Chapter 5: Slice of Life / Tranquil Moments
February 24th, 2020
While Las Cielos' open-air sections were designed to mitigate the worst of the winds normally found on high-rise rooftops, they were still colder and more windswept than ground-level Vegas. This gave Valentine the perfect excuse to keep his jacket on as he sat on a sunlounger under a parasol near the Dawn Hotel's outdoor pool. The building continued to rise behind him, being almost as tall again as it was under the Thundercloud.
Alvarez sat outside the parasol's coverage, allowing his well-built upper body to soak in the sunlight but keeping his eyes covered with his aviators. A table stood between the two young men, keeping their mojitos cool in the shade.
"Sling, three o'clock," the tanning pilot noted.
"Nice find," the shaded pilot responded, adjusting his rimless, rectangular sunglasses to get a better view without giving away his line of sight.
"Micro, twelve o'clock, far side of the pool," Valentine pointed out.
"Impressive." Alvarez leaned forward and took a sip of his drink. "Oh, and check the red... Nevermind, she's spoken for. Guy's got good taste, though, I'll give him that.
"Only in women. I can see their canned premixes from here," Valentine said with a chuckle.
"Ugh. My old PJ buddies would chug six-packs of the stuff all the time. I turned down their offers after the first one."
"Did you at least keep it down?"
"Barely. The spicy chicken MRE I had before it didn't help." Alvarez shuddered as he recalled the experience.
Valentine sipped his drink and smirked. "At least your first experience wasn't the iced tea trick."
"You mean when it 'somehow' turns out to be from Long Island?"
"Yeah, and then she tried to pass it off as a science experiment. Apparently, she just wanted to see how my modified nervous system would react to it."
"Was the old man pissed?"
"He was at first, but then I started giving this nonsensical lecture about the difficulties of bioengineering a cow that spontaneously combusts in order to cook itself. Both of them started laughing their asses off."
"So instead of losing your mental faculties when drunk, you just refocus them towards more... unconventional ideas?" Alvarez joked.
"Until I run out of energy. After that, I pass out like anyone else."
"I guess that's-" Alvarez stopped mid-sentence and looked past Valentine. "Holy... Brunette, orange bikini, unevenly tanned face - looks to have been treated with spray-on skin for facial burns."
Valentine turned around to confirm his comrade's observation. "The report did state that three-oh-seven got a little cooked by the Archetype's death explosion. Plugsuit would've protected everything below the neck. The fact that she's wearing sunglasses instead of bandages suggests no eye damage."
"Good points. She is alone, though, so the other pilot is either back inside, or somewhere else entirely."
"Both of them are probably newcomers to Vegas, so it's unlikely that either of them would go far by themselves on their first day here," Valentine speculated.
"I don't know about that. The other one wasn't injured, so maybe they're out and about exploring the city," Alvarez proposed.
"I'd still say that the apartment is the most likely spot. Plenty of indoor types these days."
"This is all assuming that toasty here is even our pilot. Wanna be the one to make a horrible first impression, or should I?"
"You are the designated pointman." Valentine picked up his drink and leaned back, taking a long sip.
Alvarez stood up and stretched. "Then cover me, I'm going in."
"Cover yourself." Valentine grabbed his fellow pilot's discarded T-shirt from the table and threw it at him.
"Still naked without my piece, so you're the lookout here," Alvarez pointed out as he put on the shirt.
"All because somebody wanted to get radiation exposure instead of wearing a stylish and concealing jacket."
"Hey, chicks dig the swarthy Mediterranean look."
Valentine gave a chuckle. "Ten bucks says she'll make the common mistake."
"I'm not much of a gambler, and I didn't take you for one either."
The long-haired pilot took another sip, then gestured with his empty glass. "Only when I know I'll win. Also, she's about to get away."
Alvarez spun around and frantically scanned the poolside. Catching a brief glimpse of his quarry, he quickly walked off in pursuit.
Regina submerged herself neck-deep in the bubbling hot tub, taking off her oversized sunglasses and closing her eyes. Less than a minute later, she felt a shadow over her.
"Yo! How's it going, babe?"
She opened her eyes to see a shirtless bodybuilder leaning over her.
"Gotta say, those burns are nasty, but nothin' a paper bag can't fix."
The new pilot lifted her fingers out of the water and snapped twice. Moments later, the meathead was tackled to the ground by a pair of men in black.
Alvarez couldn't help but smirk as he saw the jock being dragged away by Section-2 agents. He approached less overbearingly, but made sure to stand tall and display confidence.
"I've got a pair for you too, jerkwad," Regina threatened, raising her hand again.
"You got me. I know Walker and Barker over there would never betray me, but I'm not so sure about other Sec-twos," Alvarez joked.
Regina's scornful expression turned to one of surprise, and then interest. "Are you, like, another pilot? You do smell like the... breathable OJ stuff. It doesn't come out no matter how much I shower."
"LCL?"
"That's it. What the hell does that stand for anyway?"
"Lyotropic Citrinitas Liquid. It's a big word salad like every other Shadow-related term," Alvarez explained, taking off his aviators and hanging them on his T-shirt.
"Tell me about it. Did they randomly grab you too?"
The young man sat down next to the hot tub. "No, I had years of military training, and a few Archetype kills under my belt from last year."
"Wow. You don't look much older than me. How were you in the military?" Regina asked as she got up out of the tub to sit level with Alvarez, wrapping herself in her towel to keep warm.
"It's classified, but you're cleared for it since you're Nerv now. After the Impact Wars, Prez Ryan wanted a program to prepare special forces operatives from a young age. Basically, a bunch of kids were put through military training and the ones that showed promise were assigned to train further with various elite units. From what I remember, there was one with Recon, one SEAL, a Ranger, and me with the PJs."
Regina giggled. "Like the kind you wear at night?"
"Pararescue. Jump out of a plane into a hostile zone, grab your captured buddies, then bug out. It's got the longest training course, so they had to skip out on the advanced medical stuff to have me ready in time for the live-fire joint exercises."
"So, you're a child soldier? I had no idea our government could do such a thing!"
Alvarez shrugged. "I don't hold it against them. It gave a couple of orphans something, even if it wasn't quite a normal life. And it came in real handy when it turned out that only kids born after Second Impact could pilot Shadows."
"Not handy enough since I'm here. My name's Regina, by the way."
"Alvarez, Ignacio Alvarez."
"Cool! Are you from Mexico?"
"No, I'm Spanish-American," Alvarez grumbled.
"Ha! Pay up!" Valentine gloated, revealing his presence behind them.
"Regina, meet the lucky bastard commonly known as Valentine." Alvarez held up a note, which the bet winner scooped up as he walked by.
Valentine squatted next to Regina and extended a hand. "Charmed."
"You don't look like a child soldier," the brunette pointed out, giving a firm shake.
"I'm more of a child science experiment," Valentine joked.
"Huh?"
"He's a gene-spliced clone," Alvarez clarified.
"Is that another government program?" Regina asked.
"No, it was carried out by a private institute called Gehirn, which was then integrated into Nerv as the science division. They were the ones who discovered the sync-positive mental pattern in the first place," Valentine recounted.
"Fucking schway! I knew the other pilots would show up!" Nadya shouted as she ran into the spa area, her trench coat billowing dramatically with each bounding step.
Regina cocked her head to the side. "How did you know we were here?"
"I may have listened in through your phone, Reg. Then it took me a while to get up here since I had to take the stupid local elevator down and then ride the express up."
"Oh great, a hacker," Alvarez commented.
"Russian, judging by the accent," Valentine added.
"My name's Nadya, short for Nadezhda. I'm not a super soldier or anything like you guys, but I've been cracking tech all my life."
"Does that include aim hacking?" Valentine teased.
"Of course not!" Nadya put her hands on her hips. "I'm a natural with a gun."
Valentine stood up straight and flipped his hair with his fingertips. "Really now? Care to demonstrate?"
"I would, but Metzger said that I wouldn't be issued one until I get an official commission," Nadya explained.
"The Nerv range allows access to the armory, so we can pick something out from there," Valentine said as he began to walk back to the hotel.
"You're on!" Nadya exclaimed as she caught up with him.
"Wanna head over too?" Alvarez asked Regina.
"Uh, I guess. I haven't shot a gun made for normal-sized people before, though."
"Don't worry, I'll show you how it's done," Alvarez reassured.
Theodore Stanford sat alone in the his simple yet luxurious LA-2 office, listening to the constant rain outside. After checking a message on the flip-up screen built into the desk, he folded it down and switched off the lights in the room.
Four holographic cubes were projected in the center of the room. Each contained an alphanumeric designation.
BF-2's cube changed from white to gold as the distorted voice came in over a speaker. "You overstepped your boundaries."
MR-3 spoke next. "It was a bold move. You should've consulted us beforehand."
"I knew you'd say no," Stanford replied.
"Better to ask forgiveness than permission? I expected more from you, Theodore," P-0 said, his advanced age obvious despite the distortion.
"We had a real nice plant all lined up, too. Then you had to steal all the glory for yourself because you got more strings in Nerv," UW-8 complained.
"It's too late now, but I suppose our operative could still be of some use," P-0 suggested.
"A real shame that we had to waste a Shadow opening on someone so... unsuited," MR-3 taunted.
"At least with my idea, I know I'll be getting some loyalty instead of relying on rehabilitated street trash," Stanford retorted.
"Yeah, a kid with no ability to perform deniable operations. Real genius over here," UW-8 derided.
Stanford folded his arms. "After the Myelin Institute's little incident, I'm not taking any more chances with outside help."
"Don't judge them by their early failures. R&D said that our latest subject in BosWash has a sync ratio roughly equivalent to Gehirn's models," BF-2 informed.
"I know Gehirn had a few early fuckups, but at least none of them required a ten-meter isolation radius!" Stanford shouted, slamming his fist on the table.
A new cube appeared next to the others. "That's the price of progress, my friend. Besides, we were trying to explore avenues that Gehirn had neglected," RD-5 stated.
"You'll all be thanking me when my candidate turns out to be the only reliable one." With the press of a button, Stanford ended the call.
Regina winced every time she fired the HK VP9. Her bullets hit paper, but missed the human-shaped silhouette.
"You're choking it. You want to push with your right hand while pulling with your left, but don't go too hard on it," Alvarez advised.
Trying again, Regina landed a shot where the target's liver would've been.
"Better, but you're still overcompensating a little. Try to-"
Alvarez was interrupted by two barrages of gunfire. The other two pilots were testing their speed-shooting skills against each other, emptying entire magazines into their targets.
Valentine's mag dropped first. He grabbed another one, shoved it into his 1911 and released the slide to continue firing.
Nadya reloaded less than a second later, slamming a fresh magazine in as soon as the old one left her VP9, then continuing to shred the target.
"And the winner is?" the hacker asked after she had finished.
"Neither. You both got some good groupings and some headshots, but you also both had a few go wide," Alvarez explained.
"You should be more careful about missing, Val. Only twelve shots compared to my fifteen," Nadya teased.
"Only the first few hits count in a real firefight, and someone keeps missing when she tries her questionable quick draw," Valentine responded.
Their banter was interrupted by Regina screaming as she attempted to replicate the high rate of fire. The three experienced shooters looked over to her target, which had a grand total of one new hole through the center.
"I think that's enough training the newb for today," Nadya remarked.
Roland Metzger stood on the roof of a Night City hotel, leaning on the railing and exhaling smoke. He watched as cars moved along Las Vegas Boulevard, ignoring the chatter of the rooftop cafe patrons behind him.
The elevator doors opened and Bertram Fuller emerged. The older officer walked over to the edge and lit up his own cigarette.
"Something the matter? the cyborg asked.
Fuller breathed out, letting the smoke get swept away by the wind. "No, but despite you not currently being on the clock, we would appreciate it if you didn't go... off the grid during your time off."
"That hard to find me when I turn off my internal nav?"
"It agitates the CO. You know how she can get."
"Tracked or not, it'll still take me the same amount of time to get to the base in the event of an attack."
"She'd prefer to know if it would be necessary to cover for you or not."
"That lazy, huh? Why doesn't she just make you take care of it?"
"I've always been more of a logistics man myself, Captain, especially after I went to work in peacekeeping and disaster relief for the UN."
"A career officer with a big-picture mindset. Can't say I've had favorable experiences with your type in the past." Metzger threw his cigarette butt into a nearby plant pot.
Fuller simply dropped his spent cig over the guardrail. "The feeling is mutual. You can imagine my reaction when they put a 'rebuilt' Delta operator in charge of tactical operations."
"Small unit tactics, quick thinking under pressure, improvising in unconventional situations. A black ops team leader is a perfect fit."
"A team leader, not a lone wolf," Fuller pointed out.
"Nobody was complaining when I pulled off that asset extraction single-handedly."
"I have to concede that one. A Section-two SRT could've done the job, but it would've been less... ideal. You had a certain rapport with Kasparova that got her on board with us quickly. A tactical team may have just scared her off."
"I'd say that your acquisition of Stanford was likewise good, but she was still pretty nervous when she arrived in Alaska."
"You should be thankful she was that calm when you got her. A sheltered girl like that doesn't take well to life-or-death situations." Fuller pinched the bridge of his nose. "Take a troubled youth from the fringes of society or some third-world hellhole and put a gun in their hands, they'll take to it soon enough. But someone raised in the lap of luxury? Their reaction is not fight-or-flight, it's to freeze up like a deer in the headlights and hope that it's all a bad dream."
"She did show some survival instinct when the time came, clumsy as it was. Now we just have to hope that our troubled youth's toughness rubs off on her." Metzger gave the hint of a smile as he turned on his heel and went to the elevator, leaving Fuller alone with the sound of nightlife.
By midnight, Nadya was sure that the other pilots were asleep. Wasting no time, she booted up her computer and put on a pair of headphones. With the added advantage of internal access, she set about finding a way to hack into the Nerv facility.
Setting up several internal computers and non-critical servers as proxies was easy enough. Intruding past DREAM's active countermeasures was more challenging, but she managed to use a tunnelling protocol to disguise her intrusion as routine data transfers.
"And the night shift sysadmin is... playing CS and ranked silver. What a noob," Nadya commented, snickering as she continued to hack.
The firewall on the active database servers proved annoyingly difficult, but Nadya found that the on-site backups were significantly more vulnerable, giving her easy access to data that was only two days old.
"Tell me your secrets, boys."
Going alphabetically, she skimmed through Alvarez' and Metzger's personnel files before coming to Valentine's.
"V-day - must be how he got the name. 'Born' in Seattle-two - that's pretty schway. Attached to Nerv science division when it was formed from Gehirn in twenty-ten. Began general Nerv operational training from age twelve, Shadow training from age fifteen. Aww, it doesn't show the results of any cool science experiments he was in. I'll probably need to get into a specific science archive for those."
She went back into the server, checking for more files. "Pilots from other facilities don't seem to be here. Guess I'll have to hack internationally for those. Still, it'll be helpful to do it from this network instead of a random computer, although it does make it easier to trace as well."
After editing the computers' access logs to cover her tracks, she dumped the stolen files to an external hard drive, encrypted them, and put the drive in the middle of a stack of identical ones. She then rebooted the RAM drive she had used for temporary storage and loaded up a few games with high system requirements to make sure her RAM was thoroughly cleaned.
Unbeknownst to the hacker, there was a second tunnel currently transmitting data. It avoided the Nerv network under the city, only going into the Dawn Hotel.
First impression was good. I should be able to recruit her soon enough.
Wait until you've experienced combat together. It will help.
When will my contact arrive?
Next few days. They will provide you with a more permanent security exploit.
Any targets of opportunity right now?
No. Maintain observation only status and fulfill Nerv duties as normal until further notice.
Understood.
After powering down the computer, Valentine took off his shoes and stood on the desk to reach up into the ceiling vent. He retrieved a metal case the size of a hardback book and opened it, checking on the items held in cut-out foam padding before replacing it in the vent.
"Now we wait," he said to himself as he lay back on the bed.