A short little story I wrote of an OC that adores Reileen because, c'mon, she's admirable in her own way, however large her shortcomings.
"Your brother?"
Cenet straightened, brows furrowing. Two impromptu meetings and three meticulously planned dates later, he'd finally discovered what the unnamed man in Reileen's life meant to her, and he was thrown.
Reileen smiled, amused. "Not what you were expecting?"
"Definitely not." An unrequited love or an ex-lover, Cenet could compete with, but a long-lost brother whose stack remained on ice? "And you have a plan to get him out of his sentence?"
"It'll be risky, but yes." Another pursed frown and shot of vodka.
"And you're sure your brother will understand everything you've done?" Anyone who dealt with Reileen Kawahara without knowing who she was—who she used to be—was a fool. "Despite your actions, your status?"
Cenet was instantly splayed on the counter, Reileen's forearm a hairbreadth away from cutting off his air flow. "You have no right to question my brother's love for me. None."
"Of course," he choked out, his hands raised in surrender.
Reileen released him, thrusting him back into his seat.
Cenet shook his head at the bartender, barely concealing his grin as he rubbed his neck. Of all the women he'd courted, Reileen was the only one who dared be so blatantly violent with him—an enduring echo of her past, Cenet figured, of which he had only endless intrigue. Though the replaceability of sleeves allowed for the possibility of violence, proper conduct was the norm among meths, so Reileen's bouts of irregularity were just fuel for his fire.
"Then, even though you're more than capable of handling everything on your own, you should know that my offer still stands."
"The backup?"
"And more." Reileen's lips were tantalizingly close now.
"Cenet, you underestimate me."
"An extra backup and helping hand never hurt anyone."
"You know how I feel about owing favors."
"And you know that I want nothing in return."
The gazes held, neither side backing down in the game of wills.
— — —
"Bancroft is going to stick him into a cop sleeve, Reileen. One with friends—lovers. I can fix that, convince him otherwise, so let me help."
"How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of my way?" Cenet was against the wall again, Reileen's arm hard against his windpipe. He wondered, as his eyes flicked to her lips, how many other meths she dared treat the same way.
"I'm not in your way, Reileen. I just don't want to be a bystander as the woman I love puts her life on the line."
"Love?" His raised hands didn't prevent the pressure from increasing.
"Friend! Friend," he choked out, doubling over to cough when Reileen released him. "You really can't take a joke."
"Friends—nothing more. So keep out of my business, Cenet."
Cenet straightened. One hand was enough to count the number of times Cenet Cheng backed down from getting what he wanted before Reileen Kawahara entered his life, and though he'd long lost track of the score between him and the ex-Envoy, he was, at his core, a businessman.
"We've been through this before, Reileen, and we'll continue winding up at the same end every time unless you agree. Allow me to back you up, and I'll keep out of everything."
"You have no leverage. No justification."
"None but my most profound and sincere concern for your wellbeing."
He matched her glare in earnesty if not in intensity. Laying himself bare before Reileen was a card that he'd played more than once because it was one that worked more than once. For all her rigid lines and sharp edges, Reileen did soften, however rare, and Cenet had adapted to target exactly that. Playing to his strengths and taking advantage of whatever was offered was an art Cenet had long learned to master. The young upstart he'd once been had long since disappeared, and along with him went what naivete he might have had. That he looked like Takeshi Kovacs had not escaped Cenet, but rather than a resounding setback, he saw it as an unquestionable advantage—one that had drawn Reileen to him, brought the object of his affections into his life.
"Fine. If that will shut you up," Reileen said, looking away.
"Most definitely," Cenet said, beaming.
— — —
Cenet had been honest when he said that another backup never hurt anyone. The storage of Digital Human Freights, or D.H.F.'s, was his trade, and he earnestly believed that one could never needlecast too much. Sure it was an extra expense, an investment that would perhaps never see use, but spun another way, it was insurance—in case plans did somehow go awry. Simple insurance, paved the way for the rest of Galaraium's other products, ranging from short-term D.H.F. storage that self-destructs after a set amount of time to long-term off-planet D.H.F backups that are hashed beyond recognition during needlecasting.
As their biggest competitor was PsychaSec, a respectable—or childishly—simple yet effective company that offered simple clone storage and needlecasting services, Galarium had expanded into the more lucrative and fringe markets, both legal and not. "What was is not known does not exist" is the motto Cenet adopts for his most risky—and profitable—business: double-sleeving. Weekly in-person download of data that is subsequently needlecast through a private chain of satellites, ordinarily used transmit data to private, off-planet storages galaxies away, instead fed the data to a planet in a private galaxy—one owned solely by Cenet, because in this day and age, there was nothing money couldn't buy, especially when it involved something so far out of the humanity's influence that even the naive upstarts in the U.N. that weren't utilizing Galaraium's services barely batted a brow. The fortune it'd cost Cenet—a fortune that still brought tears of laughter to Cenet's eyes when he recalled the dreading regret that had threatened to drown him in the moments after signing the final papers—was more than paid back, if not monetarily, then by the absolute surety of his own immortality. His power and influence might pale in comparison to Laurens Bancroft, but he easily stood among the foremost titans of industry.
Of course, when Cenet said he wanted to backup Reileen, he meant double-sleeve her, because such was the most irrefutable way to ensure her immortality. Taking out a storage system or five was feasible, but a single planet deep inside a galaxy on the fringe of humanity's explorations? Such wouldn't be even remotely feasible—not for a good thousand years of expansion, during which Cenet could easily purchase another.
So, what Cenet Cheng actually offered was much more than just insurance by needlecasting and backups; he offered—ensured, enabled—immortality itself.
— — —
The effects of Takeshi's return on Reileen were painfully clear: Cenet hadn't spoken a sentence—heard a word—from her since Laurens had her brother uniced. Though this ate at Cenet's very being, reminded him viscerally of how easily he'd gotten everything he'd wanted since around a hundred years ago, he managed to refrain from reaching out. Backing her up was enough for Cenet; he could now create an off-world version of her if he so pleased. Doing so would cross an indubitably taboo line—perhaps one between human and god, even—but Cenet was willing to go that far to get what he wanted.
But, for now, he'd bide his time. "Time is money" was the saying he'd grown up with, and immortality offered him more than just money.
— — —
Was he surprised that Takeshi had killed Reileen? Perhaps, but that didn't matter. What mattered was Reileen's new clone—a perfectly grown replica of her favorite model into which her most recent backup had just been uploaded. Standing at her bedside, Cenet took in her beauty. Imperfection was so rarely found in meths these days, and the noticeable divergences between the meth standards and Reileen seemed only to testify to her strength, her perfection.
Her eyelashes fluttered.
Cenet clasped her hand, rubbing a thumb over the back. "Welcome back, Reileen."
"Cenet?" she sat up. "What happened?"
"Head in the Clouds was hacked and destroyed."
Reileen's eyes widened. "Impossible."
Cenet smiled sadly, turning and waving a hand. The projected monitor flickered to life, recapping the latest events: the sinking of Head in the Clouds, the solving of Mary Lou's murder, and the Bancrofts' arrest.
"You've been pronounced dead."
Reileen was silent, eyes fixed on the face of Elias Ryker as he popped up on screen, Kristin Ortega at his side.
"Reileen."
She looked at him, eyes flat. "You were right. I was foolish to think my brother might understand."
"I never said that."
"But you thought it."
Cenet smiled, helping Reileen up from the bed. Her lack of sleeve sickness—a gift from her Envoy days—always amazed him, since the nauseating dizziness that chased him whenever he resleeved was enough to deter him from doing so unless necessary. "That's all in the past now. Tell me—what would you like for dinner? I have an ingenious AI working my kitchen."
"Surprise me," Reileen said, returning his smile as she linked her arm with his.