They are a secret pocket community, living deep in the woods of Westchester County. This wasteland between the home that united them and the home where they must live to avoid certain death is the home that they know. All were once hypnotized by Britney's glittering promises, dragged deeper under than most of her other slaves. Indeed they were her best minions and were credited with taking thousands under their wing and making them Britney's pets. Yet she unknowingly freed them by her own free will. Her hate of deviants robbed her of some of her biggest tools. Their power goes back before the dawn of even Bush the 2nd when they created a simple game into a cult following that knew no end. They were only human and as such could not resist the call. Now they are known not as fallible human souls but as heinous murderers; their call is the honor of their past, hence why they call themselves the Lone Wolves. There are six of them, 5 women and their leader.

The leader is an elderly man, well into his 70s. His rings of victory adorn every finger, but the ones on his right hand are missing their stones and are all dated after 2008 while his pre-2008 rings shine bright. Always the charmer who brought nothing but the best- best players, best fans, best teams- he fell under easily enough. He was the leader of the women's basketball revolution. When Britney came it was his notion that what separated him from the orange fiend was that he could recruit the best WOMEN basketball players and not resort to recruiting lesbians. His doctrine grew deeper with every year and soon enough people respected him as the one who saved the sport from the hands of the devil's daughters. But his efforts were not enough, and they banned the sport that made him who he was. He smiles when he recalls how his doctrine was a ruse for the changing times, that he had had many lesbians on his squad, his only condition being that they live in secret. He had players outed by rivals before but he dismissed them as a form of terrorist and took pride that his greatest rival in the region was destroyed by flood. When the time to out the lesbians came, though, he realized that his arrogance was the only thing making him believe that he wasn't one of Britney's God-loving slaves and he awoke to realize that he was nothing without the people he wanted dead. He made his plans carefully, putting them into action when he was to divide not just the basketball players, but all the female athletes into 2 caravans, one of straights to go back to campus and the other of lesbians to head to Boston to be part of the Patriot's Day mass execution. He was the only one who was to know which group was which, so when he boarded the lead bus of one of the caravans, the drivers knew their destination. But he had joined the lesbians, and laughed as the buses full of God-loving blonde fools were sent to death at their mistress's hand, fitting poetic justice for a world gone mad. Once the buses were separated he and his staff (believing that they were heading to execute gays at Yankee Stadium) took control and led the caravan backwards to New York and freedom.

The lady in red was also a leader, hence the different colors. She was his 2nd in command and first champion leader. She ran the small sister school in their 2nd home and was as godly as he was in her own small circle. She was already a mother with two children when Britney called for her. She answered with open arms and blonde hair flowing freely. She was their informant for 12 years, sensing uncannily who was gay and who was straight in any game and reporting it to the secret police. She still was a coach, but she saw her job not as fulfillment but as a governmental duty to reform gays and lesbians. When the sport was banned she came back and clung to her husband, proud of the work she had done for so long. But inside something told her that the doctrine was wrong and that she was nothing but a murderer. So she met her counterparts from across the country in Washington with the minister of women's sport, a despised homophobe for 25 years before Britney. She was met with elation- after all, she had bought the Oak Tree drinks for all of them. And she was the only one to wake up the next morning: slow poison makes for a quick getaway. She returned to her coach's arms in New York ready to right the wrongs, wiping away the blood from her hands- not of the agents she killed, but the hundreds that her word led to persecution and torture.

The tall one towers above all, as she always did. She was a friend of Lady Liberty and therefore the last to go under. She supported the White Widow and secretly donated toward the resistance in the Battle of Times Square. But she had kids to feed and was a journalist first, her job after her playing days ended. Her husband was a respected writer and she found herself on Channel 1's payroll despite her bitter and secret hatred for them. She broadcast the games while her husband wrote them for the newspapers. It seemed safe enough, and she seemed to be in no danger, still with her friends in the sport she loved. She commuted from New York and still used the offices of Rockefeller Center as her base. But in 2009 they tried to make her and the other announcers stars. They led her, her husband, and the blonde from Oklahoma who quit her sport to become a pretty face on the screen into the videotape room and locked them in with nothing but the paralyzing thumping of Britney's heartbeat. With each glance her mind filled with doctrine and she grabbed her husband's hand like it was part of her own body. Days passed and her emotions and memories faded to blonde. But then her husband's arm fell out of her grip and she glanced away from Britney long enough to see him staring at the blonde perfection of her counterpart, not that of his tall, dark-haired wife. It was a glitch created by the perfection of Britney's form and it halted her decent into the N stage while the other two became marionettes for Britney's puppet shows. However, after 10 days Britney had injected enough poison into her to make the tall one her minion. This grievous error had caused a terrible sin, and so to appease any scorn or rage that would short-circuit the wiring that was installed, Britney handed her the sticks to the two new puppets. In a reverse of what would become American normality, she became her husband's puppeteer; as a bonus, she could manipulate the blonde who had unknowingly saved her from sharing the pair's fate. She played with her new toys like a 5-year-old girl who was just given a Barbie and Ken set for her birthday. So Roy became the straight man while Dale spent more time staring at his figure than at the game. They became the hit of women's sports and were the key team announcing every highlight women's game and two Olympics, their words captivating thousands of her own in New York. But when her sport was banned, the rage wire that was snipped became live and short-circuited her perfect wiring. Her mind was still infected with doctrine, but now her past was coming back to her and she did what any 5-year-old did when she was upset: rip the clothes off her dolls and throw them in the garbage. In this case, the garbage was the street far below her office at Rockefeller Center. 30 seconds in an elevator later and she was on the street and free to rejoin those remembered shreds of her past. But the damage was done; words had been her stock in trade, both before and after Britney, but now she could no longer get past the damage done to form words. So she stands as the executioner for the gang, silent and ruthless.

The first of the two lovers was one of them. One of who? Anyone who asked. Lesbian? She was one of them. Icon? She was one of them. Wife? She was one of them. Playing all sides was her safety valve. Girls followed her even after rebels outed her in Gampel. Despite the stories, despite the pictures, she always had an alibi, and therefore the girls thought it was a lie perpetrated by sinners who were jealous that no beautiful woman would ever become one of their perverted masses. She was always lesbian but she was careful. The closet was filled with fame, fortune and many followers and as a bonus, some were lesbian groupies. Her teammates held her in awe for her skill and deftness both on and off the court. When the religious freak of the team came on to her about the time Britney was born, she gladly let her lover dangle her cross before her eyes, hypnotizing her with God and Britney. Soon she saw and was madly in love with four lovers: the God freak in her closet, the basketball player they traded from New York so she could have a husband in her bed, the sweet and supple blonde in her dreams who always made her repent after she touched her, and Jesus Christ himself. So she became one of Britney's closest allies while at the same time making Britney sick every night. She went blonde and clung to her husband, making them the greatest basketball power couple ever. Whenever she gave birth, the appropriate team of her city would gladly sign the child to a contract, knowing that the next great superstar had just come into the world. She was the fairy tale princess who had it all and was given all as long as she said what Britney said and was seen with her husband. Even when Britney drove the God freak to suicide to further her message of homophobia, she put a new and better-looking woman right in her closet for her to indulge her born curse. Britney even freed her from the closet, saying that she was one of them but her husband and Jesus saved her and therefore, if she could be saved, all lesbians should bow down to her and repent to save their souls before it was too late! But the clock struck zero and Britney turned her Cinderella back into a pumpkin. She wanted to kill the blonde who had deluded her for years, but her survival instincts got her to San Francisco only to see that Britney had already destroyed the town years earlier; even Haight-Ashbury had become a sea of crosses. She was desperate. She needed to escape from the sins she felt killing her inside, but something from her past told her that she didn't have to die. She ran through the desert, finding any ride she could, stealing cars where she had to, killing the drivers or leaving them to parch in the heat of Death Valley. Then she heard a different call- not that which had robbed her of her identity for most of her adult life but a calming and soothing howling, a familiar tune, an old friend and she howled back at her.

The other lover was seduced out of her true sense of love by Britney as well. Lost in the desert, she simply avoided the problem by letting any passion she had run dry like the sand beneath her feet. She was lured into Britney's God-fearing coma not by love or fear, but by the most powerful mind-altering substance known to man or woman- money. She knew that if she let her desire be known her career would end and with it the chance to be the best ever. So she chewed up the little green pills and swallowed and became numb. She tuned into Britney and spoke her words verbatim but she couldn't let herself become violated by them, so she fought the Bible with the Bible and declared herself a celibate, untouchable, inviolate. And so her addiction was well fed, and Britney accepted her self-imposed punishment for her perversion. She would never bear children but she would never accept the filth of her calling either. Britney still hoped one day that she would fall deep enough under that she would accept a husband, but that day never came and Britney finally cut off her supply. And after withdrawal, she was thirsty, dying for what she shunned for too long out of sheer greed for fame and fortune. Then *she* came, no longer just a wistful memory, and the waters flowed once again. Together, the way they had always been meant to be, they went towards the sunrise but not without first reclaiming revenge for their lost years by doing Britney one last favor, bombing the basketball arena. Oh! They forgot that the men were playing there at the same time. More's the pity.

The dark one stands with an anvil in one hand and a fortune in the other. Unlike the others she was not freed by the game leaving her, but instead it awakened her to the soul she gave up. She was the star of the city of industry. She was proud and happy of this, and when Britney came she felt more and more a part of the road and not the car driving on it. So she left after a career and husband and became the industry model. Building cars, she was their version of Rosie the Riveter during the Chinese War. She was tied to her skin, a part of the production line, strong and unyielding. She traded in her rich contract for poverty but she did not care. She was industry. And then she saw that the sport was gone and she remembered what she missed. Like a widow suffering the loss of her love, she tried to find some widow who understood. When she was in Newark inspecting a new plant, she heard their call, and passed a faulty system that gave the new line of cars no brakes. She joined her pack and serves as their muscle in the field.

They now stand around the woman, a six-foot blonde in the colors of their past, the dark blue darkening their anger. They see her not as the hero the government sees her as but as a disgrace to the uniform on her back. She is hailed as an executioner, a wave of the flood of godliness that has freed itself when the government broke the dykes. She sits singing Britney's song and dance propaganda and they watch her with bored, dead eyes.

"What is this so-called dyke?" asks the lady in red.

"A dyke is the sister of the devil, someone who rapes and tortures innocent women until their soul is consumed and they themselves are attracted to other women. They are a greater threat then terrorism and must be destroyed," the prisoner replies.

"Doomed to HELL! The bitch forgot doomed to HELL!" says the former celibate, her flair for the dramatic bleeding through. "Man, they don't teach 'em like they used to."

"Doomed to Hell with nothing to save them from the devil's lust but their own two fingers," the other lover replies as she jabs her fingers into the prisoner's shorts, drawing screams. "Just making sure you weren't straight, I saw that glance down my top."

The prisoner spits at her and calls her a dyke. The dark one strikes her in the knee with her sledgehammer and the prisoner screams in pain.

"Damn! It's not dyke, it's damn!" the dark one says.

"All dykes are damned, you will all rot in hell," the prisoner replies.

"But a dike is a dam," the dark one comes back. The prisoner can take no more and starts rambling off prayers.

"Hey, stupid!" the leader screams. "You forgot to start at the beginning of the alphabet. A is for Allah!"

"Terrorists and dykes, oh Lord, what have I done?" the prisoner begs, tears in her eyes.

"Disgraced the breed and murdered six innocents," the lady in red says as she removes the bloody uniform from the prisoner.

"Please don't rape me. God! Please don't let them," the prisoner pleads as she sees the gang burning her uniform with the solemn stare of a funeral, her leg too damaged by the hammer to squirm on the ground, let alone run. The lovers hear her plea and turn around with a look of lust in their eyes.

"JESUS CHRIST, protect me! Don't let them turn me into a faggot!!" The prisoner screams as the two women help her up.

"Ya hear that, 50, she's afraid we'll make her a faggot." The tall one nods quietly and now knows the fate she must deliver to the prisoner. She carries the screaming woman outside and ties her to a pole, dousing her with gasoline and then lighting her ablaze. Like wolves entranced by the full moon they gather and sing the refrain that was meant for joy at basketball games with the glee of another sadistic kill.

They are marked for death by everyone. They are so despised and heinous that even the Disiciples of St. Sue signed a pact with the government to help find them and bring them to justice. They are the only people to have been wanted by the NYPD since Britney arrived. They are the only ones on the hit lists of both the U.S. Army and the Bronx Society. They are the most vicious of wolves. They know no mercy, only pleasure in the pain of the brainwashed. Madness has overtaken them more than even the Gray Lady. And they know only one demented honor, from a school who hated gays before they even realized they could play basketball.