TO Rewrite: B3 — 41. Milk and Whiskey

PoV:

1. Grace (Our Calamitous Cowgirl Runaway!)

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The twang of old country music filled the bar, Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive” playing softly in the background as Grace nursed her drink, thumbs tapping against her glass of whiskey. She glanced down at her outfit: a button-up flannel, boot-cut skinny blue jeans, and the general style she was accustomed to.

Kind of crazy to find a lady workin’ one of the stores this late…and during a military occupation of Billings. I guess she did talk a lot about her soldier husband. But what the hell did she do to my hat? How did she lose it? It was my mom’s hat…

Breathing a melancholy puff of air through her lips, she took another swig of the brew that did little to actually affect her these days—probably a product of her legend. She required alcohol to live, literally, which didn’t exactly fly when you were only 20 years old, but the soldiers working the bars here hadn’t asked her for a license once! So, at least that was a plus.

Still, her gaze lingered on the cut of the outfit, as if it had been made for her. What a weird lady that was… Somehow she knew exactly what I was looking for, and even got me new boots that fit. She was so pushy, too. Why give me a cow-themed bikini free for the lass? Seems a bit too on-point. Free is free, though. Huh…

Maybe I’ll swing by again after this to look again for my hat. This new one looks nice, but…it’s not the same. I need to get a company card… Does Omen have those yet? Hmm. Watch my luck and that store lady was a villain. I wouldn’t put it past my luck recently…especially with Rachel involved.

The new clothes were more than acceptable, though, especially after the chaos of Ali Baba’s realm—or more specifically, her new boss’ powers—had literally stripped her down to nothing but a tank top, underwear, and her hat.

Now she didn’t even have her mom’s hat—small jabs in a world gone mad.

“Wooo-wee,” she whistled under her breath, eyes distant as the amber liquid swirled in her glass. Rachel being unconscious at the moment meant she’d been grilled by Barbara, Tom, and the actual hat-flippin’ president of the United States for howers. “Ain’t this just the cream at the top of the milk pail.”

The fuss around her barely registered—folks gathered around screens waiting for the presidential address that had been announced earlier. Soldiers spoke in hushed tones, the occasional burst of nervous laughter popping off more discussions when some jokester cracked a subtle jab at the insanity of it all, lightening the mood.

But Grace’s mind was elsewhere, still reeling from what she’d witnessed.

Damn, what perfect chaos Rachel is… An entire realm…gone. I’m not even sure what a horse-lickin’ realm is! And, just like that…poof. I almost killed a demigod djinn! Shit. That’s a story, and not a tall tale. In fact, I probably need to downplay it to make people believe it…

She took another sip, feeling the familiar burn slide down her throat that was more of a comfort than she liked. From her first sip at fourteen, she’d been hooked on the stuff—some city boy who was trying to impress her had gotten her to try some. An old friend pressured her into it at the time, too. Not her proudest moment, but it had changed a lot in her life and caused a lot of hard talks with her mother.

Why am I getting so distracted! My mind keeps drifting all over the place, but I guess it’s just hard to swallow this bottle of milk… Thick stuff.

The raw power Rachel wielded had been unlike anything she’d ever seen or even thought possible. People who weren’t even real—fictional characters pulled from the pages of fairy tales, given life by some cosmic seed—and Rachel had reshaped their reality like it was putty in her hands.

Was what we did…good or not? They all felt real to me… Do they just disappear if they leave their world if they don’t go through the process that princess went through? Crazy requirement to gain a soul…if that was even what happened. Shit, I shouldn’t think about this complicated stuff.

She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling a shiver run down her spine. It certainly makes you reflect, though. Deep in my heart, I know life isn’t what it was… I’m not who I was, but should I still wrestle with who I see in the mirror? The truth can’t be any clearer…

Grace tilted the glass up to look at her distorted reflection. Anxiety’s growing, I can feel it in my chest… Fighting it off like a fever, but sometimes you need the rain, to know you miss the sun. I want to see you again, Mom… Even if it’ll hurt and is scary. This new life is scary…and maybe I’m just looking for those simpler times with ma on the farm, talkin’ to cows.

Her eyes drifted to the television mounted on the wall. The President would be speaking soon, addressing a nation that still believed they understood the rules of the world. If only they’d seen what she had—that Eldritch hare-like form of Rachel’s, grinning with teeth too sharp, eyes that weren’t eyes at all but portals into something beyond comprehension.

My boss is a total beast, and seems totally comfortable in that skin. And here I am, sippin’ whiskey like nothin’ happened and pickin’ up the pieces. What a crazy world we’ve fallen into, ma… I think this is only the beginning, too.

The name Omen suddenly made perfect sense. Rachel didn’t  name it that just for bad luck—she was misfortune incarnate, pulling the threads of fate around her like a spider spinning its web. But what did that mean for her? For all of them who’d hitched their wagons to Rachel’s star?

Because the entire nation wasn’t aware, but they relied way too much on this one nineteen-year-old girl than they’d be comfortable with—she was sure. Grace had asked Scarlet, and that had been a shocker. She was actually older than their monstrous leader. By one year, but a year was a year.

“Huh,” she chuckled to herself, taking another sip. “She’s more like a black hole than a star after the fright she gave me. Then again, what’s with her sense of humor, with how she treated me in that quest? Can I file a claim with HR on the strip show?” she mumbled under her breath with a short chuckle.

The bar door swung open, and Grace didn’t need to turn to know who it was from all the reflections in the bar—she had excellent eyes.

General Tom Dallas… Great. Not finished milkin’ this cow? What do you want now?

The entire atmosphere shifted as soldiers straightened, conversations falling quiet before resuming with forced casualness. Grace smirked into her glass. Some things transcended supernatural chaos—military hierarchy was one of them, it seemed.

“Afternoon’, General,” she mumbled without looking up as he came into earshot, tipping her new black hat slightly. “Care to join me for a drink before the world gets its panties all twisted up again or are you here to wring out more golden eggs from me?”

General Tom Dallas approached with measured steps, his weathered face unreadable as he signaled the bartender. “Scotch,” he ordered, then settled on the stool beside her as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders—maybe this wasn’t business. “Miss Alexander. No, I’ve found a small break to unwind… Even a general needs some time to reflect.”

One of the soldiers nearby glanced over, clearly surprised by the General’s casual approach and the rings now visible under his eyes. Tom waved him off, and the soldier fell back into conversation with his buddies, giving them space.

Grace flashed a tired grin. “Nice to see you’re one of the real ones. Just Grace is fine. After how hot you and that marine lady grilled my beef, maybe I should be demanding a meal. Anyway, formalities seem about as useful as udders on a bull at this point. Am I right?”

Tom’s mouth twitched, almost a smile as the bartender placed his drink before him. He ran a hand over his bald head with a weary sigh. “I’ll say there were a few details you skipped out on in the written report you gave that were…a lot more graphic.”

Her chest shook with quiet laughter as she spun her glass slowly on the counter. “Details tend to come back to ya when you’ve had time to sit down and write. Also, screw you for forcin’ a girl who dropped out of high school to write somethin’ the president will no doubt read. I bet it was riddled with errors…and now it’s probably immortalized. Damn. Lemme guess, he thinks I’m crazier than a cow on roller skates?”

“No, I’m surprised you’re still here, to be honest,” Tom simply replied, taking a measured sip of his scotch. “It says more about you than anything else. Rachel is…unique in a lot of ways I’ve come to expect. Probably in ways you don’t yet know. But to think Rachel brought Fable and you into that shit storm and none of you died…or had something worse happen to you? Mhm. I expect that kind of stuff from her. But you seem to be taking it far better than me, even hearing it second hand.”

As if on cue, the soldiers nearby shifted away, giving them even more privacy. Tom didn’t even need to signal them—years of command had made his desires instinctually understood, it seemed. Maybe it was the look on his face. He probably hadn’t been sleeping well, which was unstandable, considering he had hundreds of millions of lives hanging on his success, potentially the world.

Grace stared down into her glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim bar lights. “Yeah, ain’t got nowhere else to go, really, and maybe I’m drawn to chaos in an unhealthy way…or he’s attracted to me,” she admitted with a shrug. “Been like that since I ran away from home. Just me and Jim on the road, livin' by the skin of my teeth, takin’ whatever odd jobs came my way at rodeos.”

Tom gave her a rather inquisitive look that had something deeper beneath the surface. She’d seen that stare before and knew where it stemmed from.

“Surely you had something before all of this madness? You weren’t seeing anyone or had any other aspirations? Friends…family?”

Fingers closing tighter around her glass, she forced the pressure building in her lungs out with a low chuckle. “Ah, ya must have done some investigation on my ass. Makes sense… We all got our past. I may be runnin’ from mine, and it may not even be that bad of a tale…but it’s somehow scarier than what I witnessed in that realm… Make that make sense for me, general?

“And seein’ some man who’s tall, strong, and christian? Yeah, well, that’s a song for a better lady. I always thought lovin’ me was a heartache and mistake, because I’m a project! But damn, that hare’s got me beat… Have ya asked her about her love life, general?” she asked with a side wink and smirk.

Tom studied her for a long time, something knowing in his gaze, and now she was sure. He’s talked to ma… Shit. What did you tell him? Your drunk, thief of a daughter is off on the road, foolin’ boys out of their money and livin’ life on the edge? No… Probably how much you love and miss me. Dammit. I love you, too…but I just can’t face that teary smile yet… Not yet.

She ran a finger around the rim of her glass, pivoting with a grin. “Besides, this is a mighty fine step up, money-wise. Omen’s resources are practically unlimited, from what I can tell. Scarlet’s got real money, from what she’s told me. And I’ve been needin’ a steady paycheck and a stable place to shower for a good while. Sometimes it’s good to roam free and shower in nature, and others, good company and a nice roof can be welcomed.”

“Is that right? Because I don’t think people would stick around Rachel, with the misfortune she brings, for money,” he whispered. “But you can tell yourself whatever you want. I’m sure a part of your legend contributes to it, but that’s also a part of your personality.”

“Come now, general, why else would I stay on this mad ride?” Grace countered, defensive humor creeping into her voice. “Y’think I enjoyed gettin’ stripped down to my skivvies while chasin’ fictional royalty through a collapsin’ dimension? Or havin’ every damn gun I own jam up tighter than a new milkin’ machine? On that note, that damn boss of mine destroyed my favorite pistol! I’m gonna need to add more to the bill for that one—plus my hat! I bet that was her doin’ too,” she grumbled, truly somewhat pissed about that one.

“You legends certainly are unique in your own right. But I think,” Tom carefully articulated, “you saw something in Rachel that resonates with you. Something beyond the power and the chaos… Maybe something you admire.”

Grace snorted, downing the rest of her drink in one quick motion. The burn felt good, grounding. “What a message to young girls—burn the world to get what ya want. What I saw was someone who makes disasters look like child’s play, general. When Rachel walks into a room, misfortune don’t just follow—it comes runnin’ like a calf to the milkin’ station. No joke, and I’m a walkin’ calamity, man. She’s somethin’ more…”

She paused, remembering the twisted form of the hare, the planets crumbling beneath them, the whispers that had somehow revealed truths about her past she’d buried deep or that she shouldn’t know.

Mom… I had no clue what you had to deal with when you were a teen. No wonder you were so great… No wonder you hated me drinkin’ and it hurt so much. Yet, you didn’t tell me. You just bottled that up… I’m really the worst daughter… The worst.

“Hmm. I don’t know, maybe you’re onto somethin’. Anyway, it’s a pretty apt name for her organization, don’t ya think? Omen. Led by a woman who’s practically the walkin’ definition of the word. A woman’s gotta respect that kind of title.”

Tom sighed, eyeing the television where a news anchor was discussing preparations for the President’s address and how the stock market—already dangerously volatile after The Oscillation—was fluctuating due to it.

“The attack on Nam did what it was supposed to do… Did we win? Kind of, in maybe a bigger picture sort of way. But now we’re more vulnerable than ever. Fable is licking its wounds. Rachel is once again, passed out and recovering. She’d be dead ten times over if it weren’t for Maria saving her ass… That woman really is a saint to have followed Rachel here.”

“The cursin’ saint,” Grace snickered. “I can get behind it.”

“Yeah, well… That’s what has me worried about this crystal. This wasn’t random. It was a part of a bigger plot. Even if we know who was behind it, it doesn’t change that it has put us on one leg, and a lot of trump cards were used for the Crystal opening in two days, and with everything else happening right now…” He trailed off, nodding toward the screen.

The chatter in the bar quieted as the screen shifted to show preparations for the presidential address. A small commotion rippled through the crowd as the President appeared at his desk in the Oval Office, looking every bit the stern, fatherly figure the nation needed right now—like one she wished she’d had, if anything to help and be there for her mother.

“Here we go,” Tom murmured, taking another sip of his scotch. “This is going to change the world.”

Grace leaned forward, elbows on the bar, watching as President Capell began to speak. His deep voice filled the room, commanding attention even through the tiny speakers.

Here we go… The big news. I bet he won’t mention Rachel caused it, though. How many other things was she involved in that got swept under the rug? Maybe…even the First Oscillation. Who can say with how misfortune follows that hare?

“My fellow Americans, citizens of the world,” he began, his tone grave but steady. “Due to developing situations and new information uncovered by American intelligence, I must inform you that tonight, at approximately 9:13 p.m. Eastern Standard Time—the exact moment the worldwide phenomenon known as The Oscillation occurred—we have confirmed that a Second Oscillation will take place.”

Just poppin’ off shots from the go?! Grace internally choked.

A collective gasp rippled through the bar. Grace wasn’t surprised—for obvious reasons, after being grilled about it herself—but she felt the weight of the announcement settle heavily on her shoulders.

The President continued, “I want to emphasize that unlike the first time, we have preparation. We have time to know what is coming, as little as a few hours of preparation may be. With this Second Oscillation will likely come new elements, new challenges. While we cannot be certain of specifics, we are prepared.”

He detailed how all state governors had been informed an hour before the address and were now working with their agencies to prepare. He spoke of conversations with global leaders, his expression somber as he mentioned China and Empress Wu, who now controlled Hong Kong province, and his inability to reach Russian leadership due to their internal conflict.

Yeah, that was an important one, considering they’d tried to sabotage the whole Billings mission, but he wasn’t going to mention that until there was more proof…probably.

“War has broken out in Ukraine and many other places around the world,” the President went on. “Many South American countries are in turmoil as warlords rise up and chaos abounds. But the United States remains strong and united.”

Grace couldn’t help a sardonic smile. United, we may be, but you aren’t going to tell them about our problems, are you? Classic message. Everything’s cool. Wait, this Second Oscillation is the perfect smokescreen to brush by what’s happening in Billings! Sly politicians.

The President’s voice grew stronger, more resolute. “We are a place that accepts those who seek free and good lives. Those who are changed are welcomed if they follow the law and we are reopening our humanitarian aid and asylum seekers, but there is a process… If you come illegally, you will be sent back, as painful as that is. Without law, we lose our nation, and there must be law, there must be order, or there can be no safety and prosperity.”

Tom shifted beside her, his attention fully locked on the screen while drinking his glass.

“We have our house in order,” President Capell declared. “The states and the nation have stabilized after the initial shock, and this second wave will not upset that. As I said previously, it will introduce new elements, new challenges, according to our intelligence, but know that tomorrow, when you wake up, everything will be alright. Local agencies and humanitarian aid facilities will be open and prepared. Do not panic. There is help. We will help you.”

His expression softened, and he glanced briefly off-camera. “Before I conclude, I’d like to introduce someone special to me—someone who represents the very changes our world is experiencing.”

The camera pulled back to reveal a young woman standing beside the President. She wore a formal dress, but what struck Grace was her appearance—golden fur covered most of her body, her face resembling a lioness with whiskers and a small black nose. Despite her visible nervousness, she stood tall.

“It may come as a shock to many, but this is my daughter, Lily,” the President said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. He paused, letting it sink in, and Grace had to whistle at that reveal, glancing around to see the wide eyes of the soldiers. “…Like many of you or your loved ones, she was transformed during The Oscillation. She has been a source of strength and inspiration to our family during these challenging times. A source of understanding. You are not alone in facing these challenges as a family. We will find our way through this.”

Grace scratched the back of her neck, noticing Tom didn’t appear stunned at the news. “Well, I’ll be dipped in buttermilk. That’s a loaded gun fired. The ‘anti-demihuman’ crowd is gonna go crazy with the ‘he’s compromised’ angle.”

“One out of every hundred and thirty-two people in the world appear to have undergone some kind of change since the First Oscillation,” the President plowed on, “into forms both wondrous and challenging. Know that you are not alone. From the highest office in the land to homes across the nation and world, we are all learning to navigate this new reality together.

“You have not been forsaken,” he assured, holding his daughter’s hand and squeezing it with a smile before returning his gaze to the cameras. “You are still citizens, still family members, still valued. The changes to your body do not change your worth or your place in our society. We understand there are many unusual demands these changes might have on you, and states are prepared to help you through this transition phase. You are not alone.”

Tom sighed heavily beside her. “Public perception, political optics… It’s a smart move to bring Lily into it, but she’ll be a target now, not that she wasn’t already.”

“So it could be a desperate move,” Grace mumbled, eyeing the lion-girl’s nervous but determined stance. “If I remember right, the girl’s fourteen. That’s tough. Either way, it takes guts for her to open herself up to that chaos.”

As the President concluded his address, promising daily briefings and increased transparency about The Oscillation in the coming weeks, the bar erupted in a mixture of anxious chatter and grim determination. Everyone had somewhere to be, preparations to make before 9:13 that night.

Grace spun her empty glass on the bar top, then raised an eyebrow at the general. “I’m guessin’ you gotta get goin’ after that talk, huh? Took a short break before the cow pies started rainin’ down on ya?”

He showed a tired but resolute smile before finishing his own glass. “You could see it like that. I’ve already given my orders, though. Now, the reason for them is public but nothing’s changed. Some teams will be diverted to help Montana’s local resources, but we’ve still got a mission to compete here so our citizens can return to their homes.”

“Right…” Grace held up her glass to look at her distorted reflection in it. “So, do we really have our house in order with this new crystal? From what I hear from Scarlet, it’s supposed to be a pretty big thing…even to the big guys upstairs, what with all the resources y’all have centered here, and not even divertin’ much for something like this. Yeah, that’s just where my mind went.”

Tom ran a hand over his face, the weight of his responsibilities evident in the new lines around his eyes. “That’s a grounded point…and one likely shared by many of the soldiers and citizens anxiously waiting to return to their lives here…

“And honestly? I don’t know.” His voice dropped, meant only for her ears. “A lot of Rachel’s trump cards are gone—all that power she gained, used up. We’re more vulnerable than I ever thought we’d be, considering the cards we did have.”

Grace could imagine the curse under his breath: Damn, those Russians. Damn, Fate.

He leaned in closer. “But we still have the Crow, their Mystics, our other PMCs that are finding good talent, and our own unique powers within the military we’ve been able to expand. I’m set to meet with them tomorrow.” He paused, studying her. “It’s why I’m here to see you, really. If Rachel’s not better by then, you’ll need to join me as Omen’s representative. Maria needs to stay with the others to heal them, and I’m not sure Scarlet will leave Rachel’s side.”

Grace’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, totally thrown for a loop on that one. “Hol’up there, cowboy! Me? Representin’ Omen to some local tribes?” A bark of laughter escaped her. “I mean, sounds like a party, but I don’t know if I’m the best fit. Still, ya got me intrigued with this Mystic business I’ve recently heard the fanged bat bank talk about.”

She grinned, lifting her empty glass in a mock toast. “If my mama could see me now—from dropout runaway to multi-billion dollar private military ambassador. She’d either have a heart attack or finally be proud.”

She slid the glass across the table to the barkeep, signaling she wanted another. He complied, eyeing her to see if she were too drunk, because she’d almost had a full bottle at this point. The man complied and slid it back. She downed it to the last dregs, relishing the burn—it always tasted better when she had a direction for adventure.

Tom’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her. “According to records… Should you really be drinking?”

Grace laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “The President said it himself, general. Some people got needs after our big glow-up. But I’m old enough to know that in this life, sobriety is death. Didn’t my legend have a drinkin’ problem?” She winked. “Only difference is that before, it was just an addiction. Now? It’s literal life! Besides, Calamity Jane didn’t follow rules—and, obviously, as her legend, neither do I.”

The corner of Tom’s mouth twitched again, this time with semi-disapproval. “Well, I suppose there are a lot of laws that need to be looked at… Congress will be busy.”

“Damn straight,” Grace nodded, tapping her empty glass for another refill that the man seemed leery to grant. “And from what I’ve seen today, I’d better get good at breakin’ ‘em. When you’re runnin’ with the misfortune-slinger herself. Normal went out the window faster than milk through a colander with Rach in the picture.”

As the bartender reluctantly refilled her glass, Grace couldn’t help but reflect on the twisted path that had led her here. From a dairy farm girl who’d stolen money and ran away at sixteen to a legendary gunslinger, now caught up in the fate of the world. It was almost laughable. Almost like the tall tales she used to spin…only taller.

Yet here she was, planning to represent a newborn PMC at a meeting with military leaders, Native Americans, and mystic forces. All because she’d been in the right place at the wrong time—or was it the wrong place at the right time?

“That’s Rachel’s gift, isn’t it?” she inquired, grinning into the amber liquid. “Making misfortune into opportunity is her thing. Maybe there’s somethin’ to learn from my boss after all… Calamity doesn’t have to all be bad.”

Tom’s gaze became a tad softer. “Your mother knew you wouldn’t want her to show up. She left you a message… When you’re ready, there is a seat at the table with your name on it.”

Grace’s lips drew in, the fire in her throat not burning from the alcohol that had touched it. “She’s such a mom… Ahem. Anyway, to the Second Oscillation,” Grace murmured, raising her glass to no one in particular. “May we all still be standin’ when the dust settles.”

Because if there was one thing Grace Alexander knew for certain, it was that in a world where reality itself could be torn apart by a woman with bunny ears, nothing was sacred. Not fate, not logic, and certainly not the rules they’d all been following their whole lives.

And damn if that didn't sound like her kind of rodeo.

Now, she just had to find her mother’s hat!

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