Chapter Sixteen
New York, Freedom Place South... early afternoon
"You okay back there?" - Lexi turned briefly, to look at the seemingly empty back seat of her car, just as she made the corner of W 62 and Freedom Place South, pulling over across the street from number 301.
It was pretty amazing, the woman had to admit. The whole cloaking thing. When she briefed Yelena earlier during the night, on the location and itinerary of the Collegiate School, the school Owen Rand went to, she didn't expect the cyborg woman to contact her first thing in the morning, and ask her to drive her over, through no less then five checkpoints. From her perspective, the idea was more then a little ridiculous, given the... hi-tech armour and weapons the tall, very distinctive-looking woman was packing.
But Yelena had time to investigate the checkpoint in Hell's Kitchen, and, seeing that they didn't use an EM scanner, and verifiying that that was the case with most standard checkpoints in the city – after she 'obtained' a computer access code from an unfortunate police officer who took a bathroom break at the wrong moment - decided that she could simply ride over there, while cloaked, without the need to go on foot, across the rooftops or through back alleys, and bypass the checkpoints.
The cop's body ended up down a sewer manhole, where she expected it would remain undiscovered for at least a few days after he was declared missing. Non-lethal options were right out, since she couldn't leave witnesses behind – and honestly, it gave the cyborg woman a chance to try out her new ultrasonic blades. As anticipated, standard police riot armour stood no chance of resisting a cut from a vibrating blade, slicing right through it, and halfway through the man's torso, before it was stopped by the spine.
Once the two met up again, the ride went without incident, no-one manning the checkpoints even suspecting that there was anyone else in the car.
"Yes. How long until his class is dismissed?" - the cloaked woman's accented voice came back, seemingly out of thin air. Only by squinting hard and focusing on the source, could Lexi begin to make out the faint, near-invisible outlines of the cloaking field. Allowing her eyes to follow the contours for a dozen seconds or so, she could finally make up the statuesque shape, mostly by very faint rippling of the edges. Honestly, if the woman hadn't spoken, she would have trouble making anything out against the backdrop of the car's rear bench, the rear glass, and the scenery outside. It made for a very effective breakup of the pattern.
It was creepy.
"Eyes front. Don't telegraph." - Yelena added sharply. Quickly, she complied, facing forward again.
"Uh, r-right. Sorry. Anyway, somewhere around 1am... just over half an hour from now... you'll see a white limo pulling over, with one, maybe two bodyguards. Augmented. And a driver. Rand likes to make sure the kid's always safe and sound on the way home. Owen hates it of course... and his mom thinks he's being overprotective, but that's how it is. Anyway, I'm close to being late for work, so you're on your own."
"Thank you." - the rear-left door opened fractionally a few moments later, when none of the passerby outside had a direct line of sight to the car, just wide enough to allow Yelena to squeeze-out, then closed again.
"Wait...! What exactly do you plan to-... do?" - Lexi began, trying to keep sight on the outline, but failing. It just faded into the background. She trailed off, with a soft grimace. The tall-and-scary cloaked cyborg was gone. Shaking her head softly to herself, she drove off.
Maybe better I don't know... she seems okay, even... nice... and there's no doubt she's capable as hell, but... I don't like those eyes of hers. Love the shade she's using, really accentuates those cheekbones...! But not the look. There's something... dead... in there. She's pretty – but... empty. Same kind of look I see in Volkard's eyes sometimes. Even when he smiles. Always with his mouth. Never his eyes. Same with Yelena.
Plus – what did she really care?! Owen was an arrogant, spoiled brat, high and mighty on his daddy's credits. Not to mention an insufferable little horndog prick – one time, he actually groped her breasts and tried to get fresh with her before she pushed him away, then threatened to tell on her, if she ever mentioned anything to his father.
And his mother... well. Lexi was under no illusion that Aria Rand would make her life a living hell, if she ever found out her – involvement – with her husband. That woman was a predator. In all honesty, whatever this – Yelena – had in mind, it would probably help her disappear easier, once she was out of this whole informant thing, which was part of the deal.
Yeah. A family of rich, ego-tripping, predatory bastards. But... somethin' tells me they got a bigger predator after them now.
Her full, sensual lips spread into a brief chuckle, as she flirted with the speed limit, determined to get to work on time, and not arouse any hint of suspicion.
Walking slowly and measuredly at a constant pace, to limit the amount of flexing the cloaking field had to account for, and conserve on power expenditure, Yelena made a full circle of the seven-storey, glassed-out building, avoiding the front entrance and it's pair of cameras. Turning a corner into a side-street, she came across a service entrance next to a 'no parking' sign and an infoterminal, an intellicam right above it, but with a blindspot right below and to the sides.
Potential ingress point. Good.
The woman nodded to herself, noticing the simple mechanical locks on the doors, and external doorjambs. It wouldn't take her 20 seconds to pick the lock if she needed to. Looking up, the walls were either glassed or completely flat, with no places to anchor her climbing hooks, in sharp contrast to the more conventional buildings around it.
A couple of passerby came down the sidewalk, prompting her to sidle-up against the wall and hold still until they passed, neither glancing at her.
On the far side of the building was a disabled-entrance in a small enclosed yard, that led right to the windows at the back. Stepping close, Yelena peered through, into an empty corridor inside, with a pair of faculty staff passing through, talking about things not relevant to her. Another potential entry point, assuming the glass wasn't sensor-proofed and on an alarm circuit. Which, given the high-profile nature of the school, she wasn't willing to bet on. Not to mention, breaking the glass might attract attention.
She finished the circle, crossing the street again, and hopping lightly onto a low balcony on the building opposite to the school – Green City Cleaners – to crouch and settle-in to wait, finally having a chance to decloak, being concealed by the balcony's lip.
I could enter now, try to find, incapacitate, and abduct him, going by the description I was given, but that would be hard to do without anyone noticing. Not to mention even finding him among all the students on the premises. No... no. Let's see what happens when the limousine comes.
If worse came to worst, she could follow it on-foot and pick her moment to pounce. Having just took a moment to recharge from one of the spare biocells she was carrying, she was now at full charge again and could sustain it while cloaked. Or even hitch a ride, somehow, depending on the exact type of vehicle.
Twenty-five minutes later...
A white-on-gold Motokun Excelles pulled over in front of the school entrance, with three people inside. As Yelena watched from the balcony, two of them stepped out, taking position by the car, while the third, a driver, stayed inside.
As she was warned, both bodyguards were augmented, but not visibly armed. From where she was, she couldn't quite make out the models of the limbs, but they looked reasonably sturdy. And the way one's chest was slightly disproportionately large under his jacket, compared to the waist, even given his bulk, she suspected he had armour-grafts implanted.
After a couple of minutes, a mass of teenagers, all male, came out of the entrance, clearly finished with their classes. With a grimace, she noted none of them were augmented.
Of course not. Why should 'crazy hanzers' be allowed into an elite school?
Zooming-in, she tried to make out Owen Rand among them, given the description.
She needn't have bothered. The loudest and most 'cool' group of boys, had a very clear centre-figure in their midst, a blonde, lean, green-eyed, relatively tall one, in designer clothes and an expensive watch on his wrist. He had the kind of smug bearing, and immaculate, aristocratic skin, with what she assumed might even be a touch of make-up, that the woman immediately scowled with an eyeroll.
A real pampered, poser, rich daddy's boy, hmm? And that's supposed to be 'cool' here in America? Sad. Also is he actually wearing makeup?! A boy? Uggggh. Back in my school in Signagi, he would've been beaten-up in a bathroom on the first day, just for that! Still, he's not bad-looking... back in the day, I might have crushed on someone like that... no... no. Not with that makeup. Call me old-fashioned, but a guy wearing makeup is just... wrong!
Yelena thought with a headshake. Cloaking, she hopped lightly down from her perch, edging closer to the vehicle, as the group approached it. Through her cochlear implants, she could overhear the conversation, mostly what she might expect from a bunch of self-important rich teenagers. They definitely saw him as something of a role-model, which she assumed translated into how many credits he threw around at social gatherings to 'buy' friends. Because just from the overheard context, he was insufferably arrogant and had a mountain-sized ego. Of course, given who his father was... probably not too surprising.
Once the car got moving, she quickened her pace and climbed limberly onto the roof, holding by the edges, still cloaked. She didn't make a sound.
"Hey, d'you see that?" - one of the students standing nearby remarked, pointing at the passing limo. Yelena froze, noticing his artificial-looking retinae.
Please don't see in the EM spectrum...
"See what?" - one of the others squinted.
"You don't see that... that... uh... shiver in the air?!" - the first one demanded.
"Think you better get those things checked out, Mac, they could be fritzin' on you!" - the other one shook his head, clearly not seeing anything.
The cyborg woman relaxed.
Just acuity-enhanced. No alt-wavelength ability. Lucky me.
The last thing she wanted was to accidentally come across someone equipped with any variety of Smart-Vision. While such occular implants were rare and expensive on the civilian market, they weren't unheard-of.
The car took quite a while to exit Manhattan, and, from the expanded maps she downloaded, Yelena assumed they were on their way to Jersey City. On the bridge however, she decided to make her move, since it was the best opportunity to have the least number of potential witnesses around.
Mid motion, the driver-side door suddenly opened, and all the driver saw, was a brief shimmer of air, and a half-visible Buzzkill snout, burying itself in his flank, before the weapon discharged, knocking him out without a sound. Shoving the unconscious man out of the way to the passenger seat, Yelena gained control of the car, closing the door again. To anyone behind, all it would seem is that the car's door opened inexplicably, then closed again almost immediately. Unusual, but hardly alarming.
For Owen Rand and the two bodyguards in the rear, separated by a tainted-glass wall and shaded windows, nothing would be amiss, as the limousine continued it's way forward without a hitch.
Decloaking, her face impassive, Yelena drove on, over the bridge and into the suburbs. Here, there were less checkpoints around, and she had no problem taking the side-streets to bypass them, as she reached into her belt satchel, for a silencer to screw-onto the Zenith. She had to neutralise those two bodyguards before they got too suspicious, of the non-standard route they were taking.
A knock sounded on the tainted wall, just as she was finishing. Her expression not changing, she slowed down, and lowered the window separating the driver's compartment from the passengers'.
With two silenced shots to the foreheads of the bodyguards, it was all over, them dying with expressions of shock on their faces, their still-twitching corpses collapsing onto the seat. Flanking the pale-faced Owen Rand, who stiffened at the sight of a smoking barrel pointed at his face, in front of a... beautiful... but intense-looking, aquiline woman.
"W-wh-wh... p-p...please d-don't...!" - he stuttered, terrified and on the verge of tears.
"Silence. I'll keep the compartment open. I have enhanced hearing, and signal-intercept ability. If you try to call anyone on phone, or open a window to scream, you die. Understood?" - Yelena spoke, not mincing words.
"Y-y-you k-killed 'em...! J-just like that-" - he started, still in shock, as he glanced at the two corpses beside him.
"Am I understood?!" - the woman cut him off, raising her voice slightly. That sharp accent just made it more intimidating.
He nodded, almost jerkily, biting his lip.
"Good." - the sharp-featured, yet delicate face and gun disappeared from view, as the car started moving faster again.
VersaLife HQ, three hours later...
Volkard Rand poured himself a glass of gin, going over the latest report from agent Zaius, which painted a... grim, if not particularily imaginative picture about their captive's mental health, following repeated interrogations, and... other forms of suggestion. Consecutive sessions through the mind-sifter had finally yielded results, in the form of workable Neural Subnet codes they could use to listen-in to the Juggernaut Collective's communications.
That was something Rand was content to simply relay through, to Lucius DeBeers. Following the uncomfortable Council session yesterday, he was ordered, in no uncertain terms, to expedite the interrogation on Jamella Couture, and provide usable data the cabal could use to finally locate the Juggernaut Collective's current base of operations in Europe. The NS codes on their own weren't enough, until a Collective agent used them, so they could then trace the signal to it's destination. But that would only be a matter of time.
But he was also under personal orders from DeBeers himself, to find, and deal with Fedorova. Now that the cat was out of the bag, regarding Triaxis and it's implications to their current problems, she had become much more then a loose end, and an irritant. She'd become a threat to the continued cohesion of the Council. Dowd, for one, was furious that a rogue test subject now threatened to derail their plans, given the amount of money he'd already invested in laying the groundwork for the Act. And DeBeers, naturally, shifted the majority of the blame on Rand, given that Triaxis was his own project, back in the day.
Nevermind that we came up with it together, and you wetted the candidates yourself, I just provided the scientific and technical backing and facilities in Belgium... you backstabbing son of a bitch. Then you recruited that Israeli psychopath to be the 'foundation'. Yeah right... recruited. I never got around to figuring out what exactly you said to Namir that made him basically wipe out his own unit, then hand himself over to us after Operation Taurus. But I'll give you one thing Lucius, you always knew how to manipulate people. Especially when they're vulnerable.
The bald man thought darkly, taking a long sip. It was funny. How quickly fortunes could turn. Three days ago, he was king of the world, a rising star on his way to maybe even succeed DeBeers someday, as the Illuminated One. And now... well. He felt – trapped. If he couldn't make this Fedorova problem go away, quickly enough... well. Someone would be taking the fall. And as things stood now, he was the one over a barrel.
On the bright side, he still had Subject Oh-One. His personal project, the last remnant of Triaxis, that he groomed and turned into a secret enforcer, up-to-date on current cybernetic technology, kept hidden even from the Council. The ultimate failsafe.
Then again... she's had a decade of experience in the field by now. Even given her obsolescent architecture... there's a reason she was picked over Oh-One, for the Tyrants, in the final evaluation all those years ago. You can't duplicate that rage, that mindset, the pure killer-instinct... not even in a binary clone. That part is nurture, not nature. I just hope the advancements in biotech can make up for it by now.
A part of him was - scared. He knew what Yelena Fedorova was like, what she was capable of. He knew it back then, and he knew it now. She was the best, for a reason. Oh-One was even created from her cells in culture, in an attempt to retain the woman's natural ability, persistence and aptitude, while trying to impart a more docile underlying behaviour, bereft of the traumas of the past. What they failed to anticipate was – that her traumas and rage were part of the reason of her success. The clone was identical in nature – but not in nurture. It lacked Fedorova's fighting spirit.
He was broken out of his apocalyptic-scenarios reverie, by a diffident knock on the door. Giving himself a two-count and a deep breath, he spoke.
"Come in." - standing up and straightening his spotless brown suit and tie, trying to hide his current distraught state, with a trademark beneficent smile, as he set the glass on the desk.
"Hello, doctor Rand. I've got the latest quarterly projections for our biotech division in Roccasecca Labs." - the shapely woman spoke with a polished smile, handing him a pocket secretary.
"Thank you Lexi. Stick around and grab a glass over there!" - he pointed, with a wink.
"Are you sure? In the middle of working hours?" - the woman purred.
"Work, work... work." - he waved a languid hand, "Work'll still be there in an hour! You know my dear, sometimes I think we need shorter days! People get too overworked, then lose productivity... it might actually improve our efficiency, long-term."
His aide smirked, getting a glass and pouring herself a shot, then perching on the edge of the table next to him, giving him an ample view of those thighs of hers, as she crossed her legs.
"Kinda the opposite of how the TYM sees things?" - she decided to gently prod in that direction, knowing how Rand felt about them lately. And he seemed – preoccupied. The kind of mood where she knew, from experience, that he tended to let things slip, in private company.
His expression of disgust was palpable.
"Yeah. God damn chink drones. Give 'em a finger, and they want the whole hand. Cutting it off you if that's what it takes... You know what they say about necessary evils, Lexi?" - shaking his head.
"It's too bad we can't manufacture our own version of the dampening chip... patent or not, I'm sure there's nothing their research division can come up with, that our boys can't do better!" - she tried to inject a touch of indignation in her tone, to feed his frustration.
He grimaced with a nod.
"You said it! Bad enough we're letting 'em use our Newark fab, but the whole exclusive contract part, means we can't even come up with our own version of the chip, and keep the monopoly in check. Something I've been trying to bring up in – well. Nevermind." - he cut himself off, then switched gears, "Enough about work. Like I said, it'll still be there in an hour. Cheers! To... the hidden perks of the job!" - he winked, as he drained the rest of his glass.
Then he reached out with his free hand, sliding a hand under her miniskirt, getting a good feel, as his other one set the glass aside, then reached around her waist, to pull her down into his lap, riding him.
She couldn't help but bite her lip softly, at the feel of the growing bulge, prodding into her ass, as she exed-out her own shot. Feeling herself getting a touch – misty already. Good thing she was quite religiously on the pill! Whatever else Rand sometimes was, inadequate wasn't one of them. Having been through several relationships and flings, Lexi had quite a frame of reference to compare him to.
A part of her was irritated, though... he switched-gears too fast. Clearly not quite preoccupied enough yet, to allow her to get anything out of him.
Well... let's see what I can do to change that!
The woman thought mischievously, unbuttoning her suit, which revealed a black-lace pushup bra beneath, filled to bursting. Assertively, she planted his face between her ample, firm enhanced breasts, as she reached her other hand to start working on his pants zipper.
I'm such a dirty slut...! But... that is one of the ways to get ahead in corporate hierarchy. Especially when you're also spying on your boss and trying not to get caught... !
She thought, the notion just turning her on, more.
Within minutes, he had her on her back on the desk, legs splayed wide-open, her panties in her mouth to muffle the moans, as he plowed her hard, occassionally bending down to ravish her neck. For a while this continued, before he picked her bodily up, and planted her back-first into the wall, still continuing the hard fucking, growling into her ear, while she moaned through the panties into his ear. From the amount of pent-up frustration he was channeling into the sexual encounter, Lexi could tell there was a lot on his mind.
Just as both were sinking into the rhythm, the phone on the desk behind began ringing.
"Oh for fucks' sake... should've turned that thing off...! Whoever they are, they can leave a message..." - he growled, not letting up, penetrating her all the way up to the cervix.
But the phone continued ringing for close to a minute, before Aria Rand's clipped British tone came from the answering machine, laced with no small amount of alarm and worry.
~"Volkard, pick up, please...! Owen didn't come home from school yet, and I'm getting worried! He's not answering, his minders aren't answering, and neither is the driver! Pick up, please..."~
In a heartbeat, the man stopped, eyes widening, as he set her down. Lexi had to restrain the annoyed expression – just as it was getting good! But she also had to hide a smirk – clearly Yelena's play, whatever it was, was underway.
"I... uh – I'll leave you alone, Volkard. Hope it's nothing serious..." - she projected some hesitation and embarrassment into her tone, quickly getting dressed, straightening-up her suit, and making herself scarce.
He just waved her off, already on the phone.
Outside New York...
Having ditched the highly-traceable limousine, deliberately in a well-traveled spot near one of the freeways, with a pocket secretary message on the front seat, Yelena appropriated another vehicle, an automated minivan parked at a company parking lot, then hacked it's onboard AI to take her and her captive back to Hell's Kitchen, the two hiding in the sealed cargo bed, safely out of sight of any checkpoints or cameras, until the van arrived at it's programmed destination and found a parking space.
As she did, the aquiline woman couldn't help but appreciate the things Jamella taught her, when it came to low-level hacking. A few months ago, commandeering and reprogramming an automated vehicle, would have been beyond her; even as relatively simple effort as it was, hacking-wise.
She also appreciated the symbolism of it – something the girl taught her, could prove to be instrumental in rescuing her.
Thank you, Jamella.
She thought, face set in an unreadable expression, sitting cross-legged on the bed's floor, opposite Owen Rand, the boy's hands tied by a zipline she found. He was still pale-faced, clearly in shock.
"Y-you have any idea who my dad is...?!" - he managed, trying desperately to put up some kind of front.
"Yes."
"He's - he's gonna fuck your life up, hanzer bitch! He ain't the type... t-to make d-deals... with k-kidnappers..." - what started as a defiant harangue, ended up with the boy trailing off nervously, at the sheer... hollowness... of the tall, intense woman's level, patient gaze.
Yelena's eyes narrowed, only by a microscopic amount.
"He already did. And for your sake, I hope he is." - addressing both points, before she cut off his rejoinder, "Now be quiet. The sound carries through the walls of this space. Remember – if you make a noise, or draw attention, you'll die." - silenced Zenith rock-steady on him, in her right hand.
Owen just nodded, taking a slightly shaky breath, as she continued to regard him evenly, the subdued noise of the minivan's electric engine the only sound in the cargo cab.
Through her enhanced hearing, the woman had a pretty good idea what was going on outside at any point, and the van's turns, accelerations and decelerations, provided additional context. As expected, automated vehicles could just drive right through checkpoints without any delays, and she expected to be at their destination within an hour, at most.
Having had a chance to explore a bit more of the maintenance tunnels running under Osgood and Sons, and finding one that connected directly to what seemed to be an automated water treatment facility under the neighbourhood, she decided it would be a good place to keep her hostage in, for the time being. Not to mention, she was becoming somewhat familiar with the general area by now, and wanted to take advantage of it, if anyone did come after her.