Remember Senator Colin Carver? That ferociously corrupt Republican from California who hates every Bigfoot because two of them killed both of his brothers about thirty years ago? Who has connections to Mexican drug cartels and arranged for them to capture the S&F tour bus while Adam and the band were in Mexico? Who callously sends paramilitary swat units out to murder anyone associated with Nokhons, like Elaine and myself? Whom Adam finally had arrested in Washington DC a few months back? Well, he's out of prison now, released on some minor technicality. Of course, he's not the only corrupt politician in Congress. Just exactly what that mini-minor technicality was, I can't say, since we haven't found anyone to offer any reasonable explanation for it yet. So now Carver is physically free to attack us again, and we were only informed about that thanks to Special Agent Dawson of the DC branch FBI personally taking the time to call Adam and warn us. Adam wasn't here at that moment, he'd gone to Aket for an indefinite study visit. Without his cell phone, of course, but which I had in my desk and took the call. Thank you, Agent Dawson, and yes, I finally informed Adam about it when he got back from Aket a few days ago. Since then we've had our 12th kha-rat, during which a telepathic scream for help interrupted every kha-rat maybe the world over, transmitted by a telepathically adept young Nokhon female named Maqualama, who along with three other squatch damsels had been abducted by a team of militant male humans running a sex-trafficking racket for... Senator Colin Carver, it seems. I mean, who else? This just reinforces how little difference it makes if Carver himself is physically incarcerated or not; he has groups of armed and equipped militiant "patriots" still roaming free and at his command, whom he can always dispatch on special secret missions-- like killing us, for example. Those soldiers who had attacked us at the Hacienda last June should still be in jail-- I hope --but he has other units on other missions he could call in at any time. Agent John Stinger saved our asses that time, and he's been a handy source of top-secret information, but which he only tells us about while speaking Nokhontli, in case we're being bugged by some clandestine agency not even he knows about. The more we learn about Carver the deeper gets the shit. Seems that he's a go-to guy if you need to commission an extra-legal assasination on the international political level. No wonder he got out of jail, he probably knows too much to piss off by keeping him there.
We had to tell the newcome Nokhons staying with us at our Refugee Camp that it was potentially dangerous to be here at the moment, that we had some enemies who might just physically threaten us. We know that Sasquatches look like they must be fearless (big and hairy, very scary), but they're usually quite timid and shy. And afraid of humans with guns. Squatches don't want any trouble. And some of our guests did choose to go back into the woods for a while, at least until the threat had passed. But those two brave brothers, Dagrolyt and Dabronat, are prepared to make a stand, and they were glad that Alutna-jii Daklakht, our very own Nokhon Super-cop, had just come back from Aket along with Adam and Magga, just in time to man the barricades. However, Daklakht and Super Special Agent John Stinger immediately took off to rescue the four squatch females, which as it turns out, involves Senator Carver, although none of us knew that just yet, not even John. This is the background story we've managed to construct so far.
The various criminal activities Senator Colin Carver is guilty of are too many to know of them all because he has been very clever at kleeping them compartmentalized-- but we have recently discovered that he works a bunch of sex-trafficking rings on an international scale. Evidently still in good physical form for a man in his mid-sixties, Carver likes to have a collection of nice young slave girls to play with, him being an enthusiastic pervert. So to him the sex-traffick business as a money-making racket is almost secondary. He seems to be more interested in the access it gives him to enslaved women, and the blackmail power those women give him over their customers. Most of the girls are East European or African; Carver controls their passports and their drugs, so they have to do whatever he orders them to. This goes on in various cities around the world. The FBI had sent him to prison, but it was one of those rich-politicians luxury summer-camp-kind of jail, where he has access to golf and spa, computers and Internet. Parties every night. One day his search engine sang out a "ping" for a name Carver has on constant Google-search: Adam Leroy Forest, his archest enemy. That led him to the "leaked" online AooE Document as well as an article about the ex-silver-mining town of Cobalt, Ontario, which has become a successful tourist town ever since a "tribe" of Bigfoot has been openly living there. Senator Carver believes in the "know your enemy" doctrine, so has read AooE and chooses to believe every word of it. Thus he's informed about the shocking sex lives of Bigfoot, he learns about the kha-rats, he becomes obsessed about shyøma, he even pays attention to the "little blue flowers". The story of the experimental little Bigfoot community living openly among Canadian humans was hardly a secret, it had been reported in all the news platforms the media world had to offer, Cobalt had become a thriving tourist town. So Carver knew exactly where to find himself some nice ripe squatch females: Cobalt, Ontario.
Senator Carver may be responsible for many deaths, but has apparently never once himself personally killed any of his victims. He only orders it done and his henchmen do all the dirty work. Most of those men are mercinary soldiers in one of his paramilitary groups, some in uniform (unmarked), others in classic gangster suit & tie, but always neat, orderly and obediant. Carver demands a militant discipline of all his hoodlums. I hear he pays well. About a week before he was released from prison in the middle of September, he'd already sent four agents to Cobalt, just to confirm if there actually were any Bigfoot women wandering loose around that town. Sure enough, his agents spotted several Nokhons on the Public Square, some of them females. Photos were taken and e-mailed to Carver. As far as those men were concerned, none of the squatch women could pass for beautiful; they were considered too big, too shaggy and generally unattractive. Those agents made no reccomendations to sex-traffic squatch females. But Carver remained interested in the concept and ordered his agents to maintain surveillance until the full moon night had passed. Indeed, just before the 30th of August, they caught a brief whiff of what had to be shyøma. A thrilling odor hit their nostrils as they were prowling around Cobalt's Bigfoot House, which the township had arranged for the Sasquatches to use as office and dormatory. There were no Nokhons present at that moment, but a special effluvium lingered. The smell definitely aroused the agents sexually, well beyond the point of losing control over proper social behavior. Each and all became ferociously horny and had to have some hot sex right now! (Oh, I know the feeling and have to sympathize, even if they are the bad guys.) Although frantically searching, they couldn't find any squatch girls anywhere in Cobalt because all the Nokhons had left town for the day to scout out a new secret kha-rat site somewhere deep in the woods. But those men desperately craved to have sex with someone. I mean they were absolutely desparate: any female would do. Those men had no patience to find out if there were any brothels in Cobalt and the calibre of men Carver hires as muscle can be quite brutal about getting what they want; human women would do just fine, consent be damned. Some of those agents attempted raping a few random ladies, but discovered that they were unable to get erections now that there was no lingering shyøma to be smelled. Their raging lusts had burned out: a common after-effect. It ended up that those naughty boys had to leave town in a hurry with a team of Canadian Royal Mounties chasing after them. There was a minor shoot-out, arrests were made. But Colin Carver was quite satisfied with the mission: he had found a source of available Bigfoot babes. Which inspired a vision of how a shyøma-powered sex-trafficking business could make him more powerful and richer than ever before. He would corner the market with a very special product aimed at millionaires. At first Carver had also considered all Bigfoot females ugly and uninteresting, until he saw videos of Masnia and Magga dancing with S&F. He immediately fell in lust with both of them. That is, he wanted to own them. He would fantasize about having sex with them under the influence of shyøma and became completely obsessed with the idea. He developed a perverted and absolute requirement to get some shyøma-smelling sex-slaves under his control. But he had already learned that it was unwise to attack Adam Leroy Forest directly face-to-face and try to steal his women. That particular Bigfoot always seemed to win every contest; Mexican drug cartel, Washington DC concert, the paramiltary Hacienda fiasco. But the town folk of Cobalt didn't suspect a thing, it was all peace and love between hominid species. There was no security set-up at all, it should be easy to abscond with a Bigfoot babe or two. Carver realized that they needed to catch a female before the coming full moon, or another whole month would have to pass before they could sample the shyøma. And maybe the girls, if they looked anything like Masnia or Magga. Upon release from prison Senator Carver immediately went upon a road trip to Ontario, personally going out into the field (downtown Cobalt) to find and capture some female Sasquatches. This was to be a covert operation, of course- There have been Canadian laws to protect "Bigfoot" since even before Adam arrived and finally proved that they existed. Carver already had an operational sex-trafficking location based in Toronto-- it being best to avoid transporting live Sasquatch kidnapees across the problematic US/Canadian border. He assembled a team of six Toronto mercenaries to work as drivers and thugs and professional bad guys. They drove the 260 miles to Cobalt; him in his chauffoured silver Pontiac Grand Prix limousine, them in a RV camper accompanied by a container truck to transport any squatches they might capture. Yes, this was an expensive operation. They got to Cobalt four days before full moon. They acted like innocent tourists out to see some real live Bigfoot , but saw none that first day, neither male nor female. And the Bigfoot House seemed to be closed down, at least there were no lights on that first night. Nor was there any hint of what might be a shyøma-smell. Carver did not fret, understanding that the moon would not be full until another two days. His gang of mercenaries were less patient, quickly discovering how tediously boring a little town like Cobalt could be.
There were taverns, wherein the locals would get drunk and sing their favorite home town ballad: Which was of little or no interest to those big-city gangsters. They kept surveillance of the Bigfoot House, watching for any sign of activity. Then there was; a group of one male and two female Bigfoot came into town, apparently just to look around, as if they too were tourists. They wore clothes, simple white campesino outfits something like those we make here in the Hacienda. They even had a few Canadian dollar bills and were trying to figure out how to use them, with the help of some patient shop keepers, ending up buying some popcorn and candy from the town's one and only 7-11 clone. Carver's agents followed them at a distance, trying to act tourist-like. The squatches obviously noticed them, but up to this point there had been no negative interactions between Nokhons and humans, everybody being friendly and interested in each other. No one spoke a common language, so the only communication was smiles, shrugs and bobbing heads. Actually, this made it easy to approach them, pretending to be interested in Bigfoot culture. Carver stayed in the background, making certain he would not be identified in the company of his agents, avoiding security cameras or suspicious situations that witnesses might recall. So far he was just one more anonymous tourist in the background, whom no one would ever remember. One of the gangleaders of the agents. a guy called Grissholm, a big brawny Scott who found that he was suddenly just a puny little twerp next to these ladies. Grissholm was pretending to be friendly to the squatches, being naturally gregarious, loud and talkative-- even though the squatches couldn't understand a word of it, he amused them by acting silly. He shared two six-packs of beer with the Nokhons, who'd never tried it before but were interested and liked the taste. When they went to the Bigfoot House Grissholm followed as if he'd been invited, picking up two more six-packs to share, and surreptitiously following along into the house to party with his new Bigfoot buds. It is clear that he had intended to get them drunk, him assuming that Bigfoot were something like native Canadian Indians or Eskimoes, with a weakness for alcohol. But alcohol only makes squatches hot and sweaty, not inebriated. The house was dark because the squatches did not want to turn on the lights, so Grissholm did, but the Nokhons didn't like that so he politely turned them off again. But while he could see, he hurriedly managed to observe that there were nine squatches in the house, five females and four males. He knew this was their big chance, took out his cell phone and called Carver, confident that the Nokhons wouldn't understand anything he said in English. As he was reporting three of the males and one female left the house, leaving four females and one young male. Carver had studied the Document enough to be aware of how things would progress. It was three nights before the full moon, so the shyøma would begin to flow very soon; at which point all the females would sequester themselves away from the males-- and the town of Cobalt -- until the kha-rat, to build up a charge of magical power. Once they went off into the woods they would be impossible to find until they returned after the orgy, when all the shyøma was spent . So this was it: time to act right now. Carver had planned for this moment. It was 1:30 in the morning in that sleepy litttle town, there was no traffic or activity, except for around the container truck parked beside the Bigfoot House. Where six men in black unmarked uniforms were opening the double doors to load some unknown cargo. Inside the darkened house the remaining five Nokhons were getting ready to leave town for the forest, merrily contemplating the coming kha-rat and all the fun sex they would soon be sharing with each other, Unexpectedly, six super-bright flashlights came on. The squatches blinked, half blinded, then surprised by what they were suddenly seeing. Six little uninvited humans standing in their house, all dressed in black, all pointing noisekillers at them. With no explanations, since there was no common language except for gestures or violence, Grissholm aimed his gun at the one young male squatch, whose name was Daswachat, and fired three shots at him. The noise was horrendous. Young Daswachat crashed backwards to the floor and lay still. The four females screamed, but went immediately silent as all the pistols were aimed at them. They could have lashed out at the tiny men, but Nokhons are culturally non-violent, so they don't do that. The Atli forbids it and the guns frightened them, so they cowered in fear instead. By dint of pistol gestures, the four mortally frightened females were herded out to and into a shipping container truck, which stood ready with double steel doors wide open. Within seconds they were locked inside an otherwise empty corrugated steel box with no windows and no lights. They heard the heavy metal cla-chunk of a double-bar locking system trapping them inside. Then the frightening skesk-roar of a big diesel truck motor starting up, shifting into gear, and a solid jerk into forward motion. Remember that those Bigfoot girls have never in their lives before been inside a moving motor vehicle. After that, they endured a grueling six hour drive to an unknown destination in utter darkness, balancing on the violently jiggling and jolting hardwood floor, being rattled and rolled around as the room jerked and jolted, accelerating and braking along some unknown roadway, swinging through turns in the road. Them all the while wondering and fearing what these murderous little NokhSos intended to do with them.
Yes, that's right: Grissholm chose to kill an innocent young squatch in cold blood. They were collecting females and had no use for a male. Of course, Grissholm did not regard it as murder because to him Daswachat was not a human being, but a wild animal. While I, having raised a Nokhon as my son, can't consider it anything other than an unforgivable murder. I understand that he did it to scare the four females into obeying without words; a cruel demonstration of authority the squatches could immediately comprehend. I'm sure he was himself afraid of the powerful-looking Bigfoot male who might decide to be a hero and try to rescue the girls. Even the female squatches were bigger than Grissholm and moved as if they were a lot stronger too. Their teeth looked frighteningly healthy, white and sharp and dangerous. He saw them hesitate briefly, perhaps contemplating resistance, so he fired another round into the steel container, which ricocheted around seven times, ringing like a bell-- SPAINNNGG +7 --without hitting anyone but scaring everyone. Including Grissholm, who'd been standing in the doorway. But I don't want to spend many words on him, other than "asshole, villain, bad guy". Especially because he's still running around loose even now. I'd rather compose some sort of eulogy for poor Daswachat, the unlucky young squatch in the wrong place/time. But I don't have much information about him, except that he was a new kid from the million lakes in the North, who had come to the Cobalt myølnolitrying to find another lifestyle than unwavering obediance to Atli. Nobody really knew him yet, but someone said he seemed nice. Sorry, that's all I got.
Upon arrival to the warehouse in Toronto, the captives were taken to a big gray building with many windows and an expansive private cellar that had been used for various criminal activities by various gangsters ever since Prohibition days. The cellar had steel doors, holding cells with chain mountings and an authentic torture chamber used by American Nazis, the KKK and the Proud Boys, among other specialty clubs. One of those clubs was in the upper levels of that same Toronto building: a very posh gentleman's salon where drinks and drugs were served as well as fine dining until the wee hours of the night, very respectable and sophisticated, popular with the rich and the very corrupt. But Carver was not yet ready to present l'experience du shyøma for their rich and refined customers. An in-house training program for the new girls would be required: teaching obedience to the unruly ones, cleaning them up, shaving them nude and styling a presentable coiffe, make-up, a do-over. But most important, breaking their spirit. As they were now, fresh from the wild woods and enraged at being abducted, it would be too risky to put them together with customers unless they were tied and bound, or drugged to unconsciousness. They managed to establish the squatch ladies into a secret cell in the basement. Steel manacles were fabricated in the adjacent workshop and firmly mounted to the metal cots, which were also structurally reinforced with thick metal plates in case the squatches were stronger than expected. They took no chances. Then the females were locked in heavy-duty nylon straps as well as tempered steel restraints, heavy chains wrapped tightly around their waists, wrists and ankles, then secured by heavy padlocks. Forehead straps kept their heads immobilized, to avoid biting and head-butting. These sasquatch ladies might be strong but were not strong enough to break free from those bonds-- at least not without some adventagous leverage. Once safely contained, the kidnappers could clean up the females for the purpose intended: sex, Their body hair was trimmed away with electric clippers, unclean skesk, the mere touch of which which terrified them, seeming to them that they were being prepared for dismembering. By then it was only one more night until the full moon. Carter had done his research and arranged that his agents ate some little blue flowers, so that they could finish the job instead of literally "fucking things up". His usual sex-trafficking agents were accustomed to using brute force and trained fighting skills to dominate their human slave girls, but planning on pushing Bigfoot females around could only lead to a lesson in humility. Nokhons, male or female, are simply too much bigger and stronger than humans. But of course, these humans had guns. They could only dominate those captives by fear: guns, whips, chains biting into skin, beatings with metal implements, humiliating sexual abuse; these were cruel men working for a cruel boss, all of who enjoyed torturing these physically powerful women as a way to their own personal power. Or am I over-dramatizing the situation? But now that the shyøma was flowing, it was the men who were captured by the smell wafting through the air. It was the men who couldn't leave, they were trapped! Even after having eaten the little blue flowers the six men assigned to the mission were more or less short-circuiting with uncontrollable desire. Senator Carver was too cautious to partake of the untested experience of sex with a female Bigfoot himself, even after he had caught enough of the smell to have him standing on tiptoes. So he was watching from another room, having arranged to have two of his sex-trafficked Ukranian girls from upstairs on hand so that he could have sex with human women as he watched his agents rape the squatch women, once he had given the order to help themselves. He wanted a demonstration. The six men gladly threw off their uniforms and greedily plundered the four helpless squatch girls, tied and bound to their cots and unable to resist. But those girls had no intentions of resisting; they were just as aroused as the men, because their own shyøma affects them just as much as it does males, so they were primed to screw all night with any erections avilable. Even though they feared and hated those men. Even though they were uncomfortably tied and bound, didn't matter. They too needed relief from their own raging hormones. So those girls were hysterically shouting Yøramm-ha! Yøramm-ha!" Which those men could not understand and it made them anxious, fearing that the females were going beserker, ready to riot and overpower them, perhaps even tear them to pieces. But they still HAD to join bodies with them. Those little men were so afraid of those big women that any kind of orgy was spoiled for everyone. It was not enough that the females were bound in restraints; they still had those perfect white teeth that could easily bite off a hand. Or...yes... an erection. They were big and strong enough to squash a man if they struggled violently. So every man put a pistol to the females' heads while they violated them, both sides suffering mortal fear, but relentlessly driven to copulate by the irresistable shyøma. It couldn't have been enjoyable for anyone. Outside and in the night sky above the building where all this drama was taking place, the full moon reached its apex, the ideal telepathic circumstance was achieved: visions occurred in all kha-rats everywhere. The latent telepathic power of young female Maqualama blossomed and transmitted a psychic message as never before. It was at this very moment that their collective screams for help went viral. Two days later Daklakht and Agent Stinger arrived in Toronto and rescued the females.
But Senator Colin Carver was not arrested, nor was anyone else, since we had no proof of who was involved. Our guys were chased out of Canada because someone claimed Diplomatic Immunity but it probably had more to do with Corrupt Politics. We plan to eventually charge the perpetrators with kidnapping and attempted murder. Fortunately, young Daswachat did not die and seems to be recovering all right, but he was still deliberatly shot three times. But the law needs names, surveillance videos, evidence. When I say "law" I mean the human judicial system. As Alutna-jii, Daklakht may have a detour in mind, deep in the darkest woods. But even he may not commit murder any more than human law enforcers and we still need to be sure of who the bad guys are and how bad they've been. Eventually we discovered that Carver's ultimate evil plan is to market shyøma as a high-end aphrodisiac perfume. If it cannot be syntesized, one could find whichever gland that generates the pheromone and harvest it directly from the female's living bodies. If the raw secretion is too strong then blend it with an extract from the little blue flowers. Perhaps a squatch hostess could survive the operation and be harvested several times over her life span. If not, they could simply be butchered for parts.
His conclusion was that it would be best to ration the females, since there are not so many of them available, due to the effective Nokhon population control system. Kind of reminds you of the good old days at Auschwitz and the fun experiments of Herr Doktor Josef Mengele, doesn't it?
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