Blm-Pd: Revenge Was Inevitable

By Myron J. Clifton

WOMEN WILL LEAD THE REVOLUTION

In the not too distant future, the US has been taken over by white nationalists, and the institutionalized racism that has underscored the country's entire history has once again been codified. California has seceded from the US, and a band of strong women plan to start the next civil was following the brutal death of their friend at the hands of the police. This is BLM-PD

GET TO KNOW THESE UNFORGETTABLE WOMEN:

KJ: A tech genius tired of being passed over for less-qualified white men, she decides to lead a revolution by hacking her company's defense files. What she finds leads her first towards revenge.

Beast: AKA Jennifer, has it all: a good job, a hot bod, amazing hair, and a loving girlfriend. But she's angry. When her friend is murdered by a racist cop, she's ready to jump into a plot for vengeance.

Queen: Dreadlocked and regal, Queen AKA Marilena, is as deadly with her MuyThai as she is with her Kukri knife.

"Provocative. Glaring. Brilliant!" - AP

Like most African American men, Myron J. Clifton received "the talk" from his elders, instructing him on how to survive interactions with the police. He has heard the stories of police brutality, terror, and abuse of power from close family and friends. A prolific writer, Clifton was inspired by his experiences in the current American racial environment, and at this intersection of race, gender, a women, and interest in the intersection of race, gender, and politics, he has written this manuscript, his first novel; part one of the BLM-PD story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781796081039

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Copyright © 2020 by Myron J. Clifton.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. It contains certain historical facts, but any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, places, or events are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a completely fictitious manner for the purposes of telling this story. This story is a fantasy and is not intended as a call for action.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Cover Design by Katya Lerner/Buzzword Consulting

Editing by Two Songbirds Press

Author Photograph by Joshua Conanan

Rev. date: 01/03/2020

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CONTENTS

Preface

State of the Union

The Republic of California

PART ONE

One Cop Down

JACK & AMANDA. One Year Earlier.

KJ

KJ & Amanda

Bronson

Jack

KJ

Bronson

KJ

BLM—Herstory

Jack

Amanda

KJ & BLM

Bronson

Desiree

The Backers

Part Two

Jenn

Jenn & Beast

Marilena

Marilena & Lenamari

Bronson

KJ, Beast, & Queen

Jenn & Jessica

Ana

Peg

Truth

Training

Spies

Bronson

Memorial Day

Bronson and Erika

The Green Dot

Bronson

First Kill

One Cop Down

Erika

Rendezvous

Debrief

Part Three

The Plan

Fall Out

Erika

Bronson

The Diner

The Hotel

Erika

Niece

Erika

Queen

The Bomb

BLM—the aftermath

Peg

Bronson

KJ

AP & Peg

Erika

Antonio de Mendoza

Author’s Note

PREFACE

State of the Union

In the near future the world hadn’t changed—

Many nations were at war, some diseases were eradicated while others spread due to growing disbelief in science that was spearheaded by middle class white Americans who traveled the world promoting anti-vaccination as the safest method to good health. There were international trade disputes, contested elections, new regimes moving countries forward, and old regimes surviving through brutality.

The United States was at its most unsettled since the Civil War, and at its most divided since the post-Civil Rights era. Dissatisfaction with the outcome of midterm elections some years ago led to riots in twenty-three states—including all Southern states. White supremacists, upset that their candidates had been swept from office in a rebuke of the president and his party, left their insignias, Nazi signs, damage, and death in their wake. The president fanned the flames by claiming voter fraud to explain their historical losses and the supremacists were energized by his support. The day after those midterms, the president called a press conference to say that he was officially running for re-election on a platform of Making America Pure Again.

For the next two years heading into the presidential election, his supporters disrupted voter registration drives, intimidated campaign workers, and incited riots when opposition candidates used police escorts. Neither the Democratic National Committee nor the New Progressives offered any serious counter message to the Republicans and the president, and instead pleaded with the electorate to wait until the election to show your disapproval and make real and lasting change.

The lack of national support and money for the Democratic candidate, combined with suppressed voter turnout, led to a landslide victory for the president. He easily won his core voters in overwhelming numbers and many white Democrats solidified his hold on the US federal government by aligning with his message of Make America Pure Again, which had quickly become synonymous with Make America White Again, or, put the white man back in charge.

(It was discovered in later interviews that white Democrats rationalized their vote for, and their work with, him in order to better understand the anger of the voters. Also coming into play was their anxiety over losing their country’s identity (read: white, Christian identity) and, most telling, wanting to be on the winning side if the country went to war with itself again, i.e. a new Civil War.)

The scene of his inauguration was shocking. Surrounding the president were generals of high rank and from every branch of the military; most of the Senate, and almost all of the Congress; thirty-six Republican governors; thousands of federal and state officials and law enforcement from the FBI, NSA, Homeland Security, ICE, CIA, and hundreds of police officers; and eight Supreme Court Justices, hundreds of federal judges, and 450 of 500 Fortune Executives, including one—Stephen C. Bronson—who, like others, was not only an industry leader (his specialty was information with a company called TechFive) but was also a key player in a top-secret, high-level organized movement to protect white spaces.

Flags festooned the red curtain that hung behind the group on the elevated platform, and many in the sea of white men, the medals of uniforms glinting bright in the high sun, carried flags representing key white-majority states. The White House lawn never looked more militaristic.

It was a jarring scene that had been orchestrated as a show of force: A strongman leader with his power base before a national and global audience. He was supported by millions of white supremacist citizens who proudly called themselves City Soldiers, and they had millions of their own supporters.

At his inauguration, the two-term president’s speech shocked the nation and the world:

"White Americans. For too long you have been made to feel ashamed of your heritage! You and your ancestors built this country! There were people here who were savages and had nothing! They created nothing! They’re gone —well now I hear they’re in California—hah!—and good riddance!

"Some like to say we had help building this great US! Well, they lie! They all LIE! The slaves didn’t help—they were a burden! A BURDEN! And the slaves, who otherwise would still be in the poorest place in the world if we didn’t bring ‘em here, the blacks (laughter) are STILL A BURDEN! And the gays! The feminazis! The fake transsexuals who, by the way, don’t exist!

Well, NO MORE, I tell ya! NO MORE! White men built this great nation, and white men will reign supreme here again!

Thunderous applause rose from the crowd, and those who were there said they felt the power and hatred surge like a tsunami which had been sucked back and back and held and finally allowed to rush forth. Those who watched from home said they wept, or vomited, smashed the surface of their television screens, or just stared gape-mouthed, unbelieving.

"For too long we have taken care of the blacks, the Mexicans, those immigrants, the gangbangers, drug addicts, criminals and thugs while they unjustly accuse us of mistreating them—they rape our women and steal our jobs!

NO MORE! NO MORE! NO MORE!"

Once again, cheers and chants spat from the white mob—from the snarling politicians and the gap-toothed coal-miners, from the blue-suited and red tied businessmen to the greasy ball capped roughnecks on the White House lawn. The video cameras spun from one side of the crowd to the other, lingering from time to time on a rapt face.

"We are a NEW and BETTER COUNTRY now that whites are back in charge of everything! We are at the top because we built this country and we will not allow the blacks or Mexicans to take over!

NO MORE! NO MORE! NO MORE! The Final Steps to Making America Better than Ever are here! LISTEN! LISTEN!

At this, the City Soldiers all at once blasted air horns, and the frenzied crowd calmed. Some covered their ears or even ducked before giving themselves over to an uneasy silence. Those who didn’t immediately settle down, and there were very few, were given a poke by a City Soldier’s blackjack or a wallop by a neighbor.

"Effective immediately, I am suspending all federal voting until we are absolutely certain our voting systems cannot ever be hacked again! No more fake votes, no more fraud, no more fake winners! I will let you know when voting can begin again.

"And my five-point plan that will make our country the greatest country of all time:

"Step 1. Effective immediately, we will no longer give welfare or food stamps to ungrateful losers! The free ride is over—so get to work! All Social Security monies that in the past would have gone to undeserving deadbeats, will now go to hard working Americans only, as determined by my appointed governors!

"Step 2. Effective immediately, all drug arrests will result in a LIFE sentence—no expensive trials or lawyers. You all know how those inner-city people are drug users. Our police force will be out there looking for them. Use drugs, go to jail IMMEDIATELY! Also, effective immediately, we will reinstate the federal Death Penalty for murders, violent crime, drug selling, armed robbery, and other reasons to be shared later. All drug dealers—you know who you are, out there in the ‘hood—will get the death penalty!

"Step 3. Effective immediately, if you are in federal prison right now, your sentence is LIFE, and you will no longer have TV, free education, or computers, and no more hormones for you perverts, and there’s no reason to prolong your life, by the way! Under the Thirteenth Amendment you have to work for free. These CEOs standing here with me have promised to bring jobs back and they’re going to use our millions of prisoners to do the work that foreigners are doing now! Coal, manufacturing, tobacco and cotton, are all coming back because we have workers who will work for free!

"Step 4. Effective immediately, any person not pre-cleared by Homeland Security based on the last census demographic data, i.e. non-white, will need to register for a federal work permit.

Step 5. Effective immediately, all loans to minorities will need to be approved by a new federal agency that will ensure only good hardworking minorities get loans. That’s maybe some women. Maybe some Japan people, they can be hard workers at times. You know what I mean. Funding for this department will be worked out later. And this includes all loans: mortgage, auto, student, payday, and credit cards.

The thunderous applause was louder than ever, and people were hugging, cheering, and some were crying tears of joy. They were all ages, but mostly one race. The few people of color in the crowd wore shocked looks on their faces as they realized the horror they helped bring about. The news cameras caught a few people wearing caps that read Kanye, stealthily ducking through the mass of white men, perhaps some black free thinkers briskly moving people out of their way as they headed towards the exits, and a number of black Republicans looking around anxiously. The Independents were shocked, too, as they had thought the president would start acting more presidential when he won re-election. The white Democrats who had not spoken out against him wore smiles as they realized their positions were safe and they no longer needed to carry the burden of standing up for racial harmony and equality.

Go. Go. I see we are losing some people. Good riddance. Help them out, would you? The president gestured towards a small group of people hurriedly leaving the White House lawn and headed toward the rear gates. He waited for the crowd to quiet.

Stephen C. Bronson could be seen nodding his chin down toward his lapel and whispering something, before looking up towards the back gate and, finally, back towards his president.

Thank you. Great. Finally. Finally. I have worked so hard for you. But there’s still work to be done. I am starting my second term. But you know. I can’t do all I need to do for you in just the next four years. And let’s be honest, it’s not really four, it’s two, because of the midterms. I need more time.

Behind the president, someone shouted, Eight years! And soon others were also shouting, Eight more years!

I hear you. Eight is not enough! I need more!

It might have been the same voice, but someone called for twelve years, which was also met with shouting and chanting.

MORE! The president shouted.

And soon the room was chanting, as one: Twen-ty-years. Twen-ty-years. Twen-ty-years. Twen-ty-years. And those who were swept up in that moment believed this was a good thing for them and for the future of the United States of America.

Later that evening as his supporters were attending various inauguration balls around Washington, D. C., the two-term President was meeting with his stacked Supreme Court, Appeals Court Judges from every red state, the Speaker of the House and Majority Leader, leaders of each branch of the military, leaders from his Cabinet, and key Law Enforcement agencies, to draw up plans to extend his presidency beyond two terms.

But not every state was on board with the plans of the federal government and the president.

The Republic of California

Many states supported the president, but not California. As the world’s third-largest economy and the continent’s primary agricultural provider, California had seen the threat of a white male power grab decades earlier and put their most radically humanist plans in motion under the radar. When Caucasians became the minority in the state, when the largest cities became more liberal and active in their politics and actions, as more of the people of these demographic groups were elected into powerful leadership positions and those who opposed the state’s progressive liberal leadership moved over the mountains to the plains and the south, the Californians who remained could enact laws that were diametrically opposed to the ones being enacted by the federal government.

Because of constitutional prohibitions, they had instituted covert outreach, installed sympathetic appellate judges, and approved propositions that confounded lower courts and officials outside of the state. Using its power as a landowner, California ceded tribal land, via a land grant, back to the 104 Native American tribes. Just over half the square miles of California, about 90,000 square miles, were now considered sovereign territory. This land grant, made after a two-year negotiation with representatives from the Tribal Conference, allowed California to effectively claim its sovereignty as a First Nations State, and thus fulfilling longstanding treaties made with various First Nations Tribes.

In all, the federal government had made and broken over 370 treaties with the tribes, but the crux of each treaty remained active and many remained open in various federal lawsuits dating back hundreds of years. California consolidated those lawsuits and, with the power of the world’s third largest economy, took the battle to the courts.

The state asserted its sovereignty after a series of court battles asserting its separate and distinct right of self-rule and self-government apart from the federal government. By the time the state’s case got to court, it had managed to build an army and negotiate its own trade agreements with 150 countries. Threats by the federal government fell on deaf ears. While other states had tried the same thing a few times over the history of the country, California won its court case on the strength of aligning its interests with the 109 sovereign and federally recognized tribes located exclusively within California borders. After years of planning and fighting, the state had become its own republic.

One day after the historic verdict was announced, California released its new Constitution which merged the former California Constitution and Iroquois Confederacy (which was also the basis of the US Constitution) and the California Tribe of Nations Constitution to create a new California constitution, formally called The Republic of California: A Free and Sovereign First Nations Constitution.

The Republic installed its first prime minister, announced the new trade agreements, pledged aid and military cooperation with Central and South America, and opened negotiations with Mexico on the right of return for Mexicans who were born in America but deported in the last twenty years. California reaffirmed that the federal wall along its southern border would not be built.

Controversially, California granted most-favored trading status to the states of: Colorado, Nevada, Hawaii, Guam, Puerto Rico, and the Caribbean. And provisionally, Washington and Oregon, but only after each re-wrote their state’s constitution to repudiate their past desire for a White Utopia. In addition, California insisted that each state place black, Mexican, and indigenous people as judges, sheriffs, prosecutors, and immediately pardon all nonviolent drug offenders (this was required of all states in California’s Western Coalition). California canceled all trade agreements with Arizona, Texas, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Georgia, Arkansas, South Carolina, Kentucky, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Montana, Missouri, Kansas, and other red states who relied on California tax revenues collected by the federal government to support policies that harmed black, LGBTQI, women, Mexicans, POC and the poor—those same people who heavily populated California.

California and its partners also created the first slavery reparations fund, to be funded for forty years by a technology, banking, and financial sectors tax, a mortgage lenders tax, and taxes on other industries that both benefited from and exploited slavery.

In the same way that many Confederates were slow to accept their status as members of the Union, not all who remained in California were happy with this turn of events in US history. There were continuing protests in almost all major cities and scattered violent clashes between those who supported the state and those who supported the federal government and strongman president. There was a mass resignation across all levels of law enforcement, and the nightly news and cable networks ran endless loops of the clashes. And while there was mass movement of people between coastal and rural areas, and between states, California would eventually settle into its independence and its role as an adversary of the federal government.

With a Gross Domestic Product of over $3-trillion, the State of California was a financial, economic, and military powerhouse on a global scale. And it was well armed with nuclear weapons, jets, bombers and battleships with which to deliver them.

And all that power was feared by the federal government.

The abuse of federal powers, and counter-protests, marches, arguing and fighting inside and outside of the new republic were louder, more frequent, and angrier than any time since the Civil War. And layered on top of all these events, murders of African-Americans and other people of color by cops had grown more frequent, more random, and never punished. Though there were official resources dedicated to combating the violence, such as the SPLC and ACLU fighting via lawsuits, and the BLM movement, fighting with petitions and voices, it seemed to some, even inside California, that the time for diplomacy was over. It was time to meet violence with violence.

Not every citizen was content to wait on the state to do the right thing.

PART ONE

One Cop Down

In the dark parking lot, the four women stood together, almost shoulder to shoulder, with no one moving and everyone suspicious. It was getting colder, and it was too quiet with no sound but their own breathing. With nervous faces and wide eyes, the women looked at one another in a tense standoff.

KJ’s voice broke the silence: Everyone, we will talk in forty minutes. Good job. You’re all on the same team! For the last time—GO!

The tenseness passed once they heard KJ’s voice, but they were still wary of one another after all that had just happened. Queen’s bloody shirt and face stood out, but Niece’s heavy breathing and KP’s camera light made for an eerie moment in the dim parking lot, where a dead man lay a few feet away, his face bloody, beaten, and unrecognizable. The man’s jaw was distended, and his head was dissected by an arrow, which protruded with a chunk of face dangling from the tip.

We need to get the fuck out of here, Beast said, breaking the moment and the eerie silence.

JACK & AMANDA. One Year Earlier.

"I want to live, Amanda. I’m … we … are not living. Wait … you are, but not me," Jack said with emphasis because he saw Amanda rising up, her anger building, as he desperately tried to explain his reasoning for taking a six-month road trip without her. She was everything to him. It wasn’t going well.

I love you. I’ve loved you. I know you love me, and I … just can’t anymore. I need to get my head right.

Amanda had been silent for a long time. Longer than Jack was used to. They were standing in their kitchen and it was a cloudy morning. The morning Jack was set to leave.

I know, Amanda said quietly. You can say you love me all you want and … I don’t know, Jack. We shouldn’t end like this. I don’t want it to end like this. But it will end I guess, Amanda trailed off.

Amanda was a force of nature and strong willed and full of and into her power. She didn’t shy from confrontation like Jack did. She always chose to fight while Jack was a flight person. They worked well together because of that one difference, Jack knew.

Amanda was making coffee very deliberately now.

Jack was in flight mode and Amanda was in fight mode. Their love would survive this fight, but their union would not, Jack knew. She would not let him come back. He respected her choice because it was her choice and she was right; Jack knew it and hated himself for it.

It was a soft breakup, in Jack’s words. No major trigger, no infidelity, no money problems, no abuse. But Jack had gone distant emotionally as he struggled with coming to grips with his growing mental health issues, disillusionment with his corporate career, and his need to write.

Jack loved that Amanda was there through his early struggles, his myriad doctor’s appointments over the years, all the different drug prescriptions, the therapy and alternative medicines, and all the mood swings. When he was up, he was way up, and nothing was out of reach, no plan too grand, and no barrier large enough. Amanda was the ideal partner, Jack thought, as he listened to Amanda explain that if he did leave, this was it, and there would be no coming back.

Jack loved her more than any person ever. He loved her energy, her drive, her connection to the universe, and her relentless optimism even when she was down. She was thirty-five, looked twenty-five, but acted fully thirty-five. And she was fit. Not skinny fit, but solid, grown ass woman fit, Jack liked to say.

They’d made a great couple for twelve years and had raised one lovely daughter who was in college at UC Davis, studying Communication and Business—sides of both her parents. Jack and Amanda were extremely proud of Leah. She was, they both said, an easy child to raise and support. She was low-key like Amanda and had all Amanda’s smarts and love of animals. She got her humor from Jack though, and he never let her forget that; it was their private joke—he forever teased her about it. That, and the fact she always wore her thick and wild curly hair in a bun. Jack teased her that he hated her bun, but he really did love it.

Jack was forty-two and comfortable with himself. He kept his hair short with bi-weekly visits to his barber, and he was a little too heavy but still within his fighting range he joked with Amanda and Leah when they teased him. Always clean shaven with a pleasant and welcoming face and smile, people liked him, and he quickly put people at ease with his kind demeanor and emotional intelligence. When Leah was little, she’d ask him, Why did they give you a discount, Daddy? Or, Why was that person mean to those other people but then nice to you?

Jack would laugh and tell her it was his secret superhero power: disarming mean or difficult people.

Jack stared at Amanda, her naturally curly hair now short and fancy, as he liked to say to her. Her makeup was on point and her training/workout clothes perfect in every way. Even this early, Jack thought, she is ready to face her world of clients who look to her for motivation, encouragement, meal planning, and detailed and specific workout plans.

Jack burned this image into his memory of her, like he had done so many times before.

Okay, well, I guess that is it then. Let me help you pack, and you can be on your way, Jack.

Amanda placed the warm palm of her hand on Jack’s face.

Jack loved how soft Amanda’s hands always felt and how they smelled of cherry almond. He put his hand atop hers as he always did. He pressed down and held his hand there for a long moment. I love you and I wish you well, she continued. Please check in on your drive, so Leah can know you’re okay. You know she’ll worry. I will, too, but I’ll be fine.

Jack saw that Amanda was in her Get things done persona now. She’d settled on what was happening and now she was working. This was her comfort zone and Jack knew he just needed to do as she asked.

Thank you, Amanda. I love you. I always will. And I hope when I return, we can … try again. I love you and I will call or text every day. I promise.

The next morning Jack found himself alone in his driveway loading his Prius as he made final preparations to leave. Leah was still asleep, home on spring break, but Jack had talked and listened to her late into the night talk about his trip. She was both sad and excited—but mostly sad for both him and her mom, she had said.

He and Amanda slept close—they always did—and it felt comforting. Jack knew Amanda was giving him her energy, as she liked to say. Jack received it.

Now as he closed his trunk one last time, he was startled to see Amanda standing there. She looked sleepy. And beautiful. He smiled at her as he walked around to pick up a few more things to load in his back seat. She smiled back.

Jack loved looking at her when she didn’t notice. He was looking at her like that now while he put things in the car.

You’re giving me the look, Amanda finally said, breaking the silence while they stood in their driveway. The clouds had gathered but there was no rain. It was quiet—it was always quiet on their block. Jack was hoping for rain. He always hoped for rain. Amanda loved all weather, but like most Californians, she was a daughter of the sun.

What look, Love? Jack said as he took Amanda’s hand.

The look you give me when you think I’m not looking. Amanda squeezed his hand.

More energy, Jack thought.

Of course, you knew. That’s why I love you, Amanda.

They stood there for a few more moments just enjoying each other. Amanda was shivering.

Breaking the silence, Amanda spoke: I hate you for leaving. I understand, though. She removed her hand from his hand and looked over towards Leah’s bedroom window. I will love you and welcome you back into our lives when you return; but I won’t welcome you back into a relationship.

As she finished speaking, a light breeze passed by and moved the leaves in the driveway and street just a bit.

I can’t ask for anything more, Amanda. I don’t deserve to. But just for the record, when I get back, I will ask—just in case you’ve changed your mind. But I promise to only ask once.

Jack finished talking and showed his biggest smile while pulling Amanda close to him.

Jack was silently crying. Amanda was quiet. And then, she moved him away.

Be careful. Live. Write. And Amanda walked back to the house, paying attention to step on the step-stones that she’d laid down, but which Jack had hated and never stepped on.

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The sun was breaking, and Jack was still a few hours from the California border with Arizona. He was headed east—he thought he’d just stop a few times, see some sights, move slowly, take in what the road and different cities offered him, and—if he could—he would write.

So much had happened, was happening, in the country, and Jack wanted to write about it. He wasn’t sure what, exactly; he just knew he had to write. He could no longer work in corporate America because he absolutely loathed the grind and demands on his time, life, and mental energy. And he no longer had any tolerance for the sell-offs, re-orgs, random layoffs, nonstop management changes, interfering red tape, poorly designed products, giant marketing programs and other nonsense.

Jack wasn’t a writer. Yet. But he loved to write. And he’d decided to write about his mental health struggles as they related to his career, relationships, and personal struggles with depression. He’d quit his corporate job after a particularly disastrous meeting where he’d zoned out, incorrectly answered a few questions that he should have known the answers to, and then called the entire strategy that was just methodically laid out by the vice president bullshit.

Unsurprisingly, that was his last day at work. He was fired and he quit at the same time.

He was depressed that day and he knew it, but did not care. That, too, was part of the depression and the vicious cycle he was all too often trapped in. The latest medicine—he was on his eighth different prescription— seemed to make things worse, and as a result his depression lasted longer and was more debilitating. He had decided to stop taking it, but he didn’t tell Amanda or his doctor. He was just over the drugs and wanted his true self.

Amanda never wavered in supporting him. Jack wished she had kicked him out, because that would have been easier. She knew that though, and Jack was forced to accept responsibility for his feelings, his actions, his words, and what he wanted to do with his life.

He hated himself. But he knew he would not survive like he was for very much longer. His thoughts had gotten darker. He could not allow Amanda and Leah to see him deteriorate. He wanted to live, he told her. But he didn’t tell her that he also wanted to die.

As Jack approached the little motel in Barstow, California, he saw three patrol cars and five police officers surrounding an old-model