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The redheaded supersoldier chuckled as a thought occurred to her: The Crimson Conservative, a cat, Canadians, carnage… add to that the name of the dame I‘m tryin‘ to keep from being abducted, and that‘s a lotta C-words.

Her train of thought was broken by the crack of the pistol in the blonde’s hands, which drew Connie’s eye in time to be impressed with the woman’s marksmanship.

“So that picture of you in TIME wasn’t just for show,” Connie said.

“Didn’t read it,” the blonde responded. “I took one look at the cover and knew it was going to be a hit piece… douchebag photographer…”

“If you were on Red Eye, they would have bleeped that last bit. Anyway, yeah,” the supersoldier said, unclipping a grenade from her belt. “Wasn’t nothing wrong with your face in that picture, but they made your feet look bigger’n mine!” She threw the grenade down an alley she had seen a few DHDG troops run into, bouncing the explosive at an angle that would send it pinballing into the midst of the regrouping soldiers.

“As big as yours? Not even close; leave the ‘illustrating absurdity by being absurd’ to Rush,” the blonde told her, taking aim at the relatively unarmored throat of a man peeking from around the corner of a drugstore. “Dammit,“ she muttered when he saw he was in her sights and quickly ducked back behind cover. “Speaking of, nice boots. Are they new?”

“Yup,” Connie said after the boom of her grenade’s detonation had died down. “Thought I’d treat myself… what was that you said one time about our dear neighbors to the north being lucky that we don’t roll over in our sleep and crush ‘em?”

The blonde sighed. “Maybe if I deserted the military and joined the terrorists, the White House would be opening the doors to Guantanamo Bay to get me back. Instead, they’re looking the other way while one of their citizens is about to be murdered by foreigners on American soil.”

“This is one of those rare instances where I gotta disagree with you, honey,” the redhead told her. “They’re throwin’ lead at me, sure, but have only tried to dart ‘n TASER you… the DHDG wants you alive.”

A wicked gleam danced in the other woman’s green eyes. “Let them try to torture a confession out of me,” she said. “I grew up with two older brothers; waterboarding would be like a warm bubble bath after what they put me through.”

“They have to get their maple syrup-stained mitts on you first,” Connie laughed, spraying an oncoming troop transport with her firearm’s colossal slugs until it veered off the street and rammed a lamppost. “And to do that, these dirty socialist ninnies’ve gotta go through the biggest right-wing bitch around…” She cast a glance at the other woman. “No offence, ya ain’t too bad yourself in that regard.”

“None taken,” she said, pinging a round off the helmet of a Canadian soldier as he sprinted across the street. “Their healthcare may be a joke, but their armor isn’t half bad.”

“Hey, discouraging ‘hate speech’ is serious business!” Connie said mockingly. “Throwin’ comedians and pastors in prison for offending minorities is a matter of national security!”

“And New York Times bestselling authors,” the blonde reminded her protector.

“Yeah, yeah, how could I forget; ya write real good, sweetie.”

The Crimson Conservative smiled; on the one hand, she was worried about the woman. Republicat had reported that Major Manitoba himself was leading the Canadian excursion onto U.S. soil to retrieve the author/political pundit and take her back to Ontario, where she was to face charges of committing “hate speech” years ago. If that was true, this business was more serious than your typical grab-‘n-bag operation. RC was nearby, leaping from building to building in her efforts to surveil enemy movements, but so far, Manitoba seemed to be the only foreign super they had to deal with.

On the other hand, Connie had been given a rare gift in the form of an assault team of foreigners in her own country that--to her mind--deserved nothing less than the violent deaths she was handing out to them. The fact that she was spending time with her favorite Fox News contributor and occasional drinking buddy didn’t dampen her mood at all, either.

She was familiar with the Discours de Haine Découragement Groupe, a task force made up of members from the Canadian Security Intelligence Service and the Intelligence Branch of the Canadian Forces. Taking their orders from the Canadian Human Rights Commission, the Hate Speech Discouragement Group, as it was known in English, was responsible for protecting Canada and its interests from the threat of… well, Connie was a bit fuzzy on that. Apparently, she thought, enough pansies in the Canuk government thought that unfriendly words and alleged discrimination against minorities was a threat to their national security, so they go and waste a load of dough on making the DHDG to deal with the meanest of the meanies… see what happens when you got other folks lookin‘ after you by taking care of the real threats? Ya have time to sit around all day ‘n invent phony ones to be afraid of…
“Hard to believe this can happen in our country,” the blonde sighed.
“They were gonna let the Ibrahim woman get whipped a hundred times by Muslims, then hang her for the crime of marrying a Christian without so much as wagging a finger at Sudan,” the Crimson Conservative snorted. “And as we speak, ol’ Sergeant Tahmooressi is strapped to a prison cot in that piss-hole of a country they call Mexico while the State Department‘s off rebuilding mosques in Akbarland, or wherever.” She started to complain about Amanda Knox facing extradition back to Italy to serve over a quarter-century in prison for a crime she had been acquitted of, but closed her mouth when she remembered that her companion was not terribly sympathetic to that particular defendant.
“A Democrat’s in the White House,” the blonde said, slapping a fresh clip into her handgun. “That means it’s open season on Americans.”

The redheaded giantess saw a Stryker with red maple leaves displayed on its sides turn the corner onto their street. “Not only on Americans,” she said, and opened fire.

　

--To be continued…?--

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Banged this one out very quickly; how can you blame me when I had ’s fantastic artwork to inspire me? And I really am not sure if I’m going to do a follow-up; maybe something from Republicat’s point of view where she runs into Major Manitoba…

Okay, the rule is that you’re not supposed to use real people in the universe (where this conflict took place), but do we really know who that striking blonde woman next to Connie is? Hey, did you see her name anywhere?

Oy thought yew fancied yourself the Frank Miller uv Angel Falls wroiters, an’ now yew go an’ nick moy rewtoine? Piss off, wanker! *Goes back to writing about “Jimmy“ Bond and a citizen who happens to be named Kane*

Plus, I talked with some of the administrators, and they said it was probably cool if I did something like this.

And while Connie is usually the one to do the swearing, in this case, I have to ask that you pardon my French: I ran Discours de Haine Découragement Groupe (a fictional organization I made up) through a bunch of online translators, and it seems to be ninety percent right, so I’m going with it.

As I said, the picture was done by the amazing Yurihausen , who works on commission; maybe you can have him make something where your characters meet, I dunno, Sarah Palin or Laura Ingraham.

The Crimson Conservative and the mentioned Republicat and Major Manitoba are my creations, © 2009.

Comments welcome, even if it’s to point out that if I had put in every gag and half-disguised reference I could have, this scene would go on for a hundred pages. (And fine, I admit that I’ve met some great Canadians, and don’t hate the entire country, so you hosers about to say that can take off… eh?)

Description

The redheaded supersoldier chuckled as a thought occurred to her: The Crimson Conservative, a cat, Canadians, carnage… add to that the name of the dame I‘m tryin‘ to keep from being abducted, and that‘s a lotta C-words.

Her train of thought was broken by the crack of the pistol in the blonde’s hands, which drew Connie’s eye in time to be impressed with the woman’s marksmanship.

“So that picture of you in TIME wasn’t just for show,” Connie said.

“Didn’t read it,” the blonde responded. “I took one look at the cover and knew it was going to be a hit piece… douchebag photographer…”

“If you were on Red Eye, they would have bleeped that last bit. Anyway, yeah,” the supersoldier said, unclipping a grenade from her belt. “Wasn’t nothing wrong with your face in that picture, but they made your feet look bigger’n mine!” She threw the grenade down an alley she had seen a few DHDG troops run into, bouncing the explosive at an angle that would send it pinballing into the midst of the regrouping soldiers.

“As big as yours? Not even close; leave the ‘illustrating absurdity by being absurd’ to Rush,” the blonde told her, taking aim at the relatively unarmored throat of a man peeking from around the corner of a drugstore. “Dammit,“ she muttered when he saw he was in her sights and quickly ducked back behind cover. “Speaking of, nice boots. Are they new?”

“Yup,” Connie said after the boom of her grenade’s detonation had died down. “Thought I’d treat myself… what was that you said one time about our dear neighbors to the north being lucky that we don’t roll over in our sleep and crush ‘em?”

The blonde sighed. “Maybe if I deserted the military and joined the terrorists, the White House would be opening the doors to Guantanamo Bay to get me back. Instead, they’re looking the other way while one of their citizens is about to be murdered by foreigners on American soil.”

“This is one of those rare instances where I gotta disagree with you, honey,” the redhead told her. “They’re throwin’ lead at me, sure, but have only tried to dart ‘n TASER you… the DHDG wants you alive.”

A wicked gleam danced in the other woman’s green eyes. “Let them try to torture a confession out of me,” she said. “I grew up with two older brothers; waterboarding would be like a warm bubble bath after what they put me through.”

“They have to get their maple syrup-stained mitts on you first,” Connie laughed, spraying an oncoming troop transport with her firearm’s colossal slugs until it veered off the street and rammed a lamppost. “And to do that, these dirty socialist ninnies’ve gotta go through the biggest right-wing bitch around…” She cast a glance at the other woman. “No offence, ya ain’t too bad yourself in that regard.”

“None taken,” she said, pinging a round off the helmet of a Canadian soldier as he sprinted across the street. “Their healthcare may be a joke, but their armor isn’t half bad.”

“Hey, discouraging ‘hate speech’ is serious business!” Connie said mockingly. “Throwin’ comedians and pastors in prison for offending minorities is a matter of national security!”

“And New York Times bestselling authors,” the blonde reminded her protector.

“Yeah, yeah, how could I forget; ya write real good, sweetie.”

The Crimson Conservative smiled; on the one hand, she was worried about the woman. Republicat had reported that Major Manitoba himself was leading the Canadian excursion onto U.S. soil to retrieve the author/political pundit and take her back to Ontario, where she was to face charges of committing “hate speech” years ago. If that was true, this business was more serious than your typical grab-‘n-bag operation. RC was nearby, leaping from building to building in her efforts to surveil enemy movements, but so far, Manitoba seemed to be the only foreign super they had to deal with.

On the other hand, Connie had been given a rare gift in the form of an assault team of foreigners in her own country that--to her mind--deserved nothing less than the violent deaths she was handing out to them. The fact that she was spending time with her favorite Fox News contributor and occasional drinking buddy didn’t dampen her mood at all, either.

She was familiar with the Discours de Haine Découragement Groupe, a task force made up of members from the Canadian Security Intelligence Service and the Intelligence Branch of the Canadian Forces. Taking their orders from the Canadian Human Rights Commission, the Hate Speech Discouragement Group, as it was known in English, was responsible for protecting Canada and its interests from the threat of… well, Connie was a bit fuzzy on that. Apparently, she thought, enough pansies in the Canuk government thought that unfriendly words and alleged discrimination against minorities was a threat to their national security, so they go and waste a load of dough on making the DHDG to deal with the meanest of the meanies… see what happens when you got other folks lookin‘ after you by taking care of the real threats? Ya have time to sit around all day ‘n invent phony ones to be afraid of…
“Hard to believe this can happen in our country,” the blonde sighed.
“They were gonna let the Ibrahim woman get whipped a hundred times by Muslims, then hang her for the crime of marrying a Christian without so much as wagging a finger at Sudan,” the Crimson Conservative snorted. “And as we speak, ol’ Sergeant Tahmooressi is strapped to a prison cot in that piss-hole of a country they call Mexico while the State Department‘s off rebuilding mosques in Akbarland, or wherever.” She started to complain about Amanda Knox facing extradition back to Italy to serve over a quarter-century in prison for a crime she had been acquitted of, but closed her mouth when she remembered that her companion was not terribly sympathetic to that particular defendant.
“A Democrat’s in the White House,” the blonde said, slapping a fresh clip into her handgun. “That means it’s open season on Americans.”

The redheaded giantess saw a Stryker with red maple leaves displayed on its sides turn the corner onto their street. “Not only on Americans,” she said, and opened fire.

　

--To be continued…?--

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

　

Banged this one out very quickly; how can you blame me when I had ’s fantastic artwork to inspire me? And I really am not sure if I’m going to do a follow-up; maybe something from Republicat’s point of view where she runs into Major Manitoba…

Okay, the rule is that you’re not supposed to use real people in the universe (where this conflict took place), but do we really know who that striking blonde woman next to Connie is? Hey, did you see her name anywhere?

Oy thought yew fancied yourself the Frank Miller uv Angel Falls wroiters, an’ now yew go an’ nick moy rewtoine? Piss off, wanker! *Goes back to writing about “Jimmy“ Bond and a citizen who happens to be named Kane*

Plus, I talked with some of the administrators, and they said it was probably cool if I did something like this.

And while Connie is usually the one to do the swearing, in this case, I have to ask that you pardon my French: I ran Discours de Haine Découragement Groupe (a fictional organization I made up) through a bunch of online translators, and it seems to be ninety percent right, so I’m going with it.

As I said, the picture was done by the amazing Yurihausen , who works on commission; maybe you can have him make something where your characters meet, I dunno, Sarah Palin or Laura Ingraham.

The Crimson Conservative and the mentioned Republicat and Major Manitoba are my creations, © 2009.

Comments welcome, even if it’s to point out that if I had put in every gag and half-disguised reference I could have, this scene would go on for a hundred pages. (And fine, I admit that I’ve met some great Canadians, and don’t hate the entire country, so you hosers about to say that can take off… eh?)