This story is a spin-off of my "Revenge in Advance: A Sequel" series, made up of "Revenge in Advance, A Sequel," in which Oscar escapes his wife's plot and gets his own revenge, followed up by "Revenge in Advance, Derby's Dose," a tale of what happened when one wife's revenge went too far, "Revenge in Advance: Pat," in which Oscar arrests and confronts the woman who started his odyssey and continued with "Revenge in Advance: Mona," in which the Task Force finally takes down the top conspirators.
The final story in that series is "Revenge in Advance: The Briefing," in which Oscar and the Task Force stop a plot against the president.
The last two stories alluded to memoirs written by Oscar about his service in the Task Force. This is the third story in those memoirs, and is written from his perspective and in his voice. Chronologically, the events of this story take place somewhere between "Revenge in Advance: The Sequel" and "Revenge in Advance: Derby's Dose," however, the story (as presented by Oscar) was written after his retirement from the Force.
Each entry in this series can be read as a separate story, however, you may also want to read the previous entries in Oscar's memoirs.
Many thanks to edrider73 for giving me permission to write this sequel and any others that may come from his original story, "Revenge in Advance."
I would also suggest reading Colinthedog's story, "Retreat," in which Oscar plays a role.
And finally, many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories. For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper...
Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...
Prologue:
My name is Oscar Warren. I served with the HomeFront Security Task Force for 35 years, and retired after serving as the organization's first Cabinet-level officer in the White House. My personal story has already been told by others so I won't rehash that here. Simply put, I was once a normal American husband who loved my wife and was targeted by a vicious organization that irrevocably changed my marriage and ultimately, my life.
Under the advise of my counselor, I decided to write my memoirs – my recollections, if you will – of just some of the many interventions where I have been personally involved.
Reading my stories, you might think that every intervention I have been involved with has been a rousing success. Sadly, you'd be wrong. After reading the previous two accounts, my counselor said I should write about an intervention that ended badly. I thought long and hard and selected this incident, as it affected me considerably for quite some time.
The following story has been culled from my own recollection, case files and notes. Where applicable, the names of the innocent have been changed. All the information presented here has been cleared for release by appropriate authorities.
HFSTF Case File #A00101825, Fredericks, George and Alice:
I had just finished the classroom portion of what I was told was an abridged version of the Federal Law Enforcement Training curriculum. It had only been a couple months since my first wife, Renee, was sentenced to 30 years for her role in a sick, twisted conspiracy to emasculate me.
After her sentencing, I was recruited into the task force, which was a actually a joint federal-private organization set up to deal with the Mutual Marital Assurance Society, or MMAS. MMAS was an organization set up by a man-hating lawyer to "punish" cheating husbands. They tricked women like my wife into attending a "spa retreat" so they could be recruited and later used to humiliate or emasculate their husbands. Over time, their ambition got the better of them, and they began pursuing a "femdom" ideology, with the ultimate goal being to force their worldview on the species as a whole.
So here I was, back at "Fort Apache," the abandoned Army post converted into a base of operations for the task force. Since I was still a probationary officer, I was required by task force rules to shadow a senior officer until I became fully credentialed. For me, that senior officer was a veteran DEA agent named Frank Michaels, a gray-haired, cantankerous, outgoing fellow with the biggest, cheesiest mustache I had ever seen in my life.
"Show him the ropes, Frank," Bill said when he introduced us. Bill Jackson was not only my friend, but he was also my boss and mentor. He would later become my father-in-law, but I digress. Frank smiled as he shook my hand.
"You ready to get your fingernails dirty, Probie?" he asked. "Probie" was short for "probationary" and as I found out, was also a term of endearment used on new officers like myself. I would probably have been insulted if anyone else called me that, but somehow, I didn't mind hearing it from Frank. It just seemed to fit.
I spent the next three months or so shadowing Frank, learning all I could from him. Truth is, I learned more in a week with Frank than I learned during my whole time in the classroom. For the most part, he was a no-nonsense guy on the job, but hand him a beer and a whole new man emerged. He earned my respect right away.
Most of those early interventions were pretty straightforward. As a general rule, we intercepted the husbands, and arrested the wives before anything bad could happen. Those cases usually only took a day or two to close and almost never involved deadly force. Frank said he's only pulled his pistol twice since coming to the task force.
Like me, Frank lived at Fort Apache. Unlike me, he lived alone. His children were grown and were serving in the military, having graduated from the Naval Academy at Annapolis. His wife died two years ago from pancreatic cancer. He often talked of retiring one day to a cabin overlooking Lake Pend O'Reille in north Idaho, where he could spend his days fishing.
He had been to my apartment several times and both of my children took an instant liking to him, calling him, "Uncle Frank." He would often pick the children up and tickle them, sending them into fits of laughter and giggles. It did my heart good to see them laugh.
"Great kids you have there, Probie," he would say with a smile. "Enjoy 'em while you can."
One morning while on the road, Frank handed me a case file and asked me to take a look at it.
"Tell me what you think, Probie," he said. This was different – normally, he briefed me on the cases assigned to us. Keep in mind, this was before we had Pat's computer files, and most of the cases we received were call-ins – either from husbands who responded to Internet ads the task force had strategically placed on certain web sites or men who sought legal advise from the network of attorneys working with Bill. I looked at the file and gave him a rundown.
Husband: Fredericks, George, age 28, occupation: engineer, Employer: Ace Manufacturing
Wife: Fredericks, Alice, age 26, occupation: paralegal, Employer: Law Offices of Dewey and Howe
Children: None
Synopsis: Husband George states that wife, Alice, attended a "spa weekend" with three other women. Shortly after returning, husband says they began receiving billing notices from the Mutual Marital Assurance Society. He called and was set up to visit an operative, where he was presented with his punishment if he did not stop cheating on his wife. According to the husband, the punishment involved an involuntary orchiectomy followed by an immediate vaginoplasty.
"What's that?" I asked Frank.
"Basically, they cut the victim's nuts off and use what's left to make a vagina. Normally, they use drugs to help transition the victim, but not always. Naturally, the victim becomes sterile immediately afterward."
"My God," I said. "They actually do that?"
"Absolutely," Frank said. "It wouldn't be the first time, either. I've seen it happen a few times. Most of the victims end up dead. Some kill themselves. Others die from complications. It isn't pretty."
"Can they do that without his approval?" I asked.
"Legally, no," Frank said. "But MMAS isn't all that concerned about the legalities of these things. What else have you got?" I looked at the report provided by the private investigators.
"According to the private investigators, it looks like both husband and wife are players," I said. "Got pictures here and everything." Frank nodded his head.
"Figures," he said. "He cheats, then she cheats to get revenge, or vice versa. Then she gets tired of his cheating and wants it to stop so she goes off the deep end. No doubt, all so she can continue cheating on him. I suspect she also wants to enslave him as well. I have a feeling this one won't end well. You got contact info on this guy?"
"Got it here, boss," I said. He nodded his head.
"Okay, Probie," he said. "Make the call. Tell him we need to see him immediately if not sooner. And don't take any shit."
"Will do, boss," I said, pulling out my phone. I called George's office number and he answered on the second ring.
"Fredericks," he said.
"George Fredericks?" I asked.
"Yes, it is," he said.
"This is Officer Warren with the Homefront Security Task Force. I'm calling about your reported contact with MMAS."
"Yes, thank you for responding," he said.
"Mr. Fredericks, it's vital that we speak with you immediately," I said, not giving him an opportunity to back out. "Where can we meet?"
"There's a coffee shop over on 3rd and Main," he said. "I can meet you there in a half hour." I looked at the map and determined we could make it just in time.
"That will work," I said. "We'll see you there." I ended the call.
"Coffee shop, Third and Main, a half hour," I told Frank. He nodded his head and stepped on the gas. We got there in just under a half hour.
Walking into the coffee shop, we saw a man sitting alone at a table outside that matched the photo we had on file. We went out to meet him.
"George Fredericks?" Frank asked. The man nodded. Frank and I pulled out our credentials. "Special Agent Michaels," Frank said. "This is Officer Warren." We sat down, facing him. He seemed scared as he looked us over.
"What can you tell us?" Frank asked. George took a sip of coffee.
"It all started when I caught my wife with that Barry Hedgecock fellow," he said. "He's one of the attorneys at Dewey and Howe. I came home one night and they were in the guest bedroom. After he left I confronted my wife and she told me I had a choice – either accept it or get hosed in a divorce." He took another sip of coffee.
"So we decided, or to be more precise, she declared, that we would have an 'open marriage,' where she could fool around," he said. "I didn't like it, but I figured if she could screw around so could I. I thought that would be better than getting raped by the courts and I hoped she would end it soon. You know Dewey and Howe does a lot of divorce work. That's what they specialize in."
"So you admit that you've been fooling around as well?" Frank asked. George nodded his head.
"Yeah," he said. "I hooked up with Donna Smith, one of our administrative assistants. She's had a thing for me for quite a while. But I didn't start messing around with her right away. I waited to see if Alice would stop screwing that jerk."
"Okay," Frank said as I made notes in the case file. "When did MMAS get involved?"
"A while back, Alice went on some 'spa retreat' with a few other women," he said. "I thought it was just an excuse for her to go spend a weekend with that sonofabitch Barry. A few weeks later, I started getting these billing notices. I never heard of these people and Alice would tell me to call and make whatever arrangements I needed to. So I did and made an appointment." I put a picture of Pat Witherspoon on the table. Pat was the MMAS operative who worked with my wife.
"Is this the woman you met?" I asked. He nodded his head.
"Yeah, that's her," George said. "Said her name was Pat."
