#took me just under a month to bang out too which is unprecedented for me
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do you like hot older women. do you have a medical kink. how do you feel about codependent, unhealthy relationships. check it out.
#autoart#autowrites#novella#novelette#horror#medical#lesbians#writing#original work#original characters#ao3#2023#im so proud of this……#took me just under a month to bang out too which is unprecedented for me#agatha du laurier#iris delenin#take care
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Day 3 of Reyes Vidal Week: The Charlatan and the Pirate Queen
For Day 3: Darkest Moments, Brightest Lights, I’m cheating and reposting from my Reyes/Aria T’Loak origin story. This is the story of how Reyes became the dark and dangerous Charlatan we all love.
Back in the year 2183 C. E...
An unearthly-sounding scream pierced Reyes Vidal’s ears. The pain was so intense that it took a moment for Reyes to realize that the scream he’d heard was his own. He gasped, sweat dripping down his face onto the metal table, then forced himself to inhale through his nose, trying to focus on his breathing instead of the white-hot agony of his back.
For the hundredth time, Reyes wondered how his corporal could have gotten things so wrong. Their mission was top-secret, known only to Admiral Anderson and the squad. But Reyes had barely had time to land the shuttle on Omega before the rest of his squad was bodily dragged out by a handful of mercs.
I guess I should consider myself lucky that I avoided getting beaten for as long as I did on this shithole of a station, he thought bitterly. Then words and cohesive thought left him as another searing streak of pain lashed across his back.
One day earlier…
Reyes flew the shuttle with focused concentration, listening vaguely to his squadmates joking around as they approached Omega. He’d never been one for participating in the usual pre-mission banter, though he found it comforting. Instead of ribbing with the others, Reyes reviewed what they knew about their current mission.
It was an unusual mission, that much was certain. Admiral Anderson had specifically contacted his squad leader, Corporal Ming Gojevic, for a mission that was to be kept secret even from the Council. Anderson had allegedly received word that the de facto ruler of Omega, a former asari commando named Aria T’Loak, had intel about a major threat to humanity - something about some group called the Collectors. Gojevic’s squad was tasked with obtaining the information from Aria, with the alibi of being on Omega to recover a shipment of Alliance-class weapons that had been stolen by a small-time criminal group called the Talons.
Privately, Reyes was skeptical about the validity of the mission, and his skepticism wasn’t much relieved when Gojevic informed the squad that Anderson’s source was a Prothean academic. What a Prothean professor has to do with galactic security is beyond me, but also beyond my pay grade, I guess, Reyes thought to himself.
Reyes had lost count of the number of intel-gathering missions he had completed. It was unusual for a shuttle pilot to become an intelligence officer, and Reyes had largely fallen into the role by accident. Alliance training seemed so long ago now - what was it, nine years ago? Ten? - but Reyes had first stood out among his cohort specifically by not standing out. Unlike many soldiers, Reyes had been reserved, unassuming, and watchful. He was a chameleon, blending into any group without drawing notice for being too talkative or too quiet. He’d excelled at pilot training and mechanics, but nobody knew it since Reyes never talked about himself. He had a way of deflecting attention even when his skills were well above average. As a result, he’d gotten himself noticed by a recon officer, Jen Tahashi, who had persuaded him to get recon training and then to join Gojevic’s intel gathering team as a double-duty shuttle pilot/intel officer.
Nine (or was it ten?) years and countless missions later, Reyes had enough experience to notice that this mission felt different somehow. The Citadel was still reeling from the great battle that had taken place just a few months ago, and Reyes suspected that the pervasive anxiety and paranoia on the Citadel were affecting the administration's critical thinking skills… including Anderson's decision to take the tip for this current mission seriously. But Gojevic was definitely taking the mission seriously; Reyes had never seen her so quiet and still during a rideout. She usually liked to joke along with the squad in order to engender good humour and teamwork before the mission.
As they zipped within hailing distance of Omega, Gojevic turned to the small squad of only four people, including Reyes and Gojevic herself. “Okay, listen up,” she said, her tone uncharacteristically serious. “This mission might sound frivolous, but believe me when I say the stakes are high. Now, we can’t hide that we’re Alliance; but we do this as quickly and politely as possible. You know about Aria T’Loak from the briefings; you know she is not to be trifled with.” Gojevic stared at the squad until they all nodded at her, including Reyes. “Good. Remember, small arms and blades only. We don’t want to present a threat.”
Reyes eyes his flight control display and frowned. They were 5 minutes from docking, and he hadn’t yet received a hail from Omega’s docking bay. That’s unusual, he thought, and pointed it out to Gojevic. “Not sure whether protocols are more casual on this station, given its reputation,” he added.
Gojevic pursed her lips and shook her head. “Unfortunately, I’m not familiar enough with this place to know what their usual protocol is. Let’s just land, and we’ll figure it out from there.”
Reyes nodded a sharp affirmative and smoothly settled the shuttle in the docking bay. The other two team members, Adhira Kaur and Deshawn Andrews, unstrapped their safety restraints and stood. But before Reyes could do anything more than unstrap himself from his seat, there was a loud banging on the shuttle door.
Gojevic looked at Reyes in alarm, and gave one sharp nod. Immediately, Kaur and Andrews stepped to the periphery of the shuttle, and Reyes slid into the passenger area of the shuttle. He pulled a lever at the bottom of the seat that Kaur had just vacated, and the seat tilted back by 90 degrees. Reyes lifted a hidden panel under the seat, revealing a hidden compartment. He swiftly slid into the compartment, and one of his teammates closed the compartment, enclosing Reyes in darkness.
There was a second round of banging on the shuttle door, and then a deep batarian voice barked, “Open up!” Reyes closed his eyes for a second, grateful for the hidden compartments that had recently been installed in all Alliance recon shuttles. This was only the second time Reyes had had to use it, though. He could either exit the compartment from the way he got in, or via a narrow passage that emerged at the starboard base of the shuttle, on the opposite side as the door. Reyes dearly hoped he would be able to get out the way he got in.
Reyes heard the shuttle door open, and then heavy footsteps entering the shuttle… A lot of footsteps. “Excuse me! What do you think you’re-” Gojevic’s voice was cut off by the distinctive thudding noise that accompanied a blunt strike to the abdomen. “Shut the fuck up,” the batarian voice said. Kaur’s voice then floated to Reyes’ ears: “Get your hands off me!” Reyes’ heart rate doubled as he heard the sharp crack of a slap, followed by a squeal of pain. There was a brisk shuffling noise, two more heavy thuds, a loud thump that sounded like a body hitting the floor, and then a brief silence. “Get them out of here,” the batarian voice said. “Aria will know about this soon. We need the information before she raids the HQ again.”
There was a grunted affirmative, and then heavy sliding noises… likely the sounds of his squad being dragged off to the HQ of whoever had taken them out. Reyes felt a slow trickle of sweat drip down his nose. He continued to breathe silently through his mouth until the sound of footsteps completely disappeared. Well, this is a clusterfuck, he thought. He was now stuck waiting in the shuttle’s hidden compartment until it was safe to emerge and blend into the general population on Omega… and that would likely take hours. Reyes slowly and silently slid his left arm up until he could see his watch. The time was 13:07. Reyes gave an internal sigh, and forced his muscles to relax. Need to prevent cramps and stay mobile… This might end up being a rescue mission as well as intel-gathering. In all recon missions, the primary goal was always to recover the intel, but given the unprecedented attack, Reyes was fairly sure he would get a slap on the wrist if he didn’t at least try to rescue his entire squad. He smirked faintly; he never failed to amuse himself, especially in high-pressure situations.
The hours crept by as slowly as an elcor production of Hamlet. Reyes alternated between meditative breathing to master his nerves - a skill which he’d mastered when he was a young teenager - and listening curiously to the dockside chatter, picking up tidbits of local news. He managed to hear a comment from some idiot about the Blue Suns’ new prisoners… and now I know who to look for to find Gojevic and the others, he thought. But Reyes couldn't figure out why a merc gang would attack an Alliance shuttle so brutally and without provocation.
Reyes was also interested in people’s thoughts about the notorious Aria T’Loak. Everything Reyes knew about Aria was from the briefing on this mission, and it wasn’t much, but the opinions of the dock’s denizens were enough to pique his curiosity. Aria seemed to elicit very polarized feelings in the populace: devotion and hatred, terror and admiration, and above all, caution.
At around 05:00, the noises on the docking bay had largely settled, and Reyes felt it would be safe to finally exit the shuttle. Slowly and painstakingly, he slid along the length of the compartment to the hidden exit on the starboard side. He pulled up his omni-tool and scanned for heat signatures: none nearby. Reyes slowly slid the hidden door open, waited for one minute, then slid out of the compartment. Slowly, silently, he rose to his feet, and seeing nobody in the vicinity, he slid into the nearest bank of shadows and quietly made his way towards the slums. He laid low there until the marketplace opened.
******************
The night cycle was in full swing on Omega, and the station was twice as lively as it was during the day. Reyes, dressed in rumpled civvy clothes, stood in the lineup for a club called Afterlife, chatting and joking with a turian weapons merchant and his human business partner. Reyes was playing the part of the good-natured doofus Alliance lackey, on shore leave on big-and-bad Omega, and his acting seemed successful so far: the merchant, who had sold weapons to Aria’s people on multiple occasions, had already mentioned the name of Aria’s right-hand man - one Anto Korragan - and where exactly in Afterlife she could be found. Reyes continued to banter with the merchants until the elcor bouncer finally let him in.
Reyes bade farewell to his new friends and strolled to the bar. He ordered a whiskey and made some idiotic comment to the bartender about the dancing talent. Then he leaned against the bar, drinking his whiskey and gazing around in apparent wonder. In reality, he was checking the security level in the bar… and fuck, is it heavy. There were heavily armed guards at every entrance. And at the raised dais, where Aria was allegedly situated, there were at least four guards that he could see. Reyes had no intention of pulling his weapons if he could avoid it, but he wanted to at least know what he’d be up against if it came to that. Definitely not a situation where I want to take my chances.
Reyes had just finished his whiskey and was deciding how to approach Aria when he suddenly felt the muzzle of a small gun in his back. He closed his eyes in resignation. Fuck’s sake. This is just one disaster after another, he thought as he slowly turned to face his assailant. A small asari dancer, whom Reyes had completely overlooked, was smiling flirtatiously at him, but her eyes were hard and cold as marbles as she kept the gun leveled at his liver. “Aria would like to make your acquaintance,” she murmured in a faux-sexy voice. Reyes managed to smile charmingly at the dancer. “Aria T’Loak? I’m a huge fan. It must be my lucky day.”
The dancer gave a nasty laugh and pushed the muzzle firmly into his abdomen under the guise of pressing herself against him sensually. “A smartass, eh? You’ll watch your fucking mouth or Aria will cut it off for you.” She gave him a small push in the direction of the dais, her tiny pistol still pointed at him. Sighing, Reyes walked towards the dais, ignored by the club’s partying clientele.
He slowly walked up the dais, noting that there were actually eight guards on Aria’s dais alone. If she can afford to have this many men in this club right now, how many does she have on the station in total? he wondered incredulously. A batarian guard scanned Reyes with his omni-tool, and the omni-tool beeped twice as it identified the knife sheathed on his belt and the small pistol at the small of his back… but the guard didn’t relieve Reyes of his weapons. This made him more nervous than reassured. This woman isn’t intimidated by weapons. The guard jerked his head in Aria’s direction, a silent order for Reyes to step forward. And finally, at the top of the dais, he got his first glimpse of Omega’s Pirate Queen.
Aria T’Loak was short - almost a foot shorter than Reyes - but her small frame exuded a krogan battlemaster’s worth of power. Her asari curves were wrapped in a skintight black bodysuit with tantalizing cutouts that forcibly - and distractingly - reminded Reyes of bondage gear, but her broad-shouldered white jacket neutralized the sexiness and added to her mien of authority. Her upright posture spoke of confidence, and the tilt of her chin and her folded arms screamed cold, hard power. There was no doubt in Reyes’ mind that this woman was a force to be reckoned with.
Aria kept her back to him and continued to watch the goings-on in the club as though she had all the time in the world. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him, and her gaze was ice cold and bored as fuck. “You’re with the Alliance,” she said; it was a statement, not a question. The voice matched the woman: smooth as silk, ice cold, and completely controlled.
Reyes was fairly sure that Aria would see through his idiot-Alliance-boy persona in two seconds, but he had to give it a try. He smiled broadly at her and gave a small salute. “Yes ma’am! First time on shore leave on Omega. I can’t believe I’m meeting you on my first time here!”
“Cut the shit,” she said coolly, a tiny hint of impatience in her voice. She then turned to face him. “I know you came here with a little squad of do-gooders on a shuttle yesterday afternoon. I have your people.” She raised one eyebrow at him, gauging his reaction.
Hmm, Reyes thought, Looks like that Blue Suns thug was right about Aria raiding their HQ. Reyes gave up the doofus act abruptly, his face falling into a completely neutral expression. He straightened out of his casual, loose posture and adopted an at-ease stance. Aria was clearly far too intelligent to fool with simple deception. “That’s correct. We came on a mission.”
Aria tilted her head slightly, her face still cool and expressionless. Then, to Reyes’ surprise, she said, “Does this have anything to do with that T’Soni bitch?”
Reyes didn’t move a muscle, not on his body, not on his face. He even continued to breathe normally. But his mind was racing. Shit. How does she know? he thought. His squad had their alibi, and all intel officers were extensively trained in dissembling and deception. If one of them had actually cracked and told their real reason for being there… The mission is compromised, he thought, his stomach dropping in dread both at the thought of failure, but also at the unwelcome question: What did she have to do to get our real purpose out of the squad?
To Reyes’ dismay, Aria seemed to have seen something in his face, because she turned away from him and gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Lock him up. Interrogate him.”
Reyes opened his mouth to protest - what the fuck! - but before he could say a word, an electric shock pulsed over his body, seizing his breathing and his muscles. Suddenly, the floor was rushing towards his face and then-
***************
Aria stood at the wall of monitors in her office, watching the Alliance man being tortured. The Alliance man - a Terran named Reyes Vidal, according to his dog tags - howled in pain as one of Aria’s torturers, a turian named Cassian, lashed him a third time. So he’s affected by the conventional methods of torture, she thought impassively. Must be his first time in the chair. And yet, despite the four lashes to his back, he wasn’t a sobbing mess, and he wasn’t begging for mercy. That was something of a surprise. She watched the monitor more closely as Cassian delivered another blow of the whip to the Alliance officer’s back. He screamed, but then… Aria narrowed her eyes as she watched him, then drew back, a faint hint of a smile on her lips. He’s using meditative breathing to master the pain, she thought, with a twinge of approval. Breathing techniques and meditation were taught to asari children as a matter of course, but Aria knew that only certain humans from certain cultures learned them. Looks like this Reyes Vidal clown is one of them, she thought. Aria always made sure that her own people learned meditative breathing, specifically for this purpose: to withstand torture.
After Cassian delivered a sixth blow to the human’s back, she called him on her omni-tool. “Stop,” she said flatly. “I’m coming down.” Aria didn’t wait for a reply before ending the call. She turned away from the monitors and headed towards her holding cells in the sub-basement of Afterlife. If he’s new to torture but not sobbing for mercy after six lashes, I won’t get anything from him by submitting him to further pain. Seeing another human in pain, on the other hand…
She walked leisurely, her casual stroll contrasting with her rapidly shifting thoughts. Aria had known that telling that Liara T’Soni bitch about the Collectors and their mystery cargo might bring more trouble… but she hadn’t been expecting the Alliance to show up at her door. And she definitely hadn’t been expecting the Blue Suns to attack the Alliance berks before they’d even had time to try to suck up to her. You’d think that fistful of assholes would have learned their lesson after I destroyed their little meeting with the Collectors a few months ago. They’re getting cocky… These contracts they keep getting must be worth a hell of a lot for them to be willing to cross me.
It wouldn’t do for the Blue Suns to think they could kidnap whoever they pleased, especially if it had the potential of interfering with Aria’s other businesses. So Aria had reinforced her lesson in the early hours of the morning. Accompanied by Anto and another guard, she’d stormed the Blue Suns’ HQ and killed a third of their operatives with a single biotic blast before asking any questions. Then she’d taken the three Alliance hostages back to Afterlife with her, leaving a message with the surviving operatives: “Tell Tarak to call me. Immediately.” The Blue Suns’ leader had called her within the hour; by that time, the male Alliance berk had expired from wounds inflicted by Tarak’s thugs. She had told Tarak in no uncertain terms that he would keep his hands off any Alliance personnel unless expressly told otherwise by her. With a significant proportion of his operatives bleeding on the floor of the HQ, he had agreed. Like he had a fucking choice, Aria thought coldly as she descended the lift to the sub-basement.
Aria’s first stop was the cell containing the two remaining Alliance operatives, each with their hands cuffed and their feet loosely bound so they could walk but not run. Both operatives looked distinctly the worse for wear; they’d suffered a substantial beating at the hands of the Blue Suns, a beating that the male officer hadn't survived.
Grizz, a faithful batarian, was standing guard over the two Alliance women. Aria jerked her chin wordlessly at the older woman, who seemed to be the leader of the squad from her age and stoic bearing. Grizz grabbed the woman and pulled her out of the cell. “Where are you taking her?” croaked the younger human, a woman with mocha-brown skin and a snotty, tear-stained face. “Quiet, Kaur,” the older woman said firmly.
“Yes, Kaur, be quiet,” Aria said lazily, not bothering to spare a glance at either woman’s face. She pulled the leader’s dog tags from her shirt and glanced at them. “Ming Gojevic. So, Ming. How do you feel about Kaur exposing your little secret mission? It's a bit late for her to be quiet now.” Aria had learned (from a sobbing Blue Suns operative with only one remaining limb) that the younger woman had blabbed her squad’s mission the first 2 minutes of her beating. A complete amateur. I’m surprised the Alliance let her off the Citadel.
Ming didn't answer Aria’s question, and when Aria finally deigned to look at her face, she was satisfied to see that the woman’s eyes were lowered in deference. Doesn't want to piss me off. Respectful, at least. But also doesn't want to talk. This was a pretty solid little recon squad, aside from the snitch in the cell. Too bad for the Alliance; this squad could have been very useful to them if they hadn't tried to sneak around on my turf. Aria nodded to Grizz and set off towards Reyes’ cell without a backwards glance. She heard Grizz push the older woman roughly, and then the sound of her shuffling walk.
Just before Aria reached Reyes’ cell, she held up her hand to Grizz for him to stop and hold the prisoner. Then she nodded to Reyes’ guard, who opened the cell, and Aria stepped inside.
Reyes was seated on a stool at a sterile-looking metal table, his arms stretched in front of him and cuffed in place. His naked torso shone with sweat, and blood from the messy whip cuts on his back trickled down into the waistband of his pants. His head was bowed between his outstretched arms, and Aria could hear him continuing to take deep, even breaths through his nose. Her estimation of him increased further at this display of self-control. “Reyes Vidal,” she said, and Reyes lifted his head to look at her. Idly, she observed that he was quite handsome, even with his sweaty face drawn in pain: dark gold skin, unusual bronze eyes, nice lips. Only his boring bog-standard Alliance buzz cut detracted from his attractiveness. Aria was faintly amused that his face was completely expressionless, showing none of the pain he'd expressed through his tedious screaming.
Aria and Reyes stared at each other without speaking for a long, tense moment, until finally Aria raised one eyebrow sardonically. “Who sent you here?” she asked, her voice flat and cool.
Reyes continued to stare at her, unspeaking. The only sound in the room was his breathing and the soft occasional drip as his sweat hit the floor. Aria almost smiled. Impressive, she thought, but he's just making it harder on himself. She snapped her fingers.
Grizz stepped into the cell behind her, dragging Gojevic with him, and flung Gojevic on the floor at Aria’s feet. Gojevic gasped with pain on impact with the floor, then struggled to her knees. Aria kept her eyes fixed on Reyes as she held out a hand to Grizz, and Grizz placed an M-11 Suppressor pistol in her palm.
Aria felt a cold thrill of satisfaction as this sequence of actions finally elicited a reaction from Reyes. His eyes widened slightly as they darted to Gojevic, then to the gun in Aria’s hand. Fucking humans, Aria thought snidely. They’re so transparent. Aria flicked off the safety and pointed the gun at Gojevic’s knee. “Let’s try this again,” she said smoothly. “Who sent you here?”
Reyes’ gaze flew back to Aria’s face, and she experienced a little thrill: his face was still neutral, but anger was starting to burn in those strange bronze eyes. And yet, he still said nothing. Aria gave a tiny bored shrug and shot Gojevic in the knee.
The gunshot echoed loudly in the tiny cell, as did Gojevic’s shriek of agony. But Aria continued to watch Reyes’ face. His jaw clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut at the woman’s scream, but still, still, he was silent. So stoic for a human so young, she thought with grudging respect. That’s something I can use. Aria slowly crouched down next to Gojevic, who was breathing raggedly on the floor… and pushed her index finger into the bloody bullet hole. Gojevic screamed again, and Reyes slammed his cuffed fists on the table, just once. “Fuck!” he burst out.
Aria removed her finger from the wound and wiped her hand carelessly on Gojevic’s shoulder. She rose slowly to her feet and twirled the Suppressor idly on one finger before levelling it at Gojevic’s head. “Ready to talk yet?”
Reyes looked at her, and Aria couldn’t help the tiny smirk that pulled up one corner of her mouth. His face was practically incandescent with rage, his teeth bared like an animal. No begging from this one, no pleading, just… rage. That, I can definitely use. “I have nothing to say to you,” he spat, his Spanish accent thickened with anger.
Aria shrugged. “Fine,” she said lazily, and Gojevic’s head slammed back as the Suppressor’s bullet hit home. Gojevic’s bleeding skull hit the ground with a sickening thud as Aria turned to Grizz and handed him the pistol. “Take him to Anto. Constant supervision, Level 1 security personnel only. Stitch him up and start orientation in three days.” Grizz nodded, then stepped out of the cell to make the call.
“Now what?” Reyes said, his voice raw from screaming, but otherwise flat and emotionless. Aria knew what he was really asking: whether she was going to kill him. She turned back to face him. “Now you’re stuck with me, little boy. You took the wrong fucking mission.” Over her shoulder, she called out, “Grizz! Send that Alliance girl back to the Citadel on the next ship. I have a message for them.” She turned back to Reyes, and for the first time, she smiled at him - a cold, reptilian smile that made his skin ripple in goosebumps.
“Tell them nobody fucks with Aria.”
If you enjoyed this chapter, please feel free to check out the whole tale at AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11041485?view_full_work=true
Art credits: Reyes pic from the ever-talented @life-is-no-sugarlicking; Aria pic from http://fcbs.deviantart.com/art/Mass-Effect-3-Aria-T-Loak-425570673.
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The Dig Initiative: Chapter 31
The Misadventures of Drednov and Poole
Everybody heard about the rumor from Altamira. Some guy broke in and took down all the guards. Took down some of the guards. Took down two guards and crapped on their corpses, because he was that kind of sick freak apparently. Shot them in the head, just for the hell of it or maybe burned them alive or probably just gassed the room and stabbed them really quick before they could wake up. Jason Bourned his way through. James Bond it. Ninja style. Cowboy style. Psycho killer style. And then took off with one of the patients! His girlfriend. His wife. His sister, maybe. His daughter?
Nobody had the details. So everybody made something up.
“Do you really believe all of this?” Agent Drednov asked.
They had parked their car in an empty Target parking lot. Curfew was supposed to end soon, and the streets would fill with pedestrians, commuters, regular folk. Drednov put her vido sensor on the dash, lifting a screen over the windshield so that they could watch the big domestic division conference. All she had to do was wave her hand over the sensor and it communicated to the windshield to go opaque. Little gadgets like that really made the car a luxury item. Maybe she hated driving it, but god was it fancy.
“Like, it was just one guy? That can’t be right.”
“I could not guess,” Agent Poole answered. He leaned a little on the armrest between them, holding his chin with his fingertips. “It’s idle gossip. I’ll wait for the facts.”
“Oh, well, sure, the facts,” said Drednov.
She was leaning in too, almost touching him shoulder to shoulder. There was a meniscus of heat between them, an almost-intimacy. They had been moving closer and closer to each other every day and Drednov wasn’t sure if she was the one pulling him in, or the other way around. She just knew that it thrilled her.
The blue waiting screen flashed onto a podium that had the Locke Security logo stamped onto it. The room, which seated 180, was packed. The rest of the field were on their patrols or at home, signing on. It was the first time they had all gathered like this and even if it wasn’t in person, it felt significant. Huge. Drednov could only guess how many agents there were under domestic division. And if she doubled it to accommodate international, it really hit her how big the company was.
A man came up to the podium, sleek blonde hair, tight suit, and sharp eyes. Handsome guy. Only a couple of people really knew what Mr. DuVang looked like, met him in person and so on. But they all knew, when he got up there, that it was really him. Really really him! It felt almost magical that he was there talking to all of them. Like listening to the president or something. Like the Pope, even.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he started, his voice smooth and light, not as deep as she expected, but commanding. “I understand this is unprecedented, but we have a great need to band together and I wanted to be the one to share it with you.
“First, I want to say how proud I am of this company. I know that it started small under Oliver Locke and current Senator Wells; the two who would go on to work together to pass the legislature we know today as the Lockewell Laws. These laws, while stringent, have prevented overpopulation, have prevented disease outbreaks, have prevented starvation and general crime. Many of you here were with the company when we transitioned into the Black Jacket program, building one of the best security firms in the nation. You are the future. You are an amazing breakthrough in science. You are, for lack of a better term, miracles. And I want you to rejoice that. The people here are the backbone of what Locke Security is and what it will be in the future. It is with strength, determination, and community that we will extend our reach and shape the world. Protect and heal. Bring about the next change for a brighter tomorrow. And I could not be more proud of all of you.”
There was a brief applause. Drednov draped a hand on the armrest. It was just enough that her finger brushed against Poole’s. He did not draw his hand back and Drednov was certain he would feel her heartbeat going crazy just in the side of her pinky alone. He didn’t, though. He was enthralled by Mr. DuVang.
“Thank you. Now, secondly, there is an initiative we have been working towards here in Locke Security. Some of your superiors know about this, as indirectly as we might call it, CleanAire project, or Locke and Key protocol, or, rightly, the Dig Initiative. I want to set the record straight before this comes out in the wrong light and we spread fear to the public. NARA has a cure.”
Silence. People in the audience shifted, looked around, wondering briefly what the repercussions of a cure to the thing that gave them their abilities would mean. Some of them started muttering.
“Cured?” Poole snarled, sitting back for the first time. There was a big divide between them again. “Why does it need a cure?”
“For the percent of people who, you know, die from it?” Drednov offered.
“They think they need to cure us? They think—”
Mr. DuVang raised his hands, and they all went quiet again.
“Yes. Yes, there’s a cure. I hear your concerns, but let me set your mind at ease. Public opinion of the virus is shaped only by the largely fatal qualities. If we spread it now throughout the state, ninety-percent of the United States would be dead within the month. I know the benefits. You know the benefits. And we. Are. The lucky. Few.” Mr. DuVang banged his hand against the podium in time with his last statement. “People, we can change that twenty percent. We can help them step up to that threshold and cross over like all of you here have done. In fact, it is our duty to do so. There untapped potential is lying dormant right now, and it is a waste to what we can do as human beings!”
Mr. DuVang paused again, leaning on his forearms, staring out at the crowd. He brushed some strands of hair off his forehead and tongued his bottom lip.
“Holy cow,” said Drednov, almost with a laugh. “He’s crazy!”
“Shh,” Poole answered curtly. She was about to protest and he grabbed her bicep and shushed her again. Her first reaction was to lean into him, fall into it, but she jerked her arm free.
“Now, to assuage some of your fears, no. This will not affect you. This will not change who you are, or rob you of anything but your time and cooperation. Your loved ones, your neighbors, your friends are our number one concern. We are preventing a pandemic that would wipe out the human race. We are standing on the edge of the tide of tomorrow and we are coming out of this heroes. You are coming out of this heroes. You are heroes.
“So, this is what I ask of you, as head of Locke Security. The Dig Initiative is set to launch at the end of this month. With the recent outbreaks of NARA virus in the public, it is imperative that we get ahead of this thing now. We are releasing the cure to market with the help of financial aid from CleanAire owner Mr. Rick Samspon. You might wonder why a security firm has its hand on such a product, but you are the results of all that research, all that study, hardship, toil. Sacrifice. With the help of the Altamira Research facility under Barrenson Medical, the owners of the Sanctuary hospitals, we have created you.” Mr. DuVang pointed at someone in the audience, and then another. “And you.” He pointed a third time, towards the feed, and said, “And you. Locke Security stands here today because of the science of Barrenson Medical and Montemille research and Altamira. And it stands here today because of you.”
Mr. DuVang started applauding. It was quickly picked up by the crowd, dragging on as he smiled at everyone. Drednov could guess that he had an influential talent, perhaps manipulating the room. She felt disturbed by his words about “better tomorrow” and “miracles” and “shaping the world.” Sounded dangerously like a cult. But Poole was eating it up. He almost clapped too, settling back into his seat with a satisfactory smile.
The audience died down again, hushed slowly until Mr. DuVang could be heard. He nodded at them, thanked them. Even laughed.
“Now, there is a threat against our company, and this is the real reason why I have called this conference. I have confirmed this with the mayor, governor, and senator of Vermont, as well as the local police and highway patrol. We have the necessity of moving into a twenty-four hour curfew around this city starting Monday. This gives the public enough time to prepare their households for the shutdown. Notices have been sent out, public will be made aware, of course. We believe that there is a group who plan to attack our headquarters. I will not dally with the details of the Altamira incident, but the fact remains that there is a threat and we are ready to respond to it. Your supervisors will be giving new rotations to ensure this city is safe while we work on weeding this threat out. I will not be running from this. Safety is my number one concern. We have assigned twenty new White Jackets to each team. I will not let someone terrorize this company, my people, or our delivery of a cure to the population. We will not be threatened. And we will not take this sitting down!”
More applause. Drednov couldn’t believe they were going to lock the city down completely like that. She held her forehead, letting it sink in, as Poole pumped a fist into the air and belted out his approval.
“We are the future! We are the future! Thank you!” Mr. DuVang was yelling over the crowd, laughing wildly with them. “Honor in thought! Honor in deed!”
The crowd yelled back “Honor in thought honor in deed honor in thought honor in deed honor in thought honor in deed” and Poole cheered, repeating, “Honor in thought. Honor in deed.” Drednov closed the feed and it shifted over to her inbox, blinking a message from their supervisor. She’d read that later.
“I can’t believe they’re finally going through with it,” Poole said, sighing contently. “We’re really going to see a change.”
“He said twenty-four hour lockdown,” said Drednov, gesturing bitterly towards the sensor bar. “He’s putting us in a headlock.”
“No, this is good. This is good.” Poole wasn’t looking at her, maybe through her, to some glittery pastoral scenery of a perfect tomorrow. She never saw him smile so openly, it almost scared her. “They’re really doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“The CleanAire towers. They’re going to release NARA through the towers.”
“What? He just said they’re releasing a cure.”
“No,” Poole said. He laughed and it was low, deep in his chest, while he shook his head a little. “No, that’s what he’s telling us because he has to, because he can’t trust everyone. But I know for a fact they’re going to release it through the towers. I saw intel on it. You know what this means? They’re not curing anything. They’re cleansing. Finally, finally, they’re pushing us into a new world.”
“Cleansing, holy—”
Drednov pressed her body back as Poole reached across the center console and grabbed the nape of her neck. She didn’t have time to turn away, her head buzzing with surprise, before he pulled her to him and kissed her hard. It was selfish, mindless mashing of his lips on hers and she struggled to turn her head away or catch her breath. This is what she wanted. It was. She grappled to get her fingers under his and pry her neck loose as his mouth dug into hers, his tongue jabbing at hers. This is what she wanted. His fingers hurt when they dug into her skin. This is what she wanted. She couldn’t breathe around him.
Another hand snaked to the back of her head. He was straddling a knee on the armrest, perched over her, holding her as his mouth smacked open and his tongue darted for her, almost choking her. His breath was hot and sour in her mouth, curdling something in the back of her throat. Not this, not this at all. He was so big, his hands like vices on her head, leaning down so that she was pinned. Drednov clenched her mouth shut to get away from his slimy tongue and screamed behind her teeth, fumbling for anything, pushing against his chest, but he just took her hand and squeezed it, trapped it.
“It’ll be perfect,” he muttered against her, sliding his tongue down her neck. “It’ll be perfect for us. It’ll be perfect and pure, just like you wanted.”
“Please.” It came out strangled. Almost a sob. Too quiet though. Too quiet. Her stomach boiled and a nerve jolted up the center of her body. “Please,” she tried again, harder, but it fell on deft ears.
Drednov closed her eyes as Agent Poole shoved his hands up her blouse, her head thumping back against the car door. She tried to pull herself in, get away from it so she didn’t experience it, but when he raked his fingers down her stomach she felt her whole body tremble and go cold. Before he reached the edge of her pants she sucked in what little air she could find and exploded out.
Poole was knocked back to the other side of the car. He cracked his skull against the glass, shattering it in tiny spider web fragments, a broken halo with a small spot of blood branching out from the center. When he shifted, Drednov pushed out again, pinned him there, squeezing down on his throat while her hands fumbled for the door latch. When it opened, she spilled out of the car backwards, landed hard, but rolled to her knees and sprang up.
“Val!” Agent Poole shouted inside the car, his voice hoarse. He coughed and then said, “Wait!”
She pushed with every last ounce she had, shoving with all her mental weight, and tossed the car off the sidewalk. It rolled, spinning madly through the air before it crashed into a light post. The metal frame of the car bent around the pole, front bumper meeting with the back end so it looked like a “u” shape. Sparks shot up into the air in an angry display against the scream of metal and bone inside. Something burst and steam shot out in a wild whistle, a big smoker’s puff of air, almost like a giant tea kettle. Drednov didn’t want to see if Poole was going to get out. She curled whatever pieces she could find sticking off the car back around the pole, wrapping each piece like she was tying knots and ignored any sound that came from inside. It was exhausting, and once it was knotted up, she almost fell. Almost collapsed. But no time. No time. She took off down the street, legs pumping hard, shirt torn to reveal her pale stomach, lungs screaming. She thought about home, about her brother, about the edge of the city. She thought about bright clothes and blankets, get free, get free, get free. Poole’s mangled body groping for air between the bloody seats. But not that. Not that. It didn’t matter where she went, just that she got there. When she was gone, then she’d cry properly.
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