Chapter Two
Several hours later...
"Do you think this could just last forever? The three of us out here, living it up? I'm thinking about getting myself a full-time job. Maybe a network specialist for a local company? I saw a few ads, and I absolutely have the credentials." - Jamella asked, showing Yelena a jobs page in the local papers.
With Irwine on his way to the club to begin his shift, the two of them were preparing for Jamella's daily self-defence training session – something that the girl insisted on picking up, a month or so back. Yelena agreed – reluctantly – since she knew all too well that learning to fight, was just a small part of being able to protect oneself. The young hacker didn't have the mindset, didn't have the ruthlessness, to do whatever it took to disable or kill the attacker, in an actual confrontation. A half-hearted effort would just make things worse, potentially.
But she agreed, since Jamella's incessant nagging was both endearing and annoying. And she could guess the reason – their daily interactions around the club could sometimes get – interesting – and the girl mentioned multiple times how she thought she was getting looks, from certain patrons and staff.
To Yelena, the notion was silly – a very decent-looking young woman, augmented in a relatively tasteful manner not taking away from her figure, getting looks in a club catering to exotic entertainment? Who would've guessed! Frankly in her view, if Jamella wasn't so against that sort of occupation, she herself could be a nice draw, at the club. And the girl's own cover identity was not underage, so... in theory...
But she was quick to terminate that line of thought, and remind herself that her level of self-confidence was the exception, not the norm. And that her views on casual escort and sex-work were very much skewed, by her own experiences and... psychological trauma. She was damaged, in more ways than one. That most women tended to feel self-conscious about that sort of thing. And that she or Irwine wouldn't always be around, to intervene if the girl ever did get accosted. Not to mention, given her cover and who she was supposed to be... Yelena had to be careful where and when to apply her full range of skills, and exercise restraint. It wouldn't do to draw too much attention, if people witnessed an ostensibly exotic dancer, beating the living shit out of some meathead on the club's floor, and making bouncers look redundant. Public displays of strength were Irwine's purview, given his cover.
Out of the public's eye, of course... was a different story.
She looked at the ad Jamella was pointing at. But her attention was drawn to the one near the bottom of the page... a local subsidiary of Oplex IT Solutions – a networking firm that operated across the region, and one that figured prominently in Ben Saxon's report, as the contractor company hired by VersaLife, to manage its server security in the continental US, especially on the East Coast. Having someone inside, with backdoor access to VersaLife's servers, might allow them to pinpoint Rand's exact itinerary, once Yelena did get to New York... and narrow down a chance to get close to him.
"I think you should apply for a job with this one." - she pointed, significantly. Jamella clearly hadn't noticed, or... has she?
But the girl's eyes narrowed.
"Yeah... I thought about that, when you brought us up to speed earlier. But Oplex isn't exactly your local backyard IT provider. They'd run background checks up the wazoo, for any new applicant. And demand a full bio, plus a probationary period where I probably wouldn't really have access to anything outside Antigua, managing local networks. And if they had half a brain, they'd have their VersaLife contract handled by people way higher up the food chain then some nobody newbie in the Caribbean. And flagged for any unauthorised access. I know what you're thinking, Yelena... but that's not happening." - she shook her head decisively.
The aquiline woman's face fell slightly, but she nodded.
"I sometimes expect far too much of you. Fair enough." - sligthly teasy, the corners of her lips curling into a smirk.
Jamella glared, tossing the paper off to the the side, then tried to give her an indignant shove.
"You know, if I had a couple more months of training under my belt, I'd kick your ass for that!" - she hissed.
"Try a few years!" - Yelena countered with a laugh, limberly twisting aside and tripping her up gently, so the girl went stumbling past, to regain her balance by planting her hands on the wall.
"NOT fair! You're wired-in, right?" - the girl growled, adopting a stance.
"No." - Yelena deadpanned, clasping her hands behind her back.
"I think you are!" - Jamella snapped with a grin, charging her and throwing a surprisingly determined cross. Casually, the aquiline woman leaned slightly back in place, keeping the smirk. Then ducked, under a hook, making the move look fluid, even with her significant height advantage over the girl, as her knees bent below 90 degrees, then straightened again. Then slipped a straight.
All the while, she hadn't taken even half a step back. Jamella glared indignantly, but also enviously.
"Now I am wired-in. Try and strike me. And don't be so predictable! Use your head. Remember, the best way to strike is when the opponent isn't expecting it." - the aquiline woman's eyes defocused for a brief moment, as she engaged the reflex-booster. Then she winked at the girl.
Jamella willed herself to stay relaxed, remembering the many times she was instructed never to tense-up, during sparring. She also briefly rubbed her chin, looking away as if in thought, remembering another lesson on obfuscating her intention through body-language. Then her hand at her chin snapped forward like a whip, in an open-palm strike aimed at Yelena's nose.
It actually travelled about halfway to Yelena's face, before the booster kicked-in, with a blurred, very robotic-like twitch of Yelena's head to the side, at the same time as her arm shot-up like a bullet to do a forearm-block, with the girl's palm being gently deflected to the side.
The speed of the two movements was decidedly inhuman. There was no mistaking the machine at work, there.
"Good job. No telegraphing, no intent. Nice obfuscation. That might have connected, had I not been wired-in!" - the aquiline woman complimented her, as her retinal HUD readout flashed briefly with an 'engaged' symbol. Truth be told, she was impressed. Jamella was quick, and took well to her lessons so far.
Lacking any real power in the strike, of course... that was an entirely different avenue of training, which they hadn't tackled yet... but the speed and accuracy was there. If she poked someone in the eye, with that speed, that would definitely be effective, as an attack. And probably cost someone an eye.
"Thanks!" - the girl beamed proudly, "But... wow! You like, did two moves in the time I did one! And I literally tried my best not to telegraph! That... that's crazy! Is it like a direct neuroelectricity-surge to your brainstem, or something?! I've never even seen a cat, move that fast!" - she shook her head in amazement.
"36 milliseconds, from the time my trajectory-logging implant registered the movement." - Yelena nodded, quoting the readout on her HUD, "On the lower-end of a cat's range, yes, but not faster. I am faster then a snake, though!"
"Holy crap... can you literally dodge bullets?!" - the girl gushed.
The tall cyborg shrugged.
"Depends on the type of bullet. Pistol bullets – sometimes. If they're aimed at my head, and not really fired point-blank. Certainly subsonic rounds, or just around the sound barrier. I have done so in the past, several times. Let's just say I would not be here, If I hadn't." - pointing at her head for emphasis.
"Not high-velocity ones though. And it's not something I rely on, if I can avoid the situation. The goal is always to neutralise the enemy before they have a chance to shoot back. Failing that – wear armour. In my case, twin layers of it. Inside me, and on me." - she pointed at her torso, stomach, and chest. and the rectangular shapes vaguely visible beneath the skin.
"Subdermal piezoelectric-aramid plating. Also lining my back and spine. Partially self-repairing, if enough bioenergy is available. It will stop most pistol-calibre rounds, and, combined with external armour layers like my thermoptic suit, will defeat most low to medium-powered rifle rounds too. No head protection though, so I do rely on reflex-boosting for that. Fortunately, the head is a small target, and most military training teaches the shooter to aim for the centre of mass, not the head."
"It still hurts like hell when you take a bullet, right?" - the girl asked. Yelena smirked at that.
"Oh, it does! One of the reasons why pain-management was something I was conditioned to do, very early on. Just because a bullet doesn't penetrate, does not mean it will not hurt, and distract me. And in a fight, distractions get you killed. But pain is a switch. And I can flip that switch."
"So you don't feel pain at all?"
"Not exactly. I feel pain. I just don't react to it. Put it this way..." - the aquiline woman suddenly reached out a hand to give Jamella a hard pinch on the armpit, where the skin was softest and most sensitive.
"OUCH! Watch it..." - the girl recoiled with a brief glare, rubbing her armpit.
"That's the nerve-response travelling to your brain's pain centre, right? Well I feel the same, except when it gets to my brain, it gets – disconnected. It's a mental technique. Comes from experience and exposure." - Yelena crossed her arms.
"Exposure? You mean... I have to get hurt a lot, to... to learn that?" - Jamella bit her lip, not liking the implications.
The aquiline woman's expression turned surprisingly gentle.
"You want me to teach you to defend yourself. It takes a lot more then knowing how, when, and where to strike, to do so. I can teach you the moves... you are quick and agile enough, and it is a good foundation. I can even teach you how to deliver them with power to hurt someone. Badly. It will take some functional strength-training, but you can get there. But the more important part of it is, knowing how to take it, and keep fighting. How not to submit to pain. How to be ruthless, to hurt someone a LOT when you need to, without pulling your punches. Being hard enough to do so, even when your eyes want to jump out of your head, from pain. I can do that to you, too. Make you hard enough. It was done to me. I was beaten, mercilessly, on a near-daily basis, through sparring sessions that sometimes made me vomit from pain. And when I did, I was beaten up some more, for my weakness. I suffered, more then you can imagine. I made other trainees suffer, more then you can imagine. Including killing them in the process. Jaron had an eye on many, to potentially join us. Very few ever made the cut, since to be a Tyrant, meant more then knowing small-unit tactics and weapons. Ruthlessness is a quality that most people don't have. What you see in most professional bouts on television, is nothing, in comparison. It's efficient enough, but... not to put too fine a point on it, none of those... professional... fighters would last a week without begging for mercy, through a typical daily sparring regimen we had, in the Tyrants. And if they did beg, they'd die. The only place I have seen something on the same level, so far, is the underground fighting venue in St. Peterburg." - the woman finished, remembering the Bratva-run pit she was put through.
"Well, I'm not planning to join the Tyrants, I just wanna be able to protect myself from some moron getting handsy, if I have to!" - the girl countered with an eyeroll of her one human eye, trying to keep up a front... but Yelena's description was unsettling.
"Handsy? You mean like this?" - Yelena nodded, suddenly stepping forward to grab her and roughly shove her forward, pinning her face-first against the wall with a thud, one hand slipping under the girl's top, to grope her, the other twisting her arm halfway, causing some pain, as she leaned into the girl, breathing lustfully into her ear.
"STOP IT!" - Jamella growled, on the verge of tears, in pain, stiffening up on reflex.
"Aww. Little bitch wants me to stop? I have a better idea! Let's get a feel..." - the aquiline woman played the part, sliding her groping hand downwards, to grip her by the crotch, using one leg to roughly spread the girl's legs wide, as she literally licked Jamella's neck, the other hand slipping downwards to begin ripping down the girl's pants.
"SPREAD 'EM!" - she growled harshly, her breath hot on Jamella's neck.
It was so convincing, the feigned contempt and rabid lust in Yelena's voice, that Jamella started crying.
"NO! No... please... no..! S-stop it!" - shuddering in her grip, all thoughts of resistance against the inexorable pressure against her, evaporating behind fear-response. With her polyfibral musculature, Yelena was easily as physically strong, as a well-built man twenty kilos heavier.
The pressure was gone instantly, as the aquiline woman stepped back, with a sigh.
"Handsy can mean a lot of things, Jamella. And in the context we're talking about, it is best to assume the worst-case scenario. A rape attempt. Are you ready to deal with that? Given your reaction here, I would say – not." - pointedly.
The girl turned, breathing hard in reaction, face flushed, as she adjusted her clothes and wiped her eyes.
"YOU... you... I didn't – I didn't EXPECT it! I... well, I'd have fought tooth-and-nail, if it were a real attack! I mean it..." - she trailed off, blushing harder, as she looked away. For a long moment, Yelena regarded her evenly.
"Would you? A part of you liked it, didn't it? The same part that froze up?" - she asked, very softly.
"NO!" - the girl snarled, reflexively, rubbing her head where she bumped the wall, not meeting her gaze. But it was so much wasted effort, and her blush was telling.
"That part is the most dangerous one in that situation. The part of us that enjoys, being forced. The part of us that wants, to submit. There is a reason rape fantasy, is such a prominent element of certain sexual fetishes. It's in our nature. Female nature, I mean. And to really be able to resist, you have to kill that part of yourself inside. Like I did, long ago. You have to let your rage, eclipse your nature. And if you ever get there, you will become damaged. Like I am. Because there is no going back, and many other things go with it, too. That part... it is a big part of us. It includes empathy, sensibility... compassion. Emotional balance." - the cyborg woman's voice turning reflective.
Jamella glanced up, vacillating.
"How did you get there?" - softly.
Yelena bit her lip. Finally, she shook her head.
"A story for another time maybe. And one I'm... not sure you're ready for yet. Suffice it to say that it is the reason why I'm such an efficient killer, and why it comes so easily for me. Because I'm damaged. For now, I will give you a better advice on how to project confidence, so you minimise the chance of being attacked like this in the first place. Proaction, not reaction." - she paused, as Jamella looked at her quizzically.
"Don't shrink back from attention. And looks. Embrace it. Talk to the man. Introduce yourself, be assertive and outgoing. Be engaging. Meet the eyes, communicate, make it clear that you're not uncomfortable. Look at some of the others there! Don't be prey. Accept a drink invite or whatever offer, within reason, but set boundaries, and stick to them. Confidence, or appearance of it, is it's own shield. Because it shows a person that you're not vulnerable. You would be surprised how far that goes. And earns you respect. And who knows, you might have fun!" - with a wink.
"You make it sound easy." - Jamella muttered under her breath.
"Because it is. You just need to have a little faith in yourself. I mean obviously, having spent so long cooped-up in your little server den on the Kiss, didn't let you get out much, but... we live and learn! Or just act it out, I don't care. If you do it enough, the act will become the fact. Compared to what you want here – me teaching you how to fight back effectively and ruthlessly, and all the – sacrifice – involved in that; it is easy. Spend some time with the girls employed at the club, pick up a few pointers. Trust me, none of them were born yesterday." - Yelena asserted.
"What if I want both? What I want to be as tough as you are?" - the young woman asked, with a sigh. She got a shrug in return.
"I can give you both. I can put you through hell and back, and turn you into a killer. A predator. As – tough – as I am. If you don't break, first. Is that what you really want?! Because in the end, you will not be you, anymore. A big piece will be missing. You'll become as damaged as I am. Likely hate me for it for the rest of your life. I don't want to do that to you, Jamella. I DO NOT think it's worth the price. And I don't think you want that, either." - she frowned slightly.
"I'm also re-learning things here. You're not the only one who is in the process of adapting. Except with me, it's the opposite. I'm learning to let off my shields, and not make most people afraid of me, or nervous around me. Men in particular! There is such a thing as being too... predatory." - she grimaced slightly. Shaking it off, she smiled at the girl.
"Let's stick to your confidence building, and learning to project it. Doesn't mean learning to fight does not have it's place. You're doing well, and you will be ready for some proper sparring, in time, once you build up some more muscle and static endurance. But I don't want you to think of it as the first option. Perceptions come first. So let's work on how people perceive you. And honestly, how you perceive them. Alright?"
Jamella was silent for a long time.
"Shall we continue?" - Yelena put in at some point, adopting a stance.
The Nelson Club...
Looking very smart in his tuxedo and a bow-tie bouncer persona, Irwine's shift at the base of the club's central stage, was unremarkable so far. He had far more difficulty keeping his eyes off the scantily-clad bronze skinned ladies twisting around poles on stage, then on the patrons, an eclectic variety of both locals and tourists, dropping liberal amounts of credits on the electronic tipping-board in the middle of the expansive room. Whoever tipped the highest, would win a private session with a lady of their choice.
He had to admit, keeping focus was a challenge. Especially because of one of the ladies, who had really taken... to him. So much so that Yelena commented on it a week ago, suggesting a threesome at some point. Irwine wasn't opposed to the idea, having had sex several times, with the tight, buxom, enhanced, athletically-built dancer before, and... very much had his staying power put to the test... but it still amazed him, how easily and without any trace of jealousy, Yelena saw it. He would be lying, if he claimed he wasn't at least a little jealous, five months ago when she told him she went out with the sarge, and their subsequent couplings. She, on the other hand, didn't feel threatened in the slightest, by the notion of a competition. If anything, she was off-put by the fact she didn't join in, at some point!
Given the hungry looks the girl on stage was throwing at him whenever he glanced in her direction, he suspected a chance would come, sooner rather then later. And he knew for a fact the dancer herself, had no qualms about bisexual encounters, having already performed with Yelena, on stage. He smirked to himself. Sexual exhibitionism was never something he gave serious thought to, but... this place really had an effect on people, in that regard.
Putting – distractions – out of his mind for the time being however, he thought about the letter from Saxon and it's contents, that Yelena showed him earlier today.
Oplex IT Solutions... he knew they had a local subsidiary here, and he guessed that Yelena would either try to get Jamella inside, maybe as an employee, or failing that, want to do a clandestine raid on their local company HQ, and give the hacker a brute-force access to VersaLife servers. For his part, the man was much more interested in the second element of the report... that VersaLife New York had apparently contracted the services of Inter-Guarda PLC, as their on-site security, and that their new head of security was a man called Michael Zelazny.
That name, Irwine recognised immediately. Six years ago, while he was still a part of the Sons' 11th Squalnomie Rangers elite unit, he had tangled with Zelazny, then a lieutenant in Belltower, and a field commander of the detachment of BT forces stationed near Seattle. The augmented soldier and his unit were directly responsible for the Sons' defeat there. And cost them dearly... including the lives of several of Irwine's best friends in the unit.
So you switched outfits, huh? Went legit, after Belltower was exposed at Rifleman Bank? No more moonlighting around the world, doing wetwork for foreign interests? Now you're trying to pretend you're an upstanding American, signing up with a nationalised outfit, and providing security for VersaLife – because they were never anything but above board? You bible-quoting son of a bitch... here's hoping I get you in my rifle's sights when we finally make a move on Rand.
The man thought darkly. But he was also concerned. Zelazny was no amateur... and the fact that Yelena didn't seem to recognise the name at all, told him that he would have to bring her up to speed there. But it was surprising... Zelazny was a part of Belltower Spec Ops, and yet she didn't know him? Then again, need-to-know basis was the name of the game for the Tyrant operatives, so... maybe not that surprising. Different branches? Different theatres of operations? Either way, the man was seriously bad news to have on the enemy team, and Irwine would be doing his homework, on making sure they had up-do-date intel on his activities, before the New York operation.
That also meant contacting the Sons, since he was sure his old outfit was keeping track of Zelazny's movements too. And who knows – when the time comes, maybe even coordinate with them, even though New York was well outside the Sons' usual operational radius within the country. But he had no doubt they'd jump at a chance to get even, for what happened near Seattle all those years ago.
An hour and a half later at the club, 21:00... the main show of the evening was about to begin.
~"I hope you all brought your wits about you, and your tipping fingers ready for action, because the appetisers are over and done, and the main course of the evening, is about to be served! Give it up for – Cyberella!"~
A pandemonium of whoops and cat-calls ensued, before a modified, extended techno-mix of Tainted Love, began blasting on the speakers as the illumination in the club subdued, and turned a blood-reddish, suggestive hue.
The curtains behind the stage suddenly came apart, and Yelena came strutting in... dressed in a latex-string bikini, her exposed skin bodypainted in iridescent hues of silvery-gray, to better match the glossy surface of her cybernetic legs, a full set of razor-sharp spiked nail-covers, simulating cat's claws, on each of her fingers, and a flowing cape the colour of dried blood, dropping down from the twin pauldrons on her shoulders, in a stylised imitation of a Roman Centurion's regalia. The woman's unnatural height, and leggy build, literally gliding atop of those narrow, pointed hooves of hers, just made the styling more... ravishingly intimidating.
Her face was hidden behind a glossy-black cateye mask, covering the upper part of it, and a pair of cat ears affixed to her vertex.
Irwine inhaled sharply, feeling his pants tighten to bursting, in a period of two seconds, making a heroic effort to keep his attention on the patrons, as she descended the stage, to make a walkthrough between them, tracing her clawed fingers across each man's chest and face as she did. No blood was drawn, and he could only guess how much she had to... restrain... the urge to do so. Sometimes, their couplings resulted in quite a bit of blood drawn, when she got in the mood. And given her choice of both the soundtrack, and the getup this evening... she was definitely in that mood. He almost felt sorry, for whichever guy managed to tip the highest, and get a session with her in private, after the performance. These rich-ass posers could not hope, to handle her!
As she paced between the patrons, she began to... shimmer... slightly, in a half-ghostly, ethereal pattern. He knew that was the trick of her cloaking array, using it as a prop device to add more exotica, to the performance. The kind of show, that Yelena could put on when she wanted to, was out of this world. He had seen guests literally empty their accounts, tipping her, in an attempt to win the bidding wars. The club's revenue had jumped by close to 60%, ever since their arrival here.
Oh damn, love... I'm gonna need a cold shower after the shift... and I'm gonna need to fuck you until I can't breathe anymore, tonight. Or until you squeeze me to death between those killer legs of yours! I'll take either... and I'd die happy!
He thought, as the cyborg woman finished her ghostly walkthrough, becoming solid again, getting back up on stage, followed by glassy-eyed gazes of every patron in attendance. Casually slipping the fake claw-nails off, she tossed them back the way she came, in the general direction of the audience, and he saw a couple of the men scramble immediately to snatch them up.
Up on the stage, Yelena made a single graceful spin around a pole, shucking out of the cape as she did, then a two-metre tall leap, onto it, defying gravity with ease that made it look effortless, and began her complicated choreography that was a mixture of sensuality and insane calisthenics. She would not be touching the ground, at any point, during the fifteen-minute-long performance. The two poles, spread roughly three metres apart, would be her whole world.
The atmosphere in the club was so charged with sexual tension, one could cut it with a knife.
