, everything still had a very open feeling. White plaster walls with the mantels, wainscoting, door moldings and other woodwork all painted white. A grand curved staircase lead from the right side of the main hallway on the first floor to the opposite side of the hall on the second floor. Each room appeared to contain a fireplace extending into the room approximately three feet. Supporting wall pilasters formed the entrance hall area. A small receiving area stood nearby with comfortable looking, albeit small chairs and a wooden table, probably oak. Through expensive glass double-doors next to them, an Olympic sized swimming pool could be seen. Harrison moved past her and around a corner, his footsteps falling heavily on the marble tiled floor. Connie waited for a few moments before she heard him returning with Jane Smith in front. Smith was dressed in her full "American Hero" costume, bedecked with the stars and stripes. The patriotic heroine smiled warmly and extended her gloved hand. Connie took it with her massive hand and shook it.

"Crimson Conservative, I knew sooner or later we were destined to meet! You must have been that sleeping giant that Yamamoto was talking about."

Connie smirked. "Well, thanks. Nice place ya got here. Roomy."

American Hero smiled in return before casting a glance at Fontaine as he mopped his brow with a silk handkerchief. "Harrison, if you could excuse us, please?"

The man looked up at her before quickly nodding, saying how pleased he was to meet Connie and walking outside, closing the doors behind him with a click. Jane motioned towards the receiving area and the two women made their way over there.

"We have so much in common, Connie. Both of us know what's wrong with this country and what needs to happen to fix it. Both of us have the courage and resolve to say what we feel in our-"

The giant woman cut her off. "Look, Jane. I came down here ‘cause I got a few things concernin’ me. Things I wanna to know, from your lips to my ears."

Jane got quiet and stopped walking, turning to face the scarlet-haired heroine. "By all means. What concerns?" she said in her thick Southern accent.

"Well, for one, let me first say that I don't believe a lot of the media bullshit ‘bout you putting innocent people at risk, like with that crazy bomb-tossing fucker. He started that shit in the middle of the street, not you. Also about King Snake. I ain't losin’ sleep over him taking a pavement dive either; fucker tried to burn a baby alive. What ya did was a tad public, but then again, I ain’t really what ya call discreet, am I? Like you, I don't have a ton of repeat customers in the villain department either, know what I mean?"

Jane nodded. "So what's the concern?"

Connie grit her teeth. "My concern is that ditzy Soviet broad. She's got a lot of fucked-up things goin’ on upstairs, sure. I don't know how that ‘wife’ of hers puts up with that Stalin-lovin' bullshit night after night. I've tried to talk with her Russkie ass for short periods and walked away with a headache and not just because I can hardly understand her English. I think she's dangerous because she gives kids dangerous ideas. They hang posters of her up instead of Che and act all counter-culture."

"Is this going somewhere?" asked Jane with a touch of annoyance. "If I remember correctly, you had a chance to kill her and screwed it up."

Connie's face twisted in annoyance. "I didn't screw it up, little miss, I just don't like bein’ played like a fiddle for some Nazi assholes. I don't goosestep to their tunes. Brings me to my point: That Soviet is packed fulla screwy ideas ‘n things, but one thing I've never found her to be is a liar. Too fucking truthful at times, like she's some naive Ariel Little Mermaid twit... and what she has to say about you bothers me. Really bothers me considering how similar you first pointed out that we are."

"And you believe her? The woman who once faithfully, dutifully served Stalin and murdered my father in cold blood?"

The Crimson Conservative shrugged. "I call ‘em like I see ‘em. First, it seems to me that your father was a cold warrior and a great man. He walked into the lion's den to slay the beast and knew the risks goin' in. If...and I say if ‘cause her version seems different than yours, her being there and all. If she did kill him, I can't find a fault there. I hate our current POTUS. I think he's a threat to national security and everything I stand for... but damned if I'd let a foreign power whack him in the White House, my country’s House, on my watch without handin’ them their ass on a platter."

Jane's mood was quickly deteriorating. "Why did you come here then? To defend Olga and your buddy Hussein Obama?"

After a pause, Connie said, "Matthew Dougherty."

"What?"

"I don't think he just happened to be killed by the big, bad Boogeyman while tryin’ to apprehend him. Little too convenient. I saw videos of him in court, testifying against you. He seemed like a nervous comic-book geek. Like a member of that geeky show, what do ya call it… Big Bang Theory?"

Jane's eyes flashed with anger. "Are you implying something?"

"Just that my head ain't just a hat-rack. Don't piss on my leg ‘n tell me it's raining, Smith. I think you had him eliminated, just like you had Boogey eliminated."

Jane Smith chuckled nervously. "The Boogeyman? He works with me as well, huh? My, my, you have me consorting with a varied cast of characters."

Connie nodded. "I think you're the one who raided his operation, killed his men and scurried him off to make your mood-alterin’ chemicals. The ones you've been pumping into the crowds at your political rallies to make em swoon and wave their arms. Did you not think your message was strong enough on it's own? If not, you don't have the same courage or resolve as I do, sister."

American Hero paced slowly past Connie on her left. The bigger woman took a step to the side as casually as possible at the same time reaching down to put her palm on the grip of her ivory handled Colt. Jane looked like a shark circling her prey to her mind, but Connie wasn‘t worried. Alert, but not worried.

"Well, I have to admit," Smith began, "that is one helluva a story you are accusing me of. Do you have any proof? Any evidence at all, detective?"

Connie smirked, and said a single word that would have seemed strange to a third party, had someone out of the loop been there to hear it. “Popcorn,” the Amazon said, making the corners of Jane’s mouth turn down slightly.

“I beg your pardon?” the blonde asked.

Connie took a deep, loud breath before responding. "You're pumping that shit into the room we're both in now. It has a faint salt-like smell, Jane, so you came up with the idea to give out free popcorn at your rallies. Masks the smell…”

“Well,” Jane said, trying not to stammer, “if I am exposing you to this gas, why aren’t you falling under my spell?”

The redhead just smirked, the look in her single deep blue eye telling her host that she had absolutely no doubt about what she was saying. That look, nearly as much as her words, is what made Jane Smith come to two conclusions simultaneously: One, that her guest was--how, she didn’t know--immune to the Boogeyman’s toxin.

And two, their negotiations were over.

The Crimson Conservative could sense the tension about to spike and went immediately for her gun. Too slow. Smith had the same kind of hypsersonic speed bursts that Olga did, and the punch that connected with the redhead’s face hit her full-on like a freight train. It sent her flying several feet into the air and smashed her through one of the support pillars like it was made of particle-board, tossing her upwards like a rag-doll. Blood spattered from her damaged lips as her head whipped around from the impact before she slammed hard back onto the floor, cracking several marble tiles. Her gun had been dropped and lay several feet away from her. Connie had little time to shake off the thunderous blow before American Hero continued her assault.

To be continued...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crimson Conservative belong to my good friend who also helped to edit and made sure I got Connie right (she can be intimidating you know...).

The artwork is courtesy of the always amazing who really captured this opening volley perfectly!

American Hero, SSW, Fontaine and the story are my property and creations.

This story takes place in