Tuesday, 6:05pm, Hawaii-Aleutian Time
The Big Island.
Now this is the life.
Rachel Amber sipped drowsily at her oversized cocktail, complete with umbrella and fruit garnish, served in a coconut shell as the skilled hands of a young Hawaiian woman worked out the knots in muscles she didn't even know she had.
For what seemed like the eighth time this week - and it was only Tuesday evening! - she reveled in how swiftly her fortunes shifted in a mere six months. April started with her frenzied flight from the country after nearly being captured by agents the Krashne Zmei - an old Soviet holdover that still administered government Specials operations within Russia and most of the Commonwealth of Independent States. The rest of the spring flew by as what was left of the Prometheus Institute struggled for survival, playing cat-and-mouse games of attrition with the Russians; by the end of it, she and two others were all that were left of P.I. K.Z., on the other hand, essentially suffered a complete asset loss, at least of the things that mattered most; they'd be rebuilding for years.
Stupid, stupid assholes!
Rachel still couldn't believe that after all the years the Prometheus Institute managed to successfully avoid falling prey to groups like the US Specials Oversight and Administration Project - including and especially their fucking fascist stormtroopers, the Damocles Initiative - it was the Russians who managed to take them all down in the end.
They totally lucked out. Had to have been it. They were fucking desperate though.
The stupid little war China picked with powerful inter-dimensional entities ultimately spilled out into much of East Asia. Red Sun in Japan skillfully deflected the few invasion attempts mounted by the Sh'iguth'cthulin, who then chose instead to start tearing new holes out of Korea and Siberia. While the horrors inadvertently unleashed by the Chinese were eventually beaten back - with the public none the wiser - Krashne Zmei was left at barely a quarter of its strength, with orders to acquire new talent wherever it could.
And so they managed to snatch up a couple of losers here and there...like those kids calling themselves the Lightning League, and the Diamond Shards in Thailand. I guess they figured a bunch of stupid Utopian dreamers on the American West Coast would be easy pickings.
Rachel took another long slurp of her drink and mused,
Irony is really damn...ironic...aw shit, this stuff is strong!
By the time the dust settled, and Rachel was able to catch her breath, it was clear that the Prometheus Institute was effectively dead; on the other hand, the Russians were no longer a credible threat, and no one else seemed aware of her existence either, at least no one hostile. Deciding that strength in numbers was preferable to potentially being picked off one by one, Rachel came up with the clever - and incredibly desperate - idea to reorganize the tiny handful of remaining Prometheus Specials as 'independent contractors'. The group bore no actual name, though she jokingly referred to them as "Amber's Angels".
In the beginning, she was absolutely convinced the entire hare-brained scheme was doomed to quickly fail, borne as it was from lack of any other reasonable ideas. But she was pleasantly surprised to discover that there were any number of corporations, private security firms, and corrupt third world governments more than happy to hire themselves a little superhuman muscle. Her's wasn't even the only group in the world that offered this sort of service; certainly it was the smallest - herself and three others - but not by a lot.
Their first hastily assembled job - "convincing" a US Senator to change their vote on a key piece of legislation - was an unqualified success, earning them operating capital, reputation, and a political favor or two. By the time September started, they'd had a busy summer, scoring far more hits than misses, and the group agreed this new business was the way to go. In between jobs, they did their best to try and build perfectly normal seeming lives for themselves.
Rachel was glad for the slowdown; up to now, she'd been running the whole group by the seat of her pants, fueled as much - if not more - by sheer, stupid luck as it was competency. Already, they'd come close to being detained by Interpol and the FBI, and she almost made a few stupid mistakes with the money she'd earned before finding someone relatively trustworthy to launder it for her.
Just gotta make sure we stay below the radar, is all. We can do it, and we can be great at it, long as we don't get too visible.
Over the last month, everyone was taking things easy; the group needed time to rest and recover, come to grips with their losses: friends, family, colleagues. The plan was to lay low until at least the end of the year, although Rachel was still brokering one or two easy jobs a month. The rest of her time was spent gallivanting across the globe, enjoying the jet-set lifestyle her new-found wealth provided. Just enough money to make life fun and interesting, but not so wealthy that she was wandering around in the rarefied air of the global elite; that arrangement suited her.
For now, she was chilling on the Big Island of Hawai'i, having procured a week long pass to a classy spa resort. Not the fanciest place on Earth, but certainly the tops in Hawaii. The staff were ridiculously accommodating and attentive, allowing Rachel to make the most of her vacation; swimming, driving, maybe a little jet skiing. Nothing too crazy, but God knows she earned her downtime.
"Freshen that drink for you, Aegis?" a male voice suddenly asked.
"Mmmm? Yeah, sure, that..."
She startled, shooting up from the table, and then scrambling to cover herself with a towel. Whomever this person was, he addressed her by her old P.I. code name, one she was never fond of.
But damn if Doctor P didn't loooove that kind of shit.
"Geezus dude, personal boundaries." she snarled. Quickly, Rachel appraised her options and struggled to push back the tightening knot of fear building up in her stomach. She was unarmed, having left her gun in the room, because one sure as hell didn't open carry in a fancy, private resort. Clearly she'd been made, so trying to deny who was actually was insulting to them both.
That left the best course of action being to hear the guy out and see what he wanted. There might be a chance she could turn things to her advantage, and she definitely had no qualms about using her natural charms and allure to her benefit. It helped that he wasn't bad looking...not bad at all; Rachel usually preferred women, but she'd been known to have a bit of fun with the right man. He was in his mid to late thirties, with dark hair. Certainly older than she liked, but he obviously worked on his body; not exactly rock hard and chiseled, but he kept himself in good shape. Really good. Like he'd seen his fair share of action in the past.
"Apologies for spooking you, especially at this ah - heh - vulnerable moment. First, and foremost, the people I represent sincerely hope you've been enjoying yourself. They've been quite eager to make your acquaintance for some time now."
Rachel blinked, "What? Oh, yeah. No...no everything's great. Thanks?"
He nodded towards the masseuse, and the other woman returned to massaging her back. "Don't mind me, you just lay down and relax. I mean, I intend to be talking business, but there's no reason you can't enjoy yourself while we do, Ms. Amber. Like I said, the folks I work for went to a lot of trouble making sure you took some time off at one of their properties. Someplace private, where we can talk."
Damnit...damnit! Chill. Seriously, just chill Rachel. Don't freak. Like, at all.
Rachel glanced about, trying to appraise her situation and surroundings: what could be used as a weapon, the quickest way to the exit, the likelihood of making a clean getaway, naked, in a resort apparently controlled by...well...she had no idea. Organized crime, she figured. Maybe one of the big groups. Whomever it was, it was exactly the kind of attention she hoped to avoid, at least for a while longer.
Shit, they've really got me by the tits here..
Taking a judicious sip of her drink, more for casual show than anything else, Rachel narrowed her eyes, laid her head out on the tops of her splayed palms, letting her blonde hair pool over her shoulder and said, "Fine. You have my fucking attention, that's for sure. So who are you, and what kind of business do you have in mind?"
Circling his two index fingers around each other, the other man said, "Let me sorta answer all of that in reverse. First, as to who I'm here on behalf of? That would be the Zaibatsu. Specifically, I'm here representing the direct authority of the mitsudaimyo itself."
Oh. Shit! I am soooooo screwed...
Originally a secretive group of industrialists and politicians based out of Japan, the Zaibatsu's power and fortune waxed and waned over the decades after World War Two. By the turn of the millennium, they were an afterthought at best, the worst of their potential excesses thwarted time and again by Red Sun. But over the past year or two, they were quietly on the rise yet again, especially as other world players were getting knocked back and stuck wasting time climbing back up. Rumor had it the remaining bulk of the worldwide Specials community was witnessing the S.O.A.P.'s prolonged saber rattling with increasing dread, and in response multiple smaller groups were combining under a single umbrella in order to form a wedge against them. Certainly, it would explain why Rachel hadn't seen anyone from the Children of Hypatia or XYZZY since the start of the year. She just didn't know who was pulling those strings, and made the mistake of assuming it was either the Chinese or the British.
The fact that I'm being softened up with attentive service and tasty beverages is probably a good thing. But a velvet glove can easily hide an iron fist.
She wasn't sure if this was her lucky day, or the beginning of the end; the Zaibatsu possessed a reputation for ruthlessness, although they still followed a curious and strict code of honor and obligation. Granted, this was all back during their last zenith in the nineteen-eighties.
With a herculean effort, Rachel kept her face as placid as possible, taking another fake sip, and muttering. "Really? Huh. Funny thing, not that I know a lot about you guys because you know, the Eighties might as well be the Stone Age to me, but from what little I heard, this seems really...polite, for you guys. When the Zaibatsu wanted something, especially from a gai-jin, they just took it. I mean, sure, they candy-coated it, made it look pretty and artistic like a little bonsai tree, but you either gave in quick or you got dead. Maybe both."
Sighing heavily, and rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling, the still-unnamed man leaned in a bit, "I know, right? I mean, don't get me wrong, I understand the name has a certain cachet, but there's baggage attached as well. You're not the first person to flip out when they hear it. A few months ago, I half-jokingly suggested corporate re-branding, buuut..." He then leaned back, crossing his arms. "I was outvoted. Suffice it to say, the new head of the mitsudaimyo? She's really quite insistent on sanding down some of the needlessly sharp edges of the past. I mean," He chuckled and said with a smile, "...don't get me wrong, we'll stomp you into a bloody spot if you go out of your way to fuck with us, but we don't see the point in creating enemies needlessly." With a hint of steel, he concluded, "Not when we have a mutual foe we need to keep our eyes on."
Rachel smirked. She assumed he meant the S.O.A.P., because who else was really left for the rest of the world to gang up against? But that didn't mean she felt like finding out what particular beef he had with them, either.
Seriously, what more does he need? Other than they're fascist fucks who won't leave you alone if they find out you've got powers, especially powers they think make a good weapon. I mean, that always worked for me as a reason.
Indifferently tracing her fingertips over the vinyl topping the massage table, she muttered, "Right. Yup. We hates them, precious. So before we get to the whole reason you guys lured me here, you got a name, or do I have to keep saying 'Hey You.' She smirked, punctuating her statement with yet another slurp.
Leaning back, he gave a soft smile and answered, "You can call me Lethe."
Resting her face against a palm, Rachel groaned, which then deepened into a moan as a troublesome knot finally released itself. Loath to end the massage, but realizing she needed to reduce her distractions, she held up a hand and said, "Ohh. Yes. Thanks, but I'm all massaged out for the moment, sweetie." Giving the two of them a knowing smile, the other woman departed.
Rachel sat up, re-wrapped the towel around herself, and turned to the man who called himself Lethe. "Yeah, let me repeat that: uggggh!" She snorted. "The fuck with the code names? I mean, it's cute how Doctor Prometheus liked doing it with us, but Doc was as crackers as he was brilliant. Acting like it was still the Sixties or something."
She sighed softly, her heart weighing heavy for a few moments as she remembered her old mentor. For all the times he drove her crazy with his utopia vision thing, he was kind. And he was respectful. And possessed of a singular vision for a better tomorrow. One he wanted to share with as many people as he could.
And most important of all, he sacrificed himself so that she and the rest of her team could escape from the Russians.
"I mean, sure, the folks in my stable do it, but A: it's kinda for their own protection, and B: some of them are idiots who get off on that kind of thing." she concluded.
Lethe laughed bemusedly, shaking his head. "Oh believe me, I know how you feel, really, I do. But you have to understand the Japanese: they're a culture fixated on honorifics and social hierarchy. Names, titles, positions, they all have power. Granted, I'm generalizing the hell out of them, but for the purposes of my explanation, it's apt. For instance, did you know, during the Edo period, samurai took many different names during their life; at childhood, and when they became an adult...and sometimes, to mark a significant event in their life...a change."
"Uh huh." Rachel deadpanned, still doing her best to play it cool, uncertain as to whether the man in front of her was actually so personable, or simply wearing an inscrutable mask. "Well, thanks for the social studies lesson, but we're talking biz now, right?"
"Right. Right! Straight to it, no time for bullshitting. This is why they sent me, and not one of the natives. Originally, our intention was simply to establish a basic relationship with you; you've had some success, and folks are taking notice. Not just us. For a kid your age to get this far..." He paused, clearly reacting to the sour expression she was giving him at this, "C'mon, seriously. You're not even twenty years old yet. You're luckier than you have any right to be."
She hissed out, "Fine, yes, I can see your point." She didn't like it, but she couldn't deny it. She wasn't some great international woman of mystery, that was for sure. Bravado and good fortune were only going to carry her so far, and as much as the thought of getting wrapped up at the "big league" levels scared the shit out of her, she couldn't deny what an absolutely awesome opportunity this could be, assuming she lived through it.
"So as I was saying, this was just supposed to be an informal discussion of potential future business arrangements. Buuuut, something's suddenly come up, something you just happened to be incredibly well suited for. To get to the point, we want to retain your services for a specific job. More to the point, yours and one of your agents: The Domina."
Hmm. Going for the big gun, are you?
"Cool. I mean, she's kinda on hiatus in a big way, but if you're willing to pay my exorbitant introduction fee, I'll do my best to see if she's interested in jumping back into the game early."
"I don't think you'll have much trouble bringing her on board once you hear the assignment."
"Oh yeah?" Rachel asked. "And what would that be?"
Pausing to run his tongue over his teeth, Lethe tilted his head almost imperceptibly to the side, and said. "Tell me, Rachel...can I call you that?" She frowned in response, and he ignored her. "What do you know about Kronos?"
Rachel blinked, her jaw dropping just a bit.
"Oh fuck, seriously? You went through all this shit to get me to come to Hawaii just to talk about BS rumors and tall tales?"
"Not a rumor, I can definitely assure you." His jovial demeanor quickly bled away, his voice far more steely now."So...again, I'm gonna ask, what do you know about Kronos?"
Fine, fine, shit, I'll humor you...
Rachel shrugged her shoulders and sighed dramatically, "Kronos is supposed to be some big bad Special boogieman cooked up by the S.O.A.P. Like, they were playing around with cloning and genetic manipulation to try and make their own vat-grown Specials. That after the Second World War, the US snagged a bunch of ex-Nazi scientists and put them to work. And after a few decades, they kind of succeeded, but they ended up with this hideously deformed and stupid crazy mutant who was insane...only able to see infinite futures, but unable to focus on the present. Some folks say Kronos could actually change the past, like literally go back in time and shift things around. Doc P was convinced Kronos existed, but that he only opened up gateways to alternate timelines, and the US Government was obsessed with finding virgin universes that they could mine for resources. But, I mean, whatever. It all sounds like posturing and bullshit to me."
"Oh really? What makes you so sure?" Lethe asked.
"Everyone know's Paul Martinet is a self-important asshole who's pissed that all his PNAC buddies totally blew it in the Middle East and never got to establish some kinda, I don't know what you'd call it? Eternal American hegemony? Oh! That's an awesome name for a punk rock band, by the way!" She brushed back a few strands of hair and continued, "He gets put in charge of the S.O.A.P. as a political favor and all of the sudden, these rumors about Kronos start making the rounds, as if out of a vacuum. It's soooooo fucking obvious what's going on; he's getting all the warmongers wet, making it sound like they've got some super-weapon that's gonna put the US on top forever. And like magic, everyone falls for it, and the funding gets goosed up...the overwhelming majority of which he gives to the Damocles Initiative, even though the S.O.A.P. was originally meant to be a scientific research group. I mean, c'mon!" Rachel laughed derisively. "A mega-powerful super-Special that can see into the future or change the past? No one with that level of power's ever Emerged. Not even close. That would be such a huge game changer! Everyone would seriously freak out if it were true."
Lethe smiled, almost painfully wide. He crossed his legs, laid back in his chair, and tapped the tips of his fingers together. "Yes. I suppose they would. And isn't it funny, that Martinet takes over in the middle of 2008, and the next year, the Tianming in China start undertaking the kind of risky, desperate experiments that resulted in the Dimension War? And then Krashne Zmei start forcibly acquiring - ah - assets a few years later. Trust me, I know the history, they've never acted so damn scared in the past. And now the Zaibatsu is reforming itself as a collaborative of disparate interests with only one truly common goal."
Rachel jumped right into it, "Okay yes, big fucking yay. Damocles is getting way too powerful, all of the sudden. Fuck, it might as well be the same thing as the S.O.A.P. at this point, instead of just a sub-branch. And yeah, all you've done is just prove that it's freaking out everyone else. That doesn't mean it's because Kronos is anything more than a myth. I mean, why don't we all live in some sort of reality where the United States reigns supreme, and has no one to challenge it? Like, at all? If they have Kronos, they're doing a shitty job of utilizing him."
"Maybe they tried. Maybe it went badly. They had to take it all back, and what we have right now is the best result. How would you know?"
She shrugged. "It's still too damn big. Changes the status quo way too much. I mean, shit, just the rumor of it has everyone running around like idiots. In a few more years, Martinet will be gone, and then this shit will probably quiet down. Maybe the S.O.A.P. gets stupid too, and shrinks down, and some other group, I don't know, probably you guys, get to play Special Superpower for a decade or so. There seems to be a lot of creative destruction in our little community lately. But sooner or later, everything will go back to normal, and everyone will feel like morons for buying into this notion that one singular person came along and changed the balance of power."
Lethe stared hard at her, for a good five seconds, before he deadpanned, "A few people think the same thing about you, Rachel. They have a charming little expression for it and everything: a black swan."
Rachel's blood turned cold as her heart felt like it was seizing up in her chest for a brief moment. A surge of adrenaline flooded her limbs. Trying to play it cool, she smiled and shrugged, "Sorry dude, I've got no idea what any of that is supposed to mean. Nulls aren't anything special. We just keep everyone else's powers from working."
Holding up a hand, Lethe spoke in a reassuring tone, "Don't worry, believe me: barely anyone is left in the world who knows, or even suspects that you're anything more than a mere Null. God knows Doctor Prometheus took great pains to wipe out every Zmei facility or database that he even suspected had the information. Man went as far as sacrificing his life to keep that secret safe. I mean, you don't seriously believe that The Domina was K-Z's primary target for acquisition, do you?"
Rachel swallowed back the acid bile rising to her throat. Suddenly, she wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, other than here. She felt as if her back were pressed to the wall, and her life might be measured in minutes going forward.
"Right, well you're on the verge of a panic attack by the look in your eyes, so let's just get right to it, shall we?" Lethe opened up his robe, and pulled out an eight by ten manila envelope. "Here. Take it. Say hi to Kronos."
Reaching out hesitantly - as if it might bite her - she snagged the thin envelope, opened it up, and slid out the glossy photo inside. Turning it over in her hands, she studied the image: a girl. Muscular for her age, trained rigorously, that much was obvious. Dressed up in the standard Damocles field uniform, she seemed unaware of being photographed. She was in a city somewhere, but Rachel couldn't tell which one.
Breathing out softly, she exclaimed, "Jesus fucking Christ. She's just a kid..."
That might have been an exaggeration. Really, the girl looked to be as old as Rachel herself. They could have easily been in the same grade in school together, back in the day. And in that vein, there was something familiar about her, but she couldn't put her finger on what.
"She has a name, you know?" Lethe spoke, a sad, distant look in his eyes. "Maxine. But she hated that, hated it when you called her anything but Max."
Glancing over the edge of the photo, Rachel said, "Oh yeah? You almost sound like you know her personally."
Lethe pointedly ignored her as he continued to speak, "She was barely thirteen when they took her away; the flare window after she Emerged was incredibly powerful, made her easy to find...just follow the trail of broken reality. She got snagged by a Damocles team in under seventy-two hours."
Rachel closed her eyes and thought back to what she could remember of Damocles and the S.O.A.P. What Doctor Prometheus told her, what few fragments she could still glean as a result of her own unusual Emergence. She then said, "I know in the old days, they used to just put you on a watch list, the Register, I think they called it? Especially if you were a minor. Really lean on you to join, and they'd watch every move you made for the rest of your life, but as long as you weren't too much a threat, they left you alone...more or less."
Lethe's lips tightened thinly across his face. "Well, that was a long time ago. But even before 9/11, do you really think they would have just let her be?"
Rachel shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe? Depends, I guess."
She groaned, immediately regretting her answer.
"Never mind. Er...Jesus. Anyhow, was she really that much of a threat? Like, are we talking Back To The Future shit here, or just she can only predict the next hand of blackjack at the casino?"
Lethe rose up from the chair, turning away from her and glancing out one of the small windows into the setting sun. His shoulders slumped, and his head bowed low. Clearly there was so much he wasn't telling.
Who the hell are you, dude? Seriously.
"New York City was supposed to be a crater in the ground, yesterday afternoon. A - ah -" he turned back around, his face locked back down into a mask of placid geniality. "Terrorist attack, or so the scuttlebutt goes. Nuclear."
Rachel snorted, "Uh, pretty sure I would have heard about something like...oh shit." She paused. "Wait. Wait, shit, seriously?"
"It was her first mission. After years of training her and honing her powers to the breaking point. But something went wrong. Our intelligence assets are trying to piece it all together, but we do know Max was deployed so she could change the past. She succeeded, but a major complication broke out. In the confusion, she managed to escape. Slip through all the security precautions, shake off the trackers they loaded her down with. Now Damocles has no idea where she's gone."
Lethe chuckled, turning his head to one side; he looked proud, like a father who just saw his daughter score the winning goal.
"The Zaibatsu's been watching the situation for a while, waiting to see if an opportunity would present itself. It has, so we've been working overtime to keep Damocles guessing, while we try and figure out where she went before they do. Right now, we've managed to convince them she's in Canada, but it's probably not gonna take more than a week for them to figure out that's a dead end. As to where she actually is: we have some ideas...we know she started out in New York City, obviously. We have our best minds working every angle, and want to extend a friendly hand to her. Get her to come aboard."
Rachel rolled her eyes, "And then you guys get to be the biggest, scariest bitches on the block. Maybe you all should just leave her..."
"NO!" Lethe all but yelled. He grimaced, clutching at his hands as he struggled to regain control. "It's - it's not like that! We won't keep her a prisoner. We won't force her to do anything she doesn't want to. The Zaibatsu just wants to get her off the playing board, away from Damocles and out of the S.O.A.P. entirely. I mean, of course they'd like her to work with their own scientists...there's all sorts of ways in which she could be of positive benefit to the world...the whole world, not just one country!" He paused, and then glared at her, accusingly, "We're not like them!"
Rachel gave a slow and easy roll of her shoulders, "Hey, whatever, dude."
Hah. Yeah. Right. Are you seriously naive enough to think that they won't be trying to use her to make themselves more rich and powerful. I mean, shit, her and me together, with our powers combined? We could probably make the world ours. Meh, too much fucking work though.
On the other hand, Rachel really fucking hated the S.O.A.P. Of course, she hated almost all of the government-backed Specials groups as a general rule, although Red Sun never gave her any grief in the past. Also she once ended up working briefly with some people at Task Force Excalibur, and they at least let her walk away from the experience.
As for the dicks from Damocles, she never had any direct dealings with them, but she heard enough horror stories from people she trusted. Not to mention what she learned the day she Emerged; she couldn't remember most of it, but she figured she recalled enough to know the score for certain.
Might be good to get on the winning side of this.
Rachel realized "might" had nothing to do with this. If she and the rest of her group - playing at being their own tiny faction - wanted to do anything more than live long enough to be quickly squashed underneath a much bigger group's thumb, she was going to need to find a long shadow to take refuge in.
"Alright, fine. I get that." Rachel said soothingly. "I agree, we're all on the same side here, more or less. So this is pretty simple, right? You want me to try and bring The Domina in, and she and I are somehow going to try and figure out Kronos' location and then talk her down? Get her to come on board with your gang?"
Lethe appeared much calmer now. "Something like that. We'll be providing you with updated intelligence on her location as time goes on...as we figure it out. And we're hoping you might find something we miss."
She asked the next obvious question, "And if I decide this isn't my style? That this shit is all too hot, and I want to walk away?"
Lethe walked over, and opened up the door to the outside. "Then we thank you for your time, Ms. Amber, and trust that your reputation for discretion is as solid as we've been led to believe."
They stared at each other for a few seconds. Rachel wasn't sure exactly what to believe; she was pretty certain she'd walk away from this alive, but she harbored no illusions that she'd emerge completely unscathed, one way or the other. Especially not from a man who called himself Lethe.
"So. You're gonna trust just the two of us, huh? Hope that Kronos'll trust me, because I'm also a girl roughly her age?"
"Good a reason as any, right? Also, the two of you together, you and the Domina, have a perfect skillset for the job." Rachel was still unnerved by the fact that Lethe seemed to know the full extent and breadth of her powers, but figured there was no point in making anything of it for the time being.
"There's also the fact..." he continued. "...well, what would you say if I told you that Kronos was probably the reason why you and The Domina Emerged as well?
Three hours later found Rachel fully packed, stepping out of the limo that had driven her to the private airfield where a Zaibatsu corporate jet was waiting for her. A tall, muscular Japanese man, bald-headed, with a tattoo of a dragon inked on the side of his neck stood silent vigil, holding out a case. Next to him was an older, smaller Asian woman, in an impeccable black business suit. She reached over to open the attache case, and intoned:
"The agreed upon amount, Aegis-san. You may feel free to count it all, if you wish."
It required a monumental effort on her part not to roll her eyes and snort derisively. On the other hand, Rachel wasn't a country bumpkin, not anymore; she understood the expectation of honor, the ritual, the whole weird little games the Japanese wanted to play. She nodded, giving a little bow, and said, "I'm sure the Zaibatsu has no intention of deceiving me. Not when we both stand to benefit from this arrangement." With that, she closed the case
Besides, you fuckers gyp me on the benjies, I'll just convince this Max girl to join up with my group. Ha! That would be awesome! We'd be totally elite, completely untouchable...
Her childish power-fantasy lasted precisely three seconds, before the cold, harsh reality set in.
Sure they've thought of that. Already planned for that contingency. Probably a team shadowing me, waiting to see if I'll pull that trick. Fuck.
She took the case in her arms, and then bowed again as expected to the Zaibatsu representative, before clambering up the stairs into the plane.
"Good hunting to you. The Zaibatsu has high hopes for your success." The woman gave a thin, wintery smile.
Rachel turned sideways, nodded once, and then made her way inside.
Aw shit. You're really up to your eyeballs in it now, bitch. I mean, I wanted to succeed, to have some control over my own life, but I never wanted to run with dogs this big.
But if she was doomed, she was definitely going to enjoy herself in her last days; the jet was absolutely gorgeous. Tastefully appointed in dark tones, hardwood accents, overstuffed plush chairs. The back of the plane even had a small bathroom and queen sized bed. Not to mention the expectation of getting a meal and catered to on the trip over.
Placing the valise down on a nearby table, she opened it up, and made an earnest check of the cash. Everything looked legit; no stupid tricks, no sloppy, obviously counterfeit bills, no layer of shredded newsprint to try and pad out the cash on top. It was all here. Everything she asked for...
"I want ten million dollars" she stated bluntly.
Lethe's placid shell nearly fractured, as he started to sputter, "Wh-wha-what?! You...I mean Jesus, you can't...what possibly makes you think you're going to get that kind of ridiculous payday?"
It was crazy. It was desperate, a complete gamble. But she needed to show she had some guts, that she wasn't just a pushover who'd do whatever she was told.
"Because you're the fucking Zaibatsu! That's like what, the amount you guys spend on sushi and the lines of blow off you all snort off the asses of naked underaged Japanese schoolgirls in a week? Seriously, this is Kronos! The legend! Or so you're telling me. The Special that everyone thought was a made up tale to bullshit the US Congress into pumping up the S.O.A.P.'s black budget, while freaking out the rest of the world and keeping us off-balance. I'm putting my tits on the line here. What if she sees me coming, goes back in time and kills Grampa Amber, and boom, I don't exist any more?"
Lethe scowled, "She wouldn't do that! My God...even if she had that kind of power, she would never...ever...!"
Rachel held out her hands, "Okay, okay, fine, I get it, she's your special little snowflake. Honestly, I don't care about your story here, but I do know that if I pull this off, I'm handing you guys All The Power. So I want ten million, that's cheap! You guys can make that up in an hour, manipulating any and all of the stock and gambling markets. Frankly, I should be asking for more. Because if this really is Kronos you're talking about, and she's as world-shaking as everyone thinks? This shouldn't be anything for you guys. You should be willing to pay me a hundred million. Or a billion! Not that I'm asking, but...you see my point, right?"
A look of dismay crossed Lethe's face, but it quickly morphed into something that demonstrated how impressed he was with her, before he smothered it completely with a neutral mask. Smiling graciously, he shook his head and said. "Still can't agree to ten. Three though, maybe I can talk them into it."
She snorted. "Yeah, right, I wipe my ass with your three. Eight and a half."
"Oh come on. I know you think the Zaibatsu is all money and money and money, but it's not like that. We can't just snap our fingers and make cash appear out of thin air. I'm already putting my neck out on the line if I tell them you'll agree to four."
"Oh bull-fucking-shit, four. But you're cute, and I'm still a tiny bit drunk, so I'm willing to slip down to six and a quarter." she retorted.
"Five." Lethe said, in a tone that indicated that as far as he was concerned, the negotiations were over. "Five million, and I'll point out that if you do manage to bring her back safely to us, you'll have the Zaitbatsu's undying gratitude. So take a moment to consider the long-term benefits, both tangible and otherwise, that situation would present you."
Rachel made a show of pursing her lips, just a bit of a pout. In actuality, she would have settled for two mil and a promise never to be bothered by them again; internally, she was skipping back and forth in utter delight. Especially if she ended up as a "made" woman.
"Fine. I think I can work with that. But I'm gonna need ten percent of that in cash up front before I start."
"Holy shit! Kid, you really don't know when to stop push-"
Rachel cut him off short, "It's not for me! Not...exactly. Look, you guys want me to rope The Domina in for this job? Well believe it or not, even the chance to go legend-hunting may not stir her out of her weird little 'I want to try being a normal person for a while longer' routine that she's playing at right now. But you send me out with a suitcase just hella chock with paper? Believe me, I know her tastes, and this'll be totally tasty to her."
Lethe nodded appreciatively. "Yeah. Okay. Sure, I think we can do that. Give me three hours to get things prepared. You go pack, get whatever you need ready to go, and there'll be a limo waiting to bring you to a jet..."
"You gonna give me a full briefing on the situation?" she asked.
He smirked in return. "You get your little team together first. Once we see you've got that much taken care of, we'll bring you in the rest of the way."
There was one last thing inside, small and thin, and vaguely reminiscent of a smartphone or tiny media player. A paper note in crisp handwriting read: "If you run into complications, try giving this to her. It's keyed to her retinal pattern, so only she can access the data on it. - L"
Slipping the device into her jacket pocket, and then closing the case back up, Rachel sighed.
So she was going back to the Bay. Back home.
Well, not exactly home. I mean, I only lived there for school. Still, had some awesome memories. Shitty ones too but...
She'd swing by, make the pickup. Maybe spend a day or two taking care of old business. If nothing else she'd probably have to deal with Frank, if he got wind of her return...
Ugh...this is me, rolling my eyes internally.
...and then there was Chloe.
Rachel's heart sank like a stone. She slumped in her chair, remembering the last time they talked. It was a shitty thing she had to do; she'd be the first to admit that her conscience acquired a certain degree of flexibility, borne of the need to survive over the past half-year, but when she took the time to really consider how badly it ended between her and her former best friend...
...I really, really liked you Chlo-lo. That was never fake. I mean, it's obvious you were in love, and I wasn't. Soooohhhreee, maybe it's not fair, but I never lied about my feelings. Doesn't mean you weren't...aren't special to me. So authentic, and so gritty, not to mention adorable beyond belief. I do...I really do miss you.
She had to cut her off, for Chloe's own protection. That's what Rachel kept telling herself. But after their talk last month, it sounded like she left her in some financial shit with her own sorta-kinda-but-not-really boyfriend. All because Chloe thought she was dead and going crazy from grief.
She bowed her head, covering her eyes.
"Fucking suck sometimes, Rachel. You really do." she muttered.
Straightening up, she glanced over at the case. Smirked to herself.
Well...ooookay then Chloe. Seems like fate is stepping in here. Gonna have to swing through town, with sooooooooo many fat stacks on me. I'm gonna make this right. I know you probably hate me forever, and really, it's best we don't hang so much anymore, but I promise you babe: you did mean so much to me, not all that long ago.
She laughed, imagining the look on the blunette's face when she showed up at her door, already steeling herself for the slap or the punch she'd probably take. She wondered if she could get away with telling her old friend the real reason why she fled the country back in April.
Hah! Yeah, she'd never believe it. Never believe that there's a secret world out there with super-powered people running around in it. She'd call it all bullshit. Anyhow, doesn't matter. Time enough to worry about all that when I get into town.
An attractive Asian stewardess emerged from the cockpit, dressed in a rather low-cut dark uniform, hair and face done up, with an expression on her face: part business, part sensual allure.
Giving a bow and holding it, Rachel did her absolute best not to insult her by peering down at her cleavage. The stewardess spoke, her soft voice rife with an Australian twang, "Ms. Amber, my name is Yuriko, and I will be serving you tonight. The pilot has asked me to inquire as to where you wish to be taken?"
"Portland. Oregon. Yeah, that should be good enough. Whatever airport in the area works best for you guys. And I'll need to call ahead on a some stuff, ahead of time: rental car, lodgings, that kind of thing."
Nodding once, Yuriko said, "Of course. I can make all of those arrangements for you, should you so desire. And afterwards, I can attend to whatever other needs you may have." She tilted her head, just so. "Perhaps you'd like to start with a meal?"
Rachel gave the woman a mischievous look. "Well, I am hungry. What do you have on the menu?"
A/N: Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww yeah, Swanketters. Swan Saturday is back in Black. :-D
Oh wait...it's Friday? Are you sure? Are you really sure? ;-)
APRIL FOOLS!
Sorry, after six weeks, I just couldn't wait another day. And given that not only is it April Fools Day, but the three year anniversary of when I made my FFN account (and tomorrow is the three year anniversary of starting my epic ME saga.) it seemed like the perfect day to jump the gun.
Thanks for being so patient. I realize six weeks is a long hiatus, but I desperately, desperately needed that time. I got a lot of work done, between being able to catch up and fill the buffer to six or seven chapters ahead at present, plus get the final push I needed to complete Grande Dame. My muse and my motivation are strongly tied in with the seasons, and March - October tends to be my "manic creative" phase, so I'm anticiapting being able to keep up with the writing demands.
So, good news/bad news. I'm anticipating one last hiatus. Work is going to get crazier and crazier the closer I get to July, and then I have a big vacation in August. And, you know, poor Corentin IV has a life of her own, believe it or not; an exciting life filled with daring-do and the finest cuisine, and I'm always thrilled to bits to be fortunate enough to have her sage advice at my disposal at Editor. But right now I am shooting to get TEN chapters published before the next hiatus. That's literally two whole months of Black Swan goodness! I'll probably take all of June off, with the notion of getting the last 4 to 6 chapters (or so my current estimates are telling me) done. Baring any complications, I imagine this series will finish up just shy of it's one year anniversary. Neat :)
BTW I want to thank everyone who reads, and especially everyone who reviews. I peeked at the community lineup, out of vain curiosity the other day, and discovered almost by accident that this series is the second most popular LiS fic by reviews, the first of course being End - Hospital by rowanred81. And that's cool, you know? I was actually really shocked, because that's like coming in second to Jesus, IMO. And in terms of follows and favorites, Black Swan is still in the top 5 so yeah, I'm really jazzed and humbled. Thank you all!
(Boy, I should really check out So Hardcore by LightTheWayAhead as well as So Far Gone by deuce2891 someday. Those look very popular as well!)
Oh, one last thing: I've been treating Blackwell in this story like it's a four year high school when Max's journal in the game says it's seniors-only. So, uh...in my AU, it's a four year high school. Deal with it :-D