1. Dick and Jane
Roku was late for class again. Her heels echoed as they clicked down the cavernous corridor that connected the school's central cloister with the Social Studies classrooms. She should be running, but knew she'd twist an ankle if she attempted it. Stupid fucking shoes... The two inch heels served no purpose but to stick her ass out from under the ridiculously short pleated skirt of her uniform. She couldn't reach over for as much as a pen without flashing her panties at the whole world. But Roku guessed that was the whole point – the tight cotton shirt hugging snuggly to her breasts, the white knee-high socks contrasting into the black of her fuck-me pumps – the Matrons were a bunch of fucking perverts, all the way up the chain-of-command. Even the bureaucrat, hidden away in a small office somewhere in the capital, must have been masturbating frantically when she conceived of the school uniform dress code. Just the thought of every pubescent girl in the world showing off their ass – you could just see her fingers buried up to the second knuckle, deep in the wet warmness of her Jane...
...Thinking like that wasn't getting Roku to class any faster.
She took the next corner too fast and her feet gave out underneath her on the marble floor. An ankle buckled and her arms shot out to balance her. Her history textbook went flying, along with her leather folio. Shit! She cursed to herself. She'd better be careful with that. The folio contained her tablet and stylus, as one might expect, but it also doubled as a secret holster for her burner – the small plasma handgun she'd, as a Hatchette, been issued. If that thing went off at school... Well, her cover would be blown for sure. Eighteen year old girls don't carry around energy weapons, and her mission would be over before it even started if anyone found out she'd been surreptitiously recruited as a Hatchette.
Gathering up her things, she hopped the last few meters to the door of her history class. She sucked in a deep breath and turned the handle of the door. She hadn't made it one step into the room before Matron sent the black, heavy battery pack flying. This was the normal punishment for tardiness: A spare battery pack for a tablet thrown, full force, by the Matron at the offending party's head. There'd be more punishment later, of course, but the blow to the head was supposed to instantly punctuate the Matron's displeasure. Roku could have caught the battery pack... Even taken by surprise, the door still only half open, she could have reached out and caught the black block in the air – all Hatchette's reflexes were artificially enhanced and augmented – but she let the battery smack her in the left temple. She was late, she knew she was late, and she'd have to take her punishment. Now and later.
"Late again, Roku?" The Matron asked, not expecting and answer. The other girls, already in their seats, tittered like the school girls they were.
"Sorry, Matron." Roku replied, trying to sound contrite. Roku held her hand to her head in an attempt to make it look like the blow had caused her pain. It hadn't. Her body registered the injury, that was all. Pain was irrelevant to Roku.
"Pick it up." The Matron ordered, and Roku knew that this was the second part of her punishment. She bent forward and reached out to where the battery had landed. She had the top three buttons of her shirt undone, as all the girls did. It was the style and an unofficial part of the dress code. She knew the Matron was now getting a good solid look down her cleavage, the smooth flesh of her C-cup breasts pushing out of her shirt. Roku looked up to see the Matron smiling. The pervert! The hint of a tongue emerged and licked the bright scarlet of the Matron's lips. Roku stood up and walked the short distance across the classroom to the Matron, letting her heels click on the stone.
"See me after class, Roku." The Matron said, taking the battery pack. Roku turned and skulked away, but she could feel the Matron's eyes burning into her rear. She found a seat in the front row.
The Matrons were supposed to be chaste – they belonged to an ascetic order – but they treated the schools as little more than their own personal harems. Punishments, as Roku knew, were usually sexual – pain an pleasure all wrapped in one.
All the Matrons were insane, Roku thought, draped from shoulder-to-toe in their long block robes, a tight corset worn on the outside to give their middle-aged frames shape; with white pancake makeup apply generously to their faces, giving them the appearance of some sort of crazed kabuki actresses. They were rapers of teenage girls, pure and simple, but the Order gave their acts an air of godliness. But the Hatchettes didn't exist to punish the Matrons – no, that wasn't Roku mission. The Hatchettes existed to hunt down and destroy a much worse form of predator. The most evil predator of all: Men.
"As I was saying before I was interrupted:" The Matron continued, shooting Roku a glance that was half disapproval, half lust. "The Dick and Jane Wars were the seminal events that created our civilization, and this semester, we will be studying each of the wars in great detail."
Roku pulled her tablet out of her folio and turned it on. The Matron's lecture notes appeared on the screen.
"As strange as it may seem to all you young girls." She said with a tone that only a middle-aged deviant could obtain. "There used to be two sexes of humankind: Male and female. But at the end of the last century, after countless generations of subjugation, the female sex rebelled.
