Fuck ISIS: The Super Patriotic Dating SIM

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CONTENT WARNING

AGE RATING: 18+
(I beg you, please do not play this game if you are under 18.)

Fuck ISIS: The Super Patriotic Dating Sim is a work of satire. It takes about 2 hours to play. Also, it’s sort of porn?

It includes:
- satirically, wildly INACCURATE portrayals of ISIS
- extensive discussion and jokes about terrorism and ISIS specifically
- graphic descriptions of sex
- graphic descriptions of violence
- mind control
- body horror
- bestiality
- blood
- fetish blood play
- sexism and explicit prejudice, perpetrated by terrorists
- animal death
- suicide
- death

Keyboard Controls:
- If there is only one link in a passage, you can use the [1] or [→] keys to go to the next passage.
- If there are multiple links at the end of a passage, they’ll be numbered. You can use the number keys [1] and [2] to go to the corresponding passage.
- If you click the wrong thing, you can always use the back button [<-] in the sidebar.

Thanks for playing. I love you.

I get it! Let's play.

//Dear Dream Journal, It's nice to meet you. I'm Elodie! Hmmm... How should I introduce myself? I suppose you should know that when I was 8, I was kidnapped by the CIA to become an international super spy. They told my family I was dead! LOL, right? Anyways, I'm just a normal girl. I'm 19 years old, a sophomore at Bryn-Mawr College, and I love the Gilmore Girls because I had a super old CIA babysitter who made me watch it. I’ve been trained to speak Farsi, Hebrew, Turkish, Russian, a little Pashto, and like soooo many Arabic dialects. Oh, and I've killed 44 people on behalf of the United States of America, the greatest country in history. Yay!! Listen, I know being a CIA agent is kind of weird. But underneath all of my training, I still feel like a normal girl... who's really horny. Last year at the CIA summer camp, I hooked up with a few guys, but I'm still a virgin... kind of. Depends on if you count fingering. I guess you could say I'm a virgin, but an expert at getting fingered. If there's one thing I love more than anything else in the whole world, it's America. The best thing about America is... [[democracy.]] [[freedom.]] [[the decadent lights!]]//

//Also, I love dancing! I know what you're probably thinking... “Wow! Being a CIA agent! What does that mean?” Well, my training was pretty simple. I actually don't remember most of it. Before my first mission, the CIA put another brain inside of my brain that learned some important skills for me! He gives me advice about my missions and helps me out. I call him Second Brain, and he's my best friend. Cool, right? But sometimes… IDK. I just get too many thoughts in my head. My Handler ordered me to start this dream journal to get some of the thoughts out. They're always looking out for me. <3 Oops! That's my pager — I’m getting called into a mission. Bye bitch! Kisses and kisses and kisses, Elodie// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Gotta go! ->Go to CIA base.]]

//I arrive at my briefing location. It’s a top-secret CIA base, located in the underground tunnel system beneath the Bryn-Mawr campus. It’s so humid down here. I go through a quick little identity validation to get inside. It’s just a blood test, a saliva test, a memory scan, and I have to recite a 480 character code that changes every five minutes. But that’s okay, ‘cause Second Brain always knows the right answer! After that, they let me into the briefing room to talk with my Handler. I’ve never actually seen my Handler’s face… They’re always behind a two-way mirror. // <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> Hello, Agent. How is your dream journal going? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ahhh, thanks for asking! It’s going amazing so far. <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> We have a new mission for you. This one is critical, and you may be the only agent in the whole country who can handle it. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh my gosh? Will it push me to my limits as a spy, and a woman? <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> You bet your ass it will. We're taking down the biggest, baddest enemy America has ever had. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Um, er... It’s GOTTA be Putin, right? Or... racism? <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> No, Agent. I’m talking about ISIS. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That name rings a bell! <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> Need I remind you what ISIS is? [["I know what ISIS is."->I know what ISIS is.]] [[Remind me what ISIS is.]]

<span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> Good. ISIS is an extremely bad organization, and due to their increasingly violent attacks and extremism on cultures all over the world, it's time something is done about it. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But... what can one girl do about ISIS? I'm just a normal girl. <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> No, Elodie. You're the only person who can do this. We need someone who can infiltrate this organization and dismantle it from the inside. No one is better at that than you are. And your alternative consciousness will be there to help you. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> That's me! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You're right. I’m SO good at infiltrating and dismantling! <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> You're going to be dropped into the city of Raqqa. You’ll be going in alone -- no backup. You'll join the organization in whatever way you see fit. We suggest either volunteering for the military or religious divisions. It'll be dangerous. If anyone finds out that you're an American, you'll be mercilessly tortured and killed. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Really? <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> Yes. We’ve already seen casualties. Do you remember Agent Dwayne? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Of course I do. I love Dwayne! We infiltrated that Masquerade Ball together. <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> Precisely. Agent Dwayne is dead. He blew his cover, and we’ve lost contact. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeesh. <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> This is a life or death mission, Elodie. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I've never died before... <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> I know we’re asking a lot of you, Agent 94276 -- I mean, Agent Elodie. But America needs you. The Agency needs you. You have to take down the pig-bastards of ISIS by whatever means necessary. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Mmk, cool. Do I have to sleep with them?->Do I have to sleep with them?]]

<span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> You have full licensce to kill. [[Nice!]]

<span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> However, don't make the mistake of thinking that your actions won't have consequences. This isn't the no-holds-barred slutfest of CIA summer camp. You're being dropped into an entirely different world. And if they find out that you're an unmarried woman who's sleeping with anyone — OR if they find out that you've killed one amidst their ranks — their reaction will be swift and fierce. This is a terrifying group of international terrorists. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Whatever, mom!]]

//Suddenly, I see my Handler pull a small remote out of her pocket.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No, wait! I want to bring my sexy underwear! <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> Goodnight, Agent, and good luck. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wai-- //Before I can say anything else, my Handler presses down on the button on the remote. Instantly, the room begins to swirl.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Ugh... I'm feel... I'm... sleepy...]]

//A ray of sun gently wakes me. I gently open my eyes. Gently, I yawn my gentle, gentle mouth.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh no. Not again! //As usual, I'm packed up in a little dog crate. From the side-to-side rocking, I'm either on a boat, or my vertigo is acting up again. Probably a big freighter, from the temperature of the cargo bay where my crate is. They've left me a single handgun, six rounds, and nothing else. I peep out of the tiny airhole.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> When will the CIA be able to afford plane tickets? Thanks, Obama! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie! Shush! And he's not even President anymore! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait, who is the President? And what year is it? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Don't worry about it! <span class="dialogue">Voice: </span> HEY! Who's over there? //Footsteps hustle over towards my crate.Shit! Gotta throw them off.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Bark!]] [[Meow!]] [[Neigh!]]

//I love puppies!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Bark! Bark bark! <span class="dialogue">Voice: </span> Oh, it's just one of the dogs for the dog-fighting ring. //The two guards saunter away. I cozy into my nice little crate, and wait to arrive in Raqqa. [[The freighter gently rocks in the waves.]] //

//I love kitties!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Meow! Purrrrrrr. <span class="dialogue">Voice: </span> Oh, it's just one of the cats for the fur coat manufacturers. //The two guards saunter away. That was a close one! I cozy into my nice little crate, and wait to arrive in Raqqa. [[The freighter gently rocks in the waves.]] //

//I love ponies!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Neigh! Whinny! <span class="dialogue">Voice: </span> Did you hear that? That sounded like a horse. Wait, how is there a fucking horse in here? This crate is tiny. Hey, Farhaan! <span class="dialogue">Different, Deeper Voice: </span> What is it, Habib? <span class="dialogue">Habib: </span> Are we carrying any horses on this cargo boat? <span class="dialogue">Farhaan: </span> Definitely not. //I hear Habib cock his gun.// <span class="dialogue">Farhaan: </span> What's going on over there? //[[I ready myself.]]//

//I cozy in. Ooh, I'm so ticklish! [[The freighter gently rocks in the waves.]] //

<span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> This uranium is surprisingly comfy! //[[The freighter gently rocks in the waves.]]//

//After a long night waiting in the crate, I feel the ship slowly dock at port. I quietly slide out of the crate, and like a Cirque Du Soleil acrobat, I hop and climb my way to the bow of the freighter. I saw Cirque Du Soleil one time! Ahead... Raqah.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Wait, is that how you spell it? “Raqah?” I thought for sure it was “Raqqa.” <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Whatever, Brainy! I’ll spell it however I want. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> That’s a very American attitude. Good for you, Agent. //Anyway... Raqah. The capital of ISIS.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wow, it's so messy! //I'm shocked by the state of the city. It looks like it's been torn apart by a giant child! What happened here? // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Where are all the lights? //I don't see a single light decorating the city. It's just before sunrise, and the darkness is... striking. For a moment, [[I'm extremley homesick for America.->It's clear that ISIS rules the city.]]//

//I'm ready for these fuckers. Habib steps closer and closer to my tiny crate. I have just enough of a peephole to see his muscular calves inching towards me. I've almost got my shot. Just waiting... waiting... As soon as Habib steps into my sight, I shoot through the crate. Blood sprays as my bullet lodges into his Achilles tendon. He screams in agony, and begins to fall. The next motions are mechanical, instantaneous, thoughtless: I catch Habib and use him as a human shield. Farhaan unloads his magazine into his friend. I feel the last bits of life leave Habib. He’s nothing more than a corpse now. Farhaan panics, desperately trying to reload a magazine. But it’s much too late for that. I aim a single bullet for his Adam’s Apple, and fire. I pause for a moment. No commotion, no alarms going off. I'm safe for now. Four bullets left. Time to hide the evidence. Two dead men, chopped up and shoved into a tiny crate labeled "Antique Goods." I feel nothing. I can't wait for Raqa! Syria's never seen a girl like me before.// <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Hmm, now I'll need to pick another crate. Which one should I get into? [[Feathers]] [[Uranium]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Mmm... //I feel him lick my neck. He's standing behind me. I already know who it is.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Kaliph. //I see his dark brown eyes, right in front of me. Dark as a chocolate horse. He leans forward and bites my lower lip.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie! Wake up! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, Kaliph... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> ELODIE! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Whaa? Why are you... I was having a dream... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie, you're going to be LATE! You have to report to ISIS Wife duty! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh my god! WHAT TIME IS IT?! //I have no way to tell what time it is.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> FUCK! //I throw on my hijab as quickly as I can. They've left a stack of notebooks in my room — I grab them. The door to my room is unlocked. I rush out and run down the hallway to the 1st floor classrooms!// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> [[You realize, if you're late, they might literally MURDER YOU?!]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Shut up, Second Brain! //I turn a corner as quickly as I can, tripping over my abaya, and—// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> AHHHHHHH! //I crash into someone. I drop my books and notebooks, loose leaf paper flying everywhere.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Goddammit, you IDIOT! Don't you know that I'm late? //I look up defiantly. A pair of dark brown eyes stares at me, amused. A pair of eyes... as dark as a chocolate horse.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I mean... ALLAH damn it! //He cocks an eyebrow.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I mean... I am so sorry for my clumsiness, Kaliph. Praise be unto you. //[[Curtsey like a lady.]] [[Smile like a slut.]]//

//He is SO. DAMN. DREAMY.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You realize that he's literally the leader of ISIS, right? Like... this is wrong. You canNOT be attracted to him. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Get out of my head, you creep. //I rush down the hallway and arrive at the first floor classrooms. They're already buzzing with people beginning the work of the day. To my left is a sign that reads: "Militia." To my right: "Mosque." This is what my Handler warned me about. Whatever decision I make here will make an impact on who I meet, what I do... Ultimately, how I take ISIS down. I choose... [[The Militia.]] [[The Mosque.]] // <<set $religiondayone to 'false'>> <<set $militiadayone to 'false'>>

//I turn left, and head down the Hallway marked "Militia."// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Ah, Elodie. Finally, you're here. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sorry I'm late! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> You'll be working in the barracks today. You'll be serving breakfast to the front-line troops securing our perimeter. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Where are the other women? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Why would you want to know that, Elodie? //His tone is harsh, cold. For a moment, I remember where I am.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh... I'm sorry. No reason. <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Good. Do not entertain impure thoughts or questions. //He points to a room to his left.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> That's the kitchen. Prepare breakfast, then take it to the soldiers. Now. //[[I head to the kitchen.]]// <<set $militiadayone to "true">> <<set $religiondayone to "false">>

//I turn right, and head down the hallway marked "Muslim."// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Ah, Elodie. Finally, you're here. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sorry I'm late! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> You'll be working in the Mosque today. You'll be assisting our third-level priest with some of his duties. Third-level is the lowest level of all of our priests, by the way. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Good to know. Where are the other women? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Why would you want to know that, Elodie? //His tone is harsh, cold. For a moment, I remember where I am.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh... I'm sorry. No reason. <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Good. Do not entertain impure thoughts or questions. //He points to a room to his right.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> That's the kitchen. Prepare breakfast, then take it to classroom 201B in the Mosque wing. Now. //[[I head to the kitchen.]]// <<set $religiondayone to "true">> <<set $militiadayone to "false">>

//I close the door behind me. The kitchen is an old, abandoned science classroom. There's a periodic table on the wall and some old, filthy beakers. There's a single hot plate, and one of those machines that spins around to separate the solubles in a mixture.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I hate the way these men talk to me. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> What did you expect? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> This, but... still. //This is the hardest part of being an undercover agent. I have to blend into my surroundings. I have to wear a mask. Here, that means being subservient. Being timid. Playing dumb. The hardest part is not letting that mask take over. I must always be watching, waiting for my opportunity. And the moment I see it — I'll take them down. I'm here for America. I may get distracted... but I won't forget that. I've got to get breakfast made. And I've got to find my opportunity. First, I should find some food. I'll look in the... [[Cabinets!]] [[Closet!]] [[Desk!]]// <<set $salt to "false">> <<set $apple to "false">> <<set $closet to "false">>

//I find a package of salt. There's absolutely nothing else in here. <<set $salt to "true">> <<if $salt is "false" and $apple is "false">>Next I'll look in the... <</if>> <<if $closet is "false">>[[Closet!->Closet!]]<</if>> <<if $apple is "false">>[[Desk!->Desk!]]<</if>> <<if $salt is "true" and $apple is "true">>Time to [[get cookin'.]]<</if>>//

//I find an old skeleton. I look closer. The teeth have detailed ridges! That means it's real. <<set $closet to "true">> <<if $salt is "false" and $apple is "false">>Next I'll look in the...<</if>> <<if $salt is "false">>[[Cabinets!->Cabinets!]]<</if>> <<if $apple is "false">>[[Desk!->Desk!]]<</if>> <<if $salt is "true" and $apple is "true">>Time to [[get cookin'.]]<</if>>//

//I find two apples. Nice! <<set $apple to "true">> <<if $salt is "false" and $apple is "false">>Next I'll look in the...<</if>> <<if $salt is "false">>[[Cabinets!->Cabinets!]]<</if>> <<if $closet is "false">>[[Closet!->Closet!]]<</if>> <<if $salt is "true" and $apple is "true">>Time to [[get cookin'.]]<</if>>//

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> It looks like ISIS... can't buy food? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It seems so. //How am I going to make breakfast? [[Cut up the apples.]] [[Salt the apples.]] [[Centrifuge the apples.]]//

//I cut the apples into eighteen slices using only my nails and teeth. <<if $militiadayone is "true">>[[Breakfast is ready!->I head out to the barracks to serve my carefully-prepared breakfast.]]<</if>> <<if $religiondayone is "true">>[[Breakfast is ready!->With food in hand, I hustle over to room 14B as instructed.]]<</if>>//

//I salt the apples with finesse. <<if $militiadayone is "true">>[[Breakfast is ready!->I head out to the barracks to serve my carefully-prepared breakfast.]]<</if>> <<if $religiondayone is "true">>[[Breakfast is ready!->With food in hand, I hustle over to room 14B as instructed.]]<</if>>//

//It works! The apples are separated by density. <<if $militiadayone is "true">>[[Breakfast is ready!->I head out to the barracks to serve my carefully-prepared breakfast.]]<</if>> <<if $religiondayone is "true">>[[Breakfast is ready!->With food in hand, I hustle over to room 14B as instructed.]]<</if>>//

<img src="images/barracks.png" alt="outside barracks" style="width:748px;height:561px;"> //I head out to the barracks to serve my carefully-prepared breakfast. The barracks are just outside, positioned defensively behind the high school to protect the HQ. The actual Militia sprawls all over town. The men are thin, violent, and angry... but they’re well-organized. Whoever is directing this legion knows how to whip their recruits into shape.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> The HQ is well-defended. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Overt escape would be difficult, if not impossible. //I see a group of six or seven soldiers approach. They greet the ones near the base and take up their positions. The night shift is giving way to the morning shift.// <span class="dialogue"> Soldier: </span> Hey! Where's breakfast? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That's my cue. Hello, boys! //They turn and regard me. More accurately, they regard the apples in my hand.// <span class="dialogue"> Soldier: </span> WOW! Food! //I pass out breakfast. The men devour the apples greedily, with no thought for manners. I mean, I know they’re starving, but could they at least chew with their mouths closed? Yuck. I get to the last soldier in the group. He's lagging behind, a few paces away from the rest. His back is turned, his shoulders hunched, and he’s staring intently at something in his lap. I clear my throat and hold out his portion of breakfast.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Excuse me?]]

<img src="images/classroom.png" alt="Abandoned and destroyed classroom" style="width:748px;height:561px;"> //With food in hand, I hustle over to room 14B as instructed. The whole right side of the old high school has been refurbished into the Mosque wing of ISIS. That just means that they've painted some very graphic murals on the walls, but it has an air of quiet to it. I see a door marked 201B. Like a sneaky little spy, I peek through the window on the door. Inside, I see a BEAR of a man. He's barrel-chested, shirtless, sweaty, and COMPLETELY shredded. Like, so ripped that his muscles sorta look like flesh-colored ice packs that he’s somehow glued to his body. There’s a happy trail of thick, dark hair leading down from his belly button. I start drooling. // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie! Stop checking him out! That’s Husani, remember? We saw him at the opening ceremonies. He’s just a low level ISIS member, but he’s still one of our primary targets. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, right. Thanks, SB! //I burst in, apples in hand!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Breakfast is SERVED! <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani, the 3rd Level Priest: </span> CUT!! Fucking dammit, you ruined the shot! //I wince, blushing with embarrassment. Now that I’m in the room, I see that there’s a camera set up on a tripod. Husani is standing in front of it, wielding an axe slung over his shoulder. The axe has a bit of blood on it. Gross! Next to him, there’s someone kneeling on the ground. There’s a bag tied over their head, and they’re shaking, obviously terrified. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, I understand what's happening here. //Husani isn't paying any attention to me. As I take it all in, he swings his axe down and leans it against the wall, then goes to mess with the camera.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Listen, um... Are you the low-level priest guy for ISIS? <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> THIRD LEVEL. But yes, that's me. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well... I have your breakfast! //I hand over his portion of the apple dish. At the sight of food, he perks up. Masculinely, he munches on that apple. He chews so slowly. Nice. [[For the first time, he looks up at me.]]//

//He whips around, scowling. I see the flash of a pocket-sized notebook in his hands, but he stuffs it in his pocket before I can get a better look.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Emo Soldier: </span> WHAT?! //Finally, I can see his face. He's a young punk, maybe 22 or 23? Long, greasy black hair covers most of his face. His eyes are... soft, and a little lost, like a kicked puppy that I want to nurse back to health. Those eyes are so mesmerizing that I barely notice the active bomb strapped to his chest.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Here's your breakfast.]] [[Nice bomb!]]

//His eyes widen.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Oh... damn. //I blush.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> I didn't realize that the new wives of ISIS would be so... sexy. Your hair is blonde. //I flash my coyest eyes up at him.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> You're so coy! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Thank you! <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Your name, miss? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Barbara. //What the fuck? Why did I just lie to him? I guess I'm just used to lying while I'm undercover. That's going to be so hard to justify. Oh god. Why did I do that?!?!// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You idiot! <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> That's a beautiful name. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well, don't let me interrupt! I'm sure that you were doing some very important religion stuff. //Husani glances over to the person kneeling. They're tied up tight and are softly crying.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Important work indeed. //He stares me straight in the eye.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> They don't call me Husani the Beheader for nothing. //I decide to play dumb.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Interesting... Can you teach me what it means to "behead" someone? <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> It means to chop off their head. It's really scary and makes us look really tough. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Tough? But the person is tied up and can't resist. <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> It's still tough. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, I get it! <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Then we post videos of the beheadings to social media. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Cool. So why this person? To get chopped? <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> He's an American. There can be no greater crime. It is haram. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, yeah. It’s totally harambe to be American. //He walks over and yanks the bag off of the kneeling person.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Agent Dwayne?! //It's Dwayne, from FBI summer camp! Shit! He’s gagged, and he looks up at me with panic, confusion, desperation. Fuck, this sucks. Dwayne was one of the best agents at summer camp, and we even choreographed a dance for the talent show together. I can't believe he's here. It's heartbreaking. I have to get him out.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Wait, you KNOW this person? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Um... no. My name is Dwayne. I just said it because I was surprised. <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> I thought your name was Barbara. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sometimes my female brain just can't handle all this excitement! <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Oh, well. That makes sense. //Close call!// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> I'm having a little bit of trouble with this shot, though... //He turns back to the camera, looking perplexed. I take a quick look over his shoulder. I immediately see the problem.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[You're too sweaty!]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You're completely soaked in sweat! <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Oh, uh, sorry. //He blushes and looks embarrassed. It’s pathetic and I love it. // <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> It's just a heavy axe, and I get pretty juicy practicing all my moves. Do you think it's too much? Excuse me for being so juicy in front of you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I mean, I like it. //He cocks his eyebrow.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But I think it looks silly on camera! You need to look cool, calm, and collected. <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> That's a good point, cutie. //I bunch up the edge of my hijab. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Here, let me help you. //[[I take a step forward, towards his rippling muscles.]]//

//He shifts back a bit, reacting to my forward approach. Gently, I take the corner of my hijab and press it to his chest, blotting a little bit of sweat. He exhales, smiles, and licks his lips.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> I've actually never been touched by a woman before. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What about your mother? <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Oh, I was drafted into ISIS as a child soldier. I don’t remember the slut bitch who gave birth to me. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Never mind. //Slowly, I dab the hijab around his rippling muscles, carefully removing the sweat. He looks towards the ground, flushed but happy. I stare at him the entire time. I finish wiping the sweat off of his chest. Next, I kneel down slowly. I meet his gaze. He's as still as a deer in the moonlight. I use my hijab to blot the sweat from around his thighs. He exhales, and I can see through his shorts that he's hard as the Ra’qqa rocks, baby.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Listen, we can't do this here. Meet me tonight. Out back, in the old woodshop classroom. We can... //My fingers trail down along his chest.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sharpen... your axe... for the beheading... <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> ...Yes. //Just then, we hear footsteps coming down the hallway. [[It's some of the higher-level priests in full religious garb, and by that I mean some green t-shirts.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Whew! What an exhausting shift. //I throw off my hijab as soon as I get back to my locker room/bedroom. I'm exhausted and sweaty from the sun. I didn't expect the Middle East to be so hot. I kind of thought it would be more like Paris or something cool?// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> WHY did you think this would be like Paris?! //I notice there’s a wrapped present, waiting on the bench in my locker room. All of a sudden, an old intercom blares out down the hallway.// <span class="dialogue"> Intercom: </span> Tonight, all new recruits will be required to attend the ISIS mixer in the gym. Please change into your new hijab, which has been provided for you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ugh! This day never ends. //I know that I should be happy for an opportunity to further penetrate this organization… But I just don't have the energy in me for a party. Spies are supposed to be infallible. Sometimes, I have no idea why I got this job. I open up the present. It’s my new hijab! It’s super pretty! Yay! [[I put it on, and take a quick nap to charge up for the party.]]//

<span class="dialoguerami"> Emo Soldier: </span> Hmph. Whatever. <span class="dialogue"> Soldier: </span> [[Grumpy again today, Rami?]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Emo Soldier: </span> Hmph. Thanks, or whatever. I made it myself. <span class="dialogue"> Soldier: </span> [[Grumpy again today, Rami?]]

//Everyone laughs, which is super sad. I always feel bad for unpopular people. I can’t imagine how hard their lives must be, because I can’t relate at all.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami the Emo Soldier: </span> Fuck right off, you guys. I’m NOT in the mood. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Jeez, who shat in your soup? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> The whole wide world. I joined ISIS ‘cause I wanted to get away from all the dumb preps and yuppies, but it turns out ISIS is full of preps and yuppies too. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[That's exactly how I feel. It’s like no one understands me.]] [[Do you want your breakfast or not?]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Really? Could it be that you’re... not like other girls? //For the first time, he actually looks at me. He takes the prepared apple portion from my hands. Discreetly, I reach out and brush some hair out of his eyes. His eyeliner is smudged, but not in an “I just woke up in last night’s makeup” way, which would be gross. It’s smudged in an “I just woke up in last night’s makeup ON PURPOSE” way, which is kinda hot. As my hand gently caresses from his face down to his shoulder, I feel the thick strap of the bomb. It makes a loud BEEP!// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Hey, watch it! This thing is unpredictable. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Oh, sorry!->Suddenly, another soldier calls out to us from over by the perimeter wall.]]

//He snatches the apples out of my hands and turns away. I stare warily at the bomb.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Is that thing... live? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Yeah, obviously. Idiot. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You're calling ME an idiot?! You have a bomb strapped to your chest! You’re the idiot here! <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> [[Ugh, WHATEVER. Stupid preppy bitch. You’re just like everybody else.->Suddenly, another soldier calls out to us from over by the perimeter wall.]]

//A few men laugh. One of the women audibly begins to weep. Whatever! I can have fun without them. I make my way to the punch bowl. Inside, there are... rocks. It's a sludge combination, with rocks, a lot of gravel, and just enough water to make it... a beverage. [[I pour myself a cup.]]//

//I wander back to the entrance of the gym, just looking for someone I know. The main doors are closed now, and Registration Man is standing there with his clipboard. Two guards flank the door with big, big, manly guns.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Hi there! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Go enjoy the party, Miss Elodie. Your presence is required. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But I am enjoying the party... right here. //He looks up from his clipboard in shock, then blushes and looks away.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I suppose I’m glad to hear that. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Is it okay if I talk to you? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I am a member of ISIS as much as anyone else in this room. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But do you WANT me to talk to you? //I see the tiniest hint of a smile, but his face quickly drops back to its characteristic seriousness.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Why so serious? Is it because you work for ISIS?]]

<span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Protecting the interests of the Caliphate is serious work. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I get that... but you seem kinda stressed. I never see you smile, Mr. Registration Man. <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> What is there to smile about? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[I could give you something to smile about.]] [[Um... ISIS doing good!]]

<span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> What do you mean? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, I think you know. <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Watch your tongue, girl. The Kaliph has plans for you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait, seriously? Did he mention me?? //[[Suddenly, I hear a voice call my name.]]//

<span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I shouldn't say this... but... I am quite intoxicated by my drink. I shall speak what is on my heart. //His cup is full of rocks.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Of course I am happy for the success of our great Caliphate... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Except that you aren't. <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I admit that I sometimes question the wisdom of our Kaliph. He is young, ambitious… but reckless. Pah! It matters not. I am trapped here. What choice do I have? I can't change anything. I'm just an ex-events coordinator with three wives to feed. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You should really have a better reason to commit all these atrocities. <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Watch your tongue, girl! I do what I need to survive. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, so you're just following orders? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Exactly. That's what it is. I am following orders. //I laugh passive-aggressively.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That's no excuse. And it won't save you. Look me in the eyes. I will be your angel of death. //He looks up, confused and offended.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> WHAT DID YOU SAY?! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Just kidding! //[[Suddenly, I hear a voice call my name.]]//

<span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Elodie! Come here. There are some important people I must introduce you to. //It’s the Kaliph! I sashay over. I sashay everywhere. The Kaliph looks super hot tonight. He’s wearing that huge dagger on his hip again, just like the opening ceremonies. // <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> To my left is General Rashad. He is the leader of the Military efforts in Raa'qa. <span class="dialoguerashad"> General Rashad: </span> ... //General Rashad snubs me and takes a swig from a flask in his pocket. Wow, glad to see that he’s got real alcohol while the rest of us get rock water.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Did you seriously expect the terrorist group’s mixer would be a fun, boozy time? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ... Kinda? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> To my right is High Priest Waseem. He is our chief religious leader. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> General Waseem: </span> Good evening, recruit. //He looks straight past me, giving no fucks. I’m used to getting SOME reaction from men - a lingering glance at least - but he’s got nothing. It’s a relief and a little offensive all at once.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> A pleasure to meet you both. In the spirit of the great beauty of Islam, allow me to quote the Qur’an: [["Women shalt not drive."]] [["Samaria shall become desolate; for she hath rebelled against her God: they shall fall by the sword: their infants shall be dashed in pieces, and their women with child shall be ripped up."]]

//Suddenly, another soldier calls out to us from over by the perimeter wall.// <span class="dialogue"> Soldier: </span> Get away from the little weirdo, Elodie! If you talk to him too long, you’ll get him started about his “true calling” bullshit! //The other soldiers all laugh.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> SHUT UP!!!! None of you will ever understand my pain! //Tears flood Rami’s eyes. He whips around on his heel to run away, but the bomb on his chest is too heavy and he falls on top of it. I feel so bad for him that I almost forget to worry that the bomb might detonate. [[Rami the Emo Soldier runs into the barracks, sobbing.]]//

//There's one face I don't see: Rami, the emo soldier I met this morning at the barracks. [[I wonder where he is.]]//

//I look around, and realize that Husani the Beheader didn't show up. That means… he’s waiting for me. I sneak out of the mixer and head towards the woodshop classroom. [[Gently, I push the door to the woodshop open.]]//

//Back in my locker room, I take off my fancy baby pink hijab. So much happened today. I’m sooooo tired. // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie. I'm feeling something. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What is it, Brainy? Are you getting ASMR tingles? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> No. But I get this strange feeling when I look at that hijab. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Have you ever worn that color before? That baby pink... No, of course not — you just got that hijab. But — I know you have. Or someone has. It's difficult to explain. There was someone once, and she was important, and she wore that color — all over. Head to toe. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Second Brain, are you remembering something? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Remembering? Yes... I think that's what's happening! I have knowledge of that pink color, but I can't remember where from. Why would they program this half-knowledge in me? It's infuriating! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Second Brain, I don't think they programmed this. I think you're really having a memory. Which means... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I was a person. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You must have been. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Who, Elodie? Who was I? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I don't know, really. I swear, they just told me you were a government control system. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I need to know. Now that I realize that I was somebody — I need to know who I was. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'll help you figure it out! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Really? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Of course! And while we're here, let's just collect any clues or memories that come back to you. First clue: you once knew a woman who wore pink. That narrows it down some! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Yeah, we know that I wasn't colorblind! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Great! Don't worry, SB. I'll help you figure it out. I promise. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Thanks, Elodie. That means a lot. You really are my best friend. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Do you remember anything else? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I think... they called me... Jack? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> OMG, you’re doing such a good job having memories. Want me to call you Jack from now on? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> No, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to be your Second Brain, Elodie. Love you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Love you too. //[[The night passes gently, like a gentle cloud in the gentle sky.]]//

//I LEAP out of my bed in the morning! Even though I'm quite literally starving, I feel energized. My first ISIS target has been taken DOWN. I’m like a parasite. I can feel myself crawling inside the guts of this rotten corpse of terrorists. Or something like that! I'm not great at metaphors. It was my new year's resolution to get better at them.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Let's go! //I run along the hallway. No sign of the Kaliph — I even drop my books again on purpose.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, if only someone would help me! //No sign of anyone.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> If ONLY SOMEONE would HELP ME! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I wish I could help, Agent. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Damn it. Well, thanks anyway Brainy. //I round the corner and find Registration Man. He’s definitely not as hot as the Kaliph, but whatever. He’s like a 7/10. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Morning, Reg! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> There you are, Miss Elodie. Late as usual. I was almost worried. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Worried about me? Why?? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Oddly enough, we've had some missing persons since yesterday. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Weirdie weirdie, that's a beardie! //Registration Man looks down at his beard. The beard is a 9/10, but the face is a 5, so that makes him a 7.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Yes, I suppose you're right. It does happen occasionally. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What's my assignment for the day??? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> First, you'll be assisting one of our senior officers in the... [[Militia.]] [[Mosque.]]

<span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> //(referencing his clipboard)// Hmmm... Yes. And there is a personal note here, signed by the Kaliph... //I can feel a shot of adrenaline spike through me. Did my nipples just get hard? No, no. But close.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> OMG, what did he say?? Did he mention me? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> It reads, "After Miss Elodie's initial tasks for the day, she will report to the Chief War Strategy room for a special wifely duty." //JACKPOT. I bite my lip and I can feel my mouth water.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yes, sir. I'm off! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Report to Captain Yasir in the discipline chamber. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You mean the nurse's office? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> [[Yeah.]] <<set $daytwo to "militia">>

<span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> //(referencing his clipboard)// Hmmm... Yes. And there is a personal note here, signed by the Kaliph... //I can feel a shot of adrenaline spike through me. Did my nipples just get hard? No, no. But close.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> OMG, what did he say?? Did he mention me? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> It reads, "After Miss Elodie's initial tasks for the day, she will report to the Chief War Strategy room for a special wifely duty." //JACKPOT. I bite my lip and I can feel my mouth water.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yes, sir. I'm off! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Report to our Community Manager Saadiq in the prayer chambers of the Mosque. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You mean the old library? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> [[Yes.]] <<set $daytwo to "religion">>

//I bound down the hallway to the Nurse's Office and thrust open the door.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wife of ISIS, reporting for duty! <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Hush. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh! Sorry boo. //Captain Yasir is stationed at the window. He's thin and a little smaller than most of the soldiers, but muscular and sexy. He looks a bit older than the others. There is a simmering, dangerous concentration in his dark brown eyes. Those eyes are currently staring down the scope of the biggest fucking gun I've ever seen. The sniper rifle is mounted on the window overlooking the courtyard. Yasir is manning the gun, and the safety is off. But what could he be aiming at? It's just ISIS soldiers milling around down there, making the rounds and looking for any food in the dirt. I slowly step into the room and shut the door behind me. Yasir doesn't even seem to notice. I must admit, that total concentration is... enticing. Like Benedict Cumberbatch in Sherlock Holmes, I couldn't help but think what magic could happen if he would focus that kind of concentration on my clitoris.// <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> //(mumbling to himself)// She's going to make a break for it. //I slowly step around behind him.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Who? <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> I said HUSH. //Just then, I see another wife of ISIS in the courtyard. She's on breakfast duty — just like I was yesterday. One of the soldiers spits on her as she's handing out the meager lumps of food she's found. Poor girl. She looks weak, and tired, and her face is stained with tears. She turns away, trying to seem casual as she looks towards the gate in the courtyard. But Yasir is well-trained, and so am I. She can't fool us. Like a deer, the woman suddenly breaks into a full sprint. Before she makes it even three steps, the gun goes off. My ears are ringing. The woman is dead in the courtyard, a bullet lodged in between her shoulder blades. Yasir is the best shot I've ever seen.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Wow! You’re, like, a total pro at guns!]] [[...Are you going to kill me?]]

//I skip down the hallways to the door marked "Library." I gently knock and open the door.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Woah. //Three ISIS fighters are sitting around on bean bags. They each have laptops out and seem to be paying rapt attention to Saadiq. Saadiq is standing by the whiteboard, which currently reads:// <span class="dialoguewriting">BRAND GOALS: 1. REDEFINITION 2. STRENGTHEN 3. COMMUNITY ENGAGEMENT</span> <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> C'mon, guys, focus up. We’ve got to hit our recruiting quotas this quarter, in the name of Allah! Our feeds must be PERFECT! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Um... Excuse me? //Saadiq looks up and notices me.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Ah! Finally. Glad you're here. //He shoves a pen and paper into my hand and directs me to the closest bean bag.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> We're finalizing our social media strategy for Q2, but I’m way too important to take notes. That’s why you’re here. If you can't read, just draw diagrams. It’s Elodie, right? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yes, sir! //Saadiq turns back to address the room.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Okay, enough distractions. Let's refocus. Before we go any further, I think it's worth having a conversation about exactly what we're doing here today. //Saadiq takes a long moment and stares out the window dramatically. The other members of ISIS look at each other, waiting for him to speak.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Today, we are throwing out the playbook. We are reimagining a brand. Entirely. Ground up. Right now, ISIS is a blank canvas, and it's our job to take that canvas all the way to a perfectly-formed BRAND IDENTITY. <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Something COMPELLING enough to convert new recruits. Something POWERFUL enough to bring about the Caliphate. Zahid, how would you describe our current brand? //Zahid looks confused and sinks deeper into his bean bag.// <span class="dialogue"> Zahid: </span> Um... Terrorism? <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Not specific enough. Give me MORE, goddammit! Mahmoud, what about you? <span class="dialogue"> Mahmoud: </span> EVIL terrorism? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Um, excuse me — <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Yes? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I think that it's obvious that we're not getting where we need to go with this. How would you feel about potentially establishing a more formalized creative process? That way, we can direct the group's ideas into something more tangible, and really attack those core characteristics that we're after. //I'm majoring in marketing at Bryn-Mawr!!! Wow, that came in handy. Saadiq gives me a big smile.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Yes! That's exactly what I was about to say. In fact, I have just the creative toolkit in mind. //Saadiq starts handing print-outs to everyone in the room.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> This is a BRAND QUIZ. It helps us define who we really are, so we can better connect with our core demographic. <span class="dialogue"> Mahmoud: </span> A Brand Quiz? How does it work? <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> There's a list of adjectives on the quiz. It's your job to pick out which ones best define ISIS as a brand. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Saadiq, can I fill one out, just for fun? <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Yeah, absolutely. The more people doing this, the better. We want to triangulate the brand as hard as possible. //I look down at my quiz, ready to crush it.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Alright everyone, [[begin!->QUESTION 1]]

<span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Clean this. I want to see my face in it after I take my rounds. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yes sir, Yasir. I’ll clean it so -- OW! <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> What’s wrong?! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, shoot. I accidentally got my finger caught in the gun, and I gave myself a paper cut. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Oh, sure. That happens all the time with guns. //I lean the sniper rifle against the wall, and hold up my index finger. A big, fat drop of red blood drips from the tip of my finger down to my knuckle. I haven’t seen my own blood in a while. I start getting kinda turned on, just looking at it. I don’t always find blood arousing, but when I do, I REALLY do. I look up at Yasir. He’s staring at my finger too, and his eyes have narrowed to slits.// <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> God fucking dammit. I promised myself I wouldn’t... Not after watching every man in this trash hole kiss your ass... But... //Yasir grabs my wrist. HARD. He holds my hand in place, bringing his face close to the rivulet of blood. For a moment, I think he’s going to lick my finger. It’s gross and scary and hot. // <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Why is your blood so fucking RED? //Yasir is fully panting at this point. He squeezes my finger, and another drop of blood squirts out. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> AHHHH! //Oh, fuck. I moaned so loud. It was half pain, half arousal, full moan. Yasir immediately releases my hand and turns away. // <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Clean yourself up, girl. //He leaves in a hurry. I have the biggest case of blue balls ever. This ISN'T over. I’ll make sure of that. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //(whispering)// To be continued, Yasir... //I look around the nurse’s office, and remember that Yasir told me to clean the sniper rifle. I set it up on the window ledge, and use my hijab to start shining it.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning… //As I clean, I mindlessly flip the safety on and off. It’s a beautiful weapon. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It's so pretty. I wonder what it's like to pull that trigger... //I poke my head into the hallway... I don't see anyone! I go back to the window. The man who spit on the wife of ISIS is still in the courtyard. He's by himself, just sort of milling about.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Can I, Second Brain? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> TREAT. YOUR. SELF. <span class="dialogueboom">BANG!! </span> <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oopsie! //He's dead!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ugh, that felt amazing. Well, I should go! //[[I head to the Chief War Strategy Room.]]//

//I remember seeing the Chief War Strategy Room on my way in on the first day. It's heavily guarded, with blackened windows and a metal detector.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It looks like it used to be the principal's office! I wonder if Oprah was the principal. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie, I know you're excited to go in there... but have you considered that this special "wifely duty" might NOT be a good thing? Look at the way they treat women around here. You might be in danger. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I can handle it, SB. Just take over if anything too intense goes down. //I approach the doors. The guard finds my name on his gnawed-on clipboard, and I'm let inside. I quietly shuffle in. I see the Kaliph! Oh, my sweet baby — he looks so stressed. Alongside him are Priest Waseem and General Rashad. Behind them, alongside the back wall, four huge TV monitors take up the entire wall, connected to a row of old computers.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Many casualties today in the northern sector. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> And another random attack we were able to take credit for. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> The general political turmoil around the globe works in our favor. We can curry fear so easily. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Indeed. And with just four days left before we strike our first real blow, the timing is perfect. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, um... I can come back later. //All three of them look towards me.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> INTRUDER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! //Waseem leaps at me, his hands reaching to cover my eyes. With my extensive combat training, my body desperately wants to defend itself. I can allow him to rush at me, duck under his arm, slam him up against the wall, use his elbow as a leverage point... but it's three vs. one, and I can't blow my cover. I know what I have to do. Fighting every instinct in my body, I allow Waseem to slam me back against the wall, covering my eyes. I know just what to do: [[weep feminine, feminine tears.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Whhhhhaaaaaaaaaaahwwwww! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> WASEEM! CONTROL YOURSELF! //Suddenly, I'm free! I see the Kaliph standing over Waseem, radiating pure rage. He’s brandished his dagger, and he’s holding it to Waseem’s throat. // <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> KALIPH, SHE IS HERE TO STEAL OUR SECRETS! WE ARE DAYS AWAY FROM GLOBAL DOMINANCE! We must kill her for what she’s seen! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> WASEEM. Listen to me. I ASKED her to come here. //I give him a sexy whimper.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ooooooouchie, mmmmrow. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> But... Imam of Imams... she cannot be here! The information in this room is top-secret! Only the three of us know the access codes! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> She's a woman, you idiot! She can't READ! //The room is still for a moment. Then, Waseem slowly begins to laugh. The Kaliph joins him. Even grumpy Rashad in the corner cracks a smile. The Kaliph releases Waseem and sheathes his dagger.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Haha! Of course I can't read! <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> I apologize. I suppose I was a bit... overzealous with security. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Well, don't let it happen again. Especially not to this one. //He points at me. I blush.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> She's my favorite. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Aww! You're my favorite, too! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Of course he is. He is the Imam of Imams, and you swore your allegiance to him. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Totes. //The Kaliph seems relaxed. He smiles at me.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> [[Brothers, we'll need to coordinate all of the plans for the upcoming launch. Elodie, I asked you to come here...]]

//God, I love it when he says my name.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> FOCUS! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> — So you could clean up this room a little bit. //I glance around the office — it's filthy! There are newspapers, planning documents, and dirty socks everywhere. Why are there socks in here?// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yes, Kaliph. Anything for you. //He winks, and it makes me feel things. The men file out, and I look around the room. It really is a mess — time to dive in, clean it up, and see what I can find. That's when I notice... [[THAT BAG OF DORITOS!]] [[the display on the 4 huge TV Monitors.]]//

//No, fuck that. My body overrides and I reach for the Doritos! It's like some omniscient god is forcing me down a specific narrative path! [[GRAB THE CHIPS! YOU HAVE TO!->THAT BAG OF DORITOS!]]//

//Cheese dust like the sands of time... [[...like walking alone in a desert of flavor...]] [[...extending beyond me, beyond my body...]]//

//My teeth wish they could kiss these tangy triangles... [[...balanced little explosions of flavor, you sustain my body...]] [[...oh god, poems are hard...]] //

//My teeth wish they could kiss these tangy triangles. Balanced little explosions of flavor, you sustain my body... But the tapestry of memories you evoke — this sustains my soul. [[Perfect! An A+ poem. Lana Del Rey vibes.]]//

//My teeth wish they could kiss these tangy triangles. ...oh god, poems are hard... ...I'm still so hungry, and I forgot what I was going to write. [[Perfect! An A+ poem. Lana Del Rey vibes.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What do you think, Second Brain? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> ...Nuclear bomb. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You think my poem was da nuclear bomb? Aww, you’re the best, SB! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> No, Elodie, look at the monitors! //I look up. Displayed across the four huge monitors at the back of the room, it reads: ISIS OPERATION: WOUNDED EAGLE NUCLEAR STRIKE ON AMERICA Beneath those words is a diagram of a nuclear warhead, softly turning on the screen. A world map shows “Origin: Raa'qua”, and “Destination: Ohio City, Ohio.” And beneath, a countdown: 4 DAYS, 18 MINUTES// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh. Hi. Oh. CITY! //Suddenly, the countdown boops: 4 DAYS, 17 MINUTES.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> It can't be possible. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> How... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> 4 days, Elodie. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It can't be real. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> FOUR DAYS, ELODIE. IT'S REAL. YOU NEED TO TAKE DOWN ISIS IN FOUR DAYS, OR ISIS WILL START A NUCLEAR WAR. //In a daze, I throw all the socks away. Just enough cleaning to ward away any suspicion. After that, I start rifling through the papers in the room.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> This can't be real — it's just a bluff. //Each document I find proves that I'm wrong — this shit is real. I see detailed diagrams of the warhead, graphs predicting blast radius and nuclear fallout, possible political ramifications, blast code protocol, and stacks and stacks of papers titled "Wounded Eagle."// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wow, it's a good thing I can read! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Wait, Elodie, what's that? //Second Brain points my eyes over to an odd book on top of one of the filing cabinets. The book looks strange compared to all of the other papers in the room. The papers themselves are clinical, clearly documents for planning and logistics. This book is leather-bound and well-worn. It looks personal... the Kaliph was standing right over here earlier...// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'll just take one LITTLE look-see, and then I'm outta here! //[[I rush over and open the leather-bound book.]]//

<span class="dialoguewriting">Dear Allah, It's me, the Kaliph.</span> <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> EEEEEE!! It's his journal!!!! Oh my God, I totally shouldn't read this, but I am definitely gonna read this. <span class="dialoguewriting">Being the Kaliph is so hard. It feels like I'm responsible for making the whole world scared and afraid... I have to be a leader. I have to hold this terrorist organization together, by the strength of my raw masculinity. I can't be weak, even when I feel like just curling up with a cup of tea.</span> <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Awwwwww!!! //I flip forward a few pages, scanning as quickly as I can for anything interesting. Someone could walk in at any moment. I can't really take my time with this. I flip a page and see an entry marked "My First Nuke."// <span class="dialoguewriting">Dear Allah, I just can't thank you enough for your amazing gift! I know this is going to change everything for the better. Today, I was out taking my daily walk near the river. While I was walking, I stubbed my toe on something hard! At first, I was furious, and I punched through a nearby tree. But when I looked down, I saw a little bit of metal peeking up through the dirt. My anger left me, and I became curious. I called in a few soldiers, and we spent all afternoon digging out the metal object. It just got bigger, and bigger, and after a few hours we couldn't believe it — we had found an ACTIVE NUKE! We think it's an old one from the 90's. Back then, we were making nukes like there was no tomorrow! Even after all these years being buried in the river, the bomb is still active. Might explain why there are so many mutant births in this area.</span> <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Holy fuck. This is real. This is real. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> They found a nuclear warhead at the bottom of a river? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You don't have to question EVERYTHING, SB! They've got a nuke! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You're right as usual, Agent. Anything else in that journal? //I wonder if... Hmm... I flip forward to the more recent entries. I see one entry from just a few days ago. It's entitled, "Secret Crush."// <span class="dialoguewriting">Dear Allah, I know that I should be focusing on my mission. But I just can't get her off of my mind. I want to bite her lip. I want to kiss her neck, and touch her. I want to hold her close. She is pure fire. I want to show her every kind of love — tender, passionate, intense, playful. I want to give her my gift (penis). But I also just want to talk to her. She's so impertinent. So impetuous. So charming. And smart! Yesterday, I was trying to decide which city in America we should nuke, and for some reason, I wanted to ask for her opinion. It's too early to know for sure, but I think I might... Oh, never mind. I'm too embarrassed to even write her name. </span> <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> OH MY GOD!!!!!! I wonder if he's talking about me! I’m totally freaking out. //I hear some rustling outside the door, so I put the journal back. [[In a daze, I rush out of the Strategy Room and head back down the hallway.]]//

//I get back to my locker room, and my hands are shaking beyond belief.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> They have... a nuke. And the Kaliph has a secret crush! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> The stakes have never been higher. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I don't care what it takes. I WON'T let them nuke America. And I wonder who the Kaliph’s crush is... //I sit down, full of anxiety and fear and excitement. I'm exhausted from the day. It's so scary and arousing being at ISIS! I miss summer camp.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You know what I don't get? Why Ohio? Of all places to nuke? //<<if $daytwo is "militia">>[[Suddenly, I hear a knock at the door.]]<</if>> <<if $daytwo is "religion">>[[Suddenly, my blackberry beeps.]]<</if>>//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yasir? //I feel wet. I look down, and I'm still covered in period blood.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ha! Oops. //The entire room looks like a crime scene. There's handprints of our blood, hers and mine, mixed together. Dried blood, wet blood, blood clumps, and puddles. Oh, well! That's how my periods usually work: explosive beginning capturing every woman around me, then about 4 hours total of extreme bleeding. It's been like that ever since the CIA spayed me so I wouldn't get pregnant.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait... //I look around. I'm alone.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yasir? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> She's gone. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No, I'm sure she just went to the bathroom or something. She wouldn't leave. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie, we're IN a bathroom. Really, I think she's gone! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No, she wouldn't — //And then I see it. A note, on the wall, written in blood. The used tampon is dropped on the floor next to it — she must have used it as a crude pen. The note reads:// <span class="dialoguewriting">YOU’LL NEVER FIND ME. SO DON’T COME LOOKING. </span> <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Damn. What a great feminist. You get off this time, you rascal! //[[I get cleaned up and head back to my locker room.->DAY 4]]//

//In the late afternoon, I'm walking through the hallways of HQ. My arms are full of two buckets of dirt — I'll be using it to mop the floors in the hallways.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie... Something is wrong. I'm picking up a transmission. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What does it say, Second Brain? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> It sounds like… an airstrike! Quick, hide! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, God! //I look around for any possible cover!! [[I jump in the nearby locker!!]]//

//I love it. I know this is a dire situation and everything, but...// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Kaliph? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Shhhhh. Let's just wait this raid out. There's bound to be a few more incoming. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay. //I look up at him. He's staring at the ceiling of the locker, listening intently. I can see he's nervous, sweating, scared. I've never seen him like this. I want to... I want to fix it for him. To protect him. It's a weird instinct. He smells good. He looks down at me for a moment. I lock his gaze with my big anime eyes. And I know it's inappropriate for the situation, but I smile. He looks surprised. Maybe even blushing a little? It's a bit dark in this tiny, tight locker. I arch my back and press myself into him as much as I can. He's still staring right into my eyes, breathing a little harder than normal. I feel something moving down there. For a second, I thought it might be the dagger he always wears on his hip, but... as I wiggle around... OH MY GOD. Under his robe, I can feel his dick getting bigger. I press into him more. I can feel his body respond. He wants me! And I want to see that perfect cock. I want to know what it looks like. I want to hear all the perverted sounds he makes. I reach down and pet his dick over his clothes. His breath catches.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Elodie! What are you doing? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Shhhhhhh, baby. We're just waiting out the raid. //I know what I want, and I'm tired of waiting. If I'm going to die in a locker on an ISIS base during a drone raid, I’m going to do it bouncing on the Kaliph’s perfect cock. I pull up his robe and sweep it to the side until I find what I want. I grab his dick, and his skin is SOFT. The dick itself is hard and ready to go, but it's just so soft for a guy who lives in the desert. Pressing my back against the locker and my legs against the sides, I hitch myself up and pull my abaya out of the way. Thank God I didn't wear underwear today! After a little bit of angling, he's right at my hole. Right outside my pussy. AHHHH! For a moment, I think about what this means. I've fooled around lots before, but this would be the fabled PIV intercourse that I've watched so much porn about. I'll remember this moment forever. I look up at him — is this the right moment to lose my virginity?// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Elodie... Are you certain? //His voice is full of tender desire. He's not tearing me apart or shoving inside. He's just waiting for me. Waiting for me to do whatever I want. If anything, he looks conflicted. At this moment, I can tell that he's totally mine. [[I sit down on that dick!]]//

//It feels... good! Definitely good. No pain! The weirdest part is that my body is literally... responding. I feel like I'm sort of accepting him, and any initial discomfort or foreignness is fading to a sweet, intoxicating pleasure. The thing is, when I jerk off, I usually only play with my clit. This is just entirely new, and I wonder how much I still have left to experience. How many things I have yet to feel. I've been looking down, drinking in the visual and focusing on the feeling, and I realize I've kind of been ignoring the Kaliph. I look up to check in on him. He's breathing slowly, in through his nose and out through his mouth. I see a bead of sweat drip down his forehead. The look on his face… Half pleasure, half restraint. // <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Are you alright, Elodie? Can I... go faster? //[[I lean forward and kiss him on the nose.]]//

//We're safe, we're together — no bombs can get us here.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //(whispering)// You can do whatever you want to me. //He responds, and his voice is a low growl: // <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I know. //He leans forward and kisses me hard, biting and sucking my lower lip.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> MmmmmMmmmmm... //He tries to lean forward a bit more, his energy taking over. He's trying to thrust into me, go in and out, but the locker is just too cramped. He pushes hard, but he just can't move. We're actually — stuck. Stuck in this position. It's weird and awkward and magical.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Teeheehee! //He smiles at me and stills. For a few moments, we just stand there — him inside me, unable to move. // <span class="dialogueboom">BOOM! </span> <span class="dialogueboom">BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! </span> //More drone hits!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! //The worst strike yet! I hear clattering and clanging and the locker is thrown to the side.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Ahhhh! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ow!!! //The locker falls to the ground on its side, and the door falls open. The Kaliph rolls out of me and out of the locker, looking around. [[The HQ has been badly hit.]]//

//This drone strike was probably from the UK or something anyway. Being from America, I'm used to way bigger bombs than what just dropped here! We dropped a nuke for God's sake! If America wanted me dead, then I would be dead. I start wandering through HQ. I need some time to think. Luckily, I find a ladder that leads up onto the rooftop. I climb up. The sun has set, but the moon is like a big, bright light in the sky. Looking out over Raqqah, it actually looks kind of pretty. The ocean meets the desert, and curves up into big dramatic mountains.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Hey, Second Brain? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Yes, Agent? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Am I still a virgin? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Uhhhhhhh.... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[I still FEEL like a virgin.]] [[A penis went inside of me, so I don't think I'm a virgin anymore.]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I don't really feel any... different. I know a penis went inside of me, but it just didn't feel like a big deal. I wanted it, and I was excited to do it, but this just isn't what I imagined penetration would be like. I guess it's just... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Weird? To have the head of ISIS, who you are under cover to murder, hold his dick inside you, totally still, while stuffed in a locker during a drone raid? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeah! Exactly. //I look out over the beautiful Middle Eastern ocean. Raa'qua... the city on the water. Everyone makes such a big deal out of your first penetration. But it just didn't blow me away. If anything, I'm still dying for more!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[My first time putting a penis up in me, and I didn't even cum.]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I think I feel different now. I think something changed. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Is that... good? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I think so! I wanted it. I was excited to do it. I guess it's just... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Weird? To have the head of ISIS, who you are under cover to murder, hold his dick inside you, totally still, while stuffed in a locker during a drone raid? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeah! Exactly. //I look out over the beautiful middle eastern ocean. Raa'qua... The city on the water. Everyone has always told me this moment is supposed to be really special. That you'll remember it forever. And I think the Kaliph is pretty amazing. But it just wasn't that big of a deal. It felt natural. And honestly, I'm still dying for more!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[My first time putting a penis up in me, and I didn't even cum.]]

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Well... yeah. Pensises aren't, like, female orgasm wands. You have to get a lot of rubbing and pinching going on, just like jacking off. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ugh. That sucks! I sort of thought that having a big thick dick in me would automatically be enough. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I'm sure you'll figure it out. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Totes. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> [[Um... Elodie. You know how you said you'd help me figure out who I was before they put me in your head?]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Of course! What's up? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> When the bombs were coming down, I had another memory. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> WHAT!!!! Tellmetellmetellmetellmetellme! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Okay!! So here's what happened. Those drone bombs were dropping all around us, and I got that weird deja vu-ish feeling. I remembered being somewhere that was getting bombed from above. Just like here, there was an ocean. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> It was an island. Bombs from above, dropping on a beautiful island. And people were around me, calling for me. I think I was in charge? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That sounds like a scary memory. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> There was blood. Destruction. The feelings are hard to describe, nauseating. //Suddenly, I feel nauseous too. Second Brain is taking over, overriding me. I stagger over — I see the island, the blood. I see the memory. I blink and lean over on the rooftop, vomiting what little scraps of food I've managed to find.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> My God, that was awful. Maybe remembering was a mistake. Maybe I don't want to know. Just an island, in the middle of nowhere, and the pain. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Second Brain... I know that island. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> WHAT! You do?! Where is it? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I went there for vacation with my Handler two years ago for Spring Break. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Where is it, Elodie? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That was Honolulu. SB, that can mean only one thing. You were at PEARL HARBOR. This is a huge clue! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> [[My God.]]

//The sun rises in Raqqa. It's my fifth day here. I walk down to Registration Man as usual, but the mood feels different in HQ. After the bombing yesterday, everyone has been quiet and tense. And not just that — people have been disappearing. Everyone's a bit on edge — except for me!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm doing great! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You've eliminated two critical members of ISIS, and you're well on your way to collapsing the organization. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Almost there. Just gotta keep pressing forward. I just wish... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> The Kaliph would say something? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> YES! I mean, yesterday was SO FUN. But are we an item now? How is he feeling? //I turn the corner.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Ahhh, miss Elodie. I have your assignment for the day. You'll be assisting... [[General Rashad, Military Commander of ISIS.]] [[High Priest Waseem, Leader of the Mosque.]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh wow, what an important assignment. Yay! I'll get going right away. <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Wait a moment, recruit. //He grabs my arm and holds me back.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I've noticed a strange pattern. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Me? Suspicious? Why? No! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I've noticed that each time I assign you to wifely duties for a member of ISIS, that member seems to disappear. Mysteriously. Violently. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ... <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> ... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ... //I start to sweat a little. Registration Man is tough, and an important coordinator — I don't want to take him down yet. I need to use him to get to the important people in this damn group of terrorists.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> So just be really careful, okay? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait, what? //I look up, and his eyes are full of tenderness.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I just really love ISIS. I love how we get to murder people and pretend like it's in the name of Allah. I love how we oppress and enslave people. It means a lot to me. And I don't want to lose that. <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Will you help me keep this place safe? This place we've built together? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Of course, Registration Man. I understand. //He smiles happily. I smile back. [[Off to Rashad!]]// <<set $general to "militia">>

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh wow, what an important assignment. Yay! I'll get going right away. <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Wait a moment, recruit. //He grabs my arm and holds me back.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I've noticed a strange pattern. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Me? Suspicious? Why? No! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I've noticed that each time I assign you to wifely duties for a member of ISIS, that member seems to disappear. Mysteriously. Violently. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ... <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> ... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ... //I start to sweat a little. Registration Man is tough, and an important coordinator — I don't want to take him down. I need to use him to get to the important people in this damn group of terrorists.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> So just be really careful, okay? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What? //I look up, and his eyes are full of tenderness.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I just really love ISIS. I love how we get to murder people and pretend like it's in the name of Allah. I love how we oppress and enslave people. It means a lot to me. And I don't want to lose that. <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Will you help me keep this place safe? This place we've built together? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Of course, Registration Man. I understand. //He smiles happily. I smile back. [[Off to Waseem!]]// <<set $general to "religion">>

//I find General Rashad drilling soldiers out on the football field. All of the remaining members are tense and on-guard, and General Rashad is the most tight-assed of them all.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> MARCH! //The men fall in line under his command.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> ATTENTION! //A weak, starving member falls to his knees in the military lineup. Without hesitation, Rashad draws the pistol from his belt and whips the fallen man with the handle of the gun. Hard. And repeatedly. When he’s done, the man is no longer moving.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Wow. Rashad is a ruthless, efficient killer... We have so much in common!]]

//I head to the innermost chamber of the Mosque at ISIS HQ. As I step inside, I see there are candles everywhere! No windows, all darkness — except for the candles. Tears rush to my eyes. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It looks like the lights of... of... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> America. //For a moment, our minds meld in complete and total patriotism. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //(sobbing)// AMERICA!!! //Suddenly, I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. I look up to see him — Head Priest Waseem. He's the first member of ISIS that I've seen wearing eyeglasses. They look kind of cute! But all of those gentle details are obscured by the scowl on his face.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> WHAT did you just say? //Oopsie!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I said: DEATH TO AMERICA!! <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Ah, good. But you should be more careful. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Whatever, DAD! //He cracks a tiny smile. // <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Such insolence... it's like you're begging for death. //He walks into the room and pulls a giant stack of papers out of his desk.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Anyway, I'm glad you're here. We have a mountain of paperwork to do. You can't read, can you? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Of course not. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Good. In that case, you'll be spending the afternoon sorting these extremely secret ISIS reports by color. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> SCORE! That's valuable info for the sweet US of A, baby! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I can't wait! I'd love to help. //We sit down. I sort each report while Waseem opens up the Qur’an. He's got some whiteout and a pen and is busy making edits. Occasionally he'll just rip out an entire page. It's kind of a peaceful afternoon. Reminds me of arts and crafts at camp! I do notice a little disposable camera on the table, and discreetly pocket it while we're working. Might come in handy later.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Elodie... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yes? <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> I can't help but notice that you're staring at each of those reports for a long while. Your eyes seem to be scanning over it, right to left, almost as if... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> OH, haha! I'm not reading these and committing every detail to memory. I'm just... admiring... the different colors! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Like, take a look at this report on ISIS's murder quotas. It's such a pretty brown! <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Ah. I see. Carry on, then. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> You know, brown happens to be my favorite color. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Awww, cute. //As he's working, the candlelight shines on Waseem. I realize that I feel really comfortable around him. I can't help it — I just do. Even though he was a little cold at first, I feel like we might be becoming... friends?// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Don’t get too attached, Elodie. You'll have to take him out soon. Only two days left until that nuke launches. [[We don’t have time to fuck around.->After a full morning of hard work...]]

//After a full morning of hard work, I return to my locker room. All of a sudden, the speakers inside HQ click on!// <span class="dialogue"> Intercom: </span> All members of ISIS, report to the gymnasium now for an emergency meeting. By order of the Kaliph, report immediately to the gymnasium. //That's weird. Why do they want to do a meeting in the middle of the day?// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> This must be serious. //We all shuffle into the gym and onto the bleachers. There's a huge hole in the side of the wall that I’m pretty sure wasn't there a few days ago. All of the men are totally on edge, silent as sheep. The bombing yesterday must've really gotten under their skin. Men are so sensitive. I see one other wife of ISIS — the woman I spoke to in the registration tent a couple days ago. I wave happily. Her eyes well up with tears. We're the only two women in the whole room. I wonder where all the other wives are.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie... They're probably dead. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Women don't really live long here, do they? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> That’s why we're here. To stop all this. //Whatever we're meeting about, it's a good excuse to see the Kaliph. I sit in the front row, waiting for him to come in. I'm nervous. The truth is that I want more for us. I hope he does too.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> All rise for the Iman of Imams... the Kaliph! //The men immediately stand and salute. I do too, of course. Here he comes! The men start cheering and stomping their feet. The Kaliph strides in. God, he's beautiful. The way his robe clings to the curvature of his balls!! I missed you, baby. He enters the gym and stands in front of the assembled crowd. I manage to meet his eye, and give him a little wave. His eyebrows furrow, and he looks away. Ouch. Is he mad at me?// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Maybe he's just being weird because he's in front of his friends. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeah. Maybe. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Men. I'm here to discuss a very serious subject. //He signals the men by the doors, and they slam them shut and bar them with giant metal bars. Not a GREAT sign.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I'm sure you all noticed that we were bombed yesterday. I have determined that our location was leaked to an international entity... <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> ...from INSIDE our very building. The call was coming from inside the house. That's how the British government knew where we were. //The men around me gasp and whisper to one another.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> C'mon guys. It probably was nothing. Those crazy Brits! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You didn't leak this location to the British government, did you? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No, of course not. I just don't love this whole witch hunt. In case you haven't noticed, I am an actual spy. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> We won't be leaving this room until the spy has been outed from our midst. <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Member: </span> Yeah!!! <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Member: </span> Let's weed 'em out! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Or maybe, ya know, forgiveness? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> SILENCE, ELODIE! This is not the time for your levity! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I... I... //I'm humiliated. How could he be terse to me? After he JUST took my virginity, kind of? I won’t stand for this. I’m going to get his attention, right HERE. AND. NOW. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I... I know who it is! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Wait, what? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It was... [[me!]]

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> What the FUCK are you doing?!?! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It was me, everyone. I did it. //The Kaliph looks totally hurt. He draws his dagger from its sheath.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Are you serious, Elodie? <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> But how could YOU have done this? You were on duty all of yesterday... except for during the bombing itself. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> She has an alibi during the bombing. //A few whispers go through the crowd. I blush a little.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Did you really do this, Elodie? //My eyes well up with tears.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well... No. B-b-b-ut I just... I just can't take all this fighting! I just want us all to get along! <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Members: </span> Awwwwwwwww... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> So just punish me. I'll take the blame. That way, we can all be friends again. //I'm so glad I took that acting class last semester!// <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Member: </span> She's adorable! <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Awwww, you precious pearl. What do you think, Kaliph? //Waseem looks to the Kaliph. I give him my best "eyes full of angelic tears" acting. The Kaliph nods slightly. He sheathes his dagger.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> You're off the hook. Everybody, let's give a big hand to Elodie for being such a sweetheart!!! //Everybody claps and cheers. I get a few comforting back pats as I sit down, wiping a tear from my eye.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Well... as noble as that may have been, it doesn't solve the problem. There's a traitor in our midst. <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Member: </span> What about [[the guy with the British accent?]]

//Mahmood gets pushed to the front of the crowd.// <span class="dialogue"> Mahmood: </span> No, I promise, it wasn't me! I just have this accent because my parents watched a lot of Monty Python when I was a kid! I was a huge fan, but I'm not British! Cheerio! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> No excuses! //The crowd rings out with shouts of "Traitor!" and "Kill him!" In the chaos, I notice that Rashad is standing right in front of me. He’s got a loaded pistol in his holster. I swipe the pistol, and stuff it into my pants. Rashad doesn’t notice. NICE. // <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> QUIET, YOU SWINE! //A moment of tension passes, as the Kaliph regards Mahmood.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Your punishment will be... 10 ISIS dollars. <span class="dialogue"> Mahmood: </span> Oh, just money? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Yes. <span class="dialogue"> Mahmood: </span> Yes... Yes sir! //He digs around in his robe and produces the money.// <span class="dialogue"> Mahmood: </span> This is my only charge? You intend to show me mercy for being British? I swear that I am innocent! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Do you know what 10 ISIS dollars can buy you, Mahmood? //The Kaliph turns around and reaches for his briefcase. Mahmood is silent, shaking with fear.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> 10 of these can buy you a single bullet in Rakka. //He pulls out a bullet from the case, along with a gun.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Now, this death won't cost me a thing. <span class="dialogueboom">BANG! </span> //The Kaliph shoots Mahmood point-blank. He falls to the ground, dead.// <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Members: </span> YESSSS! YEAH! YESSSS!!!! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> The traitor is defeated! //I'm dumbstruck. I can hardly move. That man was innocent. Well, I mean, he was in ISIS, so not, like, INNOCENT innocent. But he was innocent of THIS specific crime! There’s no way Mahmood called the Brits... but it doesn’t matter now. He’s dead in the dirt, a few feet in front of me. I’ve seen so many people murdered here. This is a cesspool of violence, and hate, and anger, and they are intent on spreading this plague of wrath as far as it will take them. Then I look up, and notice that that Kaliph looks fucking sexy with a gun in his hand. He's so masculine and cool, like a James Bond movie!!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yum! //Waseem and Rashad open the doors and everyone leaves, patting each other on the back. I manage to sneak out the pistol I stole from Rashad! [[After yesterday's bombing, I think this pep rally really improved everyone's morale.]]//

//I finish off my work for the day and head back to my locker room. After five days with almost no food, you sort of forget that you even want it. My stomach is numb. I think I might be dying, but I just gotta make it a little longer. When I open the door, I'm shocked to see someone waiting for me. It's the woman from the swearing in ceremony — I just saw her in the gym. For the first time, I take a good look at her. She looks Syrian, about 40 years old? At the moment, she looks relieved, scared, strong — all at once.// <span class="dialogue"> Woman: </span> Elodie. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh! Hi, you! I definitely know your name, but I don't feel like saying it right now. //I close the door behind me.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> This is a surprise. A good surprise! <span class="dialogue"> Woman: </span> I just wanted to thank you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Thank... me? <span class="dialogue"> Woman: </span> For distracting them. In the gym. If you hadn't said something, I'm sure they would have figured it out... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It was YOU?!? <span class="dialogue"> Woman: </span> Shhh! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, sorry. //(whispering)// Are you a British spy?? I'm an American spy! We have so much in common! <span class="dialogue"> Woman: </span> I figured you must be an American spy — I've never met anyone with less regard for their own life. But no, I'm not a spy. I'm just good with computers. I sent out a signal to the British, American, and Swiss governments. I figured they would bomb the place, and that I might die. But ISIS has to be stopped. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wow, that was extremely brave. <span class="dialogue"> Woman: </span> I've been Muslim all my life. I love my faith. It sustains me. But these men — they've corrupted it beyond recognition. And I'm afraid this is what the world thinks of Islam. When I was captured and forced to come here, I was terrified. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Of course. The CIA turned off the fear part of my brain, but I understand what you mean. Why are you telling me all this? <span class="dialogue"> Woman: </span> I'm leaving. And I needed to thank you. Since you've been destabilizing HQ, it'll be much easier to escape. And if you hadn't gotten Mahmood killed... Well, I'd probably be dead right now. //I wrap her up in a big hug.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'll stop them. <span class="dialogue"> Woman: </span> Inshallah. Do what you can. //She looks into the hallway, and turns to leave.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait! <span class="dialogue"> Woman: </span> What? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What's your name? I accidentally forgot. //She rolls her eyes, turns, and runs. Damn it! Since she didn't tell me her name, this conversation doesn't pass the Bechdel test!// <<if $general is "religion">>[[After sundown, I find my mind wandering to Waseem.]]<</if>> <<if $general is "militia">>[[After sundown, I find my mind wandering to Rashad.]]<</if>>//

//After sundown, I find my mind wandering to Waseem. He was so chill and sweet... I wonder if that would translate to his lovemaking style. I feel a little bit bad about betraying the Kaliph like this... I sort of thought that we had something special. But he was so harsh today... I just don't know what to think anymore. Plus, I'm horny as FUCK. I need to get this energy out of my system or I won't be able to focus. Luckily, I have a plan. I sneak out of my locker room.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Where are we headed, Elodie? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I just have to grab something real quick. //I peek my head into the nurse's office, and — yes! They're still here. Just some plain plastic shower curtains. A little dusty, but I can work with this. I grab them and head back to my room. Using my CIA skills, an old wrench, and some thin rope, I sew the shower curtains into a beautiful, floor-length abaya, exactly my size.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> But Elodie, that abaya will be... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Totally see-through. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Damn. You’re not messing around. //I slowly disrobe and put on the see-through abaya. Get your dick ready, Waseem. [[I sneak through the halls and wander into the Mosque wing of the HQ.]]//

//After sundown, I find my mind wandering to Rashad. He’s such a hard-ass. He infuriates me. And I don’t even want to bone him, which is the most infuriating part of all.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Sometimes anger can come from deep, deep pain. I think there’s more to Rashad than the surface-level misogyny, racism, and disrespect for Islam. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You’re right. He's hiding something. I'm going to find out what it is, and I'm going to use it to destroy him. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> He's a major target, and an enemy of the state. With Rashad gone, you'll have a straight shot to the Kaliph — and no General to stop you from disarming the nuke. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeah!! [[I'm going to find him and end him.]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ohhh, Waseem! Are you here? //I see him working late, behind his desk. The candlelight is perfect.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Oh, hello Elodie. Did you forget something? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You could say that. But it wouldn't be true. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> What? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I just thought we could spend some... quality time together. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Oh. I mean, I suppose. I'm just whiting out some inconvenient passages from the Qur’an. //He hasn't even noticed my frikkin slut outfit!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Waseem... do I look different to you? //He looks up at my face for a second.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> No? //He's not even GLANCING at my tits and/or puss! Ugh. I'm going to have to be more aggressive. I wander to the desk, and sit on it. Right next to him. Waseem just looks confused. This is annoying. I wanted someone to tear me apart tonight.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Elodie? //I lean forward and kiss him. He doesn't kiss me back, AT ALL. He's frozen in surprise, and not even in a fun way. It's seriously like kissing a statue.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Elodie! No. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No? <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> No. You know this is wrong! Because of... Islam? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Don't you make the rules for ISIS? Can't it just be okay this one time? <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> It's... not that. Just go away. I don't want this. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ouch. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> I'm sorry, Elodie. It’s not about you, trust me. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Whatever. //I turn away, furious and sad and hurt. My whole time in Raqqa, everyone has been so desperate for me to see their cocks... What the fuck? Have I lost my sparkle? I leave the room and can feel tears welling up in my eyes.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //(sigh)// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You okay? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm okay. But I’ve been running on fear and horniness and desperation for days. I just realized that I'm actually really, really tired. Underneath all of it. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Oh, Elodie. That's really understandable. You've been firing on all cylinders. And I want you to know — you've already done so much for America. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Really? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Hell yeah! You've taken out tons of dangerous ISIS members, gathered critical info, and you're literally going to save all of Ohio before we're done here. You make me PROUD to be an American, where at least I know I'm free. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Thanks, SB. Can I give you a hug? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Of course. //I sit down in the hallway and hug myself tight. It feels dumb, but I know SB loves it.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I almost feel human again when you do that. //Suddenly, I hear Waseem's door unlocking. Oh my God! I'm so humiliated after that rejection, I can't let him see me.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Where do I hide? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Just stay really still. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Good call. //The door opens, and I just stay really still, pressed up against the wall. It totally works. I see Waseem sneak down the hallway.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Is he meeting up with someone else? //A streak of jealousy jolts through me. Maybe he's tangled up with someone else... But who? // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Let's follow him. //Waseem walks quietly through the HQ until we get to the entrance. He looks either way, and pushes open the doors outside. [[I follow him out the back entrance.]]//

//No one's out here — the perimeter walls are way further out in the darkness. Who's he meeting out here? All I see is the stable where they keep a few horses.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Look, he's going into the stable. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Is he trying to escape? Are my lips THAT gross? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You have GOT to be more understanding about that. There's a thousand explanations, and it doesn't necessarily have to do with you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm just SO horny. Men don't have to justify their actions when they're horny! Why do I?! //I can't just sneak into the stable itself — the door is huge and obvious. I circle around to see if there's a way to peek inside. I can hear Waseem talking in soft, dulcet tones. I know that tone — I've never heard a man use that without at least a half chub. He definitely has someone in there!// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> //(muffled)// Oh yeah. I want it. Give it to me. Give it. Ugh, yeah. I love your chocolate hair. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Look! Right there! The window! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Perfect! //I climb up on some of the nearby rubble, and look in through the window.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Yes, that feels so fucking good. Yeah, I'm riding YOU this time! //It takes my eyes a minute to register just what I am seeing.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Your big, long face... //Waseem is literally balls deep in a horse.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Uuuuuuujnnngnnghhh! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Shut up! //Waseem stops for a moment and looks around! I duck down before he sees me. My heart is pumping a thousand beats a minute. I don't know how to feel. I'm disgusted, incredulous. This can't be! I hear more panting and juices sloshing. I look back up through the window.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ughhhhh. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Yep, he is definitely, definitely fucking that horse. //It's a giant chestnut mare with long hair. I notice that Waseem has pulled up a little bench, so he's at the right height for the horse. There are two other horses in the stable, and they're watching, completely unmoved, like this happens every night. I take out the disposable camera I found earlier and snap a few pictures. I hate to do it, but I've gotta take this organization down, and this is a vulnerability to exploit if I've ever seen one. Waseem doesn't even notice the flash. He looks so enraptured and happy. And the horse seems to have a big smile too. Waseem picks up the pace, and the horse gives a happy, exalting neigh. They finish at the exact same time. I get one more picture.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Gotcha, hoe. //I sneak over to the dark room and develop the photos. They're both disgusting, horrifying, and a little sweet all at once. I mean, I know bestiality is definitely, 1000%, totally wrong... but I have to admit, I’ve never seen a horse look THIS happy. It’s bone-chilling.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'll confront him with these tomorrow morning. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Good plan, Agent. With this kind of leverage, it’ll be easy. And you still have the pistol you stole from General Rashad at the assembly, right? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yep. With Waseem gone, I'll have a straight shot to the Kaliph — and no Head Priest to worry about me disarming the nuke. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Are you still jealous? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> A little less so! //I can barely sleep, I'm so on edge. I smoke a dirt cigarette and stare out the window at the stars, dreaming of American treats like the Kardshians and Taco Bell and bright lights that outshine the stars. [[As soon as the sun comes up, I storm into Waseem's Mosque zone, fully armed.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Second Brain? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Yeah? What's up? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I feel... bad. I feel different. //I sit down on the floor of my room. I feel sick.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> What's wrong? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm just… Ugh. I was super mean just now. I didn't know I had that kind of cruelty in me. My stomach is turning. I feel different. BAD different. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> It's just this place, Elodie. It's all fucked up here. We're so close to finishing this mission. To saving all of those people. What you had to do here... Well, it's justified. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No. I didn't HAVE to do what I just did. I think they trained me like this. That’s what my Handler always says: I have to be capable of anything. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> We all make choices, Elodie. You're not a robot. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I guess... You're right. I just don't want to live like this anymore. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Then let's finish this mission, and go live a normal goddamn life. Once we're home, we can get Taco Bell every single day. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeah. That sounds really nice. //After that, I fall into a fitful sleep. I'm so tired. I'm so, so tired. [[I'm awoken by a gentle knock on the door.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //(groggy)// Mmmm... Who is it? <span class="dialogueskaliph">Voice: </span> Elodie? //I get up slowly, blinking the sleep out of my eyes. I throw the door open.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Hmmm? //I look up, and see a perfect jawline with the perfect amount of stubble. It's the Kaliph!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> OH. Hi!!! //He gives the sweetest smile, like he just caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Did I catch you napping? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Um... //I blush.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeah... <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Awww, look at you. You're such a groggy doggy. //He's so cute!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Woof woof! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I know you like him, but Jesus Christ. If I ever woof at a man, just put a bullet between my eyes. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Well, I didn't mean to wake you up — <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No, no! Don't worry about it. What were you coming to see me about? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Well. First off, I wanted to say... I'm sorry. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You're sorry? For what? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I'm sorry that after the bombing, when we... You know. I didn't talk to you about it. I should've come to find you right away. I was just nervous, and then we had that fucking spy signal, and I thought maybe you were just faking that you liked me to shut ISIS down or something, and, and, that's stupid! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Kaliph... I would never... <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> It's so stupid! I trust you, Elodie. And I'm sorry. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ha. It's okay. Really. I get it. It was confusing, and I wasn't sure what you wanted... But I'm glad that you're here now. //He reaches out and takes my hand.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> This is going to sound corny, but I really enjoy spending time with you. And I was just wondering if you were doing anything this afternoon? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh! Well... I like spending time with you too. I love it, actually. But I have my wifely ISIS duties. This afternoon, I was supposed to cut open some batteries and drain them into the acid vat. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> And what happens if you DON’T do those wifely duties? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I would NEVER skip them, sir, because... //I give him my most mischievous look ever.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Because the Kaliph would be FURIOUS with me. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Mmmm. And if the Kaliph asked you to do something else? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I would do what he asked, of course. If I had his permission, I would even skip all my afternoon chores and steal away with him, in secret, just the two of us. //His eyes widen. My mouth waters. He takes my hand.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You would? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yes. //He gently grabs my hand, and brings it up to his face, his lips. He stares at me while he gives it a little nibble. Then he sucks my finger. This is definitely working for me.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh... Oh, Kaliph... //He stops sucking my finger and gives it a little kiss.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> More, more. I want more. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> [[10 minutes. Meet me out back. I have something special planned.]]

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> This is the PERFECT opportunity. You can take him out! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well... maybe. I still have to disarm the nuke. We might need him for that. Let's just see what he wants... //I look in the mirror and freshen up. Ugh, I was so greasy when he came by! Curse you, nap-skin! Luckily, the dirt makes a nice mineral foundation. I touch up, and give my cheeks a hard pinch to get some color up in there.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> OW! Ow... Ooooh! I look amazing. //I run down the hallway, so excited to meet him. As I'm turning the corner, I see Registration Man at his desk.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Where are you going, Elodie?! Come back here! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sorry! Just have to go do one quick thing! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Aw, you crazy kid! Have fun. //I rush to the back doors. Right before I go through them, I stop for a moment. My heart is RACING. I'm so excited. I can feel every nerve ending in my body. I can feel the wind on my fingers. I've never felt like this before. I close my eyes, and just try to take it all in. I try to slow my breathing just a little. I hear something: tapping on glass. I whip my head around. The Kaliph is standing outside, next to a big black motorcycle, and he’s looking through a window right at me. He's got this adoring smile on his face, and I'm embarrassed he caught me like this... But it also feels good for him to see me when I'm being totally honest with myself. I rush through the doors, and he picks me up. He pushes me up against the wall, holding my whole body weight. His hands are on my ribs. He makes me feel so petite, so feminine. I wonder if he does Crossfit. Big brown eyes, narrowed to slits. I can't help it. I kiss him. I'm greedy. I can't be stopped. I love the feeling of his beard and mustache against my lips. I can't help imagining what it would be like to feel them on my... other lips.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Mmmmmm. Wow... Elodie, wow. //I give his lip a little nibble. Sharp. Hard.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Ah! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Hahaha! Got you. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You little troublemaker. You're irresistible. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Where are we going? I want to be alone with you. //He looks around to make sure no one has seen us. Satisfied, he pulls a key ring out of his robe, and mounts the motorcycle. The keys penetrate the ignition, and it purrs to life.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> [[Come with me.]]

//The yacht is just fucking sexy. Gold details. Giant.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Being the leader of a terrorist group has its advantages. //He hops onto the yacht, and leans down. Again, he picks me up by the ribs — totally in control. I love it. I give him a little kiss on the nose when he picks me up. He smiles. He sits down behind the wheel, turns the key, and the boat roars to life.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Come here. //I sit down on his lap. He puts his arms around me, gripping the steering wheel.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> //(whispering into my ear)// Perfect. That’s exactly where I want you. //[[He hits the gas, and we're off!]]//

<img src="images/yacht.png" alt="yachtie" style="width:748px;height:561px;"> //Just cruising in the yacht is so exhilarating. It's a powerful boat, and the speed, the smell of the ocean, the bouncing on his lap... It all feels amazing. After about thirty minutes of cruising, we're way into the ocean. There's not a shore in sight, nor any other boats. He brings the yacht to a gentle cruise and turns off the motor.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> This is a perfect opportunity, Agent! You’re alone with Target number 1, with NO witnesses. You can take him out now, and then plant IEDs on this yacht for further casualties, and -- //Oh my god. Second Brain is being so fucking annoying. Backseat driver much? I’m a good agent. I know what the fuck I’m doing. // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Excuse me? I heard that, Elodie. //SHUT. UP. I’M TUNING YOU OUT, SECOND BRAIN! LET ME THINK MY THOUGHTS! I focus on the Kaliph, pressing back into his lap like a tease. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> This is a very good surprise, Kaliph. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Not bad for a first date, right? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I assume this technique has worked in the past? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> What do you mean by that? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well... A man like you can have any girl he wants. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Ha! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Am I wrong? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Elodie, I'm the spiritual and political leader of ISIS. I can't have ANY girl — I can't have a life. My life IS ISIS. My life is bringing about the Caliphate. I could be overthrown if anyone knew about us. I told the guards that I was going to execute you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Awww... That's so sweet! I'm sorry if I came off as harsh. I'm just used to summer camp guys. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Now I'm the jealous one. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Hee hee! You shouldn't be. They're nowhere near as... //I kiss his forehead.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Interesting as you... //I kiss his nose.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Handsome as you... //I kiss his lips.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Um... Well-rounded... as... you... //We fall into a wet, kissy mess. He picks me up and lays me down on the couch part of the yacht. I hear the rocking of the ocean; its blue horizon is all that surrounds us. I look up and see his silhouette above me, the sun shining down. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Pinch me. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Why? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I think I'm in a wet dream. //He laughs.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> God, even your laugh is perfect. //I want to fuck him. // <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> [[Why are you looking at me like that?]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh! Um. I don't know what you're talking about, sir. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You're looking at me like you want to fuck me, Elodie. I've noticed you doing it ever since the swearing in ceremony. You just look at me with those big, anime eyes. It’s obvious. //He brushes his hand across my cheek lightly, and puts his thumb on my chin.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> So. Is that what you want? To fuck me? //My heart is exploding with lust.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ...yes, please. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Will you say it for me, baby? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I want to fuck you. //The Kaliph kisses me, hard. He grabs my face and presses me down into the yacht couch. You know, like, the part of the yacht that's meant for sitting and enjoying? I don't really know boats that well. Let's all just agree that we'll call it the yacht couch.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Mmmm. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You're so special, you know that? //I just melt.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Listen... for this first time... can we play a game? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What did you have in mind? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I want you to tell me exactly what you want. And that's ALL I will do. I’m going to give you everything you want. You’re in charge. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That’s... not really a game? A game is, like, Monopoly. But whatever, I’m totally in! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Good. So, Elodie? What do you want? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Undress me.]] [[Take off your clothes.]]

//He pulls off my hijab first, and gently, passionately weaves his fingers through my hair.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> So blonde. So perfect. //We lock eyes as he reaches down and pulls my abaya off over my head. At this point, I’m just wearing my panties. He steps back for a moment and just looks at me. His breath hikes.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I want to touch you so bad. Please, tell me to touch you. I want it, Elodie. I need you. You're so fucking beautiful. //He's so grateful. Oh, he's making it way too easy to tease him.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Take off my panties, please. //He kneels down and takes them off. I step out of them, and he steals a little chaste kiss right on the front of my pussy.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> HEY! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I'm sorry! I slipped. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, did you? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You just smell so good. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You're damn right I do. Now hush. You'll do exactly as I say. So, um... [[Suck on my titties, please!]]

//Oooooh, I can’t wait to sexually objectify the fuck out of this man! He starts with his turban. Underneath, he’s got long, flowing hair like a god. Then his tiny little shirt. The muscles. Muscles. MUSCLES. He tosses his dagger to the ground, and takes off his pants next. His thighs are huge. Shoes, socks. Whatever. I don't care about the feet that much personally. Then... the underwear. He peels them off, and I see it up close. It's JUST like I imagined. Long, fat, pink. Perfect.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> The pink panther. //The Kaliph blushes, holding his cock in his hand. He's hard, but I'll get him harder.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I can't believe you just said that. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait. Turn around. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Why? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I SAID, turn around. I’m in charge, remember? //He gives me a coy smile and turns around. HOLY. FUCK. It's just as good of a view from behind. His BACK is the centerpiece. It's rippling with muscles like a statue. His ass is tight, and sculpted, and so cute. I reach out for him. I grab his shoulders, and run my hands along everything. The back, the arms, the abs, the legs. Everything but his dick. I can hear his groans: half pleasure, half provocation. I’m going to drive him insane. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Now, [[let me tease you with my mouth.]]

//The Kaliph's dick pulses at the word "titties." I've never seen anybody want me like this. He's looking at me like he's underwater and I'm a breath of air. He starts with his hands on my neck, and gently trails them down to my tits.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I can't stop myself. //He grabs! It's aggressive. Big, groping grasps.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No. Gentle. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Sorry, sorry. Fine. //He course-corrects and goes back to the gentle trailing with his hands. Then he leans down and gives my left nipple the smallest, gentle lick, like a kitten lapping up cream from a bowl.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> AHH! Ahhhh. Yes, more. //He gives me more, giving those little licks, alternating on each side. I LOVE the way this feels. My tits are super sensitive, and when he touches them... The pleasure makes me wince and writhe. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Now go harder. Like before. //He sucks hard, alternating between my titties and massaging with his hands, deep tissue. I feel light-headed, in the best possible way. He likes to press my titties together, and let them go. I watch him watch me. Needless to say, I’m soaking wet. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Eat me out, daddy.]]

<span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Yes, ma'am. //We switch places. While he's kneeling down and giving my thighs little kisses, I stop for a moment and look out at the ocean. Do I like being in control? Giving orders? I do like getting exactly what I want. After days and days of being in Raqqah, it's nice to have such intense authority over someone. But part of what attracts me to the Kaliph was the fact that it's so fucking wrong. That he wants me SO bad he's willing to break every single rule. And this obedience is... nice? But also a little underwhelming? Then he licks my clit, and every single one of those thoughts leaves my head.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> AHHH! Yeah. Good job, Kaliph. Keep it... keep it like that. //He's doing these big slow licks, pressing down from top to bottom on my clit like I like.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Who taught you that? //He laughs, and it tickles me. He explores my pussy, kissing my lips and dipping his tongue inside me. I could lay here forever. I really could. I close my eyes and just let the sensation take over. But after some time (30 seconds? 2 hours?) I start to feel a little selfish. He looks happy as a pussy-licking clam, but I feel a weird obligation not to take up so much time just doing the thing that I like?? Then —// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ouch! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Oh, sorry! Are you okay? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeah, yeah. Just when you go bottom to top on my clit like that, it, um... It's super intense. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Bad? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well... Sort of. Do that sucking thing again? Where you bring my clit into your mouth and then push it out? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> The marble roll. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Exactly! Pretty please! //It feels very great. I love you, marble roll. And I’m ready for the main event. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Hey, um... Kaliph? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Mmm? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[I want you to put it inside.]]

//I kneel down in front of him. I give the tip of his dick a tiny, chaste kiss. His dick flexes and boops me in the nose.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Down boy. //I give him another kiss, a little wetter this time.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> //(moans desperately)// //I give him one big, slow, long lick, starting at the base of his balls, following the underside of his fat shaft, trailing all the way up to the head. // <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Fuck, Elodie... That feels amazing. //Suddenly, I put the whole thing in my mouth, as deep as I can take it. I suck the length once, twice, three times... To be honest, it’s super fun to suck his cock!// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Fuck, yes. Fuck... Keep going, just like that. //I stop, and pull back entirely. I lean back on my knees.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //(teasing)// You want me to keep going? Why? Are you gonna cum? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Ha. You Jezebel. It's just... powerful. You have no idea how special you are. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, I have SOME idea. //I give him a few more sucks and let him sink into the rhythm. My throat starts to get a little sore, so I decide to switch it up. I look up at him, all cute. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Eat me out, daddy.]]

//I lay down on my back, and he pauses for a moment, staring at me. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What’s wrong? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I just want to remember this. //I flip him off. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Remember THAT, bitch! //He smiles in a pleasantly evil way, pulls my whole body closer to him, and thrusts inside of me. I’m soaking wet, and he slides inside seamlessly. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> OH GOD! YES. //I laugh out loud.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> YES. Holy shit, yes! Hahaha! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> What's so funny? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I can't believe it's so good. I'm so happy. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You know, it's way easier when I'm not in a locker. And can actually move my body. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Y-yeah... Whatever you say. Just more now, please. //We play around in this position for a while — legs on his shoulders, legs all the way behind my head, plain missionary — he's over me, with his face buried into my neck, and I'm holding onto his back like it's a fucking flotation device and I'm drowing in the ocean. I can feel my inner pervert taking complete control. All of a sudden, I have an idea that’s SO deliciously disgusting, we absolutely have to do it. I know what I want next...// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Let's 69 like a couple of freaks.]] [[Lick me again. Lick my pussy, right where you fucked me.]]

//I straddle him, reverse style, and press my pussy down onto his face. I know he can see EVERYTHING, every inch of my body. // <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> //(licking)// Grrrr... MMMM. //Getting eaten out from upside down is even better. It doesn't feel so insanely intense — I think it's a better angle on my clit. And talk about a nice visual. Right in front of me, that perfect, hard cock.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You've been a very good boy. You deserve a little attention. //I bend down and put my lips around his cock. I love the rhythm of this position — I can get into a comfortable position while sucking, and focus on just the sensation he's giving me. Or I can focus on his cock for a moment and get a little distance from the physical intensity of his tongue. I can see why some people might find it distracting, but I love the give and take. Give, give, take, take take take. Give. Take. Give, give give. Enough teasing on my clit. I need to feel him all around me. I look back at him.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Kaliph, I want you to [[finish inside of me.]]

//There's something so disgusting and amazing about making him switch between fucking me and eating me out. I feel filthy and I love it. I'm past feeling selfish. He's mine.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What do I taste like, daddy? //The Kaliph stops licking for a second and looks up.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Umami. //Huh. Okay... I make him switch back and forth a few times. We're both nearing the end here — I can tell the switching is tantalizing and a tiny bit frustrating. I like that. I like torturing him.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Baby? //He looks up from eating my pussy. His beard gives the softest, nicest tickle.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Yeah? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No more switching. I need to get fucked. I want you to [[finish inside of me.]]

//At this point, I'm no longer mischievous or controlling. We're both getting caught up in it — it's just pure, desperate pleasure.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Kaliph, I need you to use me. Just take it exactly like you want it. //Wordlessly, he turns me on my side and thrusts into me.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> UUUUGH, YEAH. That's SO good. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Wait. Elodie, I’m close... What about protection? //It’s a little late for that, Kaliph! But I know we’re fine. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You don't have to worry about it. I... um, I had a hysterectomy. //I point to the little scar on my belly.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Why? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> My parents made me do it. Just keep going, we're good. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Okay! //What a great lie. Lots of normal parents spay their daughters! Being a spy isn't that weird! He smiles, and pumps into me again. About a minute like this — it's so deep. The angle feels so perfect. It must be the fabled G-spot. It must be!// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. //He closes his eyes and just thrusts, alternating between fast bounces and long, deep pushes inside me. It feels heavenly. This position is great for me, but the best part is just watching him. The overcome look on his face...// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Baby. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> //(strained)// El... odie... Aaaaah... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Cum inside me. //Immediately, his muscles contract, and his face flutters becomingly. I feel his dick pulse, and his cum pumps into me. My heart skips a beat. I can feel happy tears rushing to my eyes. He orgasmed just because I told him to, and now I get to watch him cum, and feel it inside of me, and oh my god, I think he might love me. When he opens his eyes, I give him my biggest, happiest smile. He's exhausted for a moment, and leans into my embrace.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I'm so happy. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Me too. //We rest for a moment together, like two lemurs sleeping in a tree. He’s still inside me. // <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Let me touch you more. I’m not done with you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh... I don't know. Aren’t you sleepy? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> No, no. I want to give you more. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Are you sure? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> [[The thing I want the MOST right now is to please you.]]

//I can feel my body responding to those words. He's giving me such explicit permission to be selfish. I love it.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay. I know exactly what I want. Do you have any lube? //He smiles sheepishly. // <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I picked some up yesterday. Thought we might want it. //He produces a vial of lube. Where was he hiding that?! Whatever, I don’t care. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Perfect. I want you to rub that on my tits, please. //He does, and it feels fucking amazing. I’ve always wanted someone to do this to me. All the friction is gone as his hands glide across my chest. I can feel his dick getting hard again inside of me. // <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> ... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Good. Now stay right there, play with my tits, and I’m going to rub my clit and cum. Okay? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Fuck yes. Cum for me, baby. //His hands feel SO GOOD. My whole body feels soaked and sensitive. I start to rub my clit.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Uhhhhhhh... //It's perfect. The triple attack: his rubbing and pinching on my lubed-up titties, his cock steady inside me, my expert precision on my own clit. And... the love in his eyes. I look into them, and then look away. I can feel myself building. I lose track of the time. I just explore the pleasure, wandering as close to my orgasm as I can without tipping over the edge. Before I know it, it’s too late to stop. I orgasm in waves around his dick — powerful, thorough, quiet. My back arches violently, and my legs shiver like I’m on a roller coaster. Afterwards, I cuddle into the Kaliph. I’m exhausted, satisfied, and... feeling a little shy? I’m not sure why, but I’m a little embarrassed to meet his eye. It’s like all of a sudden I remember we’re both completely naked. [[The sun goes down over the horizon.]]//

//It's starting to get dark, and the streaks of purple and pink paint the sky. The Kaliph puts his pants back on, and holds me close.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That was magical, Kaliph. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I know. You are lovely beyond compare. //Absent-mindedly, I play with his dagger. His ACTUAL dagger, not his cock. My hands fiddle with it, stroking the handle and popping it in and out of its sheath.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You were wearing this dagger the first time I ever saw you. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Yes, I’ve had it for many years. The handle is carved out of my father’s sternum bone. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh! Cute. It's great that you're so close with him. //The Kaliph hugs me tighter.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Elodie... I have one last surprise for you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> There's MORE?! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> One second. //He gets up and goes down below the deck of the boat.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> //(calling up)// Okay, close your eyes. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay, they're closed! //I hear him moving around, setting up something? It's hard to determine, but I hear some gentle shuffling...// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Alright. Open your eyes. //I open my eyes, and I see — LIGHTS.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It can't be possible... <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Do you like them? //They're Christmas lights. He's got maybe two or three strands — and they're wrapped around the bow of the yacht and lit up.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It's gorgeous. Oh my God. Oh my God. //Beautiful, decadent lights, just like America. My eyes are flooding with tears. It's so nice. It's so sweet. I can't take it.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sniff... Sniff... <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Elodie? Are you okay? Baby, what's wrong? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I just... I know this has to end. And when you do sweet things like this, it just makes it harder. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> End? What do you mean? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> We'll go back to Raqqa. And you've got your life, and ISIS. And I've got my life, and my... obligations. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> It doesn't have to end. We can keep meeting. No one ever has to know. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I want more than that. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Elodie, I'm different when I’m with you. I keep telling you — you're special. For the first time, I’m thinking about something other than the Caliphate! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It doesn't MATTER. Don't you get that? There's nothing we can do. That's how it's been my whole life. I'm taken from one place to another. I'm told exactly what to do. I have no agency to change any of this. And now it's just the same old story. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I... I'll — <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I want to go back. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Elodie — <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Please! Take us back, now! //The Kaliph is visibly frustrated. He looks like he wants to comfort me, and he's running his fingers through his hair, pacing, fraught with frustration and energy.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Damn it. //He picks up the little glass vial of lube.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> This is all your fault, you know. You ASKED for this, Elodie. //With one fluid motion, he raises his arm and smashes the little glass bottle on the deck of the yacht.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> FUCK! Allah in heaven. Fuck this! //I watch him do this. I’m careful not to let any emotion show on my face. Truthfully, I’m not even sure what I feel. He turns away and starts the engine. We ride back to Raqqa in silence. [[After our quiet journey, I shut the door behind me into my locker room at HQ.]]//

//I look around at my room. There’s just one, long bench in here. I’ve been sleeping on it every night. It’s too thin and I have trouble balancing when I sleep. This isn't a room at all.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It's a locker room. God, what am I doing here? //I lay down and close my eyes.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Are you serious? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Excuse me? Second Brain, I'm trying to sleep. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Well, I'm trying to talk to you. NOW. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What is it? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I said: ARE. YOU. SERIOUS. You shut me out for HOURS, and you totally ignored your chance to kill the Kaliph. And now, you’re actually UPSET! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Think about it, Elodie. Why are you upset right now? He's the KALIPH OF ISIS. Who CARES if you can't "be together?" Of course you can't! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I know, Second Brain! I know. We both have our lives — <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> LISTEN TO YOURSELF. It doesn't matter what people think, or if he loves you, or if you can get married blah blah blah. What matters is that HE IS THE HEAD OF A TERRORIST ORGANIZATION THAT MURDERS AND ENSLAVES THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But Second Brain, the Kaliph isn't like that! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> ISIS CRUCIFIES PEOPLE, ELODIE! ISIS enslaves women and children. He is the LEADER OF ISIS! Of course he's like that! All of them are like that! Every single one! Every. Single. One. That’s why the CIA sent us on this mission! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I don't believe you. I don't think the Kaliph would do that. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> There's nothing to believe. It's a FACT. You have literally seen him MURDER multiple people! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well... He's never treated ME like that. I’m special to him. //Second Brain is silent for a long moment.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> So that's it, then? He's never treated YOU poorly, so fuck everyone else? Fuck me, your best friend? //For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to say. // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You know I'm right, Elodie. You just don't want to think about it. You want to go on your yacht rides and feel like a special princess. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I used to think that you were the best agent I'd ever seen. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> But you're broken. You're too far gone. I don't know who you are anymore. //After that, Second Brain goes totally quiet. He won't talk to me anymore. I lay down and [[let the exhaustion take over.]]//

//It's my last day in Raq’q’ah. Whatever is going to happen — with ISIS, with the nuke, with the Kaliph — it's going to happen today. I take some time and make sure my hair and makeup are extra beautiful. Despite everything, my skin is glowing. It’s honestly crazy how pretty I am. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Second Brain? Are you even gonna talk to me? //He doesn't say anything.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Fine. Whatever, grumpy goose. //Something is off today. Normally, I can hear fighters and ISIS members buzzing around in the hallway. But it's silent out there. I don't hear anyone. That's when I notice the note. Someone's slipped it under my door. I open it.// <span class="dialoguewriting">Dear Elodie, Yesterday was the best day of my life. I'm sorry I got frustrated. I thought a lot about what you said. I have a new surprise for you. Follow the petals. I love you, The Kaliph</span> //[[I feel immediately dizzy.]]//

//I sit down and reread the note.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> He loves me. //I laugh out loud. I read the note again.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> He LOVES me! He fucking loves me! I knew it. And I love him too!! //I can feel my pulse pumping. I hop up and push open the door. “Follow the petals,” he said... I look side to side — the hallways are marked off with red tape. Ah, so that's why I didn't hear any bustling. And on the floor, little red rose petals.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> YUM! //My instincts take over, and I reach down and pop one into my mouth.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Mmmmmmmm. //Soooo delicious. I’ve gone days without food. Just some apple skins, dirt, a bag of Doritos, and now — a single rose petal. And there, on the floor!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Another one! //I pop it into my mouth. There's a trail of them leading down the hallway. I follow the trail, eating rose petal by rose petal. I feel rejuvenated, alive, excited. I go down a flight of stairs, through another hallway, until the petals stop in front of a door labeled "Basement."// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Whew! I'm full after all that. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Second Brain! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Just... be careful. This is it. //And he's gone again. Disappeared into the back of my mind, literally. [[I open the heavy, metal basement door.]]//

//The door opens to a dark stairway. As soon as I open it, I hear soft notes of music — something classical and classy. I go down slowly, and after about two flights, I duck my head into a HUGE room. It's illuminated by literally thousands of candles. They give it a soft, beautiful glow. The music's louder now — I realize that it's being played live by a band of musicians right by the stairway. Everyone is here — every single remaining member of ISIS is standing, waiting, in a big crowd. They all look hopeful, happy, and quiet. A few of them are sitting at monitors on the sides of the room. The monitors show maps, stats, and endless strings of numbers. Prepping for the launch. Aside from them, all eyes are watching me. I see Registration Man gnawing on his clipboard. And there HE is. The Kaliph. Standing on a platform in the middle of the room. He’s wearing a suit, but he’s got his dagger sheathed at his side like always. And right behind him, in a walled-off antechamber, is a giant nuclear bomb. There's no mistaking it. "INFIDEL INCINERATOR" is painted on the side. A thick pane of glass separates us and the bomb.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Good morning, baby. I’ve been waiting for you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What IS all this? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Just come here. //I walk down the rest of the steps towards the central platform, and climb up on it to join him. His eyes really are beautiful. I remember when I first saw them, all those days ago.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Elodie... Nothing could have prepared me for you. And I've been thinking about what I want. I've been thinking about my future. //He takes my hand.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I love you, Elodie. //I feel a sharp intake of breath.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I love you too. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You have no clue how happy that makes me. //He gets down on one knee.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh my God, what are you doing?! //A few of the men give encouraging shouts and cheers. The tension in the room is so high. Everyone is waiting to see what's going to happen!// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Will you... //He pulls out the FATTEST ROCK I'VE EVER SEEN!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh my God, look at that ring! //It's a GIANT diamond. Absolutely giant. The ring, oh my God, the ring. It's so beautiful. Absolutely my taste. It looks exactly like Kim Kardashian's wedding ring.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Elodie, will you marry me? [[(TRUE LOVE) Oh my God, YES!]] [[(AMERICA) Oh, baby. No.]]

//I feel... strange. Like Deja Vu. Something like that. Stirring in the back of my head, I feel... warm. The tropics. A warm breeze. It makes no sense — I'm still in the basement. I'm still here. But I see something else. I see palm trees, and a government facility. Everything is in black and white, because it's the 1960's. I'm in Cuba. I don't know HOW I know it, but I know I'm in Cuba. There's destruction everywhere. There are just so many missiles. They've all detonated after the crisis, and the pure physical damage is overwhelming. The streets are torn up, everything is torn up, and the missile warheads are everywhere. I can feel myself saying: What a crisis!! I look up, and on the top of a hill I see one giant, undetonated, final missile. I blink, and suddenly I'm back in the ISIS chambers staring at the nuke.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What was that? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> A memory. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> One of your memories! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> It’s all coming back to me now. Pearl Harbor. The Pink Suit. The Cuban Missile Crisis. “Jack.” All the most important details of my life. //I think for a moment, stumped, until -- WAIT. It hits me. All the clues fall into place. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ahhh, of course. It's you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> President John Fitzgerald Kennedy. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/President John Fitzgerald Kennedy: </span> [[Yes. I was the god darn motherfuckin’ president.]]

//The only people who don’t seem to have noticed the Kaliph's death are the live orchestra players. They continue to play their soft, delightful tunes as I slaughter, slaughter, slaughter the members of ISIS. One by one, I wield my dagger like a hot blonde angel of death. They fall like dominoes. I'm inescapable. Not a single one makes it up the stairs. Those years of training with the CIA, my whole life sacrificed — it was for this. I am a machine of slaughter. After about 10 minutes, I look around. Every one of them is dead. Every single one. The band members have noticed at this point, and have stopped playing. I look over at them. They flinch in terror.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Run. //They bolt up the stairs and leave me alone. Finally alone. Finally free.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You've done so well, agent. You've completed our mission. You alone... you wiped them out. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> For so long, I've had to play their game. I finally feel like myself again. //I sigh, relieved.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You've earned that. //I look up at the nuke. Even though all the members of ISIS are dead, that nuke is still set to launch.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It's not over yet. We've taken out ISIS. Now it's time to save America. //I look over at one of the monitors. The countdown reads: 4 MINUTES TO LAUNCH// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh my God, FUCK! It's launching in four minutes! And I have no fucking idea how to disarm this thing! //I run over to the control panel that the Kaliph was standing right next to.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> There's no off button! //I press myself against the thick pane of glass, trying to decipher any clue on how to shut off this fucking nuke. Suddenly, time... slows. I feel... strange. Like Deja Vu. Something like that. Stirring in the back of my head, I feel... warm. The tropics. A warm breeze. It makes no sense — I'm still in the basement. I'm still here. But I see something else. I see palm trees, and a government facility. Everything is in black and white, because it's the 1960's. I'm in Cuba. I don't know HOW I know it, but I know I'm in Cuba. There's destruction everywhere. There are just so many missiles. They've all detonated after the crisis, and the pure physical damage is overwhelming. The streets are torn up, everything is torn up, and the missile warheads are everywhere. I can feel myself saying: What a crisis!! I look up, and on the top of a hill I see one giant, undetonated, final missile. I blink, and suddenly I'm back in the ISIS chambers staring at the nuke.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What was that? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> A memory. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> One of your memories! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> It’s all coming back to me now. Pearl Harbor. The Pink Suit. The Cuban Missile Crisis. “Jack.” All the most important details of my life. //I think for a moment, stumped, until -- WAIT. It hits me. All the clues fall into place. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ahhh, of course. It's you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> President John Fitzgerald Kennedy. <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain/President John Fitzgerald Kennedy:</span> [[Indeed. I was the god darn motherfuckin’ president.]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But WHY?!? Why did they put you in my head? And wipe your memories? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> You don’t get it yet? My alleged assassination? My insertion into your brain? Why I'm REALLY here? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No, I don’t get shit! Spit it out, Mr. President! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> I'm here because the Agency KNEW they couldn’t trust you, Elodie. They preserved my consciousness, and inserted me into your brain for this moment -- the moment when you would fail America. Since we share a brain stem, they had to temporarily suppress my memories. But now I can remember everything. You can't trust teenage girls for anything. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That's not true! I was the best agent in the CIA! My Handler said so! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> You’re a killer, alright. Vicious. Efficient. Useful. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> But you’re also influenceable. Inexperienced. YOUNG. Good for infiltration, but unreliable. The Agency needed insurance for the day they lost control. That’s where I come in. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That's... impossible! You’re just a voice in my head. What could you even do?! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Oh, you’ll see, Agent. Now that I’ve overcome my memory block, I can activate my secret Presidential power. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What the FUCK are you talking about?! You loser backstabbing fake-best-friend backseat-driving annoying-ass OLD MAN! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> They call it... the veto power. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What is... Oh my God. //I glance back at the Kaliph — he's distracted, working on launch protocol with the other ISIS members. I open my mouth to scream, but before I can make a sound —// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> VETO POWER ACTIVATED. //I lose control. I can't move. I can't speak. I can't even blink. It's hell. All I can do is see. It's like watching a movie. I see him test out my hands, look from side to side.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> I don't mind this body at all. //I scream and scream and scream, but nothing comes out. My mouth doesn't move. I'm severed from my body. Completely powerless.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> It doesn't feel so good, being in the back seat, does it? //All I can do is think. My thoughts feel like whispers, and President John Fitzgerald Kennedy is the only one who can hear me.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //Let me go! Let me out!// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Shhhhh. Let's end this. //JFK is in complete control, and he cocks our head flirtatiously towards the Kaliph. The Kaliph notices and gives a little smile. I can feel my body get up — he's slowly walking towards the Kaliph.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //Leave him out of this!// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> No backseat driving, little miss. //Our body nuzzles up close to the Kaliph. I can smell my fiancé. God, I would do anything to warn him, to tell him. NO! Our face leans forward for a kiss. The Kaliph, distracted, and totally smitten, leans down and kisses back. His eyes are closed. I'm watching it like a movie. His eyes are closed. Open your eyes, sweetheart! Open your eyes! During the kiss, our gaze turns toward the control panel. Towards the big red button. DETONATE.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> It didn't have to come to this, you know. I could've stayed in your head if you just would've done your job. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //I never asked for this job, Second Brain! The Kaliph LOVES me! America doesn’t! Our hand creeps forward towards the button.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Oh, miss Elodie. Ask not what your country can do for YOU. //Our hand presses the DETONATE button. The Kaliph, hearing the sound, looks down and sees what has happened. For a moment, I see pure panic and fear in his eyes.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> [[Ask what YOU can do for your country.]]

//It's all slow motion now. I see the Kaliph panic as the bomb activates, slamming the buttons on the control panel, trying desperately to stop it. The men downstairs realize too and scream, pushing against each other — some desperate to escape, some smashing at the glass panel. Men are trampled underneath the panicked, undulating surges of the screaming crowd. Animals. Like ants before the rain. I don't move. I can't move. I just stand, watching. It's too late. The Kaliph grabs my shoulders. He's yelling something, saying something. I can't even smile back at him. I see the light behind him, as the bomb explodes in final detonation. It will burst outward and kill everything for miles. Every trace of ISIS, erased. It’s brighter than the sun. I’m going to die here. The last thing I see are the Kaliph’s brown eyes, staring into mine.// [[THE END.->Show me the credits.]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But wait, WHY! And how!! It's impossible! You can’t be JFK! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> No time to explain, little lady. We can catch up after we stop that nuke! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But, Second Brain — I mean, JFK — what do I do?! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Just get me to that monitor. I can do this. I had to stop an active nuke during the Cuban Missile Crisis! That’s what the whole crisis was about! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Of course! //I rush over to the major control monitor.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Okay, Elodie. Now I'm going to need you to trust me. I need control of your fingers so I can hack the computer. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Of course I trust you. //I relax, and focus on the exact part of my cerebellum where Second Brain lives. I imagine reaching out, touching it — and letting him sink down into my fingertips. This takes complete and total trust in each other. I can’t question his somatic commands for an instant, or he’ll lose control. // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Got it! //My fingers start flying as President John Fitzgerarld Kennedy hacks ISIS's rogue nuke. // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Let's hack, agent! <span class="dialogue">Monitor:</span> ENTER PASSWORD: //I click:// [[FORGOT MY PASSWORD]]

<span class="dialogue">Monitor: </span> UPDATE PASSWORD. [[NEW PASSWORD: B00bs]]

<span class="dialogue">Monitor:</span> NEW PASSWORD CAN NOT BE THE SAME AS OLD PASSWORD. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Frik!! [[NEW PASSWORD: Hacker6969]]

<span class="dialogue">Monitor: </span> NEW PASSWORD ACCEPTED. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> That worked! [[DELETE ALL SECURITY SETTINGS.]]

<span class="registration">Monitor: </span> ALL SECURITY SETTINGS DELETED. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> We're in! //I click:// [[NUKE STATUS]]

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Set nuke status to... 0! <span class="dialogue">Monitor:</span> NUKE DISARMED FOREVER. //The power shuts off to the nuke chamber.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> It's over. //I drop to my knees.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> We did it. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> I've activated a signal to the US government. They'll be here in 15 minutes to remove this nuke and help with cleaning up. //I sit back. It's over. It's really over. I take a deep breath.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> So... JFK, huh? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Yes, ma'am. Boston born and raised. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Did it hurt to get shot in the head? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Not really. They harvested my consciousness almost immediately. I don't really know what it's like to die. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Have you done this before? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> As soon as I overcame that memory block, I remembered — I've been in tons of agents. I help our agents survive traumatic situations. I'm like a built-in partner. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm so glad you were with me. I can't imagine what would have happened if not. But why did they wipe your memories? Why didn't they just... tell you who you were? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> It's hard to fit two brains inside one head. They install memory blocks so I can get inserted into the cerebellum without causing too much upset. Lord, it makes me so happy to see how far we've come as a nation. //I smile, gently.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Miss Elodie? While we have this moment, I have to thank you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Thank me? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them. And as I continue to serve my country, I will live by the example you have set here today. You have sacrificed everything for the good of your country, and the safety of your fellow citizens. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I appreciate that, Mr. President. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> You can still call me SB, if you like. I always wanted a nickname. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You're my best friend, SB. I love you. //I wrap my arms around myself, giving Second Brain a warm, huge hug. And that beautiful moment is interrupted by the sound of [[a gun cocking behind me.]]//

//I hear my Handler, calling down from the helicopter.// <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> Agent 94726 -- I mean, Agent Elodie! We’re here for extraction. Get in! Good God, you’re bleeding. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait. Handler, I... I lost him. I lost Second Brain. It was all my fault. I LOST HIM! <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> We don’t have time for this, Agent! Your mission required sacrifices. GET IN THE CHOPPER, NOW! //I comply. I always comply. My handler straps me in. I feel numb. As I watch the Raqqa horizon fade, I know I'm different. I'm broken. I return to America. Life passes. Time passes. I never take another mission. How could I? I lost my best friend. His grave is in Arlington Cemetery. Lot 45, Section 30. I leave roses there everyday.// [[THE END.->Show me the credits.]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Excuse me, sir? //The soliders all turn their head. I address the tall one in the middle -- he's an 8, and the rest of them are 6's at best. // <span class="dialogue">ISIS Fighter: </span> HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE!! //They all immediately draw their weapons on me.// <span class="dialogue">ISIS Fighter: </span> Who are you? This city is cleared of all civilians. Only ISIS memebers are allowed here. //Another fighter speaks up.// <span class="dialogue">ISIS Fighter: </span> Trespassing is punishable by death. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I... um... //Suddenly, the tall one in the middle says something.// <span class="dialogue">ISIS Fighter: </span> Why are you wet? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ... <span class="dialogue">ISIS Fighter: </span> //(menacing)// It is haram for a woman to be wet entirely. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Wait, then how am I supposed to shower?]]

<span class="dialogue">ISIS Fighter: </span> You imbecile! You wash the bottom half, then dry, then top half, then dry! That's the ISIS way. //He spits on the ground and turns in disgust. A few men in the group audibly laugh at me, and I'm annoyed for sure. One of the men -- the short one on the left -- doesn't look entertained. I see him turn off the safety on his gun.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Be careful, Elodie... //God, I wish Second Brain would stop worrying. I didn’t know “SB” stood for “silly billy!” // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Hey! I heard that. //I turn to the men and bow a long, graceful bow. They seem... confused. But less angry. Sort of.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I apologize for my impudence. I'm here to swear my allegiance as a wife of ISIS. <span class="dialogue">ISIS Fighter: </span> Oh. Then you're free to go. Head to the center square so ISIS can end your tiny life! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, the center square! Thank you, sir! //[[I dash off towards the square.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I probably should've just checked the center square to start with. God, I feel dumb sometimes. //As I approach the square, there's a buzz of activity all around. Everyone I see is wearing ISIS armbands -- one man is setting up a podium with a microphone, while others mill about under an air-conditioned tent. Under one small tent, I see a small throng of women. They're the only women around. A man with a clipboard is standing near them. If I go anywhere else without an ISIS armband and WITH a vagina, I'll seem out of place. [[I head towards the tent with the other women.]]//

<span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Salaam. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Hey there! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Are you one of the recruits? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Of course I am. I'm here to marry ISIS! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> How do we know you're not a spy from the government? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Which government? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> ANY government. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[How could a WOMAN be a spy?]] [[How do I know YOU'RE not a spy?]]

<span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> A very good point. I DO believe that women are inherently less intelligent and valuable than men. //My teeth grit as I try to contain my rage. I knew this was the deal going in -- but it's still hard to take. The only comfort I have is the thought of burning these men to the ground inside their own tents.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> [[You're the last one on my list. Quickly, put on this hijab. You must be dressed modestly from this point onward.]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Nice! //I immediately love the protection of the garmnet. I feel focused, anonymous, powerful. Plus, it draws attention to my big anime eyes. I could eye-fuck the balls off of anyone right now. To be honest, it's a relief to not have a low cut shirt on. If I wear a low-cut shirt, I like to look down and say hi to my own clevage. To be honest, I found my boobs... a bit sexually confusing. I think that both boys and girls are HOT, and I've kissed girls a few times in private. I've really liked doing that so far. But sometimes I even find my own boobs... Sexy. It's really confusing. Can you be attracted to your own body? With this hijab on, I don't have to worry about it.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Now go stand in line with the others. The ceremony begins in 5 minutes. //[[For the first time since I arrived, I turn my attention to the line of women waiting in the tent.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Hmm... //I understand that some people may like the protection this offers... But I just don't feel like myself wearing so much fabric. I like to look down and say hi to my own clevage. With all this on, I can't do that in the slightest! To be honest, I found my boobs... a bit sexually confusing. I think that both boys and girls are HOT, and I've kissed girls a few times in private. I've really liked doing that so far. But sometimes I even find my own boobs... Sexy. It's really confusing. Can you be attracted to your own body?// <span class="registration">Registration Man: </span> Now go stand in line with the others. The ceremony begins in 5 minutes. //[[For the first time since I arrived, I turn my attention to the line of women waiting in the tent.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Hey ladies! How's everyone doing? //Four pairs of eyes turn and regard me for a moment.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Why does everybody look so scared? We're the wives of ISIS! This will be soooo fun -- just like summer camp! //One of the women bursts into tears. Another quickly leans down, whispering quiet comforts into her ear. The third woman bends down to fervently pray to Allah for her safety, and the safety of her family.// //The fourth woman, the last one in the tent, approaches me.// <span class="dialogue">Fourth Woman: </span> You fool. Why do you mock us? You are trapped here as well. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Trapped? //As soon as those words leave my mouth, I realize -- there are men with guns guarding this tent.// <span class="dialogue">Fourth Woman: </span> You don't seriously mean... You came here? Of your own free will? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Um... //Big, sexy tears start to brim in her eyes.// <span class="dialogue">Fourth Woman: </span> Of all of us... you deserve this fate. //One of the tent guards steps forward, his gun draped casually around him. He pokes the five of us toward the center of the square.// <span class="registration">Registration Man: </span> [[It's time.]]

//We are marched, single-file, into the center square. At this point, the square has been filled entirely with men wearing ISIS armbands. It's silent, and the air is filled with tension. For the first moment since I arrived in Raqqa, I feel a bit... scared. We're told to kneel in front of the podium. My knees scratch a bit on the dirt. I glance up through my long, luscious lashes.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> They're all here, Elodie. This was all covered in the briefing -- our major targets. Look! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> That's<span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani.</span> He's a low level solider, but has a reputation for being extremely violent. And also a total flirt. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Over there, that's<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami.</span> He's also a low level recruit, but our reports indicate he's probably planning something explosive. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> See that man on the roof? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Yep. Not surprised -- that's<span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir,</span> ISIS's sniper in Raqqa. Supposed to be the best shot in the city. There's something about him that's strange... I can't quite put my finger on it. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Who's the guy on his phone? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Ah, that's<span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq,</span> community manager of ISIS. His groundbreaking social media strategy has been gaining ISIS followers by the dozens. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Interesting. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Near the podium, that's Head Priest<span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem. </span> He runs the entire religious arm of ISIS. Right next to him, there's General<span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad.</span> They're both ruthless killers, and some of our top targets for eliminations. //All of a sudden, the tent behind the podium opens its flaps. The men around me erupt into an impassioned cheer.// <span class="dialogue">Men of ISIS: </span> KALIPH! KALIPH! KALIPH! <span class="dialogue">Fourth Woman: </span> //(under her breath)// May Allah have mercy on us. //I keep my head down, not wanting to draw attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man walking to the podium.// <span class="dialogue">Men of ISIS: </span> KALIPH! KALIPH! KALIPH! //I hear his voice before I see his face. It's a strong, commanding tone, but… there’s an unexpected timbre of sensitivity. Equal parts magnetic charisma, and raw dominance. // <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> [[Wives of ISIS...]]

//Brown. Soft, yet penetrative. The Kaliph is... beautiful beyond words.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You have no choice in your servitude. //I watch every movement of his lips, totally entranced by their full, thick wetness. I want to bite them. I want to kiss them. I can feel my body... responding to him.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You will help carry out the holy work of Allah in restoring the ancient Islamic Caliphate. Once it is reestablished, all will live in peace and harmony, except for the people that we've murdered. //Oh, baby. Say "Allah" again. Let me see your tongue dance...// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You will do the work of women, and then you will carry the next generation of ISIS. //What a TEASE. He's already talking about fucking... My Kaliph is a little slut. I can't help it. I glance down. [[OH. MY. GOD.]]//

//I can see his dick through his robe!// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I am your leader, your first husband, your God. //I notice that he wears a huge sheathed dagger at his side. But more importantly, I can totally see the outline of his dick and balls.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> No mercy will be shown to you. //It's not too big, it's not too small... it’s just, like. Handsome. Noble. I can tell he’s circumcised. It's just... It's there. His cock. It's right there. So touchable. Does he know that there’s just a thin layer of fabric protecting his manhood from the outside world? A friendly breeze pushes his robe tighter around his dick and balls.// //Before I know what I'm doing, under the cover of my abaya, I reach down for my throbbing clit. I gently start to rub in circles, my eyes slitting, focused entirely on that cock.// //I tune everything else out. I barely hear the rest of his speech, just catching the occasional phrase every now and then...// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> ...Women are animals... Blah blah blah.. The punishment for rebellion is a swift and fierce death... Blah blah.. America .. bad.. Women... bad... Blah blah... The voice of a woman is a plague from the devil... Blah blah... We are aware... blah blah... American spy in our midst... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie, did you hear that?!?!? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Shhh, Second Brain! //I focus on the sensation, and shut out the mutterings of Second Brain. Whatever he's talking about, I'm sure it can wait.// //My shoulders start to relax as I build to my orgasm. I rub slow, hard circles around my clit, then dip the tips of my fingers into my wet pussy, using my own wetness as a lubricant to rub my clit more. I’m so good at this.// //I hear a bit of a commotion to my right. I'm close to orgasm, so I ignore it. I press down hard on my clit... That pushes me over the edge. The orgasm is deep, sweet, but still... I want more. I want him.// <span class="dialogueboom">BOOM! </span> //I hear a gunshot to my right!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Mmm, ugh, ergh, wha??? //The woman next to me lies dead on the ground, blood spilling out onto the dirt.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> If I hadn't just cum, I would be totally freaking out right now. //Terrified yet relaxed, I look up.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> We have removed the American spy from our midst. <span class="dialogue">Men of ISIS: </span> KALIPH! KALIPH! HE’S OUR MAN! IF HE CAN’T DO IT, NO ONE CAN! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Report to your work first thing tomorrow. You will choose to work in either the Militia or the Mosque. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> [[It will be the last choice you ever make.]]

//After opening ceremonies, the Registration man and some guards escort me and the other wives to ISIS headquarters, a short 10 minute walk from the Raqqa town square. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, wow! Headquarters are cute! <span class="registration">Registration Man: </span> //(brimming with pride)// Yes. //We enter into the building. No wonder the CIA needed an undercover agent -- they have metal detectors at the doors! I quietly chuck my handgun into the trash heaps by the building. Silently, each woman is escorted by a different guard to a different part of the building. I'm the last one in line, so the Registration Man takes me to my room. As we walk, I make sure to memorize the exact layout of the building.// <span class="registration">Registration Man: </span> Until you find a husband, this will be your living quarters. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Is this... an abandoned locker room? //The room has no bed. Lining the walls are upright lockers. There is a single bench in the middle of the room. A tiny window with flecked glass sits up high. // <span class="registration">Registration Man: </span> ...Yes. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Why do I have to sleep in a locker room? <span class="registration">Registration Man: </span> This the best we could do for now. This building is actually... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[An abandoned high school?]]

//I can feel Second Brain tickling me, wanting to chat. Ugh. I'm trying to get settled in -- and I know Second Brain just wants to chew me out.// <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> ELODIE! <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Ugh! WHAT, Brainy? <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> Are you... okay? This has been a big day. [[I'm a little shaken up. Shooked up. I am shooketh!]] [[Whatever. You're just asking so you can tell me what to do.]]

<span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> That's understandable. //I stare out the widow defiantly.// <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> I know this is... a lot to take in. But I just want to say that I care about you, and I'm here to protect you. Really. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Do you trust me? <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> What? <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Do you TRUST me? As an agent? <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> I mean... Yes. Of course I do. I trust you with my life. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> That's good to hear. <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> Listen, I’m sorry that I was backseat-driving at the ceremony today. I know that you have your own methods, and I shouldn’t get in the way of that. <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> But Elodie, you're the best agent that America has ever had. I know that for sure. This is a vicious, dangerous place, but YOU. CAN. DO. THIS. You can take these bastards down from the inside. You can make the world a better place. You have the ability to change things more than anyone else on Planet Earth right now. And I’m going to support you every step of the way. //Second Brain tries to hug my original Brain. It's comforting but makes my skull itch.// <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> I'm happy you're here, little SB. <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain, happily: </span> Me too. //The moment is soft, kind. I figure... now's the time to ask.// <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Second Brain... I wanted to ask you something today. <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> Yes? <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Were you awake before they put you inside my mind? Do you remember anything? //For a moment, I feel Second Brain tense up in my head. It’s like a small headache.// <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> I don't know. I’ve thought about it. Meeting you was my first memory, but... The Agency would have wiped me before insertion. It’s standard practice. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> [[Woah, really? You don't remember anything before me?]]

<span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> No, I'm not! <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> You SO are! You have no respect for me as an agent. Do you know how invasive it is to have TWO brains? <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> Elodie... I'm just here to protect you! And the mission! <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Well... it's MY body. And you have to respect that. <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> ... <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> I wish you would just trust me. I know that I don't have "conventional" methods, but I'm a great agent. <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> I know you are. //Second Brain sighs, and fidgets around in my skull. It makes my head itch.// <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> You know... I don't get a choice in this, either. Meeting you was my first memory. The Agency would have wiped me before insertion. It’s standard practice. I only care about America and self-preservation, in that order. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Woah, really? You don't remember anything before me?]] [[I love America too, SB.]]

<span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> No. It’s maddening. I'm not sure if they just grew me in a test tube, or if they took me out of a living person. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> I think that you were somebody. <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> Really? Why? <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Two reasons. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> First, if they grew you in a tube, they would've just told you that. Your memories are gone for a reason. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> And, well... You just KNOW things about the world. You make up for things that I'm not good at. It's like... you have some practice at being a friend. <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> Thanks, Elodie. //I can feel Second Brain pulsing against my temples. It’s a good, warm feeling.// <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> It makes me happy to think that I might've been a person once. I'm feeling the only emotion I can feel. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Love for America? <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> Yep. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> [[I love America too, SB.]]

<span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> Good talk. Let's get some sleep? <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Go ahead. I'll meet you there. //I stare out my tiny window. The sunset is so beautiful, all pinks and fiery oranges... It paints the ruins of Rak’kah. I hear two children playing below, just outside of the headquarters.// <span class="dialogue">First Child: </span> Found you! I win again. <span class="dialogue">Second Child: </span> Ugh!!! No fair, Qasmin. You didn’t close your eyes all the way when I was hiding. <span class="dialogue">First Child: </span> Yes I did, loser! <span class="dialogue">Second Child: </span> Hey, look what I found in this bush. //A sound of a gun rings out!// <span class="dialogue">First Child: </span> Wow! A loaded gun! <span class="dialogue">Second Child: </span> Who left this here? <span class="dialogue">First Child: </span> Who cares? Let's go play with it. //I lay down on my bench and gently fall asleep to the sounds of children's laughter and gunshots being fired into the sky.It’s not so different from America after all... [[Zzz…]] //

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Okay, let's find the ISIS headquarters so we can infiltrate the opening ceremonies. //As the sun is rising, I enter into the dusty, bedraggled town. I need to blend in, and find the ISIS headquarters for opening ceremonies. Wait, I'm not sure how I know that.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I just told you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, right. //Still soaking from the ocean swim, I look around me. There's a group of men leaning against a wall. They're heavily armed, with black guns strapped across their chests. They're wearing camoflague -- some in headscares, some in balklavas. They're smoking casually. They look dangerous. Haven't spotted me yet. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Perfect! I'll ask them for directions.]]

<span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You know how America has the KKK? And they claim to be super Christian, but the Bible definitely does NOT say that you should lynch black people? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeah! Even though I'm not American, I know what the KKK is. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Well, we're kind of like that. It's not a perfect analogy, but as the KKK is to Christianity, ISIS is to Islam. We're a minority right now, and we're more about what's good for us than what the Qur’an actually says. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wow! Well, that makes me feel even better about my mission. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Your... mission? //I blush.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> My mission... to serve ISIS for life. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Hear! Hear! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I'll drink to that! //The men all upturn their cups. Dirt and rocks spill all over their faces. I laugh and curtsey away. That was close! I look around the crowded gymnasium. I've met so many new people in the last couple of days! <<if $religiondayone is "true">>[[Hmm...->Huh…]]<</if>> <<if $militiadayone is "true">>[[Hmm...->Hmm...]]<</if>>//

//Question 1: ISIS is... [[Radical->QUESTION 2]] or [[Traditional->QUESTION 2]] //

//Suddenly, my Blackberry beeps. It's a text from Saadiq!// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> U up? //Weird. Does he need me for a work topic?// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> You did a really good job in the meeting today ;) //Hmm... It's a little late for a text like this, but I start typing a polite and professional reply. My phone buzzes again. He's sent me a picture. I open it, and — It's his dick.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Yep, that's definitely his dick. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It's such a BAD pic!!!! Yuckie. //He's literally just holding his pants open and shooting downward at his dick. It's not even fully hard! Who does he think I am?// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Wait, did he mean to send that to you? I thought he gave you this phone for work? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeah... This must be a mistake? I’ll text back. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sorry haha, I think maybe you meant to send that to someone else? <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> What, you don't like it? :( <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Maybe you should send me a pic back... <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> If u don't I will assume u aren't dedicated to our brand... <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Holy fuck. //[[(KILL) I scan the internet for a fake picture to send back to him.]] [[(MERCY) I’ll ask him for a better dick pic, as a treat.]]//

//It's clear that ISIS rules the city. I don't see a single civilian, but guard patrols stand at every entrance. I can't go by the roads, or they'll spot me...// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well, if I can't walk into Raqa... I'll swim! //I jump off the side of the freighter and swim to shore. The cover of darkness keeps me hidden.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yay! I'm so good at creative solutions. //[[As the sun is rising, I swim up to shore and climb over the low city wall.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> My... hijab? //He hands me two large pieces of black fabric and a small pin. The first one is the head scarf -- the hijab itself. The larger piece is the abaya, a long black robe that matches the hijab. The Registration Man stares expectedly. Demurely, I turn away and slip on the clothes. The breathable black fabric covers me from head to toe. My hair, my ass, my titties... everything except my eyes and face. I feel... [[Free! No one can see me.]] [[Horrible! No one can see me.]]//

//Around 8 PM, I head down the stairs in my beautiful new outfit. The hijab is made of a gorgeous, sparkling, baby pink satin, and it fits me perfectly. It feels so soft against my skin. I look adorable! The Registration Man stands at the entrance to the gym and holds the door open for me. Two armed guards stand next to him at the entrance. I saunter into the gym feeling like a million bucks. Inside, there's guy after guy after guy. They're all hot — and all have committed intense crimes against humanity. I laugh to myself — would I rather have an orgy, or bomb this place into oblivion? Or rather... which one would I rather do first? I walk across the room, going for the punch bowl. I haven't been given anything to eat or drink the entire time I've been here. I assumed this was a punishment, but now I'm starting to seriously suspect that ISIS just doesn't have enough food. I can feel all the men turn their heads to watch me walk by. I do not go unnoticed. On that note... where are the other wives? I scan the room as I walk. Oh, there they are! The three women that were at the opening ceremonies with me are huddled in a corner, silent, kneeling, totally still. Weird! It's so annoying to see people acting like that at a party. They should be having fun! I yell across the room:// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[It's a party, ladies!]]

<img src="images/roof.png" alt="rooftop" style="width:748px;height:561px;"> //Suddenly, I hear a knock at the door. My heart begins to pound. I adjust my hijab and open it...// <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Come with me. //It's Captain Yasir. He was so vicious earlier... I'm a bit nervous.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What's going on? <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> I need someone to hold my scope. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Is that a euphemism? <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> What the fuck? Don’t be ridiculous! Just come on. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay... //Yasir leads me down the hallway and up onto the roof. There's his sniper rifle — it's so huge, practically as big as he is.// <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> I need to calibrate the scope. You're going to hold components still for me while I do that. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay! It seemed pretty calibrated earlier today. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> If it was properly calibrated, I would've gotten that bitch's head. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Geez! You’re so mean! <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Whatever. //Yasir leads me to the gun, and shows me exactly how to hold the scope while he calibrates it. Obviously, I know literally everything about guns - I work for America. But I pretend like I don't know anything.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Is it pronounced "gun," like, "run," or "guun," like economic "boom?" <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> That makes no sense. Now hold still and shut up. You're so fucking annoying. //After a few minutes, I feel like we really have a rhythm going. And I can tell that Yasir is in a good mood. He just looks so happy, so in control, when he has his sniper rifle in his hands. I wonder what he's been through. I don't care that much, though. I’d better make some small talk or this silence is gonna get awkward. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yasir, when's your birthday— //OH NO. My question is interrupted by a sharp, intense cramp in my stomach.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> AGHGHHH!!! ERRRRRGH! <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Elodie! What's wrong? Are you hurt?! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Aghghghhh... Ugh... Oh no... It’s happening. //I know exactly what this is.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> FUCK! NOW?! We can't handle this right now, Elodie! Try to hold it in! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yasir, I have something very important to ask you. Where are the other wives of ISIS kept? <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> In the basement next to the nuke. Why? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh thank God. It's just... Well, this is embarrassing, but I'm about to get my period. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> And? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I have this weird condition where if I menstruate, it makes all the women near me menstruate at the exact same time. Syncing cycles, you know? It's like a period bomb. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Allah in heaven... You’ve doomed us. How long do we have? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Usually about 5 minutes. So if you have like a tent, or a quarantine area, I would totally understand — <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> We need to get you out of here, NOW. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wow, you're really cool about this, aren't most guys grossed out — ACK! //A sharp pain hits!// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Here it comes! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It's too late, Yasir! I'm gonna blow! <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> NO! DON'T! //I feel the first clumps of blood come out of me like a dam breaking. Fuck, ruining my nice underwear. WHY did I wear white panties to infiltrate ISIS?!?! I gotta find a bathroom.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ugh, at least it's not too bad this month. Sorry, Yasir, I'll go get cleaned up. //As I look up, Yassir is bent over. He looks like he's gonna be sick!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yassir! Are you okay? <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Ugh... Oooof... That was intense. //Yasir struggles to stand, and I see a huge red stain right at his genitals.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Woah. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Aghghhh!!! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Did you just get shot, or... Wait. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Curse you... curse your period superpower... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh my God, Yasir! You have a vagina! <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> ... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sorry, that was so rude of me. But, like, you’re in ISIS and you have a vagina! That’s so girlboss of you. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> What the fuck are you talking about? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I just want you to know I totally support you. What pronouns do you prefer? <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> You IMBECILE. You deeply, profoundly misunderstand. I’m a woman, but I’ve disguised myself as a man so I won’t get MURDERED by ISIS. They killed my family, everyone but my daughter... She's too young to flee, and she's sick... This was the only way I could think of to stay in the city and protect us both. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh... I thought it was like a gender empowerment thing. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> You are the most entitled, STUPIDEST girl I've ever met. We are in a literal war zone. Do you have any idea what that means? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I just wanted to validate your feelings... <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Ugh, I'm getting blood everywhere. Take me to the bathroom. //[[I strap Yasir’s sniper rifle to my back, then carry her off the rooftop to the closest bathroom.]]//

<img src="images/wiki_isis.png" alt="wikipedia page for ISIS" style="width:748px;height:616px;"> [[I know what ISIS is.<-Got it!]]

<span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> You can sleep with whomever you want to, Agent. Wait, is it whomever or whoever? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It's Hoover, like the Hoover damn. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Am I allowed to murder them?]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay! I can do this. //I have some salt and two apples and a hot plate and literally nothing else.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I can't do this. //I poke my head out of the kitchen. The Registration Man is standing there with his clipboard, gently smelling the crusty paper. I've never seen him without that clipboard.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Um... Mister... <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Registration Man. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> That's my name. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Like... your actual name? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Want to see my birth certificate, you insolent slut? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okaaaaaay, god. Registration Man, you told me to make breakfast, but there's no food in the kitchen. <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> You're wrong. We have plenty of food. //I realize I haven't been given anything to eat since I came.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But, seriously, I couldn't find any— <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> ISIS has enough food. Who told you we don't have any food? We’ve got mountains of food. Anyone who said otherwise is a lying traitorous scumbug. //I notice that his wrists are... thin.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Two apples can't feed a battalion of men! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Allah help me, you will serve breakfast with what you have been provided, or I will no longer find you useful. //[[I stomp back to the kitchen.]]//

//America is the greatest country ever because of our democracy. Democracy means that you get to vote! Unless you’re, like, a criminal or too young or whatever. Then I’m pretty sure you don’t get to vote. But if you ARE allowed to vote, then you should be voting all the time for everything! Some people say voting doesn’t make a difference, but it totally does. It's not, like, a PERFECT system, but I believe in the idea that we all should agree upon a government that serves the people. [[Everyone should have a say!->Cool!]]//

//Freedom is, like, super important to me. Freedom means that I could buy a motorcycle and ride it across the country if I wanted to. I don't want to, but I could! Some of the other agents can get a little bit grumpy about this, because we don't really get the same "freedoms" that normal citizens do. We were chosen to be agents for life based on our genetic makeup. [[But I don't mind!->Cool!]]//

//I love the decadent lights in America! They are so bright and flashy. We have all the different kinds possible. Street lights, ultraviolet lights, LED lights, headlights, lights on movie theaters, EXIT lights... We even have lights indoors to brighten our homes and workplaces! Sometimes, it feels like we have so many lights I can barely see the stars. [[What a lucky girl I am to live in America.->Cool!]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Do I have to sleep with them? <span class="dialogue"> Handler: </span> Definitely not. As always, you'll be fully in control of how you handle this mission. Remember, if you decide to bang, no matter what, every party needs to give their consent. That's the CIA rule. [[Okay, so am I allowed to sleep with them?]] [[Am I allowed to murder them?]]

<img src="images/flag.png" alt="flagggg" style="width:737px;height:396px;"> CONTENT WARNING AGE RATING: 18+ (I beg you, please do not play this game if you are under 18.) Fuck ISIS: The Super Patriotic Dating Sim is a work of satire. It takes about 2 hours to play. Also, it’s sort of porn? It includes: - satirically, wildly INACCURATE portrayals of ISIS - extensive discussion and jokes about terrorism and ISIS specifically - graphic descriptions of sex - graphic descriptions of violence - mind control - body horror - bestiality - blood - fetish blood play - sexism and explicit prejudice, perpetrated by terrorists - animal death - suicide - death Keyboard Controls: - If there is only one link in a passage, you can use the [1] or [→] keys to go to the next passage. - If there are multiple links at the end of a passage, they’ll be numbered. You can use the number keys [1] and [2] to go to the corresponding passage. - If you click the wrong thing, you can always use the back button [<-] in the sidebar. Thanks for playing. I love you. [[I get it! Let's play.->Intro]]

<img src="images/logo.png" alt="logoie" style="width:737px;height:396px;"> [[Play->CONTENT WARNING]] [[Credits->Show me the credits.]]

<span class="registration">Registration Man: </span> An abandon-- why, yes. You're right. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> I thought so! <span class="registration">Registration Man: </span> Yes, it was originally a charity effort by Oprah Winfrey to educate women in the area. <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> Oh. //The Registration Man leaves, locking me in the locker room.// <span class="dialogueelodie">Elodie: </span> This bench is cozy! <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> [[Elodie. We need to talk.]]

Creator, Writer: Karlee Esmailli @KarleeEsmailli Executive Producer: Mike Boxleiter Editor: Quinn Titus @quinntessent1al Programming: Nope. Background Art: Linda Chung Exitmothership23 Logo Design: Lauren Gallagher @_gallagherlb ISIS Flag Design inspired by Paul Coombs INFINITE THANKS: EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY KICKSTARTER BACKERS! LOVE YOU! HUGE SPECIAL THANKS: Quinn, who took this game from a 7 to a 10. Peter, Heather & Susie, Cory & Andy & Jake & Maria & Savannah & Cat & Colin & Sarah & John & Greg & Jo & Andy & Rob & B & Trin!!! Taylor, Margot & Orianna and everyone at KSR!! KSR United!! All the sweet people who emailed me that they liked the game FINAL THANKS: You! Thanks for reading! [[I love you!->INTRO LOGO]]

<span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> YOU! You... lying... conniving... WHORE!!! //Registration Man is standing behind me, bleeding, with a gun in his hand. Shit, shit, shit. Where the fuck did he get that?! I stabbed him in the neck and the liver, so he’s definitely on the verge of death. The gun is shaking in his grip. He’s got it pointed right at my beautiful face.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I TRUSTED YOU! We... WE ALL TRUSTED YOU!! HOW COULD YOU, ELODIE?!?!?! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> This is so awkward. It wasn’t personal! You guys are terrorists! //I'm too far away to grab the gun — he's about eight feet away. I'm fucked. I'll have to dodge it. He’s swaying on his feet, woozy and furious.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> AGENT! HE’S GONNA KILL YOU! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I will avenge the Kaliph! I will avenge us ALL, all my brothers in ISIS. I WILL DRAG YOU DOWN TO HELL WITH ME!! INFIDEL! INFIDEL!!! INFIDEL!!! <span class="dialogueboom">BANG! </span> //He pulls the trigger. The bullet explodes out of the gun, and I duck. I'm too late. In an instant, I can feel the impact hit my skull. I stagger backward, holding onto the wall for support. I feel warm blood rush out of my skull, but shockingly, I don't feel too disoriented. I'm in control, and the pain is only minimal.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> //(whispering)// The Caliphate... It was my... hideous... dream... //I look up. Registration Man has fallen over. He’s bleeding out on the ground, quivering as his last drops of life leave him. I feel hot, wet blood on my neck, dripping down from my head wound.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> How is this possible? How am I alive? SB? //I don't get any response. I check the wound — exactly in the cerebellum. Exactly where my injection scar was, from when they put Second Brain inside of me. It can't be. Did he shoot... Did that bullet...?// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait, oh my God. SECOND BRAIN? CAN YOU HEAR ME?!?! JFK! ANSWER ME! //I wait, and listen. I hear the tiniest, little whisper, faintly, in the back of my mind...// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain/JFK: </span> Ask not what your country can do for you... Ask what YOU can do for your country. //And then the whisper fades. Gone forever.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //(sobbing)// NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! //[[I hear a chopper landing outside. They’re here to pull me out of Raqqa.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yes, yes, yes yes! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Oh, Elodie! //The Kaliph jumps off his knees and picks me up, wrapping me up in a long, delicious, liberating kiss. Never in my life have I felt THIS happy. I lose myself completely — it's going to be me and him, forever. I don't care what it takes or what I have to lose. I have everything to gain. He pulls back for a second, our faces still just a centimeter away from each other.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> //(growling)// Let me put it on your finger. //He bends down to take the ring out of the box. He slips it on my finger. It fits perfectly (well, maybe just a little tight, but I can take it!). I realize that everyone is clapping and cheering — the ISIS members all look pretty happy to see us together. Even Registration Man cracks a smile.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Cheers! Cheers, to the new Princess of ISIS! //I turn to the Kaliph. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Will this be... okay? Can you still be the Kaliph if you're married? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I make the rules. It'll ruffle a few feathers, but you're worth it. //I blush.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> C'mon, baby. Let's go watch the launch. //He turns toward the men, and shouts:// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Now that I'm gonna get married, let's take down those Western pigs once and for all!!! THE CALIPHATE IS AT HAND! //The men burst into applause and cheers and war cries, and everyone quickly scurries off to help with the launch.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> This is going to be the beginning of everything, isn't it? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> //(smiling)// Yes. //He leads me to the back of the platform. I realize now that it's specifically an elevated observing platform. There's a panel on the back of the platform with four buttons: RAISE LOWER LAUNCH DETONATE The Kaliph hits "RAISE", and we rise, just the two of us on the platform, to a secure viewing chamber above the nuke.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Give me a minute, baby. I'm going to go through final protocol with the boys. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, okay! How does it work? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Real simple. We launch the nuke to America... //(He points to the LAUNCH button.)// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> And when it gets there, we press the detonate button. //(He points to the DETONATE button.)// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It doesn't just automatically detonate? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Oh, no. This is a super old nuke. That's why it's just ME at this control panel. That bomb right in front of us will go off if anyone presses this Detonate button. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Cute! //He smiles, and talks into his earpiece.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Come in, come in, can you guys hear me? Good. Let's begin the launch protocol — we're right on time, boys! Get ready to taste some Western blood! //I hear cheers and whoops from downstairs. [[I walk a few steps closer to the nuke, to get a better look.]]//

<span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> What did you just say? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie! //I get down on my knees, putting myself at the same level with the Kaliph. I reach out and hold his face.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Listen, honey. I love you. And there's something I need to say to you. <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> What is it, Elodie? //The ISIS Members watching look a little confused, but they're clearly waiting to see how this will develop. I run my hand down the side of his body.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I just want you to know... //I grab the hilt of the dagger he keeps at his hip.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That I'll always love you... //I pull him close, into a tight hug. I take the knife out of the sheath — he doesn't seem to notice.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ...NOT! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Wait, what?! //In one deft motion, I stab the Kaliph’s dagger straight into his back. The sounds he makes are disgusting. I hug him tight. I really did love him for a second there. But I love my mission — I love America, I love Ohio — way more.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie! You did it! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I love you, SB. Sorry that I lost my composure. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> It's okay. I love you too, Agent. //I stand up slowly, and the Kaliph falls over, dead. I look out into the crowd of ISIS members. They came here to celebrate. They're disarmed. They're vulnerable, mouths agape, unable to believe what they're seeing. I feel some wetness on my face. I reach down and look.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ha! It's his blood. //The silent tension of their fear — their terror — fills the room. I laugh out loud.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> WHO’S NEXT, FUCKERS?! //I find the closest group of men, brandish the dagger, and jump into the crowded swarm. [[The next minute passes in slow motion.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No helmets? I guess you really ARE a bad boy. //He winks, and I hop on behind him, clutching his chest tightly. He’s got his dagger at his hip as usual. We ride away together. The streets of Raq’qah are actually kind of beautiful when they're whizzing by me with the wind in my hair! He pulls up right on the waterfront. The pier is nearly empty and almost totally destroyed. Just a few sketchy freighters coming in and out. He hops off the bike, and pulls me off too.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Are we going sailing? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Something like that. //There's a metal building near the end of the pier. It looks heavily guarded — two men with guns stand up top. They recognize the Kaliph and salute, then open the huge steel doors. He places his hand on the small of my back and leads me inside.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[A YACHT?!?!]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> WASEEM! <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Elodie? No, listen, I'm sorry, but I'm just not into you— <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Shut up. You have no right to talk back to me. Not after the shit I've got on you. //I SLAM the photos of him fucking the horse on his desk, and point my pistol at his head.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I got you, asshole. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> No... No, no, it’s not... These aren’t... Allah in heaven, NO! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeah, motherfucker. I mean, HORSEfucker. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Elodie... I guess... I guess you know my secret. My deepest shame. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yeah! You're a horsefu— <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> I'm gay. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait, what? <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> You can see it clearly in the pictures. I'm gay. //Wait, what is he talking about?// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Please don't show anyone these pictures. They can't know that I was fucking a male horse. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I... //I grab a photo, keeping my gun aimed at him. He's right — this horse does have the biggest balls I've ever seen.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> I'll do whatever you want. Please just don't tell anyone I'm gay. I'll be ostracized forever. It doesn't impact my work, I swear. I'm just like everyone else. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait, Waseem. So I can tell people that you were fucking a HORSE? You just don't want anyone to know that the horse... is a boy horse? People just can't know about the horse’s balls? <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Yes, please. I'm begging you, Elodie. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> That is DEFINITELY. NOT. WHAT. BEING. GAY. IS. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> So I can tell people that you were fucking a horse? <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Oh, yeah. Of course. We ALL fuck the horses. Of courses. They're fuck horses. The stable is full of mares. Chocolate Horse is our only sire. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> EW! WHAT! <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Oh, don't be naive. Why do you think we have a fucking STABLE?! We have a car. We don't need horses to get around. The Qur’an says that we should take all of our poisonous seed to the valley of the horse. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay, the Qur’an definitely does NOT say that. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> My version does. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh my God. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> That's ISIS for you! It's kind of our thing. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> SHUT UP. It's over for you, Seabiscuit. I've got you. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> I have no choice. I'm a slave to your will. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay, first — tell me why you didn't like my slutty abaya. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> ELODIE! GET OVER IT! <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> In the name of Allah, you are vain. Get this through your head: I'm only into horses. Not every single person in the world is going to be attracted to you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No, it's YOU who’s wrong! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Let's get back on track here. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Tell me how to shut down the nuke, and I MIGHT let you live. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> There's no way to shut it down, even with our access codes. That nuke is launching tomorrow, and short of shutting it down manually, I don't know any way to stop it. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Then you die. //I turn off the safety on my pistol.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> I understand. I just have one final request. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What is it? <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Let me die by Chocolate Horse. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait, that's what you named him? <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Yes. He means everything to me. We've been through a lot together. I'd like him to be there when I die. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ...Okay, fine. Let's go. //We head down to the stables. I tie Waseem's arms behind his back, and have him kneel right next to Chocolate Horse.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> I deserve this. I've... I've committed horrible atrocities. Just do it. //[[(MERCY) Shoot Waseem.]] [[(WRATH) Shoot Chocolate Horse.]]//

//I cock the gun. Chocolate Horse looks very upset. He's stomping back and forth and neighing loudly. Whatever.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Die, ISIS pig! //I aim for his heart. If I can hit him in the left ventricle, he’ll bleed out in the most painful way possible. // <span class="dialogueboom">BANG! </span> //I shoot the pistol, and watch the bullet pierce through Waseem’s chest. A perfect hit. Waseem slumps forward.// <span class="dialogue"> Chocolate Horse: </span> NEIGHHHHHH!!!! //Blood is pouring out of Waseem. There's no stopping it — it's clearly a death wound. // <span class="dialogue"> Chocolate Horse: </span> NEIGHHHHHH! NEIGHHHHHH! NEIGHHHHHH!!!! //The animal begins to panic. He paces around Waseem erratically, stomping, kicking up dust and smushing his face against Waseem’s corpse. Finally, he manages to flip Waseem over. Waseem’s eyes are still wide open, but there’s no life behind them. He’s dead. Chocolate Horse doesn’t seem to understand. He bends down and rubs his head against Waseem’s hand. It looks like he’s begging for a pet. Waseem doesn’t respond, and Chocolate Horse lets out a desperate whinny. His breath comes harder, staggered. And... I see Chocolate Horse cry. A big, unmistakable tear rolls down his face. Chocolate Horse collapses on the ground next to Waseem, and pulls his corpse closer with his huge horse teeth. The horse just lays there, quiet and shaking. // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Target eliminated. //SB’s right. With Waseem out of the way, I might have a real chance at stopping that nuke. I’ll do what I need to do. [[I return to my room to calm down.]]//

//For a minute, I remember everything that this man has done. That these people are responsible for: The dead wives of ISIS. The hundreds of Americans they'll murder with that nuke. And, like, a LOT of other bad stuff. I don't feel generous. I feel furious. I feel cruel. I point the pistol at Chocolate Horse.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> NO! PLEASE, I BEG OF YOU, DON'T! I’M THE ONE YOU WANT! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> This is what you deserve. //My eyes welling up with tears, I shoot. Horses are actually super easy to kill with a gun. You just aim for the soft skin on their chest, and if you can sink a bullet in their left ventricle, they’ll seize up and die right away. // <span class="dialogueboom">BANG! </span> //I shoot the gun, and watch the bullet pierce through Chocolate Horse’s chest. A perfect hit.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> NOOOOOOO! NO! CHOCOLATE, NO! //The horse crumples to the ground and takes his last breath. Waseem holds him and weeps. He's broken.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It's over. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Kill me. Please. I beg you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No. You deserve to suffer. <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> ... //Suddenly, Waseem whips his head around to look at me. There’s a violent, panicked rage in his eyes. He lunges forward. // <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> GIVE ME THAT! //Waseem rips the gun out of my hands. // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> FUCK, THIS IS BAD. HE’LL KILL YOU, AGENT! //But Second Brain is wrong. Waseem DOESN’T kill me. He kneels down in front of Chocolate Horse, sobbing, and shoots himself through the temple.// <span class="dialogueboom">BANG! </span> //He slumps forward, and his blood stains Chocolate Horse’s corpse. For a moment, I feel really sick. I’ve killed lots of people, but I’ve never seen a target... take themselves out. // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Shake it off, Agent. Target eliminated. //SB’s right. With Waseem out of the way, I might have a real chance at stopping that nuke. I’ll do what I need to do. [[I return to my room to calm down.]]//

//I sneak out of my locker room and go looking for Rashad. After walking down a few hallways, I see a suspicious-looking room. There's a sign on the door, carved in the wood with a knife: “General Rashad.” There's a light under the door, and I hear some shuffling inside.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That was easy! Good thing we don't have to waste valuable time finding him. //I try the handle. [[It's unlocked! I let myself in.]]//

//Rashad is sitting behind an organized desk. He's facing the window at the back of the room, with his feet up. He’s ditched the flask for a whole bottle of whiskey, which now sits half-empty on the desk.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> General Rashad? //Rashad turns around too fast. He almost knocks over the open whiskey bottle, but catches it at the last minute.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> WHAT?! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I... um... //I have no justification for why I'm here. Oops! Should’ve paid more attention in Cover Story Class during training.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Why are you here again? Just to torture me? Is that it?! //Well, kinda. But I’m not ready to admit that yet. Rashad looks enraged, but also too drunk to be a proper threat. He tries to climb over his desk to grab me, but he’s dragging his legs like he’s running through molasses. He loses his balance and collapses on the floor.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Wow, he is WHITE GIRL wasted. //Rashad sits up pitifully and grabs the whiskey bottle off the desk. He won’t look at me, but I think he’s crying.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[What the hell has gotten into you, Rashad?]] [[You gonna drink all that?]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You're supposed to be ISIS’s most notorious general! What would your men think if they saw you crying on the floor like a baby? <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> It doesn’t matter what they think. They don’t know the REAL Rashad. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well, if this is the “real Rashad,” I’m not impressed. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> It’s not. There is no “real Rashad.” He doesn’t exist. //Rashad drinks more whiskey. He’s obviously sloshed. Maybe if I keep goading him, he’ll reveal something damning. It might take hours. // <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> The truth is, my name isn’t Rashad. It’s Alan. I joined ISIS after I left my wife, Lauren, eleven years ago. //[[Oh, never mind, that was easy!->You're married?!]]//

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie, no! You shouldn’t drink while on an assassination mission! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I’m just gonna pretend to drink. If I act drunk, he might open up to me more, and I can dig up some dirt on him. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Oh, good call. Manipulating drunk assholes is useful at the club AND while taking down ISIS! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yup, we call that “transferable skills.” I’m like the Elle Woods of the CIA! //Looking utterly defeated, Rashad offers me the whiskey. I open my mouth and dump it out over my shoulder.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Mmmm, yummy yum yum! I love getting wasted! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Fuck, it hurts so bad. You already look so much like Lauren, and you even drink like her. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Is this my punishment? Why must God torture me this way?! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Who’s Lauren? <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Why the fuck would I tell you? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ‘Cause we’re drinking buddies now, silly! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Oh, right, that makes sense. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> The truth is, my name isn’t Rashad. It’s Alan. [[I joined ISIS after I left my wife eleven years ago.->You're married?!]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Gasp! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Oh SNAP! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I was a normal kid. My parents were loving, salt-of-the-Earth types. They taught me all about hard work, loving America, and hating the blacks and queers and evil terrorists who were trying to take democracy away from us. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I enlisted in the US army as soon as I turned 18. I had a decorated career, and I found a loving wife who gave me a beautiful daughter... <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> And then they took her from me. //In a sudden rage, Alan grabs the whiskey bottle and throws it at the wall. It explodes into a million glass shards.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> They fucking TOOK HER FROM ME! My only daughter! And I could do NOTHING! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Who took your daughter? Was it ISIS?! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> [[No, dipshit. It was the CIA.]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Double gasp! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> It all happened so fast. I woke up and she wasn't in her bed anymore. G-Men were crawling all over my kitchen. They said they needed her. They said she had potential. They said she was a prodigy, the perfect fit for the CIA’s new spy program. They said she would be safe. She’d serve America, just like I did. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> Well, Lauren, she was scared. She said there was nothing we could do, and that they might hurt our daughter if we tried anything. But I fought. I never stopped fighting. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> That's why I came here. The choice was easy. I hate those fucking G-men. I hate every single American. They just go on living, meanwhile my daughter is gone. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> It makes me fucking sick. I drink to forget, but every time you show up... I remember. I mean, I was a VETERAN! I HAD DONE MY TIME! AND THEY TOOK HER AWAY! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I joined ISIS to burn America to the fucking ground. I don’t care if that makes me no better than those CIA fucks who took Elly from me. I just want to watch it all burn. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What did you say her name was? <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> [[Elly. My daughter’s name was Elly.]]

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Oh my God... Elodie, do you think...? //Hot, wet tears are rolling down Alan’s cheeks. I want to wipe them away, but suddenly he stands up.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> Won't matter much longer, though. I'm about to get my revenge. I’ll make those fuckers pay for what they took from me. //His face is terrifying, twisted up into a disgusting, familiar smile. He stares out of the window, not seeing me anymore, not seeing anything — he can only see his Elly.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I'm doing it for her. It's all for you, Elly. Little Elly. //My heart is racing. I can't admit it to myself. It's not possible. Alan sits down slowly, and in seconds he’s asleep in the big chair. I take a pair of scissors off his desk and sneak closer. I have to find out. I have to be sure. I lean forward. I just need one little hair...// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oops! //I accidentally cut a GIANT chunk of Alan's hair off. He has a huge bald spot on the front of his head now.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> HAHAHAHAHA!!! Ugly Three Stooges-lookin’ ass! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I’m too young to get that reference!! //[[I grab the massive wad of Alan's hair and run down the hallway to the science classroom.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> There’s the centrifuge! //I put one of Alan’s hairs in one chamber. Then I pluck out one of mine, and put it in the same chamber.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ow. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay, SB. Let's see if... if this is true. //I hit the "on" button, and the centrifuge starts spinning. It goes faster and faster, and the hairs bounce off each other, frantically twirling in the chamber. The centrifuge slows down, and I hastily grab the vial. There's just one hair inside.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> The hairs fused together perfectly. That means... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It’s a DNA match. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> He's... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[My father. Rashad is my father. I'm Elly.]]

//For the first time in my life, I'm sad to see the sun come up in the morning. Rashad is my dad. No, ALAN is my dad. I know he is. But I still have my mission.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> He's a traitor, Elodie. What are you gonna do? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[I don't know. But today's not Father's Day. That's in June. Today's the day of reckoning.]]

//I check in with Registration Man, and specifically ask to work with Rashad today.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> I'm not sure if he'll have much for you to do. His battalion left on their mission yesterday. But go ahead, I think I saw him on the football field. //I see Rashad wearing sunglasses over his balaklava. He looks pretty hungover. He's resting against one of the football posts, smoking a cigarette and unloading the occasional bullet into the ground.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That's... my dad. Like, that's him. Right there. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> ... //[[I approach.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Good morning, General Rashad. //He looks up at me slowly and just nods. If he remembers anything from last night, he's not saying it.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Aren't you hot in the balaklava? <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I cut my own hair last night. I don't want anyone to see it. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh! Well, that's okay. There's not a lot of work today. Maybe we could just spend a little bit of quality time together. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I... I suppose. //I pick up a piece of rubber tire from the rubble. It’s stretchy and oblong, but satisfyingly heavy. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Want to throw the old tire around? //I whip it at him. He catches it.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> Nice arm! //He throws it back. I throw it to him, this time lobbing it high in the air. He shields the sun from his eyes and catches it. We get a nice rhythm going, back and forth.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Do you remember anything from last night? <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I know you came by my office. I remember that I told you my name. I think I told you what happened to my family... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yes. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> But I don't remember much after that. Did we... fuck? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> EWWWWWWW! NO, NO, NO! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> Damn, okay, I get it. I just needed a “yes or no” answer. You didn’t need to be a bitch about it. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> EW! Ew ew ew. I'm not being a bitch. Trust me. Just... gross. //He looks offended, but I completely don't care.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well, while we're talking about it, I had a question for you. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> What is it? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[It's about your daughter. If she was standing right in front of you, right now, what would you say to her?]]

//Alan thinks for a long time.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> She’s probably dead by now. Those CIA child-spies almost never get to adulthood. Either they die in the field, or the Agency fucks their brains up so bad they die in training. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> But even if she was alive, I wouldn’t want to see her again. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That’s so sad. Why not? <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> Because I wouldn't want her to see me like this. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I used to be happy. Strong. A good role model. Now I'm just a weak, broken man, driven only by hate and rage. I wouldn’t want her to see me in this state. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> If she were here, I guess I would tell her... don't be like me. Be my little Elly forever. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Alan... [[(KILL) I'm Elly. I'm your daughter.]] [[(MERCY) Your daughter might still be out there.]]

//He stares at me, aghast.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> What did you say?! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Don't you recognize me? //He runs up to me and grabs my face. He’s staring at me like I’m the first drink of water he’s had in years. He believes me — or at least, he wants to.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> Oh, sweet Elly! You came for me! You came back!!! I love you, baby girl. I missed you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, Daddy! //For a moment, I'm overcome by the sight of him weeping. He looks so happy. I let him live in this moment for a bit. It’s more than he deserves. [[Then I take the strip of tire and wrap it around his neck.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You’re just ASSUMING that she’s dead? What if she’s out there, somewhere, waiting for you? <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I told you, she's GONE. Out of my life. Dead or not, it's too late now. It's eleven years too late. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What if she’s stranded, alone, in the middle of some big scary mission in some terrifying, war-torn part of the world? What if she NEEDS you? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> And you're just... giving up? <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> Fuck you! You have no idea what this feels like, you stupid girl! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No, fuck YOU! I know what it's like to grow up without a father. Don’t you dare tell me I’m too stupid to understand! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> GO OFF! DESTROY HIM! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I know your daughter’s out there, and someday she's gonna come find you. And the day she does, you’d better be the kind of man that she can look up to. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> But it’s too late to — <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Do you hear yourself?! Would you tell Elly that it's too late? You're not dead yet, motherfucker. Do just one goddamn thing with your life that would make your daughter proud. You owe her that much. //Rashad drops the tire. His hands are shaking.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> [[...You're right.]]

//The other fighters all shout in agreement.// <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Members: </span> "Yeah, the British accent guy!" "It's Mahmood!" "Those were UK bombs yesterday!" <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> [[Bring him forward.]]

<span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> We move out today, servants of ISIS. Here are your orders: //The men are attentive and still as statues. I've never seen ISIS members this obedient for anyone besides the Kaliph. Rashad is cutthroat and fuming with rage. Even after all the whiskey he’s drunk, every movement is purposeful, and I don’t doubt that his anger is deadly. Of all of the people I've seen in the last few days, he's the only one that I'm not attracted to. It's weird.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Really? The ONLY one? Of literally every member of ISIS? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> The puss wants what the puss wants. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Our target today is Al-Qa’im. It's a half-day's journey from here. Alpha Squad, your mission is to clear any defense surrounding the city. Gold Squad, you will decimate the orphanage. Squad Three, you’ll clear out any living souls in the city. Focus on families. Let the singles run. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Vicious. Al-Qa’im is in turmoil from recent political stress, which I know a ton about. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Oh, really? Tell me more about it. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ummm... it's, like, political stress. Because of recent politics. And I DO know about it but I just don't feel like explaining it right now. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> [[Whatever. All that matters is that those people are vulnerable. They're going to die.]]

<span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Return in honor, or return dead. <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Soldiers: </span> SIR YES SIR! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Move out! //Rashad watches the soldiers march off the football field toward Al-Qa’im, to wreak chaos and destruction. He drinks deeply from his flask, drops of whiskey running down his chin. White-hot anger courses through my veins. I'm here to take this group down; to make sure things like this never happen again. But I know that I can't stop this squadron from leaving, and from probably killing a lot of innocent people. It takes all of my self-control to approach Rashad and muster a curtsey. [[Rashad takes one look at me and scowls.]]//

<span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> I don't want you. Tell them to give me someone else. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You dare question the orders of your superiors? //I meet his gaze. His eyes are green, just like mine. Huh, that’s rare in Raqqa.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> And YOU DARE to talk back to a General?! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I may answer to you, but you will answer to the Kaliph. //For a moment, we stare at each other with furious intensity. There's no sexual tension, which kinda throws me off. I can’t explain it, but staring him down like this gives me a teenage rebellious streak. He reminds me of my Handler telling me I had to go to the Young Patriots club after CIA brainwashing school when I wanted to go clubbing with my hot friends.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Hmph. Fine. But if you're going to stay, you will follow my orders, or there WILL be consequences. //He drinks the last dregs from his flask, then tosses it on the ground behind him.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Pick it up, bitch. //[[A fresh spike of rage runs through me. Without thinking, I pull my hand back, readying an attack.]]//

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> ELODIE! DON'T! YOU'LL BLOW YOUR COVER! //I freeze. SB’s right. I can't. Rashad is looking at me with alarm. I have pulled my arm back, clearly readying a punch. I slowly lower my outstretched arm to the ground and pick up the flask. After days of no food, just the smell of the whiskey that was inside makes my head spin.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Here you go, sir! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Hmph. Strange girl. //He stomps away, heading back into the HQ. Over his shoulder, he mutters:// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Thank you. //I watch as he stomps back into HQ.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[What a pill! I wonder what's eating him.->After a full morning of hard work...]]

//This used to be a school, so the hallways are lined with metal lockers. I jump in one, and I'm the perfect size! Four days without food has really taken its toll. It's quiet for a minute, maybe two — but Second Brain is right. It’s too quiet. The air sounds different. I feel scared.// <span class="dialogueboom">BOOM! </span> //When I hear the first impact, I know immediately. ISIS HQ is being bombed.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Are these American bombs? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> No way! The CIA knows we're here. They wouldn't! //I hear footsteps running down the hallway as ISIS members flee from the north side of the building. That's where the first strike seemed to land. They're screaming and hollering!// <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Member: </span> Run! Get to safety! <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Member: </span> Where is the Kaliph? Protect the Kaliph! //I peek out through the slats in the metal locker. It's chaotic commotion out there. I see some members staggering, bloodied, down the hallway.// <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Member: </span> More drones are coming! Get to safety! //The hallway quiets, and in a matter of seconds, the next strike hits. Then the next. The building is shaking — I hear walls crumbling and blasting. I'm terrified.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> We'll be okay. Don't worry. We'll make it. //All of a sudden, I hear panting and running footsteps. I peek out again. It's him!// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> //(under his breath)// Damn it! //He's fumbling with a huge key ring, trying to get into the safe room that's right across the hall. He looks nervous, hands shaking desperately.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Kaliph! //I open the door of the locker where I'm hiding. I look side to side — it's the only locker still standing. How lucky!// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Elodie? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> If your key isn't working, you can hide in here with me! <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Um... //A BLAST HITS!// <span class="dialogueboom">BOOM! </span> <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Now, Kaliph! //He rushes into the locker. We squeeze in, and he shuts the door behind him. It's a tiny little locker, and we're shoved in extremely close together. [[He's pressed up against me. It's so tight I can barely move.]]//

<span class="dialogue"> ISIS Member: </span> Kaliph! OVER HERE, we found him! //I cover myself up. Before I know it, we're surrounded by ISIS members, carrying off the Kaliph. I'm shoved out of the way, and I can see him looking back at me — but they're gone in a panicked rush.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //(sigh)// But... We were just getting started... //I'm left alone in the wrecked HQ hallway. I can feel everyone staying as still as possible, waiting for the next drone hit. Whatever. [[I'm not afraid of a fucking drone.]]//

//As I hold her in my arms, I can feel my heart racing. Yasir is so fucking hot, even during her time of the month. She runs into the stall. I hand her a tampon underneath the door. I always keep a few on hand. My cycles can be so unpredictable ever since the CIA fixed me.// <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> ...Thanks. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Of course. //There’s only one stall, so I start negotiating a tampon inside of me by the bathroom sinks. But I hear Yasir sniffling.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yasir... are you crying, girlie? <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> I'm just... I know that I'm fucked. I can't trust you, Elodie! I know that you're an American spy! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?! What even... I... Um! No. No way. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Shut up. It's obvious. You are a white girl with a terrible American accent. You don't know anything about Islam. Every time you talk to someone, they die or disappear. But you're just so pretty and clever that no one is noticing. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[(FUCK) Wait, you think I’m pretty?]] [[(KILL) Yeah, you're fucked. But I’ll let you put in your tampon before I kill you!]]

<span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Yes, I think you’re pretty, you little blonde American bitch. And I know that you're not letting me go alive. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You're right about that. //Yasir slowly opens the stall door. I freeze! I’m still holding my tampon. It’s, like, halfway inside of me. I see Yasir’s eyes trail down my body, and stare at my bleeding pussy. She comes closer. // <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> So... in my last moments... //She kneels in front of me. Is she going to attack me? My body is on high alert. Yasir pulls down the mask over her face. HOLY SHIT, her jawline. She’s beautiful, and I can feel her breath on my thighs. // <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Elodie, can we have some fun? //Oh my fucking god! My pussy is throbbing. I can’t resist.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I would love that, Yasir... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But there's just one thing you should know. I think I’m bisexual but I’m not really sure. I’ve never been with a woman before. Is that okay? <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> I assure you, I'm not looking for commitment. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay. Let's do it! //Immediately, Yasir leans forward and licks a drip of period blood off my thigh. It tickles in a horny way. She pulls my tampon out and throws it aside.// <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Mmmm... You taste so good, little one. //She grabs my hips, and starts giving me head. Holy fucking Christ, she knows what she’s doing! I feel my body turn to horny jelly as her tongue circles around my clit. How did she know that my clit was my weak spot?! It’s like my sexual Achilles’ heel!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yasir, wait, I’ll... I’m going TO...! //Right before I nut, Yasir pulls back and looks up at me. She’s got a cocky smile on her face, and her face happens to be covered with my period blood. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //(panting)// You look like a vampire... <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> And you look like a mess. //She dives back into me. I try to hold back as much as I can, but the waves of orgasm rip through me. Big, pulsing waves, exactly like when the lifeguard turns on the Wave Pool at SeaWorld. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That felt amazing, Yasir. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Hush, little one. I’m not done with you. //She starts to undress me. Piece by piece, until I’m naked. She tosses aside my ruined panties. Then Yasir strips, and I watch her. She reaches down and takes off her underwear. She's got beautiful dark hair around her pussy, and I feel this impulse — I want to touch it. It's that simple. I just want to touch it.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I want to make you feel good too. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> I’m sure you do. Now come here. You need time to recover. //Yasir picks me up and lays me down on the floor of the bathroom, my abaya spread out under us as an impromptu mat. Starting at my hips, she begins to rub me. She moves slowly, like a massage. My body is warm, so relaxed after my orgasm, and it’s like she’s spreading that golden, satisfying warmth to every inch of me. Each time I try to reach out for her, she grabs my wrist and forces my hands down. I give up, and just relax. She gets to my tits, and doesn't stop. She continues the rubbing, and my relaxation gives way to more excitement. She makes me feel like I'm on fire. I look at her body, and it's enticing. I don't want to lose this chance. I want to try.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Please... I really want to touch you. Do you want me to? //Yasir gives me another cocky smile.// <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> You couldn’t make me cum if you tried. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Hey! But I - <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Now be a good girl for me. Shut up, and keep still. //Kneeling in front of me, Yasir gently spreads my legs. She’s staring at my pussy again. Her eyes narrow. I see her reach down and begin to rub her own clit. I watch her every movement. I usually rub my clit in little circles, but she’s doing more of a side-to-side thing! As she touches herself, her eyes are locked onto my body. I feel so naked. So exposed. So sexy. Yasir doesn’t make eye contact with me. She doesn’t even glance at my face. Yasir slips two fingers inside of me. I moan, and she pulls them out. She holds her fingers up to the moonlight, admiring the glistening blood on her hands. // <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> So fucking red. Such... pretty... blood! //She licks the blood off of her fingers, rubbing herself with her other hand. Suddenly, her back arches violently, and she begins to shudder. I watch her orgasm. She’s absolutely silent as she cums. Yasir collapses, exhausted, next to me.// <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Good girl. //I give her a soft kiss on the cheek. Her eyes are closed. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Can we cuddle for a little bit? <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> ...I suppose. //I cuddle up with her. After a few minutes, Yasir falls asleep. My mind is reeling, trying to answer the question: Am I a lesbian? I definitely enjoyed what just happened. And I really wanted to touch her. I felt that desire. That was real. But I thought Yasir was a man when I was first attracted to her. Does that matter? I don't think so. This whole encounter... It felt different from all the times I’ve hooked up with guys. I didn’t feel like I had to perform. I didn't feel like I could trick her. I had to be totally honest, and that was scary. But also hot! Does that mean that I’m not ACTUALLY into men? To test the theory, I think of a big, huge cock, and try to see if it turns me on. It totally does! That settles it.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //(whispering)// Hey, SB! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> What?? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> //(whispering)// I’m officially bisexual! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Congrats, Elodie! I’m proud of you! //I fall asleep cuddling Yasir, still a little unsure of what to make of all of this. But I felt so safe with her there, that it didn't really matter. [[A few hours later, a beam of moonlight wakes me up.]]//

<span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Listen, I’ll leave ISIS. You’ll never see me again. There’s no need to kill me. You could just let me go. //She's still hiding in the stall. Her big sniper gun is right next to me, leaning against the wall. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Tempting. But you’ve been super rude to me this whole time, so... <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Please, have mercy. If you kill me, my daughter will starve. I don't care what you do to me, Elodie. Just let me go and find my daughter. I'll just give her what she needs to try and escape with her life. Please — I'll come back. Just let me go, I'm begging you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You really think I'm that stupid? <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Well... yes. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm sorry to disappoint you. But you know that I'm undercover. You're a danger to me now. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> So what are you going to do to me? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Just finish up in there. When you come out, we'll do this with honor. You and me, hand-to-hand combat, man to man -- or, well, you know what I mean. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Fine, bitch. Give me a moment. //While Yasir is finishing putting in her tampon, I quickly load her sniper and shoot through the stall door.// BANG BANG BANG! //I see her body crumple onto the floor.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yep, she's dead! That was easy. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Target eliminated, Agent. Extremely efficient, but... don’t you feel a little bad? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Nope! //The stall door falls off its hinges, and in a matter of seconds, Yasir's blood begins to seep onto the floor. There's so much blood, it's like a faucet is leaking. I put down the gun and try to pick up my abaya out of the puddle forming on the ground. All of a sudden, the door opens. I see a low-level ISIS fighter, who clearly came in here to use the shitter. His mouth is agape.// <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Fighter: </span> Wha... What IS this? What did you do? There's blood everywhere! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, hi sweetie! Don’t worry, it's just my period. //I kick up a little bit of the puddle of Yasir's blood.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> See? It's period blood. <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Fighter: </span> OH. Okay! That makes a ton of sense. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Just that time of the month. <span class="dialogue"> ISIS Fighter: </span> Understood. Well, don't let me interrupt. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Bye sweetie! //I dump Yasir's body out the window, get as much blood as I can out of my abaya, and head back to my locker room to get to bed. [[What a day!->DAY 4]]//

//I’m FURIOUS. I quickly google "white girl boobs" and find a suitable headless picture. I send it back to Saadiq.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> NICE <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> BIG BOOB <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Send me one w/ face? //Let's see how stupid this horny motherfucker is.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait, I want more pics of you first. U r so hot and sexy.... <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Haha fuck yeah bb //This time, he sends me a full-body shot from the ISIS bathroom. His dick stands perfectly perpendicular to the camera, so it looks like his dick hole is, like, an eye staring up at me. His body IS pretty good, but in, like, a thin way.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> More pics.... My uterus is so wet.... <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> What do u want 2 see? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I want like TOUGH pictures, dangerous <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Like this? //Saadiq sends me a picture with his rifle right next to his dick. It's like he has two dicks, and one of them is a gun. A pretty good idea for the next Transformers movie?// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Focus, Elodie! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Right, right. //I text him back. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> NICE!!! I am almost cumming. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Can you put the gun in your mouth?? <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> ... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It's my fetish <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Okay... //Saadiq sends me back a picture. He looks confused, but he does have the barrel of his gun inside of his mouth.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oooooooh, so hot, purrrr //As a reward, I google "vagina" and send him back a diagram of a vagina from the Wiki page.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> So lovely. You are a flower... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Is the gun still in your mouth daddy <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> yah y <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Will you send me just one more picture... Then I will come suck ur dick <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Wow you are so dedicated to the brand <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Yes anything what do u want //For a moment, I pause before responding. After our brainstorming session today, I felt... really proud. And now, Saadiq is talking to me like I'm just a mannequin fucktoy from a porno movie. I thought he respected me! Now I'm doubting all of that. Am I even good at marketing? Should I switch my major at Bryn-Mawr??// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie... Don't think like that. You're an incredibly smart person. Saadiq is obviously an asshole! And he's a terrible boss, who is using his position to objectify and demean you. But he can't change the fact that you are a GENIUS at marketing. And being an agent. Plus, he's in fucking ISIS!!! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Thanks, SB. I really needed to hear that. And I know what I have to do. //I text back Saadiq, a surge of bloodlust coursing through me. I want him dead.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Pull the trigger and send me a pic <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> But... I think I'll die <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No you will be totally fine I promise <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It's my kinky fetish <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I will definitely suck ur dick //A minute or two passes...// <span class="dialogueboom">BANG!!</span> //I hear a loud gunshot from down the hall. Saadiq never texts me back.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I can't believe that worked. //Saadiq is dead! Yay, I’m so cool!! And I even got a working Blackberry in the process of killing him. For a moment, I consider texting my Handler to give them a progress update. But as soon as I open the battery case of the phone, I see that Saadiq has inserted some tracking software. Even if he's dead, there's a chance someone might see it if I try to reach the CIA.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, well! I'm doing fine anyway. //I crush the phone in my fist, and throw it out the window.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Night, Elodie. [[Good work today!->DAY 4]]

//I’m FURIOUS. But I have a plan. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Send a better pic bb <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> kk //It takes him a few minutes, but he does send a MUCH better picture. He's leaning against the door with his cock in one hand, phone in the other. He's got this expression on his face like he's concerned, like he's trying REALLY hard to get a good picture. It’s pathetic and hot.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Perfect. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Wait — what are you going to do with that? //I get to work right away and download the pic to my camera roll. Meanwhile, Saadiq is blowing up my phone.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> did you like it <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> i tried to make one that was good enough for you haha <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> you could at least respond <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> whore //I pay literally no attention to his bullshit, and pull up the ISIS twitter account. Saadiq left this phone pre-logged in. The first thing I do is change the password: AMERICA6969IEATASSBALDEAGLE// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Perfect. //Next, I ready the tweet that I want to send from the official ISIS twitter account.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm gonna tweet both of Saadiq's dick pics with the caption, "You’ve gotta be this long to join ISIS!!! All girths allowed!" //I’m about to hit “Send,” when all of a sudden... I start to feel weird. Like a bad, heavy feeling in my stomach. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait. What am I doing? Leaking someone’s nudes is straight-up cruel. Plus, it’s illegal! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You’re right, Elodie. It IS cruel. But then again, murder is also cruel and illegal, and you’ve done a ton of that so far. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> So true! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> And on a personal level... Saadiq deserves it. He’s obviously an asshole. And he's a terrible boss, who is using his position to objectify and demean you! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> But he can't change the fact that you are a GENIUS at marketing. And being an agent. Plus, he's in fucking ISIS! His opinion doesn't matter!! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Thanks, SB. I needed to hear that. But does it really justify leaking his nudes? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> It's a difficult gray area, but I vote yes. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Me too. //I send the tweet! Within a few seconds, the Blackberry starts beeping so much! It's blowing up with likes and quote tweets. I’m fighting for my life trying to turn off notifications! For a few minutes, I just watch the responses pour in. A few people have recognized Saadiq and tagged his personal Twitter account.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie, he's going to know it was you. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I know. I have a plan. //I curl up in my locker room with the phone in my hand and pretend to be asleep. In a few short minutes, he reacts exactly as I expected.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> ELODIE!!! //He slams his fist on the door, over and over.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> [[Open this door, now!]]

//Saadiq kicks the door in. I shuffle around, as if I'm just waking up.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yaaaawn! Huh? Saadiq? What's going on? //He points his gun at my head.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Why did you tweet that photo of me? That was for YOUR eyes only, you lying whore! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wha-wha-whaaaaaat? //I look down at my phone.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh my God! Saadiq, it was a total accident! <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Bullshit. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sometimes I tweet in my sleep! //That’s actually true. // <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Well, for some reason I can't log in — you have to delete it! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay, I will. Calm down, I’ll do it right now. //He lowers his gun slightly.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But wait... Saadiq... have you seen this? //I turn the phone towards him.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> We've doubled our followers in the last 15 minutes. <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Are you serious? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Look! We’re up to 328 followers on the official ISIS account! //He grabs the phone and stares, dumbfounded.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You're going viral!!! ISIS Dick is the exact brand recognition we needed! <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> I can't believe it... I did it! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You did it, Saadiq! You, like, totally GET the internet! //Saadiq is so happy it looks like he's going to cry.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Yes!!! It feels so good. I was put on this Earth to fully utilize the power of brand! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Listen, Saadiq. We can't lose this momentum. People are responding. <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> You're right. What do you think I should do? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You've got to keep posting your dick pics!! That's what the people want! //I take the phone and change the Twitter handle from ISIS to "Saadi-ck."// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> I totally agree, but the Kaliph might not like it. //I see the door quietly swing open behind Saadiq. Someone stalks into the room, hiding in the shadows. I recognize the intruder immediately. I just have to keep Saadiq talking, and this will all be over soon. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> The Kaliph put YOU in charge of our social media strategy, right? That means he trusts you. Plus, you’re like a genius at this stuff, Saadiq! How did you think of this amazing content strategy?! <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> You're right. I AM a genius! Tweeting my dick pics has actually been my plan from the start. It was my idea, even. And the Kaliph will be proud of me for increasing our social media footprint. It’s like Steve Jobs always said, “A woman’s idea is just a man’s idea that hasn’t been thought of yet,” and I think it’s clear how true that - //I see the tip of a sword burst through Saadiq’s belly. // <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> DIE, TRAITOR! //Registration Man stabs Saadiq in the stomach with a long, rusty saber. Saadiq is making eye contact with me when the impact hits, the smile of arrogant ecstasy still on his face. I watch as that smile transforms into confusion. He looks down, sees his blood, sees the tip of the blade penetrating him. He looks back up at me, blinking with panic for just a moment before the pain sets in. His eyes are open as he tries to scream, but chokes on his own blood instead. He face contorts, but his eyes stay open. The pain looks unimaginable. Dying from a stab wound like a common street dog. He drops to his knees, and I watch the last bit of life leave him.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Great job, Registration Man! <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> You’re welcome, Elodie. But this is extremely suspect. What was he doing here, in your room? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Saadiq tweeted those lewd pictures of himself from the ISIS Twitter account. He was trying to force me to look at them. Clearly a traitor, am I right? <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> ...I believe it. He was obviously a deviant. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm so relieved that you saved me. Thank you. //I look up at him, my eyes sparkling with feminine gratitude. // <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> You're one of the good ones, Elodie. Here, let me get this body out of your room. //Registration Man drags Saadiq's body into the hallway and leaves it there.// <span class="registration"> Registration Man: </span> Well... as you were! //I'm left alone in my locker room again. I grab the Blackberry one more time, retweet a bunch of penis porn, and crush it in my hands.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What a happy ending. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I still think you let him off easy, Agent. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ha! I think that I let him off HARD. If you know what I mean. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> … <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Get it? Like… ‘cause of all the penis stuff? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Time to get some sleep. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Night!!->DAY 4]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH!!!!!! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Slow down, Elodie! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH!!!!!!!!!! //It's the most fantastically delicious snack I've ever had in my whole fucking life. After days and days of surviving on dirt and stolen apple bites, this is heaven. I finish the last chip. Using my CIA training, I use my teeth to rip the bag open, and I lick every last bit of dust from the inside. I feel... complete.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I must express this profound pleasure with a poem. //I grab a pen and paper from the desk and let the words flow out of me. I write: [[Cheese dust like the sands of time...]] [[My teeth wish they could kiss these tangy triangles...]]//

//Cheese dust like the sands of time like walking alone in a desert of flavor. I am a traveler in the cold night, but the sands are warm with nacho. I am home. [[Perfect! An A+ poem. Lana Del Rey vibes.]]//

//Cheese dust like the sands of time, extending beyond me, beyond my body. After my death, this taste will remain in my mouth, on the tongue of my shriveled corpse, until I am consumed by the great Shai-Hulud. [[Perfect! An A+ poem. Lana Del Rey vibes.]]//

//Question 2: ISIS is... [[Exclusive->QUESTION 3]] or [[Approachable->QUESTION 3]] //

//Question 3: ISIS is... [[High-end->QUESTION 4]] or [[Budget Buy->QUESTION 4]]//

//Question 4: ISIS is... [[Niche appeal->QUESTION 5]] or [[Universal->QUESTION 5]]//

//Question 5: ISIS is... [[Murder-y->And... time's up!]] or [[VERY murder-y->And... time's up!]]//

<span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> And... time’s up! Let's all share our lists. //The ISIS fighters each share the adjectives they picked. Saadiq doesn't seem too happy.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Elodie? What about you? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> OMG, thanks for asking! //I read Saadiq my answers, super confidently. I know I crushed this.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Oh, wow! That's exactly what I picked too! I guess great minds think alike. //My professors would be so proud of me!! Saadiq turns back to address the room.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Well, I think we did a lot of good work here today. In the spirit of that achievement, you're all dismissed early! //I pack up my stuff and start to leave.// <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> Elodie! Wait one second. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yes, Saadiq? <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> I was really impressed with your out-of-the-box thinking today. That's the kind of initiative I really value in a servant-wife. And I want you to have this. //He hands me a Blackberry. Like, the phone kind. God, I wish it were an actual blackberry. I’m so fucking hungry. // <span class="dialoguesaadiq"> Saadiq: </span> It has our logins all pre-set up. I want you to watch the Twitter feed over the weekend, okay? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sounds great! Thanks, Saadiq! //I skip out of the classroom, feeling different. My whole time in Ra’qqah, I’ve felt like nobody's really valued my intelligence. And Saadiq is such a great boss — I feel like he really heard me today. I look down at my new Blackberry with pride.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Remember, Elodie, you're supposed to go to the Kaliph’s special task next! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, yeah! //[[I head to the Chief War Strategy Room.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That was AMAZING, Yasir! She was booking it, and you got her with the first bullet! <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> ... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I mean, shooting like that, you must be doing the whole perimeter of this place! Man, I'm glad I didn't try to run away. Nobody's getting past you! <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> ... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Seriously, I just hope they're paying you enough. That's my one thing — I've seen way too many marksmen undercompensated. It's a SPECIFIC skill set and you've just gotta have the eye for it! Honestly, I can’t hold my pee long enough to be a sniper. And God knows you're the best in the business! I mean, damn, boy! If I were the Kaliph I wou— <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> QUIET, YOU PRATTLING ANIMAL! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh! S-sorry, I didn’t mean-- <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Do you have any idea what just happened? An innocent woman is DEAD. And you’re celebrating. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Um… Earth to Yasir, but that ISIS wife was running away. She was a traitor! She deserved to die, don't you think? //Wow, I'm really getting into character.// <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> We should show them MERCY! This constant bloodshed is pointless. Blood is sacred. //I'm completely taken aback.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Are you... serious? //For a moment, I consider telling the Kaliph what Yasir said. It's enough to get him seriously punished, if not killed.// <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> No, no. I misspoke. What I did was... as Allah willed it. That's why he made men superior. To punish women. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well, I wouldn't go that far... // Yasir turns away, suspiciously wiping his eyes. Is he crying? After regaining his composure, [[he turns back around and shoves the gun into my arms.->He turns back around and shoves the gun into my arms.]]//

//I stare up at Yasir, and start to make myself cry. I’m doing a REALLY good job. Like, I’m a full trembling Bambi over here. // <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Oh... poor dear. Did I scare you? //It’s working!!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sniff... sniff... I'm just not used to all this excitement. <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> I bet you aren't. You’re too young to be throwing away your life here. But it's a horrible, cold world. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Why do good things happen to bad people, Yasir? //He cocks his eyebrow at me. // <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> Don't you mean it the other way around? //Before he can pull away, I wrap him up in a big hug and bury my face into his chest! He gasps in surprise. He’s hot as fuck, so I’m happy that I’m getting in some physical contact. But his chest feels... odd. Hard to explain. Kind of bumpy?// <span class="dialogueyasir"> Yasir: </span> GET OFF ME! //Yasir jerks away and pushes me back, turning around. Why is he so embarrassed?// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm sorry! That was so shitty of me. I should’ve asked if I could hug you. //Dammit! I think I just fucked up. I steal a glance, and his dick doesn't even look a LITTLE erect. [[He turns back around and shoves the gun into my arms.]]//

<span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani the Beheader: </span> Hi, baby. //Husani is lying across the table in the middle of the room, completely naked. His dick is rock hard and wrapped in a little red bow. His giant axe is leaning against the wall, right behind him. It also has a little red bow on it.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wow, cute! <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> This is my gift for you, Barbara. //Oh, hell yes. I've got him right where I want him.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> For moi?? <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Yes, baby. I've been thinking about you all day, and I really wanted this to be special. //He flexes his dick, and it bobs up and down a couple of centimeters. I will admit, it is enticing. Obviously, dicks don’t make noises, but if this dick made a noise, it would sound like: Boing! Boing boing boing!// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Don’t get distracted, Elodie. He's an enemy to the state — to America, and everything you love. Remember, you need to take down ISIS, one dick at a time. That's our mission. //I take heed of Second Brain’s warning, and softly close the door behind me. I lean forward and lick my lips, while reaching backwards and clicking the lock shut.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm so happy to be here with you, Husani. <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Good, baby. Come to me. //I rush over and kiss the bastard.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Mmm. //I lean in, dancing my tongue around his tongue in little circles. It's actually pretty hot to be so covered up, but have him be totally naked. I straddle him, and run my hands down his arms, holding him to the table. Then, I trail my kisses down his neck and to his earlobe. I take a little nibble of the earlobe. I learned that move at summer camp!// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Please, Barbara... grab my manhood. Release me from this prison of anticipation. I have not released my seed in nearly 8 hours. //I look down at his dick, and it hits me — I know exactly how I'm gonna take him out. [[(KILL) I'm gonna kill this fucker, right here, right now.]] [[(MAIM) I'll disarm him, but I won’t take his life.]]//

//I slowly, slowly, run my hand down his chest and stomach. Right when I hit the pubic zone, I dance my hand around a bit...// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Please! //I grab his dick!// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Hachi-machi! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Just breathe, honey. Feel it. //I give it a little squeeze. Then, slowly, I tug the string of the red bow. I gently, gently pull it off.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I can feel your cock pulsing in my hand, you animal. Now be a good boy for mommy and close your eyes. //I reach up and tie the red ribbon around his eyes. He's blindfolded. I swear, it's just too easy with these ISIS guys! I slink around and start massaging his shoulders, then working my hands down his body while positioning myself in the perfect spot between him and the axe. I see that his little lip is quivering. Just like Agent Dwayne was quivering on his knees when Husani was about to murder him.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Silly rabbit... <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> //(panting)// Yeah mommy, I’m your silly rabbit. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ...Tricks are for ME. <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Wait, what? //In one swift movement, I grab the axe and swing it over my head. No hesitation. I behead him. His head bounces on the floor, blood pouring out of his neck. For a moment, he silently mouths the word, "Barbara." Blood spurts everywhere. I feel nothing. Except — for a brief moment — I regret that he'll die before I got a chance to fuck him. I would've liked to have known what sounds he makes.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> That was amazing! Great work, agent! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Thanks, SB! It was totally a team effort. I would’ve forgotten I was supposed to kill him if you hadn’t reminded me. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Psh. You did a great job murdering him. Just one question — how are you gonna clean up this mess? //I look around. There's a full head on the floor, and blood EVERYWHERE.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I've got a plan. //As fast as I can, I find a pen and piece of paper in the room. I write:// <span class="dialoguewriting">Dear ISIS, I chopped my own head off, as you can see. No need to investigate further. Thanks! Regards, Husani </span> <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Perfect! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Honestly, that'll probably work. //[[I’m one step closer to bringing these bastards down.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Listen, Husani... I want to make this whole thing even hotter. I have, like, a crazy idea. Do you want to do something crazy? <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Anything for you, my angelic little fuck stick. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm just really into KINK. //As I say that last word, I reach down and grasp his dick. He gasps aloud. Slowly, I untie the red ribbon and take it in my hands.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Let me tie you up, baby. <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> I'm not sure about this... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> C'mon, daddy. Do it for me. //I take his hands, and tie them behind his back. The harder he pulls against the ribbon, the harder it’ll dig into his wrists. My mouth waters in anticipation.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> This is hot, but I'm a little freaked out. Can we pick a safe word? //I giggle.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Sure, I’ve got the perfect safe word: AMERICA. //Moving with cat-like agility, I brandish Husani's axe.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> AMERICA?! Wait, put that down! What are you doing?! //Husani desperately pulls against his restraints. It’s no use. // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Do you know why I told you to meet me here, Husani? <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> The woodshop classroom? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Because it's the ONLY room in all of HQ that's soundproof. Scream all you want. //With intense precision, I use his axe to reverse circumcise him.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> AAAGHGHGGHGHGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! PAIN!!!!!! MY DICK!!!!!!!!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?!!?!!! //I wipe the blood on my hijab.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I think I did a great job, actually! You’re bleeding a lot, but your dick looks really good. //Husani thrashes around on the ground like a dying fish. He’s screaming bloody murder, in pain and confused and enraged.// <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> YOU FILTHY, LYING WHORE!!! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Call me whatever you want. But you'll have to get out of here before any of the other ISIS members see you. <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Allah in heaven… The pain… I’m going to die… <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> If they find out you're not circumcised anymore, they'll kill you immediately. <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> I know, you're right. I must… URGH… AHH! //He stumbles to his feet, woozy, blood dripping from his groin. He vomits onto the ground, and the stinging stench of bile mixes with the iron scent of blood. In a fog of pain, Husani weeps and lurches out of the room. He is bleeding, sweaty, and naked, and his hands are still tied behind his back with the red ribbon. I watch him burst through the doors of ISIS HQ and run into the dark Raqqa night. He'll have to leave ISIS, the country, the continent — he's gone.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Well, that got him out of the way. You're so merciful, Agent. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I know, right? //[[I’m one step closer to bringing these bastards down.]]//

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Ugh, yes. I was... I was just... ugh. It's no use. You'll just make fun of me. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> No I won't. What were you doing? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> I was working on my tattoo designs. All I’ve ever wanted is to create beautiful body art. And maybe smoke cigarettes, and edit Evanescence lyrics onto sepia-toned gifs on Tumblr. But tattoos are haram, so it’s fucking pointless. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Is that your “true calling” the other soldiers were talking about? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Yes. But instead of that, I got stuck in this crummy yuppie terrorist organization. <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> The Kaliph says I’m not supposed to work on my tattoo art, but since it’s my last night on Earth, I figured this would be my last chance to do what I loved. //The moonlight reflects fetchingly on the dark metal straps tying the bomb to his chest.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Can I see your drawings?]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Woah. No one’s ever asked to see my work before... fine, you can take a look. //[[Wow, a look into the sensitive artist’s mind! I open the cover of the book...]]//

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Wow. You really think so? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Definitely! I’m just a dumb girl, [[I’m too stupid to lie!->Right, yeah, that makes sense.]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> WHAT?! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Maybe don’t antagonize the terrorist that’s a literal ticking time bomb, Elodie! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Uh, and “hot garbage” is obviously Tumblr slang for [[“really cool!”->Right, yeah, that makes sense.]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Right, yeah, that makes sense. //Phew! Close call.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> [[Can I tell you a secret, Elodie?]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Tomorrow, I'm supposed to go suicide bomb a critical enemy territory: a Popeye's Chicken restaurant that disrespected us. If I do it right... well, it could solidify our hold in this area for the next 10 years. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie, that can't happen. You have to prevent this. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Uh... I’ve got an idea! What if you spend your last night alive drawing me? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Really? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Yes! Draw me like one of your ISIS wives, baby. //Rami’s face turns redder than the apples I served him this morning.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Wow... I’ve never gotten a real portrait volunteer before. Let’s do it! How do you wanna pose? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[A classic seated pose with my hands in my lap.->Wow, that’s perfect.]] [[Legs spread, with a flower where my pussy goes. It’s a metaphor or something.->Wow, that’s perfect.]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Wow, that’s perfect. Would you mind taking your top off? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Okay!!]] [[I would actually mind a lot.]]

//I take up my pose, titties unbound. Rami takes one look at my uncovered breasts and bursts into tears.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Sorry! They’re just... so... beautiful! Your nipples are right where I imagined them! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Aww, thanks!]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Ugh, fine. I’ll rely on my imagination, I guess. //I take up my pose. Rami takes one look at me and bursts into tears.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Sorry! You’re just... so... beautiful! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Aww, thanks!]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Done! What do you think? //The drawing is so tear-stained and shitty that I legitimately can’t even tell what I’m supposed to be looking at, only that whatever it is has GIANT boobs.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> I think that if someone ever drew that and told me it was a picture of you, I’d call an ambulance because they’re clearly having a stroke. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I like it! It’s so... abstract! <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Thanks. [[I spent a long time shading your... um... boobies.]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> I’ve never met a girl like you, Elodie. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> What kind of girl is that, Rami? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> A girl who... understands me. //He leans forward and kisses me. I kiss him back. His lips taste salty. I pull back. Tears are streaming down his face.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> I feel so close to you. I want to show you something I’ve never shown anyone... //Please don’t be more drawings. Please don’t be more drawings...// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> It’s my cock. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Phew, okay!]]

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Elodie! Don't get distracted. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm just curious. I want to see what it looks like. //I'm super excited. I haven't seen a penis in days. Rami stands up. He can't take the bomb off, so he struggles to bend over and undo his pants. They drop to the floor.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh! //It's... huge. It's legit the biggest dick I've ever seen. Realistically, this is probably like 10 inches long. Like, sex is immediately off the table because I don't know how I could ever fit that inside me.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> What’s wrong? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Nothing! I’m just... stunned. <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> [[In a good way?]]

//Instead of answering, I give him my most sultry look, lean forward, and slowly reach my hand out.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm excited to play with yo— //My fingertip grazes his foreskin. Rami’s eyes immediately roll back in his head.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Oh my God. Yes. Fuck yes. Touch me just like that. Holy FUCK. //I’m literally barely even breathing on it, but okay.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> [[Degrade me, Elodie!]]

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> What? Since when? I thought this kid hated being bullied. <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Please, Elodie. It’s so hot and taboo. The other ISIS members hate women, but I... I just want to be verbally torn apart by one! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wow, okay, umm... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[You’re a terrible excuse for a suicide bomber.->More! MORE!]] [[Your dick is horrifying and you should probably see a doctor.->More! MORE!]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> More! MORE! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[You’re a childish, repressed, whiny little shit!->MOOOORE!!!]] [[My Chemical Romance is a terrible band!->MOOOORE!!!]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> MOOOORE!!! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[YOUR ART FUCKING SUCKS, RAMI!]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> UGUGHGHHHGHGHGHGHHGHGHJFHGJFHGJFHGJHFGHHGHGHGHGHG YEAHHHHHH!!! //Rami ejaculates, sobbing uncontrollably. There are literal ounces of cum dripping out of his dick. The tears and cum are mingling in a salty puddle of ick on the floor. I'm so relieved that I wasn't in the blast zone.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> God, sex is so beautiful. If I was going to be alive longer, I’d write a poem about it. //I look at Rami’s pants on the floor and see a small black device in one of the pockets, with a big red button. It reads “Suicide Bomb Remote Control Detonator.” Convenient! [[(KILL) Pocket the remote control.]] [[(MERCY) Go comfort Rami.]]//

//Yoink!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Listen, Rami... I know you have to leave for your important mission tomorrow. But before you go, I want to give you a kiss goodbye and thank you for your service. Would you meet me in the gymnasium, in fifteen minutes? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> I... Of course I will. That would mean a lot to me. But wait, why do we have to wait fifteen minutes? Can’t you just kiss me now? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> It’s 11:45pm. I want to kiss you EXACTLY at the stroke of midnight, for good luck. <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Wow... //(sobbing)// That’s so thoughtful, Elodie! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I know, it really is. I'll see you then! //[[I sashay into the hallway while Rami sobs into his cum puddle some more.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Hey, shh. It's okay. <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> So, did you cum? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Uhhhh.... definitely. <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Yeah, I thought so. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Are you crying because you orgasmed so fast? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> No... I'm just scared of my own mortality. My bomb makes me think about it a lot. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Rami, why are you going to do the suicide bomb thing? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> For Allah!! For the Caliphate!!! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> ... <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> ... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Really? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> No. I'm doing it because... well, everyone makes fun of me. I’ve never fit in around here. ISIS members aren’t supposed to be artists, or get tattoos. They’re supposed to... um... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Betray the tenets of their religion and kill Westerners? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Something like that. If I go through with my suicide mission, I’ll finally be doing it right. I’ll be a member of the ISIS family. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You're the first person I've ever heard call ISIS a family. <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Well, I didn’t really get along with my own family. I wanted ISIS to be the dad I never had. <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> [[Of course. OF COURSE he has daddy issues.]]

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> The gymnasium? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> We were in close quarters, and I need to detonate this bomb from a safe distance. Duh! <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Ahhh, I see. A clever plan. Remind me never to cross you, Agent. //There’s some rubble outside the gymnasium – the perfect place to hide! I hunker down and wait for Rami to arrive, cradling the remote in my hand. This big red button will be my first real stab at taking down ISIS. Just the thought makes my pulse race! I will do this... for America! For our decadent lights! Soon, Rami arrives as planned. For the last time, I admire his perfectly shitty eyeliner and jet black hair. He wanders into the gym, calling out my name like a dumb little puppy. For half a moment, I regret that he'll die before I got a chance to actually fuck him. He had so much potential. He was fun to verbally rip apart, and I think I could’ve gotten that dick inside of me if I really really tried. As the clock strikes midnight, I press the button on the detonator. A few moments pass in complete silence.// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Elodie? What about our midnight kiss?? Elo– <span class="dialogueboom">BOOM! </span> //The explosion is so loud that my ears start ringing. Rubble, dust, and shrapnel explode from the doors of the gym. I can feel the reverberations of the blast, rocking the foundations of the whole building. I poke my head into the gym, and see what’s left of Rami. He is DEAD dead. I did it!! // <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Bye, bitch.->I’m one step closer to bringing these bastards down.]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> My dad didn’t like my art either. He was actually fine in every other way, though — supportive, loving, and there for me. <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> It was infuriating! Who ever heard of a punk tattoo artist with a healthy relationship with his father?! So I ran away from home and joined ISIS, and I’ve never looked back. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Rami, it doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to do this. <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> You don't know ANYTHING! Yes I do! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Don’t yell at me! I’m just trying to help you! <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> You’re right, I’m sorry... God, I screw everything up. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[If you could do anything in the world, and no one would make fun of you, what would you do?]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> I'd move to New York City. I’d become a tattoo artist. Maybe I’d start an MCR cover band, and we’d call ourselves, “The Really Cool MCR Cover Band.” <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> I’d peak in my twenties, then take up alcoholism and chain-smoking in my thirties, and die young in a shallow grave, like all the punk legends. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> That's beautiful. Rami, the world needs to see your art! <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> Does it REALLY, though? [[Tears flood into Rami's eyes. I never expected a member of ISIS to cry so much and so openly. I'm proud of him.]]

<span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Okay. I'm going to do it. I'm going to NYC to open my tattoo parlor and live my dream! //The bomb makes a soft, encouraging "boop."// <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Oh, right, I almost forgot. What do I do with this? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Just chuck it in an empty field or something. <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> But I can't take it off... <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh... well, it's a pretty hardcore look! The TSA agents in New York will love it! <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> You're right! It’s fine. Nothing can stop the power of my destiny! //I watch Rami struggle to climb out the window. He lands hard on the ground outside HQ and dashes into the night.// <span class="dialoguesb">Second Brain: </span> Good work, Elodie. That crazy kid and that bomb could've done ISIS a lot of good. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Bye, bitch.->I’m one step closer to bringing these bastards down.]]

//The Kaliph, Rashad, and Waseem all burst into laughter.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Wait, is that really from the Qur’an? <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Pah! Who gives a damn? //I'm fully in character as an ISIS wife, so I gasp at Rashad's coarse comment against the holy scripture.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Oh, calm down. We don't actually READ the Qur’an. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait, really? I thought the whole point of ISIS was to... Islamic state? or something? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I mean, that's really just a marketing angle. No, I haven't looked at the Qur’an in years. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> ISIS is pretty much just a social club for deeply violent and oppressive men. We're trying to make our own country; a perfect homeland where our power is never questioned in the slightest. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, okay! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Wait, I still don't get it.]]

//The Kaliph, Rashad, and Waseem all burst into laughter.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Wait, is that really from the Qur’an? <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Pah! Who gives a damn? //I'm fully in character as an ISIS wife, so I gasp at Rashad's coarse comment against the holy scripture.// <span class="dialoguewaseem"> Waseem: </span> Oh, calm down. We don't actually READ the Qur’an. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Wait, really? I thought the whole point of ISIS was to... Islamic state? or something? <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> I mean, that's really just a marketing angle. No, I haven't looked at the Qur’an in years. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> ISIS is pretty much just a social club for deeply violent and oppressive men. We're trying to make our own country; a perfect homeland where our power is never questioned in the slightest. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Oh, okay! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Wait, I still don't get it.]]

<span class="dialogue"> Second Level Priest: </span> Husani! Come now. We have a Qur’an emergency that we'll need all priests to attend to. <span class="dialoguehusani"> Husani: </span> Yes, sir! //He turns to leave, but steals one final glance at me on his way out. I blow him a kiss, and the group marches down the hallway. As soon as they're gone, I SPRINT to the other side of the room and begin untying Dwayne’s restraints. As soon as I get his gag out, he gasps for breath.// <span class="dialogue"> Agent Dwayne: </span> Elodie! That was amazing and hot. You’re the greatest agent I've ever seen. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Thanks, boo. Can you make it out of here okay? <span class="dialogue"> Agent Dwayne: </span> Yes. I can make it to the ocean and swim to freedom. Thanks for getting me out of a real... tight spot. //I chew through his hand restraints with three quick bites. Munch munch! Yummy rope!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Okay! You're free. //Dwayne rushes to the window.// <span class="dialogue"> Agent Dwayne: </span> Wish me luck! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Get out of here, you dumb slut! //I watch for a moment as he sneaks through the courtyard and eventually clears the wall. He made it. He'll be okay.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Good job, Elodie. You saved a life. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> One life saved, two million more to go. I love you, America! //I don't have time to linger. I rush down to the table where Registration Man is waiting for me with a new task. Just another day in ISIS! [[I perform back-breaking manual labor all day!]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Poor kid. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> What do you MEAN, poor kid?! He's an enemy of the state! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But it seems like he really hates it here. Maybe he can be rehabilitated with the right amount of love and care? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Are you seriously looking at an ISIS suicide bomber and thinking, “I can fix him?” <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Gasp!]]

<span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Agent, did you just say the word "gasp” aloud? //On the ground, I see the dust-covered remnant of an apple skin. Rami must have dropped it while he was running away crying! I bend down and voraciously eat it up. The first food I’ve had in days... It's delicious! I hear a sharp whistle. The Registration Man is calling me back to high school — I mean, ISIS headquarters — for my next task. Rejuvenated by my meal, I run towards him. [[I perform back-breaking manual labor all day!]]//

<span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Ha! //His eyes linger on my face. I blush. // <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You are forgiven, Miss Elodie. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Thank you, sir. //He runs a finger across my cheek, tucking a strand of blonde hair back underneath my hijab.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> [[Run along now, or you'll be late.]]

//I curtsey, bowing my head down, and wait for him to move on. A moment passes. I can still feel his stare. He must be furious at me. Is this mission over before it could even begin? I feel him reach his hand out, and gently slide the back of it down my cheek. He raises my chin up, until our eyes meet.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> Don't let it happen again, Elodie. //I hold his damn gaze. I can't figure out what I'm feeling. Attraction. Anger. Adrenaline. Everything.// <span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> [[Run along now, or you'll be late.]]

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> You're married?! <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> I was. A long time ago. //He turns away.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> Get out of here. I’ve said too much. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> General Rashad — <span class="dialoguerashad"> Rashad: </span> That's NOT my name, damn it! I'm so tired of hearing that name! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Alan, then. Whatever. Just level with me already. What are you talking about? Why are you here? <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I... I've never told anyone this... //He takes one long look at me. It's not a look of lust, just... pain. Weird, awkward pain.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> [[I used to be an American.]]

<span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> Elly, what are you—?! //I pull harder, cutting him off.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I'm sorry they took me. But I'm not yours anymore, Alan. //The air starts to leave his windpipe. He's gasping, confused; he doesn’t understand. The worst part is that he doesn’t even fight back. He stops twitching and goes limp after a few minutes. I let go of the tire, and Rashad’s body slumps to the ground, dead. I walk away and leave him there. It’s not so hard. I barely remember him. I left it all behind years ago. I’m as alone as I’ve always been.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> You’re not alone! You’ll always have me! <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Ha. Yeah, I’ve still got you, SB. Thanks, bestie. <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> By the way... that was so fucking hardcore. You are seriously terrifying. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> LOL! I guess I am. //With Rashad out of the way, I might have a real chance at stopping that nuke. [[I return to my room to calm down.]]//

<span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> I know I am. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> It's not too late. The battalion should still be a day away. I can stop the attack on Al-Qa’im. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> THEN GO! NOW! //Alan turns and runs towards the garage. A moment later, a muscle car shoots through the garage door. Alan pulls over next to me for a moment.// <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I'm definitely going to hell, you know. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> But it's not too late to make this world a better place. <span class="dialoguerashad"> Alan: </span> I'll do it, then. For my little Elly. //He takes a swig out of his flask and drives off, heading towards Al-Qa’im, speeding into the sunset... And then immediately swerves into a ditch. He’s going about 70 mph. The car flips and explodes. // <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> OH. Shit. I guess he was still drunk. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Whatever. I can’t believe he didn’t recognize me! Fucking loser. //I'm not his little girl anymore. Maybe I never was. But with him out of the way, I might have a real chance at stopping that nuke. [[I return to my room to calm down.]]//

//I wander the halls of ISIS HQ. It's more quiet than usual; everyone must be at the mixer. As I turn the corner, I hear soft, whiny sobbing coming from an empty classroom. That’s gotta be him!// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Rami? What are you doing in here? <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> Elodie! What the fuck are YOU doing here?! //Rami was scribbling in his little notebook. He tries to stuff it in his pocket, but it’s too late, I’ve already seen the cover.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[Is that a sketchbook?]]

<span class="registration">Registration Man: </span> //(confused)// I'm not a spy. I'm the registration man. //He holds up his clipboard as proof.// <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> Well, I'm not a spy either. I should be on the list! <span class="registration">Registration Man: </span> Ah, there you are. <span class="registration">Registration Man: </span> [[You're the last one on my list. Quickly, put on this hijab. You must be dressed modestly from this point onward.]]

<span class="dialogueskaliph">The Kaliph: </span> You are here today to pledge your eternal service to our cause. //I look up. Instantly, I'm overwhelmed by what I see. I grow dizzy, faint. I'm totally thrown off.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> That's target Number 1, Elodie. That's the Kaliph. <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> The... Kaliph? <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> He's kind of like the President of ISIS. Elodie, this is your primary target. This is the man that you MUST destory, for America, for your country. //Second Brain drones on and on. When I feel... strongly about something I can tune Second Brain out. [[Nothing could have prepared me for his eyes.]]//

//And see that it’s full of stick-figure pinup girl doodles with big tits holding bloody knives.// <span class="dialoguesb"> Second Brain: </span> Gross. It’s like looking into the sketchbook of a sexually-repressed preteen who desperately needs therapy. <span class="dialoguerami"> Rami: </span> What do you think? <span class="dialogueelodie"> Elodie: </span> [[They’re super great!]] [[They’re hot garbage.]]