Inside Out,
		an erotic tale by AchtungNight.

<b>Celebs:</b> Keira Knightley.
<b>Codes:</b> MF, oral, violence.

<I>Standard disclaimer- This story is a satirical fantasy.  This
story is fictional, even though its plot and characters are based
on real events and people.  All characters based on real people
are idealized.  Any celebrities in the story are impersonated-
poorly.  I the author have no actual connection to any celebrity
mentioned in this story other than being their fan, and I
acknowledge that they do not act in real life the way my
characters based on them do. This story was not written for
financial profit and I expect none from it.  This story contains
controversial adult themes and situations, so it should not be
read by those who are close-minded or under age 18.</I>

<b>Intro:</b> Welcome, readers.  This story is a somewhat overdue
part of my ongoing celebrity fanfiction saga.  It tells the
origin of a setting I have used several times, and that of the
character that is my avatar in the series.  The sex in this story
takes a while to happen, as there is much background, but it does
occur.  All readers are encouraged to send feedback.  I would
appreciate it. (DougElder21@yahoo.com)  Votes are great too (one
per person please).

I want to thank all who have helped and influenced me in the
writing of this story.  In particular, those who created and have
written fanfiction for the Disney animated series 'Gargoyles'.  I
wrote fanfiction for that series a long time ago, and even though
I have since abandoned it I still treasure many of the things I
learned.  'Gargoyles' was one of the most awesome and underrated
creations Disney ever put out, and I incorporate it into my
writing once again with this tale.  All of its concepts and
characters belong to Disney, and to the series creator Greg
Weisman.  They do not belong to me.  If you too are a fan of
these characters, or if you remember me from the 'Gargoyles'
fanfiction days, feel free to say so in feedback.  I hope all
will enjoy.

***
<b>Inside Out</b>
London, England.  July 2003.

	"...and then Britney Spears dropped her pants!" the fop in the
tan suit declared.  "Can you believe it?  I actually saw her in
public, and she dropped her pants!"

	"Excuse me, Mr. Shaw," the man walking next to him said with a
growl as they exited Heathrow Airport's main terminal.  "Please
shut your mouth."

	"Mr. Shaw?  Doug, we've known each other for almost a day now. 
I was hoping you'd call me Dave."

	"Okay.  Dave."  Doug Ramsay frowned and adjusted his glasses
with his left hand's knuckles.  He was a stocky pale-skinned man
with thick light brown hair and rugged good looks.  He wore dark
blue jeans, a black button down shirt, and a tan hunting jacket.
A navy blue rucksack was on his back, a green duffel bag was
tucked over his left shoulder, and a large red suitcase was in
his right hand.  The blond fop, Dave Shaw, was also carrying
several pieces of luggage.  They both had just stepped off a
flight to London from the United States.

	"Thank you."

	"You're welcome.  Now, Dave..."  Doug coughed to secure his
companion's attention.  "You have not shut up about celebrities
and celebrity gossip since we met standing in line to get our
boarding passes.  I cringed when I found out we were sitting
together on the same plane.  Almost seven waking hours in the
air, and you have barely paused to take a breath!  I get it.  You
like celebrities.  I need you to please stop thrusting their
foibles in my face!"

	"Hey, I let you read your book, didn't I?"

	Doug glanced at the novel he held in his left hand.  "Yes, but
it wasn't the most effective distraction."

	"I'm sorry, okay?  I thought you liked celebrities too.  You
were telling that tall beautiful girl who was with you at the
ticket counter that you think they're 'legendary figures in the
modern world'."

	"I do think that, but there are limits.  You jumped in on Cat's
and my conversation all through security, and you've been
rambling on about celebrities ever since.  I've never met anyone
so psychotic about them.  Now that we're on the ground and
outside this airport, I think it's time you and I went our
separate ways."

	"Okay," Dave said after a pause, "if you think that's the way it
has to be.  But you've told me almost nothing of yourself!  For
instance, what are you doing in my native London?"

	Doug frowned, wondering how to reply.  He disliked Dave, but he
could not ignore any opportunity to secure a customer.

	"Come on," Dave urged him.  "You must have some reason for
leaving that girl behind."

 	"Cat and I are just friends, Dave.  It's not what you're
thinking.  We live very different lives."  He wasn't about to add
that Cat was a recently qualified Olympic athlete and he felt
what little they had between them could never compete with that.
If Dave found out Doug knew a celebrity, the fop would really go
bananas.

	"Why did you move here then?"

	"In my life I have traveled the world and seen many cities. 
London is one of my favorites.  I like the sense of camaraderie
there is here, especially in the wake of a victory."  It was the
best response he could think up.

	Dave grinned.  "Oh.  Are you a Manchester fan too?"

	"Yeah, I love soccer.  Football, I mean football."  Doug saw
Dave's open mouth and quickly corrected himself.  "I also love
the music and the theater.  Whether it's the arts, sports, or
more mundane victories like combat or business success, there's
always some reason for celebrating here in London.  I want to be
a part of that by moving to the city and opening my own club."

	"Oh?  A gentlemen's club?"

	"Only in that I expect all men who visit to act like gentlemen."

	"A normal club, then.  Will it be a disco?"

	"No, a dance club.  The disco era is over.  I also plan for it
to include a bar, restaurant, game area, and meeting rooms for
the open-minded."

	"Does that last part mean what I think it means?"

	"Maybe," Doug said, shrugging.  "You'll have to visit and find
out."

	"I believe I shall."  Dave stuck a business card between the
pages of Doug's novel.  "There's my number.  Call me when your
club opens and I'll stop by."

	"I'll do that," Doug replied, keeping his tone civil.  "Bring
your friends.  You probably know more people in London than I
do."

	"Aye, I do.  You sure you don't need my help opening your club?
This town can be a tough environment for newcomers."

	"Thanks but no thanks.  I have some connections I'm meeting that
should be of aid."

	"Like that man over there?"

	Doug looked and saw a black Rolls Royce idling at the curb among
several taxis.  A beefy pug-nosed man in khaki pants, a black
sweatshirt, and a tan duster stood beside it holding a sign that
bore Doug's name.  He had a black Houston Astros cap tucked over
his face.  The man was being ignored by almost everyone around
him, including airport security officers who had asked other
people waiting in the area to move on.

	"That's Elizabeth Swann sitting inside his car, if I'm not
mistaken," Dave said.  He leaned close over Doug's shoulder as
Doug stared at the Rolls.  "Do you know her?"

	Doug turned his attention to the woman in the car's backseat. 
He could see her clearly through the lightly tinted windows.  She
was thin yet shapely in her white blouse and black felt coat. 
Small breasts sat high on her chest amid well-defined muscles. 
Long curly brown hair framed her angelic features and cool brown
orbs stared back at him as her mouth twitched into a smile.  Doug
blinked his own blue eyes in recognition and found that all his
frustration with talk about celebrities was suddenly gone.  He
turned and glared at Dave.

	"Her name is Keira Knightley," he said.  "I would use
celebrities' real names when talking about them.  Not the names
of the characters they've made famous.  Unless you want to piss
people off."

	Dave put his free hand on his chest.  "Sorry.  To repeat my
question, do you know her?"

	"Not yet," Doug answered, grinning.  "I think I'm about to get
to."

	"Oh?  Well, you're welcome to her.  She's a bit too boyish in
figure for my taste."

	"You are blind if you cannot see that she's a beautiful woman. 
Farewell, Dave."

	Dave gaped as Doug stepped away from him.  "Fine, farewell!"  He
huffed a tantrum and walked toward another cab.

	Thank goodness, Doug thought, glancing back at him.  I thought I
would never get rid of that guy!  He struggled with his heavy
luggage as he strode to the Rolls.

	"Mr. Ramsay?" the cabbie asked in a Texas twang, noticing his
approach.  Doug nodded, and the man in the black cap stepped
forward and took his suitcase.  "Let me get those."  Doug gave
him a grateful expression and set his other bags down.

	"Have you been waiting long?" he asked the cabbie, glancing
again at the passenger who was still eyeing him.

	"Not very long."  The cabbie walked to the vehicle's trunk and
opened it.  He stowed Doug's bags as he continued to speak.  "How
was your flight?  Did you have any trouble getting through
customs?"

	"No.  The flight was great, except for my annoying seatmate.  If
you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"

	"Frank Martin."  He punctuated the name with an odd hand
gesture.  "I'm to be your transporter."

	Doug smiled and made a return gesture of his own.  With these
movements, both he and the cabbie told each other they were
members of one of the world's most powerful and least known
secret societies.  It had been formed near the dawn of history,
when a group that observed the human race's growing dominance
over the planet decided they were in need of a guiding hand.  The
society sought to acquire and spread knowledge for mankind's
benefit, and to promote and secure freedom and charity all over
the globe.  It did not have an official name, though when they
had to call it something its members said 'the Friendship'.

	"My transporter?" Doug asked Frank, smiling.  "Are you the guy
who inspired that action film I saw last year?"

	"No," Frank said with a frown.  "It's coincidence that I and
that film's lead character share the same name and job."  He
offered his hand to Doug, who shook it.  "I'm a transplant from
Texas to London like you.  I've lived here a number of years."

	"Oh?  Are you also a reverse Neil Gaiman?"

	"If you mean a fantasy writer from America who now lives in
England, then no, I'm not.  I don't write, and even if I did I
probably would not write fantasy.  Thrillers are more my style."

	"Mine too.  I recently published my first."

	"Yes, 'Faraway Reality'.  I thought it a good first effort for a
novelist.  I hear you're working on the sequel."

	"Yes."  Among other things, Doug was an author who had recently
caused a stir on international bestselling charts.  His first
novel had been hailed by critics for its detailed mix of the
military thriller and science fiction genres.  It was also
praised by fans of Neil Gaiman, the popular fantasy author of
such stories as 'Neverwhere' and 'American Gods'.  This had
pleased Doug, who counted Gaiman among the ranks of master
writers he could admire but never join.

	"I look forward to it."  Frank released Doug's hand and gestured
at the Rolls.  "You'll have to sign my copy of your first book
later.  For now, your carriage awaits."

	"Thank you," Doug said.  He let Frank open the car's right rear
door for him and then bowed to the woman seated inside.  "Ma'am?
I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've been personally introduced."

	"We haven't," she said, her smile widening at his politeness. 
Doug could now see that she had very long firm legs clad in red
denim.  Her British accent was evident.  "Keira Knightley."

	Doug took her offered hand and kissed it.  "I know.  I've seen
your films.  'Dr. Zhivago', 'Bend it like Beckham', and most
recently 'Pirates of the Caribbean'.  I think you're a very
talented actress, even though you're only eighteen."

	"I still have far to go," Keira agreed.  "And you are Douglas
El--"

	"Ramsay, please," Doug cut in.  "I'm using my Scottish clan name
for professional purposes.  I'm sure you can understand.  May I
sit beside you?"

	"Of course."  Keira scooted over to accommodate him.  As Doug
got in and buckled his safety belt, Frank closed the car door and
took his place behind the wheel.

	"Now as I was saying," Keira addressed Doug, "you are Douglas
Ramsay.  Twenty-four years old, adopted child of diplomats.  You
have lived in the United States, Taiwan, and Italy.  Your
stepfather was among the first official Italian trade
representatives to the Republic of China on Taiwan and taught you
much about international business.  You graduated three years ago
from the University of Texas at Austin with a bachelor's in
history.  Until recently, you were with the Travis County
Sheriff's Department in Austin.  Medal of Valor, top of your
academy class."

	"Your father must have given you quite the briefing on me." 
Keira's father, Will Knightley, was a prominent London actor and
local leader of the Friendship.

	"Yes.  I'm your native guide.  Father tells me you're to be a
viceroy, like he is."

	"That's correct," Doug said.  'Viceroy' was the title the
Friendship used for the majority of its high-ranking members. 
"Are we going to meet your father?"

	"Not yet," Keira replied with a sly grin.  "He wants to see how
you handle yourself on your own first.  Frank and I will help
you, but we're mainly advisers and observers."

	"I see.  Is that common with this program?"  Doug was referring
to a task the Friendship usually undertook on behalf of its up
and coming leaders.  Members of the society would seek out men
and women of ability and help ensure that they rose to positions
of influence around the world.  These positions were usually in
accordance with the individuals' talents and dreams.  Neil Gaiman
and other artists had benefitted from the program, and so had
many politicians, businesspeople, and celebrities.  A member
offered the program to anyone they noticed displaying talent and
devotion to the Friendship's ideals.   Doug had accepted such an
offer from his stepfather after a few years in the society's
ranks.

	"It's very common.  We like to test our viceroys and make sure
the qualities they have are what they seem.  Your initiators
noted you for intelligence, attention to detail, and imagination.
 They also said you were a man of honor.  Did you develop that
during your time as a cop?"

	"I like to see myself as a modern knight," Doug replied.  He
looked at Frank, who was pulling out into traffic, and then
turned back to Keira.  "Don Quixote and windmills, the whole nine
yards.  All my life I've tried to live with honor.  Sometimes
I've strayed from the path, but I always come back.  I became a
law enforcement officer to secure myself on honor's road, in a
life that gave benefit to others.  I also developed much skill at
physical and verbal combat.  I regret I could only take the
constant stress of the job for two years.  I have great respect
for those who continue to work as police officers today."

	"As do I."  Keira gave him another smile.  "Now you're going to
be an entertainment mogul?"

	"Yes.  It's always been my dream to open my own nightclub.  I
thought of a Las Vegas casino at first, but that seemed too far
from the gentleman's path.  A dance club in Soho should do me
better."

	"I hear you also plan to include a pub and game area in the
business.  Rooms for private meetings too, and a swingers' haven.
 I would be very interested in that."

	"Oh, you would?"  Doug raised his eyebrows at Keira's suggestive
look.

	"Yes," Keira confirmed, grinning.  "My family has long been
active in the lifestyle.  A lot of theater people are."

	"That's interesting," Doug replied.  His own family members were
not swingers.  Some of his peers at the Taipei School for
International Children had introduced him to that sexually active
lifestyle.  These friends were from Holland, Japan, Australia,
and other nations where the lifestyle had a firm existence on
society's fringe.

	I'm not as involved in swinging as they were, Doug reflected.  I
probably never will be.  Still, I do enjoy it.  "What about you,
Frank?  Will you visit my club?"

	"Yes," the cabbie replied, "but not for the purposes you're
discussing.  I am faithful to my wife."

	"I respect the sanctity of marriage too," Doug said, chuckling.
"As much as its participants do, anyway."  He looked at Keira. 
"I must confess that I'm surprised you're the one showing me
around London.  You must have a very full schedule as the rising
young actress that you are."

	"Not so much that I can't take time off now and then."  Keira
crossed her legs and leaned against the door on her side of the
backseat.  "Father tells me that you dream of celebrities
frequenting your club.  I thought you should get to know one."

	"I'm pleased.  In particular that the celebrity is you."

	She batted her eyes.  "Are you flirting with me?"

	Doug put a hand on his heart.  "Is it obvious?  Forgive me if
it's unwelcome.  I'm always captivated by your presence on
screen."

	Keira laughed and put her hand on his.  "Be at ease.  Your
flirting is very welcome.  I think you are a nice man whom I
might enjoy getting to know."  She released his hand.  "However,
I also believe we should keep our relationship a business one in
the beginning."

	"Business," Doug repeated.  "Very well."

	Keira looked at the novel he held.  "I notice we share similar
tastes in literature.  Are you enjoying reading about Duchess
Georgiana of Devonshire?"

	"Very much," Doug said.  He looked at his book, a biography of
the historical noblewoman by Amanda Foreman, and then back at
Keira.  "You know, she reminds me of you.  I can see you playing
her on screen one of these days."

	"Really?"  Keira's eyes lit up.  "I would love to play her, on
stage or in a movie.  Georgiana has been one of my primary life
influences.  She was a very bold intelligent woman."

	"Indeed.  She was also a beneficiary of the program of which I'm
taking advantage."

	"Many historical figures have been," Keira agreed.  "Da Vinci
and other visionaries, your nation's forefathers, and several of
my nation's kings and queens."

	"Not all of them have been good people, though.  There was that
Austrian painter."

	"Yes."  Keira frowned.  "Also a certain short Frenchman, a few
deplorable Roman emperors, and a cowboy president who as we speak
is continuing to plunge your nation into an unpopular war."

	"George Bush Jr. isn't as bad as the other examples you gave,"
Doug defended his fellow Texan.  "I believe history may be
quicker to undo his damage."

	"We'll see.  You make a valid point, though.  Our society has
made its share of mistakes."

	"There have also been those who achieved greatness without any
direct knowing benefit of our influence," Frank added.  "Most of
history's religion founders, if I'm not mistaken.  Also both
President Roosevelts, Stalin, Churchill, Genghis Khan, and
entertainers whose ranks include Walt Disney, P.T. Barnum, and
the Beatles."

	"Well, I'm not any of those people," Doug replied.  "I take
advantage of opportunities as I see fit, if I believe they can
help me.  I'm not a mistake either, as I will soon prove."

	"I hope so," Keira said.  "As your advisers, both Frank and I
will be looked upon poorly should you turn out to be a problem."

	"You'll be a small one if you do," Frank chimed in when Doug
looked his way.  "One easy to eliminate, unlike the examples you
and Keira quoted.  I hope you know that."

	"I'm well aware.  I assure you both that it is not my goal to
cause trouble for the Friendship.  I wish to benefit our aims by
creating and maintaining a place of refuge and freedom, a
sanctuary for culture and art."  Doug held up his book. 
"Georgiana of Devonshire enjoyed such a place in the city of Bath
quite often during her lifetime.  I wish to create a similar
place in London.   I know my business will not be alone in its
aims, but it will be unique."

	"There can never be enough places like that in the world," Keira
proclaimed, beaming.  "It will be my pleasure to help you
establish another."

	"Mine as well," Frank agreed.

	"Good," Doug thanked them.  He looked out the car window at
London.  They were atop a freeway overpass that exited the
airport with a panoramic view of the city spread out beneath.  "I
believe first I will need some money."

	"Your novel has made you a millionaire," Keira reminded him. 
"My father also approved your no-interest loan."

	"Good."  The Friendship has never lacked for finances, Doug
reflected with a smile.  I suppose that's easy when your main
bases include the Himalaya Mountains and Amazon jungles' hidden
cities of gold.

	"You'll need contacts also," Frank told him.  "I don't know how
much you're familiar with the entertainment business."

	"I apprenticed with Clifford Antone for six months after I left
law enforcement.  He's the founder of a well-known club in Austin
and mentored several famous musicians.  He's also a viceroy.  I
think he taught me most of what I need to know.  The rest I can
learn as I go with other people's help."

	"You're not lacking in confidence," Keira said.  "I also notice
you speak with an English accent."

	"It's to correct a speech impediment," Doug replied, blushing.

	"It works very well."

	"Thanks."  Doug again looked over the city below them.  "I chose
Soho for my club because it's one of the primary areas in London
for arts and entertainment.  That's it over there, right?"

	Keira nodded in response to his gesture.  "Yes.  Father located
a building that meets your specifications.  Eleven stories,
sturdy construction, and right across the street from that
monument you described.  Any particular reason why you wanted a
location near it?"

	"I want to attract the attention of the parties honored by that
monument," Doug answered.  "There's a clan of their kind in
Austin who were my allies during my days in college and law
enforcement.  I think such creatures will be useful to me again
here."

	"I see," Keira said.  "You'll be pleased to know I'm already
acquainted with the clan.  They're very active in London's
theater industry."

	"I'm not surprised.  They use the same cover in Austin at
Esther's Follies, the Paramount, and other theaters known for
their dramatic shows.  Do they also protect your city?"

	"Of course.  They patrol London every night to counter street
crime.  I'm sure they'll have no trouble making friends with
you."

	"There's just one problem," Frank said.

	"Oh?"  Doug raised his eyebrows.  "What's that?"

	"The current owner of the building.  Are you familiar with the
slums of London's East End and the people who control them?"

	"Yes.  Mob bosses."  Doug looked confused.  "Soho is West End,
though."

	"Well, many East End crime figures also conduct business and own
property in other parts of London.  This building is an example.
Its current primary use is an apartment complex and warehouse for
a small time but very dangerous East End gang boss.  He's a
Belgian who goes by the alias 'Lord Jim Kurtz'."

	Doug blinked at the name.  "Is he an admirer of the great writer
Joseph Conrad?"

	"Yes.  He conducts most of his business out of a tiny pub in the
East End named Conrad's.  His gang is active in the local
smuggling, gambling, and protection rackets.  Kurtz is a user, a
slumlord who takes advantage of all he can and rarely if ever
lets an asset go."

	"Ah.  Well, I would think the Friendship has enough money to buy
this building from him."

	"We do," Keira said.  "Father offered to purchase it three days
ago on your behalf and Kurtz accepted the sum.  However, he is
not willing to hand over the building unless its new manager
defeats him in a formal challenge.  Kurtz is an old-fashioned
admirer of medieval combat, you see, much like yourself."

	"He wants a duel?" Doug asked, laughing.  "Man to man?"

	Frank shook his head as they came off the overpass.  "More like
gang to gang.  Viceroy Knightley informed Kurtz of your plans for
his property.  Kurtz wants to know if you can command others as
well as he can, well enough to defeat him in a fight."

	Doug grimaced.  "Oh boy."

	"Don't count on London's clan for help if that's what you're
thinking," said Keira.  "They are experienced with battling
Kurtz's gang, but not with you as a leader.  You will have to be
the leader of your side in the battle.  Kurtz will not have it
any other way."

	Doug nodded at her words, considering ideas.  "How big a gang we
talking about here?"

	"Around two hundred or so," Frank replied.  "Nothing too large."

	Doug gaped.

	"You're not scared, are you?" Keira asked him.  "For sure you
dealt with men like Kurtz during your days in law enforcement?"

	"Yes," Doug replied, "but such dealings never were pleasant." 
They never involved so large a gang either, he added to himself.
"I don't suppose I can count on the local police for help with
this?"

	"No," Frank said.  "They won't interfere in your dealings with
Kurtz, but they won't aid your side or his.  That was the best
our society's and Kurtz's influence could secure."

	"I probably should have figured that.  Do I have any allies I
can count on in this city at all, besides you two?"

	"I have a recommendation," Keira answered.  "There are some
people my father contacted after Kurtz made his demands.  Father
told them about the situation and intrigued them.  These people
are former military, law enforcement, and diplomatic protection.
Until recently, they were all members of an international
counter-terrorism response force under the authority of the
United Nations."

	"Really?  What are they doing now?"

	"They're retired and working menial service industry jobs
throughout Soho."  Keira smiled.  "Father thought they might make
good employees for your club."

	"Let me guess.  They've all already been interviewed and hired."
 Doug wondered how many beneficiaries of the Friendship's status
guarantee program were given such associates.  "Pending my
approval of them and theirs of me."

	"Correct.  Father is aware you wish to proceed quickly in
resolving this situation.  He has high hopes for you.  He has
asked your employees to assemble tomorrow night at the building
which will become your club."

	"Oh?  Kurtz is allowing us to set up there?"

	"The challenged person picks the venue," replied Frank.  "Would
you prefer someplace else?"

	"No," Doug said after a pause.  "However, there is one concern I
have.  If these people are like most I've known with their
experience, they will not respect me at our first meeting."

	"Indeed," Keira concurred.  "That is why I took the liberty of
asking them if there was any person who had led them who was as
available as they are.  Someone they would at once respect and
follow again."

	Doug beamed at her with pride.  "And?"

	"They all named the same person.  A former South African special
forces officer who they knew as a squad leader in their response
force.  Some of them served under him, while others supported him
from outside the field.  The man is highly decorated and only
four years older than you are.  He has led joint international
military operations against terrorists on every continent.  His
final mission took place last year, and unlike most of the
others, it ended in serious disgrace.  Because of that disgrace,
neither he nor many of those connected to him were able to serve
in their response force any longer.  None of it was his fault,
understand, but --"

	"I get it," Doug interrupted Keira.  "Police work is
unfortunately often the same way.  What's this man's name?"

	"Clarke, real name --"

	"Did you say Clarke?"

	"Yes."  Keira glared at him.  "Is his name familiar?"

	"It is," Doug affirmed.  "I've heard of him.  He's known by his
first name in military and law enforcement circles all over the
world.  Are you familiar with Tom Clancy's 'Jack Ryan' novels?"

	"Yes, but what do those books have to do with this?"

	"Jack Ryan is one of my idols as a historian.  One of his most
valuable allies is also a man named Clark.  This has to be some
kind of sign."

	Keira crossed her arms.  "I'm going to ignore your conceit that
you're living in a world influenced by popular literature.  I
will also remind you that this Clarke is not your ally yet."

	"Right.  What's he doing these days?"

	"He took his disgrace harder than most of his fellow response
force members," Frank answered.  "He's become an alcoholic. 
Until a few weeks ago, he was earning money as an illegal
prizefighter.  He feels that with his disgrace he can no longer
hold down a legitimate job."

	"How the mighty have fallen," Doug said with a sigh.  "Do you
know where we can find him?"

	Keira nodded.  "We're headed there right now."

***

	They traveled for another hour, discussing further Doug's plans
and those whom he hoped would soon be his allies.  The young
viceroy was fatigued from his journey to London, but he wanted to
meet Clarke before checking in to his hotel.

	Best to establish myself strong and fast in the eyes of the
Friendship members here in London, Doug thought.  Especially
Keira.  I long greatly for her admiration.  Beautiful talented
women are a constant presence in my life, but I always welcome
more.  Clarke also would be a great asset to me.  One can never
know too many warriors of renown.

	He looked at the wooden building Frank had stopped in front of,
a rundown London pub called 'The Crimson Boar's Head'.  It was
obvious at first glance that it was a dive, a haunt for the poor
in spirit.  It was an old building that looked about to collapse
and had probably been in such a state for many years.  "You're
sure Clarke is here?"

	"Most nights he is," Keira answered Doug.  "I will accompany you
inside to meet him.  Frank, keep the car ready in case we need to
leave."  The cabbie nodded and turned on his radio while they got
out.

	Keira told me Clarke was among those who trained her to fight,
Doug recalled.  She got to know him when he frequented her
family's theaters during cross-training operations between
Britain's Special Air Service and his own South African Special
Forces Brigade.  They share an interest in combat, on and off
stage.  She hasn't told Clarke I'll be meeting him tonight, but
she will introduce us.  I hope it's enough to break the ice.

	"Have you been in many places such as this?" Keira asked him as
they walked through the pub's doorway.

	"A few," Doug answered carefully.  "Taipei and Austin have their
share."  He frowned, looking around the room.  A long wooden bar
dominated the far end next to a jukebox.  Several rough-looking
characters sat on stools in front of the bar while others talked
in small groups and worked a pool table and pinball machines. 
The second largest man in the room, the immensely fat and bearded
Arab bartender, sized Doug and Keira up with a glare.

	"Scotch on the rocks," Keira answered the bartender's fury. 
"Make it a double."

	The bartender grimaced and poured two drinks, then pointed a
meaty finger at Doug.  "He doesn't look like he can hold his
liquor."

	"I might surprise you," Doug replied.  His eyes were on the most
prominent figure at the bar, a giant bald black man almost seven
feet in height.  His black tank top and urban camouflage pants
showed off powerful rippling muscles.  A strong square jaw
dominated his face, along with large eyes that missed nothing. 
Those eyes had locked on Doug and his guide as soon as they
stepped inside.

	"Keira Knightley," Clarke said in a deep unaccented voice.  "I
haven't seen you outside the movies in quite a while.  New
boyfriend?"

	"No.  He's just a friend of mine whom I'm showing around the
city.  Clarke, meet Douglas Ramsay, formerly of the Sheriff's
Department in Travis County, Texas."

	"Deputy Doug, huh?"  The black giant looked Doug over and
laughed.  "You don't look like much."

	"I might surprise you," Doug repeated himself.  He stepped up to
the bar and offered his hand to Clarke.  The giant smiled and
took it.  Keira watched them as she exchanged Friendship gestures
with the bartender, who waved the other bar patrons away with a
glance.  Doug grimaced at the pressure in Clarke's grip, but
returned it with all the force he could muster.  He was unable to
keep from blinking in relief when the grip was at last released,
then turning and gulping down his Scotch.

	"Like I thought," Clarke appraised him.  "You're mostly talk."

	"Talk is as valuable as action," Doug answered, "especially in
today's world."  He sat down on the stool at Clarke's right while
Keira stood at Clarke's left.  "You'll forgive me if I don't say
your real name, Clarke.  I'm not sure that I could pronounce it."

	"There are few outside my original tribe who can.  For that
reason I mostly use my adopted name, like Cher."

	"You're originally of the South African San people, also known
as the Bushmen."

	"My people go by many names.  We were the world's first
democratic and gift trade society.  Some say we're the genetic
link between all peoples."

	Doug nodded.  "You're also among the pride of the South African
Special Forces Brigade.  Your reputation precedes you."

	"Oh?  I'm guessing you've heard of me from your fellow police
officers in Austin?"

	"Yes.  Also Reverend Benjamin Shapiro, a former US Marine
chaplain who now operates his own Baptist church."

	Clarke smiled, showing a gleam of white teeth.  "One of my main
spiritual counselors."

	"Mine too."

	"I had almost forgotten Shap retired to Austin."  Clarke looked
Doug up and down again, re-evaluating him.  "Do you still carry
your shield?"

	"Yes."  Doug took a leather wallet out of his pocket and showed
Clarke a bronze deputy sheriff's star.  "What about you?"

	Clarke produced his own wallet and displayed a gold commando
knife within a laurel wreath.  A large diamond was in the center
of the insignia.  "You understand that merely having such a
shield means little?"

	"Right," Doug agreed.  He took another draught of Scotch as they
put their badges back in their pockets.  "One has to earn it
continually."

	"Do you earn yours?"

	"I hope so.  What about you?"

	Clarke looked away and sipped his glass of bourbon.  "If you
know my reputation, you know that I do."

	Doug glanced at Keira, who gave him a smile of confidence. 
"Well, I've heard you haven't been doing as well lately," he told
Clarke.  "You had a mission that went bad, and you were relieved
of your command.  Since then you've spent a lot of time
drinking."

	The giant frowned and put his glass down.  "You preaching to me,
boy?"

	"No.  I'm merely noting details.  Keira has told me a lot about
you.  I'm a viceroy of the Friendship, newly appointed.  I seek
to establish a business venture here in London.  I think you can
be of help."

	"Aren't you also a fiction writer?  'Faraway Reality'?"

	"Yes.  I'm working on the sequel, 'A Collision of Worlds'."

	Clarke's grimace got deeper.  "You'll understand I don't think
much of fiction writers, no matter how good they are.  However,
any friend of Shap and Keira's is a friend of mine.  The same for
any knight who earns their shield, as I believe you do."  He
looked at Keira, who nodded in response to his silent question. 
"Your book taught me a great deal about you, as has this meeting
so far.  Tell me about your problem, Mr. Ramsay."

	"Please call me Doug."  The young viceroy described the club he
planned to create and the obstacles arrayed against him.  Clarke
nodded frequently throughout.  "Do you know of this Mr. Kurtz?"
Doug asked after he finished his summation.

	"I do.  Kurtz is trouble.  He's a lord of this city's darkness.
I assume Keira told you about my recent work as a prizefighter?"

	"Yes."

	"Jim Kurtz was my main sponsor and manager.  He found me in this
place and offered me a job winning money in his rings.  I won
several fights for him, and lost many others."

	"Including some you didn't have to lose," Doug guessed.

	"Correct.  Finally, I got sick of that.  I told Kurtz I would no
longer lose a fight just because he told me to.  Then I proved
it.  He threw me out on the street and sent his main goon Igor
after me."

	"I recall that ended better for you than it did for Igor," Keira
interjected.

	"Yes."  Clarke grinned for an instant.  "However, Igor also did
a number on me.  He was Spetsnaz once, as highly decorated in
Russia's Special Forces as I was in South Africa's.  Neither he
nor his current master is a man I would want to fight again."

	"There are few men and women who live to fight battles," Doug
said.  "Still, I believe we have to fight sometimes if we are to
accomplish anything."

	Clarke nodded.  "In that you are correct."

	Doug put his empty glass down.  "Keira's father has reassembled
your old team.  Your subordinate soldiers and many who supported
you.  I am told they're concerned for the welfare of the man who
once led them in the field."

	"You want me to lead them again."  Clarke frowned.  "I'm not
sure I can do that."

	"You can," Doug assured him.  "I'm going to give you back your
life."  Seeing Clarke's stern face, he corrected himself.  "What
I can of it, anyway.  You will again be among people who respect
you, in a position that will allow you to use your skills to help
others.  Perhaps you will also come to again respect yourself."

	Clarke was silent, his eyes focused on Doug.  The young viceroy
looked back with patient certainty.  At last, Clarke turned away
from him and looked at Keira.  "This one's going to go far."

	"My father and I hope he will," Keira replied.  "I don't think
he can, though, without you beside him."

	Nodding again, Clarke turned back to Doug.  "My grandfather
served beside a great general with your first name, Field Marshal
Douglas MacArthur, in the Second World War."

	"That general is an idol of mine," Doug said, smiling.  "I seek
to emulate him in combat skill and oration."

	Clarke laughed.  "I don't think you'll ever come close."

	The bartender slammed his palm on the bar, catching their
attention.  Doug and Keira looked where he was pointing and saw
that a new customer had entered the pub.  He was a large Cossack,
as tall and muscular as Clarke, and just as bald except for a
thick mustache.  He wore a white muscle shirt and black leather
pants.

	"Here's your money, Igor!" the bartender shouted.  He tossed a
wad of bills at the newcomer.  "You don't need to bother my
customers on this visit!"

	"Thank you, Fat Neville," Igor replied, catching the wad.  "Mr.
Kurtz appreciates your compliance."  He looked around the room
and giggled.  For a second his gaze lingered on Keira.  Then he
saw Clarke and a strange expression came over his face.  "Do you
remember me?"

	"I will never forget you," Clarke said.  His fists and jaw were
set in preparation.

	Igor waved a finger at him.  "Soon we'll meet again."  He turned
and left.

	"What did that look he gave you mean, Clarke?" Fat Neville asked
with a frown.

	"It meant Igor hasn't forgotten he and Clarke have a history,"
Doug answered.  "It also meant that he was not here to handle
Clarke.  That was the only reason he left without finishing
what's between them."

	Keira glared at Doug.  "Can we please stop with the macho
bullshit?"

	Doug smiled.  "As you wish, milady."

	"Don't you be quoting 'Princess Bride' at me either."

	"As you wish."  Doug looked at Clarke.  "So, are you going to
help me?"

	Clarke gave him another hard stare.  "I reckon so," he said at
last.  The giant pushed his stool back from the bar and rose to
his feet.  "It's time I regained my old life, or that part of it
you can give me.  I also want to settle my business with Igor and
his master.  I'm trusting you, Douglas Ramsay.  Take me to my
team."

***
<b>The Next Night.</b>

	Doug's new employees all visited him at his hotel the next day
after he had checked in and rested.  He spent ten minutes or so
with each, verifying what Clarke and Keira had told him about
them.  The group consisted of twenty-seven men and women who all
had served with Clarke as part of the U.N. response team.  Doug
found that he respected each and was proud to know them.  He was
in particular pleased that several of the group turned out to be
people whom he had first met as high school students in Taipei. 
These people remembered Doug also, and were glad to be in his
life again.  Clarke vouched for him with the rest.

	Late that night, they gathered at the building Doug hoped to
make his entertainment venue.  All had dressed for war in dark
blue polyester shirts and military pants and armed themselves
with various blunt weapons and firearms.  Doug had hesitated to
accept the latter at first.  As the challenged in Kurtz's duel,
he had selected clubs as weapons because he wanted to try to keep
their combat non-lethal.  Clarke reminded Doug that even though
he was a man of honor Kurtz and Igor were not.

	"Fine," Doug replied to that.  "Your team may bring guns. 
However, they are not to use them unless things get desperate or
Kurtz and his people draw theirs."

	"Understood," Clarke said.  He and Frank Martin had met Doug at
the hotel and they rode in Frank's Rolls into Soho.  The cabbie
took a long scenic route, allowing Doug to get both familiar with
the neighborhood and psyched up for what lay ahead.  Clarke and
Doug went over strategy during the journey, reviewing what they
knew of their allies and their foes.

	Now they stood together outside the open doors of the warehouse
that was the first floor of the tenement Doug wanted to take from
Kurtz.  Bare crates and shelves occupied the concrete floor
inside the building.  The streets were empty but for Doug and his
allies thanks to the late hour.  The goods stored in the
warehouse and the tenants who lived in the apartments above it
had all been vacated in anticipation of the battle ahead.  Doug
wondered how quickly they would all come back should his side
lose tonight.  Never mind, he said to himself.  We're not going
to lose.

	"You remember the martial arts classes we took together?" asked
Wouter Staal, a lean brown-haired Dutchman who had served as
Clarke's field coordinator.  He was now an accountant, and one of
the team who had previous acquaintance with Doug.  "Is that why
you chose sticks?"

	"Yes," Doug answered.  He looked over his new employees, who
were a mix of diverse humans.  The only physical features they
had in common were their mid-twenties age range and similar
athletic builds.  "What do you think, Yoshi?"

	Yoshihiro Aoi, the wiry Japanese whom Doug had hired as head
chef of the club, considered his aluminum baseball bat.  "It's a
good thing we're all trained in stick-fighting."

	"The enemy will be experienced in it, too," said Jodi Lee
Nichols, a dark-haired and freckled Australian waitress who had
served Clarke as an infiltrator.  She tapped a mop handle in her
palm.  "Sticks are common weapons the world over."

	"Kurtz's thugs are all veterans of London's back alleys," Frank
added.  "They know how to fight."

	"There's also two hundred of them and only thirty of us," Doug
replied.  "But I think we can handle it.  Any of us is worth five
of them, right, Clarke?"

	"Amen," the giant agreed.  "Ooh-rah!"  Several of his team
joined in the traditional U.S. Marine yell while others shouted
U.S. Army, British SAS, or other equivalents.

	"You know, you don't have to stay with us, Frank," Doug said as
the cheer died down.  "You won't be working for me after this is
over."

	"I expect your club to give my taxi a great amount of business,"
Frank replied.  He held up his lug wrench.  "I think I'll secure
that expectation now.  Besides, I'm your transporter.  I'm
responsible for you until you're set up."

	"Okay, then.  Thank you."  Doug clapped Frank on the shoulder
and then turned to a small mustached Hispanic man waving at him.
"Yeah, Mike?"

	"I spoke to some of this building's former tenants shortly
before we gathered," replied Mike Hernandez, who was another of
Doug's old friends.  Under Clarke, he had been a radioman and
combat engineer.  Now he was a disc jockey.  "They want to back
us up.  Kurtz was a terrible landlord and employer to them.  They
think you might be better and have offered to support you in
return for their old homes.  There's not many of them, and very
few have combat training."

	"I see," Doug said.  He paused, considering, and then nodded. 
"Please go tell them to stand by in the surrounding area.  I'll
launch a red or white flare if I need them tonight and formally
interview them all for jobs in my club tomorrow."

	"Okay, I'll do that."  Mike walked off.

	Doug looked towards a statue in the square his building
adjoined.  It was an odd construction of stone.  In the center
was a British Royal Air Force Spitfire fighter plane.  On each of
its wings stood a creature that looked like a strange combination
of man and beast.  Both had great sweeping wings, long tails, and
fearsome expressions.  The figure on the left wing was a
griffin-like humanoid with a Mohawk who wore a leather jacket. 
He had an eagle's head and a lion's claws.  On the right wing a
behemoth barbarian monster even bigger than Clarke stood.  He
wore a loincloth and a long mullet of hair.

	"The Guardians of London" proclaimed a sign in front of the
statue.  "In Commemoration of Their Contribution to the Battle of
Britain, 1940-1941".

	Most humans regard the creatures depicted by this monument as
urban legends, Doug thought with a smile.  Few know or are ready
to face the fact that they actually exist.  I remember when that
reporter John Carter tried to convince the world of their reality
on television in New York seven years ago.  He got laughed out of
a job.

	Despite our disbelief, though, these beings, gargoyles, are
real.  I got to know them in Austin.  All throughout human
history, they have evolved alongside and protected us.  They have
aided honorable men and women in the London Blitz and other
famous conflicts.  Their race is dying out now, but the legacy
they are leaving will live forever.  It includes the Friendship,
which they and humans founded.  Like many individuals among their
race, it has no official name.  Gargoyles have always been there
to protect humans when most needed.  I do not know if gargoyles
will show up to aid us tonight, but I hope that their spirits are
watching over us.

	He became aware of nine robed and hooded figures stepping out of
the shadows around the statue.  Power and mystery were evident in
their every move.  Keira strode to their forefront, casting back
her hood and smiling at Doug.  "I hope you didn't think that I
would desert you."

	"I prayed you would not," Doug said, smiling back.  "I fear I
can't give you insurance, though.  This is no action film."

	"That's okay.  It may be good practice for my next one."

	Doug laughed and extended the long riot baton he held towards
Keira.  "Do you know how to use one of these?"

	"Yes," Keira said, regarding the weapon.  "But if I take that,
won't I leave you unarmed?"

	"Of course not."  Doug tapped two black cylinders sheathed in
his belt.  "I'll still have these, and my intellect."

	"I'm sure that will be enough," Keira said with a raised
eyebrow.  She took the baton.

	"Deputy Ramsay," the tallest of the other hooded figures said,
stepping forward.  He lowered his hood to reveal long black hair
and a strange green-skinned beaked visage that looked like some
bizarre combination of feline and reptile.  He then dropped his
cloak and unfurled his wings.

	"I am Edwin, second in command of Clan London," the gargoyle
introduced himself.  "Guadalupe, leader of Clan Austin, speaks
well of you in e-mail."

	"It is an honor to be among your kind again," Doug said.  He
looked around at Clarke's team and saw that none of them appeared
the least bit startled, though many looked proud.  They've all
worked with gargoyles before, Doug realized.  I guess they're as
happy to see them here now as I am.  He clasped forearms with
Edwin.  "Well met."

	The other seven gargoyles who had come with Edwin doffed their
robes, revealing leather and chain mail armor.  There was a
golden-furred griffin identical to the one depicted by the
monument, a gray-maned male lion, and a white female unicorn. 
Next to these were a brown-furred female with porcine features
and long golden hair and a white-furred male with the head of a
stag.  There was also a green-scaled female dragon gargoyle and a
red-feathered male who looked like a humanoid cardinal bird.

	"Griff, Leo and Una," Edwin introduced them.  "Constance,
Staghart, Diana and Christopher."

	The gargoyles walked forward and clasped forearms with the
humans.  They gave one another nods of respect, recognizing
fellow warriors.  "Thank you all for coming," Doug said to the
gargoyles.  "The enemy's arrival is imminent.  I need you to take
up position on the nearby rooftops.  Be ready to spring a
surprise attack."

	"A surprise attack?" Keira asked.  "Are you not a man of honor?"

	"I am, but my opponent isn't."  Doug showed Edwin his revolver.
"I have three flares in here.  One is red and will call up human
reserves.  Another is green.  I'll use it to summon you guys."

	"Why not let us pick the proper moment to spring our attack?"
said Christopher.  "We're very able observers of battle."

	"Yes," Edwin agreed.  He formed a magical ball of green fire in
his right claw. "We also have resources you don't."

	"Fine," Doug said, smiling.  "However, if you see the green
flare, or the white one that summons all my reserves at once, I
will expect you to respond immediately."

	The gargoyles nodded and deployed, climbing up nearby walls with
their claws and leaping into the air.  Extending their wings,
they glided to rooftops and hid themselves.  Keira, Frank, and
the other humans gathered around Doug.  All were readying their
weapons.  Clarke spoke with his lookouts over a radio headset. 
"Kurtz's convoy is approaching," he told Doug.  "It will be here
any minute now."

	"Right," Doug replied.  "Let's confirm everything.  Tess, do you
have enough medical supplies?"

	"I think so," a petite brunette woman in a doctor's coat
answered.  "My assistants and I will be ready to use them."

	"Clarke, did your explosives guys check the building for traps?"

	"Asher, Mike, and I searched it top to bottom.  What we found,
we disarmed."

	"Keira, can we be sure the police will not interfere in this?"

	"Father has told me they won't, unless they get too many calls
about it.  He did ask a few of them to be ready to come and
arrest Kurtz and his men after their defeat, though, as per your
request.  I doubt the charges will stick long."

	"Doesn't matter.  All I want is for Kurtz to know I am someone
to be respected."

	"I wouldn't worry about that," said Frank.

	"Mike, are the reserves ready?"

	"Yes," said the deejay, who had returned a few minutes ago.

	"Anyone have any questions?"

	There were none.

	The group passed the next few minutes in silence, waiting.  They
watched as a long line of run-down cars and trucks entered the
square and parked around it.  Doug felt fear shake his insides. 
Kurtz's forces outnumbered his own nearly three to one, and they
were a gang of London's worst criminals.  Punks and skinheads,
hoodlums and prizefighters, thugs of the most awful descriptions
he could imagine.  All brandished boards, chains, and other
makeshift clubs as they exited their vehicles.  Most were men,
though a few were women.  Their clothes and hair were dirty, and
sneers and laughter were on every face.  Igor and a short thin
crow-faced man dressed like a dandy led the gang members. 
Adjusting his long black frock coat and monocle, the latter man
stood on his cane and addressed Doug.

	"Greetings to you, Mr. Ramsay.  As you may have guessed, I am
the man who has challenged you, Lord Jim Kurtz."

	"You're about what I expected," Doug said.  He stepped forward
with hand extended.  "May I present my army?"

	"And may I present mine," Kurtz replied with a sardonic grin. 
His thugs chuckled and several tapped their weapons in their open
palms.  "Shall we begin?"

	"Unless you'd care to surrender," Doug answered, "or to settle
this just between us.  A mass battle really isn't necessary.  I
think it would be fairer to us both if we handled each other one
on one."

	"I don't fight fair," Kurtz snapped.  He struck his cane hard on
the sidewalk and addressed his brutes.  "Exterminate them!"

	The gang members surged forward, violence in their eyes.  Doug
lunged at Kurtz, thinking to cut down the head of the enemy, but
Igor intercepted him.  Doug dodged the Cossack's truncheon and
drew the cylinders sheathed in his belt.  He flicked his wrists,
expanding the cylinders into a pair of twenty-one inch steel
batons.

	Igor laughed and came at Doug again, swinging his truncheon. 
Two dreadlocked Rasta thugs with pipes were at his side.  Doug
blocked and countered their blows, his eyes on his opponents'
hands.  "Defense!" he shouted at his employees.

	Clarke and his team spread out and kept Kurtz's gang from
surrounding Doug.  Screams and battle cries split the air.  Wave
after wave of thugs surged forward and were beat back.  Only half
the gang was immediately engaged in the fight, the rest cheering
in the background or jumping in to replace fallen comrades.  Jodi
Lee faced off with a spike-haired female punk in leather who
wielded a whip while Yoshi clashed bats with a French thug who
had on a mime outfit and face-paint.  Frank and Keira stood back
to back, swinging at whoever tried to come at them.  Clarke and
Wouter each beat down a pair of bruisers and then moved to guard
Doug's flanks.

	The Dutchman disarmed one of the pipe thugs with his Bo staff. 
"Like old times, eh, buddy?"

	Doug nodded in agreement as he battled the other pipe thug.  "I
didn't miss it."

	"This one's mine," Clarke declared, pointing his metal pole at
Igor.  He spun the pole in a wide arc, knocking both pipe thugs
down and out.

	"You're welcome to him."  Doug ducked another truncheon blow and
stepped out of the smiling Igor's way.

	"Come on, Clarke," the Cossack said to his rival.  "You really
think you can take me a second time?"

	Clarke punched him in the mouth, knocking him to the ground. 
"You still have a glass jaw."

	"Damn you!" Igor cursed, scrambling to get up.  Five other gang
members jumped toward Clarke before his rival could move in.

	Doug ran to Clarke's aid and knocked out two of the punks with
baton blows to their heads and stomachs.  The third, a black
youngster with green hair, turned from Clarke and pulled out a
switchblade.  Doug dodged away as the knife slashed in his
direction.  Clarke crashed his two remaining aggressors' heads
together, sending them reeling.  He then moved to face Igor, who
had recovered and gotten back to his feet.  The two circled each
other, exchanging punches and weapon swings.  Igor carefully
guarded his bleeding face.

	Keira and Frank knocked back the skinheads facing them.  Then
two filthy hoodlums who looked like minor characters from Keira's
'Pirates' movie charged them.  A short bald bruiser with a thick
beard thrust a large knife at Frank, who blocked it and responded
with a wrench blow to his opponent's midsection.  Keira hit the
man's tall rawboned companion in the head with her baton.  The
pirate's wooden eye popped out of its socket and rolled across
the ground.  He snarled an oath and swung his club at Keira, who
leapt aside in a ballet pirouette and then struck him again.

	Other combats ensued around the square, brutal and chaotic. 
Kurtz stood on the sidelines, ordering his goons forward and
hurrying away from anyone who challenged him.  Wouter and a
Polish janitor named Asher beat down a pair of skinheads who wore
neo-Nazi regalia and jackboots.  Mike the deejay hit a tattooed
thug with his blackjack and ducked an attempted garrote from
another with a chain.  Yoshi helped Mike pummel that pair and the
face-painted Frenchman unconscious, but then a Chinese punk with
several piercings knocked him down.  Mike defeated that goon in
the next instant with a smash of his weapon.  Nearby, Jodi Lee
knocked down the punk dominatrix but then got smacked on the back
of the head by a husky goon wielding a board studded with nails.

	Tess and another medic member of Clarke's team rushed in and
grabbed the Aussie as she fainted.  They carried her out of the
melee while their friends held the enemy back.  They then rushed
back into the battle and carried out the gasping Yoshi.  Once his
injuries were treated, Yoshi rejoined the battle.  With no
medical staff of their own, the wounded gang members moaned as
they lay on the street.

	Doug blocked a switchblade thrust and looked at the green-haired
punk facing him.  "Do I know you from somewhere?"

	The youth grinned, showing prominent canines.  "I don't think
so."

	"Never mind," Doug said with a shrug.  He feigned a pair of
baton swings and kicked the green-haired punk in the groin when
he got distracted.  The enemy gasped and collapsed to the
concrete with a moan.

	Doug stood over him and shook his head.  Then he saw three more
thugs advancing.  He dodged their blows and moved towards Keira
and Frank, seeking safety in numbers.  Combats continued all
around.

	"Did you expect this many?" Keira was asking the cabbie.

	"Not quite," Frank admitted, slamming his wrench into the
bruiser pirate's face.

	"Don't worry!" Doug advised.  "Just fight!"  He wielded his dual
batons to block swings from the rawboned pirate and two others. 
"Keira, can you reach my holster?"

	Her eyes on their enemies, the actress backed into Doug and
grabbed for his revolver.  As her hand closed on it, a series of
roars sounded from overhead.  Edwin and the other London
gargoyles leapt into the fray from the rooftops, claws extended
and eyes glowing red and white.  Several of Kurtz's thugs
screamed in terror upon catching sight of the new arrivals.  The
crime boss cursed at these men as they broke ranks and fled. 
"The monsters are nothing to fear, damn it!" Kurtz tried to call
them back in vain.

	"Sleep," Una commanded two preppie-garbed goons, flinging
magical sand in their eyes.  The pair yawned and collapsed
unconscious.  Edwin meanwhile scattered a group of Goth gang
members with a fireball while the other gargoyles engaged
opponents with claws and fists.  With renewed courage, Doug and
his allies fought at their side.  The most intense part of the
battle was Clarke and Igor, who were both pounding on each other
and shaking from punches they had taken.  For every blow one or
the other blocked or avoided, two more hit hard.

	Tess, who was bandaging Jodi Lee's head, yelled something at
Clarke.  The giant looked away from Igor and narrowly avoided a
hit from the husky thug who had assaulted Tess's patient.  He
jumped to the side, throwing his pole at Igor in the same motion,
and then used a roundhouse kick to slam the ambusher to the
street.  A follow-up stomp kick to the head knocked the enemy
out.

	"This is between Igor and me!" Clarke yelled, waving his arm. 
"No one else interfere!"  Several Goth, skinhead, and preppie
gang members at once backed off from him.
	
	"You're going down, svoloch zarasa," Igor swore in Russian. 
Clarke's thrown pole had hit him in the face, preventing him from
taking advantage of the ambusher's surprise attack.  Now the
Cossack spat out a tooth and advanced on Clarke.

	"You first," Clarke answered, socking him in the jaw again. 
Igor did not fall down this time.  Instead, he dropped his
weapon, then lunged forward and ensnared Clarke in his powerful
arms.  The giant gritted his teeth as Igor laughed and squeezed.

	Doug saw what was happening and spun away from his opponents. 
He threw the baton in his right hand at Igor.  The screeching
stick's tip hit the Cossack in the back of the neck.  Igor
grimaced and released Clarke, who immediately slammed his
forehead into the Cossack's jaw.

	"Next time," Igor mumbled, collapsing.

	"Dos vadanya," Clarke said with a chuckle, easing his rival's
unconscious body to the ground.  He then retrieved his weapon and
advanced on the nearest shocked group of thugs, who broke and ran
at once.  Clarke grinned after them and then went to help out his
nearest team member in distress.

	"Watch out!" Keira screamed at Doug.  She knocked aside two
female thugs moving to attack the distracted Doug with her riot
baton and then engaged a third, the same punk who had been
fighting Jodi Lee earlier.  Keira dodged this opponent's whip and
then slammed her baton into the enemy's knees.  The dominatrix
fell over and fainted as her chin impacted with the pavement. 
Frank had meanwhile knocked out both pirates and was now facing a
Viking thug with a long blond beard.

	"I got this one!" the porcine gargoyle Constance shouted,
tackling the Viking.  They roared at and pummeled each other as
they fell to the ground.  Constance knocked the Viking out with a
chin blow, then leapt to her feet and faced four more gang
members.  Christopher and Diana ran to help her, roaring their
fury and scratching with their claws and beaks.

	"Thanks," Doug said to Keira as he beat back another skinhead. 
He moved to the actress's side and drew his revolver, prompting
several thugs to step away from them.  "Is this better than your
movies?"

	"I prefer my movies," Keira answered, breathing heavily.  "At
least there I know what's going to happen next."

	Kurtz blew a whistle just then, and another company of his thugs
came running from nearby alleys to join the battle.  This group
was mainly composed of football hooligans and youths in rap
clothing.  Doug cursed when he saw them and fired all three of
his flares into the sky.  Combatants on both sides jumped away
from each other, rubbing their eyes at the sudden onslaught of
light and sound.

	As they stumbled, sixty or so London citizens dashed out of
doorways around the square.  Fat Neville and several of his
patrons were among them, as well as other Londoners who were not
Soho residents.  They engaged the new wave of gang members with
knives, clubs, and fists.  Other Londoners appeared at windows
and started flinging bricks, flowerpots, bottles and other
missiles.  Doug's side regrouped while Kurtz's men panicked, not
knowing how many they faced.  Twenty gang members went down in
five seconds, thrown objects crashing into their heads.

	Doug looked around and saw that many of his allies were wounded
and staggering.  He himself was uninjured, as was Keira, but both
were unsteady on their feet.  Their reinforcements were
countering Kurtz's, and it was time to catch their breath before
the enemy recovered.  "Fall back!" he shouted at everyone.  "Hold
up inside the warehouse!"

	Humans and gargoyles alike followed his suggestion.  They moved
through the open loading doors into the stacks of empty boxes and
crates.  Kurtz's thugs followed, shouting in anger.  Doug and his
allies took up defensive positions, striking out at anyone who
got close.  With coordinated attacks, they assisted one another.
They had the upper hand now, with numbers and determination on
their side.

	It wasn't long before a few of Kurtz's gang started pulling out
pistols and submachine guns.  Clarke and his team reacted
quickly, drawing their own guns and pointing them at the enemy.

	"Freeze!"

	"Drop it!"

	"Show me your hands!"

	The gang members complied, all slower on the draw than trained
soldiers.  Keira grinned in relief as they raised their arms in
surrender and backed off.  She, Doug, and the others followed
them back out onto the street.

	"Well, Kurtz?" Doug asked the crime boss, whom he noted was
sporting a black eye and bloody nose.  "Do you still want to
continue this?"

	"I suppose not," Kurtz replied, grimacing and supporting himself
with his cane.  "The battle is yours.  However, you have won only
a smoking ruin."  He pulled a remote from his pocket and clicked
a switch.

	Nothing happened.  Kurtz frowned and clicked the switch again.

	"We already disarmed your bombs, Jim!" Clarke yelled.  Kurtz
snarled an oath and threw the remote on the ground.  "We win, you
lose!"

	"The horror," Doug said with a giggle.  "The horror."  Keira and
others who knew the origin of Kurtz's alias laughed all around.

	Kurtz shot the crowd an upraised middle finger, then turned and
stumbled off across the square.  He gasped and stopped in his
tracks, seeing that several vehicles with flashing red and blue
lights had surrounded the area.  A phalanx of London cops stood
around them.  Over half of the still conscious gang members were
already arrested and inside paddy wagons and ambulances. 
Paramedics from the latter vehicles were treating wounded from
both sides.  A mustached detective in a deerstalker hat and a
thin silver-haired man in a white suit who resembled Keira were
leading the police.

	"You did well, young viceroy," Will Knightley said, smiling at
Doug.  "You too, my child.  I am glad to see you unharmed."  He
stepped close to Keira and hugged her, then shook hands with
Doug, Clarke and Frank.

	"Inspector Marlow," Kurtz greeted the detective.  "How nice to
see you again."

	"It's good to see you too, nemesis," Marlow said with a smile. 
He clapped handcuffs on Kurtz's wrists.

	"Thank you all for coming," Doug told everyone.  He sighed in
relief and put away his remaining baton, then stepped towards
Marlow.  "Inspector, I hope you will forgive me for bringing
violence to your city."

	"You're not the first American who has," Marlow answered,
shaking hands with Doug.  "I trust this won't happen too often if
you remain here."

	"Just wait," Doug replied.  He waved at the long tenement
building.  "Soon this warehouse will be a café and dance club. 
The best in town.  All of you will be able to work in it,
patronize it, and live happily nearby without fear."

	"I would like to see that place," Clarke said.  His team,
including those who had recovered from their injuries, nodded in
agreement.  "Will you have us beside you?"

	"And the rest of us as customers?" Edwin asked.  Several humans
and gargoyles chorused enthusiasm.

	"Of course," Doug told them.  He took Keira's hand and smiled at
her, then looked at everyone else.  "You're all welcome at my
club anytime, for whatever peaceful purpose.  Just like London,
my club will be no place for the street fighting man."

	The crowd responded with a unanimous cheer.

***
<b>Five Days Later.</b>

	"We've been installing furniture all week," Doug explained to
Keira, showing her around the main floor of his developing club.
Over a hundred workmen were nearby accomplishing various
construction tasks.  "The upstairs areas are almost half done and
we put the bar in this morning."

	Keira nodded and ran a finger across the bar's marble top.  "Is
there any reason you've covered over half the main floor with
asphalt?"

	Doug smiled.  The former warehouse was clear of boxes now, and a
stage and deejay booths were halfway built at the far end.  "It's
the club's theme.  I'm having the outside walls painted white and
affixed with awnings.  There will be couches and tables set up
for people to sit down while they're waiting to get in.  Inside
we're going to have it made up to look like a street, with cars
people can dance around and a faux outdoor café."

	"So the outside is the inside."  Keira blinked.  "While the
inside is the outside."

	"Hence the name 'Inside Out'."

	"Did you get this idea from a 'Saturday Night Live' skit?"

	"Yeah.  I was inspired.  Nobody I know of has ever tried it. 
I'll send SNL some royalty checks if it works."

	"Well, I think it's great."  Keira laughed.  "You'll have the
game room over there?"

	"Right.  Pool, pinball, air hockey, and both classic and modern
arcade games.  We're licensing with 'Jillian's', a similar
business back in the States."

	"I hear you're staying open round the clock."

	"Except on holidays and we cut off selling alcohol when it's
illegal.  I used some extra funds I had to purchase a few
surrounding blocks and give this building's former tenants new
condos in other buildings.  Once they heard what I planned for
this building, they all decided to move out."

	"Did Clarke's team get the training area they wanted?"

	"That's being installed in the building next door.  It will have
a laser tag and paintball arena, a well-equipped gym with an
indoor track, a swimming pool, and a shooting range.  They
shouldn't lack for anything to keep their skills up.  Clarke will
also earn some money for himself by opening the facilities to the
public.  I refused to let him cut me in."

	"You know, our contacts at the United Nations may need him
again.  The war on terror shows no sign of slowing down."

	Doug nodded.  "I'm concerned about that war."  He sighed.  "I
know Clarke and the rest of our troops are the best possible
people to handle it, though.  I just hope they all come home
safe."

	Keira smiled and nodded in agreement.  She walked around the
club and took in the vision.  "So what else will be here?  I
heard some people wanted a movie theater."

	"There's not enough room for that, unfortunately.  Maybe
somewhere nearby if I can find the space.  I'll host live plays
and concerts on the stage over there, though.  The second floor
is all staff offices and dressing rooms, including my own office.
 Laundry and storage will be in the basement, private meeting
rooms and personal quarters on the third floor and above."

	"Can I see those?"

	Doug chuckled at Keira's suggestive expression.  She had been
visiting frequently the past few days, checking on his progress
and spending time with him.  On the third visit, he had stopped
asking her if she had a new movie to shoot.  He had told her
little about his planned business until now, wanting things to
take shape so they could be more easily visualized.  Keira had
pledged to keep her curiosity in check.  Doug had denied her
access to the meeting room areas before, but in the present, he
decided it was time.

	"Sure, you can see them," he said, taking her arm and motioning
toward the stairs nearby.  "Be careful, though.  It's still going
to be some time before the area is finished."

	"Isn't there an elevator?"

	"There will be.  It's not working yet.  I think I'll want most
people to take the stairs, though, even when the elevator is
online, for exercise and security concerns."

	"When is your target opening night again?"

	"September 11.  The two-year anniversary of the event that
started our current war.  I want to show the world on that day
that nobody will ever stop the spirit of freedom."

	"A noble quest," Keira told him with a grin.

	They talked more as they headed upstairs, discussing their plans
and futures.  Keira told Doug that Disney had signed her up for
two sequels to 'Pirates of the Caribbean' and that she had also
been offered several other films.

	"Most are period pieces.  A few are biographies as well."

	"That should increase your acting chops."

	"I hope so.  I don't want to get typecast.  Mostly, though, I
just want to have fun."

	"I hear you have a comedy coming out at Christmas."

	"Yes.  'Love, Actually'.  I think its themes of friendship and
happiness are things the world needs to see.  They would also fit
well with your club."

	"Maybe I can rig up a movie night somehow."  Doug scratched his
neck.  They had reached the top of the stairs, and were now in a
red-carpeted corridor with several doors on either side.  Seeing
Keira looking around, Doug resumed his tour.  "This is one of the
main hallways.  I'm putting in suites for every taste. 
Boardrooms, bedrooms, rumpus rooms, and spas.  Even a few dungeon
rooms, though security will be increased in that area.  As far as
the police and public are concerned, this is a consensual
activity hotel and social gathering place.  We will forbid
anything that violates the spirit of that."

	"No alcohol allowed up here then?"

	"Right.  You don't even want to know what we'll do to drug
users.  Security cameras will only be in the public hallways,
although every room will have an emergency beacon and a phone. 
Condoms and other birth control devices will be available at the
bar downstairs, and Tess has a small clinic set up on the tenth
floor for any serious health issues.  The manager on duty will be
in charge of the guest register.  Everyone who comes upstairs has
to register, no exceptions.  Staff members can partake, but not
when they're on duty.  I don't want anybody getting the idea
we're running a brothel here."

	"Will you welcome all relationships?"

	"As long as they're between consenting adults.  We'll deal with
jealous spouses and other problems on a case by case basis.  All
in all, I think things should go well."

	Keira looked around and nodded.  "So are there any workmen on
this floor right now?"

	"No, this floor's about complete.  The architects and
contractors your father provided are very good."

	"Can I see a room then?  I would love to christen it with you."

	Doug smiled.  Keira had made sexual overtures to him several
times during the past week, but he had always been too busy to
take her up on them.  He was drawn to Keira, but business
concerns had to come first.  He had cleared his schedule for
today, though, after becoming worried she would eventually lose
interest.  After all, no heterosexual man in his right mind
should let an attractive woman like Keira Knightley slip away.

	"I think this one's ready," he said, opening a door with his
keycard.  Inside was a Victorian themed bedroom decorated in blue
and white with lace curtains and a canopy bed.  "This room is
just one of the types we'll feature.  I also have some Roman,
medieval, Arabian, Wild West, Asian, and other themed rooms
planned."

	"It sounds great."  Her heels clicking on the tile floor, Keira
walked to the bed and took off her black felt coat.  Doug took it
from her and hung it on a rack nearby.

	"Not all meetings that take place in these rooms will be of a
sexual nature," he said as he hung his own coat beside Keira's. 
"Sometimes people just want a private place to talk, and I will
provide such places.  If people want to sleep or rehearse plays
in these rooms, they can do that too.  I'm even putting a
recording studio on the same floor as the clinic.  Tess has a
thing for rock musicians."

	Keira took off her shoes and smiled.  "I know.  She's been
bugging me to get her tickets for upcoming concerts at Wembley
Stadium ever since we met.  Could we not talk about your club for
a while please?"

	"As you wish," Doug replied.  Ignoring Keira's rolled eyes, he
moved to the bed and sat down beside her.  They embraced and
kissed with only the slightest hesitation.  It was the first time
they had done either, as Doug had been keeping his distance from
the frustrated Keira.  His reasons were not just his developing
business.  Keira was beautiful and friendly towards him, but she
was also a celebrity.  It had been hard for him to believe that
she wanted to be in his life.

	She did, though.  Her enthusiastic kisses told him so.  Doug
returned the kisses and they fell back onto the bed, their hands
stroking each other's backs.

	A lot has happened between us this week, Doug thought, looking
at Keira.  Before, we were just fan and celebrity.  Now we've
become friends with each other, we've fought evil together, and
she's helped me open this club.  How appropriate that we should
be the first couple to make love inside its walls.

	"You have passed all my tests but this one," Keira whispered,
clasping Doug's hands as he began to pull up her blouse.  "Let's
see how well you do at it."

	I won't disappoint you, Doug told her with his eyes.  He
finished removing Keira's blouse and then stroked her soft brown
hair as she cuddled against him.  They exchanged kisses again and
then unbuckled each other's belts.  They pulled off each other's
pants and flung them away.  Doug's shirt followed.  Keira ran her
fingers over the muscles of his chest.

	"One second," he said, pulling away from her.  Keira watched and
smiled as he took off his glasses and put them down, then pulled
back the bed covers and adjusted the pillows.  He also handed
Keira a gold circle condom he took out of a bedside table drawer.

	"We won't need this immediately," Keira said, putting the condom
on the table next to his glasses.  She tapped a finger on her
lips.  "I want your first shot here."

	"As you wish."  Doug kissed her as she embraced him again.

	They continued to move against each other, now naked except for
their underwear.  Doug had on black boxers.  Keira's bra and
panties were gray.  Both lovers stroked each other's intimate
areas, each teasing their partner to full arousal.  Doug reveled
in the feel of Keira's hot hard nipples through her bra while she
smiled at the width and length of his cock.  The organ grew as
her hand stroked it through his underwear, getting warmer as it
became erect.  Doug put his fingers on Keira's groin and felt a
similar heat between her legs.

	Keira moved back from him, reached behind her, and unsnapped her
bra.  Doug watched her remove the garment, revealing small
dark-nippled breasts and more of her body's firm curves.  Keira
slid her panties off next and showed him the thin vee of brown
hair between her legs.  Her engorged labia lips and clitoris
stood out beneath it.  A diamond stud in her belly button also
drew his gaze.  He had been too occupied kissing her and looking
over the rest of her body to notice the jewel before.

	"Well?" she asked, settling into a seductive pose and beaming at
him.  "What do you have for me?"

	Doug took a breath and then pushed down his boxers.  Keira
looked at his organ and smiled.

	"Very nice.  Bring that here."

	The moment was too hot for words now.  Doug nodded and moved on
his knees towards her.  She rose to meet him halfway, kissed and
embraced him.  Running her fingertips over his muscles, Keira
pushed her new lover down on the bed.  Their legs rubbed against
each other and Doug returned Keira's caresses.  Both were
hyperventilating and licking at one another's tongues.

	"Settle down," Keira whispered.  She gripped his member with her
right hand and stroked it.  Her left hand continued tracing
circles on his chest.  "Calm down now."

	As he fondled her curves in reply, Doug wondered if his heart
would ever stop beating as hard as it currently was.  Keira's
beauty and energy were flowing into him, overloading his senses.
He stroked her hair and kissed her neck, telling his body to calm
as she asked.

	Keira kissed his lips hard and then started moving down on him.
She traced a path with her left hand and followed it with her
mouth, stroking his groin with her right hand all the while. 
Trying to relax, Doug watched her and entangled his fingers in
her long dark brown curls.  She kissed his nipples, his pectoral
muscles, and his stomach.  Then she moved to his waist and took
his organ between her lips.  Keira let out a throaty chuckle at
Doug's gasp.

	He gasped again as she deep-throated him, her right hand rubbing
his balls in counterpoint.  She held his thighs against her face
with her left hand, and sunlight from the room's windows shone in
her hair.  Damn it, Doug thought, watching Keira's eyes close and
her movements grow in intensity.  I need a distraction.

	"Turn around," he whispered to her.  "Give me your pussy."

	"As you wish," Keira said after removing her lips from his cock.
 She chuckled again and moved her body back over Doug's.  He
stroked her curves as she rotated herself, his fingers finally
coming to rest on her hips.  Keira pressed her snatch down
towards his face and then returned her attention to his manhood.

	Pushing his thumbs against Keira's inner folds, Doug opened her
cunt's petals.  Her juice was flowing strong and heat was rising
from her flesh.  He moved his tongue against that heat, exploring
it and lingering on sensitive places.  Keira's clit was a sharp
pressure on his lower lip.

	She sucked at the head of his cock, running two fingers along
the underside.  Low moans and gasps came from her lips, forming a
chorus with his own deep breaths.  They stroked and ate each
other with increasing fervor, flashing waves of desire with their
eyes.

	"Fuck!" Doug cursed.  Keira's warm wet slit was sweet in taste
and feel, but it was not enough to make him ignore what she was
doing to him.  Just give in, he decided.  Let things happen.  He
began to hunch his hips up and down, thrusting against her mouth.
 Keira grabbed his thighs and held them still.

	His body shaking, Doug lapped at her core and the folds of skin
surrounding it.  His fingers were on Keira's rear now, squeezing
her ass and stroking her waist.  Keira's legs kicked hard at the
bed's headboard, knocking it into the wall.  Doug blinked, noting
the dents left by her force.  I may have to get these rooms
renovated now and then, he thought, if stuff like that happens a
lot.

	Keira's energy was still flowing into him, her soft hair rubbing
against his legs.  She squeezed his organ in her lips and stroked
it, gasping as she lapped up his first spurts of seed.  Doug's
body settled for an instant and he took a breath.  Then he
resumed thrusting his organ into Keira's face while he licked and
fondled her pussy.

	Nectar was flowing from her folds, sweet in taste and smell.  He
circled her clit with his tongue, then leaned in and seized it
between his lips.  Keira wailed out a high note and started
vibrating faster against him.  Doug was shaking again too, an
explosion imminent in his groin.

	Another two strong suck and stroke combos from Keira set off
that explosion.  He climaxed hard, and she swallowed his
ejaculate.  Her tongue continued to lap his cock even as it
deflated; tickling the organ's every nerve.

	Doug stopped his own fondling of Keira for a few seconds and
then resumed when he heard her pleading moans.  These increased
in volume as he stroked her with tongue and fingers. 	Heat and
juice came spilling out of her, and he absorbed them with his
mouth.  His hands coaxed out more, and her moans echoed.  Keira's
orgasm happened so quickly Doug almost missed it, and then her
body settled against his.  One final wave of ecstasy gushed out
of her loins.

	Doug collapsed into the pillows while the laughing Keira turned
around and snuggled into him.  "Did you like that?" she asked,
tapping fingers across his chest.

	"Yeah," he answered after taking a moment to recover.  "Did
you?"

	She nodded, rubbing herself against him.  Keira kissed his lips
and then pushed her groin into his.  "We're going to have to
christen more of these rooms," she said.  "I want to get as many
as your stamina can handle."

	Doug blinked.  "Well, I think Clarke, Wouter, and some other men
may have to help you there.  Tess and some of the other women on
my staff too, probably."

	Keira laughed.  "Not just them," she said between kisses.  "I'm
inviting all my friends over here, including the women who are
already my lovers.  You may have heard of some of them.  Emily
Blunt, Mindi Nagra, Sienna Guillory..."  She punctuated each name
by stroking his cock.

	"Do you think they might want to know me?" Doug asked.  The
three women Keira had named were other British actresses he'd
long admired.  During previous visits to London, he had often
seen them on stage.  If they were as interested in his club's
private areas as Keira was...

	"They'll want to," Keira said, kissing him again.  "I can't
promise they'll want to know you like this, but you can ask them
if you want."

	"I think I will."  Doug returned her kiss and pulled her body
closer.  He had recovered now, turned on by Keira's warmth and
whispers.  She made out with him for a few minutes, buffing his
neck while he fondled her breasts.

	"Just a second," she said, putting a hand on his chest.

	Doug nodded and went still while he watched her pick up the
condom.  She bent down and slipped it over his organ.

	"We're going to fuck now," Keira declared.

	She faced him and moved her body into position above him after
rolling on the safety device, teasing his nipples and pecking his
lips.  Their hearts beat strongly.  Keira leaned into Doug, and
he stroked her breasts and clit.  His fingers roamed higher on
her body as her groin pushed into his.  Finding her diamond navel
stud, he squashed it into her skin and stroked the flesh around
it.  Keira laughed and pressed her lips to his throat.

	They shook against each other, hands roaming over nerves and
muscles.  Sighs escaped Keira's mouth.  She gyrated her body with
his.  Their legs kicked at each other and the mattress.  Doug
gripped both her breasts and shoved his cock up and into her cunt
in the same instant.  Keira hugged him tight as he started
thrusting.  She kissed him with frequency throughout, strong
hints of an oncoming eruption on her face.

	A few moments of vibrating together and stroking each other, and
they both climaxed.  Doug shot his fluid into Keira, who
lubricated his organ and squeezed it with her inner folds.  She
came several times as he stabbed into her, each sensation quaking
across her flesh.  Finally, they settled down and huddled
together, resting.  They exchanged smiles, each letting out a
breath.

	Recovering first, Doug grabbed Keira's shoulders and rolled her
onto her back.  She laughed her throaty chuckle as he moved over
her and planted kisses across her torso.  "Are you ready again so
quickly?"

	"Yes," Doug replied, tonguing her nipples.  "You enliven me,
milady."

	"Is that so?"  Keira felt his manhood and grinned, her hair
tousled over her angelic face.  "There's something you should
know, Doug."

	"What?"  He stopped touching her and frowned.

	"I don't want any more from you than an occasional fuck.  I want
to be friends with benefits, and no more than that.  I have many
lovers, but I am exclusive with no one.  I felt it best I tell
you now before you come to expect too much from me."

	"It's okay."  She was not the first woman Doug had met with such
sexual preferences.  He was sad, but he put the feeling aside. 
"Thank you for your honesty."

	"You're welcome."  Keira patted his cheek and gave him another
wide smile.  "It's good you understand.  It would never work out
between us."

	"Right," Doug agreed with a sigh, resuming his caresses of her.
He pecked Keira's cleavage as she returned his strokes, then
raised his head and kissed her lips.  "You keep telling yourself
that."

***
<b>September 11, 2003.</b>

	One and a half months later, Doug stood behind the open bar of
his club for the first time.

	It was eight hours into his shift, and things were going well. 
The crowd of people inside brought a smile to his face.  Critics
were intrigued by newspaper and Internet articles about the hot
new nightspot that had opened on the site of London's most famous
street brawl of the past year.  Advertisements of the club's
unusual atmosphere and its opening on the anniversary of
September 11, 2001 in defiance of terrorism had further increased
Inside Out's appeal to the public.  Hundreds of customers
gathered around the bar, in the game area, and on the asphalt
dance floor among immobile cars and flashing lights.

	The staff of Inside Out, Clarke's team and all the others, were
moving around and serving them.  Classic rock music arranged by
Mike was playing on the airwaves and Yoshi's chefs and Jodi Lee's
wait-staff were serving up food.  The exchange of tips and drinks
was heavy.  Spirits of celebration ran high.

	Doug looked around and smiled with pride as he regarded
particular patrons.  In one corner, Inspector Marlow and several
other off-duty cops were exchanging war stories with soldiers on
leave.  The Manchester United football team had gathered in
another corner and fans were buying them rounds.  Punks and other
rough characters were scattered in places, watched by Clarke and
the male and female bouncers he supervised.  Business people,
college students, and tourists were also present in large
numbers, and so were a strange group of people in costumes and
masks.

	Some of those people weren't really in masks, Doug knew.  These
included Edwin, Griff, Diana, and several other gargoyles.  Most
of his patrons saw the creatures as merely eccentric partygoers.
Doug had confirmed that impression several times during the
evening.  The costume vibe had quickly caught on and soon actual
humans had started emulating it.  Pirates, vampires, werewolves,
Guy Fawkes impersonators, and Victorian nobles were just a few of
the masquerades Doug could see.

	I'm going to host a few costume theme nights here, he thought as
he looked at them.  They're always great.  Pajama night, swimsuit
night, funny hat night, whatever other ideas come to mind.  I
think it could really drum up business.

	Celebrities were patronizing the club, too.  Prince William and
his girlfriend Kate Middleton sat at one table, and singer
Britney Spears was at another with her boyfriend of the moment. 
Keira was on the dance floor with comedians Chris Kattan and Will
Ferrell, whose SNL antics had inspired the club's theme.  All
three waved at Doug and he waved back.  Looking around the club,
he could also see Johnny Depp, Richard Grieco, and several other
Hollywood personalities.

	There were also theater players, politicians, musicians, and
athletes.  The latter group included UT-Austin softball pitcher
Cat Osterman, who had been thrilled when her friend Doug invited
her to fly in and stay the weekend at his expense.  Elton John
had stopped by earlier in the night and expressed interest in
putting on a concert at the club next month.  Paul McCartney had
done the same, and so had the Irish rock band U2.  Doug had
gladly accepted their offers.

	"We're not as big as most of your venues," he'd told the
artists.  "I think that's what you want, though, right?"  They
had all said yes.

	Doug frowned, reflecting on some other celebrities who had come
by.  He had asked his staff to give no one special treatment and
to keep out any person taking unauthorized pictures.  Not every
celebrity appreciated this, and many had told him so.

	"This is a place to relax," Doug had told each of them.  "Not a
place to be seen.  Keep that in mind if you ever come back here."
 He had also kicked out several people who insisted on starting
fights or loud arguments.  Doug had assured everyone that the
club was neutral ground for all disputes and would always be so.

	"Great vodka!" Frank Martin proclaimed, catching the manager's
attention.  The cabbie had arrived an hour ago and was at the bar
sharing drinks with his wife.  "Your own recipe?"

	"Yes.  It has cinnamon and some other secret ingredients.  I
thought a unique cocktail would put us on the map."

	"Well, it's working," said Will Knightley, who was planted on
another barstool.  "I've spoken to three food critics so far who
have praised this drink."

	"Great."  Doug poured them each another.  "Are you guys enjoying
the place?"

	"Yes," Frank answered.  "The atmosphere here is wonderful.  May
Sheila and I stay here tonight?"  His wife cuffed him on the
shoulder and waved a hand at Doug.

	Will coughed and beckoned Doug to lean close to him.  "You're
not mad at my daughter, are you?  I know she fancies you."

	"And vice versa," Doug cautiously replied.  "I don't think it
would work between us, though.  Have you hired that chauffer I
recommended for her?"

	"Yes.  Mr. David Wu.  You had Frank and I introduce him to my
daughter and make no mention that he used to work for your
family.  I'm still wondering about that."

	Doug sighed, looking towards Keira.  "I care for her.  I fear
she's going to get more popular than she's prepared to be.  I
can't watch over her every moment.  Neither can you or her
mother.  She doesn't want that from any of us.  That's why I
hired a bodyguard for her, someone who can be there in case she
can't look out for herself."

	"Ah.  Well, I'm sure he's capable."  Will sipped his drink. 
"Keira will find a good man too, one of these days."

	"I hope so as well."  Concern for Keira heavy on his mind, Doug
turned back to watching the crowd.  Will she ever find happiness,
he wondered to himself, and what about me?

	"Hey!" a familiar voice caught his attention.  "Doug!"

	Doug blinked as he faced the voice and recognized the trio of
new patrons stepping through his club's doors.  A blond fop in a
tan suit and the tall red-haired woman in a blue pantsuit on his
arm were grinning and waving at him.  The small porcelain-skinned
girl in the black dress with them was also sending a smile Doug's
way.  Doug's eyes roamed over that girl, lingering on her
voluptuous figure and long  golden hair.

	"I say," Will gaped.  "Is that Erika Christensen, the girl from
'Swimfan' who recently won a Spirit Diversity Award?"

	"I believe it is," Doug said.  "Also, that other woman is Alicia
Witt.  I've been fans of them both for years."  His voice was
stammering in disbelief.

	"Those babes are actresses?" Frank asked.  His wife grabbed him
and kissed him passionately, daggers in her eyes.

	Doug waved at Dave Shaw and his two companions.  What are the
odds, he thought.  Of all the clubs in all the world, these
gorgeous women have to walk into mine, and with him!  He shook
his head.  "Hello, Dave.  I'm glad you could make it."

	"I almost didn't," the annoying fop replied.  "You never called
me.  Fortunately Zoey here has been observing your club's
construction."  He beamed at the redhead on his arm.

	"Dave, I have told you to drop that habit," Alicia said with a
snarl.  "He's referring to my character from the TV show
'Cybill'.  I apologize if you've never seen it."

	"I have.  You're great in that role and every other."  Doug
frowned at Dave and then turned back to the two women.  "You're
Alicia Witt, right?  You, of course, are Erika Christensen."

	"That's right," Erika said.  She extended her hand and beamed as
Doug took and kissed it.  "What's your name?"

	"Doug.  I run this place.  I hope you'll both visit often."

	"We're filming a movie in town," Alicia answered.  "I think we
will be coming here quite a lot."  She elbowed Erika in the ribs.
 The blonde at once pulled her hand from Doug's and blushed. 
Alicia gave her a defusing smile.  "Is that piano over there in
tune?  Do you mind if I play it?"

	"Please."  Doug waved her towards the stage.  "We also have
karaoke here, if you want to sing," he added to Erika.

	The blonde shrugged.  "Thanks.  Alicia is more musically
talented than I am."

	"I don't know about that.  I've seen you sing on television."

	Erika's blush deepened at his grin.  "Excuse me, but I think I
know you from a book jacket.  Did you write 'Faraway Reality'?"

	"I did.  You've read it?"

	"Yes.  I love your work."

	Doug ordered his heart to calm as she sat down at the bar. 
Alicia, Dave, and Will all moved away from them, each giving Doug
a smile and a raised thumb.  Around the club, Clarke, Keira, Cat
and others were doing the same.  All had noticed Erika's face and
his.  The emotion between them was heavy on the air.

	Maybe things won't work out between this celebrity and me
either, Doug thought as he and Erika began getting to know each
other.  However, I am sure that she and I will both enjoy
discovering whether they do.

***
<b>The End</b>