There’s been a great deal of mayhem and naughtiness in the comments lately, and I must tell you all that I cannot stand for such blatant displays of brattery on this blog. This is after all, a place for decorum, curtsying and flower arrangements. If any of you would like to play the piano and walk about the room in order to display your figures to the other ladies, you should feel free to do so.

In other news, I have a little more of B.R.A.T stalker for you all. I am still in the process of writing those Finn books, the good news is that the first one is done and the second one is well on it’s way.

“Why did you flag those numbers?”

The words Chase had heard running through her head all night broke into her consciousness. Bright light assaulted her eyes as they fluttered open to gaze at the shiny boots of Agent Darby in which her tousled reflection was all too clear.

“Do you have someone lick your boots clean daily?” Chase queried as she sat up and tried to regain some form of composure. She had no idea what time of the day or night it was. The lights were still on as bright as before and there were no windows or clocks to mark the passing of time. Chase found herself regretting that she didn’t wear a watch. That and that she didn’t carry around a small pack of explosives for escaping overzealous government agents.

“No. But it’s an idea,” Agent Darby said, her lips quirking slightly at the corners as she visibly struggled to maintain her cold exterior in the face of Chase’s erratic sense of humor.

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More from The BRAT Stalker, my new tale! This is my way of helping you all assimilate into a totalitarian new world order. You’ll thank me when you have your RFID tags shot into your backsides

Agent Darby quirked a brow at the flippant response. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Chase replied, letting the boredom of the past six years ooze out of her every pore. “I will spend the next 30 years of my life sitting in a chair and staring at a glowing screen if I’m lucky. You think you have some fate more horrifying than that up your sleeve?”

“You could spend the next 20 years not able to sit,” Agent Darby uttered in a threatening murmur.

Chase practically laughed in her face. “Is this interview about to take a turn for the Matrix? Is my ass going to melt shut?”

There was a sudden bark of laughter from somewhere beyond the mirror. Chase grinned. She was winning this. It was a battle of wits, a battle of intimidation, and she was winning. Against a professional no less. This was unexpectedly awesome, even if her backside was stinging slightly from the slap Agent Darby had given it earlier in the proceedings.

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I’ve been taking a break from writing, which is why I have this new story for you. My world is like Alice in Wonderland : Reloaded, sorry Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass. (If only Lewis Carrol and The Wachowski Brothers had lived at the same time, the world would be a very different place.) Anyway, the less I try to do, the more I end up doing. That and there are rabbits everywhere. Everywhere! Anyway, enjoy this, or alternatively, don’t. I’d prefer it if you did though.

With a little cackle of glee, Chase leveled the scope of her sniper rifle at the back of the pedestrian’s head. Although the ground around her was littered with dismembered bodies and the walls were caked with the blood of innocents, the young woman seemed completely unaware of the imminent danger as she continued her ambling gait down the street in a skirt so short it barely descended to her upper thighs.

“Clueless, utterly clueless,” Chase muttered from her position on the 10th floor, as she prepared to squeeze the trigger.

Creaky-creak went the office door. Alt-Tab, went Chase, bringing up a glowing spreadsheet filled with complex numbers that hurt her brain. Gordon poked his head around the door. “Are those numbers ready yet?”

“Not quite yet, Mr Black,” Chase replied primly. It was no wonder they were not ready yet. 6 hours after loading Grievous Bodily Harm: Freedom City onto her work machine, Chase’s productivity had never been lower.

Gordon, a middle aged, slightly balding man with a new baby at home that was making him tense and irritable during the day, frowned. “They were due in yesterday.”

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Well well… can you kick a Constance and run away? The second part of the story answers your questions.

Just a wee note about the ads. (Never mind, took ‘em down.)

“Pants, I need pants,” Constance muttered, picking the first pair that came to hand. Her shin throbbed and ached and though it was barely noticeable compared to past wounds she’d sustained, the fact that the little wretch had the gall to kick her at all made it more irritating than a wound inflicted by a blade. What on earth was wrong with the maids lately, had they all suddenly discovered her existence and a taste for punishment at once? Or was someone behind it? Constance’s mouth tightened at the thought that Kai or Lucy might be putting the maids up to these shenanigans. It didn’t seem like Lucy’s style, but Kai on the other hand, she was a sneaky little brat who’d just worked out that she was no physical match for her commander. Perhaps she’d decided to start a war of attrition and try and wear her commander’s arm out spanking other bottoms.

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Well well well, hasn’t there been a great deal of bravado and trash talking about these past few days? *grin* Of course, one is safe knowing that Constance won’t actually lay hands, or cane on you, right? Or perhaps, wrong….

(I trust this first part of this little tale will tide you all for a little bit longer. I’m nearly approaching the end of the second Finn book and staring down the barrel of the third.)

Relaxing in her chambers, Constance pondered the earlier events of the day. It was not rare for one of the maids to require correction, but for a little gang to form with the cheek required to directly challenge her? That was strange indeed. Perhaps she would have to speak to the Head Cook about tightening discipline in the kitchen. She could not spend all her days whipping the behinds of the servantry.

Outside her window, the day had waned into twilight and Constance felt a wave of tiredness rushing over her. It had been a long day, a day filled with red bottoms and wailing brats. As she peeled off the skin tight uniform, revealing a lithe, well muscled body she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and shook her head at the reflection.

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Well you just had to push it, didn’t you? Now let’s see what becomes of all those naughty brats who insisted on calling Constance a big meanie at every turn…

Lady Constance strode through Castle Iskendar’s halls of power with an assured gait, removing her long black leather gloves as she went. As usual, she was dressed in the form fitting fine leather suit that allowed her both stealth and movement. Her boots were slightly dusty from a recent altercation in the arena, and under her arm she carried a long yellow cane as thick as her little finger which bent and wriggled as she walked.

Echoes of the cries of the last miscreant still rang in her ears, but the memories were not enough to drown out the quite giggles she heard behind the pillars, following along behind her. She quickly recognized them as the soft, scuffling footsteps of the leather bottomed shoes many of the servants wore. Constance’s crimson lips quirked into a good natured smile. This was, after all, a good reminder that one was never truly alone, in a castle the very walls had eyes and ears and quite often hands and feet, all attuned to the making of mischief.

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So I’m writing this Rebel Revelations story, right? And it’s going pretty well, but I’m getting real busy at the moment because I have to write two ebooks in the Finn series. So I don’t know how regular updates are going to be.

So someone was all ‘You should let your readers know’, and I’m all ‘Why? They’re totally cool. They know how it is. They’re down with everything.’

And someone was all ‘That makes no sense, if you let people know, then they would understand why you’re not posting and then they wouldn’t be confused and feel like lonely abandoned lambs.’ (I may be embellishing the someone bit here slightly.)

So then I was like ‘People can sign up for email updates.’

And then someone got all lecturey and everything.

So my dearest readers, updates may be irregular. Which will be no great surprise to you because everything is wildly irregular around here. But good things take time. And temporal irregularities.