It was cold in the room, was the first thing she noticed when the mists of
painfully induced inebriation were finally beginning to lift, terribly
cold. And that chair was awfully uncomfortable. Should she dare open her
eyes? Why not, perhaps there'd be someone there she could give a piece of
her mind.
It had never cost her such an effort before to wrench her lids apart. She wanted to lift a hand up to rub her eyes, and found that she couldn't. She looked down, and could just barely make out through the blur that her arms were fastened to the chair by means of an evil-looking metal contraption. But her immortal constitution did not allow her to feel totally hammered for very long, and she was soon clear-eyedly surveying the bare white room in which she was obviously being held prisoner.
"Hello!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. "I don't like these bracelets! One of you fucking jackasses come and undo them at once!"
The metal startrekkish doors opposite Chloe slid apart to admit entrance to a wickedly grinning but otherwise sophisticated-looking white-haired gentleman. His icy eyes served her a look of undisguised appraisal, and she returned the gesture.
"Ah, there you are, Jeeves," she quipped. "Wanna explain what I'm fucking doing here?"
"First of all, Chloe, congratulations," he replied, successfully ignoring both the insult and the language.
"Oh goody," she retorted, rolling her eyes for drama's sake. "Do I dare ask for what?"
"You were drugged, of course, to facilitate your transportation here. The dose was ample to have levelled a large horse for six or seven hours, but our team had to administer the drug an other three times for you to remain properly sedated. You have a strong constitution and I admire that," he said as he stalked around the room with his hands in his pockets.
"Cut the chitchat gramps. What is this place and why am I in it?"
He chuckled and came to a stop facing her. "You are in Section 1, a high- level covert anti-terrorist organization."
"And?" she queried, eyeing him up and down, unimpressed.
"You killed a man last night, Eduardo Reyes, he was on our list of subjects to be cancelled. When our team had tracked him down and arrived on the scene, the job had already been done by you. Why you did it, and why with a sword of all weapons – so grotesque, really - we don't know, and mind you we don't like admitting there is anything we don't know, but it seemed reason enough to us to recruit you as a new operative in our organization. Therefore," he concluded with a smug smile on his face, "welcome to Section 1."
Chloe should by this time have been panicking, but was feeling more irritated than scared.
"Follow me," said the white-haired man, whose designation in section was 'Operations', as he hit a key hidden in the wall that caused Chloe's bonds to spring open. "We will begin your training immediately."
Chloe stiffly worked her way up out of the chair. "You know, chief, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll pass. I liked my old life just fine, so if you'll point me to the nearest exit…"
He turned around in the door frame and grinned widely. "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way around here. You will follow me."
"You're kidding right?" Chloe chuckled, inwardly annoyed that the phrase 'it doesn't work that way' was recurring so frequently in her life lately. "You're gonna walk out of here with your back to me? Talk about misplaced trust!"
Operations simply turned and exited the room. Chloe darted out in pursuit as swiftly as her stiff limbs would allow, and was startled the wits out of by the appearance of two operatives, clad in black, on either side of the doorframe.
"Oh," she sighed, as the two armed men fell in behind her.
Chloe was led through a clutter of corridors, all equally naked and impersonal and eventually into a large hall with windows and walkways above, a computer area to the left and something resembling a conference area to the right. There were more so-called operatives in this hall, some seated at work stations, some walking around or quietly conversing with each other.
"Nikita, I need to speak with you." Operations signalled a tall young woman. She approached with a walk that reminded Chloe of a candidate in a beauty pageant. She had her medium length blond hair twisted and tied together at the nape of her neck and was wearing a black new-fangled sort of outfit that Chloe thought to actually look rather elegant on her.
"This is Chloe," started Operations, pointing at her. "I'm assigning you as her instructor. Find her some quarters and begin her training immediately. Oh and Nikita," he added before taking his leave, "teach her some manners will you. She has a foul mouth and a bad attitude, and I appreciate neither."
"Yes sir," answered Nikita, sounding anything but submissive. Then they were left alone together.
"I'm Nikita," she said, turning to Chloe. "I guess I'll be your instructor."
"Yes, I'd gathered as much. Say, are you an operative-person-thingy?"
"Yes I am."
"Care to enlighten me as to what that means?"
Nikita sighed. "Section 1 is an anti-terrorist organization. Operatives perform missions that serve this purpose."
"Exterminate the bad guys, rid the world of the putrid stench of their evil presence sorta thing?"
"Something like that…" answered Nikita, almost smiling this time.
"Cool. By the way, Xena, what's the date and what time is it?"
"That is of no concern to you right now," she stated flatly.
"It is if I'm gonna tell you to pretty please give me back my smokes because it's been so and so long since I've had one."
This actually elicited a chuckle from Nikita. "There's to be no smoking on these premises," she admonished. "Follow me."
"Again with the following… What am I, a duckling?"
Chloe followed her brand-new instructor back through the maze of corridors, trying to copy her walk and all the while internally sulking over the loss of her cigarettes. That she was cut off from her life, her friends, that she had lost her sword and was basically in a shit-load of trouble barely seemed to bother her anymore. She had heard the words 'quarters', 'instructor' and 'anti-terrorist' and seen a bunch of people who all looked annoyingly sure they'd get their own way. To her, this meant as much as that she'd be safe enough – for an immortal anyway – and would get to do cool stuff. An adventurous holiday of sorts.
Nikita stopped at one of the doors and Chloe, caught up as she was in trying to walk like a beauty pageant candidate meets waterfowl, nearly bumped into her. The door slid open and Nikita announced: "This will be your room."
"Groovy," Chloe purred, and sauntered in to examine the place.
Nikita gave her a very peculiar look. Chloe noticed. "What?"
"I've never heard a new recruit call her quarters 'groovy'. In fact, I never saw a new recruit making so little fuss about having to be here. How come?"
"To ask the question is to answer it. You just said it: I have to be here. Chucking a tantrum won't make that go away, will it? So why not just make the best of things."
Nikita leaned against the doorframe and continued to look at Chloe appraisingly. "As healthy an attitude as that is, I still don't get it. You were brought here of all places for god knows what reasons, and you're fine with it?"
Chloe chuckled. "I doubt god knows the reasons, but I do. Mr Stick-up-the- ass explained it to me. I killed a guy y'all thought needed exactly that. And who else but happened to be there to catch me red-handed, literally. This is what I get as a token of gratitude. Funny way of recruiting your live-stock if you ask me, though."
"Who did you kill then?"
"You mean they didn't tell you?" replied Chloe absent-mindedly, running a finger over one of the few pieces of furnishing to check for dust.
"No."
"Eduardo Reyes. Big-ass fucker he was." She looked Nikita square in the eyes. "But I cut his greasy head off with a neat little sword."
Nikita shuddered involuntarily at the emotionless look on Chloe's face. Not even Michael, her co-operative and publicly secret lover, renowned for his blank stares, could have pulled that one off. That girl will fit in much too well around here, she thought.
"Come on, we have a lot of work to do."
"Hang on hang on hang on…" Chloe stopped her from exiting the room.
"What is it?"
"This time, I'm gonna walk next to you. I don't appreciate being treated like something that might as well have a leash on it."
Nikita moaned inwardly at the outlook of spending the next few months working closely together with this girl, as she set off once more down the corridor, with Chloe by her elbow.
"You know," Chloe ranted chipperly, "for a second back there I thought Jeeves was actually going to use the phrase 'you will be assimilated, resistance is futile'."
"Huh?" replied Nikita intelligently.
"Never mind, I don't suppose you people watch a lot of TV around here…"
It had never cost her such an effort before to wrench her lids apart. She wanted to lift a hand up to rub her eyes, and found that she couldn't. She looked down, and could just barely make out through the blur that her arms were fastened to the chair by means of an evil-looking metal contraption. But her immortal constitution did not allow her to feel totally hammered for very long, and she was soon clear-eyedly surveying the bare white room in which she was obviously being held prisoner.
"Hello!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. "I don't like these bracelets! One of you fucking jackasses come and undo them at once!"
The metal startrekkish doors opposite Chloe slid apart to admit entrance to a wickedly grinning but otherwise sophisticated-looking white-haired gentleman. His icy eyes served her a look of undisguised appraisal, and she returned the gesture.
"Ah, there you are, Jeeves," she quipped. "Wanna explain what I'm fucking doing here?"
"First of all, Chloe, congratulations," he replied, successfully ignoring both the insult and the language.
"Oh goody," she retorted, rolling her eyes for drama's sake. "Do I dare ask for what?"
"You were drugged, of course, to facilitate your transportation here. The dose was ample to have levelled a large horse for six or seven hours, but our team had to administer the drug an other three times for you to remain properly sedated. You have a strong constitution and I admire that," he said as he stalked around the room with his hands in his pockets.
"Cut the chitchat gramps. What is this place and why am I in it?"
He chuckled and came to a stop facing her. "You are in Section 1, a high- level covert anti-terrorist organization."
"And?" she queried, eyeing him up and down, unimpressed.
"You killed a man last night, Eduardo Reyes, he was on our list of subjects to be cancelled. When our team had tracked him down and arrived on the scene, the job had already been done by you. Why you did it, and why with a sword of all weapons – so grotesque, really - we don't know, and mind you we don't like admitting there is anything we don't know, but it seemed reason enough to us to recruit you as a new operative in our organization. Therefore," he concluded with a smug smile on his face, "welcome to Section 1."
Chloe should by this time have been panicking, but was feeling more irritated than scared.
"Follow me," said the white-haired man, whose designation in section was 'Operations', as he hit a key hidden in the wall that caused Chloe's bonds to spring open. "We will begin your training immediately."
Chloe stiffly worked her way up out of the chair. "You know, chief, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll pass. I liked my old life just fine, so if you'll point me to the nearest exit…"
He turned around in the door frame and grinned widely. "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way around here. You will follow me."
"You're kidding right?" Chloe chuckled, inwardly annoyed that the phrase 'it doesn't work that way' was recurring so frequently in her life lately. "You're gonna walk out of here with your back to me? Talk about misplaced trust!"
Operations simply turned and exited the room. Chloe darted out in pursuit as swiftly as her stiff limbs would allow, and was startled the wits out of by the appearance of two operatives, clad in black, on either side of the doorframe.
"Oh," she sighed, as the two armed men fell in behind her.
Chloe was led through a clutter of corridors, all equally naked and impersonal and eventually into a large hall with windows and walkways above, a computer area to the left and something resembling a conference area to the right. There were more so-called operatives in this hall, some seated at work stations, some walking around or quietly conversing with each other.
"Nikita, I need to speak with you." Operations signalled a tall young woman. She approached with a walk that reminded Chloe of a candidate in a beauty pageant. She had her medium length blond hair twisted and tied together at the nape of her neck and was wearing a black new-fangled sort of outfit that Chloe thought to actually look rather elegant on her.
"This is Chloe," started Operations, pointing at her. "I'm assigning you as her instructor. Find her some quarters and begin her training immediately. Oh and Nikita," he added before taking his leave, "teach her some manners will you. She has a foul mouth and a bad attitude, and I appreciate neither."
"Yes sir," answered Nikita, sounding anything but submissive. Then they were left alone together.
"I'm Nikita," she said, turning to Chloe. "I guess I'll be your instructor."
"Yes, I'd gathered as much. Say, are you an operative-person-thingy?"
"Yes I am."
"Care to enlighten me as to what that means?"
Nikita sighed. "Section 1 is an anti-terrorist organization. Operatives perform missions that serve this purpose."
"Exterminate the bad guys, rid the world of the putrid stench of their evil presence sorta thing?"
"Something like that…" answered Nikita, almost smiling this time.
"Cool. By the way, Xena, what's the date and what time is it?"
"That is of no concern to you right now," she stated flatly.
"It is if I'm gonna tell you to pretty please give me back my smokes because it's been so and so long since I've had one."
This actually elicited a chuckle from Nikita. "There's to be no smoking on these premises," she admonished. "Follow me."
"Again with the following… What am I, a duckling?"
Chloe followed her brand-new instructor back through the maze of corridors, trying to copy her walk and all the while internally sulking over the loss of her cigarettes. That she was cut off from her life, her friends, that she had lost her sword and was basically in a shit-load of trouble barely seemed to bother her anymore. She had heard the words 'quarters', 'instructor' and 'anti-terrorist' and seen a bunch of people who all looked annoyingly sure they'd get their own way. To her, this meant as much as that she'd be safe enough – for an immortal anyway – and would get to do cool stuff. An adventurous holiday of sorts.
Nikita stopped at one of the doors and Chloe, caught up as she was in trying to walk like a beauty pageant candidate meets waterfowl, nearly bumped into her. The door slid open and Nikita announced: "This will be your room."
"Groovy," Chloe purred, and sauntered in to examine the place.
Nikita gave her a very peculiar look. Chloe noticed. "What?"
"I've never heard a new recruit call her quarters 'groovy'. In fact, I never saw a new recruit making so little fuss about having to be here. How come?"
"To ask the question is to answer it. You just said it: I have to be here. Chucking a tantrum won't make that go away, will it? So why not just make the best of things."
Nikita leaned against the doorframe and continued to look at Chloe appraisingly. "As healthy an attitude as that is, I still don't get it. You were brought here of all places for god knows what reasons, and you're fine with it?"
Chloe chuckled. "I doubt god knows the reasons, but I do. Mr Stick-up-the- ass explained it to me. I killed a guy y'all thought needed exactly that. And who else but happened to be there to catch me red-handed, literally. This is what I get as a token of gratitude. Funny way of recruiting your live-stock if you ask me, though."
"Who did you kill then?"
"You mean they didn't tell you?" replied Chloe absent-mindedly, running a finger over one of the few pieces of furnishing to check for dust.
"No."
"Eduardo Reyes. Big-ass fucker he was." She looked Nikita square in the eyes. "But I cut his greasy head off with a neat little sword."
Nikita shuddered involuntarily at the emotionless look on Chloe's face. Not even Michael, her co-operative and publicly secret lover, renowned for his blank stares, could have pulled that one off. That girl will fit in much too well around here, she thought.
"Come on, we have a lot of work to do."
"Hang on hang on hang on…" Chloe stopped her from exiting the room.
"What is it?"
"This time, I'm gonna walk next to you. I don't appreciate being treated like something that might as well have a leash on it."
Nikita moaned inwardly at the outlook of spending the next few months working closely together with this girl, as she set off once more down the corridor, with Chloe by her elbow.
"You know," Chloe ranted chipperly, "for a second back there I thought Jeeves was actually going to use the phrase 'you will be assimilated, resistance is futile'."
"Huh?" replied Nikita intelligently.
"Never mind, I don't suppose you people watch a lot of TV around here…"