Not Going Down Without a Fight (Conclusion)

After Lucia and D’arcy finished their comments on NBC, they met Happy by the car parked on the street. As Happy was telling them how she kissed Chuck on the forehead, leaving a deep red lip print, police cars and vans came screeching up to the front of the building. Several dozen officers went racing into the building, guns drawn. D’arcy and Lucia ripped off their wigs and dove into the car. Happy had vanished into thin air. They head to CNN.

Over at CNN, Aurora (Rory) and Dix had Brian “Tater” Stelter tied to a chair, asking him to get them to the studio. But Tater was crying so hard, he had “suck sobs” like a 4 year old. and couldn’t get a word out. At that moment, Dix noticed someone peering into Brian’s office. It was Anderson Cooper. In one swift move, Dix grabbed him and body slammed him onto the couch. (Dix is 6’4″ with an undetermined European accent, muscles for days and bleached hair. Lucia thought he was kind of hot when she first met him.)

Anderson squealed and squeaked “Don’t hurt me!”  Dix told him to shut up, and looked over at Rory, who was whispering vague threats in Tater’s ear. She looked at Dix and rolled her eyes. “He’s useless to us,” she said. They both turned at looked at Anderson. His eyes grew wide and he began stammering “No, no. no…I don’t know what you want, but leave me out of it!” Dix leaned in closely and spoke softly. “We’re not going to hurt you, as long as you help us. Do that and we leave you here safely to mop him up,” as he jerked his head to the now hyperventilating Stelter.

As luck would have it, D’arcy and Lu see Chris Cuomo exiting the building. Wigs back on, they swiftly intercept him to gain access. They hustle him upstairs, following Rory’s directions to the floor they’re on. They get to Tater’s office, and his eyes bulge. “YOU!! I saw you…you were on NBC!” “What of it, short stuff? You guys are next.” barked D’arcy.

Lu has Fredo Cuomo backed against the wall.. her middle finger extended; berating him for being the useless, lying shit he is.  His eyes open wide; the pupils dilate like a virgin for the very first time, and he collapses into a heap on top of her pointed toed boots.  Before he can move again, she rolls him into a corner, pulls off his sweaty left sock and waves it in front of his nose.
“Smell that, you simpering gas bag? Smells like one of your special basement-level broadcasts, doesn’t it?”

Quickly they explained they needed access to a studio and the control room, and how they’d be out within 10 mins. Fredo looks at Anderson, and nods. What the hell, as long as they didn’t actually have to do anything, Fredo thought.

“Dix, you take these two simpering snot bags with you to the control room. Fredo is coming with us,” Rory directed. “Call me when you’re up there and have them secured.” She looked at Lucia and D’arcy. “Who’s doing what?” D’arcy spoke up. “Rory, you and Lucia are doing this one, with your special guest. Lu, stick that sock in his mouth, and don’t forget to throw in how stupid his wife is with her Clorox baths. I’ll stand off to the side”

She looked under the desk and found mic packs, got Chris zip tied to a chair, and waited for Dix’s call. They didn’t have to wait long. Dix was set, the two foo-foo kitties were tied to chairs, and he had the controls up. The question was what part of the country did they want to interrupt. “West Coast again; it’s our best bet.”

“Ready when you are, ladies,” said Dix over the phone. “Let’s roll,” said Lu. She pulled the lace masks out, handing one to Rory, and looked at the camera. The red light came on.

“Good evening. We are members of the Twenty-Three, coming to you from CNN. If you are a viewer of this stinking cess pit of a station, you recognize our special guest. Nod hello, Fredo.” Rory pushes his head to bob up and down. 

“We are here to tell you the American people have had enough of the lies, the bias, and the fake news. We are asking all of you to contact your local cable companies to tell them you no longer wish to receive CNN or cable at all. They are an arm of the DNC and the Deep State, and we the people have had enough!!” Lucia bellowed. “You will all be held accountable for your blatant bias against patriotic Americans!” yelled Rory. “Do it for your country! And whatever you do, don’t bathe in Clorox!”

Lucia nodded and the red light went off. “Chrissy, we’re leaving you right here. Someone will find you, sooner or later.” The women raced to the door where Dix met them. He informed them that both Andy and Tater were besides themselves.

They made their way out, and as with NBC, the police were just pulling up. “Scatter!” whispered D’arcy, stuffing her wig down her cleavage.

Epilogue: a total of 6 stations were hijacked by various members of the Twenty-Three that night. The messages that were delivered were basically the same: stop lying to the American people. Those who were strong armed into helping each embroidered their versions of what happened, until it bore no resemblance to the actual events. One would have thought Sandanista rebels pulled this off by the way they were talking. But what does one expect from Fake News?

 

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About D'arcy

D'arcy grew up on an estate in upstate New York, surrounded by staff, with mostly absentee parents. Left to her own devices, she shunned school, read voraciously, and collected animals, first-edition volumes of her favorite books, and occasionally men. D'arcy recently moved out of her apartment on the UES of NYC with her cavachon pup, Aramis, and is currently living at her late parents estate while deciding on where to put down roots. The best way to get on her good side is to have a sense of humor, not take yourself too seriously, and be kind in general. Irritate her, and you'll be greeted with a laser look and a tongue lashing for the ages, and not the good kind.

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