so…
I've had some serious, serious, intense crazy following months. Two near deaths, a full cross country roadtrip, fending off psycho druggies, near homelessness, getting lost in the desert, and of course worse of all, little to no internet …As followers may be aware, a while back I mentioned updating on Wednesdays, not every Wednesday, but on Wednesdays. Well guess what?
Wednesday is BACK.
MAY NOT UPDATE AS MUCH AS OTHERS BUT DON'T THINK THIS STORY IS DEAD. IT'S FAR FROM IT.
THANKS FOR READING. This is going to be VERY, VERY, VERY LONG.
7,800 words. ENJOY.
COMMENT/REVIEW. PLEASE and THANK YOU!
CHAPTER 11
3:03 P.M. – Manhattan, NY
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Todd started his first break of the evening when he jiggled the belt around his waist and entered the employee locker room. Stress perspiration was marking patterns under his arms and there was already a matching spot along his back. He needed a shower badly, but that would have to wait. The young security guard was in his sixth month of service at the downtown Manhattan bank branch. Though it's only been six months, everyday felt shitty, because quite frankly …
Todd was not a people person.
Unlike most, this was one trait he was willing to admit. He didn't do well in crowds, he dreaded group outings, and while others thrived on social media, he preferred silence and solitude. Ok, scratch that, maybe a friend or two wasn't so bad. So how he ended up a security guard working in the middle of New York City was an absolute joke. The city had more people than breathing space, people literally lived on top of each other. Being a naturally scrawny guy, not even a hair of a muscle in sight, and not even height on his side, the young guard didn't trust himself to save an old lady from a mugger on the street, let alone protect the precious jewels of New York's elite. At times Todd felt as if he was a character plopped into the middle of someone's horrible idea of a fanfiction - See Todd Guard!- without the added MA ratings.
Todd pulled an energy bar out of his locker and slammed it shut. He caught a whiff of himself and grimaced.
"Yo, kid? You working the floor tonight?"
Todd startled at the appearing voice. That was Vincent, one of the other guards. The older man was pudgy with curly dark hair and a goatee. When he wasn't hovering over Todd's shoulder giving him "pointers", he was normally slacking off in corridors wolfing down salami sandwiches or smoking Marlboro Lites.
"Uh, yeah, get off at ten today," Todd glanced down at his wristwatch as if to be certain. "A twelve hour shift."
The man blew his breath. Though he was feet away, Todd wrinkled his nose at the scent of salami and cheese.
"Pssh, you always get the wimpy shifts. Work night with us men, we'll show you some real magic."
If it included eating cheese sandwiches and arguing about the Red Sox, Todd figured he would pass. Another guard, Boyd, walked into the room, he sat a newspaper on the bench and Vincent grabbed onto it.
"Damn, I wish she would come into this bank," He said. His eyes raked over the image of the missing woman, it wasn't so much lust as it was greed. Underneath her image was a blown out print of the 1-800 number to call in for tips. He traced each of the zero's attached to the prize money sum. Boyd turned from his locker and tipped a finger towards other man.
"You and me both buddy, I definitely could use a milli, think they take tips from Yorkers?"
"Don't see why not, just say you weekended. What's that place? You know, from that wizard kid movie? Charred Cross? Karen Cross? Say you went there and saw her boarding the train, they'll eat that shit up."
Todd was standing against the lockers. He didn't know what the men were talking about and was curious.
"What woman?" he asked.
The sandwich eating guard tilted his head, "You seriously don't know?"
Todd shook his head in the negative.
The guard finished off the last of his sandwich and tossed the wrapper into the bin, the foil bounce off the edge and rolled under the lockers to join the rest of his weekly misses.
"Some rich bitch is missing and the whole world's looking for her,"
Vincent turned to the report and handed him the paper. Todd was met with the image of the Bering family standing shoulder to shoulder at some type of gathering. It looked to be a charity event. People formally dressed and shiny toothed grins. There was a family of four in the center of the photo. There was an air of importance about them, and from the dozens of eyes fawning and focused on the group, it was obvious that they were the highlight of the evening –
The Bering Dynasty, read the caption.
Todd didn't know much about the notorious family except the fact that they were listed as the richest people in the world. They were multi-Billionaires. Just sharing breathing space with the powerful family was considered an honor. In the image there was the youngest Bering with her arm around her mother's waist, and the oldest, the one who was missing, was shouldered next to a grim faced man. Todd automatically recognized him as being the Warren Bering.
Though he wasn't good with people, Todd was good at reading body language. It was this perceptive quality that made him at least halfway decent at his job. Out of everyone in the photo, the billionaire and his oldest daughter appeared to be uncomfortable next to each other. There was a slight space between them and though their arms were linked, it appeared they rather not be touching each other at all.
Todd locked onto the heiresses eyes. Though Myka Bering was smiling in the picture, there was something sad in those emerald greens that made his chest feel kind of funny. Sorry for her almost.
Perhaps they got into a disagreement before the photo?
He thought.
Silently, the guard searched the faces of the other people. Most looked pleased to be there, some even a bit drunk, but as a whole, everyone else seemed to have had a great time. Everyone except the missing heiress.
Todd's mind felt as if he had sucked it into a vacuum. The peculiar sensation he had after actually looking at the heiress morphed into something entirely different. His gaze went back to the heiress then to the father then back to the heiress. It was so obvious how could no one else pick up on it? He couldn't be crazy could he?
Wouldn't it be funny, but what if…
He cut himself off. This was a serious subject, it would be absolutely morbid for him to consider something extraordinarily heinous as that. It couldn't possibly be true, could it? Things like that only happened in television dramas and paperback mystery novels. But what if it was?
What if Myka Bering wasn't missing at all?
The theory sent an uncomfortable thrill through the guard. He felt as if he had stumbled onto something he shouldn't have. Todd peeked over the edge paper at the two laughing men. They were on their baseball again and not paying him any attention.
Todd shook his head and crumpled his candy wrapper.
It was now 3:15 and he had to get back to work.
…
"So what, we're just rolling in there guns blazing?"
Claudia puffed out her cheeks, "In the original plan, I was to man the cameras while HG slipped in. I was going to reroute them so that she could enter the vault without footage."
"And…?" Myka pressed.
"And now that plans blown to shittaki."
They were inside a nondescript service van. All white exterior, no windows save for the windshield and those located on the driver and passenger side. The vans interior was basically an office on wheels, a metal work table with a series of high tech computers and gadgets, and a very complicated looking control panel to god knows what. Considering the little demo she had witnessed back in London, the heiress was a little afraid to ask what it was for, but considering where they were at the moment now was not the time anyway. They were parked three blocks across from Smithe's, the heiress' family bank– the only non-overseas bank her family ever used.
Myka leaned forwards over the stubborn redhead's shoulder. For the last hour she and the younger girl were heatedly "debating" as to who should enter the bank to complete Phase Two. Originally, HG was supposed to gather some kind of intel from the quarters. Now that the other woman was M.I.A it left only the accomplice and the captor to follow out the rest of the deeds.
"Well, you did make me over," said Myka.
"You're frakking me right? Me let you go in there?" Claudia gave her an incredulous once over, "What part of you're the hostage, currently World's Most Wanted- don't you understand?"
Here the redhead rolled her eyes and turned her attention towards the computer, bringing up a screenshot series. It was the image of the stacked deposit boxes that caused Myka to internally cringe. When the redhead said they were going to the bank, she thought that meant going to the bank. She didn't think they were trying to break into things or go as far as stealing. The heiress was more than willing to hand over her pin number and house key if need be.
"We figured that there was a failsafe added for extra protection, maybe a codex," Claudia explained.
She raised her eyes to meet those of the heiress but the older woman was distracted by the screen. At that moment a live feed of the teller's workstation was flickering between shots of the busy corridors and elevators.
The redhead pinched the tip of her nose and continued, "HG's hella good at breaking entry in general. She wrote the code to crack it, I just added a few footnotes."
There was a wistful manner in which the redhead spoke of her missing cohort, this got the heiress' attention. Green eyes snapped to the younger girl, the owner's mouth agape in slight.
"But see, that's the difference, that's why you should let me go in," the corners of Myka's mouth rose in a confident, almost cocky, grin. "I know this bank, I can get in and get out faster than either of you ever could imagine even with all your special ops practice and fancy gadgets."
"But it's not what we need you for!" Claudia defended.
"So what, you just said that your original plan was changed anyway. Why not change this part as well?"
"But this is different, it could pull attention onto you."
"Like seriously? We've already wasted what? Forty minutes on this? Is this the best you can do?"
Claudia pressed her hands to her forehead and leaned forwards till her head touched the keys of her keyboard.
"They remodeled." she said.
"Seriously?"
The redhead shook her head against the keys.
"They couldn't have updated the place that much." Myka squinted her eyes at the screen. It didn't look that much different to her. "This has been my family's bank since forever. When I say I know this place, I mean it, I know this place."
Claudia raised her head, "Errr, not that quite."
Myka wasn't buying it. She struck out her palm.
"You got the blueprints right?"
Groaning, the redhead reached beneath the table and withdrew some papers. As Myka palmed them she noted HG's handwriting in certain spaces and a few obscure markings around what appeared to be key electrical points. They really did plot to break into the bank. Claudia tilted her head as she watched Myka read over the sheets. It only took a few minutes, no more than five, when the heiress handed the papers back to the techie, her face all set and ready to go.
"You remember all of that?" Claudia asked.
"Yeah."
"Like, everything? The rows? The closets? The number of fire escapes?"
Myka nodded her head.
"But that's impossible." Claudia's eyes narrowed. "I mean you couldn't have, we went over that stuff for weeks and I still couldn't remember the locations for all the potted plants!"
"An eidetic memory helps."
"Oh, well, uh…" the redhead's mouth fished, "I knew that, I just thought…" she trailed uncomfortably.
"What?" Myka prodded, her tone slightly amused. "You thought I was just another dumb rich girl faking her way through Harvard?"
The redhead's cheeks flustered with embarrassment. And if she were to be honest, shame. Noting the change, the heiress amusement dropped as she jabbed an accusing finger in the redhead's face.
"You did!"
The redhead didn't deny it, in fact, she bowed her head. Myka's nostrils flared as her back snapped ramrod straight. She folded her arms tight around her waist and posed so that she was glaring down her nose at the younger girl.
"Contrary to popular belief, I did work for my degree. I worked my ass off for it and put in way more hours than anyone else in the program!"
Claudia shrunk inwards as if trying to make herself disappear, Myka stepped in closer.
"What part of I aced that fucking Bar Exam don't you people get? I didn't pay for my grades, I studied and I worked like anyone else. Hell, before I even graduated, I had firms all over the world practically throwing offers at my–"
"Ok, Ok...!" The redhead tossed her hands in the air in surrender. "I get it, its fine. You are our best candidate Myka Bering, ring the alarm, throw up your tassels!"
Claudia held out her hand. Confusion knotted Myka's face as she looked down and realized that the younger woman was proffering her a cell phone.
"Wai– what?" Myka stammered, "So I am going in? After all of that, you want me to go in?"
The redhead clicked her tongue, "Mmhm, I'mma use my phone to do the heavy bidding, here's a little candy."
"Candy?" Myka repeated.
She didn't eat sugar and hoped that wasn't what the redhead meant. Ignoring the bewildered heiress, the redhead pulled out a tube of clear liquid.
"Gimme your hands," Claudia commanded. Myka looked as if she didn't comprehend and hesitated. The redhead sighed and softly spoke.
"Please?"
The heiress stuck out her hands and the techie poured the peculiar liquid over the surface then gestured for her to rub it over her skin. Myka's brows rose at the sensation of a gel like substance clinging onto her skin and sealing shut. She looked down and saw her palms were completely smooth like a pair of silk gloves. The ridges and lines of her fingerprints were seemingly disappeared.
"What is this stuff?"
"It's a super special epoxy that conceals your finger prints."
"Glue?" Myka deadpanned.
"Not just any glue my dear friend, super glue."
"You put super glue on my hands?" Myka wiggled her fingers. "This stuff is permanent right? I thought it never comes off? Are you insane?"
Claudia snorted, she had already moved on to a new task. The redhead pulled out a button down shirt, a navy blazer and a pair of aviator glasses. These she handed to Myka so that she could change in the back of the van. As with the jeans back in London, coincidentally, each of the garments fit perfectly. From the front seat the techie released a low whistle and the heiress startled as she remembered she had company while getting dressed. She met Claudia's eyes through the review mirror; a quirky smile played on her lips.
"Now that we've sprinkled a little pixy dust on you, not only are you a badass, you're a Barbie Badass, bra-freakin'-vo."
The redhead began a slow hand clap that embarrassed the heiress even farther.
"Aw, shut up," Myka murmured.
Once she tired of teasing her, the redhead handed Myka the last articles of her mission- a briefcase, a teeny tiny ear microphone, video capable contact lenses, and a wallet filled with fake I.D.'s and credit cards. Myka was so nervous, she barely remembered what each of the cards did but she remembered distinctly being told that one of the cards activated as an explosive. That one was red.
"There are camera's everywhere, so I'm only going to circle the block once. I doubt you'll be out of there before I get back."
"What if I do?"
"Just meet me at that Starbucks we passed, Ok? Parking is a biatch so I'm gonna have to fork the car in a garage or something. If you be a good girl, I'll order you a latte with all the fancy toppings."
The heiress snorted.
"Just don't do anything gross like lick all the whipped cream off the top before I get back."
"Ewww, that's just wrong!" Claudia cringed, her hands drawn back by her shoulders.
Wearing a wolfish grin, Myka exited the van and marked her way towards the building. It was mid evening so she became lost in the after school and work traffic as people mingled around her. Once again, it was the perfect chance for her to escape. About a half a block from the building, Myka tested out the techie's microphone. She murmured a question and hoped no one else was paying her any attention, or thought she was crazy.
"How did you get your intel on me anyway?"
According to Claudia, the microphone was special in the fact that it erased background noise and picked up on specific voices or sounds. It took a moment for a response to come. The heiress doubted it had anything to do with the technology's power.
"The internet smarty-pants, and a few current news syndicates." Claudia's voice was clear as if she was speaking directly into the heiress's ear. Myka pressed onto her earlobe, it turned the mechanism down a notch.
"Didn't your parents ever tell you not to trust everything on the internet?" Myka murmured.
"Uh right, and I wouldn't know that."
"Why not?"
The redhead lazily huffed, "I didn't have parents."
Myka was crossing the middle of an intersection when she paused. She didn't know that. But why would she, she's a captive?
Just as it had moments before, Claudia's disaffected voice rang in her ear.
"Oh, take the left door its closer."
The revolving door made a whooshing noise as the heiress entered; her face was smacked with the cool of the air conditioner. Now that she was inside of the building, the heiress realized immediately her assumptions of the situation were all wrong. Myka had prepared herself for a new improved Smithe's, but what she saw made her feel faint.
Smithe's was a bank as old as the Rockefellers, it catered to the needs of the uber wealthy and just recently opened its elite doors to the middle-class yuppies. The last time Myka had set foot in this bank, exactly six years prior, it was reminiscent of a 1940's noir. Stuffy leather chairs, dim antique lamps, vaulted ceilings, oak paneled walls and handmade custom furniture. There were elegant cigarette holders on the corners of every chair and each table came complete with silver trays that had double tumblers, a bottle of ice-cold sparkling water, and fresh lemons. There was even a station to get your shoes shined during the summer.
The Smithe's of today was much different.
Gone was the formal conservative décor and replacing it was the stock design of any other chain bank in the area. The walls were minimum white, the ceiling exposed beams and concrete, hard grey floors, and cheap department store furniture. As if to justify the tacky design, "Sustainable" and "Go Green" poster's and leaflets stuck out of every visible crevice.
A sharp pang came into the heiress' chest as she absorbed in the new details. Though the original Smithe's was old fashioned, she always thought the bank had character. Myka gave herself a moment to overcome the shock then restored her game face. She was grateful for the dark tint of the glasses.
I am such a dork. Am I crying? Are these tears I'm feeling?
The heiress blinked her eyes a bit then looked off to the side with the elevators. Unintentionally, she caught the eye of a young security guard. He looked how she felt. The heiress exchanged a nod of greeting with him and crossed over to the elevator. Keeping in character, she perused the pamphlets and dumped some change into a Children's Memorial donation box along the way. Her finger was steady as she pressed the button for a car, but as she tried reading a pamphlet she realized she couldn't focus. Her nerves were jangled.
The first car that opened, some suits dispelled leaving it empty. Myka's nerves calmed just a smidge after noting her luck of catching a solo. The moment the door closed, she punched in for the top floor and stood back to watch the ticker change.
"So far, so good," Claudia muttered.
As if a response, heiress' stomach flip-flopped.
"Ok, Mykes, here's the deal-o," the redhead's voice became louder, "When this door opens, there are six guards you need to be prepared for."
"Six?" Myka repeated.
"Yes, two are seated at a desk on the far left beside the hall; four are positioned around the entrance of the vaults."
The heiress pictured the scene in her head. The guards didn't have faces but their forms were well enough.
"When they see you, they will want to see some ID but you're not going to do that," Claudia exhaled deeply. "Open your bag and check the pocket, it's got something in there you need to take out now."
Following the directions, Myka withdrew a palm sized silver plated orb that was constructed like a Pokeball. There was a red ringed button on one side, it glowed.
"When this elevator stops, press the red button, you have exactly fifteen seconds to dispose of it."
The ticker signaled for the third floor, the heiress immediately pressed the button. The mechanical sides shifted causing the ball to expand, then a shimmer of blue electricity circled over the orbs surface. A tingly sensation ran through Myka's fingertips as she gingerly thumbed the creation, her hair began to lift from around her ears and float into the air. The ball was exuding some kind of electric current.
"What in the–"
Myka's awestruck murmur was interrupted. The elevator doors slid open revealing the floor.
Green eyes rose from the sphere in her hands immediately landing onto two hulking men seated at a service desk. A moment of stillness as the heiress and guards gawked each other. With their matching buzzcuts and linebacker built bodies, the guards looked as if they'd come fresh from an assembly line. The guard seated on the far left was first to speak, his voice carried crisp and clear across the room.
"Ma'am, if you are looking to enter the vaults, identification is required."
Four other bodies, their grey and blue uniforms camouflage against the battle grey concrete, shifted against the walls lining the back of the desk. They were each holding weapons against their person. Myka's mouth went dry, her palms sweaty.
"TOSS IT!" Claudia yelled.
The orb went soaring into the air and landed with a heavy ker-thunk in the center of the room. As the ball bounced across the floor, jets of electric light shot out and reverberated in the form of a wave across the linoleum surface. Almost at once, all of the guards in the room began shudder and shake as pulses of blue electricity roving over their frames. The guards sitting at the desk slumped over onto their faces, while the guards at the vault collapsed into a comatose heap.
Seeming as if its job was done, the ball retracted and the electric lines running over its surface disappeared. The ball itself remained immobile and wedged beside a potted plant.
"What was that?" Myka squeaked. She was beyond stunned as she gazed over the fallen bodies with wide eyes.
"It's a Tesla. Well a modified version of the Tesla. It's kind of like a Taser but higher voltage and more pizzazz."
If the heiress was still in the van she would've seen Claudia shimmer her fingers in the air like a corny Vegas show magician.
"Ok…" Myka said. She cautiously leaned out of the elevator, her hand clutching onto the door panel. "Uh, is it safe?"
"Oh, sure, totally," Claudia said, then not even a full second later, "Oh frak wait, do you see any more sparkies?"
The heiress looked the unconscious men sprawled out on the floor.
"No,"
"Then you're good to go."
The heiress stepped out of the car and gingerly padded onto the floor. Now that she was in a three dimensional view of the room, she realized that the set up of this floor was reminiscent of scene in Harry Potter where the children were attempting to break into the Department of Mysteries. Beyond the guards desk station was four unmarked openings leading into who knew where. Had she not read the blueprints she would've been lost. Myka circled around the desk and chose middle left opening. She followed down narrow dimly lit hall till she came to an oval shaped orifice; it was the official beginnings of the vault.
Propping her sunglasses atop of her head, Myka sucked in her teeth and leaned back on her heels to observe the space more clearly. Sitting offset of the middle of the oval, an enormous door of the vault. Hinged steel, heavy bolts, and a series of levers- the door itself looked to be a puzzle.
"Take out your phone, the panels on the right," voiced Claudia.
Not wasting any time, Myka went to examine it. The panel was intricate, there weren't any buttons, just touch screen and laser scanners. Currently the screen was blinking awaiting the input of the entrance code. There had to be twenty spaces needing to be filled.
"Now here's the tricky part, you see that little bitty chip thingy inserted in the side of your cell?"
Myka turned over the phone in examination, sure enough there was a slot that looked like a transparent micro SD card.
"Take that out and stick it into that pin slot on the panel."
The slot was barely visible, Myka fumbled before locating it. After she slid in the card, numbers flashed across the screen and the vault hissed expelling a peculiar gas. The heiress stepped sideways and watched as the rest of the slots on the door rearranged into connecting pieces then allowed the door to release and slide into the wall.
"Congratulations Bering, you're in."
Myka winced against the gas, it felt as if something fuzzy and cold was being sprayed into her eyeballs, "Oh great," she murmured.
"Quick, the door has a timer!"
The heiress leaped across the threshold and the door slammed shut. A whoosh of air sent her short hair flying, her hands went to her shoulders and she gasped.
"Sheesh, it's freezing in here!"
Myka's teeth chattered, she swore she could see her breath. In her ear, the redhead cackled.
"So that's what they mean by frozen assets?"
There was absolute silence on the heiress's end. Inside of the van, Claudia sheepishly scratched her head.
"Ok, bad joke."
Unbeknownst to the redhead, Myka was smirking.
"Could you please turn up the heat in here?" she asked.
"On it."
Inside of the van Claudia's fingers were flying. She hacked into the building's thermal settings and changed them for the vault that Myka was in. As she worked, she kept one eye on the camera– no one noticed the elevators were out of service. Feeling the vault warming, Myka dropped her hands from her shoulders and looked around for a sense of direction. The lights were dim but just enough to see where everything was. The place was built like a maze. She waited till she heard Claudia clear her throat.
"Now what?" Myka asked.
"Dude, you tell me," Claudia sarcastically replied.
Myka rolled her eyes. She had a feeling that the redhead was going to test her memory capabilities.
"Fine."
The heiress paused for a moment. In her mind she envisioned the layout of the room and compared it to the actual area. Using her minds-eye as a map, she strolled forward and followed the twist and turns leading to the vault. In about fifteen minutes, Myka was standing before a safety deposit box that looked relatively normal. Twelfth Row, Column W-13. Using one of the phone again, she disabled the security lock by jamming the signal. She wasn't expecting a box of jewels or cigars, but when the draw slid open only to reveal documents, it was strangely anticlimactic.
"See, that wasn't so bad." Claudia said.
Myka clucked her tongue. Just as she stuck her hand into the box, she suddenly paused and tilted her head.
"Are you at the coffee shop yet?"
"Uh, not exactly, I haven't even pulled out yet."
"What?" the heiress sharply turned as if the redhead was actually in the room with her. "What are you waiting for?"
"Uh-hello? I was helping you, remember? Who else was to hack the cameras? And show you how to use the shocky-shocky thingamuhjig?"
"Ugh, ok. Just go ahead and don't worry about me," Myka waved her hand. "I'm in now so I don't need any help anyway."
On the end, she heard Claudia groan and from the sounds of it, remove her mic.
Shaking her head, the heiress stuck a hand into the safe and retrieved the top folder. At a quick gloss over, she realized it wasn't anything special, just tax forms and bond sheets, but upon farther inspection she learned there was much more financial info here than what the redhead had dug up on the internet. In fact, what she was looking at in paper document was bigger than anything she had ever seen in her father's monthly portfolio sharing meetings. But that wasn't what they were here for.
Was it?
"Red rover, red rover do you copy?"
The heiress jarred and caught herself on the drawer, "Hear you loud and clear. You're in my ear, remember?"
"Ok, just making sure I'm not talking to myself."
This garnered another eye roll from the heiress as she replaced the folder and grabbed another.
"For the record, you never did tell me what I was supposed to be looking for." Myka said.
"Oh yeah, about that…" Claudia nervously chuckled. "Uh…Just keep looking at that one you've got. If you hold for a few secs, I'll copy everything as you look at them."
"Really? With the contacts?" Myka said.
"Yep, nifty aren't they?"
Myka didn't reply.
She flipped through the papers until she got to the end of the file then went to retrieve another. As she shuffled the paperwork around, a thick package envelope was discovered buried in the boxes depths. For some odd reason, there was vacuum wrap shrouding the entire file and it was labeled in the least discrete way, Confidential. Affixed to the interior cover just beneath the plastic there was the Bering & Sons seal.
Tilting her head, the heiress replaced the rest of the files and took out the oddball. Though it was glaringly obvious, this had to be it. She felt it in her gut. Why else would HG want to break into her father's vault?
Myka traced the glossy exterior and contemplated breaking the seal. What could be in this envelope that it not only was locked away tight, someone had went through the trouble of sealing it twice?
In her ear, Claudia released a low whistle.
"These contacts aren't X-ray powered as well are they?" Myka asked.
"Unfortunately, no."
The heiress hefted the package then turned a little sideways, she then spoke out as if the redhead was standing right beside her again.
"Think I should do it?"
"Uh…I don't really know," the redhead groaned, "I mean, there isn't a way we could possibly re-seal it, so uh, ya' know what I mean."
"Would HG do it?"
Claudia was suspiciously silent.
A smirk curled onto the heiress lips. She already knew the answer to that. Using the edge of a card, Myka tore through the heavy plastic then ripped open the envelope. There were documents in what appeared to be a form of Slavic and news clippings. Skimming one of the headlines, Myka read that it was about construction of a dam in South America.
"Uh, Myka can you go a wee-bit faster? There's no need to actually read anything,"
The redhead sounded agitated. She had good reason to be. People had started crowding outside the disabled elevators and security doors, some of the guards were trying to phone in to the third floor. Perhaps taking the entire bank offline was a bad idea.
"I'm trying." Myka murmured.
The files fluttered as she rifled through them. Bits of what she could read confused her and made no sense whatsoever. From the looks of it, her father, or someone, had been documenting a series of random construction and scientific research developments around the world. Most of the documents were over a decade old, a few were newer, within the last five years or so. Seeing the documents had been neatly compiled, it would seem that the events were connected, perhaps like a puzzle. With so little time to piece the intel together, it was giving the heiress severe information overload.
"You know it would be nice if I actually knew what the hell I was looking for." the heiress muttered.
Minding with the redhead's advice, Myka stopped trying to make sense of everything and instead began to quickly skim. She hoped the contacts scanned quickly enough as she gave each sheet barely a full second to register before her eyes. Myka had worked a steady pace and had made it midway through the clippings when her hand caught onto the surface of a particularly slick sheet. The heiress came to halt, it was a photograph.
There was a moment of absolute silence, her heart stopped beating and the voice in her ear completely disappeared. What came next was a wash of anguish and disbelief.
"Sam?" Myka croaked.
All of the rest of the files in the heiress' hands slipped away as she raised the image from within the safes recesses, her fingers trembling impossibly, her eyes wide beyond belief. It was an eight by eleven photograph of her fiancé.
Her dead fiancé.
It was an overhead angled shot of him crossing the middle of a street, dressed in a slick wool overcoat and dark slacks, from the looks of it he was on his way to or from work. The background surrounding him was urban, stone buildings and lots of cars. Unlike the black tar pavement of New York City, the street appeared to be paved with bricks, cobblestones to be exact. She knew that city anywhere.
It was Paris.
Myka squeezed her eyes tight as the burning sensation of tears grew.
"Uh…Myka?"
Claudia's voice sounded so tinny and far away, the heiress could've very well been underground. Before the tears could slip out, Myka shook her head. Her hands trembled as she leafed through the pictures faster and faster. There was another and another. And even more.
Sam at a café. Sam outside a bookstore. Sam talking to a pedestrian. Sam buying petrol. Sam looking out the window of his own home…
These were all pictures of her Sam existing everywhere and despite the surveillance- doing nothing seemingly out of the ordinary. It was just Sam being, Sam.
The taste of bile filled her mouth, one of Myka's hands dropped down to her stomach while the other clutched around her mouth. She was shaking so very hard she had to prop herself against the drawer to keep from collapsing in on herself.
My father was spying on Sam?
A horrible sound came from the back of her throat, it was a cross between a scream and a cry. It took Myka a moment to get a grip on herself. Her whole entire world was spinning around her impossibly fast, her grasp on it felt fragile and terrifying.
"Myka? Myka? Hey girly, are you listening me?" Claudia called.
Myka gasped. She felt like she was having a panic attack. No, wait, she was having a panic attack. In her ear she heard as the redhead adjusted her mic again. This time she raised the volume.
"Look, I seriously know this is tough for you but you have to hang in there,"
The tone of Claudia's voice was stern but soothing. The heiress clenched her eyes, she was breathing raggedly, her hands were wrapped tight around her waist. She needed to hear the redhead speak, strangely enough, it was helping her.
"You're my partner now, so we're doing this together, OK? We're in this too deep to quit dude, we have a job to do. Focus Bering, get your butt out of there and get back here with me!"
Taking deep gulping breathes Myka stood upright and steadied herself by sheer will. She still felt as if she was going to crumble into dust but she had to reclaim her ground. In the midst of gathering some of the papers she had dropped, her eyes landed on what appeared to be piece of legal paper with the word "–ENNIUM PROJECT" cut off on its edge. She pushed it away the clippings covering it and was faced with a faded image of a peculiar contraption.
The contraption appeared to be some type of futuristic vehicle, or so she assumed, as there were four seats, a steering wheel, and lots of heavy wiring. There was a sheet of metal on one side she made out levers and switches. It looked like something out of a steam punk convention. Scowling, Myka pushed the image over to gaze at the one just underneath it. This image was a much larger and was more of a diagram, this one had the words 'MINOAN TRIDENT', it was an enormous fork that was broken into sections. It looked as if the sections were to be connected to form a fierce weapon of some sort, something that from the looks of it, exploded.
What is this?
Myka thought as she flipped the page to read on. Immediately, the words ACTIVATE and NUCLEAR jumped off of the page.
..According to W and C, The Trident promises full harnessing and resetting of the earth's core. This resetting is theorized to equate with the force of a nuclear event, scaling on the level of the original World's end... Targeting the end of 2010, evacuation capsules shall be complete and fully functional as carry-ons for the separate Millennium mechanisms…
Wait, what?
…Activation by all means will go in effect two years after the fifth anniversary. This guarantees that it will coincide with the slated completion and release of Defiance Project…Despite prior concerns, W claims full allegiance to both projects and has agreed to final processes pertaining to the FAMILIAR DISCLOSURE ACT. All nine of the other members have signed the agreement as well…
The heiress skipped to the back of the document only to land onto a note scrawled in the margins of a fatality waiver. The handwriting was familiar.
Remember comrades, this is not engineering TO the future, this is engineering OF the Future. –H.G.W.
Underneath this were several loopy and near unintelligible signatures, most, if not all, had the prefix Doctor attached to them. Looking over the names Myka noted that H.G.'s name was nowhere to be found and yet the note obviously was written by her.
But why?
Holding her breath, the heiress took out the photos of her dead fiancée and lined them up with those the peculiar machine.
What exactly did any of this mean?
She gave herself a few seconds to mull it over. Instead of looking at the pictures, she was fixated on the waiver sheet. Considering the clandestine air of the envelopes contents, she was almost certain they were all dead men and women, but because the names lacked faces – she found it hard to comprehend them emotionally.
Shaking her head, Myka carefully restored the papers inside of the envelope using her memory to make it exact. Hopefully the redhead had gotten everything they needed and there wouldn't be a need to return. As she went to restore the file to the draw, a rough hand clamped around her mouth and forcefully jerked her backwards.
"Omphf!" was Myka's muffled shriek.
Her hands groped for the hands around her mouth and neck, only for her to feel a stubble covered chin and thin lips press into the side of her ear. She could feel the heat of breath on her face and smell the sharp musky smell of men's cologne.
"Shhh…you will not make this difficult and I will not kill you." warned the intruder. Her eyes rolled around wide at the tone of urgent Russian. Though every fiber in her wanted to break free in escape, Myka obediently nodded her head, the motion stiff as the hand held her tight.
"Are you working for the Vulture?" asked the stranger.
Myka firmly shook her head for "No". The hand loosened around her mouth so she was able to move her lips and head freely.
"So you must be an Alliance? A cover sent by Hawk?" the stranger husked.
"What?"
It was here that the heiress dared to crane her neck. She was able to catch a glimpse of the man's face. He had a square jawline, shaggy dark hair, and ragged rough features. Though he scowled at her, he did not tighten his hold on her. Instead, he dropped his hand from her mouth altogether and held his arms loosely around her shoulders, a warm embrace if it were to be called.
"Did Hawk send you to cover?" he repeated.
Myka was shaken but determined. Looking the stranger square in the eye, she dared to reply.
"This must be a misunderstanding, I seriously don't know even half of what you're talking about," she turned her body even more, her shoulders partially free from the stranger.
"Who is this Hawk? Who the hell are you?"
A pleasant expression ran across his face, perhaps by the fact she spoke his language perfectly. His eyes dipped to the folder that was somehow still clasped in her right hand. Thanks to the violent interruption, some of the documents were peeking out, the image of the deadly Trident was visible.
"Traitor!" the man yelled.
The heiress barely had a chance to register as she was released and aggressively shoved her against the wall. A fist came flying directly for the center of her nose, Myka managed to duck just in time to avoid it. Out of the clear Myka lurched sideways and tried to spring away, there was a flash as a hand grabbed onto Myka's shirt and twisted, the force of it lifted the heiress a few inches off of her feet. The heiress yelped in surprise, her hands reached outwards to push the stranger away. He shoved her hard against the wall again, this time her head bounced off the back of deposit boxes. The pain jarred through her skull, and stars shone before her eyes.
"You shouldn't have come here; there is enough of your clan's blood on our hands as is…"
His voice was low but instead of sounding menacing, it sounded almost empathetic. So much so Myka stopped struggling and looked him directly into his eyes. The whites of his eyes were enormous; his irises were dark and clouded over. Though he was the one in control here, he was looking at her with something just a sneeze above terror. Just as Myka began to question her chances of survival, the stranger grasped forwards and wrapped both of his palms around her neck. Tight.
"Let your bones be the last warning for your kin." he growled.
The hands around her neck tightened and tightened, Myka began to gurgle under the pressure. Any tighter he would crush her larynx, from there she would suffocate from a collapsed air passage. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she felt as her limbs began to weaken. In her ears she heard the sound of the redhead's voice, her mind was so foggy she could barely understand what she was saying.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Claudia was yelling.
Up until this moment, Myka could attest that she had never heard the girl exactly swear. This had to be bad. Inside of the car, Claudia's eyes darted all over the computer screen as she shifted between the commotion on camera and the code she was typing.
"Myka, for a filthy rich chick you've defs got some bad, bad Mojo," Claudia huffed, "When you get your ass out of there, I'm changing your name to Madam Catastrophe, do you hear me?"
If it was her response, all Claudia heard was the sound of Myka's gagging in her ear.
Furious, the redhead snatched out her headset and wiped a shaky hand over her face. This was so not in the plans. A dead heiress meant one of two things- A) fleeing the country a dead man or B) life in the slammer. Claudia didn't know what to do now and her anxiety was getting the best of her.
It was one thing to go to prison, Claudia was sure she could do that. She'd done Juvie before and it was a lot like detention. And as for fleeing, that was basically living underground – that's all she's done up until now.
But if HG returned and discovered her princess was dead…
Claudia's mind reverted to the way the older woman reacted back at the London flat when she had made that one simple mistake with the gag. All the redhead saw was a pair of near black eyes and the curves of a ill-omened smirk.
If that was only a glimpse of Hell, she rather not take the full tour.
The redhead jolted in her chair and immediately pulled up the banks surveillance. She didn't know how she was going to do it, but she was going to get Myka Bering out of that vault alive. In a quick glimpse of the ground floor cams Claudia spotted a figure that made her catch her breath. A chill ran over her, and the redhead wondered if she was seeing an apparition. To be sure she stopped typing and leaned towards the screen. As if the ghost knew it were being watched, they looked directly into the lens and mischievously winked…
Claudia damn near jumped out of her skin and straight through the ceiling.
Adrenaline, or perhaps terror, flooded though the redhead's veins as she fumbled for her mic and screamed into the receiver.
"DON'T YOU DARE DIE ON ME BERING! WONDER WOMANS ON HER WAY SO HOLD ON!"
Hazel eyes went back to the screen. She just saw bones being crushed and she cringed in pain.
"ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME MYKA? HOLD THE FRAKKK ON!"
7,800+ words… Is that enough for a comeback chapter?
p.s.
If someone out there wishes to serve as EDITOR (BETA) to save you guys from reading such long chapters, be my guest.