Chapter 1: The Backstabbing Princess

Irina was furious, but not surprised.

"I will strangle her scrawny little..."

She almost spits the words out of her mouth through clenched teeth. Cross, her usually peppy teammate, now turns to her with a pang of guilt on her innocent face.

"I'm so sorry, this is my fault. I should have listened to you…"

"It's fine. She got us good this time."

Cross and Irina had just returned from a mission-gone-wrong with the Murderess, a woman notorious in NLA for her mischief and greed. Cross, being someone who believed everyone deserves a chance, was now suffering the consequences of trusting someone with a bad reputation. Irina had tried to warn her, all too familiar with the Murderess' charming tactics. She wasn't angry with the rookie however. More so, understanding.

The woman who they reported to, Eleonora, asked them with a curious confusion,

"Are you two still interested in taking the remainder of the reward?"

Irina sighs, and turns back to Cross who is visibly trying to make herself seem smaller in the embarrassment of the situation. They had been duped out of 40,000 credits. It was almost worse to take the remaining reward, than nothing at all. Irina shook her head.

"Cross you take it. I have no use for it."

Eleonora happily hands over a package, containing some standard gear. Cross accepts reluctantly.

"Oh, she also told me to send you a message."

Irina scoffs.

"Of course she'd want to rub it in my face…"

Eleonora interrupts her.

"Actually, it's not for you Irina. It's for your friend."

The two BLADE's are dumbfounded.

"Stop by any time, I'm always game for another adventure. Then she asked me to wink but… I don't think so!"

Irina makes a disgusted face at Cross.

"You just got yourself the world's worst fan."

Irina and Cross strolled through the Commercial District, headed for one of their favorite cafè's. They hoped a good cup of coffee would lift their spirits from the recent botched mission. Irina enjoyed taking a break from missions once in a while. She felt at peace when she could witness NLA's citizens carry on with their daily lives. It was comforting to know that, despite all of the darkness humanity had endured as of late, people could still enjoy the simple things. It reminded her of what she was fighting for, alongside her fellow BLADE's.

"So, what's the deal between you and that Murderess woman?"

Cross' question pulled Irina away from her mellow thoughts, and into irritation.

"Really? That's what you want to talk about?"

As they entered the café, modeled after an old Earth breakfast diner, Cross pressed on.

"Can you blame me for being curious? You seem to really have a thing for her."

Irina could have flipped their table over.

"I do not have a thing, for that little backstabbing princess!"

The volume of her voice attracted the attention of several patrons around them. Irina uncomfortably cleared her throat and in a lower, almost hissing tone repeated:

"I do not have a thing for her."

Cross put her hands up in defense.

"I didn't mean it like that! I'm saying like, a vendetta or something."

"You have no idea."

Irina rolls her eyes, turning her attention to the window beside their booth. Cross orders from the waitress for the both of them.

"Is this all because she shot you in the back on that other mission?"

"Oh, it's a lot more complicated than that."

Irina let out a long, tired sigh.

"We've known each other for a looong time. That woman has done a lot more than just shoot my mimeosome in the goddamn back."

Cross stares intently at her friend, big blue eyes hungry for more. Irina was a private person. When she shared like this it was like winning the lottery.

Although, Irina was quick to notice she was already saying more than she wanted. She recoiled.

"Look, don't accept any more missions with her alright? Or do whatever you want. Just don't take me along."

Cross could tell by her tone the conversation was finished. Eto zakoncheno, as the Russians would say. Or something like that.

"Alright, alright. Don't worry about it. We can talk about something else."

Cross knew better than to pry with Irina. Her privacy was respected. Though, Cross knew she'd get her to open up more eventually. She was patient enough.

"Let's talk about you instead. Any luck on your memory recovery?"

Cross shook her head, flopping back in her seat.

"Not at all. But I've gotten less bothered by it, to be honest. I'm making new memories now."

Irina smiles warmly at her friend.

"That's a good way to look at it."

The waitress brings them their coffee, steam lightly dances from the hot drinks. Cross takes a sip immediately, despite the temperature. Irina warms her hands around the cup. She suddenly speaks as though she is thinking out loud.

"Maybe you're the lucky one. Living without the weight of past memories."

Irina sat among a complete mess of scattered metal parts. On her lap lay a rifle that doubled her in size. She appeared childlike, legs crossed while sitting on the cold floor. The digital clock on the wall read 2:38AM in a bright red neon light. This wasn't the first time her anxiety kept her awake involuntarily. Today's coping task was finding replacement parts for one of her weapons.

Being alone in the quiet common room seemed to her like existing in a different dimension. During the day, it was filled with fellow members of her Interceptor division. People talking, cooking, venting, and laughing. The noise was comfortable. Now at odd hours, the room felt unreal.

Occupying herself with a mindless task usually helped calm her now. But tonight she was more on edge than usual. In the corner of the room, a record player skipped. Irina had attempted to fill the silence with a record from one of the archives saved on the trip. She couldn't bother to restart it, letting it skip over and over.

Irina clicked her tongue. She hated wallowing in her own discomfort.

Everyone's going through something. What makes me so special that I can't sleep because of it, she thought. It was true. The recent trauma of leaving Earth, settling on Mira, being hunted by hostile xenoforms… it was a lot to take. Everyone coped in their own way. Still, Irina wanted to hold herself to higher standards.

Her palm became sweaty against the wrench as she twisted, twisted, twisted. But the part simply would not fit. She cursed under her breath.

"B'lyad'…"

"Hey now, such a dirty mouth."

Irina looked up and, to her dismay, saw the Murderess standing in the entryway of the common room. The two-piece sleeper she was wearing could be described as anything but modest. Irina was not surprised. She hardly ever was anymore, when it came to her.

"You are absolutely the last person I want to see right now."

She quickly looked back down at her weapon, forcefully rejecting any eye contact with the other woman.

"Oh unclench will you. I just came by to make sure your little friend got my message."

"Yep, she sure did."

Irina's tone was blunt. She continued to focus on the rifle in front of her. Twisting the wrench even harder now.

The Murderess begins to pace towards Irina, her hips swaying with every calculative step.

"Can I expect a call back from her, or did you shit-talk me too much?"

"You two could become best buddies for all I care, so long as I'm not involved. I let people make their own bad decisions."

The Murderess now stands directly in front of her, arms crossed, with a sly grin on her face. Irina's focus is broken immediately. No longer able to avoid Murderess' presence, her gaze moves from the rifle, up the woman's legs, to her torso, to her face. The Murderess always had a way of reeling her in. Her energy loomed over Irina, who looked up from her low position in a state of submission.

"You look so cute, sitting on the floor with your toys."

Irina's expression contorts further.

"Don't patronize me. Are we done here? You're free to get the hell out."

"You treat all your visitors so rudely?"

"Only the uninvited ones."

Murderess chuckles quietly to herself.

"What are you doing up this late anyway? Taking rifles apart of all things. How boring are you."

"I don't have to explain myself to you. It's better than barging into someone's barracks in the middle of the night."

The Murderess turns away, making her way over to the skipping record player. Irina watches her, one hand rubbing against her temple. She could feel the echo of a headache approaching. Their mimeosome bodies even mimicked human exhaustion, something she could do without.

"Why are you still here? Honestly? Cross will get in touch with you alright. You embarrassed her, but she's interested. I could tell."

"Oh yeah?"

Murderess adjusts the record player. Music once again fills the empty spaces in the air. The volume is low, and the melody is sweet. Bossa Nova, from the 60's. Murderess turns back to Irina, a look of surprised approval on her face.

"She kept asking about you."

"What did you tell her?"

"Oh just that you're a horrible bitch. Now please, leave."

Irina jerks a pointed finger towards the door. Murderess responds with an eye roll.

"Ugh you're so cranky today. Lighten up, I didn't shoot you this time."

Irina had enough. She abruptly stands up, the rifle sliding from her lap and onto the floor with a loud CLING.

"Look, if you're here to kick me while I'm down, go ahead! You couldn't have picked a more perfect time. You did it, you won again. You fucked me over!"

Irina claps her hands together, loudly and sarcastically. The Murderess no longer has a grin on her face. Irina continues, angry words spilling from her mouth like poison,

"Because that's what you do, right? That's what you're good at. And I'm the idiot who falls for it every single time! I've been nothing but a target for your sadistic games since the day we met. You dip your dirty hands into people's lives taking whatever you can, and you have the nerve to boast about it!"

Murderess has her jaws clenched, glaring at Irina, who glares back in equal fervor. Irina has never yelled at her like this before. And then she says something that really crashes through the Murderess' defenses.

"You always get what you want, don't you Sharon?"

Before Irina could continue, the Murderess suddenly closes the distance between them with a sharp stride. In the split seconds following, Irina prepared herself for a swift punch to the face. But it did not come.

Instead, the Murderess grabs a fistful of her tank top, and presses her lips against Irina's.

The Russian woman is frozen at first, her entire body numb. And then, she slowly melted into her senses. Murderess' skin, her lips, her smell. It all consumed her. To her surprise, she did not stop the woman. She didn't pull back. She didn't fight it.

The kiss was harsh, unyielding. It mixed anger with fire and lust and something else neither of them recognized. Murderess finally pulled back slightly. The women now staring at each other face to face, closer than they'd ever been. Irina saw something on Murderess' face that sent lava trickling down her spine. It was a dreamy vulnerability she had never seen before. Not on this woman's face, whose walls were built so high that no one could break through. But Irina saw it. Even if only for a second, before Murderess pulled her back in. This time, even harder.

Taking both her hands to Irina's hips, the taller woman took full control of her body. She began to push her back, keeping her torso firmly pressed against the other woman. Irina stepped back, surrendering into Murderess' overwhelming presence. Murderess forced her right into the wall behind them, pushing onto Irina's body as roughly as she pleased.

Irina's mind was a flurry of emotions. She let herself be pushed, and kissed, and groped. She was ashamed at herself for it, but she did not want Murderess to stop. All that controlled her actions now, was a wicked lust for this woman. This wretched, hypnotizing woman whom she hated and envied and…

An uncontrollable moan, soft and faint, escaped from Irina's mouth and into the other woman's lips. Murderess began to move her hips steadily into Irina, who followed the movement with intensity. Irina's arms had found their way around Murderess' back, clutching the soft fabric of her sleeper. She pulled on her, almost begging to push her harder into the wall.

Murderess suddenly pulls away, their lips reddened and bruised and wet with one another. She takes Irina's wrist, squeezing it until it hurts, pushing her arm into the wall. With her other hand, Murderess grabs Irina's jaw, forcing her to look into her eyes. Irina almost winces from the sudden pain. Their hot, heavy breaths mix together in the small gap between them, bodies still pressed tightly, legs tangled. Murderess finally speaks in between breaths.

"I always get what I want huh? You think you know about what I want? You think you know me now?"

She twists Irina's wrist, ever so slowly and painfully. Irina clenches her teeth.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. So keep your fucking mouth shut."

Murderess gives Irina one final shove before letting her go completely. Irina almost sinks into the wall, icy gray eyes piercing into the woman in front of her. The Murderess lingers for only a second more, before making a swift exit. Irina follows her with her eyes until she disappears, but not without slamming the door.

Irina is left with a haunting silence, only interrupted by the record player, which had begun to skip again.

Exhausted, she sinks back onto the floor, her back sliding against the wall behind her. She looks up at the ceiling, her eyes now drifting. She closes them, overcome by a sensation that both burned and chilled her to her very core.

Author's note:

1. I based the Cross character in this story after the character I created on XCX. (Young girl, freckles, rosy cheeks, pink medium hair, and blue eyes).

2. Not sure if this needed clarification, but the chapter occurs after the affinity mission "My Dream". I included some of the original in-game dialogue as a reference/starting point, but am not claiming it as my own work.

3. I apologize if I jump back and forth between past/present tense in some descriptions. I am used to screenwriting, which is dominated by the present action. But some parts of this story, as I write them, feel more comfortable/true when in the past tense. I just go with it.

4. This story is not pre-planned whatsoever. I am making it up as I go, with only few key points I know I want to cover. Where is this headed? It's a surprise.

5. Thank you for reading!