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Chapter 1


The unknown is a double-edged sword, concealing both the sublime and the terrible.

—Amy Angkor-Billings, before her capture and crucifixion by the Bureau of Ideology


March 2, 2034 . . .

Satellites were of no use in the powerful storm, as thick, raging clouds prevented electronic eyes from observing the battlefield in the mountains of Greece. At his Bureau of Ideology office across the world in Washington state, a large, blond-haired man hung onto hope, but he felt extreme frustration. Styx Tertullian needed to see, needed immediate information—but the communication systems had gone offline, including the Internet, the radio, and phone services. For all he knew, the enemy headquarters at Monte Konos had already been completely destroyed, along with the heretical women and their blasphemous Holy Women’s Bible. He prayed it was so.

Or his archenemy might have pulled off something startling, turning the tables on his attack forces and annihilating them. The vile United Women of the World were resourceful enough, and God knew they could very well accomplish something like that, especially under the cover of bad weather. They might even show up here at BOI headquarters for a surprise onslaught.

Despite all of the intelligence reports he had received, the Bureau of Ideology leader harbored a nagging worry that the UWW headquarters in Greece was just a decoy, a diabolical facade designed to divert BOI attention and conceal the women’s true military intentions. The thought chilled him to the core. His defensive forces were on full alert here, but were they enough?

It was one of the problems he’d experienced with his former boss, Minister Culpepper, a father figure to him, but a man who had been foolishly incapable of grasping the terrible extent of the danger from these women—leaving Styx no option except to stab the old man to death and get him out of the way.

During his tenure, Culpepper had treated the UWW as little more than an annoyance, like insects to be swatted occasionally. He had procrastinated, fumbled, and made bad decisions. Styx, on the other hand, had a better way of dealing with those women, using decisive, deadly force. Pursue them to the ends of the earth; leave them no place to hide, nowhere to breathe. Exterminate them.

My attack squadron should be reporting something to me by now . . . unless there’s no one to do it . . . unless they’re all dead.

It was a preposterous thought, he tried to convince himself. He was worrying too much. In his position, a leader shouldn’t panic; he had to remain composed at all times—not only in the outward face he revealed to others, but internally, in the face he showed God.

The thought of God’s presence always comforted Styx Tertullian, calming him immeasurably. He tried to tell himself the Lord Almighty would not allow anything to go wrong now, at this critical point in time. God would not allow heretics to destroy the sacred Bureau.

Agonizing minutes passed, and finally Styx received a phone signal over the secure line. Nervously, he held the receiver in his hand, and heard the deep voice of the unit commander, Major Allion Smithee. “Monte Konos destroyed, sir. We blew the top off the bloody mountain!”

“Fantastic! And the women?”

“They must be dead, sir. Except for those aboard four small aircraft that escaped and disappeared into the storm.”

“Escaped, you say? Disappeared?” Styx wanted to strangle the man for his incompetence and stupidity.




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Framed