For the first time in a long time, Sally was late getting into the station in the morning, mostly because she had to swing by the house and change clothes. Even though she had a mild hangover, she felt a lot better than she had any right to. Spending the night in Rick’s arms had much to do with that, along with some of the stuff that went with it. They were planning on doing it again this evening, and maybe for more evenings after that … maybe even lots longer, but that was in the future. A lot of the heaviness she’d felt in the last night was gone, disappeared like the Amazon who had seemingly been tied to her. With all the thought and talk last evening and in the night with Rick, several issues she’d worried over had been straightened out.

It felt good.

“Morning, Sally,” Koser said as she walked in and hung up her coat. “Good stand up last night. Shane said that was a hell of a scene, and that Hippolyta really kicked ass.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured from what I heard,” she said, not wishing to hint to Koser that she knew much more than she could ever admit to.

“Good stand up for being caught flat footed. I’ve always admired the way you think on your feet.”

“I try to. I mean, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Koser agreed. “Anyway, you might want to head over to Ben’s office. He’s been wondering where you were.”

“Something came up,” she said offhandedly. “I’ll go find him.”

It was only a few steps over to Ben’s office—his real office, the one with the door, not the desk he usually occupied in the newsroom. There was someone in there with him, but when he looked up and saw her standing outside he waved her in. “Good to see you, Sally,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d be in early after having to work that shooting last night, but I was about ready to call you anyway. This is Wayne Peterson. He flew in from New York to see you.”

Oh shit, Sally bristled internally. Another goddamn push for me to try to get Charlie to give up Hippolyta’s identity. But she maintained her cool. “Hi, I’m Sally Parker.”

“You’re even prettier in person than you are on tape. I’m very pleased to meet you. I’ve got an idea I’d like to talk over with you.”

Here we go, she thought. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, this is just a little bit sticky, since this station is not an affiliate of our network, but since this is a short-term thing, I think we can make it work. Miss Parker, do you know that you are the highest-ranked fencer I’ve been able to find working anywhere in American TV?”

“No,” she said, a little surprised. Maybe this wasn’t going to be about Hippolyta after all! “Hard for me to believe there isn’t someone better, somewhere. Isn’t there?”

“No, there isn’t, and I can say that for certain as I’ve been looking for the whole past year. I was really surprised to hear that a local anchor was B rated and won a tournament over in Cleveland a few weeks ago.”

Sally was confused now. Really confused. “Mr. Peterson,” she said. “What’s this all about?”

“Well, to make a long story short, I’m on the network team developing the Olympic coverage for next summer. Since we have extra channels available, we want to put more effort into covering secondary sports like fencing. I realize it’s only a short-term job, but would you be interested in being the commentator covering fencing at the Olympics next summer? It’d also involve doing some human interest pieces on the competitors, but that also won’t come till next summer.”

“Mr. Peterson, you’re kidding me! I’d love to do it!”

“I’m not kidding and I’ll be very glad to have you. I’ve looked at some tapes that Ben has put together, and you are really a very good newscaster. I think you’ll do just fine. It’ll be the first time we’ve had fencing covered by someone who actually knows anything about it.”

“But … but does that mean I have to leave here?” she asked.

Ben gave her a big smile. “Not if you don’t want to. There’s no reason that you can’t file reports on the Olympics for us. You know, color stuff and like that. A local reporter at the Olympics sort of thing, it’ll get us some attention. Wayne has agreed to lend you a crew every now and then to do that, and provide the links to upload it to us. That’ll just about turn those dipwads over at Channel 13 green.”

“Well, of course I’ll do it,” Sally said jubilantly. “My God, this is like a dream come true.”

Several evenings later, Jason Metheny was not a happy camper. There was no point in staying around this two-bit town with no girlfriend and no job. At least he had a new job, but Fayetteville, Arkansas, was not the direction he’d hoped to move from Toledo. He might have been able to salvage his job at Channel 5 even though Officer Charlie Parker had busted him for 125 in a 35 mile per hour zone, with fleeing and eluding and reckless driving thrown in for good measure. But then he’d blown a .018 on the breathalyzer thanks to Shane’s lens cleaner, and the DUI charge was too much for Ben.

So Jason was packing for a move. In fact, he was nearly done, a few more loads down to the car when it got light in the morning, and he could be on his way. The best damn thing about Toledo, he thought, was going to be seeing it in his rearview mirror.

Damn Hippolyta, anyway. If only the woman had given him a break, even a little one, he might not be in this mess. But she’d proved to be the most unapproachable woman he’d ever met, not that he’d ever really met her. Getting shot down like that had been a tough break to swallow.

Just about done, he thought. Maybe I should just finish loading the car tonight and hit the road. But no, there were a couple things that had to be done in the morning.

There were a couple cans of beer left in the refrigerator. He’d had about all he wanted of packing for a moment and decided that there was a better way to carry the beer instead of in a can. He was just heading for the refrigerator when his phone rang. That was strange; there was no one left who would want to call him. He couldn’t even get Andrea to listen to him long enough to tell her he was leaving town. Still, he answered it: “Metheny.”

“Jason,” he heard an all too familiar voice say. It was the cold, hard voice of Hippolyta. “I’m sorry that you have to leave. I didn’t plan for it to work out that way.”

“Hippolyta?” he said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m afraid I did not want to talk to you. There were good reasons, and they were reasons that you would not have understood.” Her voice lightened a little, and he almost heard her smile through the phone as she continued, “But Jason, those were some fine chases we had, weren’t they?”

“They would have been better if I’d caught you,” he said, wondering if his chance had come after all.

“No, they would not. Trust me, Jason, there were things going on that you did not want to know. Good luck, Jason. I hope things work out better for you in Arkansas.”

“But, Hippolyta, can’t we—”

“I’m afraid I must go,” he heard her reply. “Take care, Jason.”

“Hippolyta, don’t go,” he cried, even though he could hear the phone being switched off. His voice rose to a shout, as if she could hear him without the phone. “Hippolyta, I love you!”

Several years passed.

Sally didn’t spend all of them at Channel 5. She worked at Channel 3 in Cleveland for a while, then Channel 7 in Detroit—but continued to live in Toledo all the while, in the house out on the west side of town that she and Rick bought after she returned from the Olympics the following summer but before they were married. Sally’s Salle moved to a steel building behind the rural house, but for a few years it stayed mostly a hobby.

After she finally came back to Channel 5 as a week-night co-anchor, Stan had decided that his health wouldn’t allow him to keep the Toledo Salle open any longer, so Rick and Sally agreed to take it over and carry on in his tradition. Both of them had worked their way up to A levels. though not the best fencers in the country by any means, Sally was of course better known as a result of her fencing coverage at the Olympics, and following it, doing occasional coverage of other big tournaments. However, within the tiny world of the fencing community, they were best known as exceptional teachers. Most people considered Sally better on technique, but Rick could instill in a student a legendary aggressiveness. Between the two of them, they turned out some excellent fencers.

The two had still been running Sally’s Salle as a hobby when they agreed to take on a particular young girl as a student. She was a little younger than they liked to start someone fencing, but even at a young age she had good moves and an extremely strong motivation. The girl continued to train out of the Toledo Salle—it was home—but she’d moved far beyond either Rick or Sally as a fencer, or even as coaches—far enough beyond that she was the bright hope that an American might medal again in the sport at the Olympics.

Sally intended to be there to watch it—not as a coach, but again as a reporter. She still thought it funny that she was best known nationwide as a sports reporter, even though fencing was the only sport she covered. But having the young lady here in town made it easy to shoot a human interest piece on her, and that was what they were doing this day.

“One thing I never quite understood,” Sally lied as they were between takes of the human interest piece. “Is how you decided you wanted to be a fencer in the first place.”

“Oh, that was easy. As a young child, I was kidnapped by a pervert who planned on raping and killing me,” Melissa Spangler said. “I was rescued by a sword-wielding Amazon named Hippolyta. You’ve been in news in this town for a long time, you probably remember that.”

“I know about it,” Sally admitted.

Melissa smiled. “I told her that I wanted to grow up to be an Amazon like she was, and I knew even then that I had to learn how to use a sword. The rest has just been training and practice.” She dropped her voice to a whisper so the camera crew wouldn’t hear, and continued, “Thank you, Hippolyta.”

“Melissa,” Sally stammered. This was something that hadn’t come up in years. “Melissa, I, well, I, uh …”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Melissa remonstrated. “I know better. Your ‘strip voice’ gave you away after I started fencing. I heard Hippolyta speak and no fencers other than Rick ever did. I’ve known for a long time. You saved my life and you gave me goals and direction to my life that most kids don’t have. If I should medal at the Olympics, and there’s a good chance I will, then I’m dedicating it to, well, her. I’ll say it again then too. Thank you, Hippolyta.”

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