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I, Frederick Barwick, swear that the following is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  I write this confession of my own volition, and I hope to prevent the terrible things I have done and seen being done from continuing.  This is my confession - this is my insight into a revolution.

It all started on that lazy summer's day way back in July.  I was lounging around at the internet cafe.  Of course, being a programmer, I have my own computer, but there's something uniquely satisfying about going to an internet cafe.  The buzz, the way you can chat to all the other people in there, the way you can discuss your latest projects.  I lived a normal, perhaps even boring, life of programming software in the day and for fun when off duty.

Then she walked in.  I could instantly tell there was something different about her.  She had a uniquely confident swagger - a walk that radiated confidence and style.  A regular pattern of her actions seemed to arise - she'd approach someone, try to get them interested in some sort of political idea, and then get frustrated and walk away.  After listening to her increasingly frustrated and heated arguments for a while I worked out that she was evangelising for the liberal cause.  "Boring" I thought.  I knew close to nothing about politics, and cared even less.  She was just one of those people I'd have to ignore.

At least, that was my plan until she actually approached me.  As she turned towards me, and I looked into her eyes, I melted inside.

It's difficult to describe the effect.  It may have been something to do with her unusually large eyes, that seemed to take up much of her forehead, with irises that shimmered and almost shone even in the relatively poorly lit room.  Her skin was also virtually perfect, totally free of blemishes and the normal imperfections found on human skin.  Something about her was certainly... different.

She looked me up and down, seemed to think for a moment, and then clearly decided a change of tack was needed.

"Fuck me if I'm wrong, but you want to kiss me, right?"

This line caused my stomach to leap and turn.  I could feel the explosions in my head, the rushing sound in my ears.  I hadn't had a girlfriend since highschool - being a programmer is a lonely profession.  And then, suddenly, she had come out of nowhere...

"You're wrong" I managed to mumble, but without much conviction or thought.

"Excellent!" she cried, clapping her hands together.  "Meet me at the latte stand, 7 tonight.  Don't be late!"

And, just like that, she turned on her heal and walked towards the exit.  I stood there, staring in dumb amazement.  She certainly wasn't tall, but she had some kind of aura that implied power, in spite of her relatively cute looks.  I looked at her flowing blond hair as she opened the door of the internet cafe and left.

This was simply insane.  She had walked over and asked me on a date without so much as exchanging names.  I had no idea why she would ask me to come on a date with her, and considered that it could be a cruel prank, but I brushed aside these fears and turned up at the latte bar anyway.  She was standing there, waiting.

"You call this 7?" she shouted as I moved to sit down opposite her.  I looked down at my watch.  19:02, it read.
"Sorry" I said, quietly, once again muted as I looked into her eyes.  Strange... they certainly weren't normal...
"Never mind!" she said, smiling an incredibly smile that flashed a huge row of pearly white teeth that almost dazzled me. "I've called you here to discuss -" she suddenly lowered her voice to what she must have thought was a mysterious whisper "The agenda".
"What's that, um, madam?"
"Wait, I haven't told you my name?  Call me Marion.  And it's the Liberal Agenda.  It's deadly important.  I mean, did you know that corporations are still hiding their secrets from..."

She went on, detailing the various parts of the Liberal Agenda, pausing only when I asked questions on various matters.  To be honest, that didn't happen often, as I was still staring into that face... and those eyes.  Looking into them seemed to melt my heart, and I found myself nodding and agreeing more and more as she continued to explain the "Liberal Agenda" to me.  I was beginning to wonder whether this was what hypnosis felt like, when suddenly I was snapped out of it.

"Well?" she asked.
"Well what?"
"What do you think?"
I stopped and considered.  I was in her thrall, and could feel my heart attaching to her with virtually unconditional affection.  And yet there was one problem...

"How are we going to address these issues?"
"Huh?"
"Well, it's all very well making an agenda, but what are we going to do about it?"
"Well..." She sighed, sadly. "I don't know.  I've been doing my best to spread the word, but I just don't seem to be reaching people.  I was hoping you could help."
"Sorry." I said, before making possibly the biggest mistake of my life. "But to achieve this agenda we'd need a revolution.  2 people cannot change to world or cause a massive change."
Suddenly, her eyes widened.  A grin spread across her face, showing once again a mouthful of perfect teeth.  "That's it!" she shouted "You're a genius, um... sir?"
"Fred"
"Yes!  A genius!  You're right!"
"Right about... what?" I said apprehensively.
"2 people can't change the world!  It's too big!"
Well, that was a relief. "Glad you've realised it."
"We need a SQUAD!"
"Wait, what?!"
"Simple!  We can recruit people to our group and get them to help spread the word!  Genius!"
This was bad, but I had no idea what the implications of what I had just said were.  I had no idea what I had started in Marion Cook's mind.
"We can't make a squad!" I shouted, but was suddenly aware that we were the centre of attention in the latte stand.  Wow, this was seriously embarrassing.  I lowered my voice. "We can't make a squad!  We have no authorisation, no members, no funds!"
"Then it looks like we'll have to get them!"
"Who's we?  And what are we -"

I was cut off in the middle.  She grabbed my collar and dragged me out of the area.  I thought of fighting, kicking, screaming, but then I remembered those eyes, and realise I would have to follow my heart.  The trouble was, I had no idea where Marion and my heart were going...

To be continued.

"Wake up... wake up..."
I heard Marion's voice long before I opened my eyes.  There wasn't anger in her voice, but she did seem excited.

Damn.  I couldn't remember where I was.  Or why I was here.  Or who I was with.  I lay for just a little longer, and begun to remember the events of the previous nights.  Or a few of them, anyway.  My memory was, and still is, completely blank after she dragged me out of the latte stand by the collar.

I decided to examine my surroundings.  I had already noticed that the bed was extremely hard and uncomfortable.  Looking down at it, I realised it wasn't a bed at all, but a concrete floor.  I must've been pretty tired to fall asleep on this.

Judging from the terrible smell of sweat, grime and alcohol, I had to be somewhere where a lot of people lived.  Hmm...

"Wake up!" she shouted, this time louder.  I rolled onto my back, and recognised the area we were in instantly.

"We're in the homeless shelter?!" I yelled "What the hell are we doing here?" I sat up and turned to look in the direction of her voice.  It would take more than a cute pair of eyes to pacify me this time.

I had not, however, considered another possibility.  She was completely naked. "What the... how the..." I collapsed back onto the floor.

"We're here coz revolutions don't come free" she explained, apparently oblivious to my surprise "This can be our base until we have the money to move out"
"Yes but... why are you naked?" I asked, turning to face her once again.  Argh.  It was seriously difficult to concentrate when looking at her in that state of undress.  And it still is, come to think of it.
"Oh!" she said "That!  It's part of my plan to make us some money.  It's a brilliant, genius plan, and one that will help further the cause of liberalism!"
"Hmm." I said, trying to think straight "So nudism is on the Liberal Agenda too?"
"No.  I'm using this as -" she lowered her voice dramatically, in spite of the fact that the only people who could possibly hear us were drunk out of their minds, "A disguise".
"Uhh... we're going to protest at a naturist beach?"
"No!  Of course not.  The plan is far more subtle than that."
In her eyes, this was enough of an explanation for her to lunge forwards and start to undo the buttons on my shirt.
"Damn!  What is wrong with you?" I shouted, trying to brush her off, and rapidly realising she was rather a lot stronger than she looked, "Where are we going?"
"Sweatshop!  No time to explain!" she yelled, still tugging at my shirt.
"Can't I, um, go as a security guard or something?" She relaxed her grip, but continued to stand over me.
"Hmm, good idea... then it will look like you're bringing me back there... perfect." I lay back and relaxed.  I was sure I still had that security uniform from my old job around somewhere.  In case you were wondering, no, it didn't go well.  The reason I still have it is because my boss quite literally threw me out.
"Ok then." I said, slightly more relaxed now that the more urgent problem had been dealt with. "So why are we - What the hell is that strap for?" I had just noticed the leather strap that ran down from the top of her right shoulder to the left side of her waist.  There were several explanations in my mind for what it could be for, none of them pretty.
"This?" she said, reaching behind her and pulling a gleaming shotgun around her body so that it now faced me. "This is our insurance policy".
"I thought we were supposed to be non violent!  Why do we need to take that - stop pointing it at me!"
"Don't worry!" she said, smiling that smile which I was already beginning to associate with danger, and continuing to swing the shotgun around fairly carelessly, "We won't need it, per se.  Think of it as a... deterrant."
I sighed.  "Didn't the liberal agenda mention something about gun control?
"Yeah, but we're using it for good.  We're using it to help stop all those conservative gun nuts!"  I was about to make some kind of comment about pots and kettles, but realised that this possibly wasn't the best idea when a fairly mentally unhinged person was standing over me brandishing a shotgun.  I settled for sighing once again.

I went back to my apartment quickly to collect the security guard outfit, and then returned to the shelter.  She was standing there, frowning.  That frown was dangerous too.  In fact, I was starting to think of her as "dangerous" in general.

"You're late!" She snarled.  She hadn't actually set a time I should be back, she just told me to 'be as fast as possible'.  "We'll have to make up lost time!  We need to run!"
"Hey, I don't know where we're going yet-" even as I said it, I knew it was a mistake.  I moved to block my collar, but this security uniform had a tie too.  Damn.

I'm not sure exactly what people must've thought when they saw her, naked and carrying a shotgun, dragging me by my collar down the street.  I was hoping someone might think it was a kidnapping and try to help me, but no such luck.  We eventually arrived at our destination.

"Um" I began "Not sure how to put it, but this isn't a sweatshop.  This place, the Winslow factory, is fine.  They are known for their ethical standards in the workplace and-"
"Lies!" She shouted, throwing her arm into the air dramatically.  She forget to let go of my tie, and I was left choking for a moment.  "These people abuse their workers, denying them even the most basic of human rights!"
"Such as, um, clothes, beds and privacy?"
"Yes!" she said, apparently unaware of the note of sarcasm in my previous statement "Exactly.  Wage slavery."

After an unnecessarily long discussion she agreed that it perhaps wouldn't look good for a supposed "escaped worker" to be dragging in a security guard by the tie, so she agreed to let go.  She did not, however, relinquish control of the shotgun.  I supposed we'd just have to hope that the guards there were very unobservant.

After a few minutes of kicking and punching the door whilst swearing in frustration (and then realising that the key was, in fact, in the lock) we entered.  Looking around, we saw just one fairly bored looking security guard, who looked up from his newspaper to aknowledge our prescence.  He didn't react much, but he did stare at Marion suspiciously.  At least, I think it was suspicion.

We walked down the corridor, and turned into the main room of the factory.  There we saw...

The workers.  Dozens of them.  All completely naked, all of them struggling to operate huge pieces of machinary.  Many of the workers were crippled, presumably from unsafe operating of the machinary.  In fact, it looked exactly like you would expect a sweatshop to look.  I thought about all the products that I had bought from them - those jeans, that shirt, that jacket... in fact, come to think of it, half of my wardrobe had been made in this place.

"Everybody listen up!" shouted Marion, firing the shotgun straight upwards into the air, and ending the hopes I had that the shotgun was a replica or unloaded.  She was clearly aiming for it to be a dramatic move, but the shot dislodged a large amount of plaster from the ceiling, which fell on her head and caused her to cough for a while.  When she had cleared her throat, with all eyes in the sweatshop now firmly on her, she continued.

"We are the Liberal Squad!" she shouted, before pausing to turn to me and whisper "Needs a better name, don't you think?" She turned back to her rapt audience "And we are here to free you all!  Come with us to freedom!" The workers looked unsure of what to do.  On the one hand, they hated their jobs here, but on the other, they couldn't just walk out - after all, they needed the money from this job. "Comon!" Marion shouted "What are you waiting for?"

The workers looked away from her, and back to her machinary.  A difficult but reliable life on the machines seemed better than taking your chances with a shotgun toting maniac.  3 workers, however, approached us.

All three were male, and looked thin and haggard.  They clearly couldn't speak much English, but tried to make it clear that they were prepared to join Marion on her journey out of here.  They had no idea where they were going, or what they were letting themselves in for, but I suppose I didn't either.

Marion looked around the rest of the room sadly.  She was clearly expecting slaves chained to machines who we could courageously unchain and liberate, but things were often more complicated than that.  Their work was crummy, sure, but it was better than the alternative of no work and deportation.

We walked out of the room with the three sweatshop workers and headed down the corridor.  Marion was curiously silent.  That is, until we approached the security guard.

"Wait, what the heck are you doing?" said the security guard as we moved towards the exit.  I noticed that he had drawn his handgun, and was pointing it towards us.  He turned to me. "Why are you letting... no wait, helping them to escape?"

It's a bit difficult to explain what happened next, since I am not entirely sure what happened myself.  All I know for sure is that one moment he was standing their pointing a gun towards us and the next moment he was lying on the floor, his gun far from his hand, with Marion standing over him, and with the sound of a shot still ringing in everybody's ears.  I suppose she must've closed the distance very quickly and smacked him in the head with her shotgun.  Anyway, she was now pointing it at him, and glaring with a look of inconsolable rage.

"We're here to further the liberal cause" she said, "And that means that we need to destroy the conservative oppressors!" I realised that her finger was tightening on the trigger, as did the guard, and he let out a sob.  His life as a guard had probably been mostly spent lounging around looking at a bank of boring CCTV images, or just sitting down and reading the paper.  He wasn't qualified to deal with this.  I realised I would have to intervene.

"Marion" I said, realising I had possibly just seconds to save this man's life, "I don't think he's the one responsible for all this imprisonment.  Can't we just... spare him?  After all, we're here to promote the liberal agenda, not murder people".  I was worried that Marion would fire there and then, but what actually happened scared me even more.  She paused for a moment and smiled.

"Yes" she said, thoughtfully "He's more useful to us alive"

"Exactly.  We should leave him to - Wait, use him how?"

"Come with us" she said, without raising her voice, but there was clearly a tone of steeliness there.  She was still smiling, but you could see that there was no warmth in her eyes, "You will begin your new programme, and you will start your new life."

The guard looked to confused to respond, and tried to respond "What exactly... is this programme?"

"The programme of... rehabilitation.  Now move."

And so it was that we walked back to base with Marion dragging a confused security guard and with 3 immigrant workers who had no idea what was going on in tow.  This was already pretty weird.  I had no idea how much weirder it was about to get.

Well, I thought it would be some task sneaking back into the homeless shelter, but few people turned up there other than the homeless and those who handed out the food, so we managed to get back in.  Marion tied the guard to a chair and walked out of the room.  I followed, leaving him alone.

"So, we've kidnapped someone.  What do you intend to do about it?" I asked, beginning to wonder why I was still here and not running for the hills, "And what are we going to do with these workers?"
"Simple, Fred." she turned to the workers, who were sitting on the floor dejectedly. "Make clothes!" she shouted "Clothes!  These things!" she pointed at the pile of my clothes which was lying in the corner.  The workers seemed to understand, and set off to procure some cloth.
"Um, I thought we were freeing them?  Isn't this just as bad as what the sweatshop was doing?"
"No!  Of course not!" she said, in an annoyed tone.  "We are furthering the liberal cause, remember?" I was about to respond, but as I looked back towards her I was struck first by her beauty and then by the fact that she was still carrying the shotgun.  The irrational forces of love and the rational forces of common sense united to prevent me from saying anything about practising what one preaches.
"What happens to the guard, then?"
"I was just about to make a start on him, actually!" she went back through the door into the room with the guard.  I tried to stop here, but she moved too quickly, and locked the door behind her.  Damn.  Something about "Get started on him" filled me with dread.

I waited there for a few moments, then the screaming started.  I could here the yells of "Argh!" and "Oh God no!" from there, as well as rather less expected sounds, such as "Tax cuts!", "Ronald Reagan!" and "Trickle Down Economics!".  Uh oh.  It would seem that Marion learned her psycology skills from movies and videos about police brutality.  The workers walked back in, each holding a large amount of cloth.  They all set to work making clothes for themselves.

About half an hour later, Marion emerged from the room once more. "Well, I worked him for a while," she said happily, "He certainly won't be thinking fondly of those conservative ideas again!"
"Well, while that is true, you've also probably scarred him for life" I said.  From the sounds of the, um, "Interrogation", I wouldn't be surprised if the guard was now also permanently turned off women, chairs and the colour blue. "It's just that... well... I don't think he's going to help us if he hates us equally."
"But he's off conservatism!  It's only a matter of time before he sees Liberal reason!"
"That said" I began carefully, "We may have to show him the good side of liberalism and our squad.  Would you mind if I had a go with him?" She paused.
"Well, I was planning to go over animal rights with him next" she said "But I suppose you could have a quick go first.  Just make sure you don't kill him, ok?"

I opened the door to the other room and stepped in, locking the door behind me.  I winced when I looked at the scarcely recognisable guard who was now sitting on the chair in front of me.  He was battered and bruised, and bleeding all over.
"Argh!  What do you want from me!  Leave me alone to die in peace!" he said, but his voice was cracked, weak and rather high pitched.
"I'm not here to torture you.  I'm here to help.  I'm sorry for what Marion has done to you."
"What she did to me... it's so... awful!" He collapsed into sobs, and I patted his back. "What are you trying to do to me?"
"She was trying to recruit you to this group" I said "She, however, is a bit... overenthusiastic.  Perhaps I should explain to you what the Squad is really about."

Over the next 20 minutes or so (which was occasionally interrupted by Marion banging on the door and shouting "What's going on?  Why can't I hear screaming?") I explained the liberal agenda to him, and ways we were going to promote it.  Or, at least, ways I thought we could promote it.  I still had no idea of Marion's actual plans.  The guard remained quiet, and only spoke to ask questions throughout the whole talk.  When I had finished, and asked him if he wanted to ask me anything else, he said:
"Yes, I have a question.  What is your name?" I was slightly surprised by this question, but I answered anyway.
"You can call me Fred."
"Thanks, Fred.  I'm  Raymond.  Raymond Gu.  Thanks for the kindness.  I feel... better now.  I feel like I could help your group.  I would like to join."
This surprised me.  I mean, I was hoping to help console him, but I hadn't expected an offer to help us.  After all, we had kidnapped and brutally beaten him.  But then again... I suppose he clung to my kindness.
"Ok, Raymond.  That's great." I unlocked the door, and Marion immediately ran in, her gun held in the air.
"My turn!" she yelled, preparing to swing her shotgun at his head "Animal cruelty!  CIA!  CEO bonuses!"
"Stop!" I shouted, as Raymond began to cower in his chair "I've talked to him.  He's happy to join the cause now." Marion looked curious.
"But you haven't beaten him or anything!" she said "Is this true?" she said, turning back to Raymond.
"Yes" he said "I am prepared to help you achieve your aims."  I noticed he was carefully looking away from her.  Considering she was still stark naked, this was quite a feat.
"Ok then..." said Marion, but she looked slightly dissapointed as she lowered her gun.  She begun to untie Raymond.  "I guess we can untie you now.  You can sleep on the floor with us, the sleep deprivation amps won't be necessary."

It was late, so we all lay down on the floor of the shelter to sleep.  It had been a strange day.  The workers looked like they were progressing on their new clothes, although I still wondered whether they may have been better off back at the sweatshop.  They slept in the room which had been, until recently, our "Interrogation Room".  Marion slept like a log, snoring loudly and occasionally murmoring in her sleep.  Raymond, however, was still awake.

"Fred?  You don't know where she's planning to go with this group, do you?"
"Well, no, I don't.  But I think her intentions are good" I looked across to her sleeping form, lying propped up against the wall with my jacket draped over her.  I realised I still couldn't leave her. "And we could be a major force for good" I finished lamely.
Raymond looked a bit doubtful, but then smiled "I think we can work towards the utopia you describe.  It won't be easy, but it should eventually be possible."  Damn, I thought.  I think I might've accidentally brainwashed him into really believing that we could make a difference.
"You know what they say" he said, yawning "Tomorrow's a new day..." He drifted off, and I was left alone with Marion's extremely loud snoring and Raymond's light breathing.  Tomorrow certainly would be a new day, I thought.  And I had no idea what it would bring...