Chapter Twenty Three
For a long moment, Yelena debated whether or not to invite Gil inside, or go outside to talk... as she brought a finger to her lips in a 'quiet' gesture, to Owen, followed by a throatslicing motion. The boy was too scared to cause trouble, but it didn't hurt to make sure.
Her decision was helped a moment later...
~"I mean it; we need to talk, Irene! Things almost went to shit last night in Battery, when I met this tall busty redhead broad and this older guy with a gun. I don't appreciate having a gun shoved in my ribs, so-"~ - as Yelena scowled, rushing to open the door and yank him inside with a surprised yelp.
"Some discretion please, Gil! I do not think the entire building heard you..." - she hissed, momentarily forgetting to adopt an accent, as Owen's eyes lit up, at the mention of a 'tall busty redhead'.
"...mom...? What d-" - the boy started, before she aimed the Zenith back at him with a deadly look in her eyes, and he quieted down again. But too late.
"WOAH... what the hell- who's that?! And what you doin' with a gun, Irene, and... and what's with the accent? What the hell's going on here?!" - the pierced man started freaking out, eyes darting from her, to the gun, to the haggard-looking boy, and back again.
The cyborg woman closed her eyes for a briefest moment, in exasperation.
"K chertu moyu zhizn'..." - under her breath, before she closed the door, and motioned Gil to the table.
"Sit down. I'll explain a few things. Now." - in a no-nonsense tone, accompanied by that look, pointing the gun vaguely at him. The young man's tirade died on his lips, as he nodded in a jerking motion, sitting at the only remaining chair at the table, next to Owen. Eyes still wide.
She took a deep breath, putting the gun away, and gliding over to a bundle in one corner, where she fished the credit voucher out of.
"First things first. Here is the rest of your payment. Plus two hundred more, as we agreed." - she intoned, waiting for him to get his own voucher out.
"Yeah, about that... that didn't include being held at gunpoint TWICE now! I think I deserve a little extra-" - Gilbert cut himself off again, as her dark gaze narrowed slightly.
"...fine. Whatever." - he growled, pulling his voucher out, "Hand it over." - trying very hard to keep up some semblance of a tough front, with a scowl – that softened, once he saw the numbers increase on his account.
"Who's the kid?" - he nodded to the side. Owen stayed quiet and pale.
"Part of the ongoing deal I'm making, with the woman you met. He is her son... and my hostage, for the time being." - Yelena stated bluntly. At this point, dissembling would just make her trip up over herself. He'd already seen too much... and in-depth lying was far from her strong point. Best to drop it now, and stick to the facts.
Renton's face went pale.
"Jesus fucking Christ – y-you're a kidnapper?! Holy shit... this got somethin' to do with that big news a couple days ago? Rand kid being snatched from school or something..." - he peered closer at the boy's face, "Is this him?!"
"Owen Rand." - the boy growled, throwing a glare at the cyborg woman, defiantly. Yelena's expression twitched, but she simply nodded.
"So that broad was his mom?! So... so... oh SHIT! I could be framed as an accessory to..." - Gil trailed off, paling even more.
Yelena shrugged, crossing her arms.
"No framing necessary. Did they make you give them your name?"
"Yeah... that older guy was scary. Didn't seem a good idea to play tough. And they dropped me off, AND booked rooms at the 'Ton. Oh fuck... if they go to the cops, I'll be in for it! WHY THE HELL DID YOU DRAG ME INTO THIS?!" - he rose his voice, jabbing a finger at her.
"Tone it down! I won't tell you again." - Yelena's tone suddenly went icy-cold, the woman's expression turning from anticluster, to hollow. Gil swallowed.
All of a sudden, the last of the sultriness of last night was replaced by something – deadly. Combined with that hard accent, and the way those eyes seemed to bore right through him...
"Why... ? What'd I ever do to you?! Why did you drag me int-" - he began, but she raised a hand, expression softening again.
"You helped me, Gil. And you won't go to prison, not if I can help it. But only if you keep it down, and work with me. And you might make more money. Yes? Like you said, you are now an accomplice. And if you want to get out of this, you need to follow it through. Correct?" - earnestly.
Taking a deep breath to tamp down his nervousness, the pierced young man nodded, glancing briefly at the boy next to him.
Yelena got another glass, and poured him some apple juice as well.
"Good. Now tell me about that 'older guy'. Was he a bodyguard? A friend? What impression did you get of him?"
Outside in the hallway, just past the corner to a stairwell, a lanky figure of a middle-aged man in a trenchcoat, was skulking in the shadows, holding a small device in his hand, and a wireless receiver in his ear.
Brent Radford. He had followed Gil, unnoticed, and was now listening-in to the conversation going inside the poorly-insulated apartment down the hall, using an electronic audio-amplifier. The man's lined face registered a slight smirk.
Well, well... in the words of good ol' Sherlock... the game's afoot.
So far, the amplifier was only picking up Gilbert's raised tones clearly, but the context left no doubt who he was speaking to. The other person, presumably this Irene, was speaking too softly to be able to pick up. At least from this far...
He advanced silently down the hall, sticking to the wall to avoid creaking floor tiles, as he edged closer to the apartment doors, hoping to pick up more.
Mistake.
Inside, as Gil was recounting what he experienced last night, Yelena's sonics began picking up a feedback resonance nearby. It was unlike most signatures... not a drone, or an active comms channel. Or a carrier wave.
She frowned, cocking her head slightly to the side. Gilbert must have noticed, as he paused, but she motioned him to keep talking. At the same time, she ran the resonance through her Datavault archives, looking for a match. And she found one.
An audio amplifier!
Someone was listening-in to them. And given the effective radius of most amplifiers – they couldn't be far.
Radford was now right next to the door, before he overheard Gilbert momentarily pausing his ongoing tirade, on what happened last night. When he contiuned, it seemed... slightly forced. But more concerningly, his was the only voice now. Whoever he was talking to, went completely silent.
The man's instincts took over, as he pulled rapidly back, towards the stairwell. At that moment, the apartment door opened, and a tall, impossibly leggy, heavily augmented, whipcord-framed, black haired female figure stepped out, a pistol in her hand, looking around. His own practiced hand gripped the butt of his Diamondback and drew, just as she noticed him, her aim swinging to settle unwaveringly onto his chest – at the same time as his own settled on hers.
A standoff. About eight metres apart.
"Irene, I assume?" - the private detective growled, his aim rock-steady. It was mirrored by the unmoving barrel of the woman's Zenith however, right below a... chillingly hollow, shaded, thousand-yard stare she was giving him. Firepower-wise, he certainly held the advantage, his personal Diamondback being chambered in .44 Magnum. But if that hard-shelled top she was wearing, was anything to go by – not to mention given the extent of the cybernetic hardware she had... it was an educated guess to make, that she was armoured. Visibly and – invisibly.
Almost on its own, his aim shifted higher, to her head. The woman's eyes narrowed only slightly at that.
"You just cut your chances to nothing, mister. Lower the gun." - flatly, remaining still as a statue. The hard Slavic accent only added a surreal feel, to the demand.
Tamping down an uneasy feeling in his gut, at that unnatural-seeming confidence, Radford's eyes hardened.
Fuckin' robot... like I didn't have enough of this shit, with Jensen. Don't make a damn bit of difference I'm one too, now. At least my brain isn't wired or whatever... Still creeps me out. No fear at all.
"You didn't answer my question, ruskie." - aim remaining steady, between those dark eyes of hers.
"No, I did not."
"Then I'll just assume the answer is 'yes, I am'. Where's your hostage?" - the man pressed on, keeping up the hardass tone. Despite his best efforts however, his aim wavered, ever-so-slightly, before settling down between her eyes again.
"And I will assume you're the 'scary older guy' Gilbert was talking about. Do not call me ruskie again. I'm not." - she ignored the question, eyes narrowing further.
Still not moving by a milimetre, as her own aim stayed fixed slightly to the left side of his chest, precise location of his heart, fluidly compensating each time the man shifted on his feet slightly, as the aimpoint stayed identical... almost as if her hand was wired to adjust automatically, linked to some kind of targeting array in her head – which it probably was.
God damn clank... maybe I shoulda gone all the way and got clanked-up fully too. Long as I let Jensen convince me, back then. Not half-assed it... I've no doubt I can shoot straighter then this Slav floozy, but she's cheating... !
"I'll be calling you dead, if you don't answer the question." - Radford growled, lowering his voice to a growl, forefinger rubbing the trigger, still not willing to relent. He was wearing a light kevlar vest under his shirt, but... he'd rather not find out what a 10mm round would do to his ribcage, even with it.
He had an EMP grenade in his coat's inner pocket, but reaching for it, would no doubt earn him a bullet.
"Will you?" - the flatness of the woman's tone made it seem like a statement, not a question.
He suppressed a grimace. By now, his right arm at the shoulder was starting to ache, from the buildup of lactic acid due to being raised in an aiming posture for so long. He shifted to a two-handed police grip on the gun, trying his best to keep the aim steady. Mostly successfully.
I wish I were twenty years younger, too...
He thought he noticed the right corner of her lips curling into a microscopic smirk at that, just as quickly gone. Her own one-handed aim remained rock-steady, and by now, it was really starting to piss him off. Brent Radford had no small amount of pride, and his alpha personality didn't like being defied. And given that microscopic smirk of hers – she no doubt noticed. Great...
"You fire that weapon, it'll cause chaos. And be heard all the way to the checkpoint outside. And the cops there are still jumpy from that disappearance two days ago. You'll have nowhere to run."
"Are they? So they have not found their colleague yet? Useful to know." - the woman replied.
The way she said that, sounded a bit... glib... to him. He narrowed his own eyes.
"Why's that?" - watching her reaction carefully, but the woman's face gave nothing away.
"What is your name? Gilbert didn't tell me." - she countered, ignoring the question.
"Tell me where the Rand kid is, and I'll tell you my name." - he countered as well.
Yelena had to give this man credit... even as she contemplated pulling the trigger. He was no pushover, and the hard look in his eyes denoted a lot of experience having a weapon pointed at him. Her pheromone analyser could detect a small amount of... uncertainty... there as well, but it was fully suppressed by what she assumed was pride and grit. Normally, male pride, was something she readily preyed on, and used to her advantage, in more instances then she could count. But in this case... it didn't seem to override his common sense. Just add to it. Focus him.
He was right. She didn't have a silencer on, and a fired weapon would no doubt alert the police at the checkpoint outside. The walls of this building would reverbrate the rapport, only making it louder. That went double for his weapon, given it's higher calibre. And it was early afternoon – the street outside was swarming with people. There would be chaos, indeed. She had no doubt she could take care of him easily – but then what? A mess that would be impossible to get out of.
And given what she just told Gil, that he wouldn't go to prison, if she could help it... bringing cops down on them would be counterproductive to that promise. Not to mention her own purpose here, to begin with.
And there was something about this man, that told her not to underestimate him, despite his age and appearance.
"I will show you. Come in. Slowly." - she finally replied, nodding her head slightly towards the open door to her side, her aim still steady on his heart. As she did, she noticed Gil's pinched face, as Owen's wild look... clearly he was torn between the desire to call out, and a reminder of her warning of what would happen to him, if he did.
Up close, she would have a few more – less loud – options to deal with him.
Brent Radford eyed her carefully, for a long moment. He was no fool, and didn't need any special insight, to figure that up close and personal, he would be at a disadvantage against this... wiry-framed, aquiline-looking she devil. That amount of icy confidence didn't just come from being enhanced. No... this bitch was the real deal. He'd seen enough killers in his time, to see it in those dead eyes of hers.
"No tricks." - he growled as he stepped slowly closer, shifting back to one-handed-grip, as his free hand slowly... making sure she could see it... dipped inside his trenchcoat. She remained still, watching... as he pulled out his EMP grenade, arming it, and holding the detonator pressed-in, now about three metres from her – well inside the radius.
"Release-fuse. If I let this go, your systems get fried. Got it?"
His own artificial spinal implant and digestive-regulator, was a small, self-contained system, shielded from EMP effects. For all practical purposes, he was still almost a natch. It didn't help his status in society, given the new laws, but... it might help him here.
The woman nodded slightly, something approaching respect, crossing her features.
"No tricks. Come and see for yourself."
Yelena revised her threat-assessment of the man, as she stepped aside and motioned him in. Upward.
That EMP grenade complicated things. And not just because it would give him an opening to attack, if he used it – but because all of her spare biocells were in the apartment now, too. They would all be drained, along with her own current energy pool. Then, even if she managed to kill him, she would be down to cyberboost energy bars, which were far less efficient in recharging her. All of them combined, likely wouldn't be enough for one full recharge.
The older man's eyes fell upon Gil, who stiffened, and Owen Rand, whose sullen face instantly lit up.
"Mr. Radford?! Omigod... am I glad to see you! Is mom with you?!" - he crowed, before the man grimaced in disapproval, urgently shaking his head at him to stop. But of course, too late.
"Radford, yes? Would that be – Brent Radford?" - the cyborg woman nodded to herself. She had an excellent memory, and more to the point, she was trained to recall intel reports she was privy to, as a Tyrant.
Radford figured prominently, as the private investigator hired by David Sarif to investigate Adam Jensen's connection to the defunct White Helix Labs. During preparations for their first attack on Sarif Industries, one of the secondary objectives was to scramble Sarif's personal database, and erase all information Radford supplied him on the White Helix – since it was, much like Triaxis, one of the old biotech enterprises, a nominal subsidiary of VersaLife, responsible for the early progress of human enhancement technologies.
That objective was never accomplished, as Sarif Industries cyber-security protocols proved too formidable to breach on such a short timeframe. Instead, another team was dispatched, to silence Radford, a few months later.
"You alright?" - Radford ignored her for a moment, "Don't worry, you'll be out of here soon enough." - he reassured the boy, who nodded, before he turned to her again.
"Don't make promises you cannot keep, mister Radford. It's disingenuous." - Yelena intoned sharply. His expression darkened.
"Let's dispense with the bullshit here. And the cute little messages you were leaving. What is it you want, exactly? I figure it's not money, already, so what IS it?" - he growled.
The aquiline woman grimaced, aim still steady on him.
"What everyone wants. Justice. But since there is no such thing in the world, I'll settle for revenge. I want Volkard Rand. Dead, in good time. And make no mistake, I'll have him." - with icy resolve.
"Scared and uncertain, right now. Owen's life, for the life of someone I care about, that he abducted." - bluntly. But not telling the whole truth, of course.
The man frowned.
"Rand's a lot of things, plenty of them not exactly spic-and-clean, but he's no kidnapper."
"Hey! Don't talk about my dad that way, Brent! He's-" - Owen protested, but a hollow glance from Yelena was enough to shut him up, before she smirked, turning her attention back on the man.
"Of course not. It would not look good, for the image he wants to present to the world." - sarcastically, "...him or his associates." - leadingly.
"What the hell are you talking about?" - Radford growled, but his eyes went... remote.
Yelena glanced at Gil, who was now frowning as well, then back at Radford.
"Given what you do for a living, I would expect you know the danger of speaking of certain things out loud." - her gaze flicked down, to the artificial plate around his stomach, "And the consequences of that kind of talk, should it reach the wrong ears."
The man bit his lip, and by the wary look that crossed his eyes, she knew she had struck home.
"Yeah. I do. So... what? You're using the kid as leverage or something?"
"Yes. I'm fairly certain me having Owen, is what is keeping my friend alive. Thus, if you're here to negotiate for his release – as I said. Don't make promises you cannot keep." - pointedly.
"And what's Aria Rand got to do with it?" - the man pressed. Yelena shrugged.
"One leverage is good. Two are better."
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen. I figured you might be edging to snatch her up, too." - Radford's eyes hardened.
"So here's the deal. You let Owen go, and I give you my word I'll do some digging on Rand himself, see if I can corroborate what you told me about your friend." - he offered. At this, Yelena only smiled thinly, eyes narrowing again.
"Do not insult me, mister Radford. It isn't healthy for either you, or little Owen here. You go do your digging. I will keep the boy." - then she glanced at Gilbert.
"And Gil here, will be watching Aria Rand. If she checks out of the hotel, or if he starts seeing more police around here then usual... something very bad will happen to Owen. Long before they can do anything about it. Especially now that I have... local connections." - she didn't elaborate.
Gil nodded at that too, his own gaze on Radford.
"I ain't going to jail over this. And if you're a private eye or something, I'm guessin' you're gonna hand me over to the cops, the moment this kid's safe and sound."
Radford glared.
"You'd rather be an accomplice? I can get you a minimum sentence, if you cooperate."
Gilbert shook his head.
"No dice, mister. I get no sentence, if I stick to the plan here. I don't like cops, and they don't like folks like me. Plus, Irene is paying good. All I got from you so far, is a gun shoved in my ribs."
The man's gaze flicked back to Yelena.
"Or I can let this 'nade go, and take my chances, huh?" - he bluffed. The woman only smirked at that.
"You don't strike me as a suicidal type, mister Radford. Or the type not to see past the surface." - significantly.
As Radford vanished down the stairwell, Gil let out a ragged sigh of relief, the two returning to Yelena's apartment.
"Holy shit... I thought standoffs like this only happened in fuckin' movies. B-but... but... I... I'm in deep now, aren't I?" - he wrought his hands nervously.
"And the guy's a freak...! I mean jesus christ, he would've let that grenade go, killed us all – and the kid! What the fuck?!"
"It was an electromagnetic pulse grenade, Gil, not an explosive one." - Yelena educated him, "Only effective on electronics and power supplies. That was meant to disable me, mainly. You would have been unharmed. Maybe a small electric shock, oh... and anything electronic you have, would have been disabled. But yes, I'm just as glad he did not use it." - meaning it.
The young man glanced at her, in awe, and latent arousal, feeling his pants getting tight – mixed with excitement at what he just went through.
"You're ice-cold, legs, y'know that?! Accent and all... But uh... what was all that about, you holding Rand's kid because he kidnapped someone you care about? Was that true, or did you just spin that out for Radford?"
"It's true." - Yelena nodded, as they passed the doorway, "Owen Rand is my guarantee my – friend – will not be harmed. Until an exchange can be arranged."
"Smart. I mean... rich bastards like that... they don't play by the rules do they? They just got the money to get away with shit, that we regular folks don't!" - the pierced man muttered.
Yelena smiled.
"You are more right then you know, there." - as she closed the door, then turned to face him, sliding a feathery, suggestive hand up the young man's torso, as her cybernetic knee went up to rub the... bulge.
"Uhmmm... wh-what you doin'?" - he blushed, as his breathing quickened, unable to tear his eyes from her hooded, bottomless onyx gaze.
"I like the way you think, Gilbert. And I like the way you handled yourself, just now. Not giving-in to authority. It's a mark of a strong person. A man in charge of his own destiny." - she leaned in to whisper in his ear.
He let out a soft growl, glassy-eyed, reaching behind her back to fumble with her armoured chestpiece's latches.
"Damn... this thing's a bitch to take off..." - he murmured.
"I'm sure you will manage, stud." - Yelena purred, biting her lip softly, as she now reached down with one hand, to grip the bulge and squeeze, measuredly. He was... sizable. And frankly, after everything that happened in the past few days... some casual sex would definitely hit the spot. Not to mention – solidify – Gil to her side. Not that he needed much more solidifying, from the feel of it!
Then she began unzipping his pants.
Owen Rand, still at the table, tensed-up.
"Uhh... hello...?! Minor here?" - he stuttered.
"Shut up, kid. Think of it as live porn! Maybe learn somethin'." - Gilbert hissed, ravishing her neck, clearly riding high on elation of the moment. Yelena couldn't help but giggle at that.
Ukh ty, kakoy on dikiy, nesmotrya na vsyu svoyu neuverennost'! Mne nravyatsya pozdniye podrostki... davayte nemnogo povysim yego uverennost' v sebe!
She thought, throwing her head back slightly. Finally, the chestpiece slid off her shoulders, landing with a soft thump, onto the floor. He wasted no time, sliding a hand under her tight tank top, assaulting her firm breasts.
Holy shit... Billy's gonna eat his fuckin' heart out, when I tell 'im!
The young man thought, as he lifted the cyborg woman's top, now beginning to lick her breasts in earnest. Yelena simply hissed, subtly maneuvreing the both of them towards the bedroom, and one of the makeshift beds there.
The boy glared at them, then turned his head away, shuddering.
Unlike most times when she was with a man... this was one of Yelena's rare moods, where darker thoughts didn't intrude on her psyche. Not with Gil... not after he earned it, like he did the past two days! Credits – would only be a part of his payment.
Before too long, the two of them were entwined on the makeshift bed, Yelena riding him, cowgirl-style, applying just enough pressure between her iron-thighs, to keep him in slight pain, as he thrust-up into her, with all he had.
"Unngghh... daaaamn, legs! You're... a beast..." - he grunted, thrusting, sweat pouring down his face.
"Yes I am... and don't forget it." - she hissed, leaning down to give him another taste of her nipples, her eyes sparkling with desire and unfettered, savage lust. Then she rolled them around, letting him plow her, relishing
Now that a rhythm was established, and she began slipping into it – Yelena had to admit, her damaged psyche was beginning to rear it's head slightly. A part of her wanted, to crush him like a bug. But a much smaller one, then was the case with most men.
He earned her.
Back in the kitchen, Owen Rand remained frozen in his chair, tense, afraid, sobbing softly under his breath. Neither of them paid any attention to him.
Despite Gil's exuberance, he wasn't a heavy... within only fifteen minutes of hard fucking, he was groaning in near-ecstasy.
"No, Gil... not inside! Feed me!" - she growled, savagely, shoving him slightly off and out of her, as she twisted around, presenting her mouth to his throbbing penis, tongue out and panting, as she squeezed his testicles semi-hard, in affectation.
"Y-yes, ma'am..." - he grunted, unloading on her face and into her mouth, in great, agonising spurts of cum. He didn't stop, for close to half a minute.
Good boy...
Yelena thought, her aquiline features covered in splooge, as she began slowly, methodically, scraping it off and swallowing. Her hooded gaze never leaving his, caressing his mind.